#but I’ll probably make another post at some point with more of the pack involved

[arrowfleur]

“What was that for?”

Some more thoughts on Darlin’s love languages and Sam’s HBS. Part 2 headcanons yay!

@darlin-collins <3

Darlin feels like they are never close enough to Sam, they will be laid directly on top of him and still trying to figure out ways to get closer

Sam, although quite outwardly stoic, does not only use his ‘pretty prose’ on Darlin’ (although they get the most and the best ones). Since his turning he is so aware of how short life can be and when he truly admires something about a person he’ll let them know.

This is usually with close pack/clan and also always when he’s just on his own with the person he’s talking too. But, if the timings right, he lets out these poetic observations, usually leaving the other person speechless before he quickly changes the topic. Not always realising the (positive) weight of his compliments.

On multiple occasions Sam has used words to describe Darlin that they didn’t know. Not because they’re dumb but because some of his vocabulary is rather niche. And upon looking it up they almost always perfectly describe Darlin’ in whatever situation he was talking about.

Although not the best at giving compliments, Darlin’ does tell Sam that he’s beautiful, gorgeous etc depending on the vibe he’s giving at the time and they’re the first person to ever call him anything other than handsome or hot.

‘You’re so pretty’

‘Pretty?!?’

‘Mhmm’

‘Darlin’ I ain’t-‘

‘Especially right now, with your hair like that’

‘Alright…. Well, thank you.’

I’ve mentioned before in a head canon post that they like it when Sam runs a finger up and down the bridge of their nose. Darlin’ will also full on nuzzle into Sam when cuddling/hugging. Especially into his collarbone/neck

Although comfortable with (platonic) touch from people they know, Darlin doesn’t like it unexpectedly, nor will they usually initiate it.

Unless someone they love is upset, then they’ll be getting a hug or an arm wrapped around them without any hesitation (if that’s what they like ofc)

Sam feels like he’ll never be able to fully voice how much Darlin’ means to him, Darlin’s heart practically skips a beat when he simply calls them beautiful. (Or when he makes a joke or complains or laughs or….)

When comforting Darlin’ about something, Sam often adresses problems/reasons for their behaviour/feelings that Darlin’ hadn’t realised themselves yet. He is so careful with his wording and extremely observant of them.

Darlin’ although previously independent to a fault, realised that the best comfort they could give Sam was to let him help them. On multiple occasions Darlin’ has let him heal paper-cuts and small bruises (which is a ridiculous waste of magic in their opinion) because otherwise he’s not going to stop thinking about it.

Sam knows all of Darlin’s tells by their body language and Darlin’ know Sam’s by his tone and the amount he’s speaking for example: if he says he’s ‘fine’ then he’s not but if he says he’s ‘alright’ then he probably is

The same way Sam felt bad about not being able to give Darlin every physical action that they wanted Darlin feels bad that they can’t verbalise their feelings for him correctly.

Sam found a scrunched up love letter from Darlin’ and keeps it in his wallet. They’d wanted to write down their feelings so they wouldn’t mess it up when sharing them with him but ultimately hated the end result.

They do however leave little notes for him sometimes while he’s sleeping , since they tend to work on different schedules, that Sam also dearly treasures and keeps in a shoe box.

Sam is really good at writing professional emails and has on multiple occasions written some for Angel and Babe when they’ve had problems with their bosses

The perfect mix of polite, professional and passive aggressive

Another way Darlin’ helps Sam is by reminding him of his talents/abilities and how he uses them for so much good, they will not let that man be humble. His #1 cheerleader FR.

Even with all of this in mind both of their most comfortable ways of communicating their love is through acts of service. That way they get to keep up their grumpy outward personas that the pack/clan have long since learned to see right through.

#can’t believe I went so long without rambling about them but the ramble are back baby #mainly Sam and Darlin #but I’ll probably make another post at some point with more of the pack involved #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted sam #redacted darlin #redacted shaw pack #arrowsqueue #redacted headcanons

[kemendin]

Epilogue

Or, I finished my first playthrough of BG3 and had many emotions (still processing) and many thoughts (also still processing), so here are some Kem ramblings on chosen endings and what happens post-game in Dhamari canon. Under cut because major spoilers of course!

So, for anyone curious, here's how things turned out, and these are fairly unsurprising I'd imagine:

Astarion did not ascend. I tried it for kicks, and I hated his ascended self lol. And Dhamari wouldn't have gone for the 'replace one tyrant with another' idea.

Gale did not claim godhood, BUT nor did he actually give the crown to Mystra - it was left in the sea. As Dhamari said, "If Mystra wants it, she can damn well fish it out herself."

Wyll became the Blade of Avernus, and went romping back to the Hells with Karlach. Go be badasses, guys!!

Lae'zel became the new Comet, and went sailing off to be the saviour of her people.

Shadowheart turned her back on Shar and went off to explore Faerûn and her new faith in Selûne (and got custody of the owlbear).

As for Dhamari and Gale... I had to do a lot of pondering on their ending, both in terms of in-game choices and how things ACTUALLY play out in my brain. While I’m very entertained by the idea of ‘Professor Dekarios’ I don’t think Dhamari is cut out for city life. So the short answer is, I went with the ‘I’ll marry you but I won’t live in Waterdeep’ option and they go off adventuring again instead.

The long version is, of course, more complicated:

Initially Dhamari is all 'yes of course I'll marry you and go back to Waterdeep with you' because frankly he's got no idea what to do with himself post-Netherbrain destruction. But that goes kinda not too well overall, for several reasons:

a) He really has no idea what he's getting into with the whole wedding business, because drow don't DO that. So while Gale's making all these plans and sending out multitudes of invitations, Dhamari's list consists of Wyll, who can't come, and Jaheira, who probably could, and he's just very overwhelmed by all the grand ceremony notions.

b) He's jealous of now having to share Gale with Tara and Mrs Dekarios and probably half of Waterdeep, because Gale's of course rather well known, and even more so after saving Baldur's Gate. Gale knows everyone and Dhamari knows no one, and he feels like he's being perceived as this odd little drow blemish on the local wizard celebrity (whether or not this is actually true is up for debate).

c) After the relief of no longer having a brain death sentence and the pressure of saving the world wears off, and he's had a little chill time, he starts feeling incredibly restless again. He's never had a point in his life till now where he wasn't scared or in danger or both - he has no idea how to live a life that doesn't involve fighting to survive. Unfortunately, in absence of obvious threats, he ends up on some mental level fighting Gale instead - lashing out with confusions and uncertainties he doesn't know how to cope with.

So within a month or so things get very tense between them, because Dhamari is rather terrible at communicating his problems to other people, but eventually they're forced to hash all this out. The end results are: a much smaller wedding than originally planned, Gale declining the offer to take a teaching post at Blackstaff Academy, and soon after the wedding they pack up and go adventuring again for a while so they can spend some time together that's ACTUALLY just the two of them.

At some point - dunno yet if it's pre- or post-epilogue reunion get-together - Dhamari visits with Jaheira, and she invites him to join the Harpers. Dhamari's felt a sort of half-conscious connection with the Harpers for a WHILE now, since finding the executed patrol of them in Grymforge (that's a whole other ramble/fic in process lol) and so when Jaheira makes this offer he's like '...huh yeah I could do that'. It gives him a much needed sense of purpose in life, gets him out and about and not quite so latched onto Gale every hour of the day. So when he and Gale take breaks from adventures and chill in Waterdeep for a bit, Gale can be doing his wizardy stuff with his wizardy friends, and Dhamari does whatever Harper business needs doing around the city.

So things aren't always perfect between them, and frankly these two will always find something to argue about because they ARE such different people. But they love each other, and they learn from each other, and as far as they're concerned - it's a happy ending.

Random tidbit - I really like that in the route I chose, Gale retains the mark of the orb. I think that despite what it was - a death sentence - Dhamari's actually rather fond of it aesthetically, and even sees it as a reminder - to both of them - that Gale survived. That Gale chose Dhamari, chose life, and it was the right choice.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 tav #gale dekarios #gale x tav #bg3 epilogue spoilers #bg3:dhamari #kem oc #kem rambles #otp: woven in the storm

[museenkuss]

Hello! 🎀

I just read your thoughts on the pretty privilege as well as the tags mentioning the American mindset. I might be off topic a bit but it reminded me of a thought I had a while ago - it often seems that Americans (those I’ve seen online at least) are somewhat striving towards a general and sometimes uniform “prettiness”, whether it be because of the privilege it gives or not. All the heatless or elaborate hairstyles (the attention to hair is the biggest thing here I think) and everyday makeup, jumping on trends (like the stanley cups) way more than we do in Europe. None of this is bad of course but I’ve never seen it on such a big scale outside of the US. Even when browsing European influencers’ accounts they usually seem to just leave their hair as it is and let themselves be themselves instead of part of almost identical group of pretty girls with voluminous curls, long lashes and water bottles in hand.

What are your thoughts on this? Your posts are always interesting to read 😌 (If I’ve ventured too far off the topic of pretty privilege I apologise, the tags emboldened me to share my observation)

Hi!!!🌹🌹

This is a really interesting point. I was thinking about it a lot, because I do remember a certain look at my school when I was a teen (tank top with lace under a grey/black/blue cardigan, dark skinny jeans, Pearl earrings, straight hair in a ponytail. An army of conservative housewives…). But I don’t remember the “people rushing into a store to buy out a cup” mentality, nor do I see it these days.

So maybe I would say I do think there are uniform ideas of pretty here, too, down to “pretty girl uniforms”. That’s a topic I’m really fascinated by, I highly believe that you can DRESS in a way that will make you attractive by proxy because it’s what “attractive people” wear. However, I think this standard can vary depending on where you are — for example the pretty girl uniform at MY school would fall flat completely at another school. Just like fake lashes, fake lips, fake tan and lots of beige and pastels might be the rage in the US, but in Europe the beauty standards are different (as much as social media is trying to erase any non-US look). However, I was searching my mind and realised I simply know too little about influencers to really verify that claim. I think a problem that might contribute to the uniform standards of beauty in and outside of the US is the “aestheticisation” of things. Pilates being an aesthetic, reading or gardening or tomatoes all being an aesthetic that comes with a full on dress code. That’s also probably most prevalent around teenagers who haven’t settled in their identity just yet and thus are more likely to cling to a “package deal” (“I like reading, so I’ll dress like a reader”). But also humans ARE pack animals, so maybe this uniformity in some way also gives us a feeling of security? The need to belong never fully goes away, after all.

But then again, to return to the other point: I definitely agree that the strange aggression the USAmericans have when it comes to those trends seems not to be this prevalent here. The “craze” for something. Cups, eyeshadow palettes, bags… I just don’t see it much over here. So I’m conflicted. I do think the attitudes can be more relaxed, but I do assume that there are still beauty standards — maybe we just don’t notice them as much because we’re more involved in them? In contrast, we see the US influencers and THEIR pretty girl uniform from the outside.

Thank you so much for your ask aHH!! It definitely wasn’t off topic, it was super interesting :’)!! I feel like I got a little sidetracked in the middle there haha but this is really fascinating. I can already tell I’ll be turning it in my head for the next few days. Thank you!!! :D

#I still think our old pretty girl uniform slaps tbh #I always wanted to dress that way but it never looked right on me back then I think #sigh!!!

[first-edition]

Breaking Seasons

Spencer reid x reader fanfiction

Updates every Tuesday and Thursday 

Read previous chapter here 

CHAPTER 9

Summary- When y/n takes her sick friends criminology class to take notes in the winter, she meets the guest speaker, BAU-FBI agent Spencer reid.  After getting to know more about each other due to a college school related case, that ends up involving y/n herself, they naught just have each to keep warm.

Story begins under cut.

                             ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

CW- this chapter has a heavy topic of sexual assult, r4pe and gunsh*ots. As well as the mention of sexual toys and immodesty. Please read with caution or skip.

The team walks into the scene two floors above the two previous deaths same noice and cause of death. Morgan walks through the act while Spencer walks around the room looking at trinkets and keepsakes. 

"Reid?" Emily says holding a small picture frame in her hand. 

Spencer turns around and walks to her to see what she holds in her hand.

"Isn't this y/n?" She asks point to see the victim y/n and another girl. 

"Yeah..." he says taking the picture in his own hand. He frowns and looks around the room again seeing the astrology decor and the study books.

"They have a the same major." He says looking back down the picture and taking out his phone taking a picture and sending it to y/n.

"I'll ask her if she knows her." He says Emily nods as he puts the frame back down.

"The unsub came in through here and somehow kept them quiet long enough to rape them...yet no dna was found. Then he shoots them making a scene and leaves in the crowd." Morgan says retracing steps.

"This is an all girls dorm area it would be weird to see a male walk in and out." Hotch says 

"Unless the unsub is female." Emily says 

"We can rule out y/n she was with mave when the first victim was killed there's apartment cctv footage outside her house. And mave was killed and mave was killed while reid was with her-" Hotch stops talking and turns his head across the room at the bullet hole in the wall.

"The rooms were swept weren't they?" He asks. 

"Yeah forensic and the district packed everything up." Spencer says Hotch takes out his phone and calls Penelope.

"Yes? Good sir!" She says. 

"Garcia in the forensic bags were there any form of sexual pleasure toys?" He asks. 

"Sir such a dirty mind." She says Hotch sighs Emily snickers.

"Yes the first victim kelly Dane has a pink dildo and a vibration egg, mave had a vibrating dildo, and the newest victim, Amy rodden also happed to have a dildo and vibrator." She says 

"Thanks." Hotch says and hangs up.

"What's up with that?" Morgan asks. 

"The killer raped them to unconsciousness with thier own toys when they came to she stood them up and shot them through the wall to the next room each and everyone." Hotch says.

"It's a peephole." Spencer says Hotch nods 

"She comes back after we leave." Morgan continues. 

"It's time to give the profile." Hotch says. As Spencer phone dings.

"I got a message from y/n it's a picture from the maths decathlon early last year. The other girl in the photo is Bella Chang." He says Hotch nods. 

"I'll ask Garcia to pull up info on Bella. Let's go." Morgan says 

———-

"The u sub is a white female around the age of 22-26 she almost likely attends the college. At some point in time she had a traumatic event that strung from sexual harassment of being watched while e gain private activities between herself or with a partner." Hotch says 

"She goes back to the scene to check up or recreate what she went through." Morgan says 

"We'll have you posted up on at the dorm we believe to be the next victim and only letting in the form owner." Emily says 

"She'll look like anyone else a normal college student 

So look for other define traits like nervousness around police or even hate due to the fact she probably went for help and was turned away. Thank you" Spencer says.

Everyone disperses. And Morgan's phone rings.

"Hey baby girl what you got?"

"We'll my delicious chocolate fountain fondue wonder, Bella Chang enrolled at the school two years ago in the door that Amy now had but moved back to china for family issues six months ago. Her and Amy were roommates." Garcia says 

"The unsub wouldn't even bother going after Bella though she Asian all her victims are white and brunette." Spencer says leaning against the table. 

"What's so special about white and brunette. That well over half of the girls at the school is she gonna kill everyone?" Morgan asks. The team shrugs. 

"Garcia give me a list of all the girls white and brunette that attend school please." Hotch says. 

"Yes sir!" She says and hangs up.

"Everyone go back to the hotel before the road get too snowy we can meet up in the main front after resting." Hotch says. They all nod and disperse.

———-

Walking into his hotel room Spencer takes out his phone texting you asking if you're okay. Due to the nature of why he asked you to describe the picture he sent. He sees the three bubbles of you texting pop up them dissapear after a bit. But no text comes through. Brushing it off he goes to his suit case and takes out a book laying on his bed and reading.

Hours pass and still no reply from you checking his phone he sends a question mark and asks if you still wanna go out but nothing. 

He sighs putting his arm over his eyes eventually catching sleep.

You look up at the bright gloomy sky in your sunroom. As the frosted glass shines through the room. Fear of Spencer runs through you. Not fear of him as a person, not fear of his job, but fear of your feeling for him. Knowing the last time you fell for someone, it ended in shit. You don't want that for Spencer you don't want that for you.

You know it's wrong, it's a dick move to cut someone off but fear cloud your mind causing you to put him on do not disturb. Thinking of your family your ex and Maeve hurts your heart even more than he could know.

Read next chapter here

Taglist

@gublerbabie @steamystrangerfics​ @f-me-reid​ @mojesticworlds​😍@deanwinchestersgirl87​

If you would like to be added to the tag list please dm me, reblog this story or leave a comment!!!

#spencer reid smut #spencer #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer ried #spencer reid x reader

[wildanimalqueendom]

Thoughts: End of one month, start of the next

So, I’ve never had a “blog” before, not even really good at social media. In my mind, my thought is, who really gives a shit about my thoughts and daily life? However this isn’t about anyone else but me, so here we go: 

I am turning 32 years old in the middle of this month. That being said, isn’t there some type of weird obligation involved with this age? I’m talking marriage, kids, purchased home, financial stability, etc. Newsflash, none of these apply to me. I’ve been single for too many years to count, too selfish to be responsible for a child, and massive 2020 layoffs ended my financial stability and murdered my dream of owning my own home so what now? Now because of my specific circumstances part of me almost feels left behind, like I don’t fit the mold. And I’m okay with that, I’ve always been aware that is who I am, but now I can truly feel it. 

Anyways, because I am this way, I’ve always been an ultimate party girl, drinking, maybe dabbling in a few extra things in moderation, sleeping late, and being irresponsible and let me tell you it’s been a hell of a lot of fun!! However during 2020/2021 I went through 2 separate layoffs at 2 separate jobs on 2 separate occasions that really changed the course of my life. 

The first layoff was the worst. I worked for this company for 5 years, worked my way up, moved constantly, was super flexible, and pretty much gave up my actual life for their corporate life and I loved it. When they let me go, I felt like I got broken up with. I was devastated and sad and I had to uproot my entire life and move to another city and everything. Everything changed for me, the people surrounding me changed, my job obviously changed, and I had to move away from the beach to 4 hours inland to a big city with more opportunity obviously, but less tranquility. Luckily they gave me way too much money for severance (probably given the circumstances surrounding the pandemic) and I ended up having the adult summer of my dreams. Wake up late, get my nails done, hit the pool and start drinking midday, be trash wasted by the afternoon, go out on the town and do it all over again. It seemed fun at the time, until it wasn’t. By the end of the summer, I realized a job I had set myself up with was a total fraud, I had blown through my savings, and I was drinking way too heavily for comfort (maybe I’ll tell you about my alcoholic father if I can remember to keep posting regularly) At this point, I could no longer afford to pay for alcohol and stuff and all the feelings and all the anxiety hit me all at once. It’s like I was using those things to not feel what I was feeling about losing my life. It was a really hard pill to swallow when I had to start delivering food from door dash and working part time at Bath & Body Works (which in hindsight may have saved me) I was college educated with professional experience from a world-renown company. I’m not supposed to be delivering udon noodles to rich people who don’t tip.

By this time, it was September 2020 and I did this until January 2021 when I landed a job in the mortgage industry. 

I coasted through that job, started day drinking AT WORK with my coworkers and slowly started to realize I was still not happy 7 months later. I then got another job which brings me to my 2nd and most important layoff. First of all, I WAS SHOCKED it hit me like a bus. And I thought I was never going to catch a break. 

After that, it hit me. Maybe not like a specific thought out of nowhere, or a life lesson I felt I had learned, but something within me that I didn’t know was there came out and turned savage. I started doing any and everything to make money. Cleaning houses, taking temp jobs, door dashing, packing houses, and when I wasn’t doing that I was on the computer or my phone applying, interviewing, screening. I didnt stop. This is also the moment I became even more grateful for my family than ever. Family members that owned businesses paid me to work and that helped tremendously. Again, couldn’t afford to go out, couldn’t afford to drink or smoke. Those items all of a sudden seemed so unimportant. I had the free time during the week days to spend on focusing on fitness and myself and that changed my whole mental game.

One day, a recruiter called me and laid out on the table a job position that I knew could not be real. Well it is, and I’ve been doing it for 7 months now. I finally feel like I’m in a job I belong in. And the reliance of alcohol to calm my anxieties has tapered although to be honest I’m not sober. 

My New Years resolution was to become that bad bitch I started to embody in 2022. To wake up early, not drink heavily, work hard, and work even harder on myself. Januarys goal was to start creating habits to follow through life and creating routines. 

To review myself : no real routine is set in place and I may have gotten up early like 5 times the whole month. But, the mentality is definitely there and I know I want it and I think about it constantly. 

February: working on perfecting these routines - I’d give myself a 25% for effort and for wanting it but 75% of me is holding myself back when I ignore the importance of a morning routine. It’ll delay the success of the day if I sleep through the morning and go straight into work. 

This blog is here to help me keep site of my why (explained above) and to track my habits overtime 

Today’s successes :

woke up at 6:50 admittedly hit snooze 2x 

morning yoga @ 7am

Showered/hygiene 

Made breakfast 

Brushed teeth (don’t think I’m crazy when you work from home 3 days a week that’s a hard one to remember!!) 

****I think these are successes because what is listed is the morning routine I want to have but also seem to want to sleep through at the same time****

****disclaimer****

I am very fortunate to have an incredible family that helped me through times I struggled both mentally and financially. We are not a wealthy family but we all work hard and lift each other up and I don’t know what I would do with our them.

I don’t want to be perfect I just want to be a bad ass sparkle glam fairy who has a hell of a lot of fun but works just as hard to earn the fun. I want to be confident in my decisions and not always scared to lose everything because lose or win, it’s never permanent. 

#mental heath support #layoffs #employees #substance use mention #new year new me #my why

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 33

Sorry this got delayed for longer than expected. I had a lot of things hit me like a truck (and distractions). Hopefully you all enjoy this. Please comment your thoughts on the chapter. And if you really liked it, Reblog it. Thats the best way to get others to see it.

(Master Post)

_______________________________________________________________________

Nathalie cautiously walked into the school, careful to not stand out. She needed to be quick and quiet, she didn’t know how many akuma were lurking in the building. Hawkmoth has akumatized a good chunk of the student body at this school, so expecting at least a dozen within such a short time frame wouldn’t be out of the question. She was relieved that the akuma alert hasn't gone off, which means no one has caught on yet.

The assistant moved down the hall, stopping once she noticed two akuma heading down the hall. One she recognized as the akuma dark owl, and the other as Lady wifi. Both akuma wearing masks that covered their faces. It was clearly the handiwork of Masquerade. She quickly moved into the nearest room to hide.

“That was close.” Nathalie whispered.

“What was?” a voice from behind her called out. Causing the on edge assistant to jump.

She looked to see it was not an akuma, but an adult with a perplexed expression.

“Nothing, what room is this?”

“This is the nurse’s office, I’m Nurse Angela. How can I help you?”

Nathalie took a sigh of relief. Seems that the nurse hasn’t noticed the akumatized individuals in the hall. Which means that no one has figured out there are akuma active.

“I am fine, I simply stepped into the wrong room.” Nathalie eased herself. “Could you tell me which way Ms. Bustier’s classroom is?”

“Oh its down the hall, make a left and it’s the last classroom on the...”

“Nurse! My ice pack melted!”

The nurse took a calming sigh.

“One moment ma’am. I have a student in here.”

Angela quickly moved to fetch more ice for her patient to help her out.

“Chloé?” Nathalie spoke aloud, recognizing the voice.

Nathalie moved into the room and took notice of the mayor’s daughter watch the nurse impatiently as she waited for a fresh icepack.

“Wait, your Gabriel Agreste’s assistant. Natasha.”

“Nathalie.” The assistant corrected, clearly annoyed.

“Why are you here? Does Adrien have some photoshoot or something?”

“Or something.  Now why are you in here?”

The question struck a nerve with the blonde, causing her annoyance to turn into anger.

“Better question, how could you allow Adrien to date that loser!?”

Nathalie blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“She is going to bring down the Gabriel brand. That nobody has no right to be dating Adrien. Does his father know about this?”

Nathalie felt a twinge of annoyance. But kept it in. She remembered the akuma that were out in the hallway. She would hate to have them run in here just from the commotion.

“I think you should keep it down. This is not an issue that concerns you.”

“Doesn’t concern me?! I am Adrien’s childhood friend. You bet your poor dye job it concerns me!”

“I must insist you be quiet.” Nathalie repeats. “This is not the time or the place for such meaningless complaints.”

“Like I am going to listen to Gabriel Agreste’s rebound chick.”

That caused Nathalie to snap.

“Listen here you spoiled brat! There are akuma running the halls and I am trying to find Adrien to get him out of here before things get worse. If you don’t shut your mouth in the next two seconds. I will throw you out there and let them tear you apart!”

Chloé felt her eyes go wide at the out of nowhere outburst. It took her a second to process what just happened. Did she really get told off by this nobody?

“You can’t just…”

Nathalie suddenly fell to the floor. She barely used her hands to catch herself.

“S***, not now.” She mumbled over gasping breathes. Her body was failing on her again. She did not need this of all times. She felt her consciousness fade.

The nurse turned around once she heard the sudden thud.

“Oh dear.”

She rushed to the collapsed woman’s side and helped her up.

“Chloé. Help me get her onto the bed.”

“You want me to…”

“This is not the time for questions! Help me get her on the bed now!” Angela commanded.

Chloé’s protests were snuffed out by the nurse and she moved to help get the woman on the bed.

The nurse quickly checked her for a pulse. Thankfully she had one.

“Okay, she has a pulse. She is breathing, but her body just collapsed. A fainting spell?”

Angela started checking the assistant to make sure there was nothing else wrong.

Chloé watched as the nurse examined Nathalie. Her previous anger fading as she sees the woman that just snapped at her just drop.

“Okay… seems that it is over exhaustion. It’s not uncommon in people who work long hours with demanding jobs. But I have never seen a case like this. I can’t put my finger on it, but there might be another medical issue involved in this. When she wakes up, she should get checked into a hospital for a deeper dive into whatever she has.” Angela explained.

“So… she will be alright?”

“Well she is exhausted. She will need to rest for a bit.”

“Well at least she didn’t die. I can still be mad at her for yelling at me because there is an akuma and junk here.”

“Well you shouldn’t hold a… did you just say there is an akuma?”

“That’s what she was yelling at me about before. Weren’t you listening?”

Angela felt herself go pale.

“Oh that is not good at all. We need to alert the authorities.”

Chloé picked up her phone and started texting.

“Don’t you think you should use that to call the cops.”

“Im texting my dad. He will have the cops here faster.”

Angela remembered that the annoying spoiled blonde in front of her was the mayor’s daughter and for the first time, was happy that the girl was here.

_______________________________________________________________________

For what is a teen, but a pile of hormones and insecurities.

Masquerade delighted as she watched her classmates stare at her. They all were trying so hard to be strong, but she could feel their emotions, they were afraid. She knew that taking the most emotionally secure one in the group would rattle them..

She noticed the teens rushing to their pockets to get their phones.

Masquerade touched the cellphone charm on her bracelet and all of the phones started showing they had no signal.

“Nice try, but no calling for help.” Masquerade commented.

Even the chill Nino couldn’t maintain a steady calm in front of her with that little display. She now removed any chance of calling for help or setting off that akuma alert system. Did she have access to other powers? What kind of monster did Hawkmoth turn her into?

“I’ll save you for last Nino. I want you to watch closely.” She flipped her hair, taunting the cap wearing teen.

The masked theme akuma smiled as she moved her hand, as if deciding on who would turn next.

“Now we know who will be last, but who will be next?” Masquerade asked, watching as her bracelet was glowing. The class was a gold mine of akumas. It was not a matter of how, it was a matter of which one.

“You don’t have to do this Lila.” A soft higher pitched voice pleaded.

The class turned their attention the short haired blond with a fondness for pink.

“Rose…” Juleka spoke up in worry.

Masquerade focused her attention on Rose.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“We know you are hurting. We know that you lied to us and did some nasty things… but that doesn’t have to define you!”

Masquerade found herself a bit surprised at the statement.

“If you are willing to stop all of this, we can help you. We can work through all of the things you’ve done. If we can throw a party for Chloé, we can certainly give you another chance.”

Rose stuck out her hand, a soft smile on her face.

Masquerade took a moment to process before speaking.

“Wow… I had no idea you felt this way.”

Rose walked forward.

“See Lila, we can all get along if…”

“You’re so incredibly depressing.”

Rose stopped.

Masquerade’s mouth contorted to a twisted glee. Her charm bracelet glowing brightly as she held her hand up to Rose.

“You always force a smile even when things are downright miserable. You’re terrified of being sad, so you paint this image of a fantasy land filled with stuffed animals and storybook characters. You realize all of the awful things around you yet you simply push it back, push it away as if it can’t harm you if you don’t acknowledge it. You can’t even acknowledge the emotional problems and insecurities of the people you care about because you know you can’t help them even if you did address them, so you give them some encouraging saccharine speech about pushing through, because that’s all you can really do. I have never seen anyone so deep in denial. One day you will wake up and realize that all of that delusional thinking will have pushed everyone away from you as you sit in plushy made prison of your own design.”

Rose felt her lip quiver.

“N-No. That isn’t true. I can …” Rose stumbled over her words.

But before she could say anymore, a mask flung onto her face and Rose shifted into Princess Fragrance, the green skinned perfume super villainess.

“Rose! No!” Juleka cried out.

Masquerade grinned as a perfume bottle charm now adorned her bracelet.

Juleka tried to get the mask off of Rose, but the newly made akuma pushed her aside and jumped to her master’s side.

“Oh, poor Juleka. Don’t worry. I’ll have you join her.”

Masquerade pointed her hand at Juleka.

“Oh wow, social anxiety and a fear of being forgotten. How original. Is that why you dye your hair purple and wear those gaudy clothes? You want to stand out so that you don’t get dismissed like the wallflower you are? Your bad luck with photos really puts a damper on your dreams of modeling. But that’s probably for the best, considering you are constantly overwhelmed. You don’t have the guts to do anything you want, so you just do your best to keep quiet and pray people will still notice and care about you.”

Juleka felt her anger shift to sorrow as she tried to speak up, but sure enough. Masquerade sends another mask out and it makes contact with Juleka.

The purple haired teen shifts into the image replicating akuma, Reflekta. Who after changing moved next to Princess Fragrance. A compact mirror charm appears on Masquerade’s bracelet.

The class couldn’t help but feel the despair in the room. The large drummer tried to keep his small girlfriend behind him as a means to protect her, but unfortunately, Masquerade noticed.

“Oh Ivan, sweet misunderstood Ivan.” Masquerade taunted. “You really think I don’t see what you are trying to do.”

Ivan kept his eyes focused.

“You aren’t turning me into one of your monsters. You already turned my bandmates into them, you aren’t turning me!”

The akuma laughed.

“Monster? I don’t need to turn you into an akuma to do that. The rest of the world already sees you as one.”

Ivan felt a pang in his heart.

“No… no they don’t.”

“Even your own girlfriend is scared of you. You’re a big brute that is loud and bumbling. Ever since your growth spurt, you could see everyone look at you differently, like you were some kind of large freak. But what’s worse is that you’re afraid that everyone else is right. That you a large rage filled monster, undeserving of love.”

“Don’t listen to her. She is lying to you.” Myléne pleaded as she tried to pull her boyfriend out of the quicksand trap of emotion that the akuma was setting up.

“I am not a monster.” Ivan spoke, more to himself than to masquerade.

The akuma capitalized on that moment of weakness and a mask made its way to Ivan, transforming him into his stone giant akuma form, Stoneheart.

Myléne looked in horror of her akumatized boyfriend and took a few steps back. Her fear of remembering this form taking hold.

“Oh, that works too.”

Masquerade flings a mask at Myléne, transforming her into her more monstrous akuma form, Horrificator.

“I was planning on playing on her fears about how she is afraid to face the real world and her insecurities about losing Ivan, but that worked better.”

The two new akuma mindlessly made their way to Masquerade’s side. A piece of paper and a button charm appeared on Masquerade’s bracelet.

The joy the akuma attained from watching her classmates squirm was unnerving. And it was only going to continue.

_______________________________________________________________________

“So, you are certain you left it there Kagami?” a woman with a cane asked sternly.

“Yes mother, I remember I left my text book in the locker room during fencing practice. I was studying between breaks.” Kagami answered. She felt a bit ashamed she had misplaced her book. But was relieved her mother was fine with giving her a ride there to get it. Even if it meant she was late to her lessons.

“This is not an excuse to see anyone, is it?” Her mother questioned.

“No mother, I will be in and out quickly.”

“Very well. I need to make a quick stop at the bank. So be sure to be outside waiting when I come back.”

“Yes mother.”

Kagami got out of the car and the car drove off.

“Well, I could stop by to say hello to my friends if I am quick with getting my book.” Kagami smiled a bit as she was about to make her way into Collège Françoise Dupont.

But before she did, she heard the sound of a bike approaching, she turned to see the cyclist stop short of her.

“Made it.” He said with relief as he took off his helmet to reveal familiar blue dyed hair.

“Luka?”

The cyclist looked and noticed his new fencer friend.

“Kagami? What brings you here? I thought you didn’t go to this school.”

“I don’t, I come here for fencing practice, I left a textbook here and was planning on retrieving it. You don’t go to this school either. So what brings you here?”

“My little sis grabbed the wrong lunch bag, then texted something about an akuma being in the school. I wasn't able to reach her after that. I plan on getting her out and letting the heroes handle the akuma.”

Kagami blinked.

“There is an akuma?”

“Apparently.”

The fencer smiled.

“Alright, let’s get in and try to evacuate everyone. Then I can grab my book.”

Luka looked at the determined girl and smiled. He didn’t even say he would help her. But he knew he would.

“So, what’s the plan?”

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Adrien stared down the Volpina duplicate. He was not going to let it pass him and get to Marinette. He realizes that if he had been the one to run off, he would have been able to transform quick. If this didn’t work out, Ladybug might have to take on Lila solo, and that was something he was worried about. If Ladybug is on her own and she gets overwhelmed, who would be able to protect Paris? He needed to figure a way to give this Faux Fox the slip and fast.

“It would have been better if I snagged both of you, but master will be more than happy with your capture.” The sentimonster smiled as it moved to grab him.

The blond jumped back, but the difference in speed was far too great for him to overcome. And he was quickly pinned against a wall. The sentimonster shifted forms, looking similar to the owl akuma that Adrien was familiar with.

“What the…”

“I am not bound to one form. I can shift my form and access to any akuma’s power set that my master has under her control.”

Adrien realized he was far outmatched. If it came to it, he would need to transform. He wished there was some way out of this mess.

But as if the heavens above heard him, a yo-yo wrapped around the waist of the buff owl.

“What the ...”

The sudden pull from the yo-yo made the sentimonster lose it’s grip on Adrien and get flung to the other wall, dazing it.

“Looks like I made it just in time.” A spotted heroine stated with confidence.

“Ladybug!” Adrien called out in relief.

Ladybug rushed to his side.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m a lot better now.”

Ladybug helped the teen up from the ground.

“Lets’ get you somewhere safe first, handsome boy.”

The blond felt his cheeks turn red at the comment.

The sentimonster managed to get back up, it shifted forms, to a smaller form. One that made ladybug experience a chill go down her spine as she saw the roller blades and familiar helmet.

“Timebreaker… We need to hurry!”

Ladybug started rushing with the teen. With the speed of the akuma, she knew Adrien wouldn’t be fast enough to avoid it on his own. So, she quickly picked him up in her arms as they fled.

“Timebreaker? But isn’t that what Alix turned into when she was akumatized.” Adrien inquired as Ladybug ran down the hallway.

“It means that things are getting a lot more dangerous.” Ladybug answered.  She knew that timebreaker appearing could only mean that Lila has made her way to the classroom, and this was going to be one of the toughest akuma battles yet. She needed to get Adrien to safety and then make her way to the classroom, hopefully save her classmates before they were all turned into her masked servants.

She made a quick movement into the bathroom. Standing at the door, prepared to fight the akuma if it noticed their quick duck into the washroom.

Ladybug listened closely as she heard the sound of skates roll up to the door. Her eyes went wide as she realized the it figured it out.

“You really think you can hide from me!”

The Timebreaker imposter kicked in the door ready to attack, only to see no one was in the room.

“Like I said….”

“You!” Kicked the first stall door open.

“CANT!” The second stall was kicked open.

“HIDE!”  The last one was open, and all of them were empty.

The sentimonster growled in frustration.

“Seems I was mistaken.” The sentimonster grumbles, skating off to find the two.

As the door closes, Ladybug and Adrien sigh in relief. They had taken to hiding over the small statured sentimonster’s line of sight. Ladybug;s yo-yo making for a secure web to hold them up.

Ladybug undid the secure snare and lowered them both to the floor.

“Thanks for the save Ladybug.” The blond smiled. His face a bit red being so close to Ladybug.

‘Easy there Adrien! Remember who you are dating now!’ He mentally told himself.

“N-no problem.” Ladybug smiled sweetly. “Now, you stay hidden and I will take care of this crazy shapeshifter.

“Wait Ladybug!”

Ladybug paused.

“Yes? Is there something…”

“My girlfriend is out there. Well I mean… dating since we didn’t officially say girlfriend and… Look She is out there and that akuma thing is also after her.”

Ladybug’s eyes went wide at that statement.

He called me his girlfriend! Inner marinette screamed. Inside her head, but Ladybug kept her face from showing it. Though a small smile was growing despite herself.

“So the akuma is targeting someone else? Why wasn’t she with you?”

“She went to get help, I was trying to hold off the akuma so she could escape. The akuma was more focused on me thankfully, and you showed up just in time.”

“Oh? And who is the Lucky girl?” Ladybug questioned, a bit bubbly but doing her best to hide it.

“Her name is Marinette, she is around your height and she has these cute …”

“No need for more description, I know her. Well, she is a cute one. Aren’t you lucky?” Ladybug teased a bit.

“I really am.” He smiled sweetly. He remembers that Ladybug did pick Marinette to be a temporary hero, so she should know who she is. Though he isn’t supposed to know that.

Ladybug put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure your ‘girlfriend’ is safe. I’ll also be sure to tell her you were worried as well. She will be happy to hear that.”

Adrien felt himself in a bit of a bizarre situation, was ladybug helping him by being a wingwoman for him? He couldn’t help but find it a mix of ironic and funny.

Ladybug rushed out of the bathroom, realizing that chat noir was rubbing off on her a bit, teasing Adrien like that.

“He called me his girlfriend.” She smiled as she thought this to herself. Though she knew the task at hand was important and would dwell on this happiness much later.

Adrien watched as she ran off, feeling a bit flustered.

“Really needed to let her know you were off the market now.” A voice from his pocket teased.

“I panicked.” Adrien felt his face flush.

“Seemed Ladybug was happy for you. That’s good.” The cat kwami popped out of his pocket. Hiding the fact, he knew a lot more than he let on.

“We do have more important things to worry about. We have an akuma and sentimonster to stop. “

Adrien punched his fist out.

“Plagg. Claws out!”

_____________________________________________________________________________

Masquerade laughed, loving how she was turning everything back on her classmates.

When something smacked into her head.

“Ugh!” She grunted as she grabbed the metal object that flung into her.

“What the hell?!” Masquerade’s eyes focused to see it was Max’s ai companion, Markov that head-butted her.

“Your actions have far exceeded what is acceptable.” The robot responded.

“Markov get away from her. She will akumatize you!” Max called out in worry.

“Akumatize the toaster? How could I akumatize…” Masquerade muttered until she noticed her bracelet glowing.

“Oh, you have got to be f***ing kidding me. You akumatized a sentient rice cooker but not Marinette?! The f*** hawkmoth!?”

“I will have you know that I am an advanced artificial intelligence.”

“And you despise that.” Masquerade points out.

“Quite the contrary, I find my intellect exhilarating.”

“But you already calculated it, the two logical conclusions. That you will either become obsolete and be tossed out for a newer model, or you will advance and grow until you outlive Max.”

Markov paused. He could not come up with a response. The robot felt stumped byt the statement.

“Too easy.”

“Markov!’ Max cried out as a mask landed over his visual face plate. Shifting him into his angry red coated akuma form, Robostus.

Max moved to get to his robot. But Kim held him back.

“It’s too late man.”

Max growled at the akuma.

“Damn it Lila, why are you doing this? You must know that Ladybug and Chat noir will arrive ready to stop you. The chances of you beating them are 0%.”

Masquerade lifted her hand as her bracelet began glowing again.

“Oh. smarty pants Max, the one with all the formulas and the data. You have to be the smartest one in the room or else you have nothing.”

“I know what you are trying to do. It won’t work.”

“Out of everyone here, you have the biggest inferiority complex. Your need to be the best at what your ‘good’ at. Robotics, video games, data analysis, and of course, calculations. You need to show to everyone how smart and skilled you are, because the moment you don’t, they realize there is no personality underneath.”

Max tried to focus on not letting the words get to him, but Masquerade knew exactly what to say to cut him down.

“Go on Max, tell them how to ‘Beat’ my power. Or do you not know?”

Max felt his lip quiver, he couldn’t stay strong. He didn’t know how to beat it. He could feel the horror of not knowing slip into his mind. She had nailed his insecurities like an expert marksman.

“I thought so.”

A mask flew and smacked onto Max’s face. He dropped to the floor only to get up in a black and green spandex suit, His akumatized form, The Gamer.

A game controller charm appeared on her bracelet.

A sudden squeak caught her attention.

Masquerade turned her head to see an orange haired girl trying to sneak away.

“Sabrina, I had forgotten you were here. Just like everyone else usually does.”

Masquerade was about to really lay into her, but a book out of nowhere smacked her in the face.

It was the athletic dare maker himself, Kim.

“I am done sitting around and letting you turn everyone into masked zombies.” Kim exclaimed.

Nino felt himself zone back in as Kim called it out. Now was not the time to lose his head. He needed to focus. Masquerade didn’t mention Adrien, so maybe his best bro was still out there. Maybe they can get to the heroes and have them fix this. But first, he needed to escape.

“Kim’s right. We won’t let you turn anyone else anymore. Sabrina get help!” Nino exclaimed.

“Like she is going to… HEY!”

A waste basket covered the villainess as she stumbled back, with the basket stuck to her head. While she had been too busy gloating, she had failed to notice the tomato haired artist sneak behind her and the mindless akuma line up. He had slammed it on as hard as he could to ensure it was difficult to remove.

“Let’s Go!” Nino announced as the rest of the class rushed to the door. Time breaker being the only one actively ordered prepared to stop them.

“Don’t let her touch you.” Sabrina spoke as they tried to figure.

Kim grabbed a chair and used it like a make shift battering ram in order to keep Timebreaker at a distance, but the akuma reacted quickly by pulling the chair away and kicking the teen in the gut with her roller blade. Sending him flying back into the other teens.

“Ugh! That really was gross!” Masquerade retched as she pulled the waste bucket off her head.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed your little escape attempt. Because you won’t get another chance.”

Masquerade pointed at Kim.

“Since you started this little thing. I will change you next.”

Kim looked at the Akuma with a smile.

“Good luck with that. You don’t have anything that could make me feel gloomy.”

Masquerade’s bracelet started glowing again. She was clearly ready to speak, but stopped herself.

“… Wait.. THAT’s your biggest insecurity?”

“I don’t have an insecurity.”

“You are afraid everyone will realize you’re not smart.”

“What? No, I am not. I am plenty smart. I watch the Alternate Truth all the time.”

“Everyone already knows you’re an idiot.”

Kim looked at the akuma with shock.

“That’s not true! People do think I’m smart. Chloé has called me ‘Genius’ multiple times.”

Masquerade didn’t know how to respond to this.

“I… do you not know what sarcasm is?”

“Of course, I do.” Kim lied.

“Just … just wear the mask you moron.”

Masquerade sends a mask to attach to Kim.

The swimmer did his best to resist but felt himself succumb to the mask and become the dark winged akuma, Dark Cupid. He joined the rest of the akuma in the lineup, and a bow and arrow charm appeared on Masquerade’s charm bracelet.

“I actually feel dumber because of those last few minutes. Okay next one.”

Masquerade points at the Artist.

“Let’s bring the mood back with you Nathaniel, what is your biggest insecurity?”

“Listen Lila, there is still a chance to stop what you’re doing.”

“You’re afraid of opening yourself up to others. That’s the reason you didn’t want to join Soulmate searcher despite Marc’s insistence. You were afraid of putting out all that information on yourself and seeing that you and Marc aren’t meant for each other. You can only express yourself with art. And you know that it’s only a matter of time before he realizes your issues and leaves.”

Nathaniel wanted to dispute the statement, but felt his words die in his mouth.

“Such a pity Nathaniel, I’ll make sure to go after him once we are done here.”

“No! Don’t you…”

Nathaniel tried to say more, but a mask latching onto his face interrupted him.

The artist transformed into his heroic yet villainess akuma form, Evillustrator. Just like the others, the recent akuma joined the line.

A tablet pen charm appeared on Masquerade’s bracelet.

“And next up is Sabrina. I was interrupted earlier. But don’t worry. I have everything I need to get you.”

Sabrina tried to put on a brave face and covering her ears.

“Oh, you think It won’t work if you cant hear me.”

Masquerade’s bracelet glows.

“You don’t get it Sabrina, I am not just saying mean words, I am reading your greatest insecurities. And I am projecting them out.”

Sabrina could hear Masquerade’s words, as if they were in her mind. She couldn’t escape them. Her hands dropped.

“Very good. You learned how futile it is. It’s rare that you have someone’s attention like this. You always never stood out much, but you never minded that, your biggest insecurity is that no one will want to spend time with you. That’s why even with Chloé being mean and nasty, you like the fact that someone is willing to talk to you. You would accept humiliation and embarrassment over being alone. It’s truly pathetic.”

Sabrina felt tear stream down her face.

“Sabrina don’t let her get to you…”

“Im sorry. I don’t want to be alone.”

The mask flew onto Sabrina’s face. But something happened. She wasn’t changing right away.

“What’s this?” Masquerade commented.

“It seems you have more than one akumatizable form? Alya had something similar, but I was ‘missing something’ to access the other one so I didn’t bother with that. But this is different.”

Masquerade felt a malicious glee take hold.

“Why not give you both.”

Nino watched as the masked Sabrina shifted into a costume that looked familiar to him. The power stealing Miracular.

But suddenly, she vanished from his sight. Only to then appear with the other akuma.

“Invisibility and power stealing. Sabrina you maybe my favorite servant yet.” Masquerade exclaimed. Two charms appeared on Masquerade’s bracelet, vanishing cream and a tonfa.

Nino took a look at the line up of akuma.

“Dude… this is so not cool.”

Masquerade started to walk towards the DJ with a confident stride, stopping short, looking down at him. An aura of malice emanating from her presence.

“Don’t worry Nino. You’ll be joining them.”

_______________________________________________________________________

(End of Chapter)

So all the pieces are coming together. Will Nathalie be okay in a school filled with akuma? Will Ladybug and Chat noir be able to fight the army of akumatized classmates that Masquerade has been building? Will Kagami be able to get her text book. Will Kim learn that everyone loves him because he is a himbo? Find out by staying tuned. 

Thanks for reading and be sure to comment if you want to see the next part. I am an author and live off validation.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #soulmate survey #ml au #soulmate searcher #miraculous fanficiton #ladrien #adrinette #miraculous #masquerade #masquerade akuma #adrien agreste #nathalie sancoeur #chloé bourgeois #ladybug #chat noir #max kante #kim le chien #sabrina raincomprix #nathaniel kurtzberg #rose lavillant #juleka couffaine #julrose #Ivan bruel #mylene haprele #angst #fluff #drama #ml fics

[drabbles-mc]

Let Me In

EZ Reyes x F!Reader

Request by Anon: Can I request an Ez drabble where his relatively new girlfriend slips into an episode for the first time while they've been together? Like one day she just stops responding to his texts and calls, Letty notices she hasn't posted on social media, no one has seen her around town or at the club. He goes to her house to check on her, and she explains that this is something that just happens and people trying to cheer her up just makes her feel guilty. So he offers to be a silent character in her home during her episode, basically moving into her guest room. Like he'll just help out by going grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, etc., so that he can make sure she's nourished, well stocked, and clean. I understand if this is too uncomfortable because it involves mental illness, but if you felt comfortable enough to write it, I would really like that 💜

Warnings: mentions of depression/mental illness, language, EZ being a sweetie

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: EZ being a mindful partner and caretaker is my jam. Hope you enjoy! xo

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Your phone buzzed again. When you looked down and saw EZ’s name lighting up the screen, you gnawed at the inside of your cheek before turning it back over and setting it face down on the couch next to you. For three days you had been dodging his text and his calls. As much as you hated ignoring him, what you would hate more was dragging him into the mess you felt like you were currently trapped it.

The two of you hadn’t been dating for very long. Things had been going well, and even outside of your new-found relationship with EZ, you had been doing well in general. Until one day when you woke up and started to feel yourself slipping. It’d been a while since you felt yourself spiraling downwards, and part of you figured that you were a little overdue for it, as fucked up as it sounded. You knew what you were in for, what to expect, but you didn’t want to put that on Ezekiel. Things were still so new, and so good—you didn’t want to stain that with the darkness that was swirling around inside your head. Besides, it was better for you to get through your depressive episodes alone. You couldn’t handle other people’s guilt on top of your own depression.

EZ was sat at the bar in the clubhouse, staring intently at his phone. He felt like if he looked at it long enough, your contact photo would light up the screen with a phone call. But he had no such luck. The anxious part of him worried that you had just woken up and decided to drop him and move on, but that just didn’t seem right—things had been going so well. He knew that things were still fresh with the two of you, though, and he didn’t feel comfortable just showing up and kicking your door in, especially when you had been making a point to not talk to him.

“You alright?” Letty approached him, instantly noticing the worried look on his face.

He looked up at her from the screen of his phone, “You heard from Y/N?”

She shook her head, “Not the past few days, why? She okay?”

He sighed, shaking his head, “I don’t know. She hasn’t been answering my calls or texts. Just starting to get worried.”

Letty was already scrolling on her phone to see if she had seen any posts from you the past few days on social media. But there was nothing. She looked over at EZ, “Nothing. Maybe you should go check on her. Can’t hurt.”

He nervously twisted his hands in his lap, “I don’t want to just show up like that. I don’t think we’re really there yet.”

Angel scoffed from the stool next to him, “Don’t be like that, ‘mano. If you’re worried go check on her. She hasn’t been around lately.”

EZ knew that he would never win an argument against the both of them. So with a heavy sigh he got up from his seat and made his way towards the door of the clubhouse. He texted you to tell you that he was on his way, but in his gut, he knew that the text was most likely going to go unanswered.

When he pulled into your driveway, he saw that your car was there. That at least gave him reassurance that you were home, not stranded or lost somewhere. He hung his helmet off the handlebar and made his way up to the front door. Taking a deep breath, he reached forward and knocked on your door.

You’d heard EZ’s bike long before you heard the knock at the door. You contemplated, for a fleeting moment, not answering the door. But you knew that wasn’t fair to him—none of this really was.

You unlocked and opened the door and you could instantly see the relief on his face when he saw that you were alive and in one piece. That relief, however, was brief as his features twisted into a look of concern. He saw the dark circles beneath your eyes, the hollowness in them.

“Hey,” you offered up as you stood in the doorway.

“Hey, um,” he cleared his throat, “sorry to just turn up like this. I just…I got worried.”

“Sorry,” it was hard to meet his eyes.

There were a few beats of silence before he asked, “Can I come in?”

You glanced back over your shoulder for a second. Your house wasn’t a mess or anything, but usually you took extra care to straighten up when you knew that people, especially EZ, were coming over. There was no point in hiding it now, though. It was too late to pretend that everything was normal.

You opened the door and stepped aside so that he could come in. With a deep sigh you shut and locked it behind the both of you. You stayed put by the front door, not quiet sure what EZ was going to say or do. You were surprised that he didn’t seem angrier or upset about you completely blowing him off the last few days.

“Can I ask what’s been going on?” you could tell by the look on his face that he was trying to choose his words carefully.

You gnawed at the inside of your lip for a second before walking towards the couch, motioning for him to follow you. You sat down next to him and pulled your legs up underneath you. He watched your every move, and you could see it in his eyes that he didn’t know what was wrong but he already wanted to fix it.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been blowing you off,” you sighed and ran your hands over your face, “I just, I sort of shut down sometimes. I’m used to how I operate, but I probably should’ve mentioned something about it to you.”

“About what?” he was a smart man, but he still wanted you to be able to tell him in your own words what was going on.

You fussed with the hem of your hoodie, “About my depression. There’s just, you know, never a good time to bring it up,” you let out a hollow chuckle, “Not necessarily the best ice breaker on a first date,” you shook your head, “But anyway. Some days it’s worse than others. It’s always pretty manageable, but when it gets bad I usually just shut down and stay in. I know how to handle myself and it’s easier to just get through it alone.”

“I can help,” his tone was so sincere.

You nodded, “I know you would. But people trying to cheer me up or get me to do shit just…makes it worse. I just gotta ride it out. Things always end up leveling off and going back to normal. I just don’t really have the capacity to handle human interaction.”

“I can help and also not talk to you,” he wasn’t trying to make light of your situation, but you could still see a hint of a smile playing at his lips as he made his offer.

It got you to give a small smile in return, “I’m not going to ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking,” he scooted a little closer to you, “I’ll stay out of your way. I can crash on the couch, or in the spare room. You won’t even know I’m here. I’ll be like your Alfred. Only better-looking.”

“Ezekiel,” you shook your head, “you really don’t have to—”

“But I want to,” he cut you off but his voice was still gentle, “If you really can’t stand me after a couple days then I’ll pack my shit and leave you alone until you’re feeling better. Promise.”

You sighed, not having the energy to really fight him on it. You gave a slight nod, “Okay.”

“Yea?”

You nodded, “Yea.”

You felt like there was something more that you should say but you couldn’t. Your brain felt like it was coated in a fog. Without another word about it, EZ stood up and gave you a light kiss on the top of your head before heading back out the way he came so he could go pack some clothes and things to keep at your place.

When he got back to your place, you were curled up on the couch underneath your blanket. The television was on despite the fact that you weren’t really listening to it—it just was better than complete silence. EZ toed off his boots by the door, his footsteps surprisingly soft as he made his way through your house to set his things in your spare bedroom.

You looked over at him when he came back down the hall. He looked over at you for a moment and smiled but didn’t say anything as he made his way over into the kitchen. A few seconds later you heard the sink turn on. Propping yourself up on your elbows you peeked to see what he was doing. His back was completely to you as he started to work through the dishes that had been accumulating in your sink. You watched him for a minute, and if you listened hard enough you could hear him quietly humming to himself as he did. You laid back down on the couch, letting your eyes drift shut to the sound of the television and the water running in the next room over.

Ezekiel was true to his word—he didn’t push you to do anything or speak with him. Over the course of the next few days, he kept himself busy. He went to the store, trying his best to figure out what you needed without having to ask you. He cooked for you, silently setting the plate down either on the coffee table or on your nightstand depending on where you were. Occasionally he would press his lips to the top of your head in a light kiss, but he tried never to linger.

Truthfully your house had never been so clean. You were a fairly tidy person when you were in a good space, but EZ’s dedication to cleaning your place far exceeded yours even on your best days. He refused to let himself sit idly by if there was something that he could be doing. You’d grown accustomed to the sounds of him walking through your house, going up and down your stairs to and from the basement as he did your laundry as well as his own. You knew when he was really into his tasks because he would absentmindedly hum little tunes while he busied himself.

The smell of dinner had been filling the house for what seemed like ages. You had strolled through the kitchen a couple times, disguising your curiosity by making it seem like you just wanted to get yourself a bottle of water. EZ was so engrossed in his cooking process that he didn’t even notice. Before this point, you never really thought about if he could cook, but apparently, he could and he was very good at it.

You were sat on the couch, scrolling trying to find something to put on the TV that piqued your interest. EZ came over and set a plate down in front of you. You looked up at him, offering up a quiet thank you. He nodded in response and turned around to go to his room.

“EZ,” you called after him. You waited for him to stop and turn to you, “There something you wanna watch?” you held the controller out to him

He raised his eyebrows, unable to pretend that he wasn’t a little surprised at the gesture, “Yea?”

You nodded, “All the titles are starting to look the same to me.”

He chuckled as he sat down, taking the controller from you, “I get it.”

You watched him as he scrolled through the titles in front of him. His brows furrowed as he read through one show synopsis after another. Despite how heavy everything had felt lately, there was something reassuring about the position you currently found yourself in. Even though you hadn’t wanted him to stay, to see you like this, you had to admit that it was nice to finally have someone around who knew how to have your back when you were going through it. He knew how to be there and not suffocate you.

“Thank you,” you said as you started to pick away at your dinner.

He chuckled, “Picking a show isn’t that hard. Don’t need to thank me.”

You smiled and shook your head, “Thank you for staying with me. I know it’s not exactly exciting but it’s…I kind of like you being here.”

“Kind of?” he playfully nudged your knee with his own.

“Keeping you humble. I’m not that out of it.”

He laughed for a moment before his expression grew a little more serious, “Thank you for letting me stay. I know that wasn’t easy.”

You nodded slowly, “Yea. But, y’know, it was nice for the guest room to finally get some use.”

One end of his mouth curled up in a smirk, “I might show up and stay there uninvited all the time.”

You shook your head, biting back a smile. It’d been a long few days, and it wasn’t over yet. But for a few minutes you got to feel a little lighter and that was a feeling you wanted to hold onto while you had it. You watched EZ out of the corner of your eye as he focused on the television. You weren’t much for company but there was something comforting about his presence. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, you were glad that he���d shown up on your doorstep.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes x you #ez reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes imagine #ezekiel reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes fanfic #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

[secndlife]

[5:47pm]

"Do you want me to bring you anything?” You asked Soonyoung, phone glued to your ear, while grabbing a pack of rice from the shelf. You spent the afternoon running some errands, groceries being the last one of your tasks.

He thought about it for a second, “Kimchi?” Of course.

“I already ordered it from that small shop you like,” you informed him, eyes scanning your cart to check if you had all you needed.

“Oh, okay! I’ll pick it up to—ouch!” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. What was he doing?

“Stop moving and it won’t hurt!” You heard someone say in the background.

No. Not someone. Krys. Your chest automatically moved as you sighed. Soonyoung and Krys unsupervised never meant anything good. You stopped walking, standing still by the grain section.

“Soonyoung?” You asked, voice gentle. He hummed in response. “What is Krys doing there?” You had no idea what could she possibly be doing there on a Saturday evening. Weekends were, as she liked to call, Seokmin days. So when you heard her voice echoing through your apartment, your senses tingled.

Someone almost bumped at you, making it pretty clear you were in the way. You gave the young man an apologetic look, trying to focus now on whatever excuse Soonyoung was about to offer. “Nothing?” He sounded unsure. Shy, even. Like a child that’s about to get busted.

You rubbed your temples, “Krys is never doing nothing. Especially with you.” They were partners in crime.

“You’ll see when you get home?” Uncertainty, again.

Another long breath escaped you. “Can you just please don’t get slime on the ceiling like that one time?”

He laughed and you felt almost calm. Almost. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Should I be concerned?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“Will you not be concerned if I tell you there’s no reason to be concerned?”

Krys snorted in the background, “Of course she won’t. She doesn’t trust us!”

Your eyes went to the back of your head, “Hey! Can she hear me? If not, tell her to shut up.”

He ignored your banter, “Will you?”

You really wanted to say yes. No one would believe you, though. “No.”

Your boyfriend giggled, “Then be concerned and when you come home you’ll see it’s not a big deal and relax.”

“Just—”

“It’s not slime, and we won’t break anything, ok? Finish doing the groceries, and we’ll see you soon.”

You bit the insides of your cheek, “Do you promise there’s no sli—”

“Love you, bye.”

And then he hung up. Just like that. Plain and simple. You sighed dramatically, staring at the various types of rice in front of you, trying to come up with a scenario where the two of them are alone and doing something that wouldn’t end up in someone getting hurt or in a mess you’d have to fix. Nothing. You guessed you’d just have to go home and see with your own eyes.

The drive from the market to your apartment seemed long. Too long. You probably shouldn’t be this worried. Whatever the two of them were doing was most likely fixable. You’d just have to put on the big girl pants and manage it, like always.

It was just that they were one and the same. Both too impulsive, too often. You loved them despite and because of it. But it was also something that could give you massive headaches whenever they were left alone together.

When you put your keys in the lock, you let out one last breath before you were actually ready to face whatever was expecting you. As you moved the bags inside, you heard footsteps approaching you.

“Hi, bestie.” Krys said, with a sneaky smile across her lips.

You raised an eyebrow at her while closing the door behind you. “What did you do to my boyfriend this time?”

The woman huffed, “Can you stop acting as if I’m some sort of mastermind behind evil plans?”

“Aren’t you?” You said, walking inside, eyes quickly moving through the place in the hopes of finding Soonyoung and whatever mess they had made.

She chased after you, a hand reaching for your arm. “Am not. He is equally involved in everything.” You got confused by her grip, but didn’t really say anything, simply allowing her to drag you further into the living room. “Sit.”

“What for? Where is Soonyoung?” You were feeling agitated.

She somewhat managed to make you follow her orders, legs hitting the comfortable fabric of your couch. “Can you wait, please?”

You shook your head, “No. I want to know what you did.”

Krys rolled her eyes, “For the record, this was his idea. And stop being dramatic, you will actually thank me this time.”

“I doubt it,” you said with a laugh.

She ignored it, confidence very clear in her tone. “Close your eyes, I’ll go get your furry boyfriend.”

“He’s not a furry!”

“Yeah, yeah.” She stood there, facing you, waiting for you to do as you had been told. “C’mon, close them. Otherwise, I won’t bring the furry.”

It was your turn to huff, “Stop calling him that!” When you realized she wouldn’t bulge, you placed your hands over your eyes. “Fine.”

Krys smiled, triumphantly, “You’ll love this.” You could hear her walking away and, for some reason, your heart started beating faster.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” You heard Soonyoung ask her not long after. You guessed that wasn’t for you to hear, but he had never done a good job when it came to concealing words, anyway.

You figured she reassured him some other way as you didn’t hear her voice until she spoke to you again. “Okay, as much as I want to see your reaction, furry guy is too excited, so I think I’ll let you two enjoy this moment alone.”

“Did you buy him a tiger suit? Because if you did I swear—”

“I’ll wait for your thank you text.” You heard something that sounded like hands clapping, guessing they had just high-fived each other. Idiots. “Go get her.”

Not long after, you heard the door closing once again, taking that as your cue. “Soo? Can I—”

“No!” He said, perhaps a bit too loud, before you could move your hands.

“What’s going on?” You whined. “I’m getting worried.”

The man chuckled, “Getting?”

“Please, let me look.” You were practically begging now. A thousand scenarios had crossed your mind already, and you were going crazy at this point because you couldn’t really think of anything besides Krys buying him a goddamn tiger suit.

Soonyoung let out a breath in an attempt to ease his nervousness. This wasn’t that big of a deal. He was sure you’d love him anyway. Still, he really, really hoped you’d like it. He whispered, “You can look now.”

Your boyfriend had barely finished speaking when you started uncovering your eyes. You were met with something you weren’t expecting. He was smiling. Big. He looked different, too. It was almost as if your heart had skipped a beat. Words were failing you, so you struggled to manage mumbling something cohesive. “Oh!”

“Is it bad?” He pouted.

“What? No!” You said, truthfully. You then stood up, standing in front of him. “I guess I just thought it’d be something else.”

He chuckled, “You think too low of Krys and I.”

“I have my reasons.” You brushed your fingers through his hair. “You look amazing. Like, really fucking good.”

He was blond.

Could that even be considered blond? It was actually more leaning towards white and, if you looked at it close enough, there were subtle hints of purple on the background tone. Apparently, Krys came not long after you left earlier, bringing the necessary equipment to support Soonyoung in his newest decision. She always had his back. He said she bleached it and styled it before you came home, being well aware of how weak you were for side parted hair, and a couple of strands falling over his eyes Soonyoung.

“Do you like it?” He sounded timid. Almost as if he was too scared to ask. He was always the confident one. Still, when it came to you, Soonyoung was often like an insecure teenager that wanted nothing more but to impress his crush.

You nodded, “I love it.” You weren’t a big fan of blond men, always being the one to go for dark haired ones. Still, much like with many other things, Soonyoung was a decisive and welcoming change of opinion. You wrapped your arms around his neck while his went instinctively to one of the places he called home - your waist.

When you didn’t say anything for a bit, he took his chance to tease. “I see it made you speechless.”

You smiled, “It just kinda reminds me of the first picture I saw of you.”

Seeing Soonyoung with the same hairstyle he had when you were first introduced to his remarkable features, even if only through an Instagram post, gave you butterflies. It took you back to when you barely even knew who he was. To when you were, unknowingly, falling for his eyes for the first time. It felt new and, at the same time, familiar.

You took some time to just admire him. To take in how good he looked. To allow him to read, in your eyes, how much you loved him. To let your heart go back to its usual rhythm. To understand that, now, this was a different Soonyoung than the one you first saw on Doki’s phone. That this Soonyoung was as in love with you as you were with him. That this Soonyoung was as yours as you were his.

“I didn’t look this hot back then.” He said, lips curving in a smug smirk.

You laughed, “You definitely didn’t. I don’t know how, but you manage to look better and better every day.” Your fingers danced against the hair on his nape. “This just makes you even hotter.”

He pulled you closer, welcoming the sudden ego boost. “Hot enough for you to let me fuck you right here, right now?”

You stared into his eyes and felt something twist inside you. He raised his eyebrows as if he was waiting for a confirmation he could push you up against a wall and make you moan his name within minutes.

You smiled his favorite smile, face already mere millimeters away from his. “Yeah.”

While you were lost in his kisses and moans and bites, your phone was buzzing by your pocket.

[5:47pm] Krys: you’re only excused from not texting me thank you if you’re fucking your newly blond boyfriend :)

a/n: yes this is another mmf!soonyoung thing. am i still obsessed with this universe? yes. am i planning/writing another long ass fic about it? yes. will i post small drabbles that fit between the timeline for mmf 1 and 2 while i work on part 2? probably. anyway! when he first showed up blond recently i almost died bc i’m such a black haired supremacist and he was looking SO GOOD with the previous hair i was kinda bitter. but. now. you know. he knocked me down. he did that. he is so sexy. blond/white soonyoung is so sexy. so yeah! no explanation, just sexy blondish soonyoung. also, for the sake of writing, let’s pretend you can actually go from black to his current haircolor in a day without going bald. as usual,my askbox is always open even tho i now apparently suck at answering asks. sorry about that. I WILL WORK ON IT !!! yeah so! i hope you’ll enjoy it mwah

#hoshi #soonyoung #seventeen #svt #hoshi scenario #soonyoung scenario #seventeen scenario #hoshi fic #soonyoung fic #seventeen fic #seventeen imagine #hoshi imagine #soonyoung imagine #seventeen timestamps #hoshi fluff #seventeen fluff #soonyoung fluff

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Of Dust and Ashes: Chapter 37 Burning Bridges

AN: Moving posting days to Saturday- just a general FYI.

Find my other work on the Masterlist- some angst, some fluff, some sexy smut for all flavors.

pairing: Clint x OFC Series rating: M Series warnings: adult themes, occasional smut, violence, mental health struggles- if it can be warned for, it’s probably in here at some point tbh

Kofi

All donations and Kofi purchased and sent my way will go toward paying down my student loan debt. If every follower were to donate even just 75 cents each month, I could make my monthly payments when it resumes. I don’t expect nor hope for every follower to donate. But as the USA government won’t follow through on student loan forgiveness, I’m not above asking for help as this is a debt I was forced to take on by my abusive ex-husband. I've almost managed to pay off half of the balance on my credit cards, soon I'll be able to focus on this debt too.

Current balance as of 3/12/22: $45,612.83

Chapter 37: Burning Bridges

“Eventually, one of us needs to get up and let the dog in.” Clint mumbled, his voice rumbling in his chest under her head.

“Don’t wanna.”

“If you don’t, I’ll have to.”

“You can’t.” She answered simply, “I’m laying on you. If you got up, I would have to too and I said I don’t wanna.”

“I should put on pants and get up.”

“Why?” She laughed, “Expecting another guest?”

“No- I think news has spread to leave me, leave us alone. Nat would have updated everyone else that was left.”

Propping herself up on her arms, she said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He asked but continued before she had a chance to answer. “You told her the truth.”

“But she is your friend.”

“Was.” Clint said. “She is a part of before and I can’t- I’m not that man anymore. His friendships were his. I can’t try to continue to be him.”

“But aren’t you?” She hesitantly questioned. He sat up slightly, still holding her close to him as he arranged them into a sitting position. There was a chill in the air, and naked flesh was quick to break out on goosebumps. If sitting in the living room naked had been on their ‘to do’ list, she would have not let the fire in the stove go out. “You’re sleeping in that man’s house. We cook in his kitchen. We keep our chickens in his yard. We use his barn as a greenhouse. We grow our food in his garden. Are you truly so separate from that man?”

“You’ve been thinking about that for a while.” He mused and kissed her when she parted her lips to backpedal. “You’re right. I think I’ve known it for a while. I’ve been scared though, to leave. Not scared to leave the house behind, that was part of it but scared to get involved in a battle that couldn’t be won.”

“Would that be bad?”

“I can’t take watching more people I love be destroyed. I can’t take watching more people I love die.”

“Is avoiding that pain worth not fighting?”

“I think it is. I’ve fought all my life. From the moment I was old enough to defend myself, I fought. Most of that time, I’ve been fighting for other people. Now, I think its time that I fight for myself, if I fight.”

“I’m glad you didn’t go.” She admitted. “Even if you would have brought me with.”

“Hey,” Clint leaned down and kissed her, long and hard before continuing “I think you should come with today. Pack a lunch, take Trust and some chickens, some supplies and let’s really scope out the towns and cities, see how things are now.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“Nat has been making progress bring stability and things closer to normal on the east coast. Let’s explore, maybe make an overnight trip of it and see how much progress has made it our way.”

“What about the chickens?”

“We’ll load them up on more feed than they can eat. It’ll be fine.” The childish smile he wore lit up his face.

She couldn’t help but to smile too, “Okay.”

~~~~~<3

Humming while she worked, Dee made sandwiches with the last of their sliced bread. Other than Clint’s shirt, she hadn’t bothered getting dressed yet. Outside, Clint was making quick work of cleaning the chicken coop and giving them far more food than they could gorge themselves on in one day though they knew the feathered beasts would make a solid effort to eat it all.

She fried up the last of their bacon and sliced garden fresh tomatoes. Lettuce was chopped and a jar of croutons were set out. She put the lettuce greens and spinach into a large plastic container.

They had no cheese for the salad but that was fine. Tomatoes were packed into a jar and set aside. She grabbed a jar of raspberry vinaigrette made from raspberry jam Clint had traded vegetables for. She was packing up thin slices of chicken breasts when Clint came back inside.

“Let’s take your RV.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” Clint pushed himself up on the counter, using it as a chair while he watched her. “It’s got everything we need, we can have a hot dinner and a bed to sleep in if we overnight it, a toilet to shit in- everything we need.”

“Is it okay to take it?”

Snagging a cucumber from the salad, he said “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know- We haven’t driven it since we parked it.”

“But the systems all work still. It’s not like it broke down or anything. It’s just been parked. Most rich guys park theirs for longer anyway. It’ll be fine.” Clint landed on the ground with a thump and gathered up bags. “I’m topping up the water tank right now anyway.”

“Don’t overfill it!” Dee yelled after Clint as he carried the cooler she had been packing out. While she was nervous to be out in something as noticeable as the motorhome, it would be nice to have all the amenities.

~~~~~<3

It didn’t take long to get stocked and packed for the trip but they took their time. Knowing they had a home on wheels gave them the freedom to take more and so they did. The refrigerator was packed with a few chickens butchered earlier that day. The last of the moose stew was on a shelf above it and above that, leafy greens and their salad.

They stocked the empty shelves with caned foods they had left over and a few mason jars they had canned themselves. There was a few loaves of bread and a sack of rolls that if they couldn’t trade for goods, they would likely give away. Containers of sugar, flour and dog food were topped off.

“Isn’t this excessive?” Dee had asked.

“Better to over pack than be gone longer than we expected and be left wanting.” It did make sense.

“It’s getting late.” Dee observed from the passenger seat as Clint pulled the home on wheels out of the Barn.

“Yeah.” Clint hummed. “Probably leave in the morning.”

Dee laughed, slapping his arm. “It’s your fault we’re so late leaving.

“Is not.” It totally was, he knew it.

“Lets sleep here and go in the morning.”

~~~~~<3

Morning came early and that was okay. There was an excitement in the air that had been building all the prior day. She wasted no time, taking a warm shower rather than waiting for the hot water to really push through the pipes while Clint topped off the chickens' food.

When she got out, the water had only really been hot for a minute. At least he would have a hot shower. She toweled off and dressed, dawning simple blue jeans and a tank top.

“The chickens had so much food left.” Clint announced, earning a chuckle from the woman dripping a trail of water from her head. “I topped them off anyway. Hey, did you know you’re leaving a trail?”

“Hadn’t noticed.” She stuck her tongue out at him. It was good to be back to this. It was good to be back to them. It was good to be leaving the house of ghosts. It was good. “The water should be hot for you.”

“You didn’t use it all up?” He teased.

“Nonsense- I didn’t even give it enough time to really get hot.” Her words were muffled as she dug through the closet that had become theirs.

“Grab me a few changes of clothes?” Clint asked, pulling his dusty shirt up over his head. He tossed it to the floor but quickly snatched it out of the air and made a correction. Old dogs could indeed learn new tricks, he showed as he tossed the shirt into the hamper in the corner. “And something for today?”

Dee hummed in acknowledgment as he slipped out of the rest of his clothes before walking naked to the shower. Like her, he was excited to get going, fueled by a full night of sleep.

She grabbed four pairs of clothes for herself and him each, including a few pairs of pajamas to sleep in. It was more than they needed but she would rather have more than they need than be scavenging or trading for clothes on the road.

While Clint sang off key in the shower, she finished loading up. Clothes where hung in the closet and folded and packed into the drawers. The blanket and stuffed fox that had once belonged to her children were relocated, tucked into a shelf and held in place by the fence.

She double checked that they had their cooking supplies, cutlery and knives. Trust’s bowls were tucked safely away. She made sure some movies and books were packed onto the bookshelf in case time needed filling.

It felt weird to be preparing to take off in the motorhome again. The last time she had done so from nothing it was rushed and clumsy, marred with pain, trauma and death. The last time she began a trip, it was stained with blood. Things were stored where there was room and she had spent a significant number of days after the fact organizing things and cleaning up things that had fallen or spilled.

“Things all set?” The RV rocked slightly as Clint stepped inside.

“I think so, all we’re missing is Trust.”

“Cool- Coffee?” He held out a thermos. “We can stop and make breakfast in a bit.”

“But first, coffee.” She agreed before calling for Trust.

~~~~~<3

They drove for almost an hour before stopping. The road had been deserted the whole way but there were signs of recent activity. The world was beginning to show signs of life once again. All around them, in fields and forests, new growth was bright green and lush. With half the herbivores, there was less mouths to nibble and consume the new growth.

They had thought about stopping at the clinic before deciding against it. With spring in the air, the grass greening and the ground soft, it was time for Sasha and Rachel to begin to stand on their feet.

Dee set about making breakfast. Bread toasted on the grill while she chopped vegetables. Music played through the speakers, soft and relaxed.

The door opened and Trust’s big feet clattered against the artificial wood floor as he jumped into the living space and bounded into the sofa.

“Everything’s so green.” The words echoed the thoughts she had been musing all morning.

“It’s nice.” She plucked toasted bread off the grill and oiled the pan. Potatoes, peppers and tomatoes sizzled in the pan, erupting in a heavy scent that reminded them both of home. “Do you think it will stay that way?”

“No.” a growl sounded from his stomach, adding to the normalcy of the day. “This summer we’ll see the bugs come back.”

“Ew.”

“Next we’ll see the small animal populations explode. Bigger game, like deer will make gains too, but that will really show in another year or so.”

“You think?” Dividing the vegetables between two plates and tossing a spoon full into the dog bowl sitting in the sink. After oiling the heavy cast grill pan, she cracked two eggs and turned the burner off, counting on the residual heat of the heavy pan to cook the eggs to safety.

“It’ll be a few years or so, maybe five and it’ll probably be like it never happened… at least to them.”

“I can’t imagine the world moving on so quickly.” Dee confessed.

“I know.” Clint’s arms wrapped around her waist as he held her back to his chest. “We’ll always remember, though. They won’t be forgotten.”

~~~~~<3

There were heavy military vehicles on the road, though not many. For the most part, the small town looked just as Clint had last seen it, only more alive. Dee was tense in the passenger seat as they grew closer. Men and women wore mismatched uniforms, though they were outnumbered. An American flag flapped in the breeze, feeling to Dee much like a mockery.

“It’s okay.” His hand tightened around hers but the smile he gave her didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Stay inside. I’m going to talk to them.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dee asked as he reached for his jacket.

With it on, the gun at his side was covered.

“It’ll be fine,” directing his attention to the uniformed men and women, the driver’s door closed behind him.

“I don’t like this.” Dee confessed to the windshield.

~~~~~<3

“Hi, there!” With their attention he continued, “What’s going on? We ah- we live a bit rural, been on our own all winter. We haven’t been able to pick up signals in a while.”

“Are you armed, Sir?” The man who looked to be in charge asked.

“No” he lied.

“We’re with the National Guard-”

“Those don’t look like National Guard uniforms”

“Yes, well-” The man cleared his throat, clearly feeling threatened by the questioning nature of the conversation. “We’re making do with the supplies we have. I’m sure you’re well aware but do to the Decimation, there have been significant supply chain issues.”

“Uhuh.”

“Those issues have been on a global level but are beginning to see improvement. As we’ve been able to secure supplies, we’ve been dispersing them to the people.”

“It’s been three quarters of a year.”

“It’s taken time- we’ve been working from the denser population centers inward.” The man looked indigent at the continued questioning.

“You’re-” A uniformed woman tripped over her words as the look of puzzlement that had been on her face shifted into recognition. Just what he needed. “You’re Hawkeye.”

“Retired.” Clint pointed out, not turning his attention from the man that appeared to be in charge “How has filling the vacant roles been?”

“Well enough. We’re finding people for the positions.”

“Quality people? Be honest.”

The man shrugged, the action telling Clint more than his words. He didn’t like at least some of the people put into power. “We’re working with what we’ve got, who’s left and who will show up.”

“Unlike me, right?” He wasn’t naïve to the fact that his absence would have been noticed.

“You haven’t exactly been here helping,” He added, “Sir” after a moment’s pause.

“You want to know what I’ve been up to?” Clint challenged. “I saved a woman being ambushed by a group of thugs- where were the authorities then? I rescued a baby abandoned in the snow. Where where the emergency supplies when the mother was located and she struggled to nurse, no formula anywhere to find? I killed a man who decided to make a city his own country, putting an end to his gang’s human rights violations. Where was the military trucks then? Where were you? Because I was right fucking here, hunting game and making shitty supply trades that brought people food when you guys couldn’t even manage to update the emergency response message on the radios.”

“Do you need any supplies?” The woman interjected. “We’ve got bottled water to distribute along with filters, beans, rice, dried and canned foods.”

“Save it for the people who’ve been waiting almost a year for aid. We’re fine.”

He didn’t look over his shoulder as he returned to the RV. He didn’t say anything as he settled into the driver’s seat and threw it into gear. They sat in silence as they drove through the small town.

“Is everything alright?” Dee broke the silence when the town and its military vehicles were behind them.

“Fine.”

“Don’t sound fine.”

He sighed. “I should be happy to see some sort of order returning.”

“But you’re not. Neither am I, if I’m honest. They took too long.”

“Right.” His knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel. “They blame me.”

“What happened, it wasn’t your fault.” Soothingly, she ran her hand up and down his arm.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Heaving a heavy sigh, he stretched his fingers out before returning to a more relaxed grip. “What now? I don’t think supplies will be in such demand now. The military boys are probably going to crack down on bartering and try to get people back on money.”

“I think we get a bit further away from civilization, first. Then we can worry about planning.”

When the town was long in the distance, Clint pulled over and ran his fingers through his hair. She watched as he took slow, deep breaths. Trust, ever the loyal dog, nuzzled his snout under his arm.

After being injured in the city during the winter, Trust had become as close to Clint as he had been to Dee. Now, he settled into his self appointed role of calming the anxiety. He knew the people cared for him, protected and provided for him. The least he could do was calm them.

~~~~~<3

They drove through the day and well into the night. They stopped in each town and was met with a returned sense of life. People who had previously huddled, hidden in sheds and basements. People that had once relied on what they had, what they had been able to steal and savage had largely begun to band together.

What had been static and silence on the radio had begun to be replaced with returned emergency broadcasts. In some areas, music could even be picked up though there was no signs of a living, breathing DJ.

“It’s starting to go back to normal” Dee’s voice was almost lost to the sound of music.

“It’ll never be normal again.” Clint stretched his fingers out, again making an effort to once again relax his grip on the wheel.

“We should stop and sleep.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Why?” She asked as he pulled the RV off onto an isolated road. It rocked over the bumpy road as the highway faded behind them.

“I just-” He sighed, throwing the RV into park and cutting the engine. “I feel like this is going to make things worse.”

“How could it? Shouldn’t it help.”

“Not if they put trash in charge.”

“Would they really put people that bad in power?”

“If it serves them.” Clint admitted, climbing out of the driver’s seat and into the living space. “I’ve seen them do it before.”

~~~~~<3

Tag list: @usedtobegoodfriend96​, @alcoholic-muffin​, @theoneanna​, @alexakeyloveloki​, @toozmanykids​, @j-u-s-t-4​, @missaphrodite23​, @winterisakiller​, @bambamwolf87​, @nonsensicalobsessions​, @tinchentitri​, @xoxabs88xox​, @queenoftheunderdark​, @carissime72​, @myoxisbroken​, @coyotesongwriting​, @wegingerangelica​, @faemapfae​​, @tnystrk-exe

#clint x ofc #clint barton x oc #clint barton x reader #clint barton x female reader #clint x oc #clint x reader #clint barton x ofc

[snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales]

Trial and Error (Derek x Reader)

A/N: This has been something living in my brain for a while, and I decided to get it out, along with 5 prompts.

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Thank you to @xteenwolfwritingsx and @mymonandsymon for looking this over for me!

Warnings: Some language. As close to smut as I write, (If you squint.) Mostly just fluff, though.

Word count: 1,646

Anon said: “"I'd kill you on the spot if you weren't so nice to look at. Because, full offence, your personality needs a lot of work."”

Anon said: “Can you do 93 & 99 w/ derek hale pls :) thank you!”

(93. “Forget it. You fucking suck.”

99. “Don’t be an asshole. Asshole.”)

Anon said: “Hello! I was wondering if you would be willing to do numbers 8 and 101 with Derek Hale from the the most recent list you have posted? If not it’s okay, thank you ❤️”

(8. “You didn’t just wake me up at 2am because you were ‘in the mood’.”

101. “You got a cute butt.”)

Xxx

You’d barely made it into the loft before you were pinned up against the far wall, Derek holding your hands up on either side of your head at the wrists, his grip much tighter than it should be, but not as much as it could be.

“I thought I told you to stay on your side of the city,” he hissed out, face inches from yours, eyes glowing red, and a low growl rumbling in his chest.

His eyebrows knit in confusion at your smirk, his body pressing against yours as you made a halfhearted effort to push you both off the wall.

Rolling your eyes, you let out a breathy chuckle, which only made him cock one eyebrow up in either amusement or disbelief, you weren’t sure.

“What the hell is so funny?” He asked, both his tone and his weight easing up a bit.

His mistake.

“Oh, nothing,” you mused, looking up and away from him for a few seconds before flipping you both around, holding him pinned against the wall in the same position, your own eyes glowing their bright red as he let out an annoyed snarl. “Just thinking about how things can change in an instant….”

The breath was knocked out of you as you once again were pinned to the wall, this time his weight almost fully against you to keep you still. “What do you want?” He ground out through clenched teeth.

You couldn’t help thinking that the two of you would have been great friends if it weren’t for both of you being Alpha’s. Pack rivalry and whatnot overriding much of any chance at getting any closer than you were now, which given your position physically, was actually pretty damn close.

Baby steps.

“I have an idea,” you began after letting out a huff. Resigned to being stuck against the wall, you relaxed a bit, deciding to try and placate the Big Bad Sourwolf instead of poking him with a metaphorical stick, no matter how fun the latter was. “It would save both of our packs a lot of hassle, and probably save some innocent lives, too, come to think of it-”

“No,” he said firmly, his hold relaxing just a bit.

You looked at him in shock. “You haven’t even heard-”

“I said no!” His voice just as firm as before, he pushed off the wall for emphasis, your body relaxing just slightly, and you rubbed your wrists, despite the fact they were already pretty much healed.

“I’m just trying to be a good leader, Derek, offering you peace and my help for both our sakes and our packs, but because of whatever vendetta you have for me, you’re not willing to listen. Well, you know what? Forget it. You fucking suck.”

Stalking toward the loft door, Derek grabbed your elbow firmly and lightly tugged you to face him, making you roll your eyes again. “What, Hale?”

“I know. Look, I’m sorry. I really don’t know what it is I don’t like about you, I just don’t.”

“Gee, thanks,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet as you fiddled them absently.

Grabbing your shoulders to make you stand still again, you straightened your back and looked him in the eye. It wasn’t the gesture that caught your attention, but the gentleness in it. A new side of Derek Hale had just showed itself, a side you always thought was there, but never got to see, except when he was interacting with his pack.

Very small baby steps.

“But,” he continued pointedly, “I’m willing to put that all aside to listen, for our packs and everyone involved.”

“You’ll really hear me out?” You hated how small your voice sounded.

“I’ll try my hardest.” He smiled a real, genuine smile, and you felt some of the ice crack between you two.

You returned the grin with a small one of your own, before finally saying, “Don’t be an asshole. Asshole.”

Derek laughed, and let go of your shoulders, walking back into the loft, and after a few seconds, you followed him. Looking over his shoulder, he smirked and said, “I’m just trying to be nice.”

You scoffed, then let out a chuckle. "I'd kill you on the spot if you weren't so nice to look at. Because, full offense, your personality needs a lot of work."

Sitting on the couch, he spread his arm out in gesture to the open spot beside him, his own smirk still firmly in place. “So I’ve been told.”

Xxx

Waking up to the wee hours of the morning and a silent loft, you looked around bleary eyed. Once you realized where you were, and who was with you, your eyes went wide.

Laying on the far end of the couch, his legs tangling with yours in the middle at some point while you were both asleep, was Derek, head propped up on the arm of the couch, mouth wide open as a snore escaped him.

You couldn’t contain the giggle from the completely uncharacteristic image of the big bad Hale Alpha, and turned into the couch cushion to smother the sound.

It was only a second later you looked back, but you still jumped as now Derek was looking at you with one eye barely cracked open, his mouth closed in a tight line, but his eyebrow raised in what you now understood was amusement.

Lightly swatting his leg with your own, he said a mock “ow”, but neither of you untangled your legs.

Propping your elbows on the arm of the couch behind you, you glared at him. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s not polite to stare?”

You swatted at his legs again, and he did the same, both of you grinning lightly.

“Did the alarm go off or something?” He lazily looked to a box on the wall that must have been some sort of baddie alarm, his hand going to the back of his neck to scratch sleepily. Contented with what he saw, he looked back at you, stilling, hand still on his neck. “What?”

“Why do you assume I woke you on purpose? Why would I put myself in a position to endure even more of your company than I have already had today, which, by the way, is I think more than we have had at once ever?”

He grinned. “You didn’t just wake me up at 2am because you were ‘in the mood’.”

You shrugged, smirking right back at him. “You got a cute butt.”

“Why, thank you,” he said cheekily, his grin doing the same.

Batting his legs again lightly, you heard him mutter, “Okay, that’s it,” and you suddenly found yourself pulled toward him, until you were basically straddling him, your wrists once again tightly held in his hands.

“Stop doing that.” His voice was firm, but soft. His eyes searched your face, but for what, you didn’t know.

Digging your knees into his rib cage, just as some sort of retaliation, he groaned softly at the pressure. You leaned down close to his face and whispered, “Make me.”

Suddenly faster than you could blink, your positions had been flipped, him now straddling you, holding you down. “Okay.”

Trying to fight back, you quickly gave up, huffing, much like earlier in the day, looking up at him with a less than enthusiastic look.

Searching your face again with his eyes, he finally landed on your gaze with knit eyebrows.

Raising yours in question, he let go of your wrists, but you left them beside your head, and he sat back on his haunches, your legs still under him.

“I’m trying to figure out what it is about you that drives me so crazy.”

“I have that effect on lots of people,” you said smugly. “I’m awesome like that.”

“That! That’s it.” He pointed at you, and you sat up, elbows once again on the arm of the couch, eyebrows once again raised in confusion. “Yeah, you drive me crazy, but I’m starting to think it’s not because we hate each other or annoy each other-”

“Are you sure? Because you’re kinda driving me insane just a little bit right now-”

He leaned back over you on your perch on the armrest, face closer than it ever had been, and you found yourself staring at his lips. “Am I?”

If it hadn’t been the look in his eyes, the sound of his voice with those last two words did it. Your eyes drifted shut when he finally met you with a kiss, surprisingly soft and tentative given the tension between you two.

But that was just the first one.

Pulling back just enough to look at you one more time, something was exchanged between you without words and you both surged forward in a heated kiss.

Slowly laying back down all the way, your hands briefly in his hair to make sure this never stopped, pulling him with you, his hands grabbed your wrists putting them by your head like before, but this time trailing his fingers lightly from your elbows up to your hands, fingers tangling with yours as he held your hands.

Instead of restricting, his weight now felt warm, and inviting, and the more of it you felt, the more you wanted.

Turning your head to the side, you had a small grin on your face, but it soon turned into a soft gasp as you felt his lips ghosting ever so lightly over your skin, working from your collarbone, up your neck, and to your ear, where he bit the lobe gently.

When he released it after a second, you turned your head to look at him, lips barely touching one another’s, foreheads pressed together, and heavy breaths being shared, almost as if the breath one was breathing out was what the other required to live.

Xxx

Tags: @mayahart02 @palaiasaurus64 @shydinosaurcandy @lucyqueenofthestars @c-breanne1999 @l4life @ethereallysimple What’s this?

#derek hale #derek hale imagine #derek hale x reader #derek hale x reader imagine #derek hale x reader insert #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf #tw imagine #teen wolf reader insert #teen wolf x reader insert #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fluff #tw fluff #fluff #tw #pack imagine #pack x reader #pack x reader insert #my mind spins stories

[woah-were-halfway-there]

Mia’s First Game

A/N: as requested, here’s the little blurb that I originally was going to post the other day but didn’t. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.2k

With Mia being born at the end of January and the Leafs' season getting cut short at the beginning of May that year after a brief playoff run, she still hadn't been to a game. She was only three months old when the season finished, and although the thought of taking her to one of the games definitely crossed your mind, with how she was in the routine of falling asleep around 7pm every night, it just wasn't possible. However, as summer came and went, you knew you'd be taking Mia to her first NHL game to watch her dad once the season started back up again, and you were pretty excited about it.

The original plan was to take Mia to the Saturday game after the first home game of the season that took place earlier in the week. Auston's family was flying into Toronto on the Friday, so you and Mia would go to the game with them the following evening. However, shortly after Auston left to head down to SBA for the home-opener, that changed.

While talking on the phone with Steph, who was getting ready with a couple of the other wives and girlfriends of players, you became convinced not to spend your night at home. The girls booked a booth at SBA to all get-together and watch the game as a way to celebrate the new season starting, and of course, you and Mia were invited. But you kept declining because you were so set on attending Saturday's game, although you really had no reason not to go to both.

At eight months old, Mia was full of energy, and you knew she'd have a ton of fun hanging out with the other girls that she's come to know, all while cheering on Auston and the rest of the guys. You weren't sure why you didn't agree to just go in the first place regardless of whether you'd have to leave a little early and take Mia home, but the more you talked to Steph, the more you became convinced that you should.

However, with you being, well, you, there was no way you were going to start getting ready without talking to Auston's family first, seeing as you knew they were excited about going to the game with Mia on Saturday. They immediately told you not to worry about them and to go have fun with your friends, but not without mentioning how they'd be watching for Auston's reaction to one he realized you and Mia were there.

The thought of seeing your husband's surprised expression after noticing that his two girls were at the game made you smile, and you became even more excited as you quickly packed up your things, then grabbed Mia and left to go over and get ready at Steph and Mitch's place.

About two hours later, you and Mia were all dressed in your matching Matthews jerseys and were ready to go. It was great catching up with all the other wives and girlfriends that you hadn't gotten to see since your wedding at the end of July because after that, you got sucked into everything involved with moving from the downtown condo to your new house. You also met and welcomed some of the new girls that recently moved to Toronto with their man for the new season as well, all of whom were lovely.

Mia was having a great time too, and just by seeing how happy she was, you knew that you made the right call about going to the game. But, soon enough, it was time to go. After the whole group took some pictures in their jerseys, including Steph stealing Mia for some pics with her goddaughter, you all headed downtown together so you could watch your guys in action.

Upon arriving at the arena, your whole group went to the suite that was booked out for you girls to drop off your things, then you, Mia, and Steph headed to the Platinum Club so the three of you could be let up to the glass one warmups started. You chatted with a worker who was going to escort the three of you to the rinkside just as the Leafs took to the ice, as Mia babbled away in your arms and took in her surroundings.

Soon enough, the team was announced, and the crowd started going wild. You and Steph then followed the worker down the hall and walked right up the glass before waiting and watching as the guys took the ice. You could hear fans nearby talking and mentioning pointing out that Auston's wife and daughter were there, which made you a little nervous because Mia has never really been so in the public eye before. But, your nerves soon melted away.

"Mom, they're wearing Matthews jerseys like us," You heard a small voice speak up, then glanced over to where two kids were sitting with their parents. The little girl appeared to be maybe six or seven. Meanwhile, her brother seemed a bit younger. With how she was glancing up at who you assumed was her mom, obviously looking for a response, you knew that she was the one who mentioned the jerseys.

"Yes, honey," the mother replied. "That's Auston's family. They're here to watch the game just like we are."

Your heart swelled so much watching their interaction, and you could feel yourself getting a little emotional because of it. Steph chuckled slightly as she watched you but also had to admit that it was all pretty cute too.

Then another voice spoke up.

"Is this your little one's first game?" An older man who was sitting in the row behind the family asked you.

"It is," you confirmed with a smile, then glanced down at your daughter. "Except we decided to come last minute, so her dad doesn't even know we're here yet. Can you say hi, Mia?"

Mia squealed in response, then got all smiley, which made those sitting nearby laugh and awe a bit at just how cute she was.

"Your daughter is beautiful," a different woman stated, making you feel even more emotional than before.

"Thank you," you responded. "I still haven't fully accepted the fact that she looks more like Auston than she does me, but I'll get over it."

"Speaking of Auston, here he comes," said another person, but you didn't even get the chance to see who because you were turning back around to face the rink just as your husband skated down from centre ice and took a shot on net.

He scored, then skated over to the boards a little bit behind the net to where Mitch, John and Willy were all standing. They talked for a few seconds before Will's gaze drifted in your direction until he spotted you, Steph and Mia, a smile stretching across his mouth as he did so.

Will then nudged both Auston and Mitch, then pointed to where you were standing so they could see too.

Upon locking eye contact with you, Auston's face lit right up, and it wasn't long before he and Mitchy were both skating over to the corner.

There was no way the two of you would've been able to hear each other through the glass, so instead, Auston gave you a look as he approached, showing that he was surprised to see you there. He also expressed that he wasn't mad about it as he winked at you and grinned cheekily.

Once the two guys reached the glass, they started waving at Mia, and much to your surprise, she immediately recognized them even in all their hockey gear.

"Da-da," she said and then reached towards the glass. Acting fast, you shifted her in your hold and lifted her so that she'd stand on the little ledge around the boards and be face to face with Auston. "Da-da!"

Mia's smile grew even wider as she stared at her dad and banged on the glass a little bit while he waved at her and blew her kisses. You then looked at your cousin as he stood next to your husband and couldn't help but smile at how he was smiling so widely as he watched Mia and Auston.

Mitch then looked at you and gave you a knowing look as if to say you better not leave before he gets the chance to see his goddaughter after the game. You nodded in understanding, which made his smile grow even wider.

However, soon enough, the moment had to come to an end because Auston and Mitch both had a game to play. It wasn't until then that you noticed the Leafs photographer only a few feet away as well and knew that he had just captured that little moment forever.

Auston and Mitchy then waved bye to you, Mia and Steph before going back to the rest of the team to finish up their warmups and get ready to start the game.

Mark, the team photographer, then approached the three of you to show you the images he took. There was one of you holding Mia while facing the fans with your backs to the camera that showcased your Matthews jerseys, another of you, Mia and Steph, all standing together looking very happy as you waited for your guys. And then the last one, which was probably your favourite, was a closeup of Mia and Auston as they smiled at each other through the glass, then had you in the background looking at the two of them and smiling fondly. It was adorable, and Mark assured that he'd send the pictures to you and Auston once he edited them.

After that, the three of you headed back to the booth, but not without saying bye to the Leafs fans you chatted with and told them you hoped they enjoyed the game.

Everyone welcomed you back excitedly at the suite before you all settled in and got ready to watch your guys play their first game of the season.

The Leafs ended up winning, which had the energy in the arena feeling insane but in the best way possible. On top of it, Auston scored two of the goals, which helped result in the team's 4-3 victory over Calgary.

By the end of the game, Mia was very tired. However, she wasn't getting fussy. She just continued fighting so hard to keep her eyes open and enjoyed her time being around people she was comfortable within this entirely new setting.

As everyone began clearing out of their seats, your whole group went back down to the Platinum Club and waited for the guys. Steph carried Mia all the way there, but after a few minutes, Mia began reaching for you because whenever she got exhausted, she only wanted her parents and would become overly snuggly.

Once you took her from Steph, she immediately clung to you and leaned against your shoulder while you assured her that you'd be going home very soon.

A few minutes later, the guys started filing into the waiting area, all happy to see their significant others and families as they greeted them after their big win. As you waited for Auston, you spotted Mitchy first, and he wasted no time coming over to say hi to Mia but was also very respectful of the fact that she was exasperated.

Not long after that, Auston entered the room and smiled so wide again once he laid eyes on you and Mia.

"There's my girls," he greeted happily as he approached the two of you, then took Mia from your hold, awing as she let out a yawn and immediately snuggled against him. "You tired, mini?"

"She's very tired, but she's trying hard to stay awake at the moment," you explained, then smiled as Auston wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss.

"And how are you feeling, baby mama? This was your first big night out with Mia, and I must say, you both sure made my night by being here."

You rolled your eyes at his baby mama comment but couldn't help the blush that burned your cheeks at the rest of what he said.

"You're making it sound like I don't have a life, babe. But I'm good. Really glad I decided to bring Mia out tonight. We had a lot of fun, didn't we, sweet girl?"

Mia didn't respond. You didn't expect her to, especially with her minimal vocabulary. Instead, she mindlessly brought her hand up to her mouth and began sucking on it, then using her other hand to rub her cheek. She'd been teething like crazy lately, and those actions were what she did when her mouth was beginning to bother her.

You and Auston looked at each other knowingly after that because you both knew how if she were in discomfort, mixed with how she was already so exhausted, things would get real messy real soon. So, without even having to agree on it, you both started saying your goodbyes and headed home.

Deep down, you knew that night would probably be a little rough with Mia and trying to get her to sleep comfortably, but you weren't worried. You were so content and knew that Mia also had a good night out, so it was worth it. And besides, you didn't have to do it alone. Auston was there too, he wasn't going anywhere, and you knew you'd get through whatever else your little family needed to face together.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews fanfiction #nhl imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl rpf #nhl headcanon #hockey fanfiction #hockey rpf #hockey imagine #auston matthews imagines #a. matthews #nhl writing

[yellowocaballero]

The Crow’s Funeral Snippet: Jon Gets Involved In Local Politics, Regrets It

Annabelle, of course, was standing on the other side of the door. 

Slightly less obviously, she was dressed in a finely tailored suit, complete with high heels and a gorgeous dripping silver chain-link necklace. Her hair was tied up in an up-do of braids piled neatly on top of her head, and there was even a briefcase. 

She looked Jon up and down critically. He was wearing sweatpants and a holey shirt. 

“You forgot,” she condemned, “didn’t you?”

“No I didn’t,” Jon said reflexively. He paused. “Forgot what?”

Annabelle pinched the bridge of her nose. Jon noticed that she was even wearing her usual all-black lipstick and winged eyeliner. “The council committee for London I planned for today. Remember? The one with a representative for each Entity?” Jon stared blankly at her. “There was an invite?”

“Oh, that. I don’t check my mail.” Jon looked at Daisy, who was now pressing aggressively against Jon. “Did you open up any mail recently?” Daisy barked. Jon looked back at Annabelle. “She ate it.”

“...of course she did.”  Written for no real reason besides for the fact that I know too much about my own AU and I care about Annabelle. This story takes place both pre- and post- story: six months after Jon enters London, and six months after the events of the story. We talk about childhood/adulthood, stagnancy/growth, good/evil, and the inherent metaphor of a Nintendo DS. Sometimes...found family...is bad. Rest under the cut. 

In the third month, boiling and bubbling over, someone knocked at Jon’s door. 

Not the door to his office. The door to his flat, which had a very large ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ sign on it, and was always locked. The employees were, granted, Jon and Daisy, but the message was conveyed. Jon saw the sign in stores and copied it, as he copied many aspects of business models. Jon didn’t quite understand how to run a business, but he had read both ‘What they teach you in Harvard Business School’ - whatever a Harvard was - and ‘What they don’t teach you in Harvard Business School’, so he figured he was set. Daisy had also grabbed him a Girl Scout book on starting your own lemonade stand, which helped more than the other two books combined. Harvard Business School could take notes. 

Jon rolled off the bed, where he had been downloading knowledge of string games and trying to figure out how to do them. Omniscence was closer to reading an instruction manual than actually knowing how to do something, but at least that left Jon with plenty of time to learn skills. Even if it wasn’t necessarily his favorite activity - he was bad at a lot of them, which would frustrate him and make him wreck the craft. Daisy kept on saying he needed a hobby other than reading but what did she know, anyway -

Daisy, from where she had been sleeping at the foot of the bed, lifted her head and barked sleepily. 

“I’ll get them to go away,” Jon promised. Or eat them. Maybe just eat them. 

But when Daisy bristled and jumped off the bed, barking heavily, he knew who it was. Jon sighed, hastily shoving a shirt over his head, and undid the three deadbolts before unlocking the door. 

Annabelle, of course, was standing on the other side. Slightly less obviously, she was dressed in a finely tailored suit, complete with high heels and a gorgeous dripping silver chain-link necklace. Her hair was tied up in an up-do of braids piled neatly on top of her head, and there was even a briefcase. 

She looked Jon up and down critically. He was wearing sweatpants and a holey shirt. 

“You forgot,” she condemned, “didn’t you?”

“No I didn’t,” Jon said reflexively. He paused. “Forgot what?”

Annabelle pinched the bridge of her nose. Jon noticed that she was even wearing her usual all-black lipstick and winged eyeliner. “The council committee for London I planned for today. Remember? The one with a representative for each Entity?”

Jon stared blankly at her. 

“There was an invite?”

“Oh, that. I don’t check my mail.” Jon looked at Daisy, who was now pressing aggressively against Jon. “Did you open up any mail recently?” Daisy barked. Jon looked back at Annabelle. “She ate it.”

“...of course she did.” Annabelle glanced down at Daisy, whose fur was standing on end as she growled lowly. “Have you had any success?”

“You would have noticed if I did,” Jon said shortly. 

“Have you tried talking to -”

“Yes,” Jon snapped, “but apparently some of us have better things to do than attend meetings and cure dogs.”

Annabelle intelligently dropped the matter, instead frowning at Jon. He crossed his arms, fighting the urge to hunch over away from her dark and perceptive stare. But instead of pushing him, she said, “Go get dressed in something a little appropriate, please. You look like you crawled out of the Buried.” Daisy barked, which Annabelle ignored. “What are you doing to your hair?”

Jon hunched defensively. It was a little matted and frizzy, but who was counting? “Daisy can’t exactly shave it anymore, and I don’t really...know what to do with it...am I doing something wrong? I bathe.”

It was very important to Daisy that he bathe and brush his teeth. Jon didn’t know what the big deal was, but if it was important to her then he did it.

Annabelle just pinched the bridge of her nose again, checking her wrist-watch. “Buzzing your hair is a crime against God, and letting your hair look like that is a crime against me. I’ll take care of this later. Just get ready in the next five minutes, or I’m filling your fridge with spiders again.”

Jon got ready in four. Annabelle didn’t joke around with that stuff. 

He didn’t really know what a council committee was. He didn’t know why he had to go to one either, seeing as Jon only tended to concern himself with Daisy. Daisy had been taking up a lot of his concern lately. Then his mood had plummeted again, and in the last month they’ve both been recalcitrant to leave the flat for anything but eating, and he was capable of noticing when he was hunting a little vindictively, and - anyway. 

He downloaded the knowledge, and then made a face when it didn’t really help. One of those nasty little political things. What was with his fellow Avatars and politics? Just torture anyone who bothers you. If they were one of those freaks who liked being tortured, then just smite them. Life was easy and very simple once you remembered that basic rule. 

But Annabelle was really into it - she kept on saying something about ‘order’ and ‘regulation’ and ‘first dibs’ - and she tended to drag him along into these things. She thought it was ‘important’ that Jon ‘know what was going on’ or something. Jon liked Knowing things, but once you know everything you realize that some things aren’t really interesting enough to know. 

When he asked Daisy if she wanted to go with, she feigned sleep. She had been hyperactive lately, compensating for her months of starvation with unbridled and frantic Hunting. Jon had taken her to one of those little pockets where people were running around and screaming all the time, and let her run wild in the rainforest for a while. It was the kind of fun bonding experience they hadn’t had in ages, and Jon had the opportunity to pluck his own grapes from the vine too. 

There had been an old man who really hadn’t been happy to see Jon, which had freaked him out a bit. He had started going on a little bit about how Jon had ruined his life, but he only got a few sentences in before a giant, carnivorous plant had eaten him. That was lucky. 

Jon had ripped the dimension apart as he left. Nasty little place. Nothing good there. 

So Jon left the house without Daisy for the first time since she had been well enough to move around, and with Annabelle. Daisy had been waiting at the door with a rucksack packed with his favorite book and his Nintendo DS, which made Annabelle ask her where the juicebox was. Daisy tried to bite her again. Jon didn’t know why everybody couldn’t just get along. 

There was a cab waiting outside, driven by another skeleton, and Annabelle quickly bundled him into it. Jon slouched in the corner and started playing WarioWare as Annabelle leafed through typewritten documents, lips pursing and making notes on the margins of each one with a red pen. She was muttering to herself, somewhat entertainingly. 

“My fourth arm for a computer, I swear to Jesus. My fourth and fifth arms. My sixth arm for a computer…”

“Are those the internet machines you told me about?” Jon asked, scribbling his stylus on the screen. Ashley cheered him on. He loved Ashley. “Do council committees need the internet?”

“The internet’s for a lot more than council committees Jon,” Annabelle said tightly. “They’re for video games. Ememoharepeegees -”

“Gesundheit.”

“ - bitcoin mining, instant messaging, online dating, freaking Google Docs -”

“Do you want it back?” Jon asked, bored. “I can make you the internet.”

Annabelle’s pen froze on the paper, hovering over a bullet-point list. “The entire internet? You can just do that?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Jon poked his tongue out his mouth in concentration as he pressed the monkeys in a rhythmic order. Rhythm games were his jam. “That’s, like, the pocket nightmare dimension from Tron, right? I can do that. Addictions are easy. Put people inside, trap them inside a video or something. It’d be mostly for torture but you could probably use it normally.”

Annabelle stared at him, expression blank, for so long it made Jon a little uncomfortable and defensive. What had he said wrong? Daisy was usually good at interpreting these things for him, although sometimes when people went on about ‘violence’ she was just as confused as him. Finally, she said, “No, that’s alright. I always hated Black Mirror anyway.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a telly - never mind. I don’t want you getting any more ideas.”

***

The council committee was held in the stupidest building Jon had ever seen in his entire life. And he had been in London for six months. He knew stupid buildings.

‘London City Hall’ or whatever was this awful giant, lopsided, obloid monstrosity. All glass and windows, with nary a brick in sight, Jon hated it instantly and severely. He was immediately filled with the urge to turn to somebody and commiserate with them about shitty architecture, but there was nobody else in the cab but Annabelle - and, well, she seemed to have other things on her mind. 

The neighborhood around it was filled with a mix of equally stupid buildings and perfectly respectable buildings that looked as if they had been made a long time ago. The sidewalks were relatively abandoned, and the streets were empty of everything but the endless rotation of tourist double-decker busses. Jon knew that this wasn’t one of those districts where people actually lived and roamed - instead, it was one of those business districts that people only stepped inside for work or city business. Like that silly little Palace of Westminster building that Annabelle had taken him to months ago when she was showing him the city. 

That building Annabelle had especially loved. It was filled with old white men with sagging jowls and liver spots, looping in endless routines and miniature atrocities. Annabelle had asked him to take as many Statements as possible, and Jon had needed no encouraging. 

That had been a strange trip. Normally people found his little monologues boring, because they were idiots with no taste, but Annabelle had listened to every single one. She had been enraptured, excited and triumphant. She had dragged him into some “Lord’s Chamber” or something and posed on the throne as Jon obediently took polaroids. Well, so long as she was happy. 

Jon was already seeing that London City Hall was no better. Annabelle dragged him through it, anxiously checking and re-checking her files, as they effortlessly weaved between shambling zombies of old white men in suits. Jon tasted the ripe air of trauma from them - a similar taste to that spiralling academic building, but rather a little more tart - but Annabelle dragged him away before he could stop and eat them.

There were parts of London that were safe. Maybe even most of London - although nowhere was truly safe, not really, not every location was absolutely haunted. The grocer’s was the grocer’s; the chemist still sold your medication. Not that you really needed it anymore, but habit was habit. 

But some buildings, which were entrenched so firmly in hundreds of years of evil, could not be dissuaded from their nightmares. In that respect, the safest city in the United Kingdom became the most dangerous. Some buildings had been nightmares even before the end of the world. 

Jon, of course, gave very little shits about this beyond in the academic sense. Annabelle refused to let him duck out of her meeting to go snack, and she ended up dragging him in front of what looked like a smallish conference room. 

Annabelle stopped in front of it, taking a second to breathe in and out and check her makeup. She seemed to be hyping herself up for it, shaking out her arms loosely. Jon slouched behind her, hands jammed in his trenchcoat pockets. Annabelle had asked him to put on a less raggedy suit, but - well, he sometimes had nicer suits, but they got raggedy very quickly. She had also asked him to leave the trenchcoat at home, but no way. It was part of his Look. 

“You’re frightened,” Jon noted with interest. Annabelle was scared of less than he was, and she had much less of a reason. “What about this room scares you?”

“It’s not the people in the room,” Annabelle snapped, flashing her compact shut. “It’s what I’m trying to do. If this world’s going to last more than a few years before it devolves into fuckin’ Mad Max we need leadership. I didn’t put all of this work in just to -” At Jon’s blank look, she sighed. “Never mind. You don’t care. Just - try to trust me, Jon.”

“Of course I trust you,” Jon said, baffled. “Why wouldn’t I?”

She stared at him, expression inscrutable, for a long moment, before opening the door and pulling him in. 

It was a nice conference room, all wood panelling and that specific green shade you only saw in lawyer’s offices. There was a large rectangular table in the center, and more than a dozen luxurious chairs arranged around it. There was a big pull-down screen on the far wall. Jon didn’t know what it was for, but he knew that if he downloaded the information it wouldn’t help. Omniscence was so useless. 

In a move that horrified Annabelle, most of the attendees seemed to be there. They had been chatting - talking, actually, quite loudly - before Annabelle strode in and Jon slumped in after her. But in the second that they both stepped in, an abrupt hush swept the room, and every eye swiveled to them.

If Jon was honest with himself, he’d say that they didn’t quiet when Annabelle stepped in. He’d say that they quieted when Jon stepped in. That it was Jon who they were looking at. 

But Jon didn’t particularly feel like engaging with that. He didn’t like being stared at by people he didn’t know, and he didn’t like being out in public with people he didn’t know. He didn’t enjoy being in buildings or meeting new people, much less going to boring meetings. Jon decided all of this instantaneously, as every eye swiveled to him.

Rooms full of humans were fine. It was just humans. Nothing even vaguely intimidating about that, unless the humans were teenage girls. But these were Avatars - Jon could taste their nature in the air, a sharp and electric tingle - and when they stared at Jon he felt something heavier in their gaze. Oh, lord. There was a teenage girl here. 

Jon tried slumping to the back chair, but Annabelle grabbed his collar and dumped him in a comfortable chair to her right. Jon saw a little placard in front of it that read ‘THE BEHOLDING’. Great. 

“Thank you all for coming today,” Annabelle said crisply, and suddenly every worry was gone. She was calm, poised, confident, and professional. A perfect imitation of the officials and politicians who once really walked these halls, who passed laws and rubber-stamped policies. She could have passed for an assistant or junior staff member, bright and intrepid and ready to climb her way up the ladder. “Are we all accounted for?”

It seemed so. Every chair but one was filled. When Jon peered around at the placards, he saw that each one had a different Entity on it. One of the seats had no placard, and was occupied by said teenage girl. Four were unoccupied: the Spiral, the Slaughter, the Hunt and the Extinction. 

Annabelle sat down in the head chair, which seemed just a little fancier. She put her folder in front of her, eyes flickering down the room. “It seems that Helen couldn’t make it. The Hunt duo seem to have...recently met unfortunate ends. The Slaughter Avatar called ahead to say that they couldn’t make it - it was high school picture day? And...I suppose the Extinction Avatar still doesn’t exist.”

She glanced at Jon, who shook his head. “Do you want one?” Jon asked. “I can go find a climate change denier in this building and make one for you.”

That also disturbed Annabelle, as well as everyone else. Jon abruptly felt awkward, and hunched in his seat. He defensively pulled out his DS, his plans to fall asleep in the back of the room already foiled. 

Above him, Annabelle continued droning. “Still, I appreciate you all coming. I know that we haven’t all gathered since a bit after the apocalypse began -” Wait, they had? Since when? “ - but I hope we can agree that further coordination is necessary. We’ve already begun having serious territory and jurisdiction disputes, and it’s best that they’re resolved sooner rather than later.” Nobody looked very impressed, but Annabelle looked seriously at them all anyway. “I want us all to have an equal voice at this table. Save the fighting for another time. And please try to keep your powers out of here. I’ve already sworn to avoid using any of my Mother’s gifts in this room, and I hope you all can do the same.”

“Yeah?” A woman drawled. She was unfamiliar to Jon, like most people in the room, but she had a teenage girl sitting next to her who seemed to be paying rapt attention to Annabelle. “How are you going to enforce that?”

Annabelle stared at him for some reason. Jon jabbed at his DS and won the Mona minigame. Nothing more was said. 

“Alright, then. I’ve already collected motions from all of you prior to this meeting.” Motions? Annabelle hadn’t said anything like that. Maybe it was on the invitation Daisy ate, but somehow he doubted it. Annabelle looked down and traced her finger down to her first point. “Many of you suggested this, so I would like to introduce it as a general discussion. Territory disputes, apparently, are a point of contention between many of us.” She opened her briefcase and pulled out a large map, and if Jon looked over the top of his DS he could see that it was a map of London. She also pulled out a red marker, uncapping it. The sheet was laminated, and there were already circles and markings all over it. “We’ll go one at a time. Amherst, you’ve motioned that the Stranger is intruding within Camden.”

A foppish looking man on a dumb little top hat scowled, as the young woman sitting behind the Strange placard looked annoyed. “It is gentrification. Every apartment complex occupied by artist studios are stealing food from the plate of my insects.”

“You haven’t had Camden for a decade,” the Stranger woman said, rolling her eyes. The Omniscience informed Jon that her name was Sarah Baldwin. Vaguely familiar - had he seen her at a cafe? “Nobody lives in those rat-infested tenements anymore. Now all the rats are performance art. Which is us. Get over it.”

“What is performance art -”

“Motion for no more Avatars over the age of 40,” Sarah Baldwin said. “I hate how Amherst and Wakely are in this room.”

“I wish I could second that,” Annabelle said, to the great affront of two grimy old men, “but unfortunately we do have to deal with this. Amherst, I’ve heard several complaints from other council members that you’re infiltrating their territory.”

“I am made of bugs -”

Jon checked out after that.

Instead, he surveyed the room a bit. Nobody in it was really interesting, just a meaningless collection of self-important people. The only person in the room other than Annabelle who he recognized was Oliver, who was sitting at the very back doing his best to fall asleep. When Jon Stared at him a bit he took notice and subtly waved. Jon shyly waved back. Jon liked Oliver. 

Oliver mouthed something adjacent to ‘what is wrong with your hair’, offending Jon grievously. He didn’t look that bad, did he?

He glanced to his left, then down, to ask Daisy’s opinion, but he realized too late that she hadn’t come with him. Stupid. She could have come as part of the Hunt - they didn’t have anybody, it wasn’t as if they could complain. Not to Jon, anyway. 

But she wouldn’t have wanted to. Daisy hated being an Avatar, for reasons that Jon had just never understood. She tried explaining it to him a long time ago, trying to talk about how guilty it made her and how much harm she had done, but it had just confused him more. She had tried to explain up until the end, as Jon had grown more and more angry at her for her refusal. He had never understood. 

She had stopped talking about it lately, though. Which was good. Jon didn’t know what he’d do if she starved herself twice. He wouldn’t have tolerated it.

Daisy had told him that the most important thing in the world was to make your own choices. So he let her make hers. No matter how much he hated it. 

The others weren’t familiar at all. There was a woman with wild dark hair sitting behind the Dark placard, which confused Jon slightly until he decided that they likely hadn’t wanted to send the thirteen year old. There was this really wrinkly and gross old man for the Vast, a younger looking but older feeling man for the Buried, a deathly pale woman for the Lonely, the muscular woman and the teenager for the Desolation...why did they have two…

The teenager was staring at Jon. She had intense orange eyes, the kind that bored into you and never blinked. She looked away every few seconds, as if she was being subtle, but when her gaze drifted back to him again he met her eyes with an unimpressed stare. She squeaked and looked away firmly, hiding behind her curtain of long red hair. 

Okay. Whatever. Kids were weird. Jon was glad he had never been one. 

Jon swapped out WarioWare for Pokemon SoulSilver, opening back up where he left off catching another MissingNo. His entire team was full of the things. He wanted a Mareep, damn it. 

Finally, Annabelle rapped the table sharply and said, “It’s agreed, then. Everybody submit specific written documentation of your territory by city block, and fax it to me by our next meeting. Please abide by the resolutions to the conflicts we discussed here. Any objections to moving onto our next order of business?”

“I have an objection to the Dark’s questionable behavior,” the Buried guy rumbled. He was dripping dirt everywhere. Why didn’t anybody complain to him about his hygiene? “In the words of the lad Brody, they are kill stealing. If they do not withdraw their nightmares from our embrace of the Earth, we will unleash retribution with extreme prejudice. The dirt is a holy place, and we will not be polluted by -”

“Oh, stick your shovel up your fat ass, Wakely,” the woman with wild black hair said. “People aren’t afraid of the fucking dirt, they’re afraid of the darkness in the tombs. Walk into a mausoleum sometime.”

“You poach the End’s territory now too, wench?”

“Please leave me out of this,” Oliver said. 

“If you call me wench one more time, you’ll be watching the back of your eye sockets for eternity,” the woman said pleasantly, “so royally fuck you.”

“Um, not to interrupt, but that’s not really how it works,” the teenager said, and the death glares between the two turned on her. She hunched her shoulders, but her expression stayed firm. “The terror is going to overlap. That’s just how it is. The Buried and the Dark are not entirely...separate things, they’re gradients that overlap. If you get all finicky about what belongs to who, then you’re just going in circles…”

“The last thing we need is the coward Messiah of the Eternal Flame telling me how to worship my god,” the woman snapped. 

“Watch your fucking mouth, Manuela,” the muscular woman said flatly.

Then they were glaring, and Wakely was saying something else snide, and Manuela was making another dig at the teenager as the muscular woman bitched, and Jon abruptly wanted them all to shut up. 

“You’re being too loud,” Jon said. 

The entire room shut up immediately. The teenager opened her mouth, but the pale woman caught her eye and shook her head. 

Annabelle clapped her hands in the silence. “Onto the second motion, then! Infrastructure! Right now we are sorely missing a great deal of essential city infrastructure, and it’s becoming a huge problem. We’re still figuring out what’s mystically maintained, and what’s just being maintained because the humans haven’t figured out how to stop doing it yet, but there’s some work that’s being neglected. The Vast has motioned to reinstate the postal system.”

“Vetoed,” the Lonely woman said. 

“You can’t do that,” Annabelle said blankly. “We need to vote.”

“I’d like to make an argument for the motion, dear,” the Vast man said, making Annabelle’s eye twitch. “My argument is this: Amazon Prime is so convenient!”

“We have every Amazon warehouse under our control,” the representative from the Flesh said. He was...very fleshy. “It’d be no issue to go back to production.”

“Jared has a point. The Eye’s been feeding through Amazon for years,” Annabelle said thoughtfully. The mention of the Eye piqued Jon’s attention, but then he finally ran into a Mareep and he stopped paying attention again. “We can tap into the people who are living 1984 and get them back in industry.”

“Can we begin producing again?” the Desolation woman asked, interested. “We have all these people miserable at work, but nothing’s actually being made. If we let a little reality break into the nightmares…”

“Wouldn’t that be dangerous?” the Lonely woman asked sharply. “It’ll make it easier for them to escape.”

“They all escape eventually,” Sarah Baldwin said. “They all break out in days to months. We can afford a little more permeability if we actually get things working again.”

Then conversation was off and running about something that Jon didn’t really care about, so he checked out again. He didn’t know what all of this production and infrastructure stuff meant. Going Postal meant that he had a very good understanding of a mail system, but he didn’t have a personal interest. Who he would send letters to?

Jon quickly downloaded what Amazon was. Oh, that would be useful. Wait, he could get any book delivered to his door? Without having to go out hunting for it? How would this work without the internet - a catalogue? 

Everybody seemed invested in getting the internet back up, except for the two hundred year olds. Jared kept saying something about porn, whatever that was. If enough people felt like Annabelle, then maybe they would make it a priority. Jon didn’t know how he felt about that. 

He didn’t know how he felt about the fact that it was impossible. 

But everybody - or most people - genuinely seemed excited about it. They even seemed to be working together, intent on the same goal.

Sarah Baldwin wanted to know if we have enough people constantly under camera to have footage for television. Maybe we could get cable back up? DVDs were a lost cause, but if we could just start airing the VHS tapes…

Annabelle had a look of hook-ups (literally) in the film industry, maybe they could do something like that?

The Hahns are highly involved in production and distribution, Jared pointed out. There was no need to produce food, but if we wanted to increase access to goods it might be possible. 

Why? Why did they care? This world provided them everything they needed. 

For some reason, Jon felt a little defensive. What did they need all of these things for, anyway? All of this entertainment - cable and movies and internet. The world had books. What was so wrong with books? There were even old VHS tapes liberated from charity stores if you really wanted to get fancy. The most high-tech electronic Jon had ever found was the DS in his hands and a couple of games, which Salasea had given to him as an exotic artifact. Only Salasea owned these things now: trinkets and curiosities, hallmarks of an antiquated time. 

What was the point of these supply lines? People didn’t need to eat or shop or consume. Nightmares provided the facsimile, and since they got a little crazy if they never ate they were provided the security of food. Buying towels and shoes and toys...it was a waste of time. People had towels. Nobody outgrew their shoes or wore them out. Children’s toys didn’t break, and anything that made happiness a little easier to come by was discouraged.

Nothing was ever subtracted. Nothing was added. The world was frozen, captured in the amber of time, and it would never move backwards and forwards.

They knew this. Didn’t they?

“We have to make this place livable for us,” Annabelle was saying. She spoke oddly intensely, with a fervor that Jon had seen in her a few times before. Annabelle didn’t like to give off the impression that she cared about things, but once you knew her it was hard to miss. “It’s easier than ever to stay powerful and feed our Forces, but that doesn’t mean we can grow complacent. We have to work together to eat sustainably. To live sustainably. If we don’t try to rebuild, at least enough to get the world moving again, then we’re sentencing ourselves to a boring and decrepit eternity in a world we will all see die within our immortal lifetimes.”

Everyone at the table was nodding. They looked determined. United. Almost...they held an expression that Jon just couldn’t name. An emotion he didn’t understand.

He had seen it in Daisy, once. She had called it hope. He hadn’t understood back then. He still didn’t. 

“Liar,” Jon said, as his minigame timed out and the game over music tinkled across the tinny speakers. 

Annabelle looked at him, expression inscrutable. “These problems are legitimate, Archivist. The writing’s clearly on the wall, and -”

“You’re all so stupid,” Jon complained, and Annabelle abruptly stopped talking to glare at him. Whatever. Jon had lost all patience. He closed his DS and dropped it on the table, resigning himself to talking. Jon hated public speaking, especially in front of so many people he didn’t know and, frankly, creeped him out. “You can’t build anything in this world. If you try to impose a cute little government then it’ll break down into cannibalism or something.”

“Would you know, Archivist?” Jared asked evenly. 

“Jonah didn’t enact this world through myself for living,” Jon said, bored, and everybody stared at him with wide eyes. “We created it for suffering. Suffering isn’t living.”

“One might say the opposite,” the Vast man said, somehow twinkingly. “Suffering is an unavoidable side effect of living, isn’t it?”

“Is that philosophy? I don’t understand philosophy.” Jon wasn’t very good with anything that required extensive and complex thought. Which made sense - Jonah hadn’t exactly created him to think. “Humanity has clouded your minds. Makes all of you irrational and sentimental. Release your attachment to the old world. Just accept the way things are now.” Jon shrugged. “It’s not as if you can do anything about it.”

“Nobody in this room is exactly human, Jon,” Oliver pointed out placidly. 

Jon snorted. “Wanting free porn back? You’re all dripping with it.” It was honestly a little sad. “The only ones in this world free of that weakness are Jonah and I. And he’s the only one who could do any of this.”

“Then where is he?” the Desolation woman snapped. She leaned forward, hands gripping the table in anger. The teenager watched her anxiously. “Why doesn’t he come on down from his high tower and explain what’s going on? We’re in the fucking dark here!”

“I’m sorry,” Jon said coldly, “who are you?”

He rubbed his bad hand. For some reason, everybody watched him do so. He stopped, self-conscious. 

“Prejudiced remarks aside,” Manuela said. She had been hostile all day, but she now spoke cautiously. “Jonah Magnus needs to take responsibility for this. We don’t even know how the world ended.”

Several people glanced at Annabelle, whose lips thinned. “I shouldn’t say.”

Of course she knew. And of course she wasn’t about to tell him. Whatever. Jon didn’t care. Past was the past. 

He found his hand clenching. There was a strange tension in his throat. He didn’t care. He didn’t. Rehashing the worst pain he had ever felt in his life, even now, wasn’t really worth the time or energy. He didn’t care.

“No use crying over spilled milk,” the Vast guy said lightly. “But it is a relevant question. Jonah frequently spoke of his plans, and I realize now that he had never truly shown all of his cards. But he had always held an intention to...well, rule. It’s only in this moment of his victory that he shows no interest.”

“Jonah’s busy,” Jon snapped. “Trust me, you don’t want that arse around. He never even gives me directions, and I’m his right hand.”

“Or his puppet,” Sarah Baldwin muttered. 

It was fair. Probably even true. So why did an intense and burning fury shoot through Jon?

“What gives this child the right to dictate us?” Wakely demanded. Jon’s hands clenched on the table until his knuckles turned white. “What gives Jonah Magnus the right to rule us?”

“He’s not much of a ruler,” Amherst grunted. “My vote’s that we rule this world in a council.”

“Administration is important,” Annabelle said, impossibly terse, “but unless anyone here actually has the means to seize control, then there’s no use voting on it.”

“There’s only one Avatar here who has those means,” Manuela said darkly, crossing her arms and looking straight at Jon. “So why doesn’t he do anything?”

They were feeding on each other. They wouldn’t have said these - these treasonous things by themselves. But when one person spoke up, the next felt empowered, and they felt as if they outnumbered him. Jonah Magnus was hardly there to press him into obedience - why buckle under his oppressive gaze? What could he do?

The stupidest people in this world all gathered in one room. It took a special level of arrogance, pride, and stupidity to assume that one was more powerful than Jonah Magnus.

“I’m not in charge of anything,” Jon said tersely. “I don’t even have a domain. I’m just trying to live my life.”

The Desolation woman snorted. “Typical. You’re rolling over for Jonah.”

Jon’s eyes widened - not in surprise, but in anger. 

The teenager seemed a little uncomfortable. “Jude,” she hissed, “I don’t think -”

“Jude,” Jon breathed. “So that’s your name.” 

He was standing up. Jon didn’t remember standing up. Everybody was leaning away, their own eyes wide. Some just looked confused, slightly perturbed - Wakely, Amherst. Others looked ready to bolt - Manuela, the old man from the Vast. Jon knew, in a flash of insight that grew hotter and hotter, that he preferred to be called Simon. 

“Sit down, Jon,” Annabelle said, as authoritative and no-nonsense as ever. Normally he’d listen to her, respecting that she usually knew what was going on far better than he ever did. But the words barely reached him, drowned out by the rushing in his ears. “Look, we can talk about this rationally, alright?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jude said. She snorted, burning red eyes never leaving Jon’s. “As if I’m scared of this baby prick.”

“Maybe we can move on from Jonah Magnus,” Simon said quickly. “A discussion of airspace rights, perhaps -”

“Jon,” Oliver said, voice creased in worry, “are you okay?”

“This is the all-powerful demigod you all warned me about?” Amherst said. He was dripping with condescension, just like - just like everyone else - “He’s little more than a child.”

“Guys!” the teenager’s voice rang through the room, close to scared. “The walls are melting!”

So they were. It was as if the stone and wood was made of wax, sent guttering by a sputtering candle. Wood and finish were already pooling on the floor, melting the rolling wheel of Jared’s chair and forcing him to jump up from it. 

“Jon!” Annabelle said sharply. “Don’t throw a tantr -”

The table cracked sharply. It was warping, twisting in on itself as if it was a wrung towel. Jon realized, too late to care, that his hair was rising. He knew his eyes were spinning, an eternal churning wheel. 

“Fuck this, meeting adjourned.” Manuela stood up sharply, pushing her chair back into a melting bubble. The floor was beginning to bubble and warp. “See you all next month.” 

“I’ll walk you out,” Simon said quickly, standing up too. 

“You have two minutes,” Jon said, voice heavy with static. “Don’t bother me about this shit again.”

The signal was clear enough. Jude rose from her chair, grabbing her teenager’s elbow and pushing her out the door. The others followed in their wake, expressions carefully neutral. It was useless: Jon could taste their fear, their trepidation. Even better: their anger, barely brindled fury, and disgust. 

They couldn’t do anything about it, Jon thought giddily. No matter how much they hated or were scared of him, they couldn’t do anything about it. Jon was powerful. Jon couldn’t be hurt. Jon couldn’t - 

Jon couldn’t reign this in. 

Before he knew it, the conference room was empty. Only two other people remained: Annabelle, expression as inscrutable as ever, and an uncomfortable Oliver. His hands were stuck in the pockets of his pea coat, and he was looking around with disaffected interest - as if he was standing in line at a Starbucks in rush hour instead of in the epicenter of a melting building.

Jon knew. The entire building was dissolving. It was teeming with humans, lost and trapped and defenseless. He didn’t want to kill them. Jon didn’t like hurting people. He heard a voice speak in his head, foreign and familiar. Bring it in, Jon. 

But he couldn’t. His hair would fall back around his shoulders, and the static rushing through his ears just wouldn’t abate. It felt like everything was pouring out of him, a relentless faucet that wouldn’t stop churning out thick streams of putrid water. 

Jon fisted his hands in his hair, groaning. “Where’s -”

“She’s at your flat,” Annabelle said calmly. “Do you want me to get her?”

No. No, this was too embarrassing. He was an adult, he could handle this. Jon groaned again and sank into his seat, saved from the toxic waste of glass and brick. “No. Focus on getting the humans out of here.”

“What do you care?” Oliver asked, vaguely curious. “You don’t seem that fond of humanity.”

“Just do it!” Jon snapped, instead of admitting that he didn’t know either.

Eventually, the room stopped melting. Jon didn’t even want to think about how difficult it would be to leave the building. He could probably straighten out the hallways just enough to help Annabelle and Oliver get out.

Ugh. This place had sunk straight into Helen’s domain. He could taste it in the air: any future human who wandered in would be stuck in an endless spiral of twisted, melted hallways. Probably flavored with...powerlessness and fear. Feeling very small, as someone very large loomed down on you. Tories. 

At least he hadn’t sucked flattened the building into one plane again, robbing it of all spiritual and metaphysical dimensions. Jon had done that to a graveyard once. The place was putrid now. He had accidentally fallen into a grave and panicked and - anyway. 

He rested his forehead on the warped and splintered conference table, waiting for his throat to open back up and the rushing in his ears to die down. Finally, after what felt like forever, his hair floated back down and he felt his eyes resume their normal shape. 

Awkward silence loomed. Jon sighed. “Sorry.”

“I worked hard to arrange this, you know,” Annabelle said.

“Yeah.”

“I am not happy with you, Jon,” Annabelle said. 

“Sorry,” Jon said miserably. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I mean,” Oliver said, after a beat, “that’s kind of terrifying. That you can melt a building on accident. Like, what would happen if you got really pissed at Manchester or something?”

“Goodbye, Manchester,” Annabelle muttered. 

Jon lifted his head, glaring blearily at Oliver. “If you think that’s crazy, you should have been there the one time I opened up an extradimensional gate and unleashed nightmare terrors into the world, rendering all of humanity immortal and eternally trapped in endless infernal hellscapes.”

Oliver shrugged, conceding the point. 

But Annabelle just looked thoughtful. Probably reworking five billion plans, knowing her. Jon didn’t want to know, because he didn’t care. Let her do whatever she wanted. None of his business. Hopefully, after this disaster, she’d keep it out of his business. 

Finally, she asked, “Was that true? That there’s no moving us forward?”

Jon sighed. He really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. But if he didn’t tell her then she’d just bug him about it later, or find some way to get the information out of him that would be both convoluted and unpleasant. “I’m not saying that people can’t...live their lives. They’re obviously still going to work and typing in every digit of pi into their spreadsheets for eight hours and then going home to stare, hypnotized, into cable television. But I am saying that there’s no achieving more than that. There’s no going backwards, and there’s no going forwards. The past is closed to us, and so is the future.” He eyed her warily. “If you have any cute time travel ideas, forget it.”

“I would never,” Annabelle said innocently. 

Yeah, sure. Liar. Jon scowled. “You’re all hampered by your humanity.” When Oliver opened his mouth, Jon just shook his head. “Even Avatars are still people. We’re all conduits for eldritch Forces, hollowed out to serve as a live wire for their power, but we - you all remember a human life. You care about things. You have relationships. You love. It makes you weak. Some of you don’t even like your lot in life - some part of you aching for something familiar, when you felt genuine happiness instead of the cheap facsimile induced by causing pain.” Jon looked down at his hands, reflexively picking at one of his many scars. “You should be more like me. You’d be more focused.”

“Are you capable of...changing, Jon?” Oliver asked curiously. “Or will you be this way forever?”

“Most of Annabelle’s plans hinge on that not happening,” Jon said, not even aware it was true until he said it, “so I suppose we’ll find out.”

Of course, Jon knew what Oliver had tactfully not said. He had wanted to know if Jon would ever grow up. They all thought he was a child, even Annabelle. Jon had the feeling even Daisy did, sometimes. 

It was stupid and they were wrong. Child would imply adult, would imply birthday parties and learning to talk and learning geography. Jon didn’t have to learn geography. He knew geography. He didn’t age. He was born being able to talk. Jon was above all of these things. He was mature. And even if he wasn’t, who cared?

But Annabelle just smiled at Jon, a polite mask. Annabelle hadn’t made a genuine facial expression in - well, longer than Jon’s memory. Or maybe that was the wrong way to put it. Maybe it was more accurate that she never expressed an emotion that she didn’t mean to. “Well! That wasn’t entirely a disaster, was it? I think next time could go really well. Don’t worry, Jon, I won’t drag you out of bed again.” She propped her hands on her hips. “Now, the three of us are going back to your flat and doing something about your awful rat’s nest.”

Oh, lord. This was going to be terrible. “Do we have to?” Jon whined. 

Annabelle smiled again, but this time it was so dangerous that Jon couldn’t help but quail. “My spiders are collecting the avocado oil and coconut oil now. My best friend in secondary had 3C hair too, I think I know what to do. Oliver, bring the buzzer, scissors, and satin wraps.”

“Three cee?” Jon asked, confused. “What’s that?”

Oliver grimaced. “Why am I involved in this?”

“Because I don’t know what to do with a guy’s hair, and you’re probably the only guy I’ve ever met who knows what to do with hair? Keep up.”

“I’m feeling pigeonholed, but fine. But we are not buzzing that hair. It’s a crime against god.” Oliver looked thoughtful for a second. “I think Jon would do a nice, loose afro. I think I still have some hair masks and vinegar rinse -”

“Why is this so complicated?” Jon asked, completely freaked out. “What are these things?”

But Annabelle just smiled sweetly at him, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Jon. I’ll teach you what you need to know.”

Well. It seemed easier than figuring things out for himself. Jon didn’t like responsibility. Today was his first taste of responsibility in ages, and he had already decided that it sucked. Better to let somebody who actually cared take care of it. 

That way, he didn’t have to be powerful. Didn’t have to be anybody’s demigod on Earth, capable of murdering whoever he liked. He could just be Jon, Private Detective, Archivist. He could have fun. Just live. Didn’t he deserve that, despite everything?

He stood up too, summoning a shaky smile for Annabelle. “So you aren’t mad about me ruining your meeting, then?”

“Water under the bridge,” Annabelle said. “Now come on, we have to stop by the chemist’s and pick up a decent hairbrush.”

Hairbrush? What was that for?

****

Six months after time resumed its course

Jon opened his mailbox, only to find mail.

Suspicion immediately loomed. Jon didn’t get mail. Not due to any kind of impossibility, but just because he didn’t pay bills and none of the mimic junk mail was brave enough to try their luck with him. Maybe invoices, sometimes, but mostly those were dropped off in person. The invoices were scarier than the finger-biting mimics: he still didn’t quite know how they worked. Sasha kept insisting they were important, but Sasha also insisted face masks were important. She didn’t know everything. That was Jon’s job.

He grabbed the singular envelope anyway, elbowing his door back open as he inspected the envelope. Thick, rich, and creamy, it reminded Jon uncomfortably of Annabelle’s party invite from a while ago. In the front, he saw that it was addressed to...Agnes?

The living room was noisy and busy, entirely due to the recipient of the letter and her brother. They were playing Mario Kart on the Wii, and apparently disowning each other. Jon watched Agnes hit Gerry with a blue shell, slightly bemused, and saw Dry Bones spin out into the center and make a pitiful noise. Baby Peach loomed supreme. 

Jon almost felt bad interrupting. An opened bag of chips scattered dust around Gerry, and Agnes had a half-empty pack of uncooked hot dogs next to her. They had both been at this for a while. “Agnes, you got a letter. And try to keep it down, Sasha’s working and Daisy’s sleeping.”

Agnes turned around, half a hot dog hanging out of her mouth like a cigar. She swallowed it quickly, holding out one hand and letting Jon give her the letter. She frowned down at the front, ignoring the way Gerry craned his head to take a look, and when she checked the back she frowned deeper. There was a wax seal, its details out of sight to Jon. 

“Is it that time already?” Agnes muttered, putting her controller down and letting the parade lap on the screen continue. 

Gerry frowned too as Agnes carefully broke the seal. “Is that from…?”

“Yeah. Weird, though. Guess it’s about time for the follow-up to the emergency meeting.” She pulled a letter out of the envelope, embossed on creamy paper. She scanned it quickly. “Downing street this time…”

“Are you going to go?”

“Well, it’s not as if Jude can,” Agnes said diplomatically, refolding the paper. 

Jon cleared his throat, making the kids jump. They had half-forgotten he was there. Far too late, Agnes hid the invite behind her back. “Care to explain?”

“Oh, you know,” Agnes said vaguely, casually tossing the invite behind her shoulder and letting Gerry snatch it out of midair. “It’s the invite to the Avatar council meetings. I think they’re held once every three months, but since months are a theoretical concept it’s occasionally hard to tell..”

“Not these days,” Gerry said excitedly. “It’s cold! The leaves fell!”

“The leaf thing is dope,” Agnes agreed. “Anyway, I should go. I have, like, serious words. I already submitted ten motions. I want to run for Treasurer, but Jared keeps saying that anybody who isn’t old enough to open her own bank account shouldn’t be treasurer.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Jon asked blankly. Was this some kind of youth league? Baseball? Was this baseball?

Abruptly, Agnes looked very sketchy. “I...it’s really nothing you’d be interested in.”

“I am interested in everything,” Jon said. He was offended beyond all belief. “Don’t keep secrets!”

“Jon’s not a big fan of secrets,” Gerry stage-whispered. “Did Annabelle say that we shouldn’t tell him or did she just say not to bother him about it?”

Agnes abruptly started sweating wax. “I can’t remember.”

“Now you have to tell me,” Jon said flatly. 

They gave up very quickly. Teenagers loved hiding things, but they also loved drama and spilling secrets. “It’s the Avatar council meeting thing,” Gerry said eagerly. “You know, where you guys all get together and re-enact the British empire by making government decisions and imposing made-up laws on the people you’ve conquered and are currently subjugating under your big stompy boots?”

“I’m changing the system from the inside,” Agnes said proudly. 

Gerry shot her an unimpressed look. “Okay. Yeah. Sure. Because that’s a thing that makes sense in an inherently corrupt system with an inherently unethical existence that exists to be profitable at the expense of the marginalized.”

“I don’t understand anything children these days even talk about,” Jon said. 

“I’m surprised you don’t remember it,” Agnes said to Jon. But she had a strange expression on her face, one hard to decipher. “It’s where we met.”

Jon stared at her blankly. “I don’t remember talking to you.”

“I was sitting next to Jude?” Agnes hinted. “Teenager? Red hair?”

Wait. Jon snapped his fingers. “Annabelle’s idiot thing! Right! Right, of course, Oliver made me sit still for five hours afterwards, it was insufferable.” 

Wait. Jon abruptly remembered the rest of that day. It seemed like so long ago, even though it was probably objectively only about three years. It must have been about...yes, a few months after Daisy had gotten stuck...

He barely remembered those tepid and awful months. He had been on a bit of a hair trigger back then. It had been really tough, with Daisy leaving and his terrifying encounter with Jonah. He remembered everybody had been annoying and mean and made him feel bad…

“First time I ever remember feeling fear, honestly,” Agnes said to Gerry. “Scariest moment of my life. Remember when we first met Jon? All I could think about was that he was going to melt us like he melted that building.”

Hot shame flared in Jon’s gut. Right. Other people were real, and existed, and were probably more important than his...what had he even been upset about? He didn’t remember. 

He melted a building and he didn’t even remember why. 

“I’m going too,” Jon said, and both kids startled. “I’m coming with you.”

Agnes and Gerry stared at each other with wide eyes. 

“Uh,” Agnes said finally, hesitant, “there’s about a 50/50 chance Annabelle said not to tell you about this, and you definitely didn’t get an invite, so statistically you probably aren’t -”

“She can’t exactly stop me from coming,” Jon said, and both kids quieted. 

Power-tripping had lost all appeal for Jon - assuming role as a conduit for global and absolute power did that to you - but he couldn’t deny it was useful sometimes. The world probably could have stood a little more power-tripping from him, actually. At least, it would have been helpful if he had ever done anything helpful with it. But he had never really bothered. 

But Agnes still looked perturbed, almost worried. “Annabelle’s like one of two people you used to ever listen to, so if you don’t really care what she thinks anymore -”

“I think Annnabelle knows better than to complain these days,” Jon said. 

It probably was for the best that Jon didn’t listen much to Annabelle anymore. 

****

Jon hadn’t really told the others about Annabelle’s worse-than-murder attempt. 

It didn’t really seem like any of their business, and he had spinned a vague explanation of how the situation happened. He didn’t lie, just - withheld information.

For the first time, the truth didn’t seem so important. He had the feeling it would have just upset them. It wasn’t as if he would take revenge against Annabelle. The world needed her, and Jon was a little tired of murdering everyone who upset him. The others (Daisy) would insist on the little murder attempts if they knew, but that was probably part of why he didn’t tell them. If they never knew about the one unselfish thing he had done in his life - well, one unselfish thing didn’t make up for three years of selfishness, so there was very little point.

Martin suspected. Actually, Martin seemed to know, which terrified Jon slightly. It was impossible to get anything past Martin. Jon was deeply intimidated by the man. Sasha laughed very long and hard when he told her that, for unknown reasons. 

Besides, it wasn’t as if he felt betrayed. Even if the last time he had attended one of Annabelle’s little council meetings he still trusted her, that had faded quickly in favor of complete apathy. Even then, as young as he was, he had never expected the truth from her. Just friendship. Whatever she was doing, it probably wouldn’t affect him, so there was no use in worrying. Even if Annabelle slightly terrorized every other person in the United Kingdom - well, Jon was fine, so what did it matter.

Jon couldn’t decide if he was stupid or naive. Or, even worse - if he was just lazy. 

Jon didn’t listen to Annabelle anymore. 

Unfortunately, he still listened to Sasha James. 

Two weeks later, the date of the actual meeting, Jon was stuck explaining himself to his entire house, who doubted all of his decisions. Which was just unfair. Jon made good decisions! He had made tons of good decisions, like -

Anyway!

“I think it’s a great idea,” Sasha said, freaking out Jon. “Displaying interest in your local government’s fantastic! Did you do any research on the relevant issues?”

Jon, in the middle of pulling on his trenchcoat, started sweating. “I was just planning on showing up.”

Agnes, who was wearing a gauzy skirt and blouse as Daisy helped a whining Gerry with his court buttons, gave Sasha the thumbs up. “I’m going to propose motions and Jon’s going to say ‘yeah what she said’ and it’ll be great.”

Jon let Agnes believe that.

“Well, you’ll have to share Jon’s political weight,” Sasha said cheerfully. She was in sweatpants and one of Jon’s pilfered t-shirts again. She had recently designated herself a writer, and had joined some sort of recent artist and activist collective where they did mysterious things that Jon didn’t understand. There’s a zine involved? Jon didn’t know what a zine was and he was scared to ask.

Georgie and Melanie had spent a week teaching Jon in laborious detail what exactly the internet was - information Jon could have just downloaded, but they had been intent in their mission of creating ‘the perfect internet’ and had gone through great effort in teaching him what the ‘good’ internet was (Ravelry, Spotify, r/HobbyDrama, YouTubers but only a very specific list) and what the ‘bad’ internet was (social media, the rest of Reddit, every other YouTuber). Jon wasn’t sure if the new internet was to their specifications, and he hadn’t quite been able to avoid parts of it spiralling into nightmare dimensions and hellish breeding grounds for violence and trauma, but Melanie assured him that Twitter had always been like that. 

Jon also secretly added a nightmare filter to Melanie’s screen reader, after he made sure every inch of it was accessible, after he roughly recreated screen readers. Melanie said that the voice sounded uncannily like the aunt she had hated, but that it was no big deal. 

Anyway, Sasha was a blogger now. After a few meltdowns to Sasha’s computer he had to install a nightmare filter for her too, which made her complain about feeling like an old woman whose grandson had to install AdBlock on her browser. Jon was a little scared of the whole blogging thing, but everybody seemed much happier, so maybe that was the important thing.

“Wait,” Jon said, finally recognizing what Sasha said. “Share with who?”

There was a knock on the door. Jon felt intense fear.

“She’s here!” Sasha said cheerfully. “Come in!”

Jon watched in horror as Basira Hussain casually strode into her house. He knew he couldn’t stop her. She had a key to the place, because Jon had no control of his life. 

“Hey honey,” Basira said, intimately. 

“Hey honey,” Daisy said lovingly, releasing Gerry from her clutches.

They stared at each other, as if this was any kind of greeting whatsoever, before ignoring each other. Jon did not understand so many things. 

Basira, terrifyingly, was dressed like she was about to go defend her client in court. She had a briefcase, and Jon recognized her most important looking crimson hijab. Very abruptly, Jon had a flashback to the way Annabelle had dressed when she had picked him up in his old office. They even had the same expression: determined and resolute, in a way that Jon could never understand. 

Basira nodded at Jon. “Hey. Sasha invited me to this thing. She told you I was coming, right.”

“She did not.”

“Whatever. Are we going to get going? We’re going to be late.”

Jon looked at Sasha pleadingly. Cold and resolute stone, Sasha showed no mercy. She smiled brightly, giving Agnes a final hug and pushing her forward. “You kids have a great time! Terrorize the bourgeoisie!”

“I am the bourgeoisie,” Jon said blankly, but the situation had already spiraled out of his control. Agnes and Basira were already comparing lists of notes, seriously discussing the motions Agnes had raised and how she was going to help Basira. 

That was it – how Agnes could help Basira. How Agnes, and the role she had in the council hall, could help Basira and the people Jon knew that she intended on representing today. 

They hadn’t even looped him in. Had they assumed that he wouldn’t care? That he wouldn’t help? Agnes hadn’t even wanted him there. Only Sasha -

He felt a cool, small hand grab his arm, and he turned around to see Daisy. Gerry was already enthusiastically capturing Sasha about the concert he and Agnes were going to later, and Jon knew that they weren’t listening. Daisy’s expression was somber, her body tense. Daisy wasn’t one for facial expressions at the best of times – not even a new development – but something about this…

“I should go with you,” Daisy said. 

“I already told you no,” Jon said, miffed. “I can handle this by myself.”

“I shouldn’t have let you go by yourself last time,” Daisy said. Jon could admit that things probably wouldn’t have spiraled out of control if she had been there, but that didn’t mean – “Don’t terrify yourself just because you feel guilty.”

Daisy hadn’t aged any more than the rest of the world had. As an Avatar, she likely never would. She even looked young for her mid-forties, with her short stature and broad, unlined face. Sasha had assured him that she was ‘Kristen Bell-ish’, whatever that meant. But she always seemed so old to him: larger than life and not even reaching his shoulders. Wise and world-weary even when, as Jon was beginning to see, she didn’t know what she was doing any more than the rest of them did. 

It scared Jon, almost: if Daisy wasn’t the person who could swoop in and make it all better, then who could? 

If Jonah wasn’t the omnipresent god, then who was the most powerful person in the world?

Jon shook her off, fighting the pull in his gut. “I’m not scared of them anymore.”

She didn’t look impressed. “You’re always scared.”

“Look at the time, going to be late, gotta go!” 

He still couldn’t win an argument against her. 

They took a taxi there, as Jon had cheerfully informed them that the Tube was delayed due to infernal leaves on the line (Work-from-home was the hot new thing these days). Basira was clearly on edge, tense and constantly keeping an eye on the taxi driver (a friendly skeleton) and the street. Agnes wasn’t any more relaxed, reading her notes over and over. 

Jon leaned back in his plush seat, closing his eyes. What would Martin say? He would probably be cuttingly pointing out how Jon was in denial over how he really was secretly afraid of the Avatars and now it was even more dangerous because he was much more willing to power-trip. 

Forget about what Jon wanted. Forget about his fear, his insecurities, and every rationale he had constructed for himself as to why Jon deserved a life free of these worries.

Jon was above politics. The Avatar with no need to defend their territory, who held no fear of death or failure, had no need. Jon could not lose the affection of his patron. His domain was the world, and it could not be attacked no matter how hard he tried. Jon was not a politician, so of course that meant he could not be manipulated by politicians -

“What’s your plan,” Jon asked, without opening his eyes.

They told him. Basira was clinical; Agnes excited. Jon didn’t say anything about it, and let the conversation die down until the taxi was rolling in front of 10 Downing Street. Didn’t the prime minister live here? Boris...something? Jon quickly downloaded the information, before he found that Boris Johnson had been the world’s most convoluted psy-op by Annabelle and had never exactly existed. Thank goodness.

Right as the taxi idled in front of the building, Jon opened his eyes. He let them flare up, an intimidating spark of toxic green. “You two follow my lead.”

“Excuse me,” Basira said flatly, as Jon waved at the driver in lieu of payment. He hadn’t found out that you were supposed to pay taxi drivers until...a few months ago. In his defense, they never asked. “This is our operation.”

Jon glanced at her, and something relaxed around the corners of her eyes. He wondered if his expression was familiar to her. He couldn’t help but smile weakly, and that softened her expression even more. “Will you trust me?”

Basira stared at him for one long beat, then two, before grimacing. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Do I usually make you regret it?” 

“Literally, every single time,” Basira said. 

“Then it’s a pretty stupid decision to trust me again,” Jon pointed out. “You don’t seem the type to make stupid decisions.”

Basira stared at him for a long moment, before leaving the car. 

Jon and Agnes silently watched her leave, before glancing at each other. 

“And I thought you ran from your feelings,” Agnes said finally, before following her. 

Jon, left with nothing else to do, followed Agnes.

10 Downing Street, Jon quickly found, was just like every other pretentious old British home. With lots of grandiose rooms with furniture shoved into corners so everybody could appreciate the gold-plated tile, or sitting rooms with the most uncomfortable places to sit Jon had ever seen. Each wall hosted gigantic portraits of famous British figures, who were all so ugly that Agnes incinerated one for fun. Jon respected her choices: he had been wearing a stupid wig. 

Jon, unfortunately instinctively aware of the layout and history of this sordid place, led them through the halls. He opened his mouth, instinctively about to funnel a Statement regarding the decades of human suffering and imperialism, before forcing his mouth closed. Basira wouldn’t appreciate it. Besides, the Statements had been easier to ignore lately - like curious dogs nosing at his hands rather than insistent children demanding to be fed. 

Instead, he settled on casually updating them on the choice of location. “A year ago, this location wouldn’t have been safe for Basira at all. This building was a nightmare pit of despair.” He led them up the ridiculous flights of stairs watching carefully as Agnes jumped up them. Trick steps, you know. Basira proceeded far more cautiously. “It’s...no less a nightmare pit, but like the rest of London it’s now safe to navigate. I’d keep clear of the residential rooms, however. The Prime Minister and his family haven’t escaped their nightmares since the apocalypse, and they never will.”

Basira’s eyebrows skyrocketed up. “David Cameron’s stuck in hell? No surprise there. What’s he having a nightmare about?” 

“Well, there’s this pig, right, and you’ll never guess what he’s doing -”

“Never mind,” Basira said quickly. “Not interested.”

“I’m interested,” Agnes said. 

“I’d rather you weren’t.”

Jon, who also wished he didn’t know this information, quickly directed them towards the conference room.   

But he found himself stopping in front of the intricately carved oak double doors. The wrought golden handles were grimy and dull with dust, but Agnes and Basira did not hesitate to open the door and walk in. They didn’t hesitate; they weren’t frightened. Or, if they were, they didn’t let it stop them.

But Jon stopped. He felt like Annabelle, in that moment. Annabelle, standing in front of that conference room door so long ago, unable to admit that she felt any fear at all. 

She had been desperate. Jon saw that now. Only a desperate person would have ever concocted that plan against Jon. He was the sole person capable of murder in this world, and the sole person who was so vindictive and petty that he would kill anybody who said something that he didn’t like. 

Annabelle was arrogant. She thought herself the most intelligent person in every room. She was petty, manipulative, and power-hungry. She thought that the world was so broken that somebody had to fix it, and that she was the only one who could. She was desperate. 

Jon didn’t particularly want to do this. But Jon really, really had to grow up. 

Jon opened the door. 

It was a far cry from the nice, professional conference room in City Hall. The floor was some ugly light brown hardwood color, and the walls were tudor-like and panelled. Old man ribboned curtains, an intricate rug woven from human rights abuses, and a claw-foot long conference table with an array of chairs made up an incredibly ‘antique’ room. The British found ‘antique’ and ‘wealth signalling’ to be the same thing. It made for some very ugly buildings and very uncomfortable chairs.

 Nobody else had entered yet. Jon checked the time with his extradimensional psychic powers and realized that Sasha had hustled them out the door fifteen minutes earlier than necessary. She was so intelligent. 

Agnes was already moving to her uncomfortable seat, and Jon tapped Basira on the arm and silently pointed to the seat with the ‘EXTINCTION’ placard. She raised an eyebrow at him, but followed his direction. Maybe that was what her trust looked like. 

There was a placard stamped ‘BEHOLDING’ in big letters. Gone unoccupied since the last time Jon had been here. 

He ignored it, and sat down at the head of the table. Likely where Annabelle usually sat, as director of the meetings. Historically, where the leader of Britain had once sat and directed the affairs of the country.

Jon kicked up his heels on the polished antique wood, pulling up an episode of The Twilight Zone in his brain. He identified with Rod Serling. 

The other Avatars filtered in, one by one. All of their eyes widened when they saw Jon, but none of them said anything. Jon wondered what had filtered through the Avatar grapevine. They always knew all of the gossip on each other. It was impossible to miss the Earth’s paradigm shift, and Agnes mentioned that they had convened an emergency meeting on it. Doubtlessly, his name had come up. They likely knew he was the instigator. Who else could?

Annabelle was the fourth in, as fashionably on time as usual. She was the only one who stopped in her tracks when she saw Jon. A surprise, to a woman unused to surprises. Jon’s house didn’t have insect problems. 

Her eyes widened. Her jaw clenched. That was all it took. And Jon Knew, in the way that he Knew things, that she was wondering if this was when he finally killed her. 

She didn’t know why she was still alive. It was stressing her out. It was a move that made no sense - an unforeseen reaction. Jon was predictable. When Jon wasn’t predictable, and when Jon’s actions weren’t being very precisely controlled, then she was left with a vindictive and irreverent steam train on her hands. She hadn’t predicted his presence here. 

Jon was also sitting in her chair. Scuffing the wood. Leaning back in the chair, and definitely scuffing the floor too. 

He pointed to the chair at his right, with a placard that now read ‘WEB’. Annabelle sat down in it. Everybody noticed. 

Everybody also noticed Basira. She was receiving some glares, or some pointedly unwelcome expressions. But Basira’s glares and unwelcome expressions were more powerful than any demon could ever offer, and one by one each Avatar looked away in shame.

Only Oliver actually talked to him. Which made sense, as Oliver feared neither life nor death. When he walked in he was just as surprised to see Jon as everyone else, but he offered Jon a smile too. Jon smiled back, which made several of the other Avatars lean back.

“Hey, Archivist. I thought you hated these things.” 

“I do!” Jon said cheerfully. “I wasn’t even invited.”

Annabelle busied herself with her notes and agenda. 

As usual, Helen didn’t show up. Jon waited patiently for everybody to filter in. Sarah Baldwin didn’t show up either, and Jon searched for the information before realizing that he really didn’t want to know. He saw some other new faces, as well as some faintly familiar ones. It wasn’t that strange: no position of absolute power was forever. Where was that bloke Wakely?

Wait. He was the Avatar who had talked for too long about burying people alive at a party in a ridiculous skyscraper. He had upset Daisy. Jon had seen red and lost his temper. Jon had...tossed him over the side of the roof. Let him keep falling. Left him to waste away. He was probably gone now. 

The entire room had been at that party. Whoops. 

Now uncomfortably reminded that Jon had murdered two people at this table, that everybody was aware of that, and that Jon had completely forgotten about one of the semi-accidental murders because, in Sasha’s words, he was “a bit of a psychopath, what the hell”.

This distressed her, because apparently Jonathan Sims had always been a “sensitive boy” with a “tender heart”. Daisy had said that he was still a sensitive boy, just prone to power-tripping. Sasha said that this was also very consistent behavior. Martin said -

Martin said that Jonathan Sims had been a good person. And, more importantly, that Jonathan Sims had wanted to be a good person. That was one thing that Jon didn’t want to change. 

Who just buried people alive -

Jon waited until everyone was settled down. Nobody was chatting or talking to each other: just sitting silently, avoiding eye contact. 

He could see Annabelle preparing herself to say something. Better get this ball rolling, then.

“Jonah Magnus is dead.”

The silence suddenly became oppressive. 

Jon didn’t stop to savor the looks on their faces. That wasn’t the point. Enjoying this wasn’t the point. Jon had all the power he wanted and - and he didn’t want it at all. He hoped that nobody here would make him have to prove it. 

Jon did not want to melt anyone. He wasn’t going to melt anyone. Life had started feeling a little valuable lately. These people, the soulless demons surrounding him, weren’t any different than he was. Humans with delusions of grandeur. Infighting and power plays weren’t going to fix it. 

But Annabelle had been right, as she always was. Jon couldn’t keep ignoring this. If he could do something, he had to. Even if it was something he didn’t like doing. 

Or something he hated that he enjoyed doing. 

“Jonah Magnus is dead,” Jon repeated pleasantly. “The world has changed. These two events are related, of course.”

He didn’t elaborate. Jon didn’t lie, but he didn’t have to say everything. 

“The chains which bind this Earth have loosened,” Jon continued. He folded his hands over his stomach, relaxed and casual. “We now exist in the third age of life. I ask that you do not resist.

“The seasons have begun to change, our eternal placid summer ripening into fall and sinking into winter. Our world turns yet again. Babies are born, grow old, and die. The apocalypse as we’ve always known was rooted in its stagnancy. Life and growth has bloomed, and will continue to subsist. Change is once again thriving, and we must adapt with it.

“You’ve noticed that your power has weakened. You will have to fight harder than ever to maintain your food supplies. What was once a conquest is now a battleground. The playing field is far from even, but the enemy and harvest now have a fighting chance.” Jon smiled brightly. “Of course, I’m sure that this was all discussed during your emergency meeting. Great job with your repeated warfare attempts against humanity during the last six months, by the way. How’s that working out for us?”

Silence loomed. Of course, their repeated attempts to quash the new human uprising had not gone very well. At the end of the day, for every one Avatar there were thousands of humans. 

“You are no longer strong enough to allow these divides into factions,” Jon continued. “We must present a united front if we’re going to maintain the ground we have. We can’t continue on the way we have. And I’ve realized…” Jon glanced at Annabelle, catching her eye. “I’ve realized that I haven’t been helping the situation. There’s more I can do. That’s why Annabelle has handed over moderation of these meetings to me.”

Nobody looked impressed. 

He could see it: the way Jon had become an unpredictable, dangerous nuisance towards them. Almost everyone in this room would be much happier if Jon dropped dead. Nobody had really liked him because nobody had ever felt safe around him. Only Annabelle and Oliver - the person who had nothing to fear from him and the other person who did not feel fear - called themselves his friends. 

But they would have preferred it if Jon was hostile or dangerous. If he had even admitted his power. But Jon play-acted at harmlessness, unwilling and afraid to make enemies, and in that way he became a nuisance rather than an enemy. He couldn’t even pretend that it wasn’t on purpose. No matter how many Avatars brushed him off or ignored him, it was better than feeling their eyes on him. Or feeling the fear rich on their tongues. 

 “Also I invited a human to work with us on human affairs,” Jon said cheerfully. “Diversity hire! Any questions?”

There were a lot of questions. Basira didn’t look very pleased at his remark, either. 

Simon leaned forward first, pale and watery eyes intent for the first time. “What happened to Jonah Magnus?”

“Natural causes,” Jon said cheerfully. “Next?”

“What does this mean for us?” the Lukas matriarch said. Her eyes skittered away from him. “Are we in danger?”

Jon shrugged. “Only if you’re incompetent at feeding.”

“What caused this?” Manuela demanded. “The children are running wild, we can’t control them. We’ve lost a major food source.”

Jon scratched his temples. “What caused it...sustainability efforts.” He sobered abruptly. “You could never control the children, anyway. This is the generation of the apocalypse. You’ll find that very little frightens them now.”

“Does this have to do with those humans you’ve been running around with?” Jared asked, scratching his chin as Manuela’s expression contorted in rage. 

As usual, a frighteningly insightful observation from such a brute. “It is actually directly their fault!”

Everybody turned to look at Basira, who was completely unapologetic. She crossed her arms. “Don’t ask me. First I’m hearing about this too.”

“Did you kill Jonah Magnus?” Oliver asked, morbidly fascinated. “How?”

“We humans didn’t kill him. We showed up at the Panopticon to kill him, only to find Jon there and Jonah Magnus already dead.” Basira scowled as Jon and Annabelle glanced at each other. Jon subtly shook his head. Annabelle’s lips thinned. “It looked like he’d been dead for years.”

An unfamiliar young man with a thick mop of clumped black hair peered at Jon, expression contorted in grotesque interest. He was one of the Avatars who had been born in the Apocalypse, who were all recognizably weird. His name was - right, Geoff Anjou. Some French man who had made his mark in the Parisian Underground before moving to London and conquering his next terrain. A Parisian to the bone - or, a great deal of bones, as the case may be. So many bones. Jon had always meant to take Daisy to that wonderful little nightmare and let her run loose. Chase people through the tunnels. Munch bones. Perfect vacation. 

“So did the Archivist kill him?” Geoff asked, in the same way you would ask who won the World Cup. “Steal his Watcher’s Crown or whatever?”

“Are you the new queen bee?” a young woman asked Jon. The new Slaughter Avatar, Henrietta Something-or-another. A Cambridge legacy college student, Annabelle had intoned, and Jon had been afraid to inquire further. She was cyberbullying someone on her mobile, which seemed to be bleeding. “Cuz, like, you don’t seem qualified.”

“I did not kill Jonah Magnus,” Jon said, for the five hundreth time in the last six months. “And I’m uninterested in filling his shoes. That’s enough questions, I think.”

“Are you as weakened as the rest of us?” Amherst demanded. “Surely this destruction has affected you worst of all.”

“He probably ate Jonah Magnus,” Henrietta said. “The Archivist’s probably god now.”

Geoff snorted. “No way. He brought a human as back-up.”

“Why is there a human?” Another woman asked, with long brown hair and a broad face. Something about her was unquestionably severe, from her bulging muscles to her incredible height. Jon had never seen her before in his life. Her name was Julia Montauk. Something about her stank of life and undeath, same as Amherst. “We can’t exactly work with the prey, here.”

“I’m proposing an emergency motion,” Amherst said suddenly, shutting up the rapidly overlapping voices. “I vote that a leader is elected democratically. And that representatives are limited towards loyal patrons of the Forces.”

“I second that motion,” Geoff said immediately. “We can’t afford a chaotic uprising in our government right now -”

“This really isn’t a vote,” Jon said. 

“Isn’t this a democracy?” Henrietta asked, with the self-righteous assurance of a twenty year old. “We vote on things in a democracy. And leaders.”

“Annabelle was voted in last spring,” Julia agreed. “No reason to change things.”

Well. Basira said that she trusted him. He’d have to rely on that.

Jon pressed down. 

It felt just like that: pressing down. Reaching out a hand and squashing. Sometimes it was like ripping someone into shreds, and other times it was like plunging your hand into their chest and ripping out their heart. But this was just a press: a heavy static, bearing down over your shoulders like a ten ton weight. A sight so horrible that it was too eldritch to even look at. The realization that the hideous sight was you, and that it was all you would ever be.

Some - Geoff, Amherst - gasped, as if they were choking. Others - Lukas, Henrietta - gasped at their hearts, as if they were having heart attacks. Jon carefully kept it off Oliver, Annabelle, Basira, and Agnes. He couldn’t help but remember what she had said a few weeks ago, about being so frightened - 

But Basira winced anyway, clutching her temples, and Jon carefully released the static until the inhabitants of the room could breathe again. His eyes did not stop glowing, and Jon didn’t bother to turn off the light show. 

Jon put his feet down on the floor and rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward. As everyone shuddered and gasped, he spoke slowly and pointedly. “This is not a democracy. It never was. It is a monarchy, and the line of succession is clear.”

Annabelle’s eyes widened, and she abruptly clenched her fists before loosening them. An uncharacteristic show of emotion from her.

“This coalition has never been a democracy,” Jon said severely. “This is a house of lords. You are uninterested in representing any needs but your own, and I know Jared failed level eight government, but I’m sure all of you know that democracy represents elected officials. Nobody here has ever lived in a true democracy, and in your human fallibility you have recreated the only system you have ever known. The seats at this table are determined by power - all of you, the most powerful conduits for your Entity. I am the inevitable consequence of this system. I am your natural disaster. All of you bought me. Now you have me. And you are no longer powerful enough to make me leave.”

Agnes’ hand was covering her mouth. Jon dearly hoped Basira was holding onto that trust. He dearly hoped that he wasn’t speaking from anger. 

But he couldn’t stop. It boiled and bubbled. It was an anger and a powerlessness that had subjugated him for thirty two years of his life. It had served as the cloud hanging over his head for three more. 

“If you want someone to blame for the Archivist who now moderates this meeting,” Jon said, his voice the thin lid over this boiling pot of hurt and anger, “I now know their names. Jonah Magnus. Jude Perry. Nikola Orsinov. Twice. Breekon and Hope’s coffin. Peter Lukas. Jane Prentiss. Maxwell Raynor. A strategic book.” Jon tilted his head, having effectively made his point. There were others, but he had forgiven Daisy and Melanie a long time ago. And Jared had been polite about it. “Bring up your complaints with them. Good luck with that.”

Jon clapped his hands, closing the lid on those memories. Maybe one day the pain would leech from them like a sun-bleached painting, but that day hadn’t come yet. “Now! If you have any further complaints about my position here, or if you want to continue debating political theory, feel free to stand up and tell me so. We’re all interested in you regurgitating your life story until you die. Anyone?” Crickets. Jon leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable. “Can we go onto the motions now? Ms. Hussain first, then clockwise from her.”

As if they had planned this, with the air of a well-choreographed actress, Basira stood up and spread out her papers in front of her. “The human contingency requests neutral zones in essential areas. Maternal wards in hospitals are highly vulnerable locations, and when assaulted by parasites the mortality rate of children is very high. If you want a self-replenishing food source, you have to allocate space for safe living. The next essential zone is a daycare and a school for children -”

And she was off. Jon had nothing to say, nor was anything necessary. Raging debate sparked after she finished speaking, and Basira effectively crushed the opposition. Agnes spoke up in her defense, and to Jon’s surprise even Manuela contributed a solid understanding of the necessity of children. When the debate started spiraling in an unhelpful direction Jon cut in and shut it down, before forcing the vote. 

It did not pass, obviously. 

“By the way,” Jon said. “Ms. Hussain proposed five different motions today. At least two of them have to pass. This debate is about picking which two you want.”

Then that started up all over again, and Jon tried not to fall asleep.

Moderating was hard. He actually had to pay attention and focus, and he hated focusing. He was effective enough at shutting down conversations, but sometimes shutting down conversations wasn’t helpful - he just needed to steer them in a more productive conversation. And Agnes’ political theory and Basira’s almost-definitely-made-up statistics started flying so thick and fast above his head that Jon was starting to almost completely lose the plot.

Jon chose his moment as the Lukas woman was complaining extensively about how Henrietta’s digital bullying was intruding upon the Loneliness of her adherents. Henrietta had argued that social media made people more lonely. Jon was afraid that Henrietta was his fault. Maybe the Eye’s fault, holistically. Jared wanted to be friends with Henrietta and co-host Instagram events, which Jon enthusiastically supported despite Basira’s glares.

He leaned over to his right, gesturing slightly at Annabelle so she would lean in closer. She raised an eyebrow at him. Annabelle’s eyebrows were crushing. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Jon whispered to her, as quietly as possible. 

Annabelle mouthed very clearly at him, ‘Wow, really? Shock!’. 

“I was making a point,” Jon hissed. “An important point. But I don’t - I still -” Jon faltered, uncertain, as Henrietta began sneering something about Lukas’ hairdo. Finally, he weakly said, “You care. They need you.”

Annabelle stared at him for a long, silent moment, before turning away from him. 

For the first time that day, she spoke to the room. “Let’s keep ad hominem attacks out of this,” she said sharply. “Madame Lukas, if you’ll make your closing remarks we can bring this to a vote.”

She really was good at it. Just like she had always wanted. She had never directly admitted it, but Annabelle had always wanted to be the kind of person in rooms like this. 

A politician sitting in an uncomfortable chair at 10 Downing Street. Rich, successful, important. Powerful and respected. Back then, she had wanted to be famous. Now, she was content to be controlling famous people. A dream out of her reach in life; laughably attainable in this stagnant after-afterlife. 

The dream had crippled her. In her search for a functional world, one that achieved and grew and provided a comfortable world, she had ended up recreating a world that hadn’t been functional at all. A world that was slow to change, and seemingly impossible to improve. A world passed down from the hands of the greedy and bloodthirsty into the hands of the uncaring and apathetic. 

The apocalypse had been inevitable. Humans driving themselves to extinction. And Avatars, possessed of human weakness, had been eager to do the same. Just a pathetic room of sour and bitter people power-tripping. 

For all that Sasha calls us bougie, Jon thought, we’re such deeply unhappy people. 

There had once been a young man, desperate for attention and acknowledgement. Dreaming of importance. He would stay up late at night, planning out his life as a famous researcher and well-respected philosopher. Everyone would tell him how smart he was. He would prove it all - with a scholarship to Oxford, with a sneer and a haughty air, with a boss who said that he had so much promise, here’s a job that will let you realize your potential. 

I deserve this job -

Something in Jon’s mind flared, a hot poker rammed behind his eye sockets. Jon hissed, one hand reaching unconsciously to his temple, and Annabelle glanced at him in alarm. She had - Jon had been thinking about her, and - what had he been -

Together, they managed to wrangle the meeting into something half-way productive. Most importantly, Basira had gotten three of her proposals passed, and Agnes’ arguments were stirring the other Avatars into serious discussion. Conversation itself would be stilted by his sheer presence, and they weren’t quite all working together yet, but they would. 

It was really all the same to Jon if the Avatars or humans won the war. He should care a bit more than he did, so he didn’t vocalize this to the others. But this conflict sparked life, a strange and frantic energy. Experiences and growth. That was what Jon had always fed on.

It seemed that Jon’s skill at prioritizing himself over all others was as sharp as ever.

Eventually the two hours wrapped up, and the other Avatars were eager to leave. Jon waved them off cheerily. 

“Meeting adjourned. Try not to do anything stupid until next time. And if any of you break the boundaries of the human safe zones, I’ll know! Annabelle, will you stay behind?”

The others filtered out quickly, uncharacteristically unwilling to see whatever carnage would be wrought. Agnes and Basira lingered. 

“That went so well!” Agnes shouted, the minute the last Avatar left. The room was now empty save for Agnes, Basira, Annabelle, and - Oliver, who was leaning against the doorframe. “I can’t believe you actually did something useful!”

“Ouch,” Oliver said. 

It was fair, though. Jon smiled weakly at her. “Hopefully I can help out a little more often going forward. But I’m not going to give any favoritism to you, Agnes. I’ll intervene to give humans a fair shot, but I really don’t want to be...king of a ruined world or whatever.”

“I know,” Agnes said firmly. She reached out and squeezed his arm, round and gentle face creased in determination. “You’d be terrible at it. So just be you, okay?”

Jon saluted her, before gesturing to the door. “Will you steal a historical British artifact from this garbage building for me? Daisy needs more targets to shoot.”

Agnes nodded eagerly and ran off. Jon silently hoped Basira would follow her, if also out of interest for also seeing British things destroyed, but she just looked at Jon intensely instead. Not quite a glare - just a searching, intense look, as if she was finding her own Statement from deep within him. It had always been disconcerting. Jon was still convinced she hated him.

“It’s not as if I knew you very well before we rescued you from the Panopticon,” Basira said crisply, pressing a folder to her chest, “but you’ve changed. What happened? What did Annabelle have to do with it?”

Jon and Annabelle glanced at each other. Oliver lifted an eyebrow. 

“Basira -”

“Don’t ask me to trust you.”

“I didn’t betray that,” Jon asked, “did I?”

Her expression didn’t soften. “You didn’t. We’re going to continue needing your help. But an ally with inscrutable motivations who does everything on a whim is a bad ally to have.”

“I’m trying, Basira,” Jon said, impossibly exhausted and just a little disappointed. “Please be patient.”

“I’ve been patient for three years,” Basira said, before forcibly cutting herself short from whatever emotion she was about to display. “What happened?”

A phantom pain pieced Jon’s arms, like chains threaded through bone. Jon fought the urge to wince, unconsciously reaching up to rub at a spot on his forearm. Everyone noticed. “It’s...family business…”

“Did you kill Jonah Magnus?”

“Jonah Magnus killed me,” Jon snapped, far louder than he intended, “so he would have deserved it, wouldn’t he!”

He felt a little lightheaded, more than he intended. It felt like a hand was clenching inside his chest, more than he wanted. No, Basira is fragile, you can’t just - no, Agnes is a kid, Daisy said that we can’t -

“Basira Hussain,” Annabelle said, hands folded tightly in her lap, eyes serious and intent. Jon started, surprised to hear her speak again. “You should go catch up with Agnes.”

Basira stared at Annabelle for a long moment, lips thin, before she abruptly whirled on her heel and stalked out. Jon watched her go, exhausted. He waited for her heels to click down the hall, far away enough that he knew she wasn’t eavesdropping, before groaning and dropping his head down onto his desk. 

“They hate me.”

“They’re scared of you,” Annabelle pointed out. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Frankly, Basira could stand to be a little more afraid of you. She’s going to get herself in trouble one of these days.”

“She’s practically my sister in law, I’m not going to hurt her,” Jon snapped. “Your stupid plan relied on me never hurting people I love.”

 “Sorry,” Oliver said pleasantly, “is anyone ever going to tell me what’s going on? I feel like an NPC in Jon’s Dungeons & Dragons game.”

“You want to be an NPC, I found you working at Taco Bell.” God, whatever. Jon could tell Oliver. He wouldn’t give a shit. Jon sighed, lifting his head to twist around and look at Oliver instead. “You remember when I was asking around after Sasha James? Annabelle had put me up to it.”

“Obviously. And then Sasha James started following you around? You terrorized Annabelle’s party again?”

“Yeah, it was this whole big thing.” Jon waved a hand expressively. “Anyway, then Annabelle tried to trap me in an eternal limbo that would shred me from inside out so I could act as purveyor of the world, and probably also use her connection with me so she could take over affairs here, and probably either nudge me into shaping the world back into order or into sinking it deeper into hell. I broke out and now I’m mad at her.”

“I had at least twenty other reasons,” Annabelle said, “but that’s the gist.”

Oliver stared at them.

They all sat in awkward silence. Jon found himself winding a finger around a stray coil of  hair and letting it spring back into place. He had kept it the same the last three years, never bothering to change the style. A loose and bouncy cloud of hair, sometimes brushing against his shoulders until Annabelle kidnapped him to cut it again - him, as much as the trenchcoat was. So much as anything had ever been ‘him’. 

“Well,” Oliver said diplomatically, “I see that you skipped a lot of steps there. So why are you here, then?”

Was it just to spite Annabelle? Screw her out of her work? Did Jon genuinely care? Did he want to organize the other Avatars, get them mobilized and going? Did he want to protect the humans? 

Did he really only care about himself, and the people he called his friends and family? Did he really only care about himself, and those he possessed?

“There’s a person I want to be,” Jon said quietly, “but I don’t know how to be him.”

Annabelle stared at him, with dark and glittering eyes, expression as implacable as always. For a sudden, stupid, intense moment, Jon wanted to know if she cared about him. If one of the few people who had always helped him, who was always in his corner, had seen him as anything more than a tool. 

Like Basira, who didn’t like him as a person, but found him too valuable to alienate. But Basira was - she was deeply good, if not always kind, and Jon had the sense that she had fought to turn herself into that good person. It was something she chose. She was trying to push Jon into making that same choice. 

Jon clenched his hands in his lap, his fingernails digging into his palm. “There’s people I respect, and who I want to respect me. This person I want to be...I’m worried that I only want this because that’s what they want. They’ll deny it, but they want my power. Everybody just makes me into whoever they want. Whatever’s useful to them.” Jon’s gaze snapped to Annabelle, and he fought hard to keep the compulsion from his voice. It was difficult, when he wanted to know so badly, but - “The kind of person I used to be. That person I’m ashamed of. Is that the person who was useful to you?”

He didn’t want to force the answer from her. He wanted her to choose to say it. 

Annabelle didn’t react. She didn’t show anything on her face. Much less what Jon wanted from her. She just tilted her head, one of the few unafraid to meet his eyes. “I never made you be anyone, Jon. All I ever did was put you in the right place at the right time.”

“That wasn’t my question,” Jon said, and this time he couldn’t help the static creeping into his voice. “Answer me.”

Annabelle sighed. “Of course it was useful. Is that what you wanted me to voluntarily say, Jon? I didn’t bring you to the first meeting because I thought it would be educational for you. I needed your power to keep the others in line. I needed everyone else to see that I controlled your power. That’s the only reason why any of this worked. We both got something out of it. Don’t pretend that you weren’t happy with the arrangement.”

It...it wasn’t a surprise, but…

“So that’s why you didn’t bring him to any of the other meetings,” Oliver mused. “He wasn’t as controllable as you liked, not when there’s more than ten other idiots around needling him. There’s never been anybody who can always predict when Jon’s going to lose his shit. Besides the biggie, I guess.”

The biggie, which was his past. 

No wonder he had stayed so childlike, innocent, and cruel for so long. Jon took responsibility for his own laziness, but - but he had been most useful that way. Annabelle had liked him best that way.

Daisy had liked him best that way too. That cruel child - Daisy had wanted him, because he made her feel needed. Annabelle was just the same.

Everyone had liked him best that way. And if Jon became the kind of person who he wanted to be, nobody would like him at all.

“If you’re going to kill me,” Annabelle said, exhaustion seeping in through her voice, “just do it.”

Jon closed his eyes. He could feel it - Annabelle’s exhaustion, the way that she had just been waiting for him to do this. Everything she knew about Jon led towards an obvious course of action. Even though you nobody knew everything that set Jon off, certain things were pretty guaranteed that he wouldn’t forgive. 

Annabelle had never accounted for Sasha. She had brought Sasha into his life, and she had no idea the effect she would have on it. Sasha, who had been the first to tell Jon that she chose to care about him for him. For a brief, hot flash, Jon was jealous. He wanted to be someone unpredictably kind. 

If he only wanted that because he had found yet another person to give his wind-up key, then…

“You won, Annabelle,” Jon said finally, and he only knew it as he said it. “Congratulations. You played the perfect manipulation. You took a vulnerable, afraid man, who had been violated in the worst possible way and left to die.” He stood up, already uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “And you arranged him so that he loved you. I chose to love you. I’m making the choice never to hurt you, because I still love you. ”

He left the room. Oliver stood aside just in time, letting Jon brush by. 

As Jon met up with Agnes and Basira, summoning a smile and a wave for them, he felt uncomfortably as if he had grown up. 

He wasn’t sure that he liked it.

#tma #the magnus archives #my writing #tma fanfic #jonathan sims #annabelle cane #oliver banks #basira hussain #agnes montague #and a ton more #tcf was about deciding to change #and this story kind of hits at how difficult it is deciding who to change into #and how difficult it is to trust your own decisions when you've been manipulated since the second you were 'born' #jon and his choices and agency is becoming a big thing for me!

[woogyu]

A World Tinted Gold | Mingyu; Chapter Two

Kalon; beauty that is more than skin-deep

streamer!y/n x werewolf!mingyu

notes; werewolf au

word count; 1749

previous | next | masterlist

summary; The only werewolves you encountered were the ones living inside your video games. They were nothing more to you than mythical creatures you often had to kill in order to complete objectives. You had a good thing going with your online gaming setup. Your supporters were kind and usually tipped well during streams. Sure it meant you had to deal with the occasional creep sliding into your DMs, but it was worth it. Playing games online was putting you through college. Little did you know your quiet life was about to be turned upside down at the hands of someone you didn’t think existed outside of the virtual world.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Are you seriously watching that steamer again? Why don’t you just play the games yourself?” Seungcheol questioned as he stepped into Mingyu’s room, chuckling as the younger wolf quickly turned around and blushed.

“It’s not the same… I’m not really interested in the games, I’m interested in her” Mingyu admitted sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. He didn’t know what it was about you that made him so transfixed, but he had a hard time tearing his eyes from the screen. Hell, just the other day when you read his comment aloud, he was over the moon.

“It’s rare for you to show interest in a girl at all” Seungcheol remarked, eyebrow pulled up in question. Until a wolf found its mate there was little reason to get involved with or show interest in others romantically. There were of course some wolves that preferred being unmated; it allowed them to be explorative with their romantic partners. Not all wolves longed to find their mate, and not all wolves would end up finding their mates. He knew destiny had a hand to play in it all, but the thought of never finding who he was supposed to be with made the wolf in him whine. Mingyu wasn’t an unmated wolf that enjoyed exploring his options, he was desperately waiting for the day he met his mate. Right now, Mingyu wasn’t sure if he was simply lonely or if there was something more going on.

“There is just something about her…” Mingyu started, pausing for a second to find the right words, “I just have a hard time tearing my eyes away from the screen. There is something about her that just draws me in” Mingyu explained. He wasn’t doing a very good job at explaining the feelings that bubbled up inside him when he saw you on screen. When he tried to explain it he could never quite describe the feeling that settled over his chest and body, it was a warmth almost like a subtle glow within him.

Seungcheol didn’t comment on it any further as he moved into the room and crossed his arms over his chest. Mingyu knew better than to ignore the alpha, closing his laptop he turned to face Seungcheol fully. Their pack had a different dynamic than most. Normally a thirteen-member pack would be impossible because of the strain it put on the head alpha. It worked for them because while Seungcheol was their main alpha, they had two secondary alphas, Jihoon and Soonyoung. The three of them shared the work of looking after the group and it worked perfectly for them. He liked that the alphas didn’t abuse their power, there was a lot of lenience in the pack and it made for less confrontations.

“Joshua has to head into town tonight and won’t be able to run the perimeter. Would you be alright with doing it?” Seungcheol asked, pursing his lips as he looked down at the younger wolf. Mingyu normally enjoyed running the perimeter, it meant he got to shift and stretch his body, but this time he was a little bit more hesitant with his answer. Mingyu knew that later on tonight you would have a new video posted and he would have to wait even longer to watch it. It seemed like a silly reason, but his heart ached at the thought of not being able to ‘see’ you on screen until early tomorrow morning.

“Sure! I don’t mind” Mingyu answered with a half-smile, Seungcheol never asked him for much so he figured he could help him out with this. Seungcheol breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned back against the wall.

“Thank you, I didn’t really want to be the one stuck doing it again” Seungcheol admitted, the alpha had been on perimeter duty for the past 3 nights and must have been eager for a good night’s sleep. Mingyu smiled and nodded his head a few times, his own wants would just have to be paused for a little while.

Before leaving the room Seungcheol patted him on the shoulder, yawning a little bit as he headed toward what Mingyu assumed was his own room. Mingyu was thankful that Seungcheol’s parents had left him their families pack house. Coming from a family of alpha’s certainly had its perks, and it meant they all got their own rooms.

Once Seungcheol was gone he checked the time, he had roughly 4 hours before he would have to head out.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“I just don’t understand what this trend is supposed to be” you complained to Ciri for probably the 20th time over your video call. Apparently, there was a trend going around among streamers to recreate video games in real life. You hadn’t thought much of it when it first gained popularity, but now Ciri thought it would be a good idea for the two of you to join in on it. Her big plan was a two-part video where the two of you recreated iconic aspects of the Witcher 3 video game. You should have known she would want to do it, she already owned a Cirilla cosplay.

“It’s going to be fun” Ciri reminded you, drawing out the last syllable as she drew a fake scar along her face, effectively transforming herself into the iconic video game character.

“Come on, I even sent you the Yennefer cosplay and everything!” she exclaimed, using her make up brush to point at the camera accusingly. You rolled your eyes as you reached up to adjust the dark black wig that you now wore. To her credit, Ciri had sent you everything you would need to transform yourself into Yennefer of Vengerberg. How she somehow guessed your sizing right you would have no idea. Probably the Witcher powers.

“I wish we lived in the same city” you sighed, leaning your head back and looking up at the ceiling. Things would be so much easier if you and Ciri, and the other girls, didn’t live so far away from one another. But that was the price you paid for finding your friends online.

“Me too” Ciri said with a gentle sigh, setting her make up tools down and picking up her phone, her face coming into full view.

“I sent you the script, I won’t be able to stay on the call with you while we are filming because data rates are crazy, but I know you’ll do amazing” Ciri said with a reassuring smile. You would have to film all of this on your own, which was just a little bit intimidating. Ciri’s script mostly just directed you to do a lot of handwaving and she would add in the ‘magic’ elements later.

“Just find a good spot in the woods and it’ll be perfect” Ciri finished with a nod of her head. You sighed, straightening yourself up and looking down at your phone.

“I’ll call you later on when I’m finished to send you the video” you mumbled, pouting a little bit as you stood and picked up your phone.

“Good luck!” Ciri told you, waving a little bit before ending the call. Great, now you actually had to go do it…

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were lucky there was quite a bit of woods around where you lived, the problem was going to be trying to get to the woods without anyone seeing the ridiculous clothes you were wearing. You threw on a huge coat, effectively covering up most of the costume. After grabbing the bag with your equipment, you ventured outside, keeping your head down as you walked to avoid drawing attention.

Twenty minutes later you were standing in the middle of a beautiful calm forest. Now that you were here you questioned why you didn’t come out here more often. You couldn’t hear the loud noises that came with living in a bustling city and the air felt fresh on your face. Once you reached a small clearing by a river you laid your things down and took a deep breath, basking in the coolness of the air. Maybe this trend wouldn’t be so bad.

After setting up your camera in a place you were at least half sure wouldn’t result in it falling over, you walked into frame and took a deep breath. You briefly checked your phone to see what Ciri’s notes asked of you, before you began doing your best to follow directions. Your portion of the video wouldn’t be long, but you did re-film it 4 times to try and get your motions to be less stiff.

After forty-five minutes of waving your arms around, you walked back to your camera, picking it up before taking a seat on a nearby log. Reviewing the footage, you winced at how awkward it looked, you seriously hoped that Ciri could work some magic on this because you didn’t have it in you to film it again.

The forest around you was darkening as the day began to draw to a close, but you couldn’t bring yourself to head back right away. The forest was too peaceful and serene. Reaching up you pulled your wig off, stuffing it in your bag as you sighed with relief. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, focusing in on the sounds of nature around you. Maybe coming to the woods would become a weekly thing for you, like therapy.

A low deep growl broke you out of your trance, your eyes flying open and flickering around to find the source. Your heart hammered against your chest, and your whole body stiffened in fear. A few moments later a dark black wolf emerged from the trees, larger than any wolf you had seen on tv. You could vaguely see blood dripping from its muzzle, and its dark red eyes were focused right on you.

It paused at the edge of the clearing, its lips pulling back to reveal sharp blood-stained teeth. Your breath came quick as you leaned back, unsure if you should run or try and hide behind the log. Both seemed unhelpful in this current situation, but you were really low on options.

The wolf’s body tensed before springing toward you. Your hands instinctively grabbed whatever was nearest to you, which happened to be your very expensive camera, and threw it toward the wolf. This did nothing to deter the predator from its prey, and within seconds the beast was on you.

#seventeen werewolf #werewolf!seventeen #werewolf!mingyu #seventeen x reader #ultkpop #seventeen #svt #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #kim mingyu #Werewolf!AU #werewolf!svt #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #mingyu x reader #seventeen mingyu

[airi-p4]

Miraculous escape - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

I wasn’t planning to post this yet, but it’s Lukadrien June and today prompt is ‘escape’ and, even if it’s only Lukadrien friendship (bc it’s Lukanette & Adrigami endgame), it fit so well that I couldn’t stop myself from posting this. Chapter 1 and the final chapter have been finished for months, but I don’t know when I’m going to continue with the rest... 

This fic is based / inspired by Marilyn Monroe’s ‘Some like it hot’ film.

Thank you @alittleshycat for the header and wanted posters pic! ( I hope you’re doing well... I miss you... 🥺💙 )

Thank you @brickercupmasterx3​ for proofreading! 💙

Summary:

Luka helps Adrien escape from his prison-like house and his strict father but Gabriel Agreste is not planning to let them go away easily. They become fugitives and ask Juleka for help, who offers them a very unconventional escape plan: joining a girl band/orchestra to flee the country.

Easier said than done, especially when they find something unexpected in that band: the two most beautiful women they've ever seen.

Warning: includes art

AO3

_________________________

Chapter 1: Fugitives

"My father is going to kill me."

"Your father is going to kill us."

One carrying a guitar on his back, and the other a piano keyboard case on his hand, two musicians were being chased by multiple cars around Paris. Turning corners, going up and downstairs, hiding behind trash containers and cars, the chase seemed far from an end anytime soon. Panting for air, the pair continued running after they turned the corner, just in time not to be seen-  a close call. The loud sirens never seemed to stop, coming from all directions.

"I can't believe I finally escaped from home!", the young blond man exclaimed excitedly. "Thanks, Luka. I wouldn't have made it without your help. You're a real friend."

"Don't mention it, Adrien. That's what friends are for, right?", the blue haired man laughed and patted his back. "It would have been perfect if we hadn't broken half of your father's statue collection while escaping your bodyguards, though. Now he's gonna kill us for sure. We can't let them catch us!"

"We need to run away from Paris. And fast! My father is the devil itself! You don't want to know..."

"I don't!"

Jumping down a wall, and turning another corner, the two friends hid in the back of a funeral car and waited until the police sirens got further away. They had been scolded for being disrespectful with the dead, but it was worth it: they were safe- at least for now.

"We need to leave the city and find a place to stay. Knowing your father, he must have all stations, roads and airports under his control." Luka said, stopping Adrien from crossing the street to firstly check their surroundings.

"How are we going to do it? Our car became 'inoperative' during the chase and our friends and family must be monitored!"

Adrien's panic made Luka grab his shoulders to reassure him of their plans.

"No, look. They know you, but they don't know much about me. Not many people know I have a sister who lives here, in Paris."

"You do?"

"Yes. We need to make it to her apartment and then we’ll figure out how to proceed. Are you ready to run again?"

"More than ready. I'm excited!" Adrien grinned back at Luka, feeling an adrenaline rush.

"Let's go!"

__________________

When Juleka opened the door of her apartment, she wasn't expecting to meet her dumbass older brother and Adrien Agreste, the young man who had been on the news non-stop for the last two hours. She raised one eyebrow and Luka knew she was looking for a reason not to shut the door on their faces.

"Juleka! We need your help! We have to get out of the city. Could you lend us your car?"

"What the heck is wrong with you!? It's been two years and that's all you have to say? What kind of trouble are you involved in now? This flower boy has been in the news for hours! They are even offering a reward for whoever finds him! And one for you! A dead or alive one in your case! They're saying you kidnapped him! So you better have a good explanation or I'm kicking you out."

"I do, I do! Listen: remember dad? I know you were little, but do you remember what being trapped is? That's this man's, Adrien's, everyday life for you. I couldn't bear to see my friend like that anymore so I offered to help him escape" Juleka's eyebrow sank deeper towards her nose, meaning Luka knew that wasn't good news. "I had to help him get his freedom! Can you believe he has never had a burger? Or been to a drive through? He can't even drive a car! He literally crashed my car at a streetlight after mistaking the gas and brake pedals! Have some compassion and help us escape Paris. Please?" he finished, pleadingly.

Juleka's eyes moved to analyze Adrien before answering: blond rich guy, well dressed and innocent looking. The way he was trying to figure out her front door and how his green eyes curiously examined his surroundings made him look like a playful cat, and Juleka had no doubt that he was as dumb, or probably dumber, than her older brother. Which meant Jukeka wanted them out, but also that she couldn't refuse to help- otherwise they would surely not make it out alive.

"Fine. What do you need?" She resigned.

"A car or anything that takes us away from Paris! No, better! Out of the country!"

Adrien was still examining Juleka's old and untidy room when she noticed his eyes paused on a paper on the table. She knew that paper: a girl band/orchestra called "Miraculous" was looking to recruit experienced musicians to perform around Italy for three weeks. Suddenly, she knew what to do.

"Join that girl band, the one in the pamphlet", Juleka suggested, pointing at said paper.

"What? A girl band? We're men, Jules! We can't join a girl band!"

"Luka is right!" Adrien quickly agreed.

"No, it can be done. I'm good with makeup and I'm tall enough for my clothes to fit Adrien. We can use some of Mom's clothes for you. ‘Old style’. Oh, and I have some wigs too.” Juleka continued. "Can this blondie play any instrument?"

"Well, yes. He's a pianist," Luka answered.

"Perfect! I'll find a way for you to cover for the pianist and the guitarist of the band: Chloe and Lila. Nobody likes them anyway, and the band members probably don't even remember their faces well, since they joined recently. Nobody will miss them. And it's perfect that you're blond, just like Chloe. I have the perfect wig for you"

Juleka disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a pair of scissors, two wigs and a box of makeup- oh, and wax. The two male friends could feel cold sweat down their backs.

"Wow, you have such a pretty face!" Juleka exclaimed, taking a closer look at Adrien's facial features. "I'll cut your bangs a bit so they don't show under your wig. Luka: do yourself a favor and go shave meanwhile."

"Are you serious about this, Jules?" Luka asked, moving towards the bathroom sink.

"Of course I am", she glared confidently at him. "Do you want to flee the country or not? I'm getting you out, but you need to trust me."

"Is this really necessary…?" Adrien asked in a trembling voice, seeing how Juleka's scissors were close to his eyes as she was cutting his long bangs.

"It definitely is! The band orchestra is leaving midday tomorrow and we have a lot to do!" Juleka ordered. "I can't wait to wax those hairy legs of yours" she murmured. Adrien could only gasp in fear.

When Juleka finished, she was proud of her results. The disguises were perfect: a long blond wig on Adrien, tied as a long braid, his big green eyes standing out with the mascara on his lashes, and he had pink colored cheeks and cherry lips. His face and hair were perfectly complemented by a white dress to his knees and a short jacket over his shoulders, covering his strong forearms. He also used some pads to simulate not very large breasts. The final touch was a pair of elegant high-heels with diamond looking glass studs on them. He looked beautiful, prettier than many women. So pretty the Couffaine siblings blushed a little at the sight.

As for Luka… well, he was tall, big and manly, and with sharp features: definitely not easy to pass him as a woman. But Juleka was almost a professional and she did an incredible job. He had his hair cut short so his blue hair didn't show under the long dark haired wig - good for covering his wide muscular back. He was advised to wear a hat and sunglasses most of the time, but he was also wearing lots of makeup. Using a full palette of skin tones, Juleka managed to hide his strong jawline and make his cheekbones, chin and nose look smaller and rounder. He wore black eyeshadow and mascara, brownish red lipstick and natural blush. He looked like an unfeminine lady but that could pass as genetics, right? People would maybe look away, but they would understand. As for his clothes: he wore a long wide purple dress tied with a belt and some brown pirate-like high boots (the only ones that would fit him because they belonged to himself). The bottom half of his outfit was complemented by a grey knit poncho. His fake breasts were bigger than Adrien's and he wore a wine red scarf to cover his neck- especially his pronounced adam's apple. He looked… pretty good, considering the base product. And that alone was an amazing accomplishment.

"You're perfect. Ready to go. I've packed a pair of party dresses too. You'll need them for your performances" Juleka said, admiring her amazing work. "Oh, and just so you know. I'm also part of the band, so I'm coming too."

Later that night, just before sunrise, Juleka sneaked to Chloe and Lila's apartment to steal their accreditations and sent them fake cards about the train being delayed so they wouldn't appear at the last moment and ruin everything. Juleka smirked victoriously for having at last taken her revenge on the two women she hated the most.

___________________________________________

After nervously passing the first frontier of the train station- the ticket man, Luka and Adrien, who were disguised as women, moved towards the platform, happy for not having been recognized after the first control. Adrien had trouble walking in heels, so Luka lent him his arm to help him keep his balance.

"Remember: your name is Chloe now, and my name is Lila", Luka reminded his friend as they walked towards the train platform.

"I don't like those names", Adrien complained.

"I don't like them either, but it’s better that we don't stand out". Luka sighed.

Grabbing their baggage and instruments, the two men approached the train car written on the ticket. They were stopped before they could get on the train- just next to one of their 'wanted' posters. The two men didn't notice it, but Juleka did and rushed them to get on the train fast.

"Hey, who are you?" Asked a middle aged woman, the one in charge of the band, they assumed. "I've never seen you before. Are you new?"

"I- I'm Adri- My name is Noirette”, Adrien said, receiving equally surprised and annoyed glares from both Luka and Juleka. Before Luka could speak, Adrien continued. “And she's Lucia. We're the new pianist and guitarist of the band".

‘What. the. heck?’ Luka couldn’t believe his friend as he stared at him in annoyance and shock. His high pitched voice acting was hurting Luka's ears too. 'We're dead', he thought.

The middle aged woman showed orchestra at Adrien’s words: she clearly didn’t like last minute changes. Scanning them under her glasses, she questioned them again. "What happened to Miss Chloe Bourgeois and Miss Lila Rossi?"

While the two men were taking too much to come up with an excuse, Juleka, who was sick of their bad acting, stepped into the conversation.

"The talent agency sent them somewhere else. These two are here to fill in for them."

Still unconvinced, she raised her glasses. "Hmmm... you know them, Juleka?"

"They come from the same talent agency as me", Luka’s sister confidently said.

"Hmmm... that should be enough then..." It seemed like she was convinced at last and the two men could finally breathe. “I'm the band's director. You can call me Madam Mendeleiev. And that man over there is Mister Damocles, the manager. You can introduce yourselves later. Go to your seats now.” Before they could take a first step, the middle aged woman stopped them again and called for someone. "Yves! Come here and carry these ladies’ instruments to the train! Be useful for once!"

Luka and Adrien exchanged looks when a young blond man approached them quickly. "Yes, Madam!" He shouted, approaching the disguised men to get their instruments. He stopped in front of them, intensely staring at Luka’s pupils before trying to complete his job.

"Oh. Hello, there. XY at your service! Can I help you, beautiful? Fancy a drink sometime?" He raised his eyebrows twice, shamelessly flirting.

Luka's face went white in disgust. Juleka's chuckle and Adrien's big eyes made him snap out of it.

"Oh, Just carry this, thank you!" Luka answered, annoyed, as he shoved his and Adrien’s instruments and suitcases into XY’s arms, making the blond man lose balance from the pile of weight on his arms. “And take good care of them because they’re… fragile”

"A- As you wish, beauti- Ah!…" He stumbled, losing his balance and almost falling down. “But later that drink-”

"Yves!! Stop the crap and do your job!" Mendeleiev scolded him.

"Yes, Madam!" He straightened his back. "See you around", he winked at Luka before leaving, having trouble walking properly. The guitarist could feel shivers all over his body, while Juleka snorted, having real trouble trying to hold her laugh in.

"C'mon, hurry up!" Juleka pressured them, adding in a whisper "you better not expose yourselves before leaving."

"Thank you for saving us, Juleka." Luka whispered to her ear while getting on the train.

"You better stop acting stupid if you don't want to get caught!" Her response showed her annoyance and the men gulped in response.

The seats were arranged in pairs, so the two fugitives could sit together and relax a bit. They were also grateful for the lack of contact needed with the rest of the band.

The ‘Miraculous band’ was a dancing orchestra. Similar to a big band, but with vocals, a spectacular stage and completely fine for all ages to enjoy. In this case, its main particularity was how it was formed only by women. The band formation included: a rhythmic section (electric bass, electric guitar, drums and electronic piano), a wind section (saxophones, trumpets and trombones) and two singers. Many of the members were usually multi-disciplined in those bands, which meant they could play more than one instrument, just like Luka with the Lyre. Some of the side instruments were the violin, the flute, the maracas or the tambourine. Another particularity of these kinds of bands was the big range of styles in their repertoire: from rock and popular national or international hits to swings, waltz, salsa- anything that could be danced to.  

If it weren't for the all girls' rule, Adrien and Luka wouldn't have minded joining them for real. But they had something more important to think about now- running for their lives.

"Is everyone here?", Mendeleiev asked, standing at the train car passage.

"Marinette and Kagami are not here yet, Madam" A dark skinned, red haired lady pointed out.

"Those two again… if they weren't so talented and popular I would have fired them already!"

"There they come!' A small blond short-haired lady screamed, startling Juleka in the process. "Sorry! I didn't want to startle you. My name is Rose" she introduced herself.

"Juleka…" and that's all she could say as she lost herself in that petit woman's eyes.

"What do you play?", the little woman innocently asked. "I play the trombone!"

"The electric bass…" she answered, hiding her blush. ‘Cute, sweet and with lungs of steel?’ Juleka gulped. ‘I’m screwed’.

"Finally!" Madam Mendeleiev said, as the ladies arrived, panting from their run there. "You're late! Go to your seats quickly!"

The two ladies who got in the train, bowed their heads in apology for their tardiness, as they walked to the empty seats of the back of the car. And when their faces looked up for a moment, it was the exact moment Adrien and Luka reached heaven. Their eyes couldn't stop staring at the most beautiful ladies they had ever seen, following them with their eyes and faces as they passed just beside them, moving to sit a few rows to the back. They couldn't take their eyes off them until Juleka called for their attention, warning for their discretion. But it was too late: the boys had lovestruck grins on their faces that didn't plan to go away anytime soon.

The two ladies had black hair and asian features. The short haired one was taller, had brown eyes and wore a beautiful white blazer with a red skirt. She looked elegant and confident, while the other woman looked cute, clumsy and innocent, and was shorter. She had blue eyes and dressed in a pink coat. Her hair was long and tied in two curly twin-tails. Their beauty stood out even more when they were together.

When the train started moving, Madam Mendeleiev gave the girl band some instructions- something Luka and Adrien would ask Juleka what it was about later. Later, Rose suggested an introduction game for the new members after the explanation had ended. The ladies excitedly agreed.

"I start!" said the same blond girl. "My name is Rose Lavillant and I play the trombone! I studied at a conservatoire in Paris for 3 years before joining this band recently. I like pink and unicorns and my favorite food is strawberry shortcake. Nice to meet you!"

After a round of applause, Rose signaled Juleka to continue, and she passively proceeded. "I'm Juleka. Bassist. Nice to meet you"

Next to continue was the red-haired woman from earlier, Alya, flautist and trumpeter; the drummer, Mylene; another trumpeter, Alix; and one of the saxophonists, Sabrina. It was Adrien's turn next.

"Hello!" He started, with his high-pitched voice. "My name is Ad-" he paused for a second at Juleka's deathly glare, gulping once before continuing. "My name is Noirette. I play the piano! I'm from Paris Classical School and I'm very pleased to meet you all!" He squealed, moving his arms along.

Adrien's excitement for freedom and new experiences was contagious to the rest of the ladies who energetically (almost hysterically) responded "Nice to meet you too, Noirette!".

It was Luka's turn next. He gulped, nervous, and with his fake high pitched voice and under Juleka's death stare, he started.

"Hi... My name is Lu- Lucia". 'I'm killing Adrien for giving me that name' he thought. "I play the guitar. Nice to meet you"

With their introductions over, Juleka finally relaxed. The rest of the ladies' introductions followed but, to be honest, neither Luka nor Adrien were listening: they were just patiently waiting to know more about the ladies that captivated their hearts. Their turn finally arrived, and the short haired one started:

"Hello. My name is Kagami. I sing and play the violin. I've been in the band for a few weeks. My favorite color is red and my favorite food is katsudon. Nice to meet you" a silence followed Kagami's introduction, so she called for her partner's attention with her elbow. "Marinette, your turn!"

"Oh-! Sorry… I was distracted… He-ello… My name is Ma- Ma- Marinette! I'm a singer but I can also play side instruments like the tambourine, the maracas or the castanets. I've been in this band for a few weeks and I studied in Paris Music School. My favorite color is pink and my favorite food is macarons. It's nice to meet you-", she ended with a nervous high-pitched voice.

Luka and Adrien exchanged excited lovestruck grins: the ladies' names and voices were just as beautiful as their faces. They were going to enjoy their outing with the band better than they could have expected.

______________________________

When the car got loud from the ladies chit-chat, Luka and Adrien found their moment of peace to share their thoughts.

“Luka, did you see that?” Adrien started, signaling at the end of the car, towards the singers of the band.

“Yes…I saw.” Luka answered, with a lovestruck grin on his face.

“That beautiful face…”, Adrien continued.

“Sweet voice…”, Luka added.

“Asian features…”, their mumbles continued.

“Dazzling eyes…”

“Dark shiny silky hair…”

The two men reacted at their exchanged words and looked at each other, surprised and nervous. Adrien gulped, worried.

“Wait- who are you talking about?”

“Who are YOU talking about?” Luka threw his question back at him, slightly aggressively.

“That girl, Kagami, of course!” Adrien exclaimed as if it was the most obvious response.

“Oh, that's good. I was talking about Marinette.” Luka sighed and showed him a relieved smile.

“Oh...” Adrien blinked, sighing and smiling in relief too. “I'm glad we weren't talking about the same girl. I wouldn't have liked to steal a girl from you.”

“What makes you think I wouldn't win her over you?”, Luka confidently grinned.

“Oh- anyway- It's better this way.”

The two men laughed together, trying not to be too loud for their manly voices to destroy their cover-ups.

“Will you help me with Kagami?” Adrien asked his friend.

“Only if you help me with Marinette.” said Luka, offering him a handshake he excitedly returned.

“Count on it, my friend!”

#my fic #fic: miraculous escape #lukanette fic #adrigami fic #my art #airipyon #airip4 #lukadrien friendship #endgame lukanette #sorry for the ugly art #It's OLD and I cringe #but you get the overall idea I guess? #silly comedy #This idea was from last year OMG #Idk when I'm going to continue it but I hope I will... #I'm super slow to finish my WIPs...

[drabbles-mc]

Old Habits

Obispo “Bishop” Losa x Reader

Request from my fave @masterlistforimagines​​:  I’m back with more requests for everyone’s #1 Daddy: “Do it, I dare you” and “I haven’t forgot you yet” (Prompts are from This Post)

Warnings: Light angst (with a happy ending), language

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Still working through a personal life slump, but I was pretty stoked to finish up this fic. Idk why I’ve been putting Bishop through some things lately, but this one does have a happy ending I promise!

Bish Taglist: @sincerelyasomebody​​ @sadeyesgf​​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​​ @multiyfandomgirl40​​ @sillygoose6969​​

It had been months since you last saw Bishop. The breakup went about as well as anyone could expect any breakup to go. It didn’t end with yelling and screaming, just a lot of tears and the recognition that trying to force things to work was hurting the both of you. It was difficult to try and adjust to a life that didn’t revolve around each other. You put off getting your things from his house for a little longer than necessary, not wanting to admit to yourself that it was really over. For weeks he still texted you or called you once a day to make sure that you were doing alright. Both of you had to fight not to slip up and say, “I love you,” before hanging up the phone. Old habits really do die hard.

By your second month apart, you both had gotten to the point where you didn’t follow through on the impulse to reach out. Your heart sank a little every time you’d get a notification on your phone and you saw that it wasn’t from him, but you knew that it was for the best. It still sucked, though.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. You still thought about him often, but you had gotten a grip on your emotions over it. He hadn’t tried to contact you, and that let you know that if he was over it, it was time for you to be over it too. After a lot of prompting from friends, you set yourself up on Tinder. It was a dumb idea, and all it really was, was a distraction. But it was an effective one. You’d had your fair share of disastrous conversations, awful first-dates, and not-terrible hookups since joining. Dating apps weren’t really your thing, but you hoped that maybe you’d stumble across someone who could start to fill the gap that Bishop had left.

After another awkward dinner with a man that you would never speak to again, you decided to meet up with your friends who were out at the club. The night was young and you didn’t want your entire Saturday night to feel like a waste. One of your friends was waiting for you outside the door to the club, and she beamed at you as she waved you over.

She wrapped you in a hug, “Date was that bad, huh?”

You laughed, nodding, “Another on the long list of disappointments. I don’t even know why I bother.”

“Well, come on, we’ll make sure the rest of your night isn’t so disappointing. Now that you’re here we can all do shots!”

The night was definitely the perfect distraction from your disaster of a date. You and your friends had spent all night on the dance floor, completely detached from everything else that was going on. You hadn’t even gone back to the bar to get more drinks, which was probably for the best. You were still just buzzed, not drunk, and that was much better for everyone involved.

You finally had to go get some water and sit down at the bar for a minute to catch your breath. You managed to maneuver through the packed groups of people and waited patiently for someone to free up a stool at the bar. You plopped down, taking a deep breath.

You were sitting back, sipping on your water when a familiar face materialized in front of you. Your eyes grew wide as a smile spread across your face. Hopping off of your stool you jumped and wrapped your arms around Angel.

“Holy shit,” you laughed as you stepped back so you could look at him, “What are you doing here?”

He chuckled, “Guy’s night out.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Since when does that not happen at the clubhouse, or over at Vicki’s?”

“It’s called branching out, querida,” he laughed.

“Who’s all here?” you looked around.

“Usual crew of troublemakers,” he nodded towards the door where Coco and Gilly were standing, chatting with a group of girls.

“No EZ?”

“He’s outside, him and Bish are having a smoke.” Your heart dropped into your stomach, and Angel saw the change on your face, “Still not talking?”

You shook your head, “Not in a long time. Never reached out to me.”

“Well, you got about two minutes before neither of you are left with much of another choice.”

“Fuck me,” you rolled your eyes and shook your head.

Angel ordered you each a shot and you took it, praying it would alleviate the nerves building up inside your chest. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you against his side for a moment, “Quit stressing about it, Y/N. You’ll be fine.”

Before you could attempt to argue with him about how wrong he was, Bishop and EZ appeared on either side of him. Your breathing hitched as you took in the sight of Bishop after not having seen him in months. You forced out a hello to both him and EZ, and Angel took that as his cue to drag his brother off to find a different section of the club to hang out in.

It was just you and Bishop facing each other now. Every part of you wanted to get up and hug him, but you knew that it would undo months of work. You weren’t over him by any means, but you could at least pretend that you were.

“Wouldn’t expect to see you in a place like this,” you finally said.

He smiled, shaking his head, “Me either. It definitely,” he glanced around the club for a moment before returning his eyes to you, “wasn’t my idea.”

“Just being a good team player?”

He laughed, “Something like that,” he paused, “Can I get you a drink?”

You smiled, “Angel bought me a shot before you got here…but I’ll take a beer.”

He lingered close to you as the two of you talked. Somehow you managed to hear each other through the music and the sounds of a million other conversations happening around you. the bartender would wordlessly refill your empty beer glasses and neither of you commented to get them to stop. Every now and then Bishop’s hand would brush against yours as he reached for his glass and you didn’t comment on it, but you knew that you both noticed it happening.

You had been afraid that the conversation was going to feel awkward, or forced, but it wasn’t. Truthfully you had completely forgotten that you were there with your friends. By the looks of it, Bishop had decided to leave the rest of the club to their own devices. The two of you caught up about the safe topics. He asked you about work and you asked vague questions about the club, just inquiring to how everyone was doing.

“How’s my boy Chucky?” you asked with a smile.

Bishop laughed and nodded, “He is doing as well as he ever was. He and Leti are a dynamic duo now. Keeping each other out of trouble.”

You laughed, “That’s good,” you paused, biting down on your lip for a moment before saying, “I need to step out for a second and grab a smoke.”

“Want some company?” he was trying not to look too eager.

You smiled, “Sure.”

Bishop placed money on top of the bar and followed you towards the door. You’d caught Angel looking at the two of you and you purposely didn’t hold eye contact with him. As you were reaching the door to the club, you felt Bishop’s hand press lightly against the small of your back. You looked back and smiled, arching your brow.

“Hands to yourself, Bish,” you laughed as the two of you landed out on the sidewalk.

He chuckled, “Or what, you’re gonna fight me?”

You smiled as you leaned back against the outside wall of the club, digging your pack of cigarettes out of your purse, “You’ve seen what happens to men who get too handsy with me.”

He smiled, shaking his head as he took the cigarette that you offered him, “Do it, I dare you. It’s been a while since I’ve had to fight someone.”

“That’s not a streak you should be looking to break,” you laughed as you lit your smoke and passed the lighter over to him.

There was silence between the two of you for a little bit. Despite the fact that there was more physical space between you, it felt so much more intimate now that you were outside without the chaos of the club to distract you. If it had been a few months ago, the two of you wouldn’t have had any space between you—he never could manage to keep his hands off of you whenever the two of you went out. The gap between you felt wrong, but you weren’t going to be the one to close it.

“How badly do you want to be home right now?” you asked with a smile as you exhaled a cloud of smoke.

Bishop laughed, “You know dance clubs have never been my thing,” he stepped in a little closer to you, “But this part here isn’t so bad.”

You felt your face start to get hot and you couldn’t meet his eyes. He wasn’t touching you but you could practically feel the heat radiating off of his body. Without even meaning to he was making you feel so small, but part of you didn’t even mind it.

“Be careful, Obispo,” you were trying to keep things light but your voice came out so soft, “I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”

His free hand came up and tilted your chin so that you were looking at him, “I haven’t forgot you yet, not even for a second,” he didn’t break eye contact with you, “And believe me, I’ve tried.”

You let out a shaky breath as you tilted your head up so that his hand was no longer touching you. You dropped your cigarette to the ground, snubbing it out with the ball of your foot. Bishop hadn’t back up at all and you were forced to look at him. There was a familiar light in his eyes, something that you had been missing desperately. He took one last drag before putting his cigarette out as well. You leaned back against the brick wall, trying to grant yourself a little more space between the two of you.

“I’ve missed this,” he said, visibly fighting the urge to pull you in close to him.

You nodded slightly, “Me too,” you swallowed hard, trying to force the words out, “You stopped answering my texts.”

He rested one hand on the back of his neck as he took a deep breath, “I figured that it would be best for you…for both of us.”

“I hate being broken up,” you blurted out. You quickly reached up and covered your mouth with your hand, unsure of where that had come from. It was true, sure, but you weren’t planning on saying it. You shook your head, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean, I know why we did but fuck, I just mi—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence. He stepped in and pulled you into a rough kiss. One arm snaked around your waist while his other hand rested against the back of your neck, pressing you into him. After a moment the shock of it wore off and you fell into him, hands gripping his kutte and pulling him as close as humanly possible. He pushed your back flush against the side of the building and you couldn’t help but to moan into your kiss.

He finally pulled his lips off of yours. You tried to catch your breath as you rested your forehead against his. His grip on you loosened as his hands slid around your hips and found themselves nestled into your back pockets. You smiled at the comfort of the familiar gesture. You brought one hand up to the side of his face, tracing along his cheekbone and feeling his stubble slide underneath the pad of your thumb.

“I’ve missed you so much, Y/N,” his voice was hardly a whisper.

You gave him a quick peck on the lips, “I’ve missed you too.”

“I thought it would be better if we weren’t together anymore, and maybe it’s selfish of me, but I want you to come home,” he pulled away slightly so that he could look you in the eyes, “Please.”

You felt the anxiety melting out of your body. You had spent months imagining him saying those words and it was finally happening. “Can I come home tonight?”

He chuckled, nodding, “I’d love that,” he pulled you into a hug, letting your head rest against his chest, “And I would really love if we left now so I don’t have to go back in there.”

You laughed into his chest, “I guess that’s fair,” you pulled away, letting your hands slide so that your fingers interlocked with his, “Take me home Obispo.”

He laughed, tugging you in the direction of his bike, “It’d be my pleasure.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa #mayans mc imagine #bishop losa imagine #bishop losa x you #bishop losa fanfiction #bishop losa angst #obispo losa #obispo losa x reader #obispo losa imagine #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

[cheri-translates]

[CN] S2 Gavin and MC in Chapter 9 - Part One

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from Season 2 🍒

I’m focusing on Gavin and MC, not the plot (because the latter requires extensive time and effort that I can’t spare :’>). So I won’t be explaining certain plot points as I’m unsure of them myself

Do read Ch 2 before proceeding! Otherwise you’ll be completely lost from the very beginning:

MC is in her office looking out for trending topics in the news, and she starts thinking about what Grey Rhino does:

At present, Gray Rhino is one of the most active anti-Evol groups. Its members are found all over the world, and consist of tens of thousands of people. 

Most of the members are normal civilians or Evol victims, and are extremely against the existence of Evol. Every member seems to have a snake-shaped tattoo on their body.

From what I understand, they have a hand in the “Small Syringes”, the missing plane and the train incident from not too long ago.

One of her subordinates from Black Swan, Zehn, gives her a call

She’s tasked him to take note of Gray Rhino’s operations, because she thinks they’re going to act again

But he brings her news of STF instead: Apparently, STF has a new commander, but he’s a mystery since he hasn’t made a public appearance

MC: Maybe he’s a shrewd old man.

MC sighs and decides that she needs to investigate into the commander of STF

At this moment, impatient knocks are at the door. Even before I make a sound, Minor has already pushed the door open, rushing to me with extreme anxiousness.

I frantically hang up, turning my head and glowering at Minor.

MC: Why did you barge into my office?

Minor creases his brows, gesturing at the phone in his hand, mouthing some words to me. 

Minor: It’s-- Bro-- Gavin-- 

MC: Gavin? 

The words subconsciously leave my lips, and my tone is slightly surprised.

MC: Why did Gavin give you a call to look for me?

A voice drifts from the phone in Minor’s hand.

Gavin: Because your phone line was busy.

I was just having a discussion with my subordinate from Black Swan on how to fish for information regarding the commander of STF...

Feeling a little guilty, I hurriedly take the phone.

MC: Looking for me so urgently - is something wrong?

For a while, there’s silence at the other end of the line.

I wait quietly for Gavin to speak. After a moment, his voice returns.

Gavin: MC, has... anything happened to you lately?

This question is very abrupt, and I find it slightly odd. Thinking that Gavin is asking about the “Small Syringes” incident, I respond.

MC: Nothing’s wrong. I occasionally get strange harassment calls... but the rumours of the company being involved in prohibited drugs are slowly clearing up. As of now, work has returned to normal. Come to think of it, Captain Gavin deserves much thanks for helping me clear up the rumours.

I laugh, adding that last line.

After a soft “oh”, Gavin doesn’t continue.

The silence in the air spreads to both ends of the line. Minor, being incredibly tactful, leaves the room. Before closing the door, he mouths a “Boss, all the best”.

I think of the earlier information received. After hesitating for a moment, I test the waters with a question.

MC: Gavin, it’s been a while since we were in contact. How have you been?

Gavin: I was executing a mission.

Gavin’s breathing is very soft, drifting through the phone and into the receiver.

I can even imagine how he looks, pinching his phone with slight force, his right hand subconsciously tapping lightly on the desk.

The gloomy weather is filled with large, dark clouds. The first rainfall of winter, which has been brewing for a very long time, finally starts pattering down.

The synchronised rustling of rain can be heard over the phone. I lift my head to look out the window, and speak to Gavin softly.

MC: It’s raining. 

Gavin: Mm.

The thick sound of rain mucks up a memory, and I continue, thinking aloud.

MC: Rainfall in winter is the coldest... When you’re on missions these days, take note of the weather. When you head out, check the weather forecast, remember to bring an umbrella, and don’t catch a cold.

Gavin once again makes a sound of acknowledgement.

Gavin: Got it.

Another wave of silence hangs on the other end of the line. Just as I hesitate on whether to say goodbye, Gavin suddenly speaks.

Gavin: MC, I need your help with something.

-

Holding the STF-issued provisional visitor pass, a special officer leads me to the reception room.

Collaborative filming between the STF and [MC’s Company Name] has been shelved temporarily due to the gradually increasing amount of work. Other than the “Small Syringes” incident, it’s been a very long time since I came to the STF.

Special Officer: Miss MC, this is the place.

When the door is pushed open, a familiar voice drifts from inside.

Tang Chao: Yo, it’s you again. If you visit a few more times, I’ll be familiar with you. Your name’s MC, right?

Eli: Is that how you should speak to a lady?

Tang Chao: I’m just establishing good relations early. We’ll probably have many chances to meet in the future.

Aside from Eli whom I’m familiar with, I recognise the youth who doesn’t have a filter over his mouth. He’s Tang Chao, Gavin’s colleague, and the one who pretended to interrogate me the last time.

MC: Special Officer Tang, it’s been a long time.

Gavin: Tang Chao! Who allowed you to be here?

With a “bang”, the door is pushed open with force. Gavin strides into the room with a dark expression, placing files on the table with a thud.

It’s been a long time since I've seen Gavin, and I can’t help but take several looks at him.

Gavin is wearing everyday clothes, and in his deep eyes are the coolness and resoluteness that I'm familiar with.

My gaze remains unmoving, and I vaguely spot a white bandage near his sleeve.

MC: Gavin, are you injured?

Gavin: No.

Tang Chao: He’s lying. 

Gavin: ...

MC: ...

Tang Chao grabs the files on the table, whipping his head around to greet him before running out into the corridor swiftly. 

Eli: I can’t help much by staying here. The two of you can talk.

The reception room, which was in a state of chaos earlier, suddenly sinks into quietness.

I remain standing in place, somewhat at a loss. Gavin, feeling uneasy, turns his head to the side, releasing a soft cough.

Gavin: They talk too much. Let’s go straight to the main topic. 

Gavin plays down on the topic of his injuries, but I know that even if I were to ask, he would only keep it hidden. 

I sigh inwardly.

MC: You haven't told me what you needed my help with.

Gavin: We met a witness who has special circumstances, and we need your Evol to read his memories.

MC: Special circumstances? Is his memory impaired? Or did he lose part of his memory from fright?

Gavin shakes his head, and only signals that I should follow him.

In the interrogation room, Gavin briefly explains the situation: the incident happened at a station, and the victim died from a bullet

The witness is an elderly man who is blind

I tug on Gavin’s sleeve, and can’t help but voice the doubts in my heart.

MC: Gavin, since this witness is a blind man, how am I supposed to read his memories?

Gavin: Memories aren’t just images. Sounds, scents, and even touch are parts of memories.

MC: I think I understand what you mean. If footsteps are heard, it could confirm the time when the suspect appeared. If a unique scent is stored in the memory, it could also be a lead to cracking the case.

Gavin nods lightly. 

Gavin: That’s why I requested for you to come.

He tells her not to be stressed about it

Unfortunately, MC doesn’t get anything out of reading the witness’ memories

MC: I’m sorry, I don’t have much of a clue.

Gavin nods lightly, and doesn’t say anything. This causes me to feel a little embarrassed. 

Even though the case has nothing to do with me, I couldn’t be of any help to him.

Thinking about how he’s been handling Evol cases which come one after another, he must be facing an incredible amount of stress.

-

Walking out the doors of the interrogation room, Tang Chao happens to pass by.

Tang Chao: You’re going off just like that?

Gavin: ...

Tang Chao: Let’s head to the canteen for a meal. There are chicken drumsticks today.

Gavin blatantly ignores Tang Chao, who had extended an enthusiastic invitation. He turns towards me.

Gavin: I'll send you home. Don’t worry about today’s matter.

Seeing him like this, he’s probably planning to focus wholeheartedly on investigating and not intend to have a proper meal...

Sighing inwardly, I pat my hands and make a wilful decision.

MC: Gavin, you haven’t given me my remuneration. How about this. I’ll treat you to a meal, then you can conveniently send me home.

Gavin: No thanks.

MC: ...

Seeing the awkward expression on my face from being rejected, Gavin seems to be in a great mood, and the corners of his lips lift a tiny bit.

Gavin: I’ll send you home, and conveniently accompany you to a meal.

MC: ...eh?

Gavin: Why are you in a daze? Let’s go.

-

By the time we walk out of STF, the rain has already stopped. It isn’t time to eat yet, and neither of us are very hungry. We simply head to a nearby snack street to find something random to eat.

The road is flanked on both sides with various snack shops, numerous coloured billboards tightly packed together. In this late afternoon drawing close to evening, business is bustling, and people are walking to and fro.

It is the season where autumn ends and winter begins, and the fragrance of roasted chestnuts is in the air. My mind still ponders on the case from earlier.

MC: Gavin, aren’t there any other witnesses in that case?

Gavin: The crime occurred when the station was most desolate. There weren’t other commuters on the platform. 

MC: Since the location of the crime is in a place like the station, aren’t there any surveillance cameras nearby?

Gavin: On the day of the incident, all the surveillance cameras nearby were broken.

While speaking, a large white cat holding a Dragon Li cat in its mouth leaps past us lithely, and Gavin slow down his footsteps. 

MC: Looks like it’s a premeditated crime.

I have no other ideas after this, and I decide to ask whatever I can think of.

MC: After the murderer committed the crime, what would have been the first thing he’d have done?

Gavin: Get rid of the murder weapon.

Gavin says this casually. Standing before the roasted chestnut stall, the smile on the boss’ face instantly freezes. 

I take the freshly prepared roasted chestnuts, hurriedly pulling Gavin away.

At this moment, I realise on hindsight that Gavin had silently footed the bill, and I had accepted it just like that.

Gavin turns his head and sees me rooted in my original spot. His eyes are caged in the tender glow of sunset.

Gavin: What’s wrong?

MC: Gavin, is there anything you want to eat?

At first, he shakes his head. In the end, he seems to notice the downward tugging at the corners of my lips, and can only struggle in front of the oden noodle shop for a while.

Gavin: One serving of fishballs.

MC: Two servings. And add a serving of fish tofu, chicken wings, chikuwa... please add more chilli.

MC: You have to eat more.

While we’re eating and walking, a clear “bang” suddenly resounds from behind us.

With my mind filled with the shooting incident, I’m so scared that I shift half a step backwards.

Gavin: It’s a shooting game. 

Meeting Gavin’s teasing gaze, I laugh awkwardly, and an idea surfaces in my mind.

MC: I know! Let’s go and play that! Since we can’t escape from the topic of “shooting”, we might even get some inspiration from the game.

Gavin: ...that’s going a little far.

Despite what he says, Gavin still accompanies me, walking towards the stall. Seeing that there’s business, the owner immediately calls out to us in a lively manner.

I hold the gun, weigh it in my hand, and look at the target set up in front of me.

Gavin glances at me in surprise, and asks suddenly.

Gavin: You’ve learnt shooting?

MC: Mm, an incredible friend taught me.

Gavin: Which friend?

MC: ...the one who taught me self-defence. He’s very skilled, and is a very nice person too.

Gavin turns his head to the side, looking utterly disinterested, as though he doesn’t believe my big words.

After greeting the stall owner, I hold up the gun and adjust my posture. Settling on the target, I squint with my right eye, pulling the trigger confidently.

Bang--

Brimming with confidence, I look at the target, but realise that I’ve barely hit the 7th ring.

Gavin: Looks like his teaching wasn’t that great.

[Note] If you aren't familiar with Gavin’s dates: S1 Gavin taught MC how to shoot in his Rehearsal Date! So he’s basically insulting himself LOL

In a great mood, Gavin watches the faraway target. Unwilling to lose, I fire several bullets, but the results hover around the 6th and 7th rings.

MC: ...it’s been a long time since I practised, so I’m a little rusty.

After saying this, peals of laughter drift from behind me.

I turn my head, and see a high school couple playing the shooting game too.

Girl: Dear, your shooting skills are really good!

Boy: Dear, wait for me to get the biggest and cutest doll for you.

Once the girl hears the boy’s words, she laughs even more. 

A wave of melancholy strikes my heart. Just as I think of setting the gun down, I hear Gavin’s voice at my ear.

Gavin: You’re putting too much weight in front.

Suddenly, a familiar warmth presses against my back. Scorching breaths are at the roof of my head. He holds my hand, resting the butt of the rifle on my shoulder. 

MC: !

Gavin: Are you ready?

Gavin rests the first pad of his forefinger over mine, applying pressure on the trigger, not leaving a single gap.

I can feel the calluses as he covers the back of my hand with his, and the heart that’s about to leap out of my chest.

I don’t know if it’s the lingering warmth from sunset, or the temperature of Gavin’s body which is causing my face to feel heated.

Bang--!

The bullet slices through the air, hitting the centre of the target with precision.

Gavin: Do you remember the gist of the action?

I nod with force, the scorching warmth of our skin being pressed together causing the temperature of my face to rise.

Under Gavin’s close guidance, the subsequent eight shots all hit the bullseye.

His eyebrows arch upwards slightly, and he chuckles.

Gavin: Do you still want to try?

Seeing that Gavin is hitting the target with every shot, the stall owner seems to get a fright, and immediately waves his hands. 

Stall owner: I’m about to close the stall. You should pick a prize quickly.

Gavin: That one then.

Gavin points at the largest pink bunny plush on the counter. Then, he pauses, tossing me a questioning glance.

MC: Gavin, I want that prize.

I point at a golden coloured ginkgo keychain in the glass cabinet.

Stall owner: Miss, the one you chose is a third-rate prize. It’s of little value.

MC: It’s all right. I like it.

I hold up that ginkgo keychain, the fine leaf made of golden wire reflecting a dazzling light under the sun.

MC: It’d definitely look really nice on a bag!

I turn my head excitedly, and can’t help but flaunt it off to Gavin.

The autumn wind is somewhat gentle. The corners of Gavin’s lips are hooked upwards. His eyes, which are watching me, are flourishing with an amber light.

Gavin: Mm, looks really nice.

[Note] Screaming because it’s left ambiguous in Chinese on whether he’s referring to the ginkgo keychain... or her smile 👀

-

Right after walking out of the snack street, raindrops patter down.

MC: It’s raining again.

I retrieve my umbrella, and Gavin takes it from me naturally. The transparent umbrella is held steadily above my head.

Gavin: It’s getting late. I’ll send you home. Don’t worry about today’s matter. It has nothing to do with you.

Fine rain continuously slides off the umbrella. Gavin matches my pace, walking forward slowly.

Everything in the rain brings with it a certain hazy and humid quality, reminiscent of an image frequently featured in movies.

Gavin: Where’s your bracelet? Why aren’t you wearing it?

MC: The weather has been too damp these days. I was afraid wearing it out would affect its condition.

Gavin: ...oh.

I lift my head, and see a mother and daughter afar off, getting caught in the rain.

I exchange a glance with Gavin. We reach a tacit understanding, and he nods.

We walk over to the mother and daughter, and give the umbrella to them.

MC: This umbrella is for the both of you.

Mother: How could I take it!

With my persuasion, the mother and daughter finally accept this kindness, and repeatedly thank Gavin and I.

I take out an unimportant document from my bag and use it to cover my forehead. Just as I prepare to share a few sheets with Gavin, a shadow suddenly shrouds the top of my head.

--It’s Gavin’s jacket.

MC: No need. It’s just a little rain, it’d be fine.

Gavin: Didn't you say that rainfall in winter is the coldest?

Not allowing for any protests, Gavin holds the jacket over our heads, ensuring that I wouldn’t get caught in the rain.

Gavin: Let’s go. The journey isn’t long. I’ll send you home. Oh yes, don’t leave the house over the next few days. Especially at night.

His expression is incredibly serious, and even a little stern.

MC: Got it.

Gavin’s jacket covers my head. I breathe in, inhaling his unique scent.

But the jacket doesn’t seem to be large enough, and isn’t sufficient for two people to walk while standing side by side. After a moment of thinking, I stagger slightly, standing in front of Gavin. 

I lift my head, looking at Gavin’s clean lower jaw and amber coloured eyes.

MC: We’ll walk like this?

A touch of red surfaces on Gavin’s cheeks. He doesn’t lower his head to look at me. Shifting his gaze elsewhere, he feigns coldness in his voice.

Gavin: Mm.

The large jacket covers and carves out a small and narrow world. The sound of rain pattering on the jacket is slightly gloomy, blending with the scent of rain, and the delicate, faint fragrance in the air.

I take a deep breath, looking towards the street.

MC: Gavin, look. The wintersweet flowers are blooming.

[Trivia] In the language of flowers, the wintersweet symbolises independence, perseverance, fortitude, faithfulness, and a loving, noble heart :>

Behind me, Gavin halts in his steps, and peels open a corner of the jacket slightly.

I can’t see his gaze, and can only feel his drawn out breathing and the warmth of his skin through his shirt.

The yellow wintersweet flowers emit a subtle fragrance. In a manner which isn’t overly resplendent or bright, they add a warm lustre to this world.

Gavin: Mm, looks really nice.

His voice is clear and bright. In this indistinct, misty rain, it seems to indicate the direction that I should proceed towards.

In many moments, it’s always been the case.

The red light across the street seems to be exceptionally lengthy, and doesn’t change for a long time. 

The waiting time is a little long, and I can’t help but enter a slight trance. 

When I was fifteen years old, the rain was just like this.

Seventeen year old Gavin crossed the curtain of rain, and the school jacket he placed on me had carried the scent of an inexperienced youth.

That youthful scent which forever pauses on that rainy day has been breathed back to life in my memory, entwining with the scent of the man that is presently twirling around the tip of my nose.

Like a certain miraculous overlapping.

MC: The rain seems to be getting heavier.

The white shirt which has been caught in the rain is slightly soaked. I seem to see his slim back through the shirt, which has turned half-transparent from being drenched in the rain.

That clean and cool scent, just like the refreshing breeze coursing through this rain, descends on my heart.

The green man lights up, and the passers-by next to us walk across hurriedly. Perhaps this rain wouldn’t stop even after a while.

I summon my courage, and simply grab onto Gavin’s hand, pulling him into a run.

Across the streets, across the pelting rain, across the sea of memories, and walking into a junction belonging to us.

The rain pours even harder, creating flowers of water on the ground, as though urging me to hasten my footsteps.

Urging me to take his hand and walk forward quickly--

-

Part two: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin #this is so so SO much better than I imagined T-T