#still stand by that eighteen has a tattoo of sorts as a mark

[cookiesupplier]

Every Rose Has It's Thorns - Part Ten

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc (Talia)

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, panic attack.

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. Not that it is any easier for the soulmate in question. Thus is the fate for Ricky and Talia. Sooner or later, however, life is bound to collide, but what will happen when it does?

author’s note: Unbeta, reader beware! Sort of a filler chapter.

tags: @tearfallpixie @cncohshit @jordynyingling0219 @faceless-mirror @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @wild-child-7747 @witchyweeb34 @black-damask1999 @casangel1986

Please ask if you'd like to be tagged, to this story or in general.

~~

Talia was so tired, so, damn tired, she felt like she’d barely slept in days. Not since her call with Ava and started arranging this trip, to be honest... And she could only half blame the fact she’d been stressed off her feet trying to get all these last-minute arrangements made. Vinny had called her and sworn that they could help, but Talia had insisted she could do it, she’d be fine to deal with it.

The moment he started talking about taking care of her travel arrangements she’d put her foot down, no. Just no. She could just hear it in her head. Talia wouldn’t put it past Richard Olson accusing her of taking advantage of the band, of Vinny. That, because she can’t take advantage of him anymore with her fake soulmate mark, she’ll instead take advantage of her best friend's soulmate. No, she’d rather spend her own hard-earned money than let even the slightest hint of her intentionally influencing the situation. She would never want to take advantage, not like this. This wasn’t about perks or advantages, this was about Ava being happy.

So she booked her own flight, and her own hotel, packed her bags, and even packed an extra bag for Ava considering she’d originally only packed for the small time she’d been away for the tour. Sure it meant she had to pay a little bit extra for her luggage, but she made do, Talia was good at packing light herself anyway, so she’d be fine. All in all, when she had gotten on the plane she felt like she’d barely slept in days, and then couldn’t sleep the entire flight no matter how hard she tried to relax. It was safe to say, that she was nothing but a complete zombie by the time she walked off the plane and through the airport and collected her luggage.

Ava had said she’d meet her here, and she’d given her the time of her flight when they talked before she got on the plane. However, as she wheeled her bag, the extra bag for Ava, with her carry-on over her shoulder, manoeuvring them through the airport, she knew shouldn’t be less surprised to see Vinny with Ava there. They were probably joined at the hip with the way she gushed about him now, the fact that she’d chosen not to come home even. Of course, he had to be here with her, she was probably just lucky that Ricky wasn’t too, she supposed she should just be thankful that Ricky wasn’t too, who knows what could be going through their heads right now. Talia just prayed that being here, no tour confining them to a small bus, all living in their own homes, meant she could avoid Ricky like the plague.

He could have his life, and she could stick to getting to know Vinny, just like Ava wanted her to. No, Rick. Nada, at all. Please.

Still now, as she walked her way over to Ava and Vinny, her smile might be tight, but that didn’t mean it was no less bright as Ava practically threw herself at her best friend, her arms wrapped around Talia causing her to drop everything she was carrying.

“Oh, my god, woman, I can barely stand up!”

Ava just laughed, hugging the stuffing out of her right now, her arms so tightly wrapped around her, Talia returned the sentiment with a soft groan,

“I missed you, I missed you so much, T!”

Talia squeezed her arms around Ava’s waist at her hug so tightly, it was like she could breathe again, getting this hug, even if you could say she was hugging her so tight maybe she couldn’t breathe, just a little. When Ava let go, Talia took a deep, breath, catching that breath back with a smile, only to get a surprise, quite the surprise. She didn’t expect to be pulled into a second bear hug from Vinny!

“Oh my god.”

Murmuring a little, it wasn’t that you didn’t want to hug him, it was just one second she was relaxing, and the next she had an arm full of Vin, and she didn’t know what to do with that for a second then. Only he pulled back after a moment, his hug decidedly shorter than Ava’s, but grinning wide all the same,

“Hey, well, any family of Ava’s… and family gets hugs.”

Talia raised an eyebrow at that, smiling slowly before she nodded slightly, approving of the sentiment before his grin seemed to grow a bit more. As they walked to the car, and he talked about meeting his family, she glanced his way, that maybe it was how tired she was, but that surprised her a little, Ava was the one here to meet his family, but she supposed she could as well. She could only hope that there were a few fewer bone-crushing hugs there, she wasn’t sure how many more of those she could handle, she was only tiny, so let Ava field all of those thanks. She was the one who deserved all the love from Vinny and his family anyway. Talia was to be off to the side.

When they got to his car, and they were dragging their bags into the back,

“Thank you so much for bringing some more stuff for me, you have no idea how hard it is to live out of that bus for two weeks. I felt like I couldn’t even stretch without kicking one of them in the face or something, and for once I was the smallest one there.”

Talia gasped, her hand going to her chest as she settled in the back seat of the car, at the jibe, knowing full well that it was her of how short she was. Okay, so she was five foot one, two if she tiptoed it and cheated a little, which she did when it came to measuring against Ava, didn’t mean she had to rub it in!

“Funny, smartass. Good things come in small packages. Besides, no one has complained before.”

Until, and he wasn’t complaining about her being small, he would just prefer she didn’t exist at all, and stop thinking about him, Talia. She wasn’t here for him anyway, she was here for Ava. If Talia has it her way, might even be able to go her whole trip here without having to deal with him at all, it was time off for Vinny after all, she hoped anyway.

Now they were in the car,

“If you guys could just drop me off at my hotel, I am dying for some sleep, I feel like I haven’t slept in days... That would be great.”

Leaning her head back against the cushion of the rear seat and closed her eyes, just trying to relax and get a moment without completely driving off before she got to the hotel, not wanting to have to jolt away and deal with her bags, it would be murder getting back to sleep then. She completely missed the look between the pair in the front seat, Ava shifting in her seat as she cleared her throat.

“Ah, about that T, I kind of, cancelled your reservation.”

Talia admittedly at first didn’t quite catch the meaning of what Ava was saying, so tired she was drifting off, and what Ava was saying felt like a fog in her mind. Humming out a question as to what she meant,

“We were thinking you could stay in with us, at Vinny’s.”

That. Now that got her attention quick smart and she was sitting up properly quickly, her eyes snapping open with an almost grunt from a throat,

“I- what was that? I staying- what?”

She blinked herself back to fully awake from her drifting a little bit, surprised by what Ava was suggesting. As much as she herself would always try to make sure her friends would stay with her if she had one visiting, this was just, it was different. It just felt different. Vinny and Ava were soulmates. Not just soulmates, but new. It felt like after everything that had happened, she’d just be getting in their way. Hadn’t she gotten in the way enough? She was already having to deal with the ongoing prospect of dealing with Rick, but she didn’t want to,

“Listen, Talia, I meant it when I said any family of Ava’s is going to be family of mine, and family doesn’t stay at a hotel, not in my family. I can’t even tell you how many times I camped in the backyard with my cousins over the holidays whenever my cousins would come over so everyone could fit in my parent's house. The best part about living in my own house now is no more camping on the lawn.”

Grinning in the rearview mirror to her, Talia couldn’t help but smile slightly at the infectious laughter that came from the fond memory that Vinny was sharing with her. She forgot sometimes that some families still had such strong bonds, and didn’t grate on each other's nerves for whatever reasons stood between them. Maybe one day it would be Ava and Vinny with their happy family, oh wow, that was a thought.

Groaning,

“Are you sure? It's not going to be weird or anything? I mean, you two have only just gotten together and I don’t want to get in the way. I can afford a ho-”

“It’s not about what you can afford T, you are my sister, you are my best friend, you are everything to me, when my parents died you got me through so much, so please, please, stay?”

Ava had turned in her seat as Vinny stopped to wait at a red light, and Talia looked at Ava quietly. She could say no, she could just say she wasn’t comfortable and stay at another hotel, or somewhere else anyway, she was sure Ava would listen, she wouldn’t be happy about it but she would listen just the same. Swallowing a little.

“Alright, but if it gets too weird, I’m going to pack up for the hotel, I’m warning you now.”

The stern look she gave Ava she knew wasn’t very strong considering how tired she was, not to mention it was met with the way her expression just beamed like the sun at her before she turned back to face the windscreen as the car started moving again through the green light.

“Deal.”

Talia relaxed again against the back seat of the car, glad that they had that sorted, it was going to be interesting, but at least she wasn’t going to have to deal with a stranger's bed. Maybe she’d actually be able to deal with home-cooked meals here, maybe Vinny would let her make dinner to say thank you for letting her stay or something.

“Definitely get a lot of rest today, and tomorrow, I can’t wait for you to meet everyone, it's a bit of a tradition to have a big welcome home barbecue when the tour ends.”

Talia tilted her head, she hadn’t quite drifted off this time,

“Vinny’s family?”

“Not just mine, it's sort of an all-over band thing, everyone will be there, most of our immediate families, well, not everyone of course.”

Not everyone.. Because, not everyone had family that lived in Scranton Pennsylvania, but…

“Vinny,”

Talia paused, she didn’t want to ask, but she felt like she had to ask, just to at least prepare herself for what was going to come, before it hit her in the face tomorrow, and how badly it might hurt.

“He’s going to be there isn’t he?”

The drummer’s silence spoke volumes.

Talia took in a deep breath as she looked out the window with a nod,

“That’s cool, that’s fine, everything, just fine.”

She would just avoid him like the plague, it wasn’t like she had to deal with him at the barbeque, there were going to be plenty of people there, plenty of people for her to meet and involve herself with, why would she just accidentally come across Richard Olson when she didn’t need to? It wasn’t even about him, it was about her, she was tired, and she didn’t want to deal with his anger, his hatred. He wanted to be an asshole, let him, but she didn’t have to put up with it.

[chestnutisland]

A few days late but here no less! I'm enjoying Chestnut fest so far!

[movedbl0g]

Soulmates - alexa

genre: soulmates!au, angst/comfort, fluff?, genderneutral!reader, reader x female character

Warnings: negative thoughts/self talk

Words: 1,695k

Requested by @roaringtwentys

A/N: i’m sorry that it took me so long to write this but i hope you’ll enjoy this fanfic!!

Feel free to let me know what you think about the fanfic and have fun reading :DD

————————————

Only a few more minutes and you‘ll turn eighteen. Your heart was bumping really fast and you nervously checked your wrist every few seconds waiting for the tattoo to finally show up.

All of your friends already turned eighteen, tattoos with the name of their soulmates marking their wrists and even some of them already found their soulmate after recognizing the name on their body or finding them through their names.

Only a few seconds were left and your eyes didn’t leave your wrist. You held your breath out of excitement, hoping the name that‘ll appear will be the one you were hoping for. You were pretty sure that it was your your best friend, or let’s say you really hoped that it was your best friend. She already turned eighteen a month ago, but you both made a promise to look at it together when you both turn eighteen, so you talked over facetime, waiting impatiently for the clock striking midnight.

The friendship between you and your bestfriend Lin was pretty close and you‘d be lying if you‘d say that you didn’t have any feelings for her. All the years you already spent together, countless sleepovers and adventures, the two of you growing closer and closer, sharing some of your deepest secrets and enjoying some of the best moments in your life together.

The only thing that was different between the two of you was that Lin always jumped from relationship to relationship, never really finding the right one, while you never even had a relationship before.And you couldn’t help but believe that those relationships didn’t work out because she tried to escape her feelings for you and that those relationships just weren’t meant to be.

Together with Lin, you counted down the last seconds. Five...four...three...two..one...and your eyes immediately spotted the name on your wrist, the letters written cursively and small, making it hard to see from a distance. But as you read the letters that marked your skin, you completely froze, your heart suddenly stopped beating and your eyes were furrowed in confusion as you read the name again and again,but you just couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t Lins name, but neither it was from someone you knew.

You’re eyes started filling with tears. You couldn’t believe that your emotions tricked you. You were so incredibly sure, so incredibly convinced that she was the one,but all of your hopes and daydreams were broken in one second. How the hell was that possible. You couldn’t imagine feeling closer to another person than Lin and it felt like there never would be anyone as close as Lin.

A worried “Y/N??” interrupted your thoughts from circling in your head, your friend worriedly looking at you through the screen.

“Look who i got!”, she said while happily showing her tattoo to the camera, trying to lift you up, but in that moment, it just made things worse. You weren’t the one on her wrist and she doesn’t seem to be bothered at all. You felt incredibly stupid. Stupid for believing that she would be the one on your wrist, stupid for thinking that she had feelings for you too, stupid for thinking that you were on her wrist. All of this was just stupid.

“Which name did you get??” Lin asked with excitement, her eyes looking curiously at you.

You took a deep breath, trying to hide the pain in your voice. “Actually”, you started speaking,” i never heard of this name before...”

Your friend looked at you, her eyes glancing in excitement “so who is it??what does it say??”

“Alexandra Christine Schneidermann”

—————

Time skip

A day has passed and you still weren’t in the right space to talk with Lin, you ignored her texts and didn’t pick up when she called. You didn’t even have the energy to get out of bed, not knowing what to believe anymore because your emotions betrayed you and the strong feeling you had was completely wrong. You kept thinking about the name on your wrist, questioning if you did something wrong and thinking that that was the reason for having someone else’s name on your wrist.

It already was late in the afternoon when you finally decided to get out of your bed and went for a walk, trying to clear you head. When you walked along the streets, a cold breeze passed by, making you shiver a little bit. It was early spring, the sun was shining through the green trees and the fields you passed by were covered in flowers, but the wind was still cold and some clouds covered the sky.

Before you returned home, you wanted to get something to warm up a little bit, so you mindlessly walked through the streets until you spotted a small cafe. The typical coffee smell entered your nose as soon as you entered through the door, a bell ringing as you entered.

You overheard a little conversation from the few people that sat in the cafe while a cozy warmth spread in your body. You walked up to the counter and scanned the menu, until you finally decided on your drink. You walked up to the counter and ordered your drink, receiving it shortly after.

As you wanted to walk up to an empty seat you bumped into something all of the sudden, your drink spilling everywhere. As you looked up you saw a shocked woman in front of you, completely frozen and mouth wide open.

“Are you okay??”, you asked while reaching your hand out to help her up.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’m fine, nothing happened and it’s my fault anyway, i’m really sorry I just wasn’t paying attention at all and I-“ she started stumbling nervously while shaking away some of the dust from her pants with her hands.

“Don’t worry it’s alright” you reassured her, laying one of your hands on her shoulder in order to calm her down a bit. Your eyes flew over her body and you only noticed now that she was really small. Besides that she was dressed very cutely, with her brown hair braided back,some strands already hanging around loosely, her minimalistic pink make up and a light pink tint on her lips making her look even more cute.

There was an awkward silence for a second,before the eyes of the woman fell onto your drink, seeing that it was spilled everywhere in the floor.

“Oh my god!! I’m really sorry about your drink it’s spilled everywhere and-“

“It’s fine” you reassured her once again, but she eagerly shook her head. “Come and let me buy you a new one” she said and started to drag you towards the counter before you could say anything and not that much later you had a new drink and you both sat together on a table, talking about the most random things and whatever came to your minds.

You only met her about an hour ago, but something made you feel extremely safe around her, there was nothing awkward, no bad feeling. You didn’t hesitate to tell her about all the things you like to do, sharing some of your childhood stories and even mentioning Lin.

After you told a story about when you and Lin build a treehouse together, her facial expressions dropped and she seemed to be a little bit tensed all of the sudden.

“That girl Lin” she asked “is she your soulmate?”

“No” you answered after a short pause,the word hardly leaving your tongue. “At first i thought so, but i guess i was completely wrong with that” you continued to speak while fidgeting with the straw of your drink.

An “Oh” formed on the woman’s lips and she nodded her head understandingly.

“To be honest” she spoke up after a while “I’m not all to sure about that soulmate stuff...i feel like everyone forgets about the people they value once their soulmate is revealed..they all go crazy searching for their soulmate and a lot of them just forget about the rest...but in my opinion it doesn’t matter if I’m somebody’s soulmate or not - what matters are the memories you create together, having good times together, soulmates or not”

You took a second to think about the words she just said and the more you thought it the more you realized that she was right. Even tho Lin isn’t your soulmate, you still have her as an amazing friend, you still have all the memories with her. And even if it’s not in a romantic way, you can still be together as friends and your emotions would probably sort themselves out with time.

You looked at the phone and saw all of the notifications and missed calls from Lin on your phone and all of the sudden you felt really bad for her. It probably would be the best if you told her about your emotions and explained your situation.

“I think i have to go and clear up some things” you said while standing up from your seat. “But i think i was really lucky to meet you, you really helped me out a lot, you know”, you said while giving her a big smile.

“No problem, i mean i somehow owed you something anyway for spilling your drink. And besides that, it felt really nice to talk to you and I’m more than happy to help you out”, she said while giving back an even bigger smile.

“Maybe we can meet again sometime,....uhmmm...i totally forgot to ask about your name” you realized.

“Oh yeah,i totally forgot! My name is Alexandra, but you can just call me Alex” she said while she held her hand out in order to shake your hand as a goodbye.

You took her hand and shook it tightly. “My name is y/n by the way!!” you shouted over to her ,before you walked out of the cafe.

You almost were back in your apartment, when it finally hit you. Could that be? Could that really be her? You rolled up the sleeve of your shirt, scanning your wrist for the name of your soulmate. And there it was. Alexandra. Alexandra Christine Schneidermann.

Was that the reason you felt so close? Was all of that meant to be? Was that really her? Only one day ago you felt like you never would meet someone and would be closer to them as Lin, but the warmth, the safeness you felt around her today was so intense, that you only realized now, that you only had met today.

This time you were 100% sure. She must be the one. The way she completed you just felt so right.

Alexandra Christine Schneidermann, your Soulmate.

~ the end

🖤masterlist

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, incorrect-malec!

For @incorrect-malec. This is the first part to a larger fic which will be updated sometime after the reveal, as the plot ran away from me! I tried to incorporate as many of the proposed likes as I could to make this an interesting and fun gift! Happy holidays, dear giftee, I hope you sincerely enjoy your present ❤️

Minor content warning for some cursing and small mentions of blood.

*****

find me here (amidst the chaos)

“Mr. Lightwood-Bane? You have a special visitor.” 

Alec glances up from the spread of ridiculous red tape sprawled across his desk. An antique grandfather clock nestled in the corner behind him ticks away the idle seconds. 

“Ah.” Alec leans into the high-backed support of his office chair. “Mr. Lightwood-Bane, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Magnus glides into the room, shutting the ornate door behind him with a heavy thud. “You forgot your lunch. I assumed it was all a simple ploy to trick me into bringing some for you.”

“A reasonable assumption.” 

“I probably shouldn’t be indulging in such skulduggery,” Magnus skirts around the desk, his magic tidying the paperwork into neat piles off to the side. “Alas, it has been some long six hours since I last saw my husband, and I’m little other than a fool for love.”

Alec stands and sways into Magnus’ space. “It is known to be a great weakness of yours.”

“Love?” Magnus wraps his arms around Alec’s neck, soothing his fingers against the nape. “Hardly. Love is too often fleeting. You, however?” He brushes the ghost of a kiss against the corner of Alec’s mouth. “You have always been my greatest weakness.”

Alec kisses Magnus, because it says more than words ever could, because there are no words in any language that he knows which could be enough to express how he feels, how his core is alight and burning hot, how he can’t get close enough without knocking them both over, and even that wouldn’t soothe the ache.

“You didn’t even bring any food with you,” Alec points out, pressing a fleeting kiss to Magnus’ temple, lest he kiss any lower and come away with a shimmer upon his lips. His hands are broad and firm against Magnus’ hips, drawing him close until the ornate buckle of his belt is nestled against Alec’s belly button. He’s slouched, relaxed and calm. 

“An easy fix.” Magnus pecks the very tip of Alec’s nose, grinning easy at the way it scrunches. “What are you in the mood for?” 

“I really want to visit Sky,” Alec sighs, his shoulders drawing up. “I miss their chebureki. I’m craving their chebureki. But I have to file through this paperwork, or the Clave are going to be breathing down my neck.” 

Magnus traces the love rune against the nape of Alec’s neck. “I mean this with every breadth of my soul.” He pulls back, drawn to the mirth that draws Alec’s brow together before staring into hazel eyes which have always held his own gaze with such resolve it’s a wonder he ever questioned them. “Fuck the Clave.”

Alec laughs, hearty and full. Magnus kisses the lines of his eyes, warmth cloaking him like a homemade blanket. This, right here. This is all he needs. 

“Is that a proposition? I think I have a form somewhere for interdepartmental relationships, I’d be happy to sign it for you.”

Alec feigns to pull away, his hands falling to his sides. Before he can even turn his body, Magnus takes both of Alec’s hands in his own, kissing the space on his ring finger above his wedding band and the ridges of his knuckles while the other intertwines their fingers, squeezing tight and holding their joined hands against his heart - or, rather, a rough estimation of where his heart is, hidden beneath his unbuttoned silk shirt and floral blazer. 

“Burn it.” Magnus insists, resting his chin on the back of Alec’s hand, still held tight within his own. “Or shred it. Do you have a paper shredder? We can start a recycling plan! Saving the planet is really something the Clave should care about. Maybe they can investigate that, and then while they’re busy saving the world - I know that you Shadowhunters love that - we can steal away and pretend you never insinuated that I would ever break our sacred marriage vows for the Clave.”

Alec leans back, tapping the side of Magnus’ sleek ankle boots. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even joked about it.” 

“I wouldn’t break our vows for anything.” Magnus pulls a face. “Suggesting I would do it for the Clave is just insulting, Alexander. I have far better taste than that.”

“Is that so?”

Magnus hums, turning Alec’s hand to kiss down his wrist. “I’m pretty sure I have a certificate somewhere that proves it.” He murmurs, tilting his head into the cup of Alec’s palm against his cheek. “Unless that’s how you tested out your paper shredder? We haven’t cleared up whether it exists yet.” 

“Your environmental concerns are heard and are being considered by the Inquisitor at present” Alec teases, before adding. “I’m pretty sure that Aline has a paper shredder in her office. It’s definitely the kind of thing that Helen would have gifted. Probably wrapped in a bow, too.”

“That does sound like our Helen.” Magnus steps forward into the gap of Alec’s thighs. “I’m afraid that all I am hearing is that there is in fact no reason why you can’t take an extended lunch break.” He leans forward, teasing a kiss along the cut of Alec’s jaw. “Perhaps we can even enjoy it in the comfort of our own home.” 

They would have, Alec prepared with a half-hearted protest that Magnus would just as quickly swallow, bending the pretence of Alec’s revolve before whisking them away in a portal that would have to be created on the balcony to protect the furniture. They would have enjoyed a lovely meal, and each other’s company, and Magnus would have sent Alec back with a sweet kiss and a promise of reservations for some late night ponchiki, conveniently forgetting to mention that he’s missed a button of his shirt. 

Unfortunately, none of that happened. 

“Inquisitor Lightwood-Bane? High Warlock Lightwood-Bane?” 

Magnus rolls his eyes and steps away from Alec, although his hand skims Alec’s hip. The shadowhunter at the door seems familiar … Montclair something, maybe … yes, Eva Montclair. A sort of glorified P.A for various members of the Clave. Her sudden appearance in Alec’s doorway is not a terrible thing by nature, but Magnus has a feeling given the tightness of her knuckles around the hilt of her seraph blade that it is not good news that she couriers this time. 

Eva inhales deeply, her shoulders curled in defensively. “I was told to come and tell you both immediately, I’m sorry if I’ve interrupted anything.” 

“What’s wrong, Eva?” Alec asks, kind but firm.

“There’s been an instance near Piccadilly. A warlock appears to have recently come into their powers and is struggling with gaining control over them. The Head of the London Institute called them ‘rogue’, but I personally don’t think that’s fair. From the descriptions received all the magic seems to be defensive rather than offensive. The High Warlock there is currently unavailable but suggested that you, Mr. Lightwood-Bane, would be a … ‘fitting substitute’ in his absence?”

Magnus fixes a pleasant smile even as a laugh hiccups in the back of his throat. Ragnor truly says the kindest things. “If this is as you describe, Eva, I’m sure there won’t be any further problems.”

“Please alert the London Institute that we are on our way.” Alec requests. “And please make it clear to them that they are under no circumstances to harm the young warlock. This is no longer any of their concern.”

The hint of a smile toys at the corner of Eva’s mouth, and it’s then that Magnus remembers that she’s married to a warlock herself, and in fact he has met Mars on a few occasions as part of the Downworlder council. Small world. 

“Absolutely.” Eva nods, curtly, and ducks out of the room. 

Magnus nods towards the balcony doors. “Portal?”

Alec sighs, reaching for Magnus’ hand. “This has to be the fifth call this year alone. I’m starting to think those pamphlets aren't working.”

The balcony doors swing open with a flick of Magnus’ hand. 

“Maybe the Institute Heads are just environmentally conscious.”

---

“Angels,” Alec whispers, when they come through the other side of the portal onto a wet cobblestone side-street, the air heavy with unshed rain. “They’re so young.”

The warlock couldn’t possibly be older than eighteen. Their torn jeans are stuffed into worn and muddy old boots, their denim vest is missing sleeves, torn at the shoulder, and the faded band tank underneath looks far too thin for a London evening. Thin, white lines stand out against brown skin, forming stars on their arms like tattoos of varying size, a mark unlike any that Alec has ever seen before and given the slight furrow to Magnus’ brow, it’s not a common one. Their hair is cropped short and pink, which could be a warlock mark, although Alec has his doubts. 

“Their mark is glowing.” Magnus comments. “It pulses, see. It’s directly connected to their magic.”

“Is that unusual?” Alec asks, casting an eye around for anything to gain the warlock’s attention without spooking them. “Your eyes glow.”

Magnus drops his glamour. A point is being made, but it isn’t Alec’s. “The pulse is frantic, like their magic, their emotions. Their powers are so new that they haven’t figured out how to control any of it yet. Warlock marks, although rare, do sometimes come with the magic itself. That’s a lot to discover about yourself at once. No wonder they look so frightened, poor dear.”

Alec’s throat tightens when the warlock grips their head and folds over. “We have to help them. I don’t even know how but … we have to help them.”

Magnus grips the back of Alec’s neck, turning him until they’re facing each other. “We will.” Magnus says, firm but kind. “We are their best hope right now, Alexander, and we will help them.” He grazes his thumb along the column of Alec’s nape. “We’re good at this.”

Alec nods, rolling his shoulders back as Magnus’ hand falls away. Magnus gestures and Alec follows his gaze, towards a portable store sign advertising 25% off coats and knitwear - it’s not terribly wide or tall, but if he’s careful he should be able to hide behind it, if temporarily. The last thing they need is for the warlock to feel as though they’ve been trapped, so letting Magnus talk first and providing support without being obvious about it is their best chance at this point in time. 

The first time they talked a warlock down Alec had gotten his eyebrows singed off for getting too close, too fast. 

“Excuse me?” Magnus has procured a coat, probably from the store behind Alec, his hands shoved into the pockets. 

To the unassuming eye, he probably appears to be a concerned citizen, his eyes glamoured once more, although there is an undeniable electricity to him that couldn’t be mistaken by those who know for a thunderstorm. There is a chance that the warlock, although presumably new to their powers, will be able to sense it as well. If that’s the case, their reaction is anyone’s guess. Alec tightens his grip on his bow.

“I’m Magnus Bane.” The warlock glances up with lightning speed, their arms wound tightly around their chest, as though doing so would keep everything in place. Alec is familiar with the feeling. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. I’m like you, see?”

Magnus must have dropped his glamour, for the warlock takes a step back, but they lose some of the tension around their shoulders. “May I ask for your name?” He asks, rocking back on his heels.

The warlock hesitates, the stars on their arms pulsing even faster. “Nova.” They say, after what feels to be an hour. Alec lets out a heavy breath and relaxes onto his haunches. This is good. 

“Hello, Nova.” Magnus flattens his palm against his chest. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Is it okay if I ask you a few questions? You don’t have to answer any that make you uncomfortable. My only motivation is helping you if I can.”

“What makes you think that you can help me?” Nova spits out. They’re shaking. “I don’t even know what’s happening to me. The other day I was fine, I was normal and then I woke up yesterday and I have these weird tattoos on my arm and today I’m sending things into different rooms with just my thoughts - and none of it makes any sense! None of it!” 

Magnus takes a lone step forward, but Nova doesn’t appear to notice. Alec feels a chill crawl down his spine. “You don’t know me, so what I’m about to ask of you probably goes against every instinct you have. Nova, I need you to trust me.”

“Why?”

Magnus takes another step. The hairs on the back of Alec’s neck stand to attention. “Because I’ve been where you are.” Magnus explains. “Lost. Confused. Angry. I was a child when I discovered my magic, what I could do with it. I didn’t have anybody to help me, and I always vowed that I wouldn’t let that happen to others, if I could help it. I want to help you.”

“What am I?” Nova furiously shakes their head, gripping at their elbows so tight little pinpricks of blood skate down their arms. “Why is this happening to me?”

“I prefer to call myself a warlock. Many of us do.” Magnus explains. He holds out his palm, letting a blue flame collect in the centre. “You can refer to yourself however you like. You can just be Nova, and nothing more, if you want.”

“But the magic … that won’t go away?”

Magnus shakes his head. “No. Take my word for it, you will only cause yourself more harm if you try. It’s not all bad.” The flame in Magnus’ hand turns into a cupcake, with a small sugary rainbow on top of the cream white frosting. “Once you learn how to control it, the things you’ll be able to do are incredible.”

“I lost a mug.” Nova laughs, a fragile thing. “It’s so stupid. I just threw it at the wall, but it didn’t smash or anything it just … disappeared. I looked for hours. It’s not even important, it was a quid or something but it … it’s gone. I did that. I don’t know how but wherever it’s ended up is because of me. What if - what if I do that to somebody? Make them … disappear.” 

“I don’t think so.” Magnus is a few feet away now if that. “The kind of power that takes is … astronomical, not to mention the technical restraint. The worst you might do is cause some minor injuries, but even that is rare.”

Nova’s stars are glowing steadily. “Have you ever made someone disappear?”

“Not without the intent to do so.”

The answer seems to appease Nova. Alec stays hunched down, it doesn’t look like Magnus needs his support, although it would be nice to stretch his back soon, although he still trains from time to time, he isn’t exactly as young as he used to be. 

“Magnus Bane. Step away from the rogue warlock at once. This is no longer an issue for the Downworlder Council to handle, this has become an Institute matter and will thus be handled by Shadowhunters. Your services have not proven useful, and this warlock must be subdued before any harm is caused.” 

The electricity in the air gets sharper. Alec hesitates but eventually rises slowly from his crouched position. He catches the minute the Institute Head, Stephen Highsmith, sees him and the flood of blood to his cheeks and forehead. A second later, his head whips towards Nova, who is clutching at their head, their wide eyes caught between the three of them. Alec doesn’t have the time to search for the Shadowhunters positioned around them, knows on instinct that they’re surrounded, that the only way out is through talking and, if that fails, a little violent liberty. 

“The warlock is a child.” He states, stalking out from behind the sign. He grips his bow tight and positions himself diagonally from Magnus, firm in his defence. “Surely you have higher morals than that, Stephen.”

Highsmith, a weasely man riding the coattails of his family name, sneers and draws his seraph blade. He’d never been too good as a Shadowhunter, from all accounts, but power is a currency and money talks. “It was very honourable of you to leave your post and flock to my streets, Inquisitor Lightwood, but I’m afraid your presence is simply not necessary. My men and I have it handled.”

“I’m sure you’re very capable of handling precarious situations, Mr. Highsmith.” Butter wouldn’t melt in Magnus’ mouth. “However, as High Warlock Fell is currently out of the country and has given permission for Alexander and myself to fulfil his duties in his place, I do believe it is a case best left to us. We don’t intend to intrude upon your delicate sensibilities, I’m sure you’re a very busy man who has much better things to do than to waste your time on such a small affair.”

“For the record.” Alec smiles with no heart. “It’s Lightwood-Bane. A simple mistake, I’m sure, but an important thing to rectify. Names carry a lot of importance and weight, you know.”

Highsmith splutters. “I do not have time for this!”

“Neither do we.” Magnus stalks closer, until he’s within arms distance from Highsmith. Alec inches closer to Nova, now bent over with their palms pressed against their eyelids. “This is a matter for the Downworlder council, and as it’s representatives, we will take care of it. The longer you argue and fight with us over this, however, the longer it will take until we are out of your hair.”

The back of Alec’s neck prickles with heat. Magnus continues to admonish Highsmith. “Neither Alexander nor I will budge until Nova is safe. Believe me when I tell you that there is nobody more equipped to handle this than us, and if you don’t take your leave quietly and with what little grace you can summon, you will be responsible for whatever harm or damage is caused.”

“How dare you speak to me like that!” Highsmith’s face is blotchy and red. 

“Quite easily.” Magnus twists his fingers, a white-hot blast landing at Highsmith’s feet. His shoes turn into fluffy bunny slippers. The ears flop when he pounds his feet. “Respect is earnt, Mr. Highsmith, and quite frankly you have done nothing worth receiving mine.”

A low muttering draws Alec’s attention. Nova has sunk onto their knees, the heel of their palms digging into their eyes. Alec quietly side-steps closer, holding his bow behind his back so as not to terrify Nova even more. 

“I just want to go home. I just want this all to end. I want to go home.”

Alec sneaks a glance towards Magnus, still holding defence against Highsmith, who has acquired shocking green hair and a yellow high-visibility vest alongside the bunny slippers. Perhaps it won’t go as smoothly as if Magnus were the one talking Nova down, he can connect with them in a way Alec never would, but he can offer support - just as long as he can calm Nova down, draw them away from the conflict, that’s all … then they can dismiss Highsmith because there would be no ‘warlock problem’ and Nova’s safety and comfort could once again take priority. 

“Nova?” Alec crouches down, rocking back on his heels. “My name is Alec. I’m a friend of Magnus’. We’re going to do our best to get you home, okay?” 

Nova starts rocking back and forth. Their tattoos glow brighter than before, a luminescent blue that pricks at the back of Alec’s eyes. “I want to go home.” They continue to murmur, in a voice that takes on a warbled effect, as though they were speaking underwater. “I just want to go home.”

“Where do you live?” Alec asks. “Do you live in London?”

Nova falls to their knees. In the distance, Alec hears Magnus’ tone getting sharper, although he can’t make out exactly what is being said, it doesn’t fill him with much confidence that a productive conversation is being had. Nova keeps rocking, folded over into themselves. Blood streaks down their forearms, small droplets collecting behind their ears from where their fingers had dug into their scalp. 

“Enough is enough!” Highsmith shouts. Shadowhunters spill out from the dark, armed to the teeth with all manner of weapons, seraph blades and a few staves, the odd throwing star attached at the hip. Archers are scattered across the rooftops around them, arrows notched and aimed. 

“Highsmith.” Magnus’ hands crackle as blue flame licks at his fingertips, wrapping around his arms. “I’ve made an attempt at civility, but you are clearly not interested in politics. Fine. Take this as a warning. Recall your soldiers. Stand down. I cannot guarantee everyone’s safety if you do not heed this warning, and the dangerous consequences your refusal could inflict are limitless. This young warlock is frightened. Let us look after them, and I assure you, nobody will get hurt.”

“I have had enough of your whining.” Highsmith spits. “This is now Shadowhunter business. Perhaps a few days in a cold cell will teach this young warlock how to control their powers.”

It all happens in a flash. Literally, an actual flash. 

Alec rushes forward to protect Nova, futile as it might be, his bow poised towards the nearest threat - a Shadowhunter only a few feet away with a seraph blade drawn and pointed at the back of Nova’s head. A static roaring fills his ears, but he pushes through, hardly aware of his own body as an arrow is sent flying into the Shadowhunter’s shoulder. His skin starts to prick and burn, from his hands up to his neck and rushing down to his ankles like a wildfire coursing through a forest. His heart beats in tune with Nova’s words, I want to go home, thud thud thud thud thud. 

Alec shuts his eyes against a luminescent white light, stumbling as the ground falls out from beneath him and an echo calls out for him, a desperate plea of his name shouted underwater.

Magnus? 

I just want to go home. 

---

Alexander? Alexander!

---

The air smells like metal and thunderstorms. Magnus whirls on his heel, angry tears racing down his cheeks. Hell, hath no fury like a warlock scorned. 

“Listen to me you weasely git.” Magnus spits. “I’m done playing civil. My husband is missing because you wanted to play hero for the first time in your poor, forsaken life. Sad you never got to play soldiers with the big boys? Well, guess it’s your lucky day. I am going to take Nova with me back to Alicante, and while I’m there, I’m going to ensure that my lovely friend Consul Penhallow is updated with everything that occurred here today. Unfortunately for you, her wife has family in the area, some of whom I am sure wouldn’t mind stepping up to keep an eye on you. I’ve seen how you conduct yourself, and if it is any indication of how your Institute is run, I guarantee it is not a position that you will retain for much longer.”

Magnus raises a hand. The Shadowhunters flanking Highsmith sheath their weapons. “Withdraw your forces and go slinking back. This is not a request. You did not heed my warning, but you will weather the consequences.” 

He turns, uninterested in sparring Highsmith another second of his time. Magnus didn’t see the flash, but he recognised the sign of a portal, although … there’s something about this one that is bugging him. 

Today I’m sending things into different rooms with just my thoughts … I don’t know how but wherever it’s ended up is because of me … what if I do that to somebody? Make them disappear? 

“Fuck.” 

Nova is sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring at their hands as though they’re something alien. Magnus collapses in front of them, a mirror-reflection. They’re shaking, tremors like the ground before an earthquake. 

The earthquake has come. This is the aftershock. 

“I don’t know what happened.” Nova whispers, harshly. “I just wanted everything to stop. I kept wishing that I could go home, and everything got really muffled, like I was wrapped in cotton or something, but I was still here and there was so much noise, so much shouting and I was so scared-”

“Might I reach for your hand?” Magnus asks. Nova glances up, their cheeks stained with dried tears. They nod, wordlessly. Magnus turns their palms over, tracing the lines with his fingers where they glow intermittently, as though a light was shining from beneath their skin. 

“You’re not mad?”

“No.” Magnus’ smile is a little thin, a little bittersweet. “Not at you. I know that Alexander is okay, wherever he is, and that’s all that matters to me.”

Nova shakes their head. “He could be dead, I could have-”

“You didn’t.” Magnus assures them. “I would know if he was, as sure as you knew when your magic appeared. Which, if I recall correctly, you said was behaving volatile today?”

Nova’s fingers curl against Magnus’. “That flash. I felt like an exposed wire. I felt…” Nova frowns. “Right as it happened, I felt really calm all of a sudden, but also … like my magic? I guess? Was being pulled out of me. I wasn’t scared anymore, though, I felt … comforted. Safe? But then I opened my eyes, and everything was the same, and all that fear came flooding back.”

Jagged pieces are coming together in Magnus’ mind. It’s a working theory, and a weak one at that, but it’s something and that’s enough for him to cling onto, to keep his sanity. 

“Nova. I don’t mean to pressure you, so please do not take it that way, you are of course free to go wherever you please - I promise the Shadowhunters, the lot dressed in all black with their pointy egos, won’t cause you any harm, but … if you’re willing, I could use your help.”

“My help?”

Magnus wicks a portal into existence. The wind around them picks up leaves and twigs but in the little bubble he creates for them, they are safe. “This is a portal. I sort of invented them. I have a feeling that what you did is not all that dissimilar, but I need your help to figure that out. I hope that I’ll be able to help you better understand your own powers, and get my husband back, but only if it is something you are comfortable with.”

Nova stares at the portal in wonder. They nod, hesitant at first and then firmer with every movement. “Whatever happened … it was my fault. I know you don’t blame me, somehow, but if I can help … I have to. You and your husband were willing to do anything to help me, it’s the least I can do.”

“It only takes a word, if at any point you want to bow out, or you don’t feel comfortable or safe, your commitment ends. There’s no obligation here, okay?”

Nova nods. Magnus stands gingerly, wiping the dirt of the back of his pants and extending a hand to help pull them up. “You’ll need to keep tight hold of my hand.” He instructs. “Don’t let go until I say it’s safe, otherwise I could lose you too.”

Nova squeezes Magnus’ hand. “We’ll find him.” They promise.

“Of course, we will.” Magnus smiles, wishing he could even half-convince himself. 

---

Alec focuses his landing on the balls of his feet, leaning back to distribute his weight to his heels to cushion the impact. It’s fortunate that, despite the length of time he’s spent behind a desk instead of in the field, he’s managed to keep up with his training. That fall could have wiped him out. 

He takes a few seconds to focus on what he can hear, smell, see; the floor beneath him is a dark mahogany, freshly polished, the sunlight leaking in from the north facing window between drawn burgundy curtains. Outside the window echoes a busy street, tolling bells and warm chatter and … horses? 

“Quite a grand entrance. Most people just use the doorbell.”  

The voice, familiar in the wrong ways, sweeps under his feet and knocks him backwards, scattered along the floor. It’s only magic, which he recognises beneath its coldness, that saves him from knocking over a beautiful porcelain vase sat precariously atop an equally beautiful, engraved end table. 

“Then again, I’m not sure I would have invited a Shadowhunter into my home.” 

The voice belongs to Magnus, but he is … not himself. At least not the one that Alec knows. It’s rather like seeing a distorted mirror image for all that stands out to him as wrong. 

The hardened glaze of Magnus’ glamoured eyes. The sneer of his mouth. The white of his knuckles curled around the top of a hardback novel. The muted colours, from his hair to his makeup-free face, to the dark pants with thin silver lines and matching suspenders over a plain black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. The line of his body along the gilded lounge is carefully constructed to suggest a nonchalance which is betrayed by the tension Alec can see in the rigidity of his limbs; he’s poised to attack. 

This is not the Magnus that Alec recognises, this is a stranger with his husband’s face, his history, and his memories but not his present - or, rather, as Alec is quickly coming to suspect, his future. 

“I’m sorry.” Alec tries to stand up, but as soon as his hands touch the floor, they become stuck, as though someone has glued them to the wood. His feet too are rooted in place. 

“Oh, no. Please don’t apologise. It’s not as though you barged into my home, my private sanctuary, with no warning.” Magnus purses his lips. “You did not pull a weapon on me. I will admit that is a nice change.”

Alec can’t feel along his back for his quiver, but he’s fairly certain his weapons hadn’t travelled with him. Magnus had cloaked them to appear when he needed them, but it’s unlikely they were spelled in preparation for a situation such as this. Not that he is 100% clear on what this even is. 

“Who are you?” Magnus waves a hand dismissively. “Please don’t say ‘Shadowhunter’, I am quite aware of that much, even if your runes weren’t visible only child soldiers hold themselves with such rigid arrogance. I will concede the outfit is quite out of the ordinary, however.”

Alec clears his throat. He has to be delicate about this. “My name is Alexander.” He shifts his weight and draws his shoulders in as best he can. “Alexander L-uh, Wayland. Alexander Wayland.”

Smooth.

Magnus hums, folding his book and letting it fall onto the glass table in front of him. “I had suspected for a fleeting moment that you might have been a Lightwood. No matter.” He elegantly sweeps his legs over until both are flat on the ground, his hands clasped between his knees as he leans forward with a seamless, lethal grace. “The real question I need an answer to would be how a lanky Nephilim such as yourself made it past my wards to crash into the very room in which I had been trying to enjoy some peace and quiet. London isn’t exactly known for such these days.”

“London?” Alec echoes, without quite thinking much of it. 

Despite his foolish hope that he might have been wrong, the evidence was insurmountable and quite literally staring him in the face - however it might have happened, when he’d moved towards Nova he’d been sent falling and inevitably crashing into 1884. Magnus had only stayed in London for a year, hadn’t been back since, and Alec has seen the photos of him, Ragnor and Camille, recognises the darkness in Magnus’ gaze as when he first talked about Camille, and how she had torn him to pieces, discarding him without a thought after she was no longer satisfied with him. 

“Magnus, Archibald has two extra tickets for tonight’s - oh. I do not recall you informing me that you were intending on having company for the night.” 

A tall, slender blonde man hovers in the doorway, staring at Alec with equal parts vague intrigue and thinly veiled distaste. Everything about him exudes taste and elegance, but there is a familiarity to his features that itches at the back of Alec’s mind. He knows the man’s face, has never met him, he doesn’t think, but knows him in the distant way that one knows legends and heroes.  

“The tickets are all yours, Woolsey.” Magnus doesn’t take his eyes off Alec. “I am afraid it appears I will be a little preoccupied, I have some unexpected business to take care off. Enjoy the play on my behalf.”  

Woolsey Scott. The founder of the Praetor Lupus. 

This isn’t funny anymore. 

“Of course.” The corner of Woolsey’s mouth ticks up. None of the documentation around him could have ever come close to capturing the real thing. Magnus had mentioned him a few times, off handed, but Alec can see how they would have gotten along. “Don’t wait up, my dear. I certainly won’t be.”

Just as quickly as he had come sweeping in, Woolsey is gone, and Alec is left to sit glued to the floor while Magnus picks him apart by gaze alone. After a few uncomfortable minutes where the distant ticking of a grandfather stirs Alec a little mad, a chair slides across the polished floor, coming to a stop seamlessly next to Alec. The magic around his hands and feet disappear. He can wiggle his toes again. 

“I kindly suggest that you take a seat.” Magnus states in a tone that leaves no room for a refusal. “I have a few questions that need answering.”

TBC on AO3

[adoredontour]

all the fics i read and loved this month, in order from longest to shortest!

For As Long As I Can Remember (It’s Been December) by green_feelings @greenfeelings 128k

After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.

Featuring an unintentional game of hot and cold, Harry chasing memories that won’t come back, Louis burying himself in work to try and forget what he can’t forget, Liam being torn between two of his best friends, Zayn as a moral compass and Niall saving the day with good music and brutal honesty.

got the sunshine on my shoulders by hattalove 124k

five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn't have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone.

now, harry has everything he could possibly want: he's rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he's forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past - and louis, who's spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him.

(or, an au based on the movie sweet home alabama.)

Tired Tired Sea by MediaWhore 113k

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

nothing worsens, nothing grows by soldouthaz @soldouthaz 102k

and he sits there quietly with harry’s headphones in his ears while his eyes begin to close, totally unaware that he’s listening to the soundtrack of harry falling in love with him.

or, another roadtrip au featuring harry as the misunderstood hipster, louis as the bitter psych major, liam as the one with the secret boyfriend, and niall as the one who just wants everyone to be happy.

& more under the cut!

Follow Your Arrow by bitter_leaf @bitter-leaf 78k

Harry was the golden child, blessed in every way; Niall was the charming miscreant, a bad boy; Liam was the future-son-in-law parents of daughters dreamt of, and Zayn was the kid parents wished was their son. But Louis, Harry thought, Louis was the special one.

It's senior year and everything is about to change.

somethin’ bout you by missandrogyny @missandrogyny 59k

Of all the government agents in the world, Louis had to go and land the most charming one.

The Recklessness in Water by LarryOn @larryonsimon 50k

Louis Tomlinson is miserable. He's stuck on a family vacation at a lake cabin in New Hampshire when all he wants to do is bemoan his sorry existence and wallow in his sweatpants. As if the humidity and mosquitos weren't bad enough, he becomes the singular target of an obnoxious lifeguard named Harry.

Missed Connection by littlelouishiccups @littlelouishiccups 39k

Soulmate AU where your soulmate’s first words to you are tattooed on your skin.

With a boring and generic soul mark like Hi, Harry is pessimistic he’ll ever find his soulmate or that he’ll realize it when he meets them. But he could always have it worse, like his new friend Louis who had a drunken one night stand with his soulmate a few years ago and woke up the next morning alone.

before we knew by falsegoodnight @risthebrave 39k

“C’mon Lou,” says Zayn after a moment, He sounds even more exasperated than before. Louis sort of has a knack for exasperating people, especially people like Zayn who aren’t usually bothered by his brattiness. “Can’t you give this guy a chance? Harry Styles? Aren’t you curious about him at all?”

Despite his best efforts, Louis still flinches at the name. He really shouldn’t be so affected after all these years. He’s seen the name printed down the curve of his waist in obnoxiously and uncommonly large loopy letters every single day since his sixteenth birthday eight years ago. He’s very familiar with the name Harry Styles.

It sounds pretentious and Louis hates it.

He hates everything about his supposed soulmate.

He hates his large handwriting that stands out like a claim on his skin whenever he’s walking around shirtless. He hates his pretentious name. And now he hates his supposed curls and green eyes and dimples.

-

Or Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed into his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

what’s mine is yours to make your own by soldouthaz @soldouthaz 39k

sometimes, the closest harry ever feels to home is louis. it's their shared hotel rooms on tour, their shoes toed off in the doorway next to each other, jackets hung on the same post.

it's everything he doesn't notice until it's been taken away from him.

And Touch Me Like You Never by runaway_train @runaway-train-works 35k

“Lets move back a bit yeah?” Harry clutches at his waist with a free hand and tugs him to move through the crowd until they are almost at the back of the group and settles them both beside the far wall. “There. That better?”

Louis looks up at him, as if he’s a tad dazed. “Uh, yeah, thanks. Can’t really see much from back here either though.”

Harry lifts a shoulder and grins at him, placing a hand on the wall behind Louis to pen him in. “We’ll just have to create our own fireworks then, won’t we?” He says it jokingly with a wink, and Louis laughs but he seems nervous. He must know that Harry is harmlessly flirting. Harry flirts with everyone after all, including Louis.

“Do you think this is a good idea Haz?” Louis asks quietly, almost too quietly in the clamour of the room, his head bowed as he scuffs his shoe on the carpet.

“Stop over thinking it Lou, it’s one kiss. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Or

The one where Harry and Louis agree to be each other's New Year's kiss and it ends up being a lot more than they bargained for.

last blues for bloody knuckles by creamcoffeelou @2ofusmp4

Styles was a name everyone knew. It had evolved into something of a fairy tale, a far away problem that normal people didn’t have to deal with. Louis never thought he’d find himself falling in love with him. When he finds himself pregnant with Harry’s child, he knows he has to leave the life, and Harry, behind. For her sake.

He never expected Harry to show back up on his doorstep five years later.

A mob au.

like it’s a game by soldouthaz @soldouthaz 32k

there is little harry hates more than truth or dare.

and louis.

gathered on wings by Brooklyn_Babylon @twopoppies 32k

As Harry lay by Louis’ side, covered in sweat and come, he knew he should feel ugly, messy, ruined, like the life he’d left behind. But something about the way Louis looked at him, the way his eyes stared at him with want and awe, made Harry wonder if he’d ever feel this beautiful again.

Harry rolled his eyes at himself for his momentary romantic dreaminess. As good as this was, he knew it was nothing more than sex. He literally couldn’t afford to fall for just anyone, no matter how fit they were.

-----

What Harry Styles wanted was to be taken seriously as an artist. What he needed was a new sugar daddy to pave the way. Louis Tomlinson is an artist who isn’t what Harry is looking for. Somehow he still manages to turn Harry's world upside down.

let’s make a thing of cream and stars by missandrogyny @missandrogyny 24k

It doesn't explain why he's lying on the floor, with Harry Styles, of all people, planking on top of him.

As in, seventeenth most influential person in London, pop-star-turned-rock-star Harry Styles. The same Harry Styles who has had countless model girlfriends, left, right and centre. Also the same Harry Styles who has been the subject of Louis' wet dreams since he was about eighteen.

(Or: Louis is a Radio 1 DJ and Harry is a pop-star he interviews.)

Strong Enough by jacaranda_bloom @jacaranda-bloom 21k

The biggest obstacle is still in place, firmly ensconced as a roadblock, cemented in their path and preventing them from moving forward. The thing is, it’s not actually Harry that’s the problem. Harry, for all his faults, for whatever decisions he’s made to lead to him to where he is in his life right now, would move heaven and earth and all that’s in between to help Liam, to support him. No. It’s Louis. He’s the one that has to reach out. He’s the one that has to let go and get the fuck over himself. It’s been five years for Christ's sake. It’s time to move on and suck it up.

“So…” Liam starts, and Louis instantly knows where this is going. He’s actually glad that it’s Liam that drags the subject out from the shadows and into the world. Louis turns to face him, mirroring his position on the couch and nods, ready for him to continue. “Have you spoken to Harry recently?”

Five years after Vertigo goes on hiatus, the band comes back together for a benefit concert. Can Louis and Harry work through their complicated past, or are some wounds too deep to be healed?

you flower, you feast by stylinsoncity @aliensingucci 18k

He's King of the Underworld, but don't assume Louis has it all. He could stand for some excitement in his monotonous, eternal life and maybe, even.....a soulmate.

(Despite not having a soul.)

And along came "Harry".

The Orchards of Jessop by jaerie @jaerie 15k

At age 40, there isn’t much excitement in widower Louis Tomlinson’s life, but wasn’t that the reason he’d moved to Jessop Island in the first place? Back then he hadn’t thought retiring before he reached 30 and moving to the countryside would mean that he’d be doing it alone. Now, just to fill the space, he welcomes lodgers into his home that pass through working as temporary labourers at the orchards just up the road. They’ve all been young adults eager to start lives of their own after one last summer of freedom.

All of them have been much the same, coming and going from Louis’ house with just enough social interaction to keep the house from feeling so empty. But when a global pandemic shuts down the world, being quarantined with a quiet twenty year old who keeps to himself might turn out to be an awkward arrangement. By the time the restrictions have been lifted, their relationship has developed into something Louis isn’t quite ready to give up. With their twenty year age difference, Louis has to be prepared for the inevitable outcome when the reality shatters the private world they’ve been living in. He’s not sure he’ll be able to let it go.

if i had the chance, the things i would do to you by missandrogyny @missandrogyny 14k

Niall sighs. He leans forward, pushing his mug of tea carefully to the side, before bracing his elbows on the table, chin in his hands. It makes him look like some sort of bottle-blonde cherub. "You have quite the fanbase, Harry. I'm not denying that. And you've done a good job of popping out every once in a while in the past two years, just to make sure you're still talked about. But that's all you've done, and I'm not satisfied. I want more." He blinks at Harry. "Don't you want more?"

(Or: AU where Harry and Louis compete in the Lip Sync Battle)

One Way Road To Something Better by femstyles @femstyles 12k

Four years ago when Louis and Harry moved in together, Louis promised Anne that he’d take care of Harry no matter what. But things don’t always go as planned, and sometimes risky choices have to be made.

Inspired by Don't Let It Break Your Heart

baby look what you’ve done to me by ballsdeepinjesus 9k

The next day kind of turns everything upside down, though. Louis gets another lingerie catalogue addressed to Harry. He’s about to toss it when he sees a personalized note stuck to the front; it thanks Harry for his previous purchases and offers him a complimentary six-month subscription to their magazine free of charge. It’s a unisex lingerie catalogue. Lingerie specifically designed to allow for the existence of penises, apparently, judging from the bulging cocks covered in lace that he sees as he flips through the pages. His breath catches in his throat at the thought of a faceless Harry -- mysterious, odd Harry -- dressed up in his purchases, whatever they may be.

He thinks he needs a lie down, to be honest.

[louis moves into harry's old flat. harry gets a lot of mail.]

golden hearts (light their way back down) by fairytalelights @lookslikefairytale 4k

“..So, top or bottom?” Louis asks when Harry tunes back in. And... what? Harry knew he should have been paying more attention but he has no idea how in the hell Louis explaining camp rules to him could have led to discussing sexual preferences this quickly. He must have smiled and nodded at the wrong place one too many times.

or, the one where Harry’s first day as a summer camp counsellor doesn’t go quite as planned.

Still, Somehow, You’re Perfect Now  by FallingLikeThis @fallinglikethis 3k

Harry Styles is Captain of the footie team and all-around popular dude-bro-pal to the entire senior class. He’s kind to everyone from what Louis Tomlinson can tell, and kinder still when he thinks no one is looking. Of course, Louis has been looking. Ever since he transferred schools at the beginning of the year and noticed Harry for the first time, it’s been hard to look away.

All My Friends Are Here by abrighteryellow 

He is about to decline, though. If he has to sit through forced merriment, the least he can do is avoid participation at all costs. He is about to, but then the guy with the microphone is looking out into the crowd. He’s saying things, too — about rules and prizes and team names. At least, Louis assumes so. He can’t really hear him over the ringing in his ears.

“Alright, mate. I’ll play.”

A pub quiz has invaded Louis’s favorite dive. Fortunately, it comes with a charming host.

Front porch and one more kiss by Femstyles @femstyles <1k

A goodnight kiss on a front porch

BONUS: (rereads)

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry @isthatyoularry 136k

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

Close to Nowhere by angelichl @angelichl 34k

“I will kill you in your sleep,” Louis threatened as he quickly stepped out of his jeans.

“I don’t think that would work very well baby, seeing as you talk to dead people all the time.”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep and ignore your ghost. And don’t call me that.”

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

led by your beating heart by missandrogyny @missandrogyny 24k

Nick leans over. "Oh," he says, his voice smug. "Who is that?"

Harry just blinks at his phone. "Um," he manages to stammer out.

"Who's that, Harry?" Nick asks again, but this time he raises his eyebrows and smirks. Harry knows Nick is just teasing, and that he's not really looking for new Harry Styles gossip, but, um. He might have found something. Accidentally.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is another 'um'. He really needs to work on translating his thoughts into words. But then it probably wouldn't be any helpful right now, would it? His mind is as blank as a newly erased etch-a-sketch.

"Oh," Nick says again, this time gleefully, seemingly having picked up on Harry's distress. "Looks like we've got a story here! Are you going to call or delete her number?"

Her number. So Nick thinks it's a girl. Well, Harry can't blame him: 'Lou' is kind of an androgynous nickname. His stylist's name is Lou.

But this Lou, well, Louis, he's kind of, really, really not a girl. He's really pretty though, which, is something.

(Or: AU where Harry's in One Direction, Louis isn't, and they reconnect over a game of 'Call or Delete'.)

[softboywriting]

Little Punk

Summary: You and Shawn navigate your first year with your daughter Luna. [fluff] [punk shawn] [blurb from the fic Opposites Attract]

Word Count: 2k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Two months after your daughter Luna is born, Shawn has to take out his nipple piercing. Neither of you considered his piercings to be an issue until the day he was laying on the couch with Luna on his chest. She was tiny, squirmy and fussy. The only way she would relax was to lay on someone. Shawn had just heard that skin to skin contact is preferred by babies, so he pulled his shirt off and laid Luna on his chest in her diaper during a particularly bad fussing session. It was going great, until she started flexing her little hands over his chest hair and ended up sort of grabbing the little bar through his nipple.

The noise Shawn made scared Luna and she started screaming at the top of her lungs. It was chaos and it took half an hour between the two of you to calm down your little girl. After that Shawn decided to take the piercing out. As much as you loved it and as much as he did too, it was for the best.

______________________

At four months old little Luna was growing fast, and she loved kisses. Her favorite thing was when Shawn got home from work. He would pick her up out of her bouncer and smooch her cheek relentlessly.

It wasn't until she started grabbing for his face for more kisses following her daily smooching that his lip ring became a problem. The first time her little finger caught that ring and pulled Shawn took it out. He tried using the stud for a while like he had when she was first born, but it didn't matter. Luna already knew where to grab for that shiny little piece of metal. It was all over, two days into wearing the stud Shawn had to take it out. Luna tugged hard enough to make it bleed and that was what ended it.

It was at this point where you worried Shawn would be upset. His piercings were part of him, part of who he was. You didn't have to change anything about yourself for your daughter. It didn't seem fair and you had to talk to him about it.

"Shawn, can we talk?" You ask as he steps out of Luna's room and closes the door softly.

"What's up?"

"It's about your piercings."

He nods. "Yeah, I'm probably going to have to take my eyebrow one out next." He touches the little silver bar on his left eyebrow he'd gotten right after you found out you were pregnant. "She's gonna find it soon."

"Are you upset about it?"

"About my piercings?"

"Yeah. I mean, they're important to you?"

Shawn chuckles and wraps his arms around your waist. "Honey, you think that I'm upset because I have to take them out for my baby girl's safety?"

"Well...I dunno." You look up and him and he kisses your nose. "I don't have to make any sacrifices like that for her."

"They're just piercings. Tiny holes in my skin. I can always get them back." He walks you back into the bedroom and smiles. "I would give up everything for our little girl. Things are temporary, she is not. She's the whole world and there is only one of her. A couple of piercings healing over is absolutely nothing."

You lay your head on his chest. Relief washes over you and you squeeze him tight. "I guess it was a silly thing to worry about."

He chuckles and kisses your head. "Just a little silly, but I'm glad you asked me. Now, let's get to bed before she wakes up, I have a feeling it's going to be one of those nights."

_____________________

Six months old and Luna adores Shawn's tattoos. She's always liked them, been curious about them since it looked different than his other arm or your skin. But at six months she loves to sit in her little supportive baby pillow and rub up and down his arm.

If Shawn gets up, she must be carried with him. If Shawn sits on the wrong side where she can't touch him, he hears about it. She will babble aggressively and slap her support pillow until he changes seats. It's during one of her complaints against Shawn that she says her first words.

"Dada!"

Your eyes go wide and you look over from your chair. "Did she say dada?"

"Did she? Are you sure? She wasn't just babbling?"

"Dada!" Luna shrieks, smacking her pillow. "Dada!"

"That's dada!" Shawn says, crawling off the couch and kneeling before Luna. "Dada?" He points at himself.

Luna reaches for his arm. "Dada...babalugah."

You stand up and look down at the two them. "I think she wants your arm."

Shawn rests his forearm across the front of Luna's pillow and she giggles and slaps it in delight. "Oh man, she is going to be a handful one day."

Luna leans forward and mouths at his skin while babbling and pinching at him.

"Why's that?"

"She already loves tattoos."

You shove Shawn's shoulder and he slumps against couch laughing. He thought he was so funny.

____________________

Nine months and Luna has started fully talking. In her own language of course, but there are some words in there like mama and dada. She's started to stand with the assistance of the couch and the ottoman. Her favorite game is to play peek a boo with you and Shawn and she has a love for her soft rattle ring like no other.

It's amazing, watching her grow like this, but you have to go back to work. Shawn was making great money since he took over the auto shop from the owner who taught him everything he knows. But you still had to work, to catch up on medical bills and save for Luna to go to school someday. The first thing no one tells you about having a kid is that they're expensive, like really, really expensive.

Going back to work meant sending Luna to daycare. You hate the idea and Shawn hates it more. He doesn't want anyone taking care of his little girl if it's not up to his standards and his standards are pretty high. The man spoils your daughter like crazy. Sending Luna to daycare also poses another problem, transportation. You have your car but Shawn still has his bike. You can't be the only one to take her to and from everything.

"What do you think of Jeeps?" Shawn asks one day over breakfast.

"They're nice." You feed Luna a bit of your scrambled eggs. "They can definitely haul more than my car."

Shawn's quiet. You look over and raise your eyebrows at him. "What?"

"Why are you asking about Jeeps?"

"I'm gonna trade in the bike."

"Shawn, no." You shake some yogurt bites on to Luna's highchair tray and turn to face Shawn completely. "You've had that since you were eighteen."

"But we have a baby now." He makes little grabby hands at Luna and she giggles as she smushes the yogurt bites into her mouth. "I can't take her on the bike."

"Keep it in the garage then. We can afford a car payment as soon as I start working."

"You're sure?" He rubs his neck and shoulder. "I don't want to put any more bills on us right now."

You reach across the table and take his hands. "I won't let you get rid of your bike. You've gotten rid of all of your piercings but your nose. And yes, I know they aren't a big deal to you, but if you sell your bike you will never get it back. Keep it."

Shawn smile and kisses your knuckles. "Casey is going to sell me his wife's Jeep if we want it. She's getting a minivan since their son just turned six and they have another on the way. It's in great condition and-"

"I trust you. If you think it's good, tell him we want it. Do not sell your bike. I won't have you thirty years from now having a middle aged crisis because you sold your bike in your twenties."

"This is why I'm going to marry you one day." He stands up and pecks your lips. "I'm going to tell Casey today that we want it. Love you."

"I love you too."

"And you munchkin." He spikes Luna's fair dark hair up into a little mohawk. "I love you too."

_____________________

Luna's first birthday marks you and Shawn's second anniversary of being together. It's incredible, unbelievable and most of all a miracle you made it through her first year. There were times when you had to sit in the bathroom and just cry because Luna's crying was too much. There was the baby gate incident when she grabbed on to the gate to stand and it wasn't fully latched and she had gone tumbling down the stairs. Her late night growing pains and sleeplessness. Refusing food if it wasn't from her favorite parent of the day. And worst of all, putting her in daycare and being away from her. That was the hardest of all.

It's the end of the day, your parents and Shawn's have gone home. Luna is passed out in her play area, snuggled up with her new teddy bear. You're exhausted, Shawn is exhausted, the day could not have been over faster.

"Hey," Shawn says softly, sitting down beside you on the couch and passing you a piece of cake. "I know you didn't eat much earlier."

"Thanks." You dig your fork into the pink frosted white cake. "I got you something."

"Yeah? Me?"

"For our anniversary."

Shawn grins and licks his fork clean of it's frosting. "Oh yeah?" He reaches over the side of the couch and pulls a card in an envelope out of lilies toy ottoman. "I got something for you too."

"Me first." You hand him a small envelope and he opens it up. Inside is a gift certificate for Casey's shop.

"What..." He shakes out two little silver barbells. "Oh." A slow grin spreads across his face. "Oh you want my nips repierced, huh?"

"Whenever you want to do it. If you want to that is. The certificate is good for anything obviously."

Shawn leans over and kisses your cheek. "Just admit you're a little kinky and you like playing with me."

"Shawn!" You hiss, eyeing the sleeping one year old on the playmat nearby.

"She's asleep. Don't worry about it." Shawn places his gift in your lap. "Open yours."

You pull open the flap on the yellow envelope and pull out a glittery card. Happy anniversary to my beautiful wife. "Wife huh?" You chuckle and open the card. "We aren't married y-" the card begins playing a tinny recorded version of Marry Me by Train and in the center of the card is taped a little silver ring.

"Will you be my wife?"

"Shawn!" You fumble with the ring and put it on. It's thin, delicate with a small little diamond in the middle. "How?!"

"I've been saving for the last two years. I know it's nothing huge of course. I promise your wedding ring will be much bigger."

"It's gorgeous." You set your cake plate aside and reach for his face. "I'd love to marry you." You lean in and kiss him.

"Mamamakiss."

You and Shawn look down at Luna who's woken up and made her way to the couch. Shawn lifts her up and she reaches for your face.

"Mmmm." Luna giggles and smushes her mouth to your cheek. "Makissmakiss."

Shawn leans in and kisses your other cheek. "I think she wants a kiss too darling."

You pull away and wipe at your cheek. "You want a kiss baby?"

Luna giggles and you lean into kiss her cheek. She points to Shawn. "Da! Da!"

"Dad next?" You laugh and kiss Shawn's cheek. Luna falls back into Shawn giggling and he hugs her tightly. "You're such a goober."

"She's our goober." Shawn presses his face into her hair. "Our little punk."

"Yes she is." You lean against him and Luna grabs your hand as she closes her eyes to sleep. "Our adorable little punk."

End

----------

Thank you so much for reading :)  Please Reblog -A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 10

 Warnings: parent/child angst and strife. Some language.

We also finally get info on how the hell Tyler and Esme ended up in Dhaka together ;)

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @valkyrie-of-the-light, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

If it isn’t too much trouble, just leave a comment or even send me a message! I love hearing from you guys!!

@valkyrie-of-the-light  we are getting closer to finding out who the stranger is ;)

“In all fairness,” Esme says with a yawn, as she lays in the middle of their rumpled bed. “I don’t think Ovi meant to cause problems.”

It’s seven thirty in the morning and the house remains in peaceful slumber; unusual, as all of the kids are usually up and causing chaos at the crack of dawn. The baby is at the breast; suckling sleepily and contently, while Millie is tucked into her side; snoring lightly, a thumb in her mouth. A bad habit she’d managed to break before starting kindergarten but always reverted back to in times of stress.

“He just should have kept his goddamn mouth shut,” Tyler grumbles, as he pulls on a pair of baggy and weathered jeans, doing up the zipper and button before attending to his belt.

“Well she did ask,” his wife attempts to reason, watching him as he dresses, eyes feasting on those broad shoulders and wide back; his skin a canvas for the bulging, rippling muscles, tattoos, scars, and now bright red and brutal looking scratch marks caused by her nails. “She wanted to know why you go away so much. She’s five and curious. Not to mention she misses you like crazy when you’re gone.”

It’s hard on all of them, but it’s especially difficult for the little five-year-old that thinks the sun rises and sets on her father. In her mind there’s nothing he can’t do. No promise big or small that can’t keep or no problem he can’t fix. And when he’s gone she’s heartbroken; refusing to sleep in her own bed and choosing to stay with her mother, sleeping on his pillow, wanting to cuddle up to one of his dirty shirts so she can smell him. When he calls or video chats, she’s the first and the last he talks to. Then spends hours in tears after he disconnects.

“It’s way too early for a guilt trip,” he says, and pulls a simple white t-shirt over his head.

“That’s not what I was doing and you know it. When have I ever guilt tripped you over making the decision you did? And I mean an intentional guilt trip.”

It would have been so easy for her to do. He knows that. He’d made the decision without her and had even talked to Nik about getting back into the game before he mentioned it to his own wife. It should have been talked about. She should have at least had a chance to argue her side against it instead of just feeling as if her hands were tied and her opinion or her fears and worries didn’t matter.  In many ways he still struggles to find a balance between the way he was before and his role as a husband and a father. He’d spent years only worrying about himself (and even that wasn’t done well) and it wasn’t an easy habit to break.

Yet not once has she ever intentionally made him feel guilty for going back on the job. He knew she was pissed. That she still is at times. Disappointed that he just couldn’t walk away and make a clean break from it for the sake of her and their kids. But she still supported him. Never made him feel like a selfish fuck.

Even though he often felt that way about himself.

“At the hospital when you were having the twins,” he says. “You lost your shit on me.”

“I had been in labour for eighteen hours and you’d just gotten back from Croatia on the only flight you could find. And you were covered in dirt and blood and wearing fatigues and you looked like you’d just walked out of a war zone. The doctors and the nurses wondered what the hell had happened to you. Not to mention the epidural wouldn’t take. You can’t take anything seriously I said at that point. I was just pissed at you because I was in bloody agony. And because of your weak as fuck pull out game.”

He smirks at that.

“She asked him, Tyler. She wanted to know why you leave so much and where you go. What was he supposed to say?”

“He could have said anything. He could have made up any kind of bullshit. He didn’t have to tell her that.”

“Didn’t have to tell her what? The truth? Because that’s all he did. And it’s not like he went into all the gory and brutal details. All he told her is that when people need help, you go and help them. You get them away from bad guys. Because that is exactly what you do.”

“But it’s not all I do.”

“She doesn’t need to know that part. She doesn’t need to know how capable you are of hurting people. Of killing people. All she wanted to know is what you do and where you go. Ovi explained the best he could. It was better than lying to her and then her being totally pissed when she’s older and finds out the truth. She thinks you’re a superhero.”

He sighs, sitting at the end of the bed as he straps on his watch. “I’m no hero. Especially not a super one.”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” she stretches out her leg and rubs the tips of her toes against the small of his back. “You’re built like one. Not to mention sexy as hell. Aren’t most superhero’s sexy? So you fit most of the categories.”

He reaches around to grab her foot; massaging softly as he winks at her over his shoulder.

“The people you help think you’re a hero,” she says. “So do their families. So does your daughter. And so do I.”

He doesn’t deserve that kind of praise. At least not in his own mind. While it may be physically easy to inflict pain and even death on those deemed to deserve it, it was difficult…mentally speaking…to take a life. After the adrenaline wore off and you were able to register both what happened and that you were still alive, reality would set in. And he’d be covered in someone else’s blood and God knows what else and he’d think about how he’d just killed someone else’s family member. Someone’s son. Brother. Uncle. Friend. Maybe even someone’s husband and father.

He did what he did out of necessity. Not pride.

He stands, running a hand over his weary face and then raking his fingers through his damp hair. Collecting his wallet and sunglasses of the nightstand on his side of the bed, sliding the former into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Please tell me you’ll be home by the time Ovi’s girlfriend…or whatever the hell she is…gets here. If you abandon me and leave me to deal with this by myself…”

He leans over the bed to kiss her. “If I’m not home in a few hours, just assume your mother somehow managed to kill me and has hidden the body somewhere you’ll never find it.”

“Thank you, for doing this for me. I know it isn’t easy for you.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You know that.” He kisses her again, a finger hooked under her chin, tilting her face up towards his. “I love you.”  Those words had never come easily to him. Not until he’d met her. Now he says them as often as he can. Just in case.

She smiles. “I love you too. Try not to let her get to you. Easier said than done, I know. But I’m sure she’s going to try to bait you into lashing out. Just so she can paint you as the bad guy.”

“I can handle her,” he assures her, then leans down to drop a kiss on Millie’s head and then the baby’s.

“Call when you get there,” she says as he heads for the door. “Just so I know you got there safe and sound.”

“You’re turning soft on me in your old age,” he teases, running a hand over her hair and giving her one last kiss.

“Maybe I just like knowing you’re okay. I can’t control what goes on thousands of miles away, but I feel like I can when it’s forty-five minutes.”

He’s the same. Always wanting to know if she got somewhere safe and sound. Life was way too short not to remind the people you love just how much you actually do care about them. And sometimes that love comes out in different ways; verbally, gestures of appreciation and affection, making sure they check in so you know they’re okay.

“Check on the boys,” she suggests before he slips out of the room.  

“I will,” he promises, and gives her a wink before stepping out into the hallway.

 ****

His mother in law answers on the third knock; eyes glassy and cheeks flushed.  And he can smell the booze on her when she gives him a stiff and awkward one-armed hug. Even this small gesture of affection is out of character for her; she was more apt to punch him in the throat or kick him in the nuts than give him any sort of hug. It takes him by surprise; brain needing a few minutes to register just what the hell is happening. Slowly and a bit reluctantly bringing his hand up to settle in the middle of her shoulder blades.

“It’s good to see you,” her voice is slightly slurred and she’s a little uneasy on her feet as she lays a hand on his arm, both steadying herself and guiding him towards the hall that leads to the kitchen. “Esme is right. You do smell really good.”

He smirks, toeing off his boots, hoping he doesn’t come across as rude when he gently removes his arm from his grasp and then gestures for her to go first.  Being drunk doesn’t make up for all the things she’s said and done while sober. He doesn’t give a shit about her opinion on him; he’s heard worse from better. But he’s been in her company when she’s tried gaslighting her own daughter and has heard the abuse she’s lumped on Esme for years.  He tries to remind himself that he’s here for his wife. For his kids. When his mother in law had left a voice message on his cell asking him to come to the house for a ‘chat’, he’d been leery about her attentions.

But he’d seen the way Esme’s face had brightened at the thought of them actually burying the hatchet and he didn’t have the heart to let her down.

So here he is. Just shy of ten in the morning. Following behind his already inebriated mother in law. He remembers those days; drunk off his ass by noon hour. Back then it hadn’t mattered; he’d had fuck all to live for and was very close to just putting a bullet in his own head. Now when he thinks back on it, he realizes just how pathetic it was. And he’s determined to never get that far into the booze again.

“Do you want a drink?” she asks, as she motions for him to sit down at the kitchen table. It’s cluttered; days worth of newspapers and unopened bills. The counters are in a similar state; a sink full of unwashed dishes and empty and half empty bottles of liquor and wine littering every available space.

“It’s ten in the morning,” Tyler points out, and he removes his sunglasses from his eyes and his cell phone from his pocket and places both on the table. “Don’t you think it’s a little too early for that?”

She ignores him and moves to pour herself another drink, then starts up the coffee maker.

“Where’s Sarge?”

Everyone calls Esme’s stepfather that. When they’d first met, he’d attempted to call man by his first name and was quickly corrected. He was a good guy, tall and broad with a head full of thick white hair and a handlebar moustache. Posture rigid and proud as if he were still serving in the military.  And other than Esme’s younger sister Lyla, he’d been the only one that had welcomed Tyler into their family with open arms.

“On one of his boy trips to Vegas,” she sighs.  “And we all know what goes on in Vegas.”

Tyler has never been there himself, but according to Esme, it means that her stepdad and the boys go around fucking random women and spending their money on three things: booze, gambling, and strippers.

“We’re having troubles,” she admits.

“Sorry to hear that.”

He’s not really. Far from it. There’s a feeling of vindication that surges through him at the mere thought that the woman who’d been badgering her daughter about her decision to stay in Australia with some ‘random fuck’ (as her mother called him), was now being served a nice dose of karma. That all those times she’s been on Esme’s ass about an unwanted and unplanned first pregnancy and a hasty marriage, were coming back to haunt her.

He wants to ask her how that slice of ‘shut the fuck up pie’ tastes. But he doesn’t. Reminding himself yet again that he’s there for his wife and his kids. To be the bigger person. To make the visits and the holidays at least tolerable.

“Black, no sugar, right?” she inquires, pausing before pouring the fresh brew into a mug.

“Yeah. Thanks,” he manages a small pleasant smile in appreciation and accepts the drink as she slips into the chair across from him.  

The next few minutes pass by excruciating slow; no sound other than the soft hum of the fridge and slight dripping off the kitchen tap. And she nurses her drink while he runs his palm along the side of the porcelain mug, then taps it against the side, wedding band making a soft clinking noise.  

“What am I..” he attempts.

“So I guess…” she speaks at the same time, then laughs. “You go ahead.”

“It’s your home.”

“Visitors first,” she insists.

“I was just going to ask what I’m doing here. I’m normally the last person you like to see darkening your doorstep. I was surprised when you called.”

“I thought that you and I needed to have a chat.”

“About?”

“My daughter, mostly.”

He nods. “You mean, my wife.”

There was no need to say it. It was petty as fuck and Tyler knows it. But there’s a sense of satisfaction at seeing the way that it bothers the woman. She can’t handle the fact that that’s exactly what he is.  Her daughter’s husband. The father of her grandkids. Five years and counting and she can’t accept him.  He’s still a stranger to her. That random guy that had talked her daughter into his bed and never let her leave.

“I know your secret you know,” her eyes are narrowed as she regards him.

He cocks his head to the side, smirk tugging at his lips. “You do, do you? And what secret is that?”

“I know what you’re up to. I know why you go away so much. Why you’re gone for so long.”

He doubted it. But why not play along and see where it goes.

“And why’s that?” he asks. “Why do I go away so much?”

“It isn’t for a job. No one travels that much for a job.  It’s women. Other women. Not just one. Many. All over the damn place.”

At first, he just stares at her. Trying to even comprehend the nonsense that is coming out of her mouth. He’s made a lot of stupid decisions in his life and has been a complete and utter asshole while both drunk and sober, but one thing he wasn’t was a cheater. And it wasn’t for the lack of temptation. He simply isn’t that kind of guy. The second he decided to pop the question, that was it. There would be no other women after her. Ever.

Finally he throws his head back and laughs. The mere idea so ridiculous that he can’t help himself.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he agrees. “I have other women all over the world. I even have another family back in Australia. Eight kids. Your daughter knows all about them.”

She frowns. “You can laugh all you want. But I know it’s true.”

“You don’t know shit. There are no other women. There haven’t been any other women since I met your daughter. I would never, ever cheat on Esme.”

“I know men like you,” she growls.

“Men like me? What kind of man am I?”

“Just look at you. You just look the type. The good looks and the muscles and…”

“Are you trying to pick me up? Because I hate to sound like an asshole, but you’re not my type. And I’m not into a whole mother-daughter thing, so…”

“How many are there?” she presses. “How many other women are there?”

“You’re actually being serious about this? You really think I’m cheating on your daughter?”

“I know you are.”

“Like I said already, you know shit. I am not cheating on your daughter. I will never cheat on your daughter. She’s my wife. The mother of my children. The last thing I would ever do is hurt her like that. I’d put a bullet in my brain before I’d ever hurt her. Or my kids. There are no other women. There’s only her. I only want her. For the rest of my life.”

She stares at him.

“I love your daughter. More than I ever thought I could love someone. She’s my entire existence. Her and my kids. So don’t sit here and insult me. I don’t cheat. I’m not your husband.”

She blinks at the harsh truth dumped in her lap.

“I know you hate me. I know you think I took your daughter away from you.”

“You did.”

“But she chose to stay. When I was in the hospital, she was the one that chose to stick around. I didn’t even expect her to be there when I woke up. But she was. And you know what? That was the happiest fucking moment in my life when I opened my eyes and she was sitting there.  Imagine almost dying and when you come to, that is the first thing you see? Someone that beautiful at your bedside?  You have no idea what that felt like. To see her there. And to know she chose to be there.”

“She’s loyal,” her mother agrees. “To a fault.”

“Maybe. But she’s also the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. And an amazing mother. You don’t see her with those kids. How she is with them. She puts everything she has into raising them. She tries every day to be a better person, a better mother for them. Probably because she never had that herself.”

“Excuse me, but what…”

“Don’t bullshit yourself. You know it’s the truth. You’ve spent the past thirty-five years shitting all over her. Making her feel horrible about herself, making her feel as if she doesn’t measure up, that she disappointed you. You even stayed friends with her ex husband. Who’s a fucking coward that likes to abuse women. You don’t hate me because I took your daughter away. You hate me because I’m the only one that’s ever defended her. Because you know you can’t manipulate me.”

She gives a small snort and takes a large gulp of her drink.

“I gave her the chance,” Tyler continues. “After I woke up in the hospital and before anything went further between us. I told her that she could leave. That she didn’t have to stick around. That she didn’t have to feel obligated to be there. And you know what she did? She told me she loved me. And it didn’t even matter that I didn’t say it back right away. She was sticking around. I didn’t force her to be there. Regardless of what you think.”

“You got her pregnant,” she hisses. “Of course she’d stay.”

“We didn’t know about the baby before I told her she could leave. That was three weeks later. And no, it wasn’t planned. We should have been more careful. But Esme gave me a beautiful daughter. Millie is beautiful and she’s smart and she’s caring and she’s everything that’s good about me and everything that’s good about Esme all rolled into one. She wasn’t planned, but she wasn’t unwanted. She’s your granddaughter. How can you look at her and think she was an accident? How the fuck can you honestly think that?”

“I never said she was an accident.”

“You were drunk last Christmas and told her to her face that her mommy and daddy made a mistake and that’s why she’s here. She was four years old. You broke her heart. A little girl. And not just any little girl. My little girl. That’s pretty fucked up and I probably should have let your daughter beat your ass when she wanted to. But I didn’t.”

“I was drinking. If I’d been sober..”

“Please. You’ve said some pretty messed up shit about your own kid when you’ve been sober so don’t play that shit with me. You really want to know where I go and why I’m gone for so long? How I ended up in the hospital all torn up to shit?  You really want to know?”

She stares at him.

“Because I’ll tell you. I will tell you the honest to God’s truth if you want to know. You won’t like what you’ll hear, but I will tell you. Is that what you want?”

She nods.

****

He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Clears his throat noisily.  “I’m a mercenary,” he says, and he watches the way her eyes widen and her brows shoot up.  “I was a mercenary when I met Esme. It’s how we met. She was involved with the same people I worked for. That I still work for.”

“What?” she laughs incredulously. “Esme? My Esme?”

“She was an intel person. She was the one that would that go into a place and trick people into telling her everything that we needed to know. Names, places. That sort of thing.  And she was good at it. No, she was fucking great at it. And that’s how we met. My boss put us together and sent us to Bangladesh. Dhaka.”

She swallows the remains of her drink, then gets up to pour another.

“We were sent there because one drug lord took another drug lord’s kid and my boss was having a hard time getting information. So we had to pretend that we were married. Newlyweds doing missionary work. She was there to get the info, I was there to protect her. After that, I was the one in charge of getting the kid out.”

“Ovi.” It’s a statement. Not a question.

Tyler nods. “Things went to shit. Everything blew up in our face. I almost died. On a bridge there. When I was shot in the throat. There were other injuries too. Tons of them. It’s how I ended up in the hospital for as long as I was.  I was this close…” he holds his thumb and forefinger a hairs width apart. “…to dying on that bridge. And the only reason I didn’t? The only thing that kept me hanging on? Your daughter. So don’t you ever question my love or my loyalty to her ever again.”

She leans back in her chair, hands tightly clasping her drink.

“That’s a lot to hear, I know. But it’s the truth. That’s what happened. That’s who I am. Who I really am. I get sent places to help people. I get paid to go into god awful shitty messes to fix things. And sometimes, things go wrong and I get the shit kicked out of me. Or I get stabbed. Or shot. But I always come home. To my wife and my kids. So no…” he sips his coffee. “…I am not cheating on your daughter. Although right now I bet you wish I was instead of hearing all this other crap.”

Silence. Even longer and more tedious than the first one. And he sits back in his chair and slowly sips the coffee.  Waiting for her to finally come to terms with all the information that she’s just been given.

“But why?” she asks at last. “After everything you went through…after almost dying…why would you still do it?”

“Because the money is good,” he admits. “And I’m good at it. Damn good. It’s what I do.”

“Well that’s pretty fucking selfish don’t you think? A job like that when you have a wife and kids at home?”

“Maybe. But your daughter accepts it. She supports me. I do what I have to do for my family. Even if it means killing people.”

“And Esme is okay with that? With you…killing people?”

“Your daughter was in the Marines. She specialized in weapons and ammunition. You really don’t think her hands are entirely clean, do you?”

“No…I just…I…” she stumbles over her words. “…I guess I never thought about what she was actually doing when she was overseas. And now you’re telling me she was a mercenary and…”

“She wasn’t. That wasn’t her job. Her job was to gather intel. That’s it.”

“It’s your job to kill people.”

“I kill them if I have to. Sometimes there’s no other choice.”

“But what about your children? What do you tell them? What…?”

“They have no clue what is going on. Millie sort of does. She asked Ovi why I go away so much and what I do when I’m away. He just told her that I help people get away from bad guys. They’re young. They don’t need to know anything more than that. And I hope you can respect that. That you can respect your daughter enough not to say anything. To them. To anyone.”

“I can’t even wrap my head around all of this,” she admits. “This is all just so crazy. I’m sitting across the table from a killer. A hired killer.”

“I don’t just kill people. That’s not all there is to it. It just has to happen sometimes. I’m asking you for a favour here. I’m asking you not to say anything to the kids. To anyone else in the family. This goes no further than the two of us. The less people who know, the better. Trust me.”

“I won’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” she promises. “And even if I did, no one would believe me. This is just all so…insane.”

“It’s wee bit crazy,” he agrees, and then checks his cell phone as it vibrates against the table.  

“Esme?”

“Yeah, the kids always get her to send me pictures,” he smiles at the one currently on the screen: the twins helping feed the chickens.  And he holds the cell out, screen towards her. “They like to help. They love being outside. Love to help their mom out.”

For a few minutes they’re able to put their differences aside -and she’s able to forget about the booze- as he shows her the various, most recent pictures in his room. Including the one that Esme had sent him of himself, Millie, and the twins sleeping on the hammock.

“Do you ever think about taking them to your home?” she asks curiously. “You’re home, home. Where you’re from.”

“Sometimes I think about it, I guess. About how much they’d like it. All the beaches and the water. And it would be nice to take them. At least for a visit. Just to let them see where I grew up. Maybe even meet their grandfather. That’s up in the air. He isn’t exactly the grandfather type. He wasn’t even the father type, so it shouldn’t surprise me that grandkids aren’t important to him.”

“Esme said that they two of you aren’t close. That’s sad.”

“It is what it is. We haven’t been close in a long time. Since my mother died. Even before then things weren’t great. He was there, but he wasn’t there at the same time. Esme’s told me a lot about her father. They were very close.”

“Very,” she confirms. “She was a daddy’s girl. Daddy could do no wrong in her eyes. They were always together. He was always right by her side, supporting her every step of that way. He would have been proud of her. For joining the Corps. He would have been so proud,” she clears her throat noisily as tears threaten. “He was a good man. A fantastic man. And a big piece of her died when he did.  She was never the same. Never happy. Rarely smiled or laughed. That changed when you came along.”

“It’s all I want. For her to be happy. To make her happy.”

“I saw it right away. That first night when the two of you got to Colorado. She was tired and she was hurting but she was happy. Every time she looked at you, every time you smiled at her, the way you spoke to her. I knew that you made her happy. And I could tell that she made you happy as well.”

“She does. She came into my life when I didn’t have anything to live for. She gave me a reason to keep going. Now I have four other reasons.”

She smiles at that.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for your daughter,” he says. “Or your grandkids. You can hate me all you want, but they’re my family. My entire world. And I love your daughter. More than I could ever tell you. More than I could ever tell her, actually.”

She reaches out and lays her hand over his. The first display of genuine affection he’s received from her in five years.

“You’re good for her,” she says. “And I hope she’s just as good for you.”

“She is. In so many ways. I don’t know what happened between the two of you. Why the two of you stopped being close. But your daughter deserves that again. She may be a mom now, but she deserves to have a mom, too.”

She nods slowly, considering his words.

***

He stays for an hour. Helping her clean up the mess in the house. Fixing lose cabinets and changing burnt out lightbulbs and helping take things down to the basement for storage. They talk; she tells him stories from Esme’s childhood, he shares tales of growing up in Australia.  Afterwards she walks him out to the car, and the hug she gives this time is genuine.

“Please take care of them. My daughter. My grandkids. That’s all I ask. Just take care of them.”

“I will. I promise.”

“And don’t hurt my daughter. She trusts you. Don’t make her regret that.”

“I won’t. You don’t have to worry about that. I love her too much to hurt her.”

Tears sparkle in her eyes. “Thank you. For loving her as much as you. And for giving me those beautiful grandbabies.”

He smiles, and then gives her a hug of his own.

“And be careful,” she adds, as he climbs into the SUV. “When you’re out there. Just be careful. Be safe.”

“I always am.”

She reaches out and pats him on the cheek affectionately. Motherly. Then steps back as he shuts the door, guns the ignition, and drives away.

[purplebenjy]

Barlights || AU 2018

“Amycus. Come on. You’ve got to let me in.”

Benjy’s arms cross over his mesh shirt, partially in agitation partially to try to warm himself up. 

“It’s fucking cold out here, man.” 

Amycus for his part, genuinely looks the part when he sighs and shakes his head. 

“Can’t do it, Benj. I know you’re not eighteen.”

Benjy scoffs, his breath turns into a poof of smoke in the air that lights up pink from the Lagoon’s neon sign. It was a seedy, shithole gay bar-and thus the best place for rich closeted men to frequent. If people recognized them, they were either in the same boat or too blitzed to care. And even recognition was difficult inside the club with it’s nearly pitch dark lighting and constant color changing and flashing lights. 

Benjy has been going pretty consistently over the past two years, that was, until last week, when someone snitched on him to Oscar. A lot of the other men he worked with were jealous of Benjy’s ability to both appeal to and woo the higher end clients. It was a side effect of growing up in the Black’s various mansions-even if he was just their Show and Tell only foster child. When there were big events, chances for Mr. Black to look good and devoted, they rolled Benjy out, droning on and on about how full he made their lives-their only son.  As soon as the cameras left, they went back to ignoring him save for a weekly chore list he had to work on-nevermind the girls never had to lift a finger. Still, even being basically a servant, Benjy had picked up on a thing or two-including a decently posh accent. He had a client tell him one time that paying him for sex didn’t seem as dirty because Benjy didn’t seem as dirty. He still isn’t sure if it was a compliment or not, but it definitely stuck with him. If anything, Benjy has ramped up the poshness, embodying the dutiful doting nature of too many of the women he had witnessed in his foster mother’s inner circle. And it worked.The men ate it up and he was making more money than he ever had before in his life-clearly someone had tipped Amycus off in an effort to try to move in on his business.

“You don’t know I’m not eighteen.” He says easily as he steps into Amycus’s personal space. He’s not ugly-not that that matters anymore- with big broad shoulders and dark almost perfect skin. He’s got some sort of scar that looks like a burn mark on his neck-Benjy bets it’d be sensitive if he kissed it. Amycus’s brown eyes watch him warily as Benjy produces an ID.

“See? Eighteen.”

“According to that, you’re twenty.”

“Yeah.” Benjy says easily, not missing a beat. Lying is so easy at this point it’s basically his second language. 

“Benjy, this is an even worse fake than last week’s.”

Benjy sighs, takes a step closer.

“Maybe we can work something out?” His voice is low, his touch soft as he traces the outside of Amycus’s thumb around his fake ID. For his part, Amycus’s breath hitches just slightly.

“I don’t sleep with little boys.”

“Who’s little? I’m twenty-one.”

“Twenty.” 

Benjy laughs. “Sure.”

He leans forward and carefully kisses the spot on his neck, smiling when he feels Amycus melt under his lips. That never got old-regardless of who it was or how much he was making. After a few more kisses, Amycus’s strong hands pull Benjy away, resting on the outside of his arms. He’s trying and failing not to smile as he speaks, holding Benjy in place.

“You’re something else.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Amycus’s smile wins out and Benjy smiles back. He is pretty cute. A small part of him wonders if he could push this further-get Amycus to claim him permanently, but he pushes that pipe dream away as soon as it crosses his mind.

“Go ahead.” Amycus says, nodding to the three older men who have materialized out of the shadows. After they enter the club, Amycus turns back to him, still holding him at arm’s length.

“How the hell’d you end up here anyway, Benjy?”

Benjy shrugs as best he can.

“How does anyone?”

He remembers briefly. Andy popping up in his room at 2 in the morning, whisper yelling at him in a hushed voice  that Narcissa had seen him kissing his friend Ollie before Benjy got out of his car. How she just told The Blacks-how her father was planning on sending him to some sort of camp in the morning. She’d helped him pack and given him one hundred quid she’d stolen. That first couple of months spent bouncing between shelters and motels and the street, texting Andy when he could find Wifi, trying to survive. He’d found a job cleaning office buildings until his coworker and eventual room mate Gideon showed him just how much he could make on the street. Gideon introduced him to Barty who, for 40% of what he earned, let Benjy stay in the run down apartment building his family owned. Barty, who was expecting a big amount of money from him tonight and would do lord knows what if he didn’t bring it to him.

“Come on, Amy. Please?” 

Amycus knew Barty-that was how they ended up at this club in the first place. Amycus sighs, Benjy tries again, speaking quickly.

“It’s not like anyone is gonna call about me being in there-there's too many risks and too much loss for everyone if the Lagoon shuts down. Come on. I won’t even drink. I promise.”

Amycus chuckles slightly.

“You promise, huh?”

Benjy nods really enthusiastically. 

“Yep. Hate drinking when I do this anyway. I really need the money, mate. Can you help me out?”

Amycus’s eyes meet his and Benjy knows he’s won.

“When’s your birthday?”

“November. November 23rd.”

Amycus drags his fingers slowly down Benjy’s arms, making him shiver.

“If I let you in-and you don’t drink-and you’re still on the scene by your birthday...maybe I’ll let you pay me back.”

Benjy grins.

“Does that mean I get to go in?”

Amycus rolls his eyes good naturedly. 

“Fine. But if you drink-”

“I won’t.”

Benjy closes the distance between them and gives Amycus a sweet kiss on the lips. He tastes like cough drops and cigarettes.

“A taste of what’s to come in November. There’s no way I’ll be anywhere else.”

But Benjy had no idea how wrong he was.

~

It’s been a relatively good night, and Benjy’s only been inside for an hour. Someone had pulled him into the alley and paid him for a blowjob that had lasted maybe three minutes-easiest fifty bucks he’d made. The man left without looking at him and that had stopped hurting a long time ago. Benjy stands, counting the money again as he put it in his pocket, and heads towards the side door, sneaking back in. A few people leer at him as he makes his way through the crowd, but he’s expecting it. He’s in what he calls his uniform-or one of the versions of it. Black mesh shirt so he can show off the tattoos on his chest-face shaved, his long dark back in a small ponytail with a few pieces springing out to frame his face. He’s got on tight faux leather pants-glorified leggings really-with nothing on underneath to allow the easiest access to his body as possible. Most of his clients liked to fuck him in the alley behind the bar, or, if they were really feeling fancy, the backseats of their luxury cars. He’d learned early on that underwear just got in the way. He has on his old beaten up Doc Martens that were a size too big-easy to slip on and off and also good for a well placed kick if he needed to get away. He’d been lucky in that aspect, though Benjy suspected that had largely to do with Barty and his nearly constant stream of blackmail threats if clients didn’t pay or got too aggressive.

He smiles at the bartender and one of the owners-Alecto-who sort of smiles back. She always gives him shit but she also looks out for all the boys who come through there, kicking out and banning the particularly nasty older men.

“Diet Coke please, Lecto.” 

“And?”

Benjy smiles at her. “Ice cubes.”

She rolls her eyes and starts making his drink. Benjy turns around from the counter, his back pressed against the bar as he surveys the crowd.

“Kept your promise, I see.” 

The sound of someone else startles him, but Benjy recovers quickly, glancing to his left at the sound of the voice.

And his heart stops.

He’s looking at the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. He’s got green blue eyes that sparkle when they meet Benjy’s, perfectly coiffed dirty blonde hair. He’s got the perfect amount of stubble on his strong jawline and the only thing that takes Benjy’s eyes away from that is his perfect, white smile. It feels like the swallows tattooed on Benjy’s collarbone are swooping in his stomach when this stranger licks his lips.

“Uh…” Benjy says, turning himself to fully face this man. “What are you talking about?”

The stranger jerks his head to the front door.

“Your promise. To Amycus. Not to drink. I heard you two talking on my way in.”

Benjy’s eyes must grow wide cause the Stranger’s smile grows.

“Your secret is safe with me, Benjy.”

Oh the way he says his name makes him want to sink to the ground right there, but he resists-he doesn't really get a choice as to when he does that these days. He smiles, still not taking his eyes off of this stranger.

“I appreciate that.”

“Is it short for anything? Benjy?”

Why does it feel like he’s looking through him when he talks? And why is Benjy desperate to know what he sees? 

“Uh, yeah. Benjamin.”

The stranger hums, finally looking away when Alecto puts a drink down beside Benjy’s still untouched Diet Coke.

“I like that.”

“Then you can call me it.”

The stranger smiles as he takes a drink of his gin. 

“You’re pretty adorable, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” 

Benjy grins when the stranger laughs. 

“God, you’re a touch cheeky too? It’s almost unfair.”

Benjy takes a sip of diet coke to wash the taste of his last client out of his mouth.

“What’s unfair, handsome?”

“That I have to go through a few hoops before I get to have you.”

Benjy smiles, looking over at him as he slowly creeps his hands towards the stranger’s, not speaking until Benjy’s fingers dance along the back of his palm.

“It’s probably not as many hoops as you think.”

The stranger chuckles.

“How much?”

Benjy shrugs one shoulder. “Depends on what you want, honey.”

“To take you home.”

Benjy stills and he knows the stranger can sense his hesitation.

“I uh, don’t think you could afford it. If I go home with you...I lose a whole night of work.”

“How much?”

Benjy laughs at that.

“Cute.”

“I’m serious.”

Benjy looks in his eyes and his blood runs cold with excitement. He is serious.

“Um…” He chuckles. “Well, if I was having a good night...”

“I’d say you are.”

“...then I’d make about two grand.”

The stranger nods.

“So we’ll call it three?”

Benjy laughs, not believing him. The stranger opens his wallet  and pulls out the biggest stack of hundred pound notes Benjy has ever seen. He counts out three thousand worth and puts it gently on the counter in front of him. 

“Believe me yet?” 

Benjy stares at the money, dazed.

“Uh…”

“You’re not forgetting about my commission, right Benjy?”

Barty appears out of nowhere, sliding up behind Benjy and draping his arm over his shoulder.  Benjy stiffens.

“No…”

“Hello, Crouch.” Forest says easily, and Barty quickly removes his arm to stand up straight.

“Everly. It’s been a minute, hasn’t it?”

“A few.”

The stranger, Everly, says coolly.

“Look, you’re interrupting something here. What’s your commission?”

Barty’s hand appears on the small of Benjy’s back, gripping his skin so hard that it  stings. Benjy gets the message-shut the hell up.

“Fifty Percent.”

With a shrug, Forest counts off fifteen hundreds and pushes them into Barty’s chest, sweeping Benjy off his school and collecting the money on the bar in one movement as he stands.

“Fine. Now sod off.”

Benjy is shocked when Barty doesn’t argue, disappearing into the  crowd. Everly’s hand moves off of Benjy’s back for a moment and hands him the money.

“What do you say?”

Benjy is stunned beyond words, something that never happens. Carefully, he takes the money, folding it as much as he can to put it into his back pocket. It’s so much money, money he can’t even imagine-even if he did make two grand tonight, Barty would’ve taken a chunk of it. And it was handed to him by a man who he’d easily go home with of his own accord if he had any left. Everly smiles at him softly as he keeps ushering Benjy out of the bar. Benjy doesn’t speak until they’re past Amycus.

“Um-as excited as I am, there’s a lot of men back there who wouldn't have cost you four thousand five hundred pounds.”

“But they aren’t you.”

Benjy laughs.

“What’s so special about me?”

Forest beeps the unlock button on his Jaguar and then opens the passenger side door for him. Like a gentleman. Who the hell was this guy? That scared Barty enough into silence, that threw money around like it was nothing and opened doors for him? Benjy’s instincts tell him Everly is powerful-but he’s not quite sure if he’s safe. But Benjy decides three grand is worth the risk. Maybe he likes to choke and hit during sex-not Benjy’s thing at all for for three thousand pounds? He’d do about anything. 

“Do you always question your...suitors like this?”

“Most of my clients don’t even want to look at me in the face or tell me their names, so no. Can’t say I do.”

Benjy settles into the seat in silence as Everly gets in and starts the car. Benjy can’t even begin to fathom what it cost.

“Forest.”

“What?”

Benjy likes his smile even more in profile if that’s possible. He watches him as he speaks.

“My name’s Forest. Do you really have no idea who I am?”

Benjy doesn’t say anything for a second, worried he’s offended Forest, but then Forest snorts.

“Bloody hell that sounded pretentious. Sorry. I just figured with Crouch saying my last name you’d uh, you know, put it together.”

Benjy blinks slowly as it dawns on him.

“Everly like….like the deputy Minister?”

“Exactly. That’s my father. I’m sure you understand now why I have to be discrete.”

Benjy doesn’t keep up with politics, but as Forest drives in an easy silence, his mind races, piecing it together. The Everly family has been involved with the government practically since it started. A Dynasty. The Blacks were always excited whenever a member of the Everly family was slated to be at one of their events. There’d been a son, he remembers. Older and handsome. And Benjy was now sitting in his car. 

“You still didn’t really answer my question though.” Benjy says softly, breathing in slightly when Forest’s hand moves from the gear shift to his knee. 

“What’s your question, Benjamin?”

“Why me? You could get anyone and I’m…”

He doesn’t even know how to finish that sentence. Next to nothing is the phrase that comes to mind. Trash is another.

Forest looks over at him as he takes a turn.

“I like people who keep their promises.”

~

Benjy tries to keep his cool when he follow Forest into the elevator, but he knows he’s fighting a losing battle when he pushes the lift button for the penthouse.

“It’s so posh.” He mumbles, shifting between his feet, suddenly feeling a tad out of place. He relaxes the second  Forest holds his hand.

“Nothing to worry about, love. It’s just gonna be me.”

Benjy nods, smiling despite his nerves at how good Forest’s hand feels in his.The doors open into a beautiful, clean, white apartment. Decorated minimally but still somehow inviting. Forest, still holding his hand, leads Benjy across the hardwood floors towards an all white conversation pit.

“Get comfortable. Do you want something to eat?”

Forest looks about as in his element as he could be, while Benjy’s black outfit makes him quite the contrast. Benjy pauses as he gets settled on the couch.

“Um...no, I’m okay. I don’t like to eat before uh, I do my job.”

He blushes and he’s not sure why. Nor why he’s being coy-Benjy’s been on the streets for almost two years-why is he acting like a fucking virgin? 

“I’m not going to have sex with you, Benjamin. What do you want to eat?”

Benjy stares at him, eyes wide as his brain races, blurting it out before he can stop himself.

“Why not?”

Forest laughs, moving something around the kitchen. Benjy watches as he pulls out and pours one glass of wine.

“Clearly you don’t know me well. And I intend to fix that. You’re underage, Benjy. And I can’t be with you that way in good faith while that’s the case.”

“So you don’t want to have sex with me.” Benjy says, not even failing to hide his disappointment. Forest chuckles, bringing over a cheese plate and a glass of wine for himself.

“Oh, quite the opposite. But not while you’re still seventeen. Come on. Eat something? You look hungry.”

He was starving, he’d skipped lunch, but Benjy still doesn’t move towards the plate.

“So what are you going to do to me?”

Forest looks at him, his face softer but his eyes almost dangerous.

“Well I was hoping you’d talk with me.”

“And what else?”

Forest laughs.

“Eat maybe?”

“But what’s the catch? What happens after?”

Forest shrugs. “You can sleep here if you’d like. Though I’m afraid we’d have to share a bed. There’s no catch, Benjamin. I just want to get to know you. You’re beautiful and you’re interesting and I just...have a feeling about you.”

“You shelled out 4500 pounds because you have a feeling?”

Forest smiles, taking his hand again.

“It’s a really, really good feeling.”

~

They talk for hours, learning so much about each other. Benjy realizes he’s never told anyone the full story about what happened to him, but he tells Forest. He listens. When he gets choked up, Forest takes him in his arms and pulls Benjy so he’s sitting sideways on his lap. Nothing sexual, just close. He holds him and he lets him be sad. Benjy can never remember ever feeling as safe as he does then. He listens to-about how hard Forest struggled, how when he told his dad he might be gay he beat him until he almost died. And how after Forest had left the hospital-the papers had reported it as a motorcycle accident-he was sent to the camp that Benjy had been supposed to go to. Changed, tortured and broken, Forest had done everything he was supposed to, and the second he got the chance, pretended to be ‘cured.’

“I’ve made a big enough name for myself now.” Forest says, handing Benjy another slice of the massive pizza they’d ordered once Benjy finally agreed to eating something. “That I’m able to have some fun again. And when I saw you tonight I just….knew.”

Benjy blushes, warmth spreading up from his chest and coloring his cheeks.

“You’re going to have fun with me?”

Forest nods.

“Not the kind of fun you’re thinking, not yet at least,  I just...you’re easy to talk to Benjy. Maybe, uh, and you can say no of course, but maybe every time I need someone to talk to, I come to you?”

Benjy grins, still on Forest’s lap as he pushes his face into his shoulder.

“You wanna see me again?”

Forest puts his slice of pizza down and takes Benjy’s face in his hands, they’re greasy but Benjy doesn’t care when Forest smiles at him.

“I need to see you again.”

Benjy leans into the feeling of Forest’s thumb caressing his cheek, savoring the moment before speaking.

“You can call Barty anytime. He always knows where I am.”

Forest scoffs.

“Barty. Please. Benjamin…”

He pulls away.

“I know this is crazy, and I know it’s too fast-but, well, I was thinking if tonight went as well as it did-you could move in here. I don’t-I can’t be here all the time. I have to keep up appearances with my wife, but during the work week I stay here. I can get you your own bed if you want but…”

He plays with Benjy’s fingers.

“I like the idea of you being here. Keeping me company. Telling me about yourself. And I just can’t stand the thought of you being out there-other people touching you...hurting you. I want to help you, Benjy. I want you to stay safe. I can keep you safe. And you can keep me company.”

Benjy’s head is swimming but he feels like he’s floating, not actually believing what he’s hearing.

“You want me to live with you?”

Forest chuckles.

“It’s too fast. I know.”

“You want me to live...here?”

Benjy looks over Forest’s shoulder into the rest of the apartment.

“Do you want to?”

Benjy grins. 

“I mean, I don’t know-I haven’t even seen the bedroom-”

Forest laughs and Benjy feels like he’s won something.

“Are you saying yes?”

“There’s really no catch?”

Forest shrugs.

“Well I mean...when you’re eighteen, I would like to explore a physical relationship with you. So I guess that could be the catch.”

“So the catch is something I want anyway?”

Forest laughs.

“You’re supposed to want whoever pays you though, isn’t that your deal?”

Benjy shrugs.

“I would’ve come home with you for nothing if Barty wasn’t around. Here.”

He shifts, digging the money Forest had given him out of his pocket and holding it against his chest.

“I don’t want it.”

Forest shakes his head, pushing Benjy’s hand down.

“It’s yours. Keep it no matter what.”

They sit for a while, quiet, feeling how the fit together. Benjy breaks the silence first.

“If I live here...would I be your boyfriend?”

Forest nods. “Something like that.”

Benjy’s face hurts from smiling. 

“I’ve never had one of those before.”

Forest smiles back at him.

“So you’ll move in?”

Benjy nods.

“One condition?”

Forest traces Benjy’s lower lip.

“Anything you need.”

“I wanna-can I kiss you?”

Forest groans.

“When’s your birthday?”

“November. Two months. That’s it but...I can wait on everything else, Forest. I promise. But I can’t wait for this.”

There’s something about his eyes that makes Benjy want to fall in.

“Please?” Benjy asks, surprised at how quickly he’s become desperate. Forest smiles softly at him, somehow wanting and wicked all at once.

“Okay. Once. Then we have to wait.”

Benjy nods as he sits up straighter. Tomorrow, when he wakes up in the big white bed in Forest’s arms, he’s still not going to believe it. He’s going to spend his first day getting used to his new life, take Forest to his apartment building and watch as he covers all the debt he supposedly owes Barty. He’s going to load the meager possessions he has into Forest’s trunk and come back here to start anew.

And he’s going to spend tomorrow, and every day after, ignoring the creeping feeling that he, Benjy, has become a possession in his own right.

But for now, he closes his eyes and seals his future with a kiss, happier than he’s ever been in his entire life.

[sevrustobias]

[ BASICS ]

First name: Severus Surname: Snape Middle names: Tobias Nicknames: none Date of birth: January 9, 1960 Age: Eighteen

[ PHYSICAL / APPEARANCE ]

Height: 6′2″ Weight: 163lb Build: Slim Hair colour: Black Hair style: Medium/Long, Straight Eye colour: Dark Brown Eye Shape: Almond Glasses or contact lenses: N/A  Distinguishing facial features: N/A Which facial feature is most prominent: Nose Which bodily feature is most prominent: Long legs Other distinguishing features: N/A Skin: Sallow/Pale Hands: Long and thin Make up: N/A Scars: Various small scars scattered across his body Birthmarks: Cluster of freckles on the back of his left forearm Tattoos: Dark Mark Physical handicaps: N/A Type of clothes: Simple fabrics, dark colors, prefers robes to casual clothing How do they wear their clothes: Neat and crisp What are their feet like: Practical shoes, usually steel toed, always black Race / Ethnicity: English/White Mannerisms: Curt, Sharp-tongued, Standoffish Are they in good health: Yes Do they have any disabilities: No

[ PERSONALITY ]

What words or phrases do they overuse? Not many, since he has an extensive vocabulary, maybe some small phrases to end a conversation Do they have a catchphrase? N/A Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? Pessimistic Are they introverted or extroverted? Introverted Do they ever put on airs? Yes, he likes to come across more unaffected than he feels What bad habits do they have? Smoking What makes them laugh out loud? Nothing How do they display affection? Sharing books and knowledge, showing patience Mental handicaps? N/A How do they want to be seen by others? Cold, calculating, intelligent How do they see themselves? Not good enough, yet still somewhat better than others  How are they seen by others? It varies between respect and dislike, few consider him a real friend Strongest character trait? Intelligence Weakest character trait? Independence  How competitive are they? He likes to be better than others, but doesn’t usually feel the need to prove it in blatant ways Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? Both, depending on the situation. He is controlled more by his emotions than he would like, but takes the time to consider in most cases. How do they react to praise? Either accepts it silently, or makes a snide comment, depending on the situation How do they react to criticism? Brush it off and insult the giver’s intelligence What is their greatest fear? Being forgotten entirely What are their biggest secrets? That he still cares deeply for Lily and some of his old school friends, that he’s not entirely sold on the Death Eater’s cause What is their philosophy of life? It’s just something you have to deal with When was the last time they cried? Third year What haunts them? Their past mistakes, specifically calling Lily a Mudblood What are their political views? Death Eater, slightly conservative What will they stand up for? His own spellwork and potions Who do they quote? Classical authors, poets, famous wizards Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? More indoorsy, although he has a great respect for nature and enjoys it as well What is their sinful little habit? Smoking cigarettes  What sense do they most rely on? Smell and sight How do they treat people better than them? It can vary greatly depending on the person. He either lashes out at them or shows respect How do they treat people worse than them? Poorly, usually What quality do they most value in a friend? Intelligence, loyalty What do they consider an overrated virtue? Innocence, honesty If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? Social standing What is their obsession? Potions, Dark Arts What are their pet peeves? Complacency What are their idiosyncrasies? Picking his nails, biting his bottom lip

[ FRIENDS AND FAMILY ]

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of? Small - just his estranged mother and father What is their perception of family? Negative, he has never had the feeling of a close family bond Do they have siblings? Older or younger? No Describe their best friend. It used to be Lily - kind and gentle, while still full of spirit. Now he has no best friend, but is closest to Lucius and gets along well with Barty Ideal best friend? Quiet, understanding and intelligent, someone he can have deep discussions with and open up to without being judged Describe their other friends. Mostly Death Eaters, superficial friendships made for mutual advantages Describe their acquaintances. A lot of people know him, but he has very little time for people that are of no use to him Do they have any pets? A black banded owl named Cerberus Who are their natural allies? Death Eaters, Purebloods Who are their surprising allies? Old school friends, although he is not willing to admit it openly

[ PAST AND FUTURE ]

What was your character like as a baby? As a child? Quiet and meek, trying to blend into the background Did they grow up rich or poor? Poor Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? Neglected What is the most offensive thing they ever said? Calling Lily a Mudblood, although he says offensive things regularly to people he dislikes What is their greatest achievement? Creating various spells and potions, learning Legilimency and Occlumency What was their first kiss like? Meaningless, a means to an end What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? Calling Lily a Mudblood What are their ambitions? Becoming more powerful in any capacity, becomes a Potions Master  What advice would they give their younger self? Be stronger, stand up to your father What smells remind them of their childhood? Alcohol, the dirt after rain, honeysuckle What was their childhood ambition? Become a powerful wizard, have friends What is their best childhood memory? Meeting Lily What is their worst childhood memory? Having to go home Did they have an imaginary childhood friend? Yes When was the last time they were crushed with disappointment? When Lily started showing an interest in James Potter What past act are they most ashamed of? His history with Lily What past act are they most proud of? Getting accepted as an apprentice to a notable potioneer Has anyone ever saved their life? No Strongest childhood memory? The way his father smelled when he came home from work

[ LOVE ]

Do they believe in love at first sight? Not anymore, although he used to Are they in a relationship? No How do they behave in a relationship? He’s never had a serious relationship, and in the few casual ones he’s had he’s been distant and uninterested  When did you character last have sex? A few weeks ago What sort of sex do they have? Unemotional Has your character ever been in love? Yes Have they ever had their heart broken? Yes

[ CONFLICT ]

How do they respond to a threat? With a smile Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? Tongue, although he’s not above a physical fight either  What is your character’s kryptonite? Lily Evans If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? His notebooks How do they perceive strangers? As a threat until proven otherwise What do they love to hate? The Maruaders What are their phobias? N/A What is their choice of weapon? Wand What living person do they most despise?  James Potter Have they ever been bullied or teased? Yes Where do they go when they’re angry? Personal laboratory Who are their enemies? Order of the Phoenix, Marauders 

[ WORK, EDUCATION AND HOBBIES ]

What is their current job? Apprentice to a Potioneer What do they think about their current job? He likes it well enough and enjoys the solitude it brings most days What are some of their past jobs? N/A What are their hobbies? Reading, experimenting with spells and potions, learning everything he can Educational background? Hogwarts Intelligence level? High Do they have any specialist training? Professionally, only potions Do they have a natural talent for something? Potions, Dark Arts, Legilimancy and Occlumency  Do they play a sport? Are they any good? N/A What is their socioeconomic status? Middle class

[ FAVOURITES ]

What is their favourite animal? Owls, octopus Which animal to they dislike the most? Cats, dogs What place would they most like to visit? South America What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? A perfectly brewed Draught of the Living Death What is their favourite song? N/A Music, art, reading preferred? Reading What is their favourite colour? Red What is their password?  Tormentil Tincture Favourite food? French What is their favourite work of art? Monet’s Poplars Who is their favourite artist? Da Vinci What is their favourite day of the week? Monday

[ POSESSIONS ]

What is in their fridge? Leftover takeout and alcohol, mostly What is on their bedside table? Dreamless Sleep potion, current book What is in their purse or wallet? A couple coins, various notes What is in their pockets? Wand, notebook and quill, empty phials What is their most treasured possession? Wand

[ SPIRITUALITY ]

Who or what is your character’s guardian angel? Himself Do they believe in the afterlife? No What are their religious views? Atheist What do they think heaven is? He’s not sure he believes in Heaven, and if he does he’s not sure what it would be  What do they think hell is? Reliving all their old mistakes over and over again without being able to make them better Are they superstitious? Not really What would they like to be reincarnated as? A hawk How would they like to die? Peacefully What is your character’s spirit animal? Bat What is their zodiac sign? Capricorn

[ VALUES ]

What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? Losing all control What is their view of ‘freedom’? Being out from under anybody’s thumb, not having any sides to have to choose between When did they last lie? Very recently What’s their view of lying? It’s a means to an end, a necessary evil, and at times it’s even fun When did they last make a promise? A very long time ago, he doesn’t make very many promises Did they keep or break their last promise? Broke it

[ DAILY LIFE ]

What are their eating habits? Usually three meals a day, although it is often he gets busy and inadvertently skips meals. Lots of takeout and cold leftovers Do they have any allergies? N/A Describe their home. Currently, he lives in a studio apartment in muggle London close to where he works. There’s little adorning the walls and it stays rather dark throughout the day. The furniture is second hand and the water usually runs cold Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? Minimalist What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? Grab a strong cup of coffee - no sugar, just milk What do they do on a Sunday afternoon? Chores that were neglected through out the week, any shopping that needs to be done, and reading/experimenting when the rest is done  What do they do on a Friday night? Have a cup of tea and go to bed early if there are no meetings to attend What is the soft drink of choice? He doesn’t drink soft drinks What is their alcoholic drink of choice? Whiskey or gin

[ MISCELLANEOUS ]

What is their character archetype? The Shapeshifter Who is their hero? Tom Riddle What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? He wouldn’t Are they comfortable with technology? No If they could save one person, who would it be? Merlin If they could call one person for help, who would it be? Barty Crouch Jr What is their favourite proverb? He doesn’t know any What is their greatest extravagance? Potions ingredients, and his single set of dress robes What is their greatest regret? Lily Evans What is their perception of redemption? Unattainable, and at the moment, unwilling to try What would they do if they won the lottery? Run away What is their favourite fairytale? Little Red Riding Hood What fairytale do they hate? Cinderella Do they believe in happy endings? No What is their idea of perfect happiness? A quiet room and a good book What would they ask a fortune teller? He wouldn’t go to one If your character could travel through time, where would they go? Backwards, to the Middle Ages What sport do they excel at? Chess What sport do they suck at? Quidditch If they could have a superpower, what would they choose? Invisibility 

[ MAGICAL ]

What is their Hogwarts house? Slytherin What is their patronus? Bat What is their boggart? Death What is their wand? Blackthorn and dragon heartstring, unyielding, 13 1/2 inches What is their blood status? Half blood What is their political leaning? Death Eaters What is their stance on muggles? Strongly dislikes

[glowamber]

The Pretty Cages [1/2]

Rapunzel longs to escape from Gothel and actually live her life. Eugene cannot imagine there is more for him than this. No matter how you dress it up, they're both trapped in cages and can only look beyond the bars.

[Two-shot, Circus AU. Set in 1870s Chicago. 2.5k words]

Read on Ao3 here.

There is a hall beyond her bedroom door, and beyond that, a house she has never seen. Further than that, there is the cobble streets and buildings upon buildings. Beyond her bedroom, there is a world she may never know.

She has never opened her window, never dared step beyond the threshold of safety. Mother has warned her of the dangers and so she stays quite like a caged bird, fluttering around her cage with growing resignation. Years have lengthened her form and her dress and her hair, but still she has never risked the outside world. Her wings were clipped before she even knew she could fly, knew what the sensation could be, and so she shouldn't miss it.

She shouldn't think of the world beyond her window, beckoning to her like it knows her. Rapunzel shouldn't stare at the bright lights on the horizon when the tents rise up, shouldn't be so bold as to finally crack the glass panes and wood apart. There is a wild beating in her chest and she feels like she might explode, her fingers tremble, but the window opens all the same.

The musty smell of her room is suddenly hit with waves of the earlier rain, of the smoke from fires curling out of chimneys nearby, and a curious sweet and buttery scent she cannot place.

The tents beyond the cityline call to her with colors she doesn't know, gritty and bright all at once. She chews on her lip, staring at them, listening to the distant calls of children laughing and the exhilarated cries of crowds. There are signs, she has seen, plastered everywhere with ugly paintings but beautiful words.

‘Barony Big Top Circus.’

It promises fun, it promises excitement. It whispers of freedom and dreams she has never put to paper or tongue because they were so delicate. She grips her windowsill and leans forward, nervous enough that she feels she might throw up.

No one pays mind to the girl with the long golden hair, no one thinks of how she stares unblinkingly at a place further off. She might be crying, she isn't sure, but she knows she is terrified of the truth. Either Mother is right and the world will kill her, or Mother is wrong and she has spent eighteen years jumping at shadows.

Rapunzel puts a bare foot on the sill and she stands there with her hands braced on either side of her.

There is a hall beyond her bedroom door, and beyond that, a house that will be her tomb. Further than that, there is the cobble streets and buildings upon buildings and a place that calls itself a circus. Beyond her bedroom, there is a world she may never know if she lets herself be caged anymore.

She takes in a deep breath, and Rapunzel lets herself go.

Her body pitches forward and she swings an arm out, throwing her hair to catch around a downspout at the last second. The ground rises up so fast to greet her, but there is the tug against her nape and then she hangs, scared. It is tentative, her first feel of stone and outside. It is terrifying, letting her hair drop into her arms.

She is outside.

She has left her room.

Her eyes rise, alarmed, to her open window to confirm she has indeed gone insane. Boredom and longing seized her, and now, she is statue still with the overwhelming mix of curiosity and guilt. All the same, she finds herself braiding her hair into thick patterns while her feet spin her slow to take it all in. There is so much, outside, almost too much and yet she thinks it will never be enough.

Rapunzel came out for a reason, however, and she pads along the walkways with the scent of the circus to guide her. Her fingers drag over wet brick walls, the texture of rough interspersed by the slick of the advertisements haphazardly glued everywhere, and she finds she likes the mixture.

Eyes are on her at every turn, she knows, but no one stops her while she meanders through the streets. Her hair is too long and the wrong style, her dress scandalously short, and her feet bare. She is wrong for them, wrong for everything, and ahead the city gives way to a once empty lot that overflows with light and sound, now. She is not wrong for them.

From here, she can see the women in such indecent attire and tattoos and one with a beard.

From here, she sees men on unicycles and some with makeup upon their faces.

From here, she feels the tug so much stronger and her heart beats in time with the music that woke her from her sleep that night.

If Mother knew where she was, she would be so disappointed. Rapunzel knows the fit would be legendary, that she would be locked away without dinner or breakfast for days until Mother thought she was sorry enough for her mistake. She’s not sorry, now, though. She has no money to get in and while she feels bad for what she does, she slips in with a crowd and commits her second sin of the night.

In for a penny, in for a pound. She will make many more transgressions tonight, she’s sure, and she knows she cannot miss this. Now that she’s left her room, she’s come too far to go back without some sort of satisfaction.

She is jostled on all sides by other patrons of the circus who know what to expect, laughing gaily and rushing to and fro from tent to tent. They talk animatedly about what they have seen and what they will see, and she cannot help but listen in. Everyone speaks the most about a … a high flier, about an acrobat in the big tent, and they sound so impressed. Rapunzel imagines it as she wanders through them, about a man who soars above the crowds like the air is his home.

What it would be like, she wonders, to be able to fly. Maybe she still feels like a bird in her cage, circling endlessly for an escape and room to stretch her wings, even though she is outside. She is still grounded, after all, unable to feel the wind in her hair.

“Excuse me?” Her voice is meek, she has never spoken to anyone but Mother before, turning to one of the men who looks like he works here. He is tall and dark skinned with a glint of gold at his ear that she finds she likes, she doesn’t know how he keeps it there. It’s probably rude to ask, and she’s already nervous enough as is. “Excuse me… do you know when the high flier act begins?”

He seems startled she’s talking to him, but his smile is… easy and friendly. It has none of the sharpness she associates with smiles, none of the hidden edges she is afraid of. It makes her smile back, bright and wide, and some of that nervous energy slips away from her.

“You mean Flynn Rider? He’ll be on in about half an hour, honey, you got your ticket?”

Her face falls at the mention of a ticket, because she doesn’t have one-- she isn’t even supposed to be in here. She hasn’t paid for anything, she’s just a thief in this place stealing looks and hopes and a glimpse at something she can never really have.

“...No ticket, huh? Show’s sold out, too.” He continues, and she feels her heart sink so low she might just cry. This man can fly and she wants to see it so she can imagine what it's like when she goes back to her gilded cage and her view from the window. There is kindness in this man, though, she sees it when she looks back up from her feet and he’s watching her with a soft expression.

He offers her his hand and she looks at it, confused. He is large and her hand is so small, soft compared to the callouses that mark his skin. “Now, now, Princess, no need to have a pretty girl like you cry. Follow me and I’ll get you a good seat, alright?”

Mother has warned her that the world is dangerous, outside, that people will lie and mislead her. That they will try to use her, for her hair, that she will never be safe out here. The man’s hand closes around hers and for all the roughness that marks him as a hard worker, he is gentle. Rapunzel lets out a breath and she follows after him when he guides her away behind the big tent.

There is a small opening that she sees, ahead, that people pass in and out of. Light pours out of it, like the laughter and chatter, and she feels the tug of something again. She wants more than anything to be in there, to be part of all of that, and she practically glows when the man brings her there.

It is almost overwhelming and it is almost like coming home.

So many people rush around with only half their costumes on, their faces half painted. She is amazed by the animals that lie about with collars and thick chains, by the woman with a snake draped over her shoulders like a scarf. Another tosses knives up and down, practicing aim, and one snicks past their heads to embed in a pole-- her guide yelps, the woman laughs.

There is magic brimming in this room, in everyone here, different than what lurks in her hair. This is something more tangible, she can feel its presence just radiating from each and every one of them as they pass.

“Here,” He puts down a dirty pillow, purple and gold, and then bows with a gesture as if he has rolled out a red carpet for her. It is placed just at the right spot for her to see beyond a curtain, into the main part of the tent where men with white faces and colorful wigs dance about. They juggle balls and stumble and tumble and Rapunzel cannot stop herself from gasping and laughing, softly.

She tilts her head back to smile up at the man, who grins back at her. “Thank you,” and she means earnestly, he has no idea what this is to her. He just does an odd gesture where one eye closes and then points at her before backing off, leaving her to her viewing.

The time goes by quickly, faster than she’s ever known it to tick by, and soon the odd men cartwheel through an exit she can see across from her. At the same time, her pulse quickens and the lights dim as blue smoke fills the ring. There is a drumroll that comes from somewhere, she cannot see the drummer but it is loud and pounds in her ears-- but it could also be her heart hammering in her chest, she’s not sure.

“And now, what everyone has been waiting for! You’ve heard the talk on the streets, you’ve seen the fliers, the man who defies gravity and leaves you on the edge of your seat with your heart in your throat-- Flynn Rider!”

The ring lights up from above, a single spotlight aimed so high up that she cranes her neck back to stare. And loses her breath. He is beautiful, standing on a small platform with an arm outstretched to wave to everyone. The details of his face escape her given the distance, but it is the confidence that draws her in. The ease in which he leans over the edge, daring death and fate, to clearly flash smiles at the crowd. She’s forgotten how to breathe and her eyes must be the size of dinner plates because he looks he is home up there.

And then she gasps, because he swings from the platform on a bar she did not see before, throwing himself high just to catch himself on another one. There is nothing below to save him should he miss, should he slip and fall, but his smile remains. Her blood is rushing as she leans forward, fingers catching on her skirts, drawn to him, amazed by him. He soars from one trapeze to the next, flipping and showing off, like he was made for the air. He flies.

Longing seizes her; she wants to fly, too.

The acrobatics and flexibility he showcases are impressive, he does things she could only dream to do but he takes them stories up. He has found limits, and surpassed them, and Rapunzel itches to know his secret.

He appears to slip, at one moment, and she almost screams out in terror as he begins to fall, but how does he catch himself with a foot on a bar? How does he swing himself out of danger with a kiss blown to the crowd? The wild fluttering in her chest does not stop, at all, her fingers will leave bruises on her knees from how she grabs herself to keep from jumping to her feet.

When he throws himself, one last time, to the other platform to take a bow? Rapunzel knows she can never go back to Mother and that room. She has seen what is to be free, she has witnessed someone break away from reality and fly like she has only ever dreamed of.

There is a cage in the city, one with pretty wallpaper and a soft bed, but a cage is a cage.

Her eyes never leave Flynn Rider as he slides down a rope, unconventional to the end, to take one more bow in the middle of the ring, and then the lights die. That’s where she loses him, just for the moment, and she twists to look around behind her quickly because he has to be joining the other performers, right?

It takes years, it feels like, to spot him talking to the man who had given her the seat. He rubs a towel across his hair and face, covered in sweat, but he grins and laughs.

There is a hall beyond her bedroom door, and beyond that, a house that is only her cage. Further than that, there is the cobble streets and buildings upon buildings and a world that begs to beg explored. Beyond her bedroom, there is a world she wants to see, wants to soar through.

The only thing stopping her has been fear and she has just seen a man take to the air. Why is she afraid? What is there to be scared of?

She stands from the cushion and comes towards them, her shoulders set and her chin lifted. The man greets her with a wave of his hand, “Hey, Princess! Did you enjoy the show?” Flynn Rider is paused with his towel around his shoulders and oh his eyes are the softest brown she has seen, and there is something electric about being here in front of him.

“I loved it.” She confesses, tries to find it in her to keep that courage. She knows what she wants, and more importantly, what she doesn’t want. Her wings have been clipped too long, she will die in that room and she is terrified of it, living without ever living.

“I want to join the circus.”

[fiiore-blogs]

𝐟𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐞  𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐮𝐬𝐨 ; character  study

tws : abuse , mentions  of  death , homophobia  &  blindness ( ?? )

BASICS 

full  name : fiore  emiliano  luca  gattuso

nicknames : honestly  just  fiore , flower  cat  boy  as  a  joke  by  his  cousin  ( his  first  name  translates  to  flower  in  italian , his  surname  gattuso , derives  from  the  italian  word  gatto .... which  literally  means  cat  kdnvdfjs )

age : 20

date  of  birth : may  30 , 2000

zodiac  sign : gemini 

place  of  birth : tuscany , italy

hometown : rome , italy

location : kingsboro , brooklyn , new york city , new  york

ethnicity : white

nationality : italian

religious  views : non  affiliated , but  definitely  believes  there  is  a  higher  power ( or  multiple ) of  some  sort

educational  level : high  school  graduate

occupation : influencer  &  model  occasional  sugar  baby

living  arrangements : lives  in  a  super  boujee  ass  house  ( basically  mansion  tbh ) with  his  older  cousin  gio , &  his  cat , which  he  very  proudly  named  draco  meowfoy

mental  conditions : undiagnosed  anxiety , very  claustrophobic , will  literally  freak  out  if  he’s  in  a  tight  space 

physical  impairments :  he  has  shit  vision , always  has . his  vision  is  20 / 50  without  any  type  of  help , which  isn’t  necessarily  terrible , but  not  exactly  great . once  you  reach  20 / 70 , you’re  considered  to  have  low  vision , which  is  technically  considered  partial  blindness . with  contacts  on  though , he  see’s  a  solid  20 / 30 , which  again , still  isn’t  too  great , considering  the  fact  the  average  person  see’s  20 / 20 . no  one  knows  his  vision  is  so  garbage  minus  his  cousin , &  no  one  has  ever  ever  ever  seen  him  with  glasses  before . in  fact , no  one  even  knows  he  needs  glasses  or  contacts  to  see , as  he  keeps  this  a  secret

addictions : none  really , just  smokes  the  usual  weed  &  drinks  the  usual  drink , has  tried  coke  once  but  didn’t  really  like  it  too  much 

PHYSICAL  APPEARANCE

height : 5��‘ 8

body  type : pretty  damn  lanky  but  slightly  muscular ( for  actual  body  claim  gifs  click  here , here , here , here , here , here , here , here , here  &  here ! )

eye  color : baby  blue , but  shifts  colors  in  different  lighting . sometimes  they  look  more  on  the  green  side , sometimes  they  look  sort  of  grey

hair  color : brown

style : he  loves  a  good  boujee  brand  tbh ! catch  him  wearing  luxury  brands  like  philipp  plein , balenciaga , hermès , valentino , gucci .... just  to  name  a  few . he’s  not  opposed  to  wearing  cheaper  brands  &  even  owns  a  basic  floral  jacket  from  forever  21 , but  his  main  rule  is  it  has  to  look  good . honestly  would  rather  shave  off  his  eyebrows  once  a  month  for  an  entire  year  than  to  wear  sweats , you’ll  simply  never  see  him  with  those  on . in  fact , he  doesn’t  even  own  a  pair  of  sweats , not  even  just  to  be  at  home . in  fiore’s  opinion , people  wearing  sweats  have  just  ‘ given  up ’ . this  saint  laurent  jacket  right  here , is  one  of  his  favorite  pieces  of  clothing !

tattoos  &  piercings : this  gemini  symbol  tattoo  on  his  left  wrist , a  cartilage  piercing  on  his  right  ear

scars / birth  marks : a  notably  big  scar  on  his  lower  left  abdomen  ( courtesy  of  his  dad ) , birthmark  on  his  upper  left  cheek  ( which  honestly .... low  key  makes  him  hotter  fkdfvnfdsjn )

PERSONALITY

positive  traits : determined , confident , witty 

negative  traits : secretive , narcissistic , dishonest 

what  do  they  consider  to  be  the  best  &  the  worst  part  of  their  personality ? :  the  best  part  of  his  personality  is  his  confidence  &  his  ability  to  achieve  his  goals  or  get  his  way  somehow . he’s  not  too  bright , but  he  knows  how  to  get  what  he  wants  &  stops  at  almost  nothing  to  have  it  his  way , being  extremely  determined  &  restless . the  worst  part  of  his  personality  has  to  be  the  fact  that  he  can  be  very  dishonest . it’s  a  defense  mechanism  mostly , but  he  has  a  way  of  bending  the  truth  to  his  favor , often  times  becoming  manipulative  &  inconsiderate  of  other  people’s  feelings 

are  they  more  introverted  or  extroverted ? : the  very  rare  case  of  an  extroverted  introvert . he  really  does  enjoy  talking  to  people  but  he  loves  his  alone  time  as  well  &  sometimes , too  many  people  to  talk  to  gives  him  anxiety

any  talents ? : not  really  a  talent  but  more  of  an  unknown  fact  –  he  has  hypermobile  joints  ( or  what  most  people  call  double  jointed ) almost  everywhere . on  his  knees , on  his  elbows , on  his  shoulders , on  his  fingers . he  can  bring  his  arms  all  the  way  around  &  back  while  holding  onto  his  hands , can  touch  his  thumbs  &  other  fingers  to  his  forearm  ( for  more  info  on  this , click  here ) . he  also  makes  really , really  good  edibles 

what  are  their  fears ? : huge  slightly  irrational  fear  of  being  buried  alive , being  in  a  tight  space  barely  able  to  move  or  tight  spaces  in  general . no  one  knows  this  one , but  he  also  has  a  huge  fear  of  ending  up  completely  blind . his  grandmother , his  mother’s  mother , has  always  had  terrible  vision  . she  was  pronounced  legally  blind  when  she  was  barely  45 , later  going  completely  blind  before  she  turned  60 . fiore’s  mother  didn’t  inherit  her  bad  vision  but  it  skipped  a  generation  &  if  you  guessed  it , his  grandmother’s  shit  vision  is  something  he  carries . he  has  a  huge  overwhelming  fear  of  it  getting  worse  &  worse  over  the  years , &  ending  up  like  his  grandmother  did 

any  allergies ? :  corn . will  literally  have  a  deathly  reaction

do  they  have  phobias ? : claustrophobia 

list  3  pet  peeves  they  can’t  stand : people  chewing  with  their  mouth  open , when  people  have  strong  unpleasant  body  odor  or  bad  breath  ( no  bullshit  he’ll  call  you  out  for  this  lmfao ) , dirty  fingernails 

PAST

best  memory : opening  up  to  his  cousin  about  what  really  happened  with  his  parents  &  having  him  accept  him  with  open  arms , then  later  that  day  going  to  the  beach , smoking  one  with  him  &  talking  about  life 

worst  memory : his  parents  finding  his  sex  tape  with  his  now  ex  boyfriend , causing  them  to  disown  him  &  almost  beat  him  to  death 

biggest  secret : his  past , as  he  refuses  to  talk  about  anything  that  happened  before  2018 . also , his  vision ? definitely  a  secret  too 

biggest  wish : surprisingly ? falling  deeply  in  love  with  someone  &  traveling  the  world  with  them , also  opening  up  an  edible  shop 

biggest  fear : irrational  fear , but  being  buried  alive , crossing  paths  with  his  parents  again , &  turning  completely  blind  at  one  point  just  like  his  grandmother  did 

first  love : alessio  cardone  ( npc , nathan  naenen  fc ) , his  first  love , &  so  far  the  only  person  he’s  ever  truly  fallen  in  love  with . for  gifs  of  his  face  click  here  or  click  here  

ROMANCE  &  SEXUALITY

sexuality : bisexual / biromantic 

turn  ons : dirty talk , fingering  &  being  fingered , versatile  sex , being  dominated / dominating  someone , lip  biting  when  kissing , hickeys , being  spoiled , cuddling , hair  pulling 

turn  offs : people  denying  or  hiding  what  they  really  want  &  desire , know  it  alls , people  treating  him  like  he’s  stupid , cheap  people , people  who  talk  shit  with  people  around  but  won’t  peep  a  word  when  they’re  alone , hypocrites 

MISCELLANEOUS 

speaking  voice  claim : lorenzo  zurzolo  vc , or  click  here !

relationship  with  mother : he  hasn’t  spoken , heard  of  or  seen  his  mother  since  his  parents  disowned  him  when  he  had  just  turned  eighteen , so  well  over  two  years  ago . he  has  no  idea  if  she’s  even  alive  or  well  

mother’s  name : originally  martina  reina  ( now  martina  gattuso )

relationship  with  father : same  thing  with  his  father . he  hasn’t  spoken , heard  of  or  seen  him  since  his  parents  disowned  him . despite  both  his  parents  being  trash  though , fiore  has  always  been  more  afraid  &  resentful  of  his  father , as  he  has  beaten  him  multiple  times  throughout  his  childhood , while  his  mother  mostly  just  stood  by  &  let  it  happen . he’s  also  done  things  like  lock  him  in  a  car  trunk  for  hours  as  punishment , &  would  leave  him  in  a  tight  spaced  closet  for  longer , which  explains  his  irrational  fear  of  being  buried  alive , &  his  severe  claustrophobia  

father’s  name : gian  gattuso 

siblings : none

pets : click  here  to  see  his  ragamuffin  cat  he  named  draco  meowfoy 

favorite  place : any  part  of  spain . honestly  loves  spain , &  loves  how  shameless  some  spanish  people  are 

role  models  or  crushes : seth  rogen  ( he’s  not  even  a  role  model  fiore  just  loves  him  skacnbdjs ) , terry  crews , tina  fey , jamie  chua  ( this  is  just ... for  obvious  reasons  lmfao )

favorite  animals : a  sucker  for  koalas , cats  &  dogs  ( definitely  a  cat  person  though ) . he  also  thinks  red  panda’s  are  possibly  the  cutest  creatures  on  the  planet 

favorite  books : the  five  stages  of  andrew  brawley  by  shaun  david  hutchinson , a  child  called  it , the  lost  boy , a  man  named  dave , the  privilege  of  youth , all  by  dave  pelzer  ( he  has  cried  reading  all  of  pelzer’s  books  too , as  he  feels  it  hits  close  to  home ) 

favorite  movies : la  vita  è  bella , literally  all  the  sex  &  the  city  movies , honestly  any  movie  seth  rogen  is  in , catch  me  if  you  can 

favorite  music : listens  to  almost  anything  but  his  favorites  are  anything  indie / alternative , deathpop  &  italian  music

favorite  food : pasta , chicken  picatta , authentic  mexican  tacos 

favorite  dessert : anything  tiramisu , caffè  gelato , cannoli

QUIRKS

are  they  right  handed  or  left  handed ? : left  handed 

what’s  a  word  that’s  always  on  their  lips ? : “ oh  yeah ? ”  usually  in  a  teasing  manner  or  sexual  context 

what  languages  do  they  speak ? : italian , english , spanish , decent  sicilian 

do  they  curse ? : definitely 

what’s  their  worst  habits ? : lying  ( obviously ) , always  wanting  to  have  the  last  word , instantly  seeking  revenge / getting  even  when  he  feels  he’s  been  wronged , chewing  ice , &  honestly ? forgetting  to  eat  for  long  ass  periods  of  time . he’ll  eat  something  at  ten  am , then  suddenly  it’s  about  to  be  midnight  &  he’s  like  ‘ well  fuck ..... i  forgot  to  eat  🥴 ’

do  they  drink  or  smoke ? how  frequently ? : drinks  &  smokes  pretty  frequently ! is  honestly  never  one  to  turn  down  drinking  or  a  smoking  session 

are  they  an  early  bird  or  a  night  owl ? : night  owl  for  sure

how  tidy  is  their  room ? : usually  tidy  or  decent  looking  at  least . he’s  not  a  neat  freak , but  he  hates  his  room  being  messy 

how  long  do  they  usually  take  getting  ready ? : forever . it  takes  him  at  least  an  hour  just  to  shower , thirty  minutes  to  pick  out  his  clothes , another  thirty  to  do  his  ‘ fresh  out  the  shower ’  routine , &  longer  to  actually  get  ready  &  be  satisfied  with  his  look . in  other  words , a  girl  takes  less  time  than  him 

[deathbylowden]

It’s Not Over (Part II)

This is sort of a continuation on It’s Not Over that I wrote a few weeks ago. I feel in love with that blurb and decided to explore it from the beginning of the relationship and through their time apart and then ending with the part that I already posted. 

If you haven’t read that part you can read it here.

Anyway, I hope you all like it and I can’t wait to hear what you thing.

Based on Everything Has Changed by Taylor Swift.

All I knew this morning when I woke Is I know something now, know something now I didn't before.  And all I've seen since eighteen hours ago Is green eyes and freckles and your smile  In the back of my mind making me feel like I just wanna know you better,  know you better, know you better now  I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now 

Billie stuffed the script into her bag while rushing out of her hotel room and down to the lobby to meet her driver, hoping that she wouldn’t be too late to the morning read through. Her flight had gotten into London late the night before after spending all week in Los Angels doing screen test for what could be the biggest film of her life. Once in the back seat of the SUV, she took a large breath, pulling out her phone and shooting a quick text to Tom and Cillian, letting them know she was on her way and to tell Chris. She was beyond excited to start this new project with Chris; he had given her her first big break in Inception, so when he called her up about a part in his new WWII film she jumped at the chance to take it. She laid her head back and closed her eyes, trying to get some rest and fight off the jet lag she was feeling. Billie swore she only closed her eyes for five seconds before the car had come to a stop and the driver let her know that they had arrived. She smiled and thanked him before collecting her bag and without looking  jumped out of the car, running to the buildings entrance. She wasn’t two steps away when she bumped into someone, knocking her to the ground. 

“Oh my God.” A Scottish accent rang, “I’m so sorry, let me help ye up.” A hand extended out to her, she quickly took it and hopped up onto her feet, brushing herself off and not looking at the person in front of her. 

“Oh no it’s my fault,” she blushed, “I wasn’t looking where I was going because I’m late as usual” Billie slowly looked up at the tall man in front of her, suddenly becoming speechless. He had two of the most dazzling blue eyes she’d ever seen. They were the color of the summer’s sky, intensely clear and bright. They were the kind of eyes that she could get lost in, their depths impossibly blue. A dazzling, dimpled smile spread across his boyishly handsome face, and she felt her heart skip a wild beat. Smiling back at him, she prayed for calmness to return to her body. 

“Billie, right?” he questioned.

“Um, yeah.” She scrunched her brows, confused as to how he knew who she was. 

“Big admirer.” He smiled and she then remembered that he had probably seen her work, while this happened all the time and was nothing new to her, she still found it weird how strangers often knew who she was. “I’m Jack by the way.” He extended a strong hand out again. 

“Billie, but you already knew that.” She whispered, voice airy and shakily, placed her smaller hand in his. He chuckled, enjoying the obvious affect he was having on her. It was a throaty, kind-hearted laughter, and she thought she could listen to that sound for the rest of her life. Her cheeks grew warm as he gazed a bit longer at her, still holding on to her hand. 

“Well, we should go.” He released their hands and opened the door for them. “Can’t have Chris thinkin’ I’m the reason yer late.” He followed behind her as she entered the building. 

“Oh, are you working on Dunkirk too?” she asked, a little embarrassed that she didn’t already know this little bit of information and secretly hoping that she got to act along side him. 

“Yeah,” He laughed, “I’m playing Collins, one of the RAF Pilots.” She nodded her head as the two of them walked side by side all the way down the hall towards the large rehearsal room where the read through was taking place in silence. Every now and then she would glance up and blush when she caught him looking at her. “Well, here we are. After you.” Again Jack held the door open for her. Before she could say thank you, she was being swooped up into two large, tattooed arms and wrapped in a bear hug. 

“Bill.” The familiar British accent sang, “About time you showed up.” He sat her down and she couldn’t help but smile and look adoringly at her sweet friend Tom. The two had met while filming Inception and had been close ever since. 

“Fuck you.” Billie playfully giggled and pushed him, before he led her over to two empty chairs at the table. 

“Charlotte was sad you couldn’t make it to dinner last night.” He pulled her chair out for her, always the gentleman. 

“Thanks.” She slid in and let her bag fall to the floor between them. “Tell her I’m sorry, my flight got in late and I was exhausted by the time I got to the hotel.” 

“Still don’t understand why you won’t just stay with us when you’re in town.” Tom huffed. Before she could reply she felt someone kiss the top of her head.

“Glad ya decided to show up.” Cillian smirked, taking the chair next to her and placing a hot mug of tea in front of her. “Two sugars and a little milk.” 

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” she took a sip from the warm mug and smiled, realizing that it was exactly what she needed this morning. The three spend the next few minuets catching up, Billie telling them all about her screen test the past week and getting their opinions on wither she should take the film or not and what a big franchise would mean for her career.

“Hello, hello,” She turned in the direction of Chris who was standing at the head of the table. “Welcome to the first read through of Dunkirk. I have worked with some of you before,” He looked over at Billie, Tom and Cillian and smiled, The three all stealing quick glances at each other, “For those of you that are new to working with me, don’t worry I don’t bite and I hope that by the end of this project we are all one tight knit little family.” Billie giggled, looking around at all the new faces, when suddenly her eyes locked with Jack’s directly across the table. There was a spark, an instant connection, like the earth had shifted and everything in it had changed, they both felt it. And she didn’t want to look away, she wanted to remember every single detail of the moment, how the air felt, the smell of her earl gray tea, how the hairs stood up on her arms, she never wanted to forget what it felt to fall in love in an instant. 

'Cause all I know is we said, "Hello." And your eyes look like coming home All I know is a simple name Everything has changed All I know is you held the door You'll be mine and I'll be yours All I know since yesterday is everything has changed 

“Not a chance mate.” Aneurin whispered pulling Jack’s attention away from Billie and over to his friend. 

“What?” Jack coyly asked, shuffling the papers of his script in front of him on the table. 

“You know who that is right?” 

“And…” Jack shrugged. 

“She’s an Oscar nominee,” Aneurin laughed, “And rumor is she’s one screen test away from getting cast in the new Star Wars films. So you my dear friend Jack, do not stand a chance.” He picked his coffee up and took a long sip. 

Jack looked back over towards her as the assistant director was seeing if her, Tom and Cillian needed copies of the script and pencils. He watched as she snorted on her tea at something that Tom whispered in her ear, their eyes briefly locking over the rim of the mug in her hand, before she looked at Cillian who was asking her a question. The feeling inside of Jack was like nothing he’d ever experienced in his life. It happened all at once, taking over his senses. His heart began to race, and his palms felt sweaty. He’d seen her on film before, who hadn’t, she was Billie Gill, but the moment he laid eyes on her in person getting out of her car, something inside of him shifted gears. It was like he was hooked. He watched the way she tilted her head back as a laugh escaped her smooth pink lips. He saw the way she daintily tucked her shiny hair behind her ear, smiling warmly at her friends. It was easy to know what kind of person she was, just by the way her mouth formed a smile upon her lips. Just by the way her intense eyes shone brightly. She presented herself with a confidence and a grace like he’d never before witnessed. Each time that stunning smile kissed her lips; he could feel his heart grow inside of him. He wanted nothing more than to know every piece of what made her, her. Jack had fallen head over heals, in what could only be love at first sight. 

“Alright let’s get started.” Chris said taking a seat and turning to the first page of the script. Billie sat and listed to the camera direction being read aloud, trying hard to focus on the script and not the man that sat across from her. 

Occasionally looking up and catching him looking back at her, both of them blushing and looking down at their scripts. The only relief she got was when she had lines, she enjoyed reading with Mark and Tom who were playing her father and brother, and getting to read with Cillian and play off of him was always a treat. However, her heart jumped into her throat when she turned the page and saw her and Jack’s characters names next to each other. She took a sip of her tea trying to get rid of the dry mouth she had suddenly got as the AD read the camera direction right above their characters first interaction.

“’Ello” Jack said a little throaty when she looked up at him. Billie paused and gave him a small reassuring smile, trying to tell him he was not alone in the feelings, if he was even feeling the same things at all. 

“Hello.” Her smile grew a bit bigger and his dimples popped. She felt an energy coming off of each other, pulling the two together. It was the power of attraction. Chemistry. An instant spark, like a cliché in some cheesy romantic comedy. Her head suddenly heavy on her shoulders. As if she had stood up too fast, but she knew she didn't. Her eyes dazzled in between his eyebrows and lips, wishing there was no table standing between the two of them. It was Tom coughing next to her that brought her back to the room. 

“Billie,” Chris cut in, “You’re not finished.” 

“Oh sorry,” She blushed and looked down reading the words on the script, “I got you some tea.” She kept her head down the rest of read through, not daring to look up and embarrass herself again. 

And all my walls stood tall painted blue And I'll take them down, take them down and open up the door for you And all I feel in my stomach is butterflies The beautiful kind, making up for lost time,  Taking flight, making me feel right 

“Are you feeling alright?” Tom asked as Billie reached down for her bag and pushed her chair in. 

“Yeah, why?” She brushed the hair out of her face and glanced over to where Jack was standing, already deep in conversation with Tom and another boy whose names she couldn’t remember. 

“I’ve just never seen you so off.” Tom shrugged and pulled his jacket on. 

“Oh,” she blushed, having hoped that her friend wouldn’t have noticed her behavior during the reading, “It’s just jet lag, you know it gets me every time.”

“Bull shit.” Cillian jumped in, “I think our little Bill here has a liking for a certain Scottish bloke.” He nudged her and nodded towards Jack. 

“Seriously, Cillian? I just met the guy today.” Rolling her eyes she tried to play cool. 

“Love at first sight.” Tom whispered, poking her in the side. 

“Oh fuck off,” she huffed “I’m going to introduce myself to Mark.” 

“See you tonight around five?” Tom called after her and without looking back she threw a thumbs up letting him know she would see him then. 

Jack looked up just as she was walking away from Tom and Cillian. He watched her from across the room, debating on whether or not he should approach her and noticing a million little things about her. Like her bright eyes, not the color, necessarily, but the way they open wider when she seemed to be amused, and the way they squint and scrunch up when she laughed. She has smaller hands than him and was stylish and fashionable – even in just the skinny jeans, t-shirt and trench coat she was wearing. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she approached Mark and gave him a huge hug, wishing she had greeted him the same way. 

“Mate,” Tom broke him from his thoughts, “You’ve got it bad.” 

“Dinnae what ye talking about.” He ran his hands through his hair and pulled on his ear, a slight blush creeping onto his face.

“Ya keep staring at her, it’s a bit creepy to be honest.” Tom laughed, looking over at where Billie stood listening very intensely to Mark. 

“Come on, I haven’t met her yet and she’s playing my sister.” Jack was hesitant to follow his friend but decided to in the end, what was the worst that could happen he thought. 

“Tom, my lad.” Mark greeted Tom as he approached, “Billie, have you met Tom yet?” 

“S’nice to meet you Billie,” he extended his hand out towards her, “excited to work with you.” 

“Nice to finally meet you too, I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things from both Chris and Mark here.” She smiled at the young man playing her brother, her eyes soon darting to the taller man behind him. 

“Have you met Jack yet?” Tom smirked as he noticed where her eyes were looking. 

“I have,” Billie sheepishly smiled, “He actually knocked me off my feet this morning as I was coming in.” She giggled as she watched Jack’s cheeks turn a brighter shade of pink. He felt his face start to burn and his mouth go dry. He opened his mouth and tried to form words but nothing came out, for the first time in his life he was speechless standing in front of her. 

“Jack…” Tom laughed, “Ya alright there?” 

“Uh…yeah” he tried to think quickly as Billie cocked her head to the side, a small smile still on her lips, “Just remembered I needed to pick up some milk of the way home.” 

“Right,” Tom scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Anyway Billie, a few of us are hitting up a pub later if you’d like to join us.” 

“Oh I wish I could, but I promised Tom I’d join him and Charlotte for an early dinner tonight before my flight back to Los Angles. So rain check?” Tom nodded as she looked at her watch. “Well I better run, I look forward to working with you both.” She gave Tom and small hug and kiss on the cheek before turning to Jack. 

Hesitantly she approached him, giving him a small hug and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek as she had done with Tom before, only this time it was different. As soon as her lips touched his skin it was like an electric shock ran through her body. She pulled away and looked up at him and his hands found their way to her hips, their touch sending a wave of shivers though her causing her skin to tingle with desire. Peering coyly up at him she felt the blush instantly heat her cheeks. His gaze was intense. Enticing, a million unspoken words were etched upon the depths of his irises as he gazed back at her. A quirk of her lips as they looked at each other, wishing they were alone and hoping this moment could last forever. “I’ll see you in a few weeks.” She whispered so only Jack could hear her. 

“I can’t wait.” He smiled causing his dimples to button in. She nodded and bit her bottom lip as she slowly pulled away and quickly made her way to the door, but not before turning around and looking at Jack one last time. One corner of his mouth tilted upward as she sent him a small smile before disappearing into the hallway. 

“Mate, you totally like her!” Jacked jumped a bit as Tom swung his arm around his shoulder. 

“No, no, no.” Jack mumbled, looking at the ground knowing he couldn’t lie to Tom. “Maybe a little.” 

“I knew it!” Tom shook Jack’s shoulders, chuckling. 

“How?” 

“It was the way you looked at her, mate. It said everything.” Tom sighed. 

And Jack knew his young friend was right. Just the way Billie smiled at him made him weak in the knees and he knew that meeting someone who made him feel the way she did was something he would only get once in his life time, knowing that the moment she stepped out of her car this morning everything in his life had changed.

[metamorpheus-blog1]

c h a r a c t e r + q u e s t i o n n a i r e

[ tw for: drug/alcohol use, death, mental illness ] 

Holy shit, why the fuck is this so long

BASICS

Full name: Marcus Christopher Russo

Any nicknames?: Morpheus, Mark, Marky, Russ, plus a slew of unflattering nicknames from old Army buddies that belong solely to that group of people. 

Age: 35 

Birthday/Zodiac sign: May 9th, 1982 // Taurus. Marcus has a majority of the typical Taurus traits: practical, dependable, down to earth. Regardless of his line of work, this isn’t a guy with a hair-trigger temper or the type to get his rocks off on on the violence in what he does, though he does have a very grim self awareness of just what kind of person he has to be to excel without apology at this job. That sense of strong commitment that keeps him nailed down to assignments with single-minded dedication tends to be a double-edged sword in the way it can overwhelm pretty much everything else and push it to the side in favor of finishing the task at hand. He’s the type that really needs and values internal stability in himself and others, which is BIG when it comes to why his lack of it is so self destructive. 

Height: 5′10. Taller guys, don’t talk shit.

Any tattoos, piercings?: 15 y/o Marcus had a bathroom + sewing needle variety of piercing in his left ear that has long since closed up and been forgotten. Cocky young recruit Marcus got the ‘onward to victory’ printed in neat stacked black script on his ribcage, right side, that he shares with three other recruits from his hometown (this phrase picked from several equally dramatic Big Damn Hero quotes they threw around, all freshly eighteen and very full of aspirations of being badasses), and under that, in ascending levels of freshness, are the month/year arrival and return dates for his three deployments. Deployment #1 has one small dot beside it, #3 has two, tallying those in his squadron ‘fallen in line of duty’, as much as he hates that term. There’s no ‘falling’ involved in an IED on the side of the road blasting you straight to hell but - ! Marcus’ bitterness internalized again, we move on to, of course, this classic number on his left forearm. 

FAVORITES

Sound: He likes NYC’s urban flavor of white noise. Anything repetitive without harshness to it: wind chimes, a clock ticking, steady rain. Back when he used to live on the coast in South Carolina, Marcus went in for all those soothing beach sounds, but the bustle on the city streets has its own charm against waves and seagulls. 

Color: Marcus lives in washed out colors, closer to neutrals, with a side of beige and olive green. Even his black is a little less harsh, like a t shirt that’s still being worn years after it’s faded and started collecting holes. His mind is all vibrant orange though, that Mad Max sandstorm orange, Norah’s orange when he thinks of her every time he peels a tangerine, that kind of desert orange that’s still stuck on him after all these years -- even if in the scope of his service, six years in the real world isn’t very long at all. 

Person: He won’t forgive himself if he says Artemis. That’s too much responsibility to put on her shoulders. So maybe not favorite, but most important? That’s pretty hefty too. Whatever it is, Sunny’s calming influence on this guy can’t be overstated. 

Memory: BCT, or basic training. Now listen, a lot of basic is really really shitty. Shitty food, shitty schedule, shitty exercise, the same shitty drills over and over and over every day. You get tear gassed in basic training. You sweat harder than you’ve ever sweat in your life and you go to bed at night absolutely exhausted. But BCT was the first time Marcus actually saw his future falling into place in a way he could be proud of, when he started to figure out his strengths and advance, and where he found people he could relate to and build friendships with. Really, with that in mind, he’d happily take the shitty food again. 

Place: Lmfao his apartment, messy as he and it are on the inside. Always good to have a good secure place to come back to. Weirdly enough though, he is also pretty comfortable with/fond of the Westside Dock, just because of the sheer amount of time he spends camped out there supervising deals from a distance just in case anything goes wrong. Zeus would’ve kept him parked plenty busy on his main trade, but Hades spreads Marcus over more varied tasks, which is what’s led to his familiarity with every boat, rooftop, and shipping container in that yard. He used to frequent the Warehouse with weekly regularity for the good live music, but understandably some work disagreements have rendered that a no-go zone.

Vice: He’s got the holy trio of Drugs, Booze, and Cigarettes going on, but in light of Madi’s favorite vice mini-meme I’m going to go with his complete lack of any sort of positive coping mechanisms or drive to start trying to develop them. Marcus’ constant self-reassurance is ‘it could be so much worse stop being a whiny bitch’, even the very middle of a panic attack, so shout out to that toxic suck-it-up type of masculinity the Army cultivates along with an unhealthy dose of ‘mental illness isn’t that extreme’ mentality. Keep tellin yourself that, bud.

HAVE THEY EVER…

Been in love?: Yes, in both the high school puppy variety and his one experience in slow-burning, real n’ deep adult love. 

Done drugs?: Oh yeah, and a pretty big variety. Marcus’ hard limit is anything requiring a needle, he knows just how easy it is to fall headlong into addiction with something that potent. Most of his heaviest various drug use was high school and right after his discharge, but he’s settled into a routine of pot whenever the opportunity shows itself and the rare bump of cocaine when he really really needs it. The latter tends to allow him to get what he needs done done, but it understandably sends his mental state straight to shit in the fallout, not to mention it’s an expensive for a picker-upper.  Cocaine is down as something that happens a handful of times a year, maybe. Doing a line is, in his mind, a lot less extreme than shooting something up straight to your veins. Marky’s pretty willfully blind to the fact that something you snort can be just as addictive as something you inject. 

Killed someone?: 

Marcus isn’t really keeping track of that number anymore. There’s a lot of the emotional part of his psyche that gets turned off for this process -- it’s not a person, it’s not murder, it’s a mission, you get it done clean and fast and you get out. Never think of a mark as an individual, complex human being. You’re screwed the second you do.

Betrayed someone’s trust?: Not on the scale of large deceptions. Eurydice might just count, positive and unsuspecting enough as their interactions were before Cronus’ order came down and Marcus had a hit to carry out. But, he reasons, it is the mob. Their definition of trust stands on shaky ground. And thinking that, it’s hard for him to resist the urge to just laugh at how malformed his morality has gotten these past few years.

Had their heart broken?: I mean, yeah, but he did it his damn self and he still thinks it was the right thing. Ending the engagement would never hurt as much as going through with it and waking up twenty years down the road, miserably unhappy. Norah is the closest he’s ever gotten to feeling truly understood but shackling her to his troubled ass would only bog her down and foster a resent towards him he could honestly never hypothetically blame her for feeling. We’ll call it heart break in the name of the greater good. 

Lost someone?: Everyone in the combat zone has a story about losing someone, but Marcus never felt his squad buddies were so close to him he had that kind of ownership over their lives to say they were someone he’d ‘lost’. No close family members dead either, Norah might be something closer to loss if their split hadn’t been his choice. So no, there’s no one he’s mourning, just some still strangely vacant spaces in his mental roster and more than enough persistent ghosts left in his memories.

DO THEY…

Have any pets?: Nope, though he is very firmly a dog person.

Have a family they still talk to?: Yes, but he’s not overly fond of doing it, #1 Son of the Year. Maria and Randy are still firmly parked in Newburgh and it’s honestly just depressing to him to call home and visualize them sitting in the same shitty house on the same shitty couch living the same aimless repetitive lives. 

Have a best friend?: It’s tempting to say Artemis again, real tempting in the kneejerk way, but he’s got way too much insecurity around their relationship and how much pressure his problems can put on a person once they’re close enough to know about them to weigh her down with best friend, if that’s even the phrase for what their relationship is. He’s not about to try and compete with the likes of Apollo and Dionysus either, not when he knows how much they both mean to her. 

Want to get married and/or have kids?: Oh boy. Well, there’s a difference between wanting it and actually pursuing it. Marcus is of the give-your-kids-a-better-life-than-you mentality and he doesn’t think he could do that now that he’s pretty deep in an illegal lifestyle. As for marriage, we all know about his track record with that. 

Want to leave?: He might, if he had any idea of where else he could go without immediately falling into the mental Pit of Despair. NYC has pretty much everything keeping him somewhat together. 

THIS OR THAT?

CALL OR TEXT; texting is convenient but there’s too much in tone and word choice left up for interpretation and it can turn into a liability when he’s got time-sensitive information he needs to know. Marcus almost always calls, especially if it’s about a job; texting is for sharing contact information or an address, or more casual ‘off-duty’ plans.

WEALTH OR LOYALTY; loyalty wins out, but just barely. Wealth is mighty tempting to someone who’s never had it, but at the same time, he’s never had it. When it comes down to choosing one or the other, wealth is the one he’s most capable of living without (no matter how sweet it would be to have). There’s the added fact that genuine excessive wealth makes him almost uncomfortable?? There’s the conspicuous feeling off a sign taped to his back that tells more bougie people ‘this man considers Kraft the superior kind of cheese’ and that’s not gonna change if he suddenly pulls the winning lotto ticket at the minimart below his apartment. 

LOVE OR LUST; not that Marcus is some heartbroken cynic cruising bars every night, but lust is easy and manageable and the occasional one night stand gets lost in the big city without any of those pesky loose ends; it’s been six years and the soreness of parting ways with Norah isn’t so fresh he feels her absence like he did first time he went home with a girl in NYC. He’s not about to entertain any fantasies of romance. The pool of people with shared life experience, or at least similar enough experiences to understand, is... small, to say the least. Why rope some poor unsuspecting soul into his personal whirlpool of bullshit? 

5 FRIENDS OR 100 ACQUAINTANCES; that’s a lot closer to his situation now, Marcus doesn’t tend to accumulate close friends, or at least semi-purposefully he doesn’t. He’s good at that kind of (surprisingly) pleasant, simple interaction that tends to fix a version of himself in people’s minds that doesn’t invite further speculation or questions (though if you ask, he’ll nine times out of ten be an open book). What you see with Mark is what you get, unless you stumble into or purposefully try for something deeper. 

SUMMER OR WINTER; you’d think summer, considering Marcus’ open air approach to his apartment (though that’s more of a claustrophobia thing than anything else), but he finds winter a lot more manageable and he’s had more than enough time in the Middle East to properly enjoy heat, even though going outside when it’s warm and he isn’t wearing 60 pounds of gear is a little treasure in itself. People are easier to track during winter too, their patterns are more predictable, there’s less roaming outside when it’s fuckin cold. 

OTHERS:

Wanted plots/connections: will be linked soon!

[ificecanburn]

The OC no one asked for

So other people’s posts about their FMA:B OCs got my gears turning, and over time I sort of came up with one of my own, although does she count if I’ve never written anything for her? I don’t have the time or much inclination to write a fanfic for an OC, but I still have these ideas that I wanted to get down, so here we go.

Mustang and Hawkeye are my favourite characters in FMA, so I wanted a character that could play off/be a foil for them. She doesn’t have a name (yet), but I decided she is indeed a she. 

She was a foster child that was fostered by a family that acted as a sort of half-way house for children in the system. They had a lot of kids in their care, sometime for a long time and sometimes just for a few weeks. The family themselves were very interested in alchemy and had been doing their own research for a couple of generations now. She was in their care since she was around 8, and since she’d been with them for a while they started teaching her alchemy, too. 

Their main focus of research was alchemy that could be spread over the body from one point on a seal, there were a few different types (strengthening, magnetising) but the one she took best to was repelling. 

My idea for this repelling alchemy is a little similar to how the mages strengthen their limbs in F/SN:UBW, except its not really strengthening. What happens is your skin can repel anything that comes close to it, so for example if you threw a punch you could ‘repel’ the person at the same time and the punch would seem like it was super strong. If someone threw you against a wall you could repel the wall around you so it didn’t actually hit you. With concentration you can throw the repulsion outward to affect things in your immediate vicinity, things like air and water being easier to repel. 

So when she is around seventeen there is a fire in the district where she lives with her foster family. A lot of people die including everyone living in her house, there are only several survivors of which she is one. She uses her repulsion alchemy to repel the fire and get out, but she’s still unskilled and gets badly burned (her back and over her right shoulder). She can’t save anyone else.

I haven’t decided if she has the array tattooed on her before the fire, or (and I’m leaning towards this), if she uses a metal replica of the array, hot from the fire, as a brand. I know its on her forearm.

If you’re still reading this well done, I don’t know why. Anyway, she comes out of the fire with PTSD and severe burns, meaning she is in hospital until she turns eighteen. She also now hates alchemy, as the memories are too painful and she couldn’t use it to save anyone she loved. She wants to get rid of the brand/tattoo, but the only thing that comes to mind is burning it off, and by now she has an extreme fear of fire. So instead she hides it. 

Having no where else to go she joins the military. At the physical they of course see the mark, but its nothing they recognise and she doesn’t do alchemy so its left alone. Over time someone see’s her burned back, and as the fire she was in was a well known tragedy people put it together. That, along with the seal on her arm start rumours that there’s another flame alchemist. 

I have an idea that she works under Hughes, but that’s not set in stone. I also have an idea of her working more with firearms and hand to hand combat, since she wants nothing more to do with alchemy. Obviously rumours of another flame alchemist reach Mustang and he becomes determined to find out what she’s hiding, as there can be no more flame alchemists. Hughes tells him its probably nothing and to leave the girl alone, but he refuses. 

In true Mustang form, I see him being dramatic and a bit careless in trying to find out, and when he’s in central he questions her, and she says it’s not true but refuses to talk about it. So he shoots some fire at her suddenly, making it seem like its going right for her but really reigning it so it wouldn’t hit her. He figures that if she is a flame alchemist she’ll try and control the flames to protect herself. She puts out her arm and tries to use her array, but as she’s so rusty lets just say its lucky Mustang wasn’t really aiming for her. 

What happens instead of a flame alchemist revealing herself is that Mustang finds himself standing over a young girl cowering before him in absolute terror, and looking at him like he’s the monster he’s always feared he is. And I think she would see him that way, given her history. So that’s essentially their dynamic, and yeah, I see ways that could be spun out. 

[whisper-of-a-screech]

Hi hello yes did someone say ~modern naruto au shit~ No. No one did. Here you are anyway go wild my friends Sakura: • freshman (high school) • straight A’s • honors student • booksmarts • distant and demanding parents • ‘perfect daughter’ facade • boiling issues of inadequacy • and anxiety • and anger • oh yeah and self esteem • fierce like you wouldn’t BELIEVE • Bisaster but hides it Sasuke: • freshman (high school) • second son of the region’s police chief • mom is a lawyer • looks up to his older genius (slightly mentally unstable) brother • but there’s always the niggling sense of ‘I’ll never measure up’ • good grades • but his parents are always busy • and his brother already hit all those top marks • so it’s nothing special, huh • also a Bisaster and gets flustered sometimes Naruto: • freshman (high school) • half feral • no one knows how he got into high school • frequently claims he was raised by a pack of dogs and/or his foster brother (Kakashi) • bad grades • Art Kid™ • loves paint • spray paint especially • Bisaster and doesn’t bother to hide it • ace • crushing on Kiba Kiba: • freshman (high school) • wild child • mom owns a vet clinic • everyone in his family owns a dog • bad grades • rough and tumble • wrestles for fun • probably in a gang • leather jackets • no one knows if he dyes his cheeks or if he actually got tattoos or what • plot twist his mom also runs a tattoo parlor • but his sister does hardcore YouTube makeup tutorials • it’s anyone’s guess Hinata: • freshman (high school) • shy kid • trying hard but average grades • first daughter of the next region over’s police chief • under crazy pressure • stutters • oversized sweaters • genetic eye thing? • feels inferior to her younger sister • wanted to be rebellious so she tried to dye her hair • but couldn’t make herself do anything more obvious than dark blue Shino: • freshman (high school) • quiet • rumors that he’s mute • sunglasses • oversized coat • plot twist he’s covered in bug bites because he lets mosquitos suck his blood • his family is beekeepers / bug-breeders / ? • likes catching fireflies but always lets them go quickly • average grades • makes a game of how many bugs he can sneak into his pockets before the teachers notice Ino: • freshman (high school) • popular girl • good grades • gossipy but good with secrets • croptops • dad is a reporter / interviewer after retiring from ~secret agency~ • friends with everyone • knows how to cook • good at board games • crazy good at painting nails Shikamaru: • freshman (high school) • probably narcoleptic • sleeps in class • bad grades • good at board games • conspiracy theorist™ • his room is covered in bulletin boards • with pinned newspaper clippings and red string • plot twist his dad has even bigger bulletin boards • and even more newspaper clippings / red string Chouji: • freshman (high school) • loves to cook • parents run a bakery and a restaurant respectively • average grades • good at board games • him and Kiba are in the same boat with the tattoo / dye / makeup mystery • but surely sweet Chouji would never get tattoos • no • never • (plot twist Kiba’s are makeup and Chouji’s are tattoos) Tenten: • sophomore (high school) • confident • has a knife collection • father is a blacksmith / bladesmith • friendly • good grades • no mom • oddly good at styling hair • plot twist it’s bc she does Neji’s Neji: • sophomore (high school) • straight A’s • honors student • Hinata’s cousin • dad died on duty with Hiashi • he blames Hiashi for it • genetic eye thing? • cool • distant • has plans to move in with Tenten after he hits eighteen Lee: • sophomore (high school) • straight A’s • Gai’s adopted son • hardworking • tired of ‘you don’t look alike’ comments • so now he and Gai look exactly alike • super emotional • will absolutely cry when he graduates • always gives 100% of his everything, for everything Itachi: • junior (college) • straight A’s • 4.0 gpa • Halloween Fanatic™ • blank expressions all the time • doesn’t talk often • ppl are always surprised when he does bc he sounds like he gargled a gravel driveway • plot twist it’s bc he’s a hardcore smoker • everyone knows the Uchiha all have this genetic cough/scratchy throat thing that usually comes in between the ages of 18 and 25 • except plot twist the Uchiha are all just chain-smokers • the ‘woke up like this’ kid • drinks matcha tea with his dango Kisame: • senior (college) • lots of tattoos (gills / blue-gray swirls / etc.) • dyes his hair blue • gets cold easy • wears ear warmers • hair doesn’t behave • had to file his teeth for a dare and now he scares all the freshies • polite • can down the blackest of coffee like water but doesn’t often • it’s an exam special • has seven (7) pet fish, two (2) pet snails and one (1) pet marimo algae ball • works at an aquarium • regularly ‘communes’ with the sharks • (he hums at them while they swim around) • but they seem to like him? • the staff is endlessly confused but like whatever floats your boat my guy Pein (Nagato): • senior (college) • philosophy major • blank and monotone • at least nine piercings • quiet but weirdly intense • is in some sort of Relationship™ with Konan • the only person allowed to call him Nagato is Konan • unless they want to wake up drugged in a ditch an inexplicable sixty miles from town covered in paper cuts Konan: • senior (college) • majors in Accounting and / or Management (business student) • somewhat less blank than Pein • has a few piercings of her own • is in some sort of Relationship™ with Pein • origami • never anything less than composed or pristine • badass • 100% of the time, just • badass Tobi: • senior (college) • speaks in third person • embraces his inner child • clumsy af • wears a phantom of the opera mask everywhere • no one knows / can remember his eye color • falls over a lot • trips up the stairs • extreme sweet tooth • likes juice boxes / goldfish / fruit snacks / etc. • roommates with Zetsu • they play go fish when neither can sleep • somehow good grades even though no one ever sees him in class • plot twist it’s bc he goes as Obito Zetsu: • junior (college) • completely lathers themself in water-resistant black and white paint every ~3 days • dyes their hair green • wears their botany project around • what ppl don’t know is that it’s a vampiric plant hybrid they bred specially to feed off blood • ‘i can’t go to her every time she needs to be fed, so i just bring her with me’ • wears contacts • spends most of their time in the greenhouse • doesn’t sleep • local cryptid • nb • ‘any pronouns but she’ • no one ever sees them eat Deidara: • freshman (college) • spends 2.2 hours on his hair and almost a fifth of his budget on hair products • band kid • eyeliner • makeup expert • he collabs with Hana for some YouTube makeup tutorials • drums • unexpectedly good singer • loves fireworks • makes his own fireworks • 4th of July is his favorite holiday • accidentally made a kiln bomb as a kid and now he explodes things as often as possible • enjoys sculpting clay figures for raku pottery with air bubbles so they explode when heated • hates coffee with PASSION • but still visits Sasori’s favorite cafe with him • not that he ASKS but it’s always nice to have company right? • right Sasori: • senior (college) • 21 but ppl think he’s 18 • he’s got a hella baby face • Art Kid™ • enjoys woodworking • and occasionally leather-crafting • dorm room is covered in puppets • human puppets / doll puppets / animal puppets • super good puppeteer • could do his entire show with his eyes closed • tutors Kankurou • once took an archery class and can hit dead center 95% of the time • can sleep with his eyes open • can also sleep standing up • he utilizes both these skills often • everyone thinks he’s a stoic bastard • and he is but also it’s mostly because he keeps falling asleep during conversations • dyes his hair red Kakuzu: • senior (college) • no one knows how long he’s been a senior • he’s not in debt • no student loans • no one knows how he’s doing it • plot twist it’s bc he’s filthy rich from scamming half the students in his freshman year oh so long ago • but he’s stingy and miserly and still lives off instant ramen and cereal • has like three PhDs • he’s working on his fourth • his blood is coffee at this point • he wears a face mask to hide the tattoos he got on a dare as a dumb teenager • has reading glasses but never uses them • green eyes but they’re so bloodshot he looks permanently high when instead he’s averaging 1.5 hours of sleep per night • rents his place out to other college students • he gouges them and they complain but it’s still cheaper than the dorms Hidan: • senior (college) • held back three years in high school • disappears every Sunday • says he was at ‘church’ but no one’s heard of a Jashinist church before much less one in the area • wears contacts • bleached his hair on a dare and liked it so he keeps doing it • regularly / ritually paints his face / chest / arms every Sunday for ‘church’ • prays four times a day on every sixth hour (5 am, 11 am, 5 pm, 11 pm) • has a religious exemption from class for 15 minutes at 11 am to pray • plot twist the only reason he got it is because he prays whether he has it or not and the professor got sick of him loudly and passive-aggressively reciting his prayers over the lecture • always carries his rosary • smokes occasionally • but has a Thing abt hygiene • his teeth are infuriatingly white