#probably threw a desk at somebody or something

[charlotte-family-apologist]

While older Suchin tries to fill the silence as much as she can younger Suchin was quieter. Granted not a lot, I’d say she talked a normal amount, but she’s frustratingly good at small talk and can reel just about anybody into a conversation. A talent that she still has.

Kenshi on the other hand was a lot louder when he was younger. He was the loud, reckless kid who got into fights constantly. He cringes thinking back on it.

[specialagentlokitty]

Carol Danvers x reader - say love

A/N: I’ve never wrote for Carol before it’s probably bad but I just wanted to write for her 😂

Standing on the Statue of Liberty, you looked at the light of New York from across the water, a small smile on your face.

“Been a while since you smiled.”

Tilting your head back, you went back to staring at the city.

“Didn’t think you’d be able to get up here Fury.”

“I have my ways you know this (Y/N).”

You hummed a little bit, slowly nodding your head.

“We need you.”

“I told you after everything that’s happened I’m not coming back.”

“Stop being childish.”

You turned around, stuffing your hands into your pockets as you glared at him a little.

“I get it, you two go history. We all got history but that don’t mean you can ignore me when I call for you.”

“You’re not my boss fury, I helped you as a one time thing, that’s it.”

He sighed, leaning back against the stone as he looked at you.

“We’re playing this game? You don’t wanna play this game with me.”

“Just leave me alone.”

“No way, you don’t get a free pass out this shit anymore. I don’t give a crap whether you two get alone, Earth is in danger and you’re going to get your shit together and help Danvers.”

You turned around, crouched down, resting your arms on your legs.

“Either you do this by choice or I make you.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I know, now let’s go.”

Getting up, you walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder, teleporting you from the statue to his office and let go of him.

“Thank you.”

“I would’ve left you up there.”

“No you wouldn’t, now shut up and take the damn file.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the file and you opened it, giving it a quick read over before tossing it back on to his desk.

“Seems like she can handle that.”

“Maybe most of it, except Danvers can’t touch the device, even with her powers it would destroy her.”

“Okay?”

Fury sighed.

“As a demigod you have that ability to touch it, I need you to get in there, grab the device, bring it back here and secure it for us.”

You sighed a bit.

“Fine. Okay.”

“Great, she’s already there, just get in and get out.”

You waved your hand dismissively at him as you teleported away, heading to the location.

You could tell that Carol was here, the guards were unconscious, and you made your way inside.

It wasn’t hard to find which way she was going, so you just made your way there, standing in the entrance of the room.

You watched as Carol reached out.

“If you value your hand and you life I wouldn’t.”

Carol spun around, fist raised but when she saw you she slowly lowered it.

You walked over, reaching out you picked up the circle object.

Tossing it in your hand, you examined it a little bit.

“What is it?”

“Don’t know.”

“Who did it belong to? What race?”

“Don’t know.”

Carol sighed a little, looking at you.

“Are we ever going to talk about this?”

“No.”

She slowly nodded her head and you turned your attention back to the device in your hand.

You held it up against the light, and you lowered it again, then you put it in your pocket looking around the room for anything else.

“We need to go.” Carol whispered.

“If the device is here then there has to be some sort of research, a hard drive or something and I need that as well.”

“Right, okay.”

Carol began to search around as well, anything she thought was related she would bring over to you to have a look at.

Most of it you threw aside, a few things you kept, stuffing them somewhere into your jacket.

“Take a look at this.”

You walked over to the superhero, taking a seat in the chair as you watched her type something into the keyboard.

“It��s not a weapon.” She said.

“It can still be just as dangerous, by the looks of this it’s something to bring back life.”

“How?”

You glanced at her before looking at the computer quickly erasing all the data.

“By taking the life of somebody else, it takes that life force, and for the right people it will use that energy to bring someone else to life, or add to their lifespan. These guy’s probably wanted to study it and try replicate it for their use.”

“Would that work?”

“No. Only a god can create something like this.”

You stood up, and turned around, only to be thrown back against the wall which knocked the air out of your lungs.

You fell to the floor, slowly taking a breath.

“Fuck…”

You slowly pushed yourself up and you looked around with hazy eyes, trying to find out where the shot came from.

You found Carol fighting the attackers.

You teleported away, dropping your jacket in Fury’s office.

“Don’t touch!”

With that you teleported back and grabbed Carol by the back of her suit and you threw her behind you, tensing your back as you felt someone hit you with something metal.

Spinning back around, you grabbed it as they tried to hit you once more.

Taking it from his hand, you tossed it aside and punched him through the wall.

Flames licked at your fists as you spun around, punching someone else to the ground.

Backing up, you put your back against Carol, and you both stood there back to back, fists raised.

“We can’t fight our way out of this…” she whispered.

“Give me you hand…”

“What?”

“Give me your damn hand Carol..”

You reached out behind you, and you felt Carol grab your hand.

“Don’t move…” you whispered.

You raised your foot, slamming it back on to the ground to send everybody around the pair of you flying out, then you were gone.

Letting go of Carols hand you vanished again, and you rolled your shoulders a bit, placing your hand on the wall.

“Sorry boys, it’s been real fun.”

Flames burst out of your hand, engulfing the wall in flames, and you swung your hand to the side, catching all the walls in flames.

You teleported out again, back into the office and you picked up your jacket.

“I’ve got their research don’t worry I’ll deal with it all.”

“As always it’s been a pleasure.” Fury said.

You said nothing, and you teleported from the room back to your home.

It wasn’t fancy, but it worked for you.

You had a hidden room for where you stored the device in a case and sealed it along with its researched and you left the room again.

Throwing yourself on your couch, you picked up a baseball and you threw it towards the door.

“Breaking and entering is illegal.”

“We need to talk.”

Carol walked over, setting the hall back on the table and she stood in front of you.

“We’ve got nothing to talk about.”

“Right, so you’re not ignoring me and everybody who talks to me?”

You shrugged a little and she sighed.

Walking over, Carol knelt in front of you, resting one of her arms in the couch and brought the other up to gently touch the side of your face.

“Please don’t angry with me..”

You reached around her, grabbing the tv remote to turn it on and she took it from you, setting it back on the table.

“Come on, please? I’m really sorry.”

You carried on ignoring her and she leant forward, resting her forehead in yours.

“(Y/N) you know I didn’t mean too.”

“You stood me up Carol, our two year anniversary and you stood me up.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I really am sorry.. my ship broke down and I had to fix it, then I had to come back here..”

“You could’ve called…”

“I did, you blocked me.”

You huffed a bit and she smiled.

“Come on.”

You moved your head back and head butted her slightly.

Carol laughed slightly.

“Okay maybe I deserved that.”

She got up, and she laid on you, putting her head on your shoulder, her hand coming down to hold one of yours.

“I’m not leaving though.”

Wrapping your arm around her, you closed your eyes, holding her tightly.

“I love you.” She grinned.

“I hate you.”

“Uh huh, keep telling yourself that.”

Grinning a little, you pressed a kiss to her head and she smiled brightly, closing her eyes as well

[tortoisewithoutashell]

Dancing with Shadows: Chapter 2

Chapter 1: https://www.tumblr.com/tortoisewithoutashell/769268842263347200/dancing-with-shadows-chapter-1?source=share

Maître Johnson incessantly tapped his foot against the hardwood floor. Steve wanted to ask him to stop, but he was already so deep in the man's shit list that he didn’t want to set him off.  

“ Steven Harrington, ��� he sighed, and the tapping stopped. “ I don't know what I’m going to do with you ,” he had a thick French accent, but it seemed thicker when he was upset. “ You have so much talent but no drive, none! So sad!” Maître Johnson’s hands flew everywhere, emphasizing every word with his gestures. “Steven, you must no longer come to class 30 minutes late, rude to me, rude to the other dancers!”  

Maître Johnson went quiet, his eyebrows furrowed. Steve swore he saw a drop of sweat slide down his forehead; the tension was palpable. Steve gulped; the silence dragged on, and a wave of anxiety washed over him. He couldn’t afford to be kicked out of the academy; he had put so much time and effort into this career, going against to fulfill his dreams! Fuck!  

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately. I don’t feel as passionate about dance as I once did. I love it, but—” Steve slumped in his seat; he hated being vulnerable, but this was probably the only way to keep his position.  

“Steven, non, you do not have to tell me, this is your issue. I give you one month: find passion, find drive, and you come back and try again?” Steve tilted his head inquisitively; his maître was going to let him take a month-long break? Right before Nutcracker season? He couldn’t believe his ears.  

“Maître Johnson, no—” he started to protest but was interrupted by the older man. “Non, Steven!” He leaned over his desk, grabbed both of Steve’s hands, and looked him dead in the eyes. “You take one month, come back, try again!”

Steve shook his head in agreement, and tears began to stream down his face.

**

Steve sat on his bed, his journal on his lap and his favorite pen in his right hand. How does one get their passion back? Probably not by sitting on their bed or aimlessly staring out of the window at the New York brownstones. He threw his journal across the room and sighed.  

Maybe he could find something online. He turned on his desktop, forgetting that the last website he had visited was findapenpal.com. How incredibly embarrassing, he thought. Could his life get any lower? He should probably delete his profile to salvage any dignity that he had left.  

Just as he moved his cursor to click on the settings tab, he noticed that he had a message in his inbox. It was probably one of those mass messages that the website sent out occasionally, but his curiosity piqued.  

He clicked on the message inbox icon, expecting nothing more than an update about some rule change or a new feature, but to his surprise, it was something entirely different.  

Subject: Hi  

From: WilliamH1999  

Message:  

Your profile stood out to me. I’ve never met a professional ballerina! What’s it like?  

Steve gasped. Somebody was interested in being pen pals with him? He clicked on William’s profile and scrolled to his biography.  

William, 25  

Stereotypical California boy; I love the beach, the sun, and surfing.  

Not much to work with, but Steve smiled to himself. He went back to William’s message and hit reply.

[litnerdwrites]

Want it - Euphemia

A/N: I had this idea a couple of days ago, and thought it'd be a fun story to write. Euphemia is six in this, and Wrath is an overprotective father. I hope you enjoy it.

TW: Little blood, but just cuts, canon typical threats of violence (I know I mention that a lot, but threatening people is like, Wrath's hobby), mentions of a child potentially having drunk wine. She never does on page, but the possibility is discussed if that's something that bothers you. Really, it's mostly fluff.

“I blame Sloth. He’s already out here, giving us all bad reputations, he’s probably done something to rub off on the kid,” Lust complained, waving a hand in his brother’s direction. A thud is heard, and Lust yelped as he spat out the wine he just sipped, then threw Sloth a nasty look. “See? He’s getting defensive!” 

Wrath narrowed his eyes on his brother, while Emilia just shook her head.

“If she learned this behavior from anyone, it’s more likely to be either you or Gluttony,” Sloth drawled. 

“Don’t drag me into this!” Snapped Gluttony. 

SLAM!

The table- No, the whole room shook when Wrath slammed his fist against his desk. His brothers glanced towards him, eyes narrowed. 

“If none of you can be helpful, then you can leave,” he seethed. 

“Witch's tits, are you really that concerned about this?” Lust groaned.

Wrath narrowed his gaze on him, while Envy shook his head at them, choosing to take another sip of his Dark and Sinful instead. Pride nursed a flute of sparkling wine, his thoughts likely stuck on Lucia, and how Wrath had pulled him from his search for her, while Greed idly tossed a coin in his hand, and Gluttony tasted one of the tarts Emilia had set out for them. Wrath had sent messages to his brothers, demanding their presence shortly after he and Emilia put Euphemia to bed, and they’d arrived an hour later. Since then, he’d been resisting the urge to send them back to his circle in pieces. 

“Remind us again what the problem even is?” Envy huffed.

 Wrath was about to snap his brothers’ necks one by one and then- A warm, gentle touch pulled him from his thoughts. He glanced down to see Emilia’s hand resting gently over his own. She gave him a reassuring smile, before turning to her brothers in law. 

“Euphie has developed… A new interest,” she began tentatively, “in wine.” 

Lust sputtered into his wine glass, making a poor attempt at disguising his laughter and ignoring the way Wrath reached for his House Dagger. 

“In wine?” he asks, “Isn’t she a little young to be an alcoholic, brother?” 

Wrath narrowed his eyes, and Gluttony scoffed. 

“If you want me to send you back with your intestines hanging from your gut, brother, you need only ask,” Wrath seethed. 

“If you want to brawl, brother, then I-” 

“Enough.” Emilia interjected, “If you want to kill each other, do so elsewhere. This is about my daughter,” 

“You think somebody gave her alcohol?” Envy questioned, brow raised. 

“Yes. I want to know which one of you is behind this,” Wrath growles, scanning his brothers, but making eye contact with Lust, Gluttony and Pride, in particular.  

“Well who let her drink it to begin with?” Pride asked. 

“We aren’t even sure if she had any yet. We only suspect,” Emilia responded, eyes narrowing at Wrath, even as she held her husband’s arm to keep him from stabbing his brother before she got an answer out of him, “She comes to our room when she has a nightmare, and tries to sneak into the bed with us, but recently, she comes in almost every night. At first we thought her nightmares were getting bad, but every night she goes straight for the wines Wrath keeps in our chambers. Sometimes she sits and stares at them, others, we catch her trying climb up the case to reach them,” 

Lust found amusement in the situation. 

Wrath did not share the sentiment. 

Eventually, Pride walked over, shoved Lust out of his chair, and made himself at home. Greed merely raised a brow at the action, then snickered as Lust protested. 

“Are you sure it’s the wine she’s interested in?” he asked, “Perhaps she just wants to climb something like a monkey? She’s done it plenty of times for it to be a viable option. Or perhaps she’s simply not tired enough to sleep and wants entertainment?” 

Wrath’s eyes narrowed, while Emilia thought over the suggestion. 

“If she’s bored, why stare at the wines? Why not try to wake us up or find a servant?” she wondered. 

“As for climbing the wine rack, we actually considered that. The following night, we emptied the wine rack, and placed some pillows around it, so she could climb it,” Wrath added.

“But?” Greed coaxed. 

“The moment she saw the wine rack empty, she sat on the floor and began sobbing loudly,” 

Amusement sparkled in Lust’s eyes, while Wrath dared him, dared him, to make a sound. 

“There’s also the possibility that she just wants to copy Wrath,” Greed supplied, grabbing their attention. 

Emilia’s brows furrow. 

“Copy Wrath?” she asked. 

“She’s only six. If she saw Wrath drinking Demonberry wine, perhaps she decided she wanted to try some too?” he shrugged, “Hasn’t she always been a daddy’s girl?” 

SMASH! 

A sudden crash has the room’s occupants whipping their heads towards the door. Emilia is out the door first, followed by Wrath, his brothers right on his tail. As they make it to the staircase leading up to the King and Queen’s suite, a loud cry echoes from the top. 

Wrath quickly transvenios up to their chambers, not bothering with the stairs, his brothers following after and Emilia. When they arrive, they see the king crouched amongst shattered glass and spilled wine, cradling their six year old in his arms, trying to hush her. Emilia rushes over to inspect Euphemia’s hand, ichor dripping down it from where shards of glass were embedded. 

“Oh, my baby,” she cooed, cradling her wrist as she picked the glass out, “What happened, my flame?” 

Euphie cried harder, burying her head into Wrath’s shoulders. 

“There there, dear heart. It’s okay. It’s already healing, see?” he said, so gently, it appeared as though he forgot his brothers were staring. 

“Wan’ it.” Euphie whispered, pointing to the wine rack, “But I fell,” 

“Oh, Euphemia. We warned you not to climb it, baby,” Emilia chastises lightly, kissing her daughter’s hands. 

“Wan’ it,” is all she responds with, gripping Wrath’s shirt tightly. 

Emilia and Wrath frown. 

“Why?” 

All eyes turned to Sloth, including Euphie, who still sniffled into her father’s shoulder. 

“Pretty. Like Mama and Daddy,” Euphie huffed, “Wan’ it,” 

“You’re a little young to be drinking- ” Lust tried only to be cut off.

“No! Want it!” 

The Princes frown, but it’s Sloth who reaches for a bottle that hadn't shattered, but did spill its contents onto the floor.

“I’ll get you some,” he assured, before walking to the kitchen connected to the Royal’s suite.

His brothers furrowed their brows, and Wrath was about to go and carve out his tongue, but Emilia urged him and the others to keep their daughter entertained.  

“I should probably know better, but I’ll ask. Are you going to give my  daughter wine?” Emilia asked, coming up beside Sloth, who was rooting through the cabinets. 

“No. I doubt she’d drink this at all, even if it were wine. Do you have any pearl dust, by any chance?” he asked.

Emilia raised a brow, but went to grab what he asked for regardless. When she came back, Sloth was pouring sparkling water into the wine bottle. Five minutes later, they were heading to their suite’s receiving chamber, where Wrath leaned against a wall, and Euphemia passed around amongst her Uncles, pouting as they tried to cheer her up. 

“They’re betting on who can cheer her up,” Wrath supplied, and Emilia rolled her eyes.

“Well I’m going to win quite a lot of money then,” Sloth muttered.

“Would you like to visit the ice dragons?” he heard Gluttony ask, and Wrath growled behind him, “Only the hatchlings,” his brother assured the king. 

“We already tried offering to read to her if that’s what you’ll do,” Lust poked. 

Sloth was not deterred. He knelt in front of Eupheima, who sat between Pride and Envy.

“I brought you what you asked for,” he told her, passing her the bottle. 

His brothers quirked their brows and narrowed their eyes, but said nothing.

Euphemia took the bottle, shaking the sparkling water and pearl dust concoction. Her eyes widened as she saw the swirl of colors, and even noticed some silver demonberry seeds floating inside. The princess’s eyes lit up, and she squealed at the sight. 

“Yay! Pretty! Thank you!” She grinned, shoving the bottle aside to jump into Sloth’s arms.

Envy only narrowly grabbed the bottle before it shattered, glowering at Sloth. His other brothers, aside from Wrath, did the same. But, with a groan, they each threw pouches of gold onto the table, scowling when they saw his smile. 

Once satisfied, Euphemia took the bottle and ran to Emilia with another squeal. 

“Look! Look mama! Daddy! Shiny! Sparkly!” 

Emilia knelt down, smiling at her child.

“It is, isn’t it? Is this what you wanted, my little magpie?” she asked gently, stroking the girl’s hair. 

“Yep! I wanted shiny things!” 

Wrath ruffled her hair, placing a kiss on her head, smiling as she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek, before Emilia scooped her up. She mentioned going to clean up her wine stained dress and sticky hair, before bidding the Princes a goodbye. Wrath turned from his wife and daughter to be met with his brother’s grinning faces. 

“Fatherhood suits you,” Lust smiled, barely dodging the dagger that flew in his direction.

[beardedmrbean]

Arizona State University student Kaci Sloan, who is accused of stabbing a fellow student twice in a Glendale classroom last month in an apparently random attack, entered a not-guilty plea in Maricopa County on Wednesday after two of her four charges were dismissed last week.

Maricopa County authorities initially charged Sloan, 19, with four counts, including first-degree attempted murder, in connection with the attack against student Mara Daffron. After a preliminary hearing on Sept. 30, Sloan now faces charges of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon and disorderly conduct, according to court records.

Judge Ashley Rahaman also gave Sloan a cash bail of $250,000 and listed the conditions of her release should she be able to post bail in full.

Sloan allegedly walked up to her classmate, Daffron, on Sept. 19 and stabbed her "multiple times," according to an affidavit obtained by Fox News Digital citing multiple witness accounts.

Matthew McCormick, a student who witnessed the attack unfolding in the classroom, took swift action to stop the alleged stabbing, potentially saving Daffron's life, according to FOX 10 Phoenix.

"In that moment, I didn't really have a thought going through my head, I just knew that I felt compelled to do something," McCormick told the outlet.

Approximately 13 witnesses present during the attack, including a professor, recounted the incident to police, who wrote in a probable cause affidavit obtained by Fox News Digital that the stabbing occurred "without any provocation or any words spoken."

Police corroborated McCormick's account in their report, stating that one of the witnesses "was able to disarm the defendant by pulling the knife away from the defendant's right hand and threw it away from them." Another witness then "kicked the knife to the back of the classroom."

"Another witness described the defendant was sitting in the classroom at a desk and suddenly got up and ran at the victim as the victim entered the classroom and stabbed her multiple times," the affidavit states.

Detectives found a handwritten note inside Sloan’s backpack that apparently referenced an act she was "about to commit," but it did "not specifically state what she was referring to."

Sloan also allegedly expressed the desire to "hurt somebody" in class that day in an interview with detectives after the incident and targeted Daffron because she was "an easier target" than the other person she apparently considered attacking, who she referred to as "a veteran."

Authorities quickly arrived at the scene and took Daffron to a nearby hospital, where she received treatment.

"ASU Police continue to investigate a Sept. 19 on-campus stabbing of a student. Kaci Sloan was immediately detained and arrested on suspicion of first-degree attempted murder; aggravated assault with a deadly weapon; interfering with an educational institution; and disorderly conduct. She is being held on a $250,000 cash only bond," an ASU spokesperson told Fox News Digital in a statement. "ASU and the entire ASU West Valley community are deeply saddened by what happened. ASU West Valley is a close-knit campus of students, faculty and staff. Counseling support is available to all."

Sloan has an initial pretrial conference scheduled for Nov. 21.

[eruisapenguin]

Pataphysics Department AU

(SCP Foundation x Researcher!MC)

Sucks to be MC, huh.

CW: Reference for suicide

—————————

It was fuzzy, the memories, you couldn't remember clearly what had happened; painfully mundane it seemed, before. Then all light dimmed, edges stained with darkness. You thought you were fainting, that's fine, you were probably overexerting yourself like usual.

Then you find yourself restricted from receiving air, all oxygen taken away, panic immediately floods you. Were you being kidnapped after all?!

You tried to trash around—yet no muscle moved even an inch, paralyzed and suffocated…you wished to scream; for the whole world to listen. But you can't, you are stuck in a nightmare.

Help, please, somebody….anybody...you can't die now…you have so much to live for! Is this really the end? You don't want to die…

There's something…finally at last! Something other than an everlasting void…

It was spiral

Stretching and pulling before you.

You cannot breathe.

Your body jolted awake, trembling hand wrapped around an object—you can feel a cool metal pressed against your temple—to your shock it was a gun, what the fuck!? You threw it away, the gun clattered to silence below on the ceramic floor. What were you doing just now! Why do you have a gun, you don't remember owning one—and where the hell are you?!

It was an office, colored in white enough to drive a man insane. There are many scattered papers in front of you, on the desk. Is it your desk? Among other walls of printed text one caught your eye, a very familiar view since ever your brain rot over scp: containment breach.

The spiral gestalt.

Now hold on a fucking second—

—

So, from what you can gather. Your other universe's y/n is a researcher of the goddamned SCP Foundation, somehow they got a hold on D-9341—Dr. Walker’s spiral gestalt thingy and tried it on themself. Which had worked; almost entirely or not as what other y/n’s prediction.

Heck you don't even know what they intended to do with it, communicating? Save and load power?

Whatever it is, it's a mystery to you. But first, you need to get rid evidences of the experiment ever happening. You're not sure if you're even authorized to do this—hell D-9341 got demoted for it, you absolutely do not want to be a D-class or terminated.

…

Holy shit, could other y/n br a villain in making?

—

The paper was filled with ink, it was your own handwriting. Black, white, black, white, gray. Rather than the standard scp font you forgot the name of. It appeared to be quite obsessively written, the madness present even through the text. Yep, definitely a villain.

You sighed, putting it inside a paper shredder, then drenched the ruins with water inside a trash can. Now nobody will ever look twice at it. Your nose twitched at the smell of smudges of ink against your fingers.

Your other’s ID card hangs from your neck. Giving it a good look for once; the photo stares back with dead eyes, taunting. Name, age, birth year; all the same as yours.

Pataphysics department. Level three clearance, senior researcher.

How fun.

[golby-moon]

threw a mermaid!cas art piece into the pot that is the @reversefantasyspnbang and like magic a mermaid!cas fic appeared :00

here's the banner I made for this, (yes another) desk with stuff on it. idk why I draw so many desks as banners either. but yeah this one is pirate flavored and has a spyglass and compass on it as well as a phoenix feather and fancy pendant thing that was inspired by the one from Disney's 'Moana' with a spn-themed pentagram thrown on there, though the pendant kinda looks like a Tamagotchi and I can't get that image out of my brain. the fish in the drawer was supposed to be a placeholder for something else in the original sketch but it was silly so it stayed 🎉

the title is on a pirate map that's supposed to tell its own story or whatever. the dashed line explores all around the area with various scribbled-out x's marking various spots as well as a whirlpool type deathtrap around what would be the 'a' in 'dead'. the only un-scribbled 'x' is on a tiny island called Mermaid Rock (the thing around the giant tail-shaped 't' in 'tails'), but since the pirates go out of their way to avoid that area (as seen in the dashed line where they get sucked into the whirlpool instead) due to superstitions about mermaids being bad luck, they don't know whether there's actually anything there or not and therefore can't eliminate it

this was the original art piece I submitted, featuring Dean holding up Cas, who's tangled up in a net. looking at it now I can see that angle of the boat is...weird (especially that ladder staircase thing) but ehh. I spent a ton of time planning Dean's outfit to be a somewhat historically accurate pirate but didn't realize Cas would be covering the neat jacket and sword holster thing I gave him and everything uh

the goal with this was to have Dean not the pirate captain for once in a pirate Dean/mermaid Cas fic (which I like reading but doubt I can write, hence why I dumped it on somebody else via reverse bang I mean what). I wanted Cas to look like he came from deep within the ocean, so his eyes are slitted to take in more light (think of cats) and his skin is more of a grey to better blend in. ofc Cas can't resist checking out the human world and ended up getting caught in a net but luckily Dean was there to pull him out...only to get in trouble for it. this was the original art idea and I really like the way the author adapted it and made Dean more of a reluctant pirate and Cas even more in love with 'humanity'

I do not like drawing bunk beds. or furniture. but it at least looks like a bed so that's okay. but yeah Dean's singing to Cas here and is kinda embarrassed about it, hence why he's looking away, but Cas can't actually tell what he's saying either way so Dean's just being Paranoid. the marks on Cas are scars from the net, a reference to what actually happens to irl sea creatures who get tangled in nets, if they live at all. those lines are supposed to be ribs to indicate that Cas is pretty thin due to a lack of food (probably due to humans overfishing) but they kinda look like he had top surgery. which...ignore that that's unintentional or I would've made them that same pinkish color as his other scars. also ignore the nipple freckle I had to include it okay

water is really weird sorry it looks so weird. but here's Dean and Cas preparing for some boat kisses because they're Them. I really like how the boat and especially the words on the boat (Riverside Blue, a reference to Led Zeppelin's 'Traveling Riverside Blues,' one of Dean's favorite songs added as per the author's suggestion) came out. the boat was supposed to be blue with the characteristic white underside all boats seem to have but then it was just...too blue and what goes better with blue than green 🤡

there was an idea thing going around where the crew on the pirate ship weren't allowed to wear colors, hence why both of Dean's outfits in the other two pics are so drab (the dull backgrounds don't help). so in this final piece where they're off the ship, I wanted to make it as colorful as possible with that orange sky and brightly colored boat and then Dean's colorful outfit with his shirt being somewhere between blue and green. yay contrast

man I didn't mean to ramble so much sorry about that. just put a lot of thought into these even though it might not look like it

the fic this is made for is called "Dead men tell no tails" by @quicksilver-castiel for the spn reverse fantasy bang

(02/17/24)

[myloveforhergoeson]

hello <3 chapter 28 preview is below the cut! it's shaping up to be more of a collection of short stories than one continuous story, so i made the time jumps '~' instead of '***' :)

different and domestic this time around <3

The day after Christmas, the largest snowstorm the Midwest had seen in 30 years subsided, and Big Time Rush, their assistant, and family members were able to get their flights rescheduled so they could spend some time back home before the new year. 

Though Roxy and Declan had to part with the boys, Katie, and Mrs. Knight at their flight gate, it didn’t stop the young writer and her boyfriend from a parting goodbye that felt as though it belonged in an old black and white movie. To an onlooker, it might have seemed as though James and Roxy would never see each other ever again when in reality, he was flying to Duluth and she was flying to Green Bay. 

Somebody had to collect the ancient Somerset family truck, Dynamo, from Wisconsin, and Roxy certainly wasn’t going to make her father do it alone, especially after his wonderful holiday surprise of meeting her in Los Angeles so they didn’t spend Christmas apart. Despite it adding five more hours to their travel time to Duluth, she was more than happy to spend it with him. 

More than once on the way to the airport, Roxy asked James to come with her and her father to Green Bay, but he unfortunately had to decline the invitation. He assured her he’d much rather spend the time with her, but his father was already made aware of their flight plans and was going to meet him and Carlos at the Duluth airport to take them both home. 

So, the pair had a dramatic farewell - James being entirely over the top as he quietly double-checked to make sure his girlfriend had taken her air sickness medication and Roxy clinging to him so tightly she probably left a few crescent-shaped indentations on his skin from her nails - and after a deep kiss and lots of groans from their friends, the two groups managed to go their separate ways through the bustling airport. 

Admittedly, the songwriter was quite worried as she and her dad passed through the large crowds of people. This was the first time in her life she’d be taking a flight without James and that wasn’t sitting well with her. Even if he hadn’t been there for her on their first two flights, their solo trek back to Los Angeles at the beginning of the summer had been far different. 

Of course, Roxy hadn’t realized it at the time, but It would be impossible for her to ever forget the jitters she felt when he held her hand during take-off or the way he checked on her whenever she finally felt well enough to weakly lift her head off his shoulder. Despite what felt like the entire world crumbling around them as they had jettisoned back out to California to work with a criminally insane record producer without their best friends, he had stayed awake the entire red-eye flight to comfort her as if she were the only thing in the world that mattered to him. 

While she reflected, she could feel the smile tugging at her lips. I love being the center of his attention.

Just as the pair of them happened upon the correct gate, C10, Roxy heard her father mutter something as he stared out of the large, floor-to-ceiling windows. At the base of the plane they’d be traveling on, the luggage handlers were roughly loading everything into the spacious haul, including two identical black guitar cases. 

“What was that?” She said teasingly, nudging him with her elbow as they continued to stare, watching as their items rode up the conveyor belt and into the luggage compartment. 

Declan blinked before guiding his daughter to a few open seats in front of the airline help desk. “I said ‘This is why I hate flying.’ On top of the damn ticket check-in an’ obnoxious TSA screenings an’ ridiculously priced coffee,” He gestured to a small cafe in front of them advertising seven-dollar lattes, “They don’t even handle your things with care! He just threw a 300-dollar guitar on the belt like it was nothing!”

While his complaints were entirely valid, Roxy had known him more than long enough to know none of those reasons were truly what was riling him up. As they sat beside each other, she noticed his bouncing leg and tight grip on the armrest beside him. That, mixed with his fast-paced rambling and thickening of his Southern accent, told her one thing. Her father, the bravest man she knew, was anxious and she was pretty sure she could figure out why.

That explains why we’ve never flown anywhere together…

Roxy had figured it was simply because flying was expensive; She and her father hadn’t ever vacationed far from home - Always to locations within acceptable driving distance. But now, watching him fiddle with the zipper on his carry-on, she couldn’t help but chuckle.

Another nudge. “That’s the only thing you hate about flying?” 

“I don’t care for the tiny, crowded seats, either.” His voice was barely heard over the hustle and bustle of other airport patrons around them.

“You’re so pessimistic.” She rolled her eyes.

“Well if you want me to say something nice, I suppose I can’t complain about the little peanuts they give you.”

“Those are only good if you can manage to keep them down.”

Finally, eyes widening, Declan caught drift of what Roxy was trying to get at. Apparently, airsickness ran in the family. 

“No… Not you too, honey bun…”

Slowly, she nodded. “It would’ve been nice of you to warn me of that before I got on my first plane!”

“I was hoping it had skipped a generation. Sucks all the fun out of goin’ places, doesn’t it?” When he finally turned to face her, watching as she placed her carry-on luggage between her knees, he nervously rubbed one calloused hand over his tattooed forearm. “There’s only been three times in my life I’ve been on a plane. Once, your grammy took me to Disney World when I graduated eighth grade, then when I chased Dana from Austin to Duluth, and then again, yesterday, to meet you here.”

Grammy. Dana. Two people her father rarely mentioned, but both of them in one go? Unheard of. 

Roxy swallowed, letting his words sink in. It was hard to figure out what to say whenever he brought up people from his past. Neither of those individuals were people he spoke to anymore, for good reason in her opinion, so the subject was always a bit touchy. For a moment, she wondered if her grandmother would be proud of the man he had become since cutting her off seventeen years ago. 

She certainly was proud of him; There wasn’t any man on Earth better than her father. 

“We’re tied then.” The girl settled on, ignoring the people Declan had mentioned entirely, reaching out to place one hand over his to help ease some of the tension. “Twice to LA, once to Duluth. They tried to get me on a plane during tour but I flat-out refused and took the bus cross-country instead. But you learn a few things when your job requires such consistent travel…” Using one hand to flip open the black flap of the mini backpack in her lap, Roxy rooted around for the small white capsule containing the Dramamine Mrs. Knight had offered her before their departure. “Take a few of these. It won’t really help, but sometimes it’s enough to trick your body into chilling out for the first half hour-ish. We’ll get through the rest together.”

Shockingly enough, Declan sighed, accepting the small tube from his daughter and swallowing two of the little pills dry. Then, slinging a lazy arm around her shoulder, he pulled her into a small half-hug. “That’s my girl. So grown up, jet-setting across the States with her pop band… You hardly need me to take care of you anymore, huh?” 

That was true, she felt, and she admittedly had for quite some time, but she’d never, ever let him know that. It didn’t change their relationship in the slightest; It didn’t affect just how much love she had for him. “Don’t be silly, Dad, I’ll always need you to take care of me.”

~

Both Roxy and Declan had a miserable flight to Wisconsin, running to opposite sides of the plane like clockwork to take care of their sickness. Whenever they returned to their seats, however, they had a brief period of respite where they were able to weakly hold a conversation or talk about something that had been going on in their separate worlds. 

Secretly, Roxy wished James were there, but respected the commitment he and his father had made to meet back in Duluth. Through most of her nausea, she couldn’t concentrate on much else, but when her head was clear enough, she sometimes wondered if he thought it was a chore to take care of her when they had flown back to Los Angeles together. The thoughts were unwelcome and hard to neglect, but she chalked it up to her illness as she burrowed into her Dad’s shoulder - when he was around at least - and tried to focus on the rock music flooding through their shared headphones. 

Declan’s playlists always brought back welcome memories of the times he’d picked her up from school, the special songs he’d taught her to play on the guitar as she was growing up, every time he’d play music trivia with her while they made dinner together. The hold music had on both of their lives was simultaneously the same and vastly different, shaping who each of them were while together and apart. All the comforting feelings from the familiar guitar chords and rebellious lyrics eased the girl greatly, eventually allowing her to ward off her ailment enough to close her eyes and nod off for a while.

By the time they arrived in Green Bay, the pair were more than ecstatic to get off the plane as quickly as possible, and take one more trip to the bathroom, before gathering their additional luggage and guitars. While the hustle and bustle of this airport was nothing like LAX, it was still busy regardless, taking even more time to get to the parking garage from the influx of people heading out of the baggage claim. Each moment that ticked by where she wasn’t getting any closer to Duluth was a moment Roxy began to miss her friends even more.

It was strange, being so connected to the band she physically felt an emptiness when they weren’t near each other, but unsurprising. Those four had a way of digging into her heart since the very first moment they’d met and had been subtly carving themselves deeper and deeper with each passing day. 

Aren’t you supposed to get tired of the people you spend every single moment of every single day with? She thought to herself, half-joking to try and dull the ache. 

When they finally found the ancient, rusty blue truck in the airport parking lot, Declan realized something was bugging Roxy, so he let her pick the music for their long ride home. That was something he always did when she was in a bad mood; It was an unspoken invitation to talk it out or leave nothing said as they simply enjoyed each other’s comforting company to the sound of a background track. 

First, she dug around in Dynamo’s glove box while her father took his place behind the wheel. Most of the tapes they had each made were in there, the ones they’d deemed travel-worthy anyway, along with the truck’s registration and various, small emergency supplies. The collection she had managed to pull out on her first try yielded one of the first tapes she had ever made - All her favorite songs from about five years ago - and the mix her dad had made for her to listen to as she was growing up. Each of them held 45 minutes on each side, so they’d have enough time to listen to both, and she popped in the cassette her father constructed to listen to first while he started up the vehicle. 

After a few turns of the key, Dynamo’s engine loudly roared to life with a shutter that reached the entire cab. Another familiar feeling, one she certainly didn’t ever get in the Pontiac, as her father pulled the car out of its parking spot and the two began the journey home. 

The idle small talk they had been making stopped the moment the first song began to play through the old, on the verge of blowing out speakers. 

Being the music-obsessed man he was, of course, the first song Declan had chosen for his daughter’s tape was “Roxanne” by the Police. Not only was it one of his favorite songs of all time, but it had been the inspiration for her name.

“A musical name for my musical girl,” He’d always told her whenever he played the song for Roxy when she was younger. “This one was on the radio when I received the best news of my life…”

Declan claimed to have made many mistakes as a teenager, but assured her that listening to this song always reminded him that his life had turned out on the right track. Without “Roxanne” he’d never have fallen in love with music, he’d never have started his own band and discovered the emerging punk scene in his hometown of Austin, Texas, and without that, he’d have never had Roxanne. 

When Roxy was old enough to begin to understand the lyrics and asked him what it meant to “put on the red light,” it had originally been to make him squirm, get him to admit that he didn’t really think about what it meant to name her after the song. Her rebellious phase hit quite swiftly once she turned thirteen, but dissipated about a year after, but now, she’d sometimes ask him randomly, for fun. In those cases, he’d ruffle her hair and make up a new absurd lie each time; Something silly and stupid, never truly telling her what it meant, though he knew for a fact she knew. 

She suspected this song had something to do with her favorite color being red. 

Leaning her head in the crook of her arm and staring out the window as they flew down the highway, Roxy reached for the dial and turned the volume up a few notches, but asked, “Tell me what putting on the red light means again?”

“Aren’t you listening to the song? She’s clearly using the light to interrupt a secret spy code!”

“Roxanne the spy does have a nice ring to it… Roxanne de la Rouge!”

He didn’t respond after that, though he did crack a small smile, simply tapping the wheel to the drum beat and checking the road signs to make sure they were on the right track. 

The more cars they passed, the heavier her eyelids felt. Flying always took a lot out of her - Far more than she cared to admit. By the time the second song rolled around, “Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve?)” by Buzzcocks, she was in and out of consciousness, thinking about how much she couldn’t wait to be back in Minnesota with her friends. At song three, “Real Cool Time” by the Stooges, she realized what a strange thought that was, considering months ago, that had been her worst nightmare.

Wherever we are… As long as we’re together, was her final conclusion, before slipping off to dreamland. 

~

They stopped halfway home to have lunch at a diner off the side of the highway. It was a much-needed break, and a good idea for the pair to refuel at the gas station on the opposite corner, but in the blink of an eye Declan and Roxy were back in the truck, motoring as quickly as they could to get back home. 

The grease dripping off of Roxy’s burger had settled nicely in her stomach, making her crave something from Duluth’s Bun In A Million; Still trying to wrap her head around the fact she was excited to be back in the Midwest. 

By the time her tape of songs had run out, she hardly even noticed, spacing out as she stared at the miles of farmland whizzing by her window. Wordlessly, her dad reached out across the center console and nudged her to pull her out of her daze, pointing to the glove box. 

Popping the small compartment in front of her open, Roxy blinked a few times to focus her attention and began to push various papers and items out of her way to find the other tapes they had stashed in Dynamo. It wouldn’t be so messy if he had just bought the tape organizer I told him to…

When her hands finally found something plastic under a box of bandaids, she pulled it out to discover a cassette she had never seen in the car before. Instead of the standard black of the blank tapes Declan had scattered all over their house, this one was bright white, with his smudged handwriting sprawled across the top. 

BTR

Roxy could hardly contain the grin curling her lips as she hastily popped her mix out of the car’s stereo and inserted the recording of her band’s first album. Though it took a few seconds to play - Declan had never been the best at making pristine recordings - by the time the intro to “Big Time Rush” started she could hear his deep laughter standing out against the melody. 

When their first album had been released, she had been sure to send a signed CD home as a testament to her songwriting ability. Though she had assumed her dad had tucked it away somewhere for safekeeping, she’d never have guessed he would’ve made a tape of it to listen on the go. When the first chorus hit, Roxy learned something else: Declan knew all the words. 

 It was almost enough for her to erupt in a fit of giggles, listening to him unabashedly belt out his declaration to go “big time” and at the bridge, she decided to join him in singing while playing air guitar to the chords she’d written her first night in Los Angeles. 

The pair continued like that, through “Famous” and “Any Kind of Guy” and then the rest of the tracks, all the way to the end with “Stuck” when they were interrupted by the sound of Roxy’s phone going off. 

Now “Boyfriend” was attempting to get into the song mix, with the writer swiftly taking her phone out of her back pocket and turning down the car’s stereo emphasizing the riff coming from the tiny cell speakers. A picture of her and James on their second-first date lit up her screen as she accepted the call. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, babe! Just wanted to let you know we all made it home safe and sound.” 

It wasn’t lost on Roxy that her dad snorted at James’ words; She mustn’t have had her speaker volume turned down enough. 

Shifting the device to her right hand, she slugged Declan on the shoulder. “Ugh, I’m so jealous. We’ve still got about two hours left, I think.” By the way the sun was beginning to shine directly into her eyes, she guessed, “Probably won’t be back until way after dark.”

On the other line, she heard some background deliberation meaning James was probably with Kendall, Carlos, and Logan, and it took a second for him to respond, “The guys and I are going to kick it at Carlos’ for the night, think you can make it?”

How are they so go, go, go…

“As much as I’d love to, jet lag is kicking my ass. It’s time for a much-needed night in for me.”

“Suit yourself!” He laughed before lowering his voice. Roxy could practically imagine him turning away from his friends and cradling his phone to his ear while he said, “Let me know when you make it to town. Since I’m not there to kiss you goodnight in person-”

Immediately, her cheeks flushed before remembering where she was. “O-okay! Yes, I’ll… do that. Bye!”

His confused, “Bye?” hardly made it through the speaker before she ended the call, scrambling to put her phone back into her pocket and pretending to be very interested in the small town she and her dad were passing through out the window. 

Declan shuffled a bit, the aging leather of Dynamo’s seats letting out a squeak in response. Soon after, “Stuck” ended and Roxy heard him flip the tape over to a live version of the unreleased “This is Our Someday.” A recording he must have made at their hometown concert over the summer. 

Though she much preferred the guitar piece she had written for the live show, she hoped her dad would enjoy the studio version just as much. 

While the song played, Roxy still stared out the window, trying to work through the complex emotions of being embarrassed by her unsuspecting boyfriend in front of her father. We sure are on a roll this week…

“He’s good to you, right?”

The girl felt her eyes widen, letting the question rattle around in her brain for a minute before sighing, “Dad…”

Music turned down to zero, Declan asked her again. 

“I’ll call Jo and Camille. The three of you can deliberate on it,” Roxy tried to quip, wanting to have literally any conversation but this one with her father. If she could sink into her seat and disappear at this very moment, she probably would.

Leather squeaking again, Declan blew out a large puff of air. “Seriously, honey bun. Teenage musicians, they’re-”

 “I know!” 

Like really. I know. Not that her father ever needed to hear about Dak Zevon. If that went anything like their conversation after her fiasco with Mag last year, he’d probably end up with his face plastered on wanted posters on every street corner of California. 

“Roxanne,” Declan said softly. “Please. Even with you living all the way across the country, I’m still your Dad. I gotta make sure.”

His daughter crossed her arms, pulling her knees up to her chest even with the uncomfortable seat belt cutting into her collarbone. “Yes, James is good to me.” Though that alone felt a bit unconvincing, and she audibly swallowed before following, “More like, perfect to me. He listens to me ramble about songwriting, always makes me feel like I’m the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, we never fight… We spend as much time together as possible and I’m really happy being with him.”

For someone who writes love songs… Damn, that was cliche.

“Okay, alright… Thank you.” Her father conceded, seemingly content with the answer she had given him. There was a beat of silence before he gripped the steering wheel tightener, “And you’re being safe?”

“Dad!” 

Her exasperation was enough to get him to finally let out a little chuckle, “He’s your first boyfriend, Roxy! A boy and a musician. I’ve just gotta double-check!”

“We’re not-” The writer stopped herself from saying anything else in immediate response, doing her best to understand where her father was coming from. More than anyone, he understood her situation best. He had been a teenage boy and a musician - one who often proclaimed he hadn’t been safe when he was her age. His questions weren’t to annoy her, he just needed to fuel his peace of mind. “The last year has been the best year of my life. I’m not going to do anything that puts my future in danger.” Roxy turned away from the window, finally glancing over at her dad to catch his solemn nod of understanding. “And one day this might be easy to talk about, but it’s fresh, and it’s new, and… you’re my dad.”

Declan nodded again, anxiously rubbing the back of his neck at the response he had elicited from his daughter. “Yeah… Sorry for the ninth degree. I just love you. Loads.”

“Sorry for snapping back,” She mumbled, but she knew he didn’t care. As much as they’d pushed each other's buttons in the past, he’d never, ever been angry with her. “And I love you too.”

Catching his half smile as he kept his eyes on the road, Roxy felt herself begin to smile too. She had forgotten just what it felt like to have her dad around, and now the excitement of being home wasn’t all that confusing anymore. 

She didn’t miss being in Duluth, she missed being around her father.

[hazbincalifornia]

Trying

Chapter 50: Blitzo talks to Octavia.

Warnings: Mpreg.

Ao3 link

“Can I come over?”

Blitzo shifted in his chair, hearing something creak through the phone as Stolas sucked in a breath. “Of- of course you can, Blitzy! Is there a reason? Do you need me for something? Do you need me to come there first-”

“I’m fine, Stolas, don’t get your feathers in a knot.” He rolled the little doll around in his hand. “I just wanted to give somebody a gift, that’s all.”

“Who?”

“You have no idea how many jokes I could make right now, do you owl-boy?”

“Blitzy, you know what I mean!” Blitzo could practically see the way his feathers were surely fluffing up, and he grinned to himself.

“It’s for your kid. Just made her a little something, since she’s, y’know, dealing with a lot of shit too.”

“Oh!” Stolas chirped. “Darling, that’s so sweet!”

“Yeah, that’s me, Mr. Perfect. Anyway, you both free sometime soon?”

“She’s currently with her tutor, but she should be finished in an hour or so, so you could come over whenever you’d like,” Stolas said. “Do you want me to open a portal?”

“If you’ve got the time,” Blitzo said. “I already tossed Loona the keys, so-” He saw the air shimmer and ended the call, pushing himself up off the chair and hearing as much as feeling the ‘pop’. “Guess that answers that.”

Stolas stepped through the portal, bending down with his hands folded. “May I see whatever it is? Not that I don’t trust you, of course, but-”

“Really, you think I’d give her something inappropriate?” He threw a hand over his eyes.”Oh, you wound me!”

“Blitzy-” Stolas started, but Blitzo waved his other hand, the one holding the doll.

“Not saying that she probably wouldn’t benefit from the chance to get to fuck out some of that stress with a toy or something, but-”

“It’s so cute!” Stolas chirped, cutting Blitzo off and snatching the doll up from Blitzo’s grasp. before turning it over in his fingers. It fit perfectly in his hand, and he stroked over the little gray mane. “You really made this for her?”

“Mhm. Not that everyone shouldn’t admire horses, but you think she’ll like it?”

“I hope she will,” Stolas said, the pad of his thumb pressing against the belly. “As I’ve said, she’s been cool to me recently, but I can’t imagine she’ll turn down a lovely little gift like this.”

“You’d be surprised about pissy teenagers, but I hope you’re right, I just want to let her know I’m not trying to be the dick ruining her life, y’know? Mostly because I’ll still have to be dealing with her for a while after this,” Blitzo said as Stolas handed the doll back. “I saw the pic on Sinstagram.”

Stolas grimaced, probably calling to mind how uncomfortable the shoot had been for both of them. “I’ll go call for her.” He straightened his collar before stepping back through the portal and what appeared to be his study. One hand gestured to the nearby chair, and Blitzo considered before deciding that just leaning on the desk was better. He didn’t trust being able to stand back up again on short notice, especially not on a chair with such a thick cushion. Stolas swept out, and Blitzo took a moment to breathe.

Okay. The kid was pissed at Stolas. More than understandable, given the circumstances. Would be great if she wasn’t, but he couldn’t really blame her. However, horses always primed the pump to improve people’s mood, and he was honestly rather impressed with this one- he even gave her a little beanie hat with a puff of gold for the crown.

He set the doll down on the desk to keep from futzing with it and squishing it, and his fingers brushed an open photo album that was about as thick as his head. Stolas must have just been looking at it, and that piqued Blitzo’s interest- maybe there was a hint as to what the kid might like, some way to help her see eye to eye. That one conversation they’d had hadn’t been the worst, so she was at least kinda reasonable. Probably.

The page open was of her at maybe age six or seven, digging in the dirt with Stolas with a big grin on her face. The picture next to it had her with a little smear of something brown that was either wet dirt or pudding on her cheek, and a hand that looked like Stolas’s wiping it off with a napkin. Flipping forward showed her slowly growing up, going from mostly pinks to pinks and purples mixed with blacks and grays. Some things never changed no matter what you were, apparently.

Most of it was just confirming what he already knew- that she liked punk and rock music from the bands that he recognized, that she liked dead things from her holding weird taxidermy, that she had used to be a bit closer to Stolas, but that was probably due to the fact that she was just really little in some of the first ones. Out of curiosity, he flipped back to the start. Sure enough, the first few pictures were of Octavia soon after hatching- one even had her still halfway in the egg, eyes mostly closed and resembling a moist chicken nugget. On the opposite side of that one was another plucked bird baby swaddled up in blankets, but this one had four eyes.

Blitzo snorted out a laugh. “Man, you were an ugly fucking baby, huh, Stolas? I mean, ugly in a kinda cute way if you squint, but-”

“Thanks for calling my dad ugly,” came a quiet voice from across the room, and Blitzo’s head jerked up to see Octavia standing in the door.

“Shit, you ever consider becoming a spy, sweetie? No sound at all right there.”

“I guess you were just more focused on staring at my dad’s baby pictures,” Octavia said, arms folded as she leaned against the doorframe. “Why are you here?”

“What, didn’t your dad tell you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “No? I wouldn’t be asking if he had. I just finished school for the day and was heading back to my room when I saw you.”

“Oh, he must have just missed you, he was going down to get you.” Blitzo scooped up the horse and crossed the room before holding it up. “I made this for you!”

“You… made this. For me.”

“That’s what I literally just said.” He waggled his fingers, making the Octavia-doll prance on his hand. “I know this has all been a lot.”

“Right,” she said, voice so heavy with sarcasm it practically hydraulic-pressed him down to the next Ring.

“So I just wanted to make you something cause, y’know, gifts are nice and all that. Free shit’s great.” He wiggled his fingers again, and she looked between him and the doll.

“What is this supposed to accomplish?”

His wrist sagged a little. “Well, you’ll be one horse doll richer. That in itself is a pretty bitchin’ state of affairs, in my book.”

“Cut the crap. What is this actually about?” Her fingertips drummed on her bicep.

Blitzo pulled the doll back. “Sheesh. Rude. A guy tries to be nice…” He sucked in a breath. “I just wanted to try and do something because you looked stressed out in that Sinstagram post and your dad’s worried about you, alright? He says you’re not talking to him.”

“Why do you even care? You said it yourself, this is just a temporary thing. I shouldn’t ever have to see you again except when he’s throwing you around in his room.”

He bit back a flinch. “How much has he told you about what’s happened in the last few weeks?”

“He told me that uncle Aamon was going to keep the kid, but that was about it.”

“Well, shit’s changed.” Blitzo set his free hand on his stomach, fingers curling the fabric. “I’m actually keeping it now.”

“You’re what?” She took a step back. “Are you…” She trailed off. “You’re serious.”

“Serious as first sin, sweetie.” He held up the doll again. “That’s part of why I want us to-”

Octavia snatched the doll and slammed the door in his face so fast it nearly bashed in his belly, and Blitzo yelped as his arms pinwheeled before his tail snapped out to help stabilize himself.

“Hey!” He threw the door back open, throwing his head from side to side down the hallway. Shit, could she teleport? Fuck, did he already ruin this-

A hiccup sounded from his left and his eyes dropped to see her curled up, knees hugged up to her chest. His chest twisted like an overwound toy about to crack.

“Sweetie…”

“D-don’t,” she mumbled. “I just- he tried to pretend things were normal, but every time he brought up the baby…”

Blitzo eased himself down to the floor. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

She turned to look at him for a brief moment before burying her face in her knees. “You were supposed to be be on my side,” she said, so quietly he almost didn’t hear it, before swallowing back saliva and words at the same time. “Neither of us wanted this.”

“Like I said, I changed my mind. This Daddy’s got to do what his heart says.” He let his horns rest against the wall behind them. As he looked up, glass stars shimmered as they hung from the ceiling, turning around and around and reflecting rainbows onto the upper part of the walls, just out of sight for those passing through. “Anybody tell you that I have a daughter too?”

“I think Dad’s mentioned her once and twice- she’s a hound, right? You screw somebody else too, old man?”

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m a spring chicken!” Blitzo protested, nudging her and getting a little hiss. “Anyway, she’s adopted and a couple of years older than you. She kinda freaked out on me too when I dropped the bomb, so at least you’re not alone in that, but me and Stolas want the same thing- for you guys to know we’re not leaving you behind. He was just looking at that photo album in there.”

“He just wishes I was a dumb kid again who doesn’t know any better,” she muttered, voice muffled as her head dropped again.

“Nah, he wishes you were a kid again because that’s when he saw you happier and you two were closer,” Blitzo said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but whatever it is, he’s so full of fussy dad-affection that he has enough room for both you and the baby.”

“But I don’t want there to be a baby, I want him to just-” Her fingers curled, and she leaned away from Blitzo. “-Just go back to being my dad.”

Blitzo sucked in a breath. “He’s been trying, but he also says you’re icing him out.”

She grimaced. “He was fussing so much about you. What to get you to eat, what to get you to wear, how he could help Aamon… whenever he talked to me, it was like he was just waiting to have time to leave again and think about you and it. I didn’t want to do that.” Her tail twitched.

“I mean, if you weren’t responding to anything he said, can you really blame him?” Blitzo shrugged. “Look, my family was fucked up different than yours is when I was a kid, but the guy’s doing his best.”

“If he was, everything would be okay again. Mom wouldn’t be dragging us all around more than usual and being so- so- much to him, and you-” She turned to narrow her eyes at him. “You wouldn’t be here.”

“And neither would that sweet little horsie doppleganger,” Blitzo said, nodding to her hand again, and she uncurled her fist to reveal the now-kinda-smushed doll again. “If I was a huge dick, would I have made that? Check and mate.”

“He said you liked horses. You just made something for yourself and slapped my face on it, like he does.” Still, her thumb rubbed over the hat.

“Next time I’ll bring some human bones or some shit, he said you’d like that, right? Maybe I can carve something out of one, I’ve got time since I can’t work anymore.”

“Oh, I don’t have any-” She shook her head. “Don’t try to- you can’t bribe me into liking you!”

“Hey, it almost worked there for a second, can’t fault a man for trying.” The end of his tail curled around his ankle idly. “He said his one regret about this whole shitshow is that it hurt you.”

She didn’t seem to know what to do with that, not meeting Blitzo’s eyes as her fingers curled around the doll again. “I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it. Fuck knows I’ve been in plenty of shitty situations and none of them involved my hack of a dad cheating on my mom. But let him prove he cares about you just as much as he ever did. He still loves you, and that’s not the kind of thing you want to just chuck in the trash.”

Octavia considered the doll for another few moments before stuffing it in her pocket and standing up. It took him a few seconds to follow, biting back a groan at the abrupt shift to his center of gravity, knees wobbling. She just watched him.

“I don’t know why you suddenly care so much. You were happy to just make this all his problem, our problem.”

“That’s the tricky thing about problems, kid, the more tangled up you get in them, the harder it is to get out without getting all sticky. Your dad cares too much and it pulled me in with him, but…” he looked down. “I put on my big-boy pants and realized that I didn’t want to lose the family I made, but making more, making a new one, could be a good thing.”

Octavia opened her mouth to reply when a voice chirped from a nearby door and Stolas rushed forward. “Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you! So you already saw-”

“Yeah. I saw.” Blitzo could see the fingers stuffed in her pocket rolling the doll around. Octavia looked between Stolas and him, and he couldn’t read her eyes as she faced her father, subtleties too different from an imp’s to tell anything except for the way her cheeks scrunched made him think she was trying not to start crying again. The hand not in her pocket raised for just a moment before falling again.

“I… hope you’re happy.”

She turned and walked away, clicks of her shoes echoing down the cavernous hallway, and Blitzo grabbed Stolas’s arm when he reached out to her. There were a thousand ways to interpret how she’d said those words, and the slight warble in her voice meant at least a dozen of them.

“I talked to her. Give her some time.”

“I just want my little starfire back,” Stolas whispered, and when he knelt down and pulled Blitzo into a hug, the imp didn’t resist.

“She said she wanted you back too.”

Stolas’s fingers tightened on Blitzo’s sweater, and when Blitzo hugged back, Stolas's face buried into the side of his neck where it met the shoulder with a shudder as something damp soaked into the thick fabric.

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] || Also on AO3

Chapter 7: April 2016

“Can I help you?” the woman at the desk asked in a bright, cheerful tone that was completely at odds with the look in her eyes. It wasn’t even a customer service I-don’t-want-to-be-here-dealing-with-you look, it was a straight up just-who-do-you-think-you-are expression. A big part of Melanie wanted to stick her Doc Martens right up this woman’s backside, but since she hadn’t bothered tarting herself up, she had to admit that her outfit was more rabble-rouser than serious academic.

“Uh, yeah, I hope so. I’m—” Melanie caught herself. Admitting any kind of familiarity with the Institute, even if it was just to ask for a department directly, would bring the wrong kind of scrutiny on her. She couldn’t even claim she’d been here as a student. If this woman was Rosie, mentioning Martin might be good enough to get her past the door, but she couldn’t risk bringing him to the wrong person’s attention.

And if he wasn’t here after all…

“I’m here to make a statement,” she said, hoping she hadn’t paused long enough to be suspicious.

It wasn’t technically a lie, she thought as she waited for the woman to contact the Archives and get her an escort down there. She could probably give them something. Describe an encounter that hadn’t gone the way they expected. It didn’t have to have a paranormal explanation. From what Martin had said the last time they’d actually talked—which admittedly had been a while—his boss would probably enjoy having a live statement he could easily disprove as a genuine supernatural encounter.

She should have known before she sat down that she wasn’t going to get away with that.

“And your statement is regarding…”

“What I saw at the abandoned Cambridge Military Hospital when we were filming there in January 2015.”

Shit.

Melanie found herself getting progressively angrier as she related the story, both at the fact that she could feel it being dragged out of her and at the look on Jonathan Sims’ face—half skeptical, half intrigued. He had no bloody clue what he was doing, or what he’d got himself into.

“Interesting,” he said at last. “You say you recorded video of this event?”

“Yeah,” Melanie said. “I’ll get your guys a copy, but watching it back, the recording is so messed up you can’t make anything out.” A lot of things were like that, she knew, they resisted modern recording efforts. Probably why Sims had had to close his laptop and pull out this tape recorder to get her statement. She didn’t bother pointing that out, though, since he’d obviously figured it out for himself.

And then he slid straight into challenging her, and her anger notched steadily upwards. She barely managed to contain herself from ripping his head off, but it was a struggle, and when he issued his curt statement ends and clicked off the recorder, she didn’t even bother waiting for him to dismiss her before shoving out of the chair and stalking out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

Screw him. She’d talk to the assistants instead.

The woman who’d brought her down—Sasha, Melanie remembered—was gone, possibly just leaving—at the very least, somebody was—but there was someone else standing at the cluster of desks. Melanie took one look at the man shrugging out of his jacket, strode up to him, and punched him in the stomach hard enough to make him double over.

“Where the hell have you been?” she snapped, shoving his chest to punctuate her remark.

“Good to see you, too, Neens,” Martin wheezed, straightening up and rubbing at his abdomen.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Melanie slammed at his chest again, but this time he caught her hand. She yanked it back and threw her arms around him in a tight hug. Martin hugged her back just as hard, almost desperately. “I went by your place yesterday and found your landlady tossing all your things out in the street, she said you’d been gone for ages—”

“Wh—oh, Christ, the rent. I forgot about the rent.” Martin’s sigh seemed to come from the depths of his toes. “God. I knew relying on phone alerts to keep up with things would come back to bite me.”

“Quit regurgitating Lily’s abuse and tell me where you’ve been, dammit.”

“Here. Which you’d have known if you ever bothered to—you did look at your texts. She sent you an all-clear, didn’t she?” Martin sighed again. “I like it better when they haven’t got far enough into it to be a nuisance.”

Melanie pushed back and looked Martin up and down. He looked good, if you didn’t look past the facade he put on. But she knew him well enough to pick out the little things—the cracks on the sides of his hands, the sticking plaster peeking from under his shirt cuff, the slight pink tint to the edges of his upper incisors. “Martin Blackwood, what is going on? And does it have anything to do with the worm infestation outside?”

“You didn’t get bitten, did you?” Martin’s face shifted to all-out anxiety.

“No, I’m fine…shit. It’s Corruption, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Martin rubbed his forehead. “Her name’s Jane Prentiss. She’s…it’s a long story. What are you doing here?”

“It’s the eighteenth,” Melanie reminded him.

Martin groaned. “I knew it was Monday, but…damn. Lost track of time. Also, that explains why you’re here, but why were you in there?” He pointed at the closed door to the Archivist’s office. “And more importantly, is he going to bite my head off if he comes out and finds you still standing here?”

“Probably not. I told them up front I had a statement. It was the only way I could think of to get down here without…you know. Not like I don’t have spooky-sounding stories that don’t have actual supernatural explanations at the root.” Melanie shrugged, hoping it came off as casual. “I figured I’d give him some enrichment, you know? Like tossing a pumpkin stuffed with raw meat into a lion’s enclosure. Something he could sink his teeth into that wouldn’t bite back.”

The look Martin gave her told her he wasn’t buying it, which was fair. He’d always been able to see right through her, even before they’d found out what was going on with his eyes. “So what did you give him? The Brickyard job or that time you tried to prove ghosts existed to that snot-nosed American kid by grabbing one of Aunt Mary’s books to read at him?”

“I wasn’t going to read it myself. I was going to make him read it,” Melanie mumbled. She shot a glance over her shoulder. Thankfully, the door was still closed. “No, I…the Cambridge Military Hospital.”

“Melanie Beatrice.”

“I know! I know I shouldn’t have—I couldn’t help it. He asked what my statement was regarding and that just came…pouring out.”

Melanie hated herself as soon as she said it, but she made herself not look away from Martin as fear and sorrow mingled across his face, and she knew it wasn’t just for her. The quick look he shot at the office door behind her confirmed that. She sighed and rubbed at her forehead before changing the subject. “When do you take your lunch break? And how long do you get?”

“An hour, but I just got back. Can I take a rain check?”

“Don’t be stupid, I’ll meet you after you get out of work. When do you leave? And where are you staying?”

Martin huffed at her. “Here, Melanie. Aren’t you listening? I don’t leave at the end of the day. I’m staying here. The Corruption had me pinned in my flat for two weeks, and when she finally left I came here to tell Jon. I didn’t even explain…everything, and he still was worried enough to suggest I stay here in the Archives.”

“You can’t stay here!” Melanie said, horrified. “Jesus, Martin, why didn’t you come to me?”

“She took my phone,” Martin told her. “I—look, fine, tell you what. We close down at five. Come back a bit early and…I don’t know. Maybe Jon will let you hang around and we can talk some.”

“Or maybe you can come home with me.”

“You know Andy doesn’t like me.”

“Andy’s gone,” Melanie admitted. It was one of the things she’d wanted to talk to Martin about. “Which, you know, means there’s another room in the house for let, so if you’re in need of a place I—”

“Ah, Martin. A word, please?”

Melanie jumped and whirled around. Standing behind her was a tall, slender, middle-aged man with the expression of a self-satisfied and mildly inconvenienced bureaucrat and the aura of something in servitude to a dark power wrapped in a tailored charcoal suit. She was struck with the urge to deck him, but suspected that would be a bad idea.

“Um, yes, sir?” Martin’s voice drifted into a higher register. Melanie looked over at him and saw that he had shifted his posture into the one she automatically associated with him putting himself in Mary and Liliana’s cross-hairs to keep them from taking out their wrath on Gerry or, more infrequently, Melanie.

“In my office.” The man turned a bland expression onto Melanie, who found herself wondering which end of his tie she would have to yank on in order to strangle him. “Is there something you need assistance with?”

“Ms. King was here to give a statement,” Martin said, and Melanie barely managed to suppress her frown at his tone. There was a quaver, a tiny note of fear, and even Melanie, who’d known him for going on twenty years, genuinely couldn’t tell if it was real or put on. He turned to her and added, “Like I said, we close down at five, so we probably won’t have anything for you today, but we’ll be in touch if we have any questions.”

“Sure,” Melanie said, letting the bitterness from dealing with Sims back into her tone. “I’ll try to get you those video files today.”

“We’ll walk you out.” The man’s words may have seemed like mere courtesy, but Melanie swore she could hear a subtle threat in the tone. “This way.”

Melanie couldn’t do anything but follow the man up the stairs, Martin behind her. When they reached the main floor, she gave him an obvious and sardonic two-fingered salute, then brushed her fingers quickly against his before heading out the door, whistling as nonchalantly as possible. She hoped he’d recognize the tune and understand what she was trying to convey.

She also wished she didn’t feel like she was abandoning him to wolves.

[blond3ang3l]

Italics- dialogue

Bold- inner monologue

Coming Together

All of the members of the group known as The Black Dragons were sitting in a circle looking at Luna like she was crazy. The group consisted of The Yuki twins Naylah and Luna, the eldest of the group Hiro, the second oldest Cici, and the baby of the group Melanie. They were currently in the back of the of the studio where they film their "videos" at, and Luna was telling them what went down the day before. Once she finally finished Hiro face palmed and let out a huge sigh of dissatisfaction.

"Jesus' fucking Christ what did I tell you huh?"

The clear annoyance in their voice made her pout. She already knew what was going to come, they were going to lecture her and list every reason they told her not to go out with Carlos before they started dating. Cici pulled her onto his lap just as he usually did. Wrapping his arm around her waist and sucked his teeth.

"We told you stop fucking with those little weird ass niggas', didn't we?".

Naylah snickered watching his twin get lectured earning a slap on his arm from her.

"Listen Luna maybe you just need to change your taste date somebody that's you know more upper class like us."

He told her accompanied by a shrug as he laid back on Melanie.

"Ugh it's not that easy, I like nerdy guys I mean you can't blame me. Plus, we're upper class but we're porn stars, nigga's ain't taking me seriously."

Luna explained while holding her arms against her chest. She felt something touching her thigh and she looked down to see it was Melanie laying on her.

Meanwhile a group of men were just entering the building joining the long line that was in front of them. Each one of them dressed formally in matching black suits. The leader The White Death was in the front of them looking around the fairly large building.

"Ah can't believe this stupid shit, being roped into these dumbass situations".

Ladybug threw his arm around his shoulder with a lighthearted laugh.

"C'mon don't be like that! Think about it like this, this is probably one of the easiest things we've ever done. And it finally gets that crazy girl off your back."

A huff came from the older man as they all decided to keep to themselves as they waited in line.

Once it was finally their turn all of them approached the front desk and was greeted by the short blonde haired male receptionist. With a smile on his face, he shook each of their hands.

"You all must be the ones sent by Maria I'm guessing! You guys are set up with our group called The Black Dragons. Don't worry everyone is tested before each set!".

Tangerine pushed through the rest of his group so he could talk to the receptionist.

"Great what room would they be in love?"

"Last room all the way down, so go to the end of this hallway that's the room were the actors are currently in right now. You'll go in there meet them and anything that you guys need to know you can ask them."

The receptionist pointed to the right where there was a door at the end of the long really bright hallway. Lemon nodded and grabbed the receptionist hand giving it a kiss and shooting him a wink. Tangerine grabbed his arm pulling him away so that they could catch up with the others. Yuichi looked around in skepticism keeping his guard up.

"What are we getting ourselves into huh? For all we know these girls could be waiting at the door to attack us soon as we step foot near the room."

The closer they got to the door the more hesitant most of the group became. In the distance they could hear giggling from the room they were heading to. Once reaching it Death was the one who knocked. Only for it to be opened not even a mere second later by Melanie with a smile on her face showing her sharp fang like teeth.

"You guys are the new actors, right? Come in so we can introduce everyone!".

She moved out of the way, and they were met by the group still talking to each other. Hiro got up and stuck their hand out for Death to grab.

"I'm assuming you are the leader of your group. I'm Hiro the one you talked with a couple days ago."

"Ah yes I remember, and you are correct. I am The White Death, but you can just call me Death.

Naylah snickered quietly and whispered to Melanie.

"I hope the dick game matches the name."

The two giggled amongst each other as Hiro and Death continued talking.

"You also said something about being with partners, correct?"

He shook their hand while the rest of his group sat in the empty seats that was in front of Luna and the others.

"Correct you'll be working with Naylah, Tangerine with Melanie, Yuichi with Cici, Luna with Ladybug, And I'll be working with Lemon."

With each name she pointed at who in her group they'd be working with.

"So, we will we have to show our faces in these videos?"

Tangerine questioned his eyebrow cocked, and his arms crossed. Cici shook his head and slid Luna off of his lap.

"Nah that's entirely up to you, if you don't just tell the cameraman before the shoot and he'll have your face edited out."

Naylah got up and sat on the arm of the couch Luna and Cici were sitting in.

"Speaking of shoots, Ladybug you and Luna have one tomorrow. You gotta be here at ten am sharp so you can get straight to makeup."

Lemon chuckled and nudged Ladybug.

"Look at that, you were the one most excited and now you get to go up first."

With the teasing it made him turn red, shoving Lemons hand off of him. Hiro motioned for them to go talk to their partners. With a nod they happily got up sitting next to them or standing in front of them. Each duo discussing something different from the planning of their videos to just trying to get to know some more about each other. Luna sat on the arm of the chair Ladybug was on throwing her legs over top of his.

"You excited for tomorrow lovebug?"

He tensed up but laid his hand on her thigh.

"Lovebug?"

She giggled and nodded.

"Mhm you don't mind if I call you that right babes?"

A smile crept on to her face as she used her long acrylic nails to trace shapes on his chest. Looking up so his eyes met hers he suddenly got a tight feeling in his chest. He gripped her thigh as he gulped, the eye contact making him feel as if he was about to have a heart attack.

"That's perfectly fine."

His gaze going from her eyes down to her gloss covered lips.

"I have my own room if you wanna head there so we could get to know each other more."

She told him looking over at Hiro, they gave her a small nod of acknowledgement. He nodded and Luna grabbed his hand taking him to a room just a few doors down.

Room design

They both sat on the bed with Ladybug not moving a single inch and being eerily stiff. But Luna on the other hand remained close eventually just deciding to get on his lap.

"C'mon lovebug stop being so nervous you literally get to see my naked tomorrow."

"I mean yeah, but like this isn't really something I've done before."

"You mean porn orrr?"

His breath hitched as he looked away in embarrassment. Luna's eyes widen and she covered her mouth to keep from giggling.

"Aww lovebug it's nothing to be ashamed of, I feel lucky to have someone as pretty as you to be my partner."

She wrapped arms around his own pulling it close to her tits.

"I always thought it'd be my girlfriend I'd do these types of videos with girlfriend."

Her eyes widened and she pulled her head looking at him as if he had two heads.

"Girlfriend? Nigga you have a girlfriend?"

"Kind of more like a situation ship. I like her and all, but she doesn't want a relationship. So she fucks with others not just me."

Instantly she deadpanned as the only thing she could think of was--

"Damn this nigga is really a fucking loser."

Being around her made him nervous as shit. His face red and he was sweating, figuring he fucked up already. Instead of being mad she couldn't care less as long as she wasn't messing with a relationship.

"And I'm going to fuck the shit out of him."

She grabbed his face so that they made eye contact causing his breath to hitch.

"You don't remember me baby?"

"Remember you? We've met before?"

A pout grew on her face as she pushed some of his hair behind his ear.

"Ya know.. midnight in Colombia. We were talking for like two months till you moved!"

"Oh, shit I'm so sorry I completely forgot about that!"

It finally made sense to him on why he felt like that as if his heart was going to burst out of his chest. And why her touch felt so much different from other girls that he had been with. A scoff came from her, and she got up mushing him in the process. He grabbed her wrist pulling her in between his legs.

"Baby listen I'm an idiot I know, so much has happened, but I couldn't be happier being with you now."

She snatched her hand out of his grip and scrunched her nose.

"Nigga please like I'm supposed to believe that shit. You didn't even remember who I was till I reminded you. you probably be telling all your other little bitches the same shit."

"Baby look at me, do you really think I'm going out here just dealing with different women. I'm about to lose my virginity to you tomorrow.

Grabbing her thighs and pulling her back onto his lap so she would calm down a bit. A small huff left her, knowing he was right.

"Let me make it up to you okay, after our shoot tomorrow I'll take you out and we can do whatever you want."

She knew she shouldn't as literally the day prior she had broken up with her boyfriend, but she had history with this guy, so it was worth a shot.

"Fine but you better make it worth my time lovebug~"

[iamsherlocked1479]

Thats not how I'd do it: Chapter 5

Chapter 5

“Hoo hoo.” Mrs hudson knocked on the door, popping her head around the corner missing you pull your skirt down in frustration.

“Aunt Martha!” you exclaimed hugging her tightly 

“y/n you’re all sweaty are you okay?“ Mrs hudson asked wiping your brow with her hanky

“Yes i just came back to change, too warm for these clothes. Plus I had a noise complaint.” you look over to Sherlock who rolled his eyes and slumped into his seat.

“So somebody was complaining about my boredom?” he moaned

“No i think it was more of the gun and-

“My Wall!” Mrs hudson yelled “this will be coming out of your rent mister.” she wriggled her finger at Sherlock who smiled forcefully watching her mutter as she walked downstairs.

“Could have gone worse.” Sherlock smirked, you rolled your eyes and grabbed your bag ready to go back to university. “What? Now you're mad at me too. Get over it, its a wall.” he exclaimed

“I'm not mad at that.” you huffed 

“Then why?!” sherlock asked utterly oblivious

“Maybe because you-” you paused Bumping into Greg in the doorway.

“Please, continue. don't let me interrupt.” He held his arms up and looked over to Sherlock who held his fingers in a triangular shape pressed against his lips.

“You have a case for me.” Sherlock stated. “Sit, I'm bored out of my mind.” You rolled your eyes but held off on leaving, curious to know what the case was.

“Jim Moriarty” Greg sighed, throwing a letter addressed to Sherlock onto the coffee table. Sherlock shot out of his seat taking the letter to examine it. He held the paper above a light looking for anything that could be a danger. He tore into it like a child opening a Christmas present, reading it aloud.

“Dear Sherlock, as you can clearly see I'm back. I look forward to our toying. This time I think I’ll play one of my favourite games. It's going to be a blast.” Like clockwork a loud boom rumbled down the street shattering the windows Gregs protective policeman nature towered over you blocking the shards of glass from hitting you. 

“Well isn’t this exciting.” Sherlock coughed wafting the dust from the air. You and Greg turned to him scowling at the mess his words had created, the sounds of sirens echoed closer, from the sounds of it luckily no one had been harmed. 

“You need to find him so we can put him behind bars.” Greg shouted before rushing to the street to help the other officers. 

“I think its best if you return to your studies y/n that paper won't write itself, dust yourself before you go.” Sherlock smiled, patting you back before taking his coat and swiftly leaving. Your eyes scanned the room looking at the rubble before focusing on the upturned desk.

“No no no!” You rushed to the chair pushing it aside, your laptop lay crushed and cracked there was no saving it. You threw it aside angrily, all your work, all your writing. Gone, for fuck sake Sherlock better stop Moriarty before you find him yourself. You had nothing else to do but go back to university, you stepped over more rubble out on the street and got into a passing cab.

“Where to love?” The cab driver asked

“Westminster university please.” The traffic was bad, the firework display on Baker Street hadn’t helped, thanks jim. Your eyes got bored of watching the endless crowds of people pointing towards the explosion sight, so you fixated your view on the screen in the cab. It was playing the crappy shopping channels your aunt liked, not interesting at all.

“back to the windows I guess” you recognised every turn, the journey was the same every day 10 minutes, 20 on busy days. Right, left and right again. A simple task.

“Y/n” 

“What did someone say my name?” Probably not if you're a university student, sleep is not a friend.

“Y/n?!” 

“Okay that time I definitely heard something.” You eyes averted to the screen, 

“oh god is that? Moriarty?!” His face covered the whole screen, smiling and laughing at your shock.

“Good afternoon y/n, i hope you’re ready to play my favourite game.” His voice wormed through the cab.

“Can we pull over please, I want to get out.” You called the driver, he didn’t look back, it's like you didn’t even exist. Then it happened, right then left and then right. He took the wrong turn, panic flooded your body, this wasn’t the way and the most dangeman in the country, maybe even the world, had locked you in his cab.

“Don't mind Fabio over there, he’s just taking you to the first venue. I hope you're ready to be the star of my favourite game. See you there.” The screen turned to black and the cab pulled over to a rusted old warehouse.

“Out.” The driver opened the door and demanded your exit. You cowered in the cab frozen with fear, the driver sighed and pulled a gun tucked in his belt. “Now”

“Okay okay.” You weren’t stupid, scared but not stupid. You climbed out the cab hesitantly, scanning your surroundings. The driver pulled your bag from your hands “hey!” You called turning to him. 

His arm was fast, striking your head knocking you unconscious, the last thing you saw was a new figure standing over you. Everything faded to black.

…….......................................................

“John, I'm so glad you decided to finally join me.” Sherlock patted john on his back sarcastically.

“You barged into my office demanding it was an emergency, I couldn’t exactly ignore it.” John did his usual complaining 

“Don't use the, i was working excuse. This is you work and quite frankly I believe you missed it.” He chuckled walking into the Diogenes Club. 

“You’re right, why are we here?” He gestured to the posh men all sitting in armchairs in silence.

“Here to meet me I assume.” Mycroft appeared from a hallway gesturing for the men to follow him. 

“Brother.” Sherlock said irritatedly, slumping himself into an armchair. “I assume you know why we’re here.” Mycroft shuffled in his seat and cleared his throat. “What is it?” Sherlock asked curiously 

“It appears Moriarty has found your weaknesses brother.” He said turning his laptop towards Sherlock, John laughed out loud 

“You really think this man has a weakness, unless its questions on the earth orbiting the sun. I think we’re okay.” 

“Mycroft, unless you’re just wasting our time, I suggest you elaborate on my enemies' lies.” Sherlock complained, pulling his triangular fingers to his chin. Mycroft rolled his eyes and pressed play.

“Sherlock, Sherlock what a blast this really is going to be, ha ha did you enjoy my joke letter i know i did. Now lets begin Level one, damsel in distress. Recognise this beautiful girl. Of course you do” the screen cut to a recording of y/n pulling Sherlock into her room.

“What is this?” John asked

“Now I know what you’re thinking, John, if you’re there. what?! Sherlock popped his cherry ugh why couldn’t it have been me! Well sorry but it appears y/n hear stole the show. The camera zoomed in on an unconscious you, head slumped tied up in a chair. Sherlock exhaled angrily.

“Brother, this is what happens when you get caught up in human emotions.” Mycroft said smugly

“Shut up let him finish.” Sherlock shouted

“Stay tuned for episode one Sherlock, let the games begin.” The screen turned to black and Sherlock turned to John.

“Help me find her.”

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

A/N: Yay! finally posted another chapter, i can tell you now people are really gonna love what i have install for this or hate it, i know i love it and i think it will be good but i'll leave that up to the tumblr critics as always if u wanna be tagged coment, if you wanna suggest anything or want a fic writing comment and most of all enjoy :)

M xx

[nanamisflowerfield]

︵✿︵︵✿︵︵✿︵︵✿︵︵✿︵︵✿︵︵✿︵

It was a special day. Not only for the great Mammon, but also for you. The Avatar of Greed just wants to see and make you happy on this very day.

︶✿︶︶✿︶︶✿︶︶✿︶︶✿︶︶✿︶︶✿︶

@dreamkidddream HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! I really hope that you have a lovely, wonderful and magical birthday!💕💕💕

His eyes wandered towards the ticking clock. It felt like as if time slowed down, every time his blue-yellow-colored orbs met the clock that hung up on the classroom’s wall in front of him. Not only did Mammon felt somebody staring dagger at him, but also another being that looked at him so softly and sweet.

“Mammon… Are you okay? Lucifer is kind of angry at you again. Did you do something again?” You asked your dear friend, leaning to the demon, who gulped down, before he threw a glance to his older brother. “He is just pissed that I wanna go home…” He answered you, blush dusting his cheeks by the warmth he gained from your side. “N-Now concentrate… I don’t wanna see you failing this class…” He mumbled, trying to focus, only to hear your sweet chuckle that the white-haired demon loved so much.

Oh, how he would swoon and gush over it, whenever he was alone in his room, staring at the pictures and selfies he had took with you. How could you not see the love in his eyes? The stuttering voice, that always called you in pure jealousy, when you were around one of his brothers. Were you truly that oblivious or were you aware of his strong feelings that he held on tight?

You rolled with your eyes, shaking your head at him. “We both know how it’s going to end, right, Mammon? You will fail and I will have to help you.” His shoulders twitched, nearly yelling at embarrassment that you were not right, but if he would yell at this moment, Lucifer will surely punish him for his behavior. So, instead of doing this, the Avatar of Greed just clicked his tongue, turning his head to the side and looking away, so your eyes wouldn’t meet again until the lesson will end.

“(Y/N)! Mammooon! Are you two going to come to the café today? We have to celebrate (y/n)’s birthday after all! ♡” Asmodeus runs to you two with Leviathan on toe. You nodded your head, wanting to spend your time with your dear friends and having fun, until you heard Mammon’s answer. “Sorry ‘bout it, but I can’t. Gotta do something.” He muttered, walking out of the school. “Huh? What was that?” The Avatar of Lust asked, raising his eyebrow at the older brother, while Leviathan only shrugged. “He would never say no to a party loool!” – “Well, we don’t need Mammon. We can have fun by our own, right (y/n)? ♡”

They dragged you away, making you only glance over your shoulder for a mere second until your (e/c) eyes saw your friends at the “super cute cat café” that Satan and Asmo had wanted to go to.

Lucifer sighed, following his brothers and you out of the school, still asking himself what kind of idiotic thing Mammon had planned once again.

Did it had anything to do with your birthday or had he left everyone to see those witches again, as the white-haired demon was like a toy to those crappy witches.

“Hey, cheer up, I don’t think that the idiot forgot your birthday.” The oldest demon brother elbowed you lightly, giving you a smile to assure you of his thought. “Y-Yeah… You are probably right. Mammon is an idiot, but he wouldn’t forget my birthday…” Your lips curled up, still unsure if you were right about this.

But in the meantime, the called demon sneezed, rubbing his nose with a tissue, before he placed a large cake on your desk. “Am I getting sick now…? Oh no, that can’t be possible! As if the great Mammon could ever get sick!” He laughed, grabbing a few balloons out of a large package, he had bought a week ago for this special day. Your special day.

The day Mammon had met you; he was pinning so hard. His heart would always beat so fast and his mind would even drift off to you. He could never stop thinking about you! Hell, it was so horrible. Never had the demon thought that he would have those feelings for anybody. Mammon was always fixated on money and his car, but never on a sweet living being like yourself. The Avatar of Greed knew why people would fall for you. How could they not? You were adorable, so kind and sweet all the time to everybody.

“Oh, right… Gotta decorate more…” He mumbled, still holding onto one of the (f/c) balloons, his gaze lingering on the object in his hands. “Huh… (y/n) is living in my mind… Even rent-free. So rude…” A low and deep chuckle escaped his lips, preparing your little surprise party until he heard your door open and somebody gasp at the sight of the demon, who was surrounded by flowers, hearts and too many balloons. “Mammon?”

The white-haired demon turned his head, staring over his shoulder to see the one person he had not wanted to see at this moment. You. “W-What are you doing here!?” He screamed, trying to hide the decorations, but failing as he fell face-first on the ground, yelling in pain. “Oh my god, Mammon! Are you alright? I-I was worried!” You run to him, helping your dear friend onto his feet again. “Worried? W-Why?” He stuttered, still holding your hand in his, as he stood up.

Mammon’s eyes wandered to your intertwined hands and his cheeks got redder by feeling your hand ins his. “Because you just left and I…” You sighed, staring at him with a concerned expression that Mammon just wanted to kiss away. “I wanted to spend my birthday with you. But you weren’t there and I thought that you might need help with anything. You hurried off so fast, I was really worried about you, Mammon.” He gulped, not knowing what to do.

How could you always make him so nervous? It wasn’t fair. He wants you to feel the same way, how you always made him feel!

“Just wanted to make a small party for you… That’s all… No need to get worried ‘bout me.” With his other hand, that you weren’t holding, he scratched his neck, getting shy again. Did you know he feels for you? How you made his heart pump faster?

But his thoughts were once again interrupted. He felt something warm on his cheeks, making his eye widen at you. “D-Did you just kissed me?” Mammon’s face felt warmer by every second he was staring at your smiling lips. “I-Idiot… Did you just nodded? A-Also you missed!” He whispered under his breath, making you look at him in confusion. “Missed? How? I was aiming for your cheek.”

Mammon shook his head. His white hair swayed by his movement, before he leaned down and pressed his lips on yours, hoping that your heart and you will feel the same. “T-That’s were you gotta kiss me next time… Better remember it, (y/n).”

You nodded your head, blushing at his words, while your hand grasped his tighter. “Gotcha.”

“G-Good… Now go and eat your cake ‘n all, I prepared for you… If I’m not wrong, it was your favorite from the human world. Don’t smile at me and go, before the others come.” Mammon pouted at the thought of spending his (y/n)-time with his brothers. He just wanted to spend it with you alone and holding you in his arms. “Happy birthday, idiot.” The demon sends you a grin, kissing your pinkish cheeks, before he gave you a small card. “Your birthday gift.”

You opened the birthday-card to read what’s written inside, making you smile at the sweet demon, who sat himself next to you and steal a bite of your cake.

“I’m your present.” Was written on the little white card with a really bad drawn birthday cake next to it.

[reidjumpers]

Okay so you said to send prompts so we can talk about dad!Spencer so my thoughts: how does Spencer and pregnant!BAU reader tell the team that they are expecting?? Is it like a game? Do they just announce it suddenly? How does it go

IT TOOK ME SO LONG BECAUSE I CAN’T DECIDE THE ENDING BUT HERE WE GO. OK THEN since JJ was the first person who find out, so here how it goes:

Spencer and you have been talking about it for quite some time. Your parents and his mom already knew, and sooner or later you have to break the news to the team too. Spencer had been a little more agitated than you, mainly because a) he couldn’t conceal his happiness for so long; b) he would want you to stay back safely if the team called for a case.

You suggested a quite straightforward method, inviting everyone for dinner to break the news. He agreed and promised he would start looking for some good restaurant to invite everyone. You tried to suggest cooking the food by yourself and he shot down the idea almost immediately.

All the plans were thrown out of the window, however, as soon as you found yourself standing in front of Morgan’s desk, lips quivering and eyes glossed with tears. Morgan peeled his eyes away from his paperwork slowly, almost syrupy-like, and was more than surprised to find you staring at him tearfully.

“I am sorry,” you blurted out immediately, leaving him no room to ask why you were staring at him like that.

Morgan blinked. “What?”

“I am sorry!” you repeated, with more force in your voice that left him stunned. “Please forgive me.”

“For…?”

“I ate your cake.”

“My cake?” Morgan repeated dumbly and slowly. He blinked, tried to piece everything together, slowly walking back through all the course of events in his life that led him to this exact moment. “The chocolate cake I left in the fridge at the break room?”

“Yes, that one. I am sorry, I didn’t mean to!” you started to sniffle, feeling some stray tears started to stream down your face. Morgan looked alarmed as he straightened up on his seat. “I am sorry!”

Morgan was more than confused, if not alarmed by your sudden tearful confession of you eating his cake. You saw JJ stood up from her seat from your peripheral vision, pushing a chair towards you and gently coaxed you to sit down. You couldn’t really register what happened through your high wave of guilt and tearful eyes, but suddenly Emily is standing next to you and JJ rubbed your back soothingly.

“Morgan!” you yelled his name, agitated by his silence. “Say something!”

You could feel Emily gesturing something towards Morgan, mouthed some words you couldn’t hear. Morgan flickered his eyes between you and Emily, his eyebrows furrowed together in a mixture of confusion and pure concern.

You know that it was stupid, and you probably had made a scene in the middle of the bullpen. Judging from the fact that Garcia is suddenly asking everyone what happened and Hotch — oh god Hotch is watching you having a tearful outburst — is out of his office, you knew that you had attracted everyone’s attention.

You couldn’t really tell whether it was mortification, or guilt, or just overall your hormones messing with your head, but you started to cry harder. Violent sobs wrecked through your body, and suddenly you’re engulfed in Emily’s embrace. Morgan looked even more alarmed with your violent sobs, wrecking his head to find a word to say.

“It’s alright. Hey, hey, hey, look at me,” Morgan gently placed his hand atop yours, coaxing you to look at him. You lifted your head to meet his eyes, and a pang of guilt punched your chest at the gaze he sent you. “It doesn’t matter, it’s okay. It’s just a cake.”

The concerned stares he gave you knocked out the air out of your lungs. You knew he was genuine with his words, but it had upset you even more knowing he probably felt guilty for making you cry in the middle of a bullpen. You felt like a child, and you were angry with yourself.

Morgan blinked, again, didn’t know what to do. To be really frank, he didn’t care about the cake one bit. He didn’t mind if anyone ate his cake at all. But all of his effort to comfort you seemingly only made you more upset and he really was at the end of his wit.

“What’s going on?” Spencer, like a knight in shining armor that he is, showed up just right in time. His eyes widened at the sight of you crying in Emily’s arms, and immediately made his way towards you. He shot a glare towards Morgan who immediately raised his hand to the air in surrender.

You immediately threw yourself into his embrace, couldn’t really bring yourself to care and remind yourself that you’re in the middle of a professional setting surrounded by your coworker. Spencer rubbed your back soothingly and gently rocked your body back and forth as you cried into his shirt. You mumbled something incoherently into his shirt as you sobbed.

“Sweetheart, what was that?” Spencer gently pushed himself away to take a better look towards your face. You glanced up to see him through your wet eyelashes, frowning at worry plastered all over his face.

“I ate Morgan’s cake,” you said again through your tears. “I didn’t mean to. It was the baby, I swear.”

You could feel Spencer stiffened underneath your arms as you said that, but you realized a little too late after a long silence fell and everyone stared at you with a wide eye. You swore somebody could drop a pin and it could be heard clearly.

“I—” you opened your mouth but then closed it again, more to address your wide-eyed husband rather than anyone in the room. You swore you could spot some hidden amusement and wonder behind those eyes, and suddenly you felt absolutely annoyed.

“I’m sorry,” Garcia was the first one who broke the silence. “Did you say baby?”

You took a quick glance towards Spencer. He just smiled and shrugged and you caught JJ quietly turned around and walked towards her desk to hide a smile and suppress a laughter. Well, the cat is finally out of the bag at last. All it took was one meltdown over a piece of cake.

“Uh… surprise?”

“What the hell,” Emily let out a snort of laughter. You shot her a glare that did nothing but made her laugh even harder, shaking her head as she draped an arm around your shoulder. “That was one hell of a dramatic way to announce your pregnancy. I really appreciate it, I always know you’re my best friend for a reason. Congratulations.”

“Oh my god! Ohmygod we’re having another baby!” Garcia squealed. “Congratulations. I love you, even though you hid it from us this long!”

You grinned at Garcia as she pulled you and Spencer into a hug. “Thank you.”

Hotch gave you a long look. “I am really happy for you both. Congratulations, but next time, please refrain from having a dramatic announcement,” he said sternly, although you swore you caught his lips twitching.

After many rounds of congratulations from everyone, the initial crowd that gathered dissipated and soon it returned into another normal day in FBI’s Quarter. Still, you couldn’t help but to notice Morgan keep staring at you with a mixture of awe and wonder.

“Is that why you yelled at me once when I was wearing my perfume? Even though I have been using it for years?” Morgan asked you with a voice thick with awe. You started to blushed furiously as the memory of you lashed out on him at the overwhelming smell of his perfume started to fill your head. “I should’ve known! But I just took it as you having a hangover.”

“I’m sorry, your perfume makes me nauseous,” you muttered meekly as your eyes glaring holes into your paperwork in order to avoid his eyes.

Morgan just laughed out loud. Glad that he found humor in your struggle. “Just keep in mind that Derek is a nice name for a baby boy.”

[asharkapologist]

Best Laid Plans: a brief Secrets Can Kill story

for @oceandrew​ because you said you’d read this if I wrote it and for @pinelesstree because you encourage my weird hyperfixations :)

word count: 2329

Jake walked into his room and threw his backpack at the foot of his bed, muttering a few choice words to himself. More carefully, he set his video camera onto his desk, but then swore again and kicked the one of the legs of his desk. 

That…maybe could have gone better. He wasn’t planning on Mitch pulling out a gun in the middle of discussing arrangements. Maybe that was some lack of foresight on Jake’s part…. Sure, Mitch was just some stupid criminal, too dumb to go to college, so he worked as a custodian at the pharmacy, school, and as maintenance man on top of his drug racket, but he was still a criminal. Duh, some of them carried weapons.

Jake winced. His face still hurt, though.

But Jake was smart. Smarter than Mitch. While he and Mitch were arguing in front of the video lab in the school (they’d met there at six, and plenty of athletes, janitors, and security personnel were still in the premises, so the door was unlocked), Mitch pulled out his gun, pointed it at Jake, and yelled at him to give him his video tapes and video camera. Jake had yelled back at Mitch, hoping to attract somebody to the video lab to scare Mitch off. 

After about a minute, his plan worked, but not before Mitch had hit him with his gun.

Jake winced as he touched the side of his face. That was going to leave a mark. He’d been stunned for a moment, but before Mitch could hit him again, they’d both heard footsteps rapidly approaching the video lab. Once they’d heard the footsteps, Jake ran out the doors of the school, jumped on his bike, and peddled away…though he wasn’t sure where Mitch had gone.

He sat on his bed and cursed to himself again. If that had gone better, then he would have gotten enough money to be out of Paseo del Mar by the end of the week.

If he wanted to get money out of Mitch, he had to do something different. Maybe not meet him in person again, Jake didn’t like getting hit and would rather not repeat such an experience again. Maybe Jake could leave him another note somewhere, or use Daryl or Hector as a deliveryman. Probably Daryl, since he knew Mitch already. Or maybe not, considering who knew what would make Mitch pull out his gun, though Mitch did rely on Daryl for running what was most likely drugs, so Mitch probably wouldn’t attack him. And besides, Daryl wasn’t smart enough to get the best of Mitch. Jake had outsmarted both of them. He could take care of himself. If Jake could organize some sort of dead drop or something, that would be best. Something that wouldn’t require any face-to-face communication with Mitch. Just let him control Mitch from the shadows and then disappear once he got the money he wanted.

He did take comfort in the fact that Mitch hadn’t shot him. Maybe the gun was just for intimidation. Maybe he was all talk and no show. Maybe he wouldn’t really kill anyone. 

Jake would just have to watch his back while at work and school to make sure Mitch didn’t show up and mug him.

Something tapped at his window. 

He ignored it and stood up from his bed. He’d mostly sorted everything in his room into “I want to take this with me” and “I don’t want to take this with me” when he moved out, hopefully next week, if all went according to plan. He’d almost finished writing the letter to his dad explaining why he’d be randomly gone one day. Though it might be a while before his dad noticed. Their paths didn’t cross all that much. This week was an exception, since with their current house guest, Jake’s father wanted to try to eat dinner together to at least keep up appearances; awkwardly try to get to know his ex’s daughter more while she stayed at their house. Jake doubted his dad would organize a massive search party to pick him up, even if he or someone found the video tape saying Jake was going to Dread Isle. His dad was apathetic like that, didn’t really care about Jake. Jake was, too, he didn’t really care about his father. Their relationship was convenient like that. 

The tapping continued.

Maybe he could give Mia some more clues to find his video tapes. Sure, his half-sister would only be here for another few days, but if she really tried, she could probably find all of the clues needed to find the hidden tapes, or at least the one showing where he was heading next week. Especially because some clues were hidden away in the library. She liked reading, so he imagined she’d be especially thrilled to find he’d inserted clues into the library’s catalog. Sure, she didn’t live in Florida, but if she just confidently walked into school or Maxine’s after hours, no one would suspect anything or question her.

More tapping.

And hey, if she--or anyone in the school, though he doubted anyone in the school would find out anything, since everyone at the school were all idiots--found the clues he’d left hinting at his classmates’ misdeeds, good for her/them. If not…well, at least Jake could forget about them when he was on Dread Isle. If Daryl kept up being a drug runner, if Hector continued stealing and using drugs, if Connie kept committing fraud, if Hal kept cheating…karma would catch up to them eventually. They were all obsessed with going to college (waste of time, if you asked Jake, he had showed in the past couple months you didn’t need a college degree to get money), and even if everyone threw away Jake’s messages on the bulletin boards, someone would eventually find out what disgusting hypocrites they were; walking around with their holier-than-thou attitudes while committing crimes of themselves (especially Daryl, Jake genuinely hoped he met the same financial ruin as his father when his perfect, golden boy reputation and appearance crashed and burned eventually, because if there was any justice or karma in the world, that would happen). Maybe it wouldn’t be Jake who ultimately exposed them, but out of sight, out of mind. Thinking about them would ruin his private island/life of solitary luxury, so he’d do his best to avoid letting them ruin his retirement.

The tapping had turned into pounding.

Seriously, what on earth--he thought as he turned around towards his window.

And gasped, jumping backwards, his throat suddenly constricting as his heartbeat shot up.

Mitch was standing there.

How on earth did he--?

He had been tapping on the window with his gun.

Jake pressed himself against his dresser, trying to remain standing, despite his limbs suddenly wanting to give out. Why on earth was Mitch here? This was Jake’s house, he was supposed to have privacy here, how did he follow him here? 

“If anything happens to me…” 

Okay, he hadn’t actually thought that something was going to happen to him when he’d recorded that on his video tape; he was just supposed to take Mitch’s money and have the guy leave him alone.

Mitch was glowering at him as he made a “come here” gesture.

Jake was feeling rather sick but he tried his best to ignore such feelings as he straightened up--he just startled me, that’s it, I’m fine, I have control of the situation--and walked to the window.

“What do you want?” he muttered, opening his window. “Here to pay up?”

“Not at all. We’re going to meet again.”

“I don’t have anything else to say. Give me the money or I’ll turn you into the police and--”

The word died in Jake’s throat as Mitch shoved the gun into Jake’s face.

“I have a few different things to say,” Mitch said quietly as Jake crossed his eyes staring down the barrel of the gun. “Meet me at the school tonight, by the entrance in the back of the school to the boiler room at 11 p.m.”

“Wh-why do you think I’d be stupid enough to meet you then, when the security’s left for the night by then?”

A ghost of a smirk tugged at the corners of Mitch’s mouth. “It is unfortunate for you, isn’t it? Would you like to know what will happen if you don’t?”

“I can guess,” Jake said, forcing himself to look away from the gun and instead at the man holding it. His face must have been ashen, but he tried to wipe his face clean of emotion as he faced Mitch

“I know where you live, Jake,” Mitch said, his voice uncannily quiet, considering he’d been yelling at Jake at the school not one hour ago. “Obviously. If you aren’t by the school by then, I’ll come here and shoot you. And I’ll shoot anyone else who lives here. And don’t think you can run away, either--my, ah, business, as you called it--it has a lot of people involved all around Florida. Within a few days, they’d all know what you look like.”

Jake didn’t say anything, and Mitch continued, “So we’ll discuss arrangements on my terms, this time--at the school at eleven tonight. I’ll see you there.”

And he put his gun away, backing away from the window. A few minutes later, Jake heard a car engine turn on and drive away.

He exhaled and ran his fingers through his hair, slumping against the wall.

He wanted to meet…tonight…at the school. With no one else around. No risk of security or anyone else running into them.

A sudden, horrible thought slammed into him.

You’re not getting out of this alive.

Shut up! 

You’re outclassed.

No, I’m not. I’ve already blackmailed four criminals.

Did any of them come to your house to threaten to murder you?

Shut. UP.

It was almost seven now. He’d have to leave a bit past 10:30 to make it to the school by eleven.

A strangled noise was building up in the back of his throat, and breathing was starting to sound faint, shaky. 

Shut UP. Come on, think. 

Wait, the bulletin boards…

If he went to the school now, he could make it back to school at about 7:30. The security guards, athletes, coaches, janitorial staff, and maybe some theater kids cleaning up after rehearsal would still be there.

If someone asked what he was doing, he could tell them that he forgot to do something, forgot to leave something on the bulletin boards for tomorrow, say he left something in his locker, something. He just needed a printer and some paper. Maybe just even paper and a pen.

Messages, he could leave messages…

Someone knocked on his door, and he jumped.

“Jake?” Mia called.

He cleared his throat and exhaled slowly, calming down. “Yeah?”

His half-sister opened the door and frowned. “You good? What happened to your face?”

Oh that. Again, he unconsciously brushed against his injury. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just, uh, fell off my bike.”

“Uh-huh.  Dinner’s ready.”

“Oh. Right.” He cleared his throat. “Actually, Mia, you and my dad can eat without me. I have to run to the school to do something real quick.”

She frowned and crossed her arms. “You know, you’re weird, Jake. The way you were talking to that kid in the library. You were exchanging papers or something, and that kid really looked unhappy. You told me that you really hate your classmates, and that they hate you…but I guess I underestimated how much. Even walking down the hallway, people were throwing you dirty looks! You don’t seem physically strong enough to shove kids into lockers. And now you show up with the side of your face injured. What are you doing? Why are you exchanging papers with people? Why does everyone hate you? Why do you look like you were punched? And why are you being so mysterious about what you’re doing next week?”

Ooh, she was good. Definitely worthy of being his sister. Jake guessed their mother had been the smart one in her and Jake’s father’s brief relationship, since Jake definitely didn’t get his intelligence and cunning from him.

“I…” He tried to give a confident, nonchalant smirk, but suspected it looked more like a pained grimace. “Um…would you believe me if I told you I have a job, some side-hustles outside of my job at the diner?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You a drug dealer? My friend says that every high school has them. Or do you gamble? That can get you a lot of money if you rig the system. Or do people in a random Florida town have blackmailable secrets?”

You’d be surprised. He shrugged noncommittally, avoiding looking at her. “Something. Uh--I promise I’ll give you more hints and stuff later,” he said, standing up. “I’ll--”

“No, really, are you okay?” 

She had dropped some of the accusation in her tone.

“Uh, what do you mean? Of course I’m fine.” He could feel the situation, their conversation slipping out of control, out of his control. Come on, he had this all planned out for weeks. Mitch wasn’t going to ruin his perfectly-laid plans. He wasn’t scared, he wasn’t scared. “I told you that I just fell off my bike. You don’t need to examine everything, you know--”

 “It’s not just your face. You look kinda sick and pale, and that’s saying something. You’re one of the whitest guys I know.”

“I--I’m fine,” he said. He really wished she would leave. He could tell that his voice was losing its strength, becoming more unsteady. He kept seeing the gun Mitch had pushed in his face twice now. “But I just have to run to the school and do something real quick. I’ll be back in forty-five minutes or an hour. Don’t wait for me. I’ll…I’ll give you some hints about what’s going on later, okay?”

if you got this far, thanks for reading! if this gets ten notes, I might continue it/make a proper, longer story. I do love my villain protagonists.

bonus points if you caught the literary reference in the title!

[the-bau-quinjet]

Is that my sweater?

Summary: When lounging around the compound, Steve wears a lot of sweaters. When he's on a mission, you "borrow" those sweaters.

Warnings: fluff, angst, implied smut, some cursing probably

Word Count: 2284

a/n: I needed some fluffy Steve Rogers in my life today.

Masterlist

You're not sure when it started, but when Steve is on a mission, all you do is worry. It's easier to control when you're on the mission with him or even on a mission of your own, but when he's gone and you're in the compound?

All you do is worry.

You could barely even sleep. That is, until you found a semi-decent solution.

Before the last mission Steve went on, the two of you were arguing about Harry Potter. He had the audacity to say the movies were better than the books, which is categorically untrue.

Unbeknownst to you, he was just trying to get a rise out of you because he likes the way your face scrunches up in annoyance.

Anyway, he followed you to your room when you stormed out of the kitchen, not wanting you to be mad at him while he was gone. He carried his sweater in his hands, having taken it off while cooking, leaving him in a white t-shirt.

When he got to your room, he dropped it on a chair so he could grab your hands to truly convey how wrong he was about the books and movie situation.

When he was called for the mission, he left the sweater behind, leading to your so-called-solution for sleeping while he was away.

The idea hit you one night when you were physically exhausted, but mentally couldn't calm down. You rolled over, trying to get more comfortable when you caught sight of his sweater on your chair.

In your sleep deprived state, you shuffled over to grab it, throwing it on over your own pajama shirt before returning to bed.

You were enveloped in his scent, easing the nonstop worry long enough for you to fall asleep.

When you woke up the next morning, you told yourself it was a one time thing. It only happened because he left the sweater there. You were just worried about your best friend. It didn't have to mean anything.

Those were all lies.

The next time he left on a mission, you were quick to find you couldn't sleep again. Your thoughts kept returning to his many sweaters, causing you to sneak into his room to steal one to sleep in.

Every time he left while you were still at the compound, you would "borrow" a sweater from his closet, returning the previous one you had to his laundry basket.

You figured he would never find out. He owned so many sweaters, he wouldn't notice when one was dirty even if he didn't wear it.

Oh, how wrong you were.

-

"Y/N, welcome back!" Bruce greeted you as you walked into the lab, having returned from a mission late last night.

"Thanks, Banner!" You looked around the room, surprised to not see Tony. "Where's Tony?"

"Oh, he's on a mission. They left a day after you, should be back on Sunday." He replied, not taking his eyes from the tech he was working on.

"They?" You questioned, trying to think of who you had seen around the compound since returning.

"Yeah, Tony, Bucky, Nat, Wanda, and Steve." Again, his eyes remaining glued to his project, not realizing the way your face fell at the mention of Steve being gone.

"Five of them? What happened?" You tried to mask the worry that was already creeping in, threatening to take over.

Bruce finally looked up, surprised you hadn't heard about the explosions.

"There was a series of explosions in Baghdad. Intel suggested it was all to assassinate one man, but multiple bombs were used to divert attention."

You nodded, trying to take in the information. "Any leads?"

Bruce's expression turned grim as he nodded. "Hydra."

You felt your heart drop even further as you now fully understood just how dangerous the mission was. No wonder they needed the five of them.

You nodded in response before muttering something about going to the gym, needing to leave the lab so you could worry in private.

Since the compound was nearly empty, you ended up going to the gym as you said. You managed to distract yourself for a few hours, but there was still 4 days before they were supposed to be back.

That night, you snuck into Steve's room, borrowing another sweater to snuggle up in for the next few nights.

-

Friday morning, you woke to somebody knocking on your door.

You couldn't really be mad since it was already almost noon, but it was still mildly annoying to be disrupted from your limited sleeping.

In your hazy morning fog, you got out of bed to open the door. Your grumbling about being woken up died on your tongue when you realized just who was on the other side.

"Steve!" You jumped into his arms, ecstatic to see him after worrying so much. "I thought you weren't supposed to be back until Sunday!" You squeezed your arms around him tightly, unwilling to let go even when your feet returned to the ground.

"Yeah, we got done earlier than we expected." Steve graciously returned your hug, thrilled to see you after nearly two weeks apart.

After a few reassuring words that the mission went well and he was uninjured, you finally stepped back from each other.

"I was wondering if you wanted to join me to watch the next Harry Potter-" He abruptly cut himself off as he took in your appearance. His brows pinched together in confusion. "Is that my sweater?"

You instantly froze. In your sleep fogged ming, you had forgotten to take off his sweater before answering the door. You could feel the blush warming your face as you tried to think of a way out of this.

"Would you believe me if I said no?" You gave him a nervous smile, trying to avoid admitting the truth.

He laughed, although still confused. "Not really, no."

You sighed, before reluctantly confessing. "Yeah. It's your sweater."

He waited, as if expecting you to willingly explain why you had it, before he eventually asked the question you were dreading.

"Um, why are you wearing it?" He coughed, a slight blush growing on his cheeks as he looked you up and down again.

Your mind raced trying to come up with a good reason for you having his sweater, but you couldn't think of anything but the truth.

You threw your hands up over your face, avoiding all eye contact as you blurted out, "I was worried about you."

He waited again, before gently prompting you to continue. "So..."

"So, I broke into your closet and stole your sweater to sleep in because it's the only way I can get myself to calm down enough to sleep while you're on missions." You gasped, covering your mouth as you realized what you just admitted.

His eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he sputtered. "Missions? Like multiple? You've, uh, you've done this before?" His face grew redder at the thought of you sleeping in his clothes.

You nodded, hands still over your mouth to prevent any other unfortunate confessions.

"Um, since, uh since when?" He cleared his throat, trying not to sound to giddy.

"You remember when we had the Harry Potter movies versus books argument?" You moved your hands away from your face just enough to talk, before quickly covering your face again to hide your embarrassment.

He nodded, thinking back a few months.

"You left a sweater in my room when you were called away on that emergency mission and I just..." You gestured with your hands, not wanting to actually say it out loud.

Steve was completely speechless. You worried about him enough to want, no need to sleep in one of his sweaters when he was gone?

The only word he could manage to get out was a whispered, "why?"

You shrugged, repeating your earlier statements. "Because I worry about you when you're on missions."

"Yeah, but why?" He was having a hard time comprehending what this actually meant. He meant why did the sweater help, but you took it as a question of why you worried.

You shrunk in on yourself, avoiding eye contact again.

"I, uh, well you're my best friend, and I, um, care about you..." You trailed off, not sure you were entirely ready for your feelings to be out in the open.

"Enough that you worry so much you can't sleep without my clothes?" Steve was so bewildered, he was barely thinking. He was definitely not controlling his tone of voice. The question came across to you as harsh and annoyed.

In your eyes, he was clearly upset with the situation. The only logical reason you could think of for him to be that upset is if he knew about your feelings and didn't reciprocate them.

Tears sprung to your eyes as you hastily removed the sweater, leaving you slightly chilly in just your tank top and shorts. The chill sent a new wave of emotion over you, anger replacing the sadness at how harsh we was being with you.

"Yeah, I care about you, asshole. Hell, I think I'm in love with you." Despite your mumbling, he could clearly understand what you said. His eyes went even wider at your latest confession.

"I'm sorry I took your clothes." You threw the sweater at him, grabbing a sweatshirt from your desk. "If it helps at all, I only ever had one sweater at a time." Your bitter tone did not go unnoticed by Steve.

"Y/N, I..." He paused, still overwhelmed by finding out that you loved him too.

Your eyes quickly softened, the brief angry stint ending. You couldn't be mad at him for not feeling that same way. It wasn't fair. You would just have to move on.

"Steve, it's fine. I'll get over it." You brushed past him into the hallway, deciding to drown your sadness in junk food from the kitchen.

Steve stood frozen, watching you walk away and wondering how that went so poorly.

-

When you made it to the kitchen is was thankfully empty. You dug around for a few minutes, looking for something that would make you feel better, ultimately settling on a package of Oreo's and a glass a milk.

For some reason, it's always been a comfort food for you, reminding you of being a kid and having no real problems.

A few stray tears fell down your cheeks, but you hastily wiped them away. You would resign yourself to cry in the comfort of your own room later.

A few minutes into eating your Oreo's, nearly everyone appeared in the kitchen.

You honestly should have expected it since it was pretty much prime lunch time.

You did your best to put on a happy face as you ate your cookies, not really joining any conversations but nodding along. A few minutes later, everyone settled around the room, eating various things and having separate conversations.

You had just finished your cookies and rinsed your glass when Steve ran into the room, a look on his face that could only be described as desperate.

"Whoa, slow down there Capsicle. Where's the fire?" Tony joked, earning chuckles from a few people.

Steve ignored him as his eyes scanned the room, settling on your frozen form by the sink.

"Cap, you good?" Sam questioned as everyone grew more concerned with his behavior.

Again, Steve ignored him. He took four large steps around the island before coming face to face with you. You took a deep breath, really not wanting to have this conversation in front of literally everyone you work with.

"Steve, wha-"

He cut you off by pulling your head to his, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss.

You froze at first, but quickly leaned into his embrace to deepen the kiss.

He pulled back, much too soon for your liking, to stare into your eyes.

"Y/N, I honestly have no idea what just happened in your doorway. I think my brain malfunctioned or something, but please believe me when I say I've been in love with you for months."

A blush painted your cheeks as you took in his words, a weird mixture of confusion and relief flooding your emotions.

"You do?" He nodded, still holding you close to him. "But- you just- you do?"

He laughed, pulling you into a hug and whispering in your ear, "I do. I really, really do."

"I love you too." You admitted in as soft a whisper, eagerly leaning into his warm embrace. You took a deep breath, finding comfort in the all too familiar scent.

You would have stood in his embrace for hours if not for your moment being interrupted by the clapping and hollering of your teammates.

"About time, punk." Bucky smirked from his seat on the barstools.

"Personally, I would love to know what happened in Y/N's doorway." Tony chimed in, laughing when you hid your face in Steve's chest.

"Steve probably just found out about Y/N's sweater habit." Nat added casually, earning looks from everyone in the room.

You were speechless, having been sure no one else knew.

Wanda, Sam, and Clint looked way too excited to learn more.

"You all really need to be more observant." She muttered to yourself.

You and Steve slipped out of the room when attention had turned to Nat, slowly making your way back up to your room.

"You're welcome to steal my sweaters anytime." Steve pulled you into his side as you walked down the hall.

"Oh, well I guess I'll start with this one then." You smirked before pulling him into your room, already removing the sweater from his body.

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