#when you fail classes you lose a certain amount of points

[savingpltravers]

recently i have reflecting on the time i decided to drop out of college, which was about 8 years ago. i keep having these dreams where i seem to live in a limbo between having exams but feeling unprepared for them in some ways so incredibly stressed but i somehow already have the job i have currently. so in my dreamstate i am having anxiety over exams whilst knowing i can just quit college because i already have my job. (in the real world i wouldn't be able to combine the two, obviously) These dreams happen to me in some form at least a few times a week and I have been having them for years.

then on top of them one of my old professors at the college i went to is on a really popular belgian reality tv game show and i only found out when i watched the first episode and recognised her by her manner of speaking etc. it was really weird. and now i keep wanting to find out what my interactions with her were like because i can't conjure up any specific memories of her, but i somehow feel like she had a mentor role too and i might have had a few personal interactions with her. but i don't remember.

so i went back to look at my grades (they were ok the first year, but then got worse the second year) and now i'm looking through my old tumblr posts.

because i keep having stressful dreams about being in college again i feel like it's still a traumatic experience that maybe hasn't had the closure that it needs. from reading my old texts posts it looks like i decided to drop out just before my last summer exams in the second year. but i still took those exams and was at peace but also stressed at the same time. so i think that in my dreams i'm back in that mental space again. where i have to take exams and want to do well but also knowing it is kind of pointless?

but what i already did know and saw again by looking through my old archive is how much this place, so vibrant and lively at the time, full with people who obsessed with me over saving mr banks, poppins, emma t, etc, who were there for me and were so incredibly kind of supportive of me, saved me from falling into a much deeper place. so honestly, even if most of you who were there at the time have moved on and are no longer here, thank you so much for being such a bright light in my world at the time. <3

[merakiui]

Hi hi ~

What are your thoughts on professor/TA twst characters x college student reader ??? I literally cannot stop thinking about Prof ashengrotto who just adores the sweet and diligent student who sits in the front of the class, always participating, always turns in assignments on time... Prof ashengrotto who grades your papers mercilessly knowing you'll barge into his office biting back tears because who's grade is this?? Certainly not yours?? What if you lose your scholarship?? Whoever is going to help you???

p p pp p p pppp professor.........ashengrotto..........

(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, one-sided student-professor relationship, age gap (azul is 38 & reader is 23), coercion, abuse of power/authority, implied dub-con)

He's ruthless with every paper he grades, but he's especially ruthless with you. Professor Ashengrotto has a reputation in his department: socially, he's handsome and young (a mere thirty-eight, and he's just as bright, if not brighter, than some of the older professors). Academically, he's brilliant and very knowledgeable when it comes to business and the economy (and interestingly enough he has a penchant for marine biology as well), but he pushes students to do their very best. And to some that may seem like he's too hard or difficult, but he's actually very understanding and if you meet him outside of the classroom he's not as intimidating as he appears at the lectern.

But even so he expects his students to strive for the best possible grades. He wants everyone to pass his classes, but he also won't cut corners or raise grades even if they're a point or so away. He claims he's fair when it comes to grading, but sometimes it feels like he deliberately grades for every possible mistake rather than the content itself. At least, that's how it feels with your work. He took off points for a few grammar errors (of all things) and even took off points regarding very minor discrepancies in your information. When you brought it up to him after class, he'd simply told you, "You should know your subject if you're going to write a report on them and obviously, from the looks of your most recent paper, you do not."

It was a report on the intelligence of the octopus. You'd spent hours poring over textbooks and academic journals. You'd penned every reliable source, every fact, every study and its data. How any of that was "incorrect" is beyond you. You even cited every source properly! What is he even thinking, marking you for "incorrect information"?

In your defense, you are not a marine biology major. You're just taking a class because you need course credits and this was one of the few that provided you with the extra hours needed. You know Professor Ashengrotto from the business classes you're taking. He's just as cutthroat there. Apparently, the academic world is just as ruthless as the business world (at least in Professor Ashengrotto's eyes).

As if your professor can't get any harsher, he does. He failed your most recent report for one of the business courses, and it hurt your grade a considerable amount. So, like clockwork, you find yourself in his office, your paper nearly crumpled in your fist with how tightly you're gripping it. You can't fail out of his class. You need to keep a certain grade average each semester if you intend to keep your scholarship, your status as an honors student, your roles in certain clubs and extracurriculars. You verbalize these worries to him and he smiles and proposes an offer: You can redo the entire report so long as you take care to do a better job. It sounds great until you hear the deadline. Three days. He's giving you three days. Three days to write an entire report from the ground up because he won't accept changes made to the already existing paper. Three days.

Three days.

You think you might go insane.

Oh, but the fair and polite Professor Ashengrotto has a suggestion! He's willing to extend that time if you meet with him for coffee to discuss further. Stupidly, you agree right away, thanking him for his understanding, and he continues to smile, to say he really does get it. University is taxing; he knows. He's been there before. He just wants to help you; this is your future, after all.

On your way out of his office, you fail to notice the pale eyes that stick themselves to your rear as you retreat. The door shuts behind you, and only then do you realize the nature of the agreement. Meeting up for coffee. Outside of class. Outside of office hours. Meeting up...for coffee. Why does that feel...wrong, somehow? Why does it unsettle you?

But you need to amend your grades. You need to pass. You need to secure your future. So you push your discomfort aside and prepare yourself for the weekend.

- - -

It's strange to see Professor Ashengrotto without his usual pressed suits, luxury wristwatch, expensive ties, and shined shoes. He's almost...casual in his black turtleneck sweater, grey trench coat, and black slacks. He looks almost like a fellow student, so much so that his appearance startles you when you spot him sitting in a corner of the comfortable coffee shop.

To your speechless stare, he chuckles and asks, "Am I not allowed to dress comfortably on my days off?"

And then it hits you. This is his day off. This is your day off. This is not an academic setting. This is...

You shake your head and slide into the seat across from him. "Sorry. It just surprised me." You're digging through your bag to distract yourself, now acutely aware of his stare pinned on you. "I brought my laptop and was hoping you could look over my sources. I spent all of last night compiling them, so maybe if you had a chance to review them I might know what to do to avoid making the same mistakes. And I also started a new thesis. I don't think the other one was working. Maybe that's where I went wrong and so if I just change—"

"Is everything all right?"

You blink, your gaze lifting to meet his. "Sorry?"

"Are you okay? You seem frazzled."

"Well, I mean, yeah. That should be obvious." You cough, realizing your reply was harsh, and fix it with, "I'm trying to manage the workload from your classes and my other classes, Professor."

"Please. Call me Azul."

Your face scrunches in distaste. It doesn't sound right to refer to any professor by their first name, even if some of them have noted they don't particularly mind it. With Professor Ashengrotto, it feels far too casual. You don't like it.

And as if things can't get anymore casual, they do when a waitress arrives to deliver two cups of coffee and pastries. You stare at it. It's brewed just the way you like it. Even the pastry is your favorite. You fix Professor Ashengrotto with a questioning stare.

"You mentioned it in one of our introductions."

"My favorite coffee and pastry?" You frown, combing through your brain for when you might have said so. It's highly possible when you introduced yourself to your peers at the start of the semester. "Oh. Well, allow me to pay you back for—"

"There's no need." He smiles at you. It's gentler this time. You don't like it.

"No, I insist. How much was it? I'll give you the exact change right now."

You're fumbling for your wallet when his arm reaches across the table. A warm hand closes around yours.

"Professor Ashengrotto?"

"Azul," he corrects evenly. "And please don't worry about it. Everyone needs a little pick-me-up every now and then, yes?"

His fingers curl into yours, nearly entwining, and you yank your hand away, icy horror creeping up your spine. He blinks at you, as if stunned, before composing himself and drawing back. You stare between your wallet and laptop before pocketing the former and turning the latter on.

"Well, if you really don't want me to pay you back... Then let's get back to the matter at hand."

For the rest of your afternoon, you resign yourself to academic discussions. It's easy to fall into that rhythm, and Professor Ashengrotto offers helpful insight as he reviews everything you show him. By the end of it, you're relieved to have finished such a draining discussion. More importantly, you're glad you can leave this coffee shop and never return again (at least not with Professor Ashengrotto).

He reminds you to have it submitted before midnight at the end of the week. You thank him for his help and, just to ease your anxious heart, leave him with a few Madol for the drink and the pastry. On your way out, you feel his eyes on you, watching you make the walk to your car. Those eyes never leave, even after you've driven away.

It can't get any worse, you tell yourself.

You submit your revised paper a minute after midnight. And, apparently, by your professor's standards it's late. He gives you half credit. It hardly raises your grade. If anything, it lowers it a few points.

Like a bad song on repeat, you find yourself in his office yet again. And like before he proposes the same fix: coffee and revision. Stupidly, you agree to another weekend spent in discomfort. It's for the sake of your grades. It's for the sake of your scholarships. It's for the sake of your future, so you can sacrifice slivers of your sanity.

You have to if you want to pass.

- - -

Though it feels like you're improving in his class, your grade does not reflect this. You're not sure how many more coffee dates you can take. You're not sure how many more Please. Call me Azuls you can take. You're not sure how many fleeting touches you can take, each one seeming more invasive than the last. You hold your tongue and swallow disgust because your grades are in his capable hands. You need good grades. You need to pass. You need to, you need to, you need to.

You're in his office again, but this time your resolve has shattered and you're crying. You hate every moment of this. You hate feeling so cornered. Most of all, you hate how empty the building gets at this time of day.

"I don't know what you want anymore," you admit in a broken whisper. "I'm trying so hard. I've revised paper after paper, I've discussed everything over coffee, and I've done my best to improve. I listen and take notes. I ask questions. I'm never distracted. I always study the material. So what am I doing wrong? What am I supposed to do to pass? I can't lose my chances at being considered for certain scholarships..."

Professor Ashengrotto wears sympathy like it's a counterfeit of a luxury scarf. It almost fools you, but then he's rising from his seat, crossing the distance to the door, and you know his care stems from something else. Something wicked and foul.

"I'm sorry to hear you're struggling. I'm here to help, but I can't help if you aren't willing to put in enough time to submit good work—and submit it on time, might I add. This is a team effort, after all."

But I am putting in enough time! you want to say, but the words won't come. Your throat is closing up, raw and ragged from sobbing.

"If you're so concerned, I can offer you an alternative." His voice has dropped dangerously low. You don't dare turn around to face him. You can't when you hear the door shut and lock with an ominous click. "This deal is a double-edged sword. It will hurt both of us should the wrong people catch wind of it."

His shoes click out steady steps against the linoleum. He bends down to view you, hunched and horrified, in your chair. "But you're smart, so I know I can count on my little honor student to keep their pretty mouth shut." He smiles a sharp, nasty smile and draws back, leaning against his desk with his arms folded primly over his chest. "So let's help each other. Team effort, after all."

"P-Professor Ashengrotto, I don't think this is...appropriate."

He quirks a brow at you, and his normally soft, powdery hues are dark and stormy. "You want to pass, don't you? I could fail you right here, right now. Take one step out of this office and you'll never know success in any of my classes ever again." The light must have drained from your eyes because he chuckles again, tutting softly. "Don't make that expression. I'm not cruel. I'm giving you an opportunity to improve your grades. If I were you, I'd take it."

You weigh your grades and your integrity. Is the former really that important? You can survive one failure, right? Anything would be better than this horror. Anything would be better, right? So why are you hesitating?

You stare at your lap and, very quietly, ask, "What is it you want?"

"Get on your knees and put that smart mouth of yours to work. If you're good, I might consider giving you extra credit."

It's for the sake of your grades, so you have no choice.

[hamburgerhelpersotherhand]

Hellooo I LOVE your writing and was wondering if you could do another part of 'Papier' the story with Joe Goldberg 🥹 Thank you and Have a wonderful day!

Of course!

I’ve since finished the new season entirely and found it just fine. I heard quite a few unfavourable things before going into it, but I actually didn’t feel pulled in that same direction… it wasn’t that bad.

Warnings: power imbalance, Joe being a creep.

My eyes skim the pages, all different, all beginnings, unused introductions that didn't quite make the cut. You're good at this, at writing and adding... but you never quite rid yourself of the past. You tuck it away for later; perhaps a better thought will emerge from stirring the mind with old prose or, maybe, you have a fear of losing things.

I glance over the paper and look at you, sitting on the chaise in front of my desk, in my office, legs crossed and hands resting atop your knee. Your bag is by your feet. I smile and lower the draft.

"These are good," I say. "but you've given me better."

You nearly deflate at my words, chewing on the inside of your cheek as your eyes burn holes into the back of your paper. It's not what you had handed in for your midterm, but it is an older copy for us to look through.

I blink, tucking in my top lip for a moment as I think.

"What's up?" I ask.

Your eyes flick up to mine.

“What?”

I move back and sit on my desk, discarding the papers by my side to give you my full attention.

“You seem to have something on your mind,” I point out.

“I just…” You pinch your lips momentarily, timidly moving your eyes somewhere along my desk. “I feel like I’m moving backwards.”

“Would you like to unpack this feeling?”

“I don’t see how it’ll make a difference.”

At that, I smile.

“Sometimes talking things through can help. What are you worried about?”

You look away for a moment, pensive. You’re thinking of what to say, or perhaps you’re searching for a way to say it.

“Failure.” You admit plainly.

“Do you think you’re failing?” I then ask, and you shift in your seat.

“Yes, and I want to do something about it. Anything.”

I bite the inside of my cheek.

After a moment’s silence, I push myself off my desk and take a step to you. Your eyes look up into mine as I approach.

Once your chin lifts, and I’m intimately close to your sitting form, I speak the question I had been dying to ask since your ass sat down in my office.

“Would you like me to give you some options?”

You gulp, the action drawing my eyes for a split moment. I grind my teeth, wondering loosely if this had been how Beck’s professors felt about her.

“What are my options?” You whisp, unsure of what you’re truly asking from me.

My hand rises, and I pretend to catch lint off your shoulder. I flick it away with a broadening smile. My fingers follow the knit of your sweater, then, languidly stroking my way down to your collarbone.

“When I’m not holding a class, I’m frequently in my office. The first option is simple: we meet here, five days a week.”

Your eyes swirl with fear. “I can’t do that, I’m full-time. I don’t have availabilities every day.”

“If the frequency of our sessions is going to be a problem, the other option will have to include longer sessions.”

Watching your face contort uncomfortably as you think over your dilemma has me giddy with excitement.

“Are you alright with studying late?” I ask.

You shift in your seat. No. You’re not okay with it. What will become of the little social life you’ve managed to maintain? The small amount of me-time you’re going to lose?

You nod and my hand finds your shoulder again, giving you a reassuring squeeze as you tense below my fingers.

“I can do nights, but my office can’t stay open past a certain time. I hope you understand that. I’ll gladly accept you into my home, if you’re willing to try. Two nights a week, maybe? How does that sound?”

“What nights?” You ask.

“Tuesday and Thursday.” I respond, watching you closely.

“I can do that.” Your voice is small as you speak, you’ve shrunk. Defeated. You don’t want to accept my terms, but you know you have to.

I pull my hand away, turn, and scratch at my beard with a pleasant hum. My hands ache with the need to touch you, to touch myself, but I reach for pen and paper instead, scribbling down my address.

[basilhomebrews]

Interesting class, definitely can see how the appeal of making a dedicated class to being a hardened P.I. I just have a couple of questions/suggestions:

Down These Mean Streets

What do you mean by simple roll? I'm guessing you just mean a regular check, which would be called a standard Attribute Check or just Check in the system's wording.

With this Skill as it is, you can create an opportunity each time you roll a check, because the part about investigations is separate from the part describing what checks this would apply to. Stuff like that is generally written out as one sentence, like, if I were to reword this I would write it as ""When you fail a Check to perform an investigation, you may lose Hit Points equal to the amount you failed the Check by to generate an opportunity."

Also, opportunities are pretty substantial things. You only get them on critical successes for a reason, they can pretty much turn a situation on its head by themselves. Being able to generate opportunities by failing and spending a bit of HP (consider, 14+ HP is on the higher end of the spectrum of what you can lose, and that doesn't even knock someone with a d6 Might down to Crisis) is huge, and largely dwarfs what I recall to be the only other Skill that directly helps in generating opportunities, Frenzy from Fury. And Frenzy's balanced by the fact that it only applies to Accuracy Checks made with certain weapon categories. You don't even need to add the second bit about clocks, since you can spend an opportunity to add or erase sections on a clock.

Alternatively, you could maybe drop the free opportunity generation and switch it to invoking their bonds or traits for a check related to an investigation by spending HP equal to one roll of their base Might die size once per scene/SL times per scene? Should be more balanced this way while keeping the spirit of wearing yourself thin to crack the case.

Hip Flask

This one's a bit of a doozy. It works better than the Tinkerer Heroic Skill (which you need 10 levels for) Deep Pockets at SL 2, and the fact that it only applies to potions doesn't entirely balance it out. The damage reduction is huge as well, but I think that's more balanced than the initial effect.

If I were to change this, I would maybe make it do something like allow you to split the recovery you get from a potion between HP or MP, like "When you use a potion to recover Hit Points or Mind Points, you may split the HP or MP recovery by up to [SL x 10] to recover that amount to the latter resource." Or something along those lines.

Two-Fisted

Minor nitpick but you don't "benefit" from two-weapon fighting, but I don't exactly know what word to replace it with. Maybe "When you declare that you are engaging in two-weapon fighting"? Lot longer, but it's closer to the language found in the book, I think.

The City Is A Lover

Pretty standard utility Skill, probably the only feedback I can give is that there's no reset trigger or limit on it right now. Consider the Wayfarer Skill Tavern Talk, which only triggers when you rest inside an inn or tavern.

The Easy Way Or The Hard Way

Minor nitpick first, you don't "hit" Crisis, you enter it. Of course, the message still comes across, so feel free to ignore.

One way that I can think of rewording this to make it closer to the "official" wording is "The first time you enter Crisis in a scene with an intelligent enemy or when you Surrender and are captured as a consequence, you generate an opportunity. You may only spend this opportunity on the faux pas option."

In General

Try and go easy on the flavor text, especially if it's actually technical text that should be part of how the Skill works. Let the Skill names and identity of the class fill in the blanks of what these Skills do, and use the text of the Skill for technical wording as much as possible. This is good work you're doing, love seeing more homebrew stuff for Fabula Ultima, just gotta polish it up a bit. Hope this helps!

The Gumshoe: A homebrew class for Fabula Ultima

Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. He is the hero; he is everything. He must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a man of honor—by instinct, by inevitability, without thought of it, and certainly without saying it. He must be the best man in his world and a good enough man for any world. -Raymond Chandler.

So yeah I made a fatal mistake and got distracted and so started writing a homebrew class that may or may not at some point become part of a larger homebrew "Urban Fantasy Atlas" for Fabula Ultima.

So classes in Fabula Ultima consist of 3 things:

Four questions your character should answer the develop your background,

A permanent bonus or two- generally to Hit points, magic points, or inventory points, the ability to equip certain types of gear, or the ability to undertake long term free form effects like projects or rituals using the ritualism discipline.

5 skills: Some with multiple levels, some without. There should be more levels of skills available than you can get- each class caps out at 10 levels, which means more than 10 ranks of skills.

The gumshoe is designed with urban fantasy campaigns in mind, because detective is such an archetype for the genre, and while you can conceivably build one out of other classes (as for example, I already did) it could probably benefit from a specific class and it'd be pretty easy to ask those questions and make those skills, I think.

So first, we start with the questions:

1: What was your first big case? Do you regret how it turned out?

2: What first made you doubt authority?

3: What incident still haunts you- was it after you started working cases or is it what kicked it off?

4: If a leggy dame wearing a hat with a veil walked into your office right now and begged you for help, would you take the case? Would you admit you were a sucker for doing so?

Gumshoe Free Benefits:

Permanently increase your maximum Hit Points by 5.

Skills:

Down These Mean Streets

When making a check for any kind of investigation or legwork, you can turn failure into triumph. A failed roll on a simple or opposed check will grant you an opportunity, even if you don't find out what you want. For a clock, you'll always fill in one section no matter how badly you roll. This comes at a cost- you'll take damage to HP equal the amount you failed by, either by stretching yourself thin or maybe the opportunity comes by way of someone roughing you up for asking too many questions.

Hip Flask [+3]

You have a trusty flask of some sort of awful rotgut that you always have available. Reduce to the IP cost for producing a Potion with Inventory points by SL, to a minimum of 1. You can sacrifice this ability until the next time you refresh inventory points to reduce damage from a single attack by (5+SL)X10, as the blow damages the flask but leaves you mostly unscathed.

Two-Fisted [+5]

When benefiting from two-weapon fighting, your high roll only counts as zero for one attack, not both. Add SL to accuracy for both attacks.

The City is a Lover [+3]

When you're in a big city, you know how to talk to it, and it talks back. You may ask SL questions about the city or the people who live there, and the GM will answer them honestly.

The Easy Way or the Hard Way

Sometimes the easiest way to get information is to let yourself get worked over. The first time you hit crisis in a scene with an intelligent enemy, gain the faux pas opportunity as they let something important slip. You also gain this opportunity if you're forced to surrender and are captured.

[henqtic]

reader and blaise trying to hide their relationship, however, it turns out everyone knows they're dating <3

Hiding in Plain Sight

pairing: blaise zabini x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k (1605)

authors note: dude i am so sorry for how long this took but thanks again for requesting <3

masterlist . taglist form . request works .

being in a relationship with blaise zabini was everything and more you could ask for, especially when getting to that point was something so long in the works— both of you denying any feelings towards the other that were anything more than platonic.

until one night he up and kisses you in a hidden corner of the dungeons when you tried to congratulate him on winning the game, not that that wasn’t your plan to.

he was a kind person, maybe a hard shell but after being friends for so long— obvious feelings spilling out along with the too tendered touches like when you sprang your wrist or when he needed you to be his date to the ball because the beauxbatons girl ‘canceled’ on him the same time your date ditched you, it was hard not to feel the way you did for each other.

that being said, you never saw the day you’d willingly being together as a secret. and not because the whole wizarding world would somehow implode on itself if you didn’t but just because of the thrill of the rush you got from it.

the planning of how to strategically leave out of a room, trying to make it so that it looked like you had two unrelated reasons other than making out in some coven or alcove— and you still wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

because now, now you had the chance to chip away at that nonchalant facade he’d subconsciously put up every day from the inside out— seeing that smile crack a little more in public as it would in private.

and the extravagant dates he’d plan without your knowledge, only letting you know by dropping the dress off on your bed with a sweet note of how and why he thought it would look good on you— not leaving a single signature but the place you would have to meet in the castle before leaving.

the questions from your dorm mates not failing to pop up every single time of who it could possibly be from and why couldn’t just tell them already, not getting a single answer except your giddy expression and the rise and fall of your shoulders.

but the less materialistic, more subtle things had a certain kind of effect on you. like the way his mood would so obviously brighten up every time you came into the common room, even when you looked exhausted after a day of what felt like endless lessons.

or into his dorm with some made up reason as to why only he had to leave— both of you completely missing the unamused and unconvinced expressions of your friends.

combined with the hugs from behind due to the height he had on you, small gestures of tightly linked pinkies between classes, and how you’d act like the typical old married couple. bickering over the smallest things that would either end up forgotten or made up later in the day.

neither of you shared any desire to lose that feeling even after months of doing so, even if you were minutes away from passing out from countless hours you had spent studying for nearly the whole term due to the upcoming n.e.w.t.s.

you had decided to take tonight off and hang out with your friends and boyfriend in the common room but it seemed that it was the time they decided to clean up their acts and get going.

so as you waited for them to finish off, leaning on blaise, the only heat source you had amongst the cold slytherin dungeons— you were falling deeper and deeper asleep and with that, contemplating on just giving it up and cuddling up into him as you would when it was only you two.

there were only a few amounts of people around— all first and second years having cleared out a while ago due to their bedtimes being the earliest. a few drowsy third years littered around— reminding you of when you did the same since it was the first year of being allowed to stay up past nine, you tried to live it up while also rubbing it in the faces of younger kids— waving as they left to their forms.

now it was just the normal. daphne and draco sitting on separate armchairs across from you and blaise sharing one short couch— circling around a table covered with parchments and textbooks. both of them unknowing of what was happening right in front of them.

blaise’s deep voice was nothing over a mere whisper now, only audible to you, the girl drifting off on his shoulder. you caught on that the poems he was reading to you ones written with love in mind— heart swelling after noticing the pattern of the continuous sonnets.

it was the same one he so desperately needed to get his hands on a few nights ago from the library, giving you a small lie that he was using it as a study in class you weren’t in. the part of truth being that they could make any person fall in love with the reader.

you couldn’t agree with that though, it’d happened a few months ago for both of you. but, his joke of attempt at it was comforting.

getting lulled to sleep, by the way he’d linger on the three words seen in so many of them— “i love you, i love you, i love you.”

and by his signature scent of old dior cologne, dosing you further and further— his quidditch sweater he lent to you acting as a controlled ball of it, aiding in its attempts of getting you to give in and shut your eyes.

“you can go to sleep love, y’know it’s pretty normal for friends to fall asleep on each other,” he offered, nudging your cheek to the top of your head, hoping that he'd get some kind of answer out of you instead of you already resting on his shoulder. 

“yeah, i'll do that,” you agreed tirelessly, shifting down so that you could lay your head in his lap instead. being pulled into a dreamland by the green flames residing in the brick fireplace, his hands soothing your hairline, and the small smile on his face as he leaned down to kiss the corner of your mouth— you not thinking and moving slightly to capture his lips completely.

setting off the interruption that had been waiting to happen all night.

“fucking finally, they did it in public— pay up blondie,” daphne boomed, shutting and slamming her book loudly on the mahogany table, earning some choice words from what was once peaceful students.

her hand was still held out to draco as your eyes shot open at the sudden sounds, watching as the boy groaned and went to into his bag and dug out a clear bag filled up with twenty galleons.

“we’re both blonde’s daph shut up.”

“what’s that all about?” blaise questioned suspiciously, shutting up their bickering before it could start— sneer evident on his face since he seemed that he lost some bet… involving you two and being ‘public’.

“what’s that all about?” they mimicked at the same time, both of your heads turning to the side in astonishment.

“you two are the worst at hiding a relationship— what just happened being a great piece of evidence. and what just happened was me winning a bet that nearly half of the house has been contributing to of when you two would finally give up the act.”

“everyone else was way off except for us,” draco finished for her with a hint of boastfulness in his voice before getting flicked on his head.

“he was actually a day off but, you get the point.”

daph’s prideful smirk appearing as she looked down at the newly acquired money.

“so everyone already knows?”

“yes blaise, it wasn't exactly a mystery and if you thought it was, you're shit at it. you've been acting like your were madly in love for the past three years then all of a sudden you're leaving rooms right after each other? the effort was cute though, you look nice together.”

“it was sickening actually and you’re a terrible whisper, it just made you two look pretty daft—”

“aww well, thank you daphne, you're the best friend i have,” you thanked, interrupting draco’s statement and lightly scowling at him. 

“i’m a great friend, ask blaise.”

“well i did sort of go to him whenever i needed to get you one of those expensive dresses— y’know my mum hasn't been in the country recently, eight husband lives in spain and she’s coming back once schools out. but mrs.malfoy was always happy to shop,” he explained sheepishly, causing you to elbow him.

“so i'm not the daft one you are, don’t you think anyone would find it weird that you’re buying dresses nearly every week that you never wear?”

“yeah because i'm the one whose feet slap the floor whenever they try to sneak out at six in the morning, sorry to break it to you love but, i would rather you stay, it just wakes everyone up.”

“that's rude and a lie,” you looked around to your two blond friends, both their mouths drawn in straight lines as they looked down— a clear example of the old married couple arguing that they didn’t want to get in the middle of.

“alright then i’ll be going to bed. alone. where my floor slapping feet won’t wake anyone.”

“i was only being honest, darling come back!”

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[scuttling]

Lean on Me

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Gender Neutral Reader Word Count: 4,717 Tags: SFW, Fluff, 5+1 Trope, Obliviousness, Mutual pining, Aaron Hotchner deserves good things, Canon typical injury Summary: Five times you want to kiss the frown off of your boss's face, and one time you actually do it. *Requested by Anon. Link to AO3 or read below! “It doesn’t make sense.”

You stick a tack in a photo of a murdered woman—unfortunately one of many you’ve stuck to this board—and turn to face Hotch, who is looking over your handiwork with a quizzical expression.

“What doesn’t?” He takes a few steps closer, crosses his arms in front of him.

“Why would the unsub leave his comfort zone? The first six abductions occurred within five miles of the college, so why did the seventh and eighth happen almost twelve miles away?” He reaches for the board, traces his finger along the circle Reid had colored in on the map. “We profiled that he’s disorganized and far from confident, so why would he do that?”

He looks over at you, frowns, and not for the first time your gaze is drawn to the little crease between his eyebrows that always forms when he is puzzled, worried, confused, stressed, or otherwise unhappy. In short, it’s there kind of all of the time.

For the first time, though, you think of how easy it would be to lean over, press your lips there, smooth it out, and maybe even get him to smile for a change. He has a great smile, when he lets people see it.

You shake the daydream, rewind back to the question he asked, and wrinkle your nose in thought.

“Maybe his circumstances changed? It's summer now, and there are still classes, but students aren’t living in the dorms. Maybe he moved back home or got an apartment off campus that’s within that area—or a job.” He sighs, runs a hand over the back of his head, nods.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. That’s good. I’ll mention it to the others.” He pulls out his phone, and you grab another photo, another thumbtack, but something stops you and you lay a gentle hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to think of everything, you know. That’s why you have us.” He exhales, his shoulders losing a little of their tension, and that forehead wrinkle gets a little less deep.

“Sometimes I forget that not everything needs to be done the hard way. Or by me.”

“What? You, Aaron Hotchner, doing things the hard way?” you tease, and you are gifted a glimpse of his rare, unfiltered smile.

“Okay, enough pointing out my flaws,” he says with a raised eyebrow, though he’s still smiling, and as he looks down to type out a text, you remember to pull back your hand.

“I would never.” He looks up from his phone at that—maybe at the conviction in your voice, which you hadn’t exactly intended—and his expression softens further.

“I know you wouldn’t.” You hold eye contact for a moment, and then turn to finish preparing the board, pinning up another photo of another woman and reminding yourself that they need you to focus on the task at hand. Two weeks later, you knock on Hotch’s office door, a stack of completed consults in your hand. He looks up, that familiar notch in between his brows, a scowl on his face; when he sees that it’s you, he tones it down a little.

“Draw the short straw?” he asks, and you figure that’s because everyone knows he is in a bad mood and they’ve been avoiding this office all day. You shrug.

“It was rock, paper, scissors, but yes.” He huffs a short laugh, and you smile, step toward his desk. “Anything I can do to lighten the load?”

“Technically you’re adding to it,” he says with a glance at the files in your hand, and you set them on one of the chairs with a purposefully loud thump and then take the other seat.

“Technically. But technically, you only need to review my consults; I can review theirs. Right?” He mulls it over a moment, like the thought never crossed his mind—of course Aaron I have to do everything myself Hotchner would never suggest such a thing, even as the team sits in the bullpen with nothing to do, seeing who can throw M&Ms into Spencer’s mouth from the furthest distance.

“Technically,” he agrees, and you pluck a pen out of his pen cup and take the first file off the pile, open it in front of yourself, careful not to cut into the workspace he’s occupying. You both smile softly down at your work, and you actively do not think about that wrinkle between his eyebrows.

About an hour later, he reaches for his mug out of habit but finds it empty; you stand, take it in your hand, and he makes a noise of protest.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you say, and you walk toward the door. “I need some too. I’ll be right back.”

You pass through the bullpen—apparently the M&M contest led to a sugar crash, because Spencer is laying with his head on his desk—and grab your cup off your desk, take both to the break room to fill them.

Derek appears next to you as you’re stirring your sugar in.

“Coffee date with the boss?” he asks with a curious expression, and you shake your head.

“Of course not. I’m helping him with the overwhelming amount of paperwork on his desk so his mood improves, instead of just ignoring him.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and Derek scratches the back of his head.

“Never thought of that,” he admits, and you pat him on the arm and take your coffees back upstairs.

Hotch looks up at you as you set his mug down, says a soft thank you, and you grab the pile of files you brought up, separate them, and head back downstairs.

“You review mine,” you say to Derek, handing him a stack, “Emily take Spencer’s, Spencer take Derek’s, I’ll take Emily’s.” They look at you like they have no idea what to say, and you just smile, tap the top of Spencer’s head with a folder. “I’ll come back down and grab them in a little bit.”

“Yes, boss,” Emily says, and you grin on your way back upstairs. Hotch is standing when you arrive this time, looking out the window over the bullpen.

“What did you do?” he asks, turning to you, frowning again. You’re so close that kissing that wrinkle would be effortless. All you’d have to do is lean in.

You smile.

“I delegated, Hotch. You should try it some time.” You put your hands on his arms and guide him back to his desk. “Now what can I help you with?”

By the end of the day, his desk is clean and his bad mood is long gone. He closes the last of his files, sighs deeply, covers your hand with one of his, and says thank you.

The next morning when you come in, there is a steaming latte and a cookie on your desk, and you can’t stop smiling the rest of the day. Your next case is draining, children abducted and left for dead, and everyone is on edge, but no one more than Hotch. You’re fairly certain his face hasn’t relaxed since the initial briefing, and he’d be a prime candidate for the old ‘your face will get stuck like that’ joke, if anyone was up to joking.

The team catches the unsub, saves one child, but not until after three are dead; you take a late flight home because no one wants to stay another night in a town it feels like you’ve failed, and everyone curls up to get some rest except you and Hotch.

You try to read the book you brought along—a science fiction dystopian novel, something to get you out of your head and away from real life problems—but you’re a little distracted by Hotch’s sighing. It’s become an every-five-minutes thing, and while you’re definitely on board with sighing as a way to decompress, he’s not decompressing. He looks like he’s in pain mentally, exhausted physically; you’re not sure how everyone else was able to ignore it and go to sleep, but then you figure everyone else may not be as in tune with him as you are. As observant.

As in love.

Not that that matters: you know your issues, and some of his issues, and there’s the whole superior/subordinate thing which doesn’t really do anything for you except give you a stomach ache. It would never work out, even if he somehow, miraculously, were to love you back—and that’s a pretty big if in and of itself.

But still, you notice him, can’t help it, and the sighing is getting to be a little much. You sigh yourself, put your finger in between the pages of your book, and walk over to take the seat next to him; he looks over at you, frowning just like always, and you carefully close his file and set it aside.

Neither of you say anything to the other, just look each other over for a moment, and then you lean lightly against his shoulder and flip back to the beginning of your book.

“I still dream of the island. I sometimes approach it across water, but more often through air, like a bird, with a great wind under my wings. The shores rise rain-coloured on the horizon of sleep, and in their quiet circle the buildings: the houses grown along the canals, the workshops of inkmasters, the low-ceilinged taverns.”

You keep your voice low and soothing, and you are just turning to page fifteen when you feel the weight of his head drop onto your shoulder.

The crease between his eyes melts away in sleep.

You read until you make it home, and you wake him up with a gentle nudge before the rest of the team drifts back to consciousness. He looks at you, blinks slowly like he’s trying to remember where he is, and then gets a little sheepish when he puts two and two together, realizes he fell asleep on your shoulder.

You just shake your head, give his arm a squeeze, and head back to your seat to gather your things. You, Hotch, and Emily are catching the elevator to the parking garage—after staying two hours later to work on some rush consults straight from Strauss—when he looks at something on his phone that makes him groan aloud. You and Emily share a look, and you ask what’s wrong.

“I just remembered I’m supposed to have a treat for Jack to take to school tomorrow and it’s, what, seven thirty?”

“So just stop at the supermarket on your way home; no one can tell the difference anyway,” Emily says, but you and Hotch both shoot her a skeptical glance.

“It’s all about the treats at a school like Jack’s,” you supply, and Hotch looks over at you like he’s surprised by your comment. “If they’re not homemade, the parents talk. Plus there’s probably an allergen list a mile long: no nuts, no eggs, no soy, no dairy. You have to pick him up from Haley’s tonight, right?” You’re pretty sure, but when he nods he confirms it. “So pick him up, go home and get some dinner, put him to bed, and I’ll text you when I’m on my way over with the goods. I have a great recipe for vegan apple cinnamon muffins that will go over really well.”

“You really don’t have to do that; I’ll figure something out,” he says, but you just shake your head and pull up the recipe on your phone.

“Forget it, it’s already done. I have everything I need at home already; let me help,” you murmur softly, and when he looks at you with the furrowed brow that comes with accepting kindness from someone else, you almost forget it’s not just the two of you in the elevator. It’s only when Emily clears her throat that the eye contact breaks. He nods.

“Okay. Thank you; I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” The elevator dings and it stops at the parking garage; the three of you get off and head in separate directions for your cars. “I’ll text you.”

“Goodnight,” Emily says with a grin, and you wave at her, hop into your car, and head for home.

About two hours later, you show up at Hotch’s door with two dozen apple cinnamon muffins, and unbleached, whole wheat flour in your hair, and he has coffee brewing, a smile on his face.

“You don’t know how grateful I am,” he says as he ushers you into the kitchen, takes the boxes of muffins from your hands, and pours you a cup of dark, delicious coffee. You sip it slowly, savoring the taste—you should have known he’d have incredible coffee—even though it’s far too late for you to be indulging. Unless you’re working a case, you usually switch to decaf by three.

“I know you are. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you’d appreciate the gesture.” You lean forward, open a box, and pull out two muffins, handing one to him. “I made a couple extra so we could taste test; if I accidentally put salt in instead of sugar, you’re on your own,” you joke, and you wait for him to taste it before taking your own bite.

“That’s delicious. There’s really nothing unapproved in here?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“Nope, it’s all healthy and allergen free, except for the flour, but that wasn’t on the list you sent.” He reaches a hand toward you, and you don’t realize, at first, that he’s brushing the flour out of your hair.

“Messy baker,” he teases, and your heart feels really full, being in his kitchen like this, warm muffins and fresh coffee, even if your hair is a mess. You smile, and he smiles back before dropping into that serious expression, eyebrow wrinkle and all. You think about brushing your lips there tonight, but this feels like two steps forward, and you don’t want to risk taking that step back. “Next time I’ll help you.”

“Oh, next time? You plan on needing my baking expertise again? Fair warning, this is the only recipe I know, so I hope you like apple cinnamon muffins.” You take a sip of your coffee, look up at him, and he takes another bite, nods his head.

“I do. Especially these.”

In a perfect world, what comes next would be a cinnamony, coffee flavored kiss, but the world’s not perfect, and you yawn instead. You look down at your mug like it’s betrayed you, and Hotch chuckles low.

“It’s decaf. I know you usually stop in the afternoon; I wouldn’t forgive myself if you were up all night because of me.” You have always been a person who falls in love with all the little details about someone, so the fact that he’s noticed this, remembers this, makes your heart beat a little faster. “I should let you go. You’ve done so much today, between staying late and baking for Jack—for me. You need to get some sleep.”

He’s right, it’s nearly ten, and you should be getting back home, but this is a moment you never want to end.

You just nod, though, and he reaches out to brush his hand over your back when he walks you to the door.

“Thank you again. I really appreciate that you did this for me,” he says, soft, like he still can’t imagine you would.

“You’re welcome, Hotch. Any time, really; I’m happy to help.”

You get home, clean your kitchen, and have a very late dinner, and the smell of good coffee and apples and cinnamon is still in your nose when you drift to sleep. “You didn’t hear what he said,” Hotch snaps almost a month later, with one hand splayed on his hip and the other on the table in front of him. The moment you saw him engaged in an argument with a member of the Sheriff’s department, fire in his eyes, you’d grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a small conference room, shutting the door behind you. It took almost three minutes of staring at each other for him to say something instead of just glaring at you for interrupting the pissing contest.

“I don’t need to know what he said. I know you, and I know you handle people like that with a quick, sharp remark and then you wash your hands of it. You don’t argue back and forth, you don’t draw it out. You would have regretted it if you did that today, so I stopped you.”

“You think you know me so well, do you?” he asks in an unkind tone of voice you can’t identify, haven’t heard from him before; the expression on his face is familiar, though, a scowl that only puts emphasis on his handsome features—it’s unfair, really.

You exhale, cross your arms.

“Yes, and I know you well enough to know you’re irritated with him, not me, so cut the shit.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever been quite that direct with him, and certainly the first time you’ve ever sworn at him; your immediate instinct is to apologize, but he surprises you by huffing a laugh. The angry lines of his face smooth into something softer.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. He just—I can’t stand people like that.” He scrubs a hand through his hair in irritation. “We’re here to work—to do a job they couldn’t finish on their own. Not to be… objectified.” He mutters the last word, so low you almost don’t hear it, and then there’s a knock at the door. Derek enters.

“Sheriff wants a word, Hotch; do you have a sec?” With one last look at you, he nods, brushes past him to leave the room. Derek gives you the barest hint of a smile. “He was defending your honor, you know.”

You frown. You didn’t know.

“That jerk was talking about me?” you ask, clarifying, and he nods.

“Something about assuming you’re an athlete because he likes your ass. Set the boss man off.” You walk over to him and leave the room together, heading back to your workspace.

“Well Hotch is right, we’re here to work, not to be objectified. I can see how he would get angry.” Derek shoots you a flat, questioning glance.

“You think he’d be getting that worked up if it was my ass that guy was talking about? Or Emily’s?” The two of you stop outside the conference room, and you cross your arms, lean against the doorframe, frown.

“So what are you trying to say? That he sees me as being weak, thinks he needs to defend me? I'm as capable as either of you.” That may not be strictly true, because you’re a little more brains than brawn, like Spencer in that way, but you can hold your own and you thought Hotch knew that.

Derek just laughs, shakes his head, and ducks into the room. You follow, so confused.

“I thought you were just playing it close to the vest, but you’re oblivious, aren’t you?”

“Oblivious about what?” Emily asks, pen between her teeth, feet kicked up onto a chair, and you shrug.

“I’m still not sure. Hotch got into an argument with a deputy about me, and I asked Derek if Hotch thinks I’m weak and that’s why he felt like he had to defend me.” She smiles broadly around the pen, pulls it out of her mouth with a grin.

“Oh, honey. That’s not it. You know that’s not it, right?”

“I clearly don’t know what’s going on at all, so no, if you’d care to enlighten me,” you say, sinking into an empty chair. “I hate it when you guys are cryptic.” You love your team, but they have a habit of doing this all the time, saying things to each other with their eyes, or just a few words that don’t have any sensible meaning that you know of. It’s like they live to talk over your head, to say things without actually saying them.

“Okay. Hotch has a thing for you,” Emily says simply, and you blink.

Well that’s the very last thing you’d expected to hear.

“He absolutely does not.” You look at Derek, who’s making a face like you’re the one being crazy; you laugh out loud, can’t help it. “He does not. I’m pretty sure Hotch doesn’t have things, and if he did, he wouldn’t have a thing for me.”

“Why not? Because that would be too convenient, since you have a thing for him too?” Derek asks, taking the seat across from you, and you grab the nearest case file, flip it open and focus your attention on it.

“I care about him, the same way I care about all of you, and he maybe needs a little more care—but you guys are reading into things.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to say anything more, because Hotch, JJ, and Spencer return, and you all have a lead to work.

You can’t help but wonder if you’re being obvious about your feelings, though, especially later, when you get back to the hotel and the group decides to have a drink at the bar.

JJ and Emily hit the pool table while Derek and Spencer head up for drinks, and you are left sitting with Hotch at the table, pressed together in the inside corner of a booth.

“Tired?” you ask him, because he does look worn out, his tie a bit loose, his eyes a little red. You know he doesn’t get much sleep when you travel, and you can’t imagine he’ll go to bed even when this little detour is over.

“Always,” he sighs, but when he looks over at you, he smiles, just a little. “Just can’t wait to get out of this town.”

“Yeah, it gives Southern hospitality a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?” The people you’ve interviewed today are, on paper, quite respectable, but there’s a Desperate Housewives, ‘everyone is sleeping with someone else's spouse’ kind of thing going on, and it’s honestly exhausting. To your surprise, Hotch laughs.

“It really does. I don’t think I’ve ever missed the quiet solitude of my apartment quite this much.” You lean back against the vinyl of the booth, sigh.

“I miss my apartment, but it’s been too quiet lately. I prefer the sounds of someone else sharing space with me: the coffee maker percolating, the news in the background, the shower running, the sound of flipping the pages of a book or magazine.” You look down at your hands, because you’re getting a little more emotional than you usually let other people see. “Sorry. I’m not typically this open about being…”

You trail off, but Hotch looks over at you, concerned, the wrinkle between his eyebrows even more noticeable when you’re sitting this close. You think, just briefly, of running your thumb over it, but with your luck, Derek or Emily would see, and you’d never live it down.

“Lonely?” he finishes softly, and when you nod your head, he covers your hands with one of his own, bumps his shoulder against yours. “I get lonely too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” You look up at him, feeling a little vulnerable, and his expression softens. “When we get back, maybe you could come over for dinner some night. Nothing fancy,” he clarifies, and you smile, “just two lonely people being a little less lonely.”

“That would be really nice.” You can see Derek and Spencer approaching out of the corner of your eye, and Hotch must too, because he removes his hand, slips back into the slight, persistent frown you have come to know and love. Derek looks at you, raises an eyebrow, and hands you your beer. You try to tell him to shut up with your face, plan to follow up later to see if that actually worked. “We have an agent down on the second floor,” Spencer says into his comms, and you immediately want to slap him in the back of the head.

“Don’t say agent down, kid; I’m like, slightly wounded at best.” You hold a hand against the stab wound on your side—the unsub honestly just grazed you, and you’d knocked him out with a single punch, which made you feel pretty awesome—and reach out the other so he can help pull you to your feet. Your hand comes up to your own walkie button. “I’m not down, I’m fine—just slightly stabbed,” you add, and Spencer is getting his cuffs on the unsub when Hotch and JJ burst through the doors.

Well, Hotch bursts. JJ follows behind looking strangely winded for one of the most naturally athletic people you know.

“What happened? Are you alright?” he asks, and you lift your shirt to show him the sluggishly bleeding gash.

“I’m fine, see? It’s not even deep. Spencer saw blood and got a little ahead of himself.” You turn to Spencer, who sticks out his tongue, then back to Hotch, who looks haunted and pale, with that goddamn wrinkle between his eyebrows again. He’s bent down, looking over your wound seriously—you’ve had worse, so much worse, that you don’t understand why he’s so worried about it—and then he leans up, presses a hand to your cheek, and pulls you close for a soft, tender kiss.

If this were a movie, right about now a camera would be panning around you in a circle, as you wrap your free hand around his neck, pull him closer, melt against his body like it’s all you’ve been dreaming of for months, and the two of you would break apart smiling, maybe even kiss again.

It’s not a movie, though, so you just bleed out against your hand and freeze, because Hotch is kissing you at a crime scene and you almost got filleted, so you’re not sure if this is a you got hurt, so I’d better kiss you kiss or an I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever, and you got hurt so I have to kiss you kiss.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re both breathing a bit heavily, and you don’t know what to do, so you just lean in and press your lips to that wrinkle between his eyebrows that you’ve been thinking about so frequently since the first time you noticed it. You brush a hand through his hair, and when you pull back, he’s smiling.

“What was that?” He covers your hand on your side with his own and helps get you toward the elevator so you can be patched up by the EMTs; JJ and Spencer are left staring, open-mouthed in your wake, with an unconscious unsub at their feet, but neither of you are concerned about that.

“I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now: to kiss that spot between your eyes so you’ll stop frowning for a change. Since I couldn’t, I decided to find other ways to help you stop frowning so much. It kind of became my life’s mission.” He sighs, puts his arm around you and holds you close while you wait for the elevator to bring you to the ground floor.

“I stop frowning when you’re around because you’re around, not just because of the things you do for me,” he tells you, and he presses his lips to yours for another warm, soft, perfect kiss. “I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now.” You tilt your head, make a sound of contemplation, and he chuckles softly. “What is it?”

“I think those cryptic idiots we work with might be onto something,” you say with a grin, and when the elevator lets you off and Hotch helps you toward the ambulance to be patched up, Derek and Emily are waiting with concerned looks on their faces. They must be pretty confused to see you’re grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you guys were right; Hotch does have a thing for me!” you call as you walk past them, and when your wound is properly dressed and wrapped, you put your arms around his neck and let him kiss you until the frown and accompanying wrinkle are nothing but distant memories.

*The novel excerpt is from The Weaver by Emmi Itäranta.

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[knoxsunday]

Crash Into You | Chapter One

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC Female Character

Summary: The Dagger Squadron's new flight surgeon, Lt Jess Harris has disliked Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw since college. Now that she's the Dagger's flight surgeon, she can no longer avoid Rooster and their contentious past.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: some cussing

A/N: Hello! There's a lot of exposition here, so bare with me on this first chapter. And as a disclaimer, I know very little about medicine and the military so anything in here is literally from looking stuff up and skimming wiki articles. Thank you for reading ♥

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

I'll get this out in the open: I didn't exactly care for Rooster and I'm certain he doesn't like me either. We matriculated at UVA together, though rarely ever crossed paths aside from various house parties mostly because I was on the pre med track and he was a political science major. There were some distinct moments that I always reference as reasons as to why Bradley Bradshaw is The Worst.

The first was the three weeks I was taking Intro to Poli Sci for some extra credits. Bradley rarely participated in class except when arguing the other side of an issue I had voiced my own opinion on. In the span of three weeks, we had gotten into five heated debates, all of which ended in the professor having to step in just to move the class along. And Bradley never failed to look smug when lobbing his counterpoints across the room, like he was toying with me. I ended up dropping the class because my workload that semester turned out to be oppressive and something had to give.

He found me in the library a few weeks after our last class together and asked if I chickened out of the course because he was the superior orator. I told him his views were too simplified and that he relied too much on emotional arguments. Bradley's counter argument was I leaned too heavily on data and facts when in reality geopolitics are more nuanced. I might have insulted his intelligence and he probably called me callus. The details have gotten fuzzy over time. But I definitely remember flipping him off. He just laughed and gave me two middle fingers right back.

The second was sophomore year when he and his friends woke up half my apartment floor looking for someone who didn't even live in my building. I had pulled an all-nighter the day before and had really been looking forward to getting some much needed rest. But no! Bradley and his merry group of drunks woke me up yelling for Emily or Emma or something. I stormed out of my apartment and gave them a piece of my mind. Instead of apologizing for the ruckus, Bradley tried to flirt his way around my sleep deprived fury - the audacity. There was no way he thought I was actually "lookin' good", what with my ratty t-shirt and old gym shorts, pony tail falling out of its elastic tie and days old mascara smudges under my eyes. But his smirky smile didn't falter and I swear I caught him looking at my chest instead of listening to my noise complaint.

Ugh, men.

Had I not already developed a dislike for Bradley at this point, I might have given him a pass. (College kids are allowed to let off steam and it was just after midterms, after all.) Bradley was definitely cute in his college days: kind, brown eyes and an easy smile; dark, wavy hair that flopped over his forehead on one side. His face was a bit boyish, still in transition from teenager to adulthood. He was easy to spot, too. Bradley's fondness for Hawaiian shirts made him stick out in a crowd. That and he was easily six foot, if not taller. But no such luck with me, oh no. No amount of Bradshaw Charm could get him off my shit list that night.

I saw him the most at parties after that, wherein I learned we are both extremely competitive and don't take losing beer pong well. I lost count of the number of drunken rematches, but we had earned a reputation for quarreling over anything if left alone for too long. My roommate banned me from playing party games my junior year. This coincided around the time Bradley and my roommate were 'dating' but 'not dating'. I made myself very scarce those long four weeks. They broke up after Bradley said he didn't want anything serious - which is how all of his relationships were rumored to end. I sat with my roommate as she cried into a value size tub of cheese puffs, offering to kick him in the nuts next time I saw him. She never took me up on the offer.

More recently, of course, there was the time we crossed paths on a carrier post-college. I was doing a two week rotation on the USS Ford as a fresh faced flight surgeon. Rooster was still trying to stake his claim as the best naval aviator in his squad and had beat out a few of his other squadron members for a high profile mission. The morning of the mission came and his commanding officer pulled him because he looked like he was about to pass out when he showed up for the final debrief. When he came down to the clinic, he was sweating profusely due to a high fever and had a nasty cough. I had been the on duty surgeon, unfortunately for both of us. Neither knew the other was on board, making the entire exam one of the more excruciatingly long moments in my adult life. We exchanged awkward, stiff pleasantries and I gave him the bad news that he had the flu which meant I couldn’t clear him to fly. Like seemingly all pilots I've met, he had something to prove and did not take the news well. He stormed out after some unkind words and I didn’t see him the rest of the time I was on the Ford.

His career obviously didn’t take the meteoric blow like he claimed through a stuffy nose several years ago. Rooster had graduated first out of Top Gun, was a well respected and decorated pilot, and now part of the newly formed, elite special task squadron known as the Daggers. I’d say he overreacted just a bit. Either way, Bradley Bradshaw was loud, annoyingly proud, and egotistical. A position I maintain to this day but didn't exactly vocalize because everyone seems to genuinely like him around the halls of Top Gun. My active avoidance of anything involving Rooster has been noticed by Phoenix though she never pushes the issue. Either she really wasn't as nosey as she claimed or she just didn't care.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In theory, half my time at Top Gun should be spent in the clinic, the other half split between running training evac exercises and flying with pilots. What I was not expecting when taking this post was getting assigned as the Dagger Squadron's flight surgeon, which is how I find myself on an aircraft carrier and not sneaking into the debrief room at Top Gun because it has the best coffee on base. Their old flight surgeon was promoted last week and left to do a stint on the USS Mercy, leaving me as the new Dagger flight surgeon. Wherever they go, I go.

The job title 'flight surgeon' is a bit misleading and I try to avoid using it around civilians. I'm not performing regular surgical procedures on pilots, though I'm not too bad with a scalpel. Really it's just an outdated title for a general practitioner who deals specifically with aviators as patients. I'm trained to make sure naval aviators and their crew can handle the stresses of their job (and there's a lot of mental and physical stress in the cockpit) along with treating minor aches and pains and chronic illnesses.

Phoenix was surprised to see me but also mildly miffed I hadn't told her my 'new job' meant being on base the night we met.

“Not a pilot but you work with pilots, eh?” She had said after a light punch to my arm. “Please tell me you aren’t always that evasive with your answers.”

“It depends,” I responded with a coy smile and she just laughed.

She is part of the Daggers, along with Bob. The two had basically adopted me after my first day. I didn’t see Bob and Phoenix often, but I’ve had lunch with them a few times. Phoenix came over for dinner two weekends ago and helped me assemble Ikea furniture in my new rental by the beach. It digressed quickly once we added forzen margaritas to the equation. I met the other Daggers as they filtered in and out of the clinic for various reasons. They were a tight knit group led by the legendary Captain Pete "Maverick" Mitchell. When they weren't teaching Top Gun students, they were assigned to highly classified missions that required only the most skilled pilots to carry out.

I didn't know what today's mission on the Ford was but it only required two pilots who ended up being Hangman and Rooster. I watched them catapult off the carrier just before dawn. I had seen this maybe hundreds of times but I will never get over watching those powerful planes fling off the end of the runway and sail into the seemingly endless horizon. After helping out in the clinic, I went back to my bunk (thankfully it was just me) to get some sleep. I had just drifted off when I was called back to the clinic to check out a pilot with a possible concussion.

I wasn't anticipating Hangman and Rooster to be waiting on me, the latter with an ice pack smashed against his forehead. They were both in their full flight gear, leading me to believe they had just gotten back on board. Last I heard the mission was a resounding success with no issues so I was beyond curious to know what happened.

I looked over Rooster's chart as he sat on the exam table. He is as healthy as a goddamn horse. Of course he was.

"You made it through the entire mission without any problems and yet you still manage to get hurt," I glance up. "Gotta say, I'm a little impressed."

Hangman laughs and the sound fills the small space. He's got a great smile. I wouldn't be surprised if that won a lot of people over. I can see why Phoenix finds him attractive, though I can't get her to admit it. Next to him, Rooster is shooting a withering glare at both of us.

"Sorry doc," Rooster's wingman says. "I'm afraid it was partly my fault."

"Partly?" Rooster butts in. "Try a hundred percent."

"I distracted Bradshaw here and he ran right into one of the bulkhead doorways."

The joy from the mental image of Rooster bonking his head is payment enough for being pulled away from a nap. It had to have been at least a little funny - possible concussion aside. A few of the larger doors meant to keep water out in the event of hull damage require you to either duck or step over the threshold. There were a few I even had to lower my head for and I clocked in at five foot nine inches with boots on.

"Let's take a look at the damage," I roll over on my stool.

"I'm gonna hit the showers," Hangman says. "I think you've got it covered, doc."

I wave the blond pilot off and to Rooster I say, "I need to look at your head."

Rooster doesn't move for a moment and just stares at me. He opens his mouth to say something but decides against it and removes the hand with the ice pack to reveal a red, slightly raised mark near the hairline. I ask the normal questions while I go though concussion protocol. Headache, nausea, blurred vision, etc.

"What's the verdict?" Rooster mumbles. He sucks in a breath as I gently poke the bruise that is forming. It's the sort of bruise that will turn all sorts of unpleasant colors before it disappears.

"A minor concussion," I roll back to the table with my tablet to make notes. "What were you doing, speed walking through the ship?"

"No, I was - wait, does this mean I'm grounded?"

I glance up from his chart. Rooster's jaw is set, expression stoney. It's just like last time. Here we go.

"Yes," I say evenly. "If your symptoms get worse, obviously let me know but come back tomorrow and we can see about getting you up for flight status. But with a concussion, even minor-"

"Yeah I got it, Harris," Rooster cuts me off and grimaces. "Not my first rodeo."

"Run into a lot of bulkheads?" I ask and close out of his file.

He ignores the jab. "You know, the only times I've been grounded for health reasons have been by you," he crosses his arms, which looks a bit awkward with all of his gear still on.

"I doubt that's true," I say even though I'm 90 percent sure he's actually right. I was just in his medical records after all. But the knee jerk reaction to contradict him was unstoppable.

"Nah," he's got that combative glint in his eyes. "I think you have it out for me. Just don't know why."

I scoff. "Excuse you, I take my job very seriously and would never abuse my position."

"But you haven't denied that you don't like me."

"One, that wasn't your original statement. And two, oh no, someone doesn't like you. I think your ego could take the hit."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Don't you like me?" He smiles wryly. "Sheesh, Jess I'm beginning to think I'm not the one with the head injury here."

"Seriously?" I rub my temples. "You were rude and obnoxious to me at every opportunity in college."

"You weren't exactly peaches and cream, darlin'." he replies. "I distinctly remember you saying I was the reason God created the middle finger."

"You called me a soulless ice queen the first time we were on this boat together."

Rooster finally looked a bit guilty. "Not exactly a shining moment for me, but I did have a high fever."

"That's cute, not even taking responsibility for your own words," I say curtly.

"Neither are-" Rooster's face jockies between something like annoyance and practiced calm. "Listen, Jess-"

"Lt. Harris," I cut.

"Lt. Harris, I'm sorry. I don't actually think you're soulless. But you are kind of standoffish. You've been that way since I've known you. Makes you unapproachable."

"I'm not unapproachable, I'm reserved which is the only way women seem to get taken seriously in medicine and the navy," I can hear the blood rushing in my ears. "Plus, we aren't in high school, I don't need tips on how to be popular. Least of all from my enemies."

I hated the word choice instantly. Rooster latches onto it instantly.

"Enemies? What are you, nine?"

"That's what you take away from what I just said?"

"What grown-ass adult has enemies?"

"Gah, get out of my exam room!" I stand and open the door. Rooster doesn't hesitate to leave.

And because I am a good doctor, I yell after his retreating form down the hall, "Make sure you take acetaminophen, not ibuprofen, and get some rest."

[sabakos]

(not sure if you still disagree now that we worked the numbers out but I already typed this up)

So the profit that Pfizer made the last several years are as follows:

2021 was a typical "good" year for Pfizer but they do have a fairly inconsistent revenue stream, about on the order of how much money they made off of the covid vaccine. But there's also some years where they make less profit, generally to about the same order of magnitude of the profit they made off of the Covid vaccine. Presumably they also made quite a bit of money off the vaccine in 2022, I assume that's not all from the economy recovering.

pfizer isn't even close to a profit maximizer, they spend a bunch that they offset with profits from things like the covid vaccine, and this behavior is prosocial and we should shovel more money at them"

I wouldn't call it prosocial, I'd call it "profit-driven" but in the way you're using the term "profit maximizer" I don't think that any large company that regularly makes a profit is a profit maximizer, and certainly not pharma companies. R&D is an inherently risky endeavor, because the vast majority of products you invest a significant amount of money on to develop don't turn a profit, either they don't pan out, they can't pass clinical trials, or any other number of complications.

I think this actually plays into your (accurate) perception of pharma companies though! Companies with less certain profits, like pharma, are going to be more profit-hungry on any particular project than companies that have a fairly steady income per project, like construction, because the pharma companies have taken on significantly more risk, they need for *something* to actually turn a profit.

if your goal is to incentivize pfizer to do some thing [x] and they are a profit maximizer (or pretty close), all you need to do is make them very confident that [x] will be more profitable than what they could otherwise do with the resources they're spending on [x].

The problem is that nobody actually has the knowledge necessary for this, and drug companies don't operate on this logic. It's entirely possible that the Covid vaccine they made wouldn't have worked at all. Or a larger number of other companies could have developed vaccines, which would lower their profits. It might help to compare Pfizer's revenue vs. profit:

Pfizer's revenue every year is several times higher than their net/profit, which means the majority of their revenue in any given year, good, or bad, goes to making up expenditures. If Pfizer expects to make 10x profit on any successful product over their investment, it's fairly easy to work out the math to an order of magnitude and see that this implies that most of their projects fail, the common leftie talking point of "privatizes profits, socialized risk" doesn't really bear out most of the time, companies do regularly take on, and budget for, a significant amount of risk.

Realistically also, most of this expenditure is payroll, which translates to employees being paid to have an upper middle class job that loses their company money. Which, when repeated over hundreds of companies that function this way, ends up translating to stable employment for millions of people whether or not the product of their own labor is profitable or not! And so large companies essentially function by distributing risk over a wide enough set of potentially unprofitable projects that most workers can labor unprofitably.

So the argument for privatization here over a fully nationalized economy is that because it's easier for companies who are more profit-driven to take on this risk than governments, this leads to better outcomes for everyone, which makes privately held and managed wealth more acceptable. But if you take that 10x profit away on the successful projects by having a more "market socialist" economy, you incentivize private companies to be significantly more risk-averse, which means they hire fewer people to work on fewer, less risky projects, which results in lower specialized employment and fewer new products being developed. Which i think is isomorphic to @vren-diagram's original point about contracts and incentives.

And don't worry, I haven't gone all capitalist here: As someone who wants international socialism and FALC to happen, I think that in the best possible world we would just nationalize everything and have government-funded research labs that are allowed to burn through wealth and labor on moonshot projects that have a small chance of working without anyone getting upset. I'll admit that I'm not prepared to get into the finer details on how any of that would work, but if market socialism gives you the worst of both worlds (less innovation, still privately held wealth not accountable to the state) I'm not sure that it's a reasonable path forward, because if fewer people have those specialized jobs and fewer products get developed, it won't matter that no one is getting super rich off of it.

@sabakos separating this since i hate discoursing in the reblogs

so, pfizer's losses are basically a complete non-sequitur here - if your goal is to incentivize pfizer to do some thing [x] and they are a profit maximizer (or pretty close), all you need to do is make them very confident that [x] will be more profitable than what they could otherwise do with the resources they're spending on [x].

my claim (which i think the numbers bear out pretty clearly) is that even a significantly less profitable covid vaccine would still have been very worth it to pfizer.

if your argument is "pfizer isn't even close to a profit maximizer, they spend a bunch that they offset with profits from things like the covid vaccine, and this behavior is prosocial and we should shovel more money at them" - well. that seems unlikely to me from what i know of pharmaceutical companies.

[captainlevisteacup]

Perhaps you could do some SFW Fluffy & some NSFW headcanons with the brothers in a relationship with a Shapeshifter MC who frequently changes their form?

Like, they keep their natural/signature features to be recognizable, but they do regularly change their gender, height, & sex organs 😏 (Why? Because they can and they find it fun) They’re also total Dom no matter what form they are in, and will happily talk about the various ways they used their abilities to make sex more..exciting (Ex being Tentacles, two huge dicks, a big dick AND a vagina, forming a tongue designed specifically for their partner so they can perfectly give blowjob/eat them out, things like that)

This MC also uses their abilities in some way on the brothers when they are having sex, wether that be fucking them with a dick while pressing their boobs against their back/front, or doing something more..hentai related

On the fluff side of things, MC totally regularly turns into the Bros favorite animal whenever they are stressed and just lets them pet them, or if the brothers are feeling overly worried they might hurt Mc she just turns into a demon. (Which MC does whenever they want to do an activity with the brothers a human can’t do)

This also works out for them aswell, as this Mc is essentially gender fluid and just changes their form to whatever they want to when they are feeling dysphoria (Though they typically go by they/them because of how confusing it can get to go by specific pro-nouns fitting the form they shift into when they rapidly change forms throughout the day)

Sorry this was so long!

*cracks knuckles*

AAAAALLLLLLLLRRIGHTTTTTTT LET'S GO!!

No need to apologize for the long ask, I absolutely LOVE requests and this gives me a lot to work with!

The brothers with a Dom! Genderfluid *Shapeshifter* MC

***WARNINGS: HEAVY NSFW, 18+ ONLY***

Lucifer

Slightly wounds his pride that try as he might, he just can't dom MC

Something about them just renders him helpless against them

He loses his usual confidence and natural leader abilities around MC

Speaking of abilities

The things MC can do to him; the things they can make him feel

Mc can access any and every end of any possible spectrum

His favorite thing they can do is shifting themselves into having a truly impressive cock, complete with a set of plump breasts and a very, VERY long tongue

Impressive as that alone is, what MC uses it for is even more so

Pegging him mercilessly from behind, breasts bouncing and scraping against his back while that damned tongue snakes around his waist to pleasure his own member

He never knows just how to focus on any one thing when everything feels so incredible; Their dick ramming into him with reckless abandon, those globular tits bouncing onto his back, or that tongue with a lewd amount of saliva dripping off of it and onto Lucifer's body, massaging his throbbing member

MC'S gifts aren't JUST used for sex, though

They'll often use their abilities to calm him down when he's stressed

They'll make their hands impossibly soft, and run them lightly all over his body in soothing motions

Light circles on his arms, lazy lines on his face, and light massaging through his hair

Mammon

Has no problem whatsoever with MC domming him

Absolutely loves their abilities

Comes completely undone when MC stands right behind him, whispers about how they need him to be their little slut in an alluring feminine voice, and presses their intimidating member against his ass

He knows what comes next

MC ripping his shirt off of him, and pushing him down onto the bed.

Mammon takes this time to admire them; their pert breasts, their smooth skin, to their thick cock, perfectly accentuated with smooth veins, and the beautiful, somehow always moist pussy right below it

This was a skill that had startled Mammon at first. Shapeshifters aren't that common, so for it to be used sexually like THIS? Oh, Mammon was in euphoria.

MC had experimented with many different positions, but the one that drove Mammon over the edge was the one they used the most

MC on top, riding Mammon as if he were a prized mare, their dick slapping harshly against his chiseled abs, the lewd sound echoing throughout the room

Once MC came, not only was Mammon's dick enveloped by their wet vagina, but their hot seed sprayed onto his toned stomach.

Outside of the bedroom, MC would shift their hair to match Mammon's whenever he wasn't feeling well. It never failed to cheer him up, seeing MC with the same white hair made him so happy.

Levi

The biggest bottom to exist

MC takes FULL advantage of the otaku

Shifts to have the exact same body as Ruri-chan

Huge tits, exaggerated waist, and slender legs

Shifts so that their pussy is unbelievably tight, and during sex they tighten and loosen it to provide further stimulation

MC shifts to have slight fangs, so that they can drag them along Levi's skin

Often turns into a snake and rests on Levi's shoulders, sometimes they do this during class if MC doesn't want to attend their's that day

MC can stretch or shrink their vocal cords to mimic certain Anime characters

Occasionally, MC will do this doing sex and moan Levi's name

This drives him insane

If the two are in public and MC wants to tease or arouse him, all the have to do is adopt the anime girl voice and say something along the lines of "Gomenezai, Oni-sama"

Levi immediately gets hard

Mc then drags them off to relieve him *wink wink*

Satan

Cat ears.

CAT EARS

MC knows damn well what this does to him

Satan prefers rough sex, so MC will shift into having chiseled, muscular arms capable of holding him down, with a chest to match, all topped off with a well-built cock complete with subtle ridges all along the shaft

MC will pin Satan's arms to the wall with one hand, and harshly jerk his chin towards them with the other while rubbing their cock in between his legs, teasing his sensitive balls. Then, as a cue, MC would make the cat ears appear

In a flash, Satan would be shoved onto his hands and knees and roughly taken from behind, the ridges on MC'S dick creating deliciously painful friction

Mc would knot their fingers into his hair and yank his head back, often earning a yelp from his lips

Outside of sex, MC is almost always either fully a cat or has some aspect of a cat (cat ears, subtle fangs, or sometimes a tail that he loves to play with

This is because it really helps suppress Satan's temper for some reason

Since MC likes to change up the color of their fur when they go into a full cat, Lucifer becomes convinced Satan has snuck multiple cats into the House of Lamentation, because he keeps finding the fur

Satan refuses to let MC tell him, because he finds it hilarious how irritated it makes Lucifer

Asmo

As SOON as he found out MC could shift their body, had a whole list of things he wanted to do with them

The first on that list was being fucked by two dicks, both belonging to MC

MC made him agree to being stretched out first, so as not to hurt him

Every time MC fucked Asmo, they would use a differently shaped and textured cock, each ever so slightly larger than the last

After Asmo took an unfathomably large member from MC, he was deemed ready

Asmo watched in awe as MC shifted to possess two large and vastly different cocks.

One was girthy, with a perfectly smooth shaft and a bulbous head

The other was more slender, with diagonal ridges, almost scale like, running all along it's length.

MC slid them in one at a time, allowing Asmo to adjust

Once both of their dicks were fully in Asmo, they slowly began to pull back

Their dicks dragged painfully slow along the insides of Asmo, creating a brutal friction that threatened to make Asmo crumble right then and there

Outside of sex, MC was Asmo's dream come true

Well, inside of sex too, but that's besides the point

MC often shifts their body to mimic different body types, and Asmo styles their outfits based on how they decide to have their body that day

Same thing goes for hair, as MC can adjust their hair to any length, color, texture, and width

Asmo loves trying out and practicing different styles

Beel

Face fucking.

His favorite. No arguments.

MC shifts into having a cock even bigger than Beel's (a true feat), and a tight pussy just beneath it.

Beel loves it when they shove his head onto their cock, fingers fisting into his hair

Forcing his head to move onto their cock, tears pricking in his eyes and they fucked his mouth, his throat, mercilessly

MC doesn't allow Beel to sit and do nothing, oh no

Beel fingers their wet pussy as they fuck his face senseless

If Beel isn't moving his fingers fast enough, MC shoves their dick even further down his throat

Huskily whispers into his ear "Come on, Avatar of Gluttony, surely you can swallow more than that"

Outside of sex, shifts into a demon so they can play with Beel and the brothers.

At first, the brothers wouldn't let MC play any sports with them (mostly Beel), out of fear for MC getting injured

So, MC proceeded to shift into a whole ass demon.

Shocks everyone and utterly destroys all the brothers

Belphie

Cowboy

Like cowgirl...but not.

MC shifts so that their body is substantially bigger than his

This makes Belphie small enough in comparison to easily fit in MC'S lap

Ironically, MC shifts to have a cock roughly the size of a bull. They would never dream of making Belphie take it all....

But they can try

Belphie sits on their lap, legs spread, facing MC so they can see the fear and pleasure mix on his face

MC slowly teases him with their tip, entering one inch at a time before pulling out, pausing, and suddenly shoving back in, an inch deeper each time

Their hands holding Belphie up by the hips the whole time

Outside of sex, will shift to have a very soft stomache for Belphie to lay on

When Belphie is feeling depressed or lonely, MC shifts into a very, VERY soft wolf for Belphie to stroke the fur of as a grounding technique, and to sleep with on the nights he feels alone

This happens so often that MC just relaxes around the house in a wolf form

This never fails to scare the shit out of Mammon, which, in turn, brings a rare smile to Belphie's face

[the-final-sif]

Okay, so I think I’ve got a solid timeline of events for villain!Katsuki

Katsuki leaves UA just before the provisional license exam, he’s at the point where he no longer things the hero system can be fixed without outside intervention. He’s done with how the media acts, he’s done with the blame being shifted to victims based on their quirks, and he’s done with the lies he’s been fed all his life.

Prior to this he started researching and planning what actual change would look like and require.

He meets up with Dabi, who’d only let the rest of the league know about the bet a few days prior. He was curious if Katsuki would keep his word or not. Dabi prods Katsuki gently, saying he knew the kid took honestly seriously but he’s still kinda surprised to see him go this far over a bet. Katsuki replies explaining it’s more than the bet. He talks about what he’s seen, and the failure of hero society to change. It’s more than enough to convince Dabi.

Dabi brings him to a secure location, then relays information to Shigaraki. Shigaraki is hesitant, he’s surprised Katsuki came back to them, but when Katsuki explains his side of things, and with Dabi vouching for him, Shigaraki decides to let him in. He can understand what it’s like to fall for hero society. He did for awhile too. Katsuki just needed more time on his own to realize that.

There’s an introduction period, the league is still figuring themselves out and most of them are hesitant to trust Katsuki. It’s about a week before he’s properly reintroduced to everyone and gets the sense that they’re not headed in any particular direction.

After that week, Katsuki decides “fuck that, I’m going to do shit, y'all are coming along” and since Shigaraki doesn’t really have anything better in mind, he decides to go along with Katsuki’s plans.

UA started panicking as soon as they realized Katsuki was gone, but nobody really knows what happened to him yet. Since he took all his stuff with him, all signs point to him having run away.

Izuku refuses to believe that, and most of the class holds out hope for awhile, but as no evidence turns up, more of them start to think it might be true and start discovering the amount of harassment and guilt he was facing.

There’s about a month and a half period in which Katsuki focuses on getting the league in shape. During this period, they do a forcible take over of the Shie Hassaikai.

Overhaul is killed, Eri goes under Katsuki’s care, and the league is established as a much more powerful force.

The Hero Commission is starting to get nervous, but not overly so. Not yet.

After this month and a half, Katsuki makes his first public appearance as a villain.

He’s in an updated version of his costume, most of it has stayed the same, but he’s added what looks like muzzle to the costume that covers his mouth. The muzzle actually functions as face shield/oxygen system so he can move at much faster speeds safely.

Katsuki’s villain debut is a full scale attack by the league on the Hero Commission directly. An event meant that the Hero Commission had gathered in a relatively accessible location, and the villains take advantage.

Importantly, Katsuki is enforcing a policy of limiting needless harm or deaths, because it ruins their message. The league reluctantly agrees, so they’re being a bit more careful than they were before. However, they’ve still got a hit list for this party.

The list consists of officials who they have confirmation deliberately manipulated polices or actions of heroes at the cost of people’s lives, all for some private gain. They do a lot of damage, and manage to kill 7 people on their list.

Katsuki’s first kill happens here. Previously, he’d managed to defeat Overhaul, but wasn’t quite able to kill him. He just wasn’t ready.

Shigaraki took care of it for him, and told him it was fine if he needed time to learn to kill. He was kind and understanding about it in a way that was genuinely weird to Katsuki. Not only because this was all about murder, but it was the first time in his life that he failed and an adult supported him rather than punishing him for his mistake.

At this event, one of the people he takes down tries to appeal to him by offering him a position as a hero to save themselves, and that pushes him over the line. He ends it quickly.

The league escape afterwards, and footage plus eyewitnesses confirm Katsuki was there, and he didn’t say a word to anyone he attacked.

UA, the Hero Commission, and the media collectively assume / sell the story of him having been brainwashed. It’s the only thing that doesn’t make them look horrible.

Aizawa has been weighed down by a lot of guilt during all of this. He should’ve done more, should’ve reached out, but he’d been waiting for Katsuki to come to him. He’s tried to find Katsuki, but Katsuki has purposefully avoided facing him in battle as Aizawa is one of the few people he doesn’t feel like he could hurt or allow one of the other villains to hurt.

The attacks start getting frequent over the course of another month, primarily targeting the people behind the scenes of the heroic’s system, with a lot of other targets of corruption along the way.

On his third attack, Katsuki has his first run in with Izuku, the first of any of his classmates to face him in battle.

Katsuki refuses to speak a word to him, despite the fact Izuku heard him giving directions to Toga, and the two clash.

Katsuki manages to pull ahead in their fight, but he’s distracted from their fight by someone caught in the crossfire. He diverts course to protect them. Izuku was so hyperfocused on Katsuki he didn’t notice the person. It throws him off enough that Katsuki is able to win their fight complete his goal.

After their clash, Izuku’s finally realized Katsuki isn’t brainwashed. Given what happened, he can only assume it really is Kacchan making all these choices, which leads him to reflect on why.

 Between slowly uncovering what Katsuki was suffering through, and watching Katsuki’s actions and their very real impact, Izuku finds himself struggling with the idea of heroes as well. Most of Class 1-A and society as a whole really are.

Shouto & Izuku talk, and Izuku confirms that it really is Katsuki. Not a brainwashed version of him.

At the end of their conversation, Shouto assumes that because it’s really Katsuki, they’re gonna go join him. He defects, and is a bit surprised when Izuku doesn’t follow him right away.

Dabi almost has a heart attack over this, but he can’t really judge.

Shouto is accepted into the league after he and Katsuki talk and he apologizes for not having done anything. Katsuki doesn’t blame him for it, as he understands Shouto had no real sense of what was okay.

Eri gains a new older brother, and she could not be more delighted.

During this period, after the first attack, Hawks was sent in to infiltrate the league. Katsuki can smell the commission on him from a mile away, but tells Dabi to kind of let Hawks in anyways.

The league begins slowly working Hawks out of the Commissions control, before finally after about three months, Hawks realizes how shitty they are and defects properly.

A big part of this happens after Hawks finally comes to terms with the fact that Katsuki isn’t brainwashed, and after Hawks meets Eri and realizes how happy and safe she is with her new family vs how he felt at that age with the Commission.

By the end of that three months, a number of other class 1-A kids and a few kids from 1-B have dropped out of the hero course, or in some cases, UA entirely. The public at large has started to become more disconnected from the hero system as they start to see some of it’s major flaws. The Commission comes under more and more questioning and is seriously losing power.

During this same time, you’d expect to see an increase in crime, but you actually see the opposite.

Katsuki has been very careful and forged an alliance with the MLA such that they’ve been able to crack down on certain types of crime (domestic violence, quirk kidnappings, sexual assaults, etc) while also steadily funneling money into getting social services in theses areas.

This means that you start to see less crime, people feeling safer and more secure, even as the hero commission and system is crumbling.

All of this comes together after a year or two of solid in the form of the government submitting to a major reform driven by figure heads planted by the MLA, but only after the league manages to eliminate the last key figures standing in their way.

Since so many heroes have either fallen from grace, stepped back from the system, or been killed in certain cases, Izuku ended up as an unwilling symbol of peace due to his connection to Katsuki.

Izuku is tasked by what’s left of the heroics system with stopping Katsuki from killing the final major figure whose all that’s standing in the way of the reform.

Izuku, in the end, makes the active choice to step aside, giving Katsuki the key he was given to the room so Katsuki can get to the person to kill them.

Izuku finally decided that he’s had enough of this too, and he’s done defending a broken system based on ingrained ideals that don’t add up.

Aizawa is watching inside the room up in the rafters, he’s stayed a hero of sorts but still functions like he did before.

Inside the room, Aizawa had the chance to cancel Katsuki’s quirk and stop him from killing the person. Instead, he chose to close his eyes and let Katsuki go through with it.

Katsuki looks up to where Aizawa is once it’s done, and Aizawa realizes he knew he was there the entire time. He hops down out into the open and speaks plainly as he always did.

“I’m sorry.” Is all he can really say. There’s so much he’s sorry for. For not speaking up. For letting Katsuki be put through so much. For letting him be driven to this.

Katsuki looks at him for a long, long moment, before he finally looks away and shrugs his shoulders. For the very first time in years, he speaks to a hero. To the only hero who ever tried for him, even if it wasn’t enough.

“S'okay. The problem was bigger than you every could’ve fixed.”

“I should’ve tried. I should’ve done more.”

Again, Katsuki needs a moment to consider that.

“Yeah. Probably.”

There’s silence for a few moments, and then Katsuki’s radio crackles to life. Dabi’s calling him back.

They share one more glance, and Katsuki turns on his heel and walks out.

Aizawa watches him go. There’s nothing else for him to do. His right to change this story ended when he failed to speak up all those years ago.

[himaboroshi736]

IronDad fic recs

Here. I’m a french reader, but I’ve read A LOT (like...a lot) of IronDad, so, eventually, here my fic rec. (I tried to class it by categories, but well...) (it’s gonna be very long, guys)

 Peter Parker has anxiety 

Don’t let me get me, by hopeless_hope 

He picks up his phone and sends a quick text. "hey, happy! i’m not feeling too hot today, so i think i’m gonna have to cancel. tell mr. stark i’m sorry!"

He stares at his phone, waiting for a response. It never comes, and Peter sighs sadly. There was a part of him, a small part, that really hoped he was wrong. His insides burn, and he curls up tighter into a ball and turns off his phone.

(No one’s going to try to contact him anyway.)

or

Anxiety has a way of convincing Peter that everyone hates him. Tony has a way of proving him wrong.

Midnight Oil, by @jolinarjackson

After everything that has happened to Peter over the last year - or five, really - he shouldn’t be worried about something as mundane as the ACT. When he fails it, though it sends him into a spiral of self-doubt, which only gets worse when Peter realizes that he doesn’t seem to be able to fix whatever is broken.

Tony Stark has anxiety 

do you even remember what the world looks like ?, by @iron--spider

Tony’s heart has been working on overdrive since this whole thing started. Friday has a countdown clock plastered on the heads up display, but it feels like hieroglyphics to him at this point, like some ancient language he could never master.

Because when Peter Parker is missing, things start losing their meaning real quick.

“Should be around here,” Rhodey says on the com. May is still on the other line, listening in, because once a certain amount of time goes by without word from Peter, things move into Extremely Worried Aunt territory. They’re already in Tony Is Panicking territory, and when both of those territories overlap it’s never a good time for anybody.

Time? What the hell is time? His mind is blanking numbers out entirely. Minutes are seconds are hours are years.

not like megatron, by @iron--spider

“Hi! This is Peter Parker, I can’t get to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll call you back later! Hopefully not too much later, but don’t get your hopes up!”

Tony knows that message by heart. He’s heard it hundreds of times, in a greyer world, and it sends shivers down his spine as he climbs into the car.

He doesn’t think about that place. That half-world. No way, that’s done, that’s over, that’s history.

“Hey, kid, don’t you know it’s bad etiquette to go and disappear on your birthday? Not allowed, really, really bad vibes from the universe. What’s going on with your suit? I wasn’t watching. Nope. Just got an alert. What’s going on? Uh, call me back.” He clears his throat and hangs up like a moron, driving out into the street.

Hypothermia trope (i really like it so if you have any suggestions...)

i knock the ice from my bones, by hopeless_hope

Peter tries to move his legs through the water, dread filling him when they don’t move, and he just hangs there, doing anything and everything he can not to focus on the feeling of ice clinging to his bones. He feels sluggish, the world blurring around him, and he rests his head on the ice, not even registering the cold anymore.

He’s just so damn tired.

“PETER!” he hears someone yell, but it’s all muffled, and he lazily drags his eyes up to see a figure descending towards him.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he thinks, This is not how my vacation was supposed to go.

or

While on what's supposed to be a relaxing vacation with the Starks, things for Peter quickly go south, and he finds himself on thin ice. Literally.

Ice Ice Baby, by @wolfypuppypiles

If Tony, Bucky or pretty much anybody that knew Peter had seen him that morning they would have smacked him upside the head. Helping people was great, everyone should give it a go, but when helping people puts you in danger it’s not so smart anymore.

AKA Peter can't get from Avenger tower to the subway without giving his winter clothes to homeless people and ends up with a severe case of hypothermia

Candle in the Window, by @madasthesea

Finals are over and Peter just wants to go home. The weather has other ideas.

Burn This Out, by @ephemeralstark

It's summer and Peter is free to be Spider-Man all day which is great, but it's summer and Peter is out as Spider-Man on the hottest day of the year which is not great.

Or, Peter gets heat stroke because he can't thermoregulate and things could not go worse for him.

(yeah, it’s not an hypothermia, but it’s linked to the fact that Peter can’t actually thermoregulate)

Post-Endgame (really like this trope too lmao)

the first birthday after, by iron_spider 

(Endgame spoilers. But The Thing doesn't happen.)

The rain falls harder and Tony turns, his neck creaking and cracking, and he sees Peter asleep over by the window. He’s holding a small, flat box, and he’s slowly slipping to the right side of the easy chair he’s in.

Tony thinks about letting him sleep, but he finds himself speaking anyway. “Pete,” he says, his voice rough and raspy.

Peter immediately startles awake. “Happy Birthday,” he says, almost like he’d fallen asleep practicing it, planning to say it as soon as he woke up. He blinks at Tony, shivering a little bit, and then he smiles. “Happy Birthday. Happy Birthday.”

Tony snorts, smiling back. “Thanks, bud,” he says.

Second Best, by Rowan_M

Tony had adjusted to parenthood quickly when Morgan came along, and was always conscious of making sure Peter isn't left out ... Almost always. When Peter gets hurt while taking care of Morgan, Tony obsess over his daughter and takes his anger out on Peter, without even checking to see if he was okay. Steve finds Peter later that night in serious pain and in need of immediate medical attention.

Or, Peter gets hurt while taking care of Morgan and Tony basically ignores him.

when you’re feeling empty keep me in your memory, by JkWriter

after everything with thanos he forgets it's his birthday. he just assumed everyone else did too.

All For You, by @ironxprince

Three weeks after the snap that saved the world, Peter learns he was the reason behind it. He learns that Tony risked death, and now has to live with the ramifications, both physical and mental, all because of him.

This doesn't sit right with him.

you save everybody, but who saves you ?, by @iron--spider

Tony doesn’t sleep, because he can’t, because too many things are plaguing him, most of all where Peter is and what he’s doing. Tony has a good view of the hallway through the windows to his room, and he stares and stares until his eyes cross, until he hallucinates, until he knows he’s going insane.

He sees Peter sneaking into the med bay at about four in the morning.

The kid’s mask is off and he’s got two short, harsh slashes across his cheek, and he’s bleeding from a slice across his neck. His suit is ripped in a few places and he’s holding onto his middle, and Tony can see his hands are shaking.

It’s like something splinters in Tony’s already broken brain, like his world narrows and there are hazy edges, both weakness and strength entwining in his veins when he sees Peter struggle up onto one of the beds in the main atrium, starting to tend his wounds without calling anybody to help.

BAMF Peter Parker 

Pizza, a Movie, and... an Attempted Kidnapping ?, by Pogokitten

“Tony. We’ll be fine,” Peter tells the man for what must be the tenth time in the last half hour.

Peter’s sitting on the couch of his and May’s apartment and building Legos with Morgan as they both watch their father’s methodical, yet anxious, pacing. He’s dressed to impress, as is Pepper who is watching the scene slightly exasperated.

“Are you sure? We can ditch the gala, kid. Just say the word,” Tony offers, halting in front of his kids.

Or: Tony and Pepper leave Peter in charge of Morgan while they go to their first gala since the third snap. Peter is expecting a calm night in with his adopted sister, but some thugs throw a wrench in his plans.

he’s good like that, by @iron--spider

“Get the hell outta here, boy,” the man says. “Or you’re gonna watch your boss die in front of you.” Then he grabs Tony by the shoulders hard, and shoves him down to his knees. The gun is louder now, like it’s filled with words that are eager to be shouted, and Tony winces when he feels the barrel press against the back of his neck. His knees weren’t ready to hit the ground that hard, and he tries to keep the pain from reaching his face.

He must fail, because Peter looks pissed.

“You’re not gonna shoot him, mister,” Peter says, somehow still trying to maintain a respectful tone, despite the clear anger written all over him.

stark robotics and technology conference, by @iron--spider

Peter leans against the wall while Tony chooses their floor, and the doors close. “Do you, uh, want me to do some interning stuff? Like go and get you coffee? Make sure the, uh—programs are all ready? Make sure the paintings are straight in the ballroom? Make sure the chairs are—”

Tony snorts. “Kid, I just thought you’d enjoy this. May told me about when it came through Queens but you two couldn’t make it because she was working and didn’t want you to go alone, and I thought, after all the shit you’ve been through lately, that you deserved something fun. No interning for you. That’s just an excuse.”

Peter remembers that. It was six months after Ben died, and he wasn’t gonna bother May too much about the conference. He didn’t know how much tickets cost anyways, or if kids his age could even go.

He really hung onto the idea of Iron Man after Ben died. Peter held him closer than ever.

Peter and Tony fighting 

dinner and a jailbreak, by killerqueenwrites

“I’m not your kid!” Peter shouts.

“Don’t walk away from me, I’m not done–“

“You’re not my dad!”

Peter fitting in after the Blip isn't as easy as Tony hoped it would be. He wants his kid back, but they can't seem to stop fighting.

and then Peter goes missing.

my old man, by parkrstark 

"I just want to help you. I want to help you understand what's wrong here and how to stop it. I used to be the same way until my father showed me how to be a man." He glanced back at Peter to sneer. "He's old enough to know better by now, but it's not your fault you didn't know how to teach him." "Teach him what?" Tony asked even though he didn't want to know the answer.

"Discipline, of course," Junior said with a wink.

--

Tony takes Peter on a weekend trip to try and change his mind about college and things go wrong. Then, they go even more wrong.

Between how it is and how it should be, by @frostysunflowers

''Doesn’t Captain Rogers ever…wonder,'' Peter winced as he fumbled for the right word, ''where you are?''

Bucky smirked. ''Steve’s a regular mother hen. Used to be me that worried about him.'' He gave Peter a pointed look. ''Better question is, isn’t Stark wondering where you are?''

Soulmates trope 

presumed dead, by killerqueenwrites 

Tony gets his first soulmark when he’s fifteen, his second when he's thirty. He's forty-six when his third appears, and forty-eight when it fades to grey.

did you see the flares in the sky ?, by justt-ppeachy

‘hi’  

One simple word was displayed proudly on the inside of his right wrist. Tony wasn’t sure when this word showed up or how long it had been there.

A line formed underneath the word and Tony could almost feel the pressure on his arm from the marker his soulmate was using to push one phrase from their skin into his.

‘i loev yu’

The letters were written slowly and messily as they showed up upon his wrist while he watched in disbelief. Not sure if he was hallucinating or just going insane, Tony rubbed at the writing, wondering if they would disappear once he looked again.

The words were barely recognizable, but they were still the best thing Tony had ever seen.

IronDad Fluff (yeah)

peter wearing tony’s hoodie, by killerqueenwrites 

Tony’s used to his clothes going missing. His MIT hoodie doesn’t often leave his closet, though, which is why he notices its absence straight away. There’s a lifetime of safety and comfort in this old hoodie, for both of them, and that’s all Tony could ever wish to give Peter.

Career Day, by @superhusbands4ever

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Peter’s enhanced senses picked up the familiar voice from outside the door. “I had a meeting this morning and then I got lost looking for the class… anyway, I’m here for Peter? Peter Parker?”

He frowned at hearing his name, still unsure what exactly was going on. He watched as his teacher continued to stand and stare out the door for a minute before seemingly remembering herself and taking a step back.

“Of course! If you could just go sit next to him until your turn, he’s in the back on the right side.”

The man stepped through the door and Peter gaped with the rest of the class as Tony Stark, in his signature suit and goatee, sporting a pair of red sunglasses and carrying a suitcase walked through the door.

Kryptonite, by forensicleaf 

The kid is acting weird.

Tony tries to figure it out.

father’s day, by @iron--spider 

It’s Father’s Day, and Tony never really had a father. Not in the real sense of the word, not in the way that counts.

Peter Parker doesn’t have a father, either. Not anymore, anyway, not since he was little, and the amount of years that have passed since then outweigh the amount of time he got with Richard Parker.

Tony wouldn’t call himself Peter’s dad. He wouldn’t, he doesn’t, he doesn’t think of himself that way, no way, no way.

He stares at himself in the mirror. He pulls down on his cheeks, makes his eyes water. He runs his hands over the roughness of his jaw and sorta hates everything about himself right now, because he’s acting like a goddamn idiot. It’s Father’s Day and he’s not a father. He doesn’t know why the hell he’s pining for something that isn’t his, shouldn’t be his, can never be his. He isn’t a father, he isn’t Peter’s father, so there’s no reason on God’s green earth for Peter and him to do something for Father’s Day.

ain’t no valley low enough, by @iron--spider (yes, again, ‘cuz she’s the best)

Peter snorts. “You know I didn’t apply anywhere in Florida.”

“Please, kid, you know all you have to do is write a beautiful essay with my recommendation attached to it and you’re in. You’ve got the scores.”

Peter has a list. Of all the places he applied to, all the places he got into. A lot of it was encouraged by the adult role models in his life, some of it by Ned daydreaming about places like California and Colorado. Mostly, Peter just applied everywhere he could think of, because he’s known for a long time that Tony was gonna help May pay for it, and he didn’t wanna limit his options. Thinking about college has been strange for him, strange to the extent that he had a full blown panic attack about it in the middle of Avengers taco night last month. He can’t really understand it, doesn’t get why it feels like the end of the world—because he’s experienced the end of the world, and it’s not which campus has a bowling alley and which school has circus classes. But he nearly blacked out all the same, sobbed in Tony’s arms on the balcony until Tony proposed this. The road trip.

and when it’s hard, i’ll place your head into my hands, by hopeless_hope

“Tony,” Pepper sing-songs to get his attention. “Your mother hen is showing.”

“What?” he snaps indignantly. “I am not a mother hen. This is just... concern. Of the average kind. Perfectly normal.”

“Of course,” Pepper humors him, and he shoots her a dirty look as he types out a quick text to Peter.

or

It's been five days since Tony's heard from Peter, who's away at college, and Tony is not coping well. (Neither is Peter.)

Peter likes cuddles (and Tony too, but he always denies it... until he can’t)

my arms will hold you (keep you safe and warm), by parkrstark 

“So, you’re telling me your body...is going through Oxytocin withdrawals?” Tony asked slowly.

“Cuddle withdrawals,” Peter corrected him. “Mr. Stark cuddles.”

TW : Rape/non-cons

make me strong, by parkrstark 

It all started when Tony introduced Peter to Skip Westcott. He just didn't know until it was too late.

(There is a lot more, but I can’t find it rn ;-;)

5+1 

5 times peter clung to tony, by parkrstark 

... and the one time tony clung to him.

You are my Dad, you’re my dad, boogiewoogiewoogie, by Hittinmiss

“Peter? What’s going on kid?” Tony asked, him popping up on the phone’s screen.

“Hey da-” Peter started automatically before immediately noticing his mistake, the look on Ned’s face proved that yes, he almost called Tony Stark dad. He needed to try recover quickly because the look on Tony’s face seemed confused, especially with his slight pause. “-aaaaaamn Mr. Stark I really like your shirt. Where’d you get it?”

Smooth.

---

5 times Peter called Tony Dad and the 1 time Tony called himself Dad

5 Times Tony Took Care of Peter..., by As_Clear_As_Crystal 

“Think if I coded a sign into your suit that says ‘Baby on Board,’ maybe criminals wouldn’t be so enthusiastic about murdering you?” Tony asks airily, poking at the bottom of Peter’s foot.

Peter halfheartedly kicks at Tony with his toe. (“That’s offensive, Mr. Stark.” )

- - -

aka: Five times Tony took care of Peter, and one time Peter took care of Tony.

5 times Peter is stuck with Tony, by @iron--spider

(...and one time he’s stuck alone.)

“I wonder if Pepper’s reported me missing yet,” Tony says, with an exaggerated sigh. “I wonder if this is some kind of scheme to kidnap me or something.”

“I think the ride’s just broken,” Peter says.

“Today of all goddamn days,” Tony says, exasperation clear in his voice and in his eyes. “Ruining our trip—”

“It’s not ruined,” Peter says. “Look, we’re hanging out."

“Real quality time,” Tony huffs. “Us, a few other trapped members of the general public, and a handful of animatronic pirates. Drunk pirates. Repeating themselves.”

5 times tony forgot peter was just a kid, by @parkrstark

...and the 1 time he didn't.

Or the one where it was hard for Tony to remember that the kid fighting next to him was still just a kid.

can i get a good night’s sleep ? can i PLEASE get a good night’s sleep ?, by peterstank 

The doors open and there’s Peter, perched on a gurney with his shirt gone and a whole lot of blood staining his side. He’s bent awkwardly, clearly trying to feel his way around whatever wound he’s got.

“Um,” Tony says, approaching, “What.”

Peter looks up and—yeah, he’s lost a lot more blood than Tony had originally thought. His face is completely fucking drained. “Hey,” he says, offering a jaunty wave before returning his attention to his side. “I got shot.”

“Oh!” Tony nods. “Oh, okay. What the fuck, kiddo?”

or: five times peter doesn’t sleep + the one time he does

Five Times Peter and Tony Had Each Other’s Back, by Sahiya

... and One Time They Needed Help.

Peter is Tony’s Biological Child

I Had the Dream Again, by Skeeter_110

Peter calls Tony in the middle of the night crying.

Congratulations, it’s a Boy, by capiocapi 

"Sir, I have the results.”

“Okay, Jarvis. Hit me.”

“It’s a match. 99.9% chance that he is your biological son, which is the percentage needed to be recognized by law as a biological parent.”

Tony’s stomach did a funny swooping dance. “Great. Congratulations to me then, eh? It’s a boy.”

You Are My Sunshine, by @iamconstantine

Tony Stark had always been a man of science and he always would be. It was his personal and fundamental belief that everything had an explanation. His eventual encounters with Norse gods, alien life, and sorcerers did kind of quake this a little bit, but still.

One thing that had always confounded him as the one thing that had no scientific explanation was fate. Murphy’s law, Finagle’s law, the butterfly effect, the domino effect, the snowball effect, and the wisest of all: “Shit happens.”

So how peculiar was it that one of the greatest things to ever happen to him began with a tray of champagne?

Serie i love you more than anything, by @iron--spider 

The highs and lows of Tony unexpectedly becoming a single dad at 31– from Peter’s early baby years, all the way past the defeat of Thanos

May’s abusive boyfriend trope 

A Peter Parker Problem, by @spagbol99

Peter Parker was back from the dead. At least that is what everybody told him. He'd been snapped out of existence until some sort of time travel and an active death wish by his mentor had saved him and the universe. Just your average sort of life for a 16 year old from Queens.

Peter comes back to find May has a husband and a kid. A new family he has to fit into. But he has done it before, he can do it again.

The only thing that feels solid is Tony: the Blip and fatherhood have mellowed him and Peter loves the bond they have now. He knows Tony would be there for him through anything. But Tony needs to focus on his own recovery - not small time Peter Parker problems. When things at home take a turn for the worse, Peter decides that he'll handle it himself. He is Spider-man. He's been to space and fought aliens. He can get through anything. After all, if May is happy, he is happy, right? Right?

(again, I’ve read a lot more but can’t find it...)

Peter Parker Whump (everyone’s favorite trope)

Danger Pizza, by alice_in_ink

The window was pushed open, and Iron Man’s head popped into his bedroom. “Here’s where I’m confused—why lock the front door but leave the fire-escape-accessible windows unlocked?” He clambered through said window. “Seems like a safety hazard.”

Peter eyed the metal suit as it straightened to a standing position. “Did you break into my window to kill me?”

The face plate lifted, and Tony’s eyes quickly looked over the teen. “Christ, kid. It looks like you’re halfway there.”

...

A wild night on patrol leaves Peter with a broken back, and boy, does he want to be able to move without dying. (So he calls Anthony Stark, obviously.)

If You Can’t Catch A Breath (You Can Take The Oxygen Straight Out Of My Own Chest), by @losingmymindtonight

"And I would hurry. Little Peter is about to be under quite a lot of pressure, and it might get a little hard to breathe.”

I’ve Got You, by @thedumbestavenger

Peter runs into a Copycat Vulture out on patrol, from there, everything escalates.

Meetings and Migraines, by AllThingsGeeky

Peter has another migraine at an unfortunate time and despite his best efforts he can’t ignore it forever.

The Most Important Thing In The World, by S0lstice

Peter’s door creaked and began to bend under the force of the crowbar and for the first time since regaining consciousness, fear began to press into him. Something very bad was happening and it was happening fast - too fast for his sluggish mind to keep up.

He went with his instincts instead, the first one always being, Help Mr. Stark.

Friendly Fire, by @jolinarjackson

Finding a careful truce with the government, the “rogue Avengers” are allowed to return to the Compound where they are put under house arrest. Peter coming to spend one week at the Compound during his summer break couldn’t have come at a more inconvenient time as the opportunity to bond a little more with his mentor is overshadowed by a conflict he doesn’t quite understand. When he starts to develop a mysterious medical condition, however, the former team is forced to work together – not just to protect Peter’s identity from the DODC, but also to find the cause for his illness before it’s too late.

“He’s my kid,” Tony said, his voice hoarse. “He’s my kid and I failed him.” He covered his eyes and took a few deep, shuddering breaths. “All I ever do is fail him.” Natasha knelt down in front of him and cupped his face in her hands, waiting for him to meet her eyes before she said, “Right now, he doesn’t need you to fix this. He doesn’t need you down here. He needs you over there, in the medbay, by his side.” She thumbed tears from the corners of his eyes and ignored the ones running down her own face. “You haven’t failed him yet.”

alarm bells and panic levels, by @iron--spider

Tony lands heavy on the dock, the wood splintering hard under the metal suit. He’s having trouble breathing, his nose is bleeding, he most definitely has more than the recommended amount of broken ribs. But none of that fucking matters. The sky is clear, the assholes are down, but there’s one thing missing.

He looks over his shoulder when Rhodey lands too. His suit is dented in a few places but other than that he looks alright. His face mask flips up and Tony lets his mask retract.

“Where’s Peter?” Tony asks, his voice rough with the amount of yelling he’s been doing. Fuck these stupid assholes. They were supposed to go mini-golfing today. The kid had been looking forward to it for weeks.

Rhodey looks around, breathing hard through his mouth. “I thought you knew.”

there’s something wrong, by @iron--spider

“I’m sorry, Pete,” Tony whispers. “We should have checked you for something like this when we were resetting your arm and checking on the concussion. Goddamnit. We didn’t think.”

“He poisoned us both?” Peter asks, trying to open one eye to look at him.

“Yeah,” Tony says, brushing Peter’s hair back from his forehead. “He’s dying. He got the brunt of it, a nice fucking cocktail of bullshit, including mercury and a bunch of other toxic shit—”

“Am I dying?” Peter whispers, voice breaking.

Fitting In (Tiny Spaces), by aloneintherain

Peter's trapped beneath a collapsed building during a mission, hurt and unable to move. Luckily, his comm still works. Unluckily, the Avengers don’t realise how bad of a state Peter is in, and Peter isn’t inclined to tell them.

“Spidey, they’ve got reinforcements. We’ve hit a bit of a snag here, and I don’t think anyone will be able to help you for a while. Think you can sit tight while we deal with this?”

The pressure on his lower back and legs was becoming too much. Peter swallowed thickly, fighting down panic. He could handle this.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “I can do that.”

Collections/Series (’cause I could make an inventory of all @iron--spider stories, you know, but you have to read all of her work, if you haven’t yet) (God she doesn’t even know who I am)

iron dad bingo, by @iron--spider

stay at home, by @iron--spider

whumptober, by @iron--spider

Whumptober 2019, by @marvelous-writer

Day in the life of the Iron Family, by @marvelous-writer 

The Tumblr Archives, by @losingmymindtonight

Everything comes back to you, by @losingmymindtonight

Nice work, kid, by @madasthesea

Irondad Bingo 2019, by sahiya 

The Adventures of Spidy-son and Iron-dad, by eva7673

Tony adopts Peter (why everyone kills May, btw ?)

Accepting the Tides, by @emma--anacortes

Tony had dragged Peter from the depths of despair after May's death. It was normal that he'd grown to care a little about him, right?

Yeah, okay. He freaking loved the kid.

So naturally he would feel a little weird when Richard Parker randomly shows up in Peter's life. Naturally he'd feel protective, nervous, and confused because where has Richard been all this time? And why does Tony feel sick every time he sees him around Peter?

All he knows is if Richard hurts his kid, Tony's gonna give him hell.

Series Out of Darkness, by @starryknight09

“Is this Peter Parker?”

“Yes…”

“This is Dr. Nguyen. I’m sorry but your aunt’s been in an accident and we’re going to need you to come to Queens Memorial as soon as you can.”

Peter's life shatters with a phone call. The last person he expects helps him pick up the pieces.

[coffee-imagines]

Secret Admirer

Pairing: Fred x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: With the Yule ball approaching every girl is waiting for the right guy to come up and ask her the question everyone wants. You turn down every guy that asks you, keeping it a secret why you really keep saying you don’t know who you’re going with yet. The reason can only be summed to one word. Letters.

———————————–

The second the Yule ball was announced you couldn’t help but get excited. There was only one person that you wanted to ask you, but you were sure that there was no chance in a million years that it would’ve happened. You had a crush on Fred Weasley ever since you started attending Hogwarts. The redheaded Weasley always caught your attention, the smile he wore always made you feel warm and fuzzy and you found that you could watch the boy for hours on end and still find something new to admire. You had all of your classes together and there were even times you sat next to each other that made your heart flutter. 

The first night after the announcement you found something tucked under your pillow making you scrunch up your nose in confusion. You were sure that you put your things away before you laid down, but when you pulled the piece of paper out you saw your name written on it in the neatest writing you’d ever seen. A small smile had already made its way onto your face before you could even open it, and grew as you took in the words on the paper.

Y/N,

I know this may come as a surprise, but the only way I could make myself do this was in a letter. You are the prettiest girl in our year, and it would mean the world to me if you went to the Yule ball with me. I’m not entirely sure if you’ll say yes in person, but I want you to get to know just how much I care about you before you make a decision. I’ll leave you these letters as often as I can, but if you get a date then I’ll understand you don’t want to go with me. I’ve liked you since the moment we met. The little scrunch of your nose when you laugh never fails to make me smile, and when you smile and get that twinkle in your eye it makes me wish I was the reason for making you look so happy. I know this flower isn’t much, but it made me think of you when I saw it so I hope you like it.

Love, Your Secret Admirer

Your smile faded when you saw the last few words. Secret? You raked your brain, trying to think of all the six year boys you knew, and the only one that you wanted to think of was Fred. It hadn’t seemed possible for him to be the one sending you these. The Fred Weasley you knew was outgoing and would have definitely come up to you and asked you himself, but the more you thought about it the more confused you got. You looked in the envelope, smiling when you saw a little flower stuck in the corner of the envelope.You couldn’t help but take it out and place it next to you on your bed, curling under your cover with the note in your hand and a smile on your face as you fell asleep.

“Ooooh someone’s got an admirer!” Someone’s squeal woke you up making you groan and sit up.

“What are you on about?” You asked groggily, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes. When you finally focused you’d seen the letter you received last night in your friends grasp while she scanned it. “Hey! That’s private.” You explained snatching it from her hands and putting it next to you.

“So who do you think it is?” She asked making you sigh and shake your head.

“I wish I knew.” You shrugged smiling at the flower on your bed.

“So are you going to wait?” She asked, making you look at her in confusion. “You know, are you going to wait and see who it is? Or are you going to get another date?” She clarified and you had to think. There was only one person you really wanted to ask you, and if it wasn’t him you couldn’t really think of who else you would’ve actually wanted to go with. 

“I’ll probably wait.” You smiled, picking up the flower and playing with it in between your fingers.

“You have to wear that.” She explained pointing to the flower. 

“What? Why?” You asked, looking at her like she was crazy.

“You’re impossible.” Your friend groaned. “Wear it so whoever he is knows that he has a chance.” She explained and you let out a small ‘oh’ looking down at the flower.

The whole day you wore it tucked behind your ear and you couldn’t believe the amount of people that asked you why you would even have it in your ear. You couldn’t bring yourself to let anyone else know what the flower was actually representing. Your friend had other ideas, leaning over to the twins during class and whispering about your secret admirer making you groan and hide your face in embarrassment.

“So you’re not going to say yes to any of the guys that ask you?” George asked, his eyes concentrating on the flower in your hair. 

“There’s only one guy I want to ask me and I don’t think he will so yeah. The guy in the letter sounds sweet anyway so I have nothing to lose right?” You explained with a smile, going back to your work. You missed the nudge that George gave Fred and they both went back to work, Fred getting out a piece of paper as he started writing something unrelated to any of the work in class. 

“Hey Y/N!” You heard someone call your name during lunch making you look up. 

“Hey Ron what’s up?” You asked, putting the cup you had in your hand back down on the table. 

“Well you’re a girl…” He started making his two brothers laugh and snort next to you. “Do you want to go to the Yule ball with me?” He asked and you heard someone choke on their drink next to you making you look over and see Fred. 

“No Ron, sorry I… it’s complicated.” You explained, not wanting to give away too much. “Maybe you should ask Hermione?” You tried, hoping you’d defuse the tension. 

“Apparently she’s got a date, which I don’t believe.” He explained making you shrug. You’d been too worried about other things to know who any of the other girls were going with, particularly if a certain red headed twin had asked anyone yet. He walked away without another word, and the twins went ballistic next to you. 

“Turned down by Granger?” Fred wheezed making you hit his chest, but you couldn’t help the smile on your face. Fred wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you felt your face heat up. “You excited for the ball?” He asked and you shrugged, patting his arm before you stood up.

“I think nervous is more like it.” You explained messing up both of the twins’ hair on your way to the common room.

That night you found another note under your pillow and you quickly tore it open. There was something exciting about actually having someone take time out of their day to write something to you. Part of you wanted to know who the person was so you could write them back and get to know them, but the other part liked the mystery you were going to have to deal with until they revealed who they were.

Y/N,

You looked really beautiful wearing the flower in your hair today. I wanted to tell you who I was, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’ve liked you for so long, and I suppose these letters make it easier to talk to you about how I feel. I think I’m in love with you. I know I love you, and I’ve known for a while but the relationship I have with you is already really great and I couldn’t forgive myself if I messed that up. You are the most perfect girl I’ve ever met, and I could never imagine you liking a guy like me. I know the ball is coming soon, and I hope you’re not disappointed when you see that your date is me. I got this locket the first time I wanted to tell you how I felt, but I chickened out. I hope that you like it.

Love, Your Secret Admirer

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. The relationship you had now? You thought of all the guys you at least talked to regularly and again your mind landed on Fred. You shook your head and fell back so your head was on your pillow and you looked up at the ceiling. There was no way it could’ve been Fred, and you figured your mind was just trying to find an excuse to admire the boy even more than you already did. You grabbed the locket out of the envelope and put it on, falling asleep with your hand tightly wrapped around it.

Everyday you received a letter and read it before bed. You also received a few presents here and there, but you cared more about the words on the page than actually getting something else. You also kept getting asked by almost every guy who hadn’t found a date yet, news spreading that you still hadn’t confirmed who you were going to go with. You still wish you knew who the person writing the letters was, but you didn’t want to know if the answer wasn’t what you wanted it to be.

“Fred?” You asked the day of the ball making the boy look up from what he was doing.

“Yeah? Everything alright?” He asked, adding the second question when he saw the look of worry on your face.

“Well… I mean you haven’t… you haven’t exactly...” You stuttered out biting the inside of your cheek in frustration when you couldn’t get out the question. “You haven’t mentioned who you’re going with tonight.” You explained slowly, trying not to jumble your words. “Who are you going with?” You asked, your fingers digging into your thigh under the table.

“Oh.” Fred blushed and scratched the back of his neck. “I’m going with this girl who’s really smart, beautiful, caring, and loving. She makes me smile everyday, and she’s everything you could hope for.” He explained with a smile and a twinkle in his eye making your breath hitch in your throat and your stomach twist.

“Oh… she sounds lovely.” You explained quietly with a fake smile before standing up. “Um… excuse me.” You whispered, making your way out of the room, sprinting to your room as though your life depended on it as soon as you were out of sight of the older twin.

You threw yourself onto your bed and buried your face in the pillow finally letting all the sobs come out. You thought you were foolish to think there was even a chance that the letters could be from Fred, but you had wanted it so bad that you started to believe and fantasize about it. Now that you knew Fred was going with someone who made him smile wider than you’d ever seen him you felt like your dreams had been ripped out of you. When your hand found another envelope tucked under your pillow you wiped your tears and sat up. You took a shaky breath to calm yourself down and opened the letter. If you couldn’t go with Fred, you were happy that there was someone who still thought you were amazing and went through so much trouble to actually get you to go with them.

Y/N,

I know that this may have come quicker than either of us probably realized, and I am very nervous to finally reveal myself to you. You still don’t have to meet you if you decide to change your mind at the last minute, but if not then I’ll meet you at the bottom of the steps.

Love, Your Secret Admirer

Your heart beat out of your chest when you realized that just about everyone was already coming back to get dressed. You quickly tucked the letter away with the others and pushed your thoughts of Fred to the back of your mind. The only thing you could focus on was the fact that you really didn’t know who was going to show up at the bottom of those steps. For all you knew the whole thing could have been a prank just to embarrass you in front of the whole school. Although you knew the latter could be true, no one would have dared putting that much thought and time into a prank. Right?

You were sitting at the bottom of the steps, your fingers being the only thing you focused on while you waited. It felt like you were waiting for hours, every person that passed by left you feeling more anxious than the last, the fear that you may have been set up getting greater by the minute. It wasn’t until someone sat down next to you that all your worries went away. You looked to your right and you froze, almost having to pinch yourself to be sure it was real.

“You look beautiful.” Fred smiled, making a blush form on your face, and you still couldn’t get over the fact that he was the one sitting next to you.

“You?” You asked, your mouth hanging open slightly.

“Me.” He nodded before standing up and holding his hand out for you to grab. “What do you say?” He asked and it hadn’t been until then that you saw just how much his hand was shaking.

“Yeah.” You nodded, smiling ear to ear as you grabbed his hand and followed him inside.

You both kept quiet for a while, watching everyone dance while you both sat down. You sipped at your punch slowly, glancing over at Fred every now and then, still not believing it was true. Anytime your eyes met you both would look away, blushes setting into both of your cheeks.

“Let’s dance.” Fred spoke after a while, standing up and grabbing your hand. You nodded and followed him. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you in person. I wasn’t sure you would’ve said yes.” He finally admitted once you were face to face.

“I was hoping it was you the whole time, but when you told me that you were going with someone…” You trailed, shaking your head with a small laugh. “I didn’t realize you were talking about me.” You continued, your arms wrapped around Fred’s shoulders as you both moved to the beat of the music.

“I’ve had that locket for years.” Fred admitted, his eyes falling from your face to the locket you had dangling around your neck. “After the night I gave it to you I figured you hadn’t opened it, or you would’ve known it was me.” He explained, grabbing it before lifting it up and opening it, showing you a picture of you and him inside.

“I didn’t know it opened.” You whispered shyly, grabbing it from his grip and smiling at the picture of the both of you from your third year when you had visited his house for the first time.

You thought about all of the years you knew Fred, trying to pinpoint exactly when you fell for him, and more specifically when he fell for you. You knew your answer was the second he stood up for you in your first year, but you didn’t believe you’d ever done anything special for Fred to fall for you. You hardly even believed that he truly meant all of the things he wrote in all of the letters. The blush from all the times you read them coming back in that moment.

You seemed to not be giving yourself enough credit. Being the only person who had ever listened to both of the twins talk about the joke shop they had wanted to run. Always helping and giving them ideas when they did test products. You’d even let them use you as a test subject on some of their pranks even though they insisted they could both do it. You always encouraged them even though everyone else around them told them it wasn’t the best idea.

“Did you mean all those things you said in the letters?” You asked, your head tilting up to look at the redhead who was already smiling down at you

“Every word.” Fred whispered with a smile, still leading both of you as he leaned down and pulled you in for a kiss.

[actlikeyoudidntdoit]

ASSASSIN’S MODERN DAY PROFESSIONS

—————————————————

ALTAÏR

College Professor

-We all know that Altaïr has spent most of his life teaching, so what better job does he have than a college professor?

-He knows what he’s talking about, that much is certain, but sometimes he gets a little too lost in his lesson to realize that his students are scratching their heads. So it’s normal to have students staying after class, but they leave understanding every word of what he said.

-He’s not the fun teacher, but he’ll be able to teach you what you need and still remember it at the end of the day.

-He’s pretty lenient, and even with the obnoxious students who cause a scene, he calmly gets them to at least do their work.

-Other teachers always use him as a reference when it comes to the perfect teacher.

EZIO AUDITORE

-I can see Ezio being a public speaker since he’s not all that scared of crowds and spends a lot of time giving advice, so I think he’d really enjoy being able to help a crowd of people whose lives are falling apart

-Ezio would be the single anchor in a sea of storms because he always seems to have an answer for everything. He’s a man whose words are turned into inspirational quotes that people hang on their walls.

-When he says that things will be okay, no one doubts him since they know that he lost his father and his brothers very early on and that it took years for Ezio to accept the loss the way he had. If he could soldier through it, why couldn’t they?

-He doesn’t involve himself in politics, finding them to be a waste of time and breath despite how many people ask for his input on the political status of the country he’s staying in.

-He speaks to a lot of people in private, letting them speak their minds and giving his advice if they want it. He’s a therapist without a license, and you always feel hopeful about life leaving his office.

Connor

Construction or Sports

-This boy was designed for heavy work, and I’ve heard some good points in saying that not only would he be amazing at sports, but he’d also really enjoy it too.

-In my personal headcanon, I think he’d be a good construction worker as well. Not the high end kind that build skyscrapers or anything, but I can see him building simple houses for small communities, taking the lower jobs that can’t afford much help like the sweetheart he is. He definitely volunteers to make houses for the homeless.

-Since most of the homeless he helps don’t have much money, he makes sure to offer them baked goods because he’s definitely a baker.

Edward Kenway

-As a young man, he joins the navy

-Once he’s on his own, he buys his own boat and treats it like royalty.

-He’s not a pirate himself, but he does let less legal people on board for a price. At the time, it was just an easy cash pay since people paid good money when they were desperate.

-When he’s older and gets a grip on some of the people he’s helping (like the REALLY bad criminals) he quickly lets it go.

-Yet after seeing some of the more decent people and the places they were running from, I can see him being a sort of smuggler, but instead of smuggling drugs or weapons, he sells medicines, canned foods, and clothes to the regions where they’re scarce or hard to pay for.

-When he’s older and found a fortune over time, he starts up his own official charity, hiring various sailers to sail supplies to more places than he himself could alone.

SHAY CORMAC

-Okay, I have to say it. Shay would DEFINITELY be an FBI spy. Maybe I haven’t thought of it as heavily as I could, but he just strikes me as a man who could kill someone in plain sight and still not be seen.

-He already knows everything he can about infiltrating and getting vital information

-He knows exactly how to manipulate people to get what he wants.

-He’s like Macgyver but as an agent.

-He does things that make sleeping at night impossible, but he tells himself that every long night for him is another person somewhere else having a peaceful night, and peaceful nights means he’s doing his job. Right?

-Constantly questions his morals, but he can’t bring himself to stop, not knowing that he’d do if he stopped, because at least here he’s doing something. He’s contributing.

-That and maybe I might or might not want to see Shay in a suit 🤷‍♀️

AVELINE

-Actress. And a damn good one. She’s one of the kind of people who get paid millions each job and gives most of her cash on people who really need it. Not only that, she’s a fan favorite everywhere.

-She takes extra jobs in smaller businesses barely staying afloat, and public morality boosts has nothing to do with it. In fact, she keeps her fame life out of everything, choosing to see it just as another job.

-I can see her sharing similarities of Zendaya or Zoe Zaldana

ARNO DORIAN

-High school teacher or actor, I can’t decide.

-Because let’s be honest, this guys brain is more wrinkled than a raisin. He knows his stuff.

-He’s good at simplifying what he’s saying, and that happens to be a very useful trait when it comes to teaching.

-If he was a teacher, he’d be a damn good one, that’s for sure. No one will fail his class because he’s so good at explaining things, and he’d be the one who actually cares for his students.

-When it comes to acting... just admit that Arno’s a theater boy through and through. If you need proof, he’s the only one with a crazy amount of fancy robes and colors. FOR GODS SAKE HE OWNS A THEATER! So on modern day, I could totally see him as an actor as well.

-He’d be the Ewan Mcgregor of the modern day, because everyone recognizes him from SOMEWHERE because he’s really tested his acting ability on multiple various roles. Well read, charming, and level headed, he’d totally rock being an actor. He’s good friends with Aveline, and when they both have time in their busy schedules, they stop by for coffee and fill each other in on their life.

JACOB

-Boxing

-I saw the photoshops of Jacob in boxer life, and I have not been the same because oh my god that is amazing.

-but absolutely he’d be a boxer. He’s the shortest guy in the entire match, but he doesn’t need a stool to knock you on your ass before you can laugh about it.

-His opponents are lucky shattering bones is against the rules because he knows how to make someone wish their dad wore a condom.

-A lot of people think that his rounds must be rigged, and his sister had to physically hold him back every time Jacob threatened to give him a close up of how ‘rigged’ his fights were.

-Jacobs a powder keg, so it doesn’t take much to make him explode, and a lot of the less respectful people he has to fight picks particularly sore spots to do just that.

-He might be pissed, but his punch isn’t the only thing that stings. He knows exactly what words to use, and when they’ve gone too far, he doesn’t hold back.

-Might have a temper, but he has a good heart despite it all. He visits schools and completely turns his personality around with kids. He signs autographs, takes pictures, and makes sure that every one of them have a fun day because he knows that there’s some kids in this school that don’t have those kinds of days. He pays the school for field days each time, making sure they all get out. They bring out the scooters, parachutes, capture the flag, and ‘wrestling’ matches for the kids who want to face him. He loses every time. He never has a bigger smile on his face than when he has children fans walk up to him.

EVIE

-She is totally a lawyer and you can’t change my mind.

-Logic and Facts are her strongest weapons, and so far she has yet to lose a debate.

-Every other lawyer knows that seeing Evie walk into court is an instant death sentence, because like her brother, her words are sharp as a knife and her mind is even sharper.

-If they didn’t look identical, no one would believe that she would be related with Jacob the hot headed boxer, because she was level as water and was near impossible to make angry, but god help the poor sod that presses her.

-Her clients almost always get the best case scenario with Evie by their side by how good she is.

-Also like her brother, children are her weak spot, and her hard composure melts whenever she needs to speak to a child in the witness post, making sure that the child feel comfortable unlike the others that drill the kid with questions when they’re too skittish to answer. She takes her time and gets the kid feeling safe, and gently asks their side.

-Evie might not do it as a profession, but Evie has beaten Jacob in the boxing ring in the gym. She knows damn well how to handle herself, knowing she’d need it since she’d be fighting corrupt politicians or gang members who have too often tried attempts at her life. Every time she emerged unscathed, using the attempt at even more evidence against them and insuring a spot in jail. No one dared try attacking her again after that.

BAYEK

-I’m thinking police officer or motivational speaker for trauma.

-Either way, he’s a guardian who takes care of the people he’s in charge of. He knows words well, and having been down the dark path himself, he knows exactly what people experience and what they want to hear.

-Be the change you want to see in the world, and that’s exactly what he’s doing.

-He’d be a well respected officer, and he’s not afraid of telling off a comrade if someone is wrongfully accused. He’s not very popular in the police station, but as long as he’s doing his job, he’s satisfied.

-He’s saved several people over the course in his life, and his word is well honored since he’s on no ones side. He sees things as what they are and doesn’t twist events he disagreed with to his point of view. Even if it hurts him personally, he doesn’t lie.

-He’s divorced, but they’re still best friends with each other and visit when they can.

AYA (ran out of gifs. Sorry)

-She is hands down a self defense teacher for women

-She sells hidden self defense tools for less than ten dollars, always sure to keep constantly supply of them since many have confessed that they’ve saved them from dangerous situations.

-Like her former husband, she’s a protector and makes sure she provides her students with the best.

-She teaches children what to do if they ever get grabbed, and she’s had many parents in years thanking her when that information ended up saving their child’s life.

ALEXIOS

-Hands down he is a stunt double

- Preferably Arno’s since he relies more on flexibility than brute strength. Then there’s the fact that they look similar enough in features

-He does the moves that would probably be safer if they were just CGI, but he hates those computers with a passion, preferring to do the real thing instead of giving out something fake. He’s broken more bones than he can count, and the companies he works with always have a medic on standby when something goes wrong.

-They tried convincing him that they only needed him for a few spots, but after realizing that he wanted this (and him assuring them that he doesn’t bother with suing), they let him do his thing. The results are fruitful since the most nitpicky movie fans are absolutely thrilled when there’s a particular move done right.

-He teaches Arno a good few things about how to do action scenes, and they’re definitely good friends.

KASSANDRA

-Roller Derby

-She lives for throwing people and smacking them without being judged for it, so the Derby’s her safe spot.

-Everyone on the opposing team is terrified of her, always scared when they see her devilish smile, knowing that they’re about to get their asses handed to them. Like her brother, she’s an adrenaline junky, and when she’s not doing the derby, she’s going off into car races in a water trench. She’s surprisingly very good with cars too, knowing the inside and out of a car like the back of her hand.

-She loves it when men try to catcall her. It gives her a perfect opportunity to punch them in the face.

-She loves the races themselves because no one expects it. Sometimes she pretends to act like a beginner and absolutely slaughter them, giving them a nice wink before driving out with her cash.

-Only has a soft spot for the girl who visits her on weekends. She’s practically her older sister, and there will be hell to pay if her favorite kid gets hurt in any way.

EIVOR

-BACA(Bikers Against Child Abuse)

-The moment I saw this, I instantly thought about them.

-they would absolutely be a part of this

-Looking all badass in leather while turning into a softie for children? That’s Eivors entire character right there.

-Eivors not afraid to get physical with an abuser. They’d beat the abuser to a pulp and right after take the child out for ice cream.

-No one messes with Eivor, knowing that their lenience was stretched only for children. Anyone else tried to pressure her? Your teeth would be shattered and they’d wear the bits for a necklace.

-Children are much more brave around them because they’re tougher than their parent and on their side, so they’re not afraid to give them to the police

[lovelylogans]

parallax

parallax, noun: the apparent offset of a foreground object against the background when your perspective changes. at a given instant, the moon appears among different stars for observers at widely separated locations on earth. astronomers directly calculate the distance to a nearby star by measuring its incredibly small positional changes (its parallax) as earth orbits the sun.

warnings: staying up late, unhealthy study habits, please let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairing: virgil/logan

word count: 2,211

notes: this is for day 2 of @analogicalweek! the prompt of the day is “song/stars” and i have decided to write about stars! please enjoy!

⁂

“Barlow lens,” Virgil reads off the notecard.

“A lens that’s placed into the focusing tube to effectively double or triple a telescope’s focal length and, in turn, the magnification of any eyepiece used with it,” Logan recites. His glasses are off, his hands are over his eyes, and if not for the absurd amounts of coffee they had both consumed and the bright lights of the empty classroom they are occupying, Logan would probably fall asleep.

If not for the fact that Logan loves astronomy so much, he would gladly fold it in for the night and get some much-needed rest. As it is, Virgil is also in his class, and he does not hold the same inclination for the subject.

And also, Logan has a massive crush on Virgil and would likely do anything he asks, except Virgil doesn’t know that part. He likely thinks that Logan is helping him study because of his deep love of science.

“Good. Me now.”

Logan picks up a notecard at random and squints it, resettling his glasses on his nose. “Nebula.”

“Great clouds of glowing gas, lit up by stars inside or nearby.”

“Dark nebula?”

“Not lit up and are visible only because they block the light of stars behind them.”

“Latin for?”

“Cloud.”

“Good,” Logan says, tucking the notecard at the bottom of the pile, or as close as a pile as he can get. Their study materials have made quite a mess. The notecards that Logan made are sprawled across the table, some tucked under their notebooks, and Virgil’s pens are tossed along the table within easy reach. The whiteboard is already filled up with mixtures of both of their handwriting, highlighting key concepts that they’d wanted to go through in this study session. They’re almost all crossed out—all that’s left is general review of key terms.

“Oh, here’s a hard one for you,” Virgil says. His black hair is sticking up in tufts, because he’s been running his hands through it and tugging at the ends for the entirety of their marathon study session. It makes him look very cute. “Albedo feature, and tell me a prominent one.”

“A large area on the surface of a reflecting object that shows a significant contrast in brightness or darkness compared to adjacent areas,” Logan says. “And Syrtis Major, on Mars.”

“You didn’t even hesitate,” Virgil says. “You’re definitely gonna ace this final.”

“Well, obviously,” Logan says, and it only occurs to him to perhaps pretend at humbleness when Virgil snorts. Logan feels his face heat, and he says, “I mean—”

“Nah, nah, it’s cool,” Virgil says, stretching out his long, pale arms, and Logan hopes he isn’t too obvious as he stares at the subtle lines of his biceps, his triceps, his flexor carpi radialis. He had taken off his hoodie two hours in, and his binder not long after that, leaving him in a loose black cap-sleeved t-shirt. Seeing him in it is its own unique brand of torture. Surely if he can manage to recall terms while staring at Virgil’s collarbones and the hollow of his throat he will be able to withstand whatever foot-tapping and pencil-chewing will occur in the large lecture hall during their final.

“You’re the one who’s gonna go for a doctorate in this, it makes sense that you’re incredible at it,” Virgil says. “I know it’s a big deal for you.”

“It is,” Logan says. Virgil knows this. They know quite a lot about each others’ life stories—Logan is the first in his family to attend college in America, let alone achieve a doctorate here. His parents immigrated from Nigeria shortly after his birth and all of them have worked hard—his parents, to provide a life for him here, Logan, to get into a good university in the first place.

“I’m the one who has to worry about making it out of their lab elective with a decent enough grade.” 

He knows that Virgil works hard, too. Their scholarship depends on maintaining a certain grade point average. There is no way Virgil would have achieved this scholarship if he did not work hard, let alone the fact that they have been studying in each others’ presence for the entire school year.

“You’ve done wonderfully this semester,” Logan says stubbornly. “The only way you will fail is if they feed the scantron in wrong while they’re grading and that’s easily remedied.”

Virgil’s brow quirks. “Thanks, specs,” he says, then makes a face, as if realizing how much he sounded like Roman just then.

“It’s just,” Virgil says, then hesitates before he shrugs and looks down at his notebook, avoiding Logan’s eyes. “I dunno. Um, I never really thought college would be an option, ‘till I got my scholarships.”

Logan, familiar with this story, just nods.

“And I,” he sighs, before he says in a whisper, “I really like it here. At university. I didn’t expect to like it so much. I need—if I want to stay, and I do. I need those good grades. And I want to stay, and the scholarship’s let me put aside enough money so I nearly have enough for top surgery, which I won’t be able to do if I lose my scholarship. So. I’m a bit.” A drum of his fingers. “A bit anxious.”

Logan surveys Virgil for a few seconds.

Virgil’s black bangs has swept over his face, obscuring most of his expression from Logan’s view. But he can see the muscle in Virgil’s jaw jumping, his shoulders practically hiked up to his ears. Even without the verbal acknowledgement, Virgil is portraying enough of the physical signs of anxiety that is obvious even to Logan’s emotionally oblivious eye.

Logan pauses, before he reaches across and places his hand on Virgil’s wrist. He likes the feel of it there—Virgil’s skin, chilled from the air conditioning, cooling Logan’s warm palm. He likes the look of it, too, the contrast of them, Logan’s skin seeming even darker against Virgil’s paleness. Considering Logan is black, this is something of a feat, and Virgil would likely have some sort of joke about how he is so absurdly pale that he manages to refract light.

Virgil looks up and chuckles awkwardly.

“But, y’know,” he says. “When am I not a bit anxious, right?”

He does not dislodge Logan’s hand, though. Instead he covers Logan’s hand with his own—his hand is quite large, and it is also cool from the air conditioning. The temperature of Virgil’s hand does not quite explain the jolt in Logan’s stomach.

Logan considers him for a few more moments.

“I have another astronomical term for you to learn,” Logan says decisively, and slides off the desk, standing on his own two feet “But you’ll have to follow me to learn it.”

Virgil’s lip quirks up. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Virgil smile widens. “All right, then.”

Logan’s stomach flutters, and he quickly turns his attention to gathering his notecards and notebooks as tidily and swiftly as possible, placing them into his backpack.

Virgil puts all of his things in his own backpack, and when Logan asks him if he’s ready, he simply ambles along after Logan as they walk out of the empty, quiet building on their university campus’ quadrangle. 

Logan leads them to the center of the grassy area, looking around, before he nods decisively and sets his backpack on the ground. He opens a pocket and fishes out the compact travel blanket he has in there.

Virgil laughs as Logan unfolds it. “You have a blanket in there?”

“Of course I have a blanket in here,” Logan says, shaking out the blanket before he lays it out on the grass. “Blankets are ideal for providing significant warmth and offering protection from hypothermia and precipitation.”

“You and your Mary Poppins backpack,” Virgil says, but there is a tone in his voice that Logan... hesitates to describe.

Is it, perhaps, fondness?

No. Logan is likely projecting his crush onto Virgil. He has a tendency to do that. Wishful thinking has been studied by various disciplines of thought and it is a very common occurrence for many people.

Logan wishes it would not be so common for him, though.

Virgil sits on the blanket, then.

“So,” he prompts. “That astronomical term you wanted to teach me?”

Logan smiles, just a little.

“Star party,” he says. “A gathering of amateur astronomers for the purpose of observing objects and events in the sky.”

He tilts back so he’s lying down on his back. He would be looking directly up at the sky, but he tilts his head so he can see Virgil instead.

Virgil’s smile has gone soft. “You want to star-gaze with me?”

As an answer, Logan pats the blanket, as a silent entreatment for Virgil to lie back. Virgil grins, shaking his head, before he acquiesces, settling on the blanket.

It would be so easy to reach over and touch him. It would be only a little bit more effort to roll and balance himself on his elbows, so his face hovers above Virgil’s. And from there it would just be the slightest downward tilt—

Logan redirects his attention to the night sky.

Though it is, obviously, not quite as good a view as they would have had in a more rural location—light pollution is a given on such a large campus—it is still quite a nice night. There are very little clouds in the sky and it is late enough that the moon hangs almost directly overhead. 

Logan points upward at a slight slant, using his right arm rather than his left, so that he will be able to look over and see Virgil’s face without having to lower his arm. “Polaris.”

Virgil shifts, close enough that it would only take the slightest jostle for their arms to touch. “The north star,” he says, and squints up at the sky. “Which means,” he reaches up to take Logan’s wrist in hand, using his outer arm, not the arm that is nearly touching Logan’s, and directs it slightly and Logan can’t breathe, “that Ursa Minor is right over here. Shame we can’t really see it.”

Logan hesitates, biting his lip, before he directs both of their hands again. 

“We can slightly see Ursa Major, though.”

Virgil shifts again, his shoulder pressed against Logan’s. “Huh. We sure can.”

Logan traces the shape in the sky, Virgil’s hand cool, loosely wrapped around his wrist. Logan hopes that Virgil cannot feel how quick his pulse is. “Colloquially known as the Big Dipper.”

Virgil shifts again. Their legs are pressed together now.

Logan continues, trying his hardest not to react, “Though of course, the Big Dipper is only part of Ursa Major. An easy point to find so you can see the rest of the Big Bear, which is—which is a more direct title for Ursa Major.”

“Mhm,” Virgil hums. He can feel the warmth of Virgil’s breath at the shell of his ear. “Hey, I think I see Orion?”

Logan would look up at the sky to continue his quasi-lecture, but instead he turns his head so that he will be able to see Virgil.

Virgil turns at the same time. There is a soft smile on his face.

Logan swallows hard. A hand around his wrist. Continually shifting closer to touch him. What he’d thought might be fondness in Virgil’s voice.

Conjecture: perhaps... Logan isn’t submitting to wishful thinking. Perhaps Logan is simply observing.

“Virgil?” He whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Are you flirting with me?”

Virgil’s eyes crinkle up as his smile widens.

“Logan, I’ve been trying to flirt with you all semester.”

“Oh,” he breathes out. “Okay.”

Virgil lowers their hands from pointing at the sky so their arms rest upon their bodies, and he shifts his hands so that his fingers intertwine with Logan’s.

“I really like you,” Virgil says. His voice is trembling. His hand is shaking in Logan’s.

Logan’s eyes sting. He squeezes Virgil’s hand tightly. “I really like you too.”

Virgil laughs, but it sounds relieved more than anything.

“Um, okay,” Virgil says, looking a little stunned, as if he did not expect this to go as well as it is going. It’s very likely he did not, considering his anxiety disorder. “Cool. That’s—yeah. Great. Um. Wow.”

“I,” Logan says, and he bites his lip. “I do not have much experience with this. Liking boys. Dating, at all. I would like to have that experience with you. Would it be acceptable if I were to kiss you right now?”

“Incredibly,” Virgil says, “Incredibly acceptable.”

Logan releases Virgil’s hand, and carefully rolls so that he is hovering over Virgil the best he can. He has never approached kissing anyone like this before.

He has never kissed anyone before.

Logan takes in a deep breath, swallows hard, and figures he may as well just make an attempt. His heart is thundering in his chest. His hands are sweaty. He angles his face toward Virgil’s and closes his eyes.

Virgil’s hand settles on Logan’s back, and their lips meet.

And very suddenly, the two activities presented to Logan right now are star-gazing or kissing Virgil. And now he is kissing Virgil. He finds that he does not want to stop kissing Virgil.

Star-gazing would have to wait.

[fanfic-wonderland]

Hi, if you’re still taking requests, I have one to send in for Harry Potter! The reader is maybe a slytherin and is friends with the trio but is the most close to Harry. One day in potions class, she could no longer keep her cool when snape picks on Harry and sticks up for by being disruptive. She quickly stands from her desk and says to Snape, “Shut the f*ck up!”’at the top of her lungs before getting sent to the headmaster with Harry. Both of them are off the hook after explaining to the headmaster what happened and why they were there. 😂 (So Snape basically loses in this one)

(A/N): Thank you for the idea! Hope you like it!

Warnings: Language

Word count: 1.5k

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"Potter," Professor Snape's voice echoes around the classroom and, naturally, everyone's attention turns to his tall figure. It's no surprise when you see that his eyes are fixed upon a certain green-eyed boy, who quickly snaps his head up at the sound of his name. "Did you happen to drink a Sleeping Draught on your way here, or is my class just that unamusing to you that you can't keep your eyes open?"

Harry looks like he wants to say something that probably would cost him an instant trip to detention but he bites the inside of his cheek, instead. "No, sir. Sorry."

Professor Snape scoffs. "Of course, and I'll have to let it slide just because the 'Chosen One' thinks that everything can be fixed by simply saying sorry. Ten points from Gryffindor."

"But-"

"Shall I make it twenty?" Snape snaps.

Harry's shoulders drop and he leans back on his chair, arms folded across his chest. On his left side, Ron looks like he wants to protest and, on his right side, Hermione is sitting up straight but avoiding eye contact with the oh-so-great Potions master. You hear Draco snickering behind you, Crabbe and Goyle automatically following his lead. You roll your eyes before turning to them. "Grow up, will you? It's really not that funny."

Draco's gaze falls on your annoyed look and he sneers. "Of course, you always have to go to his rescue, right?"

"If standing up for unfair treatment towards a student is considered 'going to their rescue', then yes, you are absolutely right."

"You better watch your tone when you talk to me, or I will tell my father that-"

"Suck my dick, Malfoy."

The class goes by and It's finally time to start making the potion, your favorite part. As you throw in some powdered Griffin claw into your cauldron, you catch a glance at how the Golden Trio is doing. Hermione, as usual, looks calm and confident while making her potion; Harry and Ron, on the other hand, are like two lost puppies that do not understand where they are, or what they are doing. You shake your head and laugh quietly. Potions class has never been their forte and, usually, you would be there to help them out with the process, especially Harry. That's also the same reason why Snape forced you to switch tables only two weeks ago ("I'm sure Potter here is capable of taking care of himself. If not, then he should seriously consider going back home and hiring a nanny."). You swear that man will do anything just to see Harry fail. It's honestly tiresome to watch at this point.

You're gently stirring the liquid when you hear the Professor's voice yet again. "Well, Potter, I must say that I am very impressed by the fact that you managed to spoil your potion in such a short amount of time. You couldn't even get the ingredients right."

The rest of the students are dead quiet by now, some watching the scene in pity, while others watch in amusement. "I did try to make it as accurately as possible," Harry tries to explain himself. "I don't know what went wrong-"

"Maybe if you read the labels right you would know that you used pomegranate juice instead of salamander blood," Professor Snape grabs the half-filled bottle and practically shoves it towards Harry's face. "But I guess that this is yet another example as to why fame isn't always everything, right? So, maybe you should stop being so delusional for once and come back to reality, Potter."

"Serves him right." You hear Draco say quietly.

This time you don't turn around, though. Your blood is boiling so much that if you look at him again you will punch him just like Hermione did back in your third year, maybe even worse. And you try to stay quiet, you really do, but once you see the way that Snape's lips turn into a smirk you feel your patience vanishing within seconds. "Hey, Snape, I have a better idea," You find yourself standing up on your desk almost effortlessly. You're not even thinking straight at this point. Everyone else suddenly looks much smaller than you, including the greasy-haired professor, who is looking like he isn't processing what is happening. "Why don't you-" you kick your cauldron and the turquoise liquid spills all over the floor. "SHUT THE FUCK UP?"

If the class was quiet before now It's like a funeral. You feel everyone's eyes on you but you're only focused on the way that Snape's face is quickly turning a crimson red. His facial expression says it all, he is beyond angry. You have never seen him like this before; of course, you've seen him let out his anger on other students, that's nothing new. However, no one had ever dared to do something so scandalous as what you just did so he is definitely taken aback and looking like he wants to kill you.

Unfortunately for him, that is illegal, so the only thing he can do is take away a shit ton of House points (you hear a few Slytherins cursing you quietly for that) and practically drag you into the Headmaster's office. For some reason, he decides to take Harry as well, although the only wrong thing he did was to mess up his potion, a common thing for a student to do in class.

Dumbledore seems to know that you would be arriving because, once the three of you enter, he is already smiling calmly at you. "Ah, Mr. Potter, Mx. (Y/N), lovely seeing you both here."

"Hey there, Dumblesir." you wave at him with a grin.

As Dumbledore chuckles, Snape opens his mouth, again. You realize how tired you are of hearing his ugly voice. "Headmaster, I must inform you that this visit is not a good thing. I bring them to you because these two students, in particular, don't seem to know how to behave like proper human beings."

You roll your eyes. Dramatic much?

"Potter here was sleeping in the middle of my class and, on top of that, he doesn't seem to be capable of getting a single potion right." His head snaps towards your direction as soon as he finishes talking and he stares at you with narrowed eyes. "And this one here shouldn't even be considered a student here anymore. They were causing mayhem in my classroom and they disrespected me in front of the entirety of my students."

"Is that so?" Dumbledore's eyes get curious as he, too, turns to you. He fixes his glasses. "Mx. (Y/N), is this true?"

"Yes, sir. I told him to shut the fuck up," you answer flatly. For a moment, Dumbledore seems to be shocked, but he manages to keep the same calm expression on his face after he processes what you tell him.

"It was brilliant," Harry mutters next to you and you look at him before laughing quietly.

Snape smacks Harry on the back of his head. "You ought to be expelled, too, Potter, if you approve of this type of behavior towards a professor."

"See?" you motion towards Snape in frustration. "This is exactly why I told him to shut the fuck up, because he keeps mistreating Harry, more than he mistreats everyone else. I get that sleeping in class is not right but Professor Snape likes to take the dumbest things and use them against him. Harry moves a freaking finger and you know that Professor Snape is going to be like 'Potter, you think that just because you're the Chosen One you can move your fingers in my class'. And, okay, I know that what I did was wrong, but I was only standing up for my friend, so I don't think that I should get expelled for this."

When you're done talking, the room stays quiet for what seems to be the longest time, and you almost start to think that everyone has forgotten how to speak. Not even Snape has something to say. Harry's just looking from one professor to another, waiting for one of them to say something. He almost looks nervous. Dumbledore is rubbing his chin, looking thoughtful. Or maybe he's in a daze, you're not completely sure. Regardless, he eventually hums before speaking up. "While it is true that what you did was not appropriate, I do understand your motive, Mx. (Y/N)," his smile is back. "You will not be expelled. However, I do feel obligated to give you a week's detention for this."

You scoff like It's nothing. "I'm cool with that."

"Headmaster, I must insist," Professor Snape takes a step forward. "I think the punishment should be much worse."

Dumbledore shakes his head. "I'm sure that's more than enough. I trust that Mx. (Y/N) will not do such a thing ever again. Right?"

"I will not." you smile confidently. Unless he asks for it...

"But-"

"I've said my final word, Snape," Dumbledore interrupted. "You may all leave now."

Professor Snape looks defeated for a moment but he quickly disguises it with his usual blank expression. He gives one last nod before turning to Harry and me. "I will see you both in class."

And with that, he leaves. The two of us follow after thanking the old man. "How in the world did you manage to get away with this?" Harry asks as soon as you're out of the office. His voice has disbelief written all over it.

You shrug with a smirk. "I guess I'm just very persuasive."

[jasmine-the-fox]

Pusher... Is pushed and punished

OK so this salt fic is very dark... There will be severe bullying and threats and demands of suicide, there will be blood too but please understand that this fic will be explained at the end... Also I got the idea from watching some meme’s to the song pusher.

Lila Rossi never thought she would go down like this... All because of her attempt to kill Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

It was all going well, she had made the class hate her... Except for Chloe and Sabrina, they followed her to the back and glared at them when they spoke bad about Marinette but she didn’t care! The girl was getting what she promised, then she took Adrien from her, once Alya gave up on helping Mari dating Adrien as she didn’t want to “Stop bullying Lila for being jealous of her connections” Alya turned to help Lila date him... And his father was forcing him to date Lila.

She didn’t get a reaction, Marinette just shrugged and walked away... That pissed her off, so to get back at her, each time Mari was alone, Lila would attack, a punch here, a kick there, a bucket of water poured on her here, trash dumped on her there she even tore her clothes once! And each time she got away with it because the class claimed she was being clumsy! Even better Adrien looked upset with Mari for causing a scene!!!

Now that was fun... But she wanted the girl gone, Marinette was still smiling, each time she harmed Mari, Chloe would tell the principal she called the police to investigate because “Mari couldn’t have been clumsy like that! These bruises were done to her!!” she then ordered her father to get cameras set up because it didn’t make sense for the girl to be soaked with water or covered in trash... Once Lila had grabbed trash from her place since the day she would do it had been trash day and Chloe figured it out.

So Lila couldn’t do much more now, but the class did and they were getting punished... Even accused of being the ones who attacked Mari when it was Lila, they denied it but there actions matched the ones Lila did... So they were suspended or given detention, Lila felt a little bad for them but it kept her safe though... But Marinette was still here and Lila Rossi didn’t like that one bit as she sighed while in her room.

She would need to get her hands dirty once again.

It wasn’t the first time she caused a death, in Italy she moved to 5 different schools before moving to Paris because she had caused three classmates to end there lives... While she had to kill two and were believed as suicides, and she didn’t mind that because it was easy, just claimed she being bullied by the student, her classmates claimed the same and then claim you think they ended there lives to say sorry... Simple right?

Well... Not with Marinette Dupain-Cheng it wasn’t... For she was very clumsy.

Mari was heading to visit Kagami for a sleepover, Lila knew this because Alya overheard them and told Lila how she was certain Mari was just trying to get money or something... Lila didn’t listen, so after school, Lila ran home and called her mother to tell her she was going to be a little late when heading home as she had to go do something, leaving her bag behind but taking her purse, Lila rushed over to the bakery and waited for Marinette to leave and walk over to the Tsurugi house.

Once she saw her leave, Lila waited a bit before following... It went easy on that part now she had to wait for a car to get a green light for her to push Mari in the street, they were just getting to the corner of the Tsurugi home when the light turned green, cars began to move and as Lila saw Mari get to the corner... She ran, Lila ran as fast as she could without making a sound and just as Mari turned around... Lila pushed her into the street.

She wished that was true for once.

As Mari was falling, her nails pierced into Lila’s close as Mari tried to gain balance to keep standing... And as she pushed up to stand to get the police on what Lila tried to do... Lila fell into the street just as a car was moving in... And everything went black on the Italian.

When Lila woke up, she found herself in a hospital... Handcuffed to the bed, a nurse had just walked in, her mother standing before her with a furious look... And a police officer in the room, turns out there were cameras who filmed her stalking and following Mari to the Tsurugi house, then at one point Mari had texted her parents and Kagami about someone following her so they called the police, they got there just as Mari was trying to save Lila’s life, she was covered in blood that Lila was losing and had even used her jacket to try and stop the bleeding, while Kagami was calling for an ambulance and her mother was keeping the drunk driver there with them.

But when they brought her to the hospital... Things were discovered on Lila, she was found out... It turns out that the three students she pushed to end there lives left a dying message to there parents about Lila and her actions but sadly by the time they got the police involved... Lila had changed schools, as for the other two, they had left either a journal entry or a video claiming how they felt like Lila was planning to do something to them... Something to make them disappear actually, and since they had just witnessed Lila about to cause Marinette to die... They had the proof Lila was dangerous.

Two weeks after being in the hospital, Lila was for three months in court stuck before a judge to decide her fate on the three suicide cases, the two murder cases and the now first attempted murder case, Lila’s family lawyer told her that the other lawyers were refusing a plea deal... Because all the people she had lied about also put her to court and the judge agreed on no plea deal, so whatever was decided... She wasn’t getting out of it no matter what.

She ended up being put into juvenile detention until she was an adult where she would then be transferred to jail in Italy... And there was no way she was going to be able to get out, of course to her luck her lawyer got the judge to agree she does her last year of school at least... But that didn’t mean she was all over the news with what she did all this time.

When she arrived on Monday... The whole class turned on her, called her a monster, a demon, Adrien broke up with her, Gabriel terminated her contract, the Agreste family put a restraining order on her, the class was being fined for what they did to Mari, Alya was being fined for all the lies she posted about Lila on her blog... On and on the class went at her, while Mari walked in with Chloe and Sabrina who trying to give her some comfort on what she went through... And then Mari spoke “You know Lila... I really would have wanted to be your friend if you hadn’t threatened me in the bathroom, or started to attack me and getting it accused on the class” she said as Lila’s eyes widen as she looked back to the class.

While Chloe grinned like a maniac, Sabrina comforted Mari and Marinette sobbed quietly... The class got violent on Lila for what they just found out about Lila, all this time she caused all of this to them... And they wanted justice, the principal had been brought in by Caline as the class revealed that Lila was the one who attacked Mari from the start at school and not them, they demanded justice now.

By lunch, Lila was expelled and failed her last year of high school.

She was placed into juvenile detention the next day, they did allow her to retake her school years yes I said years... Turns out Lila got her classmates to do her homework for her and other things, when she couldn’t she lied to Caline and never turned anything in... So she had to retake three years of high school, at least she was busy with that, during that time the class struggled in trying to figure out there lives, Lila had lied to them about all kinds of opportunities she had opened up for them... But they were all lies in the end, not only that but they all tried to fix things with Marinette.

They believed that sweet Marinette would forgive them and be there friends again... Even helped them with there dreams, but she refused everything, she was done being a doormat, done bending herself in different angles to help them all, done with giving them free things which she billed them for and sent copies to all there parents where warned that there kids had only a month to pay her back before she adds increasement charges of 10% for each week they don’t pay her back, they tried to escape this... Even tried getting Adrien to help but Chloe helped her too not break and had Sabrina take care of refusing them there request.

They were doomed with how much they owed her in the end.

For three years, they have pushed her to make them baked goods and didn’t pay her for them... She paid for the ingredients from her pockets, then there was the free clothes they got... Also paid for fabric and yarn from her pockets, but not once did they think it was expensive, turns out that Ivan has an allergy to sheep wool so Mari had to order and get shipped alpaca or llama wool to knit him certain things that he asks her, or the Mylène asks to make so she can gift to Ivan, what’s worse is that Alya discovered the alpaca wool and demanded Mari knit her things with it, and if it wasn’t the alpaca wool she would get pissed, go to Mari’s room and destroy it in front of her before yelling at her to make it again “with the correct wool this time”

Mari always cried after Alya was gone.

Her parents even banned the class from the bakery, with how much they owed there daughter they told there parents that there kids were banned until they paid back Mari and learn that they need to ask in advance and pay her in advance in full when they want something from her... Then they would be unbanned, Nino was the first to fully pay her back, it cost him his pay from his recent gig but at least he could now have the eclairs they make again... Just needs to pay for them, then it was Rose and Juleka, the two had pawned a few of there things to pay her and got the whole amount on the last day of the month.

Sadly Alix and Kim only paid her a small part so they had to get jobs each, it took Alix a month before she could pay her back in full... Kim took two and a half, Max paid her in half of the month he had to pay her, same for Mylène while Ivan had to sell his drum set and get a job to pay her back due to the whole she had to order for him all this time, Adrien didn’t need to pay her since he still didn’t know the scarf he wears she made for his birthday and Alya... She was still paying her back after a year, a month, two weeks and four days later.

Nathaniel also never ask for anything of the sorts, he was the only one who never thought Mari would bully Lila, but he believed Lila... He also always paid for the things he asked for her to make and he asked her months in advance so she had a bunch of time, but she sadly couldn’t forgive him yet since he did believe Lila over her, but he was working hard to be forgiven and he wasn’t going to give up.

Gabriel found out about everything from the news, once he saw what Lila did in Italy he worked hard to cut all ties to her and then demanded that Adrien tries to date Mari with the claims of “She will make the brand rise higher then miss Rossi ever could, she will even be able to restore the shame miss Rossi brought upon us with what she has done” so Adrien tried to contact her... But his number was blocked, also she had a new phone and number so he couldn’t speak with her, he then tried going up to her but Marinette’s friends always got to her first and pulled her away before he could get close.

Then came Valentine’s day, he decided to leave her gifts and cards around for her, at the bakery, as she was leaving for school, in her locker, on her desk, secretly placed in her bag... Anywhere right as she wasn’t looking, then as school was ending he left her one last note in her locker, asking her to wait for him at the school doors, and she did wait, he walked up to her with a bouquet of roses and asked her on a date.

But she rejected him... Claimed she didn’t have feelings for him... And was dating someone else.

That someone else being Luka Couffaine, Juleka’s big brother, had walked over at that moment to ask Mari if she was ready to head to The Liberty where his mother had prepared for them and Mari’s parents a dinner for them to meet, she agreed and then left Adrien there... Alone without the girl he had tried to have date him... Him, Adrien Agreste the most beloved model in Paris, the one girls went to there knees trying to ask to date them... And he was rejected by the first girl he ever asked out on a date... And was beaten by a quiet guitar player.

When he returned home, his father was disappointed in Adrien, said he would fix his mistake and have Marinette Dupain-Cheng to not only agree to work for him but agree to leave Luka to date Adrien in the end... He knew his father was right, Gabriel Agreste always got what he wanted when he decided on it, so why would this be any different?

But it wasn’t.

Marinette refused the deal, said that what Adrien did to her when Lila had harmed her at school traumatized her and she didn’t feel safe with him, she feared that if she did something, he would act like she was “causing a scene” again when she wasn’t doing anything wrong in the end so she ordered them to leave her alone and to never speak to her again.

After that things staid like that, Lila was taken to prison in Italy, Nathaniel at last was Mari’s friend again, Chloe, Sabrina, Kagami, Marc, Aurore and Mireille found success in life, Mari and Luka got married and then had a daughter named Melody, the class still suffer to this day for believing Lila and Adrien ended up dating a model his father picked for him to be with, he got her pregnant with a boy and was being planned to marry her without him being able to put in his opinion.

This was there life now... All because they believed Lila Rossi.

What did you think about this fic? Sure in the meme’s the victim is pushed by the bully to fall and almost die and then something happens making them jump for real to there death... But please try to understand the message i’m putting in here.

People are being bullied... And they did nothing wrong to deserve it. They just went to school, tried to get good grades, made friends and maybe even got in a relationship.

But then someone ends up bullying them, and sometimes no one helps the victim.

Take this story for example, imagine your either Lila or Marinette alright?

If you pick to be Lila, how would you feel if you were being bullied all of a sudden? How would you feel when your attacked but the bully claims you did it to yourself or harmed them? How would you feel when you leave behind a message to your parents and you end your life? How would you feel just going home or something and the bully causes you to die and they get away with it by claiming you bullied them and you ended your own life?

How would you feel?

Now if you picked Marinette, how does that make you feel? What Lila did to you? Making you classmates pull away from you? The guy you had a crush on look at you like what your doing is wrong? Your classmates attacking you because Lila claimed you hurt her? Lila lying that your clumsy after she attacks you? Lila getting away with what she did by getting your classmates punished for it? Lila trying to kill you only for her to end up almost dead?

What about Lila being punished for everything she did to you and people from her past schools? The class being punished for what they did to you? The class finding out what Lila did all this time in the past and to you? You not accepting your classmates in the end? And then you living the happy life while your classmates are still suffering to this day because of Lila?

Do you see where i’m going with this? If you don’t then that’s fine cause at least you tried to understand and at least read this right? So thank you for that at least and for reposting this fic to your page so others can read it and understand that bullying is wrong and needs to be stopped.