#well they’re kinda fics so for ease of filing

[moonpiemoonshine]

The nurse of my dreams

(A Ivan Drago fan fiction. There are some changes in this fic. Drago doesn’t kill creed in the ring, Creed dies from not taking care of himself properly after the brutal fight and Drago isn’t married. Ludmilla is his spokes woman and he just really wants her approval. Drago also is still stoic and intimidating and a little rude but he isn’t a asshole and heartless in this. Italics means they’re talking in Russian. There is also a fake medical practice in this so don’t think about it too much. I’m not a medical expert so don’t take it too seriously. Hope you enjoy 😊)

Zelia Hamlie sits at her desk filing paper work. The soft ticks of the clock keeping her mind at ease. The tv across from her softly playing the news. News of a new big shot boxer catching Zelia’s attention. His name was Ivan Drago and he was a big guy from Russia. His spoke woman seemed to do all of the taking for him and was basically promising his instant victory over his upcoming matches. Zelia is a athletic doctor, being a onsite doctor for some events. She gets the best business in boxing so Zelia takes a lot of boxing matches, big or small. She also works internally just so she can travel a bit and so she was taught how to speak Italian, Russian,Dutch and Spanish to better help her clients. Right now she is on her rare “free season” one of her few moments in time where she isn’t contracted with a athlete for a match.

Zelia stares at the boxer and thinks about how handsome he kinda is. She knows there’s no way in hell she could get contracted with him, Russians usually contract with athletic doctors from Russia; they only usually get outside help just for unimportant and small things.

Her workday ends and she heads home. Her family is a more wealthier family of doctors so her house in a little big and spacious. Not as huge as the one Rocky owned but it is a bigger house than most. Zelia and Rocky have been contracted before, she was there for his first fight with Apollo and some of his title defense matches. Rocky enjoys her work and she does enjoy the energy rocky gives her. Paulie is NOT a fan. He thinks a man could do her job much better but Rocky’s words override his. Zelia sits down for dinner and is watching TV once again and there she sees Apollos public challenge to Drago and a small part of Zelia hopes for the magical phone call saying she’s gonna be assigned to this match but it’s highly unlikely. Apollo is like a top dog and has his own little crew so there’s really no need for Zelia.

After watching the new rant and rave about how this shock of of challenge is sure to be a show for the ages. The country slightly scared of Russia and their ways but Zelia couldn’t really care all too much about the politics of it all. She turns off the tv and goes to bed sleeping like normal but not getting to sleep in a late as she usually did. Her phone line ringing and starling her awake. She gets out of bed and runs to the phone her eyes still blurred with sleep still in them.

“Hello, Hamile estate” Zelia answers after quickly clearing her throat to not sound like she was just counting sheep in her dreams.

“Woah, gettin all formal on me Ze” the sound of Rocky pushing away a small sense of fear of the phone call being from her boss.

“Oh it’s you Rocky, what is it that you need?” Zelia asks after waking up a bit more.

“Well I bet ya heard of Apollos challenge and I’m asking for a favor. Apollo has his own Athletic doctor and what’s nots, but I want yous to be there on the sides as a “nurse” of some sorts. I trusts ya and yous got good skills and I wanna makes sure my buddy is in perfect hands” Rocky states and the sleepiness makes Zelia take a little while to comprehend his question.

“You want me to be contracted to Apollo?” She wants to solidify what she thinks

“If it’s no trouble or nothin” Rocky’s laid back tone undermines Zelias deep excitement.

“Sure, I’m free. Lemme call my boss and get the schedule and paper work all done. “ she answered trying to stay as calm as possible.

The two finished the phone call and Zelia quickly got dressed in ready for work. Once she arrives to her bosses office she tells him about her call with rocky and wants to have a small sit down call with Apollo. The three have the call and everything goes smoothly. Apollo agrees to the contract and he plans to get the schedule to Zelia as quickly as possible.

Zelia got to briefly and overview Apollos training and it’s nothing out of the normal. Zelia hated the obscene amount of paper work that went into keeping up with big shots like Rocky and Apollo. It’s a new safety and guarantee of no foul play. After every passing day Zelia grew more curious about the Russian boxer. He’s all over the news but hasn’t said a singular word, but he still captured her attention. Zelia just wanted to know who he really was. Asking questions to herself if he really is stoic are is forced to stay quiet by his staff. She knows the Russians are very hush hush so they have certain professionals do the heavy work.

Today was the day of the sit down. Zelia isn’t at the table she’s busy trying to fill out papers and get her schedule in order, while being on standby in case a dug he breaks out which Zelia hopes doesn’t happen. The bickering getting to be more of an annoyance than entertaining for her. She wishes they would do the whole threatening and pissing contest in private at not embarrass themselves on TV. A argument breaks out and they are all split up and a small sigh of relief escapes Zelia cause she can finally get her work done properly at a desk.

She says some quick goodbyes to her coworker with Apollo and a small goodbye to Rocky. She is looking down at her paper work analyzing her schedule trying to fit in some personal time for herself. She isn’t paying attention and she runs into something. To her it feels like a wall but when looking up she sees it’s Ivan all out by himself.

Ivan was being lectured hard by his associates and asked for a small break from the constant bickering and so he stands out in the hallway to just get some alone time and that’s where he runs into Zelia. Himself not paying attention and just zoning out looking out a window.

“Oh I’m sorry” Zelia says looking up at him apologetically. His face confused and it dawns on her that maybe his English isn’t the greatest. “I’m sorry for running into you Mr.Drago. I should pay better attention to where I’m going”

“You know Russian?”the large man asks, he face a little shocked.

“Yes, I’m a on hand athletic medic. I go all around the world for my work so I had to pick up some languages for my job” Zelia explains and a content look plastered itself on the blondes face.

“I’m assuming that your Apollos medic?”Ivans tone clearly unamused at the thought of Apollo.

“No, well sorta. He has his own personal medic. His friend Rocky and I have worked together before and Rocky wanted me to be on standby just in case” Zelia answered and Ivan’s face softened just a bit. “But working for a big shot like Apollo is not easy. Too much paperwork and not enough free time and the actual job portion always ends just like that” she snapped her finger to emphasize her statement.

“You work these ‘big shots’ all the time?”Ivan’s monotone voice not carrying much for Zelia to go off of. For right now she’s just enjoying looking at his bright blue eyes and the fact he isn’t threatening her life right now.

“Depends. It’s just if my boss thinks I’m qualified enough.Not to sound cocky but I seem to be all to qualified for the job” She jokes and swears a small smile creeps in the corner of his mouth. “This might sound weird but I don’t understand why people are so scared of you. You’re actually really nice to talk to you”

“Well they’re scared of me cause they know I can beat them at their own game” He says with some ego in his tone and this causes Zelia to smile and this confused Ivan. For a second he thinks she’s gonna mock her.

“That’s true. Your 6’7 and almost twice their body weight so that’s actually understandable. But I don’t think your this killing machine everyone makes you out to be” Zelia says leaning against the wall looking up at him and giving him a soft smile. Moving her chocolate hair behind her ear to get a good view at the man in front of her.

“And how do you know I’m not some killing machine” he asks, Zelia not able to figure out if he’s serious or joking so she quickly glanced at her watch and saw she was late for a meeting with Apollos lawyer.

“I’m sorry to cut this off but I have to get back to work, but-“ she stands straight and goes to leave and continues but quickly says “last time I checked they don’t make killer machines as attractive as you” and with that Zelia left out the closest door to drive to her office.

When she gets in the car she wants bang her head on the steering wheel. She doesn’t understand where that confidence and flirty nature came from. Her face stays red throughout the whole drive. The only think keeping her calm is knowing that she’s probably never gonna talk to him again.

The meeting with Apollos lawyer was nothing special. Nothing really comprehending since it’s the same old same old procedure. Her flirty comment to Ivan takes center stage on her mind. Even after a day of work she still can’t believe herself. Of course when she sits down to eat and watch tv it’s Drago on the screen. Zelia just can’t wait for this while Drago era to be over with. She can’t face her actions much longer.

When the night of the fight between Drago and Apollo comes along Zelia just had to live with her comment. She wore the white Apollo pant and jacket with his name on the back. Just cause she’s not gonna be heavy in the action she just sits in a close chair by the ring. She waits for the men to at least leave their locker rooms so she glances everywhere in the stadium. The spark and glam and the over serialized American dream being all over this stadium. Red, white and blue all over and famous American symbols are impossible to escape from. She knew how much Apollo relied on the American theme but jeez this seems more like to mock and almost rub in the American “dream” into the Russians faces.

Finally the two men got in the ring but having to wait after a big U.S.A is great ballad and Apollos Uncle Sam costume. He’s really treating this fight more like a broadway show then a match. Once the ballad was over the match finally started. It was harsh to watch throughout the whole thing. Ivan’s reach much longer than Apollos and his punching force was borderline deadly. Apollo had been knocked down a few times and wasn’t looking good at all. There was a possibility Rocky just might throw in the towel. Before that could happen Ivan throws a punch and this knocks Apollo down for the count.

Rocky urged us to get on the mat while Ivan is given the title of ‘winner’. Apollo wasn’t looking good at all, probably his worst beat down ever. Zelia and her coworker had been telling Apollo needed to go to the hospital quickly. While trying to help Apollo up Zelia felt eyes burning into her. She looked back and saw Ivan, his mouth guard still in and but of blood here and there he held a weird cocky smile on his lips. Zelia couldn’t focus on that right now so she gives him a half hearted awkward smile then gets back to working.

Apollo keeps saying his fine and doesn’t need to go to the hospital, but Zelia and the rest of his team are practically begging him to go. After getting him through the crowd and into his locker room he said he’d go. Rocky and his doctor took him to the hospital, Zelia hopes he’s okay. Zelia heads to her stuff to leave and Paulie stops her and grabs her arm harshly, the smell of alcohol is very potent and Zelia can tell where this is going.

“The hell you doin here!? You’re no help” Paulie yelled at her and she just rolled her eyes, while trying to get him to let go of her “the hell do you think you are rolling your eyes at me!”

The feeling of eyes on Zelia comes back again and she tracks down Ivan staring at her. Just wanting to go home she finally gets Paulie off of her she goes home. She stays up hoping Apollo is okay. She knows that the hospital can get him in good shape in no time but she just sometimes forgets how violent things can get. Once again Zelia is woken up from deep sleep by her phone and she rushes to it. She noticed how bright it was out so she must’ve slept in till late morning. Before she could even say anything rocky spoke.

“He’s dead! He left the hospital late in the night and he went to his hotel and went into the shower and tried to patch himself up and he died this morning!” Rocky shouts, sadness and fear prevalent in his tone. This news shakes Zelia. Why wouldn’t he stay there? Who was looking over him?

“I- I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe this. I’m so sorry Rocky” Zelia says was sadness prickling in her voice.

For the next two hours Zelia stays on the phone trying to calm Rocky down, and trying comfort him. Letting him cry and express his feelings. Zelia felt so bad, she wasn’t close to Apollo like Rocky was, she couldn’t share his deep grief with him. After that day Zelia was given a free season for a little while. Having to help rocky through his loss. The funeral for Apollo was sweet and simple but it was hard for Zelia to watch rocky in such distress.

A few weeks after the funeral Zelia sits at her desk enjoying her new free time. Rocky was doing better and so the time seems to be shifting for the better. Scrolling mindlessly through the tv she stops when she sees a press conference happening and it’s from Dragos press team. They challenge the champion Rocky to a fight, but it must be done down in Russia. Zelia is shocked, there is no way Rocky would wanna fight this man. The press team promised a long period of training time in Russia to prepare Rocky.

Zelia wanted to call rocky at the second asking about his feelings but she decided against it. Rocky is his own man and he can makes his own decisions. Anxiously she waits days for Rocky’s response to the challenge, fearing the same fate Apollo had to go through will befall Rocky. Finally Rocky comes out accepting the challenge and plans to leave for Russia the next week. Zelia didn’t receive a call or visit from rocky about her working for him so she assumes that he wants someone else. Zelia was surprised to see rocky at her door. Assuming it was a late ask for her help but it wasn’t

“I need you to come with me to Russia. Not as my doctor but as a friend. I need all the support I can get over there” he asks and Zelia knows she’d be happy to help but the thought of sharing a space with Paulie for a long period and of time, the thought alone makes her head hurt.

“You know I’d come in a heartbeat but I have work to do. I-“ she doesn’t get to finish her statement when Rocky interrupted her and his sounds almost desperate.

“We are in a nice cabin out of the countryside, no distractions and you can get your work done while I train.”

“Rocky I’ll come. I’ll just be in a hotel my work owns in the city. I’ll come by and over view your training. I just can’t stay with Paulie” Zelia reassured “I’ll show up to Russia a little bit after you do. I need to get things squared away at work”

Rocky smiles in relief and thanks her for agreeing to go. After he leaves Zelia heads straight to her phone and calls up her boss. Letting them know of her absence and a trip she’s gonna go on for a while. The boss understands and allows it but tells her how a job offer might come up while she’s gone.

“I’ll come back to work if someone asks for me I promise. “ She says through the phone while starting to pack a big suitcase for her upcoming trip.

Her boss gives the go ahead and the phone call ends. Zelia packs her clothes and other things to make sure she has absolute comfort. A couple days go past and rocky had already left for Russia and Zelia left for the cold country two days later. Zelia settles in the nice hotel her work sponsored. Looking at the note on her desk of where the cabin rocky is at she uses her rental car and heads down. It was decent drive, a little longer than what she is used to but not too bad. Once she shows up to the cabin Rocky is already outside on the porch.

“I hope you aren’t waiting on me” Zelia says getting out of the car. Rocky looks at her and smiles going down the wooden steps and goes out to give a hug.

“Nah just enjoying the fresh air” Rocky says breaking the hug.

The two catch up and rocky tells her of his training plan and the two construct a schedule. Zelia would come down three times a week to overview the training. While the two were talking Paulie walks out the front door and his face frowns when seeing Zelia.

“What’s this tramp doing here!?” Paulie exclaimed and a embarrassed Rocky looks back him.

“Nice to see you too Paulie” Zelia says sarcastically and takes it as her sign to go. “Okay I’ll see you in a day or two” she says and hugs Rocky goodbye. She heads back to her hotel and it’s late. Plopping on the bed she stars to dose off but the sharp ring of the hotel phone startles her.

“Hello?” Confusion leaving her tone, shocked to be getting a phone call.

“Mrs. Hamlie you are needed at Mr. Dragos Hotel” a woman said in a thick Russian accent.

“Drago?” Zelia asks now super confused.

“Yes.” She bluntly stated then told Zelia the address and room that Drago was in.

Zelia thinks it over and goes to his hotel. It’s much bigger and fancier. She goes to the the top floor and at the end of the hall a gold for with a small board with the word Drago on it. Zelia nervous walks up to it and lightly knocks on the door.



[purplesunrisefanfic]

Would you be willing to share a couple of YOUR Abby fantasies with us, your adoring, always horny, Abby simping fans?

Sure! And thank you, this was a fun ask ❤️💕💪

Abby Sexual Fantasties

(Abby/reader OR a mixture of Abby/author and Abby/GN!reader)

Fair warning, my fantasies are even more high-key kinky than my fics so major warning for very graphic and explicit sexual content, hardcore BDSM and arguable edgeplay. Also, as far I’m concerned Abby switches, don’t @ me about your HCs that she’s a rigid “top” or whatever else, @ me about your graphic sexual fantasies of Abby instead. 😈

I don’t want to warn in detail and thereby effectively imply I have caught everything that might need a warning because I fear I will miss something, so anyone who has specific triggers, please inbox me the specifics (Anon is on) and I’ll reply either saying this post is fine or with a redacted version suitable for you personally. And please do ask, I’m happy to help with this stuff. 💛

Gender and Bodies Note: I have written this in two different formats. The first was using “you” so it’s easier to reader-insert but the “you” is based on my fantasies, ie me and the body I have. I’m AFAB (and not knowingly intersex) with my original layout/plumbing and am comfortable with all the sex options my body has available. As far as I’m aware I don’t reference anything that couldn’t work the same for someone who has had a vaginoplasty, except that I talk about getting extremely wet beyond what might be possible for many vagina-havers. Maybe even most other vagina-havers tbh, bc I have a noted ability to get soaked way beyond what most people who self-lubricate can. It’s actually partly a coping thing that it so regularly features in my fantasies tbh because it helps to think of it in sexy way when the actual reality is that trying to get off is often like trying to build up friction on a freakin’ slip n’ slide! 😂

If you don’t want to read a “you” with such characteristics, scroll down and I’ll rewrite the necessary sections with an “I” so you can read these with an author-insert instead of a reader-insert. Look for a line made of emojis.

Reminder: App/mobile site = no read more breaks, don’t @ me, @ Tumblr bc it annoys the eff outta me too! (Tumblr, if you’re listening, please please fix this shite ASAP.)

Abby/Reader version (Warning: This version is body-specific):

Assuming, which I do, that @pinkchubbiebunnie is correct that Abby cannon has a hairpulling kink, (well spotted and much appreciated detail btw, thank you, Tanisha! Hope you enjoy these as well they seem like your sort of thing too 😍) Tying up Abby’s wrists with rope then braiding the rope into her hair and tying the rope onto her braid so that every time she’s overwhelmed with desire and starts to struggle against the rope it pulls her hair and teases her some more. Edging her like that until she breaks, her face covered in sweat while she pleads for release. Once you give it to her, you don’t stop and she struggles again when she becomes overwhelmed with pleasure, but struggling pulls on her hair again which intensifies the overstimulation. Tears in her eyes, she pleads for you to stop (but doesn’t actually safeword) so you offer/remind her that she can safeword. She breaks eye contact, her already flushed face starts burning and she shakes her head. You tilt her head back up, forcing eye contact. “So you don’t really want me to stop?” you question her evilly, just to make her say that she does want you to stop, but she doesn’t want you to have to do what she wants, she wants you free to ignore her. Her lip trembles when she tells you to use her how you please, breaking off mid-sentence to whimper, utterly overwhelmed because you haven’t let up on her clit this whole time. You make her come once more, and she finishes up an absolute mess. You think you ought to stop there, and lay off touching her further, until she softly asks you, in a small voice with pleasing eyes, to put on her strap and fuck her with that because she feels desperately empty after all that stimulation.

Flip-side: Her and Manny are ultimate bros and ultimate dom bros. You’re in a lifestyle BDSM situation with her and have to get yourself used to the fact that she’ll spank you in her shared apartment whenever you deserve it, whether Manny is around or not. Equally, you see some of Manny’s poly rotation facing the same from time-to-time. You don’t have orgies or even have sex when Manny is there (or vice versa) but they both feel discipline can’t wait. He’s respectful and super discreet about it, which low-key feels nice/destigmatising but high-key feels embarrassing as hell that he sees this stuff without ever bringing it up in conversation with you. You always wonder if part of his charismatic grin is teasing you that he knows what the “special necklace” you always wear really means. Oh, and between her muscles and her hands which are calloused from all the physical and soldier work, she can spank you hard and long without needing a paddle.

She’s figured out how to pack discreetly with something firm enough to fuck you with, and when you patrol together she’ll take any opportunity to give you a taste. She never lets you orgasm while you’re out and makes sure you’re always walking around soaked through your clothes and grateful your trousers don’t show an obvious colour difference. She always eats her supper (“supper” = British for evening meal.*) super slowly on those days. Anytime you seem like you might be relaxing during the meal or becoming less needy, she makes suggestive eye contact and squeezes one of your thighs between hers under the table, letting you feel the toy between her legs so she’s sure you don’t get a break from feeling desperate for her. You end up having all your patrol group believing your old minor knee injury (which doesn’t really cause you any proper trouble) always gets painful towards the end of patrol days because you always blame that for why you get noticeably quiet and jumpy by the end of a patrol day.

She’ll play really sadistically if you ask her to. (Content warning: this is about to get into the details of that). With that, she won’t use any bondage, just her raw ability to overpower you without even breaking out in a sweat. She’ll pinch and pull at your nipples, grab you by your hair and drag you around. She’ll absolutely cover your thighs in hickeys (and you tend to have to bite hard to leave a mark on a thigh) on the way to going down on you. She keeps her nails short for practical reasons, but she knows how to grab you and angle her fingers so you feel her nails sink into anyway. She picked up enough medical knowledge that she knows where and how she can safely hurt you. Abby can control herself and her voice so you get her steeliest tone and expression while she makes you scream and cry. That type of treatment makes your clit swell like hell and you get so wet from it that it’s obvious and embarrassing. And Abby loves to make that worse by drawing attention to how wet it makes you, taunting you about how much you like her brutal treatment. She’ll sometimes slip her fingers inside just to be able to coat them in your juices so she can smear them over your body. Smirking, she’ll coo about how you’ll let her do whatever the fuck she wants with you. If she feels like using her strap on, she’ll slip it inside you briefly at first, only to pull it out, shove you to your knees and make you suck it spotlessly clean of your own taste before she’ll consider actually fucking you with it. Afterwards, she cleans you up gently and tends to any little injuries (she never does anything dangerous). She’s takes hold of you a little possessively, reminding you that no one but her gets to treat you like that, and she’d kill anyone who tried. Then she showers you with love and praise, holding you protectively until you fall asleep.

💜💪💜💪💜💪💜💪💜💪💜💪💜💪💜💪💜💪💜💪💜💪💜💪

Abby/GN! Reader & Abby/Author version:

(Still uses “you” with one alteration to the original) Assuming, which I do that @pinkchubbiebunnie is correct that Abby cannon has a hairpulling kink, (well spotted and much appreciated detail btw, thank you, Tanisha!) Tying up Abby’s wrists with rope then braiding the rope into her hair and tying the rope onto her braid so that every time she’s overwhelmed with desire and starts to struggle against the rope it pulls her hair and teases her some more. Edging her like that until she breaks, her face covered in sweat while she pleads for release. Once you give it to her, you don’t stop and she struggles again when she becomes overwhelmed with pleasure, but struggling pulls on her hair again which intensifies the overstimulation. Tears in her eyes, she pleads for you to stop (but doesn’t actually safeword) so you offer/remind her that she can safeword. She breaks eye contact, her already flushed face starts burning and she shakes her head. You tilt her head back up, forcing eye contact. “So you don’t really want me to stop?” you question her evilly, just to make her say that she does want you to stop, but she doesn’t want you to have to do what she wants, she wants you free to ignore her. Her lip trembles when she tells you to use her how you please, breaking off mid-sentence to whimper, utterly overwhelmed because you haven’t let up on her clit this whole time. You make her come once more, and she finishes up an absolute mess. You think you ought to stop there, and lay off touching her further, until she softly asks you, in a small voice with pleasing eyes, to please use your fingers or whatever else you want to penetrate her because she feels desperately empty after all that stimulation.

(Unaltered from “you”/reader-insert bc no body-specifics) Flip-side: Her and Manny are ultimate bros and ultimate dom bros. You’re in a lifestyle BDSM situation with her and have to get yourself used to the fact that she’ll spank you in her shared apartment whenever you deserve it, whether Manny is around or not. Equally, you see some of Manny’s poly rotation facing the same from time-to-time. You don’t have orgies or even have sex when Manny is there (or vice versa) but they both feel discipline can’t wait. He’s respectful and super discreet about it, which low-key feels nice/destigmatising but high-key feels embarrassing as hell that he sees this stuff without ever bringing it up in conversation with you. You always wonder if part of his charismatic grin is teasing you that he knows what the “special necklace” you always wear really means. Oh, and between her muscles and her hands which are calloused from all the physical and soldier work, she can spank hard and long without needing a paddle.

She’s figured out how to pack discreetly with something firm enough to fuck me with, and when we patrol together she’ll take any opportunity to give me a taste. She never lets me orgasm while we’re out and makes sure I’m always walking around soaked through my clothes and grateful my trousers don’t show an obvious colour difference. She always eats her supper (“supper” = British for evening meal.*) super slowly on those days. Anytime I seem like I might be relaxing during the meal or becoming less needy, she makes suggestive eye contact and squeezes one of my thighs between hers under the table, letting me feel the toy between her legs so she’s sure I don’t get a break from feeling desperate for her. I end up having all our patrol group believing my old minor knee injury (which doesn’t really cause me any proper trouble) always gets painful towards the end of patrol days because I always blame that for why I get noticeably quiet and jumpy by the end of a patrol day.

She’ll play really sadistically if I ask her to. (Content warning: this is about to get into the details of that). With that, she won’t use any bondage, just her raw ability to overpower me without even breaking out in a sweat. She’ll pinch and pull at my nipples, grab me by my hair and drag my around. She’ll absolutely cover my thighs in hickeys (and you tend to have to bite hard to leave a mark on a thigh) on the way to going down on me. She keeps her nails short for practical reasons, but she knows how to grab me and angle her fingers so I feel her nails sink into anyway. She picked up enough medical knowledge that she knows where and how she can safely hurt me. Abby can control herself and her voice so I get her steeliest tone and expression while she makes me scream and cry. That type of treatment makes my clit swell like hell and I get so wet from it that it’s obvious and embarrassing. And Abby loves to make that worse by drawing attention to how wet it makes me, taunting me about how much I like her brutal treatment. She’ll sometimes slip her fingers inside just to be able to coat them in my juices so she can smear them over my body. Smirking, she’ll coo about how I’ll let her do whatever the fuck she wants with me. If she feels like using her strap on, she’ll slip it inside me briefly at first, only to pull it out, shove me to my knees and make me suck it spotlessly clean of my own taste before she’ll consider actually fucking me with it. Afterwards, she cleans me up gently and tends to any little injuries (she never does anything dangerous). She takes hold of me a little possessively, reminding me that no one but her gets to treat me like that, and she’d kill anyone who tried. Then she showers me with love and praise, holding me protectively until I fall asleep.

*While we’re on this subject, beware using the term “dinner” with Brits bc it’s a different meal in different regions. Somewhere like Newcastle, dinner = lunch whereas in London dinner = evening meal. 🤷‍♀️ We’re a weird country on many counts, that’s the tip of the iceberg.

[solemnly-mischievous]

Could pls you write something where the marauders and you are taking about your safe word and boundaries?!

Thanks! <33

hell yeah! remember kids, if you're gonna engage in Practices of Dominant and Submissive Dynamics, these talks are always very important and essential and good. consent is sexy. stay safe. all that.

also, i'd never claim to be an expert on the topics they talk about - if i get anything off or word anything poorly, do tell me and i'll amend that.

anyway also the things they put on their hard limit list are not off the table for future fics, so keep that in mind :)

Contains: Fluff, discussion of bodily fluids & cnc, mentions of degradation and praise

Word count: 1.5K

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It's about one AM in the Gryffindor common room, and all your housemates are asleep—the only sound you can hear is the crackling of the fireplace and the sound of pages turning as Remus flips through his book.

You're laying in Remus' lap, his fingers combing absentmindedly through your hair and massaging your scalp. It feels so good.

"Oi—watch the cakes—"

"You watch your stupid feet, Prongs, you're stepping on my cloak—"

"—I swear to god if you drop the pumpkin juice, I'll throw you and your bloody cloak into the fire—"

"Merlin, James, shut up, you're so loud—"

You hear Remus huff a soft laugh and you smile along: Your boyfriends are many things, but stealthy and discreet are not one of them. One would think the infamous pranksters of Hogwarts would be better at sneaking around in the dead of night—but then again, who needs to be light on their feet when there are charms and Invisibility Cloaks?

James and Sirius enter the common room as quietly as they can manage—which is to say, not that quiet at all—each bearing a large plate full of midnight snacks and drinks they've retrieved from the kitchen. (The house elves are always more than happy to see them.)

"Aw, look at them," Sirius murmurs to James, and he nods, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he looks at you and Remus. It's certainly a heartwarming scene, and you'd be content to stay there forever, but something's missing.

"C'mere," you whisper to the boys, holding your arms out and making grabby hands. "Cuddle."

They're more than happy to oblige, setting the plates on the table in front of the couches and piling on, Sirius leaning against Remus' shoulder and James sitting on the floor in front of you and Remus. You reach out and tug at his curls affectionately—he leans into the touch.

"We brought you your favorite chocolate cakes," James murmurs to you. "The elves made more just for you—even they know you love them. Oh, and Remus—there's pumpkin juice for you."

"Thank you," Remus says warmly, ruffling James' hair as he reaches by to grab a goblet. "Did you say hi to the elves for me?"

"Yeah," Sirius says, "they miss you and they're going to file for divorce if you don't visit them soon."

"Divorce? From all of them?" Remus' tone is laughing. "I don't think I could handle the legal fees."

"Who'd get custody?" you wonder.

"Besides, Moony knows he's married to us, if not legally but in spirit. When you think about it, Moony's a homewrecker," James jokes, and Sirius cackles in delight.

Your eyelids droop as Remus scratches along your scalp lightly, and Sirius catches you. "Hey, hey, wait, we're not sleeping yet. We have things to talk about."

"Talk about them faster," you mumble, and James laughs.

"Alright, alright," Remus says amiably. "We'll make it fast so you can get to sleep soon, alright? But you're gonna need to be coherent and awake right now, okay?"

"Fine," you whine, and you ease into a sitting position so you aren't tempted to fall asleep right there.

"Good girl," Sirius murmurs, and you shiver involuntarily.

"Okay, none of that right now—clear heads, all of us," Remus says. He looks at you and gives you a small smile. "There'll be plenty of time for that later."

"So how do we start?" Sirius asks. "Do we just... talk about what works, what doesn't?"

"I think we should start with the safeword." Remus hums thoughtfully. "You guys know the stoplight system?"

You and James shake your heads; Sirius nods.

"Green for go on, yellow for slow down, red for stop," Remus explains. "It's important to check in consistently, so we can be sure everything's alright."

"Wait, so yellow is..." You trail off.

"Yellow is, er, we don't need to stop, but I'm not one hundred percent comfortable or confident in what we're doing right now, so can we slow down and talk about it or change what we're doing?" Sirius explains, and you nod.

"Ah." You think about it. "Right, yeah, I think the stoplight system sounds fine."

"Same," James says, and Sirius voices his agreement.

In all your time at Hogwarts, the early years especially, never in a million years would you have thought you'd be here right now—in a polyamorous relationship with the troublemakers of the grade, discussing safewords and kink negotiations.

But what's life without a few surprises?

"We can all use the colors," Remus adds, "even if we're not the one subbing. Anyone can check in at anytime. Okay?"

Once that's been established, he pushes forward with, "Okay, so nitty-gritty: What are our boundaries? What do we not want to touch with a ten-foot pole?"

"No bodily fluids," James puts forth, "except for, well, you know. Just spit and come, I think. No blood or piss or anything like that."

You nod. "I don't wanna draw blood. Pain is okay, like bruises and bitemarks or the like, but I don't know about actual... wounds and stuff. For now, at least."

Remus nods. "Absolutely."

"Oh," Sirius says, looking vaguely bashful—which is a sight, because the Sirius Black, looking shy? "Um. I like to dom, right? Like usually, I do. But when I switch and sub, er, I don't like to be degraded. I love doing the degrading, but I don't know about being the degraded one."

Knowing Sirius' past, you understand completely. The rest of the Marauders nod as well, and James shifts towards Sirius, leaning against his leg in a comforting gesture. Sirius smiles at him, soft and affectionate.

"How about you, Moony?" you ask Remus.

"Hm." He thinks about it for a second. "I don't think I would want to do consensual non-consent."

"What's that?" James pokes at Remus' leg.

"Like, when you agree beforehand that a scene is going to be... Non-consensual. Usually, it's so the sub can pretend to struggle and protest and fight back and such. It's a fantasy, kinda like a coping mechanism, and I get it, and I respect people who do like it, but I don't think it's for me."

"So, all in all," Sirius summarizes, "No bodily fluids, no blood, no forced fantasies."

"Sums it up about right," James agrees. "And no degradation for when you're subbing."

"Yep."

"If at any time we think of something that we want to add to the hard-limit list," Remus says, "just say it. Even if it's the middle of a scene or anything, consider this a priority."

Sounds of agreement and understand come from the three of you.

"Also, just for a semi-reference," Sirius says, "I'm a switch, with a lean for being dominant. Remus is... I think, just dominant?"

Remus inclines his head. "I've never had the urge to sub, yet. Again, things might change."

Personally, you thought the idea of Remus on his knees, begging for the three of you, was very appealing, but that's up to Remus to decide.

"I'm also a switch, but I don't know if I have a lean," James pipes up. "I enjoy both equally, it just kind of depends on the moment."

Sirius nods, then looks at you. You're in the middle of leaning over James' head to nab a chocolate cake from the platter—the epitome of grace and dignity.

"I'm a switch," you say, chocolate cake in hand, "with a submissive lean. Like, I think... I think one day, I'd like to try to dom. Maybe. But usually I'm more than happy to sub."

"What a well-balanced group we are," James comments, and Remus snickers.

You yawn right on cue, and Sirius laughs. "Getting too tired, are we?"

"Yeah, but! I was absolutely clearheaded through all that. Fully concentrated. No distractions."

James eyes your chocolate cake.

"One distraction."

"I suppose we can talk about other things another night," Remus says, as your eyelids flutter again with tiredness.

"Other things?" James asks.

"Yeah. Specific kinks, stuff we'd like to try. Rules, corresponding punishments..." The werewolf winks at you. "Rewards."

"I like rewards," you murmur sleepily.

"For another night," Sirius agrees, yawning as well. He looks sadly at the two plates of goodies stacked on the table. "We got all that food for nothing."

"Nah, we can bring it back up to our dorm and charm it so it doesn't go bad," James says. "No worries."

"Right, right. Alright, you grab one plate, Remus grabs the other, I'll take her back up."

"Hey, why do you get to take her?"

"Because I said it first," Sirius maintains, like the dignified adult he is, and scoops you up before any of the other Marauders can protest.

You fall asleep that night on James' bed, in his warm embrace and surrounding by the calming sounds of your boyfriends' steady breathing. All in all, it hasn't been a bad night at all.

[doc-pickles]

what are you doing new year’s eve?

So this final fic of 2020 is dedicated to @odd-birds-and-booksellers for multiple reasons. Firstly she’s been my first friend in the Jolex fandom and one of the reasons the group chat exists. Despite how much we make fun of each other she’s truly become one of my favorite people (she knew I was pregnant approximately 15 seconds after I peed on a stick and hours before anyone else) and I wouldn’t have stuck around here without her.

Secondly it’s dedicated to her because my final fic for the year is an ode to the reason I’m in this fandom in the first place and the series she keeps begging me to write for. That’s right y’all, I’m posting a piece for my “It’s Nothing Funny Just to Talk/Little Pieces of You” universe! (she thought I was gonna kill someone... hehehe)

I hope y’all enjoy this cute and fluffy one shot! Thank you all for reading, commenting, and encouraging me to write this year!

also one million anons asked me for a birth fic... well here it kinda is

xoxo Nina

Maybe it's much too early in the game

Oh, but I thought I'd ask you just the same

What are you doing New Year's, New Year's Eve?

Jo was fine, really she was. She blamed being two weeks from her due date for the state of discomfort she found herself in. She’d been experiencing Braxton Hicks for almost a month already (something Alex loved to point out that he could always see as it happened, much to Jo’s annoyance) so the tightening of her abdomen wasn’t a new feeling. What was new was the aching in her back and hips that had prompted her to take a long steamy shower in an attempt to ease a bit of the pain and discomfort she felt.

The water had helped a bit, but all Jo really wanted was for Alex to rub her back and hold her while she napped. He had asked before he left for work if she was alright, but Jo had assured him she was fine. New Year’s Eve was always a long night for him at work with an influx of teenagers hurt by firework accidents or drunken mishaps. She has reminded him that she wasn’t due for two weeks and she would make it through one night without him there. Now though, Jo was regretting her decision as she struggled to get comfortable on their couch, her back aching as she shifted back and forth. 

“Hoooooly shit,” Jo gripped the armrest of the couch tightly as she attempted to sit up, a roaring pain ripping through her stomach as she desperately tried to get air into her lungs. The feeling passed after a moment, letting her take a deep breath as she settled one hand onto her stomach. “I need you to calm down in there, please and thank you.” Her phone chose that moment to ding loudly, a text from Alex popping up as she reached for her phone.

Thursday 4:39 PM

How are my girls doing?

Thursday 4:41 PM

all good over here :)

Deciding not to mention her pain, Jo set her phone aside and went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Whenever her Braxton Hicks got bad Alex would always tell her it was because she was dehydrated. He was usually right, though she’d never admit it, but the water usually calmed down the sensations flowing through her body. 

Slowly making her way to the kitchen, Jo grabbed a glass and sipped on the water as she tried to even her breathing. Her mind was already racing, heart pounding as she tried to keep her composure. She’d only had one bad spout of pain, it could be a fluke or a pulled muscle for all she knew. 

The searing pain she’d felt only minutes before returned again, the glass in her hands slipping from her fingers as a pained groan left her. Watching the water and glass splatter across the counter top, Jo realized how serious her pain was. Her eyes flitted to the clock, noting it was just hitting 5 PM. Alex would be home at 11, she would hold out as long as she could until then. 

-

Thursday 6:32 PM

Want me to grab a late dinner for us? Figure you’ll still be up anyways. 

Alex stared down at the text he’d sent almost 20 minutes earlier as if his staring would prompt a response from his wife. Logically he knew she was probably sleeping, but he’d been worried about her all day. She’d barely slept the night before and her back had been hurting for almost two days now. He wasn’t stupid he’d done enough rounds on OB to know that Jo was probably getting close to going into labor, a thought that both excited and terrified him. Erring on the side of caution, he dialed Jo’s number and waited for her to answer. 

“Hi you’ve reached Josephine Karev! I’m probably teaching right now so leave a message after the beep!”

“Hey babe, call me back whenever you can. Love you.”

Hanging up the phone and grumbling to himself, Alex begrudgingly turned back to his patient files. He had a lot of work to do, but his mind was currently occupied worrying about his wife and their unborn daughter. 

-

“Oh shit… oh shit no no no,” Jo’s panicked cries echoed across the empty loft as another contraction made its way through her stomach, her body curling in on itself as she struggled to lean against the couch. A glance at the clock in the kitchen told her it was only 7:19 meaning Alex wouldn’t be home for a few more hours. 

She knew she couldn’t last that long, her contractions were steadily growing closer together and more painful. Reaching for her phone, Jo sent off a quick text before focusing her attention on breathing through the steady flow of contractions now racking her body. 

Thursday 7:21 PM

in labor, moving fast. need drugs and husband. 

-

It was nearing 8 PM and Alex still hadn’t heard from Jo for the last three hours. He’d called twice to no answer and his texts were sent but not read. He was ready to jump in the car and rush home to check on her when someone called out his name. 

“Alex!”

Jackson Avery was jogging towards him, dressed in a button up and slacks with a six month old Harriet on his hip. He’d been talking about his mom’s New Year’s Eve party all week, so Alex was shocked to see him there. 

“Hey man, you skipping out on the party,” Alex searched Jackson’s serious expression for a moment, reading his best friend's face easily and letting a sigh out. “Where is she?” 

“April took her up to L&D while I came to find you. She was screaming at me the whole drive here,” Jackson smirked at Alex as they walked down the halls. “I’m sure you’re in for a fun night.”

Thanking Jackson, Alex headed towards the maternity ward with a sense of urgency. He knew if Jo had been worried enough to call April that she was probably pretty far along in her labor. Spotting the red head down the hall, he picked up his pace and stopped in front of her. 

“They’re just checking her out now, her contractions have been coming every three and half minutes but I think they’re speeding up,” April gave Alex a small smile as she made to leave. “She’s been asking for you the whole time.”

“Thanks April.”

“It’s the least I could do. When I was in labor she sat with me while Jackson was in surgery despite the fact that she was throwing up every twenty minutes from her morning sickness,” April shrugged. “Besides if I didn’t go she probably would’ve given birth on your couch.”

Alex chuckled, his hand rubbing his neck nervously, “I’ll text you guys when she’s here, thanks again.”

April left then, Alex taking a breath before entering the room that April had just left. Jo was laid in bed, eyes closed and curled in on herself as she struggled through a contraction. Surging forward Alex placed one hand on Jo’s back as the other moved to run through her hair. She instantly relaxed at his touch, eyes popping open to meet his. 

“I was wondering why you weren’t answering my texts,” Alex leaned down to press a kiss against her forehead. “You need anything? Water, ice chips, hard drugs?” 

Jo shook her head, breathing through the end of her contraction before speaking again, “No they said I’m too far along for an epidural. I just have to suffer until she gets here. My water broke as soon as I walked into the hospital, I think she knew you were waiting.”

Eyeing the monitor tracking her contractions, Alex realized that she was nearing the end of her labor, “You should’ve called me, I could’ve come to get you.”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m here now,” Jo leaned against Alex’s hand as she struggled to pull a breath in. “Ow ow ow ow, holy shit mother-”

Jo’s next words were silenced as she pressed her face against Alex’s chest, fists clenched against the bed rail as her body tensed once more. Keeping his eyes on her monitor, Alex kept his fingers running through Jo’s hair in an attempt to comfort her, “Breathe baby, it’s okay just breathe.”

Once she finally took a deep breath Jo relaxed in Alex’s hold, her voice alarmingly calm as she spoke, “I really need to push. Like right now.”

“Let me get the doctor, just hold on a minute babe,” Alex couldn’t help the wide grin he sported as he left Jo’s side to call down the hallway for her doctor. In just a little while they were going to be parents… 

-

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year!”

The TV played softly in the background as fireworks lit up the dim hospital room but Alex and Jo weren’t paying attention to the celebration of the new year. Both had their eyes firmly locked on the sleeping bundle in Jo’s arms, light curls peeking out of the pink hat on her head as her lips pursed in her sleep. 

“You do that when you’re sleeping,” Alex pointed out as he ran his finger down his daughter’s cheek. “You look like a fish, it’s kinda funny that she’s already doing it.” “She’s not even three hours old and you’re comparing her to a fish,” Jo chuckled as she looked from her daughter to her husband. “She needs a name still.”

“How about Goldie,” Alex’s suggestion earned him a slap on the arm from Jo, a laugh escaping him as she did so. “I was kidding! What about the one you really liked?” Eyeing her daughter as if testing out the name she’d brought up so many months ago, a grin settled on Jo’s face, “I like it. Annabeth Brooke Karev.”

“Glad we finally decided on that, I thought you were never going to choose,” Alex pressed a kiss to Jo’s lips, then another to the top of Annie’s head. “Happy New Year Annie.”

Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight

When it's exactly 12 o'clock, midnight

Welcoming in the New Year, New Year's Eve

[darwindrawz]

GTFO Team 729 AU fic (no one should read this except Sky)

@skyllion-uwu here it is, sorry it took me so long to figure out how to get it here lmao

Some notes:

- if you are not Sky, please save me the embarrassment and don’t read this. If you do read this, don’t make fun of me for it.

-Tore is Italian-American and has extreme anger issues, Bright is a stuck up ex-spy German asshole, and they both hate each other (at least at first).

-The team is currently trying to find a way to a lab on the upper levels to retrieve a dna sample, but Tore insisted on navigating even though Bright is the scout and he got them lost. Bright then took the map files from him to prevent any further confusion, and they are still fighting about this.

Warnings: lots of swearing, some light angst, Flea being too pure for this world (or the gtfo world I guess)

——————————————————>>

The crackling of the team’s campfire nearly drowned out the screams of sleepers behind a nearby wall, but not enough to put Flea at ease.

He kept one hand on his gun, careful not to let the others see, lest they find out he wasn’t as tough as they all thought he was.

“I’m tellin you, we’ve been headin the wrong way for days now! We’ll never find our way outta this shithole if you don’t fuckin give me the map files!”

He rolled his eyes under his helmet. Tore and Bright were arguing again. Not that it was anything unusual; they were all under stress, and it didn’t help the two’s ongoing feud to be trapped in the same seemingly endless hallway for four days.

“Oh of course, because you know what you’re doing more than any of us do.” Bright snapped back. “Get a grip. You’re acting as immature as that mangy little kid.”

Flea perked up at that. Where was the kid, anyway? He had seen them while they were setting up camp, but now that they had a fire going it seemed that he had skulked off somewhere in the darkness surrounding them.

He stood up, eliciting a glance from Tore and Bright but no questions. “I’m gonna go find...” he trailed off as he realized neither of them were listening, his deep voice muffled by the sound of them chewing each other’s heads off.

“My fuckin rank is “tech”, dumbass! What do you think that means? THAT I’M IN CHARGE OF THE TECH.”

“Ach, verpiss dich!”

“CHE NE DICI DI FOTTERTI?!”

Flea sighed, picking up his gun and stepping into the shadows. Idiots. And he was supposed to be the big strong dumb one.

It wasn’t long before he heard Teeth’s raspy breathing coming from somewhere up ahead in the dingy hallway. Knowing better than to call out to him, he pulled out his flashlight and clicked it on and off several times, shining it at the opposite wall.

There was a pause, and then Flea heard the sound of hurried footsteps coming toward him. Just in case, he put a finger on the trigger of his combat rifle.

“Flea?”

Flea felt his shoulders relax as the kid came into view, holding his helmet in one hand and a nutrient block in the other.

“Hey kid. What’re you doing out here? It’s not safe.” He asked, lowering his flashlight as he realized it was shining directly in Teeth’s eyes.

He barked a gravelly laugh, his sharp teeth exposed. “This whole PLACE isn’t safe. Here is just extra not safe.”

Flea chuckled, shaking his head. Weird kid.

“What are you doing out here?” Teeth asked, spreading his scrawny arms to gesture at the dark hallway.

Flea sighed. “Tore and Bright are-“

“Fighting again.” Teeth groaned dramatically. “Yeah, yeah. What else is new.”

Flea smiled. “Yeah.”

“Hey!” Teeth exclaimed suddenly, making Flea jump. “You wanna see something cool?”

“Uh... sure? Whoah!” He yelled as Teeth grabbed his arm, dragging him into the dark shadow he had come out of at as fast of a pace as he was able.

Well, technically Teeth wasn’t dragging him. Flea was letting himself be dragged by someone half his height, mostly out of confusion and amusement.

Flea couldn’t tell where they were going, but before long he knew they had walked further than he and the others had scouted. The hall looked unfamiliar here, and the screams of sleepers gradually became distant and hushed.

Suddenly, after what Flea judged to be around 20 minutes of stumbling through the dark, Teeth stopped, bouncing on his toes as he grinned up at Flea. “TADA!”

Flea frowned confusedly, looking around. As far as he could see, there was nothing but a dark, empty, grey room with a large pile of old rubble in the center where the ceiling had caved in.

Even if there was nothing, at least there weren’t any sleepers.

He grunted as he felt Teeth’s sharp elbow dig into his side. “No, you big dummy! Up there!”

Flea followed his friend’s gaze, squinting against the light.

Wait, light?

“How...” he murmured in awe and confusion.

Teeth beamed. “Isn’t it great? And it’s MINE, cause I found it. If you climb on top, you can even see the sky-shiners!”

Flea looked down, confused. “Sky-shiners..?”

Teeth nodded vigorously. “Yeah! C’mere, lemme show you!” He said, grabbing Flea’s arm again and “dragging” him up the pile of concrete chunks and metal.

He let go of him once they had reached the summit of the tiny mountain, practically shaking with excitement as he pointed at the hole in the ceiling where the shaft of pale light streamed in. “There! Look!”

Flea took off his helmet, breathing in the fresh air that had somehow, miraculously, found its way to them. He looked up, his mouth falling open in awe as he looked from Teeth to the night sky above them. They must have gotten so lost they somehow ended up in one of the upper levels.

Which explained a lot. Tore had the sense of direction of a blind cow.

“That’s somethin else.” He smiled, feeling peace for the first time in days uncountable as he observed what Teeth had called the “sky-shiners”.

Stars. He means the stars. Poor kid probably either has never seen em, or doesn’t remember what they are.

He glanced at Teeth, who was squinting at the light with a look of pure, unfettered joy on his face. “How’d you find this place?”

Teeth’s face fell and he hesitated, shrugging. “I dunno.” He mumbled. “Just sorta bumped into it I guess.”

Flea raised an eyebrow. “You just happened to bump into a room half a mile away from camp?”

Teeth squirmed under his gaze, picking at the scar that ran across his face without giving an answer.

“Teeth...”

“Alright fine!” Teeth gave in, sighing as he plopped down on the rubble pile cross-legged. “I was tryin to run away, but I got distracted.”

Flea’s eyes widened in surprise. “Run away? To where???”

Teeth shot him a look. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead, ok?!”

Flea stared at him, half in shock and half in sadness that Teeth would just run off like that. They were friends, so he had thought.

He sat down next to him, thinking for a moment before speaking again.

“Why’d you wanna run away?”

Teeth glanced at him. “You wouldn’t get it.”

He scoffed, smiling gently. “Try me, kid.”

His friend sighed, planting his chin in his hands as he stared at the sliver of navy sky above them. “I... I guess I just got sick of it all. Y’know, Tore and Bright fighting, non being able to spit without hitting a sleeper, bein scared all the time... d’you not get tired of all that shit sometimes?”

Flea paused, thinking about his answer. “I do... but we have no other choice. We do what the Warden says, or we’re not around to receive it’s orders. And... even if Tore and Bright are a bit much sometimes, they’re all we’ve got, y’know? You’re all I’ve got. I can’t just give that up.” He finished, smiling passively at the sky.

Teeth was silent for a while, before he burst out laughing. “Wow.” He said in between cackles. “You’re a big cheesy idiot, y’know that?”

Flea laughed. “Maybe. That’s just my opinion though.”

They both went silent for a while, before finally Teeth spoke again in a quieter voice.

“Flea.”

“Mm.”

“D’you think I’m a mutt?”

Flea looked at him confusedly. “What?”

Teeth shrugged, chewing at one of his fingernails. “I dunno. Bright and Tore talk ugly. They say I’m some kinda animal.“

He raised his eyebrows, making a mental note to pound the others into a bloody paste later. “That’s just stupid.”

“Nah. Maybe they’re right. I only got one brain cell, according to Bright. Whatever that means.” He said, flopping down onto his back with a sigh.

“Kid, that’s not true. You might be a little... charismatic at times, but you’re not a mutt. Tore and Bright are the ones with only one brain cell. Whatever that means.” Flea added, smiling at him.

Teeth sniffed. “You’re pretty cool, Flea. Maybe I’ll stick around a while, since you’re not goin nowhere. Besides, how am I gonna prove I got uh... a lotta brain cells if I never see the others again?”

He laughed. “That’s a good point. Maybe you’ll even teach them a thing or two.”

“Yeah.” Teeth grinned.

“Do you want to go back to camp now?”

“Depends. D’you think they’ll be done fighting?” He shrugged.

Flea laughed. “Heh. Never. Maybe they’ll have their panties in less of a twist, though.”

Teeth stood up, dusting off his hands. “Well c’mon then. I got places to be, the team’s not gonna annoy itself.” He joked, looking at an imaginary watch on his wrist and cackling.

He smiled, standing and putting his helmet back on. “Lead the way.”

As his friend took off enthusiastically down the dark hallway, Flea turned and savored one last glimpse of the moon. He missed it; being on the surface. The fresh air, and trees, and no constant petrifying fear of whether or not you’d make it to the next day.

But as he followed Teeth down the twisting concrete passage, and heard the sound of Tore and Bright’s bickering accented voices begin to grow louder, he felt the longing and sadness drain from his weary body. They were his family now, and it was his job to keep them together. And if he was going to die in a dark, filthy, sleeper-ridden shithole, he was going to do it fighting for them.

“Where were you?” Bright asked impatiently, looking up as he and Teeth stepped back into the comforting circle of warmth around their fire.

Teeth snorted. “That’s real sweet, Bright. I didn’t expect you to notice we were gone.”

Flea shot him a silencing look. “We found a way forward.”

Teeth frowned. “We did?”

“Are you serious?” Bright asked, raising his eyebrows.

He nodded. “Teeth found a way to the upper levels. Just where we need to go to get to the labs.”

Bright turned to Teeth skeptically, looking him up and down. “This mutt found a way up that we couldn’t find in four days of scouting?”

“He’s not a mutt.” Flea growled, causing Bright to look back away with a frightened expression on his face. “And yes. Now are you two gonna sit here squawking like an old married couple, or are we going to get out of here?”

Bright glanced at Tores, who flipped him off briefly before nodding at Flea. “Sounds good to me. Let’s go.”

He looked down at his friend, who was shifting uncomfortably under the multitude of eyes locked on him. Flea patted him on the back, smiling even if Teeth couldn’t see it through his helmet. “You’re in charge, kid. Lead the way.”

Teeth grinned, puffing out his chest slightly as the power visibly went straight to his head. “Follow me, assholes!”

Bright and Tore reluctantly followed him as he took off sprinting down the hallway, nearly tripping several times in his excitement. Flea brought up the rear, stomping out their fire as he followed after them, smiling.

Back on the move again, and no sleepers chasing them this time. It looked like everything was going to be ok.

For now, at least.

[hansensgirl]

secret santa | b. barnes

“do i make you feel like christmas time? put me in a party dress one time.”

summary | at stark industries tony decides to brighten things up, hosting a secret santa contest. you get bucky, and bucky gets you. as if it was all planned out, he decides to give you the best gift of all time.

pairings | dark!bucky x fem!temp!reader

warnings | non/dubcon sex, blackmailing, violence, mean!bucky, bucky is one kinky, festive motherfucker but i love him, forced oral (m receiving), anal sex, choking, slapping, restraining, guilt tripping (kinda but not really), manipulation, degrading words/names, humiliation, slight corruption, + more i think! DARK!FIC

a/n | it’s that time of the year y’all! also, i read @darkficsyouneveraskedfor ‘s drabble called “all he wants for christmas” and got inspired :) go read all their fics cause they’re amazing!

you walked down the decorated halls of the stark industries building as you headed to a meeting that tony urgently asked everyone to attend to. you thought that maybe someone is getting removed, or is getting a permanent spot to work for him. you truly hoped that the latter was you. you loved working here even though you were a temp. you fixed your santa hat on your head and stepping into the room. 

the meeting surely must be serious, given even the other avengers were here. steve rogers, bruce banner, natasha romanoff, even bucky barnes who joined the team not too recently. “there’s another” tony frustratedly groaned out, and soon more workers filed into the room. “alright, since it’s the holidays, pepper and i decided that you should all do secret santa, and please don’t hesitate to give me gifts as well” he explained, a few giggles echoing throughout the room at his last remark.

maybe you didn’t get the message that it wasn’t so serious. tony pulled out a santa hat and pepper gave out pieces of paper. it truly felt like you were little kids in elementary school. you took one from pepper and wrote your name on it. you placed it in the hat and once again adjusted yours. after, he once again went around the room and everyone stuck their hands in the hat, pulling out a piece of paper. finally he came to you and you pulled out the last name. whoever it was, you’d still have a difficult time finding a gift since you personally didn’t know anyone. you opened the horribly folded paper and in black ink wrote the one name you’d least expect; bucky. bucky barnes was intimidating for sure, but he was like a lost puppy. maybe you’ll just get him some records, but what if he doesn’t have a record player?

every gift you thought of had some defects. you didn’t want him to think your pitying him. you already had so much on your plate, and this secret santa thing was stressing you out already. you felt someone’s stare burning into you, making you squirm a bit in your chair. you looked up just to make eye contact with the same super soldier you needed to get a gift for. you quickly looked down, even his stare intimidated you. tony soon dismissed everyone and you walked off to your desk. you tried thinking of gifts that would suit him, but you didn’t even know him that well at all. all you knew was his past, that he’s from the 10’s and that he was really scary. you opened a new tab and searched up gifts for people from the 10’s. you didn’t know what you were expecting, but nothing useful came up. you then searched up vintage gifts but the same thing happened, nothing useful.

you decided to ditch google since it was no help whatsoever. you started brainstorming and wrote down a few ideas. most people that seem intimidating are probably really sweet, or are just actually intimidating. most gifts were either something you’d get a coworker, or someone’s grandmother. you also had to get gifts for your family members and friends too. you came up with a brilliant idea, just find something when you go gift shopping this weekend. you opened some new files on your computer and got back to work, your secret santa worries now gone.

❆ ❅ ❆

the last person bucky expected to get was you. in one way he felt lucky, you didnt throw yourself into him unlike the other girls. if he got laura from front desk then he would’ve thrown himself out a window; he really didn’t like her. usually, he’d probably get you candy or jewelry, but bucky had the perfect gift in mind for someone like you.

❆ ❅ ❆

you wrote the names of your relatives and friends down, and added bucky to the list too. you bought candles, clothes, gift cards and such, but still couldn’t find something for bucky. you went to almost every store in the mall and started stressing out, you only had monday, which was tomorrow, and on christmas eve everywhere will be sold out probably. you asked your friends what to get him, your cousins and even the worker at bath and body works. but you ended up with nothing.

❆ ❅ ❆

tuesday rolled around and you still stressed out about what you were going to get bucky. he was a unique man and you didn’t want to insult him in any way at all. you decided to get bucky your own copies of your favourite books, and even took the courtesy to put in a little note with a bookmark. surely it wasn’t the best gift you’ve gotten for someone, but it’s the thought that truly counts, right? you put it under the large tree in the middle of the tower and passed bucky on the way out. you had too much work to even bother to say something to him. you rushed back to your desk and got comfortable, knowing you’d be working for hours on end.

before you could start, tony’s voice echoed through the office. “there isn’t enough time for us all to gather so on your way out just pick up your gift!” he yelled over the loud coworkers of yours and walked off with pepper, off to enjoy his christmas with his family. you mentally noted to not forget to go to the tree before you leave. you began furiously typing away at your keyboard until your fingers ached.

❆ ❅ ❆

bucky opened the box and made sure everything was in there. he closed the box and wrapped it with reindeer wrapping paper to seal the deal. he smoothed it out and brought the box to the tree, passing you on the way there. you brushed shoulders but never stopped to say hi. he quickly placed it next to a larger box and started to make his way out of there, before tony’s voice halted him. “there isn’t enough time for us all to gather so on your way out just pick up your gift!” he yelled before leaving with pepper. bucky turned back around and started looking for his gift, even though he wouldn’t be leaving yet.

❆ ❅ ❆

you waved goodbye to your coworkers as you put your jacket on. you then remember that you needed to head to the tree for your gift. you quickly zipped up and grabbed your purse before making your way to it. basically almost every gift was gone, only a few were left. you read the papers on each one, searching for your name. you found you name on a box that wasn’t too heavy. you picked it up and shook it carefully, trying to find out what it was. you decided to open it up since it was basically christmas day.

you carefully tore the wrapping paper and opened up the box. the contents in the box shocked and worried you at the same time. there were pictures of yourself naked. some of you in the shower, or getting absolutely wasted. one was of you riding your boyfriend, ex-boyfriend. there were a few of you sleeping naked, and masturbating too. there were more things, though. a pair of your panties that you didn’t know were missing were in the box. you picked them up and they were dried with cum. you immediately dropped the panties and picked up the other thing. it was your vibrator. you though you just simply misplaced it and forgot where you did, but it was actually stolen from you. you looked all over the box and on the wrapping paper for a name as to who it was from, but you resulted with nothing.

“enjoy your gift? i didn’t have to work too hard but it’s the thought that counts right?” bucky spoke up from behind you, nearly giving you a heart attack. you looked back at him with fear and disgust written all over your face. how long had he been there? you were confused, a million questions flooding you mind, but only one left you mouth. “how?” you squeaked out, looking away. “you’re not a very private person doll” he sighed, walking to you. he pulled out his phone and started playing a video. it was a sex tape of you with your ex-boyfriend. “y’know stark was plannin’ on keeping you, but if he saw this video i think he’d change his mind pretty fast” he pressed pause as he spoke.

no no no, you couldn’t lose this job! especially since now that tony was planning on giving you a permanent spot. “but i’ll give you a chance, and i won’t show this video to anyone” he smirked at you, and you slowly stood up. you sure as hell weren’t about to whore yourself out! you opened your mouth to give him a good earful before he stopped you. “i wouldn’t do that, you could lose your job doing that as well” he warned you, picking up the box and handing it to you. you didn’t take it at first, but then he shoved it against you making you look back up at him before speaking. “and is this chance just me being a whore, cause i’m sure as hell not up to that” you spat, yet was careful with your tone.

he sighed heavily before he roughly grabbed your hand and pulled you to the elevators. you tried to ease his grip but there was no stopping the super soldier. you still had the box in your hand and refused to let it go. he pushed you into the elevator and you painfully crashed into the wall. he pressed the floor button ‘24’ and used his metal hand to restrain your two hands. you didn’t look at him the whole ride up, you simply just stared at the floor numbers. the ding of the elevator snapped you out of your various scenarios of what would happen. you were scared if he was going to do something horride to you.

“told stark i wanted some privacy, so he didn’t put any cameras and didn’t add that robot, wednesday or whatever the fuck her name is” he explained as he took you to a room. you knew that each avenger had their own floor, but you really underestimated how big the floors were. he once again pushed you into the room and left you in there, locking the door behind him. the room was dark but was illuminated from the city lights that shone through the window. you tried to think of a plan, but thought of the consequences. he could easily say one word against you and you’d be fired.

your head snapped up at the sound of the door creaking open. bucky emerged from behind it and flashed his pearly whites that shined through the darkness. he turned the light on and it took you a second to adjust to the brightness. “a-are you gonna hurt me?” you asked, fearful of him. “maybe, well, probably” he admitted before striding towards you.

he grabbed your throat and used his grip as leverage and pulled you up. he squeezed his hand around your throat tighter until you started clawing at his arms to let go. your vision started darkening but then he let go abruptly. he pulled your jacket off and you tried to stop him, trying to put it back on. he growled lowly and aggressively ripped it, doing the same to the rest of your clothes. you tried to cover your naked frame with your arms but he pulled them away from your body and grabbed rope. you shook your head ‘no’ and tried to pull away from him but his tight grip stopped you. he roughly tied the rope around your arms and expertly did so.

you were scared, scared as to what he could possibly do to you. he finished his knot and started speaking. “you know, your book gift was adorable, but i think i like this one better” he stroked your cheek before pulling his hand away and slapping you. your skin stung and prickled at the contact, and you didn’t like the feeling at all. he threw you onto the bed and pulled your pants down despite your kicking. one harsh, metal arm smack to your ass made you seize your fighting. “you can either be the slut you are and get some pleasure or be a bitch and get only pain” he left you no room for argument as pulled you up onto your knees.

he pulled off his pants and boxers, where his cock stood up right in front of you. the length and girth intimidated you, he was so much bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with. he grasped the base of his cock and tangled his metal arm in your hair. he tapped the tip on your bottom lip and you couldn’t move your head. “open up” he ordered in a sing-song voice, making you grimace. you reluctantly opened your mouth when his grip in your hair grew tighter. he shoved his cock down your throat until your nose met his patch of pubic hair. you tried to control your breathing but his cock was making it pretty difficult. “c’mon at least put some effort in” he practically taunted, and you complied, hollowing your cheeks. bucky pulled his hips back before snapping his hips forward.

he moved your head back and forth and moved his hips at the same time, desperately chasing his orgasm. you figured you might as well get this over with, and that giving him head was all you had to do. he pushed your head further down and thrusted his hips, a groan ripping through him as he came. he pulled away and forced your mouth shut, leaving you no choice but to swallow. he pulled you up and forced you onto you knees and pushed your head into the mattress. he pulled his shirt over his head and pulled your ass to the edge of the bed. he rubbed his hand against your slightly wet cunt, rubbing your clit furiously. your body started self lubricating, your cunt getting more and more wet. with no warning he shoved three fingers in your hole, thrusting them in and out like his life depended on it.

“y’know if you weren’t such a fuckin’ slut none of this would’ve happened” he spat at you as his fingers abused your poor hole. your walls clenched around his fingers and just as you were about to cum he pulled them out. you let out a loud whine and kicked your legs in frustration. his hands came down harshly on your ass, spanking you until you were begging him to stop. he spread your ass cheeks and was met with your puckered hole. his fingers pushed into your tighter hole and you screamed in pain.

“p-please, not there at least” you begged him, but you stopped your pleas since it seemed they weren’t changing his mind. “as much as i love hearing you beg, i really don’t care” he snickered, pulling his fingers out and lining his cock up with your hole. he spat on your hole and shoved his cock in, making you scream again. he slapped your ass once again and started thrusting like there was no tomorrow. he reached down and rubbed your clit as his pace fastened by the second, or by the thrust. you soon came, and again, and again. your body couldn’t fight it as much as your mind wanted it to. “fuck, merry christmas to me” he growled, the grip on your hip tightening. he shouted out as he came and pulled out not so softly. you didn’t know where we went, but you knew he didn’t leave the room. the sound of a camera clicking caught you off guard.

“say cheese, you slut.”

-

taglist:

bucky barnes:

@spicylangdon

dark!fics:

@buckysthot

forever:

@ninamcu

@parker-barnes-af

@jbstans

@anxiousamandapanda

@annavega333

@good-old-fashioned-queens

[contextualizd]

So it's my first time ever to try writing a short story/fan fiction. I'm a huge fan of B99 and I've read so many amazing fics here and on AO3, so I tried writing one. I love the jealous/pining Amy plot cause I feel like we don't see that a lot on TV, so that's what I went for. This is a little sad but hopeful. I've read some fics of the same plot so I may have gotten some inspiration from them. I also used Of Monsters and Men's version of the song ”Circles” as inspiration: Run away, but we're running in circles.

And again, it's my first time EVER to write a fictional short story so please bear with me. I mostly just write poems and essays so this is all very new to me. I'd be happy to hear your thoughts though. But please be gentle. Haha. Anyway, here it goes...

NOTE: Also posted here and on AO3.

"Run away, but we're running in circles"

Plot:

Set after Det. Majors, where Amy told Jake about her rule of not dating cops, and before Johnny and Dora.

Caroline, another detective friend of Jake's from his old precinct comes to the 99 to work on a research.

They reconnect and Amy learns from Caroline herself that she really liked Jake and now that he's single, she's hoping that something could finally happen between them. And Amy starts regretting her decision of telling Jake about her stupid rule.

Amy looked up from her computer for the nth time. The desk opposite her is still empty. It's almost lunchtime and Jake hasn't come in yet. She's wondering if he's called in sick or something. She can just text him to ask of course, but since that day she told him about her rule of not dating cops, things have been kinda awkward between them.

She doesn't want to ask Charles cause he'll just tease her. He hasn't stopped teasing her since he found out she had feelings for Jake. It's not really helping with the way things are right now.

Rosa probably won't mind but she's certain that she doesn't care so much about Jake's whereabouts either.

Terry is out on a workplace seminar.

And she's too intimidated to talk to Gina.

Her only other option is to ask Captain Holt, but he's not in his office as well. Something about a meeting in One Police Plaza.

Why does she care so much anyway? Oh yeah, it's because she still likes Jake. But she can't tell him because of her stupid rule. She keeps telling herself that it's for the best. She doesn't want to risk whatever friendship they have just because of a stupid crush.

After about an hour, the elevator dings, and out came Captain Holt with Jake and a very pretty blonde girl.

She's so pretty and her face is so charming. Her hair is so straight and swishy. Her eyes crinkle when she smiles and she has a tiny dimple on her left cheek. She seems to be leaning closely to Jake while talking and laughing animatedly. Amy was so focused on her and how she seems to know Jake so well that she didn't even notice that Captain Holt was talking to the squad.

"..and so we agreed that they can research the system in a number of preselected precincts via observation. Which is why Ms. Caroline Gomez here from the Information Technology Bureau will be joining us for a few days to observe and study our day-to-day processes. Do make her feel at home."

"Thank you, Captain." Caroline smiles sweetly at him.

"I hope you'll find the squad to be helpful for your research. You could maybe start by taking a tour around the precinct. Detective Peralta can help you with that."

"You got it, Captain." Says Jake.

"I'll be in my office if you need anything. Good luck."

After Captain Holt retreated to his office Jake started to introduce Caroline to the squad. It turns out that Caroline was an old friend of Jake's from his old precinct. She's been transferred to the Strategic Technology Division and is researching a project that her team is working on. She reached out to Jake when she found out that he's working at the 99 to see if they can arrange a meeting with Captain Holt. The project is confidential but it was discussed with Captain Holt during the meeting. Jake came with him to One Police Plaza out of curiosity but he was "excluded" because according to him, "They probably thought they won't be able to handle my inputs."

"You remember Gina?" Jake asks Caroline.

"How could anyone ever forget Gina?"

"I know right? What's up girl?" Gina winks at her.

"I'm great. This is great. I'm so lucky that I at least knew some people here. I was so worried about doing this research cause I don't know how the precincts would feel about an 'outsider' snooping around."

"Nonsense! You're not an outsider. Plus Captain totally approves of that project. Whatever the hell that is. Anyway, come on, I'll show you around. First up, the best part of the precinct: the breakroom." Jake says, pulling Caroline to the direction of the breakroom.

"She hasn't changed one bit. She still runs after Jake like a little puppy." Says Gina while shaking her head slowly.

"What do you mean?" asks Amy.

"I remember when they were still working together, I'd be hanging out with Jake at Nana's apartment, the one where I live now, and she would just show up out of nowhere talking about work or something. Then she'd just stay there and hang out with us completely forgetting about the work thing. Jake kept saying they're just friends but I know there's something between them. Sometimes she would stay behind even after I left. I bet they hooked up a lot." With that, Gina left.

Charles turns to Amy with a worried look. "Are you okay?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" Amy tells him, though she's not entirely sure if she is.

First on Caroline's To-Do list that day was to study about the 99's process when it comes to reports and paperwork, so Captain Holt assigned Amy to help her.

Amy loves talking about paperwork but for some reason, she feels uncomfortable about this task. But Caroline was actually really sweet and funny, so she started to slowly feel at ease.

"I'm so sorry. This is probably too tedious for you," Caroline tells Amy.

"No, not at all. I love paperwork. Like you have no idea."

"Really? That's so cool. Although Captain Holt did say that you're the best person for this task."

"Really? Captain Holt said that?"

But Caroline wasn't able to answer her cause she was too busy looking at Jake who just passed by engrossed in a case file.

"I'm sorry, you were saying?"

"You and Jake are pretty close huh?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. Though, we weren't able to keep in touch after he was transferred. That's why I was so excited when I found out that he's here at the 99. I missed him a lot."

"Do you... like him?" Amy blurted out, immediately regretting her question.

"What? Oh god. Am I that obvious? Haha."

Well... Amy just shrugged.

"I.... do. Yeah. I've always liked him. Even before, when we're still working together. I just never thought I was his type. Do you think he'll like me back?"

Oh. "Um...." She didn't have any problem admitting it huh. If it's so easy for her why am I finding it so hard? Amy thought to herself.

"I'm sorry that's a stupid question. But.. do you know if he's single? Is he dating anybody? I mean, I was kinda hoping that maybe something could happen between us this time."

"Uh.. yeah... I think so. None.. that I know of."

"I'm so sorry about my silly questions. I should be focusing on my research. It's just that I think you guys are so close. And I felt super hopeful especially now that we're hanging out again. It's amazing. We're actually heading out for lunch. You wanna join us?"

"Oh. No... no... I'm fine. Thanks."

"You sure? Well, it's almost lunchtime, I'd better go check if he's ready to go. Thank you so much for your help."

"Sure thing. No problem at all."

"Okay, see you later."

Amy watched as she goes to Jake who immediately put down his case file and got ready to go. They left the precinct laughing at something, probably a clever joke that Caroline told him, while she just stared at them till the elevator doors closed.

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

The next day, Jake.. and Caroline are nowhere to be found. Amy hasn't seen them since she came to work this morning.

"They went on a date."

"What?! What are you talking about Boyle? Also, why are you sitting so close to me??" Amy tells Charles who's suddenly by her side.

"You're looking for Jake and Caroline, right? I'm pretty sure they went on a date last night. That's probably why they're coming in late today. I'm telling you, Amy, you should do something. I mean, I like Caroline but I like you better for Jake." Charles said with a wink.

"Okay, first of all... I'm not looking for them. Second, never ever wink at me again. And third, I'm not gonna do anything because I made up my mind and I would never date a cop again. Let him date Caroline if he wants to."

"Fine. If you're gonna choose to break your own heart, then fine." Charles tells her leaving her thinking once again. Is that what she's doing? Is she really breaking her own heart?

At around 10:30, they finally arrived together and Jake is carrying Caroline's bag.

Such a boyfriend move. Are they together now? This girl works fast. Amy thought to herself.

Gina who seems to be thinking the same thing as Amy is, went to Jake's desk while Caroline went straight to Captain Holt's office.

"So I guess, chivalry really is not dead huh?"

"Hmm? What's that now?" Jake asks her.

"You carrying her bag when you came to work together. I didn't know you were such a gentleman. Are you like this with all your girlfriends or just her?"

"What? No-no-no. I mean, of course, I'm a gentleman with my girlfriends, but Caroline is not my girlfriend. I'm just carrying her bag because it has the files about this 'confidential' project that we picked up from One Police Plaza this morning. I was hoping I could get a peek but I never got a chance. I am dying to know what this project is about!"

"You picked up the files for her?" Amy couldn't help but butt in.

"Well, I volunteered, but she wouldn't let me pick them up myself. So I just accompanied her this morning to get them. And when I saw that they look heavy, I saw an opportunity. So I offered to carry the bag but I never had the chance to take a look. She's watching it like a frigging hawk!"

Still a boyfriend move. I wonder if he’d carry my bag for me if it looks heavy. He probably would if I was his girlfriend. Which I’m not. Amy thought, once again imagining what might have been.

"Well, this has become a work story, I'm no longer interested. Buh-bye!" Gina says as she returns to her desk leaving the two of them staring at each other. And for some reason, things have suddenly become awkward again.

"Classic Gina," Jake tells her with a shrug and a shy smile.

"Yeah. So.... are you guys dating?" Amy asks him, unable to help herself. She just really wanted to know.

"Me and Caroline? No." Jake answered almost too quickly.

"Why not? I think she likes you."

"What? I mean, I dunno. I think she's great but I never really thought of her that way before."

"Maybe you should ask her out."

"Oh... You think so?" Jake looks genuinely surprised by what she said. And to be honest she's surprised by her own question as well. Maybe she really is breaking her own heart.

"Ooh! You think she'd tell me about the project if we end up being together?" Jake asks her.

"Jake!" Amy scolded him shaking her head at him. Though that actually made her smile a little bit. He's such an idiot sometimes.

"No. Yeah I know. That's such a dick move. But seriously... do you really think I should ask her out?" Jake asks her again but this time there's something in his eyes as he stares at her. Like he's looking for something. Confirmation maybe? Like he's asking her if that's what she really wants him to do.

"Mhmm. Yeah." Was all she could manage.

"Okay. Yeah.. maybe." Jake answered, much to Amy's dismay.

And they both fell silent after that. Focusing on their computer screens, trying to avoid the longing gaze from each other's eyes.

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

That night, Amy went out for drinks at Shaw's with the squad. Except for Jake and Caroline. Jake had to work on a case and Caroline kept him company. She cares for him a lot. She's really perfect for him.

But I can do that too. I also care for him a lot. I wanna be the one waiting for him while he works on a case. Maybe even help him cause we work so well together. I wanna be the one he comes to work with and the one he goes home with.

She's always wanted to be that person for him. When he broke up with Sophia, she saw that glimmer of hope once again. The feeling that something might happen between them. If she's being honest that feeling never really went away. She's just too scared to face it. Plus she's certain that his feelings for her were all gone now, after she turned him down twice because of Teddy. Though every once in a while they share a moment that makes her think maybe there's still something between them. But anytime that happens, one of them seems to pull back, too scared to jump in.

Amy tries to shake those thoughts away. Rosa finds her with her bottle of beer that's no longer cold.

"Hey. What's going on with you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Is it Jake? What's the matter with you two? Why are you not dating still? You both like each other. Just go out already."

"It's too complicated Rosa. Dating a cop is too messy. It could ruin everything like how it ruined everything with Teddy. I don't want that to happen between me and Jake. Plus there’s Caroline now. I’m sure he’s better off with her.”

"You're the only one that's making it complicated with your stupid rules. You keep pushing him away. Then you'll realize that you really like him. But then he's already with someone else. You guys are running around in circles. Now you're sitting here looking so lonely. You look pathetic."

"Gee. Thanks a lot."

"Look if you don't want to date Jake because it's 'too messy', maybe you should go out with someone else. That guy looks cute."

Rosa points to a guy sitting alone at the other side of the bar who does look kinda cute.

"Yeah. Maybe I should."

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

It was Caroline's 3rd day at the 99 and Amy had to help her with some case files that she needed to study. There's only the two of them inside the evidence lock up and it was getting kinda awkward, for Amy that is, so she tried to start a conversation.

"So how's it going with you and Jake?" She couldn't think of anything else to talk about. Unfortunately, Jake was the only thing she can think of that they have in common.

"Oh... it's great. He finally asked me out. We're going on an actual date tonight." Caroline tells her.

She's so happy and giddy, Amy couldn't help but feel happy for her as well. Though she knows that a part of her wants to be in her place.

"I'm happy for you."

"Thank you, I really can't wait for tonight. I'm so excited."

Amy tried to give her the best smile she could muster.

When Amy went to the break room to get some coffee, she found Jake eating his breakfast.

"Hey" Jake greeted him awkwardly.

"Hey. Um.. so I heard you finally asked Caroline out."

"I did. Yeah."

"Great. Good for you." She can tell that Jake isn't comfortable talking about this either.

"Thanks."

"I'm also going out on a date tonight."

"Really?" Jake was genuinely surprised. And for a moment Amy thought that she saw a hint of something in his eyes. Is it sadness? Pain?

"Who's the unlucky guy?"

"Someone I met from the bar last night. He's actually really nice. We talked a lot. So he asked me out on a proper date."

"Well, good for you as well then. Did you check if he's a cop? You know, because of the rule."

"No. Yeah, I probably should do that. Better be safe, right? Haha."

"Well. Um.. have fun."

"Yeah, you too."

Truth is, she doesn't really have a date. She didn't even know the name of that guy from the bar. He was cute and he seemed great but she just couldn't find her interest in dating anyone else right now. She just said that to make Jake think that she's totally fine with him going out with Caroline. And that she's not regretting her stupid rule about not dating cops for even a second.

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

"So how's the date?" Amy asks Caroline the next morning.

"It was great. But..."

"But what?"

"Well.. he doesn't like me back."

"What? Why? What happened?"

"It was really great. We talked a lot the whole night. We laughed so much. It was fun really. But when the night was over and I tried to kiss him.. he didn't kiss me back."

"Oh god. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. He was actually really sweet about it. He apologized to me, and he said he was genuinely sorry. Said he thinks I'm amazing, but that he just couldn't find his interest in dating right now."

"He said that?"

"Yeah. But to be honest, I think he likes someone else."

"Really? Why would you think that?"

"I dunno. I just kinda felt it. Like he's longing for someone but he can't be with her and he just doesn't want to date anyone if it's not her."

"He told you this?"

"No. I don't think he'd ever tell me anything about it. But I can feel it. I can see it in his eyes."

They were both quiet for a while.

"Um... I don't know what to say. Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine." Caroline smiled at her.

Amy feels bad for her. She really does. But in a way, her heart feels light with relief to know that Jake doesn't want to date anyone else either.

When she went back to her desk, Jake was burrowed deep in paperwork. But he looked up when she sat down and smiled at her.

"Hey, so I heard the news from Caroline. What happened?" Amy asks Jake trying to find out what he's gonna say about it.

"I dunno. I guess I just realized that maybe you're right. Dating cops can be messy. I didn't want to ruin what we have." Jake shrugged.

"Right. Of course. No dating cops. The best rule, right?"

Jake stares at her for a while before answering. "Sure...Yeah."

Amy wanted to say something. She wants to take it back so badly. She wants to tell him that it's all bullshit and she doesn't care how messy it could get just as long as she's with him. But she didn't.

She doesn't know what's holding her back. Maybe she's too scared. She's never felt like this before. She's always been sure about her decisions. Always calculated every step. But with Jake, her entire system just seems to fall apart. It's so bizarre and it feels good but it's also so scary. Because for the first time in her life she's not sure what to do next.

They didn't say a word after that and just went back to focusing on the work in front of them. Trying not to think of what could have been if they were not cops working together and falling for each other. Or if they would just stop running around in circles.

[not-the-cleavers]

Target II - Chapter 1

Hi everyone! this is my first ever fic posted to Tumblr and I’m bloody nervous! Huge shout out to @adrenaline-roulette​ as my dearest best friend. 

Pairing; Four x Eight (female reader)  Fandom; 6 Underground Warnings; blood, swearing - nothing crazy...yet Word count; 1.3k

Summary; the team has moved onto their next target after dealing with Rovach Alimov, a war criminal named John Dough. Eight has just joined the team and is dying to show how much she deserves to be there. 

“Alright Eight, need an update here” Three’s hurried voice came over the coms; little did he know I was just only a few feet in front of him about to run into him. Before I could let him know my location, Seven’s voice stopped me in my tracks “Eight don’t round that corner so fast, Three is there and he’s pinned by two guards. I can get one but I’m going to need your help with the other. I suggest a silent take down” “Gotcha. I’ll go knives.” I responded, crouching down and slowly peeked my head around the marble pillar at the corner of the halls to see Three laying on the ground with two guards leering over him, guns pointed at his head. “I’ll get baldy if you wanna get the other one Seven. Count me down” “Three…” I grabbed one of the throwing knives attached to my vest and aimed for the guards neck, “Two…” Three covered his head with his hands, knowing what was about to happen, “One” I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I was holding and threw my knife, it finding it’s mark deep in the bald guards neck at the exact moment Seven’s bullet collided with the other guards head. Unfortunately for Three, the two guards lifeless bodies fell onto him and he was struggling to free himself. “Alright Eight, the coast is clear, go help him”. I didn’t need to be told twice, I rushed over and rolled the body of the shot guard off of Three and helped him to his feet, his thanks flooding the coms while I retrieved my knife from the guards neck, and wiped it clean on his uniform.

“Guys I’m glad Three is safe, but we really need that hard drive” One’s annoyed voice graced the coms. “Four are you in position?” Suddenly Four’s thick Brittish accent filled my ear “Yeah, I’m just waiting for these fuckers to hurry up, I’m kinda exposed here” “Calm your tits monkey boy, we’re working on it” I snapped back, annoyance clearly evident in my voice. “This is one hell of a ‘welcome to the team’ mission y’know?” I quipped to try and cover how I was really feeling. The plan was to get in to this mansion, avoid the guards, sneak into John Dough’s office, duplicate his hard drive and have Four help get us out via the skylight in the roof. However getting to this office was not as easy as One had made it out to be. So far myself and Three have had to avoid four times as many guards as was mentioned in the brief. Not to mention having to drop two of them to save Three, which was not part of the plan. I know Four responded but I was too busy trying to get to this stupid office to listen. I couldn’t let his most likely cocky reply to get me in a sticky situation. “In case anyone cares, I’ve got one more flight of stairs until I’m at the office” Two’s thick French accent snapped me out of my own thoughts. “We’re just behind you, can someone tell me if we’re about to meet more of these dicks?” Three asked “The office is still clear” “The hallway is clear as well. I don’t know about the stairways though” the boys responded. Three let out a sigh of relief.

We got into the office, meeting Two and Four, both with their guns drawn and by their sides. Now it was all on me, it was my job to get the info we need so we can take this prick down. Knowing I had Four people covering me in case of gunfire made this part a lot easier. I hooked up the external hard drive and started the process, getting ready to upload a key stroke logging virus to hopefully keep the flow of information coming. While I worked, Four got busy getting harnesses on the rest of us for our escape. I had to keep my thoughts focused purely on the task at hand and not on the stupidly attractive blond man currently kneeling behind me, it had been far too long since someone had been so close to you, but a harsh tug at my hips as he stood up made me lose that focus. “You alright there love?” he whispered in my ear. “Never better. Do you mind, trying to work here” I responded, thankful that my voice didn’t break and betray me. He simply chuckled and moved on to the others, spending nowhere near as long securing their harnesses as he had mine. Prick. “I hope you’re not going to be long, a new team have just noticed the bodies and I can get them both. You don’t have long” Seven’s worried voice came over the coms. “30 seconds and I’m done” I notified everyone, sweat forming on my brow, suddenly aware just how vulnerable I was, I couldn’t shoot while doing this as it required my full attention. “Done” I almost shrieked when the pop up notified me that the files were mine and the virus was uploaded. “Great let’s get out of here” Three said, relief clear in his voice “Seven how close are those guys?” I asked as I secured the hard drive in my vest “They’re just running up the stairs. Go go go” Four was the first to climb up and out of the skylight, and as I was making my way up the rope I heard the office door slam open followed shortly by a searing pain ripping through my side, most likely a cramp, as soon as I made it onto the roof I was able to pull out my handgun and help kill a few guards. Once the guards were all down Two and Three climbed up and we made our way to the back of the mansion where we had to climb down, make it through the garden and over a fence to where One would meet up with us and get us out of here.

Sneaking through the garden was easy enough, plenty of trees and hedges to crouch behind, getting over the fence was not as easy with the pain in my side, but I was able to grit my teeth and ignore it and book it through the trees behind the property we were fleeing. I was the last one over the fence because I had taken too long so I wasn’t surprised to see everyone starting to make their way into the back of the van that One was leaning against, an unimpressed look smeared across his face. I slowed my run to a jog as I felt my body start to relax, patting the pocket on my vest where the hard drive was zipped into “I got it, and he has a virus to log his key strokes with no known origin. He won’t know who hit him” I assured One which made him crack a smile that seemed to last only seconds. “Perfect. Let’s get going, we still need to pick Seven up” he stated, the smile replaced by his naturally occurring blank expression, I felt I would never be able to read him. “All work and no play” I laughed at him, making him shake his head at me, trying to hide his smile once more. Suddenly my side felt like it was on fire causing my head to spin and a quiet hiss to escape my lips, clearly the adrenaline running through my veins this whole mission had worn off. I slapped my hand to my side, which seemed to ease the pain a small amount, and made my way inside the van. The last thing I remember is Four shouting “Eight you’re bleeding” before it all went dark.

[bangtan-madi]

546 Days Without You — Five: Day 44

Pairing — Seokjin x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Seokjin, older brother!Yoongi, producer/songwriter!MC, military au (ish), idol au (ish)

Genre — fluff, angst

Word Count — 2.1k

Summary — Kim Seokjin is your entire world, and that world falls apart the moment he and your older brother Yoongi are conscripted into the South Korean military.

Part — 5 / 15

Warnings — Do I even have to say enlistment at this point? Last chapter with a warning for that. By now, you know that every post will at least reference it.

A/N — So someone asked about a taglist for this fic, and I think it’s a great idea! The list is at the bottom and it’s open! Comment if you’d like me to add you to the taglist and I’ll get you on there for future updates :)

(gif not mine. credit to original creator.)

Previous — Next

By mid-January, everyone is finally starting to get back to normal. After Hoseok's timely intervention, the holidays were a joyful time for the band. While there weren't any events or parties or New Year's Rockin' Eve, like last year, you were silently glad that peace was returning.

As the new year passes, everyone is pumped up and motivated to continue working on the next album. While still in the pre-production stages—melodies, lyrics, and concepts being solidified and meddled with—there are few places you'd rather be. Right in the middle of the chaos that is BTS, crafting alongside the boys, that's your happy place.

That's what dreams are made of.

"I'm kinda in love with this concept, not gonna lie," Namjoon laughs, reclining back in one of the studio chairs.

He's been behind the glass, practicing what you have so far on the namesake track for the next album, but you've hit a spot in the bridge that's more difficult than the last. Despite that, Namjoon has been much cheerier and light than usual. He adores this process, lives for it. It seems that the moonchild gets his best ideas when alone in the studio, after everyone else has long since gone home.

You, however, are about ready to hit your head against the desk. "I love it like my brothers; every now and then I want to kill them."

Namjoon snorts as you drop your tablet into your lap and let your head lull back. "I understand how you feel."

"No, you don't. Your big, genius brain thought up all of this. You get psychology and archetypes and theory like no one else, Joon. I mean, I knew we were going with another chapter of Map of the Soul, but don't you think 'Dream' is a little...I don't know, audacious?"

He smiles, showing off his dimples. "I prefer forward-thinking."

Your head turns back to the tablet, seeing the basic outline of the song in front of you. "Dream" was one that you and Namjoon were working on together. He had started the process with Yoongi, and thought it only right to end it with you. He and the Mins have always worked best together, and this song was going to be something special.

"Speaking of forward-thinking, I want to show you something."

Namjoon slips from his chair and scurries over to the producing equipment. Using the computer, he pulls up a file called, "From KSJ's, To MYN 2020.10.24."

"What's that?" you ask, the title of the file catching your eye.

"I'll show you if you promise to not cry."

"Um, why would I do that?"

Instead of answering, Namjoon clicks twice. It's an audio file, and you're overcome instantly with a voice you'd recognize anywhere.

Seokjin's angelic vocals start off soft and sweet, humming a peaceful melody that you've never heard before. Then they shift into soothing lyrics, and you can tell that they're meant for you. Phrases of love and emotion fill your ears, and breaking your promise to Namjoon, tears begin to brim. Seokjin's voice grows stronger as he belts out the chorus with all his heart. You've never heard him hit notes like that.

As the song comes to a close, Seokjin whispers the last line, adding to the end, "Love you, Jagi."

Silence follows. You can't bring yourself to move or speak or think of anything other than the beautiful song he'd recorded for you. Namjoon sits with you, in the quiet, eyes shifting every few moments to you then back to the equipment.

October 24th. That was the day you'd spent recording with Jungkook, the day Seokjin finished early, the day before he decided to enlist. He'd been awfully dodgy about his recording of that day. You had no idea what he was working on, only assuming that he was recording one of his parts for the new album's couple songs that had been pre-produced.

You never dreamed he was singing something just for you.

"He told me to show it to you after you were in a well enough head-space," Namjoon eventually says. "Saying goodbye's never been our strong suit. He wanted to make you feel like he was still here."

"It's beautiful," you murmur, your voice a whisper.

"Jin was thinking about including it on the upcoming album. He wanted you to make the final call. If you want to keep it just for yourself, that's totally okay. BigHit doesn't know about the piece, so we can keep it between us three if that's what you want."

You shake your head, turning to your friend with a small smile. "It's too pretty to keep to myself. The Army will love it. Seokjin deserves to be the one doted on for his solo. Put it on the roster."

Namjoon looks pleased with your decision, his dimples reappearing. "Maybe we should take off the message at the end, though. It might add to the rumors that have been circulating."

"By the time the album comes out, no one will remember me or those stupid rumors," you wave away his concern. "Keep it in. Jinnie left an 'I love you, Army,' message at the end of 'Moon' for the iTunes store. They'll probably think it's for them."

"And you would be okay with that?"

"More than okay." You nod to the computer. "Can—Can we listen to it again? One more time?"

Namjoon is happy to oblige, and the two of you settle in for another listen to Seokjin's last song.

After finishing at the studio, you decide to gather the courage and make the trek back to your apartment. Back home. It's late, and while the dorms might be closer, you know in your heart that it's time to face the music. It's been time for a while, but you've been too afraid of the shadows inside you to do the hard thing.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Namjoon offers, when you tell him your plans to stay at the apartment tonight.

You give the tall man a shoulder pat and shake of your head. "I'm good, Joonie. Thanks, though. You head home. I'll be by first thing in the morning. Tell the boys for me?"

Namjoon nods once, gives you a goodbye hug, and slips something into your hand as he turns to leave. "For you, from Seokjin."

When you open your hand, you mumble a soft "thank you" to the man already walking towards the dorms.

It's a thumb-drive with your name written in Seokjin's sloppy penmanship.

When you arrive at the apartment, passing through the gate and security, it takes all your courage to press the elevator button for your floor. Your heart races in anticipation. You haven't felt this nervous about going home since Seokjin asked you to move in.

But this is an entirely different type of nervousness. You have no idea how you'll feel when those doors open, when you put the key into the doorknob, when you enter the last place Seokjin and you slept side by side. Will you feel empty inside without him there, like it did right after he left? Or will you feel comfort from being around his things, like you feel around Yoongi's?

Only one way to know. With a burst of bravery, you step from the elevator, march up to your apartment door, and push inside.

The entrance corridor is dark, and the entire place is silent. You're used to music being on when you enter. If you're not playing something when you walk in, Seokjin has his playlist going in the background. And it's almost never dark. Even when no one is home, your silly boyfriend likes to leave some smaller lights on so that he wouldn't get scared. A smile graces your face at the memory.

Flicking the light switch, the entire space is illuminated with a soft, golden glow. With intrepid determination, you make your way to the kitchen, stepping over a pile of postage that's been slid under your door over the past few weeks. You put a kettle of water on the stove top. You take deep breaths, allowing the area around you to settle in your mind. Tea will help; tea always helps.

As the water comes to a boil, you tip-toe down the hallway to the master bedroom. It's exactly how you left it. Clothes are strewn across the furniture as you packed in a hurry. Those first few days after Seokjin and Yoongi left were the worst, and after the second, you knew you couldn't stay there any longer. You packed what you could find and fled to the safety of the dorms. While you could feel Seokjin everywhere, there was no place you felt him more than the bedroom you shared.

He's everywhere. In the clothing that has overtaken your closet, in the Mario knickknacks along the dresser, in the scent of air freshener that he adores, in the plethora of skincare and hair care products that he uses, even in the choice of bedding (he loves one particular kind of sheets that make everything cool on warm nights.) His smell, his belongings, him.

Seokjin is still everywhere, but this time you take it in with ease. This time, it doesn't hurt as much. This time, it gives you a little bit of peace.

As you feel the silence start to creep up on you, you take the thumb drive, plug it into your laptop, and play the only file in storage. Seokjin's voice fills the void, ever-present and comforting in your time of need. Even in the military, he's making sure you're cared for and feeling loved.

The warm feeling floods through you as you change into one of his baby pink sweaters, discarding the emotions and stress of the day along with your clothes. You make your tea, curl up in bed, and let Seokjin sing you to sleep.

It's the first night of dreamless sleep you've had since he left.

Early the next morning, as you're getting ready to head to the boys' dorms, there's a knock on your door. A small envelope is slid under your door, the usual way small post is delivered to each apartment by the attendant in the lobby. You pick it up, noticing the seal of the South Korean military on the face.

Seokjin. Your heart flutters when you realize this might be from him.

With hurried fingers, you tear open the parchment and reveal a neatly typed letter inside. Your eyes begin to take in what it says, never more happy to see an actual paper letter in your life.

Jagiya,

Please don't laugh at my lame attempt at a love letter. I wish I could just pick up the phone and call or text you, but we're not allowed those privileges for another few months. So, instead, I'm stuck typing everything out to send you the old-fashioned way. Make fun of me all you want when I get back.

Everything has been going well at basic training. Yoongi and I have been able to stick together since we're in the same training facility. We will graduate soon and be sent to our assigned units, more than likely splitting up. I'm hoping for a more lenient one closer to Seoul, that way my personal days can be spent in the city with you and the boys, but that's out of my control. I don't want you to worry! Both Yoongi and I are keeping our spirits up, and I hope you are doing the same.

Give my love and annoying hugs to the members. Tell my parents and hyung that I love them, too. They only let me send one damn letter, so it had to be to you. But I'll never hear the end of it if I don't at least mention the boys. You know how they can get. 

Yoongi is going to write to you soon, and his letter should come shortly after mine. Knowing him, it will be much more poetic than mine. But at least I beat him to the finish line!

Please take care of yourself. Write me back, and I'll try to respond as quickly as I can.

I love you and miss you more every day, [Y/n]. Just promise me you won't find some other loser to date while I'm away! I'm still worldwide handsome, you know, even in the military.

Forever yours,

Seokjin

P.S. I hope you enjoyed your song ♡

Taglist — @joyful-jimin​

[marbledaesthetics]

Only on Principal | afi | part i

pairing: ashton x ofc

warnings: angst, fake (semi-coerced?) relationships, pining, swearing, slow burn, sexualization (kind of?)

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i’ve actually been holding on to this piece for awhile because i didn’t know if i was going to publish in it parts or as one long fic, but decided that i should really post something, so here it is. updates will probably be irregular, because i don’t have the next part finished or edited, but i promise that updates will come!  also, getting this moodboard was a bitch because i kept screwing up the file type

part ii

~~~

“Why are we doing this again?” Ashton was slouched in his chair, a hand tugging on the back of his hair. He didn’t even try to hide the annoyance in his voice anymore, the management had set the arrangement in stone, and he wasn’t happy about it.

"We gave you a chance to throw the paps something fresh, something to bring in new people, and you refused.” The man’s voice was tight, trying to remain patient with Ashton’s brash attitude. “This is the compromise.” 

Ashton scoffed harshly at the word, rolling his eyes as he sat up properly in his chair. “Compromise? Pretending to be in love with a person I’ve never met? That’s the compromise?”

“Like, I said you had options. You don’t need to assume that you are going to absolutely despise her, she’s not that bad.” This man, taking over for the other, was speaking casually, returning Ashton’s annoyance with ease. 

“‘Not that bad?’ You’ve paired me with ‘not that bad?’”

The man groaned, turning so he was directly facing Ashton. “Personally, I’m not a fan of her, but believe it or not, we chose someone whose company you would actually tolerate while doing the press stuff. I think you are going to really enjoy spending time with her, so please, be nice, the last thing we need is you scaring her away.” He gripped the edge of the table harshly and spoke with a tone of finality that almost made Ashton want to back down.

The two men held each other's gaze for a moment before Ashton sighed, kicking the table leg childishly. “I’ll play nice, but I’m not gonna promise that I’ll like her.”

“Great, because she’s waiting in the lobby for you to stop throwing yourself this pity party, so we can explain everything to the two of you.”

“Of course she is,” he mumbled to himself, straightening up to the table and running a heavy hand over his face.

He had thought up what the girl they would want him with would be like, already thinking up things he would hate about her. She would probably be short and platinum blonde, so perky that even he couldn’t handle it before 11 am. An innocent type, he thought, someone who embodies the management in a naggy, girlfriend-shaped package.

When the door opened, Ashton’s first thought was don’t judge a book by its cover. She looked like almost everything that he assumed she wouldn’t be, but he was still sure that nothing about this endeavor would be enjoyable. 

She was taller than he had imagined— he probably didn’t have more than two or three inches on her, and her dark locks were swept back to expose a small tattoo just behind her ear. She grabbed an open chair near Ashton, not too close, but close enough that the management could address them at the same time easily.

Ashton tore his gaze from her, looking back to the team, refusing to give them the satisfaction of showing interest in the girl they had chosen. 

They held each other’s gazes expectantly before the girl to his left cleared her throat softly and said, “Well, I’m Hylla. So, hello?” She wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to the situation, but was sure that long, tense silences weren’t going to help anyone.

Ashton looked back at her, taking in the uncertainty in her features. Her demeanor makes him want to drop his guard, but he remains strong, keeping every ounce of his attraction out of his voice. “I’m Ashton, but I’m sure you already knew that.” 

Hylla resisted the urge to flinch at his harsh tone and merely rolled her eyes, shifting back to face the team before them. “Are we gonna go over everything now?”

“Yes, so here are the contracts,” said the man sitting across from them, passing them the thick packets. “I know you’ve both already signed them but I want to remind you of a few things. So first is the time frame: this contract covers eight months, but we may extend depending on how everyone reacts to this. During that time, you absolutely cannot have any sexual or romantic relationships with other people. The last thing we’ll need is the media getting their hands on a cheating scandal.”

“I thought feeding the vultures was the point.” 

The man looked as though he wanted to strangle the smirk Ashton wore off his face, but managed to remain calm enough to continue. “Ashton, if you dare, you will be in some deep shit. This is for the good of your career, not some scheme for us to ruin your life.” He clipped his words, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Anyway, similarly to what I said before, no one outside of this group can know about this. If anyone accuses you about this being for PR, you ignore it. If you get too defensive, it will set people off.”

Hylla, who—much to Ashton’s annoyance—was actually paying attention, nodded along, thumbing through the contract as she took in the information. He couldn’t help but think that she looked kinda cute when she was concentrating. He didn’t even bother to look away when she noticed his gaze, continuing to study her even as she looked back to the man speaking.

“You two will make your first public appearance next week, after you guys know each other a little better. After that we’ll make sure you two will be in the public eye a few times a month, depending on how much exposure each outing gives us. You’re going to need to make sure the paps see you, but don’t make it obvious that you want their attention.”

The meeting drags on longer than Ashton bothers to pay attention for, and he is mildly surprised when it ends, the management team getting up and telling them to hang around the studio, get to know each other before they go public.

Once they’ve gone, Ashton makes a move to leave as well, but is cut off by Hylla.

“Where are you going?” The question doesn’t sound accusatory, but it bothers Ashton nonetheless.

“The writing room. I’m not doing this in here.” His words are curt, making him feel almost bad for the girl as he brushes past her, heading through the winding hallways of the studio.

Hylla matches his brisk pace, muttering softly in an annoyed tone until he stops, holding the door for her in such a manner that it seemed almost sarcastic. 

She entered the room, standing near the door until Ashton sat, not wanting to worsen his already sour mood. He chooses a spot on the far end of a couch, leaning back and twirling a pen he had snatched off the table in front of them between his fingers.

Hylla plops down on the opposite end of his couch, tucking one leg beneath her and propping her elbow on the armrest. Ashton’s eyes follow her, taking the time to take even more of her in. Her hair is a deep chestnut, dyed deep red at the tips, and stick straight. Now that she’s taken off the leather jacket she had been wearing, he could see her ear was just one of several tattoos that adorned her skin, and she wore a worn pair of Docs with faded yellow laces. She radiated confidence, never flinching as she waited for Ashton to finish checking her out.

“Enjoying the scenery?” Her grin was cocky, teasing him as though they had been friends for years. 

“Something needs to make this arrangement bearable.” Despite his sullen mood, he returned her grin, joking with her. “So who are you? If I need to be madly in love with you in a week, I’m gonna need to know something about you.”

“What do you want to know?” She smiles easily, raking her hand back in her hair just far enough to prop her head on her hand. “There’s a lot about me.”

“Start with the basic things, how old are you, what’s your full name, your favorite color.”

“Well, my name is Hylla Rae Narvaez. I’m 24, and probably red.”

“Hylla Rae Narvaez. A name like that’s gotta have a story behind it.” His grin is teasing, curious as to how she’d react.

“It does sound a bit pretentious, doesn’t it? Queen-like is how most people describe it,” she replies, chuckling along with him. “My dad wanted a Puerto Rican name, and my mom wanted a Greek one, so this was the compromise. What else do you want to know?”

“What do you do for a living? Other than date celebrities, of course.” The jab is teasing, but Hylla stiffens for a moment anyway.

“I’m a tattoo artist, and I do commissioned art on the side.” She speaks a little softer than before, pulling the leg that had been on the ground to her chest.

“Should’ve guessed, with all the ink. You seem like the artsy type.” His words are kind, reaching out to squeeze her knee gently. “I’m sorry I was so pissy before. I just hate that they’re forcing me into this whole thing, you know? It’s nothing personal.”

“Ahh, so you only hate me in theory?” She teases, readopting her carefree demeanor.

Ashton giggles, his eyes bright. “Something like that. It’s the principal of the thing.”

They continued to make small talk, and the easiness of the conversation was surprising to Ashton, as though they were old friends just catching up. He was shocked when he checked the time to find that they had been there for hours, just chatting. Deciding they should both go home, they bid their farewells, Ashton allowing Hylla to leave first to avoid being seen before they were supposed to.

He spent the ride home lost in thought, terrified of how easily this girl he was supposed to hate was breaking down his walls, crawling into the cracks and making herself at home.

After he was home, he meditated to sort out his thoughts, and eventually resigning with a reminder to himself to take things slowly, allowing the whole thing to work itself out. He was in this for the long haul, whether he wanted to be or not, so he couldn’t let himself fuck it up from the start.

~~~

wanna be added to my taglist? fill out this form or send me an ask (off anon)

[arthur-morgan-slap-my-ass]

The Progress of Arthur Morgan | Chapter 1

A/N: You guys have no idea about how satisfied I am about posting this. First things first, I’m a psychology student (think I’ve talked about this before) and I’m like, deeply in love with my future profession. Second, Arthur Morgan needs some therapy. Urgently. This idea came out of nowhere, based off of a case we read during one of our ethics class about a therapist falling in love with his client and my hand slipped with a 10+k long fic about the subject aosdnakjsdn Also, you fucking believe it or not, this fic has a playlist! You can see it below!

Playlist

Summary: Being a therapist was never easy, but you always did your best to help your clients. When a patient came to you on the verge of a divorce, his behavior turned your full attention to him, blurring the lines of ethics and making you question your own decisions.

Word Count: 4k

Chapters: 2 | 3

You sipped at your coffee, flicking through the pages of your log journal with mild interest, eyes fleeting through the file, packed with whatever you had managed to gather to put together for the afternoon patient. A man, mid 30s. Going through divorce, according to the reference contact — his father. Showed signs of apathy, self-stem issues and discouragement towards the present and future. You scribbled “depression?” on the page, cocking your head to the side.

Another sip, this time frowning.

It was simple enough, you meditated; but no case was just what was written in the log. You tapped the mechanical pencil on the page, above the name of the man.

Arthur Morgan.

Divorce was a mighty thin ice subject for you to approach with men, having gone through one yourself — but you found release in helping others find their peace with it and overcome failed relationships, even if you were yet to find it yourself.

You pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, resting your chin on top of your hand. You hoped Mr. Morgan was easy enough to deal with.

“Mr. Morgan,” you called from the entrance of your listening room, finding the patient when he perked up at his name. You held the door open in an inviting way, turning your head to the side with a placid smile, “please, do come in.”

The waiting room wasn’t packed — the clinic in which you attended to always had a nice disposition of patients through the week, as not to make the ones in the waiting too anxious by being around too much people. The man stood up, rather slowly, giving you a tight nod of his head and a pressed smile as he passed through you and into the soundproof room.

He stood there, almost awkwardly, even after you closed the door. The man was tall, you took in, with dark blond hair and almost touching his shoulders and a beard that had seen better days. His posture suggested one of a cornered animal, waiting for something to pounce him as he sketched a runaway plan — but that wasn’t unusual to you. Most of the people who’d come to you were nervous, unsure even, but you had always managed to help them find their path.

“Please,” you said in a gentle voice, but Mr. Morgan still snapped his attention to you. You motioned towards the room, walls of soft tone of yellow, two beige armchairs and a loveseat of the same color, with dark brown pillows and a rug. You had always found the listening room to be a warm, welcoming environment — because that’s what the profession revolved around, making the patients feel welcomed and at ease —, but he still watched the place like it was a trap of a sorts. “Take a seat wherever you’d like.”

The man rubbed the palms of his hands against his jeans covered thighs, shuffling uncomfortably in place. “Anywhere?”

“As long as you’re comfortable,” you nodded, clasping your hands in front of your body. His teal colored eyes fleeted briefly through the room and he ultimately moved towards the loveseat, facing the armchair opposite to it. “Is this your first time? In a therapy session?”

He nodded stiffly, not really meeting your eyes as you sat on the armchair and smiled comprehensively.

“I see,” you took off your glasses, folding it and setting them on the cushioned arm, “but there’s no need to be nervous, Mr. Morgan. We’re here simply to talk, maybe figure some things out, this is a safe space for you to share whatever comes to your mind, you see? I’m here to listen and help however I can.”

The man nodded again, this time picking at the velvety surface of the loveseat. He seemed flustered, almost. “Never thought I’d end up needing a shrink, ‘s all.”

You smiled again, not unused to the term neither. “Everyone should do therapy, if you were to ask me,” he looked up at you, somewhat puzzled and you shrugged lightly. “I assure you it’s nice to know someone’s listening on the other end; someone that’s not going to judge you. It’s not about getting fixed, it’s about making sure everything’s in order here,” you pointed to your head, “to make sense of everything else.”

He seemed to consider your words, ultimately agreeing but not very enthusiastically. Passivity, you noted mentally.

“Tell me about yourself, Mr. Morgan…,” you started again, voice gentle and calm.

“Just—,” he interrupted, looking flustered, “Arthur ‘s fine.”

You cocked your head to the side, nodding understandingly with an amused quip. “Arthur, then. Like the King.”

Arthur scoffed, looking to the side. “Very different fellas, that’s for sure.”

“And why do you say that?,” you asked, clasping your hands together in a polite manner. Your tone wasn’t accusatory and, if anything, you had found professional curiosity in the man. Low self-stem, perhaps? Too early to say.

The man stayed silent for a moment, seeming to think on what to say. “Never been one for titles and such for myself, ‘s what I mean. Prefer to keep it simple.”

“I see,” you smiled again, trying your best to look welcoming. He surely was very different from what you were expecting. “Well, then. My name’s Y/N, but you can call me how you’d like, if you don’t appreciate using my first name in our sessions.”

Arthur nodded once more, twisting his lips as if somewhat displeased. Embarrassment, perhaps he was here against his will.

“Feels kinda silly,” he muttered to no one in particular, “payin’ up someone just to hear me talk.”

You laughed softly, hand coming up to rest on your chin, “it’s more common than you think, although psychology is still viewed as a somewhat taboo thing, even by modern standards. We like to think of ourselves as doctors, of a kind,” you joked lightly, trying to humor him and see if that would help him loosen up, “doctors of the mind, if you please.”

He smirked then, only partially more at ease, “whatever you say, doc. Just make sure to fix me up.”

You shook your head, now humored yourself. “See, Arthur,” you started, squeezing your eyes lightly to seem warm, “therapy is a two way hand. You’re not a mentally broken person to start with,” at that he seemed to recoil, but you were quick to add, “just in need of someone to listen to you. We’re here to help you learn more about yourself, so you can rely on your own inner strength to overcome personal matters, you understand me?”

He frowned then, but acquiesced with a quick nod.

“Let’s start by saying that whatever is said here won’t leave this room,” you recited the well-eased script, “I’m your confident and won’t share personal and intimate information on you with anyone if requested, unless given permission by you. Is that of accord with you?”

“Sure is,” Arthur mumbled, too focused on his hand resting on top of the armrest of the loveseat. He seemed to have drawn in once more.

“Your father told me some primary information on you,” you said calmly, trying to sound softer, “but I’d like to hear things from you, if you don’t mind.”

With a frown, the man tapped his thumb on the velvety surface of the armrest. He seemed displeased, almost. Self-consciousness?

“Let’s start small, then,” you prompted in face of his hesitation, “tell me about your work.”

“I work as a teacher,” he answered quietly, fleeting his eyes towards you, “art teacher, for middle schoolers.”

You nodded, honestly interested. “That’s really nice. You get along well with children, then?”

Arthur nodded, this time more enthusiastically, and a smile appeared on his full lips for the first time. “Yeah, the children sure are nice,” he commented idly, almost pleased, “they’re more open, feels like I’m the one learning in the classroom sometimes.”

“I’m sure it’s very fulfilling,” you urged him on, continuing in the same tone of voice, “so, tell me. Do you have any children of your own?”

He shifted uncomfortably, smile soon disappearing. “I… no, not really,” he scratched his chin nervously, “my… my wife never wanted none for herself,” Arthur confided lowly, still somewhat hesitant. “But I’ve always wanted to have children.”

You nodded again, feeling the sensitive subject building up. Maybe you should be more direct. “And how does that make you feel? Her not wanting to have children? Does that upset you?”

Arthur scoffed lightly, fixing his teal colored eyes on his fingers smoothing the sofa’s surface. “Can’t really blame her, doc,” he commented, in an off-handed tone, “she’s not wrong on it.”

Cocking your head to the side, you watched him. “Why do you say that?”

He seemed to be humored by your question, shrugging as if the answer was obvious. “I mean, wouldn’t want to have a babe of mine neither.”

You pressed your lips together, nodding slowly. You didn’t expect that sort of answer. “But you want a child,” you pointed out, “doesn’t that make it some kind of a paradox?”

Arthur watched you for a moment, considering your words before shaking his head. “You sure like making complicated questions, doc.”

At this, you smiled, bowing your head slightly. “Just trying to understand your situation, Arthur.”

“Sure,” he sighed, eyeing the cinnamon brown colored plush pillow. “It doesn’t make a difference now, though. She don’t want me no more.”

Passivity, once more.

You weighed the words, leaning back on the cushioned armchair, “is this the reason why you’re splitting apart?”

Arthur frowned, but he didn’t seem displeased — instead, he was almost… sad. “One of the few,” he said quietly, in a voice you could only tag as secretive, “but I never insisted on it much, didn’t want to force her into the idea. We thought about it, couple times some years ago, but the moment was never right and so…,” he trailed off, looking at you somewhat awkwardly, “it never came, I guess.”

That surprised you.

You had expected him to be much more imposing, from what little you had gathered from the reference contact; but it was as if he didn’t really want to have a say in the matters of his life. “I understand,” you commented, following the tracks, “is there something else, then? As the children subject isn’t the only reason, as you stated before.”

He sighed, closing his eyes briefly. “Mary doesn’t really fancy my job. Takes too much time, I’ll admit, but—“

The silence stretched, almost expectantly, but you didn’t dare breach it yet. Arthur shook his head then, and you took that as a sign to speak again.

“Are you happy with your job as a teacher, Arthur?,” you asked sincerely, regarding him with curiosity.

Arthur frowned at your question. “What? ‘course I am, why wouldn’t I be?,” he twisted his lips, “doesn’t mean she has to enjoy it too.”

“I see,” you acquiesced, nodding briefly. “How long have you been together, then?”

“Ah,” the man shrugged, “ever since Junior year in college, I guess. She majored in Business, to take over her family’s company. Been about 12 years or so, would turn 13 this July.”

He kept track, you noticed. That means he cared.

“That’s a long time,” you clasped your hands together, “why only now?”

Arthur watched you for a moment, seeming rather frustrated, before answering. “We grew tired of each other, I guess.”

You cocked your head to the side. This wasn’t unusual. “Would you care to elaborate, Arthur? Of course, if that’s okay by you.”

He nodded, moving to pick the pillow and set it on his lap. Defensive manner, you blinked slowly. That made him uncomfortable. “Love ran out, ‘suppose. We argue a lot now, ‘bout bills, the school, sometimes she says that I’ve changed, but I—“ Arthur trailed off, growing silent for a few seconds before continuing. “We’re just really mean to each other, ‘s all.”

You regarded him in a clinical way, resting your head on your hand. He seemed almost guilty. “Is it of your wish, then? To go separate ways?”

Arthur scoffed, still not looking at you. “Not really… but if that’s what she wants, I’m okay with it.”

Passivity, again.

“But I’m asking you,” you pressed on the matter, shifting on the armchair, and trying to make your voice seem warm and understanding, “how does that make you feel? You not wanting to go and Mary making the decision for the both of you?”

“What I mean is that I’m not gonna insist on it, doc,” he said slowly, almost in a mechanical way, “if she don’t wanna stay, I’m not gonna force her. She never had much freedom, with her family around, but now that her pa’s gone, she can do things. She has friends, colleagues and…,” Arthur shrugged, resting his arms on top of the pillow. “Mary has her own life now.”

“And how does that make you feel, Arthur?,” you pressed on, watching him intensely. He was so incredibly acceptant of the situation it surprised you. “We’re here to talk about you.”

He watched his hands for a moment, processing your question. “Like… I don’t know,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes to keep the tears welling up in there from spilling, “maybe that I’m not enough for her, I guess.”

“It’s okay to feel like that,” you offered lightly. It wasn’t uncommon for patients to cry neither, especially in such situations. “Every experience is valid in our lives, even the bad ones.”

Arthur grimaced at your words, giving you a somewhat impatient look. “With all due respect, doc,” he muttered, voice thick with emotion, “don’t give me this ‘it’s okay’ therapist talk ‘cause that ain’t gonna work on me. You just sound like my father.”

With a worried recoil of your shoulders, you plucked your glasses and put them back on, avoiding picking up the patient log and writing on it. “Then let’s talk about your family. You said I sounded like your father, is that a bad thing for you?”

“It’s…,” Arthur paused, hesitating for a moment, “not necessarily, but…,” his voice died out.

“Do you have a good relationship with him?,” you asked, as it was of your interest since the man had been the one reaching out to you, actively working to get Arthur to become your patient and had been insistent on paying for the sessions beforehand. He was old, perhaps in his late 50s, with short grayish-white hair and small, warm eyes. Hosea Matthews, as he had signed himself up as the emergency contact and reference one to discuss progress occasionally.

“Sure do,” he agreed, looking solemn. “Hosea’s a good man… Dutch too.”

You hummed, expecting him to go on. “I’m told you began to live with them around the age of 11, is that correct?”

Arthur looked flustered, wary of the route you had taken on the conversation. “Yes,” he answered in a clipped manner. “They been great to me ever since.”

“Are you particularly closer to any of your parents?,” you asked, trying to diffuse the tension.

“I don’t see how this is helping,” Arthur answered, his voice quiet.

“It’s going to help me understand the situation in which you find himself,” you explained patiently, “seeing in which context you are, how your relationship with your family works, feelings and such.” He didn’t answer, instead focusing his attention on picking at the strands of the pillow where the seams were tearing apart. “Just trust me on it, Arthur. You don’t have to be afraid of telling me anything. This is a safe space for you, where you can say things without having to worry about the judgment of others.”

Arthur allowed the silence to grow and you glanced at your wristwatch to keep track of the time. He was tough to crack. “Hosea is easier to talk to, ‘suppose. He’s a better listener,” he said with finality.

So, family was a sensitive subject. You’d work up to it.

“What about your other father?,” you inquired in a soft voice, tilting your head to the side. Arthur looked away, visibly uncomfortable. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, Arthur.”

“We’re good,” he muttered ultimately. “Feels like he’s more fond of my brother, though.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together. Sense of inferiority, compares himself to others. The diagnosis was coming together, then. “Have you ever told him that?”

The man scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s a very stupid question, if I can say so.”

At that, you smiled in amusement. “Yes, you can,” you half laughed, “but I’m assuming that’s a no.”

“Good assumption,” he chuckled, rubbing a hand against his knee. You watched him for a moment, already putting together what you were to write down in the log when he spoke up. “So, I can tell you anythin’? Like, for real?”

You cocked your head to the side, smiling sweetly. “Yes, that’s the concept,” you agreed, blinking at him, “anything that comes to mind, from plans, to feelings, what you think about things, whatever it is. I’m here to listen to you and if you can’t understand something, I’ll help you through it.”

Arthur nodded a few times, gaze fixated on the coffee-brown fluffy rug. “And you can’t tell anyone about it?”

Shuffling in your seat, you considered your options. There were situations, yes, that you were allowed — and should — break the confidentiality of the patient, but you feared that telling him would push him to hold back on information with you. Sighing, you decided to be honest.

“See, Arthur,” you started, “I’m not allowed to share any kind of information on you, not with your parents, with your wife, friends, family… no one, really,” he watched you with intelligent eyes and you knew he was listening. “There are exceptions, obviously. When you find yourself in immediate danger to yourself or others is a good example, and legally I’m obligated to inform your emergency contact of your condition and wait for them to come in contact with me before allowing you to walk away from the clinic.”

He watched you for a moment, weighing the words rather carefully “What would immediate danger be, in that case?,” Arthur asked seriously.

You hesitated before answering, rather wary. “Threats to your life or third parties, usually.”

Arthur scoffed, shaking his head, and he seemed to be humored. “Ain’t gonna go off like that, that’s for sure.” He shifted in his seat, fixing the plushy throw pillow on his lap. “That ever happened to you? With a patient?”

Lolling your head from one side to another, you answered, “it always happens when you decide to go into this branch of profession, it’s almost a certainty, I’d say.”

“That a yes?,” he asked.

“Yes,” you smiled rather sadly, “but they did not die. For obvious reasons, we could not continue treatment…”

“Why’s that?,” the man seemed surprised, almost dumbfounded.

“That option is owed to the patient, you see,” you explained patiently, “they did not want to be treated by a psychologist who broke their trust, even if that meant they’d live instead of passing away. Some people have plans and don’t appreciate it when we, as therapists, intervene.”

Arthur considered it, pressing his lips together and nodding quietly. You cocked your head to the side, regarding him closely.

“Do you keep a journal, Arthur?,” you inquired suddenly and that seemed to startle him. The man blushed slightly. “I find them very useful to say what we have difficulty of saying to others. Maybe you’d find that interesting?”

“I don’t…,” he sighed, shaking his head, rather embarrassed. “Always wanted to, but never got to it, I think.”

“Why’s that?,” you smiled sweetly, in an encouraging way. “Having a journal is a very useful and contrary to popular belief, it’s not just a ‘girl’ thing,” he smiled at that, “it helps with verbalization of feelings, reflective thought, organization… and, since you’re an art teacher, I do believe you might have art skills, no?”

Arthur looked flustered, a pinkish blush creeping to his cheeks as he averted his gaze from you. “Ain’t so sure, doc... just don’t think it’s gonna be helpful.”

“Try it, at least,” you encouraged, crossing your hands and resting them on your lap. He looked at you, rather unsure, “just a simple one. You can draw more than write, if that’s how you feel like. Just use it to express yourself,” you shrugged, trying to smile again, “I do think it’ll be good for you, Arthur, and I believe you have talent in drawing.”

The man tried to hold back an awkward little smile, in a sheepish manner. “Ain’t ever seen any of ‘em, don’t say nonsense—“

“I just have a hunch,” you spoke rather offhandedly and he quieted down. He seemed to be really insecure, more than you had expected. “Will you think about it, then?”

Arthur hunched his shoulders at it, playing with his fingers. “Sure, can try to,” he hesitated before continuing, “you gonna read it?”

“If you want me to,” you answered truthfully, “you can show me whatever you’d like from it and we can discuss the matters if you want to.”

He nodded, seeming more confident. You glanced at your watch again, to keep track of the time, but he didn’t seem to notice your action. “Ain’t gonna be much in there, doc,” he continued, shifting in his seat, “but I’ll give it a thought.”

You tapped the pen thoughtfully against the patient logbook.

The day had been long, with too many cases to keep track of individually and the logbook was truly a blessing on days like these; not to mention how useful it was to remind yourself of the last session's main points before walking into the listening room again.

Almost as if unthinkingly, your eyes drew back down on the logbook page.

Arthur’s name was written there, in your handwriting, with his information.

-> Going through divorce, doesn’t want to fight to keep his wife, unfulfilled marriage -> no children;

-> Art teacher, went to art school, adopted at 11, possibly from problematic family -> ask on it later;

-> Sensitive on family topic, feels set aside by parent -> father does not offer recognition according to patient;

-> Low self-steem, difficulty when it comes to verbalizing feelings + disregard;

-> Journal recommendation, developing diagnosis -> recommended 6 months of therapy, once a week.

You sighed. Divorce cases were always the hardest for you, but you had never taken in a man for that matter. It was a change of pace, but not of heart — you always had taken in the ones who did not wish to follow through with the separation; some with children, others old, young, some coming from infidelity, many from “love running out”, but never once someone had given up so easily. Neither had seemed to be so indifferent about their own wishes, abilities and overall identity.

It was sad, you came to the conclusion. You were sad for him.

Which, you reminded yourself, wasn’t unusual; therapists were allowed to feel empathy towards their patients, but you were curious. Every session was like a missing piece to a puzzle, to put together the history of someone’s life and psyche — and right now, you felt like you had been given a whirlwind of missing pieces that when put together didn’t make much sense. There was more to it.

You took a sip of your tea, closing your eyes at the sweet taste of the drink. It was hard, especially when you could see the quiet suffering through words and actions, and he didn’t to be comfortable, nor used, with the availability of someone there to listen to him. In the quiet darkness of your office, you reclined back at the desk chair, eyes trained on the logbook.

It was then that you decided that you were to do everything in your power to help Mr. Morgan.

[magioftheseas]

The Hinata Files - Chiaki

Written for @the-hinata-project

Day 3: Danganronpa 2 Hinata -or- Ocean/Trapped/Summer

Rating: G

Warnings: None I can think of???

Notes: Yeah, it’s focused on Nanami instead of Komaeda. He’s getting another day so she has to get this day. I had a lot of fun writing her though. I typically do. Nanami’s a lot more fun to write than she is to read for me, lol. This was probably the quickest fic written because I got so into it. Hopefully, that makes it good to read!

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

So, Hinata-kun definitely isn’t a bad person.

He can be a bit frantic and sensitive. He’s actually pretty fragile, I think. Probably because he’s not the most flexible. It’s a shame, but I guess that’s how some people are?

He’s still on edge around Usami-chan, and he’s still reserved in many conversations. It’s not that he’s a difficult person to talk to, because the other students seem pretty drawn to him. That’s nice to see, isn’t it? Hinata-kun getting along with everyone? If things had been like this sooner—none of this might have even happened.

But, it’s impossible to know that for sure. Maybe she would have found another way to ruin everything. Maybe not. Life isn’t something you can change with the restart of a previous save file. Even though this whole thing is kinda like that, isn’t it?

It’s strange, maybe. I wouldn’t know because I didn’t exactly exist before this point. And afterwards—I wonder if I’ll exist at all.

For now, I’m gonna do my best. I think. And that means gathering hope fragments with everyone—and making sure they all graduate with the strongest bonds.

Because everyone had been friends once before besides Hinata-kun, I do keep an eye on him a little. He reminds me of a very basic warrior character. One that needs a lot of levels and nurturing to stand its ground alongside everyone else. Admittedly, putting the time into such a character isn’t terribly effective.

And dealing with people in general is a bit intimidating, I think.

But, I’m like everyone else in that I think Hinata-kun is surprisingly easy to get along with. Surprisingly easy to bounce off of. I see how others smile around him. How Souda-kun wraps his arms around his shoulders with a toothy grin. How Saionji-san beckons him to follow her with a coy laugh. How Mioda-san latches onto him with bright laughter. How even Komaeda-kun is at ease around him, bumping shoulders and talking amicably about talent.

Talent.

Hinata-kun is fine without talent, I think. I almost say it to his face, but I decide against it. Because—Hinata-kun doesn’t even know he’s talentless. But he’s still fine. He’s still good.

“Ah, Nanami?” Hinata-kun turns to me, a wary smile on his face. “Hey, are you listening?”

I’m always listening, even when I’m playing a game. Even when focusing on my game, I nod firmly.

“Ah, right. Right. Never mind, then.”

I do pause the game, then and there.

“Is there something on your mind, Hinata-kun?”

“I was just, uh, thinking,” he mutters, and he’s not looking at me but at somewhere far away. Beyond the ocean past the pixelated realm of the simulation that he doesn’t yet know about. “When all of this ends—we’re going to just start going to class normally, huh? Although I still don’t remember my talent.”

“You’ll do fine, I think,” I say because it’s the most certain reply I can think of. Everything else, obviously, was beyond me. I did wonder how that would be for them. For Hinata-kun and everyone else. “Have more faith in yourself, Hinata-kun. You may be weak of spirit sometimes, but you’re still pretty capable. I think.”

Hinata-kun snorted, shaking his head.

“Thanks, that means a lot. I don’t know why you think that way about my spirit, though. Anyone else would be overwhelmed in this situation.” A pause. “Well, I’m the only one. So maybe, that’s wrong. Maybe I am weak.”

“No, you’re strong,” I amended. “I’m sure of that.”

“Thanks...” He doesn’t sound convinced. Waves lap at the surface and I frown.

“You’re more than you think,” I say, slowly and deliberately. “You’re smarter than you know. The world is open to you and you could grasp onto anything you put your heart to.”

“That’s...” Hinata-kun flustered, scratching idly at his scalp. I remember, then, that his avatar is lacking certain head scars. I don’t remark, I merely remain quiet. “That’s actually really straightforward encouragement, Nanami. Thanks.”

At the very least, he sounds more sincere than before, so I smile at him.

“You have friends,” I remind him. “They’ll help you through everything.”

“Or drag me everywhere,” Hinata-kun mutters but it’s with a good-natured sense of humor and fondness. “It hasn’t been long but—everyone gets along like we’ve all been together for a while.”

“Everyone’s friendly, I think,” I say. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It is. A lot of the others can be handfuls but there’s that, at least. Although they’re not always the nicest bunch...” Hinata-kun sighs. “Still, I guess I like them all pretty alright.”

“I like everyone, too. They’re good people.”

“You’re just nice, Nanami.”

“That’s—I don’t know about that.” I don’t know much of anything. Niceness. Friendliness. Openness. Affection. Bonds. I exist to observe them and to act as one of them, but at the end of the day, I will be left behind by them. And that should satisfy me. Usami-chan is looking forward to it every single day. I am, too. I’m pretty sure. “Hinata-kun’s nice.”

“I definitely don’t know about that.”

“You’re definitely nice,” I insist. “To me, to everyone. You’re a good person. A good friend. Everyone is sure to be happy that they know you.”

“Now you’re just flattering me,” Hinata-kun mumbled, cheeks an impossible shade of red. So red that it stills me for the moment.

I have no memory of a Hinata-kun before this. No memory of the person immediately before this. The Hinata-kun under a vibrant blue sky is a miracle in how he exists, considering that before. Despite all that, that void before my existence, I’m sure of my words. And of his goodness. Of everyone’s goodness. The same goodness that those who defeated her wanted to save. Were right to save. In spite of everything.

That same goodness that was to be further nurtured and blossomed upon this island, so that it may overwrite the previous system of vacant despair.

“I mean it. I really do.”

“Nanami, I—thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. Just keep doing your best. Keep moving forward. Graduate—and keep going. No matter what.”

“Nanami?”

“No matter what.”

[lynne-monstr]

@afincf-tirwer replied to your post “thorndykechristopher replied to your photoset “Huang Shaotian seeing...”

Okay and just, Wei Chen gets to see how much his (kids) trainees have grown in the years since he left. Sure, he's probably been keeping up with Blue Rain's progress since he left but that's not the same as seeing it first hand. He left them when they still didn't know each other, weren't close and he wasn't there to see them develop and grow into themselves. He left mildly bumbling trainees and now their competent and their team's dual core, he must be so proud of them!

And then the way YWZ just lights up, he looks so happy and shocked and pleased that he gets to see the man who was his mentor sort of but not really. He (and HST) inherited Wei Chen's legacy in a big way, and probably wondered if they were doing what he wanted them to do, wondered if he was proud of who they'd become and their accomplishments but YWZ expected to never know what their old captain thought of him and here's that chance and he's so happy about, so excited and

I just! AND HST KNOWS! And that really speaks to how well he knows his captain, and how close they are, they've likely had conversations about Wei Chen before, the legacy he left behind that they want to live up to, how he likely had expectations that they'll never know if they fulfilled. HST knows all this about his captain and he clearly knows what this opportunity means to him because he looks so happy, but not just about Wei Chen, he looks happy *for* YWZ, he's happy

His friend gets this opportunity, happy that they both get this opportunity, that their captain is *back* and that they have a chance to talk to him. It's likely closure for YWZ in a way, kinda like the unofficial, official passing of Swoksaar over to him because it may have been his account for all these years but he was never given it properly until now (and side note: fic idea fuk) and he finally gets the chance to give himself the closure he was denied and HST too

Because Wei Chen kinda just left them hanging, poor boys, and never really gave them a proper goodbye- god I'm getting sad just thinking about it. Sorry for rambling so much

lol no need to apologize for a ramble, have you seen my ridiculously long posts 😂 and omg yes, he TOTALLY KNOWS. 

i have this lowkey headcanon that after wei chen leaves and huang shaotian stops speaking, that yu wenzhou would often sit beside him and speak for the both of them. mostly, he talks about inconsequential things in an effort to draw huang shaotian out of his shell, or to make him laugh. it doesn’t work, but the set of his shoulders visibly eases during those times and so yu wenzhou keeps going, day after day. and if maybe he also feels lighter when they finally part ways to sleep each night, well, there’s no one to know except huang shaotian. 

(it’s no longer a surprise that the thought of his former rival knowing all his secrets is a comfort rather than cause for worry.)

in the silence it’s easy to slip into more serious topics. more and more often, yu wenzhou finds himself speaking about his own relationship with wei chen. the hopes that will never be realized. the hurt and the guilt and the disappointment that dogs his steps. the fears he has that he won’t live up to the legacy he’s set to inherit.

huang shaotian never answers. but all the while, he listens and files it away for safekeeping. for a day in the future when they’re both a little less raw. 

years later he looks at his captain looking at wei chen and vows to make sure the old man sticks around long enough for them to have a long overdue chat.

[stars-and-rose]

a.s.h.es, ashes (we all fall down) chapter one

Jesus take the wheelie HERE WE ARE

(huge thanks to @broadwaytheanimatedseries​ for helping me with some of the finer/ kinda fucking important details for this fic! and shoutout to @fuzzylittleb​ for editing this for me!)

Fandom: Thomas Sanders/Sanders Sides

Pairings: Eventual Logicality, Eventual Prinixety, RED (Remy/Deceit/Emile)(it’s pre-established but it’s in the back seat for a bit), So much platonic Analogical and Royalty oh my god-

Summary: After a recuse gone wrong, SuperHeroes Logan and Virgil find themselves with mysteries on their hands- but most importantly, who in their organization A.S.H. wants Logan dead.

Word Count:4,506

Trigger Warnings: Fire, Injuries, Unconsciousness, Panic Attack, Violence, Cursing 

Next>>

Chapter One: Smoke in Your Lungs

Pushing open the glass doors, Logan Cosmos scanned the busy café. He adjusted the bag over his shoulder as he walked towards a booth in the far left corner. When he sat, he snapped his fingers in front of the boy seated across from him. The startled boy jumped, pulling off his headphones and glaring at Logan.

"Hey! You didn't have to do that."

Logan cocked an eyebrow. "Really? You were wearing your noise-canceling headphones, Virgil."

Virgil Tempest shrugged. "They aren't exactly noise-canceling. I mean, for anyone else, I'd bet they would be but for me-"

"Your abilities get in the way?" Logan finished in a hushed tone.

"Yeah. One of the many woes of being a Super. Anyway, how was your class?"

Logan groaned. "To put it simply, my professor is a dumbass."

Virgil winced. "Ooof."

Then Logan sighed, leaning against the table. "Well, a positive. We do not have a mission tonight."

"Thank god."

"Negative: We still have a patrol."

Virgil groaned. "You win some. You lose some. I'm going to need caffeine for this, I'll go order."

   Logan glanced at the cash register, where a green-eyed boy was handing an older woman a muffin. "Ah, he's working today."

   "Yeah. He's annoying, but I'm more comfortable around him. It makes ordering less stressful when I crack a bad movie joke and he fires one right back." Virgil replied, standing from the booth.

   Logan nodded, watching as his best friend walked away. He was so proud of Virgil, he didn't know how to put it into words. Watching Virgil battle his anxiety- watching Virgil win the battles with his anxiety- made Logan smile. As much as being a Super was difficult and tiresome and vexing, at least joining A.S.H. had given Logan his best friend. Through long nights and battle scars and mental breakdowns, Logan and Virgil managed to keep each other in one piece.

   As Virgil ordered a dubious amount of caffeine and battled the cashier over some hidden plot in a children's movie, Logan pulled out the tablet A.S.H. provided its Supers, digging it out from under his textbooks and notebooks. A flick of Logan's wrist turned the device on. Another flick opened up a map of their city. Sure, Logan could have done it manually, but sometimes the ease of using his abilities made the irritation of having them dissipate a bit. Logan drew his fingers over the screen, mapping out the area the duo would have to patrol that night.

   A few minutes later, Virgil sat down, pushing a large drink across the table to Logan. Virgil barely touched the thing, yet it nearly fell off the table. The grey-eyed boy glared at the cup, and muttered a phrase that was probably "Fuck super strength."

   Logan let out a hum and took a sip of his drink, which was the same London fog latte he always ordered on patrol days. Virgil chugged his espresso, then looked down at the map. "Where do we gotta patrol?"

   "Few blocks in Southside. It's a residential area, mostly apartment complexes and a convenience store." Logan replied, zooming in on the map.

   "Crime rate?"

   "Pretty low. A mugging a few weeks back, and other crimes of that sort."

   Virgil let out a sigh of relief. "Easy night. Thank god. I have a gig tomorrow afternoon, and honestly, I don't know if I could go through with it if we had a rough night."

   Logan arched an eyebrow. "Another wedding?"

   "Another fucking wedding. I hate weddings, Lo! Overpriced and tons of strangers."

   "Well, usually wedding guests don't hold much conversation with the photographer. Also, some of the expenses of a wedding go to the photographer. Besides, you only need to continue doing these gigs until we retire from A.S.H."

   Virgil ran a  hand through his messy dark hair; Logan could see the blonde roots Virgil hated so much starting to peek through. "Speaking of A.S.H…." Virgil lowered his voice. "Have you found anything?"

   Logan leaned across the table a little more, suddenly aware of how busy the café was. Too many people meant too many ears, and too many ears were too big of a risk.  "Some files of old SuperHeroes who died in combat or retired, various recordings of meetings, and a few marked-up articles, all written by the same guy. Why are you so invested into looking into A.S.H.'s files, anyway?"

   Virgil shifted in his seat, his eyes flitting around the room. "Just a hunch, okay? I feel like something's up."

   The first time Virgil had brought up looking into the organization's files, it had been late at night during a patrol. Logan had tried to convince Virgil there was nothing that A.S.H. would be hiding, but the other Super was invested in the idea. To calm Virgil, Logan had started using his abilities to hack into A.S.H.'s database. At first, it had been simply to placate Virgil, but Logan had been digging for over a month and had only come up with a minuscule amount of information. There was more information, all of it heavily locked, and now Logan's own curiosity and pride were invested in decoding all the files.

   Logan glanced down at the clock on the tablet. "We should make our way to Headquarters. Our patrol starts in less than an hour."

   Virgil huffed, taking another sip of his drink and shifting in his hoodie. "Can we walk? I really don't feel like taking the bus."

   Sliding out of the booth, Logan nodded. "Some fresh air would be nice. Do we need to stop at your apartment for your medicine?"

   "I have backups with my suit, I'll take them when we get there if I need to."

   Leaving the cafe,  they walked through the streets of Azotha to the A.S.H. Headquarters, only stopping once for Virgil to capture a shot of the sunset's light reflecting off a skyscraper.

For the second time that day, Logan opened a pair of glass doors, holding them open for Virgil. The lobby of A.S.H.'s headquarters was mostly empty. The only people in the room were the receptionist who was playing a game on his phone and a pair sitting on the bench. Logan recognized them: a set of first-year partners he and Virgil had helped train. Eliza was a flyer and her partner Kris was the human equivalent of a magnet. Eliza was holding an ice pack on Kris's forehead, angrily scolding them. After quickly checking in quickly with the bored receptionist, Logan and Virgil made their way over to the younger SuperHeroes.

"Is everything all right?" Logan asked.

Kris looked up, their eyes gleaming despite their injury. "You'll never guess what happened! I ran into Knight and Nova!"

A panicked looked passed from Virgil to Logan. Knight and Nova were labeled the most dangerous SuperVillains of their time. The duo had been active for five years, and not a single Super had been able to catch them. A.S.H. sent missions to search for the SuperVillains constantly (Logan and Virgil had been assigned to that particular mission a few times) and yielded no results.

The strangest part was, Knight and Nova didn't associate with other SuperVillains, nor did they cause large scale destructions. They were a mystery, striking every few months, stealing from a major corruption or leaving cryptic warnings in the mayor's office, then disappearing again. They were an enigma, an enigma Logan wanted to solve.

Virgil did a quick scan of Kris. "Did they hurt you?"

Eliza sighed, "Not exactly. Kris, tell them how you got hurt."

The younger Super pouted, an embarrassed flush covering their cheeks. "Well, we found them on top of the Whynter Building, right? We didn't know what they were doing but they were unprepared so we attacked them!"

"I didn't attack them, that was Kris on their own!" Eliza complained. She pointed at her partner. "They thought we could capture the SuperVillains by ourselves."

"I surprised them, and the SuperVillains flew down into the alley. Knight used his abilities and I got confused. I thought I was chasing after Nova, but in reality, I crashed into a wall."

A beat of silence, then Virgil let out a laugh. "You crashed into a wall?"

"They crashed into a fucking wall." Eliza huffed. "Fell for one of Knight's illusions."

"To be fair," Kris said, moving Eliza's hand and fixing the ice pack on their forehead. "Other people, older and higher ranked people, have fallen for Knight's illusions too. They're so lifelike it's hard not too."

Logan bit his lip. "But neither of them injured you directly?"

"Nope!"

Eliza twisted a lock of her curly hair around her finger. "Knight actually looked apologetic, watching this loser slam into the wall."

Logan glanced at Virgil, who had his nose scrunched up in concentration. Most SuperVillains would have taken the opportunity to take out a first-year SuperHero before they could truly harness their powers. But not only did Nova and Knight let Eliza and Kris go, but they didn't try to hurt them either?

That was something to think about later. Virgil and Logan had to get suited up for their patrol.

"Take care of Kris, Eliza. Vee and I have a patrol to go on." Logan announced.

Eliza mock-saluted as the older SuperHeroes walked away. Logan glanced at Virgil, "Elevator?"

"Yeah."

Luckily no one else was riding the elevator, so they got the tiny shaft to themselves. Logan pressed the button for the fourth floor, and the doors slowly shut behind them. Music Logan swore was older than the building poured out of an old speaker. Virgil glared at the speaker as if he was trying to make it explode. Luckily for the janitors, Virgil lacked that ability, and the doors opened before Virgil could decide to smash it.

The fourth floor was a little bit more active than the lobby, with a few Supers suiting up for patrols and missions, and a few more packing their bags and heading home. Logan led Virgil to their lockers, placing his palm against his, while Virgil did the same next to him.

The touchscreen connected to his locker opened, and Logan grabbed the black material hanging in it. If Logan ever took over A.S.H., the first thing he would do was change the uniforms. First of all, the material was irritating, which made fighting uncomfortable. Logan swore he had more welts from the fabric of his uniform than from actual combat. The suit was built for protection though, not comfort. That aside, each uniform was identical, making it difficult to tell the difference between Supers. Each SuperHero had their unique logo stitched right above their hearts, but could you see that during a battle? No. Not at all.

As Logan pulled the suit over his clothes, his fingers brushed over his logo. Virgil had designed it for him. It was the letter G, and Virgil had designed it to look like the letter was glitching, to associate with Logan's codename. Virgil's own logo was a spiking heart rate, stitched into his suit with careless caution.

"Lo? Can you untangle my earpiece?" Virgil asked, struggling to pull up his suit. Logan sighed and grabbed the communication device hanging from Virgil's locker. Logan had not an inkling of a clue how, but Virgil had managed to get the earpiece twisted with his eyepiece.

"Virgil? How- how did you mess this up so horribly?"

Virgil sighed, zipping up his uniform. "I just threw it in there on Monday, I don't know how it got so tangled!"

Logan groaned, finally pulling the pieces apart and tossing them at Virgil. His friend caught them with ease (damn his powers). Logan pulled on his own, untangled eye and earpieces, snapping his eyepiece on his glasses. Then, he snapped his finger to activate both pieces. Virgil rolled his eyes, manually turning on his equipment. "We online?"

"We are indeed."

Virgil gave Logan a wicked smile, his teeth flashing in the electric light. "I'll beat you downstairs."

Then, Logan blinked, and Virgil was a blur in the corner of his vision. A swear escaped Logan's lips and he closed his eyes, picturing the outside of the headquarters. He felt the familiar fizzling in his gut, and when Logan opened his eyes, he was standing outside with the night breeze blowing in his hair.  Seconds later, the glass doors next to him were thrown open, and Virgil skidded to a stop next to him. "Damn the people on the stairs."

"We're making excuses now, Vee?"

"Damn you too." Virgil flashed Logan a set of double-birds.

"If you kept doing that, I'm not going to let you teleport with me to our patrol location."

Instantly, Virgil had his arms thrown around Logan's shoulders. "No, no hey, you're my best friend Lo! I love you!" He announced, dragging out the 'o' in love.

Logan rolled his eyes, a fond smile forming on his lips. "You only love me when you need something from me."

"If that was true, would I have shown up at your house with mint-chocolate chip ice cream when NASA released the black hole image and you freaked out for three hours?"

Instead of responding, Logan pictured the convenience store he'd seen on the digital map earlier. Virgil yelped and dug his nails into Logan's shoulder as the two of them teleported.

"Hey!" Virgil snapped. "That wasn't cool!"

"My apologies."

"Hmph. For that, I'm taking the eastern side of this sector."

"Why?"

Another wicked grin passed over Virgil's features. There are fewer buildings on the Eastern side. Less work for me.  Stay out of trouble, Glitch."

Logan rolled his eyes. "Same to you, Adrenaline."

Virgil gave his partner a mock salute, before speeding off into the distance. Logan watched him go, then pressed his fingers against his eyepiece. A map of the western side of the sector glowed to life in his vision. Logan zoomed in on an apartment complex, memorizing its features, then teleporting there.

The patrol was uneventful. For the past three and a half hours, Logan teleported from rooftop to rooftop, searching for any suspicious activity. With only thirty minutes left on patrol, Logan was sitting on the rooftop of a building, mentally going over the notes his physics professor had given that day.

Then, he smelt the smoke.

Instantly Logan was on his feet, eyes searching the horizon as a scream echoed from a nearby building. Smoke was pouring out of an apartment window, and flashes of red and yellow were visible through the smoke. Logan concentrated on his comm, turning it on. "V- Adrenaline?"

"Issue on your end?" His best friends voice crackled through the comm.

"Fire. Anderson Street, third building on the left. Requesting back up."

"On my way, Glitch."

Logan shut off his comm, glancing at the ground below him and teleporting down. He spirited down the street, stopping in front of the building. The flames were starting to grow, and people were running out of the complex in a panic.

Logan didn't have the time to explain he was with A.S.H., which was against protocol, but if he did, he would have lost valuable time. Logan entered the building, gagging on the smoke in the air. The first floor was clear but on the second floor, Logan found a younger girl trapped behind a cabinet. Teleporting behind it, Logan knelt next to the girl. Her dark eyes were wide, and she was shaking.

"I'm going to assist you, may I lift you up?" The younger girl stared at him for a brief moment, then gave him a brief nod. Logan scooped the child into his arms, and she gripped his arm tightly. "Close your eyes now, all right?"

The girl obeyed, and Logan teleported them outside. The girl opened her eyes, staring at him with wonder. "You have magic?" She whispered in awe.

"No, it's a gene-. Nevermind. I do indeed have magic."

The girl's eyes widened with glee, but before she could reply, a man ran up to them. "Alina, darling!"

The girl looked at the man and smiled brightly. "Daddy! The magic man saved me!"

The man gave Logan a small smile. "Yes, he did. Now the magic man has to go save other people, okay?"

The girl nodded, and Logan handed her off to her father. The man muttered a quick, "Thank you," into Logan's ear before he walked away with his daughter.

Logan teleported back into the building when his comm was activated again. "G, there are a few more people on the fourth floor; there was someone on the third but I got them out. " Virgil announced.

"On it." Logan dashed through the building, making his way up the stairs until he reached the fourth floor, which was where the fire started. The heat was biting and ash started to stick to his clothes. Logan hesitated, looked around for which room held the most flames.

That was his mistake.

A cracking sound filled his ears, and before Logan could turn around to see what it was, something hit him in the back. Logan fell to the ground, his body held down by something heavy. He squirmed, trying to get free from whatever was holding him down, but he couldn't. He tried to teleport, but his mind was too frazzled from the hit and the heat to form the image Logan needed to teleport. Using the last of his concentration, Logan activated his comm, connecting with the A.S.H. Headquarters.

"This is Agent Glitch." He wheezed out. "I'm requesting back-up. There's a fire... I'm trapped in the building and my partner cannot get everyone out on his own."

Radio silence. Then a faint, "Cut him. He was getting too close to the truth." Static filled his ears, and Logan tried to reconnect to the comm, but the other end had severed the link. Understanding filled Logan's muddled brain. A.S.H. was leaving him to die.

Logan struggled against the weight on his back, but he was getting sluggish. The flames were closing in, the heat starting to overwhelm him. A hoarse scream roared from Logan's throat, but he doubted he could be heard over the roaring fire.

This was it. Logan was going to die.

He laid his head against the burning ground, gasping for air. He was going to die. He was going to die. Who would grieve him? His poor mother, who'd been abandoned by everyone else in her life? Virgil, who had just started getting to a place in life where his anxiety was livable? His friends from college? The other superheroes from A.S.H.?

The flames were closing in. Logan closed his eyes, accepting his fate. Before the flames could reach him, he heard a crackle of energy, and a soft, "Don't worry, I got you."

Then, the heat become too much, and Logan passed out.

-. --- - .... .. -. --. ... .- ... .. - ... . . -- ... -. --- - .... .. -. --. ... .- ... .. - ... . . -- ... -. --- - .... .. -. --. ... .- ... .. - ... . . -- ...

Beautiful blue eyes, the color of the sky at its absolute clearest, glowed slightly behind gray-tinted goggles, filled with something that looked like concern. Then, surprise bloomed, and Logan's eyes closed again.

-. --- - .... .. -. --. ... .- ... .. - ... . . -- ... -. --- - .... .. -. --. ... .- ... .. - ... . . -- ... -. --- - .... .. -. --. ... .- ... .. - ... . . -- ...

"Logan? Oh my god, oh my god please wake up, I can feel your heartbeat but you need to wake up, come on Lo." The voice was shaking, holding back tears. Logan opened his eyes, looking up at Virgil's gray eyes. His dark makeup was smeared and tears were streaming down his face. "Oh my god, you're okay."

"What happened?" Logan choked out, his lungs feeling heavy and his head fuzzy.  He remembered the fire, his comm getting cut off (oh, oh hell, they had left him to die) and the beautiful eyes.

"I do- don't know." Virgil was talking fast, his chest rising and falling even faster. Suddenly, Logan was so much more worried for his friend then he was for himself. He grabbed Virgil's arms, attempting to ground his best friend.

"Name five things you can see," He instructed, voice still hoarse.

"You, my hands, the wall, I think that's a rat, and dirt."

"Good, four things you can hear?"

Virgil closed his eyes, a shaking breath coming out of his mouth. "My heartbeat, your voice, cars, that rat moving."

"You're doing so well, Vee. Three things you can feel?"

"Your hands, the breeze, and this  god damn suit."

"Two things you can smell?"

Virgil's breathing was starting to slow. "You smell like a campfire. And we're really sweaty and it stinks."

"Fantastic, one thing you can taste?"

"Salt- I was crying, wasn't I?"

Logan ignored the question. "Are you all right?"

"Am I all right? Holy shit Lo, I'm worried about you, not me! You were missing for three days."

All the air exited Logan's lungs. "What? What are you talking about?"

"The fire. A.S.H. told me you died! But I went back into the apartment and looked for your body. It wasn't there, and I don't trust A.S.H. so I've been looking for you since. But, Lo, where were you?"

Logan closed his eyes and thought about it. His mind was hazy, but one image stuck out: blue eyes behind gray goggles. Familiar gray goggles.

"Give me the tablet," Logan demanded. Virgil tilted his head in confusion but slipped the device to his partner. Logan's fingers flew over the screen, the tablet working faster than his fingers. Soon, he had an image on the screen, and when Virgil looked over his shoulder, a gasp escaped from his mouth.

"That's Nova." Virgil breathed. It was indeed the SuperVillian. The Super was standing with blasts energy surrounding him, and bright, blue,  glowing eyes shone behind gray goggles.

"That's a correct observation." Logan took a deep breath. "And as impossible as it sounds, I believe he was the one who saved me from the fire."

Virgil, to Logan's surprise, didn't shout in denial. Indeed, he took in a deep breath of his own and replied, "Well, it kinda makes sense, since Knight brought you to me."

Logan looked over at his partner, a bit shocked. Virgil raised a hand and started to tug on a loose piece of hair. As he was about to scold his partner for the bad habit, Logan noticed a smudge of glittery red on Virgil's glove. "Is that lipstick?"

Virgil glanced at his gloved hand, and his ears flamed. "No. Its blood."

"It is glittery."

"Vampire blood."

Logan decided to move on. "You said Knight brought me to you?"

"Yeah. I came into this alley to take a breath, and he appeared from the shadows. I almost punched him the moment I saw him, but I saw you in his arms, out cold. I might have jumped to conclusions, but he told me he wasn't the one who'd hurt you. He told me to make sure you took care of yourself and to make sure all the smoke was out your lungs. As soon as I took you from him, he was gone."

"And he kissed your hand?"

"Ignoring you." Virgil leaned back against the brick wall, rubbing at his eyes and making an even bigger mess out of his eyeshadow. "What's going on here? SuperVillains aiding SuperHeroes?"

"Would it be a bad time to mention that A.S.H. cut my comm while I was in the fire?"

Virgil whipped his head around to stare at him. "Explain."

After giving Virgil the synopsis of what had occurred in the burning apartment, his partner took in a shaky breath. "This isn't happening. It's just a dream."

"I'm afraid we are awake Virgil."

As Virgil was processing the information, Logan looked through the notifications on his tablet. One caught his eye- a news report from two days ago, labeled "SuperVillains Nova and Knight Spotted Aiding Victims of a Fire."

Intrigued, Logan clicked on the link. He was brought to the local newspaper's website, but instead of an article, there was a notice from the newspaper. The notice claimed that the article had been taken down. Logan glared at the screen but noticed another article at the bottom of the page, this one reading "Local Reporter Reported Missing."

Another click led Logan to a full article, discussing the disappearance of Remy Morpheus, a reporter for the same newspaper. The article revealed that Remy was the writer of the deleted article on the SuperVillains, and had written many articles on controversial topics. The name was familiar to Logan, and it soon hit him: the articles he'd found in A.S.H.'s secure files were also written by Remy Morpheus.

Logan nudged Virgil, who looked like he was on the brink of losing his mind. "Read this."

The darker hair boy took the tablet, reading the article, his nose scrunching up as he read. "A missing reporter?"

"A reporter who reported on a supposed rescue attempt by Nova and Knight. A reporter who wrote controversial articles, some criticizing A.S.H. A reporter whose articles I found covered in notes when I was hacking into A.S.H.'s files."

"You're saying you think there's something going on?"

Logan nodded. "I hate to speculate, but there is a mass of evidence that points to foul play."

Virgil's fingers made their way back to his hair, his eyes slightly unfocused. His lips were moving, but Logan didn't have Virgil's enhanced hearing to be able to discern the words. Before Logan could comment, Virgil shook his head quickly, snapping himself out of his thoughts. "So, we've got a missing reporter who might know things he shouldn't, two SuperVillians who might not be pure evil, and a fucking massive organization who might be hiding something and seems to want you dead."

Logan leaned against the wall next to Virgil. "It seems we have a mystery on our hands."

"Please do not Sherlock our situation."

"Ignoring you."

"And hey, don't you mock me." Virgil huffed, laying the tablet in his lap and crossing his arms. "You know, things were going well."

"We never did have an abundance of luck," Logan mused.

"And I know you aren't going to let this go."

"I wasn't planning on it."

"And no way in hell would I let you do this on your own."

Logan glanced at his friend.  "That means you'll assist me?"

"Mmhm. But first, we're going home, you're changing, and we're both going to sleep."

Logan looked down, and it hit him that he was still wearing his charred A.S.H. uniform. Virgil was too, but his uniform was in better shape.

"Reasonable. Then, I think we're going to visit The Times's office."

Virgil raised his eyebrow again. "We're starting with the reporter?"

"Indeed. In the morning, we start the investigation on the disappearance of Remy Morpheus."

Virgil stood, slipping the tablet away. He offered his hand, and Logan took it, getting to his feet. The two SuperHeroes stumbled out of the alley, heading home under a starless sky.

TAGLIST

@another-sandersidesblog​ @nye275​ @faithfreedom​ @dodos-in-damnation​ @storytellerofuntoldlegends​ @mavros-lykos​ @dall-off-weekes​ @the-fandoms-are-takin-over​ @rosesisupposes​

@rebeyerfdog @average--human @icequeenoriginal @mferge7

@benjaminclareyrobar

[bytheangell]

if you're still taking prompts, could you write something (maybe set in the future like post finale when they are ... happy at last) about the fact that alec's self-harming habit has come up again? (like in 3x16, and kinda in what he does with his hands at the end of 3x17 too). i feel like the show is not gonna bring it up again and i would love to read a fic where magnus & alec talk about it!

shed my skin, my scars(Read on AO3)

The mission went so wrong, so quickly, none of them had time to process what was happening until it was all over. The intel was bad and instead of just a demon or two the patrol Alec sent out on what should’ve been a routine mission found itself outnumbered by a clan of rogue vampires. They were down three men before they knew what hit them. By the time Alec arrived with back-up the patrol of 7 was a patrol of 3, and they lost half a dozen more after that.

It’s one of his first back after his and Magnus’ honeymoon - which Magnus had to practically beg him to take in the aftermath of everything with Jonathan and Asmodeus and a very long string of ‘what can go wrong, will’ messes to clean up. Things looked like they were finally settling down. He was happy. They were happy. So of course it couldn’t last forever.

“I’m just going to finish the report then notify the families. You can go,” Alec dismisses Jace who hesitates.

“It isn’t your fault, Alec. We all thought the Intel was solid.” “Yeah, I know.” Alec nods, but they both know he doesn’t agree.

“At least let me help. You don’t have to do this alone, Alec,” Jace insists, lingering by the door.

“No, it’s-” Alec sighs. “They were my responsibility. I’ll handle it.” Alec looks back down resolutely at the paperwork on his desk and ignore the unsure look on his parabatai’s face until he hears the click of the door closing.

A: Hey, this is going to take all night to wrap up, so I’m just going to crash here when I’m done. See you tomorrow, love you

He sends the text off to Magnus so that he doesn’t wait up for him, not wanting his husband to worry.

Alec finishes the filing. He makes all the calls, one after another, nine in a row. Each one breaks him a little further. Each one weighs a little heavier, hurts a little more. He feels guilty for not doing this in person but there are too many, it’d take all night and half the day tomorrow that way.

When he’s done he doesn’t go home - he goes to the training room, taking off his ring and placing it carefully to the side, but forgoing gloves or bandages as he starts on the bag. Slowly at first, hard and controlled, until the hits grow sloppy and desperate. They’re soon accompanied by sobs that sting his throat and tears which blur his vision of the splitting skin and bruising. He’s already exhausted from the fight and the fact that he’s been up for nearly 20 straight hours now, but exhausted is good. Exhausted is what he needs. Alec hits and kicks until he doesn’t think he’ll even have the energy to make it back up to his room and debates collapsing right there on the mat until he hears a voice at the door.

“Alec?” It’s Jace. Of course it is.

“Hey,” Alec huffs, reaching out to lean against the wall. He wipes the moisture from his face, not sure if it’s tears or sweat… probably both, before carefully shoving his hands into his pockets so Jace can’t see the extent of the damage. “What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same question.”  His parabatai’s voice is suspicious. Alec knows Jace isn’t stupid, but Alec also knows that Jace isn’t about to come at him while he’s like this, either.

Alec glances at the clock on the wall and sees that it’s 4:00 in the morning. How late did stay up making the calls? How long had he been in this room?

“I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep,” he lies, quick to cover for either. Jace relaxes under the false belief that Alec at least got some rest, and some of the tension in Alec’s shoulders eases as well. As long as Jace doesn’t push this, as long as he doesn’t have to snap and get defensive, it’s fine for now. “But I’m actually pretty worn out now, so I’m going to shower and see if I can sneak another hour or two before morning patrol.”

Jace nods, watching as Alec wipes the bag down with a black towel he carries specifically so it won’t show the blood stains. Alec frowns lightly as he uses it - he didn’t plan on doing this, it just happened. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself, ignoring the fact that he subconsciously grabbed the black towel he hadn’t used in months, the one reserved for this very scenario.

Just a convenient coincidence, he tells himself, because he’s better now. This isn’t him any more, though the throbbing pain in his hands says otherwise, especially as he slides the ring back on over a swollen finger. He does nothing about it through the rest of the day’s training and missions, and only reluctantly allows Magnus to heal the worst of it when he goes over that night, the lie that the injury is fresh from patrol sliding past his lips with terrifying ease.

--- --- ---

“Jace, you’ll head the team canvassing the north end of the city. I’ve got the south. Everyone grab your weapons and get ready to roll out in ten.”

The group of Shadowhunters in front of him disperses, breaking off into their teams to strategize and pick the best weapons for this particular strain of demon infestation. It’s nothing more than a bitter warlock summoning nests of lesser demons to make their lives miserable, chaos for chaos’ sake, but it’s spread far enough that it takes half the institute to split up and cover the ground needed before things get out of hand.

Alec already has his bow and arrows in hand, and so he lingers in the Ops Center waiting until it’s time to go. He watches as everyone leaves except one person - Underhill stays behind, not going to the weapons room with everyone else straight away.

“Something wrong?” Alec asks. They’re on good terms - friends, Alec would go so far as to label them, though he hasn’t had enough of them to say for certain. But he doesn’t like the anxious look on Underhill’s face just then.

“May I be honest with you for a minute, Sir?”

Alec rolls his eyes. “If you’re calling me ‘Sir’ this can’t be good. You can always be honest with me, you know that.” “Right. In that case - I think you should sit this one out.” Underhill says, coming right out with it. His eyes flicker across Alec’s face, no doubt taking in the dark circles underneath his eyes, before dropping to where his hands rest at his sides with the slightest tremble from the amount of coffee he drank that morning to compensate for the lack of sleep he got the night before.

“And why would I do that?” Alec asks, growing immediately defensive, a flash of his eyes daring Underhill to say he’s unfit for duty.

“Because you didn’t come in from last night’s patrol until 3 am, and then you woke up at 5:30 to go out with the morning patrol at 6. And you tagged along with Nightshade’s group to handle that single rogue werewolf after lunch-”

“What are you, keeping tabs on me?”

“I’m Head of Security, Alec. I’d be a shit one if I didn’t keep tabs on who comes and goes, and that includes you. Tell me the last mission you dispatched without going along?”  The challenge in Underhill’s tone isn’t unwarranted after Alec’s initial defensiveness but it still rubs Alec the wrong way.

“Just because I’m the Head of the Institute doesn’t mean I have to live behind a desk,” Alec deflects, willing Underhill to drop the topic. He begins to fidget with the ring on his finger, twisting it back and forth between his fingers without realizing.

“Just because you’re the Head of the Institute doesn’t mean you have to be there to personally protect every Shadowhunter you send out. We all know the risks. What happened last week--”

“This isn’t about that.” Alec cuts him off, believing the words that leave his lips about as much as Underhill appears to.

“It is. You’re torturing yourself over this, Alec. You need to rest.” Underhill looks like he’s about to say much more than just that, except the first of Alec’s squad comes back from the weapons room before he can.

“Ready, Sir?” The Shadowhunter questions, and Alec nods.

“What I need,” Alec says to Underhill, ending this conversation in no uncertain terms. “Is to go lead my team. If you’ll excuse me.”  

He doesn’t look back, grabbing his stele to activate his stamina and endurance runes right off the bat - well aware that this isn’t the first time that day he’s used them, and positive it wouldn’t be the last.  

--- --- --- 

The following weeks draw on in a similar fashion. Alec spends longer hours at the Institute. He appears to be fine on the surface but that’s just because of the care he puts into keeping up appearances - gloves cover the bruising on his hands, long sleeves hide the marks from where his bow snaps back to sting his arm during practice and field work. He tells himself it’s because he’s too busy to stop and heal himself, that he’ll get to it later, except he never does.

That’s the same excuse he makes for eating, too. Always on the go, he tells Magnus in the morning as he skips breakfast to catch the morning patrol that he’ll eat at the Institute. Once he’s at the Institute he swears he’ll grab something on his way home from patrol. At some point of the day he’ll grab something to get through the day - a banana, a muffin, a mostly stale pretzel from a cart along the street - but if asked he’d be hard pressed to recall the last full meal he sat down to.

Or the last time he sat down at all.

He chalks it up to being busy and forgetting, nothing more. It isn’t a big deal.

He’s wrapping up a report to head back to Magnus’ for the night when Izzy stops him at the door to his office. “Want to grab dinner? I’m famished after a day of scouring the sewers.”

“Sorry, I’m heading over to Magnus’. I’ll eat there.”

Izzy sighs.  “Fine. Guess I’ll brave the cafeteria on my own.”

Alec laughs, shooing her away so he can finish getting ready. It’s about an hour later when he finally makes it to Magnus’, greeting his husband with a long, lingering kiss before collapsing onto the sofa.

“Please say you’re up for a night of cuddling and terrible reality television?” Alec half-suggests, half begs.

“Whatever you want, darling,” Magnus agrees easily, though a small frown catches on his face. “Are you hungry? I can cook some dinner first.”

“Not really,” he shrugs, settling into the sofa.

“Did you eat at the Institute?” Magnus prys, an eyebrow arched. Alec knows he should admit that he hadn’t, he’s pretty sure he grabbed a hotdog from a stand near the park that afternoon… or was that yesterday?... and a voice in the back of his head reminds him how much he loves Magnus’ cooking. But he’s tired. And he doesn’t have much of an appetite lately. He’s too exhausted to be hungry just then, and all he wants is to have Magnus wrap his arms around him for the evening. Is that so much to ask?

“Yeah,” he says, figuring it’s easier than explaining all of that. “I already ate.”

“Alright, then.” Magnus says, changing direction and heading back over to the sofa to join him where they both fall asleep somewhere in the middle of the second episode of a show they put on mostly for background noise.

And when he wakes up before the sunrise the following morning Alec slips out before breakfast without a second thought.

--- --- ---

A quick glance at the calendar shows him it’s been three weeks since the Mission Gone Wrong. He makes his third set of weekly check-in calls to the family. He doesn’t have to but he wants to, making sure they’re doing alright and asking if there’s anything they need. Anything at all he can do for them in the aftermath. He knows he can’t give them what they want, but he can do the next best thing. He owes it to them.

Each family says the same thing - that they’re fine. That these things happen. That it isn’t his fault.

Except that it is. Their loved ones died following his orders, on his watch. He should’ve been there. It wasn’t their oversight that sent everything sideways, it shouldn’t have been them to pay the price for his mistake, it should’ve been--

“Alec?”

He looks up to see Magnus opening the door to his office, sliding in quickly before shutting it behind him. The look of concern on Magnus’ immediately softened features is the first sign that something is wrong. It’s only when Magnus approaches him slowly, bringing a hand up to wipe away something from his cheek, that Alec realizes he was crying. “What are you doing here?” Alec asks, clearing his throat and forcing his lips to turn up at the corners.

“Checking in on my husband who was due home for dinner two hours ago,” Magnus states, but he doesn't sound mad about it, instead taking Alec’s hand to lead him away from the desk and over to the sofa for them to both sit down on. “Talk to me.”

Alec sighs. “It’s nothing. I’m fine, really.” His hands rest on his lap, thumb nail picking idly at an already split patch of skin on the side of his left hand, and both of their eyes fall on it at once. Alec snaps his hands back to his sides.

“Alec, please. Talk to me.” When Alec remains resolutely silent Magnus speaks again instead. “Then how about if I talk? Because I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t have to be. I told you, I’m fine-” Alec starts again, but this time Magnus cuts him off.

“I think you really believe that, which is what worries me the most. You haven’t let yourself rest long enough see what the rest of us have.”   

“The rest of you?” Alec asks, frowning.

“Maryse noticed you were losing a lot of weight lately, which is when Isabelle and I pieced together that you haven’t been eating anywhere. Or sleeping much. Or resting at all between missions. I should’ve realized when you kept coming home hurt--”

“No, this isn’t… you shouldn’t have noticed anything. I didn’t notice what I was doing, how the hell could you have?” Alec knows that isn’t entirely true, but he caught himself in moments, in bits and pieces of the whole. To hear it all thrown together like that is jarring, even for him.

Magnus doesn’t sound upset, and it’s the only thing that encourages Alec to lift his gaze up from where it rests stubbornly on his lap. “I noticed it before, when I didn’t have my magic… just little things here and there, and I thought maybe it was just a one-time thing so I let it go.  But ever since that mission you’ve been getting worse, and… I don’t know how to help you besides forcing you to acknowledge it. I know you don’t want to but I can’t just let you go on like this.”

Alec nods. “I’m sorry I worried you, Magnus, I-”

“Don’t apologize. That isn’t--” Magnus sighs in frustration. “I don’t know how to help without making you defensive. And I don’t want to push you away.”

“I don’t want to push you away, either” Alec agrees, realizing that’s exactly what he’s done. And not just to Magnus, but Jace and Izzy and the others as well. “I guess I haven’t been myself since that mission.” He knows he doesn’t have to say which mission he’s referring to.

“Or perhaps you’ve been entirely yourself since that night. Alec, you care so deeply for everyone around you. And you take your leadership position to heart - maybe more than someone who is bound to lose good men and women should. But you can’t just distract yourself and hope it goes away - and you can’t punish yourself the way that you do. Hurting yourself isn’t helping them.”

Alec knows that, on some deeper, rational level. But it doesn’t take away that it makes him feel better, at least in the moment, to hide behind the pain and self-inflicted punishment.  

“Do you want to talk about it?” Magnus asks again, but with everything out in the open and nothing left to dance around the question seems to hold that much more weight to it. Alec can’t lie and say he’s fine again this time.

“No,” Alec admits instead. “But I can try to anyway.”

It’s a small step, but an important one. He doesn’t talk about everything that night, not even close, but it’s enough that there are fresh tears stinging his eyes when he finishes and Magnus portals them both home for the night, not allowing Alec anywhere near the bedroom until after he eats a full meal. He gets a text from Jace (You weren’t in your office when I came to look for you. Good. If you’re late tomorrow that’s even better. Get some rest, man.) and, when he winces sliding into bed, reluctantly asks Magnus if he wouldn’t mind healing a few cuts from a demon’s claw he didn’t iratze away in time. Magnus agrees with unchecked enthusiasm.

They’re all little things but they feel so monumental. And maybe, Alec starts to realize, it doesn’t always have to be all-or-nothing. He doesn’t have to flip a switch from ‘not okay’ to ‘totally okay’, and that’s, well, okay. As long as he’s trying.

As long as he’s letting people catch him when he starts to slip.  

Because he isn’t alone in this, not by a long-shot; so long as he has Magnus to catch him Alec knows he never has to be afraid of falling.

[advernia]

around june of last year, i decided to revive my writing blog as one of the many potential stress-relief methods i could think of.... i didn’t think i’d be able to keep it active for long since work + family duties keep me preoccupied most of the time, but eyyy!!! so far i haven’t lost the motivation to keep going back to this blog, and i even managed to keep it afloat for half a year!!! amazing!!! (•̀o•́)ง

and now here we are halfway through 2020!!! it’s waaaay overdue but here’s a big T H A N K  Y O U  V E R Y  M U C H ! ! ! to everyone and anyone who dropped by this blog last year + all them likes, comments, reblogs...... please know that i’m still i n c r e d i b l y grateful for the support & interest in the content i’ve posted up!!!! tbh my activity’s still hella sporadic so it’s really amazing for me that i even gained new followers.... i’m very honored to have all of you stick around my blog despite my irregularity!!!!!!!! (༎ຶ ෴ ༎ຶ)

it’s also overdue, but i slowly managed and finally cleaned up the blog like i’ve been meaning to do + changed the blog name to match my ao3 handle for consistency!!! i make no promises to be super active... but i’m sure that i still want to continue writing & keep this blog alive!!!! 

again, thank you all for your time + reading my works!!!!!!  ∩( ´∀` )∩ work commentary on the rest of my works last year follows under the cut!

oct 1 // hero’s journey

a drabble on blanc + oliver about the alices... now that i think of it, calling the first alice first alice is kinda funny considering that alice is really her name... or is it? 

i do hope blanc’s route talks about her a bit, haha! i mean, i wish cybird remembers that they’ve been dropping the occasional background tidbits about her... like for example, her pocketwatch (that she gave to blanc eventually) having a magic crystal engraved into it.... her potentially leaving a fucking globe in the black army’s possession (like... wow... u fell with that thing????????)....

plus, i just find it interesting that she was remembered by cradle as a heck of a troublemaker lol! it also makes you wonder who among the main cast met her, blanc aside... though it’s not stated when exactly she fell into cradle, so maybe only blanc had the opportunity of meeting her...

so does blanc speak of her fondly bc she’s a woman, or is there something else??? has he been frequently visiting the land of reason pre-game??? has he found the first alice’s antique shop / met her again??? does he still try to figure out the reason why there’s a magic crystal engraved into the first alice’s pocketwatch????? hmmmmm......

on another note, it would be hilarious if cybird pulls a peter pan 2......... since we can’t pull off a mother-daughter relationship like wendy & jane’s, what if alice the second is somehow actually related to the first alice?? and while she’s completely different from her predecessor, blanc finds himself falling for alice the second........ just like he fell for the first alice? drama!

that’s just a random thought but kidding aside, i do hope blanc’s route is hella interesting bc i think he’s our mr. exposition for knowing more about cradle itself lol

oct 1 // fair (?) ladies & phony (?) enchanters

a result of going manic a few days after seeing harr’s trailer + route release.... ahaHAHA I’M STILL WILLING TO PLAY UR ROUTE IN JP HARR (if i actually had time to sit down and translate gET REKT)

i liked writing these drabbles and i think they’re cute but tbh they did nothing to ease my curiosity about harr’s route.... if anything else, it became even w o r s e  haha........................

if i think of blanc to have a cradle-centric route, i do hope harr’s route is magic tower-centric! naturally it will be since he’s got history there, but i hope a lot of my questions about the magic tower will be answered.....

will harr’s perspective of the magic tower be in the eyes of a test subject or a disciple???? he was scouted by the magic tower, but it wasn’t stated what he was doing exactly..... going by hints + loki’s & zero’s routes, it’s more of him being a disciple, so there’s bound to be guilt.......

hopefully alice’s characterization in his route is good + we get a fun group dynamic with loki!!! their potential.... the most(?) notorious criminal of cradle, a sought after test subject, and that one girl who nullifies all magic; a renegade trio lurking around the forbidden forest.... what an odd bunch!

oct 4 // god is a five minute hymn

a religious themed fic with lancelot & alice - tbh i don’t even know why religion was the first thing that came into mind when liz and i were talking about cultural differences, lol.

on that note though! i personally like thinking that if ever cradle had a semblance of a religion, it would be polytheistic & nature-centric, and not strictly practiced - the stratocracy of both territories i’d like to think makes it harder for religion to have a voice, much less have one that is practiced by the general population. the only thing general about it is that the religion centers or has magic crystals as an important factor... or something. yeah.

that aside, i think i specifically chose lancelot in this piece for the sole reason that his canonically stated lack of common sense, in my opinion, gives him the curiosity of a child sometimes - there’s no sense of malice or doubt, just the pure innocence of wanting to know something....... religion does that to kids, especially when introduced to it at first.

rereading the fic makes me think of the instances where when faced with dire or unsettling situations, people turn to faith as a life line.... well, i’m not sure if i had that subconsciously in mind when writing alice, but that does give a spin to it....

oct 6 // flow like the river nile

a spontaneous red army-centric fic! it certainly turned out better than i expected... i liked the formatting i used for this one!

if cybird can give us more about the pre-game suitors it would be great, tbh! and while the stuff about them in school is interesting, i’d like to see more about when they assumed their positions + combat scenes! the neutrals are special cases, but knowing more about their living conditions + daily lives is also a treat...

i was thinking of adding one last snippet about lancelot in the eyes of the reds, but i scrapped it out and switched it to alice & lancelot’s conversation about duty - it could’ve worked better if i stuck to using the what is your duty? question, but i scrapped it eventually too. ah well. it does look good enough as it is. 

oct 7 // seeking out phantoms

a mandatory(???) odd one out aka content that’s not ikerev, haha! i missed fe:a all of a sudden...

i never got around to writing properly for this fandom tho, what a shame - i’ve got some bits of pieces in my drafts that looked interesting and easy enough to pick up, and this was one of them.

robin investigating more of their plegian heritage could’ve been a good subplot tbh... i still wish there was something like a paralogue or dlc about it, bc honestly the valm arc goes a bit slow until you get to the future past revelations. ah well.

and gaius bc first husband for the win.... not like i actually had the guts to marry anyone else in my other save files lololol

nov 7 // push me off a bridge (to catch me as i fall)

my longest project of 2019, holy shit! i didn’t know i still had it in me to write something past 10k... i need more of that motivation + energy....

there’s nothing much to say about this since i blabbed about everything in the post-reading notes, but as much as i fought myself to get this done, i really enjoyed writing a long fic again! hopefully i can get myself to write another one this year...

nov 18 // beloved, beloved, let me be clear

18 sentences on zero & alice + macross frontier references! man, when i really got to the point about the earrings i was thinking of sheryl a lot....

kept it in sentences cause i didn’t have enough time to put up a decent ficlet! but i really wanted to get my screaming out of my system....... i used to do sentences + three word sentences challenges before, and doing one again was pretty fun!

but really.... zero’s route kept me happy for days???? their buildup + dynamic was something i was totally w e a k for, no joke..... thank gods the collection event was going on, bc i really made good use of my stocked chapter tickets lolol!

i was especially excited come the ball scene, and that cg..... a h a h a.... i need more of those pretty cgs where i can see alice’s face + costume change....... 

nov 20 // coloring inside the lines

jonah + alice + makeup!!!! tbh this was really fun, i enjoyed writing this one - if i remember, this was a fic that i managed to continuously work on the day i thought it up!

jonah may not be my best boy but tbh i find writing him very easy - i guess it’s because i’m very fond of characters like him!!! those uptight nobles who are as prideful as hell but can definitely live up to their name + are more capable than their bragging suggests... idk if there’s a general trope name for these doods, but i especially like analyzing their motivations + convictions!!!

i liked how i ended it, but i apparently i made an actual ending that’s now a snippet in my drafts - jonah & alice head to the ball, and somewhere along some bystanders’ flow of conversation someone drops a comment about jonah’s lips looking... quite more luscious than usual, lolol. so t h i r s t y. upon hearing this, alice can’t seem to stop smiling for some reason..... 

nov 27 // blue fields, verdant skies

a practice drabble set centric on a ray/alice development that i liked so much i made it into a series - plus, it’s black army content and honestly i need to write more of them! my red army bias is showing whoooooops

it’s a feudal + arranged marriage au, with the latter... being quite spontaneous. it’s those types of marriages where neither have even met - not even once - only to face each other come the wedding... so it’s a given that audiences from both parties are rather curious how this will turn out.

since i had the theme of fate in mind, ray was the automatic pick for the male lead. the rest of the black army is a given and for kicks, i added dean and dalim! i actually want to write about them + mousse, but since i’m still unsure on their characterizations i’ve been holding them off.... but i gave in anyway.....

alice is again named for word count convenience purposes since it’s in actual 100 words aka drabble form! i have planned scenes + an ending already in mind, but going there is pretty hard bc.... i still have to write the scenes in between + resist temptation to expand further on other scenes, haha....

initially i was planning to keep it updated here as well, but any more updates of this are on ao3 instead! the formatting looks better there instead of my blog tbh, and it also gives it a sort of muted tone to the story that works with me!

this is also the 31st fic in this blog, marking an end of the challenge liz bestowed to me lolol - since i brought this blog back to life around june, i was dared that by the end of the year, i should’ve posted more than 15 fics to add up to the initial 15 i had already posted before, thus the numbers on my fics back then.... now that i actually succeeded, i can stop counting lololol!!!! tho hopefully i can still be pretty active this year....

dec 22 // duck, duck, bullet

oliver & fenrir on guns... this probably wins as the most spontaneous idea i had on my head - tbh, i wasn’t even sure where i was going with it at first! but i’m sure i was suddenly thinking about that one detective conan movie.... then it became kid!oliver with a gun.....

i wonder if he tests the bullets at night, when he’s in adult form.... then again, kid!oliver with a gun still works.... say that because he’s a genius inventor, he made some models to serve as his shooting targets.... but another thought that amuses me more is.... blanc does the bullet testing for him!?

lololol i already thought about blanc being oliver’s live target, but i also find blanc with a gun very interesting.......... i mean, blanc certainly doesn’t look like he can fight, but who knows??? i mean, mousse is the former ace of hearts, but i still can’t imagine him fighting..... appearances can be deceiving....

the two aside, i wonder how fenrir even met oliver and got him working on his bullets........ was it through blanc or other connections???? how long have they been seller and buyer???? does anyone else commission anything from oliver?????? hmmmm.....

dec 23 // terms of surrender

i’ve been told by liz + luci + other friends that i needed to practice writing more.... cheesy fluff. i’m not sure if this sirius/alice piece counts, lol. in fact, i think it’s my definition of fluff i see here - and it translates to not exactly fluffy at all!

tho if you want me to be honest about it - when i write suitor/alice stuff, how alice was characterized in the suitor’s route is still my basis for how i’ll write her, and sirius’ alice................ haha......... i think she’s the alice that’s honestly easy to write but i choose to avoid.......... 

i don’t dislike the sirius/alice dynamic per se, tho. i do find it cute, especially if cybird stops emphasizing the issue of maturity in the relationship on alice’s side. i understand - i really do - that it’s a potential issue in the relationship, but...... that’s not the only problem you can possibly have as time passes, right?????

on another note, it’s funny that only sirius gets to be harped about the maturity due to age difference issue - setting aside blanc, who heavens know how old he is, lancelot’s 29 and since alice is presumed to be around ray + fenrir’s age, you could say that she’s 24 or even 23 to be safe.... so that makes a 5 / 6 years difference but it’s never brought up, lol. but i guess it’s because unlike lancelot, the black army’s been making sirius’ age a running gag....

anyway, this piece is pretty decent! i was thinking of something along the lines of mornings between a “married couple”.... there were two scenarios i had in mind, and i opted to write this one out first.... maybe i’ll have the second one posted up here another day.

dec 28 // a chain of black thrones

pre-game!sirius & ray and bc i was thinking a lot about the previous chosen, the former jack of spades!!! i wonder if the armies have a set age for retirement lolol... it would be awesome if there was still a chosen who’s already past his 50s or something, haha!

since sirius was constantly badgered to take on the role of king, i was also wondering about how long the black army was ‘king-less’... i mean, if the tension between both armies was really as great as they say, having no king puts the black army at a precarious position... i also thought that ‘nah, maybe there was a king or something but maybe the black army didn’t like him or something so they insisted that sirius take it instead’ but sirius’ 1st anniv. epilogue says otherwise - there really was a period that the black army had no king, wow. how the heck did they deal with that???? surely the red army saw this as a display of vulnerability....

can the black army’s chosen choose to leave their posts when they feel like it??? when they’re defeated by a challenger, what happens to them - a demotion, or do they serve under the ‘new’ chosen??? does the black army’s chosen change constantly because of their meritocracy + challenger system??? like, how do they deal with that, and do they announce their changes in chosen each council meeting??? each new question just snowballed my curiosity, whoops...

there were so many angles i thought of but i decided to settle for addressing the king-less state of the black army... through the eyes of a veteran who’s probably served many kings throughout his time of service as part of the black army’s chosen.

i gave this jack of spades character a name, actually - garret folner. maybe someday i’ll write him again, bc i actually enjoyed thinking about the present + past chosen interactions - maybe i’d think about that for the red army, but this time i find the black army’s side more interesting for this situation.

dec 29 // steadfast tin soldier

a zero/alice piece for zeroweek - i was about to post pt. 1 as a standalone, but then i just thought about how.... zero bought alice a gown.... but never got to dance with her at the day of the ball..... so i rushed to add pt. 2 haha!

with the addition of pt. 2 it looks cut short tho - i did think of putting a scene in between, but no good ideas came into mind bc i was too fascinated with the dancing scene... i swear at some point i will find myself writing a fic or a part of a fic that’s a dance scene for the rest of the ikerev suitors + alice....

this is the kind of fluff i live for, actually... i’m totally fine with the steamy content cybird throws during events + bonus stories, but if i were to be honest i say.... where’s my non-sexual intimacy????? the simple, wholesome stuff?????????????????

man, i feel hilarious for typing that out..... but well, i guess it’s a matter of different strokes for different folks, lol!