#wait i only drew the Meeting Conference 2 days ago

[lunarharp]

various things !

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 2: Fuck-ups and Textbooks

... I know I said I’d update weekly, but here we are. From now on I’ll post every Friday, if not more often. Than you for such a positive response to Chapter 1, it warms my heart! Enjoy :)

Chapter 1

AO3 Link

Summary:  You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter: 2, Fuck-ups and Textbooks

Chapter Summary:  You narrow in on the pool of suspects while desperately trying to convince yourself that dream psychology is a pseudoscience.

Words: 2225

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

A man stood above you, backlit, so you couldn’t see his face. You were laid supine, staring up at him - vulnerable, but unafraid. He spoke to you, but his voice and words were indistinct, muffled, as if you were underwater.

He knelt over you, placing one hand to the side of your head. It was silent, still, unmoving except for the dim lights shifting behind him. You felt your breath quicken as the figure shifted almost imperceptibly closer. His tie fell forward, dangling over your chest. It was a beautiful cerulean blue, silky and expensive looking. You reached up to touch it, and the man caught your wrist in a firm grip.

“No,” he said, his words clearer but his voice still indistinct. Low, deep, familiar… but you couldn’t place it.

He released your hand and moved his to your waist, lightly caressing, stroking downward until he caught your hipbone. Your pulse quickened and you gasped and arched upward into his touch, feeling his fingers dig in tighter in response.

“I thought so,” he murmured, swinging one leg over to cage your body with his. The hand that wasn’t gripping your hip wove into your hair and came to rest at the base of your skull, pulling your head up as he leaned down to catch your mouth with his…

Your phone alarm blared, waking you with a start. The dream slipped away, leaving you alone in your hotel bed, a noticeable wetness between your legs.

“God fucking damn it; I can’t have anything,” you muttered, throwing off your blanket and hopping into the shower. You hadn’t dreamed about sex in a while, hadn’t thought about sex in a while, too preoccupied with proving yourself at work. The dream left a longing in its wake, one that would unfortunately have to be addressed at a later time, because you stayed in the shower far too long and needed to meet Hotch and Morgan downstairs.

____________

You bustled into the lobby, clutching your case files and coffee. The others stood by the front entrance, facing away, seemingly discussing something amongst themselves. Hotch turned at the sound of your heels clicking towards them. You smiled, nodding your head in greeting, and-

Oh my god.

You froze in your tracks, face feeling suddenly numb. You registered Hotch frowning in confusion, but you couldn’t say anything to reassure him, not yet.

His tie.

It was the same one, the one that draped over your bare chest in the dream last night, the one attached to the man who you’d been thinking about all morning despite never seeing his face. The same one that hung loosely around Hotch’s neck last night on the balcony, the one that made you feel so voyeuristic that you couldn’t make conversation with him knowing its unknotting exposed his throat, making him appear stripped bare in comparison to the tailored suits he practically lived in.

“You alright, kiddo?” Morgan asked. “I mean, I know I’m a stop-you-in-your-tracks kinda guy, but I woulda thought you’d be used to that by now, huh?”

Morgan’s lighthearted cockiness gave you the boost you needed to shake your head and keep walking forward. “Sorry, thought I forgot my phone. I’m good. Let’s go, what’s the plan?”

Hotch seemingly accepted your answer, but kept his eyes on you as you got into the car. “Local police have rounded up friends and family of the California victim at the station. I’d like you to take the lead on interviews today. Morgan and I will be available should you have any questions, but we’re going to search our victim’s apartment first. Is that alright?”

It wasn’t actually a question, of course, but you gave verbal confirmation just the same. After the incident last week, you wanted a chance to prove yourself in an interview setting with a slightly less hostile subject.

They dropped you off at the station with instructions to compare notes with Prentiss, JJ, Reid, and Rossi after each interview. After setting up the room and conducting a tearful conversation with the victim’s mother, your first interview of the day, a conference call with the others in Arizona and Nevada revealed that the team had missed something big in the initial review of victims: they had all attended the same small, liberal arts college in San Diego.

“So, uh, who wants to tell Hotch?” asked Emily over the phone. Silence on the line, but you could tell what the others were thinking - no one wanted to be the one to deliver the news that you had overlooked such a clear commonality in the victim profiles - one that could have led you to an obvious suspect pool hours ago.

“The most fair way to decide this would be a random selection tool, here, I can pull one up on my phone,” replied Reid, accompanied by tapping sounds as he typed something in.

“No, she can do it, she’s with Hotch already,” said Rossi. “Let’s not waste time on this. Let us know what he says.” The others murmured their sympathies, but ended the call just the same, satisfied with avoiding Hotch’s quiet brand of wrath for the time being.

Sighing, you slumped in your chair in the interview room. Best to just get it over with. You dialed and held your breath, but not for long, as he picked up on the first ring.

“What did you find?” he asked, expectant.

“I just got off the phone with the others, and, it… it looks like they all attended the same college. PLNU, here in San Diego.”

A few beats of complete silence on the other end. You cringed, holding the phone away from your head like it was a bomb about to go off.

After what felt like ages, he responded. His voice was low, stern as always, but it had a clipped quality that you recognized as the closest you’d ever seen Agent Hotchner get to rage. “How did we not find this out during preliminary research?” he asked.

“Well, um, two of them didn’t actually graduate from there, so it wasn’t immediately obvious,” you offered.

More silence.

“I’m sorry, sir, you’re right though, we should have figured this out earlier. I’m sorry, I’ll -”

He interrupted you. “Thank you, I’ll tell Garcia to get a suspect pool together.” Line dead.

You sighed and laid your head in your hands. As far as tough conversations go, that was easy on the surface - hell, you’d had bosses scream at you when you worked retail for something much less consequential. But Hotch was different - he commanded respect without demanding it, and he had a way of making you feel like the only true measure of success was his praise, and by that same vein, his disappointment made you feel like an utter failure. For a man so cold and closed off, he drew the attention and admiration of everyone around him. When you started your internship, JJ had filled you in on what happened to his family - both wife and child murdered by one of their subjects. You weren’t sure how a man who had gone through that was still standing, much less working in the field that exposed them to that danger in the first place. But that was Aaron Hotchner, right? There was a reason that any member of his team would take a bullet for him without a second thought.

You’d only known him for a month, but you thought you probably would too.

____________

The rest of the interviews progressed smoothly, and you found out through conversation with your fellow team members that all three victims had taken a class with the same TA. One of them had mentioned a creepy teaching assistant to her friends at one point or another, shaping this up to hopefully be a pretty clear case of unhinged stalkerdom. Why the grandiosity in transporting and hiding the bodies no one was quite sure, but you, Morgan, and Hotch were on your way to his house along with a SWAT team to figure that out.

When you pulled up outside his address, a little yellow bungalow in La Jolla, you felt your upper lip start to sweat. Morgan and Hotch were pulling on their vests, checking their guns, and you, an intern without weapons privileges (or training, for that matter) were hiding behind the corner of the SUV.

“Remember, we don’t know if this is our guy!” Morgan yelled to the other officers. “We need him alive, don’t go shooting for no reason, got it?”

Hotch turned to you hurriedly before they moved across the street to enter the home. “You okay?” he asked, placing his hand on your upper arm.

You nodded, chewing on your bottom lip.

“You’ll be fine,” he reassured you, looking into your face intently. "There’s several officers waiting with you out here, this will take less than two minutes.”

You nodded again, unsure how to tell him that you weren’t afraid for yourself, but for them. For him. He was indestructible, fearless, more than twice your age with more than 20 times the experience in the field. But you still felt an innate urge to be there, to protect him in case something went wrong.

His potential as a cult leader is really being wasted at the BAU. Hell, I’d die for him.

Therapy, you decided. You needed therapy.

Hotch nodded, oblivious to your internal conflict, dropped his hand from your arm, and headed towards the house with the others. You heard Morgan yell, a loud bang as he presumably kicked the door in, and more shouting. Your breath hitched in your throat as you counted the seconds, dreading the sound of gunshots.

Luckily, it didn’t come. They exited the house, striding towards you. Hotch’s hair had been disheveled in the commotion, falling onto his forehead. He raked it back with one hand, sighing.

“Nothing. Doesn’t look like he fled, but Garcia didn’t mention anything about him being at work during this time. Morgan’s gonna call her and see if she can find a location; let’s search the house.”

You nodded and followed him, feeling guilty for your overwhelming sense of relief that the suspect hadn’t been home. Morgan stood in the front yard, charming Garcia on the phone. You smiled. It was only a matter of time before those two stopped being idiots and admitted their love for each other; you couldn’t imagine being one of the more seasoned team members that has dealt with their antics for years.

Trailing Hotch through the front door, you noticed immediately how… bare the home was. The furniture was all standard IKEA gray (you recognized it, having furnished your apartment on a budget), the walls were absent of any decoration, and there wasn’t a single knick-knack or distinguishing piece that made it appear as if someone actually lived there. The obvious plainness stood in stark contrast to the sunny exterior and palm trees and other greenery surrounding the home.

Morgan strode in behind you, apparently having concluded his flirting session. “Cozy, huh?”

You nodded. You didn’t have much experience profiling suspects’ living quarters, but you didn’t need to be an expert to know that something was off here.

“Split up. Take the bedroom,” Hotch directed, nodding in your direction. “Tell me if you find anything.”

The bedroom was just as unremarkable as the rest of the house. You tore through drawers of neatly folded clothing, pulled out mounds of blank notebooks from the desk, dug through a trashcan filled to the brim with just tissues (you truly didn’t want to know), and just when you were sure there was absolutely nothing of import to discover about this guy, you pulled up the corner of the mattress to find what must have been dozens of books on criminal psychology stacked within the bedframe.

The suspect was very notably not a TA for a criminal psychology class.

“Uh, Agent Hotchner? Sir? I think I found something,” you called out.

Hotch appeared in the doorway. “Show me.”

You pulled up the corner of the mattress, gesturing for him to look underneath. Moving closer, he placed his hand on your lower back, and looked over your shoulder.

“Criminal psychology?” he asked, unmoving.

You nodded, glued to your position, breathing shallowly, wanting to move to examine the books but effectively pinned between Hotch and the foot of the bed. Your gaze shifted to the left slightly, and you were met with an eye level view of-

That fucking tie. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

He moved away to pull the stack of books out of its hiding place, and the muscles in your lower back where his hand was resting suddenly relaxed. You berated yourself internally for being so weird around him - it was a tie, for fuck’s sake, something that your mind had picked up on yesterday and inserted purposelessly into your dream.

Dream psychology is bullshit, you reassured yourself for probably the hundredth time today.

Hotch began to leaf through the books, and you saw that certain passages had been intensely highlighted and circled, with notes scribbled in the margins. He paused to read a few of them before snapping the textbook he was holding shut and standing up.

“Let’s get these packed up and go through them back at the hotel. It’s getting late.”

[soldrawss]

I love your big brother Mikey au! For no reason whatsoever the first thing that popped into my head is mikey going to parent teacher confrences with his little brothers and they are so excited to show off what they learned.

Parent-teacher conferences are a BIG deal in the Hamato household because it’s the one time of the year that Mikey can excuse himself from work or school and just BE THERE to enjoy the boys’ school lives. (Mikey wants more than anything to be able to see every science fair and play performance and baseball game that the kids put on, but work sadly comes first and Mikey can never find the TIME to do everything)(Which the boys understand. They obviously, of course, WISH that Mikey could see them shine in all the activities they do, but they get it and they never pressure or pout about it to Mikey cause that’s so not fair to Mikey who wants to be there just as badly as they do)

So that’s why parent-teacher conferences are a BIG night for the Hamato boys. Raph had his earlier in the night, cause elementary schools be like that, and Raph got to show all his art that hangs on the hallway walls to Mikey, who BEAMS at him with a “Holy cow, you drew this Raphie? This is amazing! I don’t think I could draw something like this NOW, you’re so talented, buddy!” and piggybacks Raph all throughout the school despite the polite and hushed giggles from the other parents, because Raph asked and he is the baby brother in a way that he’ll never outgrow and Mikey relishes in the time he gets to indulge the 7yo and say yes to him. Raph talks a mile a minute, showing Mikey all his favorite spots and classrooms and friends and teachers and when Raph’s teacher, Mrs. Daniels, hands Mikey a white envelope, filled to the brim with pictures of his baby brother, (pictures of field trips and track days. Pictures of Raph, grinning and red-faced, dressed as a sunflower from the play performance he was so proud of and talking about for weeks that Mikey missed a few months ago) Mikey had to do his best to swallow back the tears that threatened to take over and do his best to give her one of his best grins, thanking her profusely all while clutching the precious little photographs of all the little moments he missed tightly to his chest.

It was the twins' turn next, and thankfully the middle school was just down the block from Raph’s elementary. Leo is the first to greet them, waving them down excitedly from the main steps and leading the two down the hallways to meet up with Donnie near the science labs. (Mikey only got to spend a year at this middle school when they had first moved to New York from L.A when Raph was still a baby, but the surge of nostalgia washes over him like a nauseating tidal wave that he forces down with a white-knuckled gulp. It was a different time then, heck, it felt like a different life altogether. An alternate reality. Where Mikey got to stay a kid a little longer, and dad was still alive)

Donnie shows them all his science projects/experiments, and even shows them the failed robots that didn’t do very well in some of the robotic competitions, because he wants Mikey to see everything, good and bad, and Mikey soaks it all in like a sponge. Wide-eyed and wide grinned as he rubs an affectionate hand through Donnie’s neatly styled hair, just to get a swat and a chuckle out of the bespeckled 12-year-old, and says, “Dee, you made these? I knew you were smart, but I didn’t know you were like, NASA Space Wizard, build-a-working-IA-robot-out-of-toothpicks, smart. I’m so proud of you!” with every fiber of his body because he means it and he wants Donnie to know it too. (And the burst of warmth that blossoms in Donnie's chest is a feeling that Donnie bottles up immediately, putting it on a shelf safely in his heart so that he could keep it forever)

After talking with a few of Donnie's teachers that he doesn’t share with Leo, (because even though he’s smart enough to be 2 grades ahead of where he is, Donnie is adamant about not skipping any grades so he and Leo can graduate together. Mikey wants whatever the boys want, but he understands the teachers' plight to give Donnie the best, so Donnie spends half of his time in the adjoining high school taking those credits, and spends the rest of his time with Leo in the extracurricular classes that he could take just as easily in a middle school alongside his twin) it’s Leo’s turn to get a little attention from Mikey.

And Leo plays it off all cool, pretending that his little golden trophy in the giant display case for ‘Ace Hitter’ isn’t that big a deal, and Mikey knows, like he knows all the freckles on Leo’s nose by heart, that Leo tries to hide all his A+ history and English papers just to make Donnie’s shine and stand out, or that his leading role in their fall production of a Mid Summer’s Night Dream wasn’t ‘nearly as good as Raph’s performance as a dancing sunflower, believe me, Mike, you didn’t miss much at all.’ But Mikey doesn’t get to spoil the middle child often, so he leans over Leo while the 12-year-old talks, wrapping his arms around Leo’s shoulders and holding him close and pressing kisses to the top of his head because, “You’re so incredible, Leo! Gosh, next time you have a home game, let me know, cause I can’t wait to brag about my kid brother, the next Babe Ruth, to literally everyone I know!”

And Leo knows better than to expect that Mikey would be able to even make it to his next game, but the hope that makes a home for itself in his chest is warm and light, so Leo lets it stay there rent-free anyway, and enjoys the little time he gets to spend in the circle of Mikey’s arms that, for the moment, are reserved only for him.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

summertime sadness .5.

work day

Sequel to kiss me in the d-a-r-k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (masterlist under construction)

Warnings: dub con sex (fingering)

This is dark!(dad)Steve and dark(professor!)Bucky explicit. 18+ only. I know they aren’t super dark, but like questionable so I’m keeping those tags just to be safe.

Summary: Loki adds to your workload.

Note: Right, here we go, here we go, here go again. Girls, what's my weakness? Men! Sorry, minor detour there but are we ready for the darkness? Y'all hold onto your panties. Thanks everyone for their support and I love you all! 💋

<3 Let me know what you think in a reblog, reply, or like. I’m loving the feedback from y'all and the enthusiasm! Also as always, memes accepted.

💋💋💋

You didn’t sleep much. Every time you closed your eyes, the scene flashed behind your eyelids. Loki standing over you, the image on his phone, his hand on your chin. And then you thought of Bucky. It was hard not to; your phone buzzed all night as you ignored his messages. Steve’s too. It had finally caught up to you and it felt worse than you could imagine. A man you admired thought you nothing more than a floozy. Well, maybe you were.

Saturday shone through your window and you rolled over. You were exhausted; mentally, emotionally. Your hours were spent reprimanding yourself. Going over all your mistakes; every single choice that had led to such disaster. You sat up and rubbed your eyes. You moved slowly, your body cramped from the tension.

The grind of your coffee machine filled the apartment as you sat at your desk. A mark of your guilt. A gift from one illicit lover; another having defiled you a top it. A year ago, to think of all that had transpired, you would’ve been appalled. You were. You’d sold your integrity for fleeting pleasures. You felt cheated. By yourself more than any.

You filled a mug and grabbed your phone from beside your bed. You hadn’t looked at it since you laid down the night before. Missed calls, unanswered texts, unread emails. You answered Bucky first, a simple ‘I wasn’t feeling well. Sorry.’ Besides, he had plans with Tanya, or was busy dodging her.

You texted the same to Steve and his response was swift. Your phone vibrated as his ID flashed across the screen and you answered the call after several rings. You were weak, breathless.

“Hey,” You said quietly and sipped your coffee.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked.

“Fine,” You lied poorly. “Work’s kept me busy and… I guess it’s gotten ahead of me.”

“Oh,” He uttered. “Any plans today?”

“Rest,” You shrugged and sat back in your chair. “After I sort through all my work emails and catch up.”

“Bucky?” He asked.

“I… I’m tired.” You grumbled. “I… need a break.”

“I’m sure work would understand if you took a day to yourself.” Steve said.

“No, no, I can’t do that,” You said suddenly. “I wasn’t talking about work.”

“What do you--”

“You shouldn’t be calling me. You should call Kylie. See how she’s doing.” You interrupted. “And Bucky should worry about his students. About marking and whatever. And I need to think about myself and my job.” You stood and paced around the small space of your apartment. “I’m sorry but… you said it yourself. It’s okay to be selfish, so I’m going to be selfish and think about my future because fucking old men isn’t going to get me anywhere.”

You hung up before he could respond. And then your heart sank. Why had you said that? It all had spilled from you so quickly. You cringed and your phone began to buzz again. It was Steve. You let out a shaky breath and dismissed the call. You set your phone to do not disturb’ and tossed it on your bed. Maybe your words were rash but it didn’t make them any less true.

💋

Monday. You walked into Adder Press with a pit in your stomach. You were jittery from more than your morning coffee. You gripped the strap of your bag tightly as you passed Stacey. Everything around you seemed distant, obscured by the haze that fell over you. You sat at your desk, numb, and began to set out your stuff as you always did. In a desperate attempt to make it all feel normal again.

As you waited for your computer to boot, you felt a subtly weight on the back of your chair. You looked up at Loki as he gripped the chair and smirked down at you. You blanched and your pen slipped from your hand. He bent to grab it before you could and as he rose, he dragged the lid against your leg. He held it out and you snatched it from him.

“Morning meeting in five,” He said as he stood before you. “Then I wanted to go over layout with you. A useful lesson if you ever hope to be anything more than a freelancer. You have to have a good eye… for detail.”

You gulped and nodded. “Yes, okay, yeah.” You set the pen down on your desk. “Five minutes.”

He winked and left you there to stew in your shame. You glanced around but no one else seemed to notice your tense interaction. They were all too concerned with their own schedules, their own presence at the meeting. Really, who cared much about the summer intern?

You were antsy as you walked into the conference room. You hid between Vanessa, a political pundit, and Jory, who covered local business stories. Loki sat near the head of the table as the marketing head went over the final prints of the Pride issue. You folded your hands before you but couldn’t concentrate. 

Your eyes wandered from the powerpoint and you found the editor-in-chief peering over at you. Another sinister grin sent a chill through you. You looked back to the screen and prayed for the day to go quickly. Your heart felt as if it would explode.

When you broke out, you dragged your feet and were the last out of the room. You lingered at your desk as you grabbed your notebook and pen. Loki’s office beckoned to you ominously. He stood in the doorway watching you; waiting for you. You neared him as his lips curled.

He shut the door and you jumped at the click. He brushed past you before he rounded his desk. He pulled a chair with him and placed it beside his. He waved you over. You took a breath and crossed to him. As you sat, he pinched your ass and you pressed your lips together to keep from yelping.

His hand settled on your thigh as his other moved his mouse. He opened a page from last month’s issue and kept his eyes on the screen as he kneaded your leg. “We’ll go over composition. How to draw the reader’s eye and using layout to enhance your words.”

You nodded stiffly and shakily opened your notebook. He kept his hand on your thigh as you place the book on his desk and uncapped your pen. He circled the title with his cursor, entirely unfazed by your discomfort. His fingers slipped closer to your pelvis.

“Titles are easy but you’ll want to position them according to article type as well. Is it an editorial? Review? Reflective?” He continued. “Now, most editors would leave this to marketing and such but… I try to be hands on with every aspect of my business. My seal is on every page, ever word, that goes out.”

You scribbled down a jumble of words as his hand slid between your thighs and he squeezed. You flinched and he let out a soft chuckle under his breath. You kept your wide eyes on the monitor and he carried on his lesson. His hand never quite reaching its target. He was teasing you. Asserting the new power he held over you.

When he finished his spiel, he drew away and turned his chair to face you. His legs were far apart and you tried not to look at the obvious bulge in his pants. You kept your head down as you slipped your notebook down onto your lap. 

“I’ve got an important lunch date tomorrow,” He said. “I should like you to accompany me, darling.”

You peeked up at him. “Okay.”

“Sceptre Press is looking to expand its mediums. The director of Celestial has agreed to discuss a partnership.” He said coolly.

“Oh?” You breathed. “They… do podcasts?”

“Mostly,” He confirmed. “But, my dear, do wear something nice. A skirt.”

You crossed your legs. Your straight-cut pants felt thin enough. “Alright.”

“No panties.” He licked his lips. “Our little secret… well, another one, yeah?”

“Okay.” You said. You bit down and your pen rolled out of your grasp once more. 

His eyes followed the pen and flicked back to you. “Well, go on,” He mused. “Very… clumsy today.”

You bent to retrieve your pen and he caught the back of your head. He held you there and rolled his chair closer so that his lap was only inches from your face. He snickered as you tried to pull away but quickly gave up. His other hand stretched over his crotch and he grasped his erection through the thin fabric of his trousers.

“I could make you do it right now,” He slithered. “Hmm?”

“Yes,” You uttered. 

“I’m tempted,” He rubbed himself and shifted his hand as he pushed you closer. “Kiss it.” You closed your eyes and kissed his bulge. He shivered and let you go. You sat up, dizzy, and he grinned at you. “Not yet.” He preened. “But I do have to take care of this…” He ran his hand across his lap again. “So if you would excuse me. I am certain you have work to catch up on.”

You stood and back away slowly. “Yes, sir.” You turned as you rounded the desk.

“Sir? I like that,” He called from behind you as you neared the door. “Oh, darling, one more thing.”

You spun back to him and shielded your chest with your notebook. “Yes?”

“I’ll need some inspiration so before you sit down, go to the lav and take a nice photo for me.” He made a show of unzipping his pants behind his desk. “I bet you’re wearing a sweet little white bra, aren’t you? Maybe a precious pink number?”

Your throat tightened as you stared back at him. “Okay.” You forced out. “Is that all?”

“For now,” He shooed you away with a wave of his fingers. “As you will.”

💋

You had few skirts to choose from. You settled on a lavender one that ended just above your knees. With it, you wore a blouse with a Peter Pan collar and a grey blazer with three-quarter length sleeves. It wasn’t as enticing as any other outfit you owned; which was not at all. Perhaps that would work in your favour.

When you arrived at the bistro, Loki waved you ahead of him as you followed the hostess to your booth. You slid across the bench first and he was close behind. He took out his phone and checked it before he set it face down on the table. He asked for water and nothing else.

Your leg shook under the table nervously. He grabbed your thigh to still you. The waitress returned and he thanked her, his hand still on your leg. When she departed, his fingers slowly gathered your skirt. You reached to pull it back and he tssked.

“Our associate has informed me she’s running late.” He grinned. “About twenty minutes or so.” You squirmed as his hand slipped beneath your hem. “I think we can fill our time accordingly.”

“L--Mr. Laufeyson,” You gasped. “Someone might see.”

“They’d have to be watching us very closely,” He leaned against you as his fingers crawled along the top of your thigh. “Now,” He shoved his hand between your legs roughly. “Let’s have some fun, darling.”

You parted your legs reluctantly and he tickled along your cunt. You grabbed the edge of the table and your eyes searched frantically. The other diners were occupied with their own meals, their own company. You felt as invisible as you had back at the office. He rubbed you slowly. He lifted his glass with his other hand as he continued.

“After our meeting, I think we’ll head back to the office and call a conference. We’ll need ideas for prospective podcasts,” He swirled his fingertips and you let out a long breath between your teeth. “Of course, if this all goes to plan.”

You whimpered as you felt yourself getting wet. His fingers glided easily along your folds as he spread your arousal. You planted your elbow on the table and held your chin as you bit your lip. Mortified, you tried to hide your face.

“Uh uh,” He grabbed your wrist and shoved it down as his fingers dipped inside you. “Look at me.”

You leaned back against the booth as you looked over at him. He smirked as he moved his fingers steadily in and out of you. He pressed his palm to your clit and the sensation made your legs shake again.

“Is this what you like? Sneaking around?” He taunted. “Is this what he does, hmm? Or maybe he bends you over his desk?”

“Mr. Lauf--” You swallowed down a moan and clapped your hand over your mouth.

“I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it,” He sped up and your thighs squeezed his hand. “Are you going to cum? Here in front of everyone? In the middle of this restaurant?”

Your eyes rounded and you grabbed his shoulder pleadingly. You couldn’t speak, afraid you would cry out instead.

“You like being a naughty little girl, don’t you?” He curled his fingers and you heard a subtle squelch as your walls twitched around him. 

You bared your teeth and latched onto his arm. You rocked your hips without thinking as you came. You let out a shuddery breath and he slid his fingers out of your cunt, sure to drag them along your folds. He untangled his arm from your grasp and you fell back against the seat and pushed down your skirt.

He raised his hand and ran his wet fingers over your lips. He pressed against your mouth until you opened it. He stared into your eyes as he made you suck your own cum off his knuckles. He withdrew them and used a napkin to wipe away your saliva.

“It is a pity, however, that this lunch should set you behind, darling,” He crossed his legs and drank from his water again. “You will have to stay late tonight… to catch up.”

“Yes, sir,” You ceded.

He smirked and looked around. A moment of silence before he perked up and stood. He buttoned his jacket so it hid his bulge and greeted the tall woman who approached you. He shook her hand with the same one he’d just had between your legs. You stood in kind. Your legs felt weak.

“Valerie,” He purred. “Thank you for fitting us in today.”

“Us?” She looked between you. “And sorry about the delay. Traffic was… traffic.”

“My intern,” He introduced you by name, “She’s shadowing me for the day. To get an idea of the business and all its little quirks.”

You shook her hand and you sat down as she did the same. The server was quick to appear and offer you menus. You eagerly took yours, hoping to hide behind it for the rest of the meal. Especially as that familiar and irresistible tingle nestled in your core.

[parkersharthook]

Leaves From The Vine

(Peter Parker x reader)

Warnings: angst, minor violence, mentions of neglectful parents, possibly tiggering backstory, mentions of avatar: the last airbender throughout including the title lol

5.9k+ words

A/n: okay so i’m weirdly proud of this even though it’s like really random? i’ve had this story as a dream for the last week so I just had to write it and I really like the beginning but it kind of falls apart towards the end lol. also if you don’t know atla it’s chill. 

enjoy! also requests are open

A secret about you comes out that forces you to spill all the painful memories of your childhood. It causes you to fear for your position in Peter’s life. 

It was tense in the conference room. Everyone sat in complete silence. Your glassy eyes watched Tony pace at the head of the table while you bit your lip and fiddled your fingers nervously. He would pause for a moment and then resume his pacing, never taking his eyes off you. There was another fidgety presence pressed against the far wall of the room, out of your direct eyeline, but you could make out his shadow in your peripheral. You didn’t think you deserved to look at him, not right now.

“I’m gonna go.” His voice was quiet and terse, his movements rigid and frustrated as he practically sprinted for the door. He yanked it open with superhuman strength, almost pulling it straight off the hinges. A head of blonde and a pair of heels followed hurriedly after him. You winced as the door slammed shut and hung your head in shame. You really didn’t mean for it to come to this.

-

4 hours earlier

-

“Do you want Chinese?”

You didn’t answer, your fingers curling gently around Peter’s hair. You followed his natural curve pattern before untwisting it and then moving it in the opposite direction. You were completely entranced with the fluffy head of hair settled nicely in your lap.

Peter sighed and rolled his eyes fondly as he looked into your face. He recognized the look: eyes locked in on the strand of hair, lips parted slightly, short tuffs of air coming out regularly. His hair had your undivided attention.

This happened sometimes and it wasn’t always something you could control. You’d find something small and insignificant to focus on and slowly disassociate from the world. Sometimes your thoughts were about the task you had undertaken or sometimes they were about anything and everything. On your better days, you called it your ‘Avatar State’.

The first few times it happened, Peter had startled you out of it (on accident of course) which left you embarrassed and him apologetic. Over the course of your 6 month relationship however, he learned. And while he didn’t really want to disturb you, his stomach was growling up something fierce and needed food. His hand snaked upward slowly and slightly before it gently landed on you knee. He rested it there for a moment before giving it a light squeeze.

He saw you blink, your eyes watering and then refocusing quickly. You blinked a few more times before inhaling deeply and looking around. Peter smiled at you and then smiled wider when your gaze made it down to his face. You combed your hand through his head with more purpose this time, “sorry. Zoned out there for a bit.”

“no worries. Hungry?” You nodded and Peter immediately sat up and moved off the bed causing you to frown.

He whined dramatically, “Babe, I’m so hungry. My dad said he got Chinese so it’s either that or we leave this tower immediately to get some food.”

You rolled your eyes and lazily rolled off the bed, strolling up to Peter and throwing your arms around his neck like you had all the time in the world. You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling back, “so needy.”

“the neediest. Now c’mon, I’m hungry.” He grabbed your hand and quickly pulled you towards the door. You laughed as you trailed behind him as he pulled you through the long hallways until you reached the kitchen.

“Thank god you two showed up. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could fight off these heathens for you to get food.” Tony said bitterly as he put his body in front of a good pile of cartons. Peter could see both Bucky and Sam eyeing the pile with hungry eyes, despite the large amount of food on both of their plates.

“yes! You’re the best dad!” Peter quickly vaulted over the couch and ran to the kitchen to grab the food. You were much slower and much less graceful as you walked around the furniture like a normal person. You often compared yourself to Sokka while surrounded by superheroes.

You smiled at the older man, “thank you Tony.”

“of course.” You settled against the counter, quickly digging into a carton of noodles.

Sam narrowed his eyes at peter, “why do they get so much food?”

“because we like them better.” Steve said casually as he strolled into the room with Morgan on his hip.

Peter pointed his fork at Sam, “haha.” Then turned to his dad, “great timing pops. You’re the best.”

“I thought I was the best?” Tony called from the couch.

“sorry you’ve been demoted.” Peter stated casually causing you to laugh.

Tony turned and pouted before looking at you. “y/n you think I’m the best right?”

You quickly held your hands up in defense, “I’m not in the middle of this.”

Bucky shook his head, “Good choice y/n, you’re too smart for their nonsense.” Your eyes caught his metal arm, remembering when you gave him the nickname of sparky-sparky boom man a few weeks ago. You had quickly covered your mouth in embarassment before Clint began laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. It had actually ended up with you not murdered, surprisingly.

Morgan perked up, clumsily pushing her curls out of her face with a little baby hand. Her voice drew you back, “Even me Unc’ Buck?”

Bucky smiled softly and pushed her hair back, “Course not Morgan. Everyone knows you’re the smartest of them all.”

Morgan giggled happily and then looked over to you with a big smile. You smiled back just as largely.

“I take it back, Morgan’s my favorite!”, you stated seriously. A chorus of groans from your boyfriend and his dads could be heard. You smiled and looked around as more avengers began to file in. Peter slid closer and bumped your hip with his, offering you a small smile. Oh, so this is what happy looked like.

-

Now

-

“Tony.. I-” He silence you immediately with a raised hand a little ‘ump’ noise. Your mouth clamped shut with an audible click. He waited for a moment before his hand landed back on his chin and his pacing began again. His eyes still burned into your skin. Great job with the parents, you thought bitterly to yourself.

You winced under his gaze a moment later and ducked your head, your whole body slouching and your hand coming up to fiddle with the ends of your hair. You could feel the gaze of nine pairs of eyes on you and it made you wildly uncomfortable. You didn’t like being the center of attention, that’s why you kept this a secret. But look where that got you now.

-

2 hours earlier

-

“Hey Pete, can I come in?” Steve called from behind the door with a small knock.

“yeah it’s open.” Peter called back. Steve entered the room to find Peter laying on his bed in a slightly bent shape, with you copying his position but with your head at the foot of the bed. Peter was fiddling with a loose strand of thread on your sock and Steve couldn’t help but smile at the sight. You two were good for each other.

“I need you to watch Morgan for a little bit, we got called in for an emergency meeting at SHIELD.”

“everything okay? Am I needed?”

Steve shook his head, “no it’s not a mission it’s about something else… I don’t really know. I usually stop listening when fury starts talking.” The sentence startled a laugh out of you. Steve smiled at you, “he’s usually full of hot hair.” Steve shrugged causing you to smile wider. Man, you wish you had a dad like him.

“but all’s good?”

“yeah it’s fine, not even everyone is going, just me, your dad, Wanda, and Sam. Both Bruce and Vision will be in the lab if you need something but they’re working on some project or another. Clint’s not allowed to babysit unsupervised, like you know and Bucky and Nat are currently… well occupied…”

You stifled a giggle at the shade of red Peter turned. “ew dad.”

He chuckled slightly, “sorry. But do you mind watching her? It’ll only be for an hour or two.”

“yeah of course.” Both you and Peter shifted slightly and got off the bed. “is she in the living room?”

“yeah she’s with your dad coloring. Tell him to hurry up, will you?”

“Yeah I got you. Good luck with whatever is going on.”

“yeah thanks kid.”

You and Peter walked to the living room, Morgan instantly perking up and rushing towards you guys. She barreled into your legs, causing you to stumble back with a laugh as Peter steadied you. You smiled at the happy toddler as you bent down and picked her up.

“yeah thanks Morg, forget all about Daddy. Real great.” You laugh as Tony slowly picked himself off the floor, groaning slight.

“Pops says to hurry up. We got the little rascal.” Morgan squealed at the name as Peter quickly moved to tickle her stomach.

“Yeah, yeah I’m going.” He paused and planted firm clap on Peter’s shoulder before pressing a sloppy kiss to Morgan’s forehead just to make her laugh. To your surprise however, Tony also placed a delicate kiss to your cheek as he left with a little wave. You blushed and found your eyes tearing up slightly at the fatherly affection. You quickly pushed down the emotions with a cough and moved to the couch, a wriggling three year old still in your arms. You set her down softly on the ground and she immediately tugged Peter to the floor with her to color. You settled on the sectional behind them watching with a warm smile. You could get used to this.

-

Now

-

You felt the tip of a shoe graze against your shin and your head shot up, eyes widening. You didn’t realize you had gone into another disassociation until you met Natasha’s piercing green eyes. She quirked an eyebrow in question and you gave a slight nod trying to signal that all was good. Not that all was good at all really. In fact it felt like you’re entire world was falling apart around you. I mean here you were sitting in a room with nine other fully trained and very intimidating superheroes, and you were absolutely sure you were on the verge of tears and so unbelievably exhausted. But you couldn’t show that so you just nodded shyly.

Your eyes flitted around the room once more. Tony had finally stopped pacing and was now bracing himself against the back of the office chair. Steve reach up and lightly grabbed his wrist, encouraging him to sit down. Tony glanced at Steve’s hand but made no effort to move.

Bucky has folded his hands together, obviously getting impatient. Clint looked bored as he used a knife to dig dirt out from beneath his nails. Rhodey, Sam, and Vision were the definition of calm and collected as they sat politely and silently. Stupid military men/androids and their stupid manners. Wanda and Natasha just looked concerned and kept eyeing you with worry which was honestly making you even more nervous than before.

Tony took a large and loud inhale, practically forcing the attention to him. Your eyes snapped to his, your hands beginning to shake slightly. He narrowed his eyes at you and frowned slightly, “spill.”

-

45 minutes earlier

-

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick.” Peter told you as he pushed himself up. Stretching out his legs and groaning from sitting on the hard floor for so long

“yeah no problem.”

Morgan turned to you, “can we color more?”

“of course sweetheart. Let’s get some more paper from the kitchen table.” You stood from the couch and held out your hand for the child to take. She did so happily and skipped behind you with a large smile on her face. You were about 6 yards from the kitchen when something went terribly, terribly wrong.

You’re not even sure what happened and you doubt you’d be able to recall it in the future. In one second flat, red lights started flashing, alarms began to blare, the large windows on the wall shattered to a million pieces, and large scary looking things rushed towards you.

Looking back on it, you’re sure that you blacked out and were running on pure instinct and adrenaline. Because only a fraction of a second later did you thrust your hand toward a robot, not waiting to see if it went down before curling your body around Morgan and raising a hand above your head to protect yourself. Morgan was crying against your chest and you did your best to console her with your free hand, your other one shaking and straining to stay raised.

You don’t know how long you were in that position, you had your eyes squeezed too tightly shut and you were deathly scared of what would happen if you opened them. Logically, you told yourself, nothing would change and your vision would remain dark. But you couldn’t risk it.

What felt like an eternity later you finally heard a voice. It was soft but obviously scared and sounded far away. You very cautiously opened your eyes, putting your hand against Morgan’s head and pushing her further against your chest. Nothing was getting to this child, so help you god. You looked around, only seeing darkness, and strained your ears.

“y/n? Morgan?” That was Peter. He sounded worried, anxious even. He called again, this time sounding closer. “Are you in there?”

“Peter!” that was someone new. It made you wince causing Morgan to cry harder. She had no idea what was going on and was reacting purely off of what you were doing. You had to stay calm, for her. “What happened!?” Tony. That was Tony. Oh no… he probably came home once the alarm sounded.

You looked down to the sobbing child in your arms and knew that nothing would stop Tony from seeing his baby. And you didn’t want to cause any more harm, so very slowly you lowered your arm. The rock barrier you put around you and the child lowered with it.

You squinted against the harsh intake of lights but quickly refocused and saw every. Single. Damn. Avenger standing in front of you looking both concerned and absolutely flabbergasted.

“what the fuck?” peter stuttered out, looking to where Morgan was still sniffling against you. Very quickly Morgan picked her head up at the noise of her brother’s voice and caught his eye. Her eyes quickly welled up again but then she noticed her dads and absolutely took off to find comfort in them. You didn’t blame her, you would love a nice hug right about now. But from the looks on the faces of the people around you, you really didn’t think you were gonna get one.

Steve’s gaze on you hardened immediately, “y/n, you have some explaining to do.” All you could do was nod dumbly from your place on the floor. You didn’t notice you were crying as well.

-

Now

-

“spill.”

“tony, maybe you should sit down.” Steve’s voice was soft and reassuring. Damn you wish it was directed at you right now.

Natasha was next, “Tony, you’re scaring her. Sit down.”

He threw his hands around, “I’m scaring her!?” you flinched at the loud sound. It didn’t go unnoticed by the heroes. Tony continued on, “She- she- she fucking controlled the earth around her! I didn’t know where Morgan was! If the intruders had gotten her or if she was dead somewhere and there she was, with- with her!” The finger pointed at you felt threatening and harsh. More tears spilt from your eyes.

Sam shot out of his seat, anger clouding his features. “Stand down.” Tony glared at him, neither refusing to back down. Sam seethed, “she’s a child. She’s scared. And right now Tony, she’s scared of you.” The words caused Tony to deflate slightly. “she saved Morgan. Sit your ass down before I make Steve carry you out of here.”

Tony sent another glare Sam’s way before landing in his chair clumsily. He didn’t meet your gaze again, preferring to stare at the wooden table instead. But his hands were clenched, obviously still angry about the situation.

“I’m sorry.” You words were broken and hoarse and didn’t even sound like you. You felt warm hands cover your own, it was Nat, but you pulled away. You didn’t deserve that. Not right now.

“y/n…” Sam started slowly. That was his therapist voice. It was calming. You tried your hardest to focus on that. “y/n… this is a confusing situation for everyone. But we would really like to talk about this. To figure out what happened.”

“I- I don’t know what happened.”

“you don’t know?” Bucky pressed gently.

You shook your head, “no. there were alarms and lights and I don’t know what those things were or who they were or what they wanted. I just acted on instinct. I kinda think I blacked out.”

“and the rock shield?”

“the rock shield?” you looked up confused. Oh… OH. Fuck, your brain was scattered right now. “oh. Yeah. That.”

“yeah, that.” Tony bit back harshly.

“um…” you looked around the room, “I kind of have… powers?”

-

20 minutes earlier with Peter

-

“I’m gonna go.” Peter bolted out of that room. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t think. There were delicate hands against his shoulders and then against his neck and cheeks. For a moment he thought they were yours but then straight hair and hard eyes and… and your eyes were soft and not as business-like so this wasn’t you. Peter focused in more and saw Pepper standing in front of him.

“breathe. Peter, you need to breathe.” She was talking to him. Instructing him more like it and finally he began to listen, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out shakily. “there you go, keep breathing.” Her hands were cool against his warm cheek and it felt good, really good. But he was too keyed up after the attack and the adrenaline was still kicking and he couldn’t breathe.

“peter.” She tapped his cheek lightly, “listen to me right now. Breathe. C’mon do it with me. In and out, in and out, there you go, in and out.”

Slowly he began to fall into a rhythm and calm down. His shoulders dropped and his posture sagged and his eyes drooped slightly. He was tired now. The adrenaline was gone and now he was just spent.

“let’s go sit with Morgan. Your dads finally got her to bed and if she wakes up from a nightmare it’ll be good for you to be there.” All peter could do was nod.

Pepper guided him to the room with a hand on his back. She was sleeping peacefully in the middle of a bed that was slightly too large for her but adorable none the less. The edge barriers were still in place to keep her from rolling off and Peter found himself smiling at the sight. Pepper pushed him gently to the couch and forced him to lay down on it before settling in the rocking chair herself. She was happy to note that Peter was asleep within the next five minutes. Pepper just sat there and watched her two god children sleep away their troubles.

-

Now in the meeting

-

“You… you have powers?” Rhodey asked, dumbfounded and shocked.

You bit your lip and nodded, “kinda?”

“is it a question?” rhodey pressed, you shook your head.

“No sir.” You gulped, “I have powers.” You voice was shaky, everyone could tell you were running on false confidence.

“powers…” Rhodey repeated again.

Clint chuckled, “can’t say I expected that one.” Tension left your body at the light humor. You were always comfortable around Clint, despite his tendency to wreak havoc wherever he went. He just seemed so much like the fun uncle you always wanted, cracking jokes and easing tension despite the situation. It was nice… he was something you could focus on now.

“y/n?” You shook out of the trance to see Bucky staring at you, he had obviously been repeating your name up until this point.

You blushed harder, a shaky hand pushing hair behind your ear. “sorry.”

“I asked if you could explain.” You cocked your head slightly. He waved his hand slightly and continued, “I mean if you could explain how you got them.”

“oh…” You wanted to say no. Wanted to refuse that private part of your life that was just yours. Wanted to keep the dirty secret you always hated so much just that… a secret. “yeah, I guess if you want me to.”

Wanda stepped in immediately. “only if you want to.” You met her gaze, right… she could read minds.

“No. We deserve an explanation for what happened out there.” Tony interrupted roughly, “we’ve known this girl for six months. She’s dating Peter and we didn’t know this about her? You’re not on any registry? Not in any news outlet? Obviously Peter didn’t know because he panicked his way right out of here. You can’t expect me to-”

“I’ll tell you!” You shouted, just to get him to stop. You couldn’t take it. You didn’t want him to list all the ways you fucked up. You knew it already, you were repeating the same list in your head. “I’ll tell you…”

“y/n…” That was Nat again. Ugh, you wished they weren’t so concerned for you, it would make everything so much easier.

“no it’s fine, really. I don’t want to burn any bridges or have you guys not trust me. I’ll tell you... but it’s kind of a long story, and not super pleasant.”

You could feel the air in the room shift slightly to something more somber. Backs straightened, eyes averted away from you towards inanimate objects, hands clasped together, people prepared themselves.

“I’m sure that when I started dating Peter, you all did background checks on me so you know a little of my history… but there’s a lot that’s not on there.” You took a deep breath, “when I was seventeen, my younger brother came out to my parents as trans and they kicked him out. He was only fourteen and didn’t have anywhere to go. I fought for him obviously which got me kicked out as a result. So we went to a shelter, I forged some documents saying I was 18 and his guardian so they didn’t call CPS.

“I started looking for a job to pay for us and a cheap apartment. Found this really shitty little rat hole for us but it worked. I slept on the couch and gave him the bed, but they were in the same room so it didn’t really matter. I got a job as an assistant at an engineering company nearby. It was honestly the best job I could hope for at the time: the boss was really kind, paid pretty decently, worked with school hours so I could continue going to school. It was good.

“I would go to this work after school and be the assistant for the CEO, he was this older gentleman who had the sweetest family and soon enough he became a sort of father figure for me. He never knew of my situation, I’m sure he would’ve done something if he did.” Your eyes grew a little misty at the memories. The others could tell how this was going to end.

“After about a year of working there, I was close to graduating high school and pretty much assumed college wasn’t an option for me. I still had to take care of my brother and couldn’t afford any books, and definitely not a university. But I accepted it and just got ready to work full time.”

“there was this one night where Mr. Frederickson, my boss, texted me saying I left my textbook in his office. And I wasn’t going to go back that night but the building was closed for annual inspections the next day and I had to get it back to the library or they would fine me, and money was really tight.

“Mr. Frederickson was still working and the nightshift had already come in, so it wasn’t sketchy or anything so I just stopped by the office to get my textbook, no big deal right? Well for the maybe… fifteen minutes that I was in the office, something malfunctioned and caused a big enough explosion to level the entire plant.” You sighed heavily, “fifty people in there at the time, I was the only survivor.”

Gasps filled the room. You didn’t meet their eyes, you didn’t want the sympathy.

“I was told that Mr. Frederickson survive the initial explosion but had too much smoke inhalation and passed soon after the first responders found him. I don’t remember much from it, I was knocked unconscious but the doctors said I got really lucky because I left with only a concussion and some lacerations. But… I got really lucky. It was a huge press field day though so I had to stay anonymous to protect my family… not that I had much family to protect. The police told me that their investigation concluded that there wasn’t any foul play and it was purely accidental which was good to hear, I didn’t want anyone coming after me or anything….”

“y/n…” Bucky’s voice was thick with emotion, “was this the Right Way Engineering Company?”

You nodded dumbly and watched as he and Sam shared a look. Sam sighed, “y/n we were there as first responders. I… I was the one who pulled you out of the rubble.”

“oh.” You squeaked. You coughed slightly, “thank you for saving my life.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. We didn’t get your name before the ambulance took you and we wanted to check in but we couldn’t find you in the hospital and the nurses wouldn’t give us any information…” Sam sounded distraught which didn’t make sense to you.

You shrugged slightly, “there’s nothing you could’ve done. I don’t remember anything so it’s not like I needed therapy.” You chuckled humorlessly

“So the explosion caused your powers?” Clint asked, humor far from his tone

You nodded, “I assume so. I never knew what they did in the factory you know? I just stuck to coffee orders and mail runs but I guess whatever they were doing gave me these powers.”

“And what are… what are those powers?” you kinda forgot that Vision was in the room with how quiet he was being.

“I can control the four elements… kinda like the avatar but I don’t expect you guys to get that reference.” You mumbled the last bit and missed the look of excitement wash over Clint and Bucky’s face.

“y/n…. you’re Aang.” Clint stated with a huge smile on his face.

Your eyes shot to his, “you know the show?”

“know the show?! I am an ATLA fanatic! I write fanfiction for it!” that caused you to laugh and suddenly you felt so much better. “why do you think I loved the nickname ‘sparky-sparky boom man’ so much?”

“wait is all the spirit stuff accurate?” Bucky suddenly asked causing you to look at him in shock.

“you too?”

“Oh yeah, Clint put it on my catch up list and thank god he did. Best show ever.” Little chuckles fell from your lips at the admission.

“umm not that I know of? And I can’t produce the elements like they can. I can only control what’s around me. So air is the most abundant but I rarely use fire.”

“I’m sorry… I’m a little confused. You can… control? The elements?” Steve asked, utter bewilderment across his face.

You bit your lip and nodded, using your fingers to send a warm breeze across his face. Clint giggled with a cheeky grin.

He whispered loudly, “best day ever.”

“so you pulled a rock shield over you and Morgan when you saw you were being attacked?” Nat supplied with a small smirk.

“yeah I guess, it was all pretty instinctual and fast pace. I didn’t even realize I did it until Peter started calling my name.” Your heart beat a little heavier at his name.

You forced yourself to meet Tony’s gaze once again, finding less intensity and more pity.

Rhodey raised his hand slightly, “I don’t mean to pry but Peter said he met you at college? I thought you didn’t go?”

“oh, apparently Mr. Frederickson put me in his will. I babysat for him a few times and got close with his wife and kids and grandkids so I guess he considered me family. I used the money to put me and my brother in a slightly better college apartment and went to Brooklyn College on a small scholarship. It ends up only being around $500 a semester and I have a job at the library so I get free access to books and sometimes they put my paycheck directly against my tuition. I’ve put the rest away for my brother to go to college. He’s going to graduate high school next year.” A small smile graced your lips as you said it. Damn, the kid was growing up.

“have you had tests done?” You hadn’t heard Tony’s voice in so long that it startled you.

You shook your head, “I tried to do a little research but it’s not like a common disease or anything and there’s no one I trusted enough to tell and it’s not like I have access to that equipment or the knowledge of what to test for.”

Tony just nodded slyly. Steve was next, “so why hide it?”

You shrugged and fiddled with a loose thread. “no offense or anything, but I wasn’t really interested in the whole superhero thing. I had to take care of my brother and myself and I didn’t really have the emotional capacity to worry about anyone else. Plus, it’s not like vigilantes get paid so it just wasn’t an option. And what else was I going to use them for? Become a travelling freak show and ultimately gain the attention of either you guys or bad guys and then get sucked into this life? No thanks. So I just didn’t tell anyone.”

“Does your brother know?”

You chuckled slightly, “no, he has such a big mouth. I’ve always wanted to tell him and it’s not that I don’t trust him, he’s just excitable sometimes and I worry it’ll slip out. Plus, the less he knows the safer he is.”

“y/n, we’re really sorry for how this all went down.” Steve suddenly said sincerely. You gave him a tight lipped smile. “I’m sorry for how I behaved, I was just shocked and scared and confused. You are more than welcome here anytime and I don’t want it to seem like you’re not.”

You were about to respond but Tony cut you off, “Peter doesn’t know about this?” You shook your head. “any of it?”

“He knows my brother and that we live together. But I think he assumes that was a choice or we had a lack of parent situation. I think he was just too nice to ask about it. But that’s it.”

Tony hummed as he leaned on his hand. “do you guys mind giving me and y/n the room?”

You stiffened slightly. Wanda spoke up for you, “tony is that the best idea?”

“I’m not going to scream at her. I just want to talk to her without you morons eavesdropping. Is that okay y/n?”

And how do you turn down Iron Man, Tony Stark, father to your boyfriend? “yeah sure.”

The avengers filed out dutifully leaving you and tony and a long table between you two. Tony sighed and stood up before settling in the chair closest to you.

“well first off, I’m sorry that I exploded on you. That wasn’t cool. Like Steve, I was scared for Morgan and confused and I didn’t know what was happening. I’ve had people in my life that I trusted turn their backs on me. I didn’t want that for peter.”

“I get it.” You nodded and sighed, “I really do. Ryan, my brother, had a friend tell a secret of his once and I barely contained myself to words so I can only imagine what you were feeling.”

Tony chuckled lightly at that before sobering up slightly. “I’m also really sorry you had to grow up so soon. No one should be a caregiver at 17 and it very well shouldn’t continue on until your 21 so I’ve got you now.”

“pardon?”

“everything. It’s on me. You make peter happy and you saved Morgan, it’s the least I can do. I’ll put you and your brother in a nicer apartment closer to your college and monthly groceries will be delivered, just let me know what you want. His college too, everything. I’ll take care of it.”

“Tony… I can’t accept that.”

He looked at you deeply, “You saved Morgan and you make Peter happy. We all love you. You deserve better and I have more money than I know what to do with. Let me help you.”

“I-I…” You sighed and then groaned slightly because you knew Tony, “I don’t really have a choice do I?”

He laughed and patted your knee, “not really. I’ve already had FRIDAY start up the papers and transfers needed.”

You felt tears come to your eyes and you couldn’t help it. Before you knew it, you threw yourself into his chest and wrapped your arms tightly around his middle. You sagged in relief when you felt his arms wrap around you as well.

It was nice. It was safe.

“You need to tell Peter about this though. And probably your brother.”

“I will, no more hiding from now on. I’ll tell them both everything.” You bit your lip as you separated from the man, “is peter going to be mad?”

“not even a little bit.”

And he wasn’t, to your relief. He just held you close as you cried and offered you comforting words. He also didn’t leave you out of his sight for the rest of the night, taking you home all the way to Brooklyn and then buying dinner for you and Ryan and then sitting with you as you explained everything to your brother.

Overall, it went better than expected but it was still something to get used to. But now you had this family, a supportive one for a change, so you knew you didn’t have to deal with it alone.

-

3 months later

-

“Is Kate going to be there?”

“can you chill out? You’re such a teenage boy.” You nudged Ryan as the two of you rode the elevator up the tower.

“well yeah, I am 17.” He scoffed in return

“yes, I’m sure she’ll be here. But don’t flirt with her too obviously or Clint will literally kill you. And I know I’ve been practicing with my powers but I don’t think I can save you from a master assassin.”

“rude.”

You let out a short laugh as the elevator doors opened, the two of you walking out towards the large training center.

“hey Ryan!” Peter called from his perch on the roof with a small wave. That is until a net arrow was quickly shot his way and he had to jump out of the way. Your eyes travelled to Kate who was using your boyfriend as a human target practice, much to Clint’s chagrin.

“remember to use double release on opponents who are quick, it’ll make it easier to trap them.” He turned to you with a grin, “think fast.” In a blink he had his arrow drawn and let it fly right towards your face, your arm immediately going up to protect you and your brother with a slab of rock.

You lowered it with a grimace, “you’re going to kill me one of these days.”

“then get better.”

Ryan leaned closer and nudged you, “thank you so much for boning an avenger. This is the best.”

You shoved him lightly with a laugh, “you’re the worst.” But yeah… this kinda was the best.

[velociraptoraddict]

So why the velociraptor love? (Raptors are my fave too)

Buckle up cause we're about to down memory lane!

It allllll started years ago, with a movie called Jurassic Park, which I watched way too young. Lol, actually, wait no, I can trace it back further than that

It allllll started with a movie called Godzilla (98) (I think that's the year it came out? It was the american version set in Nyc with the babies). I was literally obsessed with that movie. You know how little kids can watch the same movie day in and day out, day after day? Yeah. Godzilla was that movie for me...when I was three-four!!! Like, I hadn't even started kindergarten yet!

But man, did I love that movie.

I had a 4-5 foot inflatable Godzilla that I used to wrestle and play imaginary games with and have tea parties (until it got a hole and deflated very slowly over time...my parents tried to find the leak and tape it but we're unsuccessful...I was devastated)

I also (still) have this plastic baby Godzilla. It was part of one of those "action" playsets I think? It's supposed to have a part of its side that clips on and off to show an injury but I lost that part in kindergarten sand box cause I brought it to school with me a lot. Also, at one point my dogs got a hold of it and chewed it's hand off...I glued it back on. Here's a picture

Now, oddly enough, despite everything I just said, my first imaginary friend (that I can remember) was a Triceratops lol! And for a long time there if you asked me what my favorite dinosaur was, that would be my answer, and here's why:

Around the age of 6, I discovered The Land Before Time. And that became my new everyday movie (specifically 6: I forget the official title but it's the one with the baby three horns that speak baby talk going up to three horn mountain). I would rent a Land Before Time movie every time we went to the video rental store (I think the only reason my parents never actually bought at of the movies for me was cause they didn't want a Godzilla repeat (seriously, I remember bringing that movie to my mom's work office and watching it on a TV in a conference room cause she couldn't get a babysitter or something that day 😂))

During that video rental phase, there were a few other dinosaur movies I remember watching (specifically one that I Can Not Find because I can't remember the name, but it was practical effect baby dinosaurs that these kids find (like a long neck, a pteronodon, a Triceratops and I think a t rex if I remember correctly) I remember the kids keeping the dinosaurs a secret and they gave them names and little dog collars and if you know what movie I'm describing please let me know cause I've been wanting to watch it again for almost 20 years lol)

Ok...where was I?

Ah, yes, so. Jurassic Park. I actually saw The Lost World first and many more times than I have the actual original movie lol

Oddly enough, I remember after the first time watching it, I had a nightmare where the Velociraptors were hunting me through the tall grass like in one scene of the movie. So...I was actually scared of Velociraptors for a little bit there! Crazy, right!?

🤔 I... actually don't remember what caused the shift though? At some point, I remember swopping out my imaginary triceratop for a t rex run along (those things that run along side you when you're in a movie vehicle) then eventually the t rex shrunk to a Velociraptor cause I was literally only seeing the legs of the rex as it ran (🤣 child logic y'all)

I can also trace that same shift using my online usernames lol, my first email was Rex102092 (I remember that but not it's password or domain 😂). Somewhere around 5th or 6th grade, I joined this one website that had a site wide to group chat that was just, chaos (child friendly) role playing. There was this unspoken rule that were were all in this giant mountain bowl landscape, and everyone interacted with everyone else and I could seriously describe all on it still but couldn't find the site itself if you asked lol. My username there was Raptor102092 (I remember I wanted to make it Velociraptor102092 but I couldn't spell Velociraptor. One of my more vivid memories from that chat (other than being taught *is an action indication*) was something saying they thought my username was a reference to a video game monster and didn't realize it was a dinosaur. And for some reason that upset me enough that, I actually went to google to learn how to spell Velociraptor. I started looking up pictures every day as a way to practice spelling it too XD then, going forward all my usernames were Velociraptor102092.

Even when I first joined Tumblr, that was my url

Until

One day, while on tumblr, I realized no one else had numbers in their name (not really, unless they were a bit or something. So I realized I had to come up with something else.

And at that point in my life, I was obsessed with Velociraptors. I had a replica claw necklace, dozens of toys, a plushie I (still) sleep with. I've watched several documentaries where Velociraptors were either the focus, or featured. I googled pictures of them all the time, even had my own character that I drew constantly.

Thus, VelociraptorAddict.

Now, more recently (within the past 5 years), I made a friend who is big into the whole furry thing. And as a result I've kinda been dragged into it as well? Lol

I've been to a few conventions and a few local meet ups but I would exactly considered myself as invested in the whole thing as most people are. But the symptoms are definitely there XD just, very subdued.

But, yeah, if I had the motivation I'd probably build myself at least the wings. But there is No Way I'm spending the kind of money some people do to commission a suite, it's ridiculous! Like, 2-5k ridiculous! No thank you lol

Anyway

I'm sorry I couldn't answer your question.

I don't know where the love for Velociraptors came from?? Cause, The Lost World gave me nightmares...then suddenly, Velociraptors are an intricate part of my online life?? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[drkcnry67]

quidditch, confession, press conference

A/N: ah day 16, @obxmermaid​ this is another confession. this time we find the minister of magic and some of his council appear to the school for the annual christmas quidditch match. but when you and draco are invited to speak with fudge after the match things get spoken that should have stayed secret... this takes place the end of christmas break.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

prompt: telling those who teach and guide you (ministry of magic)

mentioning @sweetness47​

25 days of hogwarts

yours and draco’s rivalry was obsolete in the eyes of the school, but in the eyes of the ministry was still very much alive. you and draco had kept up the ruse, at the behest of the professors who wanted you and draco to stay safe till it was time to let the ministry know. 

well that day was much closer than you all knew. today is the annual christmas quidditch match. slytherin and ravenclaw were to play in this tournament it was a great honor when your house gets chosen to play this tournament. 

getting into your gear you had spelled the tent so no one would be able to hear your thoughts. 

YN (to self): get a grip girl, the minister of magic is arriving for the match and you need to go into this with a nice clear head. hopefully we get through this day without any hiccups.

just as you finished speaking those words the tent opened. you felt your heart leap... 

YN: are they almost ready for us?

Draco: relax love, they know it takes time to prepare for such an event. your trembling, are you sure you want to do this?

YN: do we have a choice. everyone has turned out to see this match. 

Draco: then lets put on the show of our lives. 

Draco smiled as he walked over to mount his broom as you stood there as well mounting your broom both of you listening to fudge announce your entrance.

Fudge: welcome each and every one of you student, teachers and family alike to the annual Christmas quidditch match. This year the rival houses of ravenclaw and slytherin will face off in a treacherous game. The team players are on the field the Captain's of these 2 teams and their famous rivalry are Yn for ravenclaw, and Draco malfoy for slytherin!

That was your cue both of you flew out onto the court... You took your position, Draco took his. The scowling looks both of you gave was the stuff talked of in legends, but non the less it was only an act...

The game went strikingly along till you and Draco were face to face with the defence, but everyone was watching the look exchanges between you and Draco.

Numerous dignitaries had their eyes focused on you and Draco for the entire game, you goaled, Draco got a point. it volleyed back and forth for a while then you were going in for the final goal.

YN: come on love take this goal away from me

Draco: are you sure

Yn: yes your turn to win. Take this victory for your house. We still have to meet with fudge. And it's been almost 3 hours of this game. Lets end this once and for all.

Draco: talking about the game or telling fudge about us

Yn: both

That was all you had to say Draco knocked himself into your side and stole the ball out of your hand, you looked shocked of course when he did to play the game still.

Draco scored the final goal for slytherin. The crowd cheered, your team gathered round you as they all watched as you and Draco made the central congratulations from one captain to the other, cameras flashed, people cheered, you then led your ravenclaws back to the tent and made plans for a next practice after christmas break. 

you then left your ravenclaws and went to the captains tent. you knew draco would be busy for a while and you needed to clear your head...you went behind the change cover for the ravenclaw side and got out of your quidditch outfit, and into your relaxed ravenclaw uniform. 

you came out from behind the cover and saw a figure outside the tent.. you drew your wand under defencive purpose. 

YN: whoever is outside the tent, i should warn you, im armed with defensive magic right now and i will not hesitate to blast your butt. 

thats when the figure outside spoke,.

Draco: love its me... please unspell the tent... 

you forgot you had spelled the tent so you could change in peace... you lifted the spell and draco walked in he spun you around and gave you a kiss. he let go of you so he could go behind the cover and get changed while you finished writing out the practice schedule for your ravenclaws. 

Draco: are you seriously writing out your practice schedule already babe?

YN: of course i am... does this really surprise you?

Draco: no it doesnt... i love how dedicated you are... your ravenclaws worked really hard out there... it seems like they are finally coming to terms with your relationship with me... 

YN: yeah i had a talk with my ravens... they all agreed to support me and be happy for my new found happiness... it was easy for them to see it as they only have 2 more years with me as their house prefect. plus it helped that they all were just pretending to be angry with me for hiding us from them to appease the other students. 

Draco: well i guess that would help. the slytherins were accomodating as ever... i mean its slytherin its full of a bunch of grumpy butts. they all know how to be kill joys at a party but it didnt matter cause they all knew my secret and speaking of which are you ready to tell Fudge about us... 

YN: no but it needs to be done. you almost ready love?

Draco comes out of the cover a few moments later and stands beside you in the mirror.

Draco: one day hopefully soon we will be able to be a normal couple, living normal lives, being as one in a normal way in public with our future looking bright. now lets go to see the minister... 

you and draco left the captains tent casually chatting but were stopped by the press... who were all asking tons of questions bout the match and how you both were getting along... 

after being hounded, answering questions and posing for photos, you both headed to the  transfiguration classroom, where you were both told to meet the minister there for a private meet and greet.

You both walked into the room and stood still until both of you heard your names called.

Cornelius: approach children for there is nothing to fear.

You both approached. Draco choose to stand still while you sat on a nearby table.

Cornielius: I am very impressed by that match today... I love a good quidditch match in the morning, very well played.

Yn: thank you Minister.

Cornielius: I sense some tension... Please speak freely children for its with an open heart that I have come here today.

Draco moved to stand behind you before he spoke.

Draco: sir, almost 2 years ago, I fell in love with this girl right here. We kept our relationship a secret and we felt our love grow we had to get it out in the open. My parents found out and tried to kill us. Yn's parents know and accept us. Her extended family tried to crucify us last week. And our fellow students and friends have accepted our happiness all we are missing is the blessing of the ministry. The professors of hogwarts can back this up with their own testimonies of how much we have not let this forbidden relationship affect our school work, our daily lives or anything we just have the need for the blessing of the ministry so we can continue to make plans for our future.

Yn: we accept any punishment you deem worthy for this crime. But if it's a crime to love then we surely are guilty to death, cause I love this man, what he says is true, I love him more than my own life... I would die for him as surely he would die for me. I can't imagine my life without him.

The look on the ministers face made you and Draco move close but not too close for the fact that the minister hadn't spoken yet.

Cornielius took his wand and wrote out a fire message and sent it off. Before another word could be spoken the door to the classroom opened welcoming McGonagall, flitwick, Dumbledore and Snape into the room.

Cornielius: these children have told me they confessed to the 4 of you and more people that they are in a relationship, outside of the rules is this true.

Dumbledore: cornielius, what these children have said is true... Yes they were punished by us accordingly as well as some resentment from their fellow classmates, their houses and friends. But they understood that was the consequences of their actions. In the end of things I was the one who gave final judgement and saw that they are just 2 people who against all rules and laws fell in love. They didn't commit any crime except that of love, which if I'm not mistaken is a 100% human emotion and its a good thing to have some change. Which is why at hogwarts as of a week ago I implemented a open inter house relationship policy. Draco and Yn signed this document and all its missing to be released to the public is the signature of the minister. Please take a look at it and sign it if you agree.

Fudge sat down at the desk as Dumbledore placed the document in front of him, everyone in the room stood still and quiet as the wait for the ministers decision was killing you and Draco inside and out.

Draco: I know this isn't the best time to say this but Yn I am so sorry, being with you has only put you in trouble. I don't regret being with you at all. These years have brought trials to us that just made me love you more than my own self. I love you so much and I am happy now to say this out loud. When my parents attacked yours in the restaurant in London, you stood vigilant and radiant to my own whim. It's made me the happiest to spend little moments of my day with you every day for the last 2 years.

Upon hearing this the minister cleared his throat, before you could say your response, cornielius spoke.

Cornielius: I cornielius fudge minister of magic now having witnessed the love between these 2 students do so sign this document of peace in a new order of open romantic relations between the 4 houses of hogwarts. In other starters, no punishment needed for these 2 children have done nothing wrong. They instead were trying to pull for a change without even knowing it. The love these 2 have is unbreakble and to not sign this would make these times that we live in alot worse. people should be free to love who they want to love.

you and draco now standing beside eachother...

YN: wait wait so does this mean draco and i can be anywhere in the wizarding community and be together publicly happily as a couple. free to marry when we are old enough.

Cornielius: yes thats what it means. and as minister of magic i would be happy to bestow my blessing to your marriage when the time comes.

draco picked you up and spun you round. it was the highlight of your christmas break. well the end of it anyway. draco placed you back on your feet and kissed you. the professors all chatting and happy for you both made you smile.

YN: thank you all of you, the support and respect is overwhelming and we can't thank you enough for this... if there is ever anything we can do to repay your kindness minister please let us know.

cornielius simply walked right up to you an draco and smiled.

Cornielius: keep winning hogwarts those quidditch games and make us the best. make us good enougn to compete in the world cup, make us good enough to win the cup.

with that the room was cleared, the 4 professors all left as well, that was when you and draco went to stand on the balcony. the fresh snow starting to fall, make the perfect scene for you both to share in a moment of passion.

~with that a new legacy begins but there is more to this story stay tuned.~

[nitewrighter]

I really like your fic "A Second Opinion", I hope you're going to continue it!

Why not now?

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3

----

“And you’re sure about this guy?” said McCree.

“For the 23rd time, yes,” said Hanzo, irritated as the door slid open to Athena’s secondary terminal near the Watchpoint training area.

“Agents, you must understand I’m diverting  much of my processing power towards logistics with Winston and Lynx Seventeen,” said Athena as soon as they walked in.

“We know, Athena,” said McCree, pulling out the swivel chair and allowing Hanzo to sit down, “But you’re still able to run the comms systems, right?”

“Of course,” said Athena.

“I’m going to need you to open a new comm channel,” said Hanzo, tapping away at Athena’s keyboard, “Identification numerals 11--”

“You do not yet have clearance to open new comm channels,” Athena said automatically and Hanzo’s brow furrowed. He looked at McCree.

“I think we should think about--” McCree started but Genji stepped forward.

“Agent override,” said Genji, “Vocal confirmation: Shimada, Genji. Granting temporary overrides to probationary agent Shimada Hanzo to open new comm channels.”

“Override recognized,” said Athena, “Probationary Agent Shimada Hanzo?”

Hanzo drew in a steady breath and began typing at the keyboard again, “Identification numerals 111801110514.”

“Identification numerals accepted,” said Athena, “Would you like me to hail?”

“Yes,” said Hanzo.

“Comm or Vid-Com?” said Athena.

“...Vid-Com is available?” said Hanzo.

“Yes,” said Athena.

“Vid-Com,” said Hanzo.

“What difference does it make?” said McCree.

“We should,” Hanzo cleared his throat, “We should have visual clarification.”

McCree’s brow crinkled with skepticism but Genji just leaned forward and pressed a key on Athena’s keyboard.

“Hailing Comm ID 111801110514,” said Athena.

“Genji!” McCree said with irritation, “We need to think this through!”

“Angela doesn’t have time for us to ‘think this through!’” Genji snapped back.

“Connecting,” said Athena, “Connecting...”

Athena’s screen blipped to a blurred environment and several chimes sounded.

“Hailing,” said Athena, “Hailing.”

Something muttered and distorted sounded over Athena’s speakers and the screen unblurred to reveal a man in dim light in what appeared to be the bridge of a luxury yacht. A handsome man plopped into the captain’s seat, clearly exhausted and rubbing his eyes.

“This is Josué Dosou--head of staff for Vernand Sainclair’s yacht crew, currently reporting from The Sainclair...Vernand is not available at the mom--”

“Baptiste?” said Hanzo.

“Hanzo?” Baptiste’s eyes suddenly lit up and he slapped his hands on the dashboard of the yacht, “Hanzo! It is you!” His eyes instantly flicked to McCree and Genji on either side of Hanzo. “...is it safe to talk? Who are your friends?”

Hanzo cleared his throat, motioning to both McCree and Genji as he spoke. “Baptiste, this is Jesse McCree of Overwatch, and my brother, Genji.”

“Genji!?” a smile split across Baptiste’s face, “I’ve heard so much about you!” Baptiste seemed to catch himself and his eyes flicked to Hanzo briefly before flicking back to Genji, “Good things!” Baptiste saw fit to clarify.

McCree and Genji exchanged glances as Hanzo cleared his throat.

“As much as I would like this to just be a call to catch up, my friend, I’m afraid I’m contacting you regarding a very serious matter,” said Hanzo.

“Well, I did say if you ever needed a helping hand...” Baptiste started and a quiet smile crossed Hanzo’s face. McCree looked from Baptiste on the screen, to Hanzo, back to Baptiste, back to Hanzo, then finally to Genji. Upon making eye contact, Genji just shrugged.

“An ally of ours,” Hanzo continued, “Angela Ziegler, has been captured by Talon.”

Baptiste’s face suddenly dropped from its jovial expression. “Talon took Doctor Ziegler?” he repeated quietly.

“It’s of utmost importance that we get her back as quickly as possible,” said Genji, leaning into the call.

“No-no--I mean, yes, I understand completely,” said Baptiste, “If Doctor Ziegler has been taken, that means---” A bell could be heard ringing and Baptiste suddenly sprang to his feet, “Excuse me one moment,” he said, getting up and rushing offscreen. The ringing sound stopped and Baptiste could be heard grunting in the background.

“Baptiste?” said Hanzo, leaning into Athena’s microphone. There was only grunting on the other side. Hanzo cleared his throat and dropped his voice slightly, leaning into the microphone again, “Jean?” he said.

“I can hear you! I’m still listening!” Baptiste yelled from offscreen.

“Is... everything all right?” said Hanzo.

“Everything’s fine! Keep going about Doctor Ziegler!” Baptiste yelled from offscreen.

Genji cleared his throat. “Doctor Ziegler had been spending the past three days at a medical conference in Malta. About 5 hours ago, she was taken from the bar at the Hotel Eupheme. We don’t have any audio, but we do have video.” Genji hit a few keys on Athena’s keyboard and sent over the silent footage of Mercy and an enormous man with a white streak in his massive mane of black hair at a hotel bar.

“Give me a second!” Baptiste called again from offscreen.

“I’ll just... set it on ‘replay’ said Genji, tapping a few more things onto Athena’s keyboard.

“...loving this contact so far,” said McCree flatly.

“He’s an ally you’d want on your side,” said Hanzo, giving a sharp look to McCree.

“Sure. Ex-Talon. I’m itching for it,” said McCree with an eye-roll.

“Ahh... sorry about that,” said Baptiste, coming back into the view of the screen, a large dentex under one arm, still flapping slightly.

“Is that--” McCree stammered, “Were you just fishing?!”

“Man cannot live on Sainclair’s mini-bar alone, my friend,” said Baptiste, pulling a cooler out from beneath the yacht’s dashboard and stuffing the fish into it, “But now that I have the next few nights��� dinner secured, I’m more than happy to help with--Mauga!?” his eyes practically bulged and he looked back at Hanzo as if the video footage Genji had sent him couldn’t be real.

“So it is Mauga,” said Hanzo, thoughtfully, “I thought he matched your descriptions of him, but---”

“Wait, you know this guy’s name?!” said McCree, looking at Hanzo.

“I wasn’t sure,” said Hanzo, swiveling his chair in McCree’s direction, “And furthermore, I only had audio on your meeting with Jack. This is the first I’m seeing of him as well.”

“Oh I’m so sorry you couldn’t bug our conference room better,” said McCree with an eye roll before turning back to Baptiste on the screen, “So who the hell’s Mogwai?”

“Mogwai is a band. Or a gremlin. Mauga is an old coworker,” said Baptiste, “Really not someone you want to mess with.”

“Really? I thought he looked like 7 feet and three inches of fun,” McCree muttered under his breath.

Baptiste stared at the screen, apparently studying the replaying footage of Mercy leaving with Mauga. “Talon had to have had the hotel locked down,” Baptiste said, apparently mostly to himself, “Mauga knows how to throw his weight around, but from my own experiences with Doctor Ziegler, not even he could get her to a second location just through intimidation. A lockdown of that level couldn’t be Talon’s long-distance drop teams. It would have to be local--they probably only took her to a facility a few hours away.”

“You worked with Ang--with Doctor Ziegler?” said Genji.

“Only for about a week, in Venezuela. She leaves an impression though,” said Baptiste.

“You worked with Mercy and Talon?” said McCree, leaning into the screen.

“McCree,” Hanzo hissed under his breath indignantly, but McCree kept up his glare at Baptiste.

“I had defected from Talon well before meeting Doctor Ziegler,” said Baptiste, “But as I was saying, the facility they took her to would likely still be in the mediterranean--You said she was taken from Malta, right? And if they didn’t knock her out, that means they needed her medical know-how, rather than just striking a blow to Overwatch, which means they’ll be keeping her at a Talon facility with well-equipped labs. My money’s on Venice--highest possible security with all the administration there.”

Genji gave a somewhat impressed look over to McCree but McCree just shook his head. “We already knew that,” said McCree, leaning into the screen, “How can you help?”

“Aside from pretty much having all Talon attack strategies and logistics memorized?” said Baptiste, leaning back in his seat, “I’m a full-fledged combat medic and on top of that, a pretty good shot. And I want Doctor Ziegler safe just as much as you do. For what it’s worth... I really wanted to join Overwatch when I was a kid.”

“If you can help us---” Genji started.

“Hold up hold up hold up,” said McCree, before looking at the Shimada brothers, “Sidebar?”

“Baptiste, I apologize---” Hanzo started.

“No, no, it’s fine,” said Baptiste with a wave.

“Athena, mute audio,” said McCree and a small crossed out mic icon appeared in the corner of their screen.

“We’re rushing into this way too fast,” said McCree.

“I assure you, no one wants to take down Talon more than Baptiste,” said Hanzo.

“And how do you know that, exactly?” said McCree, “And if Genji hadn’t rushed in, I would have asked this question earlier, but how the hell do you have this contact?”

Hanzo’s lips thinned thoughtfully and he cleared his throat. “Technically we had known each other only briefly while he was still in Talon,” said Hanzo.

“...I’m sorry, what?” said McCree.

“It--it was negligible,” said Hanzo, “A few words exchanged. Little more. I knew he was a good man back then--even if at the time our father decided against an alliance with Talon.”

Genji’s visor suddenly brightened. “I thought he looked familiar!” said Genji, excitedly, “The estate security had to practically drag you off--”

Hanzo cleared his throat sharply and Genji gave a short glance to McCree and a nervous chuckle. “I--mean---” Genji just looked at Hanzo, “Go on.”

One corner of McCree’s mouth twisted up in a grimace. At this point, he was used to drawn out and dramatic stories where Hanzo was involved, but now he had a pretty strong idea of where the story was going.

“We wouldn’t meet again until a few years later,” said Hanzo, “It was shortly after Genji confronted me at Hanamura castle and said we must take a side. I am not proud to say I decided to flee as far from Hanamura as I could. I decided to run from the decision. And in my flight I found myself in the Caribbean, and then...I met Baptiste... again. Through a whole... mess of circumstances, we found ourselves fighting against a Talon incursion in San Pedro de Macoris. He is---His fighting style is unparalleled.”

They fucked, the thought came to McCree as a knee-jerk reaction but it was all he could do to stuff it down and fold his arms. Hanzo was withholding too many details, too many exchanges between himself and Baptiste for that not to be the case. But he didn’t care--at least he told himself that--and anyway if Hanzo was emotionally compromised that just undermined Baptiste’s whole presence in this mess, didn’t it? 

“Well that’s a vote of confidence,” said Genji, looking at McCree, but McCree was now avoiding eye contact with both of them, itching beneath the brim of his hat.

“...I don’t believe I would be here without Baptiste,” said Hanzo, “I knew there were two sides, that conflict was unavoidable, but my time with Baptiste showed me that I could not flee in grief forever. That eventually... I would have to take action.” Hanzo drew in a steady breath, “I know I do not have your trust. But I would have you trust Baptiste before you trusted me. That is his strength of character.” 

“I trust you,” said Genji, putting a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder.

“He killed you,” said McCree, flatly.

“I trust you,” Genji said insistently, giving Hanzo’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Genji, you don’t trust him, you’re just terrified of losing the Doc,” said McCree.

“I can do both,” said Genji, his shoulders bunching up.

McCree huffed.

“It’s a two to one vote,” said Genji.

“Hanzo’s status is probationary. It’s one to one. And if I bring Ana in here you can bet we’ll actually be involving the vetting process for this Baptiste guy.”

“I thought you believed in redemption!” Genji snapped.

“I do!” McCree said on reflex.

“Then why is it so hard to believe Baptiste might share our cause? That Baptiste might want to help Angela?” said Genji.

“I--It’s--I--” McCree tried not to look at Hanzo as he stammered. He inhaled sharply through his teeth. “Fine! Fine! Let’s bring in Ex-Talon-Look-At-My-Fish guy! Don’t come crying to me when it blows up in our faces!”

“I assure you, you’re making the right decision,” said Hanzo.

“Yeah,” said McCree, not making eye contact with Hanzo, “Yeah let’s hope so.” He looked back at Hanzo and Genji. “So... unmute?”

Hanzo and Genji gave a simultaneous nod and McCree said, “Athena, unmute.”

The crossed out mic icon in the left corner of the screen disappeared.

“Baptiste, you still there?” said McCree.

Baptiste glanced up, slightly startled and in the midst of cleaning the dentrex he had caught and pouring the guts into his bait bucket. “Hm? Oh-” He nearly fumbled with the fish, then smacked it against the bait bucket a few more times before throwing the fish into the cooler again and setting the bait bucket aside. “Yes. Yes, I’m listening.”

“What are your current coordinates?”

“I can calculate that, with his permission or your override,” said Athena.

“That’s really not--” Baptiste started.

“35°34'24.8″ North, 15°52'07.8″ West,” said Athena, projecting the map on a picture in picture.

“...you’re in sneezing distance of Gibraltar,” said McCree.

“You mean this stupid party boat actually made it across the Atlantic?” said Baptiste incredulously.

“With Agent Vaswani’s help, we are theoretically capable of opening up a teleporter at his coordinates without compromising our satellites,” said Athena.

“Huh,” said McCree, before looking back at Baptiste, “You said you wanted to join Overwatch, right?”

“Yes...” said Baptiste, hesitantly

“So how soon is good for you?”

“Well that depends---”

“Five minutes enough?”

“What?” said Baptiste.

[mattsammonsez]

Hockey’s Voice

Sometimes you meet people who embody everything you believe makes a good person. Mike “Doc” Emrick is one of those people, and I enjoyed the few times we interacted in the past 13 years.

Mike “Doc” Emrick in his second home. 

When you work in sports broadcasting, your path crosses with the paths of a lot of prominent people, including athletes, coaches, and executives. It’s all part of the job, and admittedly one of the many perks that comes with the territory. While it’s fun to cross paths with these people, there are a select few where you feel blessed that your paths crossed. Mike “Doc” Emrick is one of those people, and you always felt like you knew him and he knew you all your life even if your real life interaction was only 5 minutes. With the announcement from Emrick earlier this week that he is retiring from calling NHL games, I wanted to share a few stories about the times my path fortunately and blessedly crossed with Doc’s.

Like many people my age, we got to know Doc on a regular basis on national television. For me, it was his weekly appearances on the NHL on Fox game of the week in the mid 90’s, as well as numerous New Jersey Devils highlights earlier in the decade as that team was building into a dominant team. In 2005, Doc became the primary voice on the NHL on OLN broadcasts (later Versus, then NBC Sports Network). In 2006, I became the pregame host of Tampa Bay Lightning radio broadcasts, and as I started to settle into my role that season I started gaining new job duties. One of those duties was to pull together guest interviews for our weekly radio show Lightning Hockey Night. In the 2007 playoffs, the Lightning drew the Devils in the first round, and thus my first interaction with Doc would happen as I was trying to get a guest for the program.

We weren’t looking to get Doc on the show as a live guest, but with Doc at the time still calling Devils games I figured he’d be the perfect guest for the show as he was a well-known voice and face even to hockey fans in Florida. Before the morning skate of game 4 with the Lightning up 2-1 in the series, I introduced myself to Doc and asked him if I could get him for just a few minutes to talk about the series. He said he could, and we continued with our usual morning skate routine for the next couple of hours. I hung around the rink until the Devils were done with their skate, and after the locker rooms were closed to the media I approached Doc again to see if he was still able to do a quick interview. This was close to 1 p.m., and with a game starting at 7 or 7:30 that night Doc had plenty of prep to do. Plus his color analyst, the humorous Glenn “Chico” Resch was hungry and wanted lunch. Yet when I politely asked, Doc without hesitation obliged and we sat down in the stands for a few minutes to discuss the series. It was such a special moment, and such a fun interview, I’ve saved it 13 years and counting.

Emrick yucking it up as Jim Carr, the carpet-coiffed play-by-play announcer for the Johnstown Jets in the cult classic film Slap Shot, at Hockeyville USA, 2015.

Fast forward to September 2015. I’m now the Director of Broadcasting & Programming for the Lightning, and I’m on the team plane to Johnstown, Pennsylvania, as the Lightning and Penguins will be squaring off in the first Kraft Hockeyville USA preseason game. Game day was hectic, as the NHL and NBC rolled out the red carpet not only for both teams but for as much Slap Shot as possible since Johnstown was the location of the film shoot 40 years earlier. Along with being that night’s radio engineer for our broadcast, my mission was to pull together as many interviews as possible for a podcast on the event. Knowing the legendary Hanson Brothers would be there, I targeted an interview with them which I was able to score. 

The Cambria County War Memorial Arena was opened in 1950, when comforts such as being able to stretch your legs were not baked into many civic building blueprints. In a tiny locker room I waited for the Hansons to come in, and I did so next to Doc who agreed to also do an interview with me once I was done with the Hansons. The Hansons came in, and not only played the part of their characters well for my interview, but they too were incredibly friendly and great to talk to. While the interview went on, there was that brief fleeting moment in my head; “I’m interviewing three of the greatest hockey movie characters while one of the greatest hockey announcers is sitting in the background watching this.” Quite the moment to say the least. After my conversation with the Hansons, I sat down with Doc to talk to him about what the game meant to him, a former college teacher and newspaper writer in Western Pennsylvania 45 years earlier. You could sense in Doc’s eyes and voice this Hockeyville experience in his old backyard with all the Slap Shot fun and frivolity mixed in was quite the moment for him. The Hanson Brothers and Doc interviews were the cornerstone of my podcast, and all these years later it’s still one of my favorite podcasts of more than 100 I did.

Emrick could make any broadcast better, including a Morning Skate Show in desperate need of some good news in 2018.

Fast forward to May 2018. We’re not in the preseason, we’re in the thick of the postseason, and the Lightning are about to battle the Washington Capitals in the Eastern Conference Final. Prior to game one at the morning skate, Doc and I are two of seemingly 200 people gathering around Alex Ovechkin for pregame interviews. We looked on from a distance, laughing more at the spectacle then actually listening to anything Ovechkin was saying. When the scrum was done, I casually asked Doc if we could have him as a guest on our streaming video program The Morning Skate Show when the series shifted to Washington D.C. for game 3. Doc said he wanted to, we just needed to route the request through NBC public relations, which is always a coin flip on if your wish gets granted. Thankfully for us, it was.

Never before did we need a personality like Doc Emrick like we did then. The Caps humiliated the Lightning for two easy wins in Tampa before the series went to our nation’s capital. In planning for the show, we decided to talk as little as possible about the first two games, and simply turn the show into the Doc Emrick talent show. For almost 45 minutes, Doc talked about everything from the NHL playoffs to memories of AHL games in Halifax 40 years ago when birds in the rafters of the old Halifax Forum pooped on the ice during games. At the end of the show he very quietly but confidently reminded our viewers that if any team was able to get out of 0-2 hole to the Caps, it was the Lightning. It was the reassurance and the fun story telling we all needed, and low and behold the Lightning rallied for three-straight wins before the Caps pulled it together and won the series in seven games on their way to their first Stanley Cup championship. As of 2019, it was still one of the most-watched episodes of the show.

Finally, fast forward to October 2019. Two months earlier, I was informed my position was being “eliminated” at the Lightning, but I refused to be eliminated from the scene. Newly hired to provide a weekly Metro Express podcast to the Philadelphia Flyers (and later the Capitals), I arrived at Amalie Arena for a morning skate prior to a Lightning and Penguins game that was being aired nationally on NBC that night. Once I found out Doc was on the call, I knew I needed to get him for a few minutes to talk Metropolitan Division hockey. I saw Doc sitting in the first couple of rows of seats when I arrived, and I quickly slipped in next to him and asked if I could get his thoughts real quickly. Doc was there to study lines and defensive pairings of both teams, and now at the age of 74 had to double-check all players and facts before putting on another flawless broadcast that night. I was very respectful of his time, and as always he was respectful enough to grant me a few minutes of his busy day.

While there were many similarities to that first interview with Doc in 2007, this time around technology would come back to bite me. Feeling satisfied my iPhone would work as a microphone just fine, I started the interview. Midway through Doc’s first answer, my phone started ringing, cutting off the voice memo app I was using. Thankfully I silenced my phone so it merely buzzed, but in my head I was cursing while Doc was talking. There was no way I was going to ask him to start over again, I was just going to have to eat the moment as I feverishly hung up on the call and pressed record on the voice memo again. While I did this without interrupting Doc’s thoughts, I still got a good 7-8 minutes from him and used it in that week’s show. It was special to connect with Doc again, and I was reminded even as a veteran hockey broadcaster at this time to never ever again do an important interview on my iPhone.

Doc’s retirement announcement didn’t come totally as a surprise to me. I figured with COVID-19 still a factor in our lives for at least the next year or two, the last place a 75-year-old cancer survivor needs to be is in a pressurized airplane cabin or travelling from one cold city to another in the winter. And even though Doc is a pro’s pro, it’s extremely difficult to call a game from a television screen. Whoever is named his successor at NBC has some very big shoes to fill. 

As for me, my career has moved forward from my exit with the Lightning, and while potentially great things await I don’t know if I’ll be able to cover a daily beat in an NHL arena anytime soon. That’s perfectly fine with me, as I’m always looking for a new challenge and can’t wait to see what is ahead for me and my family. That also adds even more emotional value to the times my path crossed with Doc’s path. Hockey fans have been blessed to have him as a prime voice for decades, and I was blessed to interact with him several times in my career. A visit from this doctor was always welcome in the homes and hearts of hockey fans.

[afternoonteawithme]

The Cold and the Emperor’s Smile - (Part 4)

Fandom: MZDS / Pairing: WangXian / Rating: G / WC: 2386

(read it on AO3)  || (part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

Hanguang Jun and Jiang Cheng had already taken off by the time Jin Ling, with Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui at his heels, made it outside. He reached for his own sword, ready to follow, when the sound of many feet thumping over the ground behind him made him glance back over his shoulder.

And, to his surprise, saw they’d been followed by what looked like the entire Cultivation Conference - he doubted there was a single sect or clan leader left inside the meeting hall.

Really, he should have expected it. The cultivation world practically ran on gossip, and there was nothing most of these ‘elite’ liked better than the chance to watch from the front row when fresh new drama happened to other people.

But expected or not, it was always annoying.

And, as he watched the gathering crowd swarm into clumps, whispering and muttering to each other while their eyes shot speculative looks at him, at Lan Xichen, at Lan Sizhui, at anyone else they thought might be involved in whatever was going on, he suddenly felt the danger of the situation as keenly as a knife pressed against his skin.

Beside him, Lan Sizhui turned his head, and on his friend’s face Jin Ling saw signs of the same concern and distress building inside his own chest.

“This isn’t good,” Lan Jingyi said quietly, edging in closer to the other two as the free space around them slowly shrank. “We should have gotten Hanguang Jun to come outside before saying anything.”

Jin Ling shot him a glare. “Yes, you should have. This was stupid.”

Before Lan Jingyi could do more than scowl back, Lan Sizhui shook his head. “Some of the attendants from the other sects had already seen some of what happened, and they all heard Senior Wei say he was going after Sect Leader Yao. We had to make sure it didn’t look like we were trying to hide anything.”

“Yes, well,” Jin Ling scanned the eager faces of the crowd. “This isn’t really any better.”  

“If there’s even the smallest hint of a new conspiracy it will destroy all the trust the major sects have been working on building for the past five years.” Despite everything, Lan Sizhui’s voice was calm and steady as he repeated the old argument. “You know we have to be careful. They’re all scared of another Jin Guangyao.”

“This could still destroy plenty. We could have figured out what to tell them all later.”  

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Lan Jingyi eyed a cultivator who seemed to be easing in as close to the trio as he could manage, most likely trying to listen in on their discussion. “Next time Senior Wei gets drunk and goes after Sect Leader Yao, you two can figure out a better way of secretly letting Hanguang Jun know he needs to go stop him, without hiding anything from anybody. For right now could we please just keep today from getting any worse than it already is? They’ve already started to talk.”

Jin Ling sucked in a breath, and listened to the whispers. No one had any real details, but that had never stopped them before, and it wasn’t stopping them this time.

 It started with eager, excited questions. Did anyone know what happened? Why had Sect Leader Jiang and Hanguang Jun raced out of the hall? Where were they going? What had the Gusu Lan Sect been discussing? Had there been trouble? Had they been fighting?

Maybe they’d argued. After all, Sect Leader Jiang had been irritable all day. Yes, they must have argued since anyone could see how worried Sect Leader Lan was, now. Maybe the Yunmeng Jiang and the Gusu Lan Sects had fallen out. Or else, since it was those two, maybe it was related to Wei Wuxian. Hadn’t someone heard someone mention Wei Wuxian’s name right before they’d taken off? Maybe he wasn’t really sick, maybe he’d gone wild again, and Hanguang Jun and Sect Leader Jiang had gone to cover up for him. Except everybody knew Sect Leader Jiang had killed him once, so maybe he wanted to kill him again and that was why he’d fought Hanguang Jun today. Yes, someone had seen them fight. Couldn’t recall who just now, but someone over there had definitely said they’d seen them pull their swords on each other just before they’d run out of the hall.

It must have been because of Wei Wuxian. Everyone knew he liked making a scene at gatherings like this. He must have just been lying low, waiting on his chance. Maybe the Gusu Lan Sect had been covering up for him.  

Maybe he really had bewitched Hanguang Jun, like everyone had thought all those years ago.

As questions turned to theories, and theories turned into almost certain, twisted, fact, Jin Ling’s fists clenched at his side.

He knew how this worked, now. Once, he’d been baffled at how the uncle he’d always been taught was evil incarnate could suddenly become a hero who’d never really been all that bad to begin with, while his other uncle, who’d once stood at the pinnacle of the cultivation world, had come to be remembered only as the murderous son of a prostitute.

Public opinion was blind, unreliable, and incredibly hard to change.

Both of his uncles had been vilified by rumors. Jin Ling still couldn’t openly mourn for the Jin Guangyao he’d known only as a doting uncle, and while Wei Wuxian’s name had been cleared by overwhelming evidence and someone else for everybody to blame, Jin Ling knew the old gossip had never truly died. As proof, here it was today, bubbling back up to the surface.

It made Jin Ling furious. And it made him afraid, because he knew gossip like this was flammable stuff – all it needed was someone to light a spark, and they’d have a mob ready to attack.

It was at that moment he saw Sect Leader Ouyang pushing his way through the mass of people, heading straight towards Lan Xichen.

“Sect Leader Lan, I insist that you give us an explanation.”

The hand resting on the flute at Lan Xichen’s waist tightened as he turned to Sect Leader Ouyang, a strained smile on his lips. “My brother and Sect Leader Jiang have gone to find out the specifics. We’ll know more once they return.”  

Sect Leader Ouyang drew himself up, squaring his weak shoulders. “Don’t try and hide it! I heard Sect Leader Jiang tell you that Wei Wuxian had gone to kill Sect Leader Yao.”

As the looks on the faces around him started to change, harden, Lan Xichen shook his head. “No, that isn’t…forgive me Sect Leader Ouyang, but you misheard Sect Leader Jiang.”

“Why are you not stopping Wei Wuxian? He’s gone mad!” Sect Leader Ouyang spoke loudly, clearly, and with quick glances at the other sect leaders watching to gauge their reaction to his words. “Isn’t it Gusu Lan’s responsibility to protect the weaker sects? Will you side with the Yiling Patriarch instead?”

The noise of the crowd rose abruptly, almost drowning out Lan Xichen’s voice as he attempted to calm Sect Leader Ouyang, but it wasn’t so loud that Jin Ling missed the sly comment someone behind him made, in a voice clearly meant to carry. “I always said Jin Guangshan had a point, Wei Wuxian has too much power for his own good. He should have just stayed dead.”

Jin Ling whipped around, but all he saw were the two cultivators closest to him, both studiously avoiding his eyes. He took a step forward with no real idea of what he’d do if he found whoever had spoken, but stopped when he heard another, much more familiar, voice behind him.

“Ah, I really don’t understand, Sect Leader Ouyang. What’s going on?” Nie Huaisang sounded confused, uncertain, and a little like he was sure there was some joke he wasn’t getting. Despite that, his voice carried oddly well through the crowd, and the noise level dropped rapidly as people turned to listen.

Jin Ling looked back in time to see Nie Huaisang finish wiggling through the wall of cultivators surrounding Sect Leader Ouyang and Sect Leader Lan. With a quick apology to one clan leader, after accidentally elbowing him in the gut, Nie Huaisang turned to Sect Leader Ouyang. “I mean, weren’t we all just talking about bringing Sect Leader Yao back? Didn’t that attendant just say Wei Wuxian had gone after him - wasn’t it to ask him to return to the conference?”

Sect Leader Ouyang blustered. “If that was all it was, then why did Jiang Cheng and Hanguang Jun chase after him at such speed?”

“But you just said the Gusu Lan Sect wasn’t doing anything to stop Wei Wuxian. I don’t understand. Is there something else I’m missing?”

Lan Xichen forced a smile. “I believe the concern is that Wei Wuxian may be a little drunk.”

“Oh.” Nie Huaisang laughed at that. “Well that’s nothing new.”

Jin Ling could almost feel the way the crowd around them started to relax, going from sharp outrage to a sort of rueful amusement. He even heard a few chuckles as some cultivators laughed along with Nie Huaisang.

But maybe there was more backbone in Sect Leader Ouyang than Jin Ling had thought, because while he didn’t sound as confident as before, he didn’t entirely back down. “There’s something going on here. We need to go after them too.”

Nie Huaisang waved the fan he held through the air. “Oh, I suppose we should. But they’re so far ahead of us, how can we catch up?”

“We’ll go by sword too.” Sect Leader Ouyang reached towards his waist, flushing almost purple in embarrassment when he didn’t find anything hanging there. He turned back towards the meeting hall and yelled, “Zizhen! Get me my sword.”  

Jin Ling hadn’t been able to see Ouyang Zizhen in the crowd, but now he watched as his friend pushed through to the front. Only one sword hung at his waist – his own – and he had nothing in his hands as he walked to his father. “But, Dad, you know you can’t stay on a sword too well anymore. That’s why we traveled here by-”

“Hush, Zizhen,” Sect Leader Ouyang cut him off, darting glances at the interested faces around him as he lowered his voice to a hiss. “That’s only when I’ve had a little too much to drink. Otherwise I can ride a sword perfectly well. Perfectly well.”

Ouyang Zizhen blinked, his expression all innocence. “Oh, is that how it is?”  

Jin Ling wanted to cheer at his friend’s masterful handling of his father. As it was, he had to work to keep his own expression neutral – and when he turned his head a little he saw Lan Jingyi wasn’t bothering to hide anything, as he stood grinning widely at Ouyang Zizhen.  

Riding a sword didn’t take a great deal of spiritual energy, which was why it was one of the first things children learned when they started cultivating their golden core. But simply balancing on a narrow sword as it moved took both physical strength and endurance, which took work to maintain. Many of the cultivators here had probably gotten far too used to their soft, rich lives to bother, but not a single one of them would want any of the others to know.  

It was why many of them used cheats; talismans beneath their feet, or even tinctures to temporarily improve their stamina.

If Sect Leader Ouyang cared about his image – and he clearly did – he wouldn’t be willing to risk anyone spotting him using a cheat, and he’d never get away with one now that Ouyang Zizhen had announced his problem so loudly. His humiliation would only be worse if he tried to ride his sword anyway, without any help, and fell off.

Jin Ling half wished he’d try.  

“Ah, I just remembered.” Nie Huiasang slapped his fan shut, tapping it against his forehead as he turned to Sect Leader Ouyang. “There’s another path the disciples here use when they go to Gusu, along the river. I found it by accident when I was fishi- I mean, when I was a student here. I bet it’s a shortcut. I’m sure it’ll be almost as fast as going by sword.”

“Is- is that right, Sect Leader Lan?”

Lan Xichen studied Nie Huaisang for a long moment, before dipping his head in a slight nod. “There is another path to Gusu, yes.”

“See? What did I tell you.” Nie Huaisang beamed at Sect Leader Ouyang. “We’ll catch up in no time at all.”

“Well, I really should-”

Smiling brightly, Ouyang Zizhen patted his father on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Dad, I’ll go ahead with Sect Leader Jin. We’ll bring a few of the Gusu Lan Sect disciples. Just to put your mind at ease.”

Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi exchanged a quick glance, and then marched forward to bow towards Lan Xichen, as Jin Ling trailed behind them.

“We’ll go ahead, Sect Leader Lan.”  

Lan Xichen glanced around at the elite crowd of cultivators and politicians, clearly torn, though they all knew he had to stay with them. Finally, he nodded, and spoke quietly enough that only the young men in front of him heard his words.  

“Be careful.”

-

 To Jin Ling’s surprise, they caught up with Jiang Cheng and Hanguang Jun halfway to Gusu. The two men hovered over the trees, eyes scanning the forest floor beneath them.

“Have you found any sign of them?” Jin Ling asked, though he supposed he didn’t really need the head shake Jiang Cheng gave in response to know the answer. They’d hardly still be up here otherwise.

“Maybe that’s a good thing.” Lan Jingyi suggested. “Senior Wei was pretty sick already, even before he started drinking. He probably just fell asleep somewhere along the way.”

Jiang Cheng snorted. “Wei Wuxian would never make things that easy on anyone.”

Since Jin Ling had to agree, he said nothing.

Hanguang Jun, who had yet to speak, lifted his head abruptly.

An instant later, he took off, just as Jin Ling caught it too - the haunting, unmistakable notes of Chenqing.  

And the sound of someone screaming.

[ft-dads-au]

Chance Encounter - Chapter 3

Home for the Holidays 2019 Prompt: Sharing A collaboration by @mdelpin​ and @oryu404​ AO3 | FF.Net | Prev: Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Next: Ch 4

May 12, 2020

5:20 pm

It took a few adaptations to the usual schedule and extracting a promise from Sting to meet them there after work. Still, when Rogue arrived at the community center, both of his sons were fed, washed, and ready for bed, and the list of questions he had failed to prepare for yesterday’s interview was fully drafted on his phone.

The voice recorder was charged and equipped with an SD-card that had plenty of available memory left. The diaper bag contained everything it should and then some, and on top of it all, they arrived more than half an hour before the meeting was supposed to start so he’d have enough time to re-do the interview.

‘The things you can get done with good planning,’ he thought to himself as he wrestled the stroller through the entrance of the building.

Young girls could be heard singing and giggling over upbeat pop tunes. The sounds immediately drew the attention of the twins, especially Kuro, who started fighting against the stroller’s straps so he could lean towards the direction the sounds were coming from. He was still too young to be able to point his fingers, but he made his demands very clear by reaching out and giving a loud, vocal instruction.

“Buuhhh!”

“Sorry Cupcake, I don’t think that’s meant for us,” Rogue responded before turning to the receptionist. “Good evening, I’m here for the Dad’s Club. Could you please tell me where I can find its meeting room?”

The receptionist’s head snapped up at his voice. She looked frazzled, very much like someone who wasn’t having a good day, but just as she was about to speak, Haku made a noise that made her peer into the stroller.

“Oh my goodness, aren’t they sweet?” The receptionist made silly faces at the twins as Rogue watched with mild amusement. She finally looked back up at Rogue, her lips curled into a friendly smile, a welcome change from her previous dour expression.

“The Dad’s Club meetings are held in the daycare center, but that space is currently being used for rehearsals by a dance group. Unfortunately, the school holidays have led to the daycare center being double-booked, but the club meeting is still scheduled to take place as soon as possible.”

“I see. Do Mr. Conbolt and Mr. Clive happen to be present already?” Rogue asked, feeling discomfort settle in the pit of his stomach at the name Clive alone, “I’m supposed to meet them ahead of the club, but maybe I got here a little too early.”

Rogue startled as the doors of the community center suddenly slammed shut behind him. He looked into the stroller quickly to make sure the twins hadn’t been frightened, but it seemed as if they were still focused on the music coming from the daycare center.

He turned around only to see Macao and Gildarts walking towards him, arms laden with several supermarket bags.

“You bought too much food again,” Macao Conbolt complained, “What are we supposed to do with all this?”

“Stop worrying so much, someone will eat them, it’s a bunch of guys right?” Gildarts shrugged off Macao’s displeasure, “Seriously, I could probably eat all this on my own.”

They hadn’t seen Rogue yet, too intent on their bickering to notice anything around them. Soon they had reached the receptionist’s desk.

“Is that why you were trying to buy the booze rather than the juice boxes I asked for?” Macao challenged, and Gildarts flashed him a careless grin while simultaneously grabbing a rose from one of the bags.

“Running this club has aged you, Macao, you’ll never find a good woman this way,” Gildarts handed the rose over to the receptionist who could only gawk at it and then at Gildarts. A look that Rogue recognized well from hanging around the man when he was younger, “Wouldn’t you agree, Gladys?”

“When did you even get a rose?” Macao looked inside the remaining bags presumably to check for any additional contraband.

“A man is always ready,” Gildarts shrugged before once again, dazzling poor Gladys with his winning smile.

Rogue found himself feeling sorry for the receptionist, Gildarts was unlike anyone else Rogue had ever met. He was big, loud, and brash, but he could also be incredibly charming and fun.

Once, he’d been like an uncle to him. A rather annoying uncle that was always involving himself where he didn’t belong. Before he had much chance to think about the man, the receptionist ratted him out, probably to divert attention away from her.

“Uhm, that man over there was asking for both of you,” Gladys helpfully pointed him out, and suddenly he wished the stroller were larger so he could just hide behind it. He wasn’t sure how Gildarts was going to react when he saw him, considering their last interaction hadn’t been a very pleasant one, and that made him awfully nervous.

To his surprise, Gildarts regarded him with interest, observing him as well as his sons with keen eyes. Rogue’s unease began to mix with confusion, and an added layer of guilt to top it all off when he saw a familiar grin form on Gildarts’ face as if nothing had ever happened between them.

“Never thought I’d see the day when the half-pint had a half-pint of his own, and two at that!”

Before Rogue had a chance to protest the use of that most hated of nicknames, Gildarts had already put down the bags he was carrying and moved over to Rogue, surrounding him in one of his infamous bear hugs that Rogue had to admit he’d missed. He wrapped his arms around the larger man slowly, unsure of what was happening but not wanting to fight the affection he was receiving.

They separated, and Gildarts peered into the stroller, “And who are these fine lads?”

“Guys, we’re kind of blocking this area maybe we could move this reunion somewhere else until the room opens up? Gladys?”

“Let me check,” Gladys looked at a map on her desk that was filled with dry erase marker entries, identifying the available spaces within the community center, “It looks like the small meeting room across from the daycare center is open.”

“Wonderful, thank you, Gladys,” Macao began to move towards the room Gladys had indicated with Gildarts hurrying to grab his bags and follow along with Rogue, both remaining silent for the moment.

There were so many things Rogue wanted to ask, none of them related to the Dad’s Club. A glance at his watch, however, made him realize those questions would have to wait, they’d wasted too much time already.

The kids were being pleasantly agreeable for once, their eyes darting from place to place as they looked at all the new things. The building, which was used as a community space, was decorated in cheerful colors with murals painted by a local artist by the name of Reedus Jonah decorating many of the walls.

They entered a small room containing a conference table that could seat six with enough room left over to comfortably place the stroller near the door so the kids could listen to the music.

Once Rogue was sure the kids were settled, he took a seat at the head of the table with Gildarts and Macao sitting on either side of him. Rogue could feel Gildarts watching him but chose to ignore it, grabbing his recorder and briefly looking at his phone screen to review the questions he’d come up with. Placing the recorder on the table, he made sure to turn it on, waiting for the red LED to light up before asking his first question.

“I guess I should start by asking what the club is, what purpose does it hope to serve?”

Macao and Gildarts stared at each other briefly with Gildarts gesturing for Macao to answer.

“Well. Makarov Dreyar and his friend Yaj Ima were both having some issues with their kids, and when they went looking for help, all they found were groups geared towards women. This was back in the eighties. They talked to some of their other friends and found that a lot of them were also frustrated by the lack of resources geared towards them, so they all got together and formed the first incarnation of the Magnolia Dad’s Club.”

“The idea was to support each other through problems and provide help, however possible. For example, Gildarts here was a social worker so occasionally he would be asked questions on fostering, child visits, things like that. Everyone lent their skills and expertise to help others.”

Gildarts had been a social worker? For as long as he could remember, Rogue had heard his father complain about the dangerous missions his friend went on for work. Gildarts’ daughter, Cana, would stay with them, forcing Gray and Rogue to share a room until he returned. Both Cana and his dad would be nervous wrecks until Gildarts booming voice could once again be heard.

“Okay, so if I understand correctly, the club was founded in the eighties?” Rogue verified, “and you mentioned that was the first incarnation, so what happened to it?”

“What happened was you all grew up, “ Gildarts remarked, “I’m surprised you don’t remember the club at all. You, Cana and Gray used to come to some of the meetings with us. We’d go get fast food after.”

Now that Gildarts mentioned it, Rogue vaguely remembered something, but it was sort of hazy. He mostly recalled going to eat with their dads. That was always fun, especially when they were in a good mood and joking around together.

“Makarov and Yaj were getting old, they’re in their seventies now, so when they announced their retirement and no one stepped up to replace them, the club just kind of died. That was about ten years ago,” Macao added, an almost wistful expression on his face.

“So why start up again now after so much time had passed?”

Macao and Gildarts remained quiet for a moment, and this time it was Macao who gestured towards Gildarts, letting him answer.

“Well, Makarov reminded us that it was time for us to pay it forward, and he was right. It might be 2020, but the fact remains that for every one resource that exists for fathers out there, there are twenty for mothers,” Gildarts explained.

“When I found out I had a daughter, I had nowhere to go to ask for help. I ended up at your doorstep with a crying little girl who had no idea who I was to her. Your father introduced me to this club, to other men like me who were just trying their best to be good dads, and it helped. It made me a better father and a better person overall.”

“There are plenty of fathers out there who are lost, who knows maybe you’re one of them,” Gildarts gaze was intense as it fell on Rogue, “If I can help them out, don’t I have the responsibility to do so?”

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to say —”

“My wife left us when my son was very young,” Macao interrupted, trying to defuse the sudden tension that had taken over the room, “I was really lost until I found an ad for the club in the Teacher’s Lounge of the high school I teach at. It took me a couple of weeks to admit to myself that I wasn’t okay and that I needed help, but once I did, these guys took me in. They helped me get through arguably the toughest time in my life. I’d like to do that for others.”

“Yeah, I mean it’s not like Makarov fed us drinks until we agreed or something,” Gildarts scoffed while Macao glared, “That would be silly.”

Rogue wasn’t sure what to make of that last statement. With Gildarts, it was hard to tell what was fact and what was fiction sometimes.

“Okaaay, you mentioned yesterday there was babysitting, what other services do you provide?” Rogue tried to steer them back onto more neutral ground.

As Macao opened his mouth to answer the door to the daycare center opened and he scrambled to grab the bags. Rogue noticed Gildarts sneak something into the bag nearest him with an impish grin.

“I’ll go set up the snacks and get the coffee going before more people arrive,” Macao declared with his usual friendly smile, “I’ll be happy to answer any additional questions you might have after the meeting.”

Rogue nodded at him and gave him a sour smile in return. Gildarts showed no sign of moving, looking pretty comfortable in his seat, so that meant he was stuck with him for now. Not even the twins were going to save him this time, they were both completely focused on their toys. No crying, no screaming, no attempted escapes or diaper explosions. Of course, that only happened when it was highly inconvenient. Great.

“So-” Gildarts finally spoke up, drumming his fingers on the table, “Long time no see. How’ve you been doing? Looks like you’ve been busy.” He raised his eyebrows as he shot a quick but amused glance towards the twins. And while there weren’t many things that defined the word busy like caring for two very dependent, tiny humans did, knowing Gildarts that wasn’t what he was referring to.

The repetitive tapping of Gildarts’ fingers on the wood grated on Rogue’s nerves. It sounded unnatural, like fingernails scratching against a chalkboard. His eyes were instantly drawn to the offending digits only to realize he’d somehow managed to forget that Gildarts’ left arm and leg had been replaced with prosthetic limbs. A souvenir from one of his missions that had gone horribly wrong.

“I’m sorry,” Rogue ignored the comment, offering a long overdue apology instead, even as his eyes remained glued on Gildarts’ fingers. “I know you were just making sure I was okay back then, but I was just so angry for being left alone for so long. It—”

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, Rogue,” Gildarts interrupted him, the use of his actual name a clear indication that he was serious for once. “I should have gone sooner, I let myself get caught up in my own shit and — nevermind. Point is we’re fine.”

“I guess we both did,” Rogue thought aloud, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. He was glad that Gildarts had accepted his apology, but it didn’t make him feel any better about his actions. He’d been upset about being alone, but Gildarts had been dealing with his whole life being turned upside down. “You probably miss them too, huh?”

“Every day, kid,” Gildarts winked, but there was an underlying sadness that Rogue could relate to. He reached out with this right hand and ruffled Rogue’s head, messing up his ponytail and changing the topic. “I like this new look you’ve got going, it suits you.”

Rogue’s hands moved to his hair, gauging the damage before giving up and letting it down. He ran his fingers quickly through it, glaring as Gildarts began to chuckle at him.

“You are so annoying!” Rogue blurted out loudly, making Gildarts laugh even harder.

“There he is!” Gildarts exclaimed, his grin making him look younger than his fifty-five years, “I’m still me, you know. The prosthetics just make me harder to beat in a fight.” Gildarts pumped his fists in a pretend punching motion.

“When the hell were you a social worker?” Rogue didn’t know why that question felt so important, but it was in stark contrast with everything he thought he knew about the man.

“I’m insulted you didn’t know. I have a Master’s Degree in Social Work, but I enlisted in the Navy right after graduate school. Hmm, let’s see, that was right when I first found out about Cana. I did it for a few years, but I hated it. I got better results in the Navy.”

He looked down at his watch, “We’d best get moving, You’ll probably get most of what you need for your article from the meeting itself. Plus,” Gildarts rubbed his hands together in glee, “I don’t want to miss Macao’s face when he finds my little surprise.”

“What did you put in the bag?”

Gildarts gave one of his goofy grins as he stood up, “You’ll see.”

Rogue followed suit, collecting the recorder and slipping it into his pants pocket before walking over to the stroller and following Gildarts out.

[antiquecompass]

Untamed Fest Day 2: Dynamic

Summary: Wherein Sizhui has a best friend and a crush and parents who care, perhaps, maybe, just a little too much.

(So, like I said yesterday these fics are going to bounce around the ages of 11-18 for the Juniors. In this one Sizhui is 14. It’s also pre-Sizhui/Jingyi. Don’t worry, nothing will get above Teen in this entire series, and only then bc I, and therefore characters I write, curse like a sailor.)

When it came to personality, at least inside the confines of Lan Academy, Lan Sizhui had taken after his Papa. He projected an aura of quiet leadership and confidence; fair in judgment, but willing to mete out and take punishments. Even at fourteen, he was already one of the leaders on the Student Council; the youngest Vice President in a decade. Sizhui had entered the Academy at the age of eleven, determined to prove any doubters wrong, and had done so quietly and efficiently, just like a Lan should.

Lan Jingyi did not lead quietly, though he was still a leader among their class. Lan Jingyi had the type of dynamic personality that drew others in, fluttering around him like butterflies, but he ignored most of them to keep the company of his two best friends. He was loud, opinionated, and always willing to make his feelings known. He wasn’t the way many thought a Lan should be, but he was very much a Lan, through and through, just willing to openly show the more stubborn parts of their personality that people forgot they had under their veneer of genteel manners.

It was often said that together, Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi truly made the perfect Lan. A balance of the best, and worst, traits. Sizhui was calm and quiet, Jingyi excitable and loud, but where Sizhui often had self-doubts, Jingyi had enough pride and confidence for the both of them. They’d grown up as a pair, rarely apart, settling into their roles and friendship with an enviable and familiar ease. So many years together, being so known to each other, they were a hard pair to defeat in anything--be it something as simple as a classroom debate or something more serious as an actual fight to defend someone’s honor. Since they were always found in each other’s company, they’d become the pride of the family and the Academy. 

Sizhui was proud to be the one-half of such a whole.

Sizhui also had a problem.

He knew he had a crush on Jingyi. It’d been there for years. Apparently he’d told his fathers at the ripe old age of five that he was going to marry Jingyi one day, and while it’d been a story retold often at family gatherings for laughs...well, Sizhui may not have truly meant it at five, but at fourteen, it was definitely a future he wanted.

And somehow he knew that wasn’t normal.

He knew it was normal, for him, to have a crush. His fathers had taken great pains to inform him about different sexual and gender identities and forms of attraction and the like as soon as he showed the first hints of a boyhood crush. So he knew a crush, especially on attractive, kind, funny, caring Jingyi wasn’t unusual. They’d been best friends since they were four. There was no one else his age Sizhui trusted more than Jingyi.

But Sizhui was worried that he’d passed the crush stage long ago and had been firmly planted in something that he was hesitant to call love, because he was only fourteen, but knew that clearly picturing a future with Jingyi that saw them married and raising some kids of their own as the most natural course of their relationship probably meant something significant. 

He knew most Lans fell hard, fell once, and fell in love for life. But Sizhui was a Lan in name only. 

Perhaps Nurture had won this round versus Nature.

He still needed to talk to someone before he embarrassingly blurted out his love for Jingyi straight to his face, probably when the other was devouring a basket of chicken wings. That would be Sizhui’s luck. He’d probably make poor Jingyi choke. And then he’d have to give him the Heimlich or something, and Jingyi would probably spit out his chicken bone right into Great Uncle Lan’s face, and then Sizhui would have to go find a grave plot to bury himself in after he died from the collective embarrrassment. 

So, yeah, he needed to talk to someone.

**********

Dad’s office occupied the single turret tower of their massive house. He jokingly called it his gargoyle hoard, and often sang songs from Disney’s take on The Hunchback of Notre Dame as he climbed the stairs to the tower. Or he called for Papa with, ‘Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, let down your hair’ which never made much sense to Sizhui since Dad was the one in the tower, but they all indulged Dad’s whims and humor.

From the outside the tower looked imposing in its stone and dark shingled roof, but inside it was full of vibrant color. All of his books were here, crammed on an overstuffed bookshelf, containing every edition of every book he’d published in every language available, a handmade wooden sign hung above it declaring, A Leap of Faith. Art of his various characters hung on the wall, some official that he’d commissioned, some of his own making, but most sent by fans from around the world in the barrels of mail that came to the house each week. 

It was a cluttered mess of genius that perfectly encapsulated his dad. 

Today Dad was behind his desk, hair pulled up into a messy bun, with fingers covered in paint as he worked out some new character designs for his latest story. He was slowly moving from elementary reading level books to Young Adult, but his new series would straddle that border of Young Adult and New Adult--that vague spot where the characters weren’t young teens, nor in their mid-20s, but still had their own stories to tell. It was a story he’d been wanting to tell for years, based largely on his own life, but set in a mystical and magical modern world. 

His papa was unceremoniously sprawled out on the battered couch that had followed his fathers from their apartment in Cambridge, to their home in Boston, to this massive estate in the Berkshires. Sizhui smiled to himself as he pictured his classmates faces if they ever saw the great Hanguang-Jun with such imperfect posture, wearing only worn sweatpants and a t-shirt older than Sizhui. His hair was also pulled up into a messy bun, a red pen clutched in his teeth as he read through the most recent edit of Dad’s new book. 

Sizhui smiled as he watched them. His parents had always been so full of warmth and love--for him, for each other, for all their family--that Sizhui knew he’d been spoiled in care and affection. And he wanted that, the connection that they had. He knew it wasn’t effortless, every relationship took work and dedication and effort, but they made it seem so very easy. 

“Sizhui, why do you linger?” Papa asked, eyes barely leaving the bound pages in his hands.

“Because he is a good boy who waits until he’s invited in, even though he knows he never has to,” Dad said, waving him inside. “What can we do for our favorite son?”

“Your only son, since you never did give me that sibling I asked for,” Sizhui teased.

Dad smirked. “Not for lack of trying,” he said.

“Wei Ying,” Papa admonished from the couch.

Dad patted the chair next to his desk. “Come. Sit. Speak. Bond. I feel like we never talk anymore.”

“We had an entire family conference just last night,” Sizhui said as he took his seat.

Dad frowned. “But that was school stuff. I want gossip, Sizhui. I want the deets. I want the 411. Give me the dirt. Spill the tea. Or the beans.” He looked to Papa. “What else do the kids say these days?”

“None of what just passed your lips,” Papa said. 

Dad frowned. “So mean, Lan Zhan.” His pout became more pronounced as he turned to Sizhui. “See how he treats me? Betrayed by my very own heart and soul.”

Sizhui shook his head at them, but grasped on to the opening. “So, about that.”

He didn’t know what he expected to happen but Dad actually gasped and Papa sat up so fast he nearly tumbled off the couch.

“Is it happening?” Dad asked. “Did it happen?” He pulled out his leather planner, full of post-it notes, napkins, and various other bits and bobs. “I had you two down for at least another month from now, but your Papa insisted it would be before Halloween.”

“What?” Sizhui asked as he looked back and forth between his parents.

“Sizhui,” Papa said as he walked over to the desk. “Did Lan Jingyi not ask you out on a date?”

“What?” Sizhui asked. He felt the blood rush to his face, in his ears, blocking out all other sounds. “What?” he repeated.

Dad grimaced. “Whoops. I think we broke him. Bad parenting penalty.”

“No--I---what?” Sizhui asked again. “I just wanted to know how you, like, know if you like someone more than a friend and you’re running a bet on my dating life? With my best friend?”

“To be fair, your Uncle Huaisang runs a bet on everything,” Dad said.

“Wei Ying,” Papa cautioned. 

“Fine,” Dad said, pushing his planner to the side. He sat forward and grasped Sizhui hands. “Sizhui, if you’re asking us this question, do you not already know the answer?”

Sizhui nodded. “But, how can you be sure?”

“In your own heart, what do you feel?” Papa asked. He knelt to meet Sizhui’s downcast gaze. “You don’t have to tell us, or even him, but you’ll feel so much more relief if you acknowledge your own truth.” His smile was small as he patted Sizhui’s knees. “It was the only way I was able to manage all the years when your dad still didn’t know his own feelings.”

“It must’ve been torture,” Sizhui said.

Papa smiled and met Dad’s eyes. “It wasn’t so bad, in the end. But you and Jingyi are different. You don’t have the restrictions on you that Uncle put on me and your Uncle Xichen. You don’t have the physical distance between you. If you want to, you can start dating now. If you feel like you’re ready.”

Sizhui tried not to hunch his shoulders and make himself smaller, but the uncertainty ate at him. “But what if I ruin our friendship? I don’t think--I couldn’t take him hating me.”

“Oh, Sizhui,” Dad said as he clambered over the desk and hugged him. “Jingyi could never hate you. I know you know him better than that, but if you want more, well…”

“Leap of faith?” Sizhui asked.

Both his fathers nodded. 

If the Lan-Wei family had its own motto, Leap of Faith, would be it. If they had their own crest, it would be a rabbit surrounded by the words, Daring, Determination, Devotion, and Honesty. His fathers had raised him with those values, and Sizhui did his best to own them, and now, he knew, he could either rely on them or try to patiently wait until Jingyi came to him. 

If at school the dynamic of Sizhui and Jingyi made the perfect Lan, at home, Sizhui was very much the best, and worst, of both of his fathers. 

“Oh, I know that look,” Dad said as he kissed the top of Sizhui’s head. “Poor Jingyi isn’t going to know what hit him.” Sizhui could feel his wide grin against his hair. “It’s going to be awesome.”

Part 2

[chelleaslin]

Lukadrien June 2019 Day 8- Rumours

@miraculouschallenges

Luka sighed, laying back in his bed in pure bliss. He did it, he kissed Adrien. Dispite he cool nature he couldn’t hold back the happy hum in the back of his throat as he rolled around his bed like a squealing preeteen.

He sighed as he remembered it clearly, Adrien’s blush as he took a step closer, the obnoxious smell of Camembert that always confused him, the small gasp that he drew out of Adrien’s throat, how soft the boys lips were and they way Adrien gripped his shirt when he tried to pull way.

“Yeah, hello?” Juleka called as she stood at the end of his bed, leaning agaisnt the way. Luka jumped, suprised amd embarrassed by being caught. He sat up quickly and sorted himself out, cheeks tinted pink. Juleka smirked at his expression before a look of concern passed her features. “Yo, you and Adrien, huh?”

Luka was thrown off, how did she know? She must have read his expression because she gave him a small smile and sat on the end of his bed.

“A news article came out..” Juleka slowly explained. “About the two of you.”

“Oh?” Luka was starting to feel nervous. Juleka pulled out her phone, nervously fiddling with the skull charm she attached to it.

“Here, look for yourself.” She handed him her phone, crossing her arms across her chest as she fiddled with her forearms.

Luka ignored the title, scrolling till he found the picture. It was of him and Adrien out on their date, eating at a small local restaurant, scrolling in the park and then their kiss. He blushed as he realised how happy he looked, how happy they both looked. He quickly scrolled to the top, taking a mental note of the sites name, he was going to make that picture his background photo.

“I’m okay with this.” He suddenly said, he realised now that she was probably worried about his reaction to the publicity. He knew the risks when he first started developing feeling for the boy. He turn to his little sister and gave her a reasurring smile. That smile instantly disappeared when he saw her worried expression didn’t falter, if anything, it grew.

“How does Adrien feel?” She asked, worrying her bottle, lip between her teeth.

“I’m not sure about this? I haven’t spoken to him since the kiss, that was 2 days ago..” he suddenly frowned, He did find it weird that Adrien hadn’t spoke to him at all since the kiss, not even a text and they texted almost daily. Every time he worried about it, he pushed it to the back of his mind and made excuses, he was a busy lad, perhaps he was over booked at work? Or his phone broke? Did he get grounded?

“I..” Juleka hesitated, she sighed in defeat and just silently typed on her phone before handing it back to him. “I’ll come back for my phone after, I don’t need it just yet.” She squeezed his shoulder, letting her hand linger before finally walking out.

Luka’s throat suddenly felt awfully dry, he had the feeling that something dreadful was about to happen and they’re was nothing he could do about it. Taking a deep breath he forced himself to glance down at the screen to see a video. The thumbnail was of Adrien at what seemed to be some kind of press conference. He pressed play and laid back on his bed.

The first few minutes were quite boring, just basic question about the Gabriel brand and what it was like being a teen model. Luka loved Adrien, he truly did but he could bare listening to him lie about how much he loves his job. Frowning he skipped through the video.

Modeling.

Akumas.

Fashion leaks.

“What’s happening with this Luka boy now?”

Luka froze, his finger instantly taking the video back only a couple seconds.

“Adrien.” A young and perky reporter called out, her hand raised.

“Yes?” He nodded, pointing to her. She smiled widely at him, pushing herself in front of the other reporters to get closer to him, a flirtatious expression on her face. Luka grimaced, didn’t seem realise she was almost around 10 years older then him?

“What do you have to say about the scandalous picture of you and a local boy that’s gone viral?” She smirked. Adrien’s eyes visibility widened as the question caught him off guard.

“What picture?” Adrien panicked, his eyes glancing at a tall, stoic looking women who was frowning down at a tablet. The lady then walked on stage and presented the tablet to Adrien, whose face held more panic as he glanced at what Luka assumed was the picture. Adrien cleared his throat before sitting up in his seat, he looked nervous, Luka noted.

“I wasn’t aware of this photos existence.” Adrien replied.

“Are you denying that the blonde male is you?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “He is wearing your one of a kind, signature, Gabriel sneakers.”

Adrien’s face dropped. She was right, there was no deniying this. Luka watched as he side, face relaxed, he glanced at that women once again, she was glaring at him.

“He is a fan, a crazed one.” He blurted out. Lukas heart stopped, what?

“He is?” The female reporter asked, her brow furrowed. “Speculation suggested that this-“ he glanced down at a piece of paper. “Luka Couffine, was your boyfriend.”

The crowd started murmuring amoung themselves, while Adrien chewed on his lip.

“Quiet down everyone.” The stoic women from earlier interrupted everyone’s gossiping as she walked on stage once again. “Mr. Couffine had been stalking Mr. Agreste recently and had tried to force himself on Mr. Agreste. We have tried very hard to keep this out of the press so we would hope that each and everyone one of you can respect our privacy in this matter.” She sternly called out, glaring at the crowd, expecially the female reporter in the front row. “Our lawyers are over paid and far too good at their jobs.” She smirked. It was quiet for a second before the report spoke up again.

“What’s happening with this Luka boy now?”

Adrien opened his mouth but never got any words out, the serious women that had been speaking for and over Adrien, Addressed the audience herself, again.

“The matter has been handle quietly. Mr. a Couffine won’t be bother or having ANY-“ she glanced at Adrien. “Contact with Mr. Agreste ever again, This meeting is over.”

The video needed abruptly at that, the video window minimising. Luka glanced at the title, taking note that he was be portrayed as a stalker and pervert. He didn’t really know what to feel at this moment.

Numbly, he scrolled down to see that the video had over 23 thousand views.

He scrolled further into the comment.

“Ew, what a sicko!”

“Poor, Adrien, this must have been so hard for him.”

“You’d think that lowl life’s like this wouldn’t be around since Paris has other problems with Akuma but.. some people are heartless.”

He couldn’t read anymore, emotionally or physically. His eyes were blurred with teRs as he locked the phone and tossed it at the edge of his bed. He threw himself back and stared at his ceiling. What is he supposed to do now? The world thought is tried to hurt Adrien, he’d never hurt Adrien, he loved him with all his heart. A tear slipped out of his eyes and she squeezed the, shut, why would Adrien say that?

His eyes glanced over to. His bed side table, he noticed his phone. Perhaps he should call him? He picked up the phone, swinging his legs off the bed and pressed on his contacts icon, an adorable photo of Adrien making a funny face. He placed the phone to his ear and waited for the familiar dial tone.

“Sorry, the number you have dial has been disconnected.”

Luka felt his world come crashing down around him.

“No, no, no, no, NO!” He panicked, he tried to ring him again and again, to no advail, it was too late. He threw his phone across the phone in frustration. It made a horrible loud cracking noise as it collide with his wall. He didn’t care at this moment, he just didn’t want to be awake, he didn’t want to deal with anything right now. He hastily threw the covers back as he climbed into his bed, throwing the covers over his head and forcing sleep to take him away.

When he awoke, hours later, outside his window was pitch black, Juleka’s phone was missing, his lamp was on and an energy drink and his favourite packet of chips were on his bedside table..

[not-a-space-alien]

Into the Unknown, Part 3:  Search Party

Prologue | Dramatis Personae | Part 1 | Part 2

Series masterpost

On AO3

Noah rubbed his temples.  On some days the crown felt heavier than others, and today was a heavy day.  He tented his hands, examining the human soul supplicating before him on the red carpet.  “Okay.  Go ahead, again.  You want to…?”

“Go up to Heaven.”

“You know as well as everyone in Hell that human souls are not allowed to leave Hell for any purpose.”

The dead human’s lip quavered, and he didn’t meet the king’s eyes.  “I know, my lord, but I was hoping you could make an exception.  You see, my…my wife died recently, and—”

“Have you filed a report with the Infernal Office of Family Location? It’s on the second layer.”

“Yes, Lord.  They informed me she was not down here.  I really need to see her.  I need to apologise…”

The dead human absolutely refused to leave until he was physically dragged out by one of the attendants.  Noah removed himself from the throne to confer with the court.

“I understand I said we needed to hear grievances,” he said in a low voice to Dagon, “but we can’t keep doing this with dead humans.  They all want the same thing, regardless of how much we’ve improved Hell.”

Dagon’s throat pouch expanded and contracted with an amphibian breath. “You know better than all of us humans are fickle creatures.  They get restless, sire, even in the absence of torture.”

From Noah’s other side, Beelzebub buzzed, “It’z only natural for them to get rezztlezz in Hell.  You can provide them with comfort, but it’z ztill a dingy cave.  They are inclined to be unhappy with it, though perzonally I cannot fathom why.”

“Right, you’re right,” said Noah.  “All right.  Something’s got to change.  We already decided human souls can’t go back up to Earth because that would upset things up there; I’m not going to change that.  But is there any reason why we couldn’t let them go up to Heaven?”

Behind Noah, Jezebel began to flip through some sheets she had on a clipboard.  “The sheer amount of work it would take to organise screening every human and approving their transportation, not to mention transporting them through the ethereal plane on Earth to reach the celestial plane…”

Noah frowned.

“Perhaps we could arrange to have free movement between Heaven and Hell?” croaked Dagon.  “We would only need to establish a tunnel of some sort.”

“I hardly think the Metatron would be amenable to zuch a zuggestion,” Beelzebub said.

Dagon’s eyes retracted back into his head and re-emerged with a blink. “The Metatron seems to take little interest in what is and isn’t allowed nowadays.  Victoria and Raphael seem to be more interested in such matters in the current standing, though it’s hardly proper.”

“Doesn’t have to be proper,” said Noah.  “Nothing we really do is proper.  My concern is that we have such a mixture down here in Hell.  We would want to allow humans such as our guest today, who was only here for adultery, to go apologise to his wife.  But we also have serial killers and rapists and things down here.  We shouldn’t treat them all the same.”

“Perhaps we could arrange them based on crime, and have certain restrictions for each group,” suggested Jezebel.

Noah massaged his temples again.  “Bloody Hell, that’s what the nine layers were for…We need to think of a way to do this without just making Hell exactly like it used to be.”

Jezebel, Dagon, and Beelzebub looked at each other among wringing hands, flipping paperwork, and lost mumbles of half-formed ideas.  Their new master was much kinder than their old, but he was hard to please in entirely new and different ways, and sometimes demanded creativity in their thinking they simply did not possess.  

“With all due respect, sire,” said Dagon, “Without the inherent cruelty this place used to have, under your rule Hell would never go back to the way it used to be.”

Noah smiled.  “You have no idea how reassuring that is.”  He sighed again.  “But I don’t know if anyone kept track of why everyone was down here, anyway…And some of them have been here so long they hardly remember what they were like when they were alive.  They might not even remember…  We need to have another meeting with the full court to discuss this.”

Dagon and Beelzebub looked at each other crestfallen.  Jezebel voiced their thoughts:  “Even Aziraphale and Crowley?”

“Yes, even Aziraphale and Crowley,” said Noah.  Aziraphale and Crowley were technically members of the advisory court, but they were in positions Noah had only been able to convince them to accept by promising their responsibilities would be absolutely minimal to the point of non-existence.  “I know getting them down here for anything other than a party is always an ordeal, but we need their expertise.”

Jezebel looked disheartened.  “I’ll start sending out the letters.  It always takes at least three before they start responding.”

“Send one to Beth first,” said Noah.  “She’ll make sure Maltha sees it, and Maltha will pressure Crowley to check his infernal mail for once.”

Jezebel bowed her head.  “Yes, sire.”

Noah sighed.  Things down in Hell would be a lot easier if the crew that stayed topside on Earth were here to help him run things on a regular basis, but it wouldn’t be right to expect that of them.  So he was stuck with the ones who wanted to hang out in Hell, which required…a certain personality.

….Still, the topside crew could be a little more cooperative about helping out when called upon.

Noah slouched in the throne, running his ring-laden hands up his face.  Full court sessions were a nightmare to coordinate. It was like wrangling cats.  No one behaved unless it was an emergency. But they were the only way things actually got done around here.

Noah was so deep in thought he didn’t even notice an imp scuttling up to the throne until he was bending down to whisper in the King’s ear.

Noah’s frown deepened upon hearing the message.  “I thought we were done with open invites.”

“You are, Lord, but Mammon insists this one was urgent.”

“All, right, then, bring them in.”

Noah sighed and arranged his crown and lordly regalements so he would look proper, and waited to see who could have convinced Mammon they were important enough to rearrange the king’s schedule.

The doors at the far end of the audience chamber boomed open, and a small demon sprinted in at top speed, looking absolutely panicked.  Noah stood in alarm.

Crowley skidded to a stop just in front of the throne, hands on his knees, panting.  Then, he seemed to catch himself and knelt briefly, then stood back up and looked Noah in the eyes.  “We have a problem.”

********************

The first thing Gabriel did upon finding himself inexplicably blessed once again with life and sentience was go to his office.  It was in complete disarray, exactly as he suspected it would be. It looked like nobody had been here in years.  A layer of dust had accumulated over all his important documents.

Muttering with disgust, he set about organising the contents of his desk, shaking out the occasional folder that was too heavily laden with dust to continue.  He found his list of targets he had been in the process of telling Kris to execute when the fighting had broken out.  That was the last thing he remembered.

Who knew how long ago that had been.  Upon taking back his position, Gabriel would first have to order an investigation into how exactly he was here.

Not that he was complaining.  But it might be prudent to make sure it, whatever it was, was permanent, lest he suddenly keel over when it wore off.  The Antichrist was the only one he could think of who might do something like this; Death very rarely made exceptions, and almost never for anyone other than humans.  But he found it hard to believe any antichrist would want him alive.

“Sir?”

He looked up to see Kris standing in the doorway, hand on his sword, looking just as confused as Gabriel felt.

“Good to see you,” said Gabriel.  “Do you know how you’re here?  You were dead, right?”

Kris gave a vague shrug.

“That’s what I thought,” said Gabriel.  “We’ll get to the bottom of this soon enough.  Where is the Metatron?”

“I don’t know, sir, I tried to find you first thing.”

“Good work.  We’ll find them…just as soon as I finish putting this in order.”

Kris sat in the chair opposite Gabriel’s desk for a solid half an hour, waiting patiently while the archangel fussed about everything within reach, organising it until it met whatever invisible rules of satisfaction he kept in his head.  “All right. You stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Metatron would be in the inner sanctum of Heaven, Gabriel knew.  You could build a house on the foundation that Uriel and Metatron both refused to leave the innermost layers of Heaven unless necessary.  Not even the sudden absence of God could change that.

He checked the Judgement Hall first—that’s where Uriel usually was, since that’s where the Book of Life was kept.  But it was empty.  Even the Book itself was gone, which was alarming.

He backtracked and made his way into the Hall of the Throne.

The antechamber also empty, but it looked like it had been torn apart in a great fight and never put back together.  Dust faintly layered broken decorations littering the floor, and the red carpet leading to the door was torn up.  Huge claw marks now adorned the walls.  Gabriel shuddered, having a very good guess at exactly what creature had left them.  The claws were the same ones that had torn him limb from limb on the steps of Heaven’s clerical division.

Gabriel tread carefully through the antechamber, approaching the Throne Room. It was open, revealing the Throne was painfully, obviously empty, and Gabriel’s heart sank.  The other archangels hadn’t been able to keep the secret about God’s absence while he was away?

Well, given the raiding party he had seen just before his death—it looked like they had made it much further than he expected—who knows what could have happened.

Gabriel heard a voice faintly echoing out from the Throne room and drew closer.

“I’ll throw you into the Pit, Metatron,” chimed the voice, and Gabriel recognised it as the voice of the Metatron itself.  “You’d better obey!  Are you sitting?  Sitting?  More hot irons!  This is better than Hell somehow, remember that!”

Gabriel peeked his head into the room and saw the Metatron sitting on the Throne, barely taking up even a portion of its huge, empty surface.  They were gesturing and shouting grandly, as though mimicking the Almighty.  

“Metatron,” said Gabriel.

Metatron was so startled that they slipped and fell off the Throne, tumbling to land gracelessly at the foot.  “Wh—Gabriel?!”

“Yes,” said Gabriel.  “I’m back. Somehow.”

Metatron dusted themselves off and peered at Gabriel disapprovingly. “Hmmmm.”

“Do you know how this is possible?”

“No, but I don’t like it one bit.  Is this what a nightmare is?”

Gabriel laughed.  Metatron smacked Gabriel with as much strength as they could muster, which was not a lot, really.

Gabriel took a step back.  “Get out of here!” said Metatron.  “I can’t stand your face!”

“What has gotten into you?” said Gabriel.  “What were you doing in here, on the Throne?  He may be gone, but that does not mean we can desecrate His holy—”

Gabriel broke off under a fresh assault of mildly threatening slaps from Metatron.  “We can do whatever we please, thank you very much!  We’ve been doing just fine without you around to boss everyone about!”

Gabriel tried to either extract information from, or talk some sense into the Metatron, but neither venture was successful.  He eventually settled on the idea of fleeing Metatron before they remembered how to actually inflict injuries, and finding Uriel instead.  Surely she would take his side in all this.

He investigated Heaven like a bloodhound and found that everything was in total disarray.  The human souls were wandering freely wherever they pleased.   Hardly any angels were around.  Those who recognised him were not happy to see him.

The most egregious breach of protocol was when he found a demon in one of the choir rooms, strumming a harp.  Gabriel managed to discorporate it, but it was able to get away before he could fully smite it.  The angel accompanying it seemed extremely distressed by this, but Gabriel wrung her out for allowing such a creature into the Heavenly Kingdom.  He got quite a lot of back-talk, which was absolutely unprecedented.*  He made note of the angel’s name and resolved to discipline her properly later, once order was restored again.

*Except for Aziraphale, but he didn’t count.

And he eventually discovered a surprising fact: Uriel was not in Heaven.  It seemed unlikely, but Gabriel could not avoid the conclusion for much longer.

Well, no matter.  After six-thousand years, the archangels had ways of finding each other, even in a place as big as Earth.  He was going to get to the bottom of this.

******************

“I wish we had gone with a search party instead.”

Maltha stopped scanning the horizon of St. James’ to look at Beth. “Hm?”

Beth kicked a pillar of the pavilion.  “This sucks.  I’m so worried about Aziraphale.  Anything could have happened to him.”

“We needn’t panic yet,” said Maltha.  She counted on her fingers.  “There’s only two resurrections we know about, Hastur and Kabata.  We don’t know that there are more.”

“There could be more.”

Maltha privately thought there probably were more, but she was trying her hand at being optimistic and was unfortunately finding herself not very good at it.  “With so many people looking, I’m sure we’ll find Aziraphale in no time.”

A figure with black wings rapidly increased in size in the sky. Victoria, and she had donned her armor. She folded her wings and trotted back towards Maltha, standing on a bench near where the party had been set up, the catering and decorations abandoned.

“Any word?” said Maltha.

“We’ve just finished a cursory sweep of London,” Victoria reported.  “No sign of him.  Crowley’s gone down to Hell to ask Noah for help.  The field agents are going to do a more thorough search of Great Britain, starting with the shop and working outwards.  He couldn’t have gotten too far.”

Beth wrung her hands.  “And can we—”

“I still think it’s best you and Maltha stay here in case Aziraphale shows up again.  Botis and Kyleth are at the shop.  We don’t know what’s happening, and with Mykas on his way down to Hell, it’s a good idea to keep an archdemon in London in case we need to deal with someone.”

Maltha lowered herself onto the bench, sitting on her hands.  “Right…”

“You really should get a cell phone,” said Beth.  “Angelo has one.”

Victoria gave her a dirty look.  “Sending a letter is perfectly fine and timely.”

“Sorry.”

“I’ll be in contact,” said Victoria, spreading her wings and taking off.

Maltha watched the archangel disappear into the city.  Beth sprawled out on the bench next to her.  “I feel so useless.”

Maltha was quiet.

“Everything okay?  You seem weird.”

“I haven’t fought in a long time,” said Maltha.  “It’s been years.”

“You afraid you forgot how?”

Maltha twiddled her thumbs.  “No. I’m just not very happy about the prospect of having to again.”

Beth squinted at another approaching figure beating its wings in the sky to approach.  “Better get ready, though.  Who’s that?”

“Seems to be an archangel,” said Maltha.  She stood and materialised her staff, giving it a few swings to loosen up.

Beth got her cell phone out in case she needed to call someone.

“Oh, it’s just Uriel,” said Maltha.

Uriel touched down and walked up the park trail.  She came over and sat down on the bench next to Beth without a word, shuffling her shoulder bag onto her lap.

“Any news?” said Beth.

Uriel’s hands disappeared into her bag and reappeared with her knitting needles a moment later.  “I heard something happened, so I wanted to come help.”

“Ah,” said Beth.  “I’m not really sure how you can help.  Maybe we should call Angelo?  He’s good at that kind of stuff.”

Maltha didn’t respond, doing some practice staff work in the air.

“You’re very good,” said Uriel, who had no idea how to use a staff and, consequently, to whom all staff work looked good.

“Thanks,” said Maltha.

“I’ll just stay here and help you with whatever you’re doing to help, Maltha,” said Uriel.  “What job did they assign you?”

“We’re supposed to wait in London in case we’re needed.  Everyone else is looking for Aziraphale.”

“Oh.”  Uriel arranged her knitting on her lap.  “I’ll help you wait, then.”  She propped open a book on how to knit against Beth’s thigh.

Beth sighed and put her phone away.  “What are you making now?”

“Another hat.”

“Oh.  How did the last turn out?”

“Not very good.”

“This one looks better, though.”

“Not really.”

“…Yeah.”  She leaned over to study the way Uriel’s fingers moved against the needles and cloth. “It seems like you’re getting a little better at the techniques, though.”

Uriel’s hands continued to work, and her tone was absolutely matter-of-fact. “I’m no better than I was when I started.”

Beth squinted at the knitting book, trying to superimpose the illustrations in the book over Uriel’s tools, determined to help somehow.  “It looks like you need to loop the left hook around the right one, here, like this.”

“That’s what I’m doing now.”

“Oh.”

Whoosh whoosh whoosh went Maltha’s staff.

“You’ll get better at it eventually, I’m sure.  You have all the time in the world.”

“I gave Crowley that last hat I made.”

“Yeah? What did he say?”

“He pretended to like it, which is more than I expected.  I hope I put him more at-ease.”

“I’m sure you did,” said Beth, patting Uriel’s hand.

Maltha’s hands froze mid-air.  Her eyes rolled up to look at the sky, where the Heavens had parted, indicating an arrival from the celestial sphere.

“Hmm,” said Maltha distastefully.

The archangel Gabriel fluttered down, landing on the pavilion and dislodging a few roof tiles.  The warrior angel Kris followed, drawing his sword.

Maltha pivoted to face them without changing her stance.

“Erm,” said Beth.  “Weren’t you dead?”  She turned to Maltha.  “That one was dead, right?”

“Uriel,” said Gabriel, beckoning with his hand.  “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Uriel furrowed her brow.  She did not even look up at Gabriel, still focussed on her knitting.  “Where are we going?”

Gabriel stared at her for a moment.  Maltha raised her staff up at him and shook it in a mildly threatening way.

“What are you doing?” said Gabriel.

“I’m knitting,” said Uriel.

Now Gabriel looked befuddled.  He spread his wings and leapt down, drifting to a stop in front of the bench where Uriel sat.  Kris followed, taking on a fighting stance and trying to menace Maltha, who turned to face him.

“Don’t think you can beat me,” said Maltha in a warning tone.

“Three against one?” said  Gabriel. “You’re fierce, Maltha, but I doubt you want to face down me, Uriel, and Kris just for the sake of keeping Uriel prisoner.”

Maltha’s gaze shifted from Kris to Gabriel then to Uriel.

“Now hold on a minute,” snapped Beth.  “Uriel’s not on your side.”

Gabriel scoffed at her.  “Humans. Uriel, come on, let’s get out of here while we can.”

Uriel finally stopped her knitting and looked at him.  “And go where?”

“Away from this archdemon.”

Maltha’s grip tightened on her staff.

“Where is it that’s so important to go right now, though?”

“What’s gotten into you?” said Gabriel.  “They’re holding you prisoner, aren’t they?  You want to go back to Heaven, don’t you?”

Uriel didn’t answer.

Gabriel leaned over Uriel, who shrunk back into the bench, and examined her needlework without comment.  Uriel met his eyes, as though waiting for him to say something.

“They’re making you…sew garments?” said Gabriel, sounding completely lost.  “The Queen of Hell takes the Keeper of the Divine Aura hostage and she makes her do manual labor?”

Uriel looked down at her lap, as though Gabriel’s comment completely upended her worldview.

“She’s been free to leave whenever she wants,” said Beth, sounding like she wanted to throw a fit.  “You absolute asshole.  Leave us alone.”

“Where’s the Book of Life?” Gabriel demanded.  “What’s going on?  How long was I away?”

“I hid the Book of Life,” said Uriel.  “I didn’t want anyone to mess with it while I wasn’t around.  It’s safe.”

Gabriel’s eyes swept her up and down like a hawk.  “And you moved the most holy relic and abandoned your post why?  To come down here and—?”

Uriel’s needles clacked against each other.  “I could make you a hat, if you want one, Gabriel.”

Gabriel swiped his hand and knocked Uriel’s work out of her hands, spilling the yarn on the ground.  “Stop that,” he shouted.  “It’s unbecoming of the most holy servant of God!”

Uriel looked down at her yarn in the dirt, then back up to Gabriel.

“You’ll come back up to Heaven with me, and we’ll have a little talk about what exactly is going on,” said Gabriel.  “Kris, hold this archdemon off and meet us in Heaven later.”

With one fluid motion, Maltha pushed Beth back, knocking her flat on her arse, and simultaneously brought her staff up to block Kris’s sword.

“I really would prefer not to kill you,” said Maltha sourly.  “Come on now, we can have a nice chat instead.”

Gabriel looked at Uriel, as though expecting outrage and support that failed to materialise.  Uriel busily retrieved her things from the ground, her knees in the dirt.

Gabriel reached down and roughly hauled Uriel to her feet.  “Are you seeing this?  Let’s go!”

Maltha watched this out of the corner of her eye, worrying, and hissed when Kris landed a blow on her left shoulder, slicing it open.  “Fine, then.”

“I’m very busy, Gabriel,” said Uriel.  “Please leave me alone.”

“Who do you think you are,” Maltha snarled.  “We brought the Heavenly Kingdom to its knees, and you think you can just walk in here and win with only a power to help you?”

Kris scowled at her.

“Your name was Kris, wasn’t it?”

Their weapons clashed.  “Yes.”

“Dead then, weren’t you?”

“Seems I was brought back for the purpose of engaging you in co—”

“It was decapitation last time, wasn’t it?”

Maltha lobbed her staff like a baseball bat and knocked Kris’s head clean off his body.

For the first time in the encounter, Gabriel’s anger melted to fear.  He pulled Uriel by the arm away from Maltha.

“Let go of me,” Uriel said, digging her heels in.

Gabriel turned back, as though he hadn’t expected resistance, panicked eyes going from Uriel to Maltha and back again.  “Let’s go!”

“I’m busy!”

“Busy with what?”

“Knitting!”

“Forget the bloody yarn!”

Uriel’s face finally snapped into that expression of rage every angel in Creation had learned to fear.  “I chose this, Gabriel.  I may not be good at it, but I chose it, and you won’t take that away from me.”

“They’ve done something to you,” said Gabriel.  “We’ll find out exactly what once we get out of here.  Let’s go.”

“I said let go of me!” Uriel shrieked, finally breaking Gabriel’s grasp and shoving him backwards.  “You have the audacity to try and tell me what to do after I’ve finally decided for myself?”

Gabriel stumbled backwards, fear evident on his face as Uriel’s wings flared out in a display usually only reserved for demons incurring her wrath.

“You try to take my free will away just as I’ve finally learned to make use of it?”

Gabriel held his hands out, and his mouth tried to form words, but nothing came out.

“Things have changed, Gabriel, and you’ll not put them back to the way they were.  Get out of my sight.”

Gabriel did not move.

“Fine, then.”

Uriel lifted her hands and swiped them outwards over Gabriel’s body. Gabriel gasped as his wings ripped out of his back, seemingly without his consent.

Uriel clenched her fists, and Gabriel’s wings went stiff.  His eyes widened.

“U-Uriel, wait,” said Beth, while Maltha said, “You’re not going to—”

Uriel jerked her hands outwards in a ripping motion, and simultaneously Gabriel’s wings severed from his body, spraying blood on the pavilion behind him. Gabriel let out a pained shriek as a huge chunk of his aura came off with the wings.

Gabriel’s sandy-brown wings were engulfed in holy fire by the time they hit the ground.  Uriel stood over them with her hands still out, reflection of the flames dancing wickedly in her eyes.

Gabriel turned and staggered away, tripping over himself, trailing red pools over the grass from the huge bloody streaks on his back.

The holy fire sizzled out, leaving two piles of ashes on the ground surrounded by blackened grass. Uriel lowered her hands and clasped them in front of her.  Maltha and Beth stood where they were, looking at her with newfound fear.

Uriel watched until Gabriel had disappeared further into the park, out of sight.  Then, she knelt, picked her yarn up off the ground and brushed the dirt off it.  She took her seat on the bench and resumed.  The needles clacking against each other was the only sound other than the sizzling of the feathers on the ground.

*********************

“There!  There, I saw him!”

The image in the scrying ball collapsed into static.  Crowley crowded up against it desperately.  “I saw him.”

Lyra roughly pulled him away from the table littered with magic tools. “Please give me room to work.”

Crowley kneaded at the tablecloth.  “Hurry, I saw him.”

“Lyra is working as fast as she can,” said Noah magnanimously.  “Be patient.”

Crowley rubbed his hands together and paced.

“He is somewhere in the fourth layer of Hell,” said Lyra, rubbing her hands over the scrying ball.  “But there is something very powerful blocking my magic and making it difficult to tell exactly where.”

“We’ve received word that Mykas and Angelo are coming down,” said Noah. “With Mykas’s nose, we should be able to sniff Aziraphale out right quick.  Hm?”

He hmed as he was handed a letter by an imp.  He ripped it open and scanned it.

“Ah,” said King Noah.  “It appears as though Gabriel and Kris are both back as well.”

Crowley went absolutely ballistic.  “Does Gabriel have Aziraphale?  Did Gabriel come down to Hell?  Is Gabriel working with Kabata?”

Noah put up a hand.  “Crowley. Calm yourself.  I’m sorry, but I have no idea as of yet.  I didn’t bring Duke Hastur or Kabata back to life, and I certainly didn’t bring Gabriel back to life.  We’ll find out soon, though, one way or the other.”

Crowley turned back to Lyra, who had covered the table where she was working in incense smoke, which wafted in a ghostly way around her hands.  “If Gabriel is loose, we have to find Aziraphale right away.”

“Don’t worry about Gabriel, if the contents of Maltha’s letter are anything to judge by.”

Crowley shifted from foot to foot, antsy.  “I saw him.  You’re close.”

“Do you have any more of Aziraphale’s feathers?” said Lyra.  “That would help me increase the power of the spell.”

Crowley and Aziraphale had a big jar of each other’s feathers at home; they had arranged this a while back as gifts to each other.  Crowley snapped his fingers to summon Aziraphale’s to himself, then handed it to her.  She dumped about three-quarters of it into the cauldron in front of her, stirring it with one hand and waving the other over the scrying ball.

The crystal ball cracked, belching black smoke, and the image therein disappeared.

“Damn it!” Crowley shouted.

Lyra steadied herself with one hand on either end of the table.

“What’s the verdict, Lyra?” said Noah.

“He is somewhere in the fourth layer,” she reported.  “That is all the information I can gather through the interference.”

“Then we’ll send out search parties to sweep the fourth layer,” said Noah.

The words had hardly left his mouth before Crowley dashed from the room.

“Crowley, wait here until Mykas arrives!” Noah called.

But Crowley did not listen.  He had no gods or masters any longer, and he did what he wanted without thought now.

Mammon, lounging in the antechamber of the ninth layer, gave a piggish low and trundled to follow him up and out.

“We should wait and go as a group,” said Mammon.

“We have no time to lose,” said Crowley, clambering out into the eighth layer.

A group of familiar demons which had been lounging around recognised his eagerness and followed him up to the fourth layer.

Crowley led the pack, his gaggle of followers fanning out behind him, half trying to convince him to wait, half poking in cracks and crevices to look for Aziraphale themselves.

Crowley kept the ring-box in his pocket, caressing it worriedly.  In the span of a few minutes it had turned from a gift into a desperate good luck charm.  He white-knuckled it like a rosary and scoured the fourth layer, straining his senses to the max for any sign of that familiar aura.

Crowley proceeded with the greatest speed and enthusiasm out of anyone in the group.  It was no great surprise, then, that Crowley was the first one to find Aziraphale. Crowley sprinted towards the source of aura, faint but distinct, but stopped when he heard voices, indistinct. They sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place them.

They seemed to be coming from behind a rocky outcropping near the entrance to the fourth layer, and they grew louder as he approached.

“I do not know, my Lord, though it goes without saying I am…overjoyed at seeing you again.  I had intended on bringing this angel down to the ninth layer…”

He crouched onto all fours and crept forward.  

“Of course,” said the second voice.  “I would expect no less from you.  Good work.  This pathetic creature was the one responsible....Well, we’ll make an example out of him, won’t we?”

Primal fear prickled his neck as Crowley finally recognised the second voice. It was the voice of his long-dead tormenter.

Crowley managed to override his instincts to bolt, instead peeking around the rock.

Satan was there, looking just as he had on that fateful day he had tortured Crowley and met his end for it, down to the bloodied tools hanging off his belt. He was facing the rock where Crowley was; in front of him, facing away from Crowley, was a woman with green hair, and he finally recognised her too: Agares, the archdemon who most fiercely contended for Satan’s throne before Maltha swooped in and stole it.  In her right hand was an orb covered with pulsing sigils and emanating magic static; that would have been the device trying to mask their location.  That made sense in a way—Agares had been the one to uncover the angel dust spell; she had always been a bit more into spellwork than Satan.

And Aziraphale was there, all right.  He was facedown on the ground in between them, alive but looking quite worse for the wear.

Electric fear surged through Crowley.  Even all these years later, he still remembered in vivid detail what Satan had done to him, and to everyone he got his sadistic hands on.  The smart thing to do would be to go back and get help. But he bent with revulsion at the thought of leaving Aziraphale, his angel, his angel, in the clutches of Satan to be subjected to the same torment he had been through for even a single minute.  

But help was so close by.  There had been about a dozen demons tailing him.  Mykas was coming down.  Mammon wasn’t far behind.  Surely, surely if he left for just a moment…

Aziraphale, face bloodied, slowly raised his head and met Crowley’s eyes. His face mirrored a desperation he had never seen on Aziraphale before.

He couldn’t.  He couldn’t leave and risk coming back to find them gone.  Crowley hadn’t felt fear like this in decades.  The world was supposed to be gentler now.

Well, he’d be twice-damned if he let it go back to the way it had been before.

Crowley darted out from behind the rock, hoping to slither as quietly as he could.  But of course Satan saw him; Crowley was directly in his line of sight.  Satan’s eyes swiveled to follow him, and Agares, sensing his shift in attention, pivoted and also locked onto Crowley.

“What’s this?” said Satan, almost genially.

Aziraphale reached a hand up as Crowley drew near; Crowley took it and hefted Aziraphale up.

Satan circled around like a shark.  “You were the one I was torturing right before I died.  That was the last thing I remember.”

Crowley, trembling, started to drag Aziraphale away.  

“You sure have grown bold,” said Satan.  “How long was I away?”

Agares stepped in front of Crowley to block his path.  “I’ll take care of this, lord.”  She hooked the magical orb onto her belt and cracked her knuckles, sneering at them.  “This should be fun.”

Satan held out a hand.  “No, no, allow me.”

Crowley’s shaking redoubled as Satan drew near, towering over him.  Memories of the last time they had seen each other grew in Crowley’s mind, overwhelming his thoughts like static.

“Kneel,” said Satan.  His hand sprouted a set of wicked, dragon-like talons as he spoke.

Crowley slowly lowered Aziraphale to the ground, hunching over him protectively.

“Maybe you’ve forgotten exactly who your master is,” said Satan.

“I have no master,” said Crowley.

Satan’s eyes flared on him.  “Is that so?”

Crowley stood back up, knees weak, and materialised his healing staff.  Both Satan and Agares let out hearty laughs.

“You think you’re like Maltha?” said Agares.  “You’re pathetic.  You intend to face us down yourself?”

Satan locked eyes with Crowley and leaned in.  Crowley felt that force demanding obedience down to his very bones, burning into him with that gaze, the same gaze that had the power to command the very sun itself to rise.

Crowley’s legs buckled out from under him.  He went down, but he did not look away.  He held his staff out to shield Aziraphale.

“No one else will save you,” said Satan.  “The only one who cares about you is right here with you.”

Crowley glanced down at Aziraphale, then back up at Satan.  That taunt, which at one point would have been so successful in utterly breaking him, snapped Crowley back into reality. And he smiled.

“That’s what you think.”

And he took a deep breath and yelled at the top of his lungs.  “Over here! I found him!”

Satan and Agares looked a little shocked and glanced at each other.

“Who do you think will come help you?” said Satan.  “You’re nobody.”

All the same, he waved Agares to go stand by the rocks from which Crowley had appeared.

Sweating, Crowley forced himself to his feet.  His hands shook on his staff, but he managed to keep the tremble out of his voice.  “Things have changed a lot since you’ve been gone.”

“Lord, I think someone’s coming,” said Agares, sounding a little alarmed.

Crowley smiled.  “And you’re in for a nasty shock if you think you can force it back to the way it was.”

Satan reached a hand out to grab Crowley, but Crowley forced his aura outwards, using his staff as a conduit, and struck like a scorpion.

Satan hissed in pain and drew his arm back, clutching it, looking outraged.

Agares assumed a fighting stance and materialised a sword.  “Lord!” she said, sounding on the verge of panic. When Crowley heard the clacking of clawed feet on stone, he understood why.

Mykas came barreling around the corner, snarling and growling.  Agares immediately realised she was massively outclassed, but not with enough reaction time to get out of the way.

“Is that—?” Satan gasped.  “No, it can’t be-”

Agares had been torn up and knocked to the floor in a matter of moments. Mykas raised his head to lock eyes with Satan, blood-soaked muzzle crunched in a snarl, still crushing Agares’s windpipe.

“Michael?” said Satan.

“Run,” Crowley whispered.  He didn’t know why he did so.  It probably wasn’t out of genuine compassion.

Satan stepped back from Mykas, then whirled around and fled.

That was why, Crowley decided.  He’d wanted to see Satan run from someone for a change.

Mykas bounded forward to give chase, but then he caught sight of Aziraphale lying injured on the ground and veered towards him instead.  “Are you both okay?”

“I’m all right,” said Aziraphale distantly into the dirt.

“You’re bloody not all right,” said Crowley, laughing tearfully.  “You look like shit.”

“Fortunately we have a healer close at hand, then,” said Mykas, prodding Crowley with his nose.

Crowley suddenly became aware of himself and turned Aziraphale over, resting his head on his lap.  He started pouring healing energy into the angel’s battered body.

“You bloody idiot,” said Crowley.

“You’re the one who sent me to the store to pick out wine for almost an hour,” said Aziraphale.

Neither of them said their words with any real malice.  They were both almost faint with relief.

Footsteps from behind the outcropping heralded the imminent arrival of the rest of the search party, and friendly faces poured in to crowd around them.

“Been a while since we’ve had to do this, hasn’t it, Crowley?” said Aziraphale, putting a hand on Crowley’s hand while it worked on Aziraphale’s injury.

“Yeah,” said Crowley.  The smile faded from his face.  “But it’s still too damn soon.”

But they were together, and they were safe.

[viraljournalist]

Andy Reid's Super Bowl LIV win is the capper on a Hall of Fame career for Chiefs coach

New Post has been published on https://viraljournalist.com/andy-reids-super-bowl-liv-win-is-the-capper-on-a-hall-of-fame-career-for-chiefs-coach/

Andy Reid's Super Bowl LIV win is the capper on a Hall of Fame career for Chiefs coach

MIAMI GARDENS, Fla. — “MAN ALIVE!” Andrew Walter Reid bellowed from his toes as he marched through his Kansas City Chiefs locker room, glowing like a teenager who had just scored a date with the prettiest girl in school. Reid had just finished handing out credit for this epic Super Bowl victory as easily as one would hand out a business card at a job fair, even giving a shoutout to Philadelphia Eagles owner Jeffrey Lurie, the billionaire who fired him.

Man Alive! Those two shouted words on the way to his office said it all. Reid was letting it all out, all those seasons of chasing in vain that NFL grail that was finally, mercifully, in his hands. Reid ended his 20-year title drought by ending the Chiefs’ 50-year title drought by coming from behind to beat Kyle Shanahan’s 49ers 31-20.

After the game, still on the field, Reid kissed the Lombardi trophy and raised it to the South Florida sky, and then Andy did what Andy always does.

Andy said this wasn’t about Andy. He talked about his whirling dervish of a quarterback, Patrick Mahomes, and the executive who long ago saw Mahomes as a developing Mozart, Brett Veach. He talked about the Hunt family, his assistants, his players in Kansas City, his players in Philly. If Andy went long enough at his news conference podium, he would’ve gotten around to thanking his mailman, too.

But if Reid thought he was getting away with his selfless act, sorry pal, that was a no-can-do on this forever Sunday night.

This one was about the human teddy bear with a rainforest for a mustache, the guy who once put away a 40-ounce steak in 19 minutes.

This one was all about Big Red.

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“He’s one of the best coaches of all time; he already was before we won this game,” said Mahomes, the MVP of Super Bowl LIV. “But we wanted to get that trophy just because he deserved it. The work that he puts in day in and day out. He’s there at like 3 in the morning, and he leaves at 11 [at night]. I don’t think he sleeps. I’ve tried to beat him in, and I never can. He’s someone that works harder than anyone I’ve ever known, and he deserves it.”

The rifle-armed son of a former big league reliever, Mahomes said he had two goals when he became the starting quarterback of the Chiefs. One, to win the AFC championship and bring the Lamar Hunt Trophy back to the hometown of the late Chiefs owner who came up with the term “Super Bowl” for what has effectively become a national holiday.

“And the second-most important thing was to get Coach Reid a Super Bowl trophy,” Mahomes said.

Will this liberating triumph change Coach Reid? What do you think? This is a man who said he celebrated his AFC title game victory over Tennessee — which booked him a trip back to the Super Bowl for the first time in 15 years — by eating a cheeseburger and then going to bed. “I’ll have a double cheeseburger tonight,” Reid said Sunday. “Extra cheese.”

And why not? With this win, Reid finally proved that nice guys do indeed finish first, even if they have to wait a little while to get there. In the weeks leading up to his crowning career achievement, it was clear the 61-year-old Reid had already proven you can be almost universally admired and adored even if you don’t finish first once across two decades as an NFL head coach.

Robert Deutsch-USA TODAY Sports

But man, it will be so sweet for this grandfather of nine, the son of a Los Angeles-based doctor (his mother, Elizabeth) and a Hollywood set designer and artist (his father, Walter, a Navy veteran of World War II), to never again answer for his inability to win the big one over 14 seasons in Philadelphia, and then over his first six in Kansas City.

No more questions about time management, about choking in the playoffs, about Dee Ford lining up offside against New England, about watching his Eagles treat a two-score deficit late in their Super Bowl loss to the Patriots 15 years ago as an opportunity to move at a pace better suited for a ballroom walk-through.

Just like in that crushing defeat in Jacksonville in February 2005, Reid’s team was down 10 points in the middle of the fourth quarter. Only this time his players ran a Showtime fastbreak through the league’s most ferocious defense, led by a visionary, Mahomes, who handles the ball and passes it the way few quarterbacks ever have.

“Keep going,” Reid told his players as they struggled to put points on the board. “We’re going to be OK. We’ve done it before; we’ll do it again.”

Reid was a prophet carrying an oversize dinner menu for a play card. So now the questions will not be about Reid’s failures. Instead, they’ll ask Reid about the night he became football’s champion, the night his 222nd career victory silenced all that noise about him being the sport’s most prolific winner without a ring.

Now they’ll ask Reid about the night he almost certainly sealed his future induction into the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

“Nobody deserves this trophy more than Andy Reid,” Chiefs owner Clark Hunt, son of Lamar, told the crowd and the Fox TV audience during the postgame ceremony.

“We got that ring for Big Red,” Travis Kelce said. “He acts like a father figure to everyone in the building, and you appreciate that. … We’re married together forever now.”

Many of Reid’s friends and colleagues had spent the weeks leading up to the Super Bowl being asked how they would react in the event that Reid finally won a Super Bowl. Some predicted they would cry. All predicted they would be choked up, and as happy for Andy as Andy was for his wife, Tammy, his sons, Britt and Spencer, and his daughters, Crosby and Drew Ann, and all those wearing Chiefs jerseys around them.

“Andy gave me a kiss right on the cheek when we won,” said Dave Merritt, his defensive backs coach and an assistant who won two titles with Tom Coughlin’s New York Giants. “As soon as it was over I thought about Andy’s family, his kids, his wife, his cousins, his brothers, everyone associated with him. Not only Coach Reid became a world champ, they all became world champs. I was so moved watching Andy on the stage with his family around and all that confetti coming down on top of them.”

REID’S FOOTBALL JOURNEY, which started in 1971 when an outsize 13-year-old famously wore a Rams uniform while competing in the punt, pass and kick competition, culminated at last on the biggest stage in sports. With the NFL celebrating an entire century of games, and with old haunts Bill Belichick and Tom Brady in the house for the ceremony, Reid was the right guy to lead the Chiefs to their first Super Bowl victory in a half-century. And San Francisco was a most appropriate full-circle opponent — Reid worked his first real coaching job at San Francisco State, where he sold hot dogs to help raise money for the now-defunct Division II program. He has come a long way, baby, and his generosity of spirit made him relatable, huggable and easy to root for.

Everything you need to know: • Box score | Mahomes wins MVP • O’Connor on Reid’s legacy win • Barnwell: How Chiefs came back • Graziano: Mahomes to the rescue More: Super Bowl LIV » | NFL coverage »

“Andy truly puts others before himself,” says his former VP of player personnel in Philadelphia, Jason Licht, now the GM of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. “He’s been wanting to win this for everybody else before he wants to win it for himself, and he’s an unbelievable leader because of that. He’s one of those leaders that when things aren’t going well he takes all the blame, and when things are going good he gives credit to all the great work everyone else did. And that’s why everybody loves playing for him, and goes the extra mile for him.”

In the end, for Reid, it all comes back to trust and empowerment, and to letting his players breathe. In practice, his quarterback and receivers are permitted — if not outright encouraged — to close their eyes as they work on some creative pitching and catching. Mahomes says the everyday fun sanctioned by Reid “keeps us loose and ready to go on game days.” No wonder that the quarterback, at age 24, is already on record saying he wants to spend his entire career in Kansas City.

Reid is one of the brilliant offensive minds of his generation, or of any generation, and yet his belief in freedom of expression works on the defensive side of the ball, too. “This is my third program in the league,” Tyrann Mathieu says, “but I feel I can be myself here. … [Reid] wants us to be comfortable, relaxed, at ease.”

By all accounts, his insistence that his players stay true to themselves inspired them to play at the highest possible level, and doubled their affection for the coach who always looked as if he should be wearing a striped red and white jacket, red bow tie, and straw skimmer hat as part of a barbershop quartet.

“He tells them all the time in team meetings, ‘Let your personality show,'” says Britt Reid, his father’s linebackers coach. “I think that’s important. You can’t be someone you’re not. If you want to play this game to the best of your ability, you’ve got to be you.”

With a win over the 49ers, Andy Reid finally put an end to the questions over his big-game management — and secured a capper on his Hall of Fame career. Matthew Emmons/USA TODAY Sports

Sometimes Merritt will head out to practice and find his defensive backs working on moves that have nothing to do with containing opposing receivers. “They’re dancing, the music is on, and they’re going crazy on the sideline,” Merritt says with a laugh. “But I can’t say anything to them because the head coach said, ‘Let your personalities show.'”

Britt says his father got his creativity from his own dad (Andy has a talent for drawing caricatures, including some of his youngest son, Spencer, a strength and conditioning coach at Colorado State), and his refined and calculating intellect from his mom, the radiologist. Those handed-down gifts have helped Reid coach his freewheeling Mozart at quarterback. Mahomes, Britt says, “has definitely reinvigorated him.”

Nothing against Mahomes’ predecessor, of course, as Alex Smith was a dignified winner in Kansas City who could not have handled the transition to the kid with any more grace. But Mahomes is a generational talent and an improvisational thinker who enables the artistic half of Reid’s beautiful football mind to dream up all kinds of exotic route trees in the middle of the night.

“The thing people don’t see about Andy is that this is still a kid’s game to him,” says Tom Melvin, Reid’s assistant for more than two decades and an alumnus of his offensive line at San Francisco State. “And during a play in practice, Patrick will throw the ball and before it’s caught he’ll go, ‘You like that throw, don’t you?’ He’s playing a kid’s game like a kid. So for Andy and Patrick, it’s just playtime now.”

It was playtime for all Chiefs during this championship run. The exclamation point was a fitting defeat of a team that suited up Dee Ford, the goat who allowed the GOAT, Tom Brady, to shake off what would’ve been a fatal interception last year and lead the Patriots to the AFC title. Sunday night, after winning the big game, Reid exonerated his former player for lining up where he did on the penalty, repeating for the 47th time, “It wasn’t Dee Ford, it was all of us. …We could’ve done four inches better.”

It was just Andy being Andy, taking on the burden himself to avoid making anyone — even a former player on the opposing team — carry a heavier load than he needed to.

FOR THE RECORD: Reid’s user-friendly practices shouldn’t suggest that good ol’ Andy is running the league’s answer to Club Med. He no longer has the GM responsibilities he had in Philadelphia, yet Reid still works absurdly long hours, even by NFL standards, and expects his assistants and front-office people to keep up. Licht said Reid slept in that office three or four nights a week in Philly, and it’s obvious that nothing much has changed in Kansas City.

NFL PrimeTime continues this postseason with extended highlights and analysis following the conclusion of each day’s playoff games. Watch on ESPN+

But Reid’s near-maniacal devotion to his craft, and to every imaginable game-prep detail, has never twisted him into an angry or paranoid mess. He can be stern with players and staffers when necessary, but Licht described him as a coach with “a relaxed California swag and chill way about him.”

“Andy can get along with anybody,” Licht says. “He has a way of coming into your office, sitting down, and realizing when somebody needs to get his mind off things. He’ll talk about anything and everything, and you love being around him. When he’s putting in all those hours, you just didn’t want to let him down and not be there in case he had a question for you. You didn’t want to miss the opportunity to have another five or 15 minutes of bonding with him.”

“The entire league wants Andy to win because of how he treats and leads his men,” says Dave Merritt, his defensive backs coach. Steve Mitchell-USA TODAY Sports

Merritt sees the same man in Kansas City that Licht saw in Philly, and it comes as no surprise. “Leslie Frazier told me about him 20 years ago,” Merritt says of the former Eagles assistant. “He said, ‘Dave, if you ever get a chance to work with Andy Reid, don’t ever turn it down.'”

He didn’t, not after taking a call from Reid in the middle of a golf round and, by his estimation, completing contract talks between a pitch and a putt. Merritt’s experiences with his new boss are quite different from those he had in New York. Coughlin, he reminds, was an iron-fisted ruler who fined Giants for wearing the wrong socks in hotel lobbies. Reid responds to relatively benign rules violations more like a nurturing father.

“Another thing I learned is that Andy really trusts us to coach these players, and that gives you so much confidence as an assistant,” Merritt says. “With Tom Coughlin, we had staff meetings every day, sometimes twice a day, three times a day. I’ve never seen a coach operate the way Andy operates, where we go through the week and never have a staff meeting.”

REID’S STORY PROBABLY makes you feel good inside, unless you’re a fan of the 49ers or someone who lost a few bucks betting that their defense would win San Francisco its sixth Lombardi trophy. Who couldn’t feel good about an NFL head coach who still occasionally drives the Ford Model A his father bought after the war for $25? And besides, we all sorta needed a story like this at the end of a heartbreaking week in sports.

Andy Reid personally knew Kobe Bryant, another tough guy with Philly roots, and would talk about him here and there at the Eagles’ facility. “He would just say of Kobe, ‘That’s a good dude, man. That’s a good dude,'” Licht recalls. “People who know Andy know that’s high praise for him.”

Asked during Super Bowl week about the helicopter crash that killed the Lakers legend, his teenage daughter Gianna and seven other passengers, Reid predicted the Bryant family would “get back into the swing of life and do great things.” Just like the Reids did after one of their sons, Garrett, died of an accidental heroin overdose during training camp in 2012.

Later that year, Andy ignored friends’ suggestions that he should take a year off to regroup after the Eagles fired him. Instead, he immediately filled the opening in Kansas City, where linebacker Jovan Belcher had just killed his girlfriend before taking his own life in the team parking lot. Reid needed the Chiefs as much as the Chiefs needed him. Andy immediately added to his staff his second-oldest of three sons, Britt, despite his own past of drug and gun charges and jail time.

Jamie Squire/Getty Images

Sunday night, Britt was on the winning Super Bowl side as a sober linebackers coach for his old man.

What a moment for Kansas City. What a week for the Reids. The Chiefs honored Reid at the start of Super Bowl week by wearing his cherished Hawaiian shirts and Air Force 1 sneakers, and they honored him again at the end of Super Bowl week by scoring more points than the 49ers scored.

“An-dy … An-dy … An-dy,” the Chiefs fans chanted in the final seconds of Sunday’s game. Reid was Gatorade-d by his players. It was all hugs and kisses and confetti from there.

“Hey, how about those Chieeeeeeeeeeefs!” Reid roared to the crowd during the ceremony as he wore his white championship cap. Tammy Reid had described her husband as “calm as a cucumber” in the lead-up to the game, and soon enough Reid was in his news conference already talking about a potential title No. 2.

“I’m really excited about it,” Reid said. “You get one, you want to go get another one.”

When he was done at the microphone, Andy loaded himself into a golf cart with Tammy, the woman he still calls his girlfriend, and headed for the locker room.

He will surely spend the coming days handing out credit to everyone who has helped him in his eight college and pro jobs, and way back to his time as a student-athlete and aspiring sportswriter at Brigham Young. Back then, Reid wrote columns for The Provo Daily Herald. All these years later, that young journalist inside the old coach knows exactly how this story needs to be written.

Above all, Super Bowl LIV belongs to a vital member of the Kansas City Chiefs. The one in Andy Reid’s mirror.

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[sindrafalcone]

Wrong Number, Right Call (part 3)

Part 1    Part 2

Fandom: BIGBANG/ Choi Seung Hyun x Reader

Synopsis: The truth comes out...

Warnings: none

Author’s Note: A little happiness for you guys... because, after this week, I think we all need it. Please note that I am not tagging this. I don’t want any of you to think that I’m trying to exploit current events for the sake of notes. I’m intending this post more as a gift for my friends and followers, to (hopefully) brighten your world during these dark times.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This story contains fictional representations of real people. None of the events are true. This is from an American standpoint, so some of the situations may not happen the same way they might in Korea. I make no money from the writing of this fictional work.

Masterlist

Mere seconds after he had sent the second text, Seung Hyun's phone rang.

"Everything alright?" you asked the moment he accepted the call. You sounded worried.

"Yeah, hang on just a mintue." Seung Hyun replied. Shit. This was way faster than he meant for things to happen. He thought he'd have a little more time to think it over.

But clearly he didn't and maybe that was a good thing, because he had spent the past couple of days thinking it over and arriving at no conclusion. He wasn't going to have this conversation in front of Jiyong though, so he waved at him and gestured towards the elevator.

Jiyong rolled his eyes and waved him off, sipping his coffee as Seung Hyun left.

"Sorry." he said once he was in the elevator and on the way up to his floor. "I was just... uhm. How are you?"

"I'm good... getting a little impatient here and also worried. How are you?" you returned the question pointedly.

He took a deep breath and, as the elevator pinged when he arrived on his floor, he stepped out. "I... there's something I need to tell you."

"Okay." your voice was patient and even, but it wasn't like there was much else you could say to that.

"I... well, I haven't been entirely honest with you."

"Okay." you said again, but this time you drew the word out, caution in your voice.

Seung Hyun winced as he ducked into a practice room that wasn't being used. "It's not... I... well. I haven't lied but I just, uhm. It was something I couldn't tell you right away and now I really want to because I trust you, but I'm worried, and-"

"Seung Hyun..." you gently interrupted his babbling. "Is this about the idol thing?"

It was like his entire brain ground to a sudden halt. He slumped against the closest wall & slid down it to sit on the wooden floor. "What?"

"Because that wasn't really hard to figure out." you said. "Is that what you're trying to tell me? You're T.O.P? Because I've known that for about six weeks now."

"Uh..." Seung Hyun stammered. "I, uh... how?"

You sighed. "Okay, admittedly, you weren't entirely awful at keeping it a secret. It was a number of things, I guess. Like, how you carefully didn't go into too much detail about where you were, but it was obvious you weren't in Korea sometimes. Or how you have tried really hard to not tell me exactly where you lived, like it was very important that I didn't figure out you lived in Yongsan. Or how you don't mention your friends' names. Although, you probably didn't know that Daesung already told me his name that night you drunk called me. Or that time you had to hang up quickly because of some mundane reason and minutes later it was all over the news about a Bigbang press conference. Should I go on? It's all little things, but put together it's not a hard leap to make."

"I guess..." Seung Hyun admitted reluctantly. Put like that... maybe it really wasn't that difficult to figure out. "So... six weeks?" He tried to think back, to remember if anything had changed six weeks ago, but nothing stuck out in his mind.

"Six weeks, Seung Hyun." you confirmed, sounding deeply amused. "So that's it? That's what had you all tangled up in knots?"

He took a deep breath, then exhaled, feeling a huge chunk of the tension that had been building up inside over the past couple of days release all at once, leaving him feeling much lighter.

"Yeah. I wanted to tell you, but at first I couldn't, for obvious reasons. And then it had been too long and I didn't know how. I'm sorry."

"It's okay." you said warmly. "I won't lie, when I first figured it out I wasn't really sure how to react, but then I figured I didn't have to react yet because I didn't officially know. And now that I do, well... it's not really a big deal, is it?"

Seung Hyun smiled and was just about to agree when you corrected yourself himself hastily. "No wait, scratch that. It's kind of a big deal, but... I've been working on keeping you, Seung Hyun, and T.O.P separate in my head. Though to be honest, it was a little bit of a shock when I figured it out."

"I couldn't very well immediately tell you I was T.O.P could I?” he said with a chuckle. “Besides, where it counts I'm really Choi Seung Hyun, so it wasn't really a lie."

"If you say so." you giggled along with him.

It wasn't a lie, Seung Hyun wanted to protest, but that was only half true, and instead he found himself asking something entirely different. "So you really don't... mind?"

"Seung Hyun..." you said patiently, then sighed. "Look. If I had known this in the beginning, maybe it would have changed something. I probably would have felt weird about talking to you, in any case. But I know you a lot better than I know T.O.P. and... look, do we have to talk about this? I guess we do." you sighed again. "I'm okay with it. I'm not about to fall to my knees in worship or anything, and I'm definitely not going around telling everyone that I've got an idol on speed dial. Okay? Are you okay with me knowing?"

"Yeah." Seung Hyun breathed. "I don't like... I mean, I know everyone has secrets and things like that, but I didn't like keeping something so huge from you."

"I'm not angry." you told him after a moment, voice soft. "I admit I was, initially, but I'm not anymore, okay? I get why you couldn't tell me. And I'm glad you told me today."

"Not that I had to, you clearly had things under control." he replied, a little rueful. That would teach him to underestimate you. There was a question that suddenly occurred to him and although he was apprehensive, he decided to just ask. "So do you... follow the tabloids on me?"

"Seung Hyun..." you said, voice entirely sober all of a sudden. "You're famous. That's not exactly something I can just shrug off, you know? Of course I follow the news. Not so much the gossip part of it, but you can bet I have alerts set up. Just in case something bad happens..."

"Okay." Seung Hyun said quietly. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, you idiot." you returned fondly. "Just, you know, maybe text me that you're fine every now and then after you make headlines? Then I wouldn't have to flip through the news channels like a crazy person."

"Oh." he cleared his throat. "Of course, yes."

Not much changed after that conversation, not really. You still talked about the same sort of things in the same way and the same amount of time. The only thing that was clearly different was that Seung Hyun could now talk a little more openly about some things, but surprisingly, that secret turned out to have felt bigger than it actually was.

What did change, however, was this sort of... undertone, a vibe, maybe. Seung Hyun found it difficult to put to words.  Things just felt different somehow. He wouldn't say that you were actually warmer with him, or he with you, but it still felt warmer somehow. He found himself smiling more, long after the two of you had hung up. Even if all you had talked about was simple things like work or the weather, he still loved it. You even called him in a mild state of panic when your hair stylist gave you way more of a trim then you had initially asked for.

And Seung Hyun felt like he would have given a lot to see your new hair cut. Even with all this truth lately, he still didn't know what you looked like, but he was too afraid to ask for a picture.  Jiyong (now as up to date on the state of Seung Hyun's relations with you as possible) told him that it was probably the natural progression of things, though he admitted to not really having much experience in the field of screen-to-screen built relationships.

Which was how Seung Hyun ended up having lunch with Bom. Because somehow, by this point, all of the guys knew that he had made a friend, and that you only ever talked on the phone or text and had never met in person. As well as being a source of hilarity, this was apparently also something that Seung Hyun was in deep need of advice for, or at least everyone seemed to think so. Jiyong had set up this meeting in some hip new restaurant with his old friend.

"So, uh, how's it going on the 'Black Label'?" Seung Hyun asked, lamely searching for a topic of conversation.

Bom waved him off. "They're still denying that I exist. I have no idea. Anyways, we have much more important things to discuss, I hear." she leaned across the table towards him, expression intent. "Spill."

Seung Hyun blinked at her. She was nice, he knew that, and the fact that she was still counted as a friend by all of them meant she was also trustworthy, despite how flighty she might seem at first. But this was a little... intense, even for her.

"About what? Why are we even here? Not that I mind, but- "

"We're here...” she interrupted “Because, apparently, you've made an internet friend and everybody else you know isn't normal enough to know how to advise you to deal with that." she raised one perfect eyebrow. "Correct?"

Seung Hyun thought about the advice he had gotten so far (even though he hadn't actually asked for any). It basically amounted to "stalk her" (Jiyong) or "wait and see" (Youngbae). Daesung had suggested sending you an invitation to join them for their "feast", meaning the take-out movie binge thing they usually did on at least one Friday a month. Seungri had suggested a mix of stalking and wait and see. Seung Hyun had been strongly advised by all of them against asking Yang his opinion because as soon as he got wind of things, the stalking would happen whether Seung Hyun wanted it to or not.

"You're not wrong." he reluctantly admitted to Bom. "I still don't really know what you're supposed to do, though. I don't need help."

"That's okay." unconcerned, she shrugged and sat back in her seat and smiled at the waiter as he brought their food. Once the waiter was gone she added, "I'm having lunch with T.O.P. We could talk exclusively about the weather and I'll still tell my grandchildren all about this in fifty years."she teased, not really meaning it.

He glanced out the window, futilely wishing that it was you seated across from him instead. "It's nice weather, isn't it?"

"Surprisingly mild for the season." she nodded. Then she rolled her eyes. "I was kidding, let's not actually talk about the weather. So, you've made an internet friend. Has anybody told you yet that you can't actually be real friends because you've never even met in person?"

Frowning, Seung Hyun lowered his gaze to his plate of pasta. "No, they haven't."

"Good. If anybody says that, tell them they're full of shit."

Caught entirely by surprise, he looked up at her, but Bom was focused on dusting grated Parmesan all over her own pasta dish, even as she continued. "It's complete bullshit. Sometimes we're more honest with strangers than with friends. Besides, everybody knows that it's easier talking about things with a person you don't have to look in the eyes. Right?"

"Right." Seung Hyun agreed.

She looked up and beamed at him. "So anybody who tries to tell you otherwise, they're condescending and don't know anything, so screw them. You don't ever have to actually meet your friend if you don't want to." She paused, then narrowed her eyes. "Unless you want to. Do you want to? You look like you do."

"That's probably because I do want to." he replied, raising one eyebrow.

Slowly, he was getting reacquainted with Bom's speed. And also... it was true. He wanted to. He wanted to see you all covered in flour as you tried a new baking recipe. He wanted to know the face you made when somebody tried to put nuts in your ice cream (one of your favorite topics to complain about was the atrocity of nuts in ice cream) and how you looked in the evening, curled up in what you called a "blanket burrito", while watching TV shows with him. He most definitely wanted to know how your face looked when your voice sounded all delighted and bright like the morning sun.

Shit... he was in trouble.

"Okay.." Bom said, completely missing the tangent his thoughts had just run off with. "Well, a couple of important things have to happen first before you can meet in person. You each need to prove you're trustworthy and trust the other person by revealing sensitive information. It's not like a rule or anything, but that's what usually happens. Like, full names maybe."

"Or the fact that I'm an idol?" he deduced where she was headed.

She pointed her fork at him. "Or that, right. Does your friend know that?"

"She does." Seung Hyun confirmed. "I told her two weeks ago, but it turned out she'd figured it out way earlier. Six weeks before that, actually."

"Smart." Bom complimented you, sounding satisfied like she was actually involved. "Well that's a pretty huge thing so, unless you think she might be gathering information for a book or a grand reveal on T.O.P., that probably means she's trustworthy."

"She wouldn't." he said, feeling appalled.

"Alright. Have you ever actually talked about this meeting in person thing? I'm just asking 'cause, you know, if you have it'll be easier to approach the subject."

Seung Hyun nodded slowly and focused on his pasta again. "So you think I should? Meet up with her, I mean?"

"Look." putting her fork down, Bom leaned toward him across the table again. "See, me? I'm totally into the full disclosure thing. What you see is what you get. I really don't believe in the whole... cloak and dagger thing, especially not in relationships. If you want things to work out, you need to be honest with what you want from her and from your relationship and all that. Otherwise it'll just be all second-guessing and angsty. Worrying and wondering what she meant when she said she'd call later and if that time she kissed you good-bye longer than usual was her letting you know she's never coming back." She flushed suddenly. "You get the gist, right?"

"Right..." Seung Hyun said slowly. "So... honesty."

"There's a difference between honesty and full disclosure." Bom informed him reasonably. "You can be honest and still hide your feelings or thoughts. So if you want to meet with her, ask her what she thinks about that. See if she wants to."

That sounded entirely reasonable and sensible. It wasn't exactly news to him, but it helped a lot having it put to words by another person. He nodded slowly, then smiled at her. "You're right. Thanks."

To his surprise, she blushed. "You're welcome."

After he and Bom had finished their lunch and went their separate ways, Seung Hyun dithered a little before texting you. Meaning, he did some work on the computer and then rearranged his entire Be@rbrick collection. Then he decided to quit being a coward and sent you a text, painstakingly phrased.

I would like to meet you in person sometime. What do you think?

Twenty minutes later, you replied with just one word: No.

An hour after that, Seung Hyun got a text from Bom: Seeing how we're now in a relationship, I figured you should have my new number. I got yours from Jiyong. <3

'Wait, what?' he thought, but he was a little bit preoccupied, so his brain discarded the first part of her message, finding himself telling her instead:  She said no.

Wait... Bom replied immediately. She knows we're not a thing, right?

I have no idea what you're talking about. Seung Hyun told her, a bit impatiently. In reply he got a link from her to some gossip website, along with the words: Check this. She knows it's all lies, right?

"This" turned out to be a short news story about how T.O.P took his “ladyfriend” Bom out to some hip new place, together with a couple of blurry phone pictures taken of them from earlier in the day. A customer at the restaurant must have taken them... there had been no paparazzi outside, Seung Hyun was sure of that. In one of them he and Bom were leaning towards each other in a way that could be construed as intimate, if one were so inclined. In another, he was holding the door open for Bom, hand hovering over the small of her back as they left the restaurant. The gossip website wasn't subtle about their interpretation of the pictures.

Now, Seung Hyun was entirely confused, but at least he knew a little more now than he did before, even if it was only about what Bom was talking about. It didn't help him much with you and your rather abrupt rejection.

I don't get it. he wrote back to Bom. What does that have to do with _________?

Seconds later Bom was calling him. "Her name is ________?" she asked when he picked up. "That's adorable!"

Seung Hyun shook his head. "Bom... what's going on?"

She huffed a little. "How did she say no? Did she say she's not ready or what?"

"No. She just said no. No explanations." he couldn't help sounding a little bitter about it, even if what he primarily felt was still confusion, and hurt.

"Well this hit the internet about an hour after we finished lunch, so she probably read it. You need to clarify that we're not an item."

"You think this... would make her not want to meet me? Why?" it made no sense to Seung Hyun, none at all.

"Oh, Seung Hyun..." she groaned. "Look, going by your expression earlier... you're really into her. Imagine if you read something on the internet about her new boyfriend taking her out to lunch, and then she texted you asking you to meet. How would you feel?"

Inadvertently rejected, probably, even though he had no right to. But Seung Hyun thought wouldn't be so curt with you, even then.

"You really think that's it?" he asked, doubtful.

"Yeah, probably." she confirmed matter-of-factly. "Look, just check in with her to make sure she doesn't think this is true, okay? Even if she hadn't said no, you'd still make sure she doesn't believe this, wouldn't you?"

Yes, he would. Probably. Seung Hyun didn't usually worry about this kind of gossip that was written about him, unless it came up just before a public appearance and his manager wanted to prepare him for possible questions that might occur. He had been in all sorts of rumored relationships already, basically every time he was spotted with a woman who wasn't his mother or sister.

"Yes, okay. Thanks, Bom." he said after a moment and hung up after her cheerful. "No problem!"

Then he frowned at his phone for a second before he decided to just get it over with and called you. He was half-terrified you weren't going to pick up, growing more and more worried as all he heard was the ringing, until eventually you did pick up.

"Yeah."

"I wasn't sure if you were going to pick up." Seung Hyun said softly.

"Sorry." you said, and you sounded like it, at least a little. Mostly you just sounded weird.

Seung Hyun cleared his throat. "So. Do you read the gossip pages after all? Because, uh... I've been advised that... you know it's all lies, right?"

There was a bit of rustling at the other end, and then you asked. "What's lies?"

"Me and Bom." he huffed. "She's just a friend.”

"I..." you sounded visibly confused. "Okay?"

Seung Hyun deflated, this didn't sound at all like this was the problem, like he had thought. "Anyways, I just... Uhm...."

He had no idea what to say now. It was your right not to want to meet up with him. You were perfectly within your rights to say no and it probably wasn't fair forSeung Hyun to be hurt by that or anything. To be honest, thinking about it, he would think twice about meeting up with himself too, especially in light of what just happened with Bom. He knew she didn't care, she had been in the gossip rags for a while & had learned to just ignore it, but you clearly didn't feel the same way and that was completely understandable.

So, he took a deep breath and said. "I just wanted to tell you, it's completely okay that you don't want to meet me. I understand, and I'm not angry. I'm sorry I just sprung that on you, okay?"

"Okay?" you repeated, sounding even more confused than before. "Wait a second."

Now confused as well, Seung Hyun waited. All he could hear was your breathing.

"You don't have to apologize." you said after a moment of silence. "I was... that was harsh, and I'm sorry. I guess I just... panicked."

"Panicked?" Seung Hyun repeated the word. "Why?"

"Because, I... well, okay, I did read that thing about you and Bom and I was pissed that you didn't tell me and also hurt because I thought we've been... and then I realized that was a stupid assumption. I do want to meet with you, Seung Hyun. I just don't understand why you'd want to meet up with me? I mean, I'm pretty ridiculous."

That didn't make sense to him at all. Shaking his head, Seung Hyun frowned. "The most ridiculous thing to date that you've done is saying that just now. Did you really just ask why I'd want to meet up with you?"

"Yeah..." you said, sounding flustered. "I know. You're important to me and we talk every day and I just... panicked. The Bom thing didn't help. But what if we... what if we meet up in person and don't have anything to say to each other? That would be terrible, Seung Hyun. And when you meet me in person, you're going to see that I do ridiculous things a lot. I really like what we have now."

"Me too." Seung Hyun told you quietly. He wasn't sure where this was going. "I really do. And if that's all you want, that's okay. But I don't think that we'd have nothing to say to each other or not get along if we met up, and I just..." he took a breath and realized that it was now or never. "I'd just really like to take you on a date."

"A date?" you squeaked.

Heart in his throat, he swallowed. "Yes. It's okay if you don't want that, though."

"No!" you exclaimed. "I mean, yes! I want that. Yes." you exhaled noisily. "Crap. I used to be smoother than this.”

Seung Hyun blinked, then blinked again. "Yes? You mean you want to?"

"Yes." you repeated, sounding amused now and much surer of yourself. "Yes, I want to go on a date with you, Seung Hyun. What, did you used to be smoother too?"

"I doubt it." Seung Hyun told you honestly. "Okay, wow....That's good."

Still amused and much warmer now, you hummed. "So where are you taking me?"

Shit. He hadn't thought that far ahead...

Desperately casting his mind out for something, Seung Hyun eventually blurted out the first thing that came to his mind: "Seoul Land?"

You laughed. "Sounds good. When?"

He licked his lips. "Do you have any plans for tomorrow?"

You didn't.