#since he’s all business when he’s working/flying and comes off as prickly but he’s actually super funny and tells jokes when hes not flyin

[crazyfandomluver]

Updated OC reference!

So I’ve decided to switch things up with my oc Adam Takker.

He now is an AC-130 pilot, who used to be in the air force for 10 years, but left because moving around a lot was too stressful for his family especially with his wife being pregnant with their daughter at the time that the military wanted them to move. So he left and joined Shadow Company because he heard good things about them. He’s also currently 38 years old and is 5’10

I was thinking of making his callsign ‘Ghoul’ but I’m not sure if it fits him :/ I might make Ghoul his Air Force callsign, and have his Shadow Company callsign be different. I also want the story that comes with his callsign to be related to him sleeping or something, since the operators that he flies can sleep all they want, but he has to stay awake to pilot the plane so he tends to sleep a lot on base after flying, but there’s so much about him that it could change

[narrators-journal]

Hello, I hope you are well, can I ask Yandere Akutagawa who probably hates you for how you make us feel? I may degrade you but get mad if someone else does

I hope this is good and is what you wanted! I'm a little rusty with Yandere content, so it might be a bit subtle here. I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

As a new low ranking mafia goon you had expected some harsh bullying from your coworkers, but that didn't mean you couldn't despise them for it, or have the occassional breakdown in the headquarters bathroom or something. That was actually how you'd met your first friend-like person in the organization, Higuchi had found you fighting to not cry in the bathroom one day, and instead of belittling you for the moment of weakness, she gave you a paper towel to dab the tears from your (s/c) cheeks and assured you that she understood your predicament.

In all honesty, the harassment wouldn't be that bad if it weren't for one specific man. Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.

Akutagawa was a violent, hostile, rabid dog of a man who took any possible chance to insult you without mercy. It didn't even have to be anything that would get you into trouble or annoy him, he would belittle anything he could about you as a person, not just your work for the mafia. It had quickly lost all of the leeway you had for newbie-hazing. At least now you had a reason to blame for the prickly mafioso hating your guts. Turns out he isn't a fan of his fashion being labelled 'hot topic tween goth.' After that, you just avoided him as best you could, which seemed near impossible with how much he continued to pop up in your life, even after you'd insulted him.

Of course, Mori would pair you with the goth pretty frequently despite your reluctance, Akutagawa had a pretty variable set of jobs he could be assigned to and thus would be a good on-the-job teacher for a newbie such as yourself, but after you'd insulted the goth he didn't leave you alone like you might've thought he would. Instead, he seemed to pop up a lot more frequently, even outside of the jobs you were paired with him on. Of course, you would see the pale vampire at the headquarters when you weren't working with him, but now you had gone from seeing him maybe once a week for a task or to retrieve or deliver ill-gotten cash, to seeing him a distance behind you in the hallway of the headquarters almost every other day, or in one of the spare sitting rooms the goons had overtaken and claimed as a sort of 'break room' on nights when you'd stay super late into the night and should've been alone.

However, you couldn't really accuse the hostile man of stalking you just to glare at you or spit insults. After all, Higuchi had always had a very valid point as to why you were running into him when you brought the occurrences up, and you'd be labelled a loon for thinking he'd been trailing you just because you had spotted him in the grocery store. So, you opted to keep your mouth shut and just ignored him whenever you could get away with it.

Though, every once in a while a snide remark or two slipped out, like one had on the day he limped into the headquarters after another spat with his rival, Atsushi Nakajima.           "You look like a cat's half digested dinner," you snorted, watching the wheezing vampire flop into one of the fancy velvet chairs in the empty break room. He was still glowing a pretty vibrant red, with his coat ribbon lashing like the tail of an angry cat, but he ignored your comment and instead focused on wrapping his slashed up arm and leg in bandages. Then, just as you were beginning to leave the room to find your own place to do some paperwork, you felt fabric slither around your neck to tighten into a razor-wire choke-collar and yank you none-too-gently over to the chair Akutagawa sat in.

You weren't likely to cut an impressive figure with your (e/c) eyes wide with shock at the sudden attack, and fear at the feeling of Rashoumon's sharp edges biting into your (s/c) skin to draw blood under your bully's cold, humiliation-filled glare,          "I think you're beginning to forget your place here, newbie." He spat, his raspy growl dripping with venom, "Not only do I outrank you, but I am much stronger than you. You are nowhere near Jinko's strength, fucking Higuchi is more of a threat to me than you are, so the next time you want to feel more significant than you are and insult me, I suggest you have a fucking grave dug beforehand." He got right in your face as he spoke, barring his teeth at you with sin-worthy wrath in his grey eyes, but, just for a moment before the lethal ribbon threw you away as easily as he would a gum wrapper, he hesitated. It was brief, only a few seconds, but Akutagawa's anger lessened, and instead he leaned forward just a hair. Just as quickly as it appeared though, the moment was gone. His fury returned with a vengeance and the ribbon that held you captive launched you across the room, sending you sliding across the floor and into the wall hard enough to crack it just a bit.

You took the hint and scrambled to your feet as soon as you got some air into your lungs, coughing and wheezing as you fled the room before Rashoumon could be sent through your spine next.

Admittedly, being snippy with the vampire after he'd already been embarrassed like that hadn't been a shining example of your best timing, but you tried to move past it, and that weird moment of hesitation, and label it a learning experience. Your fellow goons however, caught wind of your confrontation and did not give you such kindness. They instead turned it into more ammunition for snide remarks about how intelligent you were.

          "Hey! Look who just walked in!" A goon you had yet to learn the name of almost crowed one day when you were eating lunch in the breakroom, just trying to watch some tv before your next job when Akutagawa had come in. "Hey, (y/n), wanna try and see if he'll knock your braincells back into place?" You just glared at the man while he continued to call you stupid and just try to instigate whatever fight he could it seemed. You didn't fall for his trap though, keeping your mouth firmly shut and not responding to his insults or assumptions of how masochistic you were. No, you instead simply returned your attention to the tv and blocked out Akutagawa's existence until you finished your lunch and left for your job.

Thankfully, it was a solo mission, a new extension of trust from Mori, and a prime chance to not only prove yourself, but to get away from the assholes you worked with. So, by the time you returned to the mafia headquarters, you were feeling pretty good and had almost completely forgotten your earlier run-in with that asshole of a goon around your lunch time.

Of course, the sky was dark by the time you returned from the job, so on top of your improved mood, you were also spared further heckling since everyone else had finished their work and gone home for the night. So, you were gratefully able to fly through the report you had to write about the mission, and cataloging of the goods you'd distributed without issue. It wasn't until you stopped by the bathroom to change out of your clothing and into some more comfortable, not-dirty clothes before your walk home that you smelled the stench of blood.

It hit you like a brick as soon as you had opened the bathroom door. The whole bathroom reeked of the dizzying smell of iron and death so badly that it poured out into the empty hallway. All it took was a few steps inside to investigate for you to spot the source of such a strong stench. A corpse huddled into the far corner across from the stalls.

Through your stinging tears, you could see that it was likely one of the other mafia goons, and judging by the one bloody tuft of hair you could see amongst the chunks of flayed flesh...it was the same goon that was messing with you earlier. Since your only identifier was the shredded and blood soaked suit that the heap of shredded flesh and spilled entrails somewhat wore and a bit of hair, you couldn't say for certain, but something in your gut told you it was the same man.

      "You know, you should really grow a spine." You whirled around to face the doorway as soon as the raspy voice spoke, (e/c) eyes wide and your hand instantly falling to the small pistol you had at your hip. But, instead of some demented intruder out to murder any mafia goons they found, you were instead met with Akutagawa. Your worst bully.

For a moment, all you could do was stare in shock, your brain frantically scrambling to recollect its composure under the pressure of an almost primal terror, just letting you stammer out a shakey,         "What?" before your legs began to turn to jello, the thick blanket of coppery blood in the air making your stomach want to escape out of your mouth. However, you put your hand on the cool glass of the sink and bit back the urge to vomit. The last thing you wanted was to give the sadistic mafioso more ammo against you in his harassment, and if he was the goon-slaughtering-psycho, you didn't want to go out because you were too busy retching to defend yourself. However, he didn't attack you. He just stood in the doorway and glared at the mutilated pile of flesh as if it had insulted his family for a moment before speaking again,         "You're supposed to be a mafia member, (y/n), you can't just let people use you as a doormat, it reflects poorly on the organization." he chided with a derisive sniff, "Grow a damned spine and begin to stand up for yourself. No one's going to 'defend your honor' like this..." He trailed off, fixing you with a cold, irritated look for a long moment before he turned on his heel with a huff, "Clean that bastard up, before he stains the linoleum anymore than he already has."

With that, Akutagawa stomped off back to wherever he'd come from. Leaving you to deal with the bloody carnage you'd discovered, and to ask yourself why he had even been here. It was the middle of the night, most everyone should be home by now, but the goth had appeared only a moment after you'd entered the bathroom, how had he shown up so quickly? He didn't bring Mori or anyone else, so it wasn't like he'd discovered the body first...

You got a sick feeling that he'd been the one to leave such a nightmarish scene. And that he'd been waiting for you to find it or something.

[fenristheorem]

Hi!! I love how you write Lance🥰! I'd like to request how he would react to the first hug Gardienne gives him. I feel he hasn't been touched in a while, so a cuddle could make his heart go pitter-patter🥺

It doesn't have to be when they're dating, just after a while she woke up, he saves her and she's thankful and hugs him out of the blue

Thank you so much! 😄

I agree, I don’t think Lance has had any kind of affectionate physical touch in a long while. I actually wrote another headcanon about Lance with a really touchy Guardienne where I talked a bit about how I thought Lance would react to the first time she touched him (in that case it wasn’t a hug - so while it’s a good description of how he’ll feel, it’s still a bit different). That one is written with them as a couple, but it doesn’t really effect too much in the beginning, so I would highly recommend checking that out as well!

Due to how specific this ask was (and because the other ask was in headcanon format) I decided to write this as a short-story/scenario.

~Under the cut~

Lance’s reaction to Guardienne suddenly hugging him after he saves her:

Huang Hua realized in time that, no matter who she sent with her on missions, Guardienne would still get hurt. Guardienne believes this is a curse - she’s forever deemed to go on a mission with hopes and ambitions, only to be sent back being carried on the shoulder of a friend and find herself re-awakening in the Infirmary. However, she still needs to go on missions. She was one of the two saviors of Eldarya, and a functioning member of the guard again - she can’t just sit around and do nothing every day.

So Huang Hua decided to send Lance with her. If anyone from the guard could keep her safe, it was Lance.

This, of course, was met with a bit of backlash by Guardienne, but it’s been a while since her reawakening and accepting that Lance is now working with the guard again, so she puts up minimal fight. That and the fact that she’s tired of being a human test dummy for the nurses to find new ways to heal her wounds (they don’t actually do this, but they might as well at this point).

And that’s how they find themselves in the middle of the woods together. Alone.

Lance knows that she’s still a bit uncomfortable with him around, and he doesn’t blame her, but he hopes that she’ll trust him to protect her if it comes down to that. He’s determined to not let anything threaten them in the first place; he’s keeping a sharp eye and ear out for their surroundings, but he’s aware that her track record shows that something always goes wrong eventually. Certainly all the members of the Obsidian guard couldn’t be that incompetent, not with Lance biting their heels when they slack off, so it’s just a matter of time...

“Take a left... by the curved tree... a trail in the mud...”

Lance’s ice blue eyes flick over to watch Guardienne as she mutters and treads her way along the forest path. She’s picking around carefully, searching for something on the ground, but Lance recognized immediately that the dirt here is far too hard to show any prints that she’s looking for. The proper landscape for that would still be another half hour’s walk if he remembers this part of the forest correctly.

“I should have asked Huang Hua for more specific directions...” Guardienne softly hisses her discontent as she stops walking and looks around for a moment.

Lance takes this moment to walk past her, setting a steady pace instead of her meandering as he follows the trail through the forest.

“Lance?” She asks as he passes by.

“You won’t find any tracks in the mud here.”

“What do you mean?”

“The ground here is too hard. If there are tracks in the mud then they’ll be in a muddy area, not here where the land is hard.”

Guardienne pauses for a moment.

“I don’t know, everything is sort of muddy after the rain.” She sighs, then screeches; “So wait, you knew the whole time that we weren’t in the right area!? What the hell, Lance!?”

Not again with this, Lance thinks. The last time she was angry at him he was punched in the face and gained a new scar on his hand.

“You told me you were sent to find tracks in the forest that may be from an animal from your world, you never told me that they were in the mud.” He did his best to keep his voice steady, but he doesn’t know how she expected him to help her in any way when she doesn’t explain the details.

“You could have asked for more detail...” She quickly simmered down to a prickly mutter. 

“True, however, Huang Hua only sent me to protect you considering your record-” “Don’t remind me of my record!” “-so I’m here to escort you, not help you. I’ve been too busy watching our surroundings to scour the ground looking for prints. Now please be quiet so I can listen for anything.”

Guardienne quiets and Lance wonders for a moment if he was too harsh; she was well aware of why he was sent with her, and it wouldn’t really hurt to help her a little bit... But I shouldn’t go asking to distract myself, my orders are to protect her, Lance thinks. Regardless, he was still a bit nippy at her. This was an uncomfortable situation for him, and although him and Guardienne can get along, they do have days where they can do nothing but feud, and in those days, feuding with each other can make up the whole day.

He stops in his tracks and sighs, turning around to face her. She nearly runs into him as she focuses on the ground, possibly lost in thought, but quickly comes back to and stops a foot away from Lance. Her eyes meet Lance’s cool gaze as he studies her.

“The tracks should be somewhere around here, the terrain here is soft enough so they could be easily seen by a passerby.” Lance says in a gentler tone, turning his gaze off of her to begin his watch of their surroundings.

She starts to walk past him and then stops for a moment, half turned back to him.

“Ehm... thanks.”

His gaze flicks to her for a moment and he nods his head before scanning the forest again.

Many minutes pass - a twig cracks somewhere deep in the forest. Lance snaps his head in the direction and focuses on the area it came from. Just a small creature scuttling around.

“Ah!” 

Lance nearly draws his sword as he turns and lunges in the direction Guardienne is in, only to nearly trip over her as she crouches to look at something.

“Would you mind making another noise of surprise next time!? I thought something was attacking you!” Lance hisses as he regains his balance.

Guardienne looks up at him, eyes wide in surprise as she wasn’t expecting him to be so jumpy.

“I’m sorry... you don’t need to be so tense though...”

“With your record? Yes, I do.”

“Stop talking about my record or I’ll give you a pretty scar on your other hand to match the first!”

“It’s more likely for a Boltue to sprout wings and fly.” Guardienne continues to curse at him as he carries on, crouching down next to her. “Are these the prints you’re looking for?”

She glares at him and huffs before turning her gaze back to the tracks.

“Yes, they look like prints from a dog, maybe a wolf.”

“Anything of concern?”

“If it’s a domesticated dog then probably no, they’re like the companions we have here. Wolves might be more of a concern. They’re predatory animals about the size of a Fenrisulfr but generally stay away from humans. Being in a different world could change their temperament though...” Guardienne traced the prints with her fingers, worry lacing the expression on her face.

“Let’s head back then, if it’s a possible concern we need to notify to guard as soon as possible.”

“You want to lead the way? If you’re so jumpy then maybe you can jump into a thorn bush on the way back-” But as Guardienne continues her rant, Lance tunes her out and raises his head, briskly scanning the forest around them with a cold, focused gaze. He could have sworn...

A thump of paws and a roar is all he has in warning as a Warrifang leaps from the bushes.

Guardienne’s rave is cut off by a short scream as it lunges for her, but just as it’s about to reach her Lance throws his weight against the feral creature and slams it to the ground with a grunt. It retaliates with a screech and snapping jaws at his throat, pushing against him with all it’s might and managing to loosen his hold enough to shove him off.

The Warrifang lunges for Lance this time, and he only has seconds to bring his forearm up so the Warrifang’s teeth can meet the metal guard on his arm instead of soft flesh. Lance reaches for his dagger and grips the hilt, slashing outward and catching the Warrifang’s shoulder. It yelps, flailing backwards before lunging for him again. However, Lance is already crouched, sword in hand, and charges the beast. He gets one more hit - a light wound across the top of it’s neck as it ducks it’s head - before it yelps again and flees back into the forest. 

Lance spares only a second’s glance at Guardienne to assure she’s alright before his gaze follows the Warrifang as it flees into the forest, straining to hear if there are any more signs of a possible threat that may try an ambush after the scuffle. After a good few moments with no other sounds, Lance turns to look at Guardienne’s condition, who’s staring at him from a few feet away with an astonished expression.

“You alright?” He needs to know if he managed to do his job properly. Surely she must be alright - he completely intercepted the Warrifang.

“Yea, I’m alright...” She murmurs. Lance begins to strap his sword and dagger back into their leather holds at his waist. “I’m sorry...”

He looks back up at her, minor confusion written on his face.

“I’m not being very pleasant... but you didn’t do anything to provoke me. And I ridiculed you for not helping me on my mission when you were told to watch my back. So thank you, and I’m sorry...” Guardienne spoke quietly as she averted her gaze.

Lance looks away from her as well, studying the arm guard that the Warrifang bit down on. Perhaps Ewelein could run a few tests on the saliva...

His thoughts scattered when he felt two arms wrap around his torso, pulling a soft, smaller figure into him. He jerked his head back a bit, looking at Guardienne in surprise as she rested her head lightly on his chest and leaned into him.

“Thank you...” It was spoken so soft he thought he’d imagined it.

Lance froze for a moment, awkwardly standing with his arms half-way raised as she settled in before he found her warmth to be... comforting. Slowly, hesitantly, he brought his arms down and around her shoulders and waist, pressing her just a bit closer.

He nearly cried at how welcoming it felt.

When was the last time he hugged someone? When was the last time someone actually touched him with non-violent intentions?

Lance bit his lip and held his breath for a moment, fighting every urge that told him to nuzzle into her shoulder and lean against her, and resigned to locking his muscles as to not move any further. The last thing he wanted to do was to upset her in this moment; not when she was gracing him with such a wonderful gesture that he hadn’t felt in years. In her arms, just for this moment, he felt truly calm and content. It felt like laying down for the night after a long day of labor that left him with aching muscles. 

Of course, this moment was also gone too soon. Within the same minute, Guardienne pulled away from him - he could swear that she was hesitant while doing so - and refused to meet his gaze and she turned and drifted down the trail back towards the guard.

“We should probably head back, Ewelein and Huang Hua will be thrilled to hear that everything went well.” Her voice was steady but the downturn in her tone told of dismay.

Lance wondered in minor panic, for a moment, if she could feel how strong his reaction to that hug was, but he couldn’t focus much on that with the loneliness that was creeping back into his heart again. Hollow... so, so hollow now that he’s alone again...

He started down the path after her, reminding himself to stay alert - the Warrifang could always come back - but he knew he wouldn’t stop thinking about that hug for weeks, months even. And as much as he enjoyed it, he almost wished it never happened. How can he return to the routine of his isolated life after being so wonderfully embraced?

~I hope you enjoyed! I’ll admit, I’m quite pleased with this one! I feel this is a good showcase of my writing. Perhaps I’ll work on writing a few un-asked short stories after the rest of the asks are done.

Have a request? Ask them here!

But first, please read the rules list for asks!

[ddarker-dreams]

Levi Ackerman x Reader hcs. [COMM]

a/n: i haven’t written for levi in many years!! some lock lore is that i used to write for him the most, it’s actually what got me into fanfiction/anime in the first place back in 2012... so it feels very nice to write for him again. i had a lot of fun with this! :’) word count: 2k. warnings: non explicit mentions of death (not involving reader), just canon typical stuff.

Love has been a concept that remains closed off in Levi’s mind. Getting close to others is already a risk too great in the world he’s come to know, a factor that’s proven unfortunately true time and time again. When you’re close to others, it means the possibility of being hurt by them all the same when they inevitably leave. The pain of losing another he’s grown attached to outweighs the possible benefits that could come with a closer connection. This philosophy has ensnared his heart, creating a barrier that no one dared slipping past for many years.

Even though Levi makes the choice to be wary of growing closer than necessary to people, he also understands the importance of trusting in his comrades. He has his own way of mentally assessing new recruits, and didn’t think much of you initially. You were a fresh face, who hoped that your efforts would cultivate humanity’s future. He’d seen many with that spark too many times to count. All of them ending up killed in gruesome ways, or losing the shine in their eyes should they live past another expedition. Though he still has an inherent respect for anyone willing to put their lives on the line for the Survey Corps, this extending to you as well.

His initial assessment of you was proven incorrect. While no longer as naive to the horrors of the outside world, the spark inside of you remains ever bright. There’s determination, that has only grown in strength as time goes on, rather than fading away. It catches his eye, to say the least. He looks after you from afar, without even realizing it. Levi tells himself that it’d just be a shame if something happened to you. He doesn’t think anything beyond that for some time, for his own mental well being.

Your relationship starts off with no romantic intentions. Levi spots you training on your own one day, even after a grueling day of menial work that comes with being a member of the Survey Corps. He’s captivated, unable to look away from your form. It’s sloppy, he thinks, but not hopeless. You’re not hopeless. It doesn’t sound like a high compliment, but coming from him, it’s meaningful.

It’s startling when he approaches you for the first time. He’s pointing out the numerous errors in your stance and what to do to correct them, never mincing his words. Levi’s standing there, arms crossed, willing you to continue with his input. While being under the scrutiny of humanity’s strongest soldier is anxiety inducing, his advice works perfectly. He doesn’t comment further than that, turning on his heels and leaving you to your thoughts and confusion.

Keeping your body in the best possible condition is vital to staying alive. His advice, though delivered in sharp as knives critiques, serves you well. Even just the bare minimum has your technique rapidly improving. This motivation to keep growing and learning is what drives you. Levi continues to watch from a safe distance as you spend hours doing different exercises, developing your abilities. From this point on it becomes something of a tradition, as much as he tries not to think of it that way. There’s a level of subconscious attachment that comes with looking forward to seeing you improve every evening. He’s acknowledged you. 

You start training together. It’s not everyday an opportunity to learn under Levi is offered, so when the hand was extended to you, you accepted it. He’s a tough yet fair teacher, offering praise only when he believes it’s deserved. Unfortunately, he can’t devote that much time to your little evenings due to his other obligations. That makes the time you shared all the more special. Despite himself, he’s looking out for you, and you him. A solid relationship begins to form.

Levi isn’t the easiest person to be around. He’s surprisingly talkative if you get him speaking on subjects that interest him, but his language remains coarse. Once you get used to this side of him, it’s for the better, hours flying by and the night sky appearing before you know it. Unlike others that tend to get offended or avoid alone time with Levi due to his reputation, you remain constant. He never brings it up, though he does wonder why you’re hellbent on seeking him out.

There are still times where Levi holds an internal battle over the unfolding events. He’s starting to like spending time with you, more than just offering wisdom on various subjects he’s knowledge about. He genuinely enjoys listening when you speak, an honor exclusive to you. Through the snark and monotonous comments, there’s clear attachment. 

It gets to the point that his closer comrades even pick up on the unusual behavior, this level of respect typically reserved for no one other than Commander Erwin. Though Hanji is the only one to point this behavior out. Everyone else is too frightened at the prospect of teasing Levi over his not so subtle fondness for you. He really didn’t think he was being so obvious... 

You’re on his mind more than he cares to admits. His mind wonders to you at night, when he’s in town, or even when he sees something silly that reminds him of you. Eventually, Levi’s thoughts almost always connect to you to some degree. He’ll spot something in the windows of a shop and recall how you mentioned wanting something similar, or subconsciously look for your favorite food when walking through market stalls. The thought of giving you gifts is off putting for a while since it’s a clear sign of of tenderness. And dammit, he’s trying so hard not to become attached -- but who is he kidding -- it’s far too late for that.

What Levi is good at is making swift decisions in the heat of the moment, and combat. So he has literally no idea how to approach his developing feelings for you. There are a lot of impulses, such as complimenting you, but it comes out more like an insult than anything. God bless your soul, because you’re going to be putting up with lots of uncomfortable interactions. He’s trying, okay, but he doesn’t know the first thing about romance. 

How he best shows his care for you is helping around in various ways. It isn’t as embarrassing as having to offer compliments, or the other traditional ways of romancing the person you’re interested in. Levi commits to making your life easier in anyway he can. These things range from making sure your horse is in top condition, setting aside rations if he knows you’re too busy to get them yourself, and checking over your equipment personally. He presents all this by saying “You’re prone to making mistakes, so let me do it instead.” In reality he just wants to make life easier for you, don’t be fooled by the prickly comment. 

He isn’t blind to the other elements of his attraction to you. You’re always glowing, an angel incarnate, beauty enough to draw in practically anyone with eyes. It was enough to draw him in after all. The first attempts at physical affection are subtle, yet heartfelt. Sitting closer to you, thighs almost touching. Leaning in closer whenever you speak. Lightly brushing his fingers against his face, claiming he saw a spec of dirt on it. All these things to gauge your reaction and build up his own confidence in pursuing you further.

The first time you kiss would be the night before an expedition. It’s always the most gut wrenching experience, anxiety ailing you so badly that sleep refuses to come. The stars are out, not a cloud in the sky. Levi comes to sit by you, chastising you for not being asleep, and offering no rebuttal when you point out that he’s also awake. It’s a serene moment, neither of you exchanging words for some time, finding comfort in each others presence. You don’t even realize how close he is to you. He speaks, the words insignificant, you’ve already long forgot what they were. 

When your head turns to offer him your full attention, that’s when he leans in. A chaste kiss is pressed against your parted lips. It’s shocking to say the least, adrenaline pumping through your veins at the intimate moment. His lips are softer than you expected. He treats you with unprecedented delicacy, moving back to assess your expression through lidded eyes. When you’re willing to reciprocate he’s more than happy to let you have your way. 

Levi isn’t the best with expressing himself fully through words. His actions more than compensate for this, you’ll never doubt his dedication to you. There’s no need for flowery prose, not when he has proven the lengths he’d go through to keep you safe, bearing all of himself to you. Your relationship isn’t defined by strict terminology, as he admitted to finding stuff like that “a waste of breath”. You both wordlessly acknowledge one another as partners. Any keen onlooker might be able to pick up on this, you don’t hide or put your relationship on display.

It’ll take some time for him to grow more amiable to physically expressing himself. He’s aware of his own strength and intimidating disposition, and doesn’t want to mess what’s possibly the best thing in his life up. So you’ll need to lead in most of those areas. All physical affection is reserved for private moments. Aside from maybe him whispering a sly remark or two in passing. 

The affection he likes receiving from you the most would be: Complimenting his actions, when you lay your head on his shoulder, whenever you do little things to help him out without him mentioning it, and when you hug him. He’s never experienced being held by another human being. So when you do it for the first time, he’s taken aback by how pleasant it is. Your comforting scent, how your warmth envelopes him, and how he can feel your heart beating. It’s one of his favorite things in the world, other than you of course.

The type of affection that he gives you the most would be: Acknowledging your growth in different areas (especially if he knows you’re insecure in one of them), putting his hand over yours, reminding you to take care of yourself, and kissing you on the forehead. Levi is a very proactive lover. He’s got a keen eye, picking up on things about yourself before you even notice them. While he might not always have the most tact, everything he does for you comes from a wholesome place.

Levi remains serious in the public eye. But when it’s just the two of you, or the company is people he’s close with, he loosens up considerably. Most of his jokes go over your head, since he always delivers them with such a deadpan. When he gets you to laugh with his dry wit though, by god does it feel good, he could listen to your laughter forever. It might even make his face heat up. 

You’re capable of making him smile more than anyone else! Though it’s still rare, that just means that when he does, you treasure it all the more. He smiles the most when you lose yourself in conversation. Rambling about your dreams, stories from your childhood, frustrating encounters that you had that day... all of it warms his heart in a way he never thought possible. You’re an addicting ray of sunshine, that he’s hellbent on protecting. 

Levi knows, now more than ever, what he wants from the future. Alongside protecting and expanding humanity’s territory, it’s you that he wants by him, and no cost is too great to achieve it. He won’t lose you -- he’s already lost so much -- so expect him to be protective. There may be limits to what he can do, but they’re all arbitrary to him. Rules and morality mean nothing in the face of ensuring your safety, and he’s vowed this to you. That one day, you’ll have a secure future, forever tied to each other. He might not mention the last part as it’s embarrassing, but the general sentiment is understood. 

[imagine-that]

Stalker much?

Warnings: swearing

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x reader

AN: holy crap I just realized I’ve been working on this one since like June 😂😂 anyway, hope you guys like itttttttt!!

You stretch out lazily on the sofa in the living room of stark tower, watching a movie with the rest of the Avengers minus the infamous god of thunder, your head resting on Steve’s lap.

“You know I’m not a pillow, right y/n?” He asks with a teasing but playful smile.

You shrug slightly. “But if not, why are you so comfortable?” You counter. He laughs in surrender and the both of you turn your attention back to the screen but not before noticing the grins on Natasha and Buckys faces at your friendship.

The crew pays attention to the movie and all is peaceful until the door slams open and reveals an irritated looking Thor.

Everyone scrambles to get up and find out what’s wrong, Steve moving your head and ushering a quick apology as he does so, but that question is quickly answered when in walks the god of Mischief himself.

Unfazed by their arrival, you remain lounging on the couch, closing your eyes in an attempt to regain the previous calm.

That is until you feel a pair of prying eyes resting on you. Slowly, you open your eyes one at a time and find Loki staring at you curiously.

“Hi?” You say, remaining in your relaxed position.

“Hello there.” He says with a devilish smirk. He seems to be analyzing your every move.

You brush some strands of your y/h/c hair out of your face and peer back up at him confidently.

“Who exactly are you?” You ask, knowing it would push his buttons.

He gives you a puzzled look, the smirk still in its place on his face. “I am Loki of Asgard, the god of mischief.” He says with a strained and obviously annoyed laugh.

“Well Loki of Asgard, the god of mischief, I’m y/n of earth, the god(dess) of... well the god(dess) of nothing really but it would be cool to be a god(dess).” You respond with a smile.

“Quite the cheeky Midgardian aren’t you?” He says with a genuine laugh.

Feeling slightly uneasy, you sit up.

“I have no clue what that means but yeah I am.” You reply. He remains staring at you in curiousity.

“It’s what Asgardians call the people of earth.” Thor interrupts, causing Loki’s smirk to be quickly replaced by a grimace of sorts.

“Ohhh. Ok.” You reply simply.

Before Loki can ask anymore questions or say anything more about you, you stand up and make your way into the kitchen.

Once you’ve opened the fridge, you grab a bottle of water and go to close the door again.

“Hello again.” A voice says and you jump about seven feet in the air.

Loki smirks at your surprise and you send a glare his way.

“What the fuck?! Are you following me?” You ask, smiling sarcastically at him.

“I find you fascinating.” He smirks again, ignoring your question and you give him a pointed look.

“And I find you annoying. Now shoo.” You argue, your patience for the god clad in green wearing thin.

“Hm well I am good at that.” He smiles a bit. For a minute you think he’s going to teleport himself or whatever it is that he does somewhere else but he stays put, leaning against the doorframe and blocking your way out.

“Move or be moved mischief boy.” You say, your mouth set in an aggravated line.

“Oh I would quite like to see how you manage to do that.” He replies with another smirk settling on his own lips.

You glare at him, remaining unamused.

“That’s enough Loki.” Thor commands from behind his brother, causing Loki’s face to contort into yet another grimace. He cursed him quietly and then shot you a charming smile before moving aside.

“Was that so hard?” You ask loudly before going into the living room, not so much as looking Loki’s way to see his reaction.

——————————————————

The next morning, you find yourself up at the crack of dawn, unable to continue sleeping. You watch the sun making it’s way up into the sky for a moment before padding your way to the kitchen, tucking stubborn strands of your hair behind your ears as you go.

With a yawn, you enter the kitchen and stumble in surprise, quickly caught in another’s arms.

“Goodmorning darling.” Loki says with a smirk, his blue eyes glistening in the early morning light.

Slapping his arms away, you stand up on your own two feet and clear your throat.

“What are you doing up so early?” You ask, turning away towards the coffee maker in attempt to show your disinterest.

Much to your dismay, it didn’t work.

“I could not sleep. Too much going on inside my head.” He explains with the irritating smirk plastered to his face.

You pretend you didn’t hear him as you pour a cup of coffee for yourself.

Truthfully you had nothing personally against him but you’d heard stories and you’d been there when he tried to take over the world so you were really skeptical about trusting him or talking to him even.

“What is that concoction?” He asks curiously, nodding to the mug held in your hands. You look back at him wide eyed.

“You don’t have coffee on Asgard?” You ask with a laugh.

He smirks again. “We do I just wanted to hear you speak to me at least once.” He purrs and you glare.

“I speak to you. You just got here.” You say as an excuse, shrugging.

“No no. You shoo me away and try to end the conversation. That is not the same as speaking to me darling.” He corrects you.

“My name isn’t darling by the way.” You mutter as you take a sip.

“Well I haven’t caught your real one yet so what am I supposed to call you?” He smirks, leaning against the doorframe.

With a sigh, you glance over at him. “It’s y/n. Y/n y/l/n.” You tell him.

“Y/n. Perfectly suits you little minx.” He purrs and you resist the blush rising in your cheeks at the sound of the way your name rolls out of his mouth as though it was supposed to be there all along.

“Well now you know it so you can stop calling me these nicknames.” You say more harsh than you meant to.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Loki replies with a shrug and yet another smirk.

Before you can reply, he’s moving to leave the room.

“See you around minx.” He says flirtatiously before stepping out of the room, leaving you to your own thoughts.

———————————————

As you step into your office, you shut the door and turn around to go to your desk, instead immediately shrieking.

There, sitting in your chair with his feet up on his desk, is once again the god of mischief.

Though you knew he liked to trail you around, this was the first time in the months he’d been doing it that he had shown up at your workplace. You did enjoy his company more than you cared to admit, however it was very surprising and terrifying when he just popped up anywhere.

“Good god! Do you just have all of my schedule marked in that brain of yours?!” You hiss, a hand over your racing heart.

He chuckles at your surprise once again. “Parts of it, yes.” He admits shamelessly.

“You do realize this is a place of work right? Fury won’t appreciate you interrupting his employees.” You warn him. He rolls his eyes.

“Fury can live with a little intrusion I’m sure.” He waves off the warning, leaning back in your chair. You march over, ushering him out of your seat.

“Well I have work to do, reports to make. Not all of us can be gods.” You mutter, turning to your computer screen in order to busy yourself.

As you type, he watches over your shoulder curiously. After a few minutes of this, you spin around, this time surprising him. ‘Good’ you think to yourself with a smirk.

“Did you need something? Don’t you have things to do today? Or any of the other days you come to bother me?” You ask, obviously annoyed. The easy smirk returns to his face, irritating you.

“No not particularly. I am all yours actually.” He says, leaning against the wall.

“Lucky me.” You mutter angrily, turning back to your screen.

“Do I truly annoy you that much?” He asks with a small laugh, looking at you in disbelief.

Sighing, you turn back to face him.

“No. Not really. Work just makes me extra prickly.” You admit and he frowns in concern. You look at him, confused. You’d never seen him concerned about anyone.

He shakes his head a bit, trying to get rid of his feeling of sympathy. “Do you just do paperwork or do you have some sort of special ability I have yet to see?” He asks, taking a seat across from you.

“I do a lot of paperwork but no. I’m actually technically one of the Avengers, though no one seems to notice.” You mutter bitterly. “I have powers almost like Wandas. She controls minds and I’m somehow able to control the elements.” You explain.

“Interesting. Show me.” He insists and you sigh, getting up and grabbing a mug off of the shelf against your office wall and walking out to the water fountain just outside your office. You return and set down the mug and sit back down, causing Loki to look at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Just- stay quiet so I don’t lose focus. I don’t do this for entertainment purposes most of the time.” You explain briefly and he nods, gesturing with his hand for you to continue.

You focus your gaze on the mug of water and at your wordless command, the water inside starts floating slowly out of the cup. Loki watches in amazement as you send it flying around the room a few times and finally bring it to a halt above his head.

“Wait y/n-“ he starts as he realizes what you’re doing.

With a smirk, you drop your concentration and in return lose control of the water, snickering as it splashes all over Loki.

“As a trickster I am impressed.” He says with a small smirk. “However, as a person who is now soaking wet, I am annoyed.” He adds, the smirk growing into a devilish and plotting one.

Your face falls to a frown as you realize what you’d just done. “I only did it as payback for you following me so much lately.” You say as an excuse and he laughs a bit.

“Well now you have more than me following you around a bit to worry about.” He says mischievously. You let out a loud sigh and he chuckles.

“I suppose I deserve whatever I get then.” You sigh again.

“Yes. Yes you do.” He agrees, moving even closer to you.

Out of reflex, you back away a bit quickly.

“Are you done following me now then?” You ask, smoothing down your outfit to distract yourself from your practically vibrating nerves.

“Oh does it bother you? Perhaps I should do it more often?” He teases a bit, moving to the other side of your desk.

“Oh good god please no.” You groan and he laughs.

For a few more moments, neither of you say anything, both fine with the peaceful silence that had taken over the room. You tapped keys on the keyboard of your laptop furiously while Loki toyed with the knickknacks on your desk.

“Have you, by chance, ever wondered why I follow you so much?” He asks out of the blue, keeping his eyes on the thing in his hand rather than on you.

“I mean... I guess I may have? Why do you ask?” You respond curiously.

“Forget it. It is actually quite humiliating I must admit.” He mutters shyly, avoiding your eyes.

You shift your gaze from your screen to his face and that’s all it takes for your curiosity to take over fully.

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be Loki. You can tell me, if you like.” You offer, forcing your gaze to soften from its hard and concentrated expression.

“Alright...” He agrees, still sounding unsure as he clears his throat.

“I suppose... it may be possible that I fancy you a bit more than I may have let on.” He murmurs, his face going a bright shade of pink.

“No! Really?” You ask in a mock shock. He rolls his eyes as you giggle to yourself, his mouth set in a line.

“I am being serious y/n.” He groans, finally looking up to meet your y/e/c eyes with his own.

“I know you are. You showed up at my favourite coffee shop at the same time as me last week, happened to be visiting my favourite bookstore when I was there the week before and you’ve been trailing around me everywhere for months. It’s kind of easy to take a hint from that.” You giggle, smiling sweetly over at him.

He blushes an even deeper crimson, avoiding your eyes again.

“Of course you knew.” He sighs, chuckling to himself. “You are definitely intelligent enough to have figured it out.” He adds with a charismatic grin.

“You know, you didn’t have to stalk me to tell me you have a little crush. You could’ve just told me.” You respond, brushing more strands of hair out of your face.

He lets out a groan of frustration. “I was afraid. I believed you would never return the feelings.” He admits. “Me, an Asgardian god afraid of mere mortal feelings.” He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Mere mortal?” You question teasingly.

“No. That is not- in no way was that- I did not mean it in that way.” He responds quickly, obviously kind of flustered.

You giggle a little bit, smiling over at him. “I was kidding.” You inform him, laughing even more as he shakes his head.

“Good. I do not see you as a mere mortal, no matter how mortal you may be y/n.” He promises, holding your hand in his own.

“Good. Because I... I see you as more than just some stalker too.” You admit.

He lets out a sigh, quickly going around the desk and helping you out of your chair, pulling you into his arms, your back to his chest.

“I have been waiting to tell you that for far too long.” He whines into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Took you long enough.” You say with a smirk, tilting your head up enough to see him.

He quickly spins you around to face him, your face only a few inches from his own.

Not able to take it anymore, you close the distance, pressing your lips onto his hungrily.

He hums in approval, deepening the kiss.

“Still afraid of your feelings?” You ask as you pull away.

He laughs, still holding your hand in his own.

“No I most certainly am not.” He responds, holding you close to him.

“Good.” You giggle, going back over to your desk. He whines a little in protest, making you laugh a little more.

“Can’t believe it took you so long to tell me. I was starting to wonder if it was true or if you were just stalking me.” You tease, tapping at the keyboard.

He scoffs a little. “I assure you, it was only because I was not courageous enough to ask a fine beauty like yourself to dinner.” He laughs as your blush deepens and your eyes go wide at the compliment.

You quickly recover, smirking to yourself as a plan comes to mind.

“Well then, pick me up at the compound at 5:00 Mischief boy.” You order, going over to give him a kiss. Before he can ask any questions or say a word, you use your wind manipulation powers to blow him out of the office, giggling to yourself at the sounds of his protests when you let the door shut on his face.

You quickly return to your work, daydreaming about your upcoming date the entire day long.

[lovelivingmydreams]

A story by heroes and vilains

Virgil Anker: Hard won victory

When you make progress through hard work, the fruits are oh so sweet. Though, sometimes, bittersweet is more accurate.

Virgil was actually relieved when Janus texted him that he wanted to skip the first day. There was an assembly and a ceremony planned and Janus did not feel like going.

This meant that Virgil could postpone being confronted with him just a little longer. It hurt a little that Janus hadn’t figured out there was something wrong yet. Virgil hadn’t really talked to him since the whole elective incident. He’d sat with him during lunch and their shared classes. But he hadn’t come by his house or hung out after school like they used to. He’d made it a point to be more animated in his conversations with Roman. He’d stopped berating him for picking fights and simply dragged him away while apologizing on his behalf. During the summer he had made sure to always be busy or away. Picani had helped him sign up for a summer camp to work on his assertiveness. Virgil hadn’t been sure at first, but he knew that Picani wouldn’t suggest it if he didn’t truly believe it might help. And it did. By the time Virgil got home he was ready to go through with his plan. He asked his dad to come along to the session right after camp and told Picani he could tell him all about Janus. He’d spent the hour curled up on the couch as he observed his father sit with a stoic expression, impeccable posture and fists clenched dangerously on his knees. Picani expertly avoided putting labels on the situation, knowing Virgil still felt very uncomfortable acknowledging those. He also managed to summarize Virgil’s 20 minute long rant about how he hoped that it would only have to be a wakeup call for Janus. That he’d get his act together and that they could go back to being friends once he did. His dad had seemed calm and collected on the surface, but Virgil could tell he was horrified to learn that Janus had become such a problem without him noticing and had been more than happy to drive Virgil straight to his principle’s house to explain the situation and ensure that Virgil would have to spend as little time as possible with Janus for the next two years if necessary. Virgil convinced him to at least call ahead. Principal Stokes was very understanding. Apparently the other teachers had talked to them on several occasions about Janus but they had been unsure what to do about it. It was their intention to figure out a policy regarding troubling signals of toxic behavior between friends in the upcoming year. Virgil fidgeted during the whole conversation. His teachers had been planning some kind of big intervention? Had it been that obvious to everyone else? “Virgil, don’t you dare blame yourself for this situation,” Stokes insisted. “It is not easy admitting that someone you care about is no longer good for you. You wanting to see the best in Janus is not weakness. It’s admirable.” Virgil glanced at his dad who was looking at his principle and nodding firmly in agreement. Then he turned to Virgil with a proud smile. “Your parents would be so proud of you Virgil,” he assured him. And he wanted to ask for a name, a memory, but he wasn’t ready to open that can of worms again. Especially not in front of his principal. “For which part?” he asked, hoping this was okay. It was, or at least, his father gave him a straight answer for once. “Both. Your father believed that fighting for yourself was just as important as fighting for others. And your mother knew that caring about others didn’t mean you should stop caring about yourself.” Virgil couldn’t help but smile at that. His parents sounded like they would’ve been awesome. He wished he had a memory of them. Any memory at all. But he didn’t want his dad to think he wasn’t enough. Between his anxiety and the situation with Janus, he already felt self-conscious. Luckily there was Patton. He and dad were nearing their one year anniversary and they had moved in together. Dad had ‘subtly’ brought up all the practical reasons why it made no sense for him and Patton to have to commute to work separately and such as summer approached. Somehow he’d been surprised Virgil put it together. Now they had a house they would all move into over the next week. Patton had already moved his stuff into their current over the summer. The idea of change still made him nervous, but if that change included more Patton in their lives then he could live with it he supposed. It had been great so far. Patton was kind and patient and caring and completely smitten with his dad. On top of that he seemed not to see Virgil as competition for his dad’s attention but an extra person to love. Patton had a lot of love to give the world and not enough people to spend it on. He also seemed to know when to leave Virgil be and when to push him to come out of his room. He knew when Virgil needed complements and when he just needed to know that it was okay if he wasn’t alright. He was also protective. When dad explained the Janus thing over a ‘family dinner’ with Patton, they had those every Sunday nowadays, he’d almost stormed off to the Bullard house. “No one makes my son sad!” he’d told Dad. That was the first time Patton had referred to Virgil as his son and… Virgil had been okay with that. So he now had two dads. Pretty much. When he came back from camp, his escapades as the invisible vigilante changed. His dad was out late a lot and promised to let him know when he left the university. Virgil told himself that he was ‘getting a room’ with Patton. Patton had taken Virgil out for Papton-son bonding time a few times over the past year. Patton taught him to bake, and learned to cook alongside him and took him on trips to the park to fly a kite or kick a ball around. Virgil liked it. But apparently both his dads had signed up for a project of some sorts. One that required a professor Biochemistry and a professor Moral Philosophy… Yeah. No. At least he no longer had to worry that his dad was getting involved in anything dangerous or illegal. Not with Patton there. Anyway, when his dads were out on a project, Virgil was babysitting a startup hero. He’d noticed him by coincidence one night as he was sitting on a roof overseeing one of his usual streets. He’d arrived to find the gang members he’d been shadowing had already had a victim in their grasp. Virgil had acted impulsively. He’d hidden his presence with all of his might and tossed a rock at one of their heads. It had momentarily distracted them, especially considering another rock hit the leader from a different angle. This had allowed the victim to escape. Virgil followed the path of the other rock and spotted the dark clad figure on the roof, ducking away to hide. And if he could see him surely those buffoons could see him too. Which was awful because the leader sent some of his goons in Virgil’s direction and some other’s in the direction of the roof. Wanting to help out a fellow well-meaning gifted, Virgil pushed himself and willed the goons not to see either of them. It was hard to cloak two people in different locations from two different groups of people who were looking for them. But if that idiot newbie- though he wasn’t much more experienced- hadn’t helped then Virgil might’ve had to make a bigger distraction and risk being noticed for real. So he owed him one. He hid behind a dumpster and waited with baited breath, hoping this would work. It took him a moment to notice, but he could kind of feel this guy under his cloak. He felt, like fireworks. It was cheesy but that was the best way to describe it. He’d never hidden anyone other than himself and Janus. Jan felt cooler, more smooth. He didn’t know if he had a distinct presence, but this was an interesting discovery. The goons got really close at one point, probably would have spotted him if his cloak hadn’t been working overtime and he hadn’t been wearing dark clothing all over. He could feel the fireworks intensify for a bit before they calmed down and the  energy felt more like a bonfire. Still intense and warm but les, prickly. He took this to mean that newbie had been nearly spotted as well but was successfully kept safe by the cloak. When the gang members regrouped Virgil heard them whisper about changing their hangout. Damn it. He needed to follow them now. Would idiot follow them as well? Virgil listened closely as he snuck trough the alley after his prey trying to look casual, almost as if he was part of the group walking ahead. He heard someone muttering in a frustrated tone. Virgil relaxed a little at that. This guy was a real hero, possibly in training, but still. So he had people who would have the sense to not send him after criminal organizations. Virgil had no such restraints. He followed the gang for a few blocks, his phone ready to record, trying to forget about the well-meaning moron. Which would be a lot easier if he hadn’t ran into him as he did whatever it was he tried to do about a car accident the very next time he went out. Virgil acted on reflex and threw up a physical protective barrier he normally used to catch blows from bullies. He’d never used it to protect someone else before now. He didn’t know he could. From idiot’s body language he could tell that he was being scolded for being so reckless. Again. Good. Maybe he’d learn his lesson this time around. Virgil didn’t seek idiot out, their path’s simply crossed and once they did Virgil couldn’t not keep an eye on him. And now, idiot was. Virgil wasn’t sure how he knew that this hero was his idiot. Maybe it wasn’t. He’d have to actually meet him and cloak him to see if he had that same energy. It was the last day before summer and he’d just read Janus’ message about skipping the first day and where to meet up to hang out. Too bad for him, but Virgil wouldn’t show. Or at least he hoped he wouldn’t give in to this feeling in his chest that made him think that he should at least let him know because if he didn’t then maybe… “Virgil, breathe. You are doing the right thing,” his dad told him calmly as he looked away from his tablet. There was a local television station playing on the tv as background noise where Virgil had heard about the appearance of a new masked hero. Each time he wondered if it was idiot or someone else entirely. He seemed government sanctioned from what he could tell. The amateur footage didn’t show much, but Virgil couldn’t help but think that this hero was about his age.

Normally his dad would roll his eyes at heroes that ‘basked in the spotlight’ as he called it, and get on with his day. But now every time an update came he seemed to pause and listen. Weird. But maybe Virgil wasn’t the only one who thought this new hero was a minor like him. Maybe his dad was worried on behalf of this guy’s parents. Parental empathy. “Maybe you should just block his number? Or get a new one?” his dad suggested pulling him from his thoughts. Right his own little crisis. “He’ll definitely come over then. At this point I don’t think he’s expecting a reply. I barely texted back last year even before I made my decision. Don’t know when that started, I just…” It was disturbing every time he realized that the upcoming… ‘break up’ for want of a better term had already happened. It just needed to be said. Suddenly the ‘breaking news’ jingle cut through the living room and both he and his dad paid attention. “I’m standing here at ‘Universe banking’ where just moments ago our town’s newest superhero stopped an armed robbery. With me Ashley Greene, an employee at this office who saw it all. Ashley, you said you were shot at?” The young woman was still in tears as she told the story of how she, bravely but foolishly, had angered the would be robber with a gun, when she was caught sounding the alarm. And then out of nowhere, the ‘dashing, kind, modest hero,’ -according to her -was there to save her. Dude caught a bullet for some stranger? Definitely idiot. Idiot reminded Virgil of Roman in a few ways to be honest. Except, there was no way that his dramatic idiot of a crush could do stealth missions for even a night, let alone a whole summer. Not even with Virgil’s constant supervision, and idiot didn’t even have that much. And no way would Roman hide that stupidly handsome face he was so proud off. And if he did, he’d wear something better than whatever that thing was the vague camera footage showed idiot wearing. From what he gathered the woman had probably drawn the comparison to a prince from the outfit. What whit the sash and all.

But on the whole it seemed like a plain white jump suit. The costume designer in Virgil was disgusted by the uninspired choice. Also, Roman would tell everyone at school and their moms if he decided to become a hero. Virgil smiled a little to himself on his way to school, imagining Roman recounting his daring rescue if he were idiot… Or ‘dream prince’ as the media dubbed him. His dads had been more nervous about him going back to school where he couldn’t avoid Janus any longer than he was. He was nervous, but he had made a decision, and he was going to see it through. As he’d expected Janus was nowhere to be found the entire morning.

He did see Roman entertain his usual group of friends during the assembly. He wondered if that offer to sit with them was still standing. He almost joined them, but thought better of it. He didn’t want to assume and if Roman was going to reject him, he preferred for it to be in private. So he sat alone and let his thoughts drift to possibilities. Mostly worst case scenario’s, but even in the ones where he ended up spending the next two years completely alone as Roman finally chose himself a princess to be his prom queen, completely forgetting Virgil even existed and where Janus hated him for standing him up this morning, he felt at peace with that. Because even that was better than spending another day in the constrictive dynamic he’d been putting up with for the past two years. Lunch came around and by the time he entered the cafeteria Roman and his group were sat at their table talking excitedly about something. Dream Prince no doubt. Once again he imagined Roman standing on the table declaring himself to be a real hero. He’d be wearing something dramatic, something stylish. Something maybe not entirely practical. Roman took care with how he dressed, but Virgil had seen him sacrifice function in favor of form plenty of times over the past few years. He was definitely not shy about pushing the boundaries of what was considered ‘masculine’ when it came to clothes or even make up. Virgil could respect that. He liked experimenting with his make up too, though he wasn’t comfortable enough to break out his lighter pallets for going out in public yet. Virgil walked to his usual table to eat his lunch and wait for when Janus would show up, demanding to know why he didn’t show up that morning even though he never indicated in any way he was planning to do so. He took out his sketchbook and made an outline of a standard male figure and started adding clothes to it. A cape was a must for Princey. If only to look good for the camera during interviews. Though he would look so cool taking it off in order to fight his opponents. Probably saying some cheesy one liner with a confident smirk. He decided he’d draw a ‘pretty’ version now and a practical one later. So he added heals, lined the whole thing with gold details, put in buttons, a belt to store a sword or any gadgets Princey might be using and a sash, even a crown. He was just about to start a new page for the practical outfit and considering designing a stealth version of it so he could come along on Virgil’s stake outs when suddenly… “Is that a Dream Prince superhero costume?” Virgil immediately slammed the book shut and looked up. He wasn’t supposed to see that! Roman’s wide eyed awe turned to a shocked pout. “Don’t hide it! It’s gorgeous!” he insisted. Virgil felt a whole swarm of butterflies set loose in his stomach. He really thought so? Was he just being nice? “That hero dude wishes he had something that amazing.” Hero…? Oh… Only now did Roman’s initial remark fully register. He thought this was inspired by the new hero. Of course he’d assume that… “Um… Thanks,” Virgil muttered. What else was he supposed to say? “Oh no this is actually meant for you because I can’t go an hour without thinking about you and with all that superhero talk I couldn’t stop myself from imagining you as a hero and designing you a full hero wardrobe”? Nope, that was not going to happen. “I’m serious,” Roman insisted, not impressed by Virgil’s attempt to dismiss his complement. “You’re super talented.” Why did he have to say that? Virgil felt his cheeks heat up and tried to hide it by focusing on the last bits of his meals. Why was he here? Why was he talking to him? He never came over. Was this because J wasn’t here right now? Roman couldn’t be here when Janus came. That would end badly. Not to mention the fact that Jan would never believe this was Virgil’s own idea if Roman was anywhere near him when he explained his decision to him. Wasn’t he busy dazzling his fangirls minutes earlier? “Is there a reason you abandoned your girlfriends to talk to me?” Virgil knew Picani would say that he was confusing assumptions with facts. Or something like that. He didn’t like that he snapped at Roman. He’d done nothing wrong. He couldn’t help it that the thought of him with some girl made Virgil’s stomach drop. Roman frowned visibly confused as he looked back to his table. Suddenly he gasped and turned back to him rubbing the back of his neck flustered as he started ranting. “They aren’t… I mean they are my friends who are girls. Not… I thought that was rather obvious. I’m the ultimate gay disaster,” he laughed awkwardly. “Sorry, I just… I’m rambling. I’m not used to saying it yet,” he admitted. Virgil just stared at him. “Oh.” Gay. All this time Roman was gay. Not even vaguely interested in any of the girls in school. He stood a chance? Judging by the uncharacteristic nervousness, Roman was uncertain how Virgil would take this news. Well, this was one of those times where this information was relevant. “Don’t worry, I get it,” he assured him, gesturing to his signature purple patched hoodie and magenta hair. Roman looked him up and down for a moment and then his eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, that’s clever. Maybe I should start doing that too.” And just like that he got his confidence and flair for the dramatic back. “You know, since it’s not as obvious as I thought. Don’t want any awkward conversations where I have to tell a lovely maiden she’s just not the right gender for me.” He struck a tragic pose and sent Virgil a wink that made his heart jump. This was not out of the ordinary for Princey, but now that Virgil knew he was gay, he couldn’t help but wonder… “So… You came all the way over here to come out or…?” Is he going to ask me out? God what do I say? Should I say yes? Or play it cool and pretend I need to think about it a bit first? Wait, no, he won’t ask me out. He would’ve done so already if he was interested right? But what if he assumed I was straight all this time as well? Just keep breathing V. Keep breathing and listen to what he says. Roman shook his head as if to get his thoughts back on track that way. “No, I just… I’ve been having trouble keeping up with schoolwork and I wondered if we could study together?” That… What? “Don’t you have friends for that?” Virgil asked dryly as he got up. His lunch was finished and he needed an excuse not to look at Roman right now. He was disappointed. But… Was Roman trying to ensure they’d spend time together this year? He still wanted Virgil to be his friend? He really didn’t know what ‘giving up’ meant did he? Roman chuckled. “I do and they are lovely. There are few challenges we can’t conquer. But homework seems to be one of those few. We distract each other,” he admitted. Virgil thought back to every time he’d seen Roman with his friends. To his one conversation with André, and he understood what he meant. “You won’t let me get away with slacking. You lack the patience.” Virgil put his now empty tray on the dishrack and looked back at him. Spend time with Roman at least once every week? Just the two of them…? “Sounds good,” he smiled. It sounded really good. “Great… Friday works for you?” Roman asked with that brilliant smile of his. Virgil just shrugged and nodded. “My plans got canceled so you’re in luck.” He hadn’t visited Janus for any of their normal weekend plans since… early spring, come to think of it. He hadn’t had the energy. And now he definitely wouldn’t go back.

And when it came to his family, other than for Sunday family dinners he could do whatever he wanted with his spare time so long as he let his dads know. And this was technically school time. Suddenly something in his peripheral caught his attention. Before he consciously registered the falling ceiling lamp he launched himself at Roman. “Princey get down!” he shouted. ‘Save him!’ was the only thought in his head. He’d never believed any of those stories about time slowing down in a moment of crisis. But he swore he saw every minimal change in Roman’s expression as his happy smile turned to confusion. He could feel every cell of his body that touched Roman’s as they crashed to the ground. He moved to cradle Roman’s head to shield it from hitting the ground too hard. Once the impact was absorbed he pushed himself up but not too far. He checked Roman over while he tried to not have too much of a gay panic. Which wasn’t easy. He was laying on top of Roman Castile. He was close enough to smell his collonge. That or he smelled really good all by himself which of course he would! The near death experience was completely forgotten as he was just a breath away from kissing Roman and God did his classmate’s eyes just drop to his lips? He had to have imagined that. He could not handle this! And at the same time he felt like he could not bear to move. Then time snapped back to normal and everything seemed louder and brighter than before. He already knew that just the past ten minutes would take up most of the hour he’d spend with Picani next Saturday. For various reasons. “You okay?” he managed though he found most air was pushed out of his lungs by the fall already. Roman just nodded, seemingly not quite catching on to what had just happened yet. Knowing that any moment now they’d be swarmed by concerned bystanders Virgil rolled off him and helped him sit up. Roman glanced from Virgil to the smashed lamp. By some miracle neither of them had been cut by flying glass. Then again, maybe Virgil had shielded them. “You saved my life,” Roman whispered in awe, still processing everything.

“Well. Anxiety. Makes me hyper aware of everything around me,” Virgil said dismissively as they stood up. He blamed the adrenaline coursing through him for the way he’d just casually admitted to having a disorder he had been reluctant to tell even his father about. “I’m glad,” Roman joked softly. Frick that smile. “Yeah… Well…” Luckily he didn’t need to reply. They were quickly overrun by worried people and guided to the nurses office and then to the hallway in front of the principal’s office where they were told to wait for their parents. Great. Logan was going to lose his mind. After a few moments of debating with himself he decided that taking his meds in front of his crush was less embarrassing than potentially have an anxiety attack in front of him. So he dug through his backpack to find his pills. “Thanks again,” Roman offered, scratching at the back of his head. “Well,” he muttered as he finally found both his water bottle and his pill bottle. Picani had prescribed him something to help him manage his anxiety in high risk situations. He wasn’t supposed to take it too often, but after the morning he had he kind of needed it to deal with his dad. Virgil didn’t like taking pills in general, so this was a last resort coping tool. Talking to Roman, knowing he kind of sort of stood more of a chance than he thought he did was nerve-wracking enough on its own.

But then there was the whole Janus thing and what happened in the cafeteria and then his dad and... God he needed his meds. “I needed to get out of the way too. Might as well take you with me right?” Virgil hurriedly took his pill, hoping that it would go ignored. It didn’t. “You cool?” Roman asked worriedly. He couldn’t bear to look at him right now. He could feel his face heating up and prayed his thinner foundation was enough to hide it. “For my anxiety,” he admitted as he shook the pill bottle before shoving it back and taking another swig of his water. “My dad is going to freak. He’s protective.” It was so important to him that Princey understood that whatever he’d see today wasn’t how his dad normally acted. “And if he freaks I freak. And if I’m going to freak, I better take my meds.” Please don’t ask more. “My parents are the same,” Roman offered sympathetically. “They forget I’m not Remus at times. And honestly I think they go a bit overboard with him as well… I could look out for him.”

Part of Virgil wanted to talk about Remus with Roman. He could hear the hurt and longing in Roman’s voice. But he was still tense about showing how broken he was. What was he thinking telling Roman? Now he’d never want to be around him again… No, he couldn’t think like that. He’d worked on this with Picani, with the camp counselors. “Hey, don’t stress it,” Roman’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “If they didn’t give me massive headaches I’d be on meds for my ADHD.” Virgil looked up in surprise. Roman was broken too? Or, not broken. Broken didn’t fit Roman. But still. Roman had something he needed meds for like him. Only he couldn’t take those meds because his body hated them. He had to just deal. Roman found his surprise funny it seemed. “What? It’s almost more obvious than the rainbow in my soul,” he chuckled with a dramatic pose. Virgil couldn’t help but laugh along. Thinking back to… Well everything Roman ever did, he was right. “I suppose you are right. You always seem to own every single moment. I guess I assumed you were extra by choice,” he admitted, feeling a little embarrassed that he missed that in his blind admiration. “Don’t worry about it. We all have our own challenges. And hey. If not for your anxiety, I’d be a stain on the cafeteria floor. And if not for my ADHD I wouldn’t have crushed it on the stage four nights in a row during last year’s production!” Virgil couldn’t help but smile as he saw Roman light up at the memory. “Yeah, you were pretty alright,” he allowed casually. He did not expect Roman’s eyes to widen and his grin to be quite so blinding at that. “You were there?” he gasped. It looked like he was trying, and failing, to hold back the extra. Virgil shrugged casually, hoping he did a better job at hiding his true emotions. “I mean, I helped out with some of the set and costume designs,” he admitted. He might have put a little extra care in the Prince costume. As he had with all Roman’s roles.

“They gave me a ticket. I was just seeing my work brought to life,” he explained casually. He glanced back at Roman and saw the young theatre enthusiast look up at the clock.

“Hey can I have your number?” he asked suddenly. Virgil’s heart stopped. Roman Castile just asked his number… Did he hear that right? His confusion must’ve been very clear because Roman quickly added: “For Friday, I mean.” “Oh, sure,” Virgil nodded, silently berating himself for thinking for even a second that he’d meant it any other way. Roman gave him his phone. He swiftly put himself in as ‘guide to hell’. His dad had taught him about his namesake and the meaning of his name near the end of middle school when he’d felt embarrassed by it. And a Roman poet who actively ridiculed the emperor was a pretty cool guy to be named after as far as Virgil was concerned. And then he’d read Dante’s inferno over the summer and he was completely sold on it. He hoped Roman would get and appreciate the literary reference. And if not, it fit his aesthetic well enough. He handed Roman his phone back and smiled to himself when he saw him grin when he checked his new contact. He looked down in his own contacts. Roman had just put his name with a ;p next to it. He could do better. He grinned, feeling daring as he changed the contact name. Suddenly a loud voice startled him out of his mischief. “Mi hijo!” He looked up and saw a Latina woman, dressed in a kitchen uniform, stride through the hallway. He could see Roman stiffen and then the prince of junior year was mercilessly dragged into a soul crushing hug. Obviously dying of embarrassment. It was kind of endearing though. “Mom, please, I’m fine.” Roman groaned, though the chuckle took away from the complaint. “Fine?” Mrs. Castile scoffed. "The principal told me what happened Roman!” She stepped back, gripping her sons shoulders tightly, sharp eyes looking him up and down to see if there was any sign of damage. “I could’ve lost you! Rest assured the city will hear from us about proper maintenance of the school buildings!” She had a point, Virgil supposed. It could have ended badly for them. But, as Picani said, living your life on might haves, was exhausting and pointless. “It was a freak accident mama. Please don’t make a big deal out of it. I don’t even have a scratch,” Roman argued. This was met with another nod. “I heard.” Suddenly her eyes met Virgil’s and she lit up. He had to resist the urge to step back. Roman definitely had inherited his mother’s eyes. And if he read the woman’s expression right, she was about to show how much of his energy came from her as well. Before he could brace himself for whatever she had in store for him, he was looking at Roman’s white Varsity Jacket. “Mom, this is Virgil, he was my lab partner last year,” he introduced them, mostly turned towards his mother and his body still blocking her path. Virgil saw her give a nod, prompting Roman to step to the side. “Virgil, this is my mother, Alicia Castille.” Virgil could not begin to express how much he appreciated this. Roman knew for all of maybe 20 minutes that he had anxiety and he was already trying to accommodate him.

All he could do with that for now was give him a smile and try to make a decent impression on his mother. “Pleasure to meet you ma’am,” he offered as he held out his hand. Formal and with respect for other people’s personal space, like his father had raised him, was clearly not the Castile way. His hand was grabbed in two warm, soft hands and pressed against a chest as he was met with an earnest look that told him that if not for Roman he would have been on the receiving end of one of this woman’s hugs. “First you help my boy discover a love for science and then you save his life. You are a marvelous young man,” she gushed, making Virgil blush. Wait… Had Roman talked about him? To his mother? In a positive way? His hand was released and he struggled to find something to say in response. “Ah, well…” But then it was his turn to be embarrassed by his parent it seemed as the sound of his name being shouted cut through the hallways. He couldn’t help but shrink back. He hadn’t heard his father sound so distressed since he thought he was having an attack last year. Logan appeared around the corner and quickly locked eyes with him. Relief starting to replace the worry right away. Moments later Virgil was hugged tightly.

“You are alright.” “Dad, please, I’m fine,” he pleaded. The one time he wanted his dad to stick to his slow and steady method when it came to physical affection. Then again he’d expected this. It was like whenever his dad was overwhelmed emotionally he looked for a life line. Usually, that was him. Finally, his dad let him go. “What happened?” he asked as he looked him over to see if there was any sign of a recent panic attack or injury. Once he was satisfied with his inspection he glanced at their audience, as if he was suspecting them of having caused this crisis. “Who are these people?” “Roman Castile and his mother…” Virgil explained, confused that he hadn’t figured that out himself yet. Wait… He couldn’t have… “Dad, did you even let the principal finish his explanation?” he asked already filled with dread at the most likely answer. “I… Well, I’ve never been called to school before. When he said something happened… I didn’t want to waste time. It was only logical.” Virgil rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised you didn’t head straight to the ER,” he huffed. His father did not appreciate his attitude. “Forgive me for caring about the only family I have.” Virgil immediately felt bad. He felt nervous and embarrassed, but that was no excuse to take it out on his dad. He truly meant well. Most likely he’d been just as nervous today, if not more so. Getting that call, he must’ve assumed Janus had done something bad for the staff to call him in. “I know you care dad. But you can overdo it a little,” he muttered. That was true as well. Whenever his dad did get emotional, he got really intense. “Pardon me sir.” Virgil and his dad looked up in surprise when Roman’s mother spoke up. “But you are this fine boy’s father, correct?” she asked pleasantly. His dad straightened his posture “Logan Anker, I apologize for my behavior. I…” He was immediately stopped by a warm smile and careless wave of Mrs. Castile. “Oh, don’t mention it. You should have seen me the first time mi principitto came home with a bruise. I was this close to murder,” she chuckled good naturedly as she held her fingers a hairs width apart. “I can relate I belief,” his dad chuckled as he looked back at him in that way he would sometimes. A strange mix of happy, proud, sad and worried. “Alicia Castile,” Roman’s mother introduced herself. “Your son has helped my boy in class last year and now he’s saved his life. I feel like I owe your family a great debt. If you ever have a party that needs catering I’ll give you family prices. No questions asked,” she promised. “You run Magical Kitchens. I have had the pleasure of sampling your work before, I might hold you to that,” dad smiled politely. Then his eyes returned to Virgil. Oh no. That was his ‘firm parent’ look. “We’re heading home, you are going to rest up.” Yep he was right. He made a thing out of showing off that he thought he was overdoing it, but allowed a small smirk to show it was in good humor. “So I won’t get a lecture on playing hero?” he asked teasingly before waving Roman goodbye, giving his mother a polite nod and heading off towards the parking lot at a steady but swift speed. He wasn’t willing to risk staying around much longer and risk any more embarrassment. “Not today,” he heard his father reply behind him.

Very soon they rounded a corner and Virgil could hear his dad’s phone buzz. “Patton, I’m sorry, I overreacted. Virgil is fine,” he said as he ruffled through Virgil’s hair. Much to the latter’s dismay. What was his dad thinking? What if Roman saw? He quickly stepped away and tried to fix his hair as best as he could. Looking back to make sure there were no witnesses. Luckily the hall was still empty. He decided to walk a bit faster though, just in case. “I see.” Oh no. Virgil didn’t like his father’s tone at all. “Thank you Patton. I’ll see you later.” A moment later he hung up. “Patton did talk to the principle didn’t he?” Virgil guessed, deciding to get this over with as fast as possible, as he got in the car. Just then he caught sight of Roman and his mother arriving at the parking lot. Roman was talking to her about something. Gesturing wildly with his hands, his face alight with enthusiasm. He really liked seeing him like that. He was looking forward to seeing it more often over the course of the year without having to worry if it somehow upset Janus if he spent time with him. “He did…” Right… His dad heard he had almost gotten hurt. “It’s not a big deal dad. It was a freak accident and we’re both fine. I promise,” Virgil assured him. He could see Logan steady his breathing and focus. He knew better than to interrupt while his dad was thinking this deeply about something. Virgil relaxed as his father finally started the car and left the parking lot. Now there was no chance of Roman spotting them, or Virgil subsequently doing something embarrassing.

“I am sorry if I embarrassed you back there.” Virgil flinched. Had his dad noticed? God was he that obvious? No. It’s fine, just play it off. Maybe he meant, embarrass you in front of your classmate, not crush. “It’s whatever,” he mumbled, desperately searching for a change of subject. Suddenly it hit him. “You don’t have to take me back home you know. You have like two more classes to teach right? I can sit in the back and draw some,” he looked back to Logan with a small smile. “I’d like to see my flashcards in action.” His dad frowned thoughtfully. “You didn’t hit your head at any point?” “No,” he stated. “If either of us hit our head it would’ve been Roman.” And he had made sure that he didn’t. “Well, okay then. I don’t mind showing of my son to my students,” his dad smiled fondly, making Virgil almost change his mind about going home. At his father’s instruction he texted Patton. “Coming over to campus. See you soon.” “My students have probably gone to study in the library or taken an extended lunchbreak due to my absence,” Logan explained as they entered the empty auditorium. Virgil looked around imagining himself in a room like this in a few years. “They’ll be informed that I have returned soon. We’ll see how many actually show up in-” “Where is my brave angel baby!!!” Virgil looked up, fight or flight instincts fully engaged. Patton was rushing towards him. And before he could decide how to respond he was being hugged.

“Oh, kiddo. Are you okay? Were you scared? Why aren’t you at home?” Virgil couldn’t be annoyed at him when he sounded so distressed. “Pops, I’m fine! Not even a scratch on me,” he assured him, gently hugging Patton back. “Aside from ‘Gay Panic’ his emotional state was not compromised.” He did not just do that. “Dad I swear I’ll move in with uncle Thomas!” Virgil threatened, deciding that this was enough hugging and stepping away from Patton “What do you mean? Was it a boy? Was he cute? Tell me!” Patton squealed. “Don’t you have a class to get back to,” Virgil huffed, very done with being publicly humiliated. Dad’s students were already arriving. He regretted his tone a little when he saw how confused Patton was by it. Luckily Logan was there to be ‘moody teenager translator’. “Don’t take it personal. He’s just a little embarrassed.” He didn’t have to look so pleased by it though. “Ugh, I’ll be in the back,” he stated as he made his exit. By the time he had settled in and took out his sketchbook and pencils, Logan was addressing his students. “Take your seats everyone. I apologize for my tardiness, but rest assured we won’t fall behind first day of the semester. We’ll start class in 10 minutes so your classmates have a chance to join the lecture if they want.” Virgil heard the students filtering in, but was focusing on the drawing.

He had just finished the body, when his dad started class. “Hello everyone. Apologies for the delay. Today is not… Vibing with me it seems.” Virgil looked up and saw his dad hold up one of his flashcards. He chuckled along with the class. “Welcome back to all of you. I look forward to having another productive year. Please be on your best behavior. My son Virgil is joining us today.” Virgil waved at the many turning heads when his dad motioned in his direction. “So I’d like to get some cool dad points today.” Again a chuckle rippled through the room. “But now, without any more stalling. Let’s get started.” Virgil dove back into his sketch. He hadn’t given much thought to the color scheme for the suit, other than gold detailing, but for the real one he was thinking red, white and gold. That seemed to fit the heroes tastes. No full on white jumpsuit. Red pants, gloves and cape, that would make the white shirt pop out more. He stood by the cool factor the cape would add to the complete look. Though he noted down that it was meant for formal functions. He toned down the gold details. He’d been having a bit too much fun with those. Then he worked the crown he’d designed into the mask. He considered the boots and decided to give the mannequin normal white shoes. But, as a joke, added a heeled version in the margin. He observed his work, it looked cool. He had some more place on the page and put down a few ideas for a cool logo they could put on the cape. Like a coat of arms. A family crest. Something to complete the prince aesthetic. He really liked it. He had to admit, he first thought he’d just make the design, show it to Roman and then leave it be. But… What if he really sent in a copy of this to the GTH… He wasn’t going to think about that right now. Maybe later… “Hey!” Virgil looked up in surprise. One of his dad’s students was talking to him. He looked to the front of the room. It seems like his dad was busy setting something up. “You are Anker’s kid huh?” They asked. Virgil nodded. “Cool. What’s it like to have him for a dad? Like, he’s a stick in the mud but he’s also pretty funny. What’s that about?” Virgil quirked his brow, not sure if his dad just got insulted or complemented. “I don’t know. He can be strict, but that’s cause he cares a lot. He’s mainly very supportive,” Virgil explained. “You’re not really what I imagined his kid would look like,” the student in the next seat mused. “Um… I guess, not? I’m more of an artsy kid I guess,” he admitted. “Is it true you got him and professor smiles together?” Professor… “Patton you mean? Uh, yeah. I gave them a little push.” Both students nodded in approval. “They are so cute together. Good job,” the second student praised. Virgil smiled, he had to agree on that one. “Thanks,” he nodded. Then his dad called everyone’s attention again. Virgil turned the page and started working on something else. A costume for him should he have the funds to get one professionally made. The class continued like that. With him working out several designs for himself, occasionally interrupted by either his dad pulling out the notecards, or one of his students asking him something during a quiet moment. Before he knew it he and his parents were heading back to the car. “So what happened?” Patton wondered, making Virgil tense up at once. Well there went all his progress in relaxing. “Nothing! Can we just drop it?” Virgil pleaded as he got in the backseat and fastened his seatbelt. “It’s pretty much as you said. Virgil pushed Roman to safety, both boys are fine.” Virgil was grateful for his dad’s factual and neutral summary for about one second. “Wait… Roman… The Roman?”

Virgil felt all his muscles lock in place. Patton should not know that there was a ‘the’ Roman! “I… I never mentioned Roman during family dinners…” And he hadn’t talked about him the past summer. Which could only mean… “Dad!” he exclaimed accusingly, only making Logan chuckle. Was this payback for back when he first met Patton or something? “Oh, don’t be embarrassed kiddo. Logan, tell me you didn’t say anything too bad in front of him,” Patton pleaded. “Not to my knowledge. I didn’t even bring up that I recognized him.” Virgil felt all color leave his face. No… No. Why!? “What do you mean?” Patton asked curiously adding to Virgil’s horror. He wanted off this ride, now! “Well, I’m pretty sure he was the charming Prince Virgil couldn’t tear his eyes away from during the play.” Ok. Time to panic, and/or cry. He was leaning towards the ‘and’ option. “That’s not… I worked hard on the costume. That’s all.” He knew it was a very poorly executed exit strategy. If his dad had noticed how he kept a special eye on Roman’s Prince, then he might’ve noticed… “And the shepherd from the winter play. And he was the crazy scientist and the minstrel in the plays of your freshmen year,” Logan added. Virgil was ready for the universe to swallow him now. “It’s not like that,” he insisted. “What were you two talking about anyway?” Patton wondered. And Virgil was grateful for the slight change of subject. Virgil shrugged. “We worked well together last year. Roman suggested studying together once a week,” he explained. And that was the truth. And luckily, that seemed enough to put an end to the conversation. Just in case though, Virgil escaped to his room the second he got home. No sooner had he taken out his phone to put on some music to drown out everything else, or he got a call. Normally he would hate that. But the idea read “My DreamPrincey”

“Purgatory. Satan speaking,” he smirked as he picked up. “Hello there my chemically imbalanced romance.” Of all bands, it had to be that one? And again with the possessive pronoun. It should be illegal to affect someone this much in a single sentence. Virgil didn’t miss a beat though. “Hey there sir Singalot.” His heart stuttered when Roman chuckled at that one. “I just realized that we got extremely rudely interrupted.” “You could phrase it like that,” Virgil laughed. “So… when and where do you want to meet Friday?” Your place, the park, the mall… No… Homework. It’s for homework. “Let’s head to the library after school. We can grab some pizza from across the street after if it’s late,” he suggested, trying not to cringe as he pretty much asked his crush out to dinner. Sure, it could be interpreted as a platonic thing. But still. These were big steps forward to him. “Sounds great,” Roman agreed happily. Virgil didn’t want the conversation to end there though. Luckily he had a good question about the subject at hand. “Yeah. Hey, about that. Are you cool with helping me out with Spanish? I know you take French, but…” His mom had greeted him with a Spanish pet name right? But maybe they weren’t raised with the language beyond that… “I mean…” Had he just offended him?

Before he could spiral too much, Roman answered. “My parents raised us bilingual. Me encantaría ayudarte a aprender el lenguaje de la passion, mi caballero oscuro.” Holly… He had no idea what he just said. He spoke way too fast for him. Apreder… that was teaching or something. And he thought he caught passion in there. God what was it with this guy? “That better be you saying you’ll help,” Virgil huffed. “Of course mi amigo sombrío. It’s the least I can do por mi Salvador,” he teased. Virgil blushed. He understood Salvador. Savior. Roman had called him his savior. “Virgil? Who are you talking to?” Virgil suppressed the urge to curse. Really dad? Now?

“Roman dad! We’re talking about going to the library on Friday!” he yelled back, holding the phone away from his face. He really hoped his dad would leave it at that, but he wasn’t so lucky. “For homework right?” Of course homework! Was he being serious? “Yes dad. He’ll help me with Spanish,” Virgil replied with an exasperated eye roll. “Alright. I’ll leave you boys to it. Dinner at six.” “Noted…” he called back, waiting for a few seconds to make sure he heard him go down the stairs. “He’s gone,” he sighed in relief. “Sorry about that. He is… He means well, but sometimes…” He was lost on how to explain his dad’s intense reactions to his safety honestly. Usually he was very calm and collected. But bring in a scraped knee, or a bruise and Virgil could feel the fear come off him. Even when Logan tried to hide it. “I get it… I’m sorry about your mother,” Roman offered. Oh… Oh yeah his dad had said something about their small family. Roman really paid attention huh? “Oh… Right… Um… I never.” He took a breath. It was fine. Roman wouldn’t judge right? “I don’t remember either of my birthparents so…” “Shit. Sorry, I didn’t…” Roman hurried awkwardly. It made Virgil smile a little.

“It’s alright… I don’t advertise it, but I don’t really care if people know.�� Except he cared a little that Roman knew and would think badly about it. Which made no sense, but his worst thoughts rarely did in hindsight. “Logan is my dad in every way that matters. I’m sure they were awesome and everything… Dad seems to miss them anyway. And sometimes he’ll say that I’m like them, or that they’d be proud and stuff… But yeah. He’s protective of me. Hence his whole ‘don’t be a hero’, rule.” God he was rambling. Someone stop him. Roman chuckled. “Well, too late for that. You might as well pick up your tights now.” Roman meant to brighten the mood. But god no. That would be an actual nightmare. “As if. I wouldn’t be caught dead in something like that. I’d be more into the Midnight Mirage aesthetic,” he confessed. Already thinking up a design. “Shut up! That’s totally my celeb crush!” Roman gushed. Now Virgil really wanted to try putting something together inspired by Mirage. “You? Prince of theater, have a crush on LA’s vigilante?” He asked incredulously. “I wouldn’t have picked you for the type to like bad boys,” he teased, while he wondered if he counted as a ‘bad boy’ in Roman’s eyes. “I like the mystery,” Roman replied casually. And then, as Virgil could have expected, he turned the tables on him. “Well since you know my big secret, it’s only fair if you tell me your crush. Spill Doctor Gloom.” His crush… Celeb crush. Roman was talking about crushes on celebrities that were too old for them to start with and unlikely to ever meet them. Still he needed to buy himself some time. “Um…, well for a girl… I’d say Blaze.” She was really cool and intense and criminally good looking. At least if you asked Virgil. “And guy?” Roman pressed. Virgil felt his throat close up, his heart skip a beat. What to say? “Come on. Which prince tickles your fancy?” You. “Who may sweep you into his arms-” you “-and ride off into the sunset with you?” You, you, you 100% you. “DreamPrince,” he blurted instead. Why? No clue. But it happened. And it was the least credible answer. Dream Prince didn’t even have an official picture released to the public yet. There was only one witness who had gotten a decent look at him and talked to him. “I didn’t see that one coming,” Roman’s surprised voice pulled him out of his panic. Was he buying it? “So our resident edge lord fancies himself a literal prince charming as a romantic partner huh?” he teased. Apparently he did. Well maybe it wasn’t that bad. He’d basically just told Roman that he was his type, right? What little anyone could gather from the Prince fit Roman as well. Still he felt the need to backpedal a little. He could not pretend to be swooning over that guy too much. “Don’t look too deep into it. I just admire his guts. Gifted or not, it takes nerves of steel to face a guy with a gun like he did.” Or to face bullies, and to be friends with him while Janus gave you the death glare. “And to go outside in that crime against fashion.” He shuddered as he recalled the jumpsuit. He might have to send in his design. For everyone’s sake.

“I’ll probably be over it next week,” he huffed dismissively. Showing that he was not too invested in this ‘crush’. Roman hummed in response, seemingly distracted. Virgil felt butterflies in his stomach as a hopeful thought crossed his mind. What if he was building up to��� He had just said that Virgil’s preferred aesthetic matched with his celeb crush… And then he was pressing for his type… What if he did want to ask him out? “Any reason why you wanted to know?” That was nowhere near as casual as he’d wanted to be. But it was out. And Virgil was holding his breath in anticipation. “Stacey!” Virgil had to pull back from the phone due to the sudden loud exclamation. Who? “My friend. She’s been pestering me for your number since I mentioned I had it and I obviously wasn’t going to betray your trust and do that. So…” Wait… No. “Stacey wants to go out with you, would you be up for that?” Oh…. “Stacey?” He thought back. He remembered her. “Seen her in the art studio a few times. She’s got style.” And she was very pretty. If he was completely honest with himself he was kind of flattered that he had apparently caught her eye. He supposed he should give it a chance. “Sure. Text me her number,” he decided. “Awesome,” Roman replied, unaware of the stinging in Virgil’s heart.

They talked for a long time after that though. About school, summer, Disney and theater. It was easy talking to Roman. It always had been, but now… It was just different. Suddenly Virgil heard Roman’s mother call out, almost instantly followed by his dad. “Man… time sure flies,” Virgil mused, his cheeks hurting from all the times Roman made him laugh.

“Si. Nos vemos mañana!”

Virgil chuckled. “That means… See you tomorrow, right?” Virgil verified.

“Si!” Roman exclaimed. Virgil chuckled. “Bye Princey,” he said gently before hanging up. He checked his messages before heading down. Roman had texted him Stacey’s number and he had a message from Janus. He decided to call Stacey now. Get it over and done with. “… Who is this, and how did you get this number?” Virgil smirked. She had spunk. He kind of liked that. Maybe this would be not so bad. “I’m the devil dear. Someone you considered a friend just sold me your soul,” he said in his best imitation of a demon voice. “OMG… Virgil? Virgil Anker?” she asked, seemingly flustered. “That’s my name,” he acknowledged. “Roman said you wanted to go out with me?” “I’m going to kill that pompous…” “So you don’t want to hang out at the gallery tomorrow?” he asked playfully. “Wait really!?” she asked shocked. Virgil chuckled as he got up and started going down the stairs. “Well, it’s not a date exactly. Consider it a vibe check. We’ll set up a new canvas, have some fun and get to know each other. Then after we can see if we really want to go out together. What do you think?” he offered. He didn’t want to deal with the pressure of a first date right away.

“Oh, yeah. Awesome!” she agreed. He made his way into the kitchen. “Kay, so tomorrow after school. See ya later Stacey,” he bid before hanging up. “Who, was that?” his dad asked from his seat at the kitchen table. “Stacey. One of Roman’s friends…” the thought of Roman, and how he’d played wingman for her hit him in the chest. “He… Told me she liked me and asked him for my number. I got hers and we’re going to hang at the art gallery to see if we click. I haven’t really hung out with anyone other than Janus or Roman, so I don’t… Know if I’d like any of my other classmates. I figure I should give her a shot. She seems fun,” he said. Mostly to remind himself as he took his seat. “It’s like I said… Me and Roman… It’s not like that.” No matter how badly he wished it was “That’s really sweet of you Virgil,” Patton offered. Virgil gave him a small smile. After dinner he opened Janus’ text. “Sry bout what happened 2day. Will U B @ schl 2mrw?” Virgil was taken aback, and a little hopeful. So Janus had come to look for him and heard what happened? And he actually asked him for his plans? Maybe, maybe he didn’t need to lose his best friend after all… No. This is why it took so long. When not around others Janus was almost always great to hang out with. He was fun and smart and weird in a cool way. But at school he would be around other students. Around Roman. That would be the test. He texted back. Hoping it would help somehow. “M fine thx. C U there.”

confrontation

Masterpost

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[workingonit-currently]

DOG

session starts a little late, maybe. And simply text tonight.

still waiting at the gate

Times does not spell well if Courage and Aleris are the only two available for this session...

Griss is still trying to kill himself

Apparently his house is about to go up in flames

Griss needs help putting out the flames and Aleris thinks Imogen sleep cast the fire. (again)

Courage tells Aleris they can use this as cover to enter the city without the guards

Aleris just calls the guards over to help

Aleris tries to end it with druidcraft

Griss and the guard run in to save his house and Aleris doesn't want them to die.

Griss' house is fire-proof but the recipes are not and all gone now.

Courage is suprised he doesn't just throw shit in a bowl with how weird his food tastes.

Aleris offers to give him some of her cookbooks but Griss takes that as an insult.

We hear horses and Aleris becomes enamored.

You see the other goliath guard from earlier, who you sent to grab Danald Gray Old, along with another man. He's wearing bright bronzed armor, has long, gray hair, and is short and well-built.

"Travellers! Present yourselves! I have brought our boss, Mr. Old!"

Aleris says she needs to get into the city quick

The old man knows ALERIS!!!?

Aleris asks him what he is

DGO is offended, apparently

He looks like he's going in for a hug so Courage steps away, she does not like.

Aleris still questions him. (and now my capslock is backwards so the light is on when I'm typing in lower case....0-0)

He's an founder or something and my computer has reverted to normal, wahay

He looks to be a short human or a tall dwarf

Aleris asking the real question of 'is he going to let us past?'

He's actually pretty chill and allows us in, allows us horses and stuff to.

He introduces himself to Courage and she is prickly

He says she could stand to learn manners as well and Aleris wants him to turn into a dog.

We give him the glare as we both get on the warhorse to ride into the city

Aleris says 'The horses told me they don't like went people sat on them'

Courage is connected to this horse so...

Aleris now refers to DGO as dog man and Courage shakes her head at his apparent treatment of horses.

He smiles at you, his smile more like a toothy grin full of barely hidden anger, before he swings up onto his horse. "Well then? If you're ready, I will show you the way. And watch your words. I am the founder of this city, you would do well to remember that."

Ohhhh Aleris is dunking on this dude. (like I thought, with just Aleris and Courage they get angry.)

He speeds off and Courage takes it as a challenge

Noooom!

Roll and a 7 so not so noom

Aleris feeds him apple and it's a 23 noom! He is speedy noom boy!

Stephen, after being bribed with an apple, achieves all his dreams and almost flies across the gray waste of the ground like he has wings on his feet. DGO's horse isn't far behind, but Stephen neatly outraces him to the gates of the city

DGO is annoyed and comes storming behind us as we pat and give apples to Stephen, our good boy.

He's angry we've disrespected him but Courage is acting all innocent.

lying me teeth off Where I'm from it's the mayor honor to make the guest race, and if he get beaten it's means he choose his guest well. But probably, don't have such tradition here. Since the city is still very young. - ALERIS IS A LEGEND! I love her! Well done Rian.

He glares at you, working his jaw, before his mouth stretches painfully into an anger-filled horrifying imitation of a smile. "Of course. My....apologies. You two truly are great guests. Clearly, I have chosen well." He grabs the harness on his horse, pulling it to a guard who takes it, startled, and he storms into the city. - We might have gone and messed up

People are parting for the mayor and Aleris is blowing Courage's attempts at being not seen by waving at people staring

Aleris tries to find druids

Aleris rolls a good perception check (I think repayment for all the terrible rolls last sunday.)

He glares at you, working his jaw, before his mouth stretches painfully into an anger-filled horrifying imitation of a smile. "Of course. My....apologies. You two truly are great guests. Clearly, I have chosen well." He grabs the harness on his horse, pulling it to a guard who takes it, startled, and he storms into the city.

Aleris asks Courage what to do and Courage says to stick with the dog, he might lead them exactly where they need to go

'yes, that's the polite thing to do right?' - Aleris...you better not be thinking what I'm thinking....

You guys continue following him through the streets, all the way to a massive, bright white building in the center of the town. It looks almost like a massive, blindingly bright spike in the middle of the city, shedding light on anything around it. It is probably the brightest thing you've seen so far while down here.

Courage complements the house

Aleris says nothing because if she opens her mouth rudeness might come out

"It is my place of work, gallant knight! The Tallspire. It is the tallest and brightest thing in the city. I had it specially made out of veins of this bright, light-emitting stone we had found in some of the caves of Helmsbane cavern. This stone is said to ward off the god Helm; thus the name. Anyways, come inside, come inside." He walks to the doors and flings them open, walking inside and up a massive spiral staircase in the side of the tower.

More sucking up and Aleris being silent

You guys follow him up this massive spiral staircase for a good three or four minutes. You see thousands upon thousands of crates in nooks and recesses in the walls, all branded “oldliving oils—live until you’re old and gray”. He leads you all the way up to his office.

His office is massive, with a desk in the middle with stacks of papers on top of it. He’s got the Oldliving logo in gold leaf on top of the desk, and a few chairs around it. There are shelves upon shelves of books and papers and files.

We sit and think about how he's compensating for something

He snaps his fingers and an elaborate throne-sort-of-rolly-chair appears out of thin air, and he collapses into it with a dramatic sigh. "Now. Now that all the walking business is out of the way, I would like to talk to you for a bit, Aleris, person-to-person, just us two." He leans over the table, steepling his fingers, and looks at you expectantly, Courage.

Courage in not going anywhere for the moment though you can't remind me of noble knights when all I've been thinking about is Ed. I'm going to start thinking of ED.

She's my emotion support paladin, she doesn't leave me grab Courage arm, and hold on firmly

"Well, I'm afraid that if you wish to speak about your true family, little druid, it would be better for both of us if she were not here."

Courage asks about who she'll be with waiting

Aleris argues Courage stays

Daniel!?

"You can trust me, Aleris. I'm old, I would not even be able to hurt a fly. As for you, Courage...DANIEL!" He shouts out the door. You hear a faint "Yes, sir?" "DANIEL, COME UP HERE, WE NEED SOME COMPANY FOR A CLIENT!" "Of course sir, I'll be right up."

Courage is ready to fight this Daniel

Daniel is a cat, a tabaxi. Aleris' dog, Link can stay though. Courage is confused if she should skin the cat.

whisper back Don't I want to see where this is going. I'll sent you Link if I need anything. Ok?

Courage trusts Aleris so takes the cat's paw and walks out of the room. (did I mention she is nervous around cats.)

Oooh, DGO getting to the point and calling Courage a client

Aleris also doesn't like being called a client

"Of course. My apologies for assuming." He hums, placing a hand on the file. "We were recently visited by a group of a few travelling druids, wearing green cloaks, who were asking around for someone who went by the name 'Aleris'". He leans over the table to meet your eyes. "Now, I should say, I generally don't like druids. They infringe on some of the...projects I do, however these druids were willing to pay an amount of money to find you."

Oooh, Aleris might be getting kidnapped.

"Well...yes and no. I know where they are, but in exchange for that information, you'll have to help me for a bit." - Nope, Aleris is just being hired to help him for a bit in exchange for information, Yay!

Ohhhhhhhh, Aleris is showing the anger she has for being abandoned

Tricky DGO but Aleris is not agreeing to something she knows nothing about

"You wished to find these druids that are looking for you, no?" He grabs a bottle of some sort of amber, sweet-smelling liquid from the shelf, and snaps his fingers. Two glasses appear, and he pours some of the liquid into each one. "Stay for a while, let's chat about you for a bit."

Suspicious

Aleris tries to divert the conversation but he just wants to talk about her...weird

Aleris asks why he cares

"I do care! I care about our partnership, our friendship, druid. It's a symbiotic relationship. You help me, I help you, we become friends!" - I call horse-shit

Daniel, the cat, locks the room Aleris is in.

Courage asks why.

He shrugs. "Mr. Old told me to, ma'am. He's quite insistent on this with every client. Says it cultivates an air of 'privacy' and 'trust'." - Yeah, Aleris is totally going to trust him now. Rian states.

'You're the one that contacted me. YOU need me, not the other way around. I know I look like a naive little thing, but don't believe for a second that I need you. And if the other druids refused to help you there probably is a very good reason. And I quite would like to hear it.' - Aleris telling the truth!

You see his smile go back to that pained, angry grin. "Of...of course. They did not agree with...some of the lengths I had had to go to in order to make my essential oils, and so, when I asked for their help to make a new product, they left before I could convince them to stay. It's all in the name of business, Aleris, and I will give you a 20% share in the profits if you join me." He looks nervously at Link, who is quietly growling, looking nervously back at the door.

Aleris would like to leave

"Before you leave! Let us sit down! Introduce yourself a bit, talk about yourself. Have a drink." He slides a glass of the amber liquid over to you.

Aleris says goodbye and tries to open the door. (it's locked though.)

The door is locked, and when you look back, Danald Gray Old is holding a few bottles of essential oils. Courage, you hear the door rattle, and Daniel starts again, looking at the door, confused.

We roll initiative and we'll start off fighting next session.

[kewltie]

grumpy vet!katsuki is annoyed at animal lover!izuku who keeps bringing strays into his clinic because this isn't a fucking rescue but he never stop helping izuku care and find a home for every one of them. worst yet is that he can hear the voice of animals and they're like,,, pls mate with the cute human.

katsuki doesn't remember when it first started for him, but he'd always heard them. the animals are noisy bunch of fuckers with A WHOLE LOT OF OPINIONS and katsuki wouldn't say he love them but hearing their voice, knowing their pain and joy, he understands them better than he get humans. there isn't any pretense with the animals. they are what they are and they love, hate, and cry just as fiercely as any humans even though katsuki thinks they're simple creatures. he always been closer to the animals than other humans because they stay true to him. so yea he doesn't love animals but he finds himself relating to them more than his own species. it's not surprise that he became a vet because he get to work closely with the animals that kinda fuck up his life since he cant have any normalcy anymore so they're stuck with each other lol

izuku have always been fond of animals and they have always been super fond of him back. it's mutual love all around even though izuku def can't hear their voices but growing up izuku was heavily bullied and harassed and his only friends were stray dogs he met whenever he walk to/from school.  his bullies called him in mocking tone 'snow white' because the fact that izuku always attracting animals around him and whenever he go anywhere birds fly circle above him and animals have a habit of finding him. it's freaky. IZUKU WAS WEIRD so he finds comfort in animals rather than human because they don’t care or judge him. Animals can be simple like that.

while katsuki takes his strangeness and ability and turns it into a flourishing business because he's not going to let anything fuck him over; katsuki owns his power and isn't ashamed of it one bit. he just wish the animals talk less because they think they know BEST even more than him lol.  take for example his lack of love life because he's sooo busy at his private clinic and doesn't have time for others. as soon as he had graduated vet school, he poured his money and opened his own clinic because katsuki was never going to be alright working under someone and he want to do things his way.  now that his business is stable and he got several other vets (his friends from vet school) working with him, he has more free time but still finds himself working at the clinic on his day off because he's uh a bit of a workaholic?? also because he thinks human relationship is a complicated, annoying, and just UGH/o\.

his animals that AREN'T HIS PETS exactly but stay year round at the clinic because they're deemed unadoptable for normal shelters because of their special needs (i.e. blind, deaf, etc) so they constantly harassed him to find a 'proper mate' and produce 'offspring' already because he's wasting good sperm… lol  they legitly dont understand how a virile male like katsuki haven't found a good mate yet and katsuki REALLY REALLY would like them to stfu up with the nagging because he already got it from his friends and HIS PARENTS and now he's getting harassed at work by his own fucking animals.

his animals are actually a bird with one wing, a three legged dog, two cats (one blind and the other deaf). no matter what katsuki say, THEY'RE HIS PACK and they absolutely loves him. Some were surrendered by their owner because it was too much work taking care of a special need animal while his pack like the dog actually came from a fighting ring and got his leg broken by another. the two cats were from abusive households, and the bird was abandoned by her owner when she lost one of her wings. they're mix matched bunch of mistfists with nowhere else to go but katsuki took them in anyway. he said it's only UNTIL HE FIND THEM A NEW HOME, but they never leave him sobs. THEY LOVE THIS GRUMPY ASSHOLE. katsuki understands them and doesn't care if they're lil broken and damage and he's so, so good to them even though he's so MEAN ABOUT IT LOL.

so yea, they want more than anything for katsuki to be happy!!!!! for them that's mean finding a good mate and having babies because that is guaranteeing his future, but few humans can put up with their beloved katsuki,,, until izuku comes rolling into the clinic with a dog hit by a car of course.

izuku has no pet insurance and he doesn't even have any money to pay the pet fees because he's actually unemployed right now. he went through various jobs of all kind but because of his 'unique deposition' animals constantly flocked to him and made it chaotic when he's on the job. he was eventually was fire/asked to leave because it was inconvenience to them and though izuku finds it extremely hard to only last a month or two at his new work everytime, he never blame the animals for being the source of the problem because they ARE HIS HAPPINESS, HIS ENDLESS JOY.

it also made it harder izuku to have a 'normal' life when izuku would often drop everything to help any kind of animal in need. a lost pet, an injured bunny, an abused dog, etc and he would go to great lengths to ensure they're love and care for because they are the world to him. so when he saw a dog injured on the roadside, he stopped immediately and found the nearest vet clinic to bring her in even though HE'S OUT OF A JOB and is poor in cash but rich in heart :P.

at first katsuki put up a fight like he's not going to help unless izuku paid up because he's kind of dick lol. tbh he was just putting on a show because he can't have ppl thinking HE'S FUCKING WEAK to every desperate ppl coming in even tho his price is the cheapest in the area and he takes IN EVERY PET NO MATTER HOW DIRE but then izuku get teary eyes and promise katsuki his spleen if he would help. that is when he knew izuku is going to FUCKING RUIN HIM because then all the animals in the waiting room is giving him a stink eye and are like, "HELP THE POOR HUMAN YOU DUMB DOC". he just want to growl at them to stfu but the dog starts howling and everyone is making noises and he sighs.

he wasn't even going to kick izuku and the injured dog out anyway so he grits his teeth and let himself be bullied in taking in his new patient and a v v v concern izuku. he insistently hovers close by as katsuki perform the surgery on the dog's broken leg. katsuki knows the drill because worry pet parent is part of the job. "she will be fine," he tells izuku.

eyes wide with hope. "really?" he asks, looking all earnest.

"yea, i wouldn't bullshit unless i fucking know for sure," katsuki answers with a snort because he doesnt make empty promises. also because he's fucking good at his job. he takes in every case seriously and pour his blood, sweat, and tears into all their animals that come into his clinic until they're well again. katsuki doesn't love animals,,, he's FUCKING LOVES THEM in his own ornery ways ofc lol.

 esp the pets and animals that come through his clinic, they all have unique personality and stories to tell. they're not humans but to katsuki they might as well be because their life is as precious as any other human being and he wants to make sure none of them die on his table.

"okay, she's cleared from the surgery," katsuki says, informing an anxious looking izuku. "you can take her home in three days." he pauses for a moment with a frown. "consider the wee waived as my good deed of the year. just dont let your pet run off in the street next time."

izuku blinks. "she's not my dog. I just found her."

katsuki stares at him. "you were going to offer your spleen for a dog that isn't EVEN YOURS?!"

izuku nods eagerly. "i just couldnt leave her alone when she's hurt like that. thank you so much, bakugou-san! you're her hero!"

it's then that his life go from somewhat mundane (as much as a vet who can talk to animals can be) to become even more eccentric because of izuku. he somehow acquired another DOG into his pack bc no matter how desperately izuku tried to find her owner he couldn't. she also need a lot of dedicated hands on care but with no prior owner appearing, katsuki begrudgingly takes her on until she finds a new home. even worst, izuku makes it a habit to visit his clinic daily to check up on her and all the animals there perk excitedly at his appearance.

he easily makes friend w/ all the animals, esp the ones recovering from surgery/illness, taking special care of them while katsuki's pack is super curious w/ izuku and  keep hounding katsuki to pay attention to the cute human!! LOOK A VIABLE MATE as katsuki continues to ignore them

katsuki like to thinks he's a hardass but ever since that day izuku keeps bringing in his strays for katsuki to help and katsuki grumble his way through it but never turn izuku away bc as soon as izuku turn his fucking huge green eyes at him,,,, he'd fucking whipped that's what. and izuku has no money and no job, he started stay longer and help out at the clinic as a return for katsuki’s helping out the animals he keeps bringing in. so he just come to clinic pretty much everyday from morning and wouldn't leave till they close it.

his presence there calm the animals and they always look forward to seeing him everyday. even katsuki's regular clients are like, "oh did you hired a new assistant at the clinic? he's such a sweet and helpful boy."

katsuki, eyes twitching, grits out a, "no."

but at this point katsuki pretty much accepted izuku is attached to the clinic now because unlike all the strays izuku brought in with all of them eventually finding a new home later, KATSUKI IS STUCK WITH IZUKU even though this izuku had FOUND HIM FIRST and not the other way around. katsuki is good with animals because they dont take his bullshit and though he has his colleagues who he work with but they knew him long enough to deal with his prickliness longterm but izuku who he only known for a month or 2, sticks close to him and just smile through him being his asshole self. maybe it's because izuku is some kind of animals magnet disney princess bullshit because ofc katsuki would only attract the kind of person that is maybe part animals or some shit because JUST HIS LUCK that he takes in a human stray in the end and can't get rid of izuku even if he wanted to.

there was no point in fighting it now, izuku is here to stay even if he has a habit of attracting all kind of animals and ridiculous to katsuki's peaceful clinic. he ends up hiring izuku to work at the clinic even though izuku been working there for months already lol. izuku who always have a hard time having any permanency in his life because of his animals magnet deposition and maintaining any human relationship because they dont get his obsession with animals, immediately lights up at the news that he's here to stay WITH ALL THE ANIMALS AND KATSUKI.

katsuki who is mean, rough, and yells at him when he messed up but carefully teaches him how to fill out the health form correctly and lets him play with all the animals at the clinic. doesn't even blink when izuku smuggled in an injured bird and put UP WITH IZUKU'S RIDICULOUSNESS!! izuku is half way in love already because katsuki is a good man with the biggest heart around even if he deny it. he can tell by how much his pack loves katsuki, how they are happy and healthy they look and how they were deemed too broken for society but with katsuki they found a perfect home.

izuku doesn't understand the animals but you don't need a common language to see the way katsuki’s dog curl up in his lap when he's working in the office even though that dog is definitely way too big for it, or how his bird hop on his shoulder as he works. it's there in their body language and the way they want to be close to him. animals are honest, they express everything they feel with their entire body so katsuki can huffs and puffs about how he's not a good person but izuku knows. why else would katsuki not charged izuku for all the animals he bring in or get so brutally upset when he couldn't save one of their life.

izuku doesn't push for more because he's happy just having a room in katsuki's life with all these animals around them. while katsuki is SUFFERING because all his animals are yelling at him daily to: "FUCK MATE CUTE HUMAN BOY YOU USELESS TURD."

the fact that they're all invested in katsuki's love life is hilarious because they think he's completely useless at getting a mate and really want him to get it on with IZUKU ALREADY BECAUSE HE'S GETTING INTO HIS PRIME AND HE NEED TO PRODUCE BEFORE HE DIE TO CONTINUE HIS SPECIES!!!

katsuki has to keep telling them that IS NOT HOW HUMANS WORK but his animals keep offering advice like, "offer the head of your beloved's worst enemy as a courting gift", "leave a dead mouse at his house", "build him a beautiful nest" etc. it's great IF IZUKU WASNT A HUMAN. they critique katsuki's "courting skill" relentlessly because izuku is sweet, kind, love animals, and is perfect so like,,, can he hurry and snatch the cute human up already before some other bastard does???? because mating is a battlefield!!! you got to fight for your right to have him!!

at this point, with the constant nagging and all the animals being 'helpful', katsuki kinda just want lean over and tell izuku, "so do you just wanna fuck and start a family with me?" so his animals can stfu and also he'd might have lost his mind a lil there lol

[give-me-back-my-rhodey]

Seeing Through the Masks - AUgust Day 18

Title: Seeing Through the Masks

Author: Purple_ducky00

Rating: Teen

Warnings: N/A

Card number: 016

Square Filled: Obadiah Stane of the @tonystarkbingo flash card

Pair: Bucky/Tony; background Steve/Sam/Sharon

Link: Read on AO3

Summary: Bucky is hired to be Tony Stark's bodyguard. Once annoyed by his task, he starts to see the real Tony Stark behind all the masks he wears

+++++++

Bucky groans. It’s only his second day working for Stark, and he’s ready to quit. As Stark’s bodyguard, he’s supposed to get a daily schedule and be updated if anything changes. This is the third time today that Stark changed the schedule and didn’t inform him.

 Stark is abrasive, unfriendly, and unable to shut up at all times. When Pepper brought Bucky down to Stark’s workshop to meet him, Stark went on a rant to her about how he doesn’t need a bodyguard, and the bodyguard will only get in his way.

 Pepper firmly told him “You need a bodyguard. The Board implemented it.”

 “Did they forget that I own more than half the shares?” Stark demanded. “And that I’m the fucking CEO? Without me and you, this business might not go anywhere?”

“Mr. Stark. Just humor the Board on this one. I know you think you’re invincible, but the truth is, none of us want to see you get hurt.” Pepper had said softly, and Stark acquiesced.

  He looked at Bucky and said. “Fine, but you do not get in my way at any time. Pepper, did you give him an NDA? I don’t want any of my plans stolen. I don’t know why you didn’t just tell Happy to guard me like before.”

 “You made Happy your driver,” Pepper reminds. “And now he’s the head of security at SI. Do you really want to downgrade him? And yes, I gave Mr. Barnes an NDA to sign, which he did. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

 “No. No.  Ok thank you, Miss Potts. I will call you if I need you. Barnes, is it? Just stand there and don’t get in my way.” Tony had dismissed them as he went back to his work.

 Mouthing the word ‘sorry’, Miss Potts led Bucky to the door. “So, we’ll get you a key card and everything. I’ll have Tony put a code for you on this door. I’m sorry. He’s prickly at first, but I’m sure he’ll warm up to you.”

 Now, Bucky just wants to strangle the man. Stark is talking to his CFO, Obadiah Stane. “No, it’s not going to work that way. Obie, Obie, listen to me. I know how these things work, trust me. You know Dad would have told you the same thing. I will take care of it, Obie. Leave it to me.”

 Stane gives Bucky the creeps. Something about him just seems… off. But Bucky grits his teeth at the arrogant tone in Stark’s voice. The call hangs out, and the man turns to him. “You, come help me with this.”

 Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Bucky walks up to Stark. “What do you want me to do?”

 “Hold up this piece of metal here. I’d ask the bots to do it, but they’d probably drop it, those little terrors.” He grins. Bucky’s not sure where Stark stands with the bots. He’s always insulting them, but he never gets rid of them. Bucky holds up the sheet of metal while the billionaire does a few experiments on it.

 In the end, Stark shakes his head and groans. “Won’t work. I told him.” Realizing that Bucky is still there, holding the metal, he waves at him. “Go ahead and put it down. I have to scrap it.”

 Bucky puts down the metal and walks back to his place by the wall. Stark ignores him for the rest of the day. Soon enough, it’s nighttime, and Tony dismisses him as he will not be going out tonight. Miss Potts thanks him for his work for the day and hands him the key card and badge that he will need going forward. He nods and walks out of the house.

 Meeting Steve, Sam, and Sharon at a restaurant, Bucky does not eat dinner until close to 930. Sam asks him about his new job, and Steve rolls his eyes. “No, you don’t wan…”

 “My new job?” Bucky smiles sharply, all teeth. “Let’s just say, it’s a good thing it pays well. Very well. My employer doesn’t even want me there, is an arrogant jerk 99.99999999% percent of the time, and doesn’t know how to treat anyone well, other than himself. It’s so fun.”

 Sam widens his eyes. “Wow. Sounds like you should just quit.”

 “Can’t. I’m under a year’s contract. I guess that’s how they trap the people in this job. Major lawsuits against me if I just quit.”

Sharon leans forward. “So, who’s your employer or is that classified as well?”

 “Tony Stark. And let me tell you, he is a pain in my ass.”

 +++++++

Bucky notices a few differences in Stark’s treatment of people… and things. Miss Potts, he treated with the utmost respect. They banter back and forth, and he usually is quick to give in to her demands. Stark has a voice in his ceiling. A learning AI, the genius had told him. Stark treats this voice like a friend or something. He’ll have full conversations with the voice. Bucky thinks it’s weird, but Stark is ‘eccentric’ right?

 He meets Colonel Rhodes within the first month of his job. He is unprepared for the pure, unadulterated joy he sees on Stark’s face when Rhodes walks through the door.

 “Rhodey!” Stark cries and runs over to hug the man. “How was the flight back? Do you need sleep? What’s on the docket for your leave?”

 Bucky just stares at the expressiveness of Stark’s face. Of all the days Bucky has escorted Stark around the city, and of all the people Stark has talked to, Bucky has never seen Stark drop his guard so much as he does right now. Rhodes, Bucky notices, hugs his friend right back. “I’m going to need some rest, Tones, then we can do whatever. Hey DUME, hey U, hey B, how are you guys?” Rhodes pats each of the bots. They beep happily back at him. He notices Bucky for the first time. “Um, Tones? Who’s this?”

 “Oh. Bodyguard.” Tony crosses his arms, defenses rising once again. “The fucking Board and Pepper strong=armed me into keeping this one. Apparently, they don’t want to see me hurt or some shit.”

 “Hi, James Rhodes. Nice to meet you.” Rhodes walks over to Bucky and extends his hand.

 Bucky shakes it. “James Barnes. Likewise. Can you make sure Mr. Stark updates me when he decides to leave the premises? I’d hate to get in trouble with Miss Potts if I lose him again.”

 “I’m right here.” Stark snaps.

 Rhodes chuckles. “But would you listen? Come on, Tones. You don’t want him to face Pepper’s wrath, do you? You know she’ll probably aim it at you, too.” Wrapping his arm around the smaller man’s shoulders, Rhodes leads him out of the workshop. Bucky trails behind at a slower pace.

 ++++++

Stark warms up to him over time.  He brings Bucky to red carpet events and galas. He makes sure to inform him when he’s going off schedule. Stark also lets him know when he’s taking home a bed companion or two. Bucky is happy he doesn’t have to stay inside the room when Stark has sex. Bucky had accidentally gotten an eyeful once before, and he wishes he could scrub the view out of his mind. It doesn’t help that Stark’s ass is perfect. He has to stop thinking about this!

 Apparently, when Tony gets comfortable with you, he flirts with you a lot. Now Bucky wouldn’t mind, except that he is incredibly gay, and Stark is terribly attractive. Bucky once fantasized wiping the grease off of his face the one-time Tony had emerged from under his Roadster, eyes sparkling. This is not good.

 Pepper must have noticed his discomfort and tells him. “If you want him to knock it off, just tell him. He'll understand.”

 “No, I don’t really mind,” Bucky admits. “I just have to stop myself from flirting back.”

 She shrugs. “As long as it’s just simple flirting, and nothing comes of it, I’m sure you'll be fine. He'll probably like you better.”

 “As long as I have your permission.” Bucky smiles. This job might have just gotten a lot easier.

 The next time Bucky meets up with his friends, they ask about his job. “I may have exaggerated last time.” He ducks his head, sheepish. “I don’t know if I’ve just gotten used to him, or what, but Tony isn’t so bad, you know?”

 “Oh, so he’s Tony now?” Sharon grins. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. But I think a lot of the problems I had with him were personas he thinks he has to live up to. When he’s alone in his workshop, he’s almost magical. The stuff that he can make is amazing, even if they end up being weapons of mass destruction. I don’t really like that. When he’s with Miss Potts or his friend Colonel Rhodes or even ugh Stane – I do not like that guy, he’s always so… open and relaxed. It’s almost as if he feels like he can be himself.  Then, when he’s around other people, at least one wall comes up. When he’s at a gala, he’s in an unbreakable safe. You can’t reach the real him, no matter how hard you try. It’s kind of sad that he has to do that.”

 “I think he’s just an asshole who can only be nice to the few people he actually likes.” Steve crosses his arms.

 Sam gives him a look. “Once again, Steve. Do you know the man?”

 “No, but.”

 “Why are you judging?” Sam glares, and Bucky chuckles. Sam knows how to give Steve a reality check.

 Sharon shakes her head at her boyfriends. She turns to Bucky. “What’s he like around you?”

 “He usually just kind of forgets I’m there when we’re in the workshop, but I don’t think he completely trusts me still. When he’s sleep-deprived, though, he likes to flirt with me.” Bucky grimaces. “Sometimes, I like it a little too much.”

 “Don’t tell me you’re crushing on Stark.” Steve groans.

 “Since he seems to be a topic of arguments, how about we just stop talking about Tony?” Bucky suggests. “Steve, how’s your art commission coming along?”

 Steve launches into his explanation on what he’s doing, and Bucky zones out. Does he really have a crush on his employer? How is that a good thing?

 ++++++

One day, Tony grabs Bucky by the arm. “We’re skipping out of the awards show or whatever Pep has planned for me tonight. I hate them. How about we go to the new casino instead?”

“Mr. Stark.” “Tony.” “Tony, you have to fly out to Afghanistan the next day. A late night at the casino isn’t going to help you. By the way, I still think I should accompany you to Afghanistan. I did fight over there, you know.” This was an argument that kept coming up.

 “Pshh, what do you know? I’ve been doing this since I was 16. I’ll be fine.” Tony brushes him off. “If you’re not going to go, I’m asking Happy.”

 “I’ll go, but you’re going to shield me if Miss Potts tries to kill me.” Bucky relents.

 Tony gives him a side eye. “Bold of you to think she won’t just kill me. And also, aren’t you supposed to be my bodyguard? Where I go, you go?”

 “So, why shouldn’t I accompany you to Afghanistan?” Bucky mentally cheers. He doesn’t usually one-up Tony.

 Tony pats his cheek. “I have Rhodey and plenty of Army and Air Force personnel there to protect me if something goes wrong. You should be happy; you have a few days off.”

 Bucky and Happy both accompany Tony to the casino. Happy sticks by Tony’s side while Bucky fades into the background. He watches as Rhodey comes from the awards show with an award for Tony. Tony apologizes and promises to be ready for the flight tomorrow. Rhodey leaves and Tony hands off his award to a Caesar cosplayer. Bucky’s heart wrenches as it does every time Tony picks up someone for a roll in the bed. He follows Happy home in his own car, checks the perimeter, makes sure everything is ok, and goes home for the weekend. Tony is right; he’ll finally have some extra time.

 ++++++

Bucky is bowling with Sam, Steve, and Sharon again when Rhodey calls him. Thinking Tony is coming home a day early, he excuses himself and answers the phone. “Hey Rhodey.”

 “Bucky.” Rhodey’s voice comes over the speaker. “Are you sitting down?”

 “No, but I can. Is something wrong?” His body fills with dread. He should have been over in Afghanistan.

 Rhodey sighs a ragged breath. “Tony, he, uh…. The convoy Tony was in got attacked. He definitely survived the attack, but they must have taken him. We don’t know where he is.”

 “No. no. You’re lying.” Bucky accuses. “I should have been there. I should have told Tony I was going with him, no matter what. This is…”

 “Not your fault.” Rhodey interrupts. “This is not your fault at all. We should never have had Tony there in a hotspot to begin with.”

 “Are – do you have people looking for him?” Bucky asks.

 “Of course, we do.”

 Bucky trembles. “It won’t be enough. Rhodey, let me come. Let me come and find him. I need him. Let me…”

 “Bucky, you know I can’t do that. “Rhodey sighs. “I know he means a lot to you. He means a lot to me, too. I’m not going to stop until I find him. I promise you, Bucky. I promise.”

 Bucky hits end call and sinks to the ground. What is he going to do now? Sharon notices his position and runs over to him. “Bucky! Get up, are you ok?”

 “No. Tony, he’s….” Bucky breaks down into tears.

 “Shh, It’s ok honey. Let’s get you to a real chair.” She takes his shoulders and leads him to their lane. “Just sit here. You’ll be ok.”

 Sam and Steve notice that he’s crying. “Shit. What happened, Shar?” Sam asks.

 “Something with Tony Stark. Bucky can’t finish his sentence. It must be pretty bad.”

 They take him home, and when his shock wears off, he tells them what Rhodey said. “I think I love him. And the bastard has to go get himself kidnapped.” He scoffs, wiping away tears from his eyes. “I don’t even know what I’m going to do tomorrow.”

 ++++++++

Three months pass. Bucky is just going through the motions. Serving as Pepper’s bodyguard, Bucky accompanies her to all her meetings and outings. He breaks down in tears once again when he gets the call that they found Tony. Accompanying Pepper to the airport, he refrains from embracing Tony and never letting him go. Instead, he tells Tony that a three-month long vacation is long enough.

 When they get in the car, Tony tells Happy to get him a cheeseburger and Pepper to call a press conference. Bucky sees a new resolve in Tony’s eyes that he never saw before. Tony tells the press that he’s shutting down weapons manufacturing. Bucky is happy. Bombs only caused more destruction.  That was one thing he hated about the army. Rhodey, on the other hand, is pissed. He tells Tony that he needs to rest and relax.

 Stane tells Tony to sit back and let him take care of all the PR. Bucky is always skeeved out about that guy. Tony obeys him and works on creating a flying suit. He tells Bucky he doesn’t know who to trust so he’s keeping it all private. Bucky is honored that Tony trusts him. IT takes a week or two for Tony to get everything working right, and once he masters the technique, he takes it out for a test drive. He returns not even an hour later, crashing through the ceiling. “Needs a few adjustments.” He pants.

 Bucky watches silently as Tony talks with JARVIS about changing a material for the suit, and the colors he should paint it. Tony’s focus is taken away by a reporter on TV, talking about the annual Firefighters Ball, hosted by Tony Stark. “Hmm… did we get an invitation to that, J?”

 Not to my knowledge, Sir.

 Tony tells JARVIS to fabricate and paint the new suit. “Don’t wait up.” He tells the AI. Nodding to Bucky, he asks, “Coming?”

 They quickly change and arrive at the gala in no time. Obadiah sees Tony and reminds him that he was supposed to lay low. Tony tells him that he just needed to get out. As per their normal gala routine, Tony goes to the bar while Bucky fades into the crowd. He notices the guy from Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division approaches Tony. Tony seems preoccupied. He takes a sip of his Scotch, shakes the agent’s hand, and makes his way toward… Bucky?

 “Care to dance?” Tony asks him. Bucky can’t say no. They dance for a little while until Tony asks Bucky if he’d like some air. The go out on the roof, talking about anything and everything. Things get said, an almost kiss happens, and Tony goes back to the bar to get them drinks.

 He’s gone for a long while, and Bucky goes to find him. He’s on the steps of the hall, talking to Stane. He’s not happy. Stane leans in closely and says something quietly and moves away, waving at Tony. Tony signals at Bucky to leave, and they drive back to Tony’s house in silence.

 Tony spends the next day watching feed of reporter talking about a town called Gulmira. He is not happy. He sends Bucky upstairs for something, and when Bucky comes back down, he is gone. Bucky groans, knowing all too well what Tony is doing. The military won’t take this happily.

 After almost getting shot out of the sky by the US Air Force, Tony returns home. His suit pinches and he takes a little while to come apart. He sends Pepper to get some files off his computer. Telling Bucky that he won’t be going out anymore tonight, he sends his bodyguard home. Bucky leaves five minutes too early. Stane attacks tony, paralyzing him and taking his arc reactor.

 Pepper calls Bucky, asking him where Tony is. “He’s not picking up his phone, and I’m afraid Stane is trying to hurt him. Can you go back and check on him? I called Rhodey, too.”

 Bucky makes a quick U-turn and heads back to Tony’s mansion. Rhodey is already there, helping Tony into his suit. “No time for arguments. I got to go.” Tony says and flies up out of the hole in the ceiling.

 In the end, Tony saves the day. Obadiah is killed, and Tony barely survives. Bucky runs up to him and kisses him fully on the lips. “I’m sorry if this makes things awkward, but never scare me like that again.”

 Tony kisses back with the energy of a man reaching a near-death experience. “I guess that means I have to quit now.” Bucky laughs.

 “No, I’ll just move you to Pepper. I don’t need a bodyguard anymore. I have my suit, you know?” Tony hugs him. “We’re gonna be alright.”

[zmediaoutlet]

fic: slow as you can go

This story was written as a commission for @armellin and @jesusonthetortillas, to illustrate this lovely J2 pic Armellin created.

Pairing: Jared/Jensen Rating: E Tags: Non-AU ‘Canon’ Divergence, Established Relationship, Married Sex Summary: After a convention, Jared and Jensen come home for a brief break. They've earned it.

(read on AO3)

Plane travel will never be Jared's favorite thing—it's probably never going to crest the top thousand of his favorite things—but flying first class definitely makes it better. Actual legroom, for one, and constant booze for another. He stretches out, trying to ignore the constant annoying hum from the engines and the wind against the fuselage, and sips at what may well be his third gin and tonic—but who's counting. Lime and bitter, and it's good, but not as good as what's waiting for them at home.

Thinking of home makes him tip his head to the side against the soft seatback. He smiles. The view in first isn't half-bad, either.

Jensen's sleeping, again. He hasn't shaved all weekend and the stubble's coming in that golden-red color that drives Jared crazy, a little. He doesn't think Jensen's noticed the way Jared likes to run his lips against it, but then again Jensen's pretty observant, about all things Jared, so maybe he has. Doesn't matter either way; it's not like Jared's gonna stop. It's a midmorning flight and most of their fellow passengers are absorbed in whatever high-level business crap they have going on with their laptops, and there's not a flight attendant hovering asking if they need anything. Safe to take a moment and run his knuckles against all that prickly stubble, feel the reverse-grain burn of it against his skin. He really cannot wait to get home.

Jensen makes a soft upset sound, deep in his throat. Whoops. When he stirs into blinking awake Jared makes an apologetic grimace—well-practiced from work, although Sam usually actually feels apologetic and Jared doesn't, right now, not really. Jensen squints at him, clearly still half-gone, and Jared whispers, "Sorry," but he strokes Jensen's jaw again, soft, so it probably doesn't come off as all that genuine.

A beat of Jensen only blinking at him, fuzzy. He presses into Jared's knuckles for the barest second, like a cat, before he scrunches further down in his chair, closes his eyes again. "Keep it in your pants for a few more hours, Jay," he says, scratchy-low. Jared scoffs, and Jensen's mouth turns up at the corners but he's really settled in, going back to sleep for whatever time he has left. Lazy.

Jared sighs, puts his earbuds in. According to the flight map on the seat they've got about eight hundred miles left to get back home. That'll get him through Vs. and most of Vitalogy before he's got to face the real world again, and they'll be a good distraction, will stop him from bothering Jensen before he's allowed. Sometimes he really hates Jensen's no PDA rule, but hell. Doesn't mean he can't make all kinds of plans, in the privacy of his own head.

*

Over the years of flying all over the country—all over the world, now, with the conventions overseas—they've pretty well perfected getting out of an airport in record time, and from wheels-down at Austin-Bergstrom it takes them less than an hour to pull into their driveway. Home's a gorgeous spread on the lake, a long private drive and mature trees all over the grounds. The house is a compromise: Jensen thought it was too much space, and Jared thought the layout was too weird, but the private dock won them both over. Jared's gladder every day that they pulled the trigger, though, and gladder still that they've been able to maintain some semblance of privacy. No Insta-pictures here, no interviewers allowed. Means that when Jensen pulls the Range Rover into the garage there's no one trying to peep in and see what they're doing, no weird fans or photographers to see Jared lean over as soon as Jensen puts it into park and palm his jaw and pull him in and kiss him. Startled at first, but then he smiles against Jared's mouth and kisses back, slow and shallow.

"You've been waiting to do that all day," Jensen murmurs, when Jared pulls back, and Jared shrugs, not denying it. He's been waiting to do a lot more. He drags his thumb over the beginnings of Jensen's beard again, looks at him. The garage's huge windows let in a wave of late-morning light, casts gold over Jensen's eyes, sparks his lashes and stubble golden-red. Shows off his freckles, and the shine on his lip that Jared left. He touches there, a swell of heat in his belly, and Jensen smiles again but catches his hand before he can do more. "C'mon. Let's get this done."

Jared sighs. "Do we have to?" Jensen only rolls his eyes, and kisses Jared's thumb. "Fine," Jared says, "but you owe me."

"Oh, I bet," Jensen says, but he swings out of the car then, too, and Jared's got no choice but to follow. There are things they should do, it's true. And hell, they have today off, and tomorrow too, before they have to fly back to Vancouver. They have time. They've made the time.

Jensen's in charge of sorting out the laundry, because he says that he can't trust Jared to empty the pockets right—total lies—and so Jared takes the time to go through the house, room by room. Saying hello, and checking up, too. They've got paid caretakers, gardeners and Maricela who comes by twice a week to dust up and clean, but it's still their house. Jared misses it, like a dope, when they're gone. Most of the curtains are drawn, by Maricela's habit, and he opens them up, lets all the light in. The living room, the den, the lounge where they regularly trounce Steve at pool, when they actually get to be home. The kitchen, and there the little neat list Maricela left of things she had to buy, things she threw out, and a note that she made salsa and left it in the fridge.

That's where Jensen finds Jared, when he comes back downstairs with a laundry basket. "I see you're hard at work," he says, dry, but he lets Jared put a salsa-laden chip in his mouth anyway, and hums. Damn right. Maricela's tomatillo salsa is worth taking a break for. "Mm, okay," Jensen says, through a full mouth. "Okay, fair. But, dude."

"I'm going, I'm going," Jared says, and caps the salsa back up, promising to get back to it later.

He goes and plugs in both of their phones, and sits in the office with the window open, jasmine-smell pouring in, while he emails their reps. A handful of pictures they each took, to be parted out on their SM for the fans to get excited about over the next few days, and a couple of quotes and stories to write up. Jared gave up control of his Twitter a year or two ago after the last time he had a bad day and was an idiot, and Jensen took his phone right out of his hand and grabbed him around the waist and said, Enough, Jay. Annoying at the time, but honestly, it's so much more relaxing to just be… cut off.

Still, sometimes he does like to see what people are posting. That photographer who's been following them around got some good shots, looks like. He scrolls through the feed. Nice pictures of the ladies—Brianna and Kim have really been glamming it up lately—and he laughs hard enough at a ridiculous cap of Misha that he has to text it over, with no comment, and a minute later gets a brief I hate you in response. He grins, tosses his phone back down to charge, and finally ventures into some of the fan shots in the hashtag. He's trained himself pretty well not to read the commentary—the options seem to be either fawning, which is uncomfortable, or vile, which is what it is—but from what he can't help but see people seem to have enjoyed it. Since they moved in together, some of the nuttier girls have gone off the deep end, but for the most part things quieted down. Now there's just a lot of happy encouragement sent their way. A lot of real, intense messages, too, and questions at conventions he wishes he had a better answer for. If only they'd managed to make it happen when those it gets better videos were going around. It got so much better, he wants to say. Not perfect, because nothing's perfect and never should be, but oh, man. It got a lot better.

"That's a good one," he hears, and blinks back to reality, after who knows how long. The picture on the screen's one of them—of course, one of them—taken by one of the girls in the audience. From the angle Jensen's face is the only one visible, and he looks… Well, really, Jared's the only one who should see him like that. The girls are always clever with their timing, though. Jensen comes up and leans over the back of his chair. "You know when that was?"

Jared shrugs. "Yesterday?" he says, and Jensen flicks the back of his shoulder. It's true, though—on stage everything turns into a blur. They were doing a bit, probably, because they usually are, but they're basically hugging. No PDA, that's always Jensen's rule, but there's no way Jared's not going to hug Jensen, given the opportunity. No matter how earsplitting the response.

"You don't remember?" Jensen says, and Jared looks up, over his shoulder. He's getting an amused look. "So you're just a little shit without even planning it?"

"I'm an enormous shit, thank you very much," Jared says, immediately, but then he remembers. "Oh, yeah."

"Oh, yeah, he says," Jensen says, rolling his eyes, and then shoves Jared's shoulder so the chair spins when Jared laughs. "Yeah, laugh it up. Like I wasn't trying to think about saggy ass and reshoots in the rain when you were just grinning up a storm, shithead."

Jared catches him around the waist, still chuckling. "I really didn't mean to," he says, and it's—mostly honest. Jensen folds his arms, playing irritated, but Jared's been watching him about to break for a gag reel for over a decade now and he can see the cracks. He stands up, still holding onto his waist, and gets right up in his space, looking down, grinning. "Not my fault you're all hot and bothered for my bod."

That gets him a snort, and he leans down and takes a kiss while Jensen's smiling. That was—yeah, he remembers now. Right there, in front of everyone, and he'd gotten to come in close and hold Jensen's body and he'd brushed his mouth against the top of Jensen's ear, and the little sound Jensen made wasn't one the mics would pick up. He pulls back, now, and watches Jensen licks his lips. Tasting them both. God, it's hot when he does that. Jared keeps hold of his waist and walks him backwards, pressing him up against the wall between the signed Pearl Jam poster and Jensen's framed Willie records, and Jensen's eyes are closed, his ears going red, and that's a perfect opportunity to lean in and down and breathe against his ear again, to brush his lips there, to feel Jensen give that full-body shiver that means—oh, yeah. They're on.

"Like that?" Jared says, and Jensen punches him soft in the gut. He says oof, obligingly, but he's smiling.

"Right in front of everybody," Jensen says, looking up. He licks his lips again, his eyes on Jared's mouth. "You know that drives me crazy, Jay."

"Yeah, I know," Jared says, shrugging, and Jensen rolls his eyes, but he squeezes Jared's bicep, too, curves in close, and Jared kisses him again and thinks, well, maybe he'll be in some trouble—later.

They've been together a long time, though. It's not a crazy, heady rush—not even close to their first time, all shock and teeth and shoving, good and painful and intense enough that Jared thought his heart would just beat right out of his chest. Jensen holds his arm, holds him close there against the wall, kisses him soft and lazy. He makes a little pleased noise when Jared scrapes teeth over his lip, tips his nose against Jared's. "Wanna shower," he mumbles, and Jared groans, stands up straight. With Jensen down to his socks, pressed back against the wall, Jared's got the advantage, and Jensen—yeah, that's working for him. Another thing about being together this long: Jared knows exactly how to push every button.

He lets Jensen lead the way down the hall to their bedroom, and then to the huge open bath. "Music?" Jared says, and Jensen shrugs, and so Jared flips through his phone and finds the playlist with the name Jensen hates: funky grooves to fuck to—but the name's accurate. Slow grinds, heavy bass, and when it comes on to the surround speakers Jensen pauses in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt to give Jared a look over his shoulder. Jared only grins and shrugs at him, perching his ass on the bathroom counter, and Jensen gives a sigh but he keeps stripping, so it's all good in Jared's book.

Big window across the back wall of the bathroom, letting in more of that syrupy daylight. They haven't been able to get out much lately and Jensen's skin has gone all creamy again, freckles fainter, except on his cheekbones and hands where they never really fade. He flips on the shower, strips off his jeans, and he doesn't look at Jared when he steps under the water, which is just as well because Jared's pretty sure he's got a dorky goddamn look on his face. Years and years of this and he's used to most of it, even sometimes takes some of what they have for granted. Jensen naked and shining in the sunlight, though, that's—a lot, no matter what. Jensen letting him see, when he used to be almost shy—that's more, sometimes, than Jared knows how to take.

That first time isn't the one Jared thinks about, much. Too much booze in both of them, and too much of a chance for regret. The second time, that's the one he thinks of as their real anniversary. That night, at Jensen's apartment in Vancouver, and the doorman had let Jared up because he saw Jared about as much as he saw Jensen, and that meant that Jared got all the way up there fueled on adrenaline and hope and knocked on the door before he thought that maybe, maybe Jensen wouldn't—that maybe they'd broken something, between them, and putting it back together wasn't in the cards. When Jensen opened the door he was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt Jared had given him, and he was wearing his glasses, and the look on his face was—Jared's never forgotten that. That exact moment, right then. What came after was almost immaterial, compared to that single second.

What came after wasn't exactly a hardship, though, and between them they've always been good at this. When Jared steps under the spray and touches all that wet soft skin Jensen doesn't flinch, but only tips backward, knowing Jared will balance him. "What if I just dropped you?" Jared says, and Jensen huffs, turning so the shower scatters over his shoulders.

"You think that'll increase your chances of getting any," Jensen says, sliding his hands up Jared's chest, "go ahead and try it."

It's a great shower, multiple showerheads and plenty of room for two. They pass soap back and forth between them, getting clean-ish, and Jensen spends some time mapping the muscle in Jared's back, his ass, his thighs. In return Jared washes Jensen's hair, just to massage his scalp and neck and feel the way he almost purrs in response, and presses kisses all over his shoulders when he's done. He's always loved this part—broad, undeniably masculine, perfect. "What do you want?" he says, leaning in, and he's really asking. They have all day, they can do anything.

Jensen's hand finds his hip, squeezes. His head tips, and Jared finds the curve of his ear again, kisses at the back of it. Gets another shiver, Jensen's shoulders pressing wet and warm against his chest. "I want it…" Jensen trails off, and shakes his head. He detaches Jared's hand from his waist, lifts it, presses his mouth against Jared's knuckles soft and wet and shocking-hot, and his eyes when they meet Jared's are heavy, dark, steady.

Dried off, laid out on their bed with the music still playing, Jensen leans over Jared's chest and kisses him, open-mouthed and taking his time about it. He's always loved kissing and Jared's come to love it too, even if he always used to think of it as just a preamble when he was younger. Jensen's taught him a lot, over the years. How good it is just to lay together, and how good a silk-blend coverlet feels against his skin, and how the point of his jaw can get almost painfully sensitive when Jensen's hands are buried in his hair, and Jensen's mouth moves there, and his teeth scrape against that open curve of bone. "Jesus," Jared says, squirming like he always does, and Jensen laughs, ducks down and bites at his collarbone instead, and oh, yeah. Things Jared never knew he liked, never knew were even a thing. Jensen squeezes at his dick, heavy already with blood and wanting, but it's not a yanking goad into getting along with things—it's just familiar, almost kind. Hello.

More things Jared didn't know: how much Jensen likes it, that Jared's bigger than him. He pushes Jensen onto his back, after a while of Jensen playing, and rolls in so he's hovering, blocking Jensen from the sunlight, and they're pressed against each other hip to hip but Jared's still got five inches on him—four, if Jensen's lying to the press—and Jensen's already flushed, already hard, all open and ready for it, but his lips part in that fantastic turned-on way, getting Jared above him, and Jared smiles, slides his hand down Jensen's side. Other things Jared didn't know: how much he'd like that Jensen wanted him bigger. "Want to suck my dick?" Jared says, soft, and Jensen's eyes screw closed, his hips flinch up into Jared's, but he breathes out a moan, and Jared lifts up, shuffles up the bed on his knees, and Jensen wraps an arm around his hips and a hand around his dick and sucks it in, practiced, easy. So slick, soft, and Jared sighs and cups a hand around the back of his head to support him and fucks in, shallow but good. Middle-of-the-night whispering, years ago, and Jensen had admitted he liked the way his jaw felt sore, after, and Jared had almost busted a nut just thinking about it—easy enough to indulge Jensen, especially when it feels this goddamn good.

"You look incredible," he says, being nothing but honest. Pink flush over his cheekbones to his ears, streaking down his throat—his perfect mouth broken open over the thickness of Jared's dick—and he opens his eyes, looks up as he slides down as far as he can go, the head threatening his throat, and the slight sheen of tears is just—god, god, how did Jared ever get this lucky? He pulls back, all the way out with his prick gleaming all over with Jensen's wet, the vein gleaming, and Jensen sucks in a deep breath, licks his lips, and groans when Jared slides all the way deep again, and digs his nails into Jared's ass to keep him going.

They've got enough practice that Jared won't come from this, but god is it tempting. A long, slow rut in, and he knows Jensen could take it faster, but that's not how he wants to play it. He pulls out when his nuts start to clutch up for real, and Jensen gasps and holds his hips and says, rasping, "Fuck," and Jared can't do anything but agree. He leans down, dick dragging wet over Jensen's stomach while he finds his lips to kiss them, tasting himself, massaging the sore worked muscle in Jensen's cheeks. "Good?" he says, and Jensen moans, holds him, thighs clutching around Jared's hips when they settle together. He's still hard, harder, pressing thick against Jared's abs, and Jared tries to keep his head clear but it's tough, honestly, when he has Jensen like this.

"Tell me what you want?" he says, lips on Jensen's cheek, at the corner of his eye where tears leaked, when Jared pushed too deep. "C'mon, talk to me, tell me."

"Fucker," Jensen breathes, pressing up into him. "You know."

"Yeah," Jared says, against his temple, "but I want you to tell me anyway."

A game, sometimes. How raw he can get Jensen to be. "Fuck me," Jensen says, voice sore, and Jared laughs, breathless and delighted, his gut clutching up crazily at how good that sounds out of Jensen's mouth.

"How?" he says, pushing his luck, and Jensen pushes at his chest, forces him up so they can look at each other, and Jensen's eyes are nearly black and his lips are battered-red, and he says, "Like this," unexpected and low and soft, his fingers touching Jared's throat, and he says, "I want to see you," and Jared swallows, nods, doesn't have to say anything else.

Jensen doesn't need much prep anymore, and Jared doesn't want to make him wait. Slicked up, he dips his thumb in and watches Jensen's mouth part, and then he gathers Jensen's thigh up against his side and leans in close and pushes his dick inside, blooming past the resistance, going slow, and watches all of Jensen's attention turn inward. They've traded back and forth on this and Jared knows the feeling, that crazy stretch—but oh, from this side, that clutching tightness, squeeze of Jensen's body, feeling him all the way, it's like—nothing else. No one else. "Yeah?" he says, pointless, like he doesn't know, and Jensen blinks, refocuses, sinks his hand into Jared's hair and turns his face away from the sunlight and presses his lips against Jared's bicep, and he mumbles, slow, and Jared takes it like the command it is, and stays buried up close with his heart throbbing in his gut for a full minute before he twists his hips back and presses in again, following the beat of the slow bass playing, a steady pulsing rock. Jensen groans, his back arching, and Jared buries his face in Jensen's throat and does his duty, fucking good and deep and slow, giving everything he can, as long as he can.

The sounds Jensen makes—the smell of him, the sweat between them. Jared keeps his eyes closed, feels his skin, his pulse throbbing under Jared's lips. His balls ache but it's that sweet ache of a good fuck, his muscles humming like he's midway through a marathon. Jensen's got an arm wrapped around his neck, a hand on his chest, his legs clutched up high around Jared's waist, and inside he's melting-soft, broken-open-wet, his dick leaking slick all over Jared's stomach. Slow like this, Jared's not chasing anything and he gets to feel every inch, his skin an oversensitive tingle, hot from his lips to his nipples to his fingertips, overaware of every place they're touching.

Too hot, finally—the sun's sunk down, slicing through the bedroom windows, making the bed a pool of light. "Oh, god," Jared says, sliding a hand to Jensen's hip, squeezing. He rolls his forehead against Jensen's collarbone, humps in and stays there, pressed deep, grinding, so Jensen makes a hiccupy noise keep in his chest. "Yeah, that's it. Come on."

"Fuck," Jensen says, squirming against him, and his legs fall open, his thighs shaking. "Oh, I—Jay—yeah, come on, do it."

Jared drags in a breath, pushes up, finds Jensen red-faced and sweaty, his shoulders and chest shining. "Yeah?" he says, but there's no answer—he shoves in, harder, and Jensen lifts into it and groans, gripping at Jared's ass to pull him in deeper, and then that's—that's it. All the permission Jared needed, and he fucks like he means it, then, long deep in-and-out that's dragging at the absolute limits of his control, but he wants to get Jensen there first—and he's getting there, Jared knows he is, by how his hands clutch and his chest is heaving and how his dick's a dark urgent swell against his belly, dragging between them, a trail of wet spilling down Jensen's side. He balances on one arm and slides careful fingers around Jensen's balls, rubs them warm and tucks them up close against Jensen's body, and Jensen opens his eyes and stares at him, looking surprised somehow in the middle of all this. "Come on, baby," Jared whispers, slipping his thumb over the strained wet root of Jensen's pretty dick, and Jensen grabs at his arm and arches up and comes, finally, spurting all over his soft belly, his body straining and clutching at Jared's and ah, ah fuck, Jared did that for him, Jared made that happen—and Jared fucks him through it, keeps up that same steady pace and nails him right there where he needed it, where he wanted it as long as he could get it, until Jensen's thighs cringe and he presses his fingers against Jared's belly and he makes a low pained ah—and Jared pulls back, out, into cruel cold air for a half-second before he strips his dick as fast as he can go, the visual in front of him more than enough—Jensen sprawled and sweat-soaked and well-fucked, shuddering and sensitive, and his eyes open and his fingers curl against Jared's sides and he says, yeah, give it to me, show me, and Jared shoots over his knuckles, spatters Jensen's hip and the still-thick curve of his dick and his thigh, and Jensen sighs, as satisfied as though it were him who got to come a second time. He reaches for Jared, easy demand, and Jared goes, collapsing down onto the welcome stretch of his body, smearing everything between them, and it's worth it to find Jensen's mouth, soft, starting once again to smile.

[torestoreamends]

Mine to Make: Chapter 2

Scorpius is ready to take on the league, and Albus is ready to face someone from his dad’s department. What neither of them are ready for, however, is to see each other for the first time in seven years...

Beta’d by @abradystrix.

N.B. This fic is complete on AO3, so binge read away if you want! Here on tumblr I’ll be posting a chapter every day until it’s all done. 

Read it on AO3

*

II Home

“Hello.”

Albus jumps at the sound of the voice and looks up. There’s a girl standing in the entrance to the shed, grinning at him. She has bright silver hair that shines in the setting sun, and her coat is made of a myriad of glossy feathers that aren’t really black, but a thousand other colours – turquoise and midnight blue and emerald and deep purple.

He frowns at her. “Um... hello?”

She gives a slightly awkward little wave that reminds him a tiny bit of Scorpius, then she laughs and gestures around. “I saw you sitting here,” she says. “I wanted to know if you’re okay.”

Albus looks around at the broom shed and shrugs. Right now he’s fine; he’s out here, but he gets the point. Okay people don’t hide in broom sheds in their parents’ yard.

“I’m alright,” he says. “I like sitting out here. It’s quiet.”

She nods. “Okay. That’s good.” She hangs in the doorway for a second, then she steps forward and reaches out a hand. “I’m Delphi,” she says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Albus takes her hand and shakes it. “Albus,” he says.

Her eyes go wide and she releases his hand, stumbling back a step. “Albus Potter? So Harry is your dad.”

Albus hugs his knees to his chest and nods. “Unfortunately.”

“Oh.” Delphi’s face falls as she looks at Albus. “Is that not a good thing?”

“Not really,” Albus mutters.

She pauses for a second, looking uncertain. She twists her hands together and seems to consider what to say, then she takes a step back toward Albus and sits opposite him on the floor, crossing her legs. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t really like my family either. But I always think that the family you make for yourself is more important than the family you’re born with.”

Albus looks at her for a moment, considering. He thinks about Scorpius, the only person he’d choose to be his family if he could. “I suppose so.”

“You can choose,” she says. “The people you want in your life. If your dad is difficult then... maybe you don’t need him. Maybe you just deserve better.”

Albus frowns, processing that. “Do you actually think that’s true?”

Delphi nods. “Of course it is.”

A slow smile spreads across Albus’s face and he leans toward her. “Okay. Thank you.”

 “Accio keys.” Albus directs his wand into the top of his backpack and waits. Nothing. “Accio keys,” he repeats, this time with considerably more force. A faint rattle can be heard somewhere in the depths of the bag, but still no keys come flying out. He sighs, closes his eyes for a moment to try and get rid of some of his frustration, then tries one last time, giving his words as much authority as he can. “Accio keys.” This time, a set of four silver keys come shooting out of the bag, miss his hand by inches, smack him hard on the forehead, and fall with a clatter onto the garden path.

“Ow,” he groans, rubbing his forehead. “Stupid things.” He snatches them up, finds his front door key, and stuffs it into the lock. It’s difficult in the dark, but even after a year away he hasn’t lost the knack, and a moment later his front door swings open to welcome him home.

He picks his bags up and steps over the threshold. There’s a freshness to the air when he inhales. It smells of home. After so long away it’s pure relief, and he closes and locks the door behind himself, shoulders relaxing as he does, because he’s here. He’s safe. He can be entirely himself for a couple of hours.

He kicks his shoes off and pads down the hall to the kitchen, feet sinking into the carpet.

It doesn’t feel uninhabited in here. There’s not a speck of dust anywhere, but that’s not unexpected. His amazing housekeeper, Mrs Peters, has been in twice a week while he’s been away, and it feels like he’s barely been gone. There’s a note on the kitchen table, and he leaves his bags by the door and goes across to read it.

Welcome home.

There are some bits and pieces in the fridge.

It’s good to have you back.

Mrs Peters really is an absolute hero, he thinks as his stomach rumbles at the thought of food. It’s been such a long and busy day – it always is in the lead up to a race – and he hasn’t even had time to think about food until now. If it had been left up to him he’d have had nothing to eat, but now... He opens the fridge and discovers two bowls of pasta salad and a whole lasagne sitting on the shelves among milk and butter and fresh apples. Now he has lasagne, and if that isn’t the perfect homecoming gift then he doesn’t know what is.

If he tried to do magic now he’d burn the house down, so he sticks a slice of lasagne in the oven and leans against the worktop while it heats up, rubbing his shoulder and enjoying the familiarity of his surroundings.

It’s not really a homely space. There are no photos or objects to remind him of the past. There are no memories here. But that’s a good thing. That’s the way he likes it, clean and clinical, with its ruby red (definitely not scarlet) doors on all his kitchen units, the glittering black granite of the work surfaces, all the kitchen utensils perfectly ordered and hanging from hooks on the walls where he can grab them, the Mimbulus Mimbletonia thrumming happily to itself on the window ledge, and his potion-making area set up and stocked with fuel and little bottles of ingredients. It may not be homely, but it’s home, and what’s more, it’s his home.

When his dinner is ready he wolfs it down as fast as he can, far too fast to properly savour it, then he grabs his bags and traipses upstairs. With his hunger attended to, his mind turns to his current biggest problem: tomorrow.

If there was one downside to coming home, back to the UK, then it’s this. When he’s here he’s in far greater danger than he is anywhere else in the world. Here his family have an all-consuming level of fame.

He hasn’t read a newspaper since he got back, but he’s seen the headlines in shop windows and on street corners and he knows his dad is mentioned in almost every single one. The chance of running into his family, or someone who knows them, or even worse, someone who recognises him despite all his attempts to disguise himself, is exponentially greater here, and that sits on him like a dead weight. It’s that jeopardy, that fear, that’s allowed him to stay out of the country for as long as he has. But he doesn’t regret coming home; he really has missed it, and occasionally, somewhere inside the bit of his heart that he tries to forget exists, he does wonder if being found wouldn’t be so bad after all.

One of his favourite things to fantasise about while he was lying awake at night during those long days touring Europe, was what would happen if someone one day did find him. He’s imagined his dad or one of the Aurors hunting him down, or running into his mum out shopping one day. If he closes his eyes he can summon up visions of a tearful reunion, full of hugs and apologies and forgiveness. It’s stupid, he knows, because it would never go like that, especially with his dad, but on his lowest, loneliest days it’s something to hold onto.

He nudges his bedroom door open, drops his bags on the bed, and crosses to the window. Night is falling outside, and the city lights sparkle in the river down the hillside below his house. He’s set high up here, with a view out towards more rolling hills and countryside. Flying almost non-stop for the last seven years has given him a good head for heights, and it’s hard to imagine living somewhere low down, but that’s not why he bought this house on the hillside. He bought it because, even though he can’t see it from here, he knows that somewhere across those rolling hills is Ottery St Catchpole, and if he flew in a straight line from this window, he would reach his parents’ house.

He leans his forehead on the cool glass for a moment and closes his eyes. When he opens them, past the mist of his breath on the window pane, he sees the state of his hair. If there’s one thing that’ll give him away faster than anything else, it’s his hair. The Aurors must have been given his description; everyone in the country probably has his description, and that description will include the words ‘hair like Harry Potter’.

With a heavy sigh he drags himself out to the bathroom. Tomorrow he has to face someone from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and if any Ministry official is likely to recognise him then it’ll be one of the people from his dad’s department. He can’t put a foot wrong tomorrow, especially where his appearance is concerned. That is, if he even decides to face the person from the Ministry. They could just run. That’s what Delphi wants to do.

He bows his head over the sink and draws his wand, starting to scythe away the overlong strands of hair, trying to get the shave as close to his scalp as he can without cutting himself.

Facing the Ministry would be reckless, he knows it would, but at the same time... If he does this and gets through it he’ll know for sure that his disguise works. Plus he likes it here, he wants to be home, and he can’t stay if there’s no league to race in. Helping to defend it is in his and Delphi’s interest. This is how they make their living after all. If the money doesn’t convince her, nothing will.

Running a hand over his now prickly scalp, he lifts his head to look at himself in the mirror. His hair is a disaster, it always is when he cuts it all off. Every bit of him is a disaster really, so at least the hair matches now.

The potion that changes his eyes to a deep, mahogany brown is starting to wear off, and they’re in the weird, hazel transition stage where his vision is a tiny bit blurred as the effects fade. Then there’s his shoulder, which is prickling again, like it almost always is. He strips his shirt off so he can inspect it, revealing the long, dark, curling tattoos down his arms – from shoulder to mid-forearm on the left and from shoulder to elbow on the right. They’re meant to obscure the scars he’s picked up from two separate accidents while he’s been racing, but he’s learned over the years that Fiendfyre burn scars don’t like to be hidden, and the one on his left arm is standing out as a particularly ugly, ferocious shade of red today.

He sighs and scrubs the heel of his hand against his eyes, then he opens the bathroom cupboard and takes out one of the many jars of burn salve he keeps in there, which he smears across his left shoulder and down his arm. It’s not instant relief, but it helps soothe the prickling pain a little bit, and he exhales as the salve starts to spread a gentle cooling sensation across his skin. He spreads more salve down his right arm, then he puts the jar away, closes the cupboard, and faces himself in the mirror once again.

His exhausted self, with the roughly shaved hair, tired hazel eyes, pierced ears, and scars that are beginning to fade from angry red to pink, stares back at him, and he blinks a couple of times. Things may not be perfect – things are never perfect – but being here helps. And now he’s here he’s not going to leave. Not for a few months at least. Delphi promised a few months. So tomorrow he’ll deal with whatever the Ministry and his dad have to throw at him, then he’ll get on with his life, just the way he’s been getting on with it for seven years.

“The future is mine to make,” he murmurs to himself, running his fingers over the small pair of wings tattooed on his left shoulder blade. Those have always been words he’s clung to, and now they’re more resonant than ever. They’ll get what they want out of tomorrow if they’re smart, sensible, and take control, so that’s going to be the plan of attack. Now he just has to convince Delphi...

 In the end, Albus doesn’t have chance to convince Delphi. When he arrives at the training ground the next morning it’s to discover that he’s the first one there and Delphi is nowhere to be found. For a moment he wonders if during his absence the league has found a new training ground and he’s in completely the wrong place, but the fresh scorch marks on the pitch and the blackened Fiendfyre crates lying against one of the walls of the clubhouse tell him that this is exactly where he should be and that everyone else is just late.

He mounts his broom and kicks off from the ground; it’s nice to get a few laps in before the air gets clogged up with people. This was the first training ground Delphi brought him to, when he was still just seventeen years old. He’d been flying for years in secret at school and at home, practicing, getting faster. He found that even if his bullies were also on brooms, they couldn’t catch him. Flying was the perfect, sometimes the only, way to escape, and his desire to disappear from the world manifested in the sort of quiet work ethic that saw him spend hours flying every day, in rain, wind, storms, and snow as much as in sunshine. Still, as good and as quick as he was, nothing could have prepared him for his first visit here – this place gave him a literal baptism of fire. It’s strange to think how familiar it is now, seven years later, familiar enough to almost feel like home.

He banks round the end of the pitch, shoulder grazing the charms put in place to stop anyone who shouldn’t from seeing what they get up to in here. The magic ripples beneath his touch, and a couple of sparks fizz off the barrier and dissipate. He makes a hard left turn in towards the pitch and dives, hurling himself and his broom as fast as he can at the grass below.

The instant before he hits the ground, he pulls up and goes shooting across the pitch, the tips of his toes brushing the overgrown grass. His heart is pounding, and his whole body is alive with exhilarating adrenaline. Flying is so much like falling, except when he’s flying he knows it’s in his power to stop himself before he hits the ground. Flying lets him put himself in terrible danger and also lets him be his own saviour. That might be his favourite thing about it.

He weaves his way across the pitch, then zooms back up into the air for some more laps and dives. It’s not long before he’s joined by other racers and they begin a sort of mid-air ballet of trying to avoid each other’s manoeuvres. Albus survives the next hour unscathed and decides it’s time to take a break. He hovers just off the ground, the tips of his toes barely brushing the tufts of grass, while he takes a long swig from his water bottle. It’s at that point that Delphi shows up.

“Good morning,” she says, coming up from behind him and putting a hand on his back.

He manages not to jump so hard he falls off his broom, but he does dribble water all down his front and spills half the bottle on the floor as he grabs the broom handle for support.

“Delphi,” he gasps, wiping the water from his chin and twisting round towards her.

She grins and moves round in front of him, looking exceptionally pleased with herself. “I hoped I’d find you here. Have you been training?”

“Always. What have you been doing? You’re late.”

She checks her watch and shrugs. “Not that late. Anyway, I had a busy night.” She runs her hand up to his shoulder, and he twitches out of her grip. “You’re here. Does that mean you’ve decided you’re staying?”

Albus puts the cap on his water bottle and drops it onto the pitch. He takes a deep breath and looks at Delphi. “I’ve been thinking about it, and... I really do want to stay. This is home, you know? And I don’t want this league shut down. We can make money here. We’ve always made money here. It would feel strange to leave for good. And you did promise a few months, remember? You promised.”

He’s never been able to read her. He looks at her now, and she’s looking back at him with dark, obscure eyes, her gaze impenetrable. She’s thinking, that’s as much as he knows, and she’s scrutinising him, but he has no way of knowing if he’s said completely the right or completely the wrong thing. At times like this she’s unpredictable and more than a little bit unnerving.

After a few seconds of silence he opens his mouth to appeal to her, feeling like he needs to say something, but she gets there first.

“I agree,” she says. “That we should stay. I think there are opportunities here, and there are a lot of people that I need to meet and that you,” she puts her hand back on his shoulder and squeezes it in an uncomfortably tight grip, “need to meet.” She shoots him a dazzling smile. “I think we have a bright future here, and I’m glad we agree on that.”

Albus stares up into her dazzling eyes, searching for all her confidence and excitement for their future – his future – and when he finds it there he nods and relaxes. If she thinks it’s a good idea to stay then it must be, and it’s so rare for them to agree on something that he’ll take this as a sign. “Okay,” he says. “Good. That’s good.”

“It is,” she says brightly. “But Sev...” She glances over her shoulder then steps in close, leaning up on tiptoe so they’re at exactly matching heights as she lowers her voice. “Be careful. The person coming today is from your dad’s department. Remember what I said about not doing anything stupid. We need to keep you safe; that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Albus looks down at his knees and nods. “I’ll be careful, I promise. I cut my hair last night, and I took the potion this morning. They won’t recognise me.” He lifts his head and smiles at her. “I barely recognise me.”

Delphi shifts her hand from his shoulder to his cheek, running her fingers gently down to his jaw. “I recognise you. Sev. My star racer.” She leans in and kisses him softly on the corner of his mouth. “That’s all you need to be today. It’s all you ever need to be for me. Just yourself.” She pulls back and looks at him, and he nods, as always too stunned by her proximity and attention to know quite what to say.

“Good boy,” she murmurs, then her hand is gone, fingers trailing the rest of the way down his neck and making him shiver before she pulls it away. “Well, today is going to be a disaster, so I should let you fly while you can. Have fun, but not too much fun. I’ll be in the clubhouse when you need me.” She rolls her eyes. “I can’t quite believe we’re going along with this.” Then she’s gone, leaving Albus to sway back and forth on his broom, brain a little fuzzy, the corner of his mouth tingling.

He reaches up to touch the edge of his lips, then he shakes himself. It still makes no sense to him why he reacts to her this way. They’ve been friends for years now – just friends, and colleagues – nothing more. He doesn’t even especially fancy her these days. Maybe he did once but that’s long passed. But she has this way about her that scrambles his mind and makes him completely stop thinking. She has a power over him that he’s never been able to describe and that she always laughs off. But it’s there – not a problem, of course. It doesn’t worry him. It’s just a strange facet of their relationship that he’s never been able to fathom.

He shakes his head to clear it and reaches down for his water bottle. Most of the contents have already been used to water the ground and the front of his t-shirt, but he downs what’s left and lobs the empty bottle in the direction of the bin. It bounces off, and he goes over to pick it up and throw it away properly before wheeling about and returning to the air, because she’s right. This day really is going to be a disaster, and the more practice he can get in before everything falls apart, the better.

 He’s been flying for an hour and a half when it happens. There’s an outburst of noise and kerfuffle over by the gate to the grounds, and when he swings round in mid-air to get a look at what’s going on, he sees a figure in sky blue robes being blocked from entering the grounds by a couple of his fellow racers.

No sooner has he noticed that something’s going on than Delphi sticks her head out of the clubhouse door to see what all the commotion is. He flies down to her.

“The Ministry are here,” he says.

”I can see that. Last chance to leave. Are you sure you want to do this?” She looks at him and there’s a glint in her eye that says she already knows full well what his answer is going to be.

Albus glances in the direction of the crowd by the gates. “Yes, I want to do this. I’ll be careful.”

He hops off the broom and leaves it by the wall, then he rests a hand briefly on Delphi’s arm as he sets off towards the gate.

There’s a swarm of people gathering there now. Racers come flying in from all corners of the grounds, and their brooms among the crowd seem to form an intimidating barbed fence standing out even within the wall of bodies. Albus can sense Delphi trailing behind him as he joins the crowd and starts weaving his way towards the front. He’s too short to see over everyone’s heads, but at least he can hear what’s going on.

“Two points. First point, I’m not here to arrest anyone or cause any trouble, I just want to talk. Second point, more significant point, I have a warrant of entry from the Ministry of Magic, so technically you have to let me in.”

Albus’s heart stops. He knows that voice. He would know that voice anywhere.

“Excuse me,” he says, nudging his way past the person in front of him. “Sorry. Let me- I need to-“ He barges through the crowd without thinking. There’s part of him that’s screaming at him to stop, to run away, to walk as fast as he can in the opposite direction and find somewhere to hide, because this is the sort of danger he’s been terrified of for years. But the rest of him doesn’t care. The rest of him stopped thinking the second he heard that voice, which he’s been missing for seven years.

He bursts through to the front of the crowd, not caring that he’s leaving a disgruntled, elbowed wake behind him, and when he gets there he stops dead and stares.

Scorpius Malfoy has visibly grown up in the last few years. He’s taller, and impossibly skinnier, but he looks surer in his body now. When he was younger he always seemed surprised by his height and the length of his limbs, but now there’s a strength and control, almost a grace, to his movements, like he’s finally grown into himself.

His face has lost the last of its childlike roundness. His jaw is strong and defined, and his cheekbones are sharp. The white blond Malfoy hair shines as bright as ever, almost silver in the summer sunshine, and it’s a touch longer than it used to be, long enough for the soft, stray curls to frame his face and graze the nape of his neck, just about reaching the collar of his sky blue Ministry robes – he works for the Ministry now, for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and even though Albus knows that was never among his ambitions he can’t help but feel the role still suits him. It lends him an authority that’s impressive and not at all surprising. Scorpius Malfoy as a Ministry official feels like the fulfilment of some sort of promise. It feels right.

Albus realises suddenly that he’s been staring with his mouth open. He snaps it shut and swallows hard. His heart is thudding in his chest and his mouth has gone dry. It’s been so long and now Scorpius is here, looking like this: like heaven, like home, and Albus doesn’t know what to do about it.

Except he does know. He knows exactly what to do. What he needs to do is to run and get as far away from here – from Scorpius – as he can. But before he can move, Scorpius turns and looks at him, and Albus finds himself unable to move.

Scorpius doesn’t say a word, but there’s something in his gaze – something sharp and attentive, a slight widening of those eyes that today are the heavy grey of rain clouds – that tells Albus that Scorpius knows exactly who he is.

Scorpius take a step towards him. “What are you-“

“I’ll deal with this,” Albus says, raising his voice so the entire crowd can hear him. “He can talk to me.”

Gareth emerges from the crowds next to him. “Sev... I think we should all talk this through together. You’ve been away for so long, you’re not up on what’s been happening.” He lowers his voice. “There’s safety in numbers here.”

Albus takes a deep breath and nods. “I know, but...” He looks up at Gareth, one of the first people to accept him seven years ago, and he doesn’t know how to explain. It’s always been an unspoken rule that Gareth speaks for all of them, and he has no right to take that away, except...

He draws himself up with all the strength and authority he can muster, trying to stand the way Scorpius is standing, like he has a right to decide what’s going to happen here, and he raises his voice a little so the other racers can hear. “That may be true, but I’m-“ He cuts himself off, not knowing where he was going with that sentence. But I’m his best friend. But I’m his boss’s son. Neither of those things are really true anymore...

“Trust me,” he tries instead. “I know what I’m doing. I can make this go away, I promise.”

The other racers glance at each other, and a murmur sweeps through the crowd as everyone starts discussing what to do. Finally Gareth raises a hand and cuts off the hubbub.

“You’d damn well better do a good job of this, Sev. If you can sort this out, then-“

“I promise I can.”

He nods. “Then get on with it. We’re all counting on you.”

Albus swallows and looks around at the expectant faces of the crowd, wondering if he’s done the right thing here. Then he glances over his shoulder and sees Scorpius standing there, watching him with a perplexed, slightly stunned look on his face, and any apprehension he has melts away in an instant. This is all going to be entirely okay.

“We should get out of here,” he says, turning his back on the crowd and going over to Scorpius. “There’s a nice cafe round the corner. We can go there and talk.”

Scorpius gestures past him, in the direction of the grounds. “But I’m supposed to- I can’t just leave without doing anything.”

“And we can’t talk in here with this lot,” Albus says. “They won’t leave you alone. It’ll be much easier elsewhere...” He pauses, then plays what he hopes is his trump card. “Your iced tea is on me.”

If Scorpius had looked ready to dig his heels in before, now his expression seems to thaw, and a small, glowing smile crosses his face. He sighs and waves a hand. “Fine. Fine! But it had better be a really good iced tea.”

“It will be,” Albus promises, returning the smile. “Come on.” He puts a hand on Scorpius’s arm and is about to guide him out of the gate when he feels a tug on the hood of his jacket that snaps his head back just enough to get his attention. He wheels round to push the person away, but sees Delphi there at the front of the crowd, smiling a dangerously sweet smile, her eyes like daggers of ice.

He deflates. “Give me a second,” he tells Scorpius, then he turns to Delphi and steps in close to her so no one else can hear. “What are you-“

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” She hisses, tone so high pitched she sounds almost hysterical.

“Fixing this,” he murmurs back, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Delphi-“

“This doesn’t look like being safe,” she says, slapping his hand away. “It doesn’t look like being sensible. This looks like a disaster.”

“It’s fine!” Albus says soothingly. “He’s- it’s fine. I promise I’ll be careful. If it makes you happy I’ll be back in time for dinner. I’ll tell you what happens.”

Delphi glares at him, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen so much animosity in her eyes. Maybe directed at other people, but never at him. “I really really hope you know what you’re doing,” she says, voice low now, and a little bit dangerous. “Albus Severus-“

“I do,” he snaps, cutting her off. “I’m an adult. I can handle myself. I’ll see you later.” He plants a kiss on her cheek despite his burst of irritation (why does she need to be so controlling?) then turns away and waves for Scorpius to go ahead of him out of the gate. “Come on. Let’s go.”

They walk in silence for about a hundred metres down the street before Scorpius stops dead. Albus stops too.

“Are you-“

“It’s you,” Scorpius says, and Albus can hear that his voice is trembling. The smile on his face looks shaky too, like he can’t decide whether he wants to grin or burst into tears.

Albus swallows and nods. “Yeah,” he breathes. “It’s me.”

Scorpius opens his mouth, closes it again, then draws in a very deep breath. “What happened to your eyes?” He asks. “They’re... they’re brown.”

“Oh,” Albus says, twisting round to look at himself in the window behind him. “I-I suppose they are. It’s a potion.”

“A potion,” Scorpius says dubiously. “Why? The green is so...”

“It’s supposed to stop people knowing who I am,” Albus says.

Scorpius hesitates for a moment, then grins. “Well it’s not done a very good job, has it? You can’t wear that-“ he tugs gently on one of the white strings of Albus’s favourite green hoodie “-and not expect people to recognise you.”

Albus folds his arms and lifts his chin. “It’s worked for seven years, hasn’t it?”

Scorpius considers for a moment, then shrugs. “Touché. You mentioned iced tea?”

Albus smiles. “I did.”

They start walking again, and as they do they keep glancing at each other. Twice Albus catches Scorpius looking at him, and their eyes meet. For some reason Albus’s cheeks feel very hot, and the day may be warm but it’s not that warm.

“Was she your girlfriend?” Scorpius asks after a few paces. “You know, the one with the-“ he makes a wriggling motion with his fingers over his head.

“Who? Delphi?” Albus looks across at him and pulls a face. “No, definitely not. She’s more like my...” He trails off, not sure he knows what word he’s looking for. Delphi’s relationship to him is undefinable. She’s a friend, a confidant, a sister, a manager, and a teacher all rolled into one. Who she is to him is too much to explain in a word. She’s been everything to him. “She’s Delphi,” he says with a shrug. “But I don’t... she’s not my type.”

Scorpius frowns and looks down at the ground. “But you-“

“It’s just something we do,” Albus says, not sure why he feels such a desperate urge to explain that fact. “It doesn’t really mean anything. It’s... it’s weird I suppose. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know why he apologises either; it just feels like the right thing to do. Scorpius nods and bows his head as they keep walking in silence.

Albus notices that now they’re not in front of the crowd anymore Scorpius’s posture has crumpled. He’s lost all the authority from his stance, and now his shoulders are hunched, his head down. He looks small, and a little bit lost, especially inside those sky blue robes that suddenly seem far too big for him, and are definitely far stiffer than any of the clothes Albus thinks of as being the sort of thing Scorpius feels comfortable in.

“So you work for the Ministry now,” Albus says softly. “For- for, you know...”

“A very very, very junior official,” Scorpius says, with this little twisted smile that looks like it hurts, although Albus can’t fathom why. “But yes, an employee of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. And you’re an illegal broom racer.”

“It’s a job,” Albus says, and Scorpius’s difficult, painful smile melts into a real one.

“That’s one word for it.”

They reach the cafe, and Albus holds the door open for Scorpius to go in ahead of him. While Scorpius weaves between the chairs and tables, making a beeline for the squashy sofa in the corner, Albus pauses and watches him.

This feels like a dream. Scorpius Malfoy, his best friend, who he hasn’t seen in years, is right in front of him, about to have coffee with him, and he can’t believe it. This is a fantasy. This is one of his midnight imaginings coming true. It can’t be real. But then Scorpius flumps down on the sofa, arms flopping to either side, head dropping against the back cushion, relaxing into it, and he turns his head and smiles at Albus, a warm, bright smile, and Albus’s insides flutter. This is so real. Why did he run away from this? This is wonderful.

Albus orders the drinks and joins Scorpius at the table, sinking into the equally squashy armchair opposite him, and they begin to talk.

They talk about nothing in particular. They talk about iced tea, and how nice the loaves of bread they’re selling behind the counter look, and then they talk about Albus’s favourite bakery in Paris, and Scorpius asks about Europe so Albus sketches round the details of that. Not once do they talk about broom racing or the Ministry or the seven year chasm in their friendship. In fact it feels to Albus as if he’s never been away; Scorpius is as easy to talk to as he’s ever been.

There’s a sort of bright, humorous breeziness to everything Scorpius says. He’s full of positivity and light, the way he always has been. It makes it easy for Albus to steer clear of talking about any of his hardships, or any of the darkness in his life. It’s not that he normally talks about those things, he avoids it at all costs, but usually the not talking aches, like there’s so much inside him that he wants to get out but can’t that he feels like he might burst. But with Scorpius it’s as if the bad things simply don’t exist. Scorpius is like a ray of sunshine through a window on a summer’s day, chasing the shadows away and making everything feel warm and bright.

“Did I tell you my dad bought more peacocks?” Scorpius asks after two hours of chatter, stirring the ice cubes left at the bottom of his tea with a straw to make them melt faster so he can drink them.

Albus grins and downs his third shot of espresso. He’s buzzing with giddy happiness, and he can’t tell anymore if it’s the coffee or just Scorpius’s presence.

Scorpius nods. “He did. Without telling me. I came home from work one day and this enormous, iridescent bird was sitting right outside the front door, refusing to let me in.” He leans back in his seat and shakes his head. “They really do have a vendetta against me. But at least the new ones are colourful, not those awful, creepy white things grandfather had.”

“You know,” Albus says, setting his coffee cup down. “There were nights where I’d lie awake wondering how you’d have changed over the years, but you really haven’t.”

“Whereas you’ve changed everything,” Scorpius says, gesturing to him. “Your hair, your eyes, your name...”

Albus doesn’t quite know what to say to that, so he wipes his finger round the inside of his coffee cup to pick up the last dregs of his espresso, while Scorpius noisily sucks up the last bits of melted ice cube through his straw.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Albus asks after a moment of silence. “There’s a really nice park round the corner. I don’t want to- I mean we haven’t even talked about the legal stuff yet. We should do that at some point.”

“We should,” Scorpius agrees. They get up, clear their table, and start walking.

It’s a warm day and the sun is high in the sky above them as they head off along the river beneath leafy trees. Albus rolls the sleeves of his hoodie up to his elbows but it’s not warm enough to need to take it off. Twice their hands brush together as they stroll side by side, and they both murmur apologies and shift apart. In the end it’s Albus who breaks the silence.

“So how did you end up working for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? I thought you always wanted to be an Unspeakable.”

Scorpius turns his head away and gazes down at the river burbling gently along beside the path. He seems to hesitate for a moment, then he glances up at Albus and a shaft of sunlight through the trees illuminates his face, making it glow peachy bright, his eyes like slivers of pure silver. “Your dad owed me a favour,” he says.

Albus frowns. “My- What for?”

Scorpius’s smile does that painful, twisted thing again. “You don’t read the papers, do you?”

“I try to avoid it,” Albus says. “For, you know, obvious reasons.”

Scorpius nods. “I recommend keeping it that way.”

Albus scrutinises him carefully, but there’s nothing there to read. He’s as impenetrable right now as Delphi at her best. That must be something else he’s picked up from Draco over the years.

“So now you’re a Ministry official,” he says, knowing that pushing the subject will get him nowhere.

“I am,” Scorpius says. “And you’re an athlete.”

Albus laughs. “I suppose I am, but-“

“You’re Sev,” Scorpius continues. “The most fearless and fearsome illegal broom racer around.”

“I-“

“You’re successful,” Scorpius says, ticking it off on his fingers. “You’re driven. You’re almost unbeatable. From what I’ve heard you’re not finding it difficult to make a living. I’ve read your case file.”

“I- I have a case file?” Albus asks, stopping dead and looking at him. “What does it say?”

Scorpius shrugs. “Pretty much just that. There are photos too, but-“ He holds a hand up when Albus opens his mouth to interrupt. “Don’t panic. No one would know it’s you.”

Albus snaps his mouth shut and considers that for a moment. “Did you?” He asks. “Know it was me? Before you came?”

Scorpius shakes his head. “I thought Sev looked familiar, but I didn’t realise how I recognised him. And then I saw you, and- You’re you. You’re so very you. You can change the colour of your eyes and cut your hair, but you can’t change who you are.”

“Can I see you again?” Albus asks sharply, without thinking first. He turns and looks right at Scorpius as the question spills out. “It’s been seven years. It’s been too long. I didn’t mean to stay away for such a long time. I just...” He trails off, shaking his head, not sure what his excuse is.

“You’ll see me again,” Scorpius says, looking straight ahead down the shadow dappled path. “You’re part of the league I have to shut down. I’m not going to go away.”

Albus swallows. “I mean can I see you again away from the league, away from your work? I didn’t realise how much I missed talking to you.”

“I missed you too,” Scorpius whispers, almost too quietly for Albus to hear. He turns and looks at Albus, and there’s something in his eyes that makes Albus want to reach out and hug him, to start trying to bridge the gap that seven years apart, that Albus’s running away, has torn between them. “I want to think about it,” he murmurs. “I need to think about it.”

“I-“ Albus digs his hands into his pockets and tries not to let it look like his heart has just been shattered. “Okay. I-I understand.”

“And I need you to know,” Scorpius continues, tone strengthening now he’s started speaking, making it sound as though he’s trying to get all the difficult things out of the way in one go. “I need you to know that I have to shut down the league. Whether you’re part of it or not. I really need to do this, Albus. You can’t stop me, I’m sorry. It’s my job and I... I really need to do it well.”

For some reason that doesn’t hurt nearly as much as Scorpius needing time to think about seeing him again, so Albus just nods. “Okay.”

“It’s getting late,” Scorpius says, interrupting the slightly awkward beat of silence that follows. He gets his watch out and his eyes widen. “Shit, it’s getting really late, I didn’t realise. I need to get back to the office, and then home. My dad will be worrying about already. I need to-“

“Do you still live at the Manor?” Albus asks.

Scorpius nods and tucks his watch away. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry, Albus, I have to go now. And don’t you need to go and meet-“

“Delphi,” Albus groans. “I do. I forgot.”

“So we should...” Scorpius gestures over his shoulder down the path, and Albus nods in agreement, but neither of them move. They just stand there beneath the trees, in a warm shaft of evening sunlight, and look at each other.

“Do you have a quill?” Albus asks finally.

Scorpius frowns. “A quill? Yes, of course I-“

“And parchment?”

Scorpius nods. “Yes, but-“

“Can I borrow them?” Albus asks, holding a hand out.

Scorpius gives him a long, perplexed look, then pulls his parchment and quill out of a pocket. “It’s self-inking, so-“

Albus takes them and scribbles his address on the top corner of the parchment. “This is where I live,” he says, handing it back to Scorpius. “So you can find me. Visit me, call me, Owl me, whatever, whenever. If you want.”

Scorpius hovers his hand over the parchment for a moment looking stunned. “Albus...” He says softly. “Albus this is a really bad idea.”

Albus grins. “I’m full of bad ideas. I’m me. Go on, take it.”

Scorpius takes hold of the parchment and stares down at it. “I mean it, Albus. You shouldn’t give me this. There’s... there’s a 100,000 Galleon reward for finding you, and you’ve just... If the wrong people find this... You don’t want to be found, do you?”

“I do,” Albus says, then realises what he’s said and shakes his head. “I mean, I don’t. No. Of course not. I- You’re a Malfoy though. You don’t need the money. You won’t- Will you?”

Scorpius looks up from the paper and there’s a terrifying pause before he speaks. “No,” he says. “I won’t, but Albus... what if someone sees it?”

Albus casts around for a solution to his stupidity. “Memorise it,” he says. “Then eat it. Burn it? Burning it is more sensible, do that. I mean you can eat it if you want, but it probably won’t taste very good. What does parchment even taste of?”

“You’re an idiot,” Scorpius tells him. He looks down at the parchment and falls silent. For several seconds he reads and mouths along with the words. There’s something wonderful about seeing Scorpius painstakingly learning every letter of his address. With every syllable and sound his lips form, every breath of the familiar street name that Albus hears him speak, it feels more and more like Albus has company. It feels like he’s being found, in the best possible way.

Finally Scorpius draws his wand and looks up at Albus. He recites the address once through, perfectly, and when Albus nods, Scorpius waves his wand and the parchment goes up in flames. Scorpius drops it onto the concrete path and they watch it curl up and turn into a little pile of ash, until the flames finally extinguish, and the incriminating words are gone.

“Thank you,” Scorpius says, when there’s nothing left except smoke and memory.

“What for?” Albus asks.

“For making sure you can’t run away again.”

“Not from you at least,” Albus says softly. “Never from you. It wasn’t about you in the first place.” He reaches out a hand towards Scorpius, then thinks better of it and clenches his fist, letting it fall to his side. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Scorpius looks him in the eyes and nods. “See you tomorrow.”

[fortitude-sakura]

The Supermodel’s Husband

Rating: T Prompt: This is the accompany piece to ‘The Director’s Wife’.

This is the big leagues now. Your manager tells you that the creative director of Luis Wuitton* requested for you specifically for the next campaign. You can hardly believe it.

“Do you know who else is going to be part of the campaign?” you ask, excitedly.

“Well, I think Lightning Farron will be shooting it with you since she is the face of Luis Wuitton. I’m not sure if there are any other models.” your manager says speculatively.

The other names don’t matter. Lightning Farron was the only model that mattered to you. You’d be hard pressed to find a man who didn’t consider Lightning attractive.

You’ve been in the industry longer than Lightning Farron and so remember her discovery and subsequent rise.

She had been ‘discovered’ by the noted photographer Phillip Argentum when she was walking down the street, minding her own business. He had proclaimed her to be his muse and the subsequent photoshoots he did with her garnered much attention.

You, and many others, remember her first commercial. It was a car commercial that featured her zipping down the busy streets of Tokyo. The commercial ended with a shot of her long lean legs getting out of the car before looking  at the camera telling you that it was your turn. The commercial was well received by both male and female audiences. Women wanted to be like her, strong and cool and men wanted to be with her. Either way, sales for that specific car model soared after the commercial aired and it propelled Lightning’s standing as a model.

She walked on major runways, her cool exterior making her a hot favourite and did plenty of print ads. Her signature blossom hair was well talked about both within the industry and with the general public.

You’ve worked with her once, walking for Kenjo. She was even more strikingly beautiful in person. You asked around about her after the show, hoping that someone tells you more.

You remember Lightning Farron’s slightly prickly nature which was what had deterred you from speaking to her in the first place. However, apparently it never stands  in the way of directors and photographers from requesting her. Several stylists say that even though she appears to be cold and aloof, she’s actually quite polite.

‘She’s real professional.’ one makeup artist gushes. ‘She just sits there in the makeup chair and doesn’t move. She even says thank you to everyone who works on her. Unless some models. God, some models are sooo stuck up!”

According to several set assistants, she also never makes outrageous demands the way some lesser models do. Her only regular requests were for a coffee (black, 1 sugar) and a ham and cheese croissant (if the shoot is an early morning shoot) or chicken caesar salad (if it was too hard to find or an inappropriate hour for said croissant).

Somehow after those conversations and a great deal of fidgeting in the makeup chair, you thank everyone when the shoot wraps up and continue to do so for each subsequent gig. You pare down your requests to just a steak sandwich. Sometimes a breakfast burrito with orange juice (pulp, no pulp, fresh or bottled it didn’t matter).

You also discover that she’s married (much to your chagrin). You sit calmly in your chair as the hairstylist carefully arranges your hair and douses you with copious amounts of hairspray. Some of the makeup artists were talking about Lightning and you almost strain your neck trying to eavesdrop,  

“I didn’t even know she was seeing someone at the time!” another makeup artist says. “She just turned up to the shoot with a ring on her finger!”

“She didn’t get  an engagement ring though. Her husband definitely could afford a huge ring for her.” one of the younger girls huffed.

“Lightning’s not the type of person to wear a huge ring anyway. She probably would have gotten just a plain band if it weren’t for her husband. You know, he insisted on that one from Miffany*. I looked it up. It’s over $20,000! 3 carats of diamonds and they’re probably all flawless, D colour diamonds.”

Your mouth falls open.

After some more eavesdropping, you discover that her husband is the Director of the Academy - the prestigious research institute. You assume he’s some kind of old fart and your opinion of Lightning sours a little.

Giving into your curiosity, you turn to Moogle*. To your surprise, the Moogle search of Hope Estheim returns a young silvered haired man. You had assumed that no Director could be under the age of 45. He’s incredibly handsome and looks quite tall in pictures. He could probably have been a model too. There are plenty of videos of him speaking at conferences, pictures of him with important academics and politicians. He’s well composed and eloquent.

You’re forced to retract the unsavoury opinion you have of Lightning, instead channelling the energy into jealousy of Hope Estheim. However you’d rather die than admit that you felt inferior to him, a man you had never met. All because you have a raging crush on his wife.

The morning of your shoot you turn up just as you see one of the assistants hand Lightning a takeaway cup and a brown paper bag, no doubt the black coffee with one sugar and ham and cheese croissant that she habitually requests. You walk over and introduce yourself.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Lightning.” her handshake was warm and firm. Her voice was a soft alto and rather soothing. It calms your nerves somewhat.

Lightning is nothing but professional during the photoshoot and you wish you could have impressed her more.

(You harbour a secret fantasy of sweeping her off her feet, holing up with her in your penthouse apartment and well…)

Before you know it, the photoshoot is finished and the set is being packed up. A mix of makeup artists, stylists, set directors and lighting assistants have planned to go out. You were invited (of course) and you wonder if Lightning is coming out too.

“Hey Lightning! We’re going out for drinks tonight. Come join us!” calls the photographer. She’s simultaneously wiping her face with a makeup wipe and rummaging through her large Luis Wuitton duffle bag.  

“Maybe next time, I have a plane to catch.” she politely declines.

The girls giggle. “Flying back to your hubby?”

She gives the girls a soft smirk before calling for a car.

The next day you see an article on Fuzzfeed* featuring pictures of Lightning titled “5 times Lightning and her husband were #couplegoals”.

There’s a photo of them, taken at a charity ball. She’s wearing a shimmering dress the colour of champagne and her hand is resting gently across his abdomen, her wedding band catching the camera’s flash just perfectly so. The tux her husband is wearing fits his tall frame perfectly. His left arm is snaked around her waist, his hand laid comfortably at her hip with his own wedding band (a plain platinum band) just visible.

There’s a few more of them at the same ball. One of her husband staring lovingly at her as she’s being interviewed and another of Lightning fixing up his bowtie before he goes up to give a speech (with Lightning’s prickly personality showing on her face as her husband smiles sheepishly).

There’s a series of photographs of varying quality - some look like paparazzi shots, other’s look like photos taken from a phone. She’s being greeted at various places (a train station, the airport) at various hours of the day by her husband and he’s always holding a bouquet of roses, always embracing her and always opening the car door open for her like a gentleman.  

There are various other shots of the two of them, at breakfast, at the beach with friends. There’s even various paparazzi shots of her husband, his ties circled in red. Accompanying the pictures are snaps of Lightning at the airport, the  You recognise the various ties as being from Luis Wuitton and there’s no doubt in your mind that Lightning bought them for him (or was most likely provided the ties).

You know deep down that they’re not putting on a show for an audience. They simply don’t care that they had an audience. What really surprises you is that how genuinely happy Lightning looks in those photos, that the smiles she exhibits are only for her husband. You close the lid on your laptop in bitter jealousy.

Lucky bastard.

* I’m sure you’ll be able to guess what brands exactly these refer to. 

[jae-daddy]

Holic (6)

Jaebum AU

one / two / three / four / five / seven /  eight / nine /

Characters: Im Jaebum x Reader

Genre: Drama, Romance, Mature

Plot: After your older sister bails on her wedding day, Jaebum and you tie the knot. You weren’t always so bad, at one time you were kids who were true friends, but I guess time is a horrible thing.

a/n: help tried to make steamy

You were fifteen years old when everything between Jaebum and you changed. He had always been a little shithead, but he was also your friend. Something happened and you both were never the same again.

You stood outside of Jaebum’s house, hiding behind your parents as they talked.

The adults were saying their farewell to each other, as the kids stood idly beside them, trying not to show their sadness. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at Jaebum, whose gaze you could feel on you.

You didn’t want to see him leave. He was such an important part of your life, just the mere thought of him not being there sent chills through you.

Your parents stepped away from you and went back into the house leaving the kids behind. The three of you stood there at the bottom of the steps that led to Jaebum’s old house. You didn’t move from your spot and kept staring at the ground.

Your sister said her goodbyes first, being as gracefully as ever, leaving after a quick hug. You stayed the back, awkwardly rubbing your arm, still refusing to look up.

Saying goodbyes weren’t really your thing. Actually saying anything emotional wasn’t much of your thing. You didn’t talk to people unless it was small talk or a sarcastic banter battle.

“Y/n,” Jaebum’s soft voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You finally looked up from the rocky cement to find his warm brown eyes focused on your red face. The spring breeze rushed through your hair, warming up your hands, but your heart felt cold.

“Will you stay if I ask you to?” You whispered, tears pricking your eyes.

Jaebum took a step towards and stood close to you, as a sad sigh left him. You felt his heat envelope you, as the smell of clean laundry and something that only Jaebum carried surrounded you.

“You know I can’t even if I wanted to,” he held your wrists, as his eyes meeting yours. “But I can make a promise.”

You watched as his lips turned into a small smile.

“A promise?” You asked, meekly. Jaebum’s smile grew as he held your hands in his.

“I promise I will come back to you.” His words made your heart feel lighter, as more tears escaped you.

“You promise?” You peered into his eyes, your eyelashes wet from all the crying.

“I promise.” He placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

You grunted as you pulled at the plant, but ended up falling on your ass. The plant mockingly stayed in its place, not even swaying at your attempts.

You heard light laughter behind you, as you saw Jaebum make his way towards you. His hands were rolling the sleeves of his business shirt, as he took long strides that led him to stand above you.

“Need help?” He asked, with a mocking smile.

“Don’t mind if I do,” you replied, simply, instead of being mulish.

He moved in front of you and tried to pull at the plant. After a few tries, he ended up beside you with a terrified yelp, falling on the soft green grass beside you.

A little giggle escaped your lips, as you saw Jaebum’s face contour between terror, defeat and surprise.

Slowly, your giggles grew into a tummy aching laugh. Tears began streaming down your cheeks, as you remembered Jaebum’s horrified look over and over again.

You pointed at Jaebum and laughed harder as he brushed the dirt from his palm, frowning.

He looked over at you, his frown slowly starting to dissolve and turn into a chuckle, as he saw you dying from your laughter.

His lips whirled into a loopy grin, as his eyes closed into tiny slits of joy. He grinned widely, light laughter leaving him, as he watched your laughing face.

This was the first time Jaebum had seen you laugh so freely since you were kids. He realised how much he had missed it, and how badly he wanted to see it again. He cherished your face so free, not hiding behind a pretence of a heartless princess.

He watched as your hiccups began dying down, and you wiped the tears that escaped your eyes.

“Come on, you little demon,” Jaebum patted your back. “Let’s try it together.”

You both got up and counted to three, as you held the plant.

“One, two, three!” And then, you both went flying through the air with broken leaves in your grips.

You sighed in frustration and threw the leaf at the plant.

“Why is this so hard?!” You pouted angrily, cursing the plant.

“Why are you even gardening all of a sudden?” He asked you instead, turning to look at you. You cleared your throat, not wanting to reply.

But when he nudged your side, you crumbled and groaned.

“Fine. I read somewhere that it’s good for relaxing. I’m hoping it will help stop the nightmares.” You muttered looking at your hands.

Jaebum pursed his lips in deep thought, before studying your uneasiness.

“What exactly do you dream of?” His voice came out careful.

“I’m getting kidnapped,” you blurted out, the fear that squeezed your heart tightened, as you took a deep shaky breath. “Again.”

The last part was barely above a whisper as it left you. It was almost as if you had just breathed it, but Jaebum seemed to hear it loud and clear.

“Again?” He asked, surprised and serious.

You nodded, chewing your bottom lip. “It happened when you went to New York with your family. My parents covered it up from going out to the public, the kidnappers are in jail, but that doesn’t change the fact that it happened.”

“I didn’t know-” You cut off his pity party before it could even start.

“It’s okay, my parents didn’t realise too,” you turned to face him, with a wickedly bright smile. “Not until three days later, when I wasn’t ready for my sister’s birthday party.”

You removed your eyes from Jaebum’s pitiful ones and looked at your palms dark with dirt instead. You began rubbing it together to clean them, watching as the dirt circled together then fall down at once.

“Maybe,” you took a deep breath, trying to lighten up the heavy mood. “We should try wetting the area around it, and then pull it out.”

Jaebum turned to you, his normal-lazy smile slowly coming back.

“To soften the soil,” he added, nodding.

“I’m a genius, I know.” You rolled your eyes, before pushing him to go fetch the hose.

He reluctantly got up, and you made your way towards the stubborn stub. It was prickly and had pretty white flowers, but it wasn’t what you wanted.

All it was, was a stubborn little plant in your greater scheme of a tiny strawberry farm.

“Hey, so like this?” Jaebum called out making you turn around to face him. You were greeted with a spray of cold water hitting you blank on your face.

You tried to save yourself by holding your palms in front of you. You tried to protect your self from Jaebum’s cold attack, as a loud squeal left you when the water soaked your clothes.

“Jaebum!” You tried to be mad but failed as a small giggle left you. Jaebum stopped and put his hands on his hips. He took in the work he had created, as you stood there, water dripping down your back.

“You’ll pay for that,” you muttered, as you lunged at him. You won the hose, thanks to the element of surprise. Jaebum shrieked as you returned the favour, showering him as he tried to get away from your reach.

“Give that back!” He laughed, trying to get it off. You both began struggling over the control of the hose, which resulted in you both getting more drenched with every passing second.

A raspy laugh left you, before Jaebum took your wrists that gripped the hose, and held them behind you. You felt the beads of water run down inside your shirt, and sliding down from your hair.

Droplets of water slipped off Jaebum and landed on your cheeks as he towered over you. He hands pulling you close, attempting to hold you in place.

Jaebum’s wet hair stuck to his forehead, as a wide wicked grin of sheer joy adored his lips.  

When you tried to free yourself from his grip, his arms roughly pulled your body against his. Holding you closer to him, making it impossible for you to move.

Your laugh instantly sobered up when you realised how close Jaebum was to you. The warmth of his body, and the nostalgic smell of Jaebum with a hint of cologne wrapped around you, as heat escaped from his skin and hid into yours. His breath fell over your cheeks, making your cheeks flush with nervousness,  as your eyes locked with each other.

You could see the two moles above his eye that always made your heart flutter. You saw the little kink in the corner of his eyebrow, that he got when you were kids.

You had mistakenly hit him with a paddle during an intense game of ping pong.

It was barely visible now, but it was there, and it crinkled slightly with his slightest smile.

Your breath got caught in your throat as he leaned in closer, and his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t understand.

You felt his grip on your wrist tighten, as your chest pressed against his.

You gasped in return, welcoming the pain of his searing hold on your wrist.

Jaebum’s gaze dropped to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

Despite everything that has happened; your past, and the reasons for why you were here today, you wanted the kiss.

You really really wanted to kiss Jaebum.

You rose a little on your tippy toes and inched closer to Jaebum.

“Y/n,” Jaebum breathed, his voice dark and low. His eyes searched your face looking for something, as his eyes lingered on your lips before meeting your eyes once again.

For the first time in a very long time, a real smile lightly danced on the corner of your lips. Jaebum noticed and his eyes swirled with tenderness, as his lips reflected your loving smile.

“Jaebum!” A voice called out pulling you out of your trance. You both to jumped away from each other and turned to Cynthia running towards you. “I got a fork!”

Your heart that had forgotten how to beat a few seconds ago, was beating fast, as the real world slowly caught up with you. Your cheeks burned brighter, as Jaebum’s gaze burned in your mind.  

“Thanks, Cynthia,” you gave her one of your classic smiles and took the fork of her. “I can handle it from here.”

You turned away from them, trying to hide your uneasiness.

You avoided Jaebum’s eyes that refused to look away from you and stared at the garden instead. You began digging around the prickly-white-flowered plant when someone began pouring water over it.

“We should still soften the soil first,” Jaebum said, before bending down next to you.

“And, y/n,” His melting brown eyes gazed softly into yours. “If you ever get those nightmares again; I’m less than a door away.”

You stood outside your old apartment feeling nervous as you talked to Jihyo over the phone.

“Are you sure I can go in?” You asked for the fifth time.

“Yeah, its fine,” Jihyo answered, her patience holding strong. “I ran it by them yesterday, that you’ll come to collect a few things.”

You hung up your phone after saying goodbye, and turned to see the familiar white door of your old apartment. You lifted a hand and briefly knocked on the door, holding your breath.

“Coming!” A voice called out, it sounded strangely familiar.

The door opened to show a man a few years older than you on the other side.

“Hi, I’m Joshua.” He said, holding up his hand. You shook it, introducing yourself before going inside.

You told him you forgot a few files that you kept somewhere, and began making your way towards the bathroom.

Once inside, you stood on the bathtub and lifted the secret section of the roof up. You grabbed your files and got off the tub.

You were about to leave when you saw something glint from the corner of your eyes.

You looked between the bathtub and the vanity to find a photo frame.

Your lips parted as a gasp left you, and betrayal washed over you.

You picked up the photo of the boy and girl and made your way to the living room where Joshua sat, looking anxious.

You snorted as you saw the guy rubbing his hands together, the worried look evident on his face.

“Treasure hunts were always my favourite. Especially if the price is so rewarding,” your lips curled into an ugly smirk, as you held up the photo.

Joshua’s lips parted in terrified shock as his eyes travelled to the photo of a couple on their wedding day.

A photo of Joshua and your older sister on their wedding day.

not edited

[kuraiamore]

Gintama fic, Pay your workers fair wage or they’ll start a revolution!!

pairing: Gen

fandom: Gintama

rating: T

summary: Come experience a typical day in the Yorozuya office! Meet the team that makes the magic happen! Find out what it's like to be a member of a fantastic Odd Jobs team!

(In case of emergencies, please head to the Back Arrow button located on the top left-hand corner of your internet browser page.)

(This fanfiction takes no responsibility for any failed expectations on behalf of the reader. Terms and Conditions apply. See your local pro-fanfiction Tumblr post for details.)

notes: Very Very Very belated bday fic for @first-quarter-of-the-moon . This wonderful human being, whose friendship I’m so grateful to have stumbled across in this tiny fandom of shithead samurai, asked for a fic with a pun on the word “glasses”. I’ve no idea if I managed to pull it off, but nevertheless, here it is and I hope you enjoy it even if it is months late<3 <3 <3

ao3 or read below.

It's a quiet day in the Yorozuya office-cum-household-apartment; no jobs, no clients, no day-saving adventure to embark on for one to take pride in one’s life-and-career path as a Can-Do-All, NEET Samurai and Friends Pty Ltd., Odd Jobs™ business. The sort of day where face-planting on the desk for catnaps is considered high productivity and the walk from the couch to the fridge for a well earned snack after doing nothing for an hour is worthy of office-cum-household-apartment bragging rights.

So really, it's like every other day when they're not out disastrously, fantastically doing some combination of saving the world from mad aliens, accidentally joining forces with an assortment of oddball characters who really ought to get some life counselling, travelling through interdimensional planes of existence on ridiculously wacky adventures, or whatever have you, instead of actually, you know, making the required revenue to run a profitable business.

In other words: a standard Yorozuya working day.

At this current point in time, momentarily unaware of the literal office tour taking place for the convenience of this tired narrator, the self-made boss of the Yorozuya is seated at his desk, last week’s copy of Shounen Jump fanned out in a roof over the top of his head. His two young employees-in-training-slash-unofficially-adopted-children are lounging about the main room, one on each of the twin couches framing the apartment-cum-office’s only coffee table. The small, rickety thing has its worn, scratched-marked surface covered with evidence of the day’s work: magazines and dirty tea and coffee mugs. Advertisement catalogues, cooking magazines, idol pop magazines, sports magazines, cars, fashion, home real estate, and everything beyond and in between build up a veritable paper fortress blocking either couch camp from each other.

Odd Jobs™ business, you see; gotta be ready to deal with anything and everything.

As usual on these lazy working days, the trio that make up the Yorozuya spend more time making indulgent commentary on their reading material than actually reading the material itself. Then again, it could only be expected; none of trio have spent any considerable amount of time in school on account of their traumatic backstories which this tired narrator will ask both the beloved characters and readers to conveniently ignore for the sake for easy comedy, and so the expectation that any of them would seriously engage in any real, productive work is entirely preposterous, like seriously, what did you expect, we all know these characters are as dumb as bricks and—

“Hey, some people are trying to read here!” Kagura yells.

“Quiet, Kagura,” Gintoki say, an apathetic tone and expression in his voice and face reminiscent of old men working middle management roles that have no end-of-year bonuses or promotions to look forward to, “the boss is in the middle of important business and needs all his concentration.”

“A proper boss who has important work to do would be doing the work instead of wasting everyone’s time nagging at his employees,” Kagura bites back.

“Well you wouldn't know because you're not a boss, are you?”

“Miss Teen Idol says I am!” Tossing aside the magazine she's currently reading, Kagura tears through the paper fortress like a hurricane uprooting and scattering cities into the skies.

“Oieee!” Shinpachi yells, as his perfectly stacked tower of magazines with Otsuu’s name and face on the front cover, however big or small or scandalously associated, goes toppling over. “Don't worry, Otsuu-chan, I'll save you!”

The broken fortress becomes a battleground, hands and magazines flying as (thankfully empty) cups fall over. It's a battle of speed and precision, Kagura attacking with her rummage-glance-throw-away technique against Shinpachi’s valiant defence in protecting creases and wrinkles from Otsuu-chan’s face.

“Ah-ha!” Kagura crows later, after two minutes of constant barrage. Her arm swings wildly above her head in triumph, the magazine clutched in her hand waving like a banner of victory.

Gintoki yawns without bothering to cover his mouth. There's an empty cup of pudding on the side of his desk that he eyes mournfully. It had been the last one in the fridge, now serving as an ineffective paperweight to last month's overdue gas bill. He’ll have to go buy more soon, lest he suffer from sugar withdrawal. Maybe some of those new jelly-filled chocolate bites he saw at the convenience store too while he's at it.

But then again, a new ice cream parlour had opened two weeks ago, just twenty minutes away by foot from the Yorozuya office.

And he also dimly remembers a commercial from last night's re-run of My Pretty Kitty Takes Over The World, featuring some wildberry confectionery shaped into wearable cat ears.

Gintoki’s still daydreaming sugar-coated dreams when Kagura smacks her magazine onto his desk. The wave of air that comes fanning out from the two-page spread is so violent, it tickles his nose and sends his fringe billowing out around his face.

“Here!” Kagura points to the page she's opened up, revealing a blazing red title asking, ‘Are you Beauty, Brains, or Brawn? Find out your best attribute to win over the Man and Job of Your Dreams!’

Shinpachi joins them at the desk, scanning the heading with a frown. “Why is it ‘Man’ and ‘Job’?” he wonders aloud. “Since when did relationships and careers have anything to do with each other? They’re are totally different things.”

“What are you talking about, Shinpachi? Don’t you know that dealing with men is a full time job?”

“That's right,” Gintoki agrees, nodding along, “men are scum.”

“Yup, yup. They're a parasite on the industry of life. Oi, boss, you should give me a raise for all the effort and overtime I put in dealing with the scum in our workplace.”

“Sorry,” Gintoki says, “the agreement of the contract you signed stipulates that wage raises can only be considered after gaining a minimum of ten years’ experience in your working role.”

“Oh,” Kagura says, complete lack of understanding on her blank face. She shrugs. “Okay then.”

“Wait but we never signed a contract!” Shinpachi says, perplexed.

“What do you call that then?” Gintoki says, throwing his thumb out behind his shoulder.

Shinpachi follows the invisible line to a copy of one of their old advertisement flyers stuck on wall behind the desk. It's instantly recognisable, featuring three handprints and one paw print haphazardly framed around a picture of the Yorozuya team.

A prickly, tingly feeling rushes through his chest—it might be bad business manipulation at its best, but Shinpachi can’t find it in himself to argue against that. He clears his throat.

“In any case,” he says, “the quiz is clearly making the mistake of lumping the two together!”

“Now, now, Shinpachi,” Gintoki interrupts, back in that deliberately overemphasised, sagely, rather quite condescending tone, “it is merely your youth and inexperience with adult matters that make you think that way. You see, the office or workplace romance is the most intense and thrilling romantic experience the ordinary human will have in their measly lifetime. Therefore when a person takes on a job, they’re investing not just in their career and financial stability, but also in the promise of a lifetime partner. That’s what people mean when they talk about being married to work!”

“Gin-san, I don’t think that’s what that means at all, and anyway, you’ve never worked in an office or workplace with other people in your life!”

“You wound me, Patsuan. How do you think I got this far, CEO of my own business with one hundred percent employee loyalty at the prime young age of twenty-eight, if I didn’t have a lifetime of experience dealing with the intricacies of workplace liaisons, huh?”

“Gin-san, you have two underaged employees which I’m sure counts as child labour exploitation, and you never paid the registration fee for the business registration application. I’m pretty sure that the Yorozuya is technically an illegal operation.”

Immediately, Gintoki turns around and closes the window blinds. The room goes quiet as the possibly illegal boss and his two employees glance furtively around them to make sure they hadn't been overheard by any men in black suits who just happened to be creeping around for no reason other than the wacky slice-of-life genre specification.

“Oi, oi,” Gintoki says after a moment, with a shaky laugh, “don't joke about that, Shinpachi-kun. What kind of role model would we be to all our lovely viewers watching and reading us if they thought we were an illegal business? Sunrise would have our heads!”

“It's okay, Gin-chan,” Kagura goes to reassure him, “the only people watching this sketchy anime and reading its sketchy fanfiction are probably sketchy people themselves already.”

“That's right!” Shinpachi adds helpfully, though his neck still cranes around as if looking for hidden microphones and cameras. “Besides, even if we were illegal—which we're not!—then they would still know better than to waste their time coming after us. We're so poor, we wouldn't be able to pay the bail out money anyway! If anything, they should be targeting those multi mega corporations that do way more sketchy stuff! Like tax evasion!”

“And Amanto discrimination!” Kagura adds.

“And killing the environment!”

“And disrupting the view with their giant billboards!”

“And taking advantage of the working class to fuel their corrupt profits!” Shinpachi cries in heated passion, slapping his hand on the table.

“And increasing the price of pudding by ¥240 so Gin-san can only afford to have his sugar intake three times a week instead of four!” Gintoki joins.

“Um, Gin-san, that's not—"

“Down with capitalism!” Kagura cries, jumping back onto her couch and rising one fist into the air while her other hand still clutching the magazine waves it again like a great banner. “Come comrades! Let us take down the abominable bosses and factory managers who exploit the good-hearted working citizens!”

The magazine gets rolled up and becomes a baton which now points accusingly towards the Yorozuya boss. Gintoki looks to his left, and his right, and seeing no one on either side of him, points a finger to his own mug and mouths, “Who, me?”

“Rise up!” Kagura continues with her impassioned call, turning back to her audience of one. Shinpachi hears the call solemnly, eyes burning with the bright rage of workers’ rights. “Rise up and take down the evil corporations and greedy CEOs and business owners who use their money to hoard all the good things to themselves and never leave the sesame-flavoured subonku for the common folk!”

“Well if someone didn't spend all their money on monthly pork barbeque bun sales, they might have enough left over to buy sesame-flavoured subonku whenever the stores have them in stock!”

“But Gin-chan, two pork barbeque buns for the price of one!”

Shinpachi coughs delicately. “You have to admit, Gin-san, it is a very good deal.” Aside to himself, he mumbles, “they’ve saved me more times than I can count,” and hopes Tae never finds his stash of frozen pork barbeque buns he sneaks out at midnight when dark matter dinners prove too much for his stomach to handle.

“What are you two, video game characters who can only revive their health with pork barbeque buns?” Gintoki grouches, then leans back on his fake leather and plastic desk chair. “Ahhh, but really, society is scum. All those flashy, money-grabbing advertisements and media turning the free-thinking man into a mindless drone. Bah!”

“Well,” Shinpachi hedges, fidgeting with the Otsuu-chan NekoNeko double spread special open in front of him, “maybe it's not all so bad…”

“Eh? Don't tell me they've caught you already, Pachi-boy! Those sirens, always luring in the innocent cherry boys with their wily charms and pretty faces! Cover your ears, Shinpachi, before you drown!”

Shinpachi’s face turns bright red as it always does when reminded of his cherry-boy status, like soup that someone put beetroot in and left on the stove for too long so all the vegetables became a mushy red mess like a bloody murder scene like someone dropping a basket of actual ripe, red cherries.

“Like the bright flag of revolution!” Kagura adds to the overly extended and entirely nonsensical metaphor, waving her magazine again even though the front cover is yellow.

For all the embarrassing state of their being, the fantasies of cherry boys cannot be underestimated: in a split second, Shinpachi finds himself in the grip of a fervoured daydream where he's leading the pop idol revolution, Otsuu’s grateful, adoring eyes centred upon him from her Queen Idol throne made from glittery microphones and album awards, while he stands bearing her image and flag upon the conquered mountain of her rivals’ platinum albums and singles. Shaking himself free of this intoxicating dream takes truly the will of only the most stout-hearted and tenacious of samurai, but Shinpachi has always been deceptively strong, underestimated as he is by his otaku appearance.

“No, that's not what I meant!” he says vehemently, crossing his arms over his chest. “It has nothing to do with cherry boys, or rather, not only to do with cherry boys! Yes, the capitalist market may be a money-grabbing, exploitative, manipulative, marginalising machine"—he takes a deep breath here, having run out of air after his string of long, multisyllabic words—“but you can't deny that it's also given some people the chance to achieve their dreams, and in that way, helped inspire others too!” He gazes lovingly at his Otsuu spread, conveniently ignoring the headline to the side exclaiming, ‘Otsuu production company bankrupt?! Employee scandal!!’

“Ahhh,” Gintoki says in a bored, dry voice, “that was sure quick of you to swap sides there, Shinpachi. You went from glass half-empty to glass half-full in, what, less time than it takes for a teenage boy to hide his dirty magazines when his mum unexpectedly bursts through his bedroom door. What, you playing double glasses or something? Doubles G’s? Is that what you're into, Shinpachi?” Gintoki tuts, shaking his head. “Teenage boys are so greedy, always thinking more is better. No wonder they make such good prey for those dirty media companies. It's okay, Shinpachi, you'll learn, you'll learn.”

Shinpachi splutters, the thought of double G’s such a force against the foundations of his feeble cherry boy mind that he cannot pull out his defences. Taking advantage of the moment, Kagura jumps in with a question.

“What are you talking about, Gin-chan?” she says. “Shinpachi has always had two glasses. Like a pair of glasses! G. G.!”

She crooks her thumbs to her forefingers, touching the tips together so they make a pair of circles just the right size to peer out of, and presses them to her eyes. Somewhere in the distance, a group of broke university students break out into a flashmob, a chorus of ‘G’s and ‘baby’s rising up while a crowd of people just trying to reach the end of the street look on in confusion.

“Bless you,” Gintoki says, while Kagura continues to blink owlishly out of her literally hand-made glasses.

“My glasses look nothing like that,” Shinpachi complains to Kagura, because that is far safer than remaining in the grips of a Double-G dream. (Already he has had to discreetly wipe away the trickle of blood from his nose while Kagura and Gintoki were busy fooling around.)

“Of course not,” Gintoki reassures, “your glasses look like those cheap, mass-produced products that break and fail you right when you need them.”

“Well maybe if you actually paid us a living wage, I could afford brand glasses if mine offend your sensibilities so much!”

“For someone who’s only just over legal working age, you sure have high expectations!”

“You're not even paying me minimum wage, I could report you, you know!”

“Oh yeah? Report me to who? The boss?” Gintoki snorts, waving a dismissive hand.

Shinpachi’s nostrils flare, eyebrows drawing together in an angry line.

“I'll report you to… to… to the industry union!”

Gintoki laughs an evil, corporate laugh. “What industry union? The Odd Jobs union? Ha! Good luck with that! Even if one existed, it would never get anything done because its members would be too busy looking for odd jobs to make their daily living!”

Kagura’s eyes flash. “Pachi-boy, let's start a union!” she says, though what a fourteen year old alien would know about industry unions, the never-ending battle for workers’ rights, petitions, rallies, strikes and other various union organisation stuffs remains an unanswered question. Still, one couldn't fault her enthusiasm.

Unexpectedly, in utter abandonment of his straight man role, Shinpachi jumps onto the idea.

“Yes!” he says. “We can invite all the other Odd Jobs teams from the anime crossovers we have! ‘Odd Jobs’ is such a well known and overused trope, I'm sure there will be plenty who will want to join us!”

“The Odd Jobs industry revolution!” Kagura bellows, arms spread out wide like she’s presenting a magic trick. “Led by the Yorozuya!”

“O-Oi!” Suddenly faced with a revolution and overzealous employees, Gintoki has no idea what to do.

Luckily for him, right at that moment, the phone rings. Its noisy call goes on for two ring cycles, cutting through and silencing all conversation in the room, before Gintoki wipes out a hand to pick up the receiver. Suddenly Kagura and Shinpachi are pressed right up against his side, intense looks on their faces as they eavesdrop on the call, union revolution promptly forgotten at the prospect of a new job.

“Hello, you've reached Yorozuya Gin-chan, how may I help you? Yes, a job? Right now? You're desperate? Of course, of course, that's what the Yorozuya are here for! What exactly…? Yes. Uh-huh. Uh-huh, of course, yes.” As he listens to the job details, Gintoki catches the gaze of his employees and does a fist pump in the air. Kagura and Shinpachi grin at him and return the gesture. “...Yes, just leave it to us! We'll be down there before you can blink!”

With that, he hangs up the phone, pushes back his chair and stands, grabbing his bokutou and slipping it into his belt with a smooth motion.

“Alright, people!” he says, turning around to look down at Kagura and Shinpachi. “We've been called and now we got a job to do. Tell me: Are the Yorozuya ready to put their all, to go beyond, plus ultra—"

Shinpachi sighs; of course they couldn't get away without referencing another anime. He hopes at least with fanfiction’s grey legality, they won't be sued or have to cop another lecture about copyright laws from Sunrise.

“—to deliver the best Odd Jobs service to our dear and valuable clientele?”

“Yes!” comes the enthusiastic response, Kagura and Shinpachi standing with straight backs bearing their pride and excitement as a true Yorozuya member.

Gintoki cups his hand over his ear, leaning forward. “I said, are you ready?!”

“Yes!”

A short, approving nod. “Alright. Yorozuya Gin-chan, move out!”

[kasiopeiae]

Rings of Saturn

A/N: Well, this is it! I’ve been working on this oneshot for the last 3 1/2 months and it’s finally come together, all 22k words of it. I’ve really loved working in this universe, and I hold Phoebe and Harry close to my heart. If you enjoy them too, please let me know. I’d love to write more about them, so please send me a message if there’s anything you’d like to read or know about them. Special shoutout to @haroldsbee for being my cheerleader and proofreader, I wouldn’t have made it without you! Likes, reblogs, and feedback are greatly appreciated. Without further ado, I give you the story of Fratboy and Stargirl.   

[vagrantblvrd]

Continents (1/1)

Summary: On paper this is a training exercise.

Notes: Takes place some time after Begin to Howl

AO3

On paper this is a training exercise. Ryan booking a weekend at one of the agency's training facilities for his team to whip them into shape, but in reality -

“I'm gonna fucking kill you, Gavin!”

There's a squawk and then Gavin's ridiculous giggling as he sprints past Ryan, sunglasses flying off his head as he tries to escape Michael who's growling as he chases after him.

Ryan sighs, shoulder twinging as he turns to watch them. Apparently Gavin seems to think he can make it to the rock formation a hundred yards out in the water before Michael gives up the chase.

A little further down the sandy beach he hears a plaintive, “Hey, guys? Guys?”

Jeremy, buried up to his neck in sand with a little bucket hat plopped down on his head for protection from the sun.

Gavin's trying to reason with Michael in between insulting him as he makes his desperate bid for safety, and Michael's gone frighteningly silent behind him. Determined and focused and all the more terrifying for it.

“Crack team you've got here, Ryan.”

Ran slides a look to Geoff, sprawled out on a bleach towel beside him, this little smile on his face as he watches the idiots running amok.

“Oh, the best,” Ryan agrees, watching a crab sidling up to Jeremy who hasn't noticed yet. “Total professionals.”

Geoff hmms, like Michael hasn't reached Gavin and is in the process of trying to drown him.

Jack's off somewhere nearby tying up loose ends concerning the idiots responsible for this mess over the phone. Voice rising and falling as he tries to keep his calm with the people who fed Ryan's team faulty information that almost got them killed. Left Ryan with a bullet fragment in his shoulder and Jeremy with a nasty concussion. Rattled Michael and Gavin, everyone antsy and snappish and starting to break down after months under scrutiny from people who've never been in the field.

Who sit back and read reports that don't mean anything past results achieved, and can't be bothered to read between the lines. Think of their agents as living breathing human beings. The ones who come to the wrong conclusions. Think Ryan's team isn't working together as a cohesive unit the way they should be, that reassignments are in order if they don't shape up.

So.

Weekend training at one of the agency's more remote training facilities to keep those idiots happy.  Think Ryan's running his team into the ground until they learn to work together as a well-oiled machine. Turning them out onto the mile-long obstacle course setup on a sandy beach for hours as he observes, snapping out orders with Geoff and Jack arriving uninvited to check in on them. Little clipboards in hand and a cooler in the trunk of their car.

“Looks like Jeremy could use some back up, there buddy.”

Jeremy seems to have realized his teammates have royally fucked him over as the crab inches closer, and starts yelling at the two idiots in the water.

“Probably,” Ryan says, watching Jeremy struggling to get free of his sand prison. “But I think this will be a good learning experience for him.”

Teach him not to go along with every idea Gavin comes up with - or it should - but Ryan knows better.

Knows that Jeremy and Michael let Gavin talk them into doing the stupidest shit imaginable all the damn time, even though they're smarter than that. Have enough common sense between them to recognize a bad idea when they see one, but they do it anyway.

The same way Ryan let Geoff talk him into taking charge of these idiots. Nothing but trouble and heartache in the making with the shit they get thrown at time and again by people who don't know what they have in them. Who see the three of them as valuable resources and nothing more.

There's a yell, Michael and Gavin running to Jeremy's rescue at long last.

Well, Michael's running to Jeremy's rescue at any rate. Gavin's too busy laughing to be much help as Michael throws a rock towards the crab that lands just short of it, managing to scare it off.

Jeremy's still half-buried, Michael's looking down at him with the kind of look on his face you'd see from a disappointed parent, and Gavin's making his way over to them still chuckling.

“The best and brightest the agency has to offer, huh?” Geoff asks, stupidly fond.

“Unfortunately for us, yes,” Ryan says, but there's nothing like regret in it. Something more worryingly like that fondness and affection in Geoff's voice, actually.

“God save us all,” Geoff chuckles, like it's not a serious problem.

Ryan sighs, watching Michael and Gavin digging Jeremy free. Michael lecturing Jeremy on not being a complete idiot, while Jeremy pretends to listen attentively.

Three highly trained agents, all of them unbelievably stupid, and somehow Ryan's in charge of them.

Has watched them go from being prickly little bastards to where they are now. Still wary, like they're waiting for him to show his true colors, turn out like all the other assholes who came after Geoff. Took over and expected them to fall into line like obedient little agents, and honestly he can't blame them for it.

He'd had something like a rebellion on his hands when Gavin found out about this weekend before he had the chance to talk to them about it. Running into them all hard-eyed and cold, Michael and Gavin keeping Jeremy behind them like they were expecting a fight and Jesus Christ, he really is too old for this.

Shouldn't have listened to Geoff all those months ago, agreed to take command of these morons, because look where it's gotten him.

But.

There's Jeremy making to lunge at Gavin even though his legs are still buried with Michael standing off to the side watching as Gavin skips back a step, this little curl to his mouth. Shoulders loose and relaxed, that worried frown he's had since that clusterfuck of a mission nowhere to be seen. Gavin laughing as he - stupidly - taunts Jeremy, forgetting how damn devious he is.

"We should be so lucky," Ryan murmurs, seeing Jack walking towards them.

There's something distinctly satisfied in the set of his shoulders, which means there's one less problem to worry about.

Progress?

“Yeah,” and Geoff's grinning as they watch Jeremy finally break free with Michael's help to tackle Gavin. “We're fucked.”

Leave the Ruins Behind