#well one of thems a quick thing of blues sister so basically. and i might use the skunk later

[matoitech]

some smaller stuff

[tigreblvnc]

BLUE LOCK MATCHUP EXCHANGE — @waffledforbreakfast

Your match is...

— Charles Chevalier

✦ I'll be honest, there was someone else on my mind, but since your love languages are NOT AT ALL compatible, I quickly dismissed them.

✦ That said, I'll get back to that at the end of your matchup.

✦ SO.

✦ I didn’t hesitate for long, and Charles' face quickly came to mind.

✦ Our little French imp :)

✦ (It always makes me happy to assign characters from my country to people.)

✦ Your relationship in three words: partners-in-crime.

✦ One of my favorite tropes.

✦ So not a love interest. At least, not directly. I see the relationship more like a younger brother and older sister. Like best friends who end up doing all sorts of crazy stuff together because chaos is your definition of fun.

✦ You know Shidou? Well, Charles is like him but smaller, younger, and very French.

✦ (The anecdote about French arrogance is real)

✦ (Sorry, I won’t uphold our alleged elegance any longer)

✦ The main reason I chose him is that when I read your bio, I thought you needed someone who could keep up with your pace, or even be the one to set the pace, while maintaining your interest and knowing how to introduce new things.

✦ And at the same time… it couldn’t be a people pleaser, you know? I think there’s nothing worse for people who need intellectual stimulation. On the contrary, such people tend to seek out original partners who can stand up to them.

✦ So I was looking for a character with enough bite, and who could be more capricious than Charles when it comes to deciding what to do.

✦ Whether he’ll do it or not.

✦ So we have an ENTP x ENFP duo, which is a very interesting combination because these are among the two most introverted extroverted MBTI types. That is, they can easily be mistaken for INTP and INFP, as their cognitive functions drive them to a need for solitude that can be unusual for an extroverted profile.

✦ A quick MBTI note since I don’t often get ENTPs requesting matchups: ENTPs have a fascinating ability to generate a large number of ideas at an insanely fast pace, making them exceptional brainstormers. They excel at challenging ideas, spotting flaws in arguments, and taking an interest in a wide variety of topics that might seem unrelated. By nature, an ENTP is curious, drawn to intellectual challenges, and unafraid to express their opinions, no matter how caustic. You're also independent, often the jokers who enjoy countering others' arguments, sometimes just for the sake of debate.

✦ On the flip side, all these qualities can be hampered by one of your biggest weaknesses: commitment. By definition, an ENTP cherishes their freedom above all else and particularly dislikes feeling confined by contracts or rules. This often leads you to start a million projects but rarely finish them; once a subject loses its novelty, it also loses its appeal. Like many P-type MBTI profiles, you’ve likely considered dozens of different careers, and your resume is filled with varied experiences that seem to have no connection to each other.

✦ The main difference between an ENTP and an ENFP lies in their auxiliary cognitive function, their second: Introverted Thinking (Ti) for the ENTP, and Introverted Feeling (Fi) for the ENFP. For the ENTP, this means they make decisions by asking themselves, "Is it true? Is it rational?" while the ENFP makes decisions by asking, "Do I like this? Does it align with my values?" This is what sets these two seemingly similar types apart, as they function very differently.

✦ And this will also translate into your relationship with Charles! Because, to get back to the point, you will be together for this matchup.

✦ Clown to clown, basically.

✦ "Relatives tell me I’m 'mature for your age' (which I am aware sounds cringe—bear with me here) or that I worry too much for my future." I think that’s the opposite of Charles, who is very focused on the present and enjoys making the most of what’s happening in the moment. I don’t see him as someone who likes to dwell on the past or think about the future. This might sound like a disadvantage between you two, but it’s actually what makes me think that with him, you’d find it easier to focus 100% on the present. "I like to put myself in/create an environment where I can be a bit more impulsive/reckless without having to worry about large-scale/long-term consequences." Overall, it’s with Charles that these opportunities would arise the most easily.

✦ "I’m well aware that I may hurt some by valuing reason over their emotions or thoughts, but that’s not something I intend to change." And that’s great because I don’t think Charles is the type to like a big people pleaser. On the contrary, he matches better with those whose intentions align with their values, even if it’s at the expense of others. This is very evident in his partnership with Shidou, which works incredibly well on the field.

✦ "But enjoying someone’s company is very much a plus, so as long as they don’t get too close, I’m more than happy to keep them around." As I said earlier when explaining how the ENTP works, I sense a fear of commitment because you don’t want to lose your independence or waste your time. You want to keep your options open, to be free to do what you want at any moment—something you think you’d lose by committing significantly to someone.

✦ To me, Charles is a bit of a free electron… until he finds someone he really clicks with; then he can become super clingy, wanting to be with you all the time to do stuff, have fun, pass the time. I don’t see him liking being alone for long, or if he does, he needs to be deeply engrossed in something. He’s kind of the representation of the arrogant little brother—endearing yet stubborn. A miniature version of you, and I think your independence could serve as a model for him to follow. To put it simply, he imitates you in being free.

✦ Well, he doesn’t listen much to Loki either, who’s supposed to be his coach.

✦ But maybe he’ll listen to you.

✦ Maybe.

✦ "Although I think I’m capable of being a good person, I suppose it depends on how happy I am in the relationship… I’m still figuring things out :’)." I wonder if this phrase is also related to your dislike of committing to a relationship: you’re afraid of giving too much and the other person not giving as much in return, being less invested. I don’t think that would be much of an issue with Charles. Honestly, I see him being able to reciprocate everything you mentioned in the actions you take to maintain your relationships, and I’m especially thinking about sending silly memes at 3 a.m., sharing IG reels, TikTok videos of people dancing in their bathrooms, and that sort of thing. Typically, when you see something dumb on social media, you send it to each other.

✦ "OMG I was just about to send you the same thing!!!!"

✦ Honestly, I think Charles is a big SMS spammer, even at the most ungodly hours of the night.

✦ 30-minute voice messages that make no sense :)

✦ Stickers and gifs.

✦ He’s the first to suggest a night out. In fact, I think staying cooped up at home deeply bores him, you know? He’s the kind who needs to be kept busy 24/7, or else he makes you pay for it a thousand times over.

✦ A gremlin, basically.

✦ "His hobby is surprising anyone or saying something weird just to see the reaction to it ('Doesn't matter if you hate me!')." It speaks for itself.

✦ "I do like straightforwardness." Can we please remember this panel and the fact that Charles bluntly says to Loki, "I’m bored, let me out of here." There’s nothing more direct than Charles. In fact, from the moment he’s bored, it’s like he loses all his skills.

✦ He needs structure, but not just any structure.

✦ Charles is still young, so he needs a figure who can serve as a role model and mentor, someone who has enough interest in his eyes to push him to give his best, which he tends not to do even under the supervision of Loki, who is a world-class player. I don’t think it’s a matter of skill but rather of mentality. Charles doesn’t thrive under constraint but under freedom.

✦ Considering this meme, which I (love) see applying to the two of you, Charles is clearly a pocket-sized kitten capable of scratching at any moment.

✦ "Festive holidays! Seeing all the Halloween / Christmas / Valentine’s /etc. decorations makes me happy :3." It’s still too early on my blog to post Halloween and Christmas headcanons, but Charles is typically someone who prefers to have fun rather than work, you know? A day spent without having fun is a wasted day for him. I also think his taste in decorations can be questionable at times, but that’s what makes decorating together so much fun. Even if people tell him, "Those colors don’t go together at all!!" he doesn’t care—he likes it, so he does it anyway. And it makes him laugh even more if you approve of his particular tastes.

✦ "Heavy on Acts of Service (both giving and receiving). Like receiving physical affection too." Now we get to the part where I eliminated the first contender that came to mind :D To me, the ultimate love language of someone is the opposite of how they present themselves to others. So someone like Charles, who does whatever he wants and hates following orders from others… would do the opposite with someone he really loves.

✦ That is, he’d be the one wanting to do things with and for you. He doesn’t ask because it’s embarrassing, but he has a great memory when it comes to things that really interest him. And because there’s this need to be validated by the person he holds in high esteem (somehow), he always wants to succeed in his goals to show off in front of you, to show you he’s got what it takes and that he’s just as strong as you.

✦ Beneath the sibling rivalry airs, there’s a mutual desire to prove your worth to each other, and that’s also how you show each other your respect. It’s never very direct, but your actions speak louder than your words.

✦ And because words aren’t Charles’ thing at all, he much prefers to show you what he thinks of you with surprise hugs, shoulder taps, and innocent, childish pranks. He’s still just a kid, and there’s nothing more sincere than them when it comes to showing affection.

✦ Typically, he climbs on you to get your attention and blocks your view of the TV because "PLAY WITH ME, EGG!!!!"

✦ So yes, physical contact 100,000%. And Charles loves head scratches in his blond, well-coiffed hair. He doesn’t let others touch him because others are boring, you know? But you’re not boring. On the contrary, you’re actually really awesome to him. And when others try to convince him otherwise, he either jumps at their throat or throws rotten tomatoes at them. France loves you guys.

✦ But there are also other things on which you are particularly compatible.

✦ "Cancer" I have good news! Charles is a Pisces. This is a combination that works like magic, as it often does with signs from the same element. To put it simply, your way of functioning is similar—there's a deep sensitivity behind your insolent and carefree exterior. In fact, you've both developed a shell of indifference to only grant your trust and favor to a very select few. Since Charles is still young, he isn’t fully aware of this yet, and it’s funny how his growth reminds you of your own.

✦ I’m not quoting the more personal parts of your bio because the blog is public, but I like to imagine that Charles' family situation isn't necessarily stable, like maybe his parents are pretty lax or don't realize their son's potential, you know? His relationship with Shidou makes me think he needs an older brother or sister figure around him to offer that chemistry, that joy in playing that his parents can’t quite inspire in him. It even seems like football bores Charles a bit, as long as there isn’t someone on the field who pushes him to blossom because they understand his way of playing, his way of being. Charles is a character who needs a partner.

✦ So… Yes, clingy, but that's because without it, he has no motivation to grow. To improve and become a better person.

✦ We all know that children evolve differently depending on their surroundings: the fact that your presence has a major impact on his growth, both morally and psychologically, gives you a responsibility that you might not like. You might even outright deny it, judging by some parts of your bio, and at the same time… Well, it's the same for you: if someone hands you a significant project that requires investment, as an ENTP, your nature might push you to decline the offer because you value your freedom too much to commit. But by breaking this well-oiled defense mechanism, you too can experience exponential growth. It's by stepping out of your comfort zone that you create something massive and impactful.

✦ "I see no problem in arguing with my parents (not the scream yelling stuff, the 'ur wrong' stuff)." And I think there's little that amuses Charles more than watching your verbal sparring with your folks. Like… He's hidden behind the couch, giggling into his hand, you know? And once you're done fighting, he jumps on you, laughing and saying, "Nooo way, you didn't!!!" But yes. You did.

✦ Actually, I think you two have known each other since childhood, and that you're the older sibling Charles has always dreamed of.

✦ Football probably came into his life naturally to fill the boredom, the emptiness, the school he never liked.

✦ And you arrived in his life like magic, and it clicked right away because he quickly realized you wouldn’t put up with his arrogance and the fact that he never listens to anyone.

✦ Charles listens to rebels.

✦ The people who are said to be bad.

✦ Naturally, he started following you, wanting to replicate your habits. Dressing a bit like you, adopting the same tastes... And then completly denied it because it was cringe. But the fact that everything you did was cool: so he wanted to do it too.

✦ What motivates him to play? Knowing you’re in the stands watching him.

✦ He acts like he doesn’t care or like he hasn’t noticed, but his eye regularly glances at the stands to see if you’re watching.

✦ And when you disappear, even just for two minutes to get something to eat, all his motivation evaporates, and he switches to "I’m bored" mode.

✦ Then he lights up again when you reappear.

✦ Actually, Charles clearly has two modes of functioning: when you’re there, and when you’re not.

✦ He’s skipped far too many classes to be with you.

✦ Pretty much all subjects bore him at school; in fact, there isn't a single teacher who can make him want to learn. That said, I like to think that because it’s you, he listens more often. He looks at you. He shows some interest, even if it fades too quickly. But the fact that he tries a bit harder when you’re around is already proof of growth.

✦ He tries.

✦ He tries sometimes.

✦ Typically, when he doesn’t get something in class, he asks you first.

✦ Which can lead to certain issues, like relying too much on you and no longer trying to understand things on his own because it doesn’t interest him enough.

✦ I imagine at that point you might brush him off, and he gives you those puppy eyes to convince you to do things for him.

✦ You bounce the ball back and forth to each other.

✦ "I don’t get it." "I don’t want to." "How about we go play instead?"

✦ There’s also something particular about Charles, and that’s the fact that he likes his unpredictability. He’s not someone who seeks to be understood or to have others empathize with him. On the contrary, it’s the fact that no one can predict his movements and thought patterns that makes him so good at football. I think it’s a quality in him that he loves and that you can nurture.

✦ It’s something that Loki tries to do…

✦ … but, well.

✦ Rebel without a cause, as they say.

✦ "Can I copy your homework?"

✦ Deep down, he’s still just as insufferable.

✦ Okay, I'm going to write Halloween headcanons anyway.

"Chaaaaarles!"

"What, Egg?"

"Don’t call me that!"

"It’s your name, EGG!"

"Charles? Halloween is coming up. Do you want to carve a pumpkin with me?"

"Huuuh? Why?"

"We’re going to put them in front of the house and around."

"Why not inside?"

"We’ll put some inside too, but I’ve got other things planned."

"Like what?"

"A cauldron with skulls."

"Cooool. I’ll watch you do it."

"We’re going to do it together, Charles."

"Egg?"

"What?"

"Are pumpkin cakes good?"

"I don’t know, I’ve never had any."

"I want to make them. Make me some food."

"Charles?"

"What?"

"What are you doing to your pumpkin?"

"A smile! It’s a cat, but in a pumpkin. Isn’t it cute?"

"It looks like you."

"EGG!!!"

"WHAT???"

"LOOK!!!!!! They’re selling waffles over there!! I want some, I WANT SOME!!!"

"What are you getting on top?"

"With chocolate, lots of chocolate, and whipped cream, and strawberries."

"Not bad."

"Yeah. It looks like you."

A word about your match: The first contender was Nagi, and you probably know as well as I do that act of services isn’t really part of his love language. That said, the fact that he’s lazy makes him capable of clinging to the first person who comes along; you could say it’s a way of showing physical contact. But clearly, I didn’t see him as capable of providing enough stimulation, even though Nagi is the least people-pleasing character in the entire series. I think Charles offers more twists, complicity, and challenge for you.

© TIGREBLVNC 2024 | INTERESTED IN A MATCHUP EXCHANGE? CHECK THIS.

[fandomtherapy44]

Klaus x reader

Summary: This story is from the perspective of Y/n Marshall the younger sister of Hayley Marshall. Side note I love Hayley one of my favorite characters. Basically Y/n will be pregnant instead of Hayley and I will be changing some things up but then that it should stay pretty close to the series. I hope you enjoy the story! Also, if you like I have a Castiel x reader

Paring: Klaus x reader

Word count: 1,449

Warnings: Some language, Typical the Originals violence, Spoilers for season one of The Originals, Pregnancy

I got the divder from

saradika

 Chapter 4: Girl in New Orlens

POV (Y/n)                      

“Look I'm sure Y/n feels great right Y/n.” “Uh well-” “See she’s fine.” Agnes the witch had suggested that we go see a doctor for the baby and Hayley was not happy. “She’s overdue for a checkup Hayley.” I would love that but I can’t get my sentence without my protective sister talking for me. “ What is she gonna do? Pop into the Quarter for a quick ultrasound? A pregnant werewolf escorted by a witch and another werewolf? Nothing to see here!” I was about to speak for myself before Rebekah had something to say herself.

“A lot of women would kill to have a child. It strikes me as odd that you're not letting your sister take better care of hers.” I can hear the resentment in her voice because I use sound and feel the same way whenever I saw a pregnant woman before. “Um If I may Hayley I appreciate your concern but I do need a checkup and I'm sure there has to be some doctor that will see people in my special condition right Agnes.” “Yes there is, out in the Bayou, off the beaten path. Now, I took the liberty of making an appointment for you. Tonight, after-hours, just us. Vampires will never get word of it.” “See Hayley everything will be okay plus I'll have a werewolf bodyguard.” I moved to hug her and she rolled her eyes and caved in. “ Okay, fine. Bayou-baby-doctor it is.” I squeezed her with excitement. 

Agnes and Hayley walked out the room and I was left with Rebekah. “Shouldn't you be off to get ready for your appointment.” Ahh there’s the venom in her words again. “Look Bex, I hope that’s not to forward . I don't know if you knew but before a couple months ago it was a fact that I could not make my own children.” She looked stunned. So I went on. “So I know that pain of seeing around what you want but can’t have. But I was given a miracle so my wish is that you have the same.” I looked at my stomach with a small smile and walked out. “Wait, why tell me?” “So you wouldn't feel alone.” 

We drove up to the bayou doctor’s house and from the outside it did not look promising. “This is the doctor's office?” Hayley was looking and was thinking the same things as I. “Dr. Paige is only this far out because Marcel's men kept terrorizing her patients. Go! She won't bite!” Hayley and I get out and walk to the shady looking front door. 

“Alright dear you can go ahead and lay down here.” Dr. Paige patted the bench for me. “So first off all why don’t we go ahead and do the ultra sound huh?” She pulled out some gloves and blue gel and an old school medical tv screen. “Please lift your shirt and it might be a little chilly.” She put the gel on and I looked on the screen and there was my little girl. “Oh my gosh Hayley, do you see her!” Hayley grabbed my hand. “Yes I do, I can already tell she’s going to be beautiful.” At this moment only one more person could make it perfect, Klaus.

“Would it be possible to get some copies of it?” I asked with so much hope. “Of course darling just give me a few.” She came back with some pictures and I wanted to cry. “Thank you, thank you.” I was almost clutching them. “Why don't we finish the checkup so mama can get home and rest.” “Yes of course doctor.” “Your baby's heart rate is perfect.” “I knew it. She's a tough one, like her mom.” I said and smiled in response. She hands me some tissue to clean up the gel and looks at my shoulder.

“That's a unique birthmark.” Hayley handed my sweater to me. “We're pretty much done here, right?” She responded standoffish.  I looked at her in wonder as to what was happening. At that moment Bex sends me an text reading "Where are you?"” I responded quickly. “Your blood pressure is a bit high, I've got something for it.” The doctor turns away and Hayley get startled by a wolf howling. We get up and look out the window and see a car pull up and some not so friendly men get out. The doctor turns back with some medicine and Hayley gets on her defensive stand.

“Ahh, you know, I'm-I'm actually not that good with pills.” “Heh, neither am I, truth be told.” She turns around again to prepare some kind of shot when We see the men start to come to the house. She turns around with the shot but I quickly headbut her. And Hayley grabs the syringe and gives her the whatever was in there. At this point those men were about to enter the room I locked it. And we ran out the window into the woods just in time as they bested in.

The men who raided the clinic are still looking for us in the woods behind the clinic, and they pass us, not seeing that we are hiding behind a tree. Hayley runs up to them and kicks the first man she encounters in the gut before knocking him to the ground. I jump and kick the second man down as well as I snap his neck.

A third man tries to attack us but Hayley grabs a knife from his hands and cuts his neck with it as she spins in the air. When a fourth lunges toward her, I grab his shotgun and knock him to the ground, and possibly kill him as I kick him and beat him in the head with the butt of the gun. As I crouched into a defensive position on the ground, my eyes flash werewolf-gold as I look around for any more threats. A large, burly man descends upon her, but before Hayley can react, his neck is snapped from behind by Rebekah, who has just arrived.

"Have to say, I'm impressed.” “How did you find us?” I ask. “Your text got me halfway, vamping here did the rest. Who are they?” “Witches. Warlocks. Whatever.” “There're more of them. Run!” Bex yelled out and we ran as she fought them off. We hear grunt and i turn to see a arrows enter heart. “ Rebekah!” We both yelled out as we did arrows shoat us in the shoulder making us pass out.

I wake up with one Hell of a headache and realize I didn't see Hayley. “HAYLEY!” “Y/N!” I ran to give her a hug. “What happened?” “I have no idea N/n but let's try to find Rebekah. “I nodded my head in agreement. 

As we walked back to the clinic I saw the person I really wanted. “Klaus…” I whispered to myself. “Y/n! What happened? Tell me what happened.” He rushed over to me and started to check to see if I was visibly hurt. “ I can't remember. Can you Hayley?” “No.” “You've completely healed. There's not a scratch on you.” Klaus at this point was holding my face.

“One of the perks of being a werewolf, remember?” “No, not that fast.” Bex ran over to me to help sit me down on the steps. “Leave her alone! [She thinks for a moment] It's the baby. The vampire blood-- Klaus' vampire blood-- in your system. It can heal any wound.” “This baby really is a miracle huh.” Klaus just started at me smiling a little bit.

“How did you escape? You were outnumbered, unarmed? Those men were ripped to shreds!” Hayley answered for us. “ I think it was the wolfs. I think there trying to protect us.” “The witches were supposed to protect you! When I get my hands on Sophie Deveraux–” “ It wasn't Sophie. It was Agnes.” I now said with venom. “ Fine! Agnes, Sophie, it's all the same to me! I'll slaughter the lot of them!” “Not if Elijah gets there first.” “Elijah? Did you find him?” Hayley asked with hope.

“He's been in touch, and he has a plan. All he asks is that we take care of you two.” She finished looking at the both of us. “ Hey, so... can we go home now? I'd really like to sleep for a few days…” I started to get up but my body could not handle it and was about to collapse when Klaus caught me. ”Ooh, I've got you, love. I've got you.” That was the last thing I heard before I passed out from pure exhaustion. 

Hey Yawl hope you enjoyed the chapter. It was so fun writing about the werewolf fighting and of course Klaus concern with y/n. See you in the next one! Also if you like supernatural I have a Castiel x reader.

[devil-doll13]

My current ideas on the Percy Jackson AU

Inspired by @the-pinstriped-hood and @solmints-messyocdiary’s posts on the matter

Abigail - Daughter of Hecate

Wasn’t born in a graveyard in this AU. Instead, was left at the doorstep of one of her aunts. Her Warlock father, Lucien, was found dead in a cemetery however. It seemed like he was trying to perform some kind of ritual…

Experienced similar isolation from her family members, and one early sign of her Half-blood status was the fact she ended up speaking to dead spirits and ghosts. She also showed a knowledge for things she rather shouldn’t know, such as on poisonous herbs and plants.

Many of her relatives were killed by monsters trying to get to her, but by eleven years old the family ‘curse’ was finally lifted as she was brought to camp Half-Blood.

The powers she inherited from her mother are the standard umbrakinesis and necromancy. Abigail has also taught herself magic by studying and researching various tomes. She is strongest at night and weakest in the day.

Hecate is a tough parent who expects nothing but the best from her. The only reason she had her at all was to rear a powerful sorceress - her love is conditional. Abigail only earns a claiming when she has proved herself with her magic. She did this by slaying the Medusa. She still keeps her head as trophy, and sometimes to scare people bc she’s a fucking menace.

Wields a Stygian Iron sickle which disguises itself as a lipstick or mascara tube.

The only universe in which dogs don’t hate her little guts, since they’re a symbol of her mother.

Max - Son of Hermes

Either the result of an affair or a rebounding of sorts after his father died, now earlier than in canon. He has his father’s blue eyes and his mother’s curly yellow hair.

Max already canonically has ADHD so adding dyslexia to that only makes it even harder for him in regular school. This doesn’t stop him from writing or enjoying tabletop games though. Hermes is the god of many things, including writing and language.

Hermes seems to have a problem with claiming his kids, at least before the events of the fifth book. The cabin is going to be packed anyway, so Max has a whole bunch of adoptive half-brothers and half-sisters since he’s a friendly guy.

He gets along really well with Hephaestus cabin too, might even suspect he’s his kid because he’s also great with cars and mechanics. Basically he has an eclectic range of skills and interests due to Hermes’ Jack of all Trades nature.

Also very much a gotta go fast boi. Max is naturally athletic and outpaces his brothers (at home) in races every time.

Speaking of which, he does actually go home after every Summer to see them, though he isn’t spared from usual half-blood shenanigans…

Doesn’t like fighting much, but he has a Celestial Bronze sword which appears to mortals as a can of hairspray (I mean have you seen his curls!)

(Zach, Jude, Adam, Ciarán and The Librarian under the cut)

Zach - Son of Ares

Being that Zach’s mother, Isabel, was an elite member of a fairly militant organisation, it makes sense why Ares took an interest in her. His mom was killed by a monster when he was pretty young so he found his way to camp Half-Blood pretty quick and is an all year rounder.

It’s for this reason that he absolutely hates monsters, and Zach dedicates himself to slaying as many of them as possible.

Is naturally talented with just about any weapon he can get his hands on. Spears, swords, even archery though it is more of Apollo’s area. His feats in battle led to him being claimed by Ares pretty quickly, kind of a favourite child tbh.

He and Jude relate on a lot of things and have a pretty long history of friendship. They often accompany each other on quests whenever they can and make a great fighting team.

Very competitive in Capture the Flag though, and Chariot Races of course (though it’s very hard to beat Ciarán…)

Zach has many scars which he publicly treats as trophies due to the belligerent nature of his cabin, but really he doesn’t like them that much. He kind of puts on a show for his half-siblings, since weakness is targeted and all. They tend to idolise him as well, especially the younger ones.

He’s a collector of physical spoils of monsters though. Proud owner of a minotaur horn, which hangs ominously over his bed.

This is allegedly how he lost his eye. It’s a false story, though. The truth of it involves a certain goddess named Hecate…

Wields a super-heated Celestial Bronze spear which disguises itself as a lighter to mortals.

Jude - Daughter of Apollo

The result of a fling that her mother, Mary Bell, had when she was fairly young. Jude only knew her stepfather as a dad, at least until a monster attack killed both of her parents and left her completely shellshocked. She was taken to camp by a Satyr and felt very lost the whole time.

It was perhaps for this reason that Jude has taken to fighting off monsters so well. She doesn’t like keeping any trophies though.

Off the battlefield, she has a talent for healing inherited from her father, and spends a lot of time treating other demigods’ wounds.

She is always strongest during the day when the sun is highest, and hates Winter because there isn’t much daylight for her.

Despite being the daughter of the god of archery, she is an absolute garbage shot. She couldn’t believe it when she was claimed because of this, she almost thought it was a mistake lol. Probably thinks her dad is embarrassing as fuck too.

Also enjoys gardening so she’s friends with a lot of Demeter’s children. Except for Adam, who she gets real weird vibes from… Also, due to a feud she had with Hecate on a quest once, she and Abby don’t speak to eachother anymore. It seems she can’t forgive her.

Her weapon is a dagger made of Celestial Bronze that appears to mortals as a gold cross necklace.

Because her father is also the god of prophecy, Jude’s half-blood nightmares are especially vivid and foreboding.

Adam/Bill - Son of Demeter

It may seem pretty strange that Demeter would even take an interest in Bill’s dad, seeing as he was an asshole, a gambler, and lived in the desert… But sometimes weird things happen. Like Bill and Charlie.

As it was the arid desert, maybe Bill should’ve known something was up with him when he tracked grass and flowers everywhere. He loved to keep cacti, and had even more of a pronounced green thumb than his brother.

Being twins, obviously they were very close. Weird shit (like math teachers trying to kill them) always happened, but they didn’t think much of it until they were recovered by their Satyr. Actually, they were both pretty happy to get away from their shitty dad.

Of course, all good things come to an end. During a quest, Charlie died in a fight with a monster. Charlie, who was always the better warrior, the extroverted twin, the ace. Bill had to finish the Nemean Lion off himself.

Half-blood casualties happen all the time, but he was so well liked there were many mourners when burning his shroud.

The pelt also did come into his possession afterwards, but he didn’t want it, so it’s been left to rot away in the oracle’s attic.

After his brother’s death, Bill was never really the same. His other half-siblings tried to comfort him, but were discouraged by his change in personality. He started to experiment with plants in ways that most find a little sickening.

Like Max, he doesn’t like fighting. He isn’t great at it either, so he only really owns a greatshield that appears as a guitar case.

Ciarán - Son of Hades

Hades once fell for an Undertaker in Ireland, and the result of this union was Ciarán. That’s about the most you’ll get out of him though.

He doesn’t speak much, let alone about himself.

Ciarán is a very mysterious guy. He’s one of the oldest in camp, though he didn’t arrive until he was well in his late teens it seems. Nobody knows how old he is except possibly Chiron/the Camp Director. He also constantly wears a mask. No other half-blood has ever seen his face.

The visible appearance he does have is also a bit odd. He looks young, but has white hair, and he’s so pale and sickly that his skin is almost grey.

Maybe it’s this, or maybe it’s the fact he’s apparently the son of a god typically ostracised from the rest of the Olympians, but most people avoid him and think he’s intimidating or creepy. Even his own half-siblings aren’t immune tbh.

There are rumours that he’s not a half-blood at all, but actually a minor god of some kind… There’s no concrete proof to this though.

Often hangs around the Demeter cabin, (much to their dismay) and some of them could swear they’ve seen him admiring their flowerpots.

Carries a sword made of Stygian Iron that disguises itself as a horse-head whistle.

Max and Ciarán are often neck-and-neck in Chariot Riding activities. Neither of them are a bad sport about it though, it’s pretty easygoing.

Besties with a black Pegasus named Gormlaith.

The Librarian - Son of Athena

I know you don’t know this guy but bear with me

Being Athena’s brainchild, he was probably going to end up as a smart aleck. His rich father’s influence, however, led him to being even more of a pretentious know-it-all whose only downfall was the usual ADHD and Dyslexia, something that wasn’t understood during the time he was born (almost a century before modern times)

Even if his father survived, it didn’t matter. He had to be sent to camp half-blood for his own safety, and he was eager to learn more, but…

Just like Nico and Bianca, he spent time in the Lotus Hotel and Casino completely by accident. His Satyr had told him to wait around the area and his curiosity led to him wandering in. By the time another demigod’s quest brought them to him, decades had passed in the outside world.

So his arrival at the camp was difficult to say the least. He buried his sorrows in learning, as he always did. But misfortune followed him everywhere, even into the infamous labyrinth.

As for what happened to him, it’s difficult to say. That place isn’t exactly known for letting people out alive, though…

[oracleofsecrets]

More crafting chronicles {long post incoming}

I’ve had an idea for a while to make a little Navi (plain amigurumi didn’t seem Cool Enough) but I wasn’t sure how to do it until I got more into embroidery

The idea process and early development went kinda like:

yarn pompom body ->

wings done in wire work to be cut out ->

how attach?? Even if I got the wings somehow secured to the Pom the whole thing wouldn’t sit or hang upright ->

sew Pom to fabric instead then ->

Fabric being attached to can go in a 4x6 frame I forgot to return bc it didn’t show All 4x6 of whatever you put inside

So then came the Experimentation Phase

I wanted to see if there was any way to make the pompom with a gradient effect (white to bluish). The answer is not rrrealllyy? At least for how I want the gradient to Look (all around and not just on One hemisphere). I was also using a clothespin to make the Pom so that might have something to do with it…

Next trial was white yarn + dusting it with blue eyeshadow on the outer parts as I wrapped it. This did kinda work but the effect was lost after trimming (I did not realize how much trimming is necessary)

I did however spread the color all around to make it a nice light blue and spent like an hour combing it to be fluffy. Too bad I wrecked it days later trying to see if I could wipe off some of the makeup for a gradient…

Then I wasn’t sure what to sew it Onto since I don’t have a wide variety of fabrics to choose from. I did have a plain white cotton quarter that I went with, but I also didn’t want to embroider an entire background bc I want to give this to my brother for chrimbus

I remember seeing some posts in the embroidery Reddit about painting the parts of an embroidery you couldn’t/didn’t finish so I was like cool I’ll just do that for the background (hubris). Did a quick test on scrap fabric to make sure I could embroider through it without the dried paint like crusting all over the thread or something

That worked, so then I had to figure out how to paint for reals. I have not painted a full/original image since probably middle school art class. And all I have are cheap kiddie acrylic paints from Michael’s lol

Made a swatch matrix thing to get an idea of what basic combos/ratios of colors will result in. This is my first draft for testing mixing and how to fill up the space that’ll be in the picture frame. Mostly used sponges bc I’m just going for a vague bg reminiscent of n64 kokiri forest

Not bad, not great for an amateur first go ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Then p much right after, I worked on the for Reals version that I’m much prouder of. I remembered to use the cyan-ish green paint for mixing and actually used a brush lol. And tried what I assume are basic painting techniques (cover area fully with a dark or mid tone color, then layer on lighter shades and potentially go back to some of the darker shades again for details)

The next day I did some final details—adding some dark green to the grass and making sparklies. Made those of holo face highlighter liquid mixed with metallic gold and metallic teal paints respectively, and “painted” them using the top of a knitting needle. I think I might’ve taken this after spraying a little sealer on it

I made a new pompom out of white yarn with the fork method but I haven’t cut the loops yet bc I wanted to borrow some lighter blue eyeshadow from my sister to dust with. But she’s all “nooo I had an allergic reaction or it gave me conjunctivitis so you can’t use it for arts and crafts”. So no photo of the Pom since it’s unfinished

Got started on the wings as well! I’m making it out of iridescent organza

Used my new UST projector and my previous Pom to get the right proportions on some game arts to trace the wings onto stabilizer (well, onto a junk mail envelope then onto stabilizer folded in half for perfect mirror copy)

I have 26? Or 28 gauge wire that’s teal ish, which is nice bc I’m working with shiny floss that doesn’t hold its shape the same as cotton floss so there are gaps between my buttonhole stitches securing the wire. Felt like I didn’t really get into the hang of a consistent buttonhole until the end of the strand (top of the shape). At least I’ll get in plenty of practice on these bottom wings before starting the top wings

Also this hoop is super nice. It’s one of those plastic ones with a metal ring you squeeze like a hand exerciser thing to fit into the inner groove of the plastic. I couldn’t figure it out when I’d tried it a while ago with like regular-density fabric, but it’s perfect for how thin the organza is. I couldn’t get it evenly tensioned with the wood hoops I had bc it would slip through the tiny irregularities in the wood shape

The backside better shows the thread color :3 also probably the neatest back side I’ve ever done, out of necessity. I hope it’ll cut out well… I’m worried it’ll get messed up bc of how thin the fabric is :/ or if I’ll be able to tear away the stabilizer without messing up the stitching either…

[powpowchaos]

This is gonna be more soft than plot heavy— here is my brain dump for these drawings:

This is going to be romantic fluff sonadow- I have no self control and want something sickeningly sweet.

This au(?) is basically:

Maria Robotnik is alive and well and in her 30s (37-35? Mid 30s ) Shadow is Maria’s younger brother ofc. They both worked under GUN as a brother and sister duo until Maria got injured badly, crippling her from the waist down- she is still incredibly positive/optimistic and is still fighting against eggman but with her intense knowledge. Helping in the science field than deep in action. (( shadow blames himself for her injuries. And she knows this- reminding him that it was HER decision to do whatever that caused this to happen to her. Slight angst. He no longer is into the whole teaming up thing ))

ANYWAY: because of Maria and her achievements she was being celebrated, she managed to do something grand or something worth celebrating. (( idk I even thought hey- let her get married or something but I kinda like the idea of either a fundraiser she’s hosting or an incredible milestone something ))

Maria has also made many friends one being tails- he’s so young and incredibly talented met through a professor or through taking a class or something along the lines…and she knows of sonic of course. They all do.

Sonic and shadow have only crossed paths maybe twice in this au. Once from a distance back when Maria also worked for gun. The second time was the night before Maria’s celebration. Sonic and tails traveled to whatever city as they were invited to partake in the celebration. Maria was sure to include sonics name on the invite (( maybe she had gotten worried for shadow - and thought that maybe she could convince blue to either be her fill in or at the very least look out for him if he ever sees her brother around ))

The night before the celebration something had been happening downtown, some kind of battle or issue and of course both hedgehogs arrived before anyone else could show up. They both managed to fight and keep up with one another only for them to exchange a quick look more out of curiosity for one another. Both not so sure on the other not able to get a good look either since there was a lot going on. And of course police and gun agents show up once they had finished the fight. Sonic wanting to turn around and give the stranger a comment but the red striped stranger was already gone.

Fast forward to the day of the ceremony/celebration/thing. Sonic had accompanied tails and it was a lot of thank yous, future developments, a show floor with new tech that will be released for the public all that good stuff. And maybe they decide to leave a bit early. Maria was sure to find tails and sonic to thank them both for making the trip//mentioning her worries, only planting the seed more than actually asking sonic straight up. She doesn’t want to just push that responsibility onto him. But just mentioning that her brother might be cold but he could use someone around who can keep up is all… as they leave from some side door, it smells like freshly wet pavement from the rain. It smells like dark roasted coffee, and bitter cigarettes. there was a lingering scent of lavender that hid under it all.

It was the first time sonic could see the other hedgehog without some kind of obscurity.

The day was cold. The weather was dreary. The smell of smoke tickled his throat in an unpleasant way. And yet his heart leaped up into his throat with that bitter scent stuck. observing from a distance not sure if the other knows or even cares of his presence.

:) yeah.

I’ve been drawing shadow in a suit and then I drew sonic in a suit crushing over shadow—- I now have the urge to make this into an au or something idk what I just want them to wear suits and sonic to have a crush on shadow that is so obvious but he’s so oblivious to his own feelings.

[razorblade180]

Nine Days of Lancaster

[Day 6: Fake Dating AU]

Ruby: playing games

Ting!

Ruby: looks at scroll

Jaune: “Code Red”

Ruby immediately drops her controller. The girl bursts into petals around her home to make it spotless. Well, as spotless as it could be when your creating rose petals. Ruby goes as fast as she can when suddenly, she hear the doorbell. Ruby dashes quickly in her room and back out wearing a rose pink dress with dark red strawberries on it; a nice black clip held back her bang.

The huntress took a quick breath before opening the door to see Jaune with a woman with long blonde hair, an orange long sleeve and faded jeans. Her blue eyes were as welcoming as her smile, unlike Jaune’s nervous one.

Jaune:Hey Rubes, meet my mom.

Violet: Violet Arc, a pleasure to finally meet my little angel’s girlfriend!

Ruby:…Yep, that’s me-oop

The mother pulls Ruby into a hug. She laughs and hugs back. She wasn’t sure what should’ve expected, but his mom seemed nice enough. Ruby greeted them both in.

Violet:Ooo, smells nice in here. Sorry, but where’s your restroom? The trip was really long.

Ruby:Second door on the left.

Violet:Thank you. *walks off*

……door closes

Ruby:*whispers* What the fuck.

Jaune:I didn’t know she was coming. She surprised me and wanted to meet my girlfriend.

Ruby:I know code red for us is being a plus one and things of that nature, but I would’ve liked more of a five minute warning.

Jaune:I told you I lied to her about a girlfriend.

Ruby: *red* I know what I agreed to, it’s just…she seems so nice and understanding.

Jaune:Yeah my mom is great.

Ruby:Then why lie?

Jaune:She worries about me and if I tell her I’m single she’ll try to set me up with anyone.

Ruby:That doesn’t sound too bad.

Jaune:They’re always into live action drama and haven’t held a game controller before.

Ruby:Oh I’m so sorry.

The bathroom door opened and the two quickly tried to act natural, which in hindsight would be more suspicious than being weird.

Violet:You two flirting behind my back?

Jaune:Mom!

Violet:Haha I’m teasing sweetie. Not that I would mind.

Ruby:Umm you can help yourself to anything in the fridge. If I had known you were coming over I would’ve made cookies.

Violet:Oh it’s alright. I’m the one who is basically bargaining in. Though I bet your baking skills are pretty good if you’re dating my boy. He probably begs for sugar cookies.

Ruby:But…he told me he didn’t like sugar cookies. Jaune likes oatmeal.

Violet:What? No, I make sugar all the time and he lo-

Jaune:….

Violet:You don’t like my sugar cookies!?

Jaune:I didn’t say that. It’s just…sugar is boring.

Violet:What!? And oatmeal isn’t!?

Ruby:I know right? I still throw in chocolate chips so I don’t feel ashamed.

Jaune:Hey!

Ruby:Bleh 👅

Violet:Hehe. I see you’re into video games? I was never that good but fortunately he had many siblings who wanted to be player two. He might have my looks, but clearly we live in two different worlds.

Ruby:I just met you but I can tell he definitely got your heart too.

Violet:Aww, I like her!

Jaune:Thanks, me too.

The three of them eventually sat down and got to small talking. Maybe it was all awkward talks with Weiss in the past but Ruby was feeling pretty comfortable. Until…

Violet:So Ruby, ever think you want kids?

Ruby:*deep blush* Excuse me?

Jaune:*red* Mom! We’re still in school!

Violet:So? Life happens and if you’re anything like your father…

Jaune:Please don’t finish that.

Violet:All I’m saying is you two are young and rambunctious.

Ruby:Your son and I…we are taking things slowly. I think my father and sister would be pretty livid if I got a bun in the oven.

Violet:Oh I know a thing or two about father’s protecting their daughters. Saphron’s also pretty much a second mom to everyone. Jaune especially. I bet your mother though is hoping for some grandkids though?

Jaune:Uhh mom, Ruby’s mother passed away when she was young.

Violet:Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t-

Ruby:It’s fine. Happens all the time. Never really got to know her much but I’m told I’m a lot like her.

Violet:Then I know she was wonderful.

Ruby:Thanks. Heh, that means a lot.

Violet:So Jaune told me that you two met on the first day and quickly became friends.

Ruby:Yep. He was a lifesaver. I’m not best at meeting new people.

Jaune:I know. I was so surprised to see someone doing worse than me.

Ruby:Okay Vomit Boy.

Violet:You threw up!?

Jaune:Maybe! That’s not important!

Violet:Honestly, the things you do. It’s better than when you were 10 and threw up on the Ferris Wheel.

Ruby:*snickering* Those barely move.

Jaune:No. This one was fast, like really fast.

Violet:I really am glad he found someone. My son is a good man but a little strange and not the best at socializing. Tell me, what made you pick him?

Jaune:Geez, that’s a heavy question to throw out. Also a little loaded.

Violet:You know I love you sweetie but c’mon. You know you can be a little much at times. Especially when you were younger; always getting yourself into a situation and asking your sister’s for help. *pinches cheek* My little softie.

Jaune:….

Ruby:…You’re not giving him enough credit.

Violet:Huh?

Ruby:I mean sure, Jaune has stirred up a mess but so does everyone; at least he own it though. He’s always trying his best and because of his mistakes, Jaune is very understanding when others make one. I can get a one tracked mind or frustrated with myself. Every time I do, he’s always there to help ground me. Honestly I’d say I’ve learned a lot from him. Being a leader would be rough without him to bounce off of. Your son is sincere and intelligent. How could I not love him?

Violet and Jaune:*red*…..

Ruby:….!?!? Uh, sorry! I didn’t mean to ramble that much or sound rude! What meant was-

Jaune:You’re also always helping me improve; in more ways than I can count. I…love you too.

Three simple words. That’s all it took to make Ruby’s ears turn red. Unable to speak, she looked towards the floor and bring her hair up to her face. What was he thinking!? Sure she said it first accidentally, but he didn’t have to play along that well. Was he playing along!? His face was red too! A sniffle from Violet perked Ruby up.

Ruby:Mrs. Arc!?

Violet:I’m sorry, I’m just really happy right now. I can tell you two have a real connection. Between each other. Life doesn’t always guarantee such a thing. Especially in your line of work. I’m happy you found each other. Eugh, I’m a mess!

Ruby:Let me find you some tissue.

Violet:It’s fine. I have some in my purse. Though I think it’s high time I get out of your very pretty hair. There’s still so much I want to see and for him to show me. *stands up* Ruby Rose, I’m very happy I met you. Also please, call me Violet.

Ruby:It was nice meeting you too, Violet. Maybe we can share cookie recipes?

Violet:I’d like that very much.

Jaune: *stands up* Thanks for letting us stop by, seriously.

Ruby:Don’t mention it.

Violet:Hmmm *smiles* I’m gonna get the car ready. Sweetie, you can stay up here a little longer to give your Ruby a proper goodbye.

Jaune:Mom!

Violet:Oh don’t be like that. It’s written all over your face how much you wanna kiss her, but I get, I’m mom. So I’ll make myself scarce. Just don’t take too long. Bye~

With speed faster than Ruby’s, Violet left the two alone in awkward silence.

Jaune:Forgive her. She’s like that with everyone.

Ruby:She must’ve been fun at parent teacher conferences.

Jaune:It was the school plays that were rough. I…really can’t thank you enough.

Ruby:Seriously, anytime.

Jaune:Soooo I guess I’ll just wait a few minutes then-

Ruby:You should kiss me.

Jaune:Wh-What?

Ruby:It’s not okay to lie so much, especially to someone like your mom. If you actually kiss me… then you won’t have to lie about it.

Arguing with logic like that felt challenging, not to mention baffling. Then again, Jaune didn’t really want to counter it at all. Ruby stood before him with her flushed face and body that swayed side to side. He didn’t comment on it before, but she looked very beautiful in that dress. Slowly, he grabbed her shoulders. He felt her jolt a little before locking eyes with him.

Too nervous to move further, Ruby simply shut her eyes and tilted her head up a little, anxiously waiting for Jaune’s response. To her surprise, she didn’t wait long. A gentle, warm sensation pressed against her lips; making her body relax and even lean more into it before it ended. It couldn’t have been more than a three seconds yet by the time Ruby opened her eyes, Jaune was beat red and about to walk out.

Jaune:Text you later?

Ruby:S…Sure. Later.

Jaune closes the door and silence returned. Ruby walked over to the door to lock it before turning around. Her back pressed against it as her legs gave out, causing her to slide down against the door until she sat on the floor. Her fingers touched her lips while her heart began to pound; ears still burning from Jaune’s words.

Ruby:Oh no~

[choralmeres]

Do You Believe?

msr. high school au. tagging @today-in-fic​

“There’s Fox, I’m so glad that they finally found Samantha.” He had heard someone say as he climbed onto the bus.

He frowned at the use of his first name; he never liked it, but everyone insisted on calling him it.

They had indeed found his sister, Samantha after she had been abducted; but he felt like some part of him had changed when she was gone. Many parts, actually. 

For one, he didn’t think that ‘some guy who wanted to get money from the Mulders’ abducted her, no matter how many times his father insisted. He thought it was... aliens. 

It did seem like a far stretch, but everything he knew so far fit a profile of an alien abduction.

He sat down next to Tom Colton, who immediately started talking to him.

“Now you can stop hanging out with the long gun men crowd.”

Mulder frowned some more. 

“Lone Gunmen.” He corrected. “And besides, they’re actually fun to hang out with.”

Tom studied him. “You really have changed, haven’t you?” 

He mumbled something that sounded like an ‘I suppose’ and then tried to look out the window- which was harder than expected, as he wasn’t sitting next to the window.

Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the person next to him from talking to him.

“It’s just sad that we didn’t get to sit at the very front- you know, how we used to control the windows and scare the girls?” And right on cue, the windows went down, and a large jumble of screams could be heard from the back. “Too bad they always move them a few seconds late.”

Suddenly, he felt extremely glad that he was not sitting next to the window, as he did not, in fact, know or remember.

He tried to make a small laugh that satisfied Tom and looked back, where the people were still squealing- and saw a redhead, nose in a thick science textbook, peacefully sitting, and definitely not paying attention to the people around her.

“That’s Dana Scully.” Tom told him after he noticed Mulder staring. “She transferred last month, but of course, you likely didn’t see her because your parents were too… you know.”

Well, it wasn’t like he was lying. His parents had made him go to school in their car, and made teachers keep an incredibly close eye on him after Samantha was taken.

Which basically meant that they had to surround him at all times. He didn’t like it, but it was either that or not going to school at all.

And school had a basketball court, unlike how his mother had conveniently taken away the basketball hoop a while ago because of a safety concern.

“Fox! Fox, sorry did I offend you?”

There were many things that Tom had said that were much more offensive than that, and he didn’t apologize for it- but Mulder decided not to tell him that. Instead, he went with a ‘fine, just thinking’ for a response.

But he supposed that’s what happens when your sister is kidnapped- even when she was found.

Tom went on again about how Dana Scully said no to dating him, and how she would probably say no to him too, but that he was ‘the most popular guy in this hellhole’ and might be able to.

He had to stifle a laugh at that comment. Everyone, even his parents had used that phrase before- something about him being able to do anything and everything because he was a popular guy, apparently.

Alright, maybe he was better than most people at figuring out who’s secret admirer was who, and of course basketball, but other than that, he was your very average person.

He reached over and rummaged his backpack to find something of interest to talk about, and it was at that moment where he saw Dana Scully look above her textbook and right at him, bright blue eyes and all.

“Am I?” He asked, quickly turning back around, as if her quick eye contact had made him suddenly interested in this kind of whatnot. “You know, still fairly well liked?”

“Sure you are, I mean, Diana still pines over you.” 

He groaned as the bus tires screeched, stopping in front of the school. “I didn’t mean that.” 

Tom had appeared to not have heard and made a very exaggerated shrug- and Mulder, suddenly remembering that everyone still probably liked Diana, especially Tom, and was thankful that he hadn’t heard.

However, Dana Scully certainly had, because he could see in the window reflection that she was making an odd facial expression which was a combination of a smirk and an eyebrow raise. 

Mulder was pretty sure it was that particular thing that made him walk towards her after he got off the bus.

“Uh, hi, Dana- er Scully!” He said rather awkwardly. 

She turned around and looked at him expectantly. 

“I’m-” he began.

“Fox!” A voice called. A voice who could only belong to a Diana Fowley. 

“I was so worried about you!” She said, rather falsely. “You know that you can always call me, right?” 

He nodded robotically- well, he would never describe himself as robotic in any other single situation, but he learned that this was the only way to get Diana off his back. 

A rather time consuming way, too, as Dana Scully had disappeared after Diana was done talking his head off.

...

The next time that he saw her was during lunch, and he specifically slipped out of the classroom a minute before the bell rang. 

She came out of the Science Building, a very wide grey-blue building, then sat down in front of it. He had never been in the building, as the subjects that he took so far were considered social sciences and therefore wasn’t in the Science Building. 

Now, he wished he had taken classes in the Science Building, he thought as he walked towards it.

“Where are you going?” Tom, just like Diana, had appeared suddenly behind him. What was it with these people and appearing behind people?

“I’m going to try getting into the Science Building- wasn’t it newly remodeled? Maybe I’ll take a look.” 

“Yeah, like eight years ago.” Tom scoffed. “And didn’t you already take physical science last year? In the social science labs? I don’t see why you need to go in there again...”

Ah yes, Mulder remembered how last year, the Science Building had a few sets of problems, and it was something to do with exploding Bunsen Burners during the summer courses, and they had to make temporary labs in the social science department so they could get their physical science credits. 

His mother had pushed very hard, after that incident, for him to go into social science instead. ‘There aren’t exploding Bunsen Burners in Psychology, Fox’.

And so he did, because Samantha had just gone missing, and he didn’t need his parents to worry any more.

Tom Colton also hated the Science Building, because one of his rivals’ parents had donated money to remodel and build it. 

“It’s not for the labs, Tom.” 

“Then what, the gun men crew again?” 

Mulder sighed as he saw a flash of red disappear back into the building. “I just want to see the building, there isn’t a problem with that, is there?” 

He then walked past him, and into the Science Building, not bothering to look around. 

“I’m Mulder,” He said after he found Scully. 

She raised her eyebrow, not commenting on his very out-of-breath state, which he was incredibly grateful for. 

“Scully.” She said, not moving from her spot three feet away. 

He then leaned closer and whispered, as if it was a secret, and he supposed that in a way, it was. “Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?” 

Mulder knew that he shouldn’t have expected too much from a redhead who raised her eyebrow quite often and carried physics textbooks, but surprisingly, unlike the time he asked his father the same question, he felt slightly less idiotic when the words flew out of his mouth.

Even when Scully’s eyebrow stayed raised, and even when she logically explained the holes in the stories that he shared.

So, he thought to himself, Scully definitely wasn’t a believer.

But he was. And he believed in extraterrestrials. He also believed in Scully.

Whatever that meant.

[technowoah]

Hi! If you do tommyinnit x reader (romantic), I would like one where reader is tubbo's sister perhaps? She would have the feature reader has still not tubbos. Maybe they meet when tubbo and tommy meet up and he just kinda starts to like her? If not that's ok! -paw <3

Prepare For Trouble Make it Double

I hope this suffices 😋

Requested!

Romantic(?)

Tommyinnit x Tubbo's sister!reader (blurb?)

⚠︎ its tommy so it'll be slight swearing-

It wasn't a secret that Tubbo had siblings, he had Lani of course, but what people didn't know that he had another sister closer to his age.

You tended to stay out of the spotlight, for reasons. Streaming was interesting but not your fortè. You usually tended to stay behind the camera when Tubbo was streaming or off to the side quietly talking to him as he did his own lore or sitting on Lani's bed doing your own thing listening to her talking to her viewers.

Your siblings never tried to convince you to go out of your comfort zone and appear on streams, only once in a blue moon you would talk to Lani out of frame. Lani of course would respond, the chat would freak out asking if you were a friend, finally the moment was gone as fast as it came.

Thats how days go in their household. Tending to hover around eachother and whatever they were doing at the moment. But it was this one particular moment when Tubbo was streaming and he suddenly decided to bring you on to show his 700k viewers that he had another sister.

He had pulled up a brown folding chair next to him and patted it beckoning you to sit down in frame.

Tubbo was currently streaming on the Dream SMP, you didnt think he was doing lore today so you hesitated a little bit. Other days you wouldn't have budged out of your spot out of sight, but he looked so excited in his yellow jumper you had bought for him whe going to out to the shops.

In a unrelated note You remember saying that "yellow is your color" and he ended up buying it, and his stans loved the jumper. So a win win.

"C'mon Y/N!" He yelled as continued to pat the folding chair next to him.

You ended up shuffling over to the seat next to him and smiling at the camera. Over in the corner of your eye you saw the chat which was going 1 million miles an hour. You saw some comments that were basically copypastas of other comments in the chat. It was basically nonsense, now the only thought in your mind is that you're going to make an uproar on twitter.

"This is my sister chat!" Tubbo said while shaking you around by the shoulders making the both of you laugh.

"Yes chat! I have more siblings" he continued while rocking back and forth in his gamer chair.

He continued to answer more questions and ask you some too, wanting to include you in the stream.

"Lani isn't the only one! My big sister is just shy."

"I just chose not to be on their streams! I was in the background of Lani's streams though."

"Out of frame. Dosent count." Tubbo said bluntly while still walking around SnowChester in the Dream Smp not looking your way.

You could still see the chat in the corner and you couldnt tear your eyes off of it. It was slight glare from the lights and the sun shining in his gaming room. He always had the lights bright in his room. The chat was spamming purple hearts and either still freaking out that Tubbo had a sister. It was getting old to you, so you decided to lean into Tubbo's space focusing on his screen as he quickly hopped around the map.

He continued talking to chat about anything else, but your presence. He continued to talk about gathering supplies and what he needed to bring back to SnowChester. You knew a lot about the Dream Smp lore because you weren't in it. Spending time on Twitter interacting with people and their theories and also making theories and showing them to Tubbo and him debunking them, or accepting them in some way.

"So we need some more lapis." Tubbo said suddenly after being quiet for a while.

"I can help you!" You said wanting to be apart of the stream.

You might as well, you're already here.

"I dont think you can help, 'cause you're not on your account. Plus it'll be awkward with your laptop." Tubbo said while speeding through his water transportation system.

"Well I can just point it out to you." You said while leaning back into your seat.

"Talk to the chat while I go mine for lapis."

"Fine then." You smirked as you turned your attention to the speeding words in the chat.

"Is there a slow mode on this?!" You laughed.

Tubbo laughed as well. "This is on slow mode!"

You both screamed in fake agony and then turned your attention back to the chat where the you caught a few questions. You were about to answer until the chat stopped for a quick second and you saw one comment out of all for a quick second.

✔tommyinnit: HI TUBBO'S SISTER IM TOMMY LETS MAKE A VIDEO TOGETHER

After that comment the whole chatt was just spamming the word 'TOMMY' or 'TOMMY IS IN CHAT'. That confused you even more than that comment.

When you did know about the Dream Smp you also knew a little bit about who Tubbo hangs out with. You knew about the time Tubbo had met up with Wilbur Soot, Philza, and Tommy. And that prompted you to look up their individual accounts and get into their content.

You knew about Tommy and his character and channel, you enjoyed his content a lot as well, but you wanted to play around a little bit. Hopefully Tubbo will play along.

"Why is the chat spamming Tommy?"

"Tommy? You know Tommy don't you?" Tubbo asked with a small bit of shock in his voice.

"No I dont, who's Tommy?" You asked again, acting oblivious.

"Oh. Oh well then, Tommy is like my best friend, we're actually meeting up soon!" Tubbo said with excitement.

He continued. "You hear that chat! You get Tommy and Tubbo content!

You had lost interest in Tubbo talking with his chat about hanging out in Brighton with Tommy again. Your eyes drifted towards the chat again and saw Tommy comment in the chat again.

✔tommyinnit: HOW DARE YOU NOT KNOW WHO I AM

✔tommyinnit: I WILL NOT MAKE A VIDEO WITH YOU ANYMORE

"Well Tommy I dont have an account so, sorry I cant get you views whoever you are." You said responding to Tommy with a smirk.

"Woke up and chose violence huh?" Tubbo laughed and you joined in as well.

"Tommy chose violence today too."

"You both are violent you will be nice together." Tubbo said with his focus still in his screen.

"Together?!" You exclaimed.

"Yeah together!" Tubbo said matching your energy.

You rolled you eyes and continued answering other comments instead of thinking about Tubbo's answer.

After that whole, incredibly longer than you thought, stream Tubbo decides to invite you along to their little meeting. Which you didnt know how you found yourself walking along Brighton's rocky shore in old Crocs. You were walking along the shoreline letting the cold water come up and hit your feet every so often.

He was waiting for Tommy at the moment, but you wanted to walk for a bit, he let you ho on by yourself while he waited for Tommy by himself.

You were quite a long way from where Tubbo seated himself on the rocks, you were doing your own thing looking at people who stared back at you for temporarily blocking their line of view of the shore, and little kids who decide to run away from their parents who weren't paying attention. Your peaceful walk got interrupted by your thoughts because you were quite a long way from Tubbo's resting place.

You started to head back, following back the way you came, but this time picking up the pace a bit to reach your destination. As you came upon Tubbo you saw a taller figure approach Tubbo and they seemed to greet eachother, it was hard to see where you were standing. Of course it was Tommy so the two of them started talking about who knows what, until Tubbo pointed your way.

As you kept walking, Tubbo continued to wave you over enthusiastically. You waved back with the same energy, finally making your way over to the both of them.

"What's up?" You asked the two of them with a smirk.

"Nothing much! Apparently you two haven't met before! So Tommy this is Y/N! Y/N thjs is Tommy!" Tubbo user hand gestures to introduce eachother.

You held your hand for Tommy to shake it, "Hey Tommy! Im a big fan."

"Big fan?! I thought you said you didn't know me?" Tommy exclaimed.

He was a lot less shouty in real life, than online. He was still loud, but to a lesser extent.

"Yeah I lied back then." You sent him a huge grin.

Tommy scoffed and groaned a little, "I cant belive you fuckers lied to me."

"Im actually a big fan. Well not big, but a fan at least." You laughed.

Apparently you and Tommy were the only ones standing while Tubbo typed on his phone while sitting back on the rocks not paying attention and letting you both talk amongst yourselves.

"Oh! That's an honor that Tubbo's big sister like my videos." Tommy's eyes widened slightly as he talked to you.

"Big sister only by 1 year! It's close!" Tubbo complanied, looking up from his phone.

"It still count big man." Tommy said to his friend.

"Thanks Tommy!" You thanked the tall man standing next to you.

"It's only a year! It dosent count! We're the same age!" Your brother continued to complain.

After the laughter and joking around calmed down you and Tommy stood there awkwardly until he spoke up again.

"Well good thing I know what I have to deal with. I cant deal with one of you, now I have to deal with two." Tommy joked around taking a seat next to Tubbo.

The exact moment when Tommy took a seat next to Tubbo, Tubbo shot up from his spot on the ground.

"Do you think we can do Uber Eats here?" Tubbo asked as he stood up.

You say down next to Tommy. "Yeah maybe if you go to a certain place and not say "the beach".

"I'll go to the pizza place and order there. What do you both want?" Tubbo asked, ready to put in any order.

"Just get McDonald's really." You sighed leaning back on the rocks.

"Im not hungry." Tommy said bluntly.

Tubbo nodded and walked away from you both leaving you two to sit in silence for a while with the small waves crashing, and kids having their own fun. It was a comfortable silence to you, but Tommy kept figeting over where he sat criss-crossed.

Tommy finally spoke up. "Im actually fucking starving ya know?

"No I don't! You should've asked for food!" You laughed in disbelief.

Tommy sighed. "Do you want to get some food and ditch Tubbo for now?"

Your eyes widened, not opposed to the idea, but was this his plan the whole time?

He continued on, "We could go sit at that pizza place and order some food there. Just the two of us until Tubbo freaks out."

You opened your mouth to protest leaving your brother in the dark, but he beat you to it.

"Dont worry about Tubbo! Stuff rolls off his back easy."

"No it dosent-"

"Yeah it does! You wanna just go out with me now?!" Tommy exclaimed.

"Are you getting annoyed?" You asked amused at his words.

"No I am not I just-"

"Yeah I want to go to the pizza place now. I would love to Tommyinnit." You smiled at him and he smiled back.

Both of you got up and made your way over to that small pizza diner close to the beach. You only could hope this goes as well as you wanted it to

[krakenartificer]

When I got my ADHD diagnosis, I looked at the questions on the screening form and thought, "If this result comes back positive, then I'm definitely not the only person in my family who has it." Questions like

"Have difficulty finishing one activity before starting another one" and

"I finish others' sentences before they can finish it themselves" and

"have trouble staying on one topic when talking"

...I thought were just weird quirks of my family, but no. When I got my results, I contacted my cousin, and she contacted her sisters and mother, and .. .. yeah. Basically everyone in my dad's side of the family is ADHD.

Now there are some problems with that, obviously, (getting family reunions to stick to a schedule is lol no) but there are some really fantastic perks. For one thing, no one in that family minds if I interrupt them while they're talking ... everyone's happy to keep 3 conversations going at the same time .... and no one minds if you fidget constantly.

But the best perk -- at least that I've found so far -- is that all of our parents have coping mechanisms, and passed them on to us. When I found myself unable to handle tasks with more than one step, my father didn't say "WTF are you talking about? It's easy! Just do the thing! Stop being lazy!" No, he could relate completely, and he sat down and taught me how to handle that.

So today, I'm going to pass on to you the coping mechanism my dad taught me for handling the "cannot put tasks in order / cannot get started / forget what I'm doing" problem. You'll need to adjust it for your own needs and your own struggles, but hopefully it'll be helpful in setting up your own process.

I'm going to walk through it with a big project I'm doing at work, just to have a concrete example. That will make some of the discussion specific to computer programming and technical writing, but I do the same thing for all my projects, so hopefully it'll be generalizable.

So to set the stage:

I was supposed to modify this piece of code -- we'll call it "Rosetta" -- to make it handle call data as well as what it was already doing. I did that.... but we now need the code to be able to handle calls (if that's wanted) but also to be able to handle NOT having calls (if THAT'S wanted).

Which is just .... ugh. So much. SOOOOOOOO much.

So. Break it down.

Step one is to get some recording mechanism - pen and paper, whiteboard, blank computer document, whatever

(Technically, this is a different coping strategy, so we'll just take a quick detour: WRITE THINGS DOWN. Your brain is shit at remembering things, and anyway you've already got limits on your working memory; why would you choose to tie up some of that limited resource in something that could be accomplished with literal stone-age technology? Don't even try to remember things. WRITE THEM DOWN.)

I like sticky notes: they're readily available in all offices, they're pretty cheap, and (most importantly) they can be rearranged if it turns out that I forgot a step or put the steps in the wrong order (which, like, let's be honest, I am definitely going to do). But they kill trees and create unnecessary methane emissions, so I've recently switched over to using virtual sticky notes. That's the format I'm going to use for this example, but you can use anything that meets your purposes.

So, you've got something to write with, you're ready to start.

The first question is: what are you trying to accomplish here? What would "done" look like? What is our goal?

I need to end up with a version of Rosetta that will make the correct results if you don't want calls, and will also make the correct results if you do.

The goal here is that you end up with a statement that you can definitively say (a) Yes this is what I wanted or (b)No this is not right because _______

In this case, in order to do that, I'll need to define "correct results" for both call- and non-call versions. But if I have that nailed down, then this statement meets that criterion: I'll be able to say "Yes, this is what I wanted: see, it makes the correct result for calls, and it makes the correct result for not-calls". Or else I'll be able to say, "No, this is wrong: see, it makes the correct result for calls, but on not-calls it does X and we wanted Y."

I have a clear, definitive standard about what I need to do and whether or not I've done it.

But there was a prerequisite there: I need to define "correct results".

So that goes on a sticky note: Create test that will compare my results to existing call!Rosetta-results and to existing not-call!Rosetta-results.

[ID: Two blue boxes, one on top of the other. The top one says in white text "Create test to compare my results to call!results" The bottom one says "Create test to compare my results to not-call!results"] OK. So now we know what we want. The second question is: what do we need to do in order to get that? Here's where the sticky-note recording system really shines, because you don't have to answer this question sequentially. You just start writing down every single thing that is not the way you want it to end up.

I need it to remove commas in the python script, not the bash script

I need to delete the first part of the get_runs() function, which doesn't do anything

I need to delete the rest of the parameters passed to build_query_script() function, because runs encompasses all the others

while we're on that subject, runs doesn't even need the group_variable, so let's pull that out of the parameter document

we also have a dmf defined, which the bash script demands but doesn't use; let's change that demand

since we're changing the structure of the parameter document, we don't need to pull new metrics for each run, so let's move that outside of the runs() loop and only run once

right now the parameter document is ALMOST but not quite "one row per template". Make it so it's actually one row per template.

among other things, that's going to require making it possible for a template to be followed by nothing at all, since it's the assumption that a template will have a metrics block after it that makes it not quite one row per template. So make it possible to publish a template with a null block

the other thing that's weirdly hard-coded is the definition of what a block looks like. Would it make more sense to separate that out into an input file, like the parameters document? On the one hand, that would make it much more flexible; on the other hand, that's another piece that can break. Don't know. Put a question mark on it.

etc

Here's what it looks like at the end of this step:

[ID: A black and white background showing many boxes in two different shades of blue, all with white text. Some of the boxes are overlapping each other.]

As you can see, at this phase you don't need to worry about any of the following:

ordering the tasks. Just stick 'em right on top of each other for now

how you're going to do any of this. Right now we just need to know what, not how

sticking to only one project. As I was working on this, it occurred to me that this whole process would have been a heck of a lot easier if someone had just made a user manual for this, and since I have to go through all the code line-by-line anyway, I might as well write up the documentation while I'm at it. (To help out future-me, if nothing else.) So I put those tasks on another color of sticky note.

making notes that make any ***ing sense to anyone else. This process is for you, and only you need to understand what you're talking about it. Phrase it in ways that make sense to your brain, and to hell with anyone else.

on that topic, also don't worry about making steps that are "too small" or "too dumb" to write down. This is for you. If "save document" feels like a step to you, then write it down.

You also don't need to get every single step involved in the project right now. Get as many as you can, to be sure, but the process is designed on the assumption that you ARE going to forget important steps, and is designed to handle that.

When you can't think of any more steps, then the third question is: what order does it make sense to do these in? Are there any steps that would be easier if you did another step first? Are there any that literally cannot be done unless another step is complete?

This is also a good place to group steps if they fit together nicely. When I used physical sticky notes, I used two different sizes; digitally I can of course make them whatever size I want.

So I have several documentation steps that (a) do need to be written to make sense to other people and (b) I really need to know what's going on before I can do that. I could write them now, but if I did, I'd just end up re-writing them based on things that change as I'm coding. So we'll move those to the end:

[ID: Three dark blue boxes with white text. They read "Create step-by-step instructions for creating your own metric agg", "Create step-by-step instructions for modifying a metric", "Create step-by-step instructions for modifying a query."]

These parts, though -- if I had all the variable structures written down, I could look at them while I'm coding. Then I won't have to keep scrolling back and forth in the code, trying to remember if it's an array or a dictionary while also trying to remember what part of the code I was working on. Brilliant. Move that to the front.

[ID: Seven dark blue boxes with white text, three large, four small. The first one is large and says "Write up explanation of how Rosetta works." The second one is large and says "Document structure of all variables." Attached to that one are four smaller boxes that say "All_blocks", "Runs", "metric", "New_block". The third large one says "Document what qb_parameters.csv contains"]

Also, while I'm at it, I should get the list of variables I need to document -- then I won't have to keep scrolling to find them. Make those sub-steps.

I definitely keep needing to look up what's in the parameters document, so I should write that down, too. For the user manual I also should write down what's in the metric document, but I don't need that for myself, so I can send that to the end.

[ID: The same three dark blue boxes from two screenshots ago (create step-by-step instructions for metric agg, modifying a metric, and modifying a query), now with another dark blue box in front of them with white text that says "Document what granular_metrics.tsv contains."]

These five are all small steps, and are all related in that they don't actually (hopefully) change the functionality of the code; they're just stuff left over from prior versions of this code. So we can lump them all together.

[ID: Five light blue boxes with white text that say "Delete first part of get_runs()", "Have build_query_script only receive the "run" parameter" "Delete dmf" "Move metrics=get_metrics() outside build_all_blocks (all the way up to the top level?" "Delete group_variable from qp_parameters"]

My brain likes this better, so that I can keep track of fewer "main steps", but that's just a peculiarity of me -- you should lump and split however you prefer to make this process easier for you.

[ID: The same five boxes from the prior screenshot, now all made smaller and attached to a larger box that says "Remove Legacy Code"]

Keep going, step by step, sticky by sticky, until you've got them in order. If -- while you're doing this -- you remember another thing you need to do, write it on a sticky and slap it on the pile; you don't have to stop what you're doing to deal with it, because it's written down and it's on the pile and it will get processed; you can just keep working on the thing you're on right now.

[ID: All the same boxes from the first screenshot, now in a neat row. Some of the original boxes have been grouped together. The ones that were said to be at the beginning of the process are on the left and the ones that were said to be at the end are on the right.]

Step four: for the love of all that's holy, SAVE THIS LIST.

Write it on your cubicle whiteboard where it won't be erased

write it on a piece of paper and tape it to the office wall

send an email to yourself

take a picture with your phone

I don't care but save it.

When I used physical sticky notes, I kept them all on the hood of my cubicle's shelf. Now, as you can see, I use Powerpoint, which is irritating af but does allow me to keep everything in a single document, which I can write down the path of.

[ID: White text on a black background says "open ~/Documents/Rosetta\ Modifications\ and \Documentation.pptx" The next line says "Notes in Rocketbook pg 10-12, 16" The next line says "Turn that into documentation that can be used for making modifications."]

And now (finally) you can answer the question "How would I even get started on that?" You look at the first thing on the list, and you treat it as its own project. You can hyperfocus on this step and completely forget about everything else this project requires, because everything you need to remember for the rest of it is written down.

If, as you're working a step, you think of something else you need to do for the big project, write it on a sticky and slap it on the pile. Don't even worry about trying to order it or identify sub-steps; as long as it's not blocking the thing you need to work on right now, you don't have to care. Just stick that bugger anywhere at all on the list, and go back to what you were doing. When you un-hyperfocus and come back to look at your list, there'll be a big sticky note stuck sideways across all the rest of the steps, and you'll remember to file and order it then.

Other benefits of this system

1) The first question really helps with unclear directions from your boss. You can take whatever they told you to do, and translate it into a requirement that is clearly either met or not-met, and then run it back by the boss.

If they say, "No, no, we want ______" then phew! You just saved a huge miscommunication and weeks of wasted work! What a good employee you are! What an excellent team player with strong communication skills!

If they say "Yes, that's what I want," then you know -- for sure -- what it is you're trying to accomplish. Your anxiety is reduced, and your boss thinks you're super-conscientious.

(And if your boss is a jerk who likes to move the goalposts and blame it on their subordinates, then have this conversation over email, so you can show it to their boss or to HR should it become necessary.)

2) Having this project map means that when you spend an hour staring at the requirements and trying to figure out how to get started (which, let's be honest, you were definitely going to do anyway) ... When your boss/coworker comes by and says, "How's it going?" Instead of having to say "I haven't even started 😞" You can say, "Pretty well! I've got all the steps mapped out and am getting ready to start on implementation!" and show them your list, and they think you're very organized and meticulous. 3) Sometimes, especially in corporate jobs, you and your coworkers will run into a problem that's too big for even Neurotypicals to hold all in their heads. At that point, the NTs will be completely lost -- they've never had to develop a way to handle projects they can't just look at and know how to get started. So then you pipe up in the meeting and say, "OK, well, what exactly are we trying to accomplish?" and everybody at the conference table looks at you like you're a goddamned genius and you don't have to tell them that you use this exact same process to remember how to make a sandwich 😅

4) Having this project map makes it so much easier to stop work and then start it up again later, but this post is already really really really long, so I'm going to address that in a separate (really really long) post.

[ezgithechaotic]

The Parent Trap | Chapter Six; to love someone else

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

AU: The Parent Trap,  dad!harry

series summary:  Identical twins Benjamin and Edward, separated at birth and each raised by one of their biological parents, later discover each other for the first time at summer camp and make a plan to bring their wayward parents back together.

chapter summary; There are so many thing to say, but so little time for Harry and Y\N. 

author note; well hello there, ı’m back. It’s been really long and I’m so soryy about it. But I guess you guys are used to it. I will try to write the next chapter soon! Don’t be shy to send me a message if you would like to talk and be friends. I don’t bite, I promise! 

I’m sorry in advance if I have any fault. English is not my first language. My askbox is always open if you want to talk. Please leave a comment about what you think, love you.  

Taglist is open. Please send me an ask or comment if you want to be tagged! (22\30)

The Parent Trap Masterlist,  main masterlist 

Life had a funny way of bringing people together, and it had no interest in their desires. Sitting on one of the blue couches, a coffee in her hand, the only thing Y\N wanted to do was run away and never look back. But she wasn't eighteen anymore; she had learned that running from your problems only circled you back to them. So, she did what every reasonable person would do, stayed put. But now, seeing her hand shaking while holding the silver spoon, Y\N was questioning every decision she ever made that brought her to this point. 

So much for getting over him Y\N, well done. 

"You look good." 

The moment words left his mouth Harry cursed himself silently. You look good. Of course, she did. Is that what he all had? After almost nine years, Y\N still made him tongue-tied. He wasn't the Harry who stood in front of thousands of people to perform; he was a boy again, and he hated it. He was eighteen again, seeing his producer's sister and thinking, maybe he is capable of love. Despite feeling like it was yesterday, Harry wasn't eighteen anymore. He didn't have the opportunities to be stupid and in love. It had been a long time since Harry had lost that chance. Wishing he could say sorry and explain anything wasn't going to solve anything, and it surely wasn't going to bring him his old Y\N, who was naive enough to fall in love with a worldwide star. She knew better now. So, maybe the only thing he could come up with was you look good. 

Even though a moment of sadness passed her face, Y\N was quick to pull herself together. She put a kind smile on her face, the way she did when one of her customers made her feel tired, but she still had to keep going. Harry had seen that smile before when he told her he had to cancel one of their dates, again or when he told her that they couldn't be seen together in public.

"You look good too." 

There it was again, her velvet-like voice. Y\N had always amazed Harry; she could be kind to everyone no matter what, even when the person across her was the reason for her broken heart. Neither of them dared to ask about their sons and each other. How would you ask about someone you chose to leave behind? 

"Can I..." Y\N could feel her anxiety riling up. She took a deep breath and tried sitting more straight. "How is he?" 

Harry's heart almost skipped a beat. He couldn't decide if he was stupid to send him away. Would it be less awkward if Benjamin was there, or would it be a dread to explain to him why his mother was standing in the middle of their guest room? 

"Look, I know we had an agreement." Y\N sighed. Harry didn't realize how much time it took him to come up with an answer until she spoke. "I only want to know how he is."

"He's... Well, he's good." 

Harry apparently lost his ability to form any good sentences that day, but it looked like he was talking to a brick wall. Y\N left her cup on the coffee table, now leaning and resting her elbows on her knees. 

"I feel like I'm doing a terrible job." Eyes fixed on the ground and watery, head between her hands, Harry couldn't remember the last time he had seen Y\N so vulnerable. "Edward is the sweetest boy, I swear. He's the perfect kid any parent could ask for. And I feel like I'm the worst mother for tearing him apart from his brother, for not giving him the life he deserves. And the only thing I can think of is would he be happier if he were with you." She was up suddenly, pacing around the room. 

"And how much I missed from Benjamin's life. Will, he ever know me, or Edward ever know you? Will they ever know each other? Will they ever forgive us for what we did?" She stopped, looking at Harry.  She couldn't remember how long it had been since she looked into his green eyes. She wanted to keep going. Scream, shout, cry. But she stood there, looking at him, waiting like he could give her an answer. 

Will I ever forgive myself for letting you go?

Y\N wanted to keep asking, but there was no point. She stopped a tear before it could reach her jaw, quickly. "God, I don't know how long I've been holding that in." 

Harry was dying to apologize, to ask if she was missing him as much as he was missing her. He was dying to fall at her feet and beg for forgiveness. Instead, he sat there, like an idiot.

"We were young, Y\N. We did what we thought was best. Wrong or right, there is no undoing it right now." 

Hearing her name roll off his sweet mouth woke something inside Y\N. She had so many things she wanted to say but didn't know where to begin. Her mouth was frantically opening and closing back again, but nothing came out. 

-

Sarah and Mitch were just outside the room, trying to listen to the conversation. "I swear he's so stupid," Mitch whispered. "Just say something!" 

"Hey, be quiet. I'm trying to listen." 

Before Mitch could say anything, he heard key sounds coming from the front door. He quickly turned to Sarah. "Camille wasn't visiting today, right?" He was praying that it wasn't Camille, but there wasn't anyone outside them who had keys to Harry's house. 

"Shit." 

-

"I know you're a great mother, Y\N; I know that. And I know we did wrong things, but that doesn't mean you're failing."

"I feel like I am." Y\N was still standing there, her fingers fidgeting with her white shirt. She wanted to yell, how could he possibly know what kind of mother she was? He was never there. Harry stood up with a purpose to walk to Y\N and maybe to hold her. But his actions stopped when the door to the guest room opened.  

And there she was, Camille Rowe with all her glory. Blonde hair sitting on her shoulders, red-colored lips, and long lashes, she looked like she came straight from a runway. And Y\N tried with all her might, but she couldn't hate her. Even though her pants were horrible, even though she always used her beauty to get away with her cruelty. And, true, the diamond ring sitting on her finger was no help, but still, she had no hate for her. It wasn't Camille's fault that she was at his feet, basically asking Harry to fix everything because she was too vulnerable.

How Y\N wished she could love somebody else that wasn't Harry. She wished she could move on as he did. But it was stuck, her whole life was stuck since he left her without any explanation. Sometimes she would feel so ready to love someone else, to find anybody willing to take her this broken. She tried so hard, lying to herself, making everyone believe she got over him. She didn't listen to any of his songs, watch anything that could be related to him.  She was running away for the last nine years, not once stopping and looking back. Well, look where it brought her to now, sitting in the same room with him and his fiancee, who had no idea how much history they had. 

"I honestly love everything piece you do." Did she? Y\N couldn't tell if Camille knew everything or not. But if she did, she was a damn good actress. And Y\N was terrified of what could come after this if she didn't leave that house right now. "I would love it if you worked on my wedding dress." 

Y\N's whole world was upside down at that moment. Her hair on her neck stood on end. Her whole body was shivering; she didn't know if it was rage or hurt. Still, the smile came up again. 

"I'm afraid I'm too busy with my new collection." 

"Well, I will have to find someone else, I guess." Camille laughed, her hand sneaking up Harry's leg. Y\N was burning, her blood felt like it was boiling inside her veins. She needed to get out of there, quick. "But I'm so glad Harry could reach somebody. He had been looking for that cardigan for days, now. I thought he was going crazy." She laughed again, unlike everyone else in the room but, apparently she didn't care. 

"It was no problem, honestly. Jonathan is a dear friend of mine; I was just doing a favor." Y\N couldn't believe how calm she sounded. Maybe she should have chosen to be an actress. 

"I'm sure you're very busy, but we would love to see you at the wedding. Right, honey?" Camille turned to Harry, waiting for his approval. Harry quickly nodded as if he was waiting to agree to everything she was saying. "Of course." 

"I'll have to see, I guess." Y\N didn't know how much longer she could pretend like everything bathed in sunlight. So, she got up, ignoring the shaking in her legs. "I should go, my team is probably waiting for me."

"It was lovely to meet you." Camille held her hand out. Her grasp was hard like she was telling Y\N to start running and never look back again. Still, Y\N stood her ground, firmly taking her handshake and smiling. Her eyes meet Harry's for a second. There were so many things she wanted to say, but she didn't think anything that she could say would turn this around. So, she lied instead. 

"Congratulation on the engagement. You two make a lovely couple." 

Y\N couldn't believe she could lie so effortlessly, without any trembling in her voice. Still, shaking Camille's warm hand and seeing her next to Harry with a diamond on her hand made her want to get in her car and run away to somewhere very far away that she could throw up. So, she did that. 

TAGLIST: @yllwtaxi @meredithhuntt @soullessbabee @xoxoellll @2kayla64 @sometrueaffection @fromthedt @angelbabyivy @kennedywxlsh​​ @harrymarvel @kisskillstudio @pouge-h @sunsetcurve-h​ @odetostep​ @yhound​ @chubby-dumpling​ @swtxel​ @moonstarrnghtsky​ @blackfarrahfawcett​ @deeppoetryface @butterflycloss​ @revise-it-all 

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[cherienymphe]

She’s Mine (Peter Parker x Reader)

Finally, here is the sequel and final part to She’s With Me

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers​}

WARNINGS: NON-CON/DUB-DON, VOYEURISM (?), biker!Peter Parker

summary: you face the aftermath of your daring decision

~

You were awake for a while, enjoying the silence of the quiet house before eventually opening your eyes. In all the cheesy movies you’d seen, the morning after was usually filled with confusion. The character, male or female, always took a moment to gather their bearings, an entire minute passing before the memories came rushing back. Not you.

You remembered everything.

Peter’s side of the bed was empty, cold even when you slowly slid your hand to the rumpled sheets. The memories of what you did assaulted your mind, and you found yourself clenching at the memory of Peter’s hands on you. Per habit, you glanced around for your phone only to realize that in your haste last night, you hadn’t brought it.

With a sigh, you slid from the bed, taking the sheet with you as you wrapped it around yourself. You glanced around Peter’s room, chuckling at the superhero poster on the back of his door. The rest of the house was just as quiet when you exited, and you looked around with a frown.

“Peter?”

Only silence met you, and part of you wondered if he’d gone to see Tony. You recalled him saying that the plan might not work, that Tony might think him a traitor and decide to deal with him. Your heart clenched at the thought. Yes, Peter had all but forced you into sleeping with him, but it was hard to hate the brown-eyed boy, and despite the turn of events that you had not been all too eager to consent to, you didn’t want to see him hurt.

You decided that you would take the time to go by the house. You needed to get your phone and…well, basically anything you could quickly fit into your car. You wouldn’t be returning home again, that much was clear. Having gone to bed during the early hours of the morning, you’d slept a good chunk of the day away, and Steve nor Bucky should be at your house.

As you got dressed, you wondered if Sam was okay. You wondered if he was free, and if he was…was he home. The quick drive to your house was nerve-wracking, and you were slow as you neared it. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when you saw that the yard was empty of any motorcycles. You were quick to park and run inside.

Your phone was exactly where you’d left it on your bed. The screen lit up as you scrolled through the endless notifications. Missed call after missed call and text message after text message bombarded you. Most were from Steve. Your heart both swelled and dropped as you read the most recent message that had been sent this morning. It was from Sam.

What have you done?

You bitterly smiled at the message, relieved to know that he was okay. With a sad smile, you grabbed your backpack and a duffle bag, yanking clothes out of your drawers before tossing them inside. You were swift as you did so, acknowledging that you had no time to linger. Since Sam was okay, it was highly likely that they were out looking for you and could be back at any moment.

There was no way Sam would ever let you leave, and Steve would be all too eager to trap you as well. The thought of the blond made you shudder, and you quickened your pace. You struggled to drag both bags down the stairs with you, a curse on your lips that you quickly swallowed when you entered the living room.

You stared in shock as Bucky stood at the door, jaw clenched and blue eyes cold. Your mouth parted, wondering why you hadn’t heard the familiar roar of his bike. You tightened your hold on your bags, and a bout of guilt tore through you as you noticed the dark circles underneath his eyes. You swallowed.

“Bucky…”

Your voice was quiet and unsteady. You didn’t know what to say…

“What did you do?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Is Sam alright?” you questioned, ignoring his own question.

His nostrils flared, and it was then that you noticed the phone in his hand.

“What the hell did you do?” he spat.

“Bucky, please… Is Sam okay?”

He angrily eyed you before huffing a sigh.

“Yeah…yeah he’s alright…”

Tears kissed your eyes as you nodded.

“Good…that’s-that’s good,” you whispered.

Bucky took a step towards you, face softening now as he eyed you, this time worriedly.

“Y/N…what did you do?” he whispered, fear coating his tone. “They just…they just let him go, unharmed and just like that.”

You shook your head, frowning.

“How…how did you even get here? I didn’t hear you-.”

“I was already here. I watched you pull up and walk in. Sam asked me to watch over the house in case you came back. They’re out there looking for you!”

You flinched, and for a brief moment, he looked apologetic, but it was gone as quick as it appeared. He heaved another sigh, reaching for you, but you stumbled back, frantically shaking your head.

“I have to go, Bucky-.”

“Absolutely not! I’ve already texted them…” your eyes widened “…they’re on their way.”

“No! Bucky-no! I have to go. You guys can’t keep me here,” you told him.

He crossed his arms over his chest, face stony.

“Watch us.”

“You’ll just make things worse,” you cried, and he frowned at that. “You have to let me go. Th-they’re gonna come for me if you keep me here…”

You barely whispered that last part, and his frown deepened as he worked to understand what you meant. He scoffed a laugh, but it lacked humor.

“What? You’re under their protection now or something?”

You opened your mouth to answer him, a yes right there on your tongue, but it wouldn’t come out. Your heart thudded in your chest, and you caught the way Bucky’s face fell just before you looked away. The silence that followed was thick, and he eventually scoffed in disbelief.

Shock registered on his features when your eyes met his, but that shock quickly bled to understanding then disgust…and finally fury. His eyes hardened, nostrils flaring as his jaw ticked. He stared you down.

“Who?”

You briefly glanced away.

“Peter,” you defeatedly whispered.

It was quite a sight to see Bucky visibly retrain himself from losing control. You noticed the way his lip curled over his teeth and the way his hands clenched into fists. He trembled as he looked away, and his eyes were cold when they met yours again.

“Is that where you were last night?”

“Bucky…please…”

“What do you think Sam is going to do, how he is going to feel, when he finds out you gave yourself- fucking sold yourself to one of them to save his life? Huh?” he demanded.

You shrugged.

“Sam is safe,” you said, as if that excused what you did.

Bucky’s shoulders sagged, all of the anger seeming to leave him as he released a tired sigh. He rested his hand on your neck, eyes tortured as he gazed at you.

“We…we would’ve gotten him back, doll,” he quietly said.

“Would you?”

He hesitated.

“Yes…eventually,” he admitted.

You shook your head, eyes tearful.

“See! Steve can pretend all he wants, but he had no plan. None! None of you knew what to do. I could see it-I could see that you all were scared…and worried…and so I…”

You trailed off with a shrug, eyes wide as you fought to make him understand. You heard the familiar rumble of motorcycles coming down the street, and your heart threatened to jump out of your throat. You glanced at the door and then back to him, eyes pleading.

“Bucky, I’m begging you. You have to let me out of here now,” you told him.

Not only would keeping you here just stir up more trouble that you’d literally sacrificed yourself to fix, but deep down, you knew why you were really afraid. Sam would be furious with you, but only because he’d be worried. You were his sister, and you’d done the unthinkable to save him. He’d be beyond pissed…but he’d get over it.

Steve would not.

The thought of the blond finding out what you did made you want to throw up, but it’s not like you could tell Bucky that. It’s not like you could tell them what their friend was really like. If you were being honest with yourself, part of you had done what you did to get away from him, and it was looking like it was all for naught.

Bucky at least looked conflicted, but you could see in his eyes that he was not going to do what you asked. In a panic, you dropped your bags and ran towards the kitchen, aiming for the back door. Bucky was faster. His arms wrapped around you and he restrained you with ease. Your feet pushed against the wall, making him stumble on his own feet.

“Y/N, stop-!”

He turned you around, and you shoved yourself away from him with a frustrated scream just as the door opened. You both were huffing, glaring at each other, and this was the sight that your brother and Steve were met with.

“Jesus!”

You were wrapped in familiar arms, and reluctantly, you returned the gesture. Realizing that you wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon, you allowed yourself a moment to breathe him in, basking in the fact that he was alive and well. Sam did the same before eventually pulling away, looking at you with a frown.

“Where the hell were you? What did you do?” he demanded.

You swallowed, unsure of how to tell him.

“You wanna tell them sweetheart, or should I?” Bucky wondered.

You stepped away from Sam, worriedly eyeing him as he looked between you and Bucky. Your eyes briefly met Steve’s who was standing in his usual spot by the window with his arms folded over his chest. There was a myriad of emotions in his eyes, some of which you refused to name, and you watched them narrow just before you looked away.

“Tell us what?” Steve demanded.

“We have a bit of a situation,” Bucky started.

“What kind of situation?” Sam questioned him, but you could feel his heavy gaze on you.

“The kind where Tony and his crew will probably be driving through here in less than an hour,” Bucky replied.

Your eyes met Sam’s.

“Why?” he demanded.

This was directed at you.

“I’m under their protection now,” you quietly told him.

Confusion filled his features, and you noticed Steve straighten up behind him, having heard you.

“What the hell are you talking about? Why?”

It was then that he glanced down, noticing the packed bags. His eyes met yours again, and you could see that he was putting the pieces together but was having a hard time understanding just what he was piecing together.

“Parker gave her an ultimatum she couldn’t exactly refuse,” Bucky chimed in, sarcasm strong.

Sam turned away from you, shoulders heaving, and that’s how you knew just how angry he was. He wouldn’t even look at you. You watched as he ran his hand down his face, the other placed on his hip as he mulled over what you’d done.

Against your better judgement, your eyes met Steve’s again. He looked equal parts stricken and murderous, and you couldn’t help the smug feeling that enveloped you. He took a step away from the window, and you merely raised your chin, eyes sparkling with triumph. You raised an eyebrow at him and watched as his hands clenched into fists.

“So…is that what you were doing this morning? While we were trying to figure out how to get Sam back you were-.”

“Actually doing something to get him back? Yes,” you harshly interrupted, not appreciating Steve’s tone.

“I can’t believe this,” Sam mumbled, looking at you now.

He looked stunned and disgusted and angry and hurt all at once.

“Sam, I have to go,” you whispered.

“Like hell,” Steve said, nearing you.

“You are not in charge of me! You never have been, and now you never will be,” you spat.

“Steve’s right,” Sam cut in.

“He’s not! None of you are! Do you understand what you’re doing?”

“You’re not leaving this house,” Sam told you.

You looked to Bucky, but he was no help.

“Let them come here,” Steve said, and you glared at him.

You knew that by “them” he meant Peter. Before you could say anything to that, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Opting to keep your mouth shut before you said anything you regretted, you simply walked upstairs to answer it.

“How did you get my number?”

You closed your door behind you.

“Your boss,” Peter answered, voice clipped, making your eyes widen. “Now, where are you?”

“I came by the house to get some things, and I didn’t know Bucky was going to be watching it.”

It was silent on the other end, and you could just imagine Peter rolling his eyes.

“They’re not letting me leave,” you told him.

You heard him say something on the other end, but it wasn’t directed at you. Your grip on your phone tightened when you suddenly heard the roar of motorcycles in the background.

“Peter, they want you all to come here. Steve wants you to come here. Don’t,” you said.

“You’re not one of them anymore. You’re with us now, me, and I’m coming to get you.”

“Peter-!”

You were cut off by your door swinging open. Your eyes connected with Steve’s, and you quickly hung up. You glared at him as he stood in the doorway, blocking your exit.

“What?”

His already taught face pinched even further, eyes narrowing as he stepped inside.

“What? What? That’s all you have to say?”

“Is there something else I’m supposed to say?”

He huffed before letting out a humorless chuckle.

“If you were anyone else, you’d be labeled a traitor-.”

“For saving Sam? Seriously?” you demanded.

“For going to them for help! We take care of our own, and you went outside the crew. You sought help from the enemy,” he spat.

“Admit it, Steve. You had no idea what to do or where to even begin! Sam is here right now because of me,” you threw at him.

His tongue poked at the inside of his cheek as he looked down his nose at you, fire in his eyes.

“Yes…because you opened your legs for Parker,” he hissed. “That is what you did, correct?”

You didn’t answer him, finding no need to. He took a step towards you.

“Was he good?”

Again, you didn’t respond, simply crossing your arms over your chest.

“He’d been sniffing around you for weeks, trying to get in your pants, but I never thought you’d be stupid enough to fall for it.”

You finally looked up at him.

“Stupid? Well, my stupidity is the reason Sam is unharmed,” you scoffed. “I did more laying on my back for an hour than you did in an entire day.”

His nostrils flared, and you just knew that he was itching to put his hands on you. You went to move past him, but he caught your arm in an iron grip, pulling you close. He trailed his eyes over you.

“When Parker gets here, I’m going to put a knife through him for touching what doesn’t belong to him,” he whispered.

You jerked yourself out of his hold.

“He didn’t touch without permission. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from him,” you quietly said.

You turned away from him without a backwards glance.

Your heart sank when you eventually heard the roar of motorcycles approaching from down the street. You looked up with wide eyes from your place on the couch, nerves on end as you eyed the window. You clenched your jaw as Steve and Sam opened the door, leaving you alone with Bucky.

You glared at him as you stood, arms crossed over your chest as you paced. Your heart sped up when the familiar sound came closer, eventually right outside of the door. Nothing happened for a moment, and then it was silent. Bucky’s back was to you as you paced, blocking the kitchen, and you eyed him.

You noticed a familiar black weapon strapped to his hip, and you bit your lip. You knew that Bucky never put the safety on. Sam was always complaining about it. You had never used a gun a day in your life, but that didn’t stop you from swiftly snatching it from him. He turned to you with wide eyes as you pointed it at his face.

“I just don’t want anymore fighting. I just want to leave…”

“Y/N,” he warned.

“I did what I had to do to save Sam’s life. I made a deal with Peter and he in turn made one with Tony. It goes beyond just fucking him, you know,” you told him.

He sighed, disappointment in his eyes at your actions.

“I have a bargain to uphold, and if you all prevent me from doing that, things are going to get messy, and you know it.”

He didn’t reply.

“Why are you all being so stubborn about this?”

“Because you’re family! You’re one of us and now you’re suddenly not and that’s not okay,” he spat.

You swallowed.

“I’m sorry. I really am, but we can’t afford for things to become any worse than they already are. Now, I am going to grab my bags right there, and I am going to walk out of that backdoor and go into the front yard and get into my car. I will drive away, and you will let me.”

He glared at you, but stepped aside nonetheless. You kept your aim as you did what you said you would. You both knew that you wouldn’t actually shoot him…at least not in the face, but your uncharacteristic behavior gave Bucky pause. It made him doubt just a bit.

You turned to face him in the open doorway, slowly setting the gun down on the floor before turning and leaving. You ran around the house, eyes widening at the bikes in the yard. You took in familiar red hair and dark eyes and finally the head of brown hair that you’d been so used to seeing. Your eyes caught his from where you were standing beside the house, and you ran towards him as he opened your car door.

“Y/N!”

You ignored Sam but glanced up to see that Bucky had joined them outside now. Sam ran towards you, but Steve was faster. Nat stepped in his way, staring him down as he slowed, glaring down his nose at her. You threw your things into your car, glancing up in time to see Steve cut his eyes to Peter. Peter’s face was unreadable, dark eyes boring into Steve’s as you sat in the driver’s seat.

“Don’t give me a reason to finally punch those perfect teeth, Rogers,” you heard Nat say.

He clenched his jaw, hands placed on his hips as he reluctantly took a step back. Peter leaned down as you shoved your key into the ignition, hands shaking.

“Did he touch you?” he quietly asked.

You shook your head.

“N-no. Not really,” you answered, avoiding his eyes.

He didn’t respond, just blew out a deep breath before reaching in and playing with your hair. You hesitantly glanced up at him, and he briefly glanced at Steve, the corner of his pink lips slowly curving upwards into a small smirk.

“I know he thinks I’m going to kiss you. Hell, you probably do too,” he said, looking at you again, thumb brushing along your jaw. “…but I don’t need to prove to him that you’re mine. You just are.”

He pulled away and shut your door, walking towards his bike. You eyed him for a bit before finally starting your car. With one last apologetic look thrown Sam’s way, you pulled out of the yard. 

Naturally, you beat Peter to his house, and you sat in your car as you waited for him to pull in, hands still clenching the wheel. You turned your head as he parked beside you, unmoving. Somehow, you couldn’t get your body to do so. Reality was finally setting in, and you found it hard to breathe.

Sam was okay, but everyone knew the truth. They knew that you’d given yourself to Peter to make it so. They were furious with you, and despite the fact that Steve’s anger mostly came from his jealousy and possessiveness, he had indeed been right. In a sense, you were a traitor. It didn’t matter that what you did saved Sam’s life, you had still gone to the enemy for help.

You were crying when Peter opened your door, reaching for your hands and slowly prying them off of the wheel. He helped you out, and you stood on shaky legs. He steadied you, dark eyes studying you as you blinked away tears.

“You should’ve waited for me to go with you,” he murmured.

“I didn’t think anyone would be home. I thought I’d get in and out,” you quietly replied.

He sighed.

“What did Steve say to you?”

You shook your head, looking away.

“Nothing…that’s worth mentioning,” you mumbled, sliding from in between him and your car.

He stopped you by grabbing your wrist, and you looked over your shoulder at him. There was a frown on his boyish features.

“You worried about him?”

You hesitated.

“A little…yeah. He threatened to hurt you…”

Peter let out a small laugh.

“He can try,” he said with a smile.

You gave him a reproachful look.

“Parker…”

“Wilson.”

“I’m serious. Steve…he’s been after me for years. He won’t just get over it,” you told him.

Peter just threw his arm over your shoulders as he steered you towards the house.

“Let me deal with that. We have more important things to talk about.”

“Like?” you wondered.

You hesitantly sat down on the couch as he shut the door. You were a bit unsure of how to behave around him now, how to behave in this new setting that was now yours as well. You’d slept here last night…naked. Peter saw you naked, he’d been inside of you. It was strange to think about. You looked up at him as he neared you, eyes serious.

“Mr. Stark wants to meet you tonight.”

Your eyes widened, but you shouldn’t have been shocked. It was bound to happen sooner or later.

“…oh.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“…and…because you’re with me now, there is a bit of an initiation. We all have to go through one,” he continued.

“I see.”

That was to be expected.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Normally, Mr. Stark decides, but since he’s grooming me to take over, and since this is an interesting circumstance with you being the sister of an enemy and all… He’s leaving it up to me.”

You waited for him to continue. You watched him as he eyed you, dark eyes running over your frame, thoughtful.

“…I haven’t quite decided yet though. Although, I do have something in mind…”

You mumbled a quiet ‘oh’ and looked down. You felt awkward, and you shouldn’t have. You’d known Peter for years, and you two were never friends but it was never awkward between you. You didn’t know why that changed just because you had sex with him. Maybe it was the circumstances surrounding it… Why you’d done and what it had caused.

“Sam’s not angry with you. He’s angry with himself.”

You lifted your gaze to him, finding him still watching you.

“He’s angry that he got caught…that you felt you had to do what you did to save him when he should be the one saving you, protecting you,” he elaborated, sitting beside you. “He thinks he’s failed you.”

You leaned back into the couch, heart clenching.

“He’s protected me all my life, I couldn’t just not do something. If I had left it to Steve…”

You trailed off, scoffing at the thought of the blond.

“You know…this might sound insane, but there’s a really small part of me that thinks Steve wouldn’t have tried his best to get Sam back. They’ve been friends forever, practically like brothers, but I was really scared he’d just leave him because if Sam wasn’t here, then he’d have easy access to me. Nothing would stop him from…”

Your words died in your throat with a sigh.

“I slept with you not just to get Sam back, but to get away from Steve once and for all,” you whispered.

You looked at Peter.

“Even though I basically hopped out of one frying pan and into another, when you kissed me last night…I felt like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders.”

Peter reached out to brush his fingers over your collarbone as he faced you, brown eyes darkening.

“I’m not going to pretend like I made you that offer for your brother or even to save you from Steve…at least not in the sense that you’d think,” he quietly started.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

“I wanted you away from Steve because I wanted you all for myself.”

This was not shocking to you. It might have been a week ago, but you were learning that Peter was not at all who you thought he was. He was in Tony’s gang for a reason. Nat had told you that, and although you never doubted her, you didn’t understand the full weight of her advice then.

“Growing up, you were always Sam Wilson’s sister. Untouchable, and God did I want to touch you,” he brushed his lips against yours. “So, when you came to me, sad and hysterical and soaking wet, like some pathetic little puppy, I did what I could and said what I could to get my hands on you.”

He firmly pressed his mouth against yours, and you closed your eyes. He groaned against your lips as he pushed you back. You hesitantly placed your hands on his shoulders, parting your legs and allowing him to rest in between them.

“I really wanted you to be here when I got back today,” he whispered. “I wanted to get my hands on you again.”

Your only reply was a soft moan when his hands slid into the sweatpants that you’d borrowed from his bedroom floor.

“…but we have to get you ready for tonight,” he sighed, head falling against your shoulder.

“Peter, it’s hours away,” you said.

He lifted his head.

“I have to prepare you. Mr. Stark is a hard man to please, and just because you’re with me, that won’t guarantee him to like you.”

He helped you up and his words worried you. It must have been evident on your face because he ran his hands along your arms. He smirked at you.

“Don’t worry. I know him like the back of my hand,” he said pulling you along. “Do as I say, and you’ll be fine.”

He told you not to worry, but you couldn’t help it. In a matter of hours, you’d be face to face with Tony Stark himself, preparing to go through an initiation whose details were unknown to you. Peter said it was up to him to decide what it would be, and although that should’ve eased your worries bit, it didn’t.

Peter helped you off of his bike, and you stood on unsteady legs. The low kitten heels you had on felt strange on your feet, recalling that the last time you’d worn heels of any kind had been at prom. Peter let out a light laugh at your visible uneasiness.

“You good?” he asked with a grin.

You gave a shaky nod.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

Like most nights, the air was cool, and you shivered a bit. Peter had gotten you a dress to wear. It was white and light and flowy with a sweetheart neckline and thick straps that kept sliding down your shoulders no matter how much you adjusted it. It kissed the tops of your knees as you smoothed your hand over it.

“You look great,” he murmured in your ear as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“I feel silly,” you confessed.

“Well don’t. You look good enough to eat,” he whispered, lips brushing along your ear.

You placed your hand on his, hoping it would bring you some comfort. You stared up at the house before you with unease. Tony Stark was the richest man in town, and in a small town like this, that meant more than you could imagine. His house was no mansion, but it definitely made your former modest two-story house look laughable in comparison.

The yard was littered with bikes, and even though Peter had told you that everyone in the club would be in attendance for your initiation, you realized that you had never known just how many people were in Tony’s crew. You assumed that Peter had made a decision regarding what it would be. He’d bought you a dress after all, but he had yet to share it with you.

You didn’t even have time to admire the interior, because the man himself was there as soon as you walked inside.

“…and this must be the bold little birdie who’s been stirring up trouble on my side of the road.”

Tony Stark’s dark eyes connected with yours, and despite the urge to look away, you remembered what Peter had said. You held his gaze, and he smirked at you. His hand wrapped around yours as he neared and brushed his lips along the skin there. His eyes met Peter’s when he pulled away, and his smirk grew.

“Mr. Stark,” you greeted.

He chuckled, looking at you again.

“Please, call me Tony. Between you and the kid, you’re going to make me feel like I have one foot in the grave.”

You chuckled with him, surprised to find that he didn’t seem as intimidating as you thought he would. His face gradually grew serious, and he folded his hands in front of him as he studied you.

“As you can probably guess, I have my reservations about you, Y/N,” he started.

You swallowed, and Peter rubbed circles into your back.

“You’re the sister of my enemy, and you know how the saying goes…blood is thicker than water and all that jazz…”

You nodded.

“I understand your fears, Tony, but…I’m here because of my love for Sam,” you told him. “I did what I did to protect him, and I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.”

He took a step towards you.

“I should hope not. I would hate to have to use your brother to keep you in line…”

You frowned.

“…and I would hate to have to use you against him.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a possibility that you had never considered before being thrown in your face. Tony stared you down for a moment before he eventually grinned.

“Let’s hope that tonight you can prove you fully belong to Peter, and the crew in general by extension, so that it won’t have to come to that,” he said with a light laugh

He turned and walked down a hall.

“Come along,” he called.

Peter’s hand never left you once as you both followed Tony. You felt like you were a dead woman walking, and although Peter’s presence should’ve been comforting, not knowing what tonight entailed put you on edge. You blinked when Peter’s hand slid lower to the small of your back, just above the swell of your butt.

Tony slowed when he neared a set of double doors, and you felt like you were going to be sick when he opened them. There couldn’t have been more than 30 people standing in the room, but it felt like hundreds. You were the only one dressed up while everyone else wore their jackets and t-shirts, Peter included. You whispered this to him.

“You’re the guest of honor,” he simply said with a genuine smile.

Your eyes landed on some familiar faces as Peter led you to the center of the room. A long oval table was before you, almost the entire length of the room with about two dozen chairs surrounding it. You absentmindedly wondered if this was where they held meetings. Peter slowed as Tony made his way to the head of the table, and you looked to your left, nervously eyeing it. You looked to Peter, feeling his gaze on you.

His dark eyes were hooded, reminding you of last night when he’d cornered you in his house. You suddenly felt very hot, and he stepped closer, chest brushing against yours.

“Get on the table,” he whispered.

Your eyes widened, stomach churning as suspicions started to arise.

“…what?”

You glanced over at movement in the corner of your eye, watching as Tony pulled out the chair at the head of the table. His eyes briefly met yours, and he threw you a smirk. Peter’s hands were on your face, turning you to face him.

“I told you this was a special case…”

“Peter-.”

“Most people join with a clean slate, but not you. You were the enemy before you even walked in here-.”

“So what? I have to be made an example out of?” you demanded, lips trembling and eyes misty.

Your voices were hushed, and you could feel Tony’s eyes on you. You could feel a lot of eyes on you, just waiting for you to prove them right. Peter’s hands trailed down to your throat, thumbs tracing your skin as he looked down his nose at you.

“You’re mine. I know it, and you know it…” before you knew it, he’d reached down and deposited you on the table, stepping in between your legs “…and now they will too.”

He pressed his lips against yours, and you made a noise of protest. One hand was on the back of your neck while the other pressed into your waist, pushing you down. You winced when your back harshly met the wood, hands pressing against his chest.

His hands never stayed in one place for too long, and when the memories of last night came to you, your body reacted. You trembled beneath him, a few tears spilling over as you registered what was about to happen in front of these people.

“They’re not here, right now. It’s just you and me,” he whispered, trying to reassure you.

You shook your head.

“Peter, I can’t do this. We can do something else,” you said, pushing against him.

With a huff, he grabbed your wrists and slammed them against the table. You gasped in pain, and his tongue found yours when he kissed you again. You struggled against him, but his chest and hips pinned you down. From above your head, you heard Tony sit down, and soon the sound of more people sitting down reached your ears.

Peter kept his mouth on yours, swallowing your cries as he moved both of your wrists to one hand. The other reached in between you as he pushed his thighs underneath your own. You closed your eyes and turned your head away when the sound of tearing fabric filled the room. You couldn’t open them, if you did, you’d see the many faces staring back at you. Your struggle was anew when you heard the sound of his belt clanking.

“Come on, Y/N,” he whispered in your ear. “Moan for me like you did last night…”

He pushed himself into you, and your breath caught in your throat. He set a sharp pace, hips slamming into yours as he fucked you against the hardwood. Your shoe slipped off of your feet, and it clanged against the table. The other soon followed.

You felt air on your breast, and you hadn’t realized that Peter had reached up to pull the top of your dress down. His teeth grazed over the sensitive flesh, and you couldn’t stop yourself from clenching around him. His lips moved to your collarbone and then your neck, and he let out a low chuckle.

Your head was thrown back as he thrust into you, the table shaking from the force of it. You only realized that he’d let go of your hands when both of his dug into the skin of your thighs, hard enough to bruise. Your own hands gripped his shoulders, now unsure if you wanted to push him away or pull him closer.

He wrapped his lips around a hardened bud, and you arched your chest towards him. Your eyelashes fluttered, vision blurry, but you could make out the upside-down shape of Tony Stark, watching you. Peter clearly wanted all of your attention because his hand found your hair and jerked your face back to him.

He forced his lips against yours, groaning into your mouth. His other hand pressed into the table beside your head, holding himself over you as he curved his hips into yours over and over again. You forgot all about the other 20 odd people or so, sitting around the table, watching. Like last night, you couldn’t swallow down your moans, no matter how hard you tried.

Your stomach tightened, and your legs started to tremble. Your arm was thrown over his neck, the other pushing against the table, trying to get closer to him for several reasons.

“Half the men in here want to be me, right now,” he murmured against your lips. “Show them that you’re mine…”

He snapped his hips against yours, hard, and you yelped into his mouth.

“Say my name like you did last night…”

You bit your lip, determined to swallow it down. His heavy breathing sounded in your ear.

“Come on, Y/N,” he dragged it out with a soft chuckle. “I’ve already got you squirming for me. I’ll get what I want eventually.”

“I fucking hate you, Parker,” you groaned.

“That’s nice,” he dismissed. “You’re like a kitten, you know? You put up a fight, and its cute, but you start purring the minute I get my hands on you.”

He reached down and brushed his thumb over you, making you jerk beneath him. He did it again and again, picking up the pace of his thrusts, and your breath hitched. Your vision grew hazy, chest and stomach tightening as stars burst behind your eyes. You mumbled his name over and over again, drawing it out in a low moan as your back hit the table again.

He had yet to halt his movements, fucking you through your climax as he maneuvered one of your legs to rest on his shoulder. He kissed you.

“When this is over, everyone will look at the sister of the infamous Sam Wilson and know that she’s mine.”

~

tags:  @sherrybaby14​ @xoxabs88xox​ @darkficreposter​ @mcudarklibrary​ @sebabestianstan101​ @villanellevi​ @readermia​ @jtargaryen18​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @nickyl316h​ @opheliadawnwalker3​  @readermia​ @captainchrisstan @coconutqueen21​

[nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice]

Ok modern zuko would be an expert at breakdancing and sokka would be the guy who just bi-panicks whenever he does

(whoops, my hand slipped and I accidentally wrote a modern au headcanon turned zukka karate au one-shot) 

Okay but consider this instead: Zuko doesn’t know how to dance for shit and has horrible rhythm, but he is a GOD at martial arts. He’s been doing some type of style since he was a kid and is a full black belt by the time he hits high school. Martial arts was always something he excelled at, but it was also something that made him feel more secure. It was something he could work on to help him protect himself from his home life, even if it wasn’t enough most times. He specifically excels in weapons forms (I’m thinking twin sais) and you DO NOT want to spar with him. Because he may be skinny and shorter, but he’s quick and can hit hard at just the right spots. 

When he was younger he was obsessed mainly because he felt that belt rankings and trophies from competitions were a way to prove himself to his dad, but when he moved in with Iroh (who encouraged him to keep it up and was so proud of how talented and passionate he was about it), he basically used it in place of talking about his feelings. He didn’t talk about his home life or the shit Ozai did, instead, he put all his energy into his black belt levels, learning new weapons forms, and eventually into teaching new students as a junior instructor. 

At school, he’s awkward and asocial and just doesn’t have the energy for people. Zuko has little patience for asshole classmates who ask intrusive questions about his scar or spread rumors about where he got it. He eats lunch in his English classroom and would be a complete shut-in if Iroh didn’t get him to work part-time at the Jasmine Dragon. But in the dojo, he’s focused and is able to direct his energy into improving his forms and teaching younger teens. 

One of his newer students transferred from a different dojo after moving from a different state. He’s actually a freshman at Zuko’s high school but it’s not as if Zuko really interacted that much with him. This kid, Aang, is as talented and dedicated as he is, but has a long way to go to learn all the new katas. Zuko’s been dubbed the ‘scary’ trainer at the dojo. He’s the serious one who will yell if someone is goofing off and everyone’s seen that he has no problem using full force in a demonstration (little kids love him and he’s super nice to them, but he teaches the 12-15 age range). Plus there’s that scar, which doesn’t make him the most initially welcoming person. But this new kid Aang just latches onto Zuko immediately. He says hi to Zuko in the halls at school and works on his katas outside of regular practice times. At first Zuko thinks this sickeningly positive kid is annoying as crap, but warms up to him. He likes that Aang cares about martial arts and isn’t nice as a show, he’s just genuinely nice. 

And maybe he sees Aang hanging around school with a sophomore girl and her brother who just might be in Zuko’s calc class and English class. 

And maybe Zuko thinks this guy is insanely attractive and somehow incredibly funny even though most of his humor consists of the worst puns imaginable. 

But obviously, Zuko hasn’t attempted to ever actually talk to this guy. The most that he could classify as ‘talking’ to the cute, funny guy on the robotics club is the one day in English class when he had to respond to someone’s dumbass comment about Macbeth with what ended up being a ten minute spoken essay about obvious motifs and symbolism. To which Mr. Puns and Ponytail was very obviously paying great attention to and even gave Zuko a smile and thumbs up for. 

Zuko knows it’s pointless to engage. After all, he’s a senior and he doesn’t have any friends anyway. There’s no point in making any this year. Crushing on this guy from the comfortable position of the other side of the room is totally good enough for him. Totally. This is fine. He’s fine.  

Besides, he’s got competitions and if he doesn’t secure the regional championships this year he’s never going to get the chance after he goes to college. And he’s got his kids to train. Aang in particular is gearing up for his first debut into this area’s tournament. 

The tournament’s in October and usually, Zuko focuses on his own matches and performances, but Aang really wanted him to watch his set. So on this day, he stands on the sides of Aang’s zone instead of obsessively going through his katas in a corner.He’s not going to be able to watch the whole set because it overlaps with his own weapons portion, but he stands on the side and gives Aang a reassuring look that, ‘don’t worry, you’ll do great, you’re a talented kid,’ when his student looks over to him nervously. 

And wouldn’t you know it? Aang brought some friends to come watch. And one of them is Mr. Zuko’s Big Gay Crush. 

“Oh, hey Zuko,” are the words that come out of this guy's mouth that give Zuko a near-stroke. And damn if this guy’s eyes aren’t blue and pretty and he usually wears his hair in a ponytail at school, but now he’s wearing it down and Zuko wishes he could take screenshots with his brain because holy moly. 

“Hey.” Is the best that Zuko can get out of his dumb mouth. “You’re Sokka.” 

“Aang invited us to come watch,” Sokka nudges his head to indicate the ‘us’ includes his younger sister, who Zuko doesn’t know the name of. “How do you guys not get heatstroke during these things? It’s like a million degrees in here.” 

“Oh the gi’s pretty cold, I mean, it’s got air and stuff.” 

Zuko decided right there that he would be completely fine with being struck by lightning. Of course, that’s what his stupid brain would come up with. Of course, that’d be the thing he’d say in front of one of the smartest guys in his class. 

They watch Aang perform his set for the judges. Zuko recognizes that Aang took his advice when he said that he wasn’t putting enough force into his hits. He’s never seen Aang be as, well, aggressive isn’t the right word, but he’s definitely putting more power into his form. Zuko wouldn’t admit it, though, but only part of his attention was for Aang at the moment. The other part was for Sokka, who was smiling bright and pumping his fists when Aang completed a row of kicks. 

The small part of Zuko’s brain that wasn’t being taken up by watching Aang or trying to act normal around his crush noticed the clock on the wall indicating that the weapons portion would be starting in five minutes.  

“I’ve got to go do a thing so I’ll just, um, go do that now.” 

“Are you competing too?” Sokka asked. 

To this question Zuko just holds up his sais and raises his eyebrow as if to say ‘it’s a tournament, what do you think?’ Because yeah, he knows Sokka’s super smart, he’s seen him churn out calc answers at the speed of light and noticed his name on the robotics club awards update on the school’s website, but he’d also seen Sokka eat 5 packs of fundip at once on a dare and unironically wear a ‘women want me, fish fear me’ t-shirt for most of junior year. Somehow he had managed to fall for the smartest dumbass on earth. 

“Oh yeah, right.” Sokka eyes the sais and then looks right at Zuko’s face, “Aang says you’re really good.” 

Zuko decides that thinking about Aang talking to Sokka about him was something he didn’t need distracting him during his set. That was something he could anxious about later. 

“Hopefully good enough for those five assholes,” Zuko replies, gesturing to the panel of judges in the weapons section of the gymnasium. To his shock, Sokka laughs. It’s a nice laugh, too. And Zuko really hoped he could blame the blush that was one-hundred-percent creeping up his face on the lack of AC. 

“You know, you’re pretty funny man,” Sokka tells him. Zuko has no clue how to take that compliment, but he really does need to go. 

“Right,” he grins nervously and shifts his left foot around to bounce away, “well I have to go do my thing.” 

“Good luck!” 

That’s where Zuko thinks the beginning and end of his interaction with Sokka would be. 

The weapons portion thankfully goes by age. And since Zuko’s one of the youngest competitions, he gets to go first for his sai katas. This is what literal years of training have prepared him for. At regionals last year, the second advanced kata got him placed high enough to qualify for states. This is what he’s good at. He tells himself that a thousand times before starting his set. 

There’s not a thought in his head as Zuko goes through the form. The sais glide through his fingertips with every jab, block, and hook. The imaginary opponent doesn’t stand a chance. He’s cool and competent and graceful. It’s therapeutic in a sense. There’s enough adrenaline to make Zuko feel like he’s worth something, but more importantly, he knows he’s nailing this. Whatever the judges say about it, he knows that he’s perfected this form after practicing it at least a thousand times over three years. 

The judges agree with him. He’s the first competitor of the weapons portion but there isn’t really a doubt in their minds about who’s going to place. 

Zuko zones back in to the gym after bowing to the panel. He walks off, feeling lighter and letting a satisfactory smile take over his face. 

He expects the hug from Uncle and the proud smile from Sensei Piandao, but what he doesn’t expect is to see Sokka, eyes wide as globes, staring at him from the other side of the mat. 

Because what Zuko doesn’t know is that the second he turned his wrists in his first form during his hooks, Sokka’s brain went into Full Bi Panic Mode. 

And Zuko thinks the one conversation where he couldn’t talk like a human and wanted to die for most of it would be the only time Sokka would decide to willingly talk to him. Zuko is dead wrong. Sokka, in fact, has decided that this, this is the guy his Disaster Bi Brain has decided to latch onto. Sokka’s brain and all his squishy feelings have apparently decided to attach to this aloof kid with the scar who reserved his voice for eloquent, impassioned speeches about dramas and was apparently an actual god with weapons. Sokka decides that Zuko could roundhouse kick him in the side and he’d thank him. And right now Zuko’s looking at him with a dumbfounded expression, prompting Sokka to remember how to function so he can go over to congratulate Zuko and maybe ask if his dojo provides a free trial. 

So yeah, that one conversation ends up decisively not being the end of anything. 

[script-nef]

Presents (and other things)

Category: fluff

2k words; Shopping date [3/6]

← Previous chapter | Masterlist

Out of everyone in the whole world, the person you love most in the world is Nanami Kento, your brother. He was the one who saved you from the cursed spirit that haunted you and took your parents’ lives. He was the one who took you in so that you wouldn’t be put in the system since you were still a minor. He made sure every day that you were safe and healthy even if he was injured or exhausted after a fight.

That's why in the weeks nearing his birthday, you made sure that he would have a relaxing time. He said you didn’t have to and he’d rather have you not fret over him, but that is unacceptable. He needs to have a good birthday. If you could, you would make the whole month just about him. But the last time you tried that he sat you down for a long, scolding lecture about how it’s unnecessary. So that’s out of the option.

Right now, just a few days shy of his actual birthday, you have a problem. Because you were buried in work and have a terrible memory.

His present.

You forgot to buy a present. 

“I forgot to buy a present! Why am I so dumb… Why am I like this, Gojou? It’s literally one of the most important things with birthdays and I forgot it. Because I’m an idiot. I wish the ground would swallow me up… I deserve it…” Thuds reverberate through the room as your head makes contact with the table. Repeatedly. Hard.

Wallowing in self-hate is great but your brain starts spitting out all viable present options. 

Shopping for Ken-chan is hard because he’s not materialistic in the least. He also doesn’t have a lot of hobbies. “I don’t need presents.” is a regular phrase every time his birthday or holidays come up, but then he gives presents to you and you end up feeling worse. This is all while your brain is getting thrown around. 

A hand comes between your forehead and the desk, gently bringing it up. Gojou has a small pout as his cold fingers try to soothe the burning sensation. 

“You still have a couple of days left! Don’t bang your head against the table, your brain doesn’t work enough as it is.” He easily moves out away from your slap. But returns in time to stop your head from falling again.

“I should have remembered this weeks ago. There’s no use trying to make me feel better, Gojou. I’m a terrible sister. I deserve this pain.” His fingers poke against your cheeks and he smooshes and stretches them. It’s uncomfortable but you let him.

“I haven’t bought a present either.”

“You’ve never given him a present.”

“This is the year to start! I have to get on his good side!” That’s weird since he never cared about what Ken-chan thought of him.

 “Why?”

“We can shop together!” Classic ignoring. His face comes to level with yours. “Let’s go to Shinjuku, I’m sure there are things even Nanami will like. Also, I found a new sweets shop.” You stare at him. “But I will focus on the present for today! C’mon, I can fly us there. You’ve never flown before, right? I think it’ll help.”

For some inexplicable reason, floating in mid-air with nothing to save you other than Gojou is amazing. Adrenaline pumps through your veins at the thought of crashing down to Earth if Gojou lets go. You know he won’t though. 

The air is chilly up here and there’s constant wind makes your hair whip everywhere, getting in your mouth and eyes. It doesn’t dampen your mood.

Your arms tighten around Gojou’s neck, watching the city blink with life way underneath your feet. Well, his feet, since you’re bunched up in his embrace. 

“This is so cool! Do you do this every day?”

“Yup.” He pops the p and slowly walks closer to your destination. The world looks like a child’s playhouse. 

“No wonder you’re constantly in an amazing mood! I would do this every time I’m feeling down!” Gojou’s chuckle reverberates through his chest and into your body. 

“I can take you out again when you’re sad.” A buzz takes over your body at the thought sparkles come to life in your wide eyes.

“You would do that for me?” Gojou is an incredibly important asset and therefore also very busy, needing to take care of special-grade curses that others can’t while also teaching and looking after his three students. He couldn’t be at your beck and call, you can’t ask that from him. But the gentle smile he gives is so warm and sure, assuring you that his words are true.

“Of course I would. Any day.” His grip around your body tightens.

Something weird fuzzes in your chest. It’s not uncomfortable or bad but… unique. And foreign. You got a good report back from your physical evaluation last month so it’s not something physical. Questions about what the cause could be takes over your mind but the sudden sensation of zero gravity makes all of them fly out the window. Burying your face into Gojou’s neck, you prepare for the worst.

“And we have arrived! M’lady.” Chipper as ever, Gojou’s feet touch the ground with a light plop and he lets you down gently. You look at him in confusion until realisation kicks in. And you kick him.

“Don’t do that! I think my heart stopped!” He cackles at that, finishing with a “Won’t do it next time.” If there is a next time. The probability is reduced significantly because of what he just did. 

Taking your hand in his, he escorts you down the stairs from the rooftop and into a department store. The people who couldn’t see mere moments ago high up in the sky.

As expected, it’s loud and crowded. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of people shuffling about and sweeping everyone to move even if they wanted to. It’s fortunate that Gojou has a firm grip on your hand because otherwise you’d be completely lost. Still, it’s nice to be buried in the commotion of everyday lives. It helps you forget about the whole war that’s looming over everyone.

“Any ideas on what to get?” The question you’ve been asking yourself for the past hour or so is echoed by Gojou. “We have all the time in the world, so don’t worry. I’ll keep you company for as long as you want.” 

Blisters form on the back of your feet thanks to the amount of times you walked around the huge place. Gojou bought you bandaids even though you said Shouko can fix you up. It hurts a lot less thanks to that. Finding a present is still a challenge. Every time you think you have one, your brain comes up with a rebuttal for why Ken-chan won’t like it. Two hours and nothing to show for it, you’re on the verge of collapse. Even a quick snack break didn’t help.

Gojou sets you down on a bench, letting your head roll on the backrest. The sight of thousands of coats and jackets running around upside down makes you giggle. Maybe the stress is finally getting to your head. The mantra of “I’m a terrible sister” tries to sneak in and wreak havoc. You’re just about to let it when the upside-down brand of a designer clothing shop catches your attention. 

“Gojou.”

“Yup?” His head comes into view as he copies your posture. It must look really weird to passersby but you don’t care at all. “Got an idea?” You point to the brand. Or at least you think you do. The lack of blood in your brain is making everything dizzy. “Clothes?”

“I wanna buy him a good suit.” Standing up, swaying a little from the sudden oxygen influx, you try to drag him towards the shop. He tries to make your attempt harder by using his weight and height, but a firm glare makes him concede.

“I thought he said he doesn’t want suits.” Oh yeah, you told him that when it was rejected. Ken-chan did say that, years ago, when you bought him one for your first present. While incredibly appreciated, he reasoned that there is a high chance of it being ruined since he has to fight in them. And this was around the time when you started getting paid. It was his way of saying that you should invest it in something more durable and preferably for yourself. How does Gojou remember this when it was just a fleeting complaint that you barely remember?

“He said it’s because there’s no point in spending so much money on something that might be damaged so quickly. But I’m going to buy it for a different reason.”

Collections of suits, varied by colour and pattern, line the huge shop. Skimming over a lot of them, especially ones with questionable designs, you turn to the monochromatic area. Simple is best when it comes to Ken-chan’s taste. Shuffling through the shades, you contemplate between either beige or blue.

“What’s the reason?” Gojou’s voice calls from the change room. You wonder when he got there. 

“For him to wear it if he goes back to work in an office after the war has ended. Or just when he goes out, without the worry of getting attacked and ruined. It’ll be like a promise! That he’ll do his best to survive the war to wear it.” 

Gojou is silent in response. It drags out and now you’re sort of embarrassed about what you said. Your partner loves taking advantage of others’ sappy moments, teasing them mercilessly over it. That little speech is basically perfect ammunition against you. You expect his high voice to make fun of you.

What you don’t expect is for him to pat your head, slowly and softly, like he won’t ever get to do it again.

“Nanami must have used all his luck when he became your guardian.” Voice low, bringing shivers down your body, he cards his fingers through your hair. Like he’s combing them. Seconds tick by and it feels sort of nice, telling you to relax, but your body’s on high alert for some reason.

“I think he’d like the blue one. Since he already has a brown suit, beige is too close.” A black suit adorns his body when he comes into view. Even the shirt is black. It fits him perfectly and he looks really good in it, courtesy of a good body proportion. He could possibly pull off the hideous suits you elected to shy away from at the front of the display. You clear your throat.

“Wow, you look really good in that.” His hands smooth down the creases on the jacket, preening at your compliment. “You should buy that. Wear it to dates or whatever. Ladies will fall to your feet if you show up with that.” Holding up two blue suits, your eyes scrutinize them and you try to imagine which shade will look better on your brother.

“Ladies will fall to my feet? Really?” Amusement tinges his words. The left one looks better.

“Yeah, probably. Girls love guys in suits. Well at least, I do. If they wear the right one for them, it’s really hot. Left one is better, right?” He gives a nod, a wide grin playing on his face. “Alright, this one then. Are you buying the suit?”

“Yeah. I think it’ll be put to good use.”

The checkout is quick, and it’s night when you step out. 

“You wanna go back by flying? We can try doing the Howl thing.” That’s really tempting, being able to reenact one of the most iconic scenes in the movie. But not today. 

“No, I prefer being in your arms.” Gojou stares at you with such intensity that you can feel it even with the blindfold. Then he immediately barks out a laugh, one so loud that people nearby flinch at the sudden noise. You flinch at the sudden noise.

“Ah… You really keep me on my toes, you know.” Before you can ask what that means, he takes your hand again and starts walking to the stairs. His steps are faster than usual.

Next chapter →

[soulmate-game]

Part 2: The same prompt, but Siblings this time

Tim paused the video on his computer, the red figure on it in mid-leap off of a building. Be rewound the video, played it, paused again at the same time stamp.

No, his eyes were not deceiving him. The video was not doctored.

So what the hell was going on?

“Hey Timmie, find anything on that Paris situation Bruce asked you to look into?” Dick’s voice made Tim startle, nearly spilling his coffee all over the keyboard and possibly deleting his hard-earned research. Rescuing his lifeblood from certain doom, he hugged his mug to his chest and glared at his older brother for a second. Dick was not in the least bothered, used to this sort of reaction from the younger detective. Dick just grinned, leaning on the back of Tim’s chair and looking up at the images on the large computer screen above them. He whistled lowly, impressed. “You’ve made a lot of progress, nice! Anything you wanna share with me before the debrief tonight?”

Tim clenched and unclenched his jaw, weighing his options. Dick waited patiently, knowing that sometimes Tim needed a minute to sort through his rapid-forming thoughts. Finally Tim sighed, setting down his mug grimly.

“Actually, yes,” he admitted. Tim’s tense tone immediately made Dick stiffen, straightening up. His eyebrows pulled down, and he returned his gaze to the computer.

“Okay, that’s your serious voice. What is it?”

“I… need your confirmation with something,” Tim turned around and looked straight at Dick. And he hesitated again, because certain… past interactions with his eldest brother once again flashed through his head. The entire Bruce-is-alive and being threatened with Arkham interaction, to be specific. But Tim needed to know the truth, it was his fatal flaw he supposed. He couldn’t back away in fear of how Dick might react.

“Ohhhhkay?” Dick just grew more and more concerned the longer that Tim took to actually speak.

“So, just to recap. There are only four people in history who have been able to do a quadruple somersault, right?” Tim asked, knowing full well the answer. Dick, predictably, shifted and grew even more on alert at the inquiry. He knew that couldn’t mean anything good. His jaw clenched, and his hands formed tight fists. But Dick also remembered the Bruce incident with Tim all that time ago, and he didn’t want to repeat his mistakes. So he forced himself to take a deep breath, and shake himself away from jumping to conclusions.

“Yeah,” Dick nodded. “Me, my parents, and my sister,” he confirmed rigidly. Tim nodded, and then rewound the video on the screen again, nodding to show that Dick should focus on it.

“Okay. But watch this,” Tim suggested, starting the video again. Dick watched as the red and black-spotted heroine of Paris, Ladybug, zipped through the air and around buildings with her yo-yo. He watched as she let go, at a height that even a normal person could manage, and executed four perfect somersaults in mid-air before landing nimbly on the ground. Tim paused the video again, his eyes never leaving Dick’s tense face.

“It isn’t doctored,” Tim said, filling the silence and preemptively answering the questions he knew he would get. “I checked. Magic is involved, but Constantine and Zatanna both confirmed it would have no hold over basic physical abilities like flexibility or… gymnastics. Only specifically combat styles used by past Ladybugs can be transferred magically to the next Ladybug, not this.”

“Tim,” Dick’s voice was terrifyingly blank. “What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing yet,” Tim was quick to hold up his hands in surrender. “I’m still doing research. It’s possible, though extremely unlikely, that she managed to teach herself how to do that. You tell me, Dick, how likely is it?”

Dick swallowed, not wanting to say it but knowing he had to look at the facts. “... At her age? Next to impossible,” he admitted. “She could learn it, theoretically, as young as seven or eight, but only if someone who knew what they were doing taught her since she was about three.”

Tim nodded again. He knew those numbers, he knew where they came from.

“Then— and this is only a theory right now— we have what I think is the more plausible scenario,” Tim swallowed. This was the hard part. “Your sister was kidnapped after your parent’s death, but the body that was found wasn’t actually her’s. It wasn’t in a state to be physically identified, so—“

“I know what state it was in, Tim!” Dick snapped, forcing himself to take a few steps back and just breath. Even now, the image of a tiny body burned beyond recognition was burned into the inside of his eyelids, there to taunt him whenever he blinked or slept and let his mind wander in just the wrong direction. She would be… what, Jason’s age, now? She was seven… only seven, when their parents died and she ran off into the Gotham streets in despair. When she was kidnapped, as is what happens in Gotham.

When Dick was presented with a body he could not say WASN’T her’s a week later.

“The DNA…” Dick tried. “They said…”

“I know,” Tim’s voice was carefully soft. “But the records on your family’s DNA were all kept by the circus back then. The Talons had access to those files. It’s very possible they were tampered with. Switched. It wouldn’t be hard for them to burn your sister’s actual medical files and replace them with forged copies that had someone else’s DNA on them. The data of the girl who actually died.”

Dick closed his eyes, shaking his head. He didn’t want to hope, it would hurt too much if Tim was wrong.

Tim had been right about more unlikely things than this, a voice in the back of his head whispered. And yeah, that was true. But Dick was still too scared to hope.

“Finish your research, Tim,” Dick’s voice was strained with suppressed emotion. He couldn’t even look at the younger vigilante as he left the Cave. “Find out who Ladybug’s civilian persona is, and then we’ll talk.”

Tim could only sigh in relief when Dick was gone. That could have gone much worse.

—*—*—*—*—*

A week later, the entire family was gathered. This was the full debrief on the Paris case, rather than the progress update that they had had to do before. Research took longer than Tim had expected, he had years of data to go through after all. But he had come away with exactly what he had been looking for.

After running through the overall situation and where the fight against HawkMoth was at in the present day, Tim licked his lips and took a deep breath. This was it, the Who-Is-Ladybug part.

“I was able to get security footage of her detransformation, just one lucky shot from ten years ago, when this whole thing began,” he prefaced. “She was thirteen years old, and untrained as far as heroism goes, so it stands to reason she didn’t know yet how to be properly careful about transforming. This is that security picture,” he carefully put the enlarged picture up on the Batcomputer, as well as sliding a physical copy onto the table for everyone to pass around.

Dick didn’t even try to grab it, his eyes glued to the computer, expression unreadable. The picture was a little grainy, but most of the girl’s face could be made out. Pigtails, dark black hair that shimmered blue in direct light, blue eyes.

But it was the next picture that Tim pulled up that pushed everything over the edge.

“These are the official pictures of her that I was able to get from Paris records. This first picture is of her at the same age at the security footage, thirteen. The second picture is her now, age twenty-three,” Tim said, before the side-by-side came up on the screen. Tim’s eyes slid over to Dick, who was frozen in his seat, just staring at the images silently. He wasn’t even breathing.

“Dick?” Bruce asked, immediately noticing the behavior. His eyebrows furrowed. “Are you alright?”

Dick’s next breath came in with a shudder, and he clenched his eyes shut in a futile attempt to stop the tears that came out. He choked out a broken chuckle, shaking his head and giving out a lopsided, watery grin.

“Heh. Another point for Timmy being right,” Dick jokes weakly, rubbing at his eyes.

“What do you mean? Tim?” Bruce turned to the younger of the two insistently. “What’s going on? Who is she?”

“Currently, according to Parisian records, she is Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Tim told them. “More specifically, her full name is Marinette Gray Dupain-Cheng. Which I believe is what she chose to change her name to after she was kidnapped sixteen years ago from right outside Haley’s Circus, and illegally transported to France,” Tim clicked another button to bring up a third picture in the side-by-side. It was of someone who was clearly a younger Marinette, but in the very familiar costume of the Flying Graysons, standing right next to a twelve-year old version of Dick. “Because her birth name is Marie Natalia Grayson. Dick’s younger sister, who until now was presumed dead. But I was able to confirm that the medical records back then for Marie were forged, and the information on them could not actually belong to her. The body that was presented as Marie’s… was a red herring to hide that Marie was no longer in America at all.”

Dick’s sob-laugh drew everyone’s attention back to the first Robin, who was now silently, openly, crying. Nobody really knew how to deal with that, and the room descended into awkward silence as Dick tried to regain his composure a little.

“Marinette… Gray,” he whispered, chuckling again and shaking his head as he wiped at his cheeks. “That idiot… her ability with subtlety hasn’t gotten any better, that’s for sure,” he was smiling now, still staring at the pictures of Marinette on the screen. Of his beautiful little sister, all grown up and not buried six feet under like he had thought for far too long.

Because this was different from Hope. This was certainty. The face, the far too on-the-nose name, the somersaults, Dick had even noticed it in the way she swung on her yo-yo. The body memory from years of Trapeze, those little quirks he recognized as belonging to his sister that he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. But now, all together, he could admit to himself that it was her. It was really her.

Could it be a clone? Maybe. Maybe. But that was why Dick snuck out to France the very next day, informing absolutely nobody.

Because he had a test that only the real Marie would be able to pass.

—*—*—*—*—*

"How did you- No, nevermind, I don't want to know, plausible deniability and all that,” the deep, unfamiliar male voice made Marinette squeak in shock, nearly dropping the phone in her hands. She leaned so far to her right that she almost fell over, but her nearly perfect balance (that only failed her when she was nervous or self conscious) kept her upright.

Her eyes darted down to her phone screen, where an app that Max had helped her create was opened. It utilized at least five hundred little fly-shaped drones that Markov managed and kept track of to scan the city for corrupted butterflies and recognize the level of stress or other negative emotions that civilians were experiencing. It cut down severely on patrol time that the crew had to do, making it easier for them to balance their hero and civilian lives and also allowed for them to arrive at the scene of Akuma attacks twice as fast as before— along with helping with the original purpose of catching evidence to use against Hawkmoth, of course.

Marinette straightened her back, smiling sheepishly and closing out the app. She had just been making a routine check, it had only been open for a minute. How had he managed to sneak up on her in that time? Only chat could do that anymore.

That is, until Marinette turned around the rest of the way and got a good look at the man. Her eyes widened— what was Nightwing, a vigilante from Gotham, doing there?

“I don’t see what plausible deniability has to do with anything,” she replied in easy, unaccented English. She might not speak it often, but she did stay in practice. Even now a lot of her fashion notes and thoughts were in either English or Romani. “It’s just a game app that my friend created,” the practiced lie flew easily past her lips, and she was able to even smile confidently and begin to happily ramble about Max’s (public) achievements like she would in any normal situation. “It is still in the test phase of course, but it uses virtual reality and mapping technology to create a treasure hunt sort of adventure game that people can do as they walk around. Like Pokémon go, but with real-time footage of the city— with people not included besides the game characters of course— and it rewards caution as well as keeping active,” she explained their cover story for the app happily. But Nightwing only smiled easily at her with his arms crossed, clearly not believing a single word.

“Ah— but that probably isn’t interesting,” Marinette purposely stuttered, turning her face into one of (surprisingly genuine) confusion as she looked at the vigilante. “What are you here for anyway, Monsieur? This doesn’t seem like—“

“I have a riddle that a friend of mine told me to ask you,” he interrupted, instantly putting Marinette on guard. She took a step back, eyebrows pulling down at the odd request. But still, she chuckled nervously and shrugged. She had to maintain appearances after all.

“Uh, sure..? Riddles are fun, in the right circumstances I guess.”

Nightwing beamed happily, nearly blinding the poor girl. “Awesome!” His next words came out in fluent Romani though: “If a Hummingbird ever gets lost, what kind of animal will track it down?”

Marinette’s mouth went dry, her shoulders dropping. Her mouth opened and closed, the shock of the question leaving her unable to even pretend she didn’t understand exactly what was said. Nightwing’s gaze grew more intense, yet his smile got impossibly soft.

Marinette swallowed thickly, and she took a deep breath before responding in Romani: “You shouldn’t— only one person—“

“That doesn’t answer the riddle, ma’am.”

Marinette’s confusion turned into a harsh glare. “He would never tell someone else to ask me that. What are you trying to play at, Nightwing?” She hissed harshly, still in her native language.

“Listen, Marinette,” Nightwing held up both hands to try to calm her down. It did the opposite, making her take another step back. “Batman and the rest of our team has been looking into the Hawkmoth security—“ Marinette cursed, clearly seeing where this was going. “— We believe he found out who Ladybug is. But, we also found signs that your real name is—“

“Shut up!” She yelled in English, fists clenched tightly. Luckily she had gone into an alleyway to check her phone, or else they would be attracting attention by then. Her eyes sparked with anger. “You don’t get to use that name. And if you’re so smart,” Marinette tucked her phone into her purse and scaled the wall next to her nimbly, perching on the roof as Nightwing cursed and began to follow her. “Then try to predict my moves, birdy.”

It only took a few minutes and crossed rooftops for Marinette to call on her transformation and pick up speed. She knew by then that Nightwing, and probably the other Bats too, already found her out. Not ideal, but manageable. Now she wanted to show him why he shouldn’t come into her territory and dig into her past and think he could get away with it.

Somewhere during the chase, more Bats appeared one by one. Judging by what Ladybug was able to overhear, they had come as soon as they realized where Nightwing had snuck off to.

That made Marinette pause from where she hid behind a sloped roof, in the middle of a call to her own teammates. Nightwing hadn’t come on his team’s orders?

Why the hell had he come, then?

She shook thought thoughts away, focusing on her plan. Paris was her city, and she would make sure the Bats learned their lesson when it came to sticking their nose in Parisian business.

“Bug?” The soft, concerned call came from her yo-yo and pulled her from her contemplating. Max, in full Pegasus attire, was frowning at her in worry on the small screen. She just shook her head at him.

“I’m fine, Peg. Just don’t like how this feels like Gotham ruining my life again,” she remarked sourly. “But I’m fine. Start plan We’re Not Kids.”

Max nodded, but rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like; “even though we made this plan when we actually were kids…”

A portal opened in the air a few seconds later, releasing Honeybee in all her gold and black glory. The winged hero zipped through the air, immediately putting team Miraculous at an advantage since team Bat didn’t want to actually harm them.

It took a glorious five seconds for Honeybee to paralyze them all before Tortoise dropped out from another portal and surrounded the temporarily paralyzed vigilantes in a dome shield that kept them in just as easily as it kept everything else out.

One by one, Marinette’s teammates dropped out of more portals until Pegasus himself joined them. Ladybug took that as her que to come out, leaping over her hiding place to land in front of her friends, who had formed a half-circle in front of the trapped dome.

“Vixen,” she called to the fox-themed hero, whose ears twitched before she straightened to attention. “Create an illusion to hide us. The last thing we need are any pictures or anyone asking questions.”

“Got it!” Vixen agreed easily, raising her flute to her lips. A short melody later, and their surroundings warped. To those inside the illusion, it seemed as if the world merely ended off of the rooftop they were on, into only blankness. Outside, that very rooftop appeared empty.

It was then that Chat Noir stepped up to take Ladybug’s side, his acidic green eyes scanning over the Gotham vigilantes trapped inside Tortoise’s protective barrier.

“You can release the paralysis, Honeybee,” his order was noticeably softer than Ladybug’s clear commands. It was obvious that he was the deputy in this situation, the flexibility to Ladybug’s iron leadership. That was when the red clad hero crossed her arm, resuming control of the situation wordlessly. The Gotham heroes briefly glowed gold as Honeybee let their paralysis begin to gradually wear off.

“Paris is my city,” Ladybug’s voice was at a normal volume, but came out with such auditory steel that it was clear she expected to be listened to, or she’d know why. “If I needed or wanted your help, I would have asked for it. Now, if you had come here normally to offer aid, then we might be having a different discussion right now,” her eyes narrowed further. “But you dug into my past. You violated my privacy. And Nightwing, you crossed a line,” she would have continued if the blue and black clad hero didn’t use his sudden ability to move to rip off his mask.

Marinette’s voice died in her throat, and for a while she thought she might be hallucinating. Those eyes, that face— she knew them. She knew them, because she saw them whenever she dared close her eyes. Because the dreams she had, the dreams that made her never want to drag herself out of bed because she wanted to believe those dreams were real so badly, always contained those eyes. And that face, though it had been much younger in her memories.

She stumbled, and only Chat’s presence at her side kept her from toppling right over.

“Bugaboo?” He asked frantically, distraught. She just shook her head dazedly, pushing herself back to her feet and away from her partner.

“I’m fine, Chat. Just…,” she assured her partner, but her eyes never left Nightwing. She licked her lips nervously, before continuing; “... Bluebird,” she whispered, making Nightwing’s eyes widen. Her brother’s eyes. “That’s the answer to the riddle, right?”

Slowly, a wide smile split his face before he began to laugh happily, despite Robin slapping Nightwing’s mask back on his face with a furious grumble.

“Ladybug?” Tortoise asked, stepping up to her other side cautiously. Seeing as they were all adults now, none of them had to worry about time or power limits anymore. “Are you..?”

“Release the shield,” she ordered instead of answering, her eyes clearly damp behind her mask. “I need to strangle my idiotic older brother for scaring the hell out of me.”

That made the rest of her team make their various exclamations of shock, but Chat and Tortoise stayed silent. Chat just put a hand on Ladybug’s shoulder in support, while Tortoise zipped his wide gaze back to Nightwing before sighing and releasing his ability.

“Only you, Bug,” the green clad hero groused playfully. “Only you.”

If Marinette Dupain-Cheng suddenly introduced her long-lost brother to her closest friends and family that same night, nobody voiced the coincidence out loud.

—*—*—*—*—*

Part 1: Romance

Part 3: Bio!Parent

[egoludes]

let me come home: two.

Summary: After years at a dead-end job shouldering everyone’s expectations for you but your own, you’re finally free to be whoever you want, go wherever you want. That is, until a series of unfortunate events strand you in Amber’s End, where the sheriff – and notoriously unmated pack alpha – decides to take you in.

Pairings: alpha!Steve Rogers x omega!Reader; side alpha!Bucky Barnes x beta!Sam Wilson

Notes: Wowowow - I don’t even want to count how many months it’s been, but we are finally back in business! I can’t thank you all enough for the love you showed on the first chapter of this and I am beyond excited to share this and hear what you think. Big reminder from the last chapter that parts one and two are all about setting the stage for Steve and our lovely reader. So,  this is more or less 5k of more background. But, I really loved introducing Bucky, Sam, and Nat (Bucky especially because he’s going to be huge here!) and hope you enjoy them too. Especially my Heat Wave readers - mechanic!Bucky returns! And I promise parts three and four will be extra juicy to make up for it. Divider credit goes to @writeyourmindaway​!

Chapter warnings: Werewolf AU, A/B/O dynamics, incredibly basic knowledge of cars that is probably incorrect

The drive to Steve’s home is short: five minutes from the diner to the base of a wooded hill, another ten to reach the peak. You follow him up a slanted stretch of road with eyes trained on his tail lights, but there are moments when your gaze strays. Sunset lingers on either side of you, framing the forest in a pretty glow. The blend of deep orange and soft pink is hard to look away from, even when you know you should be focused elsewhere, and you make your way to the top in that dizzying in-between. 

When you finally come to a stop, it’s on a patch of paved road - a welcome change to the gravel before it - in front of a large wooden cabin. Behind you, the town’s spread out in a panorama, spanning for what feels like an eternity. You can see everything from here: the humble spread of Main Street; the blues and greens of the Hummingbird; and finally, the mountains, majestic and steady beyond that.

It’s the perfect place for the pack’s alpha to be and, coincidentally, has been the home of Rogers alphas for three generations now.

That lived in feel is the first thing you notice when you make it inside. The structure is sturdy, hasn’t so much as gnarled over the years. The decor, on the other hand, is dated. Doilies on some surfaces and beer coasters on others, there are hints of Steve and the alphas who came before him throughout. Still, it’s cozy, and you say as much in an appreciative hum as you pull your bag off your shoulder. 

The first floor is all open space, and you can see most of it from your spot in the foyer. It doesn’t take long for Steve to situate you - sitting room, kitchen, bathroom, and master bedroom — before leading you towards the stairs. The walls along the staircase are full of memory; pictures of him and his loved ones that catch your eye as you ascend. You don’t have time to linger now, but make a point to look them over before you go. He’s piqued your interest too much not to be a little nosy.

The second floor, on the other hand, isn’t nearly as wide as the first. There are three doors in the whole hallway, two on either side with the third directly in front of you. He identifies each as the guest room, the storage room, and a study in that order, though he’s careful to call out that no one’s used the study in a long time. 

There’s a story there, you’re sure, but any interest in it leaves when Steve presses the guest bedroom door open. The bed inside is too big for the room, one side even touching the walls. And like the rest of the house, it’s decorated in a way that reminds you of your grandmother; a quaintness that’s endearing on a man like Steve. But, as out of place as things might be, there’s an undeniable comfort walking into that room. Steve smiles when he smells it on you -- that cinnamon-sweet rise of contentment as you sink down on the bed at his behest.

“It’s a short tour,” he admits, leaning against the doorjamb, “but this is about it. You’re welcome to anything in the kitchen if you get hungry again tonight or before you go tomorrow. I’m usually up early, so in case I don’t see you, enjoy the rest of your trip. Take care of yourself.” 

It’s new to you, how easily people can offer such genuine acts of care. He hardly knows you, yet there’s no doubt that he means what he says. The thought of it makes you return that thoughtful smile. “Thank you, Steve - you’re seriously a lifesaver.”

With a final smile, he leaves you to it, shutting the door behind him.

At the click, you settle further into the bed, toeing your shoes off and sifting through your bag for house clothes and a towel. Your travels so far have been an adventure, to say the least. Just a few months ago, you’d been working a stressful entry-level job on Wall Street. Pressed skirts, sharp teeth, the days were full of routine, but not the kind that’s pleasant. Everything was uncertainty and fleeting gratification as you competed, day after day, for a seat at the table. 

Add to that the constant nagging from your family to find a mate  — the endless string of blind dates, the passive-aggressive mentions of other friends’ announcements; it’s a wonder you’d endured it all as long as you had.

The decision to quit had been a long time coming. The decision to leave was a whim - the first you’d had in a long time. It was freeing to even be able to make the choice and the lack of commitment only grew more intoxicating from there. You feel freer, less suffocated, and so does your wolf  — it’s a change you’d desperately needed.

That feeling is what follows you into the shower as you wash away the day, and back to bed in your loose pjs. As you settle in, you have to stop yourself from sighing out loud. The mattress is as tender as a cloud, molding to your body at every point, and after weeks of motel beds (and the back of your Jeep), you fall headfirst into that comfort. Sleep comes fast and stays put.

                                                       ----

When you wake in the morning, the world is quiet. It’s a long way from New York’s chaos and you bask in it, eagerly at that. The sun filtering in through the window above you leaves kaleidoscope patterns on the sheets. Your hand moves to trace them for a bit, thumb to fractured color, until you’re awake enough to focus your ear to the house. 

Like outside, Steve’s cabin is tranquil, not even a hint of the alpha’s presence. Given his warning the night before, it isn’t surprising, but you’re still a little disappointed. You’d hoped to repay him for his kindness somehow — maybe with breakfast, or whatever change you could spare. But, you’ll settle for what you can get: you make a mental note to try and catch him at his office before you leave town.

Weeks on the road have made your morning routine as efficient as it gets. So once you’re completely up, you’re out the door not long after, a slice of buttered toast between your teeth to get your system going. You find your car where you left it at the end of Steve’s drive and you approach with a bounce in your step, all thanks to the night of comfortable sleep. 

Maybe you ought to grab Steve a fruit basket before you stop by.

You’re racking your memory of Main Street for bakeries or something close when you settle into the driver’s seat. But, gratitude towards Steve quickly becomes the last thing on your mind when you try to start your Jeep and get nothing but a grinding sound. It isn’t promising, but you try it again, only to get even less response before the car dies altogether. 

You groan out loud, head dropping to the steering wheel while your shoulders sink in defeat. It was inevitable, really - it’s been years since you inherited the car from your older sister and it was only through a slew of band-aid fixes that it made it this far. 

Still, the timing can’t be any worse; you don’t have a schedule to meet, but it isn’t much of a road trip if you can’t make it on the road. You fish your cell out of your jacket pocket, hoping that your service has somehow improved between last night and this morning. But, you only have a couple bars - finicky connection at best - so, you head back into Steve’s home where you’re certain you’d noticed a landline. 

When you find it, you also come across a phone book --- not the newest edition, but recent enough. The list of mechanics in the area isn’t long, so you thumb in the first number you see. The phone rings only twice before someone picks up. 

“Barnes Garage?”

“Hi,” you start, perking up at the quick answer, “I just tried to start my car and it’s not working. It made this weird sound at first, then when I tried again, it just died.”

The man on the other end hums and you can hear paper rustling in the background like he’s taking notes. “Alright, we can send someone out right now to tow you in and take a look - what’s your address?”

“I don’t...actually know,” you admit, face hot from embarrassment when he goes silent. You must sound ridiculous. “I’m not from around here, so I’m just staying with someone. I’m not sure about the address.” 

A chuckle rises from him that eases your shame just a bit. “Alrighty. Well, it’s a small town  — tell me who you’re stayin’ with and I’m sure between the three of us here, we’ll know where to find ‘em.”

There’s a part of you that’s skeptical of that; but for a town so small and a pack so close-knit, maybe it’s possible. “Uh, sure. I stayed with Steve Rogers  — the sheriff?”

The line goes silent again, this time so prolonged you think the call dropped. Then, the mechanic speaks up and you can almost swear he’s smiling. “No shit. I know exactly where that is, I can be there in fifteen? Maybe twenty? That work for you?”

“Well, I won’t be going anywhere, so that works perfectly.”

                                                        ----

The mechanic manages the trip in ten, when you glance out the window at the sound of an engine to see a dark blue tow truck stalking up Steve’s driveway. You come out to greet it just as the man driving climbs out and nearly gasp. He’s as handsome as Steve had been: piercing blue eyes, an angled, stubble-lined face, and deep brown hair gathered at his nape. There’s something familiar about him you can’t seem to place, but it’s out of sight and out of mind when he closes the distance with a wide smile. “Well, hi there -- ‘m Bucky. Spoke to you on the phone.” You give him your name, to which he nods. “So, I’ll get your car down to the shop and we’ll take a look, see if we can’t fix you up today. You wanna come with me, or you staying at Stevi -- uh, Steve’s for the day?”

You shake your head . “Nah, I can come with - I was planning to head out of town today anyway, so I’m hoping I can just head out from your garage.”

“Hop on in then.”

The ride with Bucky is surprisingly warm. He’s not exactly talkative, but he’s engaging; asking questions where he needs to, humming out his interest when he doesn’t. You get so settled into the flow of quiet radio and chatter that you don’t realize you’ve made it to his shop until the truck comes to a full stop. 

Barnes Garage sits at the corner of some of Amber’s End’s quieter streets. The large lot outside has a few cars parked with a path between them for new ones to be driven into the workshop. Bucky’s pulled your Jeep right into that path, though he’s stopped halfway between the curb and the garage building. “It’ll take me maybe a half hour to really dig in --- you can stick around or explore, it’s up to you, but I’ll let you out here.”

You climb out with a nod, thanking him before nodding towards the streets behind you. “I’ll probably head out - grab a few more things before I go. See you in thirty?” 

For the second time in as many days, you’re exploring Main Street, this time with an eye out for the stores you didn’t visit the day before. There aren’t many, to be frank, so after the first few, you take to stopping in on some of the people you’ve met already. They seem surprised to see you again, but take advantage of your presence to tell you more about themselves, the town, their wares. 

You realize quickly that none of the stories about Amber’s End really do it justice. It’s quainter than what you’re used to, sure, but there’s so much history there. It’s romantic almost - like the first turn of an old book or light filtering into a tea shop. 

You think you’ll miss it when you leave, even if just for a little while.

When you get back to the shop, you’re a few souvenirs richer and have something nice to give Steve on your way out of town as well. Bucky is sitting at a computer - the model recognizably old but reliable like the rest of the town. He perks up at the sight of you, already waving before you make it all the way in the door and pull your scarf from around your face. “So,” he starts, walking to your car with a hand under his chin. “I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news.”

You grimace. “Ok --- good news first.”

“Well, I know what’s wrong with the car. The starter motor,” he taps a finger on the hood over the spot where the part lives, “is out. Completely done. But, we can get a part delivered here to get you back on the road.”

“Okay,” you eye him suspiciously. “Then, what’s the bad news?”

“Lookin’ at the places we get our parts from, they’re all outta stock for the model you’ve got. The soonest the part could be here is in a month, and even that might be generous with all the storms lately.” As if pre-empting your shock, he hands over an invoice to confirm it.

Seeing it written out, plain as day, makes you grimace. Staying anywhere for a whole month (or more) had never been in the cards; but, there’s no way you can afford a new car either - you were just barely making it through with the money you’ve budgeted as is. You take a long, hard look at the estimate Bucky’s handed you before taking a deep breath to gather your thoughts. “Okay,” you start slowly, “so how does this work? If I decide to wait for the part.”

He gestures to the door behind you that leads to the lot from earlier. “We have a reserve lot - it’s where we keep all the cars that are waiting on a part for service. I’d keep your car here - free of charge - until the part comes, then we fix ‘er up. You’d pay for the part now and the fix later, when we call you to make sure it all looks good.”

You nod, glancing up from the sheet briefly before looking back at the part expense. It isn’t bad in the grand scheme of things - certainly cheaper than a used car that’ll just give up on you in a few months anyway. But, it will be a good chunk of what you’d set aside for your trip and if you’re staying put for the month, there’s no way you can afford to do it without really settling in. Job and all. “Okay - let’s do it.”

“Sounds good.” Bucky’s eyes are full of sympathy as he watches you; from what little you’d told him in the ride over, being stuck in one place is the last thing you wanted right now. “You want me to get you to Steve? He’ll have some good ideas for what you can do next.”

The nervous knots that’ve been building since the conversation started uncoil some at the mention of the other Alpha, though you try your best to ignore it with another nod to Bucky. “That would be great.”

                                                       ----

The sheriff’s station is small but busy when you walk in. Bucky trails ahead of you, walking with purpose that surprises you. At first, you chalk it up to the town being so small  — maybe there’s an open door policy for the residents. But, then you notice the way deputies and junior deputies let him by without even batting an eye. The ones who do simply nod, offering a smile while Bucky walks right past them and reception into Steve’s open office door. 

“Buck?” You can hear ahead of him. “What are you doing here..?” It dawns on you then that they must know each other; intimately, judging by the nickname and the pure ease that Bucky has as he maneuvers the station.

You hesitate to interrupt their moment, but Bucky’s response to Steve’s question is to angle himself so you can be seen from behind him. That’s when Steve notices you and you wave with a sheepish smile. “He brought me, actually - my car’s broken down and I don’t think I’ll be able to leave for a bit. I wanted to make sure you knew before you came home and found me still there…”

Your presence brings Steve to his feet and you notice that he’s in his sheriff’s uniform for the first time. Somehow, he seems more comfortable in it than the casual wear you’ve seen him in so far, but there’s no denying that he looks just as good. “Hey -- you don’t have to worry about that, I wouldn’t just kick you out. I’m sorry to hear about the car, though - anything I can do to help?” 

“Unless there’s a way the local sheriff’s office can put a little muscle on an auto-parts dealer,” you tease, drawing a snort from Bucky beside you, “I think I’m okay. I’m hoping we can talk more about where I should stay when you get back, though?” 

“Sounds good to me.”

With your big news out in the open, you turn on your heel to leave, but pause as another thought strikes you. “Actually, one thing I could use some help with: know of anyone hiring?”

Steve’s face turns pensively and you can see his mind working for an answer. “Not that I can think of, no…,” he offers, a little remorse in his tone, “but you know what? Most places are willin’ if you know who to talk to. How about Bucky take you around? See what you find?”

After giving his instructions to a suspiciously enthusiastic Bucky, Steve turns his attention back to you. You expect to see pity, but there’s nothing there but genuine concern. You feel a little warmth from it, like you’re protected just by standing in front of him, and wonder if this is how everyone in his pack must feel. “I’ll be back late today, so you can feel free to eat without me. Bucky will take care of you until then and help you talk to some folks about a job. You call me if you need me.” He brandishes a business card from a holder on his desk and pencils his cell number on the back before handing it over. “If you’re still awake when I get in, we can talk about your living situation. Otherwise, settle in for one more night and we’ll talk in the morning.”

                                                       ----

Over the rest of the day, Bucky takes you to a few shops with vacancies: pharmacy, market, the doctor’s office. Nothing seems to strike a chord for you, though, and you start to grow dejected, anticipating yet another job you have to work  out of necessity.

Then, Bucky pulls into the gravel lot of a tavern.

Widow’s Den is the name carved in large wooden blocks over the front door, and despite the afternoon hour, there are a few cars parked in front of it. When you duck inside, a group of older men and women sit, talking over beers.

A tall, broad man is working the bar, his laughter booming over a pop song you haven’t heard in years. Beside you, Bucky beams, scent thickening at the sight, and you realize quickly that this must be the person behind the ring on his left hand and the soft pink mark on the right side of his neck. His mate. It’s adorable to see — this charismatic alpha unraveled at one glimpse of the man he loves. 

“Babe,” Bucky chimes for the bartender’s attention as you approach the bartop. Not that he needs to, though; it’s obvious in the way his scent spikes that he’s long since noticed Bucky’s presence and you nearly coo at that too. “Nat in the back?”

“Yeah,” he responds, not looking your way yet as he finishes pouring a drink. “Doing inventory, I think.” Once the drink’s delivered, he offers his full attention and that’s when he notices you. “Who’s this?”

Bucky grins, smile taking on a boyish quality as he slings an arm around your shoulders. “New girl, looking for a job. Her car’s in the shop with me now, so she’s staying with our lovely sheriff until it gets fixed up.” 

The bartender’s intrigue is immediate, eyes widening before he grins slyly — as if privy to a secret you’re not — and folds arms over his chest. The pose accentuates the corded muscle along his arms and chest and you have to stop yourself from sighing. Is there anyone in this town that isn’t woefully in shape? “You’re kiddin'. With Steve?” You have more questions than you know what to do with, but there’s no time to think about asking one when his hand is thrust your way. “Well, then, nice to meet you, girlie. I’m Sam.” 

The smile he offers you is welcoming, and you forget about the odd focus on your staying with Steve (it isn’t even official yet!) to accept his hand. When you share your name in return, the smile widens and he tips his head towards the stretch of hallway by the other end of the bar. “Head on back to talk to Nat -- Bucky can show you the way.”

The brunet rests a hand to your back, pausing only to give Sam a quick kiss over the bar before he takes you towards the back hallway. The vibe in this half of the building is noticeably different. Homey, like the staircase at Steve’s cabin. You recognize many of the same faces in these pictures as the ones back at Steve’s. Bucky’s against Sam’s shoulder, Steve head and shoulders over the rest. There are a few where he’s even bare faced, looking eons younger than he does now, but not a smidgen less intense, and you work out easily that they’ve all been friends for some time, maybe even since puphood.

It’s admirable to you, maybe even enviable too. You have friends from that age as well, but the unforgiving pace of city life had made it hard to stay close. The smiles in the bar’s pictures, in comparison, speak to nothing but growing bonds, year after year.

You can’t help but smile too.

“This way.” Bucky’s voice brings you out of your thoughts and into a half-cracked doorway. The room is cluttered, stacked with boxes and bottles. And in the center of the chaos is a woman with striking red hair, pulled up and out of her face. Her aura holds a candle to Steve’s; far-reaching, imposing, and immediate. There’s no mistaking her as anything but an Alpha, and when her eyes leave the clipboard she’s holding to focus on you instead, you struggle against the instinctive need to bow into yourself. But, years of Wall Street’s brutal pace (that cares very little for rank) steel you. You see something akin to amusement flash in her eyes when you meet her gaze head-on.

“What did I tell you about bringing in strays, James?” Her tone is level, but the words have no real bite. You look up at Bucky warily still, who reassures you with a little smile.

“This one’s not a stray --- not really, anyway.” He loops an arm around your shoulder again and you can tell the familiarity intrigues Nat. “She’s new in town - staying for a month or two until I can get her car squared up, so we’re hopin’ to find her a place to work.”

“Just a couple? That’s not a long time --- I mean, by the time you get settled in, you’re gonna be out of here.” A valid concern; one that the other shop owners had shared when Bucky told them your predicament. There isn’t much you can say to ease the worry, but it turns out you don’t have to. Nat turns the rest of the way to set her scrutinizing gaze on you properly and the look compels you to stay put; almost as if you’re presenting yourself to her. A stretch of silence sets in and the longer it goes, the more convinced you are that she’s about to reject you outright. Then, she clicks her tongue. “Hm. We don’t need much right now, but I could throw you a couple bucks if you want to help us bus tables or something. This is the only spot to really drink in town, so we could always use the help on busy nights.”

You’re so relieved you could kiss her, but you don’t need superhuman instinct to know that would not go well. You settle instead for a wide smile, the sort that’s contagious to the Alphas in the room who start beaming with you. “That would work for me!”

“Good,” she grins, setting her clipboard aside to cross her arms, “now to celebrate our new arrival.”

                                                       ----

You spend the rest of the day at Widow’s Den, getting to know Sam, Bucky, and Natasha over glasses of their best liquor. They confirm your suspicion that they’ve known each other for some time: Steve and Bucky are lifelong friends, brought together by a schoolyard fight started by a Steve who wasn’t even half the other boys’ heights. Meanwhile, Sam and Natasha came into the fray during high school years, transfers from their deep South and Russian hometowns respectively. But, they folded into the fabric of the boyhood duo easily and had been a foursome ever since.

You still don’t know where Sam and Bucky’s relationship turned romantic, but there’s an ease there that makes you guess it has been a while. Natasha, like you, is unmarked, but it’s rare for Alphas to do that anyway. You’re curious to learn more about her in particular. 

As time moves on, the bar fills more and more and you get a glimpse of what your life will be like for the next few weeks. The crowd is certainly diverse - people of all ages filing in with friends or on their own. In an odd way, there’s two bars existing in one - young and old, energetic chatter and introspective talk. 

By the time you leave, you’re a little tipsy and Bucky guides you out with a hand on your back. So far, you haven’t come across any other omega in their circle, and you wonder if his constant touch is a result of that instinct to protect you. The conversation on the ride back to Steve’s flows more freely now that you’ve spent so much time together and when he drops you off, he surprises you with an offer for a hug. When he glimpses that surprise, he laughs. “None of that now - you’ll be seeing a lot of me from now on, so we’re friends, sweetheart.” 

You laugh and step into his arms - you suppose he’s right.

                                                       ----

It’s near one in the morning when Steve finally comes home. His midnight patrol had been as uneventful as usual ---- a blessing, he thinks, considering how distracted he’d been during the run. His wolf is restless, agitated by the thought of this new omega being around longer than expected. He found his thoughts trailing to her during his time in the woods, particularly as he passed the quarry he’d found her in, and there was an eagerness to find out how the rest of the day with Bucky had gone.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little nervous. His friend, dear as he is, can be a handful, even for him. 

When he comes in, he’s shocked to find you still awake in the living room, a mug of what smells like herbal tea in your hand as you flip through a book from his shelf. You look up at him from the book, a dopey smile to your face, and that’s when the other, underlying smell on you hits. Alcohol --- something woody that’s familiar. He guesses Bucky must’ve taken you to Widow’s Den, which would explain why you’re still up at this time.

“Hey,” he speaks up, nodding at you, “couldn’t sleep?”

You shake your head, book forgotten as you cradle your tea with your other hand. “It’s been a busy night - still a bit wired!” 

Fair, he thinks. “Tell me about it - did it go well with Buck?”

You start to ramble about the day - the places you tried, the time at Widow’s Den, the offer from Nat you ultimately accepted. He tries not to tense too visibly, but he can’t hide the way his scent sharpens the way it often does when an Alpha is on edge. He can see the impact it has on you instantly; the way your excitement slows and your eyes dart to try and pick out what caused it.

He reassures you - or does his best to - with a smile, urging you on. He won’t explain this yet, but the crowd at Widow’s Den can be rowdy when they want to be, especially when they’re from out of town. Nat and Sam will show you the ropes --- and step in where they have to --- so you’ll be in good hands; but he wouldn’t be Steve if he didn’t worry. You’re the newest wolf in town now --- a part of his pack, even if just for a short while.

When you’re done recapping the day, his smile grows, the gesture deliberately wide to make up for his worry catching you off-guard. “Well, I’m glad to hear it went well - Nat and Sam are good people, they’ll take care of you.”

“I believe it.” You pause, running a finger along the rim of your mug. “Which reminds me, I… I don’t have to stay here. Once I start working, I think I’ll be able to check in at the Hummingbird, see if that room’s opened up.”

Steve gives you the same stern look from the diner and you almost giggle at the sight. It’s hard to see the same intimidating alpha now that you’ve heard a little about him from his friends.  “Come on - what kind of pack leader would I be if I kicked you out now?” He stands from the couch, eyes -- and stomach -- starting to turn towards the kitchen. “I won’t stop you if you prefer the motel, of course,  but the offer to stay here will be open until your car’s ready to go.” 

“Are you sure...?”

His stern face softens, giving way to another smile. “Positive - don’t worry about it, okay?” 

After the last twenty four hours, it’s hard to doubt his capacity for kindness, but reassurance is always appreciated. You thank him one last time as he stalks into the kitchen, wishing you a good night, and when your tea is finished, you pad up to the guest bedroom with your chest feeling as warm as your tummy. 

As you finally doze, it’s with a head full of excitement; like a kid the night before a field trip. You didn’t expect it, sure, but you’re ready, anticipant, for the start of your life for the next two months.