#but i guess some of them would wear that label proudly. because she was nothing more than am object with no way to speak out or walk away

[ramenwithbroccoli]

some Janka funfacts about music, communication and the memories her past 'owners' i've been marinating in my head:

her favourite songs belong to either one of two categories: they have a lot of simple phrases used in daily life, or a lot of specific, complex ones

she focuses on the lyrics (since she can use them for communication) rather than the melody; when she played a recording of Chopin once, she deemed it a waste of time and memory space. she only uses classical music when she wants to "put someone on hold" (doesn't want to speak to them)

she can use words from different songs to communicate, but frequent changes take a lot of effort - that's why she prefers lyrics with full phrases she can use. when in trusted enviroment, she would omit some less important words to save her energy, but she usually makes this effort around other people to seem more intelligent and worth keeping around

a young man who bought her, Ryszard Szewczyk, recorded the alphabet to make Janka communicate with him letter by letter. it was extremely ineffective, as not only Janka got exhausted after a simple sentence, it also turned out she didn't know how to spell

hearing and the ability to play music helped her compensate not only for her lack of speech, but also for not being able to see. since the horn amplifying the sound is her face and she can hear quite well, when someone is in front of her she can locate them because of the soundwaves bouncing off of them, in the mechanisms simillar to those of a bat

she remembers people whose houses she lived in by their voice, how rough they were when moving her about and the music they enjoyed. her favourite was Mirka, who had a deep, soft voice and would sometimes talk to her when she was feeling lonely. Janka remembers her fondly, as the first person to see her for more than just an object or a curiosity

#gotta work on the lore. all my notes are full of doodles of janka's 'owners' (i really do need to find a better word man) #but i guess some of them would wear that label proudly. because she was nothing more than am object with no way to speak out or walk away #ramen try not to make a robot character mute to potray their struggles against dehumanisation and objectification (impossible) #hope im not boring you with lore. because theres gonna be a lot soon 😔☝️ #spg fanbot #janka #original characters #oc

[finalfantasy7]

Letting go

Despite all the crying, all the pain, all the disappointment that came from that little bookstore, I’m still scared of letting it go. Honest to god afraid of allowing it to become a distant memory where I can barely make out most of the details.

Little did I know going in I would barely register as a real job, strictly viewing it as a seasonal gig, only to leave it with bleeding heart strings.

I remember how at first I didn’t allow myself to see it as a long term gig, not after only staying as a seasonal at a previous location (a decision that admittedly ended up being a strike against my confidence). And yet, as the holiday season came closer to ending, the more anxious I became about being kept on passed the holiday season. It only became worse as I started to bond with the team there. Everyone and everything seemed to click. I very quickly found myself in a new “comfort zone” and much like love, it’s beautiful to experience and even scarier to lose.

What I failed to realize until now, was I had personally laid down the structure of the home I now associate with that environment. Yes, my colleagues were each as warm as they were individuals; each carrying a back full of personalized arrows and hearts full of dreams and fears alike. But looking back, so many of them highlighted how their kindness was not cheap and for some, certainly wasn’t free.

I now understand what [redacted] means when she says I seem to be the “glue” between people. A substance whose sole purpose is to hold things together and tightly at that. That being said, there are few cases of universal glue. No, in fact there’s specific types of glue for specific materials. I am nowhere near being a universal glue but I seem to be a decent brand for people…or at least those who can afford to be a bit vulnerable and honest.

To this day I will rave about my former coworkers, even more so about the ones I still keep in contact with today. But I’m now starting to see that the bookstore was home to me for a bit BECAUSE I made it home. I could have come in day in and day out and never looked back but I didn’t, at the time it almost felt like I couldn’t. How could I? When a small, insecure being was being suddenly labeled with tags and titles they had never heard before.

I wasn’t “[dead name]” when I stepped through those blue doors but “Finn Acosta”. Nor longer was I this lost entity, a ball of failure, fears and anxieties. No, I was now “Finn”; an attractive, fashionable leader who always seemed to “really see” people for who they were. But even at the time these words read hollow, not because I didn’t believe the genuine sentiment behind them but simply because I didn’t see that person looking back at me in the mirror. They unfortunately went from compliments to a heavy mask I felt I needed to wear, to proudly carry and maintain lest I seek to disappoint everyone.

There was a time period when “life was good” at work. I had recently been hired and I was hungry. You wanted to teach me how to make a table? Let’s do it. Need help with overnight inventory? Something I’ve never done before? I’m game. Wanna teach me how to rearrange every decorative piece on a table? Can’t wait. I suppose this time period could accurately be labeled as “Finn was bubbly” here or at least that’s how one manager described it when discussing how much I had changed by the end of my bookstore career. Managers seem to like this time period as much as I did. I used to think I was happy here and I suppose I was and yet, looking back it all seems so Illusionary? Perhaps our image of happiness changes more throughout our lives than we’d like to admit. But here I was in a relationship which I believed at the time was perfect, was in a workplace I believed was perfect and was starting to carry a new outlook of myself I had, you guessed it, deemed as perfect.

I sometimes wonder if I had the opportunity would I go back in time and warn that version of myself about the storm that was starting to brew? No, I don’t think I would. Even with the knowledge I have now, nothing could have prepared me for what was about to unfold, not really. Plus, who am I to rip off those rose coloured glasses off my past self- she was genuinely as happy as she could have been. I feel weirdly maternal towards that person. I know they were doing their best….unfortunately their best would soon be crushed by reality, more specifically, the flaws and beauty of what it means to be human.

Now going into my second year of psyche I can confidently say reading about humans and experiencing them are very different. To read about projection and have it’s description neatly grouped in small bullet points is very different from someone angrily shutting down your greeting because they’re having a bad day. I experienced a lot of projection at work and equally threw in my own.

It’s fascinating to think I experienced both appreciation and questioning of personality all at once in the same environment. I would be commended on how understanding I could be but equally questioned on how I couldn’t view things as more black and white the same people. How could you see only grays, is what I’d heard in my mind. Where was the fire? Where was the anger? Did it mean I didn’t care? Perhaps I simply didn’t give enough thought to these topics? But that wasn’t the case at all. For months on end I would ruminate about work; everything from issues of health and safety, union processing, to the well being of my coworkers.

This was my pack and I needed to care for it as best as I could…so I did. Someone didn’t feel comfortable addressing concerns to management? I’d do it for them. Let me check in with everyone I saw to see how they were. You look tired, allow me to buy you a coffee. Let me send out feedback forms to see what people need. Remember, each and everyone one of you matters and deserves nothing but care. Oh wait, management is also made up of human beings so I should also extend all this to them. Let me do this, let me do that, I will do this, I will do that. Eventually I became a husk of the person I started off at the beginning of the year. I felt bitter and broken. To put it frankly, I was exhausted.

I’ve never broken down so much in a place of work. I would sit in the corner of the washroom and cry (not too much so we couldn’t stop but enough to get a good sob out). No one ever knew. I know because I’ve now highlighted this to a few former coworkers and they each wear the same look of surprise, sadness and empathy. But why the tears? It was just a part time job and it was…until it wasn’t. Somewhere along the way this part time job truly became something else. I went from clocking in and out, to bringing every person who worked with me home. I packed up their fears in a precious bag and wore it around, how couldn’t I? They were afraid and I was used to carrying around people’s emotions with me. I was even better at wearing a bright toothy smile that hid my own emotions.

At some point I stopped being a CER and started to be..well..I suppose glue. But remember what I said earlier about different types of glue for different materials? Well, you see- management wasn’t particularly fond of the type of glue I was, at least a majority of them didn’t seem to be. You see in the eyes of my leaders, I WAS someone who was just clocking in and out and they weren’t happy with this. You see, the company preferred the type of glue that bonded workers and the company’s “vision”. Workers that were so bonded with that vision that it became almost indistinguishable of where the person started and the sales pitch ended. They wanted you to take work home with you, just not in the way I did. Ironically, because of this I was rated as a low performer; because I didn’t care enough, when all of my peers were telling me the opposite.

But there it was, the other shoe had finally fallen and little Finn isn’t as sturdy as they seem. No, in fact, I remember running out of the performance review in tears, rushing past my coworkers as I digested being told I was a failure (another notch to add to the belt). It’s true when they say, sometimes it’s not the information itself but how it’s delivered. I felt ganged up in the review; mine being the only that required the GM to be present (more like be the one who conducted it but I digress). My mind had completely shut down as my superiors watched me shrink into myself, using the little energy I had to not break down and cry. The surrealism of them joking around about not being able to find a seat in the mall to conduct the review as my mind turned into static. They told me I had “really up days and really down days”, a sentence that may as well be a death sentence if you deal with a form of mental illness. They noticed, they noticed I wasn’t neurotypical, that I was different and not in a good way. You know what hurts the most? These two women were part of a moment of trauma for me and they didn’t even try- for them it was just another day at work. They’ll never know how I spent the next few months psychoanalyzing myself, speaking with professionals to help me find “what I did wrong?”, “why was I a failure?”.

After months of pouring every bit of energy I had towards my team I was told I wasn’t good enough. A part of me wishes I could send this letter to those women, to show them “look what you did to me”. But I feel it would give them another opportunity to dismiss me when I’m most vulnerable, a moment similar to when they glossed over my anxiety disorder, chalking it up to, “I think we’re all anxious right now”.  At the end of everything I’m more hurt than bitter. I’m not a manager, I’m not a leader but I know I would never put someone in such a situation and at the very least I can sleep at night knowing that.

To say my time at the bookstore was a learning experience would be an understatement. One day I was at cash dealing with a customer who clearly wasn’t having a good day and I decided then and there, I needed to leave. So, I finally ripped the rose coloured glasses off and decided to give my two weeks. Those two weeks were the least stressed I had been the entire year. Ironically, I had to leave the bookstore to finally take to heart the kind words that were told to me in it. I remember how I was told at my previous location how incredible it was of how many interpersonal relationships I had made in the short amount of time and it looks like here was no different….but it was. I’m now permanently leaving this company behind and realizing if this is what I can do with a few months, a year, imagine what I can do in a permanent career setting? I think I’ll be just fine; not because I’m “Finn”, not because I’m glue but because I try and maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

#mine #letting go

[hankwritten]

Litany

Gen, 2k

Part of the DontNeedADiscord Pride Week, Day 1: Flag

“And what is the meaning of these?”

It was a good idea not to make Miss Helen pissy. She was the Boss around here, and not in the way Miss Pauling was the boss, but like the Boss with a capital B. I wasn’t exactly sure if she owned the building, or maybe the company, or maybe she was just our lawyer so we shouldn’t tee her off because of that, but the way Dell had explained it making her mad was a good way to have your desk packed by the end of the day.

So, I’d have to be very delicate about this. “They’re pins, Miss Helen,” I explained extremely politely. “It’s the first day of Pride Month; I thought everyone could do with a little company spirit!”

“Spirit?” The T on the end of the word popped like a firecracker. Miss Helen could make nice words like spirit or rainbows sound like she was actually saying dog doody. “And how exactly do these pins make you…prideful?”

“They’re fun!”

When she didn’t react, I at first assumed it was because she couldn’t hear me so well through my respirator, but then I considered what I knew about her and wondered maybe she simply didn’t know what fun was.

“Look,” I said, placing one in the palm of her hand. “It has a flag on it! I was thinking as people are coming in during the day, they can pick them out and wear them if they want to, just to show off a little color. See? This one is the bigender flag.”

She held it up and examined it like a jeweler inspecting a diamond. “And you find this…fun?

“Yeah!”

She waited, as though expecting the fun to start radiating out of the pin like a hand warmer. “…You certainly have quite a few of these.”

It was true. Along with the usual lollipops and stickers I kept at the front desk (the former being exclusively for clients and never-ever for sneaking myself one, no siree), the scattering of buttons took up a good chunk of counter space, with as many varieties as I could find. I didn’t want anyone to feel left out, so I’d just kept on printing until I had over three dozen.

“Very well,” Miss Helen said finally. “If it is good for company spirit.”

I clapped my hands in delight, glad the party wasn’t going to get shut down before it even started. So palpable was my relief, I didn’t even notice that Miss Helen hadn’t given the button back.

I didn’t have time to worry about it though, since just then Dr. Ludwig came in through the glass doors. He was normally the first one after me, as he always liked to get an early start down in the lab, and we’d developed a morning routine as fellow early birds.

“Dr. Ludwig!” I said, waving my hand, partly to get his attention and partly to show off the new gloves Dell had gotten me. The rubber ones had been so hard to type in, but these were nice and concealing as well as colorful. “Happy Pride Month! Do you want a pin?”

“Guten Morgen,” he greeted warmly. “Ah, buttons?” He picked up the closest one. “Pride buttons, I see.”

“Here you go!” I said, shoving a bi pin in his general direction since he’d shown interest.

But, to my surprise, he didn’t take it immediately. “Ehrm…” he said, staring down at the circle of metal.

“…Is this not the right one?” I withdrew my hand. Was I misremembering? “I’m so sorry, I guess I forgot…”

“No, no I did say that, didn’t I.” He ran a hand through his hair, sending its usual prim style haywire. “It is just…” He coughed lightly into his fist. “…Would you allow me to confide with you for a moment?”

Immediately, I pulled out the spare footstool I kept behind the counter, patting it as Dr. Ludwig came through the counter doors and took a seat. Our early morning chats were normally something to look forward to, shared over a donut or coffee he’d brought into the office, but today he just seemed run down. As he tucked his heels onto the stool’s crossbar, he rubbed his face.

“You know I am not as…up on all of this as some of your generation, ja?” he began.

“Millennials scare you,” I nodded, pulling my legs into my swivel chair.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” he huffed. “It is…well when we had our first conversations, and it was explained to me, it seemed to fit. At the time. Having to reconcile beginning a relationship with Mikhail when I still was not quite over Frida, nor really sure why things had fallen apart with us there.”

I remembered. “At the time? But not anymore?”

He sighed, ruffling his hair even more. “Now…now I am not so sure. Being with Mikhail is…quite different than any of the thirty years Frida and I spent together. I am starting to wonder if it was more just that I held extreme affection for her, and I was inexperienced enough that I was able to mistake it for attraction.” He chuckled humorlessly. “I thought I was so in love with her, and that’s why I never even looked at another woman. Töricht.”

“I don’t think that’s dumb,” I shook my head. “Everybody’s learning new things all the time. You can’t be expected to have everything sorted right after coming out.”

“Yes, I suppose,” he said. “But I still feel…guilty I think. Several of our coworkers are proudly attracted to both men and women, and I am aware that treating such a label as a ‘phase’ is a crude stereotype they have to deal with. I’d rather not have anyone think I was making a mockery of them.”

“It’s not a stereotype if that’s what’s really happening.” I patted him on the shoulder. “No one’s going to see it like that. If you think that’s where your journey is taking you, then there’s no shame coming out a second time.”

Dr. Ludwig responded to my words with a hopeful, if not entirely convinced, look behind his spectacles.

“Here,” I said, handing him both a bi and a gay pin. “You don’t have to wear either of them, this is just for fun after all! But if you change your mind…”

He looked at the two pins in his hand, then smiled tiredly up at me. “…Thank you mein friend. You are always helpful to talk to.”

“I try to be!”

After a few more assurances, the Doctor did eventually leave for the lab. Right on his coattails, Dell and Marcel came through the front door.

“Hey there, firebug,” Dell greeted. “What are you gettin’ up to here?”

I gave the quick rundown, pulling my shirt to highlight my own pin since I’d forgotten to show it off to my first two customers. “Pick any one you like!”

“Bear in mind I am saying this as a queer person,” Marcel said, sniffing down at the massive mound of multicolored circles, “this is all quite tacky.”

“Aw, learn how to have some fun, Spook,” Dell said, elbowing him in the side. To show him up, he claimed a pansexual pin for himself, and shot me a wink.

Marcel did nothing but sniff; but, when he thought no one was looking, I saw him discreetly sneak one of the pins off the counter as he left.

After that, the morning’s influx picked up too much to greet every person individually, but during lunch people saw fit to swing by and check things out again.

“Hi buddy!” Miss Pauling greeted. “I heard you were giving out Pride pins and wanted to see if- why are there so many lesbian ones?”

“Well!” I said, ecstatic to launch into an information dump. “The oldest of these is actually the ‘lipstick lesbian’ flag which, in absence of a more generic one, was used without the kiss mark in the corner. The one with the orange stripes wasn’t created until 2018, to be more inclusive all different lesbian groups.”

“Okay, but why does this one have an axe on it?”

“That’s the labrys!” I took the purple and black pin from her hand, pointing as I described, “the double bearded axe was used by the Amazons in Greek myth, and reappropriated in 1999 for its symbolism in female empowerment.”

“Wow,” she blinked down at the five different designs. “That’s really cool, except for the fact I have no idea how to use an axe.”

“I bet Tavish could teach you, he loves his Skullcutter.”

“…I’ll think about it. I’ll just take this one for now.” She picked up the orange five-stripe variation and pinned it to her purple shirt.

“Looks good!”

“Thanks!” she grinned. “And it was really nice of you to do this.”

“Honestly, the pleasure’s all mine. I just like seeing everyone happy.”

And everyone was! At least it sure seemed that way, even if it was kind of hard to tell with Mikhail. After lunch, he lumbered past my desk, picked out a gay pin, and put it on without so much as a smile. I took the muted grunt to be that of satisfaction

Tavish was next, dropping off half a roast beef sandwich since I’d forgotten to eat today, and instantly becoming my favorite person. While I was chowing down, he swiped two trans and two bi pins from my collection.

“Wadda you need two of each for?” I asked, quite a feat with my mouth full of roast beef and my respirator hanging halfway around my chin.

“Haven’t you heard?” Tavish asked with a raise of his eyebrow. “They just dropped a new identity: double bi. It’s twice as potent as regular bisexuality.”

I tilted my head, blinking perplexedly from behind my lenses.

“Ah, just a joke duck,” he assured. “The spares are for the husband.”

“Oh, right.” I swallowed down my mouthful. “I actually haven’t seen Jane at all today?”

“Ach, he came in earlier than you. Left at five this morning.”

“What? How?” I shook my head. “I’m the one who unlocks the doors.”

“Said he was tired of waiting for your ‘lazy, unpatriotic behind’ to start the day at seven. His words, not mine.” Tavish smiled apologetically. “He broke into one of the lab side doors.”

“…I bet Mikhail had something to say about that.”

He sighed. “That he did. They’ve been at it for hours. If there’s another office-wide prank war tomorrow, you’ll know why.”

Oh no. That’s how we lost our last two coffee makers, and our last seven office hamsters. Tavish assured me that it wouldn’t get out of hand, but by the time Mick showed up near the end of the day, my mood was somewhat dampened.

“Everything alroight, Campfire?” he asked me. “Ya look glum.”

“Just thinking about the impending damage to all those nice posters I put up in the breakroom,” I said sadly. “But! If you’ve come here to pick out a pin, that might cheer me up a bit.”

Mick chuckled in that cute little way of his, and already I was smiling. “Might have.”

We were close enough that I was ninety-five percent certain which one he wanted, but I’d learned my lesson with Dr. Ludwig and didn’t try to pick it out for him. Still, I let myself entertain a self-satisfied grin as he picked up the aroace flag.

“Hey uh,” I said. “If that’s the one you like, and uh…since I know you’re into archery…”

Carefully, I opened one of my drawers and extracted the special pin I’d made earlier, Mick watching me curiously all the while.

“Someone on the internet made this design,” I explained. “It’s for an aroace, arrow-ace!”

The flag was blacked out in several places to make a bow and arrow shape, and Mick grinned as he took it from my glove. “Clever.”

“Do you like it?” I asked hesitantly.

“Well, let’s see.” He pinned it to his vest. “Looks pretty good ta me.”

I couldn’t keep my stomach from doing a little flip at that. When Dell showed up, the last to leave the office for the day, he could tell I was smiling even through the mask.

“Everything go well, partner?” he chuckled. “You look pleased as punch.”

“Everything went great! Even Scout came by, although all he did was say ‘hey, free crap!’ and dumped a bunch of pins into his pocket.”

“I’m glad to hear the attempt at company spirit was a success,” a voice from behind Dell said, making us both jump. Miss Helen emerged from the shadows, her purple jacket an entire mass of pride pins, nearly one of every kind. When had she gotten all those? Had she been paying Marcel to sneak them out while I wasn’t looking? “A happy work environment is a productive work environment, as I always say. Well done, secretary.”

“Can’t remember you ever saying that, ma’am,” Dell admitted blandly.

“…Why do you have so many?” I asked.

“These are…fun…are they not?” she sniffed. “I am having…fun.”

Huh. Maybe this is just what she looked like when she was having a good time. I shrugged. “Glad you enjoyed yourself Miss Helen! Does that mean it’s okay to do it again next year?”

“…You have my permission.”

With that, she strutted out, and Dell shot me a grin. I scooped the remaining pins into my bag and closed up the front office, chatting with him on the way to the parking lot about how we could mix things up next year.

#dnadprideweek2021 #tf2 fanfiction

[midnightsnyx]

Matthew Tkachuk - In Your Dreams: part 2

a/n: a couple people requested a part 2 and i couldn’t help myself!! thank you for all the love on part 1!! <3  also im bad at writing cheesy romance so i apologize in advance at how bad it will be lol

part 1 here

warnings: angst, fluff, insinuated smut (i may get there some day folks but today ain’t that day)

word count: 2967

tag list: @buckybarneshairpullingkink​

my masterlist

Matthew Tkachuk

“Are you sexting my brother?”

You yelp when Brady drops on the couch beside you and snatches your phone from your hand. Luckily, you were only scrolling through Instagram so he didn’t see the suggestive texts you and Matt had been exchanging all morning.

After the summer, you and Matt had been texting back and forth, trying to get used to the idea of talking without insulting each other. It was much easier than you were expecting and you discovered rather quickly that you enjoyed talking to him. He was sweeter than you’ve ever seen, thoughtful, good-humored and you were completely infatuated with him.

After a couple months of texting and Facetime, you flew to Calgary to spend the weekend with him. He wined and dined and took you to his bed and you hated having to leave.

You snatch your phone back. “No. Although I’m not sure why you would want to see them.”

“I don’t!”

“Keep your nose out of my business then.”

. . .

“Heck no.” Brady says when you meet him at the Canadian Tire Centre. “Oh, heck, no. You’re not wearing that!”

You look down at you Calgary Flames jersey and shrug. Matt sent it to you and asked if you would wear it for tonight’s game because the Sens were facing off against the Flames.

“I mean, technically, it still has your name on it.”

“You’ve betrayed me!”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’re being dramatic. Look,” you lift your jersey up to show a Sens t-shirt with number 7 on it. “See? Now c’mon, you have a game to play.”

He follows you like a sad puppy and sighs. “My own brother is stealing my best friend. You know, I think I liked it better when guys hated each other.”

You groan and shove his shoulder. “Grow up.”

 Along with buying your jersey, Matt also bought your ticket so that you’d be on the visitors side. Which means he spent most of warm up showing off to you as if you’ve never seen him play before which you have but you’ll never admit it to him.

It’s an intense game and you’re not sure who you’re cheering for half the time but they go into overtime so at least they’ll both get a point.

Matt ends up scoring the winning goal and when he points to you and mouths, that one was for you, you think your heart might burst out of your chest.

. . .

The two of you haven’t put a label on whatever you are and part of you is okay with it because it is fairly new but you’re also worried about what he does when the two of you aren’t together which is quite a lot. Sure, he sends you flowers and calls you after every game no matter how tired he is. He texts you every morning and calls you before you go to bed and it makes you feel special but sometimes you can’t help but wonder if he does this for other girls and if it makes them feel special too.

It’s something that’s on your mind on a weekend that Matt brings you to Calgary. He had practice in the morning so you’re hanging out at his apartment waiting for him to come home. You’re cooking lunch when you hear the front door open, and Matt calling out to you.

“Babe, I’m back!” He shouts and your heart swells at the term of endearment but it drops when you think about him calling other girls that when you’re not around.

His arms wrap around your waist and he presses a kiss on your neck.

“Something smells good.”

“Yeah, it’s fettuccine… I think I might’ve messed it up a-”

“I’m not talking about the pasta.” he mumbles, pressing more kisses down your neck.

“Oh?” you squeak and you really shouldn’t, because you’re still worrying about not being the only one, but you let him drag you to bed anyway.

Later that night, long after he’s asleep, you’re trying to ignore the taunting voice in your head reminding you that he might be holding other girls like this. Reminding you that someone else might also wake up to his sleepy smile and messy hair.

. . .

“So you’re her.”

You raise your eyebrows at Johnny Gaudreau, who Matt had introduced you to when the two of you first arrived at the bar. He introduced you as Brady’s friend and when you looked at him, he just shrugged.

You’re not sure what you were expecting - certainly not saying you were his girlfriend - but Brady’s friend? It was bothering you and you were doing you best to hide it but you knew you were failing because Matt had been sending you weird looks all night all while basically ignoring you. He’s barely touched you since you sat with his friends.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You reply, glancing at Matt who is deep in conversation with one of his teammates.

“He talks about you a lot.” Johnny shrugs. “I thought you two were dating.”

“Apparently not.” You mumble, standing up and giving Matt a quick look. “I’m going to get a refill.”

You leave before he can reply and push through all the sweaty bodies trying to get to the bar. While you’re flagging down a bartender, someone sits on the stool next to you. You look, expecting it to be Matthew but instead it’s a stranger. A handsome stranger so when he offers you to pay for your drink you almost say yes but a familiar arm wraps around your shoulder.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Matt says, glaring at the man until he mutters an apology and leaves. When he’s out of sight, Matt turns so he’s facing you and now you’re the one on the opposite end of his dirty look.

“What the hell was that?” He snaps and you scoff, shrugging his arm off you.

“Excuse me?”

“You were going to let him buy you a drink!” He says loudly and you glance around but nobody seems to be paying attention to you thankfully.

“It was a drink, Matthew. I wasn’t inviting him home.”

“Well I wouldn’t be surprised if you did.” He says harshly and you flinch. His eyes widen immediately and he reaches out but you hop off the stool and run out of the bar, ignoring him calling your name.  

You run out of the bar and down the street until you come across a quiet diner. A bell dings when you open the door and a kind looking, older woman greets you and tells you to seat yourself.

You’ve been sitting in the diner nursing a glass of water for no more than fifteen minutes when the bell rings, signally a new customer.

You don’t have to look up to know who it is but you do anyway and you’re greeted with a very guilty looking Matt. He slowly walks over and seats himself across from you.

“How’d you find me?”

He shifts in his seat and stares at the table instead of you. “I tracked you on snapchat.”

You swear under your breath for not turning that option off. When you look at Matt again, his eyes are on you already. He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off right away, wanting to speak your mind before he says anything.

“You introduced me as Brady’s friend.” you say quietly and he nods. “you barely spoke to me the entire night and then you got possessive when that guy spoke to me.” he nods again and you sigh. “look, Matt. I’m not asking you to say something you’re not comfortable saying or you’re not ready to say - I don’t think I’m ready for it - but you’re not allowed to act like I’m nothing to you when there are people around but get jealous if someone talks to me. And you’re not allowed to say what you said to me. That was unfair.”

“I know.” he replies. “and I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I was out of line.” He looks back down at the table and you know he’s trying to think of what to say so you give him a moment. “I know it’s selfish… but I guess I just want you to myself a little while longer. I like the two of us in our bubble and that bubble is going to be popped when people find out about us. I’m in the spotlight, people are going to want to know our business and I don’t want it to freak you out.”

You nod in understanding. You were aware of how the media can be and it’s not something you look forward to.

“I’m scared.” He admits and you reach across the table, squeezing his hand.

“I’m scared too.” you tell him, lips turning up in a tiny smile. “but it’s better to be scared together than alone, right?”

He mirrors your smile and leans across the table and you meet him halfway.

. . .

You spend Christmas with the Tkachuk’s and Matthew proudly introduces you as his girlfriend and Chantal and Taryn squeal, Keith smiles and hugs you and Brady rolls his eyes and says “I knew this would happen all along. The two of you should really thank me.”

Matt blushes when his mom gushes about how glad she is that he found someone like you and that she had a feeling the two of you were meant for each other but later that night he tells you how happy he is that you gave him a chance.

The two of you debate over how it would be best to tell everyone you’re dating and you decide on a cliche but simple post to his Instagram.

It’s a picture of the two of you standing in front of the tree, his arms wrapped around you and lips pressed against your forehead. The caption reads, it wasn’t love at first sight, but we turned out okay.

It accurately sums up your relationship perfectly and you tease him about how long he’s had that one in his back pocket.

But it still makes your heart race and you want to shout I love you from the rooftops.

. . .

It’s not easy being 2877 kilometers apart and it becomes more obvious the longer the two of you are together. You fly to Calgary as often as you can but you still have school and Matt can’t visit Ottawa much because of his hockey schedule.

It’s a test for the two of you - and your relationship - and sometimes you feel frustrated and you wonder if you can do it but you think about when Matt Facetime’s you nearly every night that you’re apart from each other and you know that it would break your heart to live without seeing his curly brown hair and blue eyes and hearing his voice so you tell yourself it’s worth it.

And it is, until it isn’t.

. . .

“I don’t understand what the big deal is.” Matt says, obviously frustrated.

The two of you had been arguing for hours. You were graduating in less than two weeks so you’re job searching and when Matt brought up the idea of you moving to Calgary with him to get a job, you panicked.

You have been together for just about eight months now and you know that it’s normal at this stage to move in with someone but you were scared. There’s always been the fear in the back of your mind that one day Matt is going to wake up and decide that you’re not who he wants and if you uproot your entire life in Ottawa for him, you don’t know what you would do if something happened between the two of you.

But you couldn’t explain this to him so you kept making up lame excuses as to why you couldn't move in with him.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” You say quietly and he huffs.

“Can you please just think about it?” He pleads and you’re tired of arguing that you just agree even though your answer will still be no when he asks.

“I love you.” He says and you smile softly. One thing about Matt is that no matter how big an argument and even if it’s not solved right away, he tell you he loves you.

“I know. I love you too.” You say before he ends the call.

You flop back on your bed and even though it’s only seven o’clock, you feel ready for bed. Ten minutes later, you’re just dozing off when you hear your door open and slam shut. You would freak out but you hear Brady call out to you and you tell him you are in your room.

You expected him to come over because when you and Matt argue, he makes sure to check on you.

What you’re not expecting is to see him fuming with anger.

“You’re an idiot.” He says.

“Excuse me?” You snap and he huffs, putting his hands on his hips and glaring at you.

“You love my brother, right?” he asks and you nod. “and he loves you.” you nod again and he raises an eyebrow.

“So why won’t you move in with him?”

You roll your eyes and sit up. “It’s not that simple, Brady.”

“Why not?”

“It’s just not.” you say because you don’t actually have a valid explanation. You know most of your reasons are foolish but you can’t help it.

He sighs and sits on the bed next to you. “What’s going on in your head? We’re best friends, you can talk to me about anything.”

You look at him and can’t help but smile. Brady always had a way of making you feel better when you were kids.

“I guess I’m scared.” You admit quietly and he knocks his shoulder against yours more gentle than normal.

“’bout what?” he asks and you shrug.

“He wants me to move across the county.”

“Yeah.”

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

A small smile crosses his face. “But what if it does?”

. . .

Three weeks later you’re holding a one way ticket to Calgary in your hand and saying goodbye to Brady in the airport.

“You got everything?” He asks, passing you your carry-on. You’re pretty sure if you looked close enough, his eyes would be a bit watery but yours are too so you can’t poke fun.

“Everything I need.” You tell him, and hug him tightly. You hold on to him a little longer than usual but it’s hard leaving your best friend after being attached at the hip for so long.

When he pulls away, he grins. “I’m proud of you.”

“I know.” you say. “I’ll text you when I land. And don’t forget-”

“I won’t tell him.” he promises and you hug him once more before leaving.

You’ll miss Ottawa, but it’s time for the new chapter of your life to start and you can’t wait.

. . .

Matt’s not surprised when he opens his front door to find you standing in front of him. He just grins and leans against the door.

“Missed me, did you?”

“Yeah.” You tell him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him soundly. “I really did.”

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #matthew tkachuk imagines #calgary flames imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey fanficiton #hockey fanfic

[belit0]

Omega Izuna Part 2

Chapter 9 of Husbands, and my messy writing

Rated: M

Tw: Underage trafficking / brothel / induced heat.

Summary: Izuna meets Tajima's plans.

[I should note that Izuna is 9 years old and Madara is 16. The age of the remaining siblings is irrelevant. Don't worry, there is no underage, although things are getting a lot darker for Izu. Be careful while reading this chapter, I guess]

Little Omega walks through the streets of the Uchiha compound while securing his eyes on the ground. At the front line, his two Alphas brothers have some distance, struggling not to be identified in the clan’s company’s humiliation. Both teenagers have been chatting with shouts and amusement since they left home in the dawn, on a mission to transport Izuna.

The inexperienced child could not pick up the destination for his older relatives were to take him to, direct orders from Tajima given in the commander’s confinement’s room, that place at home where Izuna’s little ears reached no sound. He was not suicidal enough to sneak away and listen in secret, but the reference of his name had made its way to him when the two Alphas finished conversing with their father and left that room.

Whenever Madara was absent, whatever the reason, distant unpleasant situations for the youngest brother of the five would turn out. Tajima waited for the chance when his firstborn was not around to protect him, continually planning various forms to get rid of Izuna at the slimmest opportunity.

And now, while the Alpha heir was away under false pretexts, Izuna is quickly shoved from his spot on the floor and pulled through the exit to the streets.

Only times when the Omega was lucky enough to doze in an actual bed, those nights when Madara was at home and nestled him tight every night.

Walking reluctantly, he doesn’t know what to predict. His eyes refuse to face up, for he knows people must point fingers at him and say things similar to what his father mutters every day. On his back, where the symbol of the Uchiha clan should shine proudly like everyone else’s around, only sits a clumsily traced drawing.

Tajima tore all the embroidered emblems from his robes upon understanding his fifth child was an Omega, sentencing him to survival in ridicule and public degradation. It was Madara, who with charcoal and any element capable of leaving some kind of trace on the dull blue cloth symbolic of the Uchihas, promoted him to make his own pattern, making Izuna feel part of those who repudiated his presence so much.

At nine years old, he simply knows one individual who cares for his life. His older brother.

“Go faster, you little piece of shit!”

“Yeah... enough with Father making us deal with your existence, and now you choose to take your time!”

At the shouts of his older relatives, Izuna’s exposed feet hurry, deciding to catch up with them. Tajima forbade him to wear sandals like the rest of the clan, highlighting his inferiority.

After a long-distance, both Alphas guide the little Omega to an area of the Uchiha compound little known, or rather, little recognized. The zone where no one with economic assets wants to set foot, where Uchihas condemned by the war or the wives of deceased soldiers would poverty, forced to seek refuge far from the clan’s judgmental people.

“The dead zone” is what Madara used to call it whenever he complained about the leader’s heartlessness. Omegas who had lost their Alphas because of the clan’s constant clashes mostly populated it, leaving them adrift and without their life mates.

The problem was the Uchiha had no regard for that rank, labeling them as baby incubators, seed vessels, and consolation holes.

The pair of eldest brothers walk with impunity, as desperate, in heat Omegas throw themselves upon them, begging to be taken. They both laugh disdainfully, slapping and throwing the women to the ground as if they were rag dolls.

Izuna covers his eyes with both hands, looking solely at the ground to know when to lift his barefoot and step over someone’s body. It is a dark scene that marks the boy’s mind with fire, but nothing compared to what his father has prepared.

The Alphas take him to a crumbling building, where they knock on a red door with a special code. A large, tall, female opens it, staring with a bitter hate-filled expression. Both grab the boy by the collar of his robe and throw him into the woman’s arms while smirking.

“Get him ready. Father said we could keep it as a toy if it turned out to be worthy.”

The woman doesn’t answer, simply closes the door noisily, and leaves Izuna’s older brothers on the other side. She takes him by the wrist and leads the way roughly down a dark corridor until she reaches a room.

Silent tears fall from his eyes, while he only thinks of Madara’s arms around him, soothing. All is fine because Aniki is here. Harsh, rough hands raspy from combat, delicate just for him.

But there is no Aniki here, no tenderness, just a woman preparing some weird tea, smelling too strange and tasting too bad to be normal. She forces the boy to swallow it in a single sip, pushing the glass over his lips and coercing him to gulp while squeezing his nose shut so he can’t breathe or avoid the liquid.

No matter how hard Izuna kicks and whines, she’s too big for him to escape. He never set foot on the battlefield, Tajima always forbade it, he could not allow the reason for his deepest dishonor to show face in front of his enemies.

The Omega grew weak and unskilled in defense, making him admire even more his precious Aniki. The one who, like the entire Uchiha clan, could turn into a fearsome and gigantic red-eyed black wolf. Alphas’ qualities were extraordinary, and Izuna admits feeling envious of it.

If he could become a terrifying wolf, he would rip that woman’s head off and get out of there, escape, maybe even kill Tajima. But no, all he can do is wag his thin feline tail angrily and hide his ears in disgust, hoping for some mercy.

“This will take a few minutes, maybe 10 or more, when you feel the effects scream for help.”

“He-e…”

“Foolish boy, once your heat starts, I’ll bring over your initial client.”

That couldn’t be right. No Omega has their first heat until the age of 15, and Izuna is simply nine. How is that possible? The feeling of panic spreads through his stomach as his fists clench tightly in his palms, his long fingernails digging into his skin.

The drink, the tea.

She had forcibly induced his first heat at a totally inappropriate age.

#uchiha izuna #izuna uchiha #madara uchiha #uchiha madara #izuna #madara #abo au #alpha omega #uchiha clan #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto imagines

[pluviophile-bookworm]

I feel like I need to talk about this...

I’m very open about being aroace. At least here on Tumblr I am. (Outside of Tumblr, I am technically out, but some issues with my mother and grandmother have forced me back into the closet. I felt miserable about that initially, but I’m learning to be fine with it.) But it wasn’t always this way. In fact, I didn’t even know what aroace meant until I was 18. So how was I supposed to know when I got my first ‘celebrity crush’ that those last words do not, in fact, describe very accurately what I was experiencing? I didn’t know I had ADHD, either. I feel like that might have helped me realise some things about my experience. But let me go back a bit and actually tell you what happened and how it happened. [side note: I’ll be starting from a bit earlier than the ‘crush’ thing happened because I feel like it’s important for whoever reads this to understand how my circumstances shaped the experience I had]

Backstory:

I had always been different from my peers, so it was not surprising to anyone that I was bullied in middle school. [side note: Judging from my and my little brother’s combined experience, I feel like bullying is, quite unfortunately, something of a universal experience in middle school - in my day, I was on the receiving end. This last school year, my brother was the bully. Gosh, I wish I could tell my story without many deviations and without crying as I type, but I’ve already thrown both of those intentions out the window.]

So anyway, things got so bad that I was driven to suicidal thoughts. One night I was just lying in bed, thinking about going through with it, but I was like, well, I’ve got a test in the morning. Maybe after that. 13-year-old me had very weird priorities. I kind of still value my work over my mental health, but I’m working on it. So that night, I didn’t do anything. The next day, right before school, I was on the internet and I found out a new show had premiered. And then, as I was watching the pilot episode, that was when it happened. I saw this boy, whom I will not be naming, and I listened to him sing. I felt nothing much at the moment, but I couldn’t get the song out of my mind all day. Up until that moment, I had had a weird attitude towards music where I’d only listen to female singers. My ‘boys have cooties’ phase, I guess you could say. But this one, he was the first one I didn’t mind at all. In fact, I felt like I could listen to his voice 24/7. I’ve had that feeling hundreds of times by now, but I hadn’t before then. So I figured, this must be what a crush means, right? This must be what all my peers are talking about. The next day, I confided in a girl from my class with whom I was kind of friendly (though not actual friends, I’d say). I asked her if she’d seen the show, if she knew this person. She said yes and we kind of gushed about the song together, and I felt normal for a couple of minutes. I never knew the difference between my experience and what is considered ‘normal’ until years later.

For the time being, the thought of this special person was what was keeping me alive. I started having visions of him walking with me through the school hallways or sitting next to me on the bus home from school. I knew perfectly well those visions weren’t real, but they made me feel better. Happy. Safe. Seen. Full disclosure: I still have such visions, I’ve had them with different people through the years as my hyperfixations change. My latest one is what has enabled me to deal with some of my worst phobias (and I have a long list of them). I’ve never told anybody what it is, and I won’t be telling because I feel like if I do tell, the vision will not be strong enough to work against my fears. But I’m getting sidetracked again. Sorry for that.

So, I was pretty much obsessed with this guy. He was all I could think about, he was keeping me alive through what was possibly the toughest time in my life to date. So naturally, thanks to my heteronormative, amatonormative surroundings, I was convinced I had a crush on him. In fact, after this experience had lasted about a year, I was sure I was in love. 

Then things changed. I started high school. I found a couple of friends, and the people in my class in general made me feel like I could finally be myself. Be open about what I thought and how I felt. So by the end of the first semester, all 27 people in my class knew about my feelings for this guy. What I didn’t know was that they didn’t know that it wasn’t exactly like I was describing it. Because I wasn’t aware that a straight/ allo person’s idea of being ‘in love’ was different from mine. I was just putting things in words I thought I understood. 

So it came as a total surprise when some people from my class started teasing me about it. It wasn’t malicious teasing, that much I could tell. I had been bullied mercilessly before. What my new classmates were doing was asking genuine questions in a slightly teasing manner. For example, it would be known that my special person had a girlfriend, and so they’d ask me ‘aren’t you jealous’ or ‘do you wish you were that’, or stuff like that. And those questions felt so weird. So stupid. I thought, wait, why would I be jealous? Why would I feel bad about this person who has made me so happy, being happy himself? Why would I want to date him? That had nothing to do with how I felt. I told my classmates so. They gave me weird looks in response. So I started feeling like there was something wrong with me. Like I wasn’t doing that ‘in love’ thing right. Suddenly, I felt like my feelings were being intruded upon. Tarnished, somehow. I had always been aware that my visions were anything but real. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. And all of a sudden, somebody was suggesting that I should want to date this person. Why would I want to date anyone, I thought? Even if it was him. Dating people was awkward. Making physical contact with anyone outside my immediate family made me shudder. It still does, though I can hug some of my closest friends without any negative feelings. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Back to my first time I questioned my experience. I was about 14 at the time (in Bulgaria, high school starts from grade 8, ages 13-14 or 14-15), and, well, I didn’t do much questioning at the time. I just told myself that they didn’t understand my feelings, and I stopped being so open about the topic. 

My hyperfixation on this person lasted long. Longer than any other I’ve ever had to date. Maybe it was because I clung to it like it was what tethered me to my mortal life. But by my final year of high school, I could feel it fading away. I was forcing myself to think about this person, to conjure up the old visions; the song that had started it all was drained of all meaning that it had held for me. I was moving on to other hyperfixations. I felt like I was betraying myself, like I was breaking some sort of unbreakable vow. It was time to face the music. So I let go. I allowed myself to move on. It was kind of made easier by the fact that my special person had changed, too, and had moved on to projects that I could not enjoy due to some triggering content. And I moved on.

Then I joined Tumblr. I discovered some things. Among them was Hellenic polytheism. It had been a while since I’d found my faith in the Hellenic pantheon, but Tumblr was where I found out I was not alone, that there was an existent religion. And step by step, I realised that... I had been projecting Apollo’s presence onto my special person. And my old connection to that person had started fading away when I had realised I believed in the gods.

This explained a lot of things. But there was still the fact that I had never been able to look at another person the way my peers were looking at each other. I had been asked out two or three times during high school. I had rejected those people without even thinking about it. My best friend at the time was a boy and most teachers seemed to ship us together because, well, let’s be real - we were constantly fighting like an old married couple. It took him getting a girlfriend and seeing how happy I was for the two of them for everyone to realise that things between us were, and had always been, purely platonic. And now I was going to uni and I had never had feelings I was apparently supposed to have. 

It was also thanks to Tumblr that I discovered the extent of the LGBTQ+ community. I considered myself an ally at first, and I was a passionate ally, too. I still am nothing but supportive to my fellow LGBTQ+ people of all identities, but it was not until I was 18 going on 19 that I discovered the term ‘asexual’. I knew quite suddenly that this was the term for me. I knew what I was and how I felt. I felt mature enough to know the difference between ‘I’m not experienced enough to know for sure’ and ‘I’ve just never had those feelings, I don’t even know what they’re supposed to be like’. It took a bit longer to find out there was a difference between sexual and romantic attraction, but by the time I was 19, I had proudly labelled myself ‘aroace’. I still feel at home with this label. I am completely open to the possibility that it might change with time, but this is what feels right at this time. 

Fast-forward another couple of years to about 8 months ago. I had always known that I got really invested into stuff - shows, books, hobbies, people - only for that investment to wear off after a time. The timespans varied, but I realised I had experienced this ever since I was in pre-school at least. I didn’t have a term for it, though. And then, all of a sudden, Tumblr started offering me posts tagged ADHD. I could relate to maybe 95% of them. At one point, it felt like whatever algorithm this hellsite operates on was shoving the ADHD posts in my face, as if screaming ‘DOES THIS REMIND YOU OF, WELL, YOU?!!!’ in my ears. So I did some tests. I did a lot of self-reflection. I went to a psychiatrist. I was diagnosed in March. I started educating myself on the terminology and found out that what I was experiencing is called hyperfixating. So here I am now.

Here I am now, reflecting back on my experience from 8 years ago, connecting the dots. Realising what it was that I went through, allowing myself to go through it again, with different things and people. I don’t feel the need to cling to hyperfixations anymore because I know that is what they are and I know I can’t keep them forever. Of course, I do feel bad about stopping caring about something that used to be my light and life for a time. I dread the time I’ll get over my current hyperfixation, but I also know it’s inevitable. My ADHD brain needs the change and it happens naturally. And somehow I’m ok with that.

Well, this is it. This is the story of how Tumblr prompted me to discover aspects of myself that have been there for as long as I can remember. What better place to talk about it than Tumblr itself? What better group of people to understand and accept me than my lovely mutuals and followers? If you’re reading this, thank you. For being here, for listening to me, for allowing me to be who I am. You’ve got no idea how happy this makes me, even though I can barely see what I’m typing through the tears. Thank you. 

#personal #jnk #asexual #aromantic #aro #ace #aroace #adhd #hellenic polytheism #tw: suicide #tw: bullying

[queenxxxsupreme]

Oversight

A/N: I stan Steve dating a hot head and I don’t know why. I also don’t know where the hell this idea came from but I’m not sure that it’s going anywhere either🤷‍♀️💁‍♀️

Warnings: aggressive reader, cursing

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: The Avengers discuss the Accords. You try not to put your head through a wall every time you hear the word Accord.

Note: This takes place in Civil War when everyone is at that meeting discussing/debating the Accords. I did change quite a bit in this scene but I think I like it :)

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor, which is one more than you have.” 

Steve was just sort of listening to Rhodey and Sam argue. He was too busy reading what felt like a book in his hands. It was the Accords, something that would regulate the team and any other enhanced person on the planet. He didn’t like what he was seeing. Ross had mentioned earlier that every enhanced person in the world would have to register and be evaluated based on their abilities. He even threw out the idea that enhanced persons would have to wear some sort of identification so everyone around them knew who they were.

The Captain’s brows drew together more and more as he read the Accords. None of it was sitting right with him. 

“So let’s say we agree to this thing.” Sam shrugged his shoulders. “How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

“117 countries want to sign this, Sam. 117, and you’re just like-,” Rhodey trailed off as his attention was pulled away from the Falcon. 

Out in the hallway, agents were looking in the same direction, their attention taken away from their work to cautiously watch someone move through the hall.

“What’s going on?” Rhodey muttered. He took a few steps towards the glass wall. His concern dropped as soon as he saw you. 

“Shit.” Sam cursed, turning to look at Steve. “Cap! She’s here!” 

Steve immediately looked away from the papers in his hands and turned his chair around. Sam pointed in the direction of you. The Captain stood to his feet as he watched you talk to a few agents who had stepped in your way. Talk was the nice way of saying you were giving them a piece of your mind. Not many people dared to cut you off. You were a force to be reckoned with. 

Steve had hoped you’d stay away like he asked. He didn’t want you getting in trouble, which you did quite often. You were enhanced with inhuman strength and senses, and an incredibly short temper. Steve wasn’t ashamed to admit that you’d beat him in an arm wrestle one or twice. 

It was a well known fact that the Captain America was romantically involved with the human embodiment of anger issues. Bruce Banner had nothing on you. He was usually peaceful and calm and collected, only sometimes letting his anger get the best of him. You, however, had trouble controlling your anger. It was a side effect to your abilities, or at least that’s what you said. 

“She’s going to get herself arrested.” Tony thought out loud. He was lounging in a chair, his hand previously covering his eyes as he listened to Rhodey and Sam argue.

“She knows how serious this is.” Steve shook his head, not taking his eyes away from you. You gestured to something behind you that Steve couldn’t see. Even through the glass walls, he could hear you shouting at the poor agent who was put in charge of making sure no unauthorized personnel interrupted the Avengers and their debate. “She wouldn’t do anything....”

He trailed off as an agent moved behind you. He put his hand on your arm, a huge mistake. You grabbed the lapel of his suit jacket and his wrist and slammed him against the wall with enough force to rattle the glass. 

“Shit!” Rhodey winced. You released the man and stepped back as he slumped to the floor. You held your hands up to show you weren’t going to do anything to the agent pointing a gun at you. 

Steve shifted in his spot. He didn’t like the weapon being aimed at you. You saw his movement out of the corner of your eyes. You turned your head and met his gaze. Your intense and cold glare softened at the sight of him. Without worrying about the agent holding a gun to you, you moved towards the door of the room.

“I thought I told you lay low for a little while.” Steve met you half way, his hand slipping around your waist. 

“I’m not sitting around on my ass while this shit happens.” You shook your head, your hands finding his biceps. “Are you okay?”

“M’fine.” He answered quietly, nodding his head.

“So nice of you to finally join us, agent.” Tony leaned forward in his chair.

“I wouldn’t miss this shit show for the world.” You gave him a little grin. You two were close friends, not as close as you were Natasha, of course. But you respected and admired the Iron Man. “What’s got you feeling like we need a babysitter, big guy?”

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe just thinking about how much destruction we cause on a day to day freaking basis.” He stood from his chair and moved towards the little kitchen. 

“To be a hundred percent fair, Stark, most of that is Y/N.”

You turned your head to look at Sam, throwing your hands in the air as you stepped away from Steve.

“Thought you were on my side, Sammy.”

“It’s oversight, Y/N” Rhodey said. “Not babysitting.”

“Same thing.”

“It would be amazing if you could take this one thing serious, Y/N.” 

“I am taking it serious, Rhodes.” You snapped at him. You put your index finger against your chest. “I’m the fucking enhanced person they want to put a Goddamned tracking chip in, not you. That’s not oversight. That’s psychotic.”

“You haven’t even looked at the Accords yet, Y/N.” Vision said.

“Oh, but I have.” You tightly smiled as you moved to sit on the arm of the chair Steve sat in.

“How?” 

Your eyes very briefly met Natasha’s. Okay, maybe you didn’t read the Accords yourself but Natasha had and she told you everything. You looked back to Vision for a second. Your gaze flickered to Tony. He was staring down at the counter, his fists pressed against the marble. 

“I think the whole keeping track of enhanced people is a little much.” Rhodey admitted, nodding his head. Before he could say anything, Steve spoke.

“I saw the same thing in Germany.” He turned his head to look at Rhodey. “Nazis made the Jewish people wear the Star of David on their chest. It’s a label, a branding mark.”

“A target.” You added, shaking your head. “If the wrong people get ahold of the list of enhanced people, who knows what they’d do.”

“You’re being dramatic, Y/N.”

“The hell I am, Vision!” You shot to your feet. Everyone around you jumped except for Steve. He watched you carefully. “There’s already groups targeting inhumans. They’re just a small fraction of the enhanced people who have to register-,”

“That's Charles Spencer, by the way.” Tony cut you off, pointing to a hologram above his phone. “He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia.”

Silence fell around the room. Wanda inhaled softly, her eyes falling to her hands. You noticed this.

“He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.” Tony paused to put a pill in his mouth then used coffee to take it. He leaned against the counter, shaking his head softly for a moment. Then he started to move around the counter so he was closer to everyone else. “There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys.”

“Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don't give up.” Steve shook his head.

“Who said we're giving up?”

“We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blames.”

“I'm sorry. Steve.” Rhodey shook his head. “That - that is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we're talking about. It's not the World Security Council, it's not SHIELD, it's not HYDRA.”

“What the hell do you know about SHIELD or the Council, Rhodes?” You folded your arms across your chest. 

“Can we have her leave?” Rhodey looked to Tony. “She just wants to start a fight.”

“Hell yeah, I do.”

“And that’s what they want, Y/N. Do you not understand that?”

“I understand perfectly fine, Colonel. And am willing to fight tooth and nail to make sure those Accords aren’t passed.” You pointed to the papers Steve held. “Do you want to know what I did when I first joined SHIELD?”

“I wanna know who the hell let you join in the first place.” He muttered.

“Nick Fury did.” You smiled proudly but it didn’t last long. “Being enhanced, Fury thought I’d make a good bridge between the enhanced and the rest of SHIELD. That was ages ago, before inhumans were even heard of, before we knew there were aliens or other worlds. But there were still gifted people, they were just few and far between. I’ve seen parents kick children out for being different. I’ve seen what society does to people like me. And I’m not about to let Mr. Thundershit or whatever call out every single enhanced person like they’re some illness everyone should stay away from.” 

Silence followed your words. Everyone looked to someone else in the room, unsure of what to say. Natasha shook her head, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. 

“Maybe Tony's right.”

Everyone was surprised by the Widow’s words but she continued, her eyes finding Steve. 

“If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off-,”

“Aren't you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam cut her off. 

“I'm just.... I'm reading the terrain. We have made.... some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.”

“Fuck the public.” You shook your head. You briskly crossed the room, deciding that you needed fresh air before you went postal. “And fuck those Accords!”

***

Steve found you in a stairwell, leaning against the banister with your head hung. 

“You okay?”

You lifted your head and met his gaze, offering him a small nod.

“I’m fine. Just didn’t want to lose my grip back there.”

He moved to stand next to you, his hand finding the small of your back. He leaned down to kiss the side of your head.

“We’ll get through this.”

“It’s not us I’m worried about, Steve.” You shook your head, standing to your full height as you rubbed your palms together. “It’s-It’s not anyone upstairs or-or even you that I’m worried about.” You admitted quietly. “It’s the kids who are going to die because of those Accords. Putting a logo on them to announce to the whole world that they’re different, that they’re special-,” 

“I know.” Steve cut you off, his hand rubbing your back. He knew you had lost your brother when you were young because he was gifted. Bad people found out about it and came for him. “I won’t let this happen.”

“There’s no stopping it, Steve.” You whispered. “Everyone in there sides with signing.”

“Not Wanda and Sam.”

“Us against the entire fucking world.” You rolled your eyes at the thought. You bit your bottom lip, your eyes finding his. “This is going to end the Avengers.”

He said nothing but held your gaze, locking his jaw as he rubbed your back.

Taglist: @jennylovelyheart @lookalivefrosty​ @ilovesupersoldiers​

#steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #captain america #chris evans #steve rogers x reader #oneshot #queenxxxsupreme

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

The Queen’s Garden - Part 2

Series Masterlist - Tom Hiddleston Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OC Sophie Green

Warnings: Strong language, fluff, pining, maybe smut

Summary: After a tough year, Sophie decides she should work in the family business for a while to take it easy after seeing how well Emma, her niece, is doing. And then she meets Tom Hiddleston. She falls head over heels while he seems to keep cool.

Word count: 2079

Sophie continues cleaning outside and finds something between the couch cushions. Something she had seen before. A watch that looks quite expensive at first glance. She grabs his and runs after the group of men, hoping to catch them before leaving, but they’re gone. She sighs and puts the thing in the cash register so no one can get to it easily. They’ll probably pick it up soon enough.

Sophie would like to say that she was a good girl and went to bed when the bar closed, but she didn’t. She ended up in one of the booths with her dad, drinking and talking about better times when men were gentle and the world was wide enough. By the end of the night, her father was more than tired and Sophie convinced him to stay home the next day. She would clean the bar.  God how she regrets promising that now. Standing in her sweatpants and a cropped tank top she stares at the mess that was left from yesterday and she decides two things. One, she needs to make a list. And two, she needs coffee.

With the coffee in hand, she goes over the list one last time to see if she’s got everything. When she’s certain, it’s time to get to work. She starts with the dirty glasses littered around the bar and the garden. Then it’s time to take down the flowers in case they make a bigger mess. After that it’s rolling up the carpets and- There’s knocking at the door. Curious, Sophie decides to go see who it is. She calls out that she’s coming while grabbing the key and curses the lock for getting stuck again. She manages to pry the door open and is faced with the man she had danced with last night. Tom Hiddleston, dressed in a full three piece suit even though the sun is scorching hot and yesterday hadn’t been easy on anyone. ‘Oh, hi,‘ she says with a cheery smile, remembering how they danced together. She remembers how giddy she felt and how wonderful Tom had been. It was a dream come true, but now it’s morning and the difference between the two of them is painfully visible. ‘Hi, I think I lost my watch here last night,‘ he says with a friendly smile. The kind of smile you show to your neighbor when you pass them on the street. It takes Sophie a second, but then she remembers. ‘Oh, yes, the watch,‘ she smiles and walks into the bar, ‘please come in, I’ll go grab it.‘ Tom steps inside and see the remainders of the party from last night. The flowers, the string lights, the confetti someone brought in. His mind goes back to Sophie in his arms, swaying with the music, perfectly in sync and he wonders how she can still be this cheery after a night like that. She, of course, looks different from yesterday but she still has this charm in her movements. In sweatpants she still looks like a lady. ‘Here it is,‘ Sophie says and hands the watch to Tom, who inspects it before sliding it on his wrist. Sophie admires the gentle movements of his fingers as he closes the buckle on the leather straps. ‘It’s a nice watch,‘ she comments. He looks up at her, then down to the watch. ‘I guess so,’ he answers, ‘thank you so much for keeping it safe.‘ ‘Not a problem,‘ she smiles, ‘can I help you with anything else?‘ Tom is running through his mind, looking for a reason to stay. He wants to stay and talk to her, but he’s already outstaying his welcome. She obviously wants to get through her workload and he has a lunch appointment in a minute. He shouldn’t keep anyone waiting. ‘No, thank you,‘ he smiles back at her, ‘I’ll see you later.‘ He walks towards the door, but Sophie still has something to say. She debates it in her head, but the words slip out before she can stop them. ‘Thank you for the dance yesterday,‘ she falters, ‘I really enjoyed myself.‘ A gently smile thugs on Tom’s lips, but he doesn’t want to turn around. If he turns around the butterflies in his stomach will go wild and he will not be able to come here again. Not when he likes a girl this much younger than him. ‘I’m certain we’ll do it again sometime,‘ he tells her, beating himself up for giving himself hope. ‘Me too.‘ Oh no.

Life goes on and weeks pass by. As Sophie starts to get into the swing of things more and more, she also realizes how long it’s been since Tom Hiddleston came around. She knows it’s desperate to think that he might think of her like she thinks of him but she thought the dance meant something. It could be because she was so lonely so suddenly, it could be because of his charming nature, in the end it doesn’t really matter. Her heart chose him. However, there had been others who tried to make moves. There always were. To them, she was an easy nobody. A beautiful girl to look at for a minute and throw away the next morning.Though she plays along, she never lets them get away with saying anything vulgar. She knows better than that. ‘Say darling, how come you don’t wear a ring,‘ one asks, looking awfully interested in Sophie. ‘Oh, I recently parted from my fiance,‘ she says with a straight face ‘but I see you haven’t parted with yours.‘ This makes the man a bit uncomfortable to say the least. He doesn’t bother her again. Sophie goes on her way and continues her quiet Wednesday shift. There’s never much going on on Wednesdays. Most times it’s just actors who do a script reading in the peace and quiet of the garden, singers that are working on lyrics, TV personalities chatting about. Days like these, Sophie takes her time with people and tries to have a conversation if they want to. She knows what everyone is working on. Occasionally, when it’s really quiet, she’ll sit down with someone who asked her to read through something or asked her opinion. To most, she’s seen as an outsider who can see things from a different perspective and they enjoy that in her, mostly because they know she won’t spill about secret projects. ‘Sophie, how have you been,‘ a cheery voice calls over to Sophie. She turns around and is faced with Benedict Cumberbatch and Tom Hiddleston. ‘Oh hi you two, I haven’t seen you in a while,‘ she smiles, ‘where do you want to sit? I still have a bit of space outside and I have one booth left inside.‘ ‘Outside please,‘ Benedict answers with a smile. Tom seems to avoid her look and pretends he doesn’t exist. It confuses Sophie, but she doesn’t spend too long thinking about it. ‘So how have you two been,‘ she asks while she leads them outside. ‘I’ve been good. We’ve both been in between jobs,‘ Benedict tells her, ‘but it’s nice to get some time off in the summer.‘ ‘I’m sure it is,‘ she grins and lets them pick a place. Benedict orders for the both of them and Sophie is thoroughly confused that Tom doesn’t want to speak to her. She goes inside, but Tom caught a glance of her face dropping. That’s not what he wanted at all. Benedict noticed it too. ‘Is that what you wanted,‘ he asks Tom, who shakes his head. ‘I don’t know what I want,‘ Tom admits, ‘she’s so young and I feel wrong just liking her.‘ ‘We all interact with her and if there’s one thing that we all know it’s that Sophie’s an old spirit,‘ Benedict argues, ‘the girl seems to know something on every topic, and most of all, she likes you.‘ ‘She doesn’t.‘ ‘She told you she wants to dance with you again,‘ Benedict sighs. ‘That means nothing.‘ ‘It does to me.‘ Both of them look to their side where Sophie standing. She looks a bit saddened, thinking that it meant nothing to Tom while it had meant the world to her. ‘I hadn’t danced in years and I wanted to keep it that way. You took me by surprise.‘ She puts the drinks in front of the men and holds the tray under in her hands against her body.  ‘Maybe we should talk about this another time,‘ Tom suggests. ‘I agree,‘ Sophie says, ‘I’m done at ten thirty. You can pick me up or we can stay here. Your pick.‘ With those words, she walks away. ‘You gotta admit, she’s a feisty one,‘ Benedict teases, poking Tom in his side but Tom feels nothing but nervousness racing through his body.

Tom stands on te square that The Queen’s Garden is located on. It’s 10:23pm. He didn’t want to be late, but he didn’t want to be early either. Late would mean he didn’t want to talk, early would mean she’d rush to get her job done. So he stands outside, counting down the minutes. Until the door swings open. ‘Are you going to keep standing outside like a creep or are you coming in?‘ He looks at the amused pull on Sophie’s lip at her own comment. It lightens the situation a lot. ‘I’ll come inside,‘ he stutters. ‘Can’t believe you managed to become an actor with a stutter like that,‘ she teases, walking ahead of him back into the establishment. She continues where she left off, which was counting the cash register. He starts walking over to where she’s sitting, but she ushers him away with a wave of her hand. ‘I can’t focus if I got a face like yours sitting across from me,‘ she frowns, trying to remember what she counted, ‘dammit, there I go. You can grab something to drink if you want. Fridges behind the bar have sodas and other things.‘ ‘Should I grab you something?‘ She grabs the bottle standing next to her, showing him the label. ‘I got some left. Thank you.‘ He leaves her be and sits down at a different table, scrolling through his phone. ‘It’s like the roles are reversed,‘ she chuckles, jumping from the barstool she was sitting on, ‘you were asking me what I wanted to drink instead of the other way around.‘ He laughs with her. ‘I guess so.‘ He watches her put the cash register away and take some money to the back, presumably to put in a safe. She returns only minutes later and checks her watch. ‘Ten thirty,‘ she says proudly, ‘talking time.‘ A sudden rush of fear flushes over Tom. He doesn’t want to seem nervous, but he is. He really is. Sophie looks worried when she sees his face. ‘Tom, you’re looking really pale. You should’ve told me if you weren’t feeling well. We can do this another day.‘ ‘No, I’m fine,‘ he smiles, ‘just a bit nervous.‘ ‘Oh, I get it. I’m terrifying,‘ she jokes to lighten the mood. It helps. Tom lets out a small chuckle. ‘Do you want to sit outside?‘ ‘Yeah, sure.‘ Together, they step outside. Sophie picks one of the couches and makes herself comfortable on the cushions. Tom notices she took out all the other cushions, but left these. She was planning on sitting outside even if he said no. ‘Let’s get one thing straight,‘ Sophie starts, wrapping both her hands around the cold soda bottle she took outside with her and pulling her knees up to her chest, ‘I feel something for you and I’m willing to let it grow if you feel the same way. Otherwise I ask you to give me a month without visits and we’ll pretend like I never said that.‘ Tom’s mouth falls open in surprise. ‘You- I- wha-‘ ‘Take you time,‘ she laughs, pretending like she isn’t shaking to the bone with nervousness. ‘I like you too, but I felt it wasn’t appropriate to make any advances with our age difference and your relationship history,‘ he explains. ‘You have a point there,‘ she admits, ‘which is why I am making advances on you. You don’t have to give me hope. I just want you to be honest.‘ He feels truly surprised by the maturity of her words and the honesty behind them. Least he can do is be honest as well. ‘I’m terrified of what others may think of us and I’m scared I’ll hurt you,‘ he tells her, ‘but I do really like you. I can promise you that much.‘ Sophie lets out a deep sigh and a huge grin appears on her face. She wiggles her shoulders happily and hums a little song that Tom doesn’t know. ‘That’s enough for me.‘

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston x oc #loki #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction

[mikauzoran]

LuXY/Lukadrien/Lukadrienette: Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter One

@luxyweek

Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter One: Eye Contact

Going to the party had been Penny’s idea.

(“You need to get out more. I know you don’t like socializing, Luka, but networking is key in this field.”)

Luka hadn’t even gotten in the door, and he was already wanting to flee.

Reporters lined the walkway to the entrance, shouting his name, blinding him with the flashes of their cameras, yelling their questions over one another.

Luka did his best to smile and act like he was comfortable in this crazy environment. (He was not.) He drew heavily on techniques honed through years of meditation practice in order to stay calm and serene.

“Luka!” one of the reporters called. “Are the rumors about you and Adrien Agreste-Dupain-Cheng true?!”

Luka blinked, step faltering.

His heart sank.

The other bloodhounds caught the scent and took up the cry.

“Luka! Are you and Monsieur Agreste-Dupain-Cheng having an affair?”

“Is it true that you’ve been seeing one another for years behind his wife’s back?”

Two weeks prior, a paparazzo had seen Luka and Adrien meeting up at the Brasserie Lipp for dinner and gotten a shot of them saying goodbye. With Adrien’s arms around Luka’s neck and the looks on their faces as they smiled and laughed…the optics weren’t good.

Things died down a bit after Marinette made a statement that Luka was a very old and dear friend to the both of them and that her husband was in no way cheating on her.

Luka thought the whole thing had blown over. Apparently, he was wrong.

The light and the noise and the crush of the crowd was overwhelming.

With a mutter of, “no comment” to the ravenous newshounds, Luka picked up the pace, practically running for cover inside of Le Grand Paris.

It’s not like they’d understand if he tried to explain how he had been casually dating a married couple for several years now, so “cheating” and “affair” were not an accurate representation of the situation.

Luka being bi was something Paris could handle for the most part, even if they didn’t always like it. Luka being in a polyamorous, off-again-on-again relationship would break Paris’s brain. It was easier for them if Luka were a homewrecker.

He made his way to the ballroom where Bob Roth was hosting the get together for the dozens of stars currently signed to his record label as well as influential members of Parisian society.

After greeting the requisite people and being led around by Bob Roth to be introduced as the producer’s latest “find”, Luka retreated to the far side of the room where he could be a wallflower in peace.

Parties were definitely not his scene.

He eyed the open bar hard, considering.

Normally, Luka was careful with his alcohol consumption. Drowning problems in booze was, unfortunately, a bit of an issue at times in his family, and he was always mindful of not falling down that rabbit hole.

Tonight, however, social anxiety was definitely a thing on top of the dull ache in his chest dredged up by the paparazzi reminding him of his messy relationship with Marinette and Adrien, and Luka really felt like he needed a drink to take a bit of the edge off.

A server came by with a tray of champagne, and Luka decided that that was a good compromise. Enough to numb himself a little but nothing too extreme like downing vodka shots.

He sipped on his glass as he watched the antics of the other partygoers. Jagged had brought Fang, and Clara Rossignol looked like she was having the time of her life throwing a stick for him. (Though, she always looked like she was having the time of her life.)

Most everyone else was trying to stay out of the way as the crocodile bounded after his quarry.

As the night stretched on, one glass of champagne became three, and with two more hours to go on the party before it would be acceptable for Luka to escape, Luka was starting to think he wasn’t going to make it.

He felt uneasy, like people were watching him.

People were watching him. That was the whole point of the evening: to be seen. A handful of respectable members of the press had been let into the party, and Luka wouldn’t be surprised if there had been tens of hundreds of pictures taken either of him or with him in the background.

Still.

It made his whole body itch.

Suddenly, the “being watched” sensation was far more acute. Someone was behind him.

Luka turned to find Xavier-Yves Roth staring at Luka’s waist.

Several thoughts raced through Luka’s slightly alcohol-addled mind, but chief among them was that XY had been ogling Luka’s butt.

He knew it looked good in the leather pants he was wearing, but the fact that it was XY checking it out…that just made Luka uncomfortable. He was tempted to dig out the old, “my eyes are up here” line, but that sounded too coy.

“Can I help you?” Luka asked tersely.

“Nah. I’m good,” XY assured without sarcasm and continued to give Luka the once over. “Nice outfit.”

“Uh…thanks,” Luka replied awkwardly, beginning to squirm. “It’s a Marinette original. I’m a friend of the designer.”

XY frowned, cocking an eyebrow as he finally met Luka’s gaze. “The wife of the guy you’re sleeping with?”

Luka pursed his lips.

This conversation was going remarkably well. Back in the old days, it would have been the kind of evening that rated as a success if no one got akumatized. Luka kind of missed akumas. They were really useful for breaking up mortifying encounters such as this one.

“Allegedly,” Luka returned laconically. “Listen, I have to—”

“—Didn’t you used to have blue hair?” XY cut him off.

Luka frowned. Did XY remember who he was? The man had always struck Luka as completely oblivious to everything that did not immediately serve some use to the blonde, so Luka hadn’t expected to register in XY’s long-term memory.

“Uh…yeah.” Luka self-consciously reached up to touch his hair. He’d dyed it back to pure black a couple years ago.

XY nodded, a dopey grin on his face. “It’s super dope. I like it better this way.”

Luka guessed that that was supposed to be a compliment. “…Thanks? …I…I like what you’ve done with yours too.”

XY’s hair was still spiked up on top, but it was shorter and actually looked more like a normal person’s hair now instead of the half-meter cornstalk growing out of his head that it used to resemble.

“Your hair looks better short,” Luka added civilly.

Why was he making small talk with Xavier-Yves Roth? What dimension of hell had he stumbled into?

XY seemed to puff up in pride at Luka’s remark. “Yeah,” he preened. “It’s super sick, yeah? The tall hair thing got old. It was time for an update, you know?”

Luka nodded agreeably, waiting for an opportunity to slip away.

“So, what are you doing lately?” The small talk continued, much to Luka’s horror. “What kind of music are you making recently?”

Luka frowned as XY hit a sore spot. “Why? Looking for something to steal—sorry. I meant inspire you?”

XY’s eyebrows slowly pinched together, and his mouth formed a duck-lipped pout. “Dude. That was, like, ten years ago, and it was only the one time. I was just doing what my dad said. He’s the expert, so I figured he knew what he was talking about. I didn’t know I was doing something wrong, and I apologized and haven’t done it again,” he informed sulkily.

Suddenly, Luka felt like a very petty person. He hadn’t spoken to XY in a decade, but he’d just gone into the interaction assuming that nothing had changed, that the man was still the dumb, spoiled brat Luka had encountered when he was sixteen.

He visibly wilted, ashamed of his rash accusation. “Sorry. That was…that was really rude of me. Could we maybe start over? I’m Luka Couffaine. It’s nice to meet you.” He held out his hand, hoping to smooth things over.

Seemingly, it worked. XY’s pout instantly transformed into a wide grin, and he took Luka’s hand, shaking it enthusiastically. “XY. Your music is really ballin’. Totes dope. I’ve been following you since you were the lead guitarist in Kitty Section, and I was really excited when you went solo.”

This was the Twilight Zone. How had Luka fallen into an alternate universe where XY not only knew who he was but actually enjoyed Luka’s music? This conversation had officially become bizarre.

“Uh…Wow. You…You like my work?” Luka replied eruditely.

XY nodded, hair bobbing along. “Yeah. Typically, I don’t like that punk stuff, but—I don’t know—your music has always been different.”

“Thank you,” Luka responded, suddenly feeling off balance not just because of the alcohol he’d consumed. He genuinely didn’t know what to do with this version of XY so different from the young man he’d met once ten years before.

“You probably haven’t heard much of my stuff, have you?” XY continued with their conversation.

“I can’t say that I have,” Luka sheepishly admitted. “Maybe snatches on the radio, but I haven’t really sat down and listened to it.”

XY waved Luka’s words away. “You’d like it. It’s really good stuff nowadays. I come up with my own beats. Yeah, Dad and the mixing department clean it up before it goes out the door, but I make my own stuff. I, like, go out and listen to other people’s stuff and sit in parks and look at trees, and I get inspired. I get ideas now,” he boasted.

Luka nodded supportively, sensing that this was important to XY, though, Luka had no idea why having ideas was such an achievement.

“My dad doesn’t call me an idiot even half as much as he used to,” XY confided proudly. “I’m not an imbecile anymore.”

Luka waited for XY to explain the joke, but the punchline never came, and Luka realized with horror that XY was serious. “Your father said that to you?”

XY nodded matter-of-factly. “Yeah. I used to be really stupid, and Dad never thought my work was good, but now I have more talent since I started going out and trying to make my own ideas.”

Suddenly XY’s expression became thoughtful. “I never got to thank you.”

Luka blinked, completely lost. “For what?”

“What you said to me at the TV studio that day after you and Kitty Section performed with me. …Out in the hallway by the dressing rooms?” XY reminded, looking at Luka expectantly.

Maybe it was because it had been a stressful day with the plagiarism and the akumatization and everything, but Luka was completely blanking.

“Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah. Sure,” he bluffed, hoping not to get found out. What the heck had he said to XY ten years ago that the guy was now thanking him for?

XY’s face lit up in a smile. “What you said really got me thinking. It made a big difference, made me want to change, so…it’s thanks to you that my music’s so dope nowadays and that my dad’s taking me seriously as a musician. So, thanks.”

Luka could feel his cheeks heating up under XY’s intense gaze. He wished he could remember what he’d said. Obviously, the moment had been far more important to XY than it had been to Luka. That made Luka feel kind of bad.

“You’re welcome,” he replied earnestly. “I’m really glad that I could help.”

XY nodded enthusiastically. “And you keep helping. I was listening to your second solo album a year or two ago, the one with all the electric violin, and I came across this interview you did when it came out where you were talking about how you drew inspiration from all kinds of musical genres, and you were talking about Classical and Romantic music. I actually looked up some of the stuff you mentioned and found a lot of stuff I liked.”

If Luka had less control over himself, his mouth would have dropped open.

The image of pop idol XY listening to anything Luka had ever mentioned in an interview (where he regularly talked about music theory and Mahler and The Beatles and Javanese gamelan music) just seemed so farfetched.

“Like that Beaux Arts guy,” XY prattled on. “I listened to his Inclined Knot Music, and I thought the beat was really sick.”

XY proceeded to hum the theme from the first movement of Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik.

“I learned that it’s not stealing if the guy you borrow from is super dead, so I took the theme and mixed it up and turned it into my own thing, and people really liked it!” XY informed excitedly. “If you want to hear my version, it’s called ‘XY’s Got Mad Ups’.”

Luka was definitely looking that up on YouTube later that night. He couldn’t help his morbid sense of curiosity. He’d clearly created a monster in inspiring XY to look into Mozart’s music, and now he felt kind of responsible for the result.

“Yeah. I’d be really interested in giving it a listen,” Luka replied honestly.

XY perked up like a puppy who had just heard his owner get out the dog food. “Really? Killer! You know, I was also really inspired by Beat-oven. You mentioned that the Fifth Symphony was your favourite?”

Luka nodded, genuinely surprised.

“Well, I found his piano concertos—”

“—concerti—” Luka’s mind automatically corrected.

“—and the first movement of his Third Piano Concerto was absolutely trippin’. I’ve got some tracks inspired by Beat-oven pieces too that did really well, so I’m super glad you got me to look into classical music.”

“You’re welcome,” Luka repeated, unsure of what else to say. This was more like interacting with a fan than an old rival, and Luka found himself getting tripped up over and over again with every new sentence out of XY’s mouth. “I’m really glad that you got so much out of it.”

XY flashed Luka some kind of hipster hand sign. “Hey, so, I know you haven’t heard much of my work, but if you do listen to it and you think it’s good, I was thinking we should collaborate sometime.”

Luka’s eyes went wide as XY fished out a business card and a pen, writing an additional phone number on the backside, opposite his official contact information.

“Here. My personal number.”

Luka took the card and stared at it for a minute before pulling out his wallet and tucking the card inside carefully.

“I really like your chord progressions, especially your use of deceptive cadence.”

Luka’s brain wrecked and caused a ten-car pileup.

Since when did XY know what a deceptive cadence was? Maybe he’d heard Luka talk about it in an interview? Penny had had Luka do a lot of interviews to get his name out. Penny had had Luka do a lot of tweeting and blogging and Instagraming. Maybe XY kept tabs on Luka’s social media?

“I was thinking we could do a mix with, like, some Berber drumming and you on electric violin? I could get a really sick beat going. I’ve got some ideas, if you’re interested.” The amount of hope shining tentatively in XY’s eyes made Luka’s stomach feel funny. The guy really, really wanted to collaborate with Luka. It seriously meant that much to him. What the hell?

“Yeah. Okay,” he agreed before he could stop to think that maybe he should listen to this guy’s music first before getting XY’s hopes up. “I’ll give your stuff a listen, and maybe we can talk to your father about doing something together sometime.”

XY gave a little hop as he punched the air in his excitement. “Sweet! Aw, man. That is so tight! Yeah. Definitely call me, and we can work something out.”

Luka opened his mouth to respond that he would, but he was cut off by Bob Roth shouting from several yards away. “Xavier-Yves!”

XY winced, turning to watch his father storm towards them.

“What are you doing, you imbecile?” the producer hissed quietly, grabbing his son’s arm and tugging him away from Luka.

All Luka could do was gape.

“Didn’t I tell you to make small talk and keep circulating? I haven’t seen you talk to the mayor yet. And make sure you flirt with his daughter. She’s a fan, and their money’s important. Talk to that pop princess girl too. Make sure people get pictures of you two together,” Roth instructed. “What’s her name. Poppenella? Pimpernel? Pumpernickel? You know who I’m talking about. We’re thinking of arranging a publicity stunt making it look like you two are dating. It should help boost your ratings.”

“Okay,” XY agreed docilely, even though he looked thoroughly put out by the prospect. “In a minute, Dad. Luka and I were just talking about doing a collab. I’ll go schmooze some more after we finish.”

Bob Roth’s eyes widened, and he looked back at Luka in surprise. “Oh! I’m sorry, Luka. I thought my son was just bothering you, but if you were discussing business, that’s all right,” he laughed, voice full of false cheer. “You see, Xavier-Yves is just such a fan of yours.”

“He’s not bothering me,” Luka assured, doing his best to keep his voice calm and neutral.

He had never liked Bob Roth. He had never gotten over the man’s cruelty and cut-throat attitude. He’d only signed with Bob Roth because Jagged had gotten him the deal. Luka liked Bob Roth even less now that he’d seen firsthand how the producer treated his son.

In the back of Luka’s mind, he wondered if he had a thing for blonde boys with daddy issues because he was getting the kind of protective feelings for XY that he normally only experienced with Adrien when Gabriel Agreste needed his face punched in.

Bob Roth nodded, letting go of his grip on XY’s arm. “All right, then. I’ll leave you boys to your business.” He looked pointedly at his son. “But then back to working the floor.”

“Yeah, Dad,” XY assured, shrugging the whole event off easily and turning back to Luka as Bob Roth sauntered off. “So…you’ll really give my music a listen and think about a collab?”

“Uh…Yeah,” Luka replied a little slowly, mind still occupied with the scene he’d just witnessed. “Yeah. I’ll definitely get back to you…. Is your Dad always like that?”

XY shrugged indifferently. “Sometimes he’s better. Sometimes he’s worse. He’s a smart man. He knows what he’s doing, how the business works, what the people want. He’s just doing his job, so don’t worry about it.”

Luka wanted to ask if that was really okay, doing one’s job at the expense of one’s child’s wellbeing and self-esteem. He wondered if XY was just numb to the abusive treatment at this point, nearly thirty years in or if he saw how other people were with their parents and wanted more from his relationship with his father.

Again, Luka couldn’t help but think of Adrien. He wondered if XY had cried alone in his room growing up too…if he still cried sometimes.

Maybe Luka was projecting. Adrien and Xavier-Yves were two vastly different people.

“Are you close with your mom?” Luka tentatively inquired.

XY shook his head. “Mom and Dad got divorced when I was little. I live with Dad most of the time and really only see Mom from time to time or on holidays, so we really haven’t gotten the chance to grow too close.”

He didn’t sound sad about this. He didn’t sound like he had any feelings at all on the matter. Maybe XY was incredibly well-adjusted and good at accepting things the way they were…. Maybe he had some serious baggage he’d been stuffing down for two decades.

“Well,” XY sighed. “I’ve got to go visit with other people, but it was nice talking to you.”

“Yeah,” Luka echoed, surprised to find that he meant it. “Thanks for coming to talk to me. I’ll get back to you about a collab soon.”

“Rad!” XY cheered, turning to go, waving over his shoulder at Luka as he did.

Luka chuckled and waved back.

XY stopped and, as if making a decision, turned back around. “You know. I really am glad you stopped dying your hair. Black is a really good color for you.”

“Oh. Yeah?” Luka self-consciously reached up to touch his hair once more.

XY nodded. “Mmhm. It really brings out the blue of your eyes. You have insanely beautiful eyes, you know?”

Luka had not known this.

“They’re kind of scary at times,” XY confessed, “but really gorgeous. Your eyes give me goosebumps. Your eyes kind of got lost in all the blue, so I like how the black hair really sets off how pretty your eyes are. See you later!”

And with double finger guns, XY was off to do his father’s bidding, leaving Luka completely gobsmacked because 1) XY was such a Luka fanboy, 2) XY had definitely been flirting with Luka, and 3) …Luka kind of liked it?

Or maybe he was slightly drunk and projecting his feelings for Adrien onto another blonde guy because things with Marinette and Adrien were not at all what Luka wanted them to be lately, and it was kind of driving Luka insane. Maybe it was just the frustration getting to him.

This party had definitely taken a turn for the bizarre.

#LuXY #luxyweek2k20 #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Luka Couffaine/XY Roth #Luka Couffaine #XY #Xavier-Yves Roth #Lukadrien #Lukadrienette #Mikau's Writings #Welcome to La-La Land

[alicepink-me]

Secret Admirer

Story Summary:

With the help of Chat Noir, Marinette sends a love letter to Adrien. After that, there’s an exchange of many letters between Marinette and Adrien. Marinette is excited but later questions if she is actually writing to Adrien and thinks Chat Noir might actually be writing to her instead. Marinette tries to make sense of her love life and who her secret admirer actually is.

Chapter 14: A Date

Marinette laid on her bed with her hands resting behind her head. She had her ankles crossed and a smile on her face. It has been six weeks since Marinette wrote her first letter. It felt like just yesterday she was a nervous wreck about her crush, but now, everything was totally different. Six and a half days ago, Ladybug gave Adrien her diary and early the next morning, Chat Noir visited her.

So much had happened that morning. Maybe they were both just sleep deprived or confused, but they knew one thing either way; they were meant for each other. They both had expressed their feelings and chose one another. The two haven't really talked about their feelings again since a week ago, but Chat Noir or Adrien visited almost each day. Tons of Ultimate Mecha Strike games, tons of her dad's baked goods and pestering when Adrien visited, and lots of walking around Paris together, at night of course. The city was the most beautiful at night and the heroes could see all the better views. With the two playing video games sometimes, Marinette even made a matching hoodie for herself, but hers had her own favorite video game character on it.

Marinette closed her eyes and let out a sigh. "I feel like my life is finally in order, Tikki."

"I do too Marinette." Tikki cheered. "And whatever life throws at you next, besides having me, you now have Adrien by your side. You never have to face any challenges alone, especially Ladybug business. Together you two can face anything."

"Let's just hope we can beat Hawkmoth now." Marinette laughed. "Maybe he'll focus on the enemy better now that he doesn't have to worry about winning me over."

"I don't know." Tikki flew over to the vase of wilted flowers on her desk. "You're in love. It might have the opposite affect during akuma attacks."

"I was in love with Adrien before and did just fine."

"But now you know Chat Noir is Adrien and he is flirting with you. It might get complicated. Adrien is flirting with you in disguise."

"Well if you put it that way."

Tikki flew up with a rose. "What if he hands you rose and professes his love to you up on the rooftops? You'll be a blushing mess and will probably forget all about the akuma."

"Chat Noir's always had horrible timing like that." Marinette laughed. "I'll just have to ignore him. He might get all cranky, but I can make it up to him whenever Paris is safe again." She opened her eyes slightly and took the rose, twirling it between her fingers.

Tikki sat on the pillow next to her. "Maybe he'll be extra dramatic."

"I bet he will be." She smiled. A small creak was heard and a letter slowly fell down to Marinette, landing on her stomach. She turned her head towards the trap door above and her smile widened. Marinette picked the white envelope off and ripped it open. She pulled out a black card with a lacey border. She opened it and scanned the white ink. "You are proudly invited to a moonlit picnic under the stars." Marinette sat up and showed it to Tikki. "A date tonight, Tikki."

"Fancy." She examined the card. "What are you going to wear?"

"I don't know, but I'll figure that out later." Marinette turned on her side and snuggled into her pillow.

"Marinette, your date is in one hour."

Marinette's eyes shot open as she sat up. "What?!"

"It says 8 p.m." Tikki pointed to the line.

"One hour?! Oh I am so going to kill him!" Marinette hit her fist against her hand. "Who asks for a date with that short of notice? Actually, he didn't even ask. What if I was working or something? He could've showed up and saw me in my pajamas. And if I was in my pajamas, I wouldn't leave at that point."

Tikki flew over to the closet and sighed. "So are we going to keep debating about how dumb and in love Adrien is or are we going to pick your outfit?"

. . .

"Okay, I'm going with the pink top." Marinette said, frantically buttoning the last button. She wore a black skirt with a short sleeved, petal pink, collared shirt. "I only have five minutes. I can't waste anymore time staring at my closet." She tucked her shirt in.

"You look amazing Marinette and I'm sure Adrien will think so too."

"Wait, what if I'm too dressed up? What if I'm supposed to be more casual?" She panicked and a faint knocking was heard. "Oh no!" She began to sweat. "He's here." Marinette sprinted up to her trap door and slowly cracked it open, peaking through. Adrien stood in black and white, holding a picnic basket. Marinette dropped to her bed and ran back down her steps. "He's in a suit, Tikki!" She shrieked. "Maybe I'm underdressed now." She looked in her mirror in the corner. Marinette opened a drawer and pulled out some pink lip gloss. "I need to at least look somewhat as hot as he does."

"You look fine Marinette." Tikki shook her head, watching her chosen vigorously apply gloss. "If you stay in here second guessing yourself, you're just keeping your suitor waiting."

Marinette released a breath. "Okay, Tikki. No need to panic, right? He already likes me." She ran back to her balcony and stopped to take a breather. She pushed open the trap door and crawled through. "Sorry about tha-" Marinette's jaw dropped.

The entire balcony was covered in small, white, sparkly lights. A giant, pink quilt laid on the floor with the picnic basket in the middle. Adrien stood in the corner with a huge smile on his face, rose in hand.

"How did you do that?" Marinette awed.

"Do what?"

"I-I was just up here and . . . there weren't-these weren't . . . none of this was like this." She stuttered.

"I guess you can say it's magical." Adrien said, winking. He walked over and held out the rose.

Marinette took it and stared down. "Over the top much?"

"What?"

"Nothing." She smiled. "So what do you have planned for this 'magical' night under the stars?" She moved closer.

"I'm glad you asked." Adrien grinned, taking her hand. He led her to the quit and they both sat down. "Well . . . " He opened the basket. "I know you told me that you love rotisserie chicken, so I got one, actually two. I don't know how much you eat, so I got an extra."

"Don't worry, I could eat a whole rotisserie chicken with my bare hands in like a minute." Marinette stared at it before shaking her head. "I mean no I wouldn't! I-I would never eat a whole chicken on a date. I don't know why I said that."

"You can if you want to." Adrien laughed, picking up a tray. "I also brought chocolate covered strawberries, cherries, cookies, and pretzels." He smiled awkwardly. "I didn't know which was better, so I kind of got all of them." Marinette took a strawberry. "I brought us some sparkling grape juice too." He pulled out two glasses and two bottles. "White and red."

"I'll take red." Marinette said, grabbing her glass. Adrien nervously poured some. "This better not be alcoholic." She smiled before taking a sip.

"No, I could never have alcohol. My dad would kill me." Adrien poured himself a glass. There was silence. Marinette ate a few more strawberries and eventually pried the plastic off the rotisserie chicken. She took a few bites, looking up at Adrien each time. He was watching her. It made her a little nervous, but it worried her more. Adrien gulped. "So did I do this right?"

"What?" Marinette swallowed.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't really know what to do for a picnic or any romantic stuff at all. I just want to make sure it's right and . . . this is . . . kind of my first date."

Marinette wiped her fingers off before reaching for his hand. "It's perfect." She smiled. "You don't need to try so hard. I'm already impressed." She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. "We could be downstairs, cleaning the bakery or something, and I'd still be happy. I'm not going anywhere."

Adrien leaned forward and kissed her slowly. Marinette beamed, starring into his green eyes.

"I love you!" She blurted. Adrien was about to speak, but she interrupted him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you days ago when you told me. I didn't know what to say or how to say it. I got really nervous and I didn't know what to do. I'm really really sorry I made you doubt my feelings for you. I promise, I do love you. I should've told you way sooner, but I really needed to make sure you knew now." Marinette rambled, taking a deep breath at the end. "I'm so sorry." She looked down.

Adrien tilted her chin up and smiled. "I still love you." He pulled her into a delicate hug, smoothing the back of her hair. "You shouldn't feel like you need to rush your feelings because I've already made up my mind. I'd wait a thousand years for you, Marinette."

Marinette pushed back. "I've always been rushed into crazy situations, but I love you." She slid her hands down his arms. "I've waited and I would've waited longer for you." She smiled. "I'm just happy I don't have to wait anymore and I really wanted you to know how much I care about you because I don't want you to wait any longer to hear it."

Adrien brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, staring at her. "Why did you give me your diary?" He asked.

"I didn't want anymore secrets." She answered honestly. "I felt like I was hiding too much even though being Ladybug was really the only a secret. I wanted you to know everything, but I didn't know how to start and at the time I didn't know how you felt." Marinette sighed. "I just needed you to know, even if it was embarrassing."

"You wrote a letter to me everyday after we stopped talking. You labeled them on certain pages and I read them hundreds of times. You didn't forget our connection for even a day." Adrien held her tighter. "If I could go back in time . . . I'd march right up to your doorstep as Adrien and . . . I would've asked you out on day 1."

Marinette smiled. "And I would've imagined I was dreaming. I would've been a stuttering mess and probably would have denied it all and said there was no way I liked you. Then I'd walk right back inside and beat myself up about it later."

"Really?" Adrien sounded shocked.

"Yeah, I'm too anxious to have just invited you in."

"Well you're not anymore, right?" Marinette laughed to herself, grabbing Adrien's hand. She pressed his palm against her chest, her heart thumping against his skin. The beat was too rapid to even count. "Noooooo." Adrien whined, moving his hands to her cheeks. "Calm down." He chuckled. "I know you can't help with all of your anxiety, but I love you. You don't need to feel like you should second guess yourself around me. You shouldn't feel so nervous. I won't leave you."

"I think my heart will always beat fast around you." Marinette placed her hands on top of his and moved them down. "But I'm glad I have you to curb my anxiety. I know I'll be nervous for awhile. That's normal and I know I can tell you anything."

"You can. I'm always here." Adrien leaned forward and kissed her.

"Now I have a question for you." Marinette announced.

"Oh." Adrien's grin widened. "I'm kind of scared of what you might ask."

"Why . . . " She started. "Did you do all of this for me? Not the date, but all that stuff as Chat Noir? Why did you stop to help me back then?"

"I would've helped any of my friends." Adrien answered. "But you were such a mystery to me, Marinette. I never figured you out before and then I suddenly found you in the street. How was I supposed to know if you were okay or if you were going through something? I had to stop. I couldn't just leave you there. And then there was more. You gave me a chance to help you and that sort of fed my curiosity."

"But why the letters?" Marinette stared at their interlocked fingers. "Did you like me from the start or . . . did you just send me them to make me happy?"

"If I'm honest . . . " He paused. "I don't know why I did it, but that doesn't mean I didn't care about you." Adrien kissed her knuckles. "I think it all started as an interest in you as a person and as I learned a lot, I wanted to be around you and speak to you more. I never knew much before, but I grew intrigued. In fact, my kwami saw it before I did. He told me that this isn't what friends normally do; This isn't how they act. And . . . eventually . . . I accepted it. I had fallen for you."

"Really?"

"Now the big problem was Chat Noir. You fell for Adrien first and I didn't know what to do. I didn't have a plan and I acted on impulse. I wanted to be close to you, but doing so as Chat Noir would be a problem, and it was."

"But it's better now." Marinette squeezed his hand. "And I think we'll be okay."

"I think we'll be great." Adrien smiled.

She laughed. "Well Mr. Agreste, I think this was a rather charming night." Marinette said, brushing crumbs off of her outfit. "It's been a pleasure. Unless you have anymore surprises."

Adrien stood up, a giant grin on his face. "How about we go get some of Andre's ice cream?" He held out his hand. " I still owe you that date."

Marinette took his hand. "It's almost nine."

"I know." He flashed a grin.

"Are you talking about Andre's insomnia ice cream?" Her eyes lit up. "The equivalent of insomnia cookies, his specialty ice cream that is only available once a month, and the rarest ice cream in all of Paris?"

"I thought you kept up with his stand?"

"I do." Marinette interlocked their fingers. "And I'd love to go with you."

Adrien took a step back, keeping eye contact. "Plagg, Claws Out!" He called, speeding through his transformation.

"I thought I was going with Adrien?" Marinette joked.

"What? You still don't like Chat Noir?" He grabbed her hands. "I'm sorry, but . . . my dad can't know I left my room. And there are always Adrien fans everywhere I go. Someone will see and next thing I know, I'll be all over the internet and taken out of school."

"I understand." She nodded.

"Plus, I don't think the world is ready for my gorgeous girlfriend yet."

Marinette smiled and pecked him on the cheek before backing up. "Tikki, Spots On!" She transformed and walked over to the railing. She pulled out her yo-yo and rapidly typed, stopping at a map on her screen. "Last one there is paying." Ladybug laughed, swinging off and over the city.

"What?" Chat catapulted after her.

. . . 

@liebredavinci @i-am-so-done-like @yo-jes @ashtheteenagewitch @too-involved @ms-epicness @zazzlejazzle @cocoa-beanzzz @thedisneyestprincess @lightkeykid

#MIRACULOUS: TALES OF LADYBUG AND CHAT NOIR #miraculous ladybug #tags #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #marichat #chat noir #fanfiction #alicepink-me #ships #love story #love letters #secret admirer

[the--blackdahlia]

Too Young to Fall in Love Chapter 47 (Dirt!Nikki x Reader)

Title: Too Young to Fall in Love 47

Summary: Nikki Sixx was a hard partying musician on the strip. He never expected to fall in love with anyone, until a girl knocked on his dressing room door looking for a ride home and took his breath away. Just like everything else Nikki did; the drugs, the money, the music; Nikki went hard with love. (Y/n) Bass never expected the bassist of Motley Crue to be the one to shake her calm and calculated life up. She had a plan. Graduate school, become an epic producer, and watch from behind the scenes as her brother’s band rose to fame. Nikki and (Y/n) were perfect for each other, too bad her brother, Tommy, didn’t think so.

Series warnings:  Smut (18+ Please), drug use, language, referenced miscarriage, drug overdose, mentioned attempted suicide, out of character moments for everyone in the band, the timeline might be a little screwy but it’s fanfiction! I know nothing of music production and my medical knowledge is really screwy, so it won’t be accurate.

“(Y/N), can you come into the office? I got to talk to you,” Nikki was getting the paperwork ready for (Y/n) to be the head of their own record label. Nikki smiled at what he did. He only hoped that she would be happy with the work he put in.  

“Hey babe, what’s up?” (Y/n) asked, coming in. She was wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top. She had been giving the house a deep clean, because her mother and aunts were going to be coming by at some point to go over engagement party details. She thought she looked like a mess, Nikki thought she looked hot.

Nikki pulled her close and leaned her against the table, “you look hot.” he muttered against her skin. “But I have a surprise for you.” he pulled away for a moment and gave her a contract.

“What’s this?” She asked, looking up at him.

“You are the sole owner and the executive of Motley Records, although we might turn it into our own production company and label with other artists that we contract with.” Nikki shrugged with a smile.

“What? No. Nikki. I...this is yours. I can’t take that from you.” She went to hand the contract back to him.

Nikki shook his head, “it’s what you got your degree for and you are one of the best producers out there (Y/n). you are going to crush the competition and you are going to be a legend.” Nikki looked into her eyes, “You have worked hard for this babe.”

“But so have you. I wasn’t out there sweating off fifty pounds, lugging around a bass and dressing like Beetlejuice.” She smirked a little. Nikki knew how much she loved to tease them for past stage clothes choices.

“Then we can co produce, if it’ll make you happy but it’s your company and your business to run, you pick and manage the talent,” he smiled at her. She kissed him gently.

“Are you sure you want this?” She asked.

“To be the hottest producer to produce Motley Crue and be my awesome hot wife? Yeah I do.” Nikki pulled her into a hug and spun her around in the office.  

“I’m not the hottest producer.” (y/n) laughed, cuddling into his hug. “I told you when we first met that I’d make you rich.” She smiled at him.

“Oh baby girl and how,” he chuckled. “And I’m not talking about money.” he kissed her and placed her on the desk. “How do you feel about office sex?”

“You know, surprisingly, this is the only place we haven’t had sex in I think.” (Y/n) laughed.

“Well, might have to change that,” he said as he lay her on the desk.

They didn’t emerge until a knock could be heard from the door. Nikki and (Y/N) laughed as they got dressed. “Were we expecting anyone tonight?” he asked her as he helped her get dressed.  

“My mom and aunts said they might come by tomorrow, but mom said she’d call before they came by.” (Y/n) told him. “If it is them though, I better go get something ready to give them to eat and drink.”

“I’ll get the door,” Nikki gave her a quick kiss and sighed when he saw Mick. “You alien what are you doing here?” Nikki hugged him, “(Y/n) It’s just Mick!” he yelled out. He let Mick in and smiled. “(Y/n) is officially the crews producer and manager.”

“Really? About time!” Mick called out. (Y/n) smiled.

“Want something to drink Mick?” (Y/n) asked.

“I’ll have some water,” he smiled.

“Engagement party is coming up soon… by the way one of (Y/n)’s aunts digs you.” Nikki chuckled.

“Really now?” Mick asked with a laugh. (Y/n) came in with a water for Mick.

“At least she’s not the pincher.” (Y/n) laughed. “So, what’s up Mick?”

“Came to see how you crazy kids are doing and I noticed you got a new pupper,” he looked down at Jett. Jett rubbed up against him, loving the new guest. Ziggy stood by, watching. He knew Mick, but the older dog had grown protective of the new one.

“Yeah, that’s Jett.” (Y/n) laughed. “Who’s my sweet little girl?”

“Well you guys look super happy, so i’m going to go bother Vince and Nessa. I hear Nessa has him running all over the city for her cravings.”

“Surprised he hasn’t bailed honestly,” Nikki said. “He must really love her.”

“I guess so man,” Mick looked at him. “Oh you forgot to pick up your cheetah badge,” Mick gave him a badge that had cheetah spots.

Nikki blushed and chuckled, “Thanks Mick.” (Y/n) started to laugh.

“Okay, what’s this?” She asked. “I saw the other animal badges that you have on your messenger bag. What’s going on?”

“Just my way of promoting him from when he moved like a sloth with you,” Mick winked at her. “He’s made me proud.” He smacked Nikki’s shoulder and made his way to the door. “I’ll see you two crazy kids at the engagement party.”

“See you later Mick!” (Y/n) waved to him. She smiled as Nikki let him out.

***********

The Engagement Party

Nikki smiled as he said hello to all of (Y/n)’s relatives. There were a lot of people gathered around, mingling. Nikki had invited a few people from his side of the family, but not that many. He found Vince and Vanessa over to the side.

“Hey Nik.” Vanessa said, smiling. “Where’s your blushing bride?”

“Being fawned over by her cousins,” he smiled proudly at her, “She looks beautiful.”

“Kinda surprised you two just haven’t eloped already,” Vince laughed. “Waiting for Mick to revoke your cheetah badge.”

“Shut up,” Nikki punched his shoulder, “her parents want a big wedding and I know she wanted a beach wedding so that’s what we’re doing.”

“I don’t think she wanted a big wedding,” Vanessa said. “She always said she just wanted a small, quiet wedding. But I guess she doesn’t want to disappoint her family.”

“What?” Nikki looked at (Y/n) and tilted his head, “I’m going to go talk to her.” Nikki went to make his way over to her, but was blocked by family that wanted to talk with him. Some of her younger family wanted to talk to him about his music. He smiled politely and answered as bet he could, he was able to excuse himself and make his way to (Y/n).  “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Oh, yeah.”  They made their way to someplace quiet. “What’s up honey?”

“I want you to please answer me honestly,” he held her hands, “is the wedding at the beach something you want?”

“Yes, of course it is.” (Y/n) said. “I always wanted to get married at the beach.”

“I want to make you happy (Y/n), and I don’t want you to hate me for not giving you what you want,” Nikki caressed her cheek. “I’ve messed up so many times in our past that I don’t want to mess this up for you.”  

“Honey, we could get married anywhere. As long as I’m marrying you, I’m happy.” she smiled softly, but he noticed she looked tired.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he kissed her. “I love you (Y/n). I want your day to be special. I want it to be about you, not your family or anyone else just me and you and if a beach wedding won't cut it we can do something else.”

“I love you too Nikki. And I want the beach wedding.” She rested against him. “We have a house full of people. I think they’ll notice if I have to go to bed. I’m okay honey.” She shivered a little.

“Hun, we’ve been at this for hours and you need your sleep,” Nikki kissed her. “Besides I think you’re aunts would be happy to hear I’m taking you to bed.” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh, I don’t want them to think about us like that.” (Y/n) groaned. “It’s bad enough I had to keep Erato from trying to pounce on Mick.” She rested her head on Nikki’s shoulder.

Kissing the top of her head he smiled, “I want you to be happy sweet girl. And I am here to do that ok?” She smiled and nodded.

“You deserve to be happy too Nikki.” She told him.

“I am happy,” he kissed her, “Ok let’s go get fawned over and have some food then go to bed and work off the calories!”  (Y/n) just smiled and let Nikki lead her back inside the party. Thalia pinched his butt three more times by the end of the night.

“Do I need to check you for a bruise?” (Y/n) laughed.

“I think you just might,” Nikki smiled.

As the last guest left for the night, Nikki and (Y/n) found themselves on their couch and the aunts, Voula, and Athena helped clean up.

“I can help clean up.” (Y/n) yawned. “No big deal.”

“No you two rest!” Voula smiled. “Besides you cleaned up the house and we came and did this so we can pick up ok?”

“Okay, okay.” (Y/n) settled back down against Nikki. Ziggy laid by him and Jett laid in her lap.

Nikki held her close and kissed the top of her head, “This was a great party. I think I loved the dancing.”

“I’m glad you had a good time babe.” (Y/n) kissed his cheek.

**********

The next morning Nikki had headed out to the studio, leaving (Y/n) to prepare things for their new label. She worked on some things for a few hours, setting up a distributor and such. But she realized after a bit that they were very low on groceries, so she headed out to the store. She drove towards the new Target that wasn’t too far. As she walked up and down the aisles though, she felt like someone was watching her.

“Hello (Y/n),” a woman came up to her and smiled.

“Um...hi?” (Y/n) asked. “Can I help you? Do I know you?”

“I’m Deana Richards,” she smiled. “I’m Frankie’s mom.”

“I don’t know a Frankie.” (Y/n) said, knowing who she was talking about.

“I… I know he goes by a different name but he’s still my Frankie,” she gave a sad smile. “I was glad to see that he is doing better but he won’t call me or return my calls and… I really wanted to talk to him please?”

“I don’t think that’d be a good idea.” (Y/n) attempted to go around her.

“Please, you’re his nice girlfriend, the one he loves alot. I know you were with him back in 84 and I was sad that you broke up but I was so happy you got together again.” she smiled at her. “Please, I miss my Frankie.”

“Ma’am, Nikki has told me about things that happened. The step fathers that beat him while you stood by. The neglect, being shoved off onto his grandparents, going to more school than years he had been alive. So no, I’m not going to have him call you. If he wants to, he will. But I won’t make him.” She walked around her, going to grab some milk. Deana grabbed (Y/n)’s arm and her eyes widened at the glare she received.

“You know, my brother grabbed me that way,” (Y/n) hissed. “And I didn’t talk to him for months. What the hell makes you think you’re allowed to touch me?”

Deana let go quickly and walked away in a hurry. (Y/n) stood there for a moment, breathing heavy, leaning against the cart. She closed her eyes before finishing up her shopping and heading home.

****

One Week Before the Wedding

“Nikki? You home?” (Y/n) called out as she walked around the house. She sighed. He must have went to the studio for the day. She thought was going to help with the attic. With a shrug, she pulled down the ladder and headed up on her own to the boxes upstairs.

“This place is so dusty.” She said, shaking her head. “Gross.”

There nestled in a corner was a box labeled Diaries. From time to time (Y/n) would watch as Nikki wrote in his journals sometimes smiling, sometimes pensive. But when she would get near he would close it up and pull her in for a deep kiss. She wasn’t sure if she should touch it, but something was drawing her to them. Carefully she took out the top one and cracked it open to read it.

Hours later, she hadn’t cleaned a damn thing, but she had read his journals and something in her had changed. She knew it was her fault these things had happened to him. If she could’ve been better and stronger for him, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. Maybe he wouldn’t have felt the need to gorgue himself on drugs and booze. Or find women that looked like her. While a couple stories made her smile a little, like him running around naked during an earthquake, most of it made her sad and hate herself even more.

Before she even realized what she was doing, she was grabbing her keys and leaving the house, heading to the place that was like a second home to her. The Sunset Strip and the liquor store there that she used to go shopping for Tommy at when he got banned for screwing the owner’s wife.

Nikki came home and cracked his neck. He was working with a few artists and things were going well. With a smile he looked around and walked to the office.

“(Y/n)? You home?” he called out.walking all over the house he made his way upstairs and noticed the small steps to the attic. Going up he called out again, “(Y/n)? You up here?” he sighed when he realized she had asked him for help and groaned. He turned on the light and froze when he saw his box of journals. Some of the books were open on the ground and he closed his eyes, “Shit.”  

He looked at the dates of the ones she might have read and ran a hand across his face. She had read the ones from his heroine days, from his darkest days in his past. Taking a deep breath he dug around looking for the ones he knew he should show her. He grabbed his journals from when he first met her and the ones from after up until their break up. Climbing down he sat on the couch waiting for her, hoping that she would walk through the door.

But the hours went by and Nikki started to pace, his worry overcoming him. What if she wasn’t coming back? What if she had walked out again, thinking he was unfixable? He grabbed an apple, letting his paranoid brain take over and block out his logical brain. He picked up his phone and called Mick.

“What?” Mick answered.

“Is (Y/n) with you? I came home and she’s gone and I think I did something to screw it up and she’s leaving me again,” Nikki rambled.

“Why would she...Nikki, what’s going on? Why isn’t (Y/n) there?” Mick asked.

“She found my journals from ‘86 man,” Nikki breathed.

“Oh.” Was all Mick said. “Want me to go out and look for her? Maybe she went to Vanessa’s?”

“No, just I’ll call Vince’s and see if she’s there with Ness. Can you keep an eye out? She might come to you.” Nikki ran a hand across his face and grabbed another apple.

“Of course. Keep me posted.” Mick said before hanging up. Nikki dialed Vince’s number.

“Hey man. What’s up?” Vince asked.

“Hey man is (Y/n) there with Ness?” Nikki breathed. By now he was holding on to the countertop and his hands were shaking.

“Uh, no. I thought she was cleaning the attic today. She crawl through a wardrobe to a new world?” Vince chuckled.

“She read my ‘86 journals,” Nikki murmured. “I think she left me and I didn’t get a chance to explain them to her.”

“Oh shit.” Vince breathed. “I know it’s a long shot, but maybe she went to Tommy for some explanation?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Nikki nodded his head and closed his eyes. “He was on Zombie dust most of the time but I’m sure that he remembers some of it,” Nikki closed his eyes. “I’ll try Tommy see if she went to him.”

“Okay, let me know.” Vince told him. Nikki and him hung up and Nikki took a deep breath. That’s when his phone rang.

“(Y/n)?” his voice cracked hoping it was her on the other end.

“Uh, no. It’s Tommy.” Tommy told him. “I just saw (Y/n). She’s on the strip. Is everything okay?”

“What? Why would she go back there?” Nikki ran his fingers across his hair. “She read my diaries from ‘86. Tommy… I think she’s thinking about leaving me man.” Nikki’s voice seemed to break at the thought.  

“Nikki, she didn’t look good. She had Jack and I tried to stop her but she told me to fuck off. I lost sight of her head over to the old place.” Tommy explained.

“I’m on my way over, just try to find her if you do stick with her but don’t let her see you ok?” he looked to the journals and grabbed a few grabbing his keys with him.

“Okay. I’m heading over that way. I’ll call you if anything changes.” Tommy told him before hanging up. Nikki rushed over towards the strip, heading towards the Whiskey. Parking his car a block away he took wide steps towards the old apartment building. He saw her on the sidewalk. The bottle of Jack almost empty as she slumped forward. Taking a deep breath he grabbed his journals from when he met her and walked towards her.

“Sweet girl…” he murmured as he took a seat next to her. “Any reason why you ran over here?”

“Maybe if I came over here and… and… and talked to you in… in ‘83 and told you not…” she let out a small hiccough, “to fall in love with me, you wouldn't be so miserable.” (Y/n) whispered to him.

“Sweet girl… I was miserable when you left not when we were together,” he muttered as he placed his arm around her. “You were this light that came into my life and knocked me off my feet.” he breathed. “I just… I just kept going down a spiral because it was one I was on before I met you.”

“But all I did was let you down…” Thunder boomed in the distance, making her jump and knock over her bottle. “My drink…”

“You didn’t let me down… I let you down,” he held her face in his hands. “I let you down and I could never ever fix it. I hurt you in ways that I think have caused you all this pain you’re feeling.” he kissed her forehead. “Let’s get you home, come home please.”

“Why would you want me there? I ruin everything. We can’t even have kids because of me!” She started to cry then. Tommy pulled up then, having searched the block looking for her. Rain started to sprinkle, leaving dots on the sidewalk.

“We have two great kids named Ziggy and Jett,” Nikki smiled. “So we can’t have human kids… I’ll live.” he looked into her eyes full of sadness. “I can’t lose you again… please come home.”  

“Take me home. Please?” She whispered. Tommy walked up to them slowly.

“You guys okay?” He asked. “Need anything? I can drive her car back. Pamela is here. She can get mine.”

“I got her Tom, I guess I think her car is here, we might need to get that back to the house.” Nikki sighed. “I have a call to make and somewhere to take her day after tomorrow,”

“Where?” Tommy asked. (Y/n)’s head rested against Nikki as the rain started to fall.

“My therapist, Tom…” Nikki left it at that. As he drove off towards their house.

“Nikki?” (Y/n) whispered as they drove home. “‘M sorry.”

**********

The next morning Nikki made (Y/n) his special hangover breakfast. He never had to make it for a while but he sighed when he looked at how much pain she was in. He knew he caused it, and she was thinking she caused his. Placing the food on the tray he made sure to grab the bottle of aspirin before heading up stairs. With a deep breath he walked in just as she was beginning to stir awake.

“Morning,” he mumbled.  

“Morning.” She groaned, rubbing her eyes. “I’m never drinking ever again.”

“Here,” he chuckled, “best hangover breakfast and aspirin,” he smiled at her. “So…”

“So?” She looked up at him. “I’m really sorry.”

“I think we should talk about what you read,” he sighed. “Those were my darkest moments when you were gone…” he took a deep breath, “This is from when I first met you.” he handed her the journal and smiled. “I wrote a lot in my journals and… I think it gives you a bit of what I was going through before I met you, after I met you, and when we broke up.” he caressed her cheek. “You are the best thing that happened to me and nothing was your fault ok?” She carefully took the journal from him.

“You sure you want me to read this?” She asked, looking up at him. “I should’ve asked about the ones I read. I didn’t..I should’ve asked.”

“No secrets,” he smiled and kissed her forehead. “I have my own reading to do,” he said holding up her notebook. “I was really scared to read it… but I think I should.” getting up off the bed he gave her a kiss and smiled. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me ok?”

“Okay babe.” She smiled at him. “And Nikki?” She stopped him before he got to the door. “I still love you.”

“Love you too sweet girl,” he gave her a smile before closing the door and heading downstairs to the couch to read.

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogarukes @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk @tommyleeownsme

Motley Crue Tags: @primal-screamer @waywardprincess666 @twistnet @saint-of-los-angeles @vader-kai @motleyfuckingcruee @sharon6713 @kawennote09 @2dead2function @nikkisixxwiththebass @iamtiber-andtiberismusic @jayprettymuchomw @charlyallise @you-know-im-a-dreamer @sweet-dreams-on-butterfly-wings @estxxmotley @arianareirg @the-normal-potato @nikki-sixxtynine @jjjjjjjoshdun @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @stella20131991 @tarahell @wowilovenikkisixx @i-want-to-shoot-myself @motleycrueee @sams-serialkiller-fetish @getbackhonkycatt @are-you-reddie54321 @flamencodiva @deacyduck @scarecrowmax @major-tom-is-a-junky @anyasthoughts @bandaids-not-groupies @ilovetomkeiferslips @kaitieskidmore1

Nikki Sixx Tags: @daisystuffsstuff @unknownoblivion @deakysblueoutfit @fandomshit6000 @sixx-mckagan

Too Young to Fall in Love Tags: @kingbouji3 @leximus98 @thekidbakerinthetardis @crystalbaby12 @shawnsstxtches @knockemdeadgirl @deansgirl1993 @haileynicoleseavey17

#too young to fall in love #Motley Crue #nikki sixx #nikki sixx x reader #nikki x reader #the dirt #dirt!nikki sixx #dirt!nikki sixx x reader #dirt!nikki x reader #dirt!nikki #fanfiction

[lovely-nctzen]

Kiss Me Kiss Me • Epilogue

↬ As YG debuts another girl group, one member catches the leader of NCT’s attention. Being in two different labels, it’s hard to keep everything a secret from the whole world.

Pairing: idol! taeyong x idol! reader

AN: this is it, this is the end of long era. it took me forever to finish this but i’m glad that it’s finally coming to an end so I can write more fics for everyone.

After an exhausting conversation with both companies, SM and YG both agreed to let the two idols publicly date. Once everything was sorted out, both companies came out with a statement that Taeyong and Y/N are officially dating. So far most have been good news, but there were a few negative remarks from the netizens, however, it didn’t deter the couple from being in love with each other.

Stopping what they were doing, they agreed to meet each other where the first met. Of course they had to get permission from the company, but seeing as they can be seen together, they obliged.

Not wanting to cause a seen, Taeyong took the company car and drove to the convenience store instead of sprinting to meet Y/N. Y/N did the same as well and when she finally got there, he was waiting for her inside the convenience store. There he was in the flesh sitting down at a table hidden away from the public eating ramen.

“I never thought I would one day see you eating ramen in something so fancy. You just had to wear your Gucci shirt didn’t you?”

Stopping mid slurp, he turned his head slowly to look at Y/N. She was in a simple white t-shirt and black shorts with sneakers while wearing a mask and a black hat. That’s what he liked about her the most. She wasn’t afraid of dressing down and being casual. I guess you could say that she’s not your typical idol.

“If I knew this is what you would be wearing on our date, I would’ve put more effort into my outfit,” Y/N laughed in response.

Finishing the noddles in his mouth, he gave her a huge grin. “So you’re saying this is our first official date as a real couple?” Taeyong was obviously excited when he heard her say this was a date, it made him even more confident and he wanted to show her what he could do to make her happy. Take her to all the places she wants to go to, take pictures like other couples do, take her on dates whenever they’re both free and have time.

“I hate you so much, but yes this is our first official date as an official couple. But most importantly, did you save or even make me ramen?”

“That depends on how much you love me. If you love me a lot then I made you one. If you love me a little, I saved you some. And if you don’t love me at all, then I have nothing for you,” Taeyong teased whilst Y/N rolling her eyes.

“Obviously I love you dummy. How could I not? You’re literally a cat which is why your fans and I call you ‘kitty yongie’ and it surprisingly fits you.” Y/N sat in front of him and took a bite from his ramen making him whine.

“Hey, that’s mine. I made you one already. It’s already right in front of you,” he said pouting. Taking the opportunity to snap a picture of a pouting Taeyong, you whip out your phone and capture his pout with you smiling in the process.

Grinning to yourself, you made it your wallpaper background before showing it to him. “You look cute in this. We should take more pictures like this. This concept suits you really well.”

“Hey that’s not fair, now I have to take a picture of you and set it as my wallpaper now.”

“Fine you win, what kind of pose do you want me to do?” Y/N asks him as she eats the ramen he made for her. Taeyong thinks to himself briefly before coming up with a pose for her. “How about you do a cute pose for me? Or wait, how about we take one with the two of us together?” he asks her.

“We can do that if you want. The sun is going to set soon so we should do it while we still have good lighting. Do you want to go to the Han River and take it there?” Y/N tells him as she finishes the bowl of ramen.

Standing up to throw away his trash, he tells her, “If you’re done eating we can go now. There shouldn’t be a lot of people there because it’s getting dark.” Nodding her head Y/N throws away her trash and buys water for the two of them before leaving the convenience store. The walk to the river wasn’t that far away, but it was quite a walk. It was peaceful.

The two walked hand in hand without anyone bothering them. It’s not every day that idols can go out on dates. The two knew that once their relationship was public, they won’t get as much freedom as before thus having to work twice as hard. While on the walk to the river, the two agreed that their careers come first. Of course their relationship was important, but as long as they were both happy just being together, everything would turn out fine.

And it did.

Once they got to the river, there was barely anyone there. The sun was still setting by the time they got there. When they found a spot to take their picture, Taeyong got his camera ready and pointed it towards them to take a selfie. They both struck a pose and Taeyong started to countdown. Y/N faced the camera and did her typical peace sign while Taeyong had one arm wrapped around her and smiled at the camera.

When Taeyong got closer to taking the picture, he slightly shifted his position for a better angle. And when he got to one, Taeyong kissed her cheek and took the picture. Y/N jumped in shock and turned to look at Taeyong, her eyes saying “what did you just do?”

Ignoring her look, he glanced down at the photo and smiled joyfully. It was a perfect shot. He placed it as his wallpaper background and proudly showed off the picture to her.

Shaking her head and laughing, she gave him a hug and kissed his cheek. “I love it Tae.”

Taeyong looked down at her and stared into her eyes before saying:

“And I love you.”

#kiss me kiss me #neowritingsnet #nct #kpop #nct scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #nct 127 #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct 127 scenarios #nct taeyong #nct 127 taeyong #nct blurbs #lee taeyong #taeyong #taeyong x reader #taeyong fluff #nct fluff #nct smut #nct angst #incorrect nct quotes #incorrect nct #nct au #nct fanfic #ugh i cry

[theloversofmrsunshine]

The Better Ending, pt 10

This chapter is for those we miss, cherish, and love with all of our hearts. For those that left us too soon. For those who took with them a piece of us all.

If tears could build a stairway

And memories a lane;

I’d walk right up to heaven,

And bring you home again. 

-Author Unknown

Stairway to Heaven

It’s a fine day in Heaven, with the entirety of their population out and roaming in gay groups. The women huddle about like flocks, wearing beautiful silken dresses. The men strut mostly in pairs, discussing some matter or another in low voices. Huijin had found the entire thing ridiculous. Though abundant, the many enjoyments of Heaven had worn thin on her nerves within the first few years. An eternity here for her service to her family and her country feels rather more like torture. Her only enjoyments are the multitude of beautiful dogs in this place, but even their charms have limits for a woman like Huijin.

Then one day, one of the faeries had taken pity on her and shown her a very strange, yet magical mirror. Placed deep in the heart of The Emperor’s rose garden, it was not an easy place to access. Only thanks to her status as a hero was she even able to set foot in this place. This mirror, if awakened by the proper incantation and emotion, could become a window through which she could observe those she left behind. Huijin had almost no family, but there was one face she dearly missed. Ever since Aeshin was about five years of age, Huijin had taken to watching over her daughter. Gasping in delight whenever Aeshin discovered something new, cringing in horror when Aeshin was ever in danger. Laughing when her daughter suddenly made a face of angry surprise which reminded her so much of her husband. Her daughter was her only source of amusement and comfort in this sterile, sad Heaven she did not feel she belonged in.

“Now, wife, you can’t stay here all the time,” comes a voice, as Sangwan walks through the gateway that leads into the gardens. Her husband is stunning in his cream suit, his hair swept neatly back. In such a traditional setting, his more modern clothes set him jarringly apart. But Sangwan had never been interested in playing by anyone’s rules. Even as he scolds her, he’s smiling, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“Says who?” she challenges, even as she holds his hand and turns her head to kiss his chin. He nuzzles her shamelessly, smiling, as he looks into the face of his now grown daughter.

“Has it really been seventeen years?” he asks, watching his daughter as she reads and faithfully copies down the words of Confucius. It brings back memories, as his father used to punish him in a similar manner when he had been fifteen and wild.

Huijin nods, smiling widely and proudly at her daughter. “Isn’t she beautiful?” Then her mouth turns down and she glowers. “She’s been working on Confucius for four days now. Must father-in-law really be so harsh?”

Sangwan hums in amusement, wondering if perhaps the old man had been growing soft. “He used to punish me with two authors at a time. I once spent ten days copying the texts my father mandated. My handwriting was practically squiggles by the end. Father had to bite his cheeks to keep from laughing.”

His wife doesn’t seem to find the same humor in the situation as he did. Her daughter is too precious to spend such prolonged periods of time on the classics merely because she wanted to stay informed in the modern happenings of the world. Her father-in-law is going overboard. She wonders if she could request special permission to haunt his dreams or something. He is going to get an earful from her!

“Do stay calm, dearest,” Sangwan persuades, helping his wife to her feet. “Let’s go have a meal, shall we?” The couple walks back to the merry streets of the Jade Kingdom, arguing all the way.

Joseph smiles as he walks about, enjoying his time in this place greatly. There is a mix of so many people, all of them friendly. They shout in greeting as they pass, walking or astride gorgeous mounts. Dogs abound, wagging their tails and weaving among the crowds with practiced ease. Their coats are shiny and glossy; all of them looking healthy and well cared for, despite seeming strays. Though there are places to eat, none of them accept any currency, as far as Joseph can tell. He’s almost sure this is Heaven, though he’s not convinced he’s in the right one. From what the Bible told, Heaven would be very different from this.

He’s not sure how different, but he’s pretty sure he might have landed in the wrong one. The dogs check out, but the people around him don’t seem to be believers of his faith. Could there have been a mix-up? He woke up here, but perhaps he somehow got lost from where he should have been?

He strolls along the streets and finds a bar. Though most religious men of his faith don’t drink alcohol, the people of Joseon had enlightened him to the wonders of alcohol, if consumed responsibly. Joseph doesn’t think that alcohol consumed in Heaven even counts. He takes a seat and clumsily asks for a drink. The lady taking orders nods amiably, recognizing the blond foreigner. Despite the fact that his Korean is still rather poor, the people seem to find him charming. He’s seen quite a few other foreigners around, but no Europeans or Americans in this place. Very few people here speak English, so Joseph gets by with the language skills he learned while stationed in Joseon.

“Hey, there, Father,” a lilting voice says from a neighboring table. “You ought not drink alone.”

Joseph looks up to find a handsome man dressed in Western clothing. His cream colored suit is stunning, accented by the blue handkerchief on his chest pocket, blue tie and the black oxford shoes. He is clearly of Asian descent, but he dresses like a European gentleman. The man stands, bringing his own cup and bottle of rice wine with him. He sets both on Joseph’s table, smiling widely.

“You look a little foreign for these parts, I presume you’re just visiting?” the man asks, filling Josephs cup with his own liquor once the restaurant lady brings both a new cup and bottle.

Joseph is rather used to how the people of Joseon tend to infringe on other people’s personal space. It’s been a while, but he doesn’t mind the behavior. It helps him feel welcomed. “Perhaps an introduction would be more in order? My name is Joseph. And you are?”

The man grins and holds out his right hand, clearly knowledgeable about foreigners and their ways. It’s not lost on Joseph that most of the people in this place are ignorant. It’s been dawning on him he’s basically surrounded by people long since dead. It would explain the disconnect; most of these people don’t even know America even exists. This young man, however, is obviously in the know. “My name’s Go Sangwan,” he says and they shake hands.

There is no true night or day in Heaven, but the eternal twilight of the place seems to vary between bright and gloomy. As the gloom grows and darkens, Joseph and Sangwan drink. They chat and munch on snacks, enjoying each other’s company. The drinks have warmed Joseph enough that he can finally answer Sangwan’s initial question with some semblance of honesty.

“I don’t quite know what I’m doing here,” he confesses, smiling. “Last I knew, I had a letter from the Emperor to deliver, then an explosion of pain… and nothing else.”

The man sitting before him clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Aye, you’ve been labeled a hero, then.” He laughs, slapping his thigh. “Here my wife and I thought we were the only ones in at least thirty years to end up here on heroism, but alas, it is what it is.”

Joseph, intrigued, leans forward. Glad to find a listener, Sangwan tells tales of his and his wife’s many dutiful sacrifices for the crown of Joseon. Their love for freedom and devotion to their country is what landed them here, after all. They still haven’t been given the possibility of rebirth, but that is out of their hands, really. Sangwan doesn’t worry too much, anyway. His wife clearly wants to wait this century out. She’d much rather keep an eye on their daughter than be reborn and forget Aeshin. Especially since their little apple didn’t fall too far from the tree. A rebel daughter is bad for their health, he tells Joseph. Joseph looks on thoughtfully, before finally chiming in.

“You must love your daughter very much,” he says softly, smiling. Sangwan stops for a moment, reading between the lines.

“I see you had a child, too,” he says, confused. “I thought men of the cloth weren’t allowed to have families.”

Joseph laughs, shaking his head. “My son was adopted. I found him… or perhaps, it is more accurate to say he found me. He was my greatest joy, though I could not give him all that I wished I could.”

Sangwan clears his throat, looking skyward. “That is popular among us who die young, I’m afraid. I wish I could have done so much more for my daughter, as well.”

They drink to their mutual feelings of paternal love, before a female voice interrupts them.

“Husband! You’ll never guess what has happened! This is incredible!” Huijin comes running across the street, heedless of the people jumping out of her path. She slams both hands on the table, smiling widely. “Our daughter and that Marine, oh, I do love them together! That Eugene is the perfect man, you must see him!”

She pauses for breath, and finally notices his companion. “Oh; my apologies. I hope I haven’t interrupted anything important.”

Joseph is staring at this somewhat wild, but beautiful apparition who seems to have come up from nowhere. Then, as his mind registers her words, he abruptly stands up. “I apologize, but did you say Eugene… as in Eugene Choi?”

Floundering, Huijin nods mutely, before putting both hands on her face. “Don’t tell me… you’re his adoptive father. The one who…” Her grimace of pain and understanding has Joseph realizing that this woman had truly spoken of his son. His son!

“My boy! You have seen him? How is he? Is he alright? Can I see him?” His flurry of questions come in both English and Korean, startling the couple. Huijin’s expressions grows smooth with clarity, and she gestures for him to come along. Sangwan follows after them, shouting his gratitude at the bar lady. As they walk, Huijin tells Joseph all that she has seen of his son. When Eugene and her daughter met, aiming weapons at each other. Their first dialogue, their second meeting, and so on. How they went from almost-enemies, to allies and now, to lovers. Joseph cries as he hears how his son shot himself in the arm for the sake of protecting his lady, spending the night in jail despite his injuries. He smiles at how clumsy Eugene is in his attempts to woo the lady. Huijin tells him of how her daughter had prayed for him to be lead to Heaven, despite their differing religions. Huijin offers a handkerchief for his tears, before gesturing toward the maze of roses that stand between them and the mirror.

“I cannot lead you,” Huijin explain, gesturing for him to go ahead. “If the Heavens permit, you will find it.” Sangwan joins his wife, smiling at his friend.

“Don’t worry and just follow your heart,” he advises. “We’ll see you at the mirror, Father.”

Joseph walks in, casting his gaze about this beautiful, but confusing rose garden. Everything looks exactly the same. He pauses for a moment, and sends a prayer to God. Opening his eyes, he walks swiftly and with determination. It doesn’t take long for him to get lost among the maze of beautiful roses. There are myriads of them, a beautiful collage of red and pink. Among them, he finds a white blossom, gorgeous in her solitude. Joseph walks toward it, gently touching its petals. She is fragrant and large, a lovely specimen. He commends it for its beauty, pauses, and follows the path she lies on. After a few meters, he finds another white blossom, then another… and another. As he follows their lead, the white roses behind him quietly and simply lose their petals and die.

Joseph walks for what feel like hours, panting and wondering if there is water in this garden. Just as he considers trying to find his way back, he sees a shimmer of light. Following the glow, he comes upon a gazebo, where Sangwan and Huijin await him. They smile and welcome him, offering a cup of cool water. Joseph gratefully accepts as the couple makes space for him on the bench facing the mirror and teach him the incantation.

As he whispers the words, thinking of his Eugene, his sunshine, his son… the mirror distorts and he can see his son sleeping quietly in his bed at the Glory Hotel. Seeing him, safe and all grown up, Joseph quietly cries. He had not seen him since he left him a boy that fateful day, lonely and waving on the pier, as Joseph set back to Joseon. They had only exchanged letters, and Joseph had seen the clumsy writing grow firmer, surer and more elegant over the years. Now, he sees the fruits of time, age and wisdom on his son. It breaks his heart and puts it back together again. He is, at last, whole.

For whatever Fate that brought him here, Joseph is grateful.

Hongpa stares about, finding her surroundings very disorienting. Last she remembers, she had been shot and had fallen into the water. This surreal, colorful place is starting to unsettle her. Perhaps… she is dead?

“Oh, young lady,” a voice hails her, and Hongpa turns. Before her stands a beautiful woman, dressed in silken finery. Somehow, this woman reminds her of someone, though she cannot place exactly who. “You look terribly lost. Do you need any help?”

There is a foreigner with the lady, calmly smoking a cigarette. Among the sea of Asian faces, the man is a stark contrast to those who surround her. The man smiles benignly, and Hongpa nods. She’s not one to accept help, but this place frightens her. She woke up here, with no memory of having come to this place. All she remembers is the Japanese men in her tavern, the terror, and how cold the water felt against her weeping wound. She shivers without knowing why, her hand straying to her shoulder.

“I see,” the woman says; a hint of sorrow in her voice. “You’ve died before your time.”

She puts her arm around Hongpa’s, gently steering the girl toward the warmth of a fire and perhaps a meal. “Tell me everything, I’m dying to know.”

Hongpa later came to learn she was in the presence of legendary heroes of the Righteous Army, singled out simply because of her acquaintance to their daughter. They welcome her, soothing her lingering memories of death and giving her peace. Heaven is an odd place, but Hongpa never minded dying. She had known her day would come, though she’d hoped to see Gunner Jang one last time before leaving him.

“I’ve heard you’re an excellent shot,” the woman, Huijin, says with mischief in her voice. Hongpa smirks, downing a shot of liquor. There is a challenge there, and Honga has never backed away from a challenge.

“The very best, my lady.”

Dongmae stumbles, grunting. His breathing is harsh, even as he slowly realizes his lungs actually work. He grasps desperately for a sword at his waist, missing, and glances wildly about. People around him don’t seem to mind him at all, parting around him like schools of fish avoiding a predator. The ground beneath him is unstable, his vision tunnels and he thinks frantically of the people he left behind. What of his friends, his followers, Lady Aeshin… Hina…

A voice sounds like the twinkle of a shaman’s bell. It calls to him, and he straightens in shock.

“Breathe, Gu Dongmae. Breathe,” her voice is a melody he wished he could forget. As he turns, shell-shocked, there stands Hina. She’s as beautiful as he remembers, resplendent in a blue silk, corset and petticoats. Her hair is pinned, curls around her lovely face. She holds a parasol over his head, though there is no rain or snow. It’s red, covering him where he crouches in the middle of the busy street. She’s bending forward slightly as she shields him, smiling warmly.

Gu Dongmae blinks, unable to breathe. This must be a dream. She cannot be here. He’d lost her; he knows he’d lost her. He’d felt her last breath on his back as he carried her across the sand that horrible, horrible day. Felt her grow cold and heavy and so very dead. Though he’d prayed, the Gods had taken her from him, and she’d died after confessing the impossible to him.

“I lost you,” he says, reverently and in agony.

Her touch on his cheek is feather-light. He leans against it, closing his eyes briefly, before opening them again. He does not want to look away, in fear of her disappearance.

“You’ve found me again,” she says, and he forgives her everything.

Hina finds Huiseong reading under the shade of a cherry tree, looming large in the gardens of Heaven. As usual, Dongmae is a few steps behind his lady, unwilling to leave her side. Hina lowers herself onto her knees, daintily sitting at the nobleman’s side. Dongmae is less covert, simply plopping down onto the tired roots of the First Cherry Tree. Huiseong looks up with a welcoming smile, lowering his book.

“You’ve come out of your abode at last,” he remarks with a cheerful lilt in his voice. “How fortuitous!”

The pair blush, Dongmae looking away to hide a smirk. Huiseong notes it, but says nothing. He is happy for his friend to have found joy and love in the afterlife. In his opinion, they both deserve that and more.

Hina decides it’s safest to change the subject. “Where on Earth did you find that book? I’ve yet to see a library here.”

Huiseong’s gaze is back to his book, humming softly. “Ask and ye shall receive,” he says loftily, to which Dongmae kicks him in the shin. Huiseong winces, glaring at his friend. “If you ask the right people, enough times, you’ll find the bookstore.”

“So you annoyed someone into disclosing the location of a bookstore,” Dongmae surmises, snorting when the nobleman clicks his tongue in annoyance. The petals fall around them, and the young man is momentarily distracted by the sight.

“So it is time…” he sighs, closing the book.

All three rise, turning toward the gates. The walk is brief, even if their steps lag in hesitance. There is a dichotomy to their countenance as they stride toward the newcomers; a melding of pleasure, dismay and mourning.

They find Aeshin’s servants already at the gate, their hands joined as they peer anxiously into the bright light that blocks their view of the river and the bridge beyond. More people join them, materializing almost out of thin air. A beautiful lady and her husband, an aged clergyman, the elderly Lord Go, Officer Jang, the tavern owner and many more people unknown even to Kudo Hina. The gates hum, vibrate and grow even brighter. Silence settles over those gathered, awaiting the new arrivals. It has been many years since their parting and they have been dearly missed.

Together, they wait.

To be Continued…

All dogs go to heaven. This is fact.

#fanfic #MrSunshine #Gu Dong Mae #Kudo Hina #kudohina #Kim Hui Seong #fanfiction #The Better Ending #TheBetterEnding

[blackcoffeeandteardrops]

Finally got around to writing my post FFH fic. Family reunions, just the way I like it. Under the cut & also at the above link. 

The staccato beat of Pepper's heels hammering against the floor caused Peter's heartbeat to quicken as he slowly opened the door to the lake house.

"Listen, I have already been on hold for ten minutes. I don't care that he's in the middle of a meeting, go in there and get him out. I'm staying on the line until you do," Pepper said, clutching her phone to her ear, turning just as Peter made his way into the house. "Hi, Peter. You guys made the trip okay?"

Peter let out a shaky laugh. That she could go from demanding to motherly in the matter of seconds was slightly alarming, but considering the fact she genuinely was a mother, he guessed that probably shouldn't come as too much of a surprise. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, letting his suitcase fall to the floor with a thud. "Happy is out with Aunt May getting the rest of the bags from the car. Thank you, by the way, for--" the rest of the sentence dies on his lips as Pepper held up a finger, pointing to her phone and smiling apologetically before striding off into the kitchen, berating whoever was on the other end as she did so.

"And this is the last of them," Happy said, wheeling two suitcases in, looking about as he did so. The sound of Pepper raising her voice from the other room seemed to satisfy whatever question he'd had, so he focused back on Peter as May came in, closing the door behind them. "I'm not sure what rooms she has you two in, but--"

"I do!" Morgan exclaimed, quickly bounding down the stairs, all but tumbling into Peter's legs when she ran to greet them. "Mommy said you guys are coming for a sleepover! She even said we could have cheeseburgers for dinner, and we can eat on the couch! They usually don't let me do that, but mommy said it's a special oca…" she paused, fiddling with her sleeve and furrowing her brow as she tried mastering the more complex word. "Occasion," she declared, grinning proudly, oblivious in the way only a child can be of the chaos that had brought them there. "Plus, it'll be even cooler when you find out--"

"Morgan, sweetheart, why don't you help me set up dinner, hmm?" Happy chimed, gently nudging the girl towards the living room as he removed the sack of burgers from where he'd carried it at his side.

Peter frowned, as if he was missing something, but before he got the chance to dissect it any further, Pepper strode back in the room, nodding at May in greeting. "I've spoken to the lawyers, who are drafting a cease and desist as we speak. We also have a team digging into how and why the Daily Bugle got that video in the first place. It doesn't cover all our bases, but it's a start."

"What about the other sources that have picked up the story since the video was plastered over every screen in the city? You can't unring a bell, and Peter can't exactly hide here forever," May said trying to be a voice of reason, only to have Peter cry out in frustration beside her.

"Peter is standing right here! Is--is it even safe to be here? Safe for you and Morgan, I mean. I don't want anybody to be at risk because of me," he replied, anxiety bubbling in his gut. The scent of the burgers wafted over and it was nearly enough to knock him over. Within minutes of the video playing the first time, Happy had somehow tracked him down, driven MJ home, and then gone to the apartment to where Aunt May was already halfway through packing their things. He hadn't had a chance to even think about food until that moment.

"Here is essentially the safest and most secure place you could ever be. Besides, Peter, you're family. We want to help you as best we can," Pepper replied, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get you something to eat. We'll worry about the rest later, okay?"

Peter nodded reluctantly, her use of the word "We" sticking out like a sore thumb in his mind. Pepper meant her and Morgan, of course, but it was moments like this that made him miss Tony more than ever. How Tony would react was something he'd caught his mind drifting to several times throughout the car ride to the lake house, and he couldn't help hoping his mentor turned pseudo-father would have been there to help him figure out what to do. Pepper's heart was in the right place, threatening legal action and offering him a place to stay until the dust settled, but Peter felt off kilter in a way he figured only Tony would understand. Sure, Tony had a hand in revealing his own superhero identity to the masses, he wasn't immediately labeled a villain or looked at in mock horror by his closest friends--the look of shock MJ had upon watching the video still burned in his mind--but he still badly wanted to have Tony's support. The fact he was gone weighed heavier on him, just as he looked up to see May and Pepper watching him expectantly. "What?"

"She asked if you wanted to eat," May supplied, eyes brimming with concern.

"Yeah. Totally," Peter replied, forcing himself to act positive when he caught Morgan glancing over at him. The last thing he wanted was having to make her worry about him, too. He sat on the couch, pointing to the bag as Morgan sat cross legged at the coffee table near his feet, ketchup staining the corners of her mouth. "You think there's a cheeseburger in there for me?" he asked, watching as she all but leaped into action, happy to help him and triumphantly pulling a foil wrapped burger from the sack. It was enough, at least for a few minutes, to sit among friends and eat food, while some Disney sequel he knew nothing about played in the background. He was lulled into a sense of safety, of warmth and protection he feared he'd never experience again, so much so that the sound of feet shuffling into the room behind them didn't even alarm him, despite the fact that everyone he knew to be present was already accounted for.

Three things happened almost at once. First, he realized there was another burger sitting wrapped on the table, though everyone had already eaten. Second, he saw Tony's jacket draped over the arm of the chair, as if he'd come right back for it. And third, he heard someone that sounded like but couldn't possibly be Tony, clearing his throat and speaking behind them.

"You guys seriously ate without me?"

“You’re supposed to me resting,” Pepper said, immediately jumping up from where she’d been sitting. “Besides, we talked about--”

Peter pressed his hands to his ears, squeezing his eyes shut tight, as if doing so would cause him to fade away from his current surroundings. It wasn’t possible, it wasn’t. He had to have slipped into an alternate reality somehow, or maybe he’d been trapped in one of Mysterio’s more elaborate schemes. He felt sure that if he were to turn around, Tony wouldn’t be standing behind him. He simply couldn’t.

“Oh, my God,” May said beside him. Distantly, he heard the sound of what he knew to be her glass hitting the floor. “But--”

“I know, we have some explaining to do. And we’d like to, but--”

“This isn’t real,” Peter said, willing himself to stand and turn to face the man he’d so badly wanted to see. Standing mere feet away with only the couch separating them was Tony, looking a bit worse for wear but nonetheless alive. “No, you couldn’t...you wouldn’t lie…”

“Hey, kid, I get it. You’re mad. I’d be mad, too. But I didn’t lie. I never--”

Peter started shaking his head, hot tears burning his eyes. Absently, he heard Pepper instruct Happy to take Morgan upstairs and help her get ready for bed. May was still sitting on the couch, clueless but somehow less angry than he was.

“Peter, honey, I’m sure there’s a valid reason. He’s been through a lot, we all have,” she said, trying and failing to be the voice of reason.

“I almost just died, again, trying to save everyone. You...you could have helped. You could’ve come--”

“And what? I’m only at about sixty percent my normal strength, with one real arm and one robotic one that still needs tinkering. I wouldn’t have been any good for you,” Tony replied, apologetic. For a moment, he thought he’d maybe gotten through. Peter rounded the couch, andTony turned, opening his arms, only for Peter to breeze right past him towards the door.

“I told you we shouldn’t rush him,” Pepper said, clinging to Tony’s good shoulder when he tried running after him. “He needs time.”

“And what? I’m just supposed to sit holed up in my room until I’m instructed to make my grand appearance?” he said, spinning to face her, all frustration fading when he saw the look on her face. “I’m sorry, Pep. But some jackass that tried to kill him just blasted his name all over the world so now everyone knows who Spiderman is, and now they’re going to paint him as a villain. And what’s more, this guy used to work for me. You can’t seriously think I’m going to stand idly by, do you?”

“No, I don’t. I know enough about you to know it’s taking about every ounce of strength you have to not go running after him right now. But what he needs right now is a chance to cool off, come to his senses. Once he realizes?” Pepper said, locking eyes with Tony and raising an eyebrow, hoping he understood.

“It’s a little crazy, he’s not biologically related to you, Tony,” May said, standing awkwardly from where she’d been sitting on the couch. “But he gets a lot of his behavior from you. It’s nice to know that you’re, uh…” she gestured vaguely between them before pointing towards the stairs. “I’m going to go see if Happy needs any help with Morgan.”

Pepper nodded, watching as May headed upstairs. “And I’m going to clean up and jump on another call. We need to stay on top of this thing,” she said, opening the front door just a crack in case she might get a glimpse of Peter. She paced back to Tony, cupping his cheek and leaning in to give him a kiss. “Give him a few minutes and then you can go check on him, okay?”

Tony leaned into her touch, holding her hand to his face and turning to plant a kiss against her palm. “I’ll do my best.”

Peter sat on the dock, his legs dangling over the edge. He’d walked around the property, getting more comfortable with the place he’d only been a few times, stopping to give Gerald some berries, before settling to stare out at the water. He didn’t actually intend to leave, just needed some time to think, but when he heard footsteps behind him, he tensed up ready to bolt.

“If you want me to leave, I will. Although, I mean, this is my house. I kind of come with the territory of you hiding out here,” Tony said, waiting a few seconds to see if Peter would run before settling in beside him. He watched as Peter tore fragments from a weed he’d picked, slowly tossing them into the water, not even bothering to look up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Peter replied, dabbing at his eye with his sleeve.

Tony sighed, wishing it were easier. “No, it’s not. None of this is. There’s not a guide book for how to help your superhero kid get through having his identity revealed,” he said, glancing over to see if Peter would react. There was a hint of an uptick in his closed lips, but not much. “I hate what he did to you, but we’re going to fix it.”

“It wouldn’t have happened had you been there. You were just relaxing here, just living your life, not even bothering to tell me or anyone else that you weren’t, you know, dead. And I show up here because Pepper is nice enough to let us stay, and I’m just supposed to...what? Act like it’s normal? It’s not,” Peter said, slamming his fist onto the dock so hard it shook. “I gave him your glasses because I really thought he was a good man. I told him he was an Avenger, and he just sat there and lied to my face. My friends almost died because of--”

“Because of you? Believe me kid, I know the feeling,” Tony replied, laughing self deprecatingly. He shook his head, staring out at the reflection of the moon over the water. It seemed unthinkable, that everything be so calm despite all that had happened recently. “And for the record? Until recently, I wasn’t just here living my life, as you so nicely put it. This thing here?” he said, waggling the fingers on his artificial arm. “Wakandan tech. After the battle with Thanos, I was as good as dead. They took me to Wakanda where I was in a medically induced coma. Countless skin grafts, surgeries, and when I woke up? I was alive, but every inch of my body burned. It was like I was cooking from the inside. I might’ve been alive, but I didn’t want to be. Not for a long while. But when I was well enough to speak, to make sure I’d make it through? They flew Pepper down, and we stayed for a few more weeks. It took Morgan a while to get used to it, but she’s come around. Physical therapy, medication, and rest...it’s about all I can do.”

“It looks so real,” Peter replied, shaking his head as he watched Tony grip a therapy ball in what he now knew to be an artificial hand. “Miss Potts wasn’t angry when she found out you were alive?”

“Oh, she was livid. It’s still a point of contention. But she was more angry with the situation than with me,” Tony replied, tossing the ball in the air and catching it. He smiled triumphantly, waggling the ball in Peter’s direction. “It took me two weeks to learn how to do that.”

“To catch a ball?” Peter asked, doubtful.

“This may look real, and it’s wired into my body with the best neural interface I’ve ever seen...so good I’m jealous I didn’t create it myself. But yes, two weeks to catch a ball. At least twice that long to put any sort of pressure on it. Pepper can testify. Until recently, I haven’t been fun to be around,” Tony replied, watching as Peter nodded slowly. “Look, Pete,” he said, darting his tongue out to moisten his lips. “You really think I didn’t want to be there? You honestly think I was content just sitting idly by while one of my kids was in danger? It was terrifying. But it would’ve been worse had I gone and not been able to stop it. I’d never be able to forgive myself. I was monitoring the systems, watching...if there was ever any moment that I really doubted you’d be okay? I’d have put a stop to it,” he swore, giving it a few seconds to sink in. He expected Peter to jump in, lauding him with tales of what happened in his Europe trip, of how he’d fought, but was met only with silence. “Pete, I’m--”

“One of your kids?” Peter replied, his voice cracking.

“That’s what you picked up on in all that?” Tony replied. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. They’d not been very good with the whole emotional thing before the blip. He hadn’t communicated the way he thought of Peter as one of his own, but the way the boy’s eyes lit up at the implication made him realize that he wanted to try and be clearer with his line of thinking. “Well, yeah. You’re one of Tony Stark’s roaming band of misfits,” he replied, elbowing him in the side. “Seriously though, how are you holding up? It’s not every day your cover gets blown to the world.”

“At least you had a choice,” Peter replied, closing his eyes upon realizing how bitter he sounded. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant that--”

“That I didn’t have my cover blown by a psychotic maniac bent on revenge from beyond the grave? Yeah, I get it. Not quite the same,” Tony agreed. “Pep’s in there doing the best she can to keep this under control. It won’t be easy, and it’ll take some time, but we’ll get you there.”

Peter’s chest grew tight and he shook his head, struggling to keep his breathing calm. Were it not for his certainty that Tony would jump in after him, he’d kick off the dock and make himself sink, if for nothing other than feeling something other than the crushing weight of trying to make his new reality make sense. He dug his fingernail into his palm so tightly it began to bleed.

“Breathe,” Tony replied, rubbing small circles against his back. “In through your nose, out through your mouth,” he continued, gritting his teeth. That anyone would put someone he cared about through so much pain and him be at a relative loss to stop it was maddening, but the least he could do was try and help him through it. He watched as Peter’s breathing returned to normal, waiting until the boy appeared calm to keep speaking. “That’s not the first time that’s happened, is it?”

Peter hung his head, shrugging his shoulders, but surprisingly not feeling as embarrassed as he might've expected. "I haven't exactly been sleeping well since everybody came back," he conceded.

"I'm sorry, Pete," Tony replied, clapping his hand against the boy's shoulder. He watched as his lips twitched; a fraction of a smile, there and gone within a second. The image of Peter's body dissolving into ash and slipping through his fingers flickered across his vision. He'd spent more time mourning Peter it seemed like than actually knowing him, a fact he thought about not for the first time. "I shouldn't have drug you into this. I shouldn't have put you at risk, allowed you to participate in the Avengers. If I hadn't, none of this would've happened."

Peter started shaking his head before Tony even finished speaking. "I chose to jump on the ship. I mean, I didn't do it knowing I'd die...sort of...on some alien planet, but I still chose to do it."

"You did," Tony agreed.

"I was on a date," Peter said, the words popping out before he realized what he'd said. "Before the video where Mysterio told the world I was Spiderman. MJ and I were finally--"

"That friend of yours? You finally told her how you felt?" Tony asked, genuinely curious. Peter wasn't yelling at him anymore, and if he was still angry at him he was no longer showing it, so he considered it a step in the right direction. "Before...everything," he continued, gesturing wildly. "We were in the lab. You were up way, way past your bedtime, getting to that point where you were practically delirious, and you started talking about her. It's good, I'm happy for you."

"I'm not," Peter replied, gripping the edge of the deck and leaning forward. "The look on her face when that video played? I don't think she'll want to see me anymore. Besides, I don't want to put her in danger," he paused, cheeks burning red. "You've got enough to worry about right now, what with coming back from the dead and all," he continued, giving Tony a pointed look. "You don't wanna hear about what I'm going through."

"Whose idea do you think it was for you to come here? I'm kidding, it was Pepper's, but I backed her up one hundred percent. I wouldn't have done that if I didn't care about you," Tony insisted. He heard Peter let out a soft laugh and frowned in confusion. "What?"

Peter stared up at the pin prick stars, remembering vaguely what it felt like to hurtle through them. "We never used to talk like this."

Tony could count on his one hand the times he'd hugged Peter, and on the same hand the number of times they'd had such serious discussions, in non-life threatening situations. It wasn't intentional, a by-product of the facade he'd hid behind over the years. He hadn't had a good relationship with his own father, Lord knew, so it made sense that he'd struggle communication wise with the child he considered his own. Still, he vowed before bringing them all back that he'd do a better job at it. "No, we didn't," he replied. "But as it turns out, losing fifty percent of the world's population including the protege you love like a son, getting married to the smartest woman on the planet, and becoming a dad before nearly dying at the hands of an evil alien bent on destruction really changes your outlook on life."

"Pepper's the smartest woman on the planet?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Of course she is. She's going to figure out how to get you out of this mess," he replied, already picturing her pacing back and forth inside demanding answers from whoever she was on the phone with. He shifted a little, wincing as he felt a sharp pain radiate up his side. He held up his arm in Peter's direction. "Come on, kid. Help me up. Let's see what progress she's made so far."

"Are you okay? I mean, you survived despite the power of those stones literally coursing through you, and seriously, how real your fake arm looks is kind of weirding me out, but--" he cast his eyes downward at the look on Tony's face. "Sorry, I didn't mean--"

"No, it's okay," Tony assured him. "They had to take a piece of my calf muscle to help fix the side of my face. But hey, I'm officially part robot now, so I guess I've got that going for me."

Peter smiled, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. As they walked towards the house, he caught a glimpse of Tony's scars, some of them faint but still proof of all he'd gone through in the name of keeping the world safe. Before he could stop himself, Peter launched himself at Tony, wrapping his arms around his waist. "I'm really, really glad you're okay."

Tony had nearly lost his balance from the unexpected hug, but he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. He waited a few seconds before pulling back. "Me too, kid. And listen, about what you said before? About being afraid of whether MJ would want to see you anymore? If she feels half as much for you as you do for her, I think you're going to be fine."

Peter opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again. There'd be time to talk things through--with Tony, with MJ, with Aunt May--but he knew not everything would be solved overnight. "Should we go inside?"

Tony nodded, leading the way. He listened quietly for the sound of Pepper's voice, wanting to seek her out and discuss what their next steps were in terms of figuring out Peter's life post-identity reveal. He knew it would take time and some not altogether pleasant decisions, and there was a part of him that wondered just how well he could help whilst still being declared dead to the world. Still, that night all the people he cared for most would be under one roof, causing him to feel more relaxed and to breathe easier than he had in a long time. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

#tony stark #peter parker #ffh #iron dad and spider son #fanfic

[creative-type]

The Murder of Arthur Wright XVII

First  Previous AO3 AN: this is it folks, the penultimate chapter. Submit any guesses on whodunit now. In the interest of fairness, I’ve gone back and made some minor additions to some previous chapters. See the AO3 link for more details

Chapter Seventeen: The Final Piece of Evidence

The last time Margot visited the local precinct she had been recovering from her burns. The investigators looking into the botched Drathmakal summoning had insisted on speaking with her as soon as possible, and Margot had seen no reason not to oblige them. It had been an unpleasant experience for all parties involved, in part because the man attempting to conduct the interview could hardly stand to look at her.

Dash’s contact was in another department entirely, his office hidden away in the lower levels of the precinct. They were greeted there by a young man of about twenty-five, who gave Dash a salute as crisp as his freshly-pressed uniform. At the sight of him Dash rolled his eyes before offering a hand, which was enthusiastically shook.

“Gabe, this is Professor Margot from over at Kempeston. She’s been helping me figure out what in the world’s going on with Master Wright.”

“I know the professor,” Gabe said, shaking Margot’s hand in a much more agreeable manner. “Everyone’s talking about how she and Professor Ford fought against that frog. It almost makes me wish I’d gone to Kempeston.”

“You’re a mage?” Margot asked.

“Oh yes. Never had the reserves for the flashy spells, but I get by.” He stood up a little straighter and said proudly, “The prefect called my work exemplary.”

The young officer’s enthusiasm was contagious, and Margot found herself smiling. “The most important magic is the kind that doesn’t tend to get any attention.”

Gabe beamed at her. “Thank you, Professor. I’ve learned a lot working this case. The senior investigator thinks we’ll have the code cracked by the end of the week.” He looked suddenly nervous. “I, er, probably shouldn’t have said that. It’s all very hush-hush at the moment.”

“C’mon, Gabe, you know me better than that. I won’t breathe a word. Orc’s honor.” Dash cocked his head and tried to look past the lanky youth. “Where is everyone else, anyway?”

“At a meeting,” Gabe said, moving to block Dash’s line of vision.

“Without you? What about all that exemplary work you’ve been doing?”

“I would be with them, but I lost privileges when my boss found out that you’d copied Master Wright’s notes—which I remember you distinctly promising not to do. I trusted you.”

Dash grimaced a little, and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Geeze, sorry. I didn’t want to get you in trouble. But this is important. Maybe the most important. Please, Gabe, you got to let me through.”

Gabe shook his head stubbornly. “No can do, Dash. Fool me once, shame on me; fool me twice, shame on you.”

“I, uh, don’t think that’s how it goes, actually.” Dash rubbed his chin and spared a glance at Margot before snapping his fingers. “I know, how about a trade?”

“Trade?”

“You know, the exchange of goods between two parties?” Dash said, eyebrows raising. “In this case, information. The professor here’s cracked Wright’s code. Think of what the prefect will say when he finds out you’ve saved him a week of work?”

“You did?” Gabe said, eyes bulging as he turned towards Margot. He couldn’t have been more awed if she’d told him she was a Wizard, and for a moment he seemed beyond words. “How?”

“Didn’t you hear, Gabe?” Dash asked lazily. “The professor here helped design some of Wright’s safeguards. She knew his work better than anyone.”

Margot shot him a glare that was studiously ignored.

“Well what is it?” Gabe demanded. “What was the formula for?”

Dash wagged a finger. “Nuh-uh, you show us first. A sign of goodwill, as it were. Then we’ll talk.”

“I can’t let you in. Really,” Gabe said, face crumpling. “I know you’re a good sort, Dash, but you’re not one of us, you know? I can’t tell anyone.”

Margot could see that without intervention the argument would go nowhere. She leaned in closer to Gabe, and asked, “Is that door to your office unlocked?”

“Uh, yeah, but why—“

“How about this,” Margot interrupted smoothly. “You go for a quick bathroom break, and by the time you get back we’ll be gone, with Master Wright’s formula left in exchange. You don’t let us in, and we get the information we need. Everybody wins.”

“I, er, I guess that’d be okay,” Gabe said. “But only if you leave that formula. Take off without it, and we’re done for good.”

“That’s fair,” Dash said. He made a little shooing motion. “Now hurry, before that meeting ends.”

Once he was out of sight Margot and Dash hurried into the room labeled Magical Investigations. It was a cramped space made even smaller by desks piled high with paperwork. Margot’s attention was immediately drawn by a glowing rune at the largest of the workspaces.

“They do recreations there,” Dash said. “You know, of crime scenes and things like that. Dunno how to activate it, though.”

“I really need to give you lessons one of these days,” Margot said. She wasn’t familiar with the rune, but it seemed like luck was finally on their side, and she could see the smear of where a greasy finger had activated the spell. Calling on her magic, she traced over the mark.

“You really do know how to do everything, don’t you?” Dash said, an enormous grin spreading across his face.

“One of us has to know what we’re doing,” Margot said. The run glowed an acidic greet, and with a flash of light a simulacrum of a notebook sprang into existence.

“They created Master Wright’s spellbook?” Dash said.

“The original probably wasn’t in any condition to study in depth,” Margot said. She flicked a wrist over the illusion, and the book fell open. She recognized the untidy scrawl written on the pages.

Reaching into her bag, Margot pulled out the copies Dash had made for comparison. Unlike the copies, the recreation’s formula was completely intact—likely the result of the investigator’s efforts to pick apart Master Wright’s research.

“The problem with recreations is that it’s partly guesswork,” Dash mused. “You take the information you got and try to reverse engineer the most likely scenario based on the facts. Look here, Prof.”

He pointed a meaty finger at the pages that came before the fateful formula—or at least what was left of them. It looked like someone had grabbed a handful of paper and ripped it out of the notebook, leaving jagged perforations as evidence behind.

“Do you think Master Wright did that?” Margot asked.

“Don’t know, but we should probably skedaddle. Gabe’s one of my best contacts, I’d hate to lose him.”

Margot broke off the rune and together they hurried out of the office. They had just closed the door behind them when Gabe ran around the corner, red-faced and nearly in a panic. At the sight of them he nearly melted into a puddle of relief.

“Oh thank goodness you’re here.”

Anything else he might have said was cut off as a tall, scarecrow of a man came into view, trailed by a trio of men wearing the blue band that marked them as mages on the sleeve of their uniforms. This newcomer, at least, Margot recognized from her interview after the Drath attack as Mattathias Mathers, the head of Magical Investigations.

“Well hello there, Investigator,” Dash said. “Just the man I was hoping to see.”

Mathers hardly deigned to spare him a glance before turning his attention to Margot. “Good morning, Professor. I didn’t think I would be seeing you again so soon. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Mathers was a soft-spoken man, but he gave Margot the impression of hiding a heavy hand beneath a velvet glove. He had not asked any questions after the Drathmakal summoning, but to this day he was the one person from the investigation that Margot remembered most.

“I was just wondering how your investigation on the Wright case was coming along,” Margot said.

“Ah, yes. Of course. I hear you were present during the explosion and the one to find Master Wright dead. I am sorry you had to experience that so soon after your recovery.”

“But you’re not sorry she had to experience it at all?” Dash asked, eyebrows raising.

“Mr. Cain, I told you the last time you came scurrying in here like an unwanted beetle that I have nothing to say to you, and none of my investigators have anything to say to you,” Mathers said. “I would be greatly obliged if you would take the initiative to remove yourself from my presence. Permanently.”

“Now Investigator, the professor isn’t the only one who was there during that explosion,” Dash said. “The public demands answers, and so do I. What caused that explosion?”

The craggy lines in Mather’s face deepened, and Margot would not have been surprised if he used his magic to make the temperature plummet twenty degrees. Gabe cringed and looked like he wished the ground would swallow him whole, and trio of senior investigators looked uneasy.

“Follow me,” Mathers said tersely. He turned sharply on one heel, the tails of his uniform shirt billowing behind him as he swept back the way he had come. Dash and Margot had to hurry to keep up with him as he took an unmarked stairway to the basement of the precinct.

This time Margot was not imagining it when the air grew cool and dry, and she felt the faintest breeze where magic was used to keep the air from growing stale. Mathers did not stop, and from the basement found another stairway that led even deeper underground.

A bored officer guarding the door sprung to attention at the sight of him, only for Mathers to wave him off. “This will be a quick visit.”

With a long, spindly finger Maters painted an intricate sigil over the door that caused it to melt away into nothingness. A snap caused mage light to spring into existence, revealing a corridor lined from floor to ceiling with metal shelves, each filled with boxes upon boxes.

“Welcome to my job,” Mathers said dourly. Tenting his fingers in front of him, he began strolling down the passage. After a few steps he indicated toward a box.

“That’s Jean Brodeur. She was a mother of two killed on her way home from work, likely a botched robbery. Whoever did the deed had enough magical expertise to cleanse the area of evidence. Her mother comes every week begging me to reopen the case. Her husband doesn’t any more, and I can’t tell you which is worse.”

A few more steps, Mathers’ face a serene mask of contemplation. He indicated to another box. “Like Master Wright, Rhen Petrov died in a magical experiment gone wrong, but unlike Master Wright he was neither famous nor his work terribly important enough to warrant serious scrutiny. I don’t have the resources to pinpoint the exact cause of death, and so the case remains unsolved. I'm told there wasn’t enough of him left to bury.”

They came to the end of the corridor and Mathers plucked a box from its shelf, carefully wiping away the dust that had gathered on the nameplate.

“We don’t know who this man was, except he was a wanderer viciously murdered in a way too gruesome to repeat in mixed company. I swore I would find his killer, and I never have.”

Mathers replaced the box tenderly before rising to back to his imposing height. He looked down the length of his hooked nose at Margot and Dash, a cold fury burning in his black eyes.

“I will find the answer to the death of Master Arthur Wright, but it will be in my way and in my time. The more resources wasted on this nonsensical accident are resources my people could spend investigating cases that truly matter. Now please, get out of my sight and let me work.”

Both Dash and Margot were more than happy to oblige him, and they were escorted out of the precinct before Margot had a chance to tell poor Gabe that Master Wright had been attempting to Teleport ten kilograms of perfectly spherical graphite a distance of twenty-five meters.

“Well that was a waste of time.”

Dash grunted as he leaned against the park bench. He had adopted what Margot privately dubbed his thinking pose, with his head rolled back and his eyes closed. Margot chose to stand and would have preferred to pace, but settled for manipulating a globe of water in her hands.

“Someone ripped out those pages,” Dash said.

“Abigail said that Master Wright protected his notebook against tampering,” Margot said. “That means it was probably Master Wright himself, and it’s impossible to know why without seeing those pages.”

Dash hummed his agreement, and with his eyes still closed found a jerky stick. “Keep talking, Prof. It helps me think.”

“Abigail said that either the formula or the ring itself had to be tampered with for it to explode, and if I had to guess I’d say that it was probably the formula. Those rings had more failsafes than I could count. The one I helped with was just the extra cherry on top.”

“But Wright kept that notebook with him,” Dash murmured. “Who could get their hands on it?”

“His son probably had the best chance. They did share a room during the mage's conference,” Margot said. “His wife wasn’t even there, and I don’t think Desdemona would know how to tamper with it in a way that Master Wright wouldn’t recognize.”

“But Wright junior had everything to gain from his father’s success, financially speaking,” Dash said.

“A crime of passion?” Margot guessed.

“Tampering requires a bit of forethought and the nerve to follow through with a plan. Hard to pull off in the spur of the moment.”

Margot spun water between her fingers. She hated even to think it, but there was one possibility they hadn’t yet addressed. “Abigail knew.”

“Tobe says her work checks out,” Dash said.

Margot bit her lip. “I know she says that she’s lost her magic, but what if that isn’t true? It would take seconds to Teleport to and from the mage’s conference without being missed. It would take some serious firepower, but Abigail knows the mechanics of Teleportation better than anyone who isn’t her father.”

Dash cracked an eyelid. “Do you really think that, Prof?”

“I don’t want to believe it,” Margot said. “But I can’t see how else it could be done.”

She let the globe of water settle in her palm, the events of the mage’s conference replaying in her mind over and again as she tried to come up with something that would put this case to rest once and for all. She remembered Master Wright’s curt dismissal, him reading the equation from his notebook to activate the rings, even the lump of graphite that would be used in the experiment—no bigger than the water she held now.

Was it Abigail? Of the Wright siblings she held the least vitriol towards her father, though his actions had affected her most of all. Was it possible she had been working together with Desdemona all along? Desdemona alone admitted she wanted revenge for what Master Wright had done to her sister. Was it possible she had bullied Abigail into tampering with his equation?

Or perhaps it was Felix, fed up after years of being looked down upon for not pursuing his Mastery. He was, after all, the one member of the family who spent the most time with Master Wright in the present day.

Margot would be the first to admit that she didn’t see how Adeline could have played a part in her husband’s demise, but she couldn’t rule out the possibility that the Wright matriarch had arranged for someone to do her dirty work for her. The marriage was an unhappy one, and they had quarreled before Master Wright left for the conference.

Something didn’t sit right, a niggling suspicion that Margot couldn’t quite place. Something about the facts didn’t line up, but the more Margot tried to grasp for it the farther it seemed to slip from her grasp.

Margot supposed that part of her problem was that she was having a difficult time distancing herself from the facts of the case. Magic should be used to help people, and in his selfishness Master Wright had hurt the people closest to him in a terrible way, never acknowledging his mistakes or taking action to correct them.

It wasn’t right. None of it was.

Disgusted, Margot threw down her globe of water, and then froze as the pieces of the disparaging puzzle came together with an almost audible click.

“Dash?”

“Yeah, Prof?”

“I think I know what happened.”

Slowly Dash raised his head. “That’s funny, because I was about ready to say the same thing.”

#daughter of the lilies #daughter of the lilies fanfiction #creative-type writes #margot #fanfiction #dotl fanfiction #The Murder of Arthur Wright

[justanoutlawfic]

Unchained Melody: An OQ Fic

Summary: Regina is dragged to a psychic by her friend, where it's told she'll end up with a man with the lion tattoo. She thinks it's bull...until her jog goes awry.

My Love From OQ gift to JcmylsKatia! Happy Valentine's Day everyone. A playlist for this fic.

Also on AO3

“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.”-Roald Dahl

 Fairytale Visions was at the very end of Main Street. It was so far off that some people didn’t really count it as part of the strip, Regina certainly didn’t. She had only looked at the shop once since she moved to town and from the sign, she first assumed it to be an eye doctor. Then she caught wind of the neon signs in the windows. One read “Tarot Cards” while the other proudly proclaimed that it was a psychic shop. There were green felt curtain pulled down, so one couldn’t see inside. The only way one could tell if it was open or not, was the sign that hung above the door.

 Regina didn’t believe in psychics. She had grown up in New York City, where they were on almost ever corner, same as Starbucks. Her mother had always turned her nose up at them.

 “They can’t tell your future,” Cora Mills told her daughter when she was barely old enough to read the signs. “Only you can build it.”

 That was the philosophy Regina had stuck with for a majority of her life. She got good grades in school and did lots of volunteer work, which opened the doors to a scholarship at Columbia University. Lots of hard work and dedication gave her a degree in business and marketing. She worked her butt off as the assistant to Raymond Gold, who owned a successful chain of jewelry stores scattered throughout the United States. It was all of that, that landed her on the marketing team of a boutique that ran out of the small town in Maine.

 Yes, Regina hadn’t gotten her life by magic. She had built herself up and was proud of that. The only thing missing in her life, was a partner. She had a fiancé, a man she loved, but he had passed away not long after he proposed. It had crushed her heart, but it had also been ten years since and she was ready to move on. There had been several relationships in New York, but they all failed. She had done the dating app thing for a few months, but after the second Catfish, she deleted all of those.

 All of that was how she found herself being dragged to Fairytale Visions by her new co-worker, Mary Margaret Blanchard. Mary Margaret talked a lot, was very bubbly and always had a smile on her face-even when their hard ass boss was yelling at them. She was nothing like the people Regina knew in New York and that made her intriguing. They had been having lunch together ever since Regina started out at the company. That slowly lead to drinks after work and a few girls’ nights. Regina was starting to consider her a friend.

 Until Mary Margaret insisted they had a physic tell them their futures.

“This is stupid,” Regina grumbled as they climbed out of the car. “She’s probably a huge scam artist.”

“Maybe she is, or maybe she’ll tell us who we’ll end up with, what our futures will be like.” Mary Margaret clasped her hands together, a dreamy look on her face.

“We decide our own destiny,” Regina said, a little scared of how much she sounded like Cora in that moment.

“Maybe so, but this will be fun. Come on, Regina. I told you I’m paying for it.”

“That’s the only reason I decided to come along,” she grumbled.

Mary Margaret chuckled, linking arms with her. “Let’s go in.”

 A little bell dinged as they stepped inside, the smell of incense filled Regina’s nostrils. She was mid-sneeze when a short blonde approached them.

“Bless you,” she said, her British accent thick.

Regina nodded, sniffling a bit. “Thanks.” She took the woman in. A dress that matched both the fabric and the color of the drapes clung tightly to her body and her frizzy hair was pulled back into a bun with a matching green kerchief.

“I’m Regina, that’s Mary Margaret,” she gestured to her co-worker.

“Tink,” the woman replied.

Regina tilted her head. “Tink? Like…”

“We’re not here to learn about me,” Tink interrupted with a wave of the hand. “What are you two here for today? Palm reading? Tea leaves?”

“Just regular readings,” Mary Margaret said, cheerily.

“Great. That’ll be $120 each.”

 Regina glanced over at Mary Margaret, who was happily handing over her credit card to the woman they just met. Money wasn’t an issue for her, but she could think of many other things Mary Margaret could buy with that a hundred dollars. For one, there was a really great shoe sale at the local mall…

Tink ran through their payments and then clasped her hands together. “Alright, who will go first?”

“Regina,” Mary Margaret said.

“Oh, no. You’re the one that wanted to come here.”

“I can wait.”

 Regina rolled her eyes, but followed Tink through the beaded curtains that lead to her back room. There was a card table set up, with a large bureau pushed against the wall that had at least a hundred drawers. Each was labeled with things like “crystals” or “cards”. There was no crystal ball or any of the typical movie cliché things that Regina had grown to expect. Even so, she still wasn’t buying it.

 “You think I’m a crock,” Tink said, as they settled down at the table.

“Gee, you read minds or something?”

“Your energy makes it obvious.”

“Look, I grew up in New York. You people are a dime a dozen, just looking for a quick buck. There’s no such thing as predicting the future, you have to build it on your own.”

“Wouldn’t it be helpful to know what you’re building towards?”

“Whatever you say.”

“You have to believe, even a little bit or you wouldn’t be here.”

 Regina didn’t respond and Tink smiled, before shutting her eyes.

 “You’ve got a lot of success headed your way.”

“Yeah, because that’s not vague at all,” Regina mumbled.

Tink ignored her, rolling forward as if she hadn’t even spoke. “You’re not going to be alone, though. There will be someone by your side, a man.”

“The odds of marriage in this country are exceptionally high.”

Once again, her snarky remarks fell on deaf ears. “The man will be a challenge for you. You wo are so different, yet you’ll be able to match him snark for snark. Sandy blonde hair, dimples and blue eyes, they’re so handsome. I see him standing by your side, wearing a suit.”

“Let me guess, at our wedding?”

“No, I can’t tell the exact occasion, but you are definitely not wearing white. He’s a bit warm, so he rolls up his sleeve and reveals…oh, he has a lion tattoo.”

Regina cocked an eyebrow. “A lion tattoo?” That was less random. At the same time, Tink could be pulling crap out of her ass.

“Yes, it’s a silhouette, penned in black ink, on his forearm. A bit faded, so he’s clearly had it for a while.”

 Her words left Regina with a warm feeling in her stomach, until she shook it off. This was just for fun. What were the odds that the man she would one day marry have such a tattoo?

Robin sat in the parlor, the sketch gripped firmly in his hands. He had always been put off by the idea of getting one, but he knew that the page wouldn’t stay preserved for long. He was lucky that in between his move across the pond, it didn’t get wrinkled. Somehow, this picture had survived a lot. First, the rainstorm the night after Marian drew it for him. Next, it somehow escaped the fire that took her life. He had it in his bag when he took his citizenship test and passed with flying colors.

 He didn’t believe in luck, that was silly. A lion stood for bravery and that was what Robin felt whenever he looked at the picture. He was reminded of the man that Marian had wanted him to be. It was the man that he wanted himself to be. After years of not knowing what he wanted to do with his life, there had only ever been one thing that remained the same: he wanted to be brave, daring. Marian had always joked that he was a lionheart. Sometimes, she’d even call him Richard instead of Robin.

 That was going to be what they named their son, had they ever gotten the chance.

 “Are you sure you want to do this?” Killian asked from his spot beside Robin. “It’s gonna hurt. Especially where you want it.”

Robin gestured to Killian’s own forearm tattoo. The two had met in a grief group and the first thing Robin had noticed about his friend, was heart with the dagger through it that contained Milah’s name. “You would know.”

“Aye, and I don’t regret mine. When I look at it, she feels closer to me.”

“Well, this is going to help me feel closer to Marian. She drew this for me.”

“You could just get her name.”

“Marian hated those. She always said, what if you met someone else?”

“If I meet someone that can’t accept Milah, then I don’t want her around.”

“Well, this is what Marian would’ve wanted. More importantly, it’s what I want.”

“So long as your sure. These things are a lifetime commitment and they hurt like a motherfucker.”

“I’m sure. Trust me.”

 The owner of the shop, August, followed his previous customer out the back. He turned to Killian, a smile on his face. He had done all of his tattoos, from the Milah one to the anchor on his abs.

 “So, what are we doing today?” He asked.

“It’s not for me,” Killian replied. “My buddy Robin, here.”

Robin stood up, extending the paper to August. “Think you could do something like this?”

August studied it for a moment. “Where would you want it?”

“My forearm.”

“I’d have to shrink the image a bit, but then I’d be able to trace it.”

A smile fell over Robin’s face. “That’d be awesome.”

 He returned the following day with Killian. His sleeve was rolled up and extended, ready to be inked. The sketch being copied onto his arm was the easy part, but soon a whirling sound filled his ears. Killian wasn’t lying, the needle hurt. The shading was especially painful, but he bit his lip and fought his way through it. Robin did his best to not look at his arm, the only signs of how much he had left was based off of Killian or August’s comments. He focused on the sheet of designs August posted on the wall for people to choose from if they didn’t have a basic idea. Two stuck out in particular, one being a crown and the other an apple. He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t break his eyes away.

 Finally, the needle turned off and he slipped his eyes down. It was a bit swollen and bruised, but there it was. The lion wasn’t even looking up at him, he looked like he was ready to attack. Robin smiled, wanting to touch it, but knowing better.

 “Ya know, they say lions are a sign of bravery,” August quipped.

“Yeah,” Robin said, the smile not leaving his face. “I’m aware.”

Fall turned to winter and soon that became spring. Regina was starting to forget all about Tink’s words. She hadn’t taken them seriously to begin with, but it was hard to not think about it when Mary Margaret kept going on and on about her own reading. Tink had told her that she would meet a farmer with golden locks. Regina wasn’t even sure if Storybrooke even had any farms, so she doubted that would happen. In time, it seemed that Mary Margaret had even forgotten Tink’s words or had realized that Tink was full of crap. Finally, their conversations could return to work and reality.

 Until Mary Margaret actually met a man named David in the spring. He had blonde hair, blue eyes and had grown up on a farm upstate, though he was now the town sheriff. Mary Margaret gloated the entire time to Regina, who just rolled her eyes.

 “It has to be a coincidence. Besides, she said you’d meet a farmer. Not a kid that grew up on a farm once,” she pointed out.

“You’re just jealous because your man hasn’t shown up yet. Who’d Tink say you’d end up with anyway?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

 She knew that if she told Mary Margaret, she’d do her best to play matchmaker. The last thing Regina needed was her best friend getting arrested for tracking down every man with a lion tattoo. Though, she supposed Mary Margaret’s new sheriff boyfriend would let her free for a few kisses.

 As spring was slowly melting into summer, Regina started to take up running again. Storybrooke was a little Hamlet, which meant there wasn’t much in the way of healthy eating. Her assistant often made Granny’s runs for her and it was showing in her midsection. She chose to take the path that went through the forest by her home. She didn’t have time in the mornings before work, so she chose to go in the afternoon. It was cooler by then anyway and she could get away with wearing a t-shirt and leggings, rather than her usual tank.

 One late Wednesday afternoon, she jogged down her usual path. The only sounds were those of the birds that chirped in the trees. Soon the crickets and the fireflies would be out, but she liked that about Storybrooke. In Manhattan, her jogging options had been limited to running around Central Park. There were way too many people there. It seemed like no one knew about her secret spot.

 That was until she felt something whizzing past her head. She ducked down, but in the process tripped over a rock she hadn’t noticed. Tumbling to the ground, she cursed herself, taking hold of her knee. Her mind only focused on the pain for a moment, until she heard a British accent.

 “Milady?”

 She slowly looked up and found an arm outreached to her. A tall man with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes stood before her, wearing a light sweatshirt and beat up jeans. Over his other shoulder was a bag filled with bows and arrows. Regina turned to look at the tree and saw an arrow sticking out from it. That must have been his doing.

 “You’re injured,” the mystery man continued when she didn’t speak, gesturing to the small amount of blood that could be seen through her white leggings.

“Well, that’d be your fault,” Regina grumbled. “And I’m fine.”

“A simple thank you would suffice.”

 Regina rolled her eyes, but allowed the man to help her up.

 “What the hell were you doing out here anyway?” She asked.

“I didn’t realize this wasn’t a public forest.”

Regina felt her eyes rolling once again. “I meant tossing arrows.”

“It’s called archery, my favorite pastime.”

“Especially when you try to kill joggers?”

“I didn’t realize you were coming. Besides, I have good aim. If I was trying to take your head off, you’d be dead by now.”

Regina crossed her arms over her chest, not sure why she had to fight off a smile. “I run every day after work and I’ve never seen you.”

“Normally I shoot when there’s better sun, but I got called into work.” His eyes floated back down to her knee. “Really, you should let me look at that.”

“Right, I trust the mysterious man with a bow.”

“What if I told you that I’m also a nurse at the pediatric office?” The man smiled, flashing her some dimples. “The name’s Robin.” He unzipped his sweatshirt a bit, revealing that he was wearing scrubs with little cartoon foxes beneath it. “I live close by.”

 Regina bit her lip, unsure of what to do. Just because he was a nurse, didn’t make him not a serial killer. He had nearly killed her after all. Yet, there was something about him. Regina was good at reading people and he didn’t seem like much of a threat.

 “Fine,” she said. “Just…don’t get in my way next time.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

 This time, Regina couldn’t help it, she was smiling. Limping a bit due to the pain, she followed Robin back to his cottage which was near the opposite clearing that she had come from. He helped her sit on the couch before leaving the room and returning a few moments later with a first aid kit. Slowly, he rolled up the pant leg and inspected the cut.

“Nothing major, won’t require stitches, just a bandage.”

“I figured.”

Robin grabbed hold of some wipes. “I’ve washed my hands, don’t worry. This may sting just a bit,” he warned, before cleaning the blood off her knee. She hissed a bit, but he pressed on. Reaching into his kit once more, he produced a bandage.

“Plain brown? I was expecting rainbows or unicorns.”

Robin chuckled. “Those I leave at work. I have this mostly for when my friend gets injured and he’s not exactly the unicorn type.” He pressed the bandage on. “There, all better.”

“Thank you.” Regina gave him a sincere smile. “I mean it, If I had walked all the way back to my house, I’d be in even more pain.”

“Yeah, you might want to rest that for a while. Let me fetch you some aspirin. You’re not allergic to anything are you?”

“Nope.”

 Robin disappeared, coming back with the two white pills and a small cup of water as promised. Regina downed it and he sat beside her.

 “I can’t believe you’d let me into your home,” Regina teased. “I could’ve been an evil killer.”

“I’m pretty good at reading people and I didn’t pick up on evil. Bold and audacious perhaps, but not evil.”

Regina smirked. “Fear is quite an effective tool, it’s served me well in the past.”

 Robin stared at her for a moment and she couldn’t believe she felt the warm feeling come to her stomach. She hadn’t realized just how handsome he was, up until that moment. How could she be feeling this way about a man she just met? Much less one that smelled of forest and  could’ve killed her if his aim hadn’t been as good.

 “I would like to make this up to you, truly,” Robin said, after a few beats of silence.

“You nursed me back to health.”

“Even so. I have a feeling whisky might make up for it. Not today, obviously, as I’ve just given you some medicine…but maybe some other time.”

“Are you asking me out?” Regina asked, raising an eyebrow.

“If I were, what would you say?”

“That you’re crazy…but, also yes.”

Regina found herself outside The Rabbit Hole the following day after work. She had to rush to meet Robin, so she was still in her black dress that she had worn to woo some clients. Her usual grey jacket had been paired with it, so for some color she threw on a blue scarf she had found in her car. She watched as a brown truck parked behind her Mercedes and Robin stepped out. He wore a green long sleeved t-shirt and once again, some beat up jeans. She felt terribly overdressed, suddenly.

 Robin walked over, his dimples showing when he smiled. “You look beautiful,” he said. “How’s the knee?”

“Much better. I was able to stand at my meeting today with no problems.”

He looked down at her shoes and chuckled. “In heels no less. Brave woman.”

“You could say that.”

“Ready for our drink?”

“Oh, yes.”

 She followed him into the bar, which was quiet given that it was only six o’clock. The daytime drunks had stumbled home to their wives and the partiers wouldn’t come out until nine at the earliest. They ordered some appetizers to go with their drinks, before being left alone to wait in silence.

 “So, you said you had a meeting?” Robin asked. “What is it that you do?”

“I’m in marketing for Glass Slipper Boutiques.”

“Upscale place, some of the richer patients shop there.”

“It’s not really my style, but it’s a great company for the most part. The boss can be a bit harsh at times, but is that any different?”

“Mine is a total sleaze.” Robin rolled his eyes. “Always hitting on the moms, makes inappropriate jokes around the kids.”

“Yet he still has a practice?”

“One of the few pediatricians in Storybrooke.”

“Pitfall of a small town.”

“Did you grow up here?”

“No, New York City. You’re from England, I suppose.”

“Southport to be specific.”

“When’d you move to the states?”

“Four years ago, after my wife passed.”

Regina frowned. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. Like I said, it’s been four years.”

“I lost my fiancé as well, not long after he proposed.”

“The pain never goes away, huh?”

“Not really.”

 The bartender returned, placing the drinks down and promising their appetizers would be out soon. Robin picked up one of the glasses, extending it to Regina.

“To new beginnings.”

 Regina went to take it, when she realized that his sleeve had rode up a bit which revealed a tattoo on his forearm. More specifically, a lion tattoo.

 “Oh, he has a lion tattoo.”

 It was the first time that Regina had thought about the physic in weeks and yet, there it was. Her eyes stayed trained on it, as her heart picked up. No, this didn’t make any sense. She had gone to appease Mary Margaret, that was all. Tink was a crock, nothing she said was accurate…right?

 Except there were other things she had said as well.

 “The man will be a challenge for you. You wo are so different, yet you’ll be able to match him snark for snark. Sandy blonde hair, dimples and blue eyes, they’re so handsome.”

 Robin matched the physical description and for the whole 24 hours she had known him, half of their conversation had been based on wit.

 No, no, this couldn’t be happening. Had Mary Margaret gone back to Tink and pressed her for information? This had to be a set-up of some kind. Yet, Robin seemed equally as surprised by their meeting as she had. Could it all really be a coincidence?

 “Are you alright?” Robin’s words snapped her out of it and she looked up into his concerned gaze. “It’s just alcohol, it’s not going to bite.”

 Regina carefully accepted it, taking a large sip. She sure as hell was going to need it.

Regina was hesitant to continue the relationship with Robin, yet somehow found herself unable to stay away. They set up dates when they could, varying from going back to the bar to even venturing out of town so she could eat something else besides Granny’s. By fall, they were popping into each other’s work to surprise their partner for lunch. Robin even met Mary Margaret and David, the former of which was clearly surprised by the situation. Regina then knew that her friend had nothing to do with it. Mary Margaret couldn’t keep a secret to save her life and if this had truly been her handywork, she would’ve been bragging for days.

Still, Regina wondered how it was possible. Was it really a coincide? How many men like Robin were out there? In the time between seeing Tink and meeting him, she had come across tons of blondes, but none with the distinctive tattoo.

 She found herself falling more for him by the day. Things progressed so quickly, that he came down to New York with her for Christmas so he could meet her parents. Cora was standoffish, as usual, but Henry welcomed him with open arms. While there, Cora invited them to attend a winter gala at her work. Regina had told Robin they didn’t have to go, but he insisted that they would have fun.

 The night of the gala, Regina put on the red dress that her old college roommate Belle had selected for her. Her husband would be attending and Belle had found a beautiful emerald dress to wear. She assured Regina it’d be like their sorority days, wearing matching things to parties. So, Regina had agreed and told her to just get whatever she was getting in a different color.

 The dress was red, with sequins on the neckline, sleeves and belt around the waist. She had to admit, the dress looked nice. Next to Belle it’d look like they were purposefully trying to meet the Christmas theme, but she didn’t care. For the first time since Daniel, she had a date she actually wanted at her mother’s gala.

 Cora insisted on making an entrance with her daughter, so she had the boys go first and they met them there. Regina watched as her mother headed down the steps, all eyes on her out of fear rather than her beauty. Once she had reached the bottom, Regina walked down and found her eyes solely on Robin. The way he looked at her, she hadn’t had a man look at her in such a way in such a long time.

 She got to the bottom and kissed her father’s cheek before turning to Robin, who pulled her into his arms for a quick kiss.

 “You look radiant,” he whispered.

“As do you.”

 She took her place by his side so Cora could make her speech. As her mother spoke, Robin rolled up his sleeves a tad, revealing the tattoo. That was the first time Regina considered telling him about Tink.

After their holiday in Manhattan, Regina and Robin were clearly reaching the next level of their relationship. They were 8 months in and she could feel “I love you” on the tip of her tongue. It was real, all of it. Whether Tink had been right or just guessing, she had found the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

 They had agreed on an indoor fireside picnic at her house for Valentine’s Day. Regina was looking through the wine selections at the store, when she heard a familiar voice.

 “I remember you.” Regina turned to find Tink standing there. For a small town, she had somehow not seen her since the day of her reading. “You were the skeptic.”

Regina laughed. “Hard to believe I’m the only one.”

“You just have one of those faces. Besides, I ran into your friend the other day and she couldn’t stop thanking me. Guess I was right about her. Was I with you?”

Regina paused, wondering if she should give Tink credit. After all, it could just be a coincidence. “I’ve met someone, yes.”

“And does he have a lion tattoo.”

There was a beat of silence. “Yes, he does.”

Tink grinned. “Well, guess I’m not a crock after all.”

“Be straight with me,” Regina said. “Can you really see the future?”

“What do you think?”

“The readings you gave us were so vague and yet…they actually happened. Still, it could all boil down in coincidence.”

“Nothing in life is a coincidence, my darling. You can believe what you want, but from the look in your eye, you’ve found a soulmate.”

“I never…”

“You were right about one thing, though. We’re all responsible for our own futures. Sure, I told you what would happen in your own, but it is up to the two of you make it last.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question. Are you real?”

“Now if I told you…would I really stay in business for long?”

 Before Regina could respond, Tink walked away. Regina stared after her, unsure of what she believed…when it came to the mysterious woman’s abilities that was. Tink was right. Whether or not she really could see the future, Regina still had to do the work.

 That night, she sat by the fireplace with Robin, their picnic assembled. The two clinked their wine glasses before taking sips and sharing a kiss. She cupped his cheeks as they pulled away, staring into his eyes for the millionth time that evening.

 “What is it?” He asked.

“I just never thought I’d have this,” she answered, truthfully, pulling her hands away.

“After I lost my wife, I felt like that for a long time. When I finally realized she wasn’t coming back, however, I was able to let go. Now, I have you.” He stroked her cheek.

Regina nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. “Do you believe in fate?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. Do you believe that we all have soulmates out there, waiting for us? That some people are able to tell that?”

Robin tilted his head. “Are you asking if I believe in physics?”

“Yes.”

“Well…I believe that there are people out there that want to scam others and prey on the weak, the desperate. But I also like to think that it’s possible, that there are those that could help guide those to who they belong to. Why do you ask?”

 Regina let out a deep breath. It had been over a year since she met Tink and outside Mary Margaret, she had spoken of it with no one. Heck, even her friend didn’t know what the psychic had told her.

 “Months before I met you, Mary Margaret dragged me to a psychic. I didn’t believe in it, but she was so insistent. There, the woman, Tink…she told me it was possible. She told me I’d love again. She read my future and she told me…about this man I was destined to be with.”

  A smile tugged on Regina’s lips, thinking back to how impossible it all seemed back then.

 “She told me that he was tall, blonde with blue eyes. That he could match my snark and most of all, he had a tattoo.” She grabbed hold of his arm and pushed up his sweater. “A lion tattoo.”

Robin looked from it, back up at her, a bit surprised. “It was me?”

“I never saw anything she did, but yes. I do believe she saw you.” The smile slowly left her face as a bit of nervousness came to it, scared he would run out screaming. “I didn’t seek you out, because I didn’t think it was real. Hell, I’m still not sure.”

 There was a beat of silence, which only added to Regina’s growing anxiety. She sounded like a crazy person, she was sure of it. Slowly, a smile formed on Robin’s face. Much to Regina’s relief, he didn’t look like he thought she was crazy for possibly believing Tink. “

 “Well, maybe things work out when they’re supposed to,” he said. His hand cupped her cheek once more, pushing some hair out of the way. “Maybe it’s all about timing.”

“You don’t think I sound crazy?”

“I don’t know if I believe this Tink or not. What I do know, is that what I’ve felt with you these past 8 months is very real, Regina. So, whether we’re soulmates or not…I know that I love you.”

Regina smiled. “I love you too.”

 She leaned in and kissed him. It lingered for a long while, until they had to pull away for air.

 “Did this woman say anything about having sex by the fire?” Robin murmured into her ear.

Regina laughed. “No, but I do know that life is all about making your own fate.”

#love from oq #outlaw queen #outlaw queen au #oq #oq au #regina mills #robin hood #ouat au