#he has OPINIONS from the wh aide work

[shini--chan]

Could I request flight and reaction from the headcannon lists for America, China, and Japan? I absolutely adore the way your characterization of them. Even though I don’t follow hetalia actively anymore I always find myself coming back to your work because I love their dynamics so much

Thank you for your kind words. One small thing though - the templates are to be requested as a whole and not mixed. Should have stated that more clearly in the info post and will update it after this.

This one is about America, I'll be posting the China and Japan ones seperately.

Yandere Character Sheet II

1p America - Alfred F. Jones

Blend in - Are the red flags obvious? Are they even aware that their behaviour is wrong? Do they even care?

When it comes down to it, Alfred fully buys into the trope of American exceptionalism fully. So much so, that he is bristling with self confidence and charm to the point where you'll probably overlook or even justify his more … unorthodox behaviour until it is too late. That is, if you don't hate him or a die hard realist. Or hold fast to some ideology that depicts him in a bad light. 

As per usual, the warning signs will all be very noticeable in hindsight. Though, if you are astute enough, you'll consciously catch on to some of them early on. Else, you'll occasionally be plagued by a feeling of something just not being right. Some of the red flags are:

He limits who you are allowed to talk to. At times, America can have a very black-and-white world view. Of course, he is the good guy and everything is just and moral. Even when he dirties his hands, it is all for the greater good. Thus, the bad guys are all those that don't fall in the neat lines of his high end morality. You are not allowed to talk to them, or even hear them speak, or else they will corrupt you. The only case he'll make an exception is if you are itching to join him on his crusade to either redeem them or defeat them.

Along the same vein - he is very resistant to criticism. At times, he internalises the saying "America is the best country on Earth" a bit too much. On mundane things he can very well take your feedback with grace. He is even open to pondering on concepts that are alien to him, if he is in a good mood. Though, if you try to change his opinion on something like his moral code or the lifestyle he is currently pursuing, then you'll find yourself running against a brick wall. It takes very long for him to admit to being the bad guy in something, or even just to being wrong. And even then, he'll try to sugarcoat it as much as possible.

Again in the same category - he can be controlling of the media you consume. Think about those hard right wing evangelists that think watching certain movies makes you gay. He might allow you to watch a series or read a book that he considers despicable, but only if you have a certain opinion on it. 

He always wants to know where you are or what you are doing. He'll frame it so that he comes off as the concerned boyfriend, or explain it as having had bad experiences with people in the past. Both will be true, but what is also true is that he is possessive and controlling. 

America is a sore loser, a very sore loser. He is neigh incapable of tolerating somebody being better than him. Hell, he even has difficulties in tolerating somebody being equally good as him in something he deems important. You are no exception here, no matter how much he “loves” you. 

Perhaps in the odd moment of deeper introspection Alfred will admit that what he is doing is wrong. However, he'll be quick to brush it off as "the ends justify the means". Though, if pushed far he'll break down and sink into deep shame, then trying desperately to right all his wrongs. That is, if he doesn't bury himself in copious self-righteousness and toxic self-interest beforehand. 

Compatriot - Who aids them? Who condemns them? Are there ways you can convince their friends/colleges/underlings to help you? 

Alfred has three types of people who aid him. First are the sycophants, those the hang onto his every word and laud and applaud whatever he does. Maybe their livelihood depends on him, or they are desperate to get in his good books. Eitherway, they'll treat his every whim as an order, morals be damned. Their opinion on his treatment of you doesn't matter at all in that case, what matters is that they'll act in his interests.

Second, are those that are genuinely on his side, that share his view of god and the world. These are the people that might chide him for his treatment of you at times. That being said, if you act like you are a happy couple, you'll also be treated as such and they'll turn a blind eye to all the red flags. 

Thirdy, there are the people that comply with him due to fear. Those that look at him and see the boy king that dropped two atomic bombs on Japan and showed no remorse afterwards. These are the people he has a gun pointed at, be it literally or figuratively. They will comply with Alfred if he calls on them, but they won't be enthusiastic about it. They might even try to discreetly help you.

As to those that condemn him - they are many in number, though only few will be overt about it. Alfred has a tendency to steamroll over other people to get what he wants. His tendency to selfishness has won him many enemies and thus there are quite a few people that are willing to help you. Now, a lot of the time their feelings and opinion of you won't matter, they just want a chance to pay America back for all the injustices it has inflicted on them, perhaps even with interest. In that way, you won't have much convincing to do.

Though when it comes to those that submit to him - either bribery or tricking them will work. Or you can convince them to help you if the blame for your escape can be shifted onto somebody else, or if the situation can be framed to make it look like you managed to flee entirely on your own. Concerning those that are loyal to him - in some select cases you can succeed in getting away by appealing to their own self interest or, again, by tricking them. However, there are also those amongst his circle of confidents that don't see him as a demigod and still side with him. When it comes to that sort, you can convince them that Alfred is sick in the head and that the only way to cure him is to remove you from his side, and then they'll orchestrate events to make that happen.

America's politicians and other high class people may also decide to step in if they think that Alfred is becoming too distracted because of his "relationship" with you or if he causes an aggrievious international incident. Watch out, though! Poor communication kills. If you don't convey your intentions or matters go haywire, they might decide that the best way to deal with the problem would be a bullet to the brain. 

Dominion - What actions are especially pleasing to them?

On a large part, Alfred wants to have the American dream for himself, even if his version of it isn't quite as humble. He wants to come home to you showering him with affection and doting on him and catering to his needs. But above all, Alfred wants you to elevate any boredom that he might feel. 

In any case, he would rather be frustrated or angry with you than bored. That being said, you'll want to avoid him falling into either state. 

Travel with him abroad, introduce him to new cultures if you can. Engage him in debates, do sports with him. Though, if you don't want to play a (sports) game with him, he does expect you to be on the sidelines and cheer him on as he plays. He is always up for new movies or series, or he'll allow you to drag him to a library or a comic store. Alfred also believes in being a self made person, so if you have ambitions or interests (as long as it's something he is ok with) he'll gladly help you on your personal journey. Be careful, though - he might end up shaping you more than you shape yourself. 

Aside from a very active leisure time, he wants you to be a loyal and caring spouse. Cook his meals and give him massages, ask about his day and don't start fights (he'll always be the one to end them, and at times, it will be anything but pretty). If you behave well, he'll let you out, maybe even take you to a party or even another country with him. 

Flight - What do you have to do in order to escape them?

This is actually a tricky question to answer. You see, Alfred is big on security but also a short term thinker. Either way, what you must do to slip out of his grasp is also largely dependent on your relationship with him before escaping. 

If has to drag you into his house kicking and screaming, then it will make things a lot more difficult. He’ll be expecting you to make a break for it, and will devise certain ways to break your will. You might think that your personality might be important to him, but that is only partially true; he is far more enamoured with the idea of who you can be for him than who you are. Alfred has a picture in mind of who you can be, the best version of you, in his not so humble opinion and if he has to play cat-and-mouse games to help you reach that goal, then so be it. 

Most of the time, he’ll keep you under lock and key - you would have to be very clever and skillful or have help to escape then. Though there will be instances where he’ll play release and catch with you - he’ll allow you to escape under controlled conditions only to capture you and haul you back home. This would be to drive the point home that you can’t evade him forever. 

The more you are inclined towards him, the more freedoms he’ll allow you; that is, if there is no danger of you stealing the spotlight from him. That being said, he’ll still keep a close eye on you - your phone will be checked on regular intervals and he’ll use it to track you. All your financial transactions (insofar as they are digital or per card) will be monitored and he'll do background checks on everybody you interact with on a regular or semi-regular basis. 

In general, it has to be said that he isn’t omnipotent or infallible, even if he tries to showcase himself at times. There will be moments where he slips up, mistakes that he overlooks. In total, he is a short-term thinker and emotionally charged. If you can get him to trip over his own lines (and it is easier than you might think) then you can go galavanting away. 

Hospitality - What is your life like with them? How much does it deviate from your former life?

This is a fort where Alfred loves to show off - anything you want, just say it, and he’ll already be pulling out his wallet. He won’t hesitate to have you settled in a pent house or a mansion and have you wine and dine. For him, this is also a way to tie you to his side - isn’t personal security more comfortable and important than freedom, eh? If you want for nothing because he gives everything you are allowed to want to you, then why should you try to flee. 

Aside from that, he won’t keep you in one place for a long time. Alfred wants to be the only real constant in your life and one way through which he shall achieve this would be to uproot you every now and then. It would also have the dual purpose of making it very difficult for you to plan an escape. In the same vein, he prefers his life to be eventful, and that will be reflected in his relationship with you. In the minor cases, it is small projects and that goes up to the major cases, that are historic events. Longer times of peace or monotony make him antsy and more prone to doing something impulsive. If you aren’t involved in all the drama and action, then you’ll be regaled with hour long stories of it. 

In that way, you have less peace and quiet than in your former life and also less privacy, because he tends to use you as a cure for boredom and restlessness. At times you’ll ask yourself if he sees you more as a doll than a person with agency. 

Since he also has many enemies, you might find yourself in the crosshairs because of him. In comparison to Alfred, you are probably the weak link (or he at least does his best to frame it that way to other people) so you’ll be targeted in order to hurt him. That way, you might find yourself kidnapped, threatened and tortured. And all of this would be followed by Alfred going on a rampage in order to rescue you. A lot of blood will be spilled and all because of you. 

Afterwards, he’ll just want to lie in your arms, maybe have sex, just imitating what all those movie characters do after a successful mission. Generally, he wishes for you to worship the ground that he walks upon - while he can live with your ire and hatred, it won’t be a smooth, nice ride for either of you if that is the case. If it is the case, then you have to be moulded into shape. 

It would be re-educated, but he would never use that word for what he is doing to you; it is such an ugly word, a communist word, a communist principle as how could he ever do such a thing. Instead, it would be redeeming you, bring you on the right path. In truth, he has just watched too many Hollywood movies and doesn’t know when to take a no. It would be a matter of chipping away at your resistance, carving away the hard exterior shell you erected to keep him out, to reach the soft core. 

Order - What are the rules you have to adhere to?

He doesn’t like to call them rules, since it just makes it seem like he is oppressive. Understandings? Manner? Either of them would be better words in his mind. At the root of everything, this mindset stems from the belief that you know what is proper and good. There are a few lines in the sand that he’ll point out, but for the most part he’ll assume you know what the laws of the land are. 

If you don’t have something nice to say, then don’t say it at all. The exception to this rule is if you are verbally tearing down some miscreant. Else, you are to sugar, spice and everything nice towards him. Sassiness is welcomed though, but no in excessive amounts. He is the sort of person to casually say that he likes somebody with an attitude though that only goes as far as that you provide him with a challenge - he kind of likes the idea of "taming" a partner.

Don't talk smack about me to other people. This rule is partially because he cares a lot about how others perceive him and because he doesn't want somebody intervening. Besides, your actions reflect onto him and he doesn't want you to shine a bad light on him just because you can't get your act together when other people are around. He considers the low points of your relationship as something that should remain between the two of you. 

I provide you with food and a roof over your head, so you listen to him. In some ways, he is downright paternalistic - this is only one of them. In any case, he earns more than you, pays when you eat out and the deal for house ownership has his signature on it. He is for equality insofar as it doesn't upset his position of power. So, it is his house and his rules and you are to treat him as your Lord and Saviour along with granting him all the privileges that come with such a position. 

Don't try to get third parties involved in our stuff. Reflecting on one of the above rules here. That being said, what would really get his blood boiling would be if you involve some uppity politician in affairs that are between you and him. He is wary of his own politicians and the sentiment to foreign lawmakers is even worse, so if you get one of them on board then the blood sports will commence. 

There are many more rules, spoken as well as unspoken, but we'll just leave it at that for now.

Rehabilitation - How much will they change you? Will they break you? How much therapy would you need in the event that you get rid of them? 

He'll change you to fit the romanticised version of you that he has in his mind's eye and he wouldn’t shy away from more unsavoury means if he thinks they are necessary. In that sense, you might have to undergo severe therapy and deconstruct the mould he pressed you in and reconstruct your personality. 

Or it could be that you bury your actual persona so deep in your subconscious, that you have moments of derealisation and have to slowly be coaxed out of the cocoon you wrapped yourself in. If you put up a pretty hefty fight, then he might even brainwash you in the truest sense of the word (putting you in a moment of existential distress and then forming you to his liking) and if that is the case, some deprogramming such as is necessary for ex-cult member might on the table. 

Aside from that, you’ll need to learn how to be independent again, learn how to provide for yourself and put your own food on the table, how to think for yourself and not in the tight frame he imposed on you. Time far away in another country with differing cultural and moral framework might be helpful then. 

And even after that, you'll be paranoid,  it through constantly fearing being tracked via your phone or having somebody physically watching your every move. It will take a lot to calm you down and you would be in danger of resorting to drugs to ease your fear and emotional pain.

Zeal - Do they fall fast or slow? What is their reaction to their own feelings?

Alfred is inclined to take this relatively fast once he is sure of his feelings for you; it is the stage before that. At times, he can be really emotionally constipated, though not to the degree his father can be. It is just that he has so much on his plate and while he has a warm and pleasant exterior though it actually takes a bit before a real emotional connection is established. Even then, he would be careful to place his full trust in you. If anything, being trusted by him would only come after years of proving yourself and even then, he would still hold something over your head to "motivate" you to not double cross him. 

As for how he reacts to his own feelings - he is as rash and impulsive as you probably assume he'll be. Being in love is a pleasure for him and he is prone to taking things too fast. Chances are that he'll be suffocating in his affections at first, if he can get away with it. Once he realises that his feelings run even deeper than mere infatuation, he might stop for a moment and conduct some introspection. Said introspection will seldom be self-critical, however, and is more to assess what might work with you and how far he wishes to go with you, rather than anything concerning ethics. 

Art is not mine

#yandere hetalia #yandere x reader #yandere america #yandere character sheet #x reader #yandere

[mythical-lotus]

This is a thought I had about God of War Ragnarok that I feel like I've not seen anyone else discuss but has plagued my mind since it ended. Everyone - characters and players alike - seem to forget that Brok accepted his death at Odin's hand.

Let me elaborate.

Brok (and Sindri) built Mjolnir for Thor. He had worked with the Aesir in the past. And, upon seeing the horrible destruction wrought from the hammer, created the Leviathan Axe for Faye. He was also a dwarf, and while we may not know the exact timeline of Asgard's occupation, he is obviously well aware of what Odin did in his home realm - specifically to what happened to dwarves who attempted revolution or other uprising.

The point is, Brok was very aware of what Odin and Asgard were like when he decided to help Kratos and Atreus.

Now, on to Post-Brok's death.

Obviously Sindri is heartbroken, and I cannot blame him for his anger against Atreus and Kratos in any way at this point in time. They were the people who effectively recruited Brok and Sindri into the protagonists' group, and even if the two dwarves were happy to do it, Kratos and Atreus were still the ones who asked them to. Brok's death resulted from that request.

But it was still Brok's informed and willing choice.

To quote Freya from God of War 2018, "I put my needs, my fears before [Baldur's] own." And that feels very much like what Sindri has done with Brok in my opinion.

When Brok originally died in the forge, Sindri saved him but refused to tell Brok what happened and in turn caused their split. When he died a second time by Odin's hand, Sindri came to blame Atreus (and to some extent the others), regardless of Brok's agency and knowledge of what he was getting into. Brok knew that they were heading towards Ragnarok and feasibly their deaths. He obviously didn't want to die, but he openly accepted the risks that came with aiding Atreus.

Sindri placed his own fear of being alone above the desires of Brok to know how he died and to help with Ragnarok.

I should add here that it's one thing for Sindri to blame Atreus initially, because he was grieving the death of his beloved brother and literally about to go to war. I won't blame him for that.

But, given what's been set up in the games, Sindri will probably continue to be antagonistic. And, if he continues to blame Atreus for what happened to Brok - it will draw an interesting parallel to Kratos and Freya in my opinion.

One party blaming the other for the death of a loved one that was partially the blamed person's fault, while the true culprit (Odin in both cases) is left unacknowledged. In the first case, Odin is ignored because Freya could not get to him, but she could get to Kratos and blame him for Baldur's death. In the second case, Odin is already dead by Sindri's own hand, Brok's soul cannot be revived, and Sindri mostly lacks the power to do more that tell Atreus he hates him. There is no satisfying vengeance to Sindri's grief that hasn't already been achieved, which is why I think he'll be an antagonist in the future, since he's obviously still angry.

There's also a side-tangent I could write on - the fact that Sindri was sent to rally the dwarves against Asgard, but chose not to involve them during Ragnarok. Obviously it did successfully keep the dwarves safe, which was Sindri's intention - but it robbed them of their ability to fight for their freedom during Ragnarok (something they probably wanted to do very badly considering the rebellions talked about in the game), which is once again a parallel to Kratos, Freya, and Baldur's death.

We see it in almost every other aspect of the games' story. Atreus and Kratos lying or withholding details from each other - not maliciously, but with the intent to protect in a way that backfires (in both 2018 and Ragnarok). The same with Freya and Baldur (her protection spell driving him insane), and even with Thrud, Thor, and Sif (her mother claiming that Thrud can't be a Valkyrie because Sif is afraid of what Odin will make her do in that role, while Thor encourages it so that she might be strong enough to keep herself safe).

And finally, Sindri claiming that Brok's death was the fault of Atreus despite Brok's informed and willing choice to fight Odin, denying Brok agency over his choice to help, even in death.

A quote Kratos from God of War Ragnarok to sum this whole thing up, "I do not regret saving your life and never will. But the choice between life and death should have been yours to make. I should not have robbed you of that choice."

#damn that was long #god of war ragnarok #god of war #god of war ragnarok spoilers #god of war 2018 #atreus #freya #kratos #brok #sindri #brok and sindri #god of war baldur #god of war odin #yes i am tagging literally everything #i spent too long on this not to add tags #gaming discussion #is that a tag ppl use? idk #anyway happy reading

[cuttoothed]

Fic for day 3 of @jonmartinweek for the prompt "Healing & Recovery". We've all been saying jmart need a lot of therapy after the finale, so...yeah.

Disclaimer: I have never been to couple's therapy. I have done some reading on it, but this is not intended in any way to accurately reflect real world therapy practices. Please just assume that anything "off" is due to the way couple's therapy is practiced in AU-land (though of course feel free to let me know if you spot anything egregious).

*

“Why don’t you start,” Judith suggests, “By telling me about the incident?”

The two men on the sofa give her identical startled looks, as if she’s uncovered something incriminating. Martin seems to regain his composure first; he clears his throat, and his hand moves to cover Jon’s, unconsciously protective.

“Sorry, wh-what do you mean by “incident”?”

“For most couples who come to see me, there’s an...inciting incident,” Judith explains. “Something that makes them realize they could use some professional support to work through things. Of course any couple can benefit from seeing a therapist together on occasion, to deal with small issues before they become big ones. But, well, it’s the same way that everyone knows they should go for regular check ups with their GP rather than waiting until they actually get sick—it’s just not something most people get around to until they need it.”

She pauses to give them time to consider that, and after a moment Jon nods, looking mildly embarrassed.

“Right,” he says. “That’s, ah, I think that’s fair.”

“There are pretty strong extenuating circumstances, though,” Martin huffs defensively. “We didn’t exactly have the option for therapy in the a—wh-where we lived before.”

“It’s not intended as a criticism,” Judith tells him. “You’ve chosen to talk to a therapist, and that’s a big step—one that many people never take. You’re ahead of the curve, Martin.”

Martin looks mollified at that; he’s clearly a bit touchy about perceived criticisms of their relationship, and Judith doesn’t want to get him on the defensive. She gives them both an encouraging smile.

“So,” she says. “Is there an incident you’d like to talk about?”

The two of them look at each other expectantly, as if each is waiting for the other to start. After several long moments of silence, Jon raises his eyebrows meaningfully, and Martin sighs.

“Fine,” he says. “So, we, uh, we recently realized that our...garden was a-a bit of a mess. So we—Jon and I—we get together with our...housemates, to figure out what kind of flowers we should plant. Fuschias or—or hydrangeas. ”

He pauses to glance nervously at Jon, who gives him a reassuring nod, squeezing his hand.

Right, Judith thinks, This is probably not about flowers.

“We agree we all want fuschias,” Martin continues, “Except Jon—he wanted hydrangeas. But we took a vote, and it was fuschias.”

“Except of course most of our—our housemates weren’t there for that meeting,” Jon interjects, folding his arms across his chest.

“Yes, but we agreed we couldn’t wait to ask every single person,” Martin says sharply, back on the defensive. Jon’s brow furrows and his mouth opens as if to say something, but he changes his mind and shuts it again. Conflict aversion is one of the most common dysfunctions Judith sees in the couples she treats; very few people want to disagree with the person they love, and even fewer know how to have a constructive conflict. She makes a mental note of it for later.

“Go ahead, Martin,’ she suggests gently. Martin looks unhappy, but continues.

“So we agree to plant the fuschias the next day, but Jon—Jon sneaks out in the middle of the night and starts, uh, planting hydrangeas. Without telling anyone.”

Without telling me, Judith hears in his hurt tone. Jon’s arms are still folded, and he’s almost squirming in his seat with the effort to not interject; Judith decides it’s a good time to invite him into the story.

“Jon, why did you feel so strongly about the hydrangeas?”

“It’s—it wasn’t that I wanted hydrangeas, I just couldn’t a-accept the idea of—of fuchsias.”

“Couldn’t allow it, you mean,” Martin grumbles. Judith lets it pass and continues to focus on Jon.

“Why is that?”

“They, uh, they spread…” Jon waves his hands vaguely. “Their—their...roots? They would get into the, uh, the neighbors’ gardens, completely take over, destroy everything.”

“Potentially,” Martin insists. “There was no guarantee—”

“There was no reason they wouldn’t,” Jon snaps.

By now Judith is not only sure that this has nothing to do with gardening, but suspects that neither of these men has ever seen a fuchsia in their lives. It’s fine, though. This is far from the first time a client has invented a story out of whole cloth so they can work through something uncomfortable without actually describing it. And this is their first session; Judith hopes in the future they’ll trust her enough to give her the real story.

“Remember,” she tells them. “We’re not here to decide that someone was objectively right or wrong, we’re here to help you understand each other and improve your communication skills.”

“Right,” Martin mutters, unconvinced. Jon’s expression is distressed, but he continues.

“There was no other choice,” he says wearily. “The only other option was—was azaleas, and I know you didn’t want that, Martin.”

“Absolutely not.” Martin sounds horrified. “But hydrangeas, Jon? Do you really think that was a better option?”

“You have to see the difference.” Jon’s tone goes stiff and incredulous, as if he’s winding up for a lecture, and Judith decides to cut that off before it starts.

“So what I’m hearing,” she says, “Is that you both had very strong, conflicting opinions on this topic. And that’s okay—it’s okay for you to disagree, even on something important. You’re not always going to agree on what the right thing to do is. Often there is no single “right thing,” so it comes down to how the different choices make us feel.”

“That doesn’t seem like a good way to make a decision that affects the wh—a lot of people.” Jon clearly considers that his opinion on not-flowers was the objectively correct one. Judith smiles.

“People aren’t computers, Jon. Even the most logical minded person in the world is influenced by their feelings—about important issues, about other people. You’d be surprised at how much of our decision making is rooted in emotion; either how we anticipate the outcome of our decision will make us feel, or how we are feeling in the immediate moment of the choice.”

A spasm of something that might be grief or pain flashes across Jon’s face, and he leans unconsciously in Martin’s direction. Martin’s arm instantly goes around him, offering comfort without thought. It’s clear that these two love each other deeply, unquestioningly—and that’s also part of the problem. When someone you love thinks that you’re wrong about something that’s important to you, it can feel like a rejection of your entire self.

“I’d like to pause this discussion for now, and try a little exercise,” she says. Jon nods, sitting back up and disengaging from Martin’s embrace; Martin looks attentively at her, though his expression is unsure.

“One of the biggest challenges we face with people we love is recognizing that they are separate from us. I know—” she says, raising her hands to stop the objections she can already see forming on their lips. “Of course you know that you’re separate people. We all know that, rationally. But emotionally, it’s natural to see the people you’re close to as extensions of yourself—it’s an evolutionary impulse to aid group bonding. It happens with friends and family, and it’s an even stronger impulse between partners.

“We have to do a lot of work to truly internalize the idea that the people we love have their own inner emotional lives that drive their opinions and decisions. But once you are able to fully grasp that truth, it makes disagreeing with the person you love feel less emotionally fraught; it’s a powerful tool for navigating conflict constructively.”

Jon is frowning, but it’s in consideration rather than disapproval. Martin still looks skeptical, his body language defensive, though he doesn’t say anything. That’s probably the best she’s going to get for now, Judith thinks.

“So,” she says. “The exercise is this: I’d like each of you to take a few moments to think, and then tell the other person something about yourself. Not a fact, but something that you feel. And I would like you to listen without interrupting when your partner tells you their feeling. Can you each do that?”

“I, ah—” Jon’s frown deepens. “That’s...rather difficult to do on demand.”

“I know,” says Judith with sympathy. “That’s why I’m here, to support you both in doing the difficult things. If it was easy, you wouldn’t need a therapist to facilitate.”

“Right,” says Jon. “Okay.”

“Martin?”

“Fine,” he says, but his tone is reluctant. Judith gets it; vulnerability is hard enough in front of someone you love, never mind with a stranger in the room. It’s easier to pretend that it’s pointless, that you’re not really putting yourself out there to be hurt. She has the feeling that Martin is someone who would rather avoid being hurt, even if it means closing himself off.

“All right,” she says. “When you’re ready, Jon, would you mind going first? No rush, take all the time you need.” Hopefully, seeing Jon take the first step might help Martin get over some of his defensiveness.

“Oh,” he says, and for a few moments his expression devolves into one of intense concentration. Then he nods, turning towards Martin.

“Start with “I feel”,” Judith suggests.

“All right,” he says, breathless with nerves. “I, uh, I feel...responsible. For—well, for everything, basically. And for everyone. Bad things have happened to people, and it’s my fault, because I should have done something. Everything that happened, back there, it was all because of me.”

“It wasn’t you, Jon!” Martin protests. “Annabelle told us—”

Judith is about to remind him that he’s supposed to just be listening, but he cuts himself off first. Jon laughs, an ugly sound that’s more like a sob.

“And how is that supposed to help? Knowing that the—that they were using me my whole life, how does that absolve me of any responsibility for what I did? For the fact that I failed to do anything to stop them? I couldn’t even go through with the one thing that could have actually meant something, because—”

He clamps his mouth shut, his jaw locked tight; Martin looks down at his hands, his expression distraught.

“Because of me.”

“Martin—” Jon’s tone is wounded, and he reaches for Martin’s hand. Judith sees reflections of a shared pain in both their faces, though she doesn’t understand why; this would be a lot easier if they’d just tell her the truth.

But you didn’t get into this profession because it was easy, did you?

“Thank you for sharing that, Jon. I think there’s a lot more for us to explore there, but let’s give you a break and give Martin a chance to share, okay?”

Jon nods, clutching Martin’s hand in his. Martin gives a long, slow exhale.

“Righto,” he says with false, brittle cheer. “”I feel,” wasn’t it? Right. Jon, when you do something stupidly self-sacrificing for other people, I feel like everyone else is more important than me.”

Jon flinches.

“Martin,” Judith says, keeping her tone level. “Let’s keep the focus on what you feel, not on what causes you to feel that way, okay?”

“Right,” Martin mutters, and glances at Jon. “Okay. In that case, I feel...like I’m not important. Like the only thing I can really do is—is take care of you. And if I can’t even do that, then what bloody use am I? That’s it, I suppose.”

“Martin…” Jon says again, softly. His eyes are wet, and he’s clinging to Martin’s hand like a drowning man to a plank. Martin swallows hard and shakes his head, but he makes no move to extract his hand from Jon’s grip.

“Thank you, Martin,” Judith tells him. “I know that wasn’t easy to share, for either of you. But this is the kind of honesty that we need, in order to build strong communication. Let’s all take five minutes—if either of you want to take a bathroom break, or get some water—and then we can talk about where to go from here. All right?”

Martin disappears to the loo, while Jon wanders around the office, looking with polite interest at the shelves of books and ornaments. Judith writes a few notes for herself, to follow up in future sessions. She hopes there’ll be future sessions. Both of these men seem deeply hurt, traumatized by events that they’re just barely alluding to, and have clearly been struggling through as best they can with less than ideal coping mechanisms, trying—and likely failing—not to hurt each other in the process. They both need individual counselling as much as couples’ therapy—maybe more. She’s certainly going to recommend it..

They clearly love each other, though. And they want to make it work. If they’re willing to put the effort in, they have better than even odds in their favor.

Martin’s eyes are red-rimmed when he returns; he sits on the sofa as near as he can to Jon, who presses their shoulders together. Judith can’t help smiling at the sight.

“How long have the two of you been together?” she asks. She always asks new clients at the end of the first session, rather than at the beginning; that way she can get a feel for the relationship without preconceptions based on longevity. The two of them look at each other properly, for the first time since Martin came back in, and matching, sheepish smiles break out on both their faces after a moment.

“So it was three weeks in Scotland,” Martin begins, ticking it off on his fingers. “And then—how long?”

“Uhh, it’s...let’s say half a year, give or take?” Jon makes a face that says he’s really not all that sure.

“Right, and then we’ve been here nearly six months. So...about a year, all in all?”

“But we knew each other for over three years before that,” Jon insists earnestly.

“It sounds as if the two of you have been through a lot,” says Judith. “And not all of it gardening related?”

“No,” Jon says with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Mostly not.”

“We barely scratched the surface today—and that’s normal. Relationships are complicated, and it takes a lot of time and hard work to build understanding and communication. But I promise you, it is worth all the effort. You both made a really strong start today—it takes courage to be that honest, even with your partner.”

The two of them give each other a long look, and the smile they trade is tentative, but genuine. They haven’t solved anything today, have only just begun to reveal their hurt and their insecurities; they have a long journey ahead to get to a truly honest, healthy place both for themselves and their relationship. Judith has a feeling they’ll persevere, though—that losing each other simply isn’t an option.

“So,” she says, “Should we make this a recurring appointment?”

Jon glances questioningly at Martin, who bites his lip and then nods firmly, taking Jon’s hand in his.

“Yeah,” Martin says. “We’ve done much harder things. We can do this.”

“Together?” says Jon, and Martin smiles.

“No matter what.”

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartinweek2021 #my fic #jonmartin

[schnedoop]

Servitude (Kaeya x Reader)

SUMMARY: You were just so sweet, so diligent, so noble. Too noble, if Kaeya’s honest. He’s glad that he was the first one to take advantage of it.

WARNINGS: dubcon/noncon

TAGS: cockwarming, PIV penetration, manipulation, abuse of power, asshole Kaeya

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

Kaeya can’t help but think that you would have made an amazing knight.

You were born with all the qualities needed for the job: a quick wit, a reassuring demeanor, a natural respect for the Anemo Archon, and a blinding devotion to serving the people of Mondstadt to top it all off. Inside you seemed to be a fierce combination of Diluc, Jean, Varka—and Kaeya can’t deny that, in your early training days, he sometimes saw himself in your unfailing persistence—and you seemed to carry everyone's best traits only, all weaknesses of character cast to the side.

Yes, the man muses, continuing to write his report. An amazing knight indeed. 

He still remembers how popular you were during your training years. Captains and soldiers alike stepped away from their taverns to spend their free time watching you, someone they all imagined to be the future of the Ordo, the next grandmaster, someone even Jean couldn’t hide her favoritism for.

Kaeya can’t say he blames any of them. He was always among the spectators, of course, watching you train, eavesdropping on your conversations in the mess hall, taking stalker-like measures to decode the enigma that was you.

In the beginning, it was out of wariness.

Kaeya was disinclined to believe that anyone could be so perfect, so pure. He assumed that you were putting up a facade, that the way you always took the long way home to help any citizens who crossed your path was nothing but a vicious scheme to gain Mondstadt’s trust so you could betray it—but soon, he learned that it wasn’t a lie. That you truly were this good a person. That your blinding naivety was natural, and not even a little feigned.

That was around when Kaeya began to watch over you, not as a potential threat, but as a subject of interest.

He found that everything about you was sincere. That you were one of the only knights who wouldn’t lie about their numbers for the bi-annual physical evaluations, who would spend their free time scouting out hillichurl camps and anonymously reporting them, who would wake up early to get extra training in, who would do anything and everything you could think of to better equip you to serve Mondstadt.

Kaeya found it endearing. You were so sweet, so diligent, so noble.

Too noble, if Kaeya’s honest. 

He’s glad that he was the first one to take advantage of it.

It started off with a casual comment during training. Your instructor was on bedrest after getting ambushed by some Electro slimes while swimming in a lake, so Kaeya had been asked to fill in. He paced down the line of your fellow soldiers-in-training slowly, offering loud compliments and gentle corrections to everyone he walked past, only for him to come to a halt at you.

“Come on, I’m sure you can do better than that. Training is no joke, cadet. Please take this seriously.”

You practically froze when he said that to you. 

His words were whispered, hushed low into your ear as if Kaeya didn’t want to embarrass you by chastizing you publicly, as if Kaeya was still the amicable Cavalry Captain everyone knew him to be, as if his criticism of you was genuine and wasn’t a stupid lie to make you question yourself.

It took all of Kaeya’s self-restraint to keep his expression neutral as he moved on. No doubt, it was the first time anyone had ever spoken to you as if you were failing to meet expectations instead of surpassing them—and Kaeya half-expected you to protest, to argue that you were doing a better job than everyone else in the room. 

He was pleasantly surprised when you mumbled an even more determined “Yes sir,” before continuing. 

A perfect soldier indeed. 

After that, you seemed determined to impress Kaeya. He could see the hierarchy in your mind: the fact that, although Jean was higher in authority, her praise meant less to you than Kaeya’s because he was the only one to not be impressed.

After you set your sights on impressing him, it was all over for you.

Crushing your spirit was an easy feat for Kaeya. You were a brilliant soldier, probably the strongest recruit the Ordo has had since Diluc, but you were nothing exceptional when it came to mind games. The occasional “do you need a break, cadet?” and the more often “there’s no shame in admitting weakness, solder” began to wear into you. Whereas before you responded to his every criticism with a fierce determination to do better, Kaeya could sense the change when you began to think your efforts futile, when you began to feel like the Cavalry Captain you so wanted to impress would, seemingly, never find you as exceptional as everyone else did. 

Kaeya still remembers the devastated look on your face when you barged into his office at midnight on the eve of your official recruitment into the Ordo.

“What do I have to do?!” you blurted, hands balled in fists. “What do I have to do to make you think I deserve to be a knight?!”

Kaeya recalls how surprised he’d been at that. He stared at you, that night, with genuine shock at your outburst. 

Before, he assumed that your attempts to impress him had merely been out of a selfish desire to earn the praise of everyone around you. Yet, there you stood, cute little tears building in your eyes as you revealed that the true reason was that you felt bad joining the knights without his approval, as if Kaeya was some benchmark that you needed to pass.

Very well, the knight remembers thinking. With your official graduation from soldier-in-training to soldier, Kaeya had been prepared to release the possessive grip he had around you...but when you presented him with such an obvious opportunity to take what he wanted, who was he to resist?

“It’s not anything you can change, cadet. Some people are meant to be soldiers. Some people aren’t. I already know which kind you are, but it doesn’t matter.” 

Every word Kaeya said had been carefully placed. He phrased his response in a perfect way, all to prompt the inevitable question from your soft, sweet lips:

“A-and which kind am I?”

“Which kind of what?” Kaeya asked, pretending as if he was barely giving this conversation any thought. He brought his eyes down to the map that he was detailing, pretending to continue working on it. 

“Wh-which kind of knight do you think I am?”

Kaeya remembers how hard it had been to stop a vicious smile from spreading across his face.

“You don’t want to know, cadet.”

“I do, Captain! I really do! Y-your opinion matters to me!”

“Oh?” That had been the first time Kaeya placed his quill down. “So if I tell you that I don’t think you’re ready to be a knight, you’ll heed my advice?”

“Well…” 

Your sheepish expression had been almost too much to bear. 

“If you came here to ask for my opinion just to ignore it, I’d advise going elsewhere. Please don't waste my time. The Ordo will spend enough resources trying to turn you into a half-decent knight, so don’t disregard all of that by—”

“Why?” you practically sobbed. You’d come forward and placed your palms flat against the surface of Kaeya’s desk, a pose that would have been wholly intimidating if not for the tears building in your eyes. “Why don’t you think I’ll make a good knight? Why won’t I—” you’d broken off to wipe away the tears that had begun to spill. “Why won’t I be able to help the Knights of Favonius?”

Instantly, Kaeya had risen and walked over you to wrap you in his arms. 

You were confused, no doubt, because the captain had been anything but kind to you in your previous interactions, but you openly sobbed into Kaeya’s chest, gripping the fabric of his jacket weakly. 

“I j-just want to help—I just want to m-m-make Mondstadt safer—I j-just—just want—”

“Of course you can help,” Kaeya whispered gently into your ear, wiping your tears away. “You’d be an invaluable resource to the city. It’s just that serving as a knight would be useless when you could be so much more useful.”

That stole your attention.

Instantly, you looked up at Kaeya with hopeful eyes.

“R-really? You think I can...actually help?”

Kaeya remembers how even he had been unable to stop the cruel smile from spreading across his face when he realized that you genuinely believed his words all this time: thinking yourself lesser, weaker, inferior to your fellow cadets. 

“Of course you can,” Kaeya whispered into your ear, gentle as the setting sun. 

And in this way, he managed to persuade you in a single night to abandon your dreams of becoming a soldier. Easily, he made you understand that such a thing was futile. Soldiers were expendable, and when Kaeya asked you if you thought you were expendable, you shook your head like a good girl and said you wanted to be alive to protect Mondstadt, not a dead body that could do nothing.

Still, you would have made an amazing knight. 

Would have, but not anymore.

You were born with all the qualities you needed for the job—but one by one, Kaeya’s replaced them with smarter, more reasonable goals. Your once-quick wit has been refocused on pleasing Kaeya, on figuring out whether he’d rather hear “yes, sir” or “thank you, sir” based on the question he poses you with. The calm, reassuring demeanor that once drew people into you is now nonexistent, completely replaced with something more obedient. The respect you used to allot the Anemo Archon has been redirected onto Kaeya: because what has Barbatos actually done for you? Kaeya is the one who’s given you a home, a purpose—it’s him that you pray to every day when you get on your knees.

The one thing that has remained constant is the devotion you carry for the people of Mondstadt: but that, too, has shifted.

Where you once wished to serve your people by protecting them on the front lines, you now understand that your purpose is to personally aid the superiors who already know how to do the job, to make Kaeya happier so that he can protect the nation for you. 

It was hard, at first.

But your mind is pliant, now, moldable and malleable as Kaeya wraps a hand around your naked hip to halt your grinding.

“Now, now,” he chides, kissing your shoulder as he continues to write his report. “None of that. I’ll fuck you nice and good after I’m done with this, so don’t distract me.”

“But—but sir,” you whine, wriggling your hips gently on top of Kaeya as if hoping that it’ll convince him to forgo the report and fuck you now. 

Internally, Kaeya appreciates how well you’ve acclimated to your new life. Externally, he clicks his tongue and lays a slap against your bare bottom, ignoring your delighted giggle.

“Be a good girl and let me focus. These are important documents, okay? You being here only helps me work if you’re not trying to distract me. Or do you not want to help Mondstadt out after all?”

That line always works, and you instinctively coil in on yourself, ashamed as you halt your playful teasing and rest your head on Kaeya’s shoulder. 

“I—I want to help Mondstadt…”

“I thought so. So be a good girl and keep my cock warm until I’m done.”

And you do a good job of it. Oh, you do such a good job, your little cunt clenching down on Kaeya the whole time as he proofreads his report once, then twice (and then thrice, though that’s more to torture you than it is to actually check for mistakes)—and when Kaeya finally tucks his report inside an envelope, sealing it with the crest of the Cavalry Captain, he knows you deserve a reward.

“Good girl,” he coos, slipping his gloves off to massage the soft flesh of your ass with his bare hands. “How did that feel? What do you want me to do to you?”

“Felt good,” you whisper, and Kaeya loves the shudder that runs down your spine when he drags a finger to circle at your clit. “P-please, Sir. Want more. I-if you have time. If you're busy with your captain duties...I can w-wait. But if not. Please.”

So cute, Kaeya thinks, loving how even now, months after you’ve been isolated from the world, you still cling to the naive hope that somehow, being Kaeya’s private slut is contributing to the prosperity of Mondstadt. Not that it’s something Kaeya will ever correct. He can keep you here for as long as you believe you want to be here, so he won’t do anything to jeopardize your innocent naivety. 

“Hmm, you’re going to be more specific than that, sweetheart. What do you want more of?”

“You, Sir,” you gasp, rolling your hips down on Kaeya’s cock to enunciate your point. “Wanna get fucked. Pretty please.”

“Oh?” Kaeya chuckles, lifting you up and laying you down on his desk, not caring about the paperwork your body is sprawled over because goddamn, you look hot like this, tits exposed, face flushed, pupils dilated, like the only thing you can think about is Kaeya’s cock and how bad you want it.

“You don’t want anything else?”

Normally, this is the part where you deliver a mumble about Mondstadt and how you want prosperity for the nation. Those comments have been getting more and more halfhearted recently, overshadowed by your larger desire for the overwhelming pleasure that Kaeya, and today—

Today, you forget about your so-called love for Mondstadt altogether.

“No,” you babble, wrapping your legs around Kaeya’s hips, desperately trying to tempt him into fucking into you. “No, Sir, don’t want anything but you so please, please, please—”

A breathy laugh falls from Kaeya’s lips as he leans over to press a quick kiss to your forehead. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” His hands find your hips, slender fingers digging in to grip them with bruising force as he prepares to wreck you from the inside. “I’ll always give you what you want.”

#fem reader #NSF/W #lewd: kaeya #shortfic #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya x reader #genshin impact kaeya x reader #manipulation #abuse of #asshole kaeya #dubcon #dubious consent

[junicai]

Relationship with NCT Dream

➣ MARK ☾ mari

½ of the best friend crew

honestly at the beginning, mark and aria weren’t very close, having only really seen each other in passing or with johnny

but after being dropped into training together the two quickly became fast friends, and now they’re borderline inseparable

you thought you knew pain? watch aria’s reaction to mark’s graduation from dream :)

mark’s the reason why aria felt confident enough to pitch some of her lyric ideas to the team, after staying up until 4am to help her make some edits so she was as confident as possible

kinda just, rests his head on her shoulder? and wraps his arms around her waist when he’s tired

mari being confused in foreigner: ???

aria said once in a vlive that she finds mark really comforting to be around - when she feels stressed or worried about something she’ll go to mark’s room and just sit on his bed for a while

aria is so close with his parents - “ahh, how’s my favourite child” “i’m doing great mom.” “no not you, how’s aria?” “wh-hu-MOM?”

you’d swear sometimes mark is younger than her, considering the pout he puts on and how much he whines when they’re not on the same team together for promotions

mark big protecc boi but also little small cuddly boi

they’re so soft for each other ( ╥ω╥ )

in one of the fancams for mark’s solo stage during superm, someone zoomed into aria singing along with him in the wings and dancing to herself with the Proudest Smile™

he’s! so! proud! of! her! constantly! she could be walking and he’d be like “omg get it”

when aria refuses to get up and make herself food (this happens way too often, she just gets into the groove of her work and doesn’t want to move) mark gets her to by threatening to do it himself

consistently caught by czennies just standing behind her and holding her hand in crowded areas - airports, waiting rooms, etc.

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

mark and aria were standing off to one side as the mc explained the rules of the game they were about to be playing. mark looked totally confused, and elbowed aria in her side before looking down and mouthing “what?” to her. aria opened her mouth, before closing it and looking down at the ground, muttering to herself, “결합… 結合….. le chéile…. le… le.. oh oh - combined! we have to put them together, markie.”and thus, a new confusion meme was born

➣ RENJUN ☾ renjaria

renjun and aria room together while she’s promoting with dream

they were so awkward around each other at the beginning :(

only really spoke in passing, or when they had to

it was renjun that broke the ice at first, asking if she wanted to go shopping for the dorm together

now it’s their thing

“no aria, we can’t get more ice-cream we’re all supposed to be on diets.” “but  ｡ﾟ��� (>﹏<) ･ﾟ｡ please”

he’s lowkey soft for her but he’d rather throw himself off the roof then tell her that

piano pals

he started teaching her how to properly play once he found her messing around on a keyboard in the studio one day

they actually argue quite a bit

not about big things, but about smaller things that push each other over the edge because of stress

the first time he yelled at her, aria spent the night in hyuck’s room 

hyuck yelled at renjun for making her cry 

now they’re probably the best pairing for talking through their emotions instead of blowing up on each other

they’re both quite opinionated people, and they’ve learnt to navigate that well so fights don’t happen as often

does that stop renjun from teasing aria an within an inch of her life? absolutely not

“i’ll kill you” “can you, reach?” “LISTEN HERE-”

he acts like he’s 10ft tall, excuse you sir you are barely 5′6″

renjun was her mandarin teacher for a while, but then kun kindly told her that her “introduction” was actually calling herself an idiot 

aria has a bad problem with saesangs go away bitches and renjun is iconic for going off on them for her because she doesn’t like to make a big deal out of it all 

he gets so angry on her behalf

that was actually a topic of one of their biggest arguments smh

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

aria was leaning on a pile of books to prop herself up as she leant forwards to try and hang a string of lights on her bedroom wall. renjun walked in, and immediately came to her aid, speaking with a teasing tone. “need a hand?” 

aria, without ceremony just elbowed him in the stomach and used his then folded up figure to push herself up higher. “yes, thank you!”

she got hate for that one, but it was all in good fun and renjun was laughing after it

➣ JENO ☾ nori

aria is his princess and everyone else can fight him

like they’re both doyoung’s children, but if it comes down to it he will lay down his life for her

and not even in a romantic way, just a “you’re too precious i have to protect you” kind of way

czennies thought he was in love with her for the entirety of nct 2018 promotions

this boy was hanging off of her at any given second, and there was an edited video of jeno “glaring” at lucas’ back when the taller boy walked away after hugging aria

it was faked, stan twt needs to chill out

he drags her to the gym 

he’s basically her big brother? but they’re the same age - its a weird dynamic but they make it work

they’re so LOUD together

not chaotic, but he makes her laugh so hard 

vlive 191030: “nono-ah makes my cheeks hurt so i can’t spend too long around him. my sides hurt too ~  ♡(｡- ω -)”

any and all fanfictions written about the two are definitely either coffee shop, university or library AUs

this man walks like a bodyguard around her - boy got the arm over the shoulder, tucked her head into him, covering her face, its a whole ordeal

dispatch released some pictures of aria one day and accidentally blurred out jeno’s face because they thought he was her bodyguard 

is so. so mindful of how long aria spends in the training rooms

like, yes everyone else expects her home before midnight (long story)

but jeno actively makes sure to ask people what time she left the dorm at, and texts her to remind her to take water breaks and to come home at a good time so she can sleep 

these two are the creators of so many iconic vlives - they have a bad habit of going live at 1 or 2 in the morning, just doing random things

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

“hi hi! so, nono and i- jeno stop it, stop it! - nono and i are walking down to the park to go feed the birds - yes we’re going to feed the bird- no! we are not going to feed the ducks, bread can kill the ducks! why did you bring brea-”

jeno pulled the camera from aria’s hands. “ari and i,” he looked at her purposefully, “are going back to the dorms because someone forgot to bring the bird seed, and apparently we can’t give bread to ducks anymore.”

*sounds of aria intermittently hitting and scolding jeno ensue*

➣ DONGHYUCK ☾ arichan

the other half of the best friend crew

absolute heathens to be around when they are together

donghyuck is the person aria is closest to, and someone she’d call her best friend (only when she was sure he wouldn’t hear her)

she calls him “the demon child i can’t get rid of” but will, and has definitely pouted when he ignored her for too long

generally aria is a pretty soft spoken person, but not with hyuck around - he brings out all her chaos energy (please pray for the patience of dotae)

the pair have a little tradition of kissing the back of each others’ hands before going on stage for good luck. they can’t even remember how it started, but now its an unnegotiable pre-show ritual

he’s so clingy with her absolutely everywhere its painfully adorable  (ಥ﹏ಥ)

interviews? hyuck has a hand on her knee, or if she’s wearing a skirt he’s tucked his hand in between their chairs so she can hold it discreetly. in the dorms? full body tackle onto the couch, where he proceeds to lay on top of her completely.

because of hyuck’s nickname being the sun, and aria always being around him, czennies gave her the nickname “moon” to go with him

fans thought that aria was older than hyuck for a good year and a half before she released her birthday on a vlive, because she’s normally the one tasked with reigning his chaotic energy in during promotions (that is, if she hasn’t already joined him)

but off-camera, aria is absolutely hyuck’s baby there is no disputing that. aria’s sad?he’s there with ice-cream and a blanket and a baseball bat.

the winnie the pooh character that is on aria’s bed was a gift from hyuck for her 17th birthday, after she made him watch seven episodes of the show on netflix with her one night

yes he complained, but he slapped her hand away when she went to change it to something else

a twitter thread of a czennie comparing their horoscopes together went viral when people realized that it was quite plausible that the pair were each others (platonic) soulmates

after an incident involving blueberries, donghyuck took it upon himself to check the ingredients of every. single. food item in their dorm to make sure it was ok for her to eat

hyuck clowns her for her irish accent, and aria curses him out in japanese

tldr: they cute or whatever

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

donghyuck was doing a vlive in his bedroom, sitting and talking to czennies when aria opened the door to his room quietly. she didn’t say anything, just waved slightly with almost closed eyes before she crawled underneath his covers and tucked her plushie underneath her chin. hyuck didn’t even blink at it - so it must have been a regular occurrence.

➣ JAEMIN ☾ nari

jaemin highkey flusters her

not in a oo you’re so cute, cute boy make nerves go eeee

but he’ll wink at her and teasingly compliment her and now she looks like a firetruck this isn’t fair

he absolutely takes advantage of this where ever possible 

“riri, can i have some?” “no, i just made these you should have helped me (-_-)” “riri~ but you looked so cute making them i didn’t want to interrupt you~” *aria.exe has stopped responding*

but when aria isn’t trying to get her cheeks to stop being red, they’re really cute together 

you’d swear aria is older, by how much jaemin whines for her attention

the mighty battles between jaemin and hyuck

hyuck’s just biding his time for the rooftop fight

kinda panics around her when she’s crying, but is always the first to offer up a hug 

has a period tracker on his phone but no one knows about it 

he doesn’t like to coddle her because they’re so close in age, but that doesn’t stop him from getting protective in certain situations *cough cough the fansign cough cough*

jaemin and aria cuddling when they’re drunk? more likely than you’d think

he definitely professed his undying love for her at one point while being drunk, and chenle caught it on video 

“noona we’re playing that at your wedding” 

designated blanket/pillow hunter at award shows, and if he can’t find one then he usually just gives her his jacket

the amount of coffee these two consume should be illegal 

aria prefers to call him nana and he prefers to call her riri in the dorms, so when either of them get called by their first name by the other it means A: they’re on a schedule, or B: someone’s about to die

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

nct dream on idol room were trying out jaemin’s death-in-a-cup (his coffee) and as the cup got passed around, aria grew more and more concerned with each face the members made. “jaemin if i die from this-”

he only smiled at her while passing over the cup. aria held it up to look at the black liquid skeptically, before sighing in resignation and bringing the cup to her lips to take a sip. 

and then another.

“wait this is good i like this”

➣ CHENLE ☾ leri

hide yo kids and hide yo wives because leri is entering the chat

*cue aria and chenle wearing 2000s rapper clothes with backwards baseball caps*

these two are so chaotically calm

its like the energy cancels out or something 

aria with hyuck is just so loud and obnoxious, and the same with chenle with jisung

so when you put those two together it just turns into le positive vibes

you ever meditated to those 132 hertz sounds? thats them in a sound 

aria will hold him like a baby kitten she’s expecting to try wriggle out of her grip at any moment and its comical because he’s a good head taller than her

aria definitely has a knack for making her groupmates’ parents fall in love with her

every two weeks or so she goes for dinner in chenle’s house upon his mother’s request

they have a mutual understanding of the mental toll it takes to be around the rest of the dreamies constantly

chenle and aria sitting peacefully, watching a cdrama: 

the dreamies, throttling each other: AAAAAAAAAAA

will never admit it but he misses her the most when she goes away to promote

he thinks of her as a big sister and the dorms feel empty without her there

aggressive proud hugs 

so aggressive, he legit tackles her

he had to tone it down after knocking her over once backstage and she narrowly missed clocking herself on a nearby soundboard 

“YAH ZHONG CHENLE YOU HAVE TO BE CAREFUL!”

he always gets a little bit anxious when they eat things outside of the dorms because he’s never seen her have an allergic reaction before and he’d like to keep it that way  (`皿´＃)

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

chenle was particularly restless that day, constantly shuffling about in his seat to the point where renjun forcefully tossed an arm over his shoulders to hold him still while the vlive was still playing.

not one to be defeated, chenle then turned to press his lips to renjun’s cheek playfully, laughing when the older boy turned away in disgust. he turned to do the same to aria, coming closer to her cheek before aria turned her head to face his.

“AAA-” “EW CHENLE WHY”

➣ JISUNG ☾ jiri

oh god oh god oh god

if aria could take this boy and wrap him in a blanket and keep him in her pocket she would - no questions asked 

jisung knows she loves him the most out of dream sorry markhyuck and takes advantage of it every second

she used to coddle him a lot when he was smaller, but now that he’s older aria tries to rein it in as much as possible

that doesn’t mean it goes away completely though

“noona can you cook for me?” “of course jisungie! what do you want?” 

*jeno gobsmacked in the background* “you just told me you were too tired to cook tonight”

aria: big baby, must protect

jisung: tiny noona, must protect

jaemin and aria are really the only people jisung is ok with seeing him be super emotional - and he flip flops between the two depending on the reason why he’s emotional

self-esteem, feeling poopy side of it all? straight into aria’s bed, letting her roll him onto his side so she can tuck his head into her shoulder and covers the two of them with her duvet the way she used to do when he was shorter

this boy cannot curse around her unless he wants to get his ass Beat

dancing bros

they go so hard in their NCT Dance duet videos 

he keeps band-aids in his bag for her in exchange for her keeping an extra bottle of water in hers because jisung always forgets his own

jisung rests his elbow on her head a lot

but only briefly because the last time he stayed there for too long she stamped on his foot

tldr: aria is jisung’s emotional support gnome

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

jisung and aria were doing the chicken leg battle (this one) to fight for first dibs on the rooms they were going to be sharing for the next week or so. just before they were about to start, mark started laughing and pointing at how high jisung’s leg came up on aria’s, with aria’s knee barely hitting jisung’s mid-thigh

“this is an unfair advantage! this is cheating!”

#*aria.relationships #ooh she a little bit stilted at the end but ill come back and edit it soon :) #nct 24th member #nct dream 8th member #nct 22nd member #nct additional member #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #nct 2020 #nct 2018 #wayv #superm #nct female member #nct female member au #nct female oc #kpop additions #kpop!oc #kpop addition #nct extra member #taeyong #taeil #johnny #lucas #yuta #doyoung #jaehyun #ten #mark #mark lee

[lady-divine-writes]

ACITW AU one-shot - “Draining Pipes” (Rated M)

Summary: After Sebastian is accidentally exposed to Covid, Kurt convinces him to quarantine. While the rest of the city is slowly opening up, Kurt is returning to a life that resembles normal. But for Sebastian, home alone without his boyfriend, isolation is changing him. And Kurt has some concerns... (2063 words)

Notes: Yes, this is a pandemic fic, but I promise, it's funny XD

Read on AO3.

"Hi, honey! I'm home!"

"Nope. Try again."

Kurt's head snaps up so quickly he stutters a step, nearly tripping over his feet even though he'd already stopped walking. He glares at Sebastian from across the room as if the man had gotten up from his seat, strolled over, and, without a word, vomited rancid sushi all over his Manolo Blahniks. "What?"

In a tone reminiscent of one his NYADA dance teacher, Cassie July, used that made Kurt prickle from head to toe, Sebastian says, "Try. again."

"Try what again?"

"Walking through the door."

Kurt spins around to examine the doorway, searching for clues about what he could have possibly done incorrectly. "And what, pray tell, is wrong with the way I walk through the door!?"

"Every time you come home, you say, 'Hi, honey! I'm home!'"

"Yeah, and... ?"

"It's boring. Unoriginal. It harkens back to an era of television situation comedy that had no hand in influencing our generation and, frankly, regurgitating it is beneath you and your dramatic talents."

Kurt plants his hands on his hips and gawks. What the hell happened to his boyfriend while he was away? He was only gone four hours! "Have you been rifling through my old schoolbooks again? I told you, there was no Illuminati conspiracy going on at NYADA!"

"Why don't you try something different?" Sebastian counters, neither confirming nor denying Kurt's accusation. "Something a bit more, dare I say, exotic?"

"Exotic?" Kurt scrunches his nose with distaste when he says it. Of all the words in the English language, that's one of his least favorite. "What constitutes exotic in your twisted opinion?"

"I don't know. Think of something. You're the creative, not me."

"What? I... " A dozen arguments about how he's just gotten home, how exhausted he is, how travel between here and the theater was a pain in the ass because some people still don't seem to understand what 'over the mouth AND nose' means so navigating his way through the subway was like playing a game of human Tetris with potentially infected pieces and that he's never been all that good at Tetris anyway! die on his lips. 

It would be a waste of breath.

Still, Kurt doesn't know why he indulges him, but he turns on his heel and walks back out the door. After a few seconds of deep breathing in the hall to keep from screaming bloody murder, he storms back in and brightly declares, "Buenos dias, motherfucker! Como what's up?"

Seeing as the two of them speak fluent French, Spanglish is the most exotic thing he could come up with.

Sebastian nods in stoic approval. "Better. How goes life on the apocalyptic landscape?"

"I'm not selling my body for Cocoa Krispies if that's what you're asking," Kurt quips, wondering if this is how Sebastian acts at work and how no one has put the man through a window yet, partner or not.

"So what I'm hearing is you didn't bring home Cocoa Krispies."

"Nope. Sorry."

"Bitch."

"Yeah, well... " Kurt removes his shoes and socks, then sheds his coat, his messenger bag, his slacks, and his dress shirt, carefully piling them on a chair by the front door - their staging area for decontamination. While he undresses, he eyes Sebastian, not paying him an inch of mind, sitting on what has been dubbed the convalescence corner of the sofa, dressed in a soft white tee and flannel lounge pants, his laptop open on legs covered by a quilt his mother made for him when he was ten. Sebastian knows for a fact that Kurt is undressing and yet he's not leering at him, wolf-whistling under his breath or licking his lips like he's watching an Outback Steakhouse commercial. He's simply sitting in his spot, eyes glued to his laptop screen.

And Kurt loathes it.

Sebastian's attentions have been waning more and more lately, and even though it's savagely bruising Kurt's ego, he can't blame him.

Depending on how they choose to look at things, this situation could kind of, slightly, sort of be deemed Kurt's fault.

"Thank you again for doing this," Kurt says, extending an olive branch. He's been doing this so often over the past few months, he's started buying in bulk. "I can't tell you how much you keeping your distance and staying home has put my mind at ease."

Sebastian doesn't look at him when he replies: "No sweat, babe."

"I know it was just one small cough... and the kid was wearing two masks... and a face shield... "

"Hey, like you said, no need taking any chances. Right?"

"Right," Kurt agrees. And he believes it. He believed it then and he believes it now. Had the roles been reversed, Kurt would make the sacrifice, more than willing to lock himself away for the sake of curbing this disease and keeping Sebastian healthy.

But it isn't him. 

And he feels like dirt going to work three days a week, returning to something that resembles normal knowing what Sebastian is missing out on.

"It's his mother's fault for not mentioning that her little plague rat has covid before I got stuck on the elevator with them," Sebastian says, possibly trying to make Kurt feel better even though his gaze hasn't shifted.

"But quarantining for six days longer than necessary? That's above and beyond! I mean it. You deserve a medal." 

Sebastian tosses him a wink over his shoulder but he doesn't linger, giving half-naked Kurt only a brief once over. "I got you, fam. Besides, time's up tomorrow. Then... " He thousand-yard stares in the direction of the flat screen "... it's rat-hunting season."

"It hasn't been all bad, has it?" Kurt asks guiltily as Sebastian's eyes return to his laptop. He'll admit that maybe he did go a tad overboard when he'd found out Sebastian had been exposed, banishing him to one end of the penthouse and the guest bedroom, keeping him at broom handle length for the past nineteen days. 

But they were almost in the clear! And that's the part that pisses Kurt off most. 

The disease hasn't been eradicated, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel. The theater started allowing small groups to return for socially distanced practices. That's a huge win for Kurt. Being away from Broadway and rehearsals and opening nights and curtain calls... it was becoming difficult for him to breathe.

Sebastian was on the brink of going back to the office a few days a week, too. It wasn't so much not being at the office that bothered him, but the peripherals - eating lunch at his favorite deli or hitting the gym before dinner. 

Sebastian had taken three tests after that fateful elevator incident, all of which came back negative, so he was confident everything would be alright. He was in the midst of planning his first in-person meeting, but Kurt balked, pointing out that there has been so much controversy over the accuracy of those tests. Sebastian offered to take three more if necessary, but regardless of the outcome, Kurt didn't feel it safe. And even though they had access to the vaccine (because money), being exposed, even minorly, pushed Sebastian's timetable for receiving his first dose back two weeks.

Kurt's father and stepmother have both received theirs, and Kurt was so looking forward to taking a trip to Ohio for a first hug in over a year. He's going to be damned if a four-foot-tall Petri dish ruins that for him!

But because of his paranoia, Kurt and Sebastian haven't touched, haven't kissed in two weeks. They tried the whole Skype sex thing from different rooms of the penthouse, aiming to recapture old college day thrills to boot, but it didn't work out the way they'd hoped. And even though they see each other every day, talk to one another, aggravate each other, throw popcorn and other food items at each other, Kurt misses Sebastian like the dickens. He misses his hugs, his warmth, his smell.

And yes, he misses the sex.

"Since I've been back to work, you've had the peace and privacy to watch those wacky pornos that your brother sends you."

"Yup," Sebastian says, typing something into his search bar that Kurt can't quite make out. "The wackiest."

"Didn't he say something about them being illegal in the contiguous 49 states?"

"Forty-eight. Tennessee turned itself around."

"It would be Tennessee."

"Always is."

"You probably haven't given your fleshjack a rest in two weeks," Kurt prods, worried over these short responses. 

"Mmph... mmm-hmm... "

Kurt starts circling the sofa when all he gets is a chuckle in response, curious if Sebastian is even listening to him. He comes up behind him, standing on a piece of painter's tape they'd put down to mark six feet so Kurt can peek over his shoulder.

And what he sees on Sebastian's screen makes absolutely no sense.

"What are you watching?"

"Drain clearing videos."

Kurt's eyes go wide. "Drain clearing? Wh-what does that mean?"

"This guy drives all over, and when he finds a street that's flooded, he takes out a rake, drags it through the water, and tries to find the blocked drain."

"Does he work for the city?"

"Nah. He's just some guy."

"And he's made a whole channel about... clearing drains."

"Yes, sir."

"And you're watching it?"

"It came up in my recommendations so I clicked one." Sebastian shakes his head, chuckling when stagnant grey water, punctuated by speckles of rain, turns into a whirlpool, rushing through thick iron bars embedded in the concrete and disappearing from view. "It's so satisfying."

"What on Earth were you watching before this that YouTube recommended it?"

"Car cleaning videos."

Kurt's left eyebrow slowly climbs up his forehead. "A-ha."

"Yup. I never realized how relaxing it is to watch a handsome guy Bissell Kool-Aid stains out of carpet. But now... it's my jam."

Kurt huffs, offended on behalf of himself and his own vigorous cleaning regimen. "It wasn't your jam when I was steam cleaning our throw rugs! And the curtains!"

"Yeah, well, things hit different when you're forced into isolation."

Kurt storms forward a step. But then he remembers. And he stops, foot hovering an inch past the sacred boundary that keeps him from venturing too close to infection. He teeters, determination creasing his brow while anxiety wrestles his shoulders back. All the while, a war wages inside his tired brain:

"Get him! You've been vaccinated!"

"It's only one dose!"

"He's not even sick!"

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do!"

"It's not worth the risk!"

"Yes... it... IS!"

"Come on!" Kurt demands, throwing himself bodily at the sofa. He grabs Sebastian's hand, a small voice screaming inside his head as if his tiny naysayer is being burned at the stake. "Come with me... NOW!"

"Where are we going?" Sebastian asks, rushing to move his computer to the side before he gets dragged off the sofa by his surprisingly strong boyfriend.

"This is an intervention."

"But you shouldn't be touching me! Or breathing my air! I have one day left!"

"You're fine! If you haven't gotten sick by now, you probably aren't going to! This is an emergency!"

"What emergency?"

"Quarantine has turned you into someone I don't recognize! Car cleaning videos? Who are you right now?"

"They're educational. It's good to learn a new skill."

Kurt barks a laugh that could shatter crystal. "Right. Like you'd ever. You'd pay highway robbery to have your ten-speed detailed!"

"Nope, because you'd do it for free."

 Kurt rolls his eyes, unwilling to entertain his boyfriend's mocking of him to ask whether or not that's code. "If you're going to ogle a man wielding a Bissell, Goddammit, it's going to be me!"

"So... are we going to clean some carpets?"

"We're going to take a shower and then have sex. A lot of sex. You're getting fucked and sucked until you're back to normal."

Sebastian snorts, delighted by his incredibly good fortune. "If you insist. But are you absolutely sure about this?"

Kurt stops short and faces Sebastian. He looks him over, making certain he doesn't seem particularly sick, and shrugs.

"We'll wear masks. Or three. I don't need to kiss you to make you cum." Kurt continues to drag Sebastian towards the bathroom as his grin grows to epic proportions.

"Kinky."

#kurtbastian #acitw #acitw au #sebkurt #sekurt

[koalas-koalas-everywhere]

Can’t believe I wrote a fic about my shitpost. Can’t believe it’s the first thing outside of schoolwork that I’ve finished in years. Outrageous. Anyway, here’s fanboy!Matt for your enjoyment.

G-rated. Gen. 2,799 words. Follows Daredevil and Spider-Man comics continuity. If you clicked the link, you know what’s coming.

So it’s Spring of 1962 and everyone’s talking about a new sensation, some masked guy who does flips on TV. It sounds dismissive, but that’s exactly what intrigues Foggy and Matt about it the most - it sounds like gymnastics and lucha libre rolled into one, which doesn’t usually get this much attention outside of the Olympics. This guy, though. Apparently, he’d made some waves after beating a big name wrestler in an exhibition match. Well, to be honest, Matt doesn’t know how big of a wave, exactly, because he found out from his dad, who found out because he ran in those circles. It could be that the average person hadn’t known anything about this “masked wonder” or his fight, until that TV host started using it to promote his upcoming appearance at his show. 

Foggy and Matt missed it. They were on their last year of college, and had the work load to prove it. Besides, watching TV wasn’t their favorite pastime, even though Foggy had become a pro at narrating by then, and Matt’s dad had cultivated a healthy disdain for staged fights in him, which he had assumed was what the show was going to be about. So they were caught on the wrong foot the next day, when it was all anybody at campus would talk about. Apparently, there hadn’t been any fighting at all. It had been more like dancing, said some star-eyed students.  Or a circus act, said their jealous partners. Even ol’ reliable Battlin’ Murdock had verified, with a certain “well, I’ll be damned” lilt in his tone, that, if there had been any trick to it, it was good enough to fool him and worth the while for that alone. Matt ended the call, shared a “look” with Foggy (the one that they’d practiced with the intention of unsettling clients, witnesses and prosecutors alike one day, which had been Foggy’s idea once he’d noticed Matt’s uncanny ability to locate people and angle his head their way to make it look like he could actually see them) and agreed to watch this “Spider-Man’s” next appearance. Luckily for them, after his raging success, another show was scheduled a night later, so they didn’t spend much time out of the loop. Also, they’d hired a commentator to explain to the audience (and thus, further impress them with) each of the stunts that their man pulled and assure them of their difficulty, which was always a plus to a blind guy “watching” a TV show.

Matt confessed to some excitement. He liked gymnastics. He liked to do them, of course, but he also liked it when others did it, especially when it was only described to him and he had to reconstruct the image out of his own muscle memory, the remembered sensations of coiling and pushing and tight breathing and weightlessness. That is, he liked it if it was described right, which this commentator didn’t do. He’d start well enough, saying, for example, that the spider guy was doing a forward somersault, but then he’d correct himself and say it was an aerial walkover. Or that he was doing a scissors leap, but he’d change it to an aerial cartwheel but horizontal? What even was that? It didn’t sound possible! Even the commentator didn’t seem to know. Matt had to assume that he was trying to compensate for the spider guy’s sloppiness by making up stuff and that, judging by the crowd’s and Foggy’s reactions, his efforts were paying off. Maybe this Spider-Man guy had some sort of sight-based, charismatic showmanship he was missing out on, he sneered in his mind.

(What Matt didn’t know, of course, is that he was right, and “this Spider-Man guy” wouldn’t know gymnastic training  or form if it bit him in the butt. His thought process during all of it was more along the lines of “if I flip now, it’ll leave them all gagging!” And it did! Everyone except for the blind guy who couldn’t see it to believe it and thought he was at just the beginning of what promised to be a very frustrating show.)

Then it happened. Matt was sitting in disgruntled silence while Foggy described the guy’s “web”, which had aided him in his latest pirouette, thinking that everyone who’d paid to attend was getting scammed, when the commentator’s narration reached a near feverish pitch as he followed the latest string of stunts. The spider guy switched to multiple handsprings in a row, sometimes adorned with round offs or cartwheels or a random flip that was neither here nor there, but it was obvious from the change and the audience’s sudden tension that he was working up to something. Right when Mat was wondering just how long the stage was, the commentator announced a sudden leap forward into the air (twenty feet up? How could anyone buy this?). The commentator’s voice grew alarmed in a split second, screams came from the public just as Foggy’s breath caught and his heart rate accelerated. Matt returned to his previous thoughts — sloppy— a showman not a gymnast— no more space on the stage— and lunged for the remote. Like Hell were they going to watch a man get killed on TV. 

He might have made it in time, if he hadn’t had to rely on others’ reactions, so much slower than his own and oh-so-much slower than Spider-Man. As it was, a brief struggle with Foggy over the remote that ended with them falling off the couch was enough to let him hear a thud… and the crowd go wild with applause. He thought, well, that’s callous, before Foggy’s gasped out, “He landed on the!”

And he was much better at judging Foggy’s emotional state (and morals) than that of strangers on a screen, so he knew, “Wait, he’s alive?”

“He’s standing on the!”

“He’s alive?!” he repeated.

“He’s on the! He’s crouching on the! Now he’s! Oh! Oh! He’s crawling! Oh! Oh… er, I get the spider thing now. That’s creepy. He’s, ha, he’s creeping. He’s a creepy-crawly.”

“Fog, what the hell? He can’t walk?! Is there a doctor to help him?!” How could everyone be so happy with a man so hurt he was crawling? Was it the relief that he hadn’t died making them loopy?

“No, Matt.” Foggy grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “He’s crawling down the wall!”

“Do a flip!” came a shout from the TV.

“Well, no, I can’t do flips up here, Max,” came Spider-Man’s voice. Gasps. “I’ve gotta toe the line!”

“He’s only got a toe on the wall, he’s got that leg folded behind him and holding the rest of his body parallel to the wall, now,” Foggy explained, awed. Through a mind hazy from the shock, Matt recognized that it would have been a very bad pun… if Spider-Man hadn’t been defying the laws of physics as he made it.

“Wait, actually, I can!” Thud and applause. “But only once!”

The act proceeded to something very much like a talk show, if talk shows were regularly interrupted by the guest pulling stunts like pirouettes or tricks with his webbing or lifting the host’s chair, host included, with the tips of his fingers. More or less what he’d been doing all along, except now Matt believed it.

“Wow,” he said slowly. “What a showboat.” Sprawled on the floor of Foggy’s living room, he knew. He would go to one of Spider-Man’s acts in person, one day.

He pestered Foggy with questions. Asked him for details where the commentator, only there to explain the technical aspects of the stunts and not to function as a disability device, wouldn’t cut it. Asked him to describe the stage. The set-up. The audience. The man himself.

(“Uh, average? I mean, muscly, but lean, not too imposing. Average height, a bit taller than the host, maybe? Then again, I don’t know how tall the host is… Looks like a spider.”

“How can he look like a spider as tall as a man and average at the same time?!”

“Well, no, he’s dressed like a spider.”

“Like—”

“No, no, forget that, not like a spider… a spider motif! Yeah, it’s a skin tight suit with webs drawn on it, with boots and gloves like that, too. Uh, plain pants and stuff. A mask all over his head, with more webs and blank, creepy, buggy eyes! Oh, and web armpits! Sort of like a flying squirrel. Do you think he’ll fly?”

He didn’t.)

By the end, once they were already back at campus and going to bed, Foggy seemed to have gotten over the childish wonder and commented, “could’a been all smokes and mirrors, y’know. Invisible ropes.”

Matt smiled and told him that he hadn’t seen enough to form an opinion either way. Foggy grumbled a bit and said something about mimes and muscle control before falling asleep.

Matt’s smile didn’t go away. He knew. There was no smoke, no mirrors, no invisible rope beside those webs. Spider-Man was the real deal. He was like Matt.

It was very embarrassing to become the intended target of those “don’t try this at home” messages. At least, he’d confirmed the relative possibility of Spider-Man’s most ambitious gymnastics feats. That is, that some of them weren’t possible for human beings. He supposed it was a good thing that people thought he was so helpless that he could explain his sprained wrist away as the result of a simple stumble on a sidewalk, and not a failed attempt to recreate that scissors leap/horizontal aerial cartwheel. Then again, knowledge was its own kind of reward, because he’d found out that some of Spider-Man’s tricks were possible, especially for someone with Matt’s pinpoint precision, reflexes and control over his own body. He just had to let go of caution and trust his senses.

Over the next few days, he didn’t miss a single one of Spider-Man’s shows. On TV, of course. Following through on his plans to go to one live was a luxury he couldn’t afford as a Columbia law major, not on his schedule and not on his dime. He loathed the thought of asking his dad for more money when he was already putting him through college, if he’d even agree instead of urging him to forget that Spider-Man nonsense and focus on his studies. It’d be hard to justify such an expense when, as far as he knew, his son wouldn’t even be able to tell what was going on. How to explain that he’d be able to follow the act better that anyone else there? Or the sheer need to stand in front of someone and sense their otherness, the way only like can recognize like? There was no way. He’d have to wait until he had his own job and no one to question him on his expenses.

One of those plans of mice and men. Not a month later, Spider-Man was making headlines for a whole different reason. He’d caught a murderer. Apparently, a home burglary had gone wrong and in a turn of events that only the man himself understood, he’d ended up bringing the culprit to justice. People’s minds went to the Fantastic Four, naturally. What did they have to say about a new superhero? Would he join them? Would he work solo, like that one scientist who gave himself ant powers? Could he be trusted with public safety? Was it even his plan to turn to fighting crime or was it a one time thing? Would his act continue? Tabloids said no, Maxwell Shiffman, Spider-Man’s producer (the most embarrassing part of the whole affair for Matt — having learned the name of a tv personality), said yes. Matt didn’t know what to believe. Of course, the news would make that assumption without any proof. What better way to cause drama, after all? “Everything stays the same, same old, same old” wouldn’t sell. But it wasn’t like Shiffman would admit the loss of the greatest tv sensation of the decade so easily. Anyone could be lying, or wrong.

As it turned out, they were both right, after a fashion. Spider-Man took to crime fighting, but he did go back for one last show, which Matt missed because it hadn’t been advertised as such, at all. After that, though, no more. Full-time do-gooder, was he. Matt wasn’t really bitter, but he’d admit to a bit of disappointment. Oh, sure, it was for the best, he was glad there was someone out there helping people. Still. He wished he’d gotten the chance to meet the now-hero.

He wasn’t quite thinking of that missed opportunity when he decided to buy tickets to his dad’s fight soon after, but the experience had left the lingering impression that it was best to grab your chances while you had them. He definitely didn’t spare half a thought to Spider-Man in the following months. It wasn’t quite outside of the realm of possibilities, though, that maybe, just maybe, when he devised his billy club and his preferred method of travel, some part of his subconscious flashed back to Spider-Man’s webs and thought, “that’s the way to go”.

There were also other people like them running around by then. Iron Man. The X-Men. The Avengers. A wizard, or something? There were rumors about people who knew people who knew someone who’d seen a Norse God fighting rock aliens going around, but Matt was a Catholic, so whatever. 

It would figure, though, that with all that new variety, Spider-Man would still be the first other superhero he’d meet, and that it wouldn’t be as Daredevil, but as Matt Murdock, blind lawyer and seemingly attempted murder victim. It was a bit of a let down, t he way it went down. He could have dealt with those crooks. He’d wanted to. Then again, maybe it wasn’t the feat he should judge but the form - it was all over and done in a minute, and it had taken Spider-Man longer to wrap the four of them up than to take them down. That was impressive. He couldn’t help but feel a bit cheated, though.

Boy, would he change his tune not one day later. Spider-Man, in an actual circus act! It was everything he’d hoped it’d be, if he ignored the part of him that had grown a little too much in the last year to appreciate it as he might have, back then. It even distracted him from the Foggy/Karen situation for a bit. Spider-Man had a whole host of apparatuses now, which made his act even more impressive, according to Foggy. The poor guy tried to keep him on the loop, despite the noise of the frenzied crowd, but he had enough trouble keeping up himself. Spider-Man’s movements were quick and fanciful and playful. Matt was sure he was making up the routine as he went, often changing his mind mid-air. His private chuckle every time he pulled a particularly complicated stunt (which were most of them), or thought of a new joke or trick with which to drive the audience to bits made engendered a sense of rapport in Matt. He acted like there was nothing more enjoyable than hurtling himself from beam to unsteady circus beam several feet above the ground, and he got it. God, did Matt get it. He had to resist the temptation to go up and have a bit of fun on the tightrope himself.

Not for long, though. He got his chance on the stage, sure enough, as he half tried to save a hypnotized Spider-Man, half tried to escape him. Despite the advantage of a clear mind, he barely made it by the skin of his teeth. Then, Spider-Man’s sincere gratitude and kind of corny promise that “a Spider-Man never forgets!” suddenly brought home how young he was. Barely older than he’d been when he’d been blinded and got his powers. He was so caught up between this realization and an odd feeling of validation, like he’d been officially accepted into the ranks, that he almost gave his super-hearing away with a careless comment. 

His insights didn’t change the fact that, when the other hero benched him so he could take his pound of flesh, clever little Matthew just went back to his seat. After all, who else could say they’d gotten two live shows from the Amazing Spider-Man?

He couldn’t resist a small barb, though. “I couldn’t have done it much better myself.” Yes, the guy was cool and all, but they were peers now. No need to get mushy.

#Daredevil #Matt Murdock #Foggy Nelson #Spider-Man #Peter Parker #comics #fan fiction #Matt can have a little a parasociality #as a treat

[kinda-ooc-just-a-little]

Heart of a Lion

Chapter 9 Kindness and Virtue

Shinso x Reader

Rated M for Future Mature Themes (Not Explicit)

Tags: slow burn, mutual pining, secretive quirk

Summary: You never wanted to be a hero. You come from a long family of heroes, so why not just be a normal person? That’s what you hoped, until you re-connected with your old High School friend/crush.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 /

Once upon a time, around when quirks first started appearing, there was a family that was cursed to be quirk-less. It did not matter who they tried to mate with, even if they had the most powerful quirk holder, their child would not inherit any power from their parents. In the beginning, this was fine, as more than half the population was quirk-less. However, as time went on, they were slowly becoming the minority and being the outcast of society. In response to this, one generation decided to move away from the city into the country, away from society to live in peace.

One day, the mother and father decided to go for a walk. They walked along the river that ran behind their home into the forest. It was a peaceful walk, until they ran into some people who were beating up a poor animal. Quickly, they rushed to it’s aid, running off the wretched humans. They got a closer look, and to their surprise, lied a lioness breathing and whining heavily. They carried the animal back to their home to heal the lioness and allow her a peaceful place to sleep.

As the father was returning home with food for the lioness, a strange light surrounded her as she stood and jumped down from her bed. They stepped back in shock as they heard a voice call their names.

“I am eternally grateful for saving me. You have proved that you have hearts of kindness and virtue. I am a guardian spirit. The family line I have spent years watching over has ended and I require another family to share my power with. If you accept, I can grant you great power that is stronger than any quirk in this world.”

The father and mother looked toward each other, as if thinking the same thing. “We humbly thank you for the opportunity,” the father said first. “But if you surely can grant power, then we do not wish it to be for us.”

“It is our son.” The mother added. “He was born very weak. Without a quirk, we fear he may not be able to protect himself. He is twelve years old but has only truly lived half that. If what you said is true, then we beg you. Please, give him a chance to live a good life.”

The lioness nodded. “You are more selfless than I thought. My power shall start with him and will be shared down the family line. Your lineage will no longer have to worry about living a weak life, for strength will only be a call away.”

The father and mother smiled and hugged each other, relieved that their son could truly start living his life. However, the lioness gave a warning. “My power is granted to those with kindness and virtue. If this power is used for anything other than good intentions, then your family will lose this power forever.”

They agreed to the lioness’s terms, happy just to even have a chance to give their son a better life.  “Go to him.” The lioness said. “Teach him how to be kind and to not take this life for granted.”

“Yes, of course.” The father said.

“Thank you for this gift.” The mother said. “We will not waste this opportunity.”

And so, they went to the hospital where their son was. Everyone was astonished to see this once weak boy who could not get up from his bed, suddenly was sprinting down the halls with glee. Everyone was so happy to see the amazing progress and the parents were overflowed with emotion.

However, they had only just begun to witness what the power of the lioness could truly do.

Weeks passed since the boy’s recovery and he was joyful with every step he took. One day, the boy was on a walk with his family down the river side. They had reached an area where the river turned into whitewater rapids. They were just about to continue until they heard a scream from the river. They ran to see that a child had fell into the river and was about to be swept into the rapids. The mother and father tried to find a branch to reach them, until their son suddenly jumped into the rapids. His mother and father scrambled to save them, only to see him fight through the force of the river, grab the child, and carry her to safety.

His parents were so astonished. Was this the true power the lioness offered?

After everything was settled, they went home to discuss this new phenomenon. The son said he felt a strong will to save the girl and he simply asked anyone to give him the strength to do so.

“It is just as the lioness said. Her strength will only be a call away.”

That day the son made a vow to honor this new spirit within him. He vowed to unlock and discover any power he could so he would easily have access to the strength he has been blessed with so he can save everyone he can, just like the girl in the river.

For generations this power has been passed down and shared throughout the family line, every member working hard to unlock their own special power and use it for the good of the people.

“Everyone in the family forms their own unique power that reflects themselves. Some of them uses her animal form, some simply calls upon the power to make them stronger… some even learned to breathe fire or ice.” You said. “However, because someone can easily take advantage of this power, the first one made a rule to not use the power in vain.”

“The first one?” Shinso tilted his head.

“That’s how we refer to the boy that was first granted the power. Technically, my however-many-great grandfather.” You groaned a little, remembering practically being forced to study your family history. “Don’t remember though. I think I fell asleep during that lecture.”

You observed Shinso to see he didn’t move at all during the time you were telling your family story. He practically sat there in confusion most of the time. You hoped it wasn’t too much for him. The last thing you needed for him was another reason to leave you again.

You shuddered at the thought. You just got him back. It would be a cruel world if he decided to not talk to you again. Oh god, would he do that? You thought as you looked over at Shinso who was staring at the floor in thought. You wanted to know what he was thinking. “Um… Shinso?”

He jerked his head with a “Huh?” and locked his indigo eyes with yours.

“What… what are you thinking?” you dared to ask.

“A lot.” He replied. “Everything is starting to make sense.”

You tried so desperately to stop your hand from shaking from anxiety. Your heart was practically waiting for him to either understand or tell you off for not trusting him. Before you could get your answer, a nurse knocked and walked in. “Shinso? I’m sorry to tell you this, but we need you back in your room to do some more testing.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be there in a bit.”

The nurse took her leave and a heavy silence fell in the room as you still waited for his opinion on the matter. He took a deep breath and stood up. “I should get back.”

“Okay.” Your body was frozen in place as your thoughts screamed Just ask him! as he started to make his exit. “Wh-wait!” you shouted as he reached for the door.

“Y-yes?” he stuttered, startled by your sudden outburst.

Your fists clenched as you tried to find the right words. You’ve been waiting years for the opportunity to tell him this and you doubt he can even comprehend the significance of this moment. Of course, he wouldn’t. You remembered the many nights you spent just talking with him. He shared everything with you. His dreams and his thoughts were no secret, yet you wouldn’t even spare a conversation about your day, always steering the conversation back to him when you had the chance.

“Um… have a good night.” Was all you said as you let him go. You figured he’d been through enough for the weekend and you didn’t want to push him to be emotionally available, especially with what he had to go through just the day before.

You just hoped he could understand.

This… is not good, you thought as you awoke in the stairwell of the agency you currently worked at. You run your hand through your hair and sighed as you made your way back to your department with a blanket that you seemed to have taken from the lobby room. For two weeks at random times, you found yourself forgetting time or waking up in random places. Thankfully, the episodes didn’t last long, and you’ve managed to stay in the good graces of the boss despite this setback. Yet still, it is a mystery why it kept happening.

You dropped off the blanket in the lobby, trying to avoid questioning glances at your slightly bed head as you made your way to the elevators to get back to where you worked. Entering the elevator, you didn’t even notice another person was with you until you heard a deep voice call your name. You looked to the person to see clear indigo eyes that you had not seen in a while. You missed them.

“You don’t look too good.” He looked at you, concerned. “Have you been sleeping at all?”

You debated on whether to tell him the full truth or just tip-toe around it. “I’m still getting used to the new job. I’m sure it’s just temporary.”

He clenched his jaw. He was sure that wasn’t the case as he heard rumors that you had been spacing out lately. But he didn’t want to intrude if it was personal. Besides, if you needed his help, you would tell him… right? “Well, you went through a lot in the last couple of weeks. Don’t push yourself.”

The air felt heavy. You knew he knew that you were holding something back. You didn’t want him to worry. He’s a pro hero and he’s already busy enough. You decided you could handle it alone. “I won’t.”

The doors opened and you gave him a small smile before you left. Taking a seat at your small desk, you checked the time to see you stayed five minutes over your break. You groaned as you resumed your work, but your thoughts never strayed from those indigo eyes. Shinso never really held a full conversation with you since that day. Of course, meetings and villain attacks kept him busy, but you couldn’t stop the negative thoughts that flooded into your head, wondering if it was just an excuse to not see you.

You wanted to see him.

You grabbed your head as it felt like white noise was spreading through it. You massaged your skull in an attempt to make it go away. Seriously, what the hell is going on? You didn’t even notice your team leader quietly walking up to you until he put his hand on your shoulder. You jumped and let out a small embarrassing yelp and tripped over your words as you asked him if he needed anything.

“You seem stressed. I know it’s your weekend off tomorrow, so why don’t you head home early?”

You pursed your lips. If even your team leader could tell something was off with you then Shinso definitely could. “I just haven’t been getting a lot of sleep, Sei. I’m fine. I don’t want people to pick up my slack over such a reason.”

“Such a reason is why we want you to go home.” Sei responded. “Go home and get some rest. We can cover you for today.”

“But-“

“No buts!” Another coworker chipped in. “You went through some crazy shit a couple weeks ago. You haven’t even given yourself a chance to rest. Just take the weekend and go get a massage or something.”

“Or get laid.” Everyone glared at the girl who said it. “What? It’s what I do to relax!”

You chuckled at everyone’s efforts to cheer you up. “Thanks. You all have no idea how much this means to me. I promise I’ll be much better by Monday.”

You gathered your things, said your goodbyes and left the office. As you made your way down the hallway you felt yourself go light headed again. What the hell is happening? To avoid staring eyes, you shuffled into the bathroom and splashed water on your face. You wished Shinso was here.

What? You questioned the intrusion thought. Why is he coming up in this situation? You groaned as the fuzz in your head started to grow fierce, becoming a full-on headache. So many thoughts suddenly flooded your head that all lead to the same person: Shinso.

Stop, stop, stop! You tried to control your thoughts and the sudden increase in blood pressure. Please just make it stop!

And then you felt everything go black.

“Thank you all for the hard work this month and enjoy your early weekend!”

Shinso lightly massaged his neck as he made his way to the elevators. He was elated to finally have an early weekend, although, he was sure it would pass unceremoniously. Entering the elevators, he hovered his finger over the ground floor button. Would it be okay to visit them? Shinso debated in his head if it was okay to see you. Worry for you filled his mind the entire meeting, wondering if what you said was true or if there was another reason for you spacing out. He decided you probably wouldn’t mind and he had promised to do more for you anyway, visiting you could be a start. He pressed the button to your floor and made his way to where he knew your office was… except you weren’t there.

“Hey, Professor X, what’s up?” Sei, your team leader, asked.

Shinso smirked at his antics, amused that he still poked fun at the pro-heroes, despite his position. “If you’re referring to my vast intellect, then thank you.”

Sei chuckled at Shinso, also amused that he still puts up with his teasing. “Seriously, what’s up? It’s not like you to stop here.”

“Where’s the newbie?” Shinso asked. “I just saw them before my meeting.”

“The newbie looked like they haven’t been resting well so I sent them home early.” Sei answered. “Why? You interested or something?” He nudged Shinso with his elbow.

Shinso averts his eyes and anxiously rubbed his neck. “Something like that.”

“Then you better get going. I just sent them home not too long ago, you might be able to catch them.”

Shinso thanked the man and quickly made his way down the hall. He had no idea how he would be able to find you, but he knew he had to try. Hopefully you-

“Ahh! Help!”

Shinso’s thoughts were cut short when he heard a womanly scream from around the corner of the hall. He immediately clutched his capture device, ready to face a villain but as he turned the corner, he saw… the lioness?

He was confused to see the spirit was sniffing a woman who was trapped against the wall. The lioness growled and turned her nose up, as if repulsed with her smell. The lioness continued down the hall until she spotted Shinso. Immediately, the lioness charged him.

Shinso was frozen in place. He could barely make out the voices advising him to run, or even react when the lioness pounced on him to the floor. Shinso shut his eyes expecting his face to be chomped off but it never came. Instead, he felt a wet muscle run up his cheek. He opened his eyes to see the lioness licking his face and then burying her head in his shoulder, letting out a deep purr as she nestled on top of his body.

“Well this is quite the predicament.” Sei said, observing the situation before him. He tried to get close, but the lioness growled at him when he took a step forward. “You two know each other?”

Shinso was about to question him if he knew about you but stopped himself. If you didn’t want to tell your team about your quirk, then he probably shouldn’t. “In a way, yes.” He simply said, petting the giant cat before him. “I can take care of it.”

“Should probably do it fast. Before someone calls animal control.” Sei chuckled before walking away.

Shinso groaned at his attempt at a joke, but he was right. Shinso figured he should probably get you out of there before someone tried to take control of the situation. He pushed the lioness off enough so he could stand. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” He started to walk toward the elevators and easily enough, the lioness followed him inside, everyone else refusing to ride with them.

Eyes were trailed on him the entire way home. Even in a world filled with quirks that make people look like animals, people are still afraid of lions? Shinso questioned. He looked toward the lioness that was happily trotting next to him, her tail bouncing back a forth. Shinso wondered what to do with you. He could try to take you back to your apartment, but he didn’t know where that was. He decided the best thing to do was take you to his apartment. It was a builder floor that had plenty of room for a lion to live in. Reaching the apartment, he opened the door and the lioness immediately pounced inside, sniffing and rubbing on everything in sight. Shinso chuckled to himself. If only you could see this.

But Shinso didn’t know if this was you or not. From what your team leader said, you weren’t sleeping well and when he saw you in the elevator you looked far from okay. Was this the reason? He felt a little saddened that you didn’t confide in him with your struggle. He thought you were beginning to trust him again.

He decided to put the situation in the back of his mind and go to the kitchen to find something to eat. As he was rummaging through the fridge, he could feel the lioness rubbing against his thigh. “Are you hungry too?” He asked, petting her on the head as she made happy growling noises. “I’m not sure I have enough to feed you but hopefully this could hold you over until you change back.” He pulled a chicken from his freezer and set the oven to preheat. The lioness hummed as she laid down on the kitchen floor, her tail still happily moving back and forth. As Shinso made dinner, he pondered why you would change into that form. Perhaps too much stress from what had happened… or maybe summoning lioness the first time did something to you.

He finished cooking the chicken and placed a large portion on a plate. He placed the plate on the ground and the lioness ate it in just a couple of bites. Although she finished fast, she looked satisfied. Shinso set his plate on the counter and ate while the lioness sat next to his feet, occasionally pawing at his toes. He couldn’t help but reach down and ruffle his hand on her head. Despite being a ferocious beast, in this state, she looked just like a house cat.

He finished his meal and cleaned up his kitchen. As he was finishing, he realized that the lioness wasn’t in the spot he left her. He searched the apartment to find that she had cuddled up in his bed, her whiskers twitching as she slept comfortably in his spot. Shinso smiled as he grabbed extra blankets and pulled them over her form. He stroked her as she cuddled herself under the blanket.

It was so strange to think that this was you but in a different form. Even still, he was happy just to be next to you, even if it wasn’t really you. Or maybe it was you. Shinso wanted to ask you so many questions about your quirk, how it worked, what are the drawbacks… (Midoriya must have rubbed off on him.) He wanted so desperately to see you and make sure you were okay after the villain attack, but he found himself busy at every turn. At least now, you were where he could see you, and he wasn’t going to let you go until he knew you were okay.

He decided to let you rest as much as you could. He started to leave, but then grunted in embarrassment when he remembered what happened when you woke up from your quirk. He searched through his dresser to find a sweater and sweat pants that looked to be your size and left them on the edge of the bed. He left the room but not without giving one last look and a quiet “goodnight,” leaving you to get a good night’s sleep.

#shinso x reader #shinso hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi #bnha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #oocwrites #xreader

[erintoknow]

there’s no turning back

Spiraling - A Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fan-fiction

Ortega’s gravity is pulling you back into everything you can’t have. The fantasy that anyone would care about you is as seductive as it is destructive. [In Undertow]

[Read on AO3]

It’s unsettling how quickly routine can develop, and with it familiarity. As the days turn into weeks turn into first one month then another. It’s not falling back into old habits, not exactly. But then again, it’s hard to tell sometimes. Volunteer work with Ortega, splitting weeks between the hospital and soup kitchen. It’s starting to feel… normal.

Was Ortega always this warm? Always this quick to touch, to catch your hand, to smile or frown? Were you always so quick to do the same?

It doesn’t feel right. Like… any moment god, or… something like it will realize the mistake and cast you down. Punish you for daring to feel like this.

You’d deserve it.

After all, you’re double-dipping. First as Jane, Ortega’s girlfriend, and again as Ariadne, that ghost from the past that just refuses to die. What game, exactly, Ortega is playing here you’re not sure. But in the five years you knew her, for all the relationships and flings she might have gone through, not once did she cheat. So… You must be reading her wrong right? How she is behaving to Ariadne?

If it’s not dating then what is it?

Wishful thinking or, maybe it’s a bleed over in perception or, or, or, something, anything to explain it away. Attraction – to this body? With it’s deformities and branding and everything twisted and wrong. It’s not – it’s not possible.

And then you think about the beach and –

Oh, you idiot. Why did you do that?

Why did Ortega do that?

Kiss you.

Repeatedly.

Finger to your lips, the memory of her mouth on yours is like a ghost. Electric and heart racing. Just thinking about it again and you can feel your face warm as you stare out the window. Want to pull your shawl up over your head and melt into a puddle. Shouldn’t be smiling like this. This is messed up. It’s wrong. God, are you crazy? Have you lost your entire fucking mind? This is… it’s you we’re talking about here. There’s no fucking way she would… right?

Goddammit this is making your head hurt.

The break room door swings up and you scramble to your feet, arms swinging wildly as you struggle to keep your balance. For a moment coming out of your reverie there’s the assumption it must be Ortega coming in but – no, your awareness brushes the mind seconds before you turn and see her. All sharks and barbed wire.

“L– lady Argent. Um. Hi.”

She narrows her eyes, looking you up and down. “Waiting for Herald?”

Have to swallow the lump in your throat, battle back the nausea. “Um. H–herald? Yeah.” You shrug, avoiding her eyes. Actually Ortega had asked you for advice on something. But you’re not about to disabuse Argent of her assumption. She thinks you’re a wash-up and a has-been. And if your inability to stare her in the face and acknowledge what you’ve done contributes to that, well, that works out just fine, doesn’t it?

“Hrm.” Argent frowns, “That’s right, you’re giving him pointers or something? Whatever,” she shrugs and turns towards the fridge. Yanks open the door with no small amount of force. “Not my problem. As long as he stays out of my hair, we’re good.”

Okay. This seems like a safe enough subject. You can do this, Ariadne.

“He’s… um.” You falter as Argent turns to look at you again, a box of cold rice in one hand. “He’s got no idea how to use his boost in a–a–a fight. I’m having to… to um, start from well, from square one.”

“Well, maybe if he had ever listened to me, he wouldn’t have beefed it.” Argent scowls. “He should just carry a damn gun already. Could just fly around people’s cover.”

“Do… do you really think Herald is the type of person to, uh, well, um… carry a gun?”

She rolls her eyes, pulling into a seat. “Of course you would take his side. Bleeding hearts.”

You blink at that. “W–what?” You? A bleeding heart? You have to keep your face blank. Fight to not laugh at the idea.

She points a chopstick at you, “You heard me.”

When you don’t immediately respond she shifts focus to the rice, shoveling it into her mouth. You… should get out of here. If Herald still wants to train this week he has your number. Well, he has a number of yours.

Being alone in a room with Lady Argent is near the very bottom of the list of things you want to be. It’s hard enough facing her when you’re in your armor. At least Ghost – Banshee now, you remind yourself – has some sort of rivalry building that gives you a framing to work with. Just as yourself, as Ariadne the has–been… it’s too… too…

Whatever – Don’t think about it. You’re going to have nightmares tonight as it is, anyway.

Quietly you slowly meander around the perimeter of the break room and make your exit. Argent doesn’t stop you. Barely even thinks of you. If you’re lucky, you’ll stay that way. A bug beneath her notice.

As tempting as it is, you don’t really have the trust, or the cover, to go snooping around. You’ll just find a conference room or something to hold up in. Ortega will message or call or whatever whim strikes her when she can’t find you. She’s certainly never been shy about hunting you down.

“–you. There’s something going on here.”

Oooooor the snooping could come to you. You hang back. Shut the door to a conference room. Can only pick up one mind on the other side but– static. Ortega? Ortega and… Chen? Can feel your stomach twist.

“Your opinion is noted, but your personal feelings are clouding your judgement on this Ortega.” Chen. Yep, that’s Chen alright.

“It doesn’t fit the MO, or anything we know about motive. Why spend all that work only to flush it away?” Ortega. She sounds frustrated. Raising her voice. You can just imagine the static electricity crawling up her arms, discharge triggered by the stress in her hands.

“You know as well as I do that these things can change as a villain settles in. Maybe the change of name was meant to be a tip off.”

Name change? They’re not talking about…? You can feel your breath catch in your throat.

“And we’ve seen that. Compare how mouthy they’ve gotten to their debut. Come on, Wei. Think this through. Someone else is using them as cover. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“...the jury is still out on that one. And saving bystanders to the assassination attempt would still fit the profile we’ve built.” There’s a pause. “No, I’m not convinced.” Chen’s voice drops. The two of them continue to argue, muffled by the door. Skimming his thoughts doesn’t give you much more to work with. If the Rangers still can’t figure out what exactly Banshee’s deal is, that’s fine with you. The longer they spend guessing, the longer you have to build your strength.

The doorknob turns and you jump back, biting your lip. Ortega catches your eyes as she steps out. Momentary surprise is washed away with an embarrassed smile. “Sorry, I got a little heated there.”

“I – I wasn’t–” You cough, face red. “I wasn’t uh, trying to eavesdrop I just… Argent kicked me out of the break room so, well, um…”

“Ari, you’re fine.” Ortega laughs, a hand on your shoulder guiding you away from the conference room. “Actually, I wanted to ask your opinion on the whole thing so it’s fine.”

“It – it is?”

“Not here though. Com’on, let’s go to my office.”

“I’m… not in trouble am I?”

Ortega gives you a wry look. “Not yet. Why? Looking to make some?”

You offer an uneasy smile back. “I’ll be good.”

–––

“So.. what’s the deal?” You settle into your chair as Ortega takes the one by the computer. You watch as she grabs some papers off the desk shuffling through them.

“I wanted your opinion on Banshee.”

You frown, folding your arms against your chest under your shawl. Thank god for that shawl. No one can see the sweat dripping down your armpits. “Ghost?”

Ortega gives you a curious look. “Banshee, remember?”

“No, I knew that.” You correct her before you can stop yourself. “I mean, uh – why ask me?” You sigh. “I thought I had made my feelings on all this pretty clear.”

“I think that makes it all the more important.” Ortega whispers.

“Huh?” You didn’t hear that right, did you?

“Do you think they’re a killer?”

You stare at her. “Wh–what do you mean?”

“You know, Mayor Alavrez’s personal aide?” Ortega offers, “Has kind of an anti-corruption bent to him?”

Ochoa had been priming Vanderpoel as an informant for a big expose on City Hall corruption. You’d been hoping to keep him around as a pawn to push against the Mayor when election season rolled around. Did the Rangers suspect something there?

You blink and tilt your head. One hand finds itself digging into your leg, tracing patterns. “I... “ You laugh, “Ortega, who keeps up on that kind of stuff?”

“Argent says she interrupted Banshee in middle of… doing something with Mayor Alavrez’s aide.”

“So…?”

“There was that hit job on Marconi, and Banshee took a hostage in that last fight with Argent.” Ortega pauses, you steal a quick glance at her face only for the weight of her gaze to force your eyes away again.

“Fuck.”

“Ariadne…?” Ortega furrows her brow.

“No, I just – What are you asking?” You sigh. A long, drawn-out exhale as you run your hands through your hair. You look back up and find Ortega’s brown eyes searching your face.

“You always had a knack for knowing what the bad guys were thinking, Ari.” There’s a strange evenness to her voice. It takes the sharp pain of your fingernails digging into your thigh to keep you present.

“That’s – Ortega, that was a long time ago.” You force a laugh. “And – and anyway…” Your stomach twists. “Is it really that much of a mystery? Banshee already killed that uh, Macaroni guy. You can’t really turn back from that.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

You furrow your brow, biting the inside of your cheek. Not so sure? Not so sure of what? Banshee killing Marconi had been a cut and dry story all over the news. And it’s not like you were able to save him, just because you weren’t responsible for the explosion didn’t make you any less guilty.

Ortega sighs, “And now this thing with Alavrez’s aide. Argent was on the scene as fast as she could, but Banshee had plenty of opportunity to kill him if that had been the goal.”

What was it you overheard her and Chen talk about? Someone else using Banshee for cover? Cover for what? Obviously they’re both mistaken, but what exactly does Ortega think is going on here?

Ortega leans back in her chair, blowing air through her lips. “Chen says I’m too close, so… what do you think?”

You stare at her, point a hand at your chest. “What do I think?”

“Did Banshee kill Marconi?”

“I – I’m sorry, did I miss something? When did that become the question?”

"Let’s just say the evidence doesn’t line up as well as the official story would have you believe.”

Your eyes widen at that. That’s a normal enough reaction for someone completely innocent right? Your heart is pounding in your chest and you can feel the sweat on your armpits. “I… Okay. I guess… putting that particular… attack aside,” You force yourself to meet Ortega’s eyes. “I mean, well. Does she – them – they, do they seem like the… the type, to uh well, do that?” This is crazy. It’s one thing to be getting insider gossip, it’s another to be walking a tightrope over a pit full of live alligators. “They’ve uh, they’ve had… plenty of opportunities. Why kill just that one guy?”

“Maybe Marconi wouldn’t give them something they wanted?”

“That’s… possible.” You have to concede. “But…” You’re playing with fire here. Need to be dead careful with your words. “You think they’re a telepath, right?”

Ortega nods.

“So… like, even if someone decides they don’t want to, uh, to talk anymore. If this… criminal is as powerful a telepath as you think, I don’t know if that would be a barrier?”

“What do you mean?”

“I–I–I mean, well – As long as someone’s alive, you can work with that. Uh. Mentally speaking. You can’t… can’t get thoughts from a corpse.”

Ortega drums her fingers against her chin, staring over your shoulder at the unfinished wall. “That’s kind of creepy.”

Oh god. Oh christ. How did you get yourself into this mess?

“That’s… just my guess?” You have to take a breath, swallow the bile back. It’s a struggle not to let the tension show any more than it already is. “And… it’s not like I’ve kept up the past couple years. Maybe I’m completely off base. But… I don’t think there’s anything Banshee would have to gain from killing these guys.”

“So you think they would kill somebody?”

“I… I didn’t say that!” You sit up, waving your hand. “I–I–I don’t know what they’re thinking.”

“Ari?”

You look up, “S–sorry.” You bunch up your hands, shrinking into your seat. “I’m a little out of it already.”

Ortega’s expression changes, a different kind of concern. “Are you sleeping okay?”

“Um…” You chew your cheek, look away from her to stare at the blank whiteboard. “No. Uh… Therapy.” You throw the word out there with a shrug. “It’s been… it’s been hard. Digging things up.” Not a complete lie. You rub your head, plaster a smile back on your face. “Sorry, sorry. Um. Let’s focus on this… Banshee mess?”

“I guess it depends on what their agenda actually is.”

“Yeah.”

“They definitely seem to have some sort of political bent to their attacks.” Ortega glances at you from the corner of her eye. “It’s making a lot of suits very nervous.”

“For their lives or their careers?”

That gets a small smirk. “Soon it’s gonna be both.”

“That’s… fair.” You’re not sure your smile is as genuine as you’d like. Who’s trying to undermine you? Once was coincidence but twice makes a pattern. It’s enough to make your skin crawl. You need to be more careful. Maybe it’s time to drop Rosie, as helpful as having her around is. Up your OpSec.

Fuck – you’re zoning out again. You scan the run, looking for something to distract the conversation with. “Who’s that?” You nod towards the photo taped to the frame of Ortega’s computer monitor.

“Who?” She spins around in her chair. “Oh. That.” She looks back at you, embarrassed? “A reminder, that’s all.”

“Reminder?” You tilt your head.

“I… may have punched a reporter at your funeral. I’m surprised you didn’t already know?” She pries the photograph off it’s tape backing and hands it over to you. A newspaper clipping it looks like. Somebody’s byline. Vernon Browne? “He was an asshole.” Ortega sighs, a scowl settling over the embarrassment. “A real asshole. I quit the next week. They were going to fire me otherwise.”

“I had a funeral?” The words spill out of your mouth before you can stop them.

Ortega makes a face like you just slapped her. “Of course you had one. Ari, why wouldn’t you? I told you when we met.”

“S–sorry. I just… never thought about it.” Things like you don’t ‘get’ funerals. You’re disposable. Break down into parts and re-use whatever’s still good. “I… uh. I didn’t really… think anyone cared.”

“Ari–” Ortega blinks hard. You can tell she’s barely restraining herself from touching you. “Of course people cared. A… lot of people cared. About both of you.”

Both?

Anathema.

Fuck.

You rub at your face.

“We didn’t have a body for either of you, but that didn’t mean we were just… just going to forget about you.” Ortega looks away, balling her hands into fists. Little sparks crawling up her arms. “And then this pendejo shows up with all these… weird accusations. At your goddamn funeral and, and…”

Have to keep your face blank. “...accusations…?”

“He was a conspiracy nut. Ranted about all kinds of crazy things.” Ortega throws her hands in the air. “I don’t remember even half of the nonsense he shouted. But it – it was your goddamn funeral and he wouldn’t shut up and…”

“So you… punched him?”

“I’d have kicked his teeth in too if Wei hadn’t grabbed me. Still broke his nose. Ortega shakes her head. “He had a time of it, reading me the hospital bill.”

“Chen’s an asshole.”

“So are we all.” Ortega takes the picture back from you, sticks it back to the monitor. “Anyway, he retired not long after. But I keep the picture around. It’s a reminder.”

You watch Ortega’s face, the shift in her body language. Sometimes she seems as energetic and gung-ho as she was seven years ago. And other times, like right now, you can really see the weight of middle-age starting to settle into her. “A reminder?”

“Not to let my emotions get the better of me like that again.”

You frown. “So… when Wei said you were too close…”

“Yeah.” Ortega frowns with you, raises a hand up to rub the back of her neck.

“Well…” Your voice feels small, drowning into the empty walls as you stare at your lap. “I think… maybe your hunch is right.”

“Thanks.” Her hand finds your knee. You let it stay there.

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero fanfic #fanfiction #fhr/Ariadne

[rogue-barnes-16]

I'M A MONSTER

Summary: Y/n knew for a fact that Wanda was definitely not doing well when it came to dates. After a particular rough night, Y/n finds out the reason for what had been happening.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!Reader

Genre: angst-fluff

Tags:

Permanent taglist: @notexactlythatgirl @thisismysecrethappyplace @sofreakinmanyfandoms @pizzarollpatrol @bubblycypress87 @1a-girl-has-no-name1 @loislp @lovenaturefirst @dyanna-corona @2ptonpt @goodnightmode @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mannls @cutie1365 @catch22inareddress @mybooradley @sebastianisasnack @butifulsoul125 @unlikelygalaxygiver

Warnings: language, angst, makeout session

A/N: —

"Morning" I greeted the three members of the Avengers who were doing nothing but chill in the leisure room.

"Mornin' doll" Bucky replied without looking up from his laptop.

Clint gave me a quick glance before redirecting his whole attention to the TV show he was watching. "You look terrible."

"Thank you very much." I replied sarcastically, pouring myself a glass of orange juice. "it's Steve's fault, by the way." Bucky asked an intrigued 'how so', to which I responded. "had to train with him because someone didn't show up this morning, right Wan?"

The brunette witch, who hadn't even spared me a brief look, nor a single word, flickered her gaze to my form. "Sorry."

"what happened?" I asked, keeping it cool.

I didn't want her to realize I had heard her cry until she fell asleep the night before, right after she had come back from another date.

I didn't want her to know I was worried sick about something I wasn't supposed to know, so I kept it cool.

"Nothing," she shrugged turning the page of her book without making eye contact with anyone in the room. "I was just not in the mood."

"Wait what the fuck?" my eyes traveled to the archer. "Wanda, this doesn't work like that." Clint scolded her. "You gotta train every day, it's not about being 'in the mood', this is your job."

"Clint, give her a break." I tried to get in the middle and cool things down after seeing the way Wanda started to fidget with her ring, just like she did every time she was anxious or uncomfortable. "it was a one time thing."

"It wasn't." Bucky spoke, giving me a look before turning his gaze to Wanda. "I really hate to lecture you, but Barton's right." Wanda's green eyes looked for aid in mines, but I wasn't sure of how to help her. You've been skipping training on and off for two weeks, kid." she left the book aside and started pulling at her sleeves. "If you feel like you can't keep up with Y/n's rhythm, say it. Tony will change your partner but-"

She grabbed the book and, after abruptly getting up from the bed, Wanda stalked out of the room.

"what's gotten into her now?" Clint asked, rather worried.

"Dunno man." after Bucky’s reply to Clint's rhetorical question, the soldier's blue eyes lingered on my form, longer enough for me to notice. "Hey Y/n" When he called my attention, I knew he was onto something. "why don't you go and check on Maximoff?"

"Why would I?" I quietly asked whilst internally dying to sprint through the hall in order to reach Wanda's room.

Bucky waited an instant before answering me, in which he took the liberty of analyzing my body language. "You're the closest to the door." with a half grin playing in his lips, he turned back to the laptop.

Damn, he knew.

"I mean-" I cleared my throat, considering all my alternatives. "I think she just needs some time alone."

Nor Bucky, nor Clint turned around, but I could feel their confusion.

Despite my shocking reply, I wasn't actually lying.

Wanda was a very introverted girl, very sensitive. She had her own way of dealing with her own problems and, as much as I would love to help, her ways, more often than not, didn't include the girl who had fallen in love with her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was Friday night again.

Wanda had gone on a date again.

"you seem happy" I lazily commented, pretending I hadn't been stealing glances at her smile since that morning, when she received a message from a random stranger.

"Oh" she attempted to bit back a smile by chewing her lower lip. "Do I?" I turned around to see her struggling to zip up her dress. "Hey Y/n can you-"

"Hold on" I left the book I was reading aside and stepped towards her. "where ya going?" I questioned, parting her hair from her back.

"Uhm I have a..." I felt her, rather than heard her, sigh when my fingertips intentionally ghosted a line down from her neck to her bare low back before actually zipping her dress. "I have a date."

"Nice." I whispered, accommodating her long hair back in its initial place. "have fun and take care alright?" I struggled to pull my hands away from her.

"I will." she replied, turning around with beaming eyes that seemed to be waiting for something else from me. "don't worry."

I had been taking it out on one of the gym's punching bags for at least a couple of hours, until I was so tired that I couldn't walk, until I had no energy to keep hurting for things I would never say, until every feeling I had for Wanda had been shoved out of my body, at least for a while.

I was making my way to my room when I heard her crying again.

This time I was too tired to hold back, I was too tired to think about giving her space, and before I knew it, I was pushing open Wanda's room's door.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I tiredly asked, taking her completely off guard and, therefore, making her give me her back while she cleaned her tears.

"Nothing, I-I'm fine." she lamely lied.

"Wanda, don't even try, I'm not stupid." I replied, taking a few steps towards her. "almost every night you go out on a date, you come here crying."

She shook her head, slowly turning around, hugging herself. "That's not-"

"I swear on my life" I stared speaking, finally reaching her. "If those assholes are hurting you I'm gonna kill them one by fucking one."

"it's not like that." she muttered with trembling lips.

"what do you mean?"

"it's my fault" she choked up, finally making her green eyes, now glassy and bloodshot, dig into mines. "I'm a monster."

She let herself fall to the floor sat against the wall, straight up sobbing, and I couldn't do anything but stare blankly at her, barely starting to process what had just come out of her plump, rosy lips.

"Wanda" my voice sounded broken, but I couldn't help it. "Wanda, that's not true. What the fuck" I kneeled before her, caressing tenderly and reassuringly every part of her that I reached. "that's not fucking true. Wanda look at me. Wanda." I lifted her chin. "that's not fucking true."

"it is." she replied, sniffing with her eyes shut and her lips pursed in an attempt to stop the tears and the quivering. "you just don't wanna see it. No one--" hiccup. "no one here does b-but I know it's true."

"Wanda for fucks sake it's not true." I pulled her hands to get her to look at me because I was dying to show her how wrong that statement was, even if I wasn't sure yet of how I was going to show her. "Wanda please-- listen to me. Doesn't my opinion count or what the fuck?"

"It's- It's n-not like that it's-- I'm-- Y/n you don't... You see wh- only what you-- you don't see my dark side... I..." words came out of her stumbling as she tried to cover her face once more.

"Look at me!" I tugged her hands harder this time, in a way that she had no option but stare into my eyes, red from holding back the tears. "I don't fucking see your dark side? who the fuck was in Sokovia by your side when you lost it? Whose mind you played with the first time I met you?" the brunette's lip quivered again and I brought her closer. "You're not a monster."

"youjustsaythatbecauseyouloveme" the sentence came out of her so quick and chaotic that I almost didn't understand it.

Almost.

"I'm saying it because I know you." My voice finally shattered, trying to ignore the fact that she knew about my feelings for her —feelings that probably were unrequited— at the same time as I struggled to prove she was wrong. "You're loving, kind-hearted, empathic, amazing, trustful, funny, and I also see your damn flaws alright? But that's- that's not the point."

"then what's the point?" she muttered, tired and hurt.

She was looking for something in particular in my next reply, but I didn't take the cue.

No, no I didn't catch what she was looking for, because my mind was buzzing way too loud, not allowing me to notice that Wanda had just realized I may have feelings for her, feelings that mirrored hers.

"the... The point is that you- I--" I gripped her hands tight, as if the thoughts I couldn't put into words could be sent to her mind by our touch. "the point is that I'm gonna fucking kill whoever said this to you, 'cause-- 'cause I'm-- this-"

I fixed my eyes on hers, and still didn't catch a glimpse of her sudden desire for me to finally put my feelings into those three words.

I didn't catch that, but I didn't come to the conclusion that there was only a way I could somehow show her how wrong she was.

I gave both her hands one last tug and my lips attacked hers, desperate for making the witch feel loved, desperate to prove she wasn't a monster.

Tears kept streaming down my face, instantly being aware of the high chances of her rejecting me, but a thought crossed my mind that gave me strength not to pull away and run.

If someone has to be broken, better be me because of a truth, than her because of an ugly lie.

The chaos in my head stopped me from noticing the sob of relief that came out of Wanda, muffled by my lips, along with her shaky fingers holding onto my shirt as if it was the end of the world.

She pulled away and I prepared myself for the worst, already letting go of her arm and cheek.

To my surprise, in her eyes I saw what I had missed during the kiss, and I also saw love and desire.

She didn't hesitate before closing the gap between us by holding the sides of my neck, letting one of her hands travel to my hair to tug it slightly the moment our mouths reunited.

My hands pulled her hips to mine and sat her down on my lap. "I love you too" she mumbled between hungry kisses, unconsciously rocking her hips to mines. "I... I love you..."

The grip on her hips tightened enough to bruise her while a moan or two left my lips. "Wanda... Wait" I made her stop and, after pecking her lips I pulled away. "I need a shower first."

She nodded but didn't leave her spot.

"Wanda?"

"can I shower with you?" she asked shyly, looking down at her lap.

"of course" I replied kiss her jaw with a half smile. "let's go alright?"

#wanda x you #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff aesthetic #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff #bucky x wanda #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x fem!reader #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch fanart #wlw marvel #marvel wlw #wlw advice #Wlw Wanda Maximoff #wanda x reader

[wizardwisenmore]

First Aid Gives Rodimus Hell

@alyonian a fic based on those posts about thunderclash asking first aid to write fanfiction for him

i put the final touches on this at like 4am so it might be a bit wonky, will look at it with a more awake mind later

The purple datapad that goes with First Aid everywhere is, supposedly, a personal journal for keeping track of schedules and random ideas to look at later. Which, in fact, isn’t completely incorrect but those schedules happen to be for in-person or online meetings with his clients and those little ideas he writes are for said clients. Well, now, “client” sounds a bit risque but what he’s doing is perfectly legitimate in First Aid’s opinion. He ignores the several helpful reminders from Ambulon that he writes literal porn sometimes, some of it far raunchier than one would initially think the medibot capable of. Hey, all that built up tension daydreaming about the Wreckers had to go somewhere right? So, whenever Ambulon does feel like reminding him, First Aid just in turn reminds of that nice, new, adjustable, and expensive berth he was able to buy him because of his “smutty money” which tends to shut him up pretty fast. First Aid is a bit loathe to admit how bad his far more, ahem, specialized stories are even to Ambulon. He supposes his willingness to write these kinds of stories is what got him his four regulars as well as his latest request from an anonymous individual that- Okay, no, First Aid knows exactly who it is. It’s so painfully obvious but he just doesn’t have the heart to tell Thunderclash that he knows it’s him. That big, soft-hearted lug is just so hopeless when it comes to hiding his identity, just, Primus, First Aid is having a field day with this one. The names of the main characters alone are enough to practically shout that his latest client is none other than the Greatest Autobot of All Time.

The content that’s been requested is more of a surprise than the fact that Thunderclash of all bots is commissioning a personalized story (fantasy) from him. He’s requested a story with two bots the heroic Lightningclash and the charming, beautiful, charismatic, kind, (the list goes on) Radius who find themselves (gasp) stuck on a planet alone together with no immediate way of contacting their ship. Lightningclash and Radius are then put through several perilous situations in which they save each other thus becoming closer and better people through their shared experiences (First Aid had rolled his optics at the cheesiness of it all but this is Thunderclash after all and he’s paying very well so, who cares?). While these initial interactions started out innocent enough, Thunderclash had become a bit bolder and requested a particularly saucy scene that takes place in a cave full of bioluminescent plants. First Aid doesn’t know if he should be ashamed or proud that he only hesitated for a split second before agreeing to write self-insert smut for Thunderclash with Rodimus or “Radius” as he’s being called in this specific rendition. He only hopes he can manage to write it without making it too obvious he knows and still be able to look Rodimus in the eye.

Ambulon shakes his head as First Aid taps the send button that makes a characteristic “woosh” sound as Thunderclash’ smut gets sent away to be consumed by the poor pining bot. He tries not to let it weigh too heavily on his mind as he goes about his work and even almost forgets about it entirely until Ambulon speaks up.

“Hey, First Aid?” Ambulon says over his shoulder while studying a datapad.

“Yeah?” First Aid looks over to him, medkit in hand.

“It’s a good thing that account of yours is anonymous,” Ambulon pulls a pained smirk and flips his datapad over to reveal the screen to First Aid, “because you just sent your smut to the entirety of the Lost Light.”

First Aid is definitely proud to say he didn’t faint then and there.

Thunderclash is just relaxing in his habsuite when a message pings in on his hud and he see that the story he requested from “NotaPrime” has been completed and opens it with no small amount of excitement. Another glance at the message has him frowning though. It seems that for some reason the message was sent to all of the Lost Light for whatever reason. Thunderclash worries for a moment that something might be up but puts it off for the time being in favor of his commissioned piece. A part of him cringes as he begins to read, the part of him that tells him that indulging in his fantasies this way is unhealthy and even creepy. If he was honest with himself he knows that this is just because he knows he could never be with someone like Rodimus, especially not when it seems as though he’s done something to upset the mech. All of that is forgotten, however, when he lands upon the scene where Lightningclash and Radius take shelter in a cave and things heat up.

His immediate reaction is damage control. He’s automatically sending Thunderclash an apology while rushing to call in a favor with Perceptor to delete the story from everyone’s accounts. The questions that surely will come with it he can handle, exposing himself to Perceptor is a small price to pay to maintain some semblance of dignity in the eyes of the rest of the crew. Anyone who reads it will know just who the smut is about. At this point it’s just a matter of beating the clock, a thought that urges him on, running through the halls ignoring anyone who tries to wave him down. Thankfully most people just get out of his way. Ah, the perks of being a medical officer. As he turns one corner just before the labs he spots Nautica looking over a datapad, giggling. He’s just about to put it off as paranoia until-

“Pfft, Lightningclash? Really?” Nautica chuckles as she consumes the little surprise gift that popped up in her messages.

First Aid doesn’t think he’s run this fast since before the war was over. Ragged and panicky, he makes it to the lab door just as a message pings in from Thunderclash’s anonymous account. It’s enough to make First Aid freeze in confusion and complete astonishment. The message reads:

“Oh! Yes, I saw that! But no worries! I was a little confused and concerned at first but you’re explanation clears that right up. I don’t mind other people seeing my commission. I’m sure nothing bad will come of it. Thank you for clearing that up and for the story. What I’ve read so far is wonderful!

-sent from Thorguy”

First Aid feels a crawling beneath his plates as if his circuits were doing a low-level defrag  as he just stares at the door panel to the lab. Did he think he’d feel regret? Did he really think that flamboyant , energetic Thunderclash would feel shame? Apparently First Aid didn’t know him at all. Well, he did commission blatant and explicit porn so, perhaps First Aid underestimated the durability of his pride. These thoughts flicker through his processor until one very key factor filters through the calming thoughts. Thunderclash doesn’t know First Aid knows it’s him or how he knows it’s him. Thunderclash thinks he’s secure. Thunderclash thinks no one will know who the story is about.

“That idiot,” First Aid rests his helm against the lab door.

The door panel slides open to reveal a very confused Brainstorm with various pieces of tech bundled in his arms making First Aid jump back, startling him out of his dark reverie. Tension bounces between the two mechs both trying to decide what to say.

“Uh, I was picking up some spare parts from Percy,” Brainstorm jostles the odd bits and ends as an indication of what he’s referring to.

“Right, yeah, sure,” First Aid backs up to let him pass, “I just, uh, was hoping to ask Perceptor for a favor.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure something’s wrong with my spam filter. I’ve tried everything but I just can’t set it up properly.”

“Oh, right, mundane stuff. Yeah, more his thing.”

They fumble a little as Brainstorm makes his leave and First Aid walks into Perceptor’s lab, exventing heavily after all the stress begins to ebb away. When he takes a look around the lab the dimness and slight mess strikes First Aid as a little unusual for the normally tidy scientist. When he spots Perceptor he can’t help but feel a little concerned at how tired he looks with his shoulders sagging as he leans back up against a counter and his fully exposed optics shuttering lazily every so often. First Aid makes his way to Perceptor’s side startling the bedraggled microscope and begins to do an impromptu preliminary check up.

“Ah, First Aid, wh- what can I help you with?” Perceptor manages to say after getting over his initial shock.

“First, you can tell me what you were doing that taxed your systems this much,” First Aid remarks, shaking his head at the results of his scan.

“Brainstorm and I pulled an all-nighter and I neglected to refuel,” Perceptor looks away in shame.

“You know that’s not good for you but even if you did that that still wouldn’t have been enough to make you this tired.”

“Yes, well, it was a long night.”

“It certainly must have been.”

Perceptor doesn’t say anything while keeping his optics anywhere but towards First Aid only succeeding in making the beginnings of serious worry bubble up in the medibot.

“Perceptor, be honest with me,” First Aid levels himself so that he’s face-to-face with Perceptor, “What’s going on with you and Brainstorm?”

The effect of that statement is instant and Perceptor struggles to find his voice in an awkward cluster of broken syllables. Eventually he gives up and exvents.

“I probably should have gone to see you about it earlier. I noticed that it wore me out quite a bit before but didn’t feel it was anything to worry about. This particular bout was especially tiring though. I try to reassure Brainstorm but it’s gotten to a point where I think I can’t just blow it off as nothing anymore,” Perceptor seems to have gathered himself more, managing to explain himself more thoroughly and honestly.

“Wait, so you mean…”

“Brainstorm and I have initiated an intimate and sexual relationship. Our sessions together leave me lethargic and I often have to recharge for a longer period in order to make up for it.”

“Oh!” First Aid brightens and begins a more thorough check of his systems, paying close attention to the power systems linked up with his interfacing array.

“Is everything alright?”

“Everything seems to check out. I don’t understand why you would be experiencing such heavy energy withdrawal.”

“Then why…?”

“Uh, this may seem a bit intrusive…”

“No, it’s alright.”

“How are your sessions normally? Is there anything you can think of that may relate to this?”

“Well,” Perceptor retracts into himself again, “Brainstorm is rather energetic. He never seems to get tired.”

“So you try to keep up with him,” First Aid sighs and shakes his head, “You shouldn’t push yourself like that. That or you should allow yourself more breaks. If you don’t tell him you’re wearing down he won’t be able to take that into consideration.”

Perceptor holds his face in his hands and nods.

“If you want Rung-”

“No,” Perceptor looks up, “I can take care of this. Thank you, I had wondered after all and you provided an answer. I should have realized…”

“Well, I can understand with a good partner it can be easy to get carried away,” First Aid relishes the bashful side of Perceptor he’s seeing now, “You should get some rest now to make up for you latest ‘session’ though.”

After a brief episode of mortification, Perceptor returns the light levels of his lab to normal and buts is monocle back on. He looks for all the world that he hadn’t just been absolutely ravished by his lab partner just minutes ago. The weight of his exhaustion still lingers but he looks more like his professional self.

“So,” Perceptor clears his intake, “did you need something.”

Everything he’d meant to talk to Perceptor about suddenly rushes back to First Aid making him feel a bit dizzy. All that had transpired just pours out of First Aid and Perceptor patiently listens to him then pulls out a datapad before First Aid is finished. At the end of the panicked explanation, First Aid watches Perceptor as he hums thoughtfully over the screen revealing the activity history of the accounts of the Lost Light Crew. First Aid begins to fidget as more and more time passes with Perceptor just analyzing the datapad.

“I have good news and I have bad news,” Perceptor finally tears his attention from the pad.

“Bad news first.”

“It seems as though that not only have many of the crew members opened the email but have actually taken the time to read it.”

First Aid slumps at this new information, “And the good news?”

“It seems as though Rodimus has yet to open the message.”

“Thank goodness for his lack of work ethic but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t found out about it.”

“Doesn’t mean he has either.”

In another part of the ship Drift sees a strange message appear on his hud and he opens it to find fanfiction that is very thinly disguised Thunderclash and Rodimus slash fic. As he reads it he has to take several breaks to laugh for a good minute and when he reaches the scene with the cave he chokes on air which causes Ratchet to find him in the middle of a coughing fit.

“Drift, are you alright?” Ratchet comes over, concern written on his face.

Drift nods and when his coughing finally dies down he says, “Yeah, just got to point in this story that really caught me off guard.”

“What story?” Ratchet looks at the datapad Drift is holding.

“It looks like someone has written a piece with our captain and Thunderclash having an adventure together,” Drift turns the datapad so Ratchet can see it better.

“Who would want to read something like that?” Ratchet looks over the story some more, “Rodimus doesn’t even like the guy.”

“I don’t know,” Drift shakes his helm, “but whoever wrote this is one kinky bastard.”

First Aid rests his helm against a desk, slumped over in a chair thinking about how he can handle this situation. His break down of it essentially comes down to Thunderclash not knowing he’s the author, the story is obviously about him and Rodimus but it can’t be immediately traced back to Thunderclash, and so long as Rodimus remains oblivious things shouldn’t get out of hand.

“First Aid,” Perceptor leans against the desk he’s sulking on, “I take it that it would be an issue for Rodimus to find out and not Thunderclash is because Thunderclash is your commissioner.”

“Yup.”

“I would have never suspected him having feelings for Rodimus if it weren’t for this slip up. However, with this realization and further reflection I can recall several occasions that are now painfully obvious as acts of endearment on Thunderclash’s part.”

“Right? If you have the time you should actually read the story. All his little requests and the details he leans on make it all the more obvious just how hopeless he is,” First Aid leans back to stare blankly at the ceiling.

“Then perhaps this is a blessing in disguise,” Perceptor puts his chin in his hand and First Aid looks at him as though he installed a second head, “I know that sounds a little ridiculous but think about it. Thunderclash clearly wants to express his feelings to Rodimus but Rodimus has put up not-so-subtle barriers that prevent that from happening. If manipulated in the right way it could ease the situation and make it possible for Thunderclash to overcome those barriers and/or encourage Rodimus to tear them down all together.”

“You want me to hook up Thunderclash and Rodimus with smutty fanfiction.”

“Don’t you?” Perceptor leaves First Aid alone to contemplate that after stating that he feels the need to have that conversation with Brainstorm sooner rather than later.

First Aid winds up going back to the medbay to an annoyed Ratchet and inquisitive Ambulon who are both very interested in what he was up to. He waves them off claiming he’s had a very long morning and will tell them about it later. Ratchet huffs, clearly agitated but lets it drop, however, Ambulon doesn’t let go so easily and is only satisfied when First Aid pulls him aside to explain it had been too late by the time he and Perceptor got to assessing the damage.

“The entire crew has read it?!” Ambulon stumbles a bit in his surprise and nearly drops his tools.

“Most of the crew has read it,” First Aid clarifies, exasperated, “Rodimus, thankfully isn’t really in the habit of checking his messages.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“I am very grateful for it. Can you imagine what he’d do if he found out?”

“When he finds out.”

“Right… yeah…”

They continue working like they aren’t waiting for the inevitable shitstorm that’s brewing on the horizon. First AId rests in a state of emotional lapse now having his panic forcibly ripped from him in the wake of Thunderclash’s response and Perceptor’s view on the matter at hand. He mulls in the space between screaming endlessly into the void and the vast hollowness that can only come from making a mistake as bad as the sheer hell that First Aid has unleashed. Humming along to the panicked rhythm that begins to rise within him almost has Ratchet coming over to ask him if he’s alright.  Through his new bout of nerves the start of a plan forms which eases some of his distress and what Perceptor said inspires him to take advantage of this disaster. He could get Rodimus to at least acknowledge his unfair distaste for Thunderclash, maybe even convince him it is unfair. Then a devious thought crosses his mind that brings him out of his self-sentenced personal hell by realizing how much chaos he could actually cause. Forget pride and reputation for that has been all but lost, while he has a stylus in his hand he can write the world into a frenzy and make all good-hearted souls wheep. He will bring about a reckoning that will lead the crew into madness and he will delight in the absurdity of it all instead of letting it sweep him away. This is probably not what Perceptor had in mind but any semblance of a calm and rational take on this has already been thrown out of the airlock. He has the power, he shall see that big goofball get his mech even if it gets him kicked off this ship.

“Aid?” Ambulon turns to him, a sudden thought striking him, “Did Megatron read it?”

“...slag.”

Megatron had just gone through his normal morning routine when the surprise message popped up, the contents of which surprised and appalled him. Anyone willing to go into that much detail on Rodimus’s spike or “Radius’s”rather is a depraved individual the likes of which he has only known during the war among certain circles of the Decepticons. He had powered through mostly due to immense boredom and sheer morbid curiosity. The reasoning for sending it to the entire crew puzzled him for if it was meant to be a prank it wasn’t very well executed for anyone who knew Rodimus for even a day would know he doesn’t check his messages. So, that means it had to have been a mistake and this thing about a “commission” detailed at the beginning would mean that not only was it a mistake but a very severe one. Megatron finds himself pitying whoever the writer was. In his opinion the story is solid if a little off in the dialogue and the plot is engaging making it one of the better things he’s read on this ship in the past few years. He just can’t fathom why anyone would want such a story enough to pay for it unless…

“Oh dear.”

“What is it?” Ultra Magnus who had been going over the daily reports turns to Megatron.

“I think that Thunderclash might be enamored with our captain,” Megatron muses.

“What? What makes you say that?” Ultra Magnus lowers his his servos from his work putting his full attention on Megatron.

“Have you received that strange message with a story attached to it? I think it was probably commissioned by Thunderclash.”

“It… that would make sense,” Ultra Magnus looks off in thought, “That poor mech.”

“Indeed.”

It doesn’t take too long for the entire ship to become all abuzz with the fanfiction which means everyone in Swerve’s is talking about it. Tailgate is chatting excitedly with Swerve and Rewind who nod along to his rapid-fire analysis of the story. Nautica seems to be just as enthused by the epic of Lightningclash and Radius while also having recruited Brainstorm to hold Nightbeat back from telling Rodimus what’s going on and explaining the entire mishap. First Aid is pretty sure he also knows that he wrote it but has been kind enough not to tell anyone. It also seems as though everyone has silently agreed not to tell Thunderclash that they know the story is about him and those few that suspect him as the mysterious commissioner have neglected to say anything as well. First Aid couldn’t have dreamed of a better reaction than this. He mentally gives himself a pat on the back as he looks around the bar and Ambulon rolls his optics, undoubtedly noticing his fellow medibot’s smugness. First Aid ignores him in favor of watching a happy Thunderclash excitedly going over a particularly dramatic scene where Lightningclash is being tended to by a distraught Radius with a particularly patient Perceptor who looks equally endeared and distressed.

“This line here ‘With Thunderclash’s helm in his servos and those dimly glowing red optics looking softly and lovingly up at him, Radius knew that no one else would go further or fight harder for him than his Lightningclash.’ Don’t you think that it just so wonderfully expresses the building undefined something between Lightningclash and Radius?” Thunderclash reads from a datapad and emits a dreamy sigh.

Perceptor takes a moment to steady himself before calmly turning to Thunderclash, “It is a solidly written line that clearly portrays Radius’s revelation. I think it’s the definite turning point in their relationship.”

First Aid stifles maniacal laughter as he watches Perceptor flub through a very detailed in-depth reading of the story and swears he can see Perceptor’s life force slowly leave his body. Ambulon gives him a look that lets him know that he’s enjoying this far too much but he can’t find it within himself to care. He’s sure that sooner rather than later he’ll have to face the consequences for his actions so he’s deciding to enjoy what he can while he can. The clincher to his ever-elevating mood is a little ping that notifies him of a very enthusiastic message from Thorguy A.K.A Thunderclash A.K.A Lightningclash. He excuses himself and heads back to his habsuite because, right now, he has a story to write and this time he has explicit permission to share it with the crew so all the better really.

Okay, so, Ratchet knows now but that’s something that’s been coming for a while now because of the glimpses he’s caught on Aid’s infamous purple datapad. First Aid thinks he takes it rather well seeing as how he faces minimum yelling but, unfortunately, Ratchet does wind up outing him to the others. This only succeeds in causing a hoard of the unexpected fans to pester him about the next story and for Thunderclash to confess that he had been the one to commission the first two stories. The lack of surprise from his peers is palpable making him retreat to a table in Perceptor’s lab to contemplate his apparent lack of subtlety. First Aid notes how Ratchet isn’t disappointed by the lack of backlash and notes how he didn’t include Rodimus in this suedo-intervention, not to mention the yelling devolved into critique of his latest story, the sequel to the first one everyone’s started calling “Cave Escapades.” This exposure has brought on a new problem, though. Everyone seems to have gotten very invested in the story of Lightningclash and Radius so they’ve all really started to get on his case about the update. First Aid had hoped to make this a more gradual thing but that clearly wasn’t going to happen now. Poor Thunderclash is too mortified to ask and pay for a third story which is Aid’s only defense in the face of his crew’s inquiries so, Nautica, Nightbeat, surprisingly Whirl, and a few others all pitch in for the next one.

Ambulon is rather unsympathetic when he retells what happened and all but straight up tells him he deserves the sudden pressure.First Aid stares at a blank datapad for a solid three hours before eventually giving up and heading to Swerve’s in hopes that giving his mind a break will clear his sudden and severe writer’s block. In his latest story, Lightningclash and Radius managed to get back in contact with their ship allowing them to reunite with their crew to then go to the next galaxy over to a good planet for refueling and resupplying. They were also checking a lead that might help them find the missing ally ship that had gone dark just months ago. Now he just didn’t know where to take the story. Lightningclash’s and Radius’s interactions had all been filled with the new question “what are we?” creating a lot of tension between them that is just fit to burst but how should it be done? First Aid just doesn’t know what he should do. Thankfully, before he can get too deep into his funk a very happy Drift plops down in the booth right across from him pulling him away from his thoughts.

“So, you’re the one that wrote the best thing I’ve read in the past thousand years,” Drift chuckles as he doctors his drink slowly.

“I’m glad you like it,” First Aid huffs, “It may be awhile before you get the next part though. I just can’t seem to get myself to write.”

“Well then,” Drift gives him a smirk that can only mean he has something mischievous in mind, “would you take a request then?”

First Aid mulls over it for a moment then remembering how many people are waiting for his story decides to throw caution to the wind yet again, “Sure, what do you have in mind?”

“Well, you know, I think it’s about time that rodimus found out about these stories. So, I was thinking that it would be great that if when he reads them he got to a point where Rodimus reveals that he’s the next in line to declare the Primacy. I mean you haven’t built up a lot of lore for your stories but it’s clear it isn’t the same as our culture exactly. So, my idea is because he has to take on the Primacy he has all these responsibilities including not being able to take on anyone as his conjunx without like a ton of pomp and circumstance.”

“You mean like a really over-the-top mushy scene where Radius essentially goes ‘I love you Lightningclash but we can’t be together because I’m meant to take on the Primacy’ in the most sappy way possible,” First Aid mimics his parody Rodimus and begins to feel like he could work with this.

“Yes, that and Lightningclash as the respectable bot he is goes ‘I understand, Radius, your responsibilities come first but, I beg of you, let me be by your side always.’ just hamming it up all the way.”

“This,” First Aid leans against his interwoven servos with a wicked glint in his optics, “could work very well.”

When the message pings in Drift quickly gets up from meditating and rushes to Rodimus’s habsuite, datapad in hand looking all the world like the cybercat that got the energon. Rodimus is still in recharge after the indulgent night he had at Swerve’s and isn’t very happy when Drift roughly wakes him up to show him the datapad. Rodimus blinks slowly a few times at the datapad, not really seeing what’s on it.

“Drift, I know you’re trying to show me something but my processor hasn’t caught up with my body yet,” Rodimus lets out a yawn, “wanna just tell me what’s so important?”

“Somebody wrote a story about you!” Drift exclaims all to pleased with the situation.

Rodimus wakes up much more at that and begins to read over the stories while Drift watches in delighted anticipation. The faces the captain makes are extremely varied and rapid in their transitions. Drift bursts out laughing at a particularly disgusted expression Rodimus makes when he probably reaches the cave scene that he admirably pushes through to read the rest of it. Then he gets to the third chapter and groans once he gets to the big confession.

“What the hell is this?” Rodimus asks, his words muffled by the servos covering his face.

“It’s clearly other you with other Thunderclash having the time of your lives,” Drift teases and Rodimus gives him a look.

“This is the worst thing I’ve read, ever,” Rodimus grumbles, “You really woke me up for this? It’s not even worth the data storage.”

“Well I think it’s fun,” Drift says earning another look of disgust from his amica.

“This can’t continue like this.”

“Well what do you want to do about it then?”

“I don’t know!” Rodimus throws his servos in the air exasperated, “I wish this story just didn’t exist! That would be much better.”

“If you’re really so upset with it, why not just change it?” Drift offers calming Rodimus down somewhat.

“What do you mean?”

“This story was commissioned right? Well what if you commissioned this author to write the story how you want it to go?”

“It’s not worth the shanix,” Rodimus waves off the idea easily and slides off his berth to get ready for the day.

“I’ll pay for it then,” Drift shrugs when Rodimus shoots him a surprised look, “I think it would be fun.”

“How many people have read this again?”

The result is almost instant when First Aid sends off the next part of what is slowly becoming a series. Messages filter back with praise and statements of varying degrees of incredulousness. Now, as much as he’s enjoying all of this, he would have backed off had Thunderclash asked him to and even hesitated somewhat but the short message from the bot that started it all clears away his worry. Thunderclash sent him a very short but clear show of approval of his latest and most melodramatic installment. Ambulon groans once he gets to the big confession as Ratchet bends over steadying himself on a medical berth, immobilized by laughter. Seeing as how not much more work was going to get done he decides to go see how everyone is reacting to the story in person. He’s rewarded with a Nautica who’s absolutely glued to her datapad, an attentive Perceptor who gives a few good suggestions, and Tailgate along with Rewind listening to Chromedome give an excellent dramatic reading that Rewind is undoubtedly recording. The icing on the cake is when he stumbles on to the bridge to find a distraught Rodimus.

“Who the hell wrote this?!” Rodimus gestures widely to the datapad in his servo as though it just insulted him.

“I don’t know, Rodimus,” Megatron sighs, “but clearly it’s just in good fun. They don’t seem like they mean to slander you.”

“What do you mean? It’s clearly slander! They’ve paired me up with Thunderclash!” Rodimus shouts, fuming at the lack of sympathy.

“An excellent member of Autobot society,” Ultra Magnus adds helpfully without looking up from his work.

“They make me the damsel in distress!”

“Sometimes they make Thunderclash the damsel,” Megatron points out making Rodimus scoff.

“They make us frag in a cave!”

“I admit that might have been a bit much but they do an excellent job of portraying proper consent and communication between partners,” Ultra Magnus concedes.

Rodimus growls in frustration before storming off of the bridge undoubtedly to take it out on First Aid if unknowingly so. Sure enough, a little while later a message appears on his hud to his not-so-anonymous-anymore account from Rodimus describing just how much he hates the story. However, Aid is surprised to find that Rodimus, instead of demanding an end to the series, is paying for his own continuation of the story “to set the record straight” and First Aid obliges him. Of course, he doesn’t it’ll have the effect Rodimus desires but that’s mostly just because he knows he’s gonna spin it in another direction. Ah, the beauty of interpretation. Rodimus want him to write a continuation where Lightningclash messes up terribly so that Radius becomes enraged with him, so much so that he stops talking to Lightningclash with no hint of possibly letting up. First Aid decides he’ll humor Rodimus for now and leave Lightningclash and Radius’s issue unsolved at the end which just so happens to create a cliffhanger. First Aid leans back in his chair and looks at his handy work, satisfied with it, and sends it off before heading off to his berth to recharge. His intention is to feed Rodimus’s need for there to be conflict between the two characters to then have said characters to resolve it in the next chapter which will undoubtedly frustrate his captain but maybe also give him a hint. Besides, how was Lightningclash supposed to know that one of the reasons Radius left Cybertron to explore the stars was to escape the heavy weight of responsibility that the Primacy put on him? With a sigh and aching servos, First Aid drifts into recharge.

When First Aid heads to the medbay he can’t help but feel as though something’s off. He doesn’t have too much time to ponder it since Ambulon all but drags him into the medbay and locks the door behind them. Okay, that wasn’t a good sign. Ratchet’s giving him a look that tells him he’s definitely messed up.

“What did you do?!” Ambulon hisses regaining Aid’s attention.

“What? I don’t know. What’s happened?” First Aid is definitely starting to panic now.

“Your fans are in an uproar over the latest chapter of that terrible fanfiction of yours,” Ratchet informs him busying himself with prepping the medbay as though he was expecting a lot of injured bots to come flooding in at any moment.

“What? How bad?”

“Bad enough that Whirl started a bar fight with Cyclonus of all people over whether or not Lightningclash and Radius are going to ever get together. They’ve both been put into the brig and thankfully didn’t injure each other too badly but this is getting ridiculous.”

“I’ll say,” First Aid nods weakly, “That old romantic really let it get away from him. I bet he was defending Lightningclash’s and Radius’s durability all the way.”

“Yes, it’s all very sweet,” Ratchet gralfs, “What you need to do now is sit down and write so we can fix this mess before it gets any worse. I’ll even pay for it if I have to.”

“That won’t be necessary. This one’s on the house,” First Aid snags a datapad and begins writing like faster than he ever has before.

Apparently the impending doom via complete crew meltdown is a very good motivator seeing as he’s able to pump out a complete chapter in a record time of three hours. First Aid collapses on a berth completely drained from the frantic writing and hopes that it will clear everything up. Within those three hours, Nautica and Perceptor (for some reason) were brought in beaten up and ragged. Ratchet is still patching up the last of Perceptor’s abrasions when First Aid sends out the chapter making both patients leap for their datapads. Blissful calm settles over the medbay as the mechs devour the the story. Watching Ratchet read the story just as avidly as the rest of them, First Aid feels a little cheated for being guilted into making the latest chapter for free but he’ll get that old bastard back for it. He might even add in a weary old medic called “Hatchet” that’s hopelessly helm over pedes for a certain swordsmech called… He’ll think of a good name later.

“Yes!” Nautica cries out in glee and falls back on to the berth she’s taken residency on startling First Aid out of his half-awake state.

“I’m guessing that means you find the latest chapter acceptable?” First Aid says while still lying down.

“Very! Oh, just how Lightningclash takes Radius into his arms and pushes away any doubts that he sees him as a capable and beautiful mech. Radius struggling with himself as to whether to give in and abandon his responsibilities or remain the next prime but the Lightningclash insists he should be true to himself and not abandon his destiny! It’s perfect!”

“I quite agree,” Perceptor gives him a weary but emphatic nod.

“Good maybe this’ll settle things.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Ratchet scoffs, “You’ve just given them all another taste and still no resolution. At this rate you’ll be at this for a while.”

“That’s true,” Ambulon puts a servo on First Aid’s shoulder, “If you want this to end you have to conclude the story.”

“I can’t just yet,” First Aid puts a servo over Ambulon’s, “This is supposed to mediate Thunderclash’s inevitable confession to Rodimus.”

“That’s what all of this is about?!” Ratchet gapes at his downed colleague.

“I think that’s wonderful! Do you need any help?” Nautica leaps up energy fully restored.

“Perceptor, tell me you at least don’t approve of this,” Ratchet turns to the person that has become his only hope.

“Do you really want First Aid to stop?” Perceptor retorts making Ratchet fumble searching for the right words to defend himself but comes up empty.

First Aid turns to Nautica, “You know, a co-writer would actually help a lot. I don’t think I can write as fast as I need to on my own.”

“This is going to be great!” Nautica hops up and bounces with excitement.

Rodimus is fuming on the bridge now, very upset that his piece of the story had been subverted by the next chapter and has made his displeasure very well known to everyone in earshot. Thunderclash looks at him sadly, guilt weighing heavily in his spark as he looks at the damage his personal indulgence has caused. If the story has managed to do anything so far, it’s made Rodimus dislike him even more even without knowing he’s the one that commissioned the story. He makes a decision then and there that he’s going to do something to fix this mess that he’s made and hopefully get Rodimus to dislike him less.

Later on after workshopping the rest of the story, Nautica and First Aid decide having the outline all flushed out at least deserves a drink. First Aid is greeted at Swerve’s with praise and distress at how he almost severed such a beautiful, blossoming relationship. It’s clear now more than ever that he’s in it for the long haul. At the very least it seems this has alleviated some of the prevalent boredom that had been plaguing the ship. For a moment First Aid worries about what’s to come after all of this. This is, in all honesty, fun. Everyone is following the story with an intensity he didn’t know they possessed and that feeling is is so addictive that he almost  doesn’t want it to end but he knows it has to. A blatant reminder of it all needing to come to a close is Thunderclash looking very sullen heading his way. He can feel Nautica tense up beside him when she spots their source material. First Aid tries and fails to steady himself knowing he can’t avoid this interaction while fearing what is to come of it. The large bot settles carefully in the seat across from them and folds his servos on the table. Nobody moves. Nobody speaks.

“Hey Thunderclash!” Swerve breaks the tension, “Can I get you anything?”

“Uh, just mid-grade please,” whatever cool Thunderclash had is broken and the nervousness he’d been concealing earlier breaks through.

“You got it!”

After Swerve leaves to get Thunderclash’s drink he can’t seem to meet First Aid’s or Nautica’s optics.

“What do you need, ‘Clash?” First Aid tries to ease the situation.

“I, uh,” Thunderclash clears his intake, “I’d to um… Okay, so, Rodimus is clearly unhappy about this story. He seemed especially unhappy when the next piece after that fiasco was released. He seemed happier when our parodies were fighting. I had no idea that he disliked me that much.”

First Aid feels his spark ache a little at that last statement knowing all too well what Rodimus might have had to say about it.

“So, what do you need me to do?”

“I feel that this may not be the last issue that he forces our other selves to face. I think -indirectly- Rodimus showed something he’s very self-conscious of. It’s likely he will do so again.”

“You mean you think Rodimus was projecting his insecurities of technically never being a true prime on to Radius and he might do more requests that reveal things like that,” Nautica jumps in excitedly.

“Uh, that’s a bit harsher than I would put it but yes.”

“So,” First Aid puts a hand on Nautica’s shoulder to get her to sit back down again, “What do you want to do about that?”

“I’d like all of Lightningclash’s words to be my own from now on. I want to reassure Rodimus myself.”

First Aid’s spark grows warm at that. He just cannot handle how in love this poor mech is with “flaming ego,” Rodimus Prime out of everyone he could have given his spark to. Boy, if that didn’t just make him want to redouble his efforts.

“Radius!” the faint murmurs of conversation suddenly die down as Riptide shouts out in the middle of the bar while clasping Drift’s servo with a datapad in his other servo, “Please don’t misunderstand my formality as being a joke or in spite. I could never see you as anything other than a mech that deserves the world, the universe!”

“Just because you know I’m supposed to be prime now doesn’t mean you should treat me like some bauble on display,” Drift gives his best Rodimus impression but First Aid silently admits that his word choice probably wasn’t the most Rodimus-like, “I’m still Radius! I’m still the bot you called a friend! I’m still the bot that got overcharged and lost his credits to you on Hedonia! I’m still me!”

“I know you are!”

“Then why are you putting up this air of formality? Why are you treating me like a thing and not a person?”

“I can’t be with you, Radius,” Riptide recites in a hushed voice that has the audience of their impromptu performance gasping, “No matter how much I long to be with you, your position is too high for me to reach. I must steel my spark in the face of it. I must respect our traditions but I wish to remain useful to you. In order to do so I’ve had to put a barrier between myself and you. I am sorry. Please, don’t push me away.”

Drift A.K.A “Radius” looks down at Riptide A.K.A “Lightningclash” with a surprisingly convincing sad look in his optics.

“Then be my friend, Lightningclash,” “Radius” says, “because my spark won’t survive losing you.”

With the close, Riptide and Drift bow to the roaring crowd among which is even an amused Megatron. Rodimus sits in stunned silence as Drift wanders back to their booth where Ratchet is also dying of laughter. Rodimus looks at his amica in complete and utter betrayal but doesn’t even manage to dent Drift’s smugness. Out of everything First Aid had thought would come of his writing, miniature theater was not one of them. Across from him, Thunderclash looks over at Rodimus with longing, love, and hurt shining in perfect crimson. A message pings on First Aid’s hud and he knows he has work to do.

“I can’t believe you actually did that!” Rodimus shouts as he walks down the hall with Drift and Ratchet who are both laughing at his distress.

“What? Of course I did,” Drift nudges him gently, “I knew your reaction would be priceless.”

“I think he did a terrific job imitating you,” Ratchet adds making Rodimus scoff.

“See,” Drift loops his arm with Ratchet’s, “It’s all in good fun.”

“For everyone except me,” Rodimus grumbles.

“Details,” Ratchet shrugs.

“Well hopefully this time what I do will stick.”

“Hopefully,” Drift says wistfully obvious in his insincerity.

Nautica turns out to be First Aid’s saving grace as they continue writing the Epic of Lightningclash and Radius. They take turns typing what the other one says making the process much faster and before the day is out they have a chapter ready for editing. Thunderclash sits in and helps with word choice but for the most part just politely listens in quietly. First Aid is grateful to have him there as well because he really does help with dialogue, even making Radius sound more, well, Rodimus-y. God, this mech. The way he talks about Rodimus’s little quirks and the phrases he likes to use alone almost makes First Aid feel like he’s the one falling in love with Rodimus.

“You know, I always forget about his tendency to use Earth slang,” First Aid admits after sending off the chapter to Perceptor who had volunteered to edit the thing.

“His love for Earth and its people is incredibly endearing,” Thunderclash admits and looks into the distance, a sweet smile plastered on his face, “I’d never seen him so devoted to studying a culture before. He really has become a kind of expert on it.”

“How long have you had your eye on Rodimus?” Nautica bumps her elbow gently against Thunderclash.

“I-uh,” Thunderclash stutters and looks away, flustered.

“Don’t worry,” First Aid puts a servo on Thunderclash’s, “we’ll get him for you.”

Thunderclash smiles brightly but it quickly dims with sadness, “At this point, my hope is that I can at least salvage whatever happened for him to… detest me.”

“That’s not your fault!” Nautica slams her servos on the table startling both of them, “That’s just Rodimus being a jerk.”

“I don’t think that’s necessarily true, Nautica,” Thunderclash puts up a consoling servo.

“I’m starting to think you’re right, Thunderclash. Something else is going on with him. Something he hasn’t let anyone see before,” First Aid hums and puts his helm in his servo contemplating their latest piece.

This new figure that Rodimus himself introduced into the story has been especially telling. This figure that can be none other than Optimus Prime’s doppelganger. So, Pinnamus Prime (so subtle) comes aboard the ship and pretty much takes control of everything to which the crew complies with completely because who would argue with a Prime? Lightningclash makes the mistake of agreeing with some of the current Prime’s criticisms causing tension to build yet again. When the pressure comes to a head, Radius gives a very deep confession that are the actual words of Rodimus. First Aid thinks that Rodimus didn’t realize how intense his offered bit of dialogue is, a confession of all the faults and missteps he knows are there that he feels are all people see when they look at him. He also talks about the sacrifices he’s made and the good he’s done but Pinnamus (Optimus) is just a walking reminder of what he’ll never be, Lightningclash (Thunderclash) is an example of what he could have become. It all struck First Aid a bit hard, making him realize that, perhaps, they have been a bit harsh on their captain. While childish at times and certainly impulsive, he cares about his crew and he is working on being better. Looking back on all they’ve been through, First Aid has to admit that Rodimus has actually been a rather good captain making quick decisions and being as fair as he can be. He hasn’t been a captain that would fit in during wartime but they’re not at war anymore. Oh, Primus, Rodimus had given up just as much as everyone else and then some to keep people safe, to keep the Autobots from falling. The fact that he can still smile, have fun, and then remind people they can still smile, that they still have hope is absolutely remarkable. Thunderclash is definitely starting to get to him.

The open ending they leave goes over about as well as First Aid expected which is to say not very well at all. They couldn’t think of any other way they could have done it. Thunderclash responded to Rodimus’s confession in his own words through Lightningclash then the chapter ends with him waiting for his response. The cliffhanger has everyone theorizing and arguing how it’s all going to end, the anticipation thick in the air. First Aid wades through the chaos dodging questions or giving ambiguous answers until he literally bumps into Rodimus. Before he can get too deep into his flurry of apologies a datapad is shoved into his servos. When he looks up at Rodimus he’s stunned to see his captain so serious, not angry, just serious. Without a single word, Rodimus leaves. After a moment of ogling the empty space Rodimus left behind, First Aid looks down at the proffered datapad and what he sees makes his optics flash in excitement. This would be the perfect end.

“I think this has gone on long enough,” Megatron says startling Drift who had been sharpening his swords.

“I’m sorry?”

“This entire back and forth with Rodimus and Thunderclash,” Megatron clarifies, “It needs to end.”

“I suppose we can’t tolerate too many more bar fights over something so trivial,” Drift concedes, “What do you have in mind.”

“I think Rodimus and Thunderclash need to confront each other on this matter.”

Drift looks up at ex-warlord skeptically and returns to sharpening his swords for a minute considering if what Megatron is suggesting is really a good idea. After dithering on it he turns back to the larger mech.

“Confront how?”

“I was quite inspired by your little performance the other day,” Megatron can’t hide his amusement when Drift coughs awkwardly, “I think they should read it together.”

“Oh yeah? How do you expect to get them to do that?” Drift raises an eye ridge.

“Everyone knows First Aid is the one that’s been writing this story and from what I can tell he seems quite eager to see this through. I’m sure I could convince him to help out.”

“Okay, what does that have to do with me?” Drift leans back looking up at Megatron.

“Your his amica, he spends time with you normally,” Megatron gestures nonchalantly, “Just make it so he’s in Swerve’s tomorrow evening.”

Drift looks him over for a moment but seemingly having made a decision just gives him a nod and goes back to his swords. Satisfied by this, Megatron leaves him be.

A very confused Thunderclash speeds along as he’s dragged down the hall to greet an equally baffled Nautica who gets the datapad First Aid had been given shoved into her servos. He then deposits Thunderclash into a chair, actually lifting the mech and seating him, surprising the poor mech with his hidden strength before sitting down to start writing. Nautica scans the datapad in record time and joins First Aid, newly invigorated. Thunderclash looks on with concern as they whisper over their datapad.

“Is everything alright?” Thunderclash breaks through the ominus haze.

First Aid and Nautica look back at him, smiling with  wicked glints in theri optics.

“Perfect,” Nautica answers, her voice heavy with incredible, almost sadistic joy.

“How would you respond to something like, ‘Do I matter to you?’ from Rodimus?” First Aid asks, avoiding Thunderclash’s question.

“I’d tell him he means everything to me,” Thunderclash answers bashfully, “that…  I’ll always be here for him.”

“Excellent, thank you,” with that First Aid goes back to writing with Nautica.

They continue like that for the remainder of the day, only asking Thunderclash seemingly random questions while not letting him read anything they’re writing. The pattern is eventually broken when the door panel slides open to reveal Megatron. For a moment they all just openly stare at each other until Megatron let’s himself in.

“I have a request,” Megatron breaks the silence and Nautica unabashedly gapes at him.

“Yeah?” First Aid’s voice breaks a little as he addresses the ex-warlord.

“This time when you release the story, only release it to Rodimus and Thunderclash at first,” Megatron says and sits down.

“Why?” Nautica crosses her arms, skeptical of Megatron’s plan.

“I think another reading of your story in Swerve’s is just what the crew needs,” Megatron says offhandedly, “except this time I think it should be done by your muses.”

“What?!” Thunderclash leaps up, “No, I can’t… Rodimus would surely… How would you even convince him to do that?”

“I don’t need to,” Megatron shrugs, “Drift will have him there tomorrow in the afternoon. The rest would have to be up to you.”

“Still-”

“I like that idea,” First Aid interrupts Thunderclash before he can go on a tirade.

“So do I,” Nautica smirks and pats Thunderclash on the shoulder, “It’s okay. You’re going to be great.”

Thunderclash looks helplessly around at the bots that seem very menacing now that plans for his grand performance were made.

Time flashes by and before he knew it, Thunderclash is being dragged once again by First Aid into Swerve’s where Rodimus sits drinking with Drift looking rather glum. Thunderclash’s spark aches as he sees his- as he sees Rodimus look so out of sorts because of him. In his moment of distraction he hadn’t First Aid bring him to the center of the bar and put a datpad in his servo. Looking back up from the datapad his tank drops as he sees Nautica quietly talking to Rodimus who nods at whatever she says to him and comes over to Thunderclash, arms crossed and body tensed while not meeting Thunderclash’s optics. Thunderclash’s intake goes dry and he can’t seem to just say something, anything. Then First Aid swoops in and gives Rodimus a datapad that he takes and scowls at it after reading the first few lines.

“Really?” Rodimus sighs, “This is what we’re doing?”

“So it would seem,” Thunderclash nods weakly.

“Might as well get this over with,” Rodimus rolls his optics, “I know Drift won’t let me back down from this.”

“You really don’t have to-”

“Save it,” Rodimus bites out, then turns his attention to the datapad, “Lightningclash, I don’t believe you, I can’t believe you. What you’re saying… I don’t believe you.”

Thunderclash looks down for his lines and with more feeling than Rodimus’s deadpan recites, “How can I show you that I’m telling the truth? That I mean every word I say.”

“Nothing.”

“Why? Why are you so determined to believe that no one thinks you’re worthy? You’re going to make an excellent prime. You’re already a wonderful captain.”

“You keep saying that but you know it isn’t true!”

“It is true, all of it.”

“Then why does everyone else think I’m a failure? Why did Pinnamus Prime take command? Why did he shove his greatest enemy on me to watch like some glorified patrol officer? And I can’t even do that right! I made friends with him, hey, maybe even proved he’s not completely evil! That was a surprise for me too.”

“Prime sees too much of himself in you. So much so that he forgets that you are your own person and not a perfect reflection. Whatever he perceives as failure in you is nothing more than him projecting his own fears on you. I think he feels as though he has failed as a prime and doesn’t want you to be the same.”

Rodimus hesitates for a long moment, the quiet palpable as all the attendees looks on in awe at their performance.

“Even if that was true,” Rodimus takes a deep intake, “I’m still not as good as you.”

Thunderclash looks at Rodimus, his spark aching, wanting nothing more than to take him into his arms and push the rest of the universe away, the universe that let Rodimus believe this about himself.

“No,” Thunderclash decides to ditch the script, “You’re better. I could never do what you’ve done here on the Lost Light. You’ve given people that didn’t quite fit a home, a place where they can be themselves. I was able to lead people in the war, I’m a good soldier, a law-abiding citizen. When the war was over, that was it. I didn’t know what to do so I just did whatever came my way. I didn’t fit anymore. You know exactly what to do. Your amica found you a ship, you found the next big adventure. Along the way you’ve done so much good, helped so many people and shown them they don’t have to be soldiers anymore. That’s why I’m here, because of you. On this ship, piece by piece, I’ve been able to figure out who I am again.”

“You… really mean that,” Rodimus looks up at Thunderclash with wide optics.

“Of course I do, I love you,” Thunderclash drop the datapad and takes Rodimus’s servos in his own the other datapad having been already forgotten during Thunderclash’s speech, “I’ll follow you so long as you’ll lead me. I’ll go anywhere so long as you’ll have me. I’ll do anything to show you I really mean it when I say ‘I love you.’ Please, at least believe me when I say I don’t think you’re a failure.”

Rodimus doesn’t say anything, he just looks up at Thundeclash in complete disbelief, unable to process what just happened. Just when Thunderclash thinks he’s messed everything up and begins to pull away, he’s suddenly pulled down. He exclaims in surprise then Rodimus is kissing him and nothing else matters. He holds Rodimus close and sighs at the feeling of soft lip plates against his own, feeling dizzy from his surprise and amazement. He didn’t think it would happen but here Rodimus is: kissing him with servos on his helm and humming with content. A rumble erupts from his engines suddenly and embarrassingly making him pull away to look down at Rodimus apologetically due to his involuntary show of excitement. Rodimus just laughs and Thunderclash finally registers the deafening cheers that surround them. First Aid is giving him a thumbs up and Nautica looks on with a dreamy look in her optics.

“Thunderclash,” Rodimus pulls his focus from the crowd, “same.”

Now it’s Thunderclash’s turn to laugh as he pulls Rodimus in for hug, his Rodimus, his captain, his love.

First Aid looks on as Rodimus whispers something to Thunderclash that makes his optics go wide before pulling him along out of Swerve’s followed by whoops and wolf whistles. He shakes his helm and laughs, pleased by how much better it all went down than he was hoping. Ambulon bumps into his side affectionately catching his attention.

“Shame your big finally wasn’t actually read,” Ambulon teases.

“That was way better than anything I could have written and it was from the spark so all the better,” First Aid shrugs and sips his drink that he finally got from Swerve.

“Seems like they aren’t wasting anymore time.”

“No,” First Aid laughs, “They certainly aren’t. I don’t think we’ll see our captain anytime soon.”

Ambulon turns First Aid’s helm to look at him and leans up to press a chaste kiss to his lip plates before moving away only slightly.

“You know,” Ambulon says quietly, “I think you deserve a reward for getting those two idiots together.”

“Oh yeah?” First Aid plays along, “And what do you have in mind for my reward?”

“That new berth you bought for me still hasn’t been properly broken-in yet,” Ambulon says in a low tone and rubs a thumb along First Aid’s faceplate.

“We better take care of that,” First Aid leans in for another kiss.

“We better,” Ambulon agrees once they break apart.

#rodiclash #thunderrod #first aid #fanfiction #maccadam #tf #alyonian #rodimus #thunderclash

[annepamela-blog1]

story: Snowed in Love

She passed her by. She could keep going but she knew she couldn’t just leave her there. It might be what she deserved but it wasn’t something she could do to anyone. It was cold and was going to get a lot colder as the sun set. It was also going to start to snow again. She might be what her father would have called a “non-considerable” but even he, still would have stopped. This hard country taught you to look out after one another. Her jeep skidded a little as she stopped, slowly backing up to where her driver's window was even with her. Anyone who would bring such a big fancy car, which was so ill equipped to handle such rough terrain, out on a dirt mountain road in a snow storm couldn’t be thinking straight.   Crystal watched her desperately trying to get her cellular phone to work and she knew she was way out of her natural element. She was use to the city where she wielded all the power. She wasn’t use to having to admit there were things she couldn’t control. Crystal had grown up with the knowledge that there were many things out of her control and having met Paula Mcdown she was sure of it. Paula had approached her about three months ago with an offer to buy her property on Cedar Mountain. It had gotten into her head that their community needed a ski lodge to bring in tourist and boost the local economy. Mcdown also got it into her head that her land was the perfect location for their ski lodge. Crystal venomously opposed this idea. They had been going around and around the subject all this time. She wouldn’t budge and Paula still wouldn’t give up on the notion. Hitting the power button that rolled down her window Crystal, fought the anger she felt for this woman. It wouldn’t do either of them any good right at this moment. Apparently Paula still hadn’t noticed that she had stopped to help and sat in her front seat pounding on her mobile phone trying to summon help. “For the love of Pete woman” Crystal was yelling at Paula’s closed window “Open the stupid window!” Finally noticing her, Paula quickly hit the power window button and whizzed her window down exclaiming “I can never get a strong enough signal on this thing. It’s a complete waste of time!” What arrogance. The woman was intolerable. “I think you’re stuck really deep.” Crystal’s lips twitched a little, revealing a small hint of an amused smile. “And that little bit of snow earlier was only the tip of the storm.” She winced inwardly at the thought of the next words to come out of her mouth. “I think the best thing to do is take you on home with me and when the storm has passed we can get you some help getting your car out of that ditch.” Paula  looked at her for a moment as if she hadn’t heard her, than reached over picked up her brief case, got out, locked her car and was shutting her passenger’s side door with the bellow “Whacha’  waiting on?”  All before Crystal had even had time to realize she had moved. “You don’t waste time do you Ms. McDown?” Crystal had never stopped before, to really look at the woman sitting beside her. Paula was a tall woman, filling up her half of the front seat with her long legged, lean and taunt body, and over flowed into Crystal’s. She was younger than she had first thought with sunset streaked, auburn hair, blue eyes that twinkled mischievously and fair skin that was smooth as glass. She also had soft full lips that set Crystal’s mind to wonder at the thought of what their soft caress could do. Close up Paula Mcdown was one over-powering package of female presence.   “Can’t waste any of our time, life is too short.” Paula said smiling into Crystals admiring eyes. This was going to be one long day, Crystal thought; as she started the car’s engine and pulled back onto the road. There was joyous silence in the short time it took to reach Murdock cabin. Crystal’s great-great grandfather had built the cabin as he carved her homestead out of the harsh, unyielding wilds. It was Crystal’s favorite place in the world; it was the demon standing between her and Paula McDown. After she had stopped the jeep and got out, with one leg still inside Paula, raised herself up, turned and stared over the top of the vehicle at Crystal, she cradled her head in her hand looking thoughtfully at her. “Miss Murdock—it is miss, I can do Ms. if you prefer." Paula smiled at her just like a cat who was about to talk a mouse out of its life, all charm and cream. “Miss is fine, Ms. McDown.” She would have like to tell her she didn’t particularly want her to call her anything. She didn’t want her to talk to her at all, but under the circumstances she had no choice. “Miss Mudock it was very kind of you to stop and help me. I know we haven’t exactly been getting on so well, but I’d like to propose a truce. Let’s not talk about business or our little difference in opinion; who knows we might just enjoy each other’s company.” Her whole face laughed with the wink that ended the offer of peace. Crystal couldn’t believe she had the gull to wink at her after a remark like that one. Fat chance! Who did the woman think she was?  Difference of opinion. It was not her opinion that she owned her land; it was a matter of law. Paula was trying to force her to sell to her, when she didn’t want to sell to anyone. Fighting down her ire she bit the inside of her lip, turned to her, gave her a tight little smile, that made her look as if her face hurt and muttered what might have been anything.  Turning she set out on a fast pace for the cabin’s porch; with the crunching snow her only other comment. She must have assumed her grunt was compliance to her suggestion and happily trotted off behind her, like a satisfied puppy dog with a treat. She was about to warn her concerning the icy steps when she heard the crash behind her. Paula had fallen hard; hitting her head on the steps. She ran back across the porch as quickly as she could. Her first aid skills were never very keen so she wasn’t exactly sure about what to do with the unconscious woman in front of her. Crystal rolled her over as gently as she could and immediately saw the bright red streak slowly trekking down her forehead. She felt her pause and reassured herself that she was at least still alive. The first thing Crystal needed to do was summon help, but as she turned to go inside Paula started to come around. “Whoa! What hit me?” Paula started to sit up as Crystal knelt to stop her. “Don’t try to move yet. You knocked yourself out on the step.” Crystal could see Paula’s warm, laboring breath misting in the cold air; as she struggled to regain her senses. Crystal took the tissue in her pocket out and started to dab at the blood coagulating on her forehead as she laid staring up at her. “Did you know you’re beautiful?” Paula queried dazedly. “Did you know you’re delirious? It can happen from a blow to the head” “I think we should try to get you back into the jeep, we still have time to beat the storm to the hospital.” Crystal told Paula, though the frown she wore told otherwise. “Do you really think we can make it?” Paula asked weakly.   Looking up at the sky Crystal didn’t know if they could make it to the jeep, much less the hospital, before it started to snow.   Looking down at Paula she didn’t know if she would be okay without medical help. She was in trouble. “To be honest I don’t think we have time to make it all the way to the hospital before the worst of the storm hits, but I think you really need the medical attention, as soon as possible.” The panic forming in Crystal’s stomach could be heard in her voice, as she told her the truth.   “Well, there’s one thing for sure.” Paula said through painful, gritted teeth as she struggled to sit up.  “If we die on the road we won’t reach the hospital at all. So I guess we had better stay here and try to make the best of it” “Do you think you should try to stand up just yet?” Crystal uttered as she tried to steady her with her arms around her waist as she was trying to stand. “No but the thought of you trying to drag me the rest of the way into the house will give me all the strength I need to make it. Anyway, I don’t think I have much choice, it feels as if it’s getting colder out here.  There’s no sense in adding exposure to our problems.” If the situation wasn’t so grave Crystal might have taken offense at her statement but under the circumstances she had to admit she was right. Leaning as much of her weight as she could bear upon herself Crystal helped Paula the rest of the way into the house. She maneuvered her over to the big floral couch that filled up the space in front of the fireplace and let her drop not caring if the added fall increased her injuries or not. She went over to the fire place and lit the log pile that was carefully stacked in the hearth. The flames greedily ate the small pieces of kindling and quickly demanded more substantial fuel. Crystal opened the wood cupboard at the right of the fireplace and added some larger logs to the flames. As soon as she had assured herself that the fire wouldn’t go out she turned her attention to the woman lying semi-conscious on her couch. She was lying with one arm and leg off the pillow like couch. The couch seemed small compared to her .Once again Crystal realized how tall she was; she seemed as if she were in excellent health and she did nothing but work out. She was wet from where her warm body had melted the snow under her as she lay on the steps. The first thing Crystal had to do was get her out of her clothes. The only problem was that she could feel her cheeks grow flush with just the thought: how could she do the deed? “Ms. Mcdown ….I  uh.. well ..we…have to try to get your clothes off before you do catch a chill   .” Crystal couldn’t see her face from her angle but the hairs on the back of her neck told her she wore an amused expression, even in her condition. She had decided to try and find something dry that she could wear while her clothes dried but didn’t have the slightest idea of what that could be. The only thing she came up with, and that was out of desperation, was her flannel cotton robe. On her way back to the couch from the bathroom, where she recovered the robe from it hook on the back of the door, she had to suppress a tiny giggle at the thought of what she was going to look like in it. Crystal couldn’t imagine Paula ever wore anything that was not designer something or the other. She knelt by the couch in front of her , she was about to reach out and touch her shoulder to get her attention when she noticed how beautiful she really was, she was the sort of woman that guys and well if we’re honest some girls, dreamed about. “Well, what’s the verdict?” Paula said as she startled Crystal, by opening her eyes to stare mischievously into Crystals. “I think you will live “she returned sarcastically, hoping Paula would think she was trying to assess the damage the fall had done to her. She would die of embarrassment if she guessed she had been ogling her. “Do you think you can, sit up now?” Crystal asked with concern in her voice, hoping nothing really was too badly wrong with her.  “We do need to get you out of those wet clothes.” “I found something for you to put on till your clothes dry.” She added holding out the flannel robe for her to see. After staring at the absurd robe in crystal’s hands for a second, Paula burst out laughing so hard her eyes watered. “I definitely think you are going to live” Crystal gritted at her through her teeth as she held out her hand to help her sit up. “Not if I have to wear this thing too long” Paula chirped, pointing to the robe, as she took Crystals hand and sat up. As she reached out to help her unbutton her shirt she could see that her color was returning and she didn’t feel as cold to the touch. It had to be a sign that she was not hurt as bad as she could have been. No longer believing that Paula was in any danger, Crystal let out a sigh of relief. After they got her shirt off Crystal looked down at her wondering how to continue and save herself from embarrassment. “If I help you to stand up, do you think you can handle the rest without help?” Crystal asked deciding that the direct approach was the best way to deal with it. “ I think so” the corners of Paula ’s eyes crinkled with the amusement she was trying hard not to show “If you just turn around in front of me but stay close in case I get dizzy or something” Paula made as quick of a work of the change as she could in her weakened state. She slouched down on the couch with her head back and her knees spread wide apart leaving the robe barely covering anything she might want to hide. Turning around to make sure Paula was okay Crystal felt heat run all the way up her body at the amount of tan, soft flesh the offending robe left exposed. “I’ll get you a blanket and fix you something warm to drink” she mumbled over her shoulder as she went to her bedroom to get the blanket. As she was heating the milk to give her she had the thought that maybe she shouldn’t give her anything to drink or eat after her injury realizing she really needed to brush up on her first aid skills. In the kitchen she composed herself a little as her hands found the things she needed quickly on automatic pilot. It just didn’t seem real to her that the object of her anguish was sitting in her living room dependent on her. There must be some reason this was happening but Crystal couldn’t see it right now. As she placed the finished hot chocolate on a wooden serving tray she tried to gather enough courage to go back and face the wounded beast.  She whispered a silent prayer hoping she received the strength to make it through what ever came next and backed out the kitchen door. She found her curled up under the blanket fast asleep. She wanted to let her sleep but remembered learning somewhere that you should wake someone up who had experienced a head wound, every few hours to make sure they were all right. So she put the tray down beside her big fluffy chair opposite the couch, covered up with the afghan her grandmother  had crocheted her on her eighteenth birthday and drank Paula ’s hot chocolate while contemplating suicide by firelight. After staying up all night to make sure Paula was all right, Crystal finally nodded off in the early morning hours.  She was awakened by the sounds of someone adding logs to the dying fire. As she sluggishly opened her eyes her breath was taken suddenly away by the most disarming smile she had ever seen. “Hello, Sleepy head” Paula definably looked much better. “Oh! I went to sleep. I’m sorry.”, as she suddenly sat up Crystal gasp “Are you all right?” “I’ve got one whopper of a bump but other than that I seem to be fine now.” Paula was still smiling like a jack-o-lantern. Crystal might have thought it freakish if it wasn’t doing strange things to her heart rate. She really had to try to remember that it was Paula that was hit on the head. She was acting like someone who was a little out of their mind.   Crystal got out the chair and walked to the front door, she opened the blind to find a bright blanket of white wrapped around everything in sight with big soft flakes of snow falling at a steady pace from a white out sky. “Well, I guess its official- we’re snowed in” Crystal couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice. “Is that a bad thing?” Paula wasn’t wearing a smiling now, but somehow she still seemed like she was smiling. “Well, it isn’t good, but we won’t die I suppose.” Crystal, if she were honest with herself, wasn’t thinking of it as a hardship either, but she wasn’t about to admit that to anyone. Crystal had to admit thought that when she was conscious,  Paula  wasn’t such bad company after all, barring the fact that she was trying to take the one thing she love away from her. “We have enough supplies to last weeks, plenty of wood for the fireplaces and gas for cooking and hot water, so I think it will be fine. “Do you think we could be here for weeks?” Paula queried with what crystal almost thought was anticipation standing besides her watching the snow descend quietly with what could be described as a look of satisfaction on her face.   “No but it will probably be a couple of days. We are on a private road.” Crystal sighed in response “The neighbors will dig us out with a plow for me but they will wait for the snow to stop first.” “Hey, I know - how about breakfast. It’s the one thing I can cook with expertise.” Paula said cheerfully; smiling again, as if she were setting out on an adventure instead of being snowed in, out in the middle of nowhere. “My mom and I were early risers in a house of night owls. It was great; she taught me the ins and outs of breakfast cuisine.” Heading toward the kitchen Paula looked over her shoulder with a look that playfully said “hurry up, let’s get going here”. “All right, you’ll have to guide me around and show me where everything is.” Paula said, as crystal caught up to her in the small kitchen. “And I will do the rest.” She was just like an overgrown kid. Somehow she wasn’t anything like Crystal thought she would be; she was seemingly, easy going with a happy go lucky attitude, not overbearing with a never ending ego as she had imagined her. “Okay, how about something simple today.” Paula announced looking back at crystal while standing in front of the open refrigerator door “a cheese and ham omelet with O J and toast sounds good to me. How about for you?”   Crystal mumbled a quiet okay while Paula busied herself taking the needed ingredients out of the fridge. She rummaged around the cupboards looking for the utensils she requested with lifting spirits. It was actually quite nice to work in the kitchen with someone. It was kind of like a dance, moving together as a team to accomplish something that they both could enjoy.   They worked together in silence, Paula had her chopping up the peppers, ham and onions while she prepared the pan broke the eggs and beat them with a little cream .She added the chopped ingredients and made perfect omelets. Crystal made toast the old fashion way over the open fire in the living room with an old implement her grandparents had owned. She brought the toast back in just as Paula had finished setting the little table in front of the big bay window in the kitchen. “What a great view” Paula remarked as she filled the orange juice glasses she had placed on the table. “The snow makes everything look so clean and pure. You sure couldn’t find anything like that where I live. Nothing can cover cement and make it look any better than the hard, cold necessity it is.” “Don’t get me wrong I love the city but a change is welcome whenever I can get it.” Paula admitted with a youthful grin on her face. Did she ever stop smiling, Crystal kind of hoped she didn’t, it was something someone could get use to.  They sat down and feasted on the simple fair in peace, enjoying the silent picture the fresh falling snow was painting softly in white on the country side. “This is nice” Paula, finally breaking the silence, was looking at her wearing a relaxed ease on her face. “I haven’t enjoyed a morning meal as much in a long time” She suddenly looked sad as if some painful thought had hit her unexpectedly. “My mom passed away from cancer a few years ago” Crystal could see that this was hard for her to talk about. “And like I said morning was our special time. We would cook and have our breakfast together every morning.  We would talk about what was going on in our lives and just about everything else you could think of, it was great. It’s one of those things that you never forget and take with you everywhere.” Paula was looking off into the white chill without really seeing anything. “It’s nice to have someone to share breakfast with” She was now gracing Crystal with one of those magnificent smiles she could turn on like some warm sun and she felt as if it could surely melt even the cold storm raging outside like it was melting  her heart. She knew from the way she had said it that she thought there was a difference in having breakfast with someone and sharing breakfast with them. “My dad and I shared a love of reading. When I was little I don’t think I went to bed one night without him reading me a story” Crystal sighted as the warm memory of her dad sitting beside her bed reading whatever was her favorite story  of the time , filled her heart with contentment . “We went to the local library absolutely every week up until I was eighteen and went off to college.” Crystal was smiling as the happy thoughts filled her with warmth and it transformed her whole face. She was what anyone would describe as very attractive anyway – tall not to thin but with everything proportioned just right. She had bright soft dark hair which she wore short and feathery framing her face with its softness. She had fine, fair porcelain skin with bright Irish blue eyes and her lips were full seemingly to always pout just a little. She was the perfect elf. “My parents were killed in an auto accident when I was a junior in collage.” Paula could tell from her eyes that it was a very painful memory “It shattered my life for a long time.” “Well, I guess we both have something special to remember and hold onto about the people we love.” Paula said getting up to clear the dishes “That’s more than most people get from a whole lifetime.” Crystal got up to help her thinking that they just bonded in some special way. It made her feel exhilarated but also scared her senseless. This was her hated enemy, the woman that made her cringe at the thought of her. How could she now be making her feel so comforted and at ease now? It didn’t make much sense. After they had finished in the kitchen they drifted back into the living room where the fire was crackling nosily as it greedily ate the wood now almost gone in the red glowing grate. Crystal wondered over to the wood cubby by the fire place and placed a few more dry logs on to fed the fire, making it nice and toasty in the room. “I guess if you are sure you feel okay, I’d better try and get a little work done.” Crystal hesitated kind of shy about the new camaraderie that seemed to be developing between them. “The nice thing about being a freelance artist you work mostly from home.” “That’s fine—I think I will just sit here by the fire and do nothing - that’s the great part about working outside your home you have a great excuse to do nothing when you’re snowed in.” Paula laughed as she plopped down freely on Crystals couch making herself right at home. “Okay” crystal said not quite sure of how to act with the tall smiling woman firmly planted, relaxed on her fluffy floral couch. “I’ll be over here in the corner where my work table is if you need anything.” “Right, go on I’ll be fine.” Crystal tried to concentrate on the book cover she was doing for a local self published author .He had, typically, waited until the last minute to get her the project so she was rushed to get it done.  But he was such a good customer that she felt obligated to do her best for him. She had a great place to work; it was in the east corner of the large open room that served as living space, office, library and studio. It had large ceiling to floor French windows letting in all the morning light. Usually she would wake early fix herself a cup of quick hot tea and start work immediately.  She loved to just dive into what she was doing and get so totally absorbed it that noon came along before she knew it. But she was struggling to keep her mind on what she was doing this morning. The woman now lying back with her eyes closed, sucking up the warmth from her burning fireplace   filled up the whole room with her presence. Looking over at her she wondered what she was going to do. They could be here for days like this and if they were, crystal didn’t think she would get much work done. She plodded on until about eleven  tying different things but nothing pleased her so she decide a cup of tea night help her clear her mind a little. She noticed Paula had apparently dozed off as she quietly passed her on her way to the kitchen.   “Can you spare a cup for a stranger?” Crystal jumped as Paula surprised her as she came quietly up behind her. She didn’t know if it was because she startled her or if it was just her being so close. “Sure can.” Crystal rushed across the kitchen on the pretense of getting another tea bag from the canister sitting there. “Do I make you nervous for some reason?” Paula now standing directly behind her asked her quietly. “No, why should you?” Crystal hoped Paula would not notice how shallow her breathing had become. “Well if we are being honest, you make me a little nervous.” Paula turned Crystal around with a light hand on her shoulder. She was looking deeply into Crystal’s eyes with ….what? What was that look behind her eyes, sadness? … Or something else. Paula turned and walked away with no explanation to the statement she left hanging leaving Crystal more confused than before. She finished making the pot of tea and tried to hide the fact that something important had just passed between her and Paula with the ordinary task of making a snack to go with the tea. When Crystal could waste no more time in the kitchen and took the tray with the tea and snack into the living room and sat it on the coffee table. “I hope you like brownies, I just baked those last night for my neighbor Greg Kind for helping me with my mail box some kids decided was perfect batting practice. “I guess he won’t be getting this batch.” Crystal gave Paula a giant smile. For some reason Paula’s eyes grew slightly cloudy “Is this Greg a special friend as well as a neighbor?” Suddenly Crystal was laughing tying to picture Greg Kind as anyone’s “special friend” much less hers. “No, he is just a kind old man who watches over me.” Crystal was still laughing. Something Crystal would swear was relief crossed Paula’s face as she reached out for a brownie. “Oh, ok, good I am glad someone is around to watch out for you.” Crystal actually believed Paula was glad someone watched over her, but why, she barely knew Crystal.   “Me too, although sometimes, his wife is a bit of a busy body getting into everyone’s businesses including mine.” Crystal smiled at Paula again, thinking that this was getting to be too much of a habit. What was wrong with her, Paula was the enemy.   Crystal poured them both a cup of tea and helped herself to one of the triple chocolate brownies she had been lusting after since she made them. Crystal rarely let herself have the things she lusted after, it felt good. Maybe she should give into her desires more often. She didn’t know why, but she let her eyes roam over the beautiful woman opposite her as this thought crossed her mind and it made her a little uneasy. “Ok, so I guess I’ll go try to get a little more work done.” Crystal got up looking down at Paula with sadness to leave her. “I guess maybe I should work a little too, I think I feel good enough.” Paula said as she placed her oversized brief case on the coffee table to open. “Is it ok if I work here?” She was looking at Crystal as she was walking away. “Sure” Crystal threw over her shoulder as she was suddenly reminded that this was the woman trying to take everything away from her. She wondered if that “work” involved a scheme to wrangle her grandfather’s land away from her. They worked in silence for several hours until both of their stomachs started to yell at them to quit. Crystal got up and walked over to where Paula had the contents of her briefcase spread all over the big wood coffee table in a chaos of piles. Paula did not try to hide anything as Crystal walked over. Maybe she was being a little paranoid. “So, I am going to take a break. Get something to eat and relax a little. Do you want to join me?”Crystal didn’t know why she invited Paula to join her; she hated her, didn’t she. Still Paula’s smile made her so warm inside. “Sure, just let me finish up and I’ll be right there.” Oh, that smile again, what it did to Crystals heart rate. “Ok, I’ll just start lunch.” After finding some vegetable beef soup in the freezer and heating it up with some beget bread and cheese, she hoped Paula wouldn’t think it too simple. She found the bottle of wine she had bought on a whim as she really rarely drank, took it out of the fridge and opened it on another whim. For some strange reason she had used her grandmother’s best dishes to set the table with her hand embroidered linen napkins that Crystal never got out. “Wow, this is nice.” Paula rounded the corner into the cozy kitchen surprised by the beautiful setting Crystal had made for their lunch. “I am not sure I am dressed for the occasion” looking down at the flannel robe she still wore. Crystal had the fleeting thought that she was perfect with her long lean legs exposed and her rounded full breast peeking slightly out of the too small robe but quickly pushed it out of her unsettled mind. “Oh, I’m sorry. I should have gotten you clothes a long time ago for you. What must you be thinking?” Crystals face was red with her embarrassment. “That I was comfortable.” Paula said laughing. “You can get them after lunch, although they really are not relaxing at home clothes. Do you think you could find me something more comfortable to wear?” “I can try.” Crystal racked her brain for something that the tall goddess could wear of hers…Crystal was shorter and fuller everywhere than Paula so it wouldn’t be easy. They ate and drank their wine with stories of growing up and their families. Paula’s family was old money and she had had a very traditional upbringing except for her mom. She told Crystal that she had tried to give her a more nurturing experience to counter act all the top schools and over achiever goals set for her by her father. She was expected to take over for him one day to run the “empire” as she was an only child. She confessed to Crystal that lately she wasn’t sure that was her dream or his. Crystal told her about growing up with her parents and grandparents in Murdock cabin with its rich history and beauty. It had been perfect until her parents had died when she had been twenty years old leaving her alone and slightly lost in the world but that she had learned to fill up her time with work. “So, all work and no play huh?” Paula was staring deep into Crystal’s soul it seemed. “Well, it’s not quite like that. I do have a sort of boyfriend I guess.” Crystal fidgeted in her chair not liking the turn of conversation. “What exactly is a “sort” of boyfriend, Crystal?” Paula asked as she scooted her chair a little closer to Crystal and poured them both more wine. Crystal wasn’t sure she liked the way Paula said her name….it made her all fuzzy inside…why did it make her all fuzzy inside? “Well, we have been seeing each other on and off for fifteen years and neither one of us seem to ever make it committed.”Crystal looked down not wanting to meet Paula’s probing eyes. “So, can I ask you a personal question?” Paula was boring into Crystal with those deep ice blue eyes like hot glass melting her resistance. “I guess?” Crystal voice was not so sure. “How old are you?” “Thirty-five.” “Thirty-five and you haven’t committed to anyone….nothing serious…ever?” Paula moved still closer. “I guess not.” Crystal couldn’t take her eyes off of Paula. “Why” asked Paula. “I guess no one seemed like the right person.” Crystal replied still not taking her eyes off of Paula. “So, who is this right person you’re waiting on?” Paula moving still closer. “I don’t know” Crystal could feel the heat from Paula making her warm. “Are you taking applications?” Paula was so close now that Crystal felt the moist breath from her lips as she asked. “I….ahhh” Crystal was lost. Finally Paula put Crystal out of her misery, ending the cat and mouse game by softly capturing her full lips in a gentle kiss. Crystal gave herself over to the kiss letting Paula deepen its intent. Paula pulled back a little to get a good look at Crystal to gage her reaction. She looked softly into her eyes to reassure her that she didn’t want to scare or hurt her. Crystal looked at Paula with a moment of indecision than made up her mind and drew her closer to re-establish the tender kiss. Paula deepened the kiss and timidly ran her tongue over Crystal’s teeth letting her know she wanted to change the tone of the kiss. Crystal hesitated just a second but it was enough for Paula to understand she needed a minute to process what was happening. She drew back. “I have wanted to do that from the first moment I saw you.” Paula placed both her hands on either side of Crystal’s face softly looking with a startling gentleness. Paula stood Crystal up and started moving her over to the large floral couch smiling at her with a laugh in her beautiful eyes. They plopped onto the couch laughing together. Paula started kissing Crystal with her hand behind her head pulling back looking every once in a while, once she was sure Crystal was ok ;she started kissing her neck slowly moving her hand up her shirt caressing her flat toned stomach, slowly inching her way up to firm soft breast. Paula once again drew back and looked into Crystal’s eyes to assure herself Crystal was still ok with what was happening. Crystal was more than alright with everything as a matter of fact it felt more right than, anything than she had ever done before and she smiled at Paula leaving no doubt. Paula pulled back and removed her robe with one quick movement reaching down for Crystal’s shirt, gently pulling it up and over her head as Crystal raised up to let her have access to it. Paula took a long lingering look at Crystal’s beautiful full breast and flat stomach with apparent lust in her eyes.She removed Crystal's jeans and wonderfully lacy underwear with just as much ease.   “You are so very beautiful Crystal” Paula smiled at her before lowing herself to start kissing her again. Crystal shyly reached out her hands and started running them over Paula’s back, thinking how very soft and silky her skin felt. She ran them down till she slid her hand over her hip finding Paula’s firm round bottom just filled her hand. Paula caught on fire. Crystal’s soft hands had turned her blood to liquid heat and almost stopped her breath in her lungs. She moaned and laid herself against Crystal’s body and whispered in her ear “Oh how I have wanted this moment for so long.” As she started kissing her hard giving her hands free range to caress and knead Crystals flesh with fervor, all the time whispering in her ear how beautiful she was and how much she wanted her. Crystal’s blood soon ran as hot as Paula’s and she started arching her body up to meet Paula’s in rhythm to her wild heart beat. Paula freed Crystal’s gloriously creamy soft breasts and caught her hard rosebud nipple in her mouth and was rewarded with a breath indrawn moan that seemed to come from so very deep inside Crystal…. “Please…” Pulling herself away Paula rose up to meet Crystals deep pools of lust and to ask “Please…what my love?” “I am not sure, but please don’t stop what you are doing to me.” Paula did not need more of an invitation, she stroked down till her hand slipped inside her soft thighs, resting on her curly wonder moving slowly down; she found her wet and warm, waiting.   Paula moved slowly at first bringing Crystal to the edge of elation. She looked into Crystal’s eyes and drove her over the edge enjoying the sights and sounds of Crystal’s pleasure blooming into full jubilation. Holding her tightly, their naked bodies entwined, telling her how wonderful she was as she was coming down from her high; Paula could feel how much pleasure Crystal had been given. When she was able, Crystal brushed back the little tendrils of hair that had fallen forward on Paula’s face back behind her surprisingly beautiful ear and look at her with amazement. “I didn’t know it could feel like that.” looking at Paula’s generous smile “although it doesn’t seem fair. What did you get out of it?” “Really…?” Paula asked as she gently took Crystals hand and guided it down to her own wet, warm sex and smiled at her. “As, you can feel it gave me quite a lot of pleasure.” Suddenly very shy Crystal pulled her hand away. “You mean you came just from touching me?” she asked astonished. “Yes, touching you was an amazing pleasure, my love. You are beautiful and glorious.” Paula was now up on one elbow tracing little circles on her chest with the tips of her fingers, looking down at Crystal’s flushed face amazed at her innocence. She truly did not know she was a very beautiful and sexy woman. “I have a lot to tell you, you know.” Paula rolled over and wrapped Crystal up in her warm embrace. “I never wanted your land, I only every wanted you.” Crystal looked over at Paula with an astonished look in her eyes. “It is perfectly true, the first time I saw you, you were at the last city meeting where my father had sent me to do a met and greet with the city council members. He had driven though the town and liked its look. He often does that and sends me out to look around.” Now lying on her back with her arm under Crystal’s neck playing with her fingers Paula continued to talk. “I was with the council in the front of the room and saw you as you came in. You were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen and I could not take my eyes off you. I spent the whole meeting staring at you, not hearing a word being said.” She smiled at Crystal as she bent giving her a quick sweet kiss “All I could think about was doing that.” Crystal couldn’t believe that Paula knew who she was before any of the trouble started about the land but she remembered that meeting but didn’t seem to remember Paula and she couldn’t believe she would have not noticed her but guessed she did. “My father gathered a bunch of information about the town and decided to build a resort and sent in specialist to find the perfect spot. He found it all right and sent me after it. I was so surprised… and troubled when I found out you owned the land he wanted. I knew him and knew he would stop at nothing to get it.”Looking at Crystal with such a serious expression Paula had tears in her eyes. “The last thing I wanted to do was anything to hurt you. When you told me you didn’t want to sell I went back and tried to talk father into finding another site but he wouldn’t budge, he said you would sell it was just a matter of timing and the right persuasion.” “It was hard having you look at me with such poison in your eyes every time we met.”Crystal could easily see Paula was telling the truth. “He finally found the right persuasion.” Paula was looking off into space still playing ideally with Crystal’s finger tips. “He found out that you had a mortgage on your land.” Crystal pulled away from Paula now and sat up with her eyes boring into her, knowing what was coming next. Paula once again had tears running silently down her checks as she lay looking up into the suddenly stormy eyes she had just seen so warm and liquid. “It took a lot of dealing but he managed to arrange, to buy your mortgage.” The words Crystal dreaded hearing had finally came and she turned her back on Paula. Sitting up and turning Crystal to look into her eyes, Paula continued to talk. “You need to hear what I said…he arranged to buy it, saying that he would forgive it and give you full price for your land and if you didn’t agree he would   terminate your mortgage and call it in. However, I was in charge of this little arrangement with your bank and when I went to complete it; I couldn’t go through with it and instead used my own money to pay off your mortgage. That was what I was coming up here to tell you. Why I was such a fool to drive up here in that storm.” Crystal looked at Paula like she was mad. What was she saying …that she used her own money to pay off Crystal’s mortgage? Why would she do that, she didn’t even know her. “I don’t understand. Why would you do that? We had only met a few times and quite frankly we were not that nice to each other when we did.” “Well, you were not nice when we met but if you think back I always was nice to you; even when I was telling you about my father’s terrible plans. Once I even remember over hearing you ask yourself why I was always smiling like a fool when we met.” Paula was smiling one of those smiles now. “I could not help myself…you make me smile.” Crystal got up now and was franticly trying to find something to cover up with and Paula picked the robe off the floor and went over and lovingly put it on her. “The only thing you really need to understand is that your land is safe. My father cannot touch it now. He has nothing with which to persuade you.” “No, that is not all I need to understand, I need to understand why….why you did it?”Crystal was clutching the robe hard around her as if it could protect her. “If you don’t know after what just happened between us than I don’t think I can explain.” Paula turned to leave the room before she broke down. “What did just happen between us?” “I just told you I loved you.”Crystal was staring at Paula’s back willing her to turn around and face her. “How can you love me? You don’t even know me.” Turning around baring her tear soaked cheeks to Crystal’s saddening eyes Paula looked for a way to explain. “I do know you. We have spent a lot of time together lately. Like the first time I came here and you didn’t know what I wanted and gave me a tour of your house telling me about its history so proud of your grandfather’s love for your grandmother. I think I already suffered from love at first sight from the city council meeting and that afternoon sealed my fate. I didn’t tell you why I was here that day, I couldn’t. I fell in love with you as you grew in hate for me. It was killing me inside, that is why I paid off your mortgage just so you could look at me without that hate just once.” Crystal looked at Paula’s face so full of pain and knew she didn’t hate her. What she felt for her was a million miles away from hate. As a matter of fact she probably was already well on her way to falling in love with the annoying, beautiful, Amazon. She just didn’t know how to tell her. It all was so strange. She never thought in a million years she would fall in love with another woman, however it did explain a lot. “Well, as it happens I don’t think I hate you” Crystal was moving toward the now bewildered Paula “as a matter of fact I kind of think I like you quite a bit. You kind of grow on one.” Crystal placed her hand softly on Paula’s cheek and bought her mouth down capturing her lips in a soft but very firm kiss leaving her with no doubts about how she felt. “Now, do you think you can stop talking?” For the rest of the afternoon the two of them made the best of being snowed in finding plenty to do. There would be time for all the talking they had to do later.

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Heart of a Lion

Late upload because i was busy with last post but here it is!

A little backstory behind the lioness quirk.

Chapter 9 Kindness and Virtue

Shinso x Reader

Rated M for Future Mature Themes (Not Explicit)

Tags: slow burn, mutual pining, secretive quirk

Summary: You never wanted to be a hero. You come from a long family of heroes, so why not just be a normal person? That’s what you hoped, until you re-connected with your old High School friend/crush.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 /

Once upon a time, around when quirks first started appearing, there was a family that was cursed to be quirk-less. It did not matter who they tried to mate with, even if they had the most powerful quirk holder, their child would not inherit any power from their parents. In the beginning, this was fine, as more than half the population was quirk-less. However, as time went on, they were slowly becoming the minority and being outcasted from society. In response to this, one generation decided to move away from the city into the country, away from society to live in peace.

One day, the mother and father decided to go for a walk. They walked along the river that ran behind their home into the forest. It was a peaceful walk, until they ran into some people who were beating up a poor animal. Quickly, they rushed to it’s aid, running off the wretched humans. They got a closer look, and to their surprise, lied a lioness breathing and whining heavily. They carried the animal back to their home to heal the lioness and allow her a peaceful place to sleep.

As the father was returning home with food for the lioness, a strange light surrounded her as she stood and jumped down from her bed. They stepped back in shock as they heard a voice call their names.

“I am eternally grateful for saving me. You have proved that you have hearts of kindness and virtue. I am a guardian spirit. The family line I have spent years watching over has ended and I require another family to share my power with. If you accept, I can grant you great power that is stronger than any quirk in this world.”

The father and mother looked toward each other, as if thinking the same thing. “We humbly thank you for the opportunity,” the father said first. “But if you surely can grant power, then we do not wish it to be for us.”

“It is our son.” The mother added. “He was born very weak. Without a quirk, we fear he may not be able to protect himself. He is twelve years old but has only truly lived half that. If what you said is true, then we beg you. Please, give him a chance to live a good life.”

The lioness nodded. “You are more selfless than I thought. My power shall start with him and will be shared down the family line. Your lineage will no longer have to worry about living a weak life, for strength will only be a call away.”

The father and mother smiled and hugged each other, relieved that their son could truly start living his life. However, the lioness gave a warning. “My power is granted to those with kindness and virtue. If this power is used for anything other than good intentions, then your family will lose this power forever.”

They agreed to the lioness’s terms, happy just to even have a chance to give their son a better life.  “Go to him.” The lioness said. “Teach him how to be kind and to not take this life for granted.”

“Yes, of course.” The father said.

“Thank you for this gift.” The mother said. “We will not waste this opportunity.”

And so, they went to the hospital where their son was. Everyone was astonished to see this once weak boy who could not get up from his bed, suddenly was sprinting down the halls with glee. Everyone was so happy to see the amazing progress and the parents were overflowed with emotion.

However, they had only just begun to witness what the power of the lioness could truly do.

Weeks passed since the boy’s recovery and he was joyful with every step he took. One day, the boy was on a walk with his family down the river side. They had reached an area where the river turned into whitewater rapids. They were just about to continue until they heard a scream from the river. They ran to see that a child had fell into the river and was about to be swept into the rapids. The mother and father tried to find a branch to reach them, until their son suddenly jumped into the rapids. His mother and father scrambled to save them, only to see him fight through the force of the river, grab the child, and carry her to safety.

His parents were so astonished. Was this the true power the lioness offered?

After everything was settled, they went home to discuss this new phenomenon. The son said he felt a strong will to save the girl and he simply asked anyone to give him the strength to do so.

“It is just as the lioness said. Her strength will only be a call away.”

That day the son made a vow to honor this new spirit within him. He vowed to unlock and discover any power he could so he would easily have access to the strength he has been blessed with so he can save everyone he can, just like the girl in the river.

For generations this power has been passed down and shared throughout the family line, every member working hard to unlock their own special power and use it for the good of the people.

“Everyone in the family forms their own unique power that reflects themselves. Some of them uses her animal form, some simply calls upon the power to make them stronger… some even learned to breathe fire or ice.” You said. “However, because someone can easily take advantage of this power, the first one made a rule to not use the power in vain.”

“The first one?” Shinso tilted his head.

“That’s how we refer to the boy that was first granted the power. Technically, my however-many-great grandfather.” You groaned a little, remembering practically being forced to study your family history. “Don’t remember though. I think I fell asleep during that lecture.”

You observed Shinso to see he didn’t move at all during the time you were telling your family story. He practically sat there in confusion most of the time. You hoped it wasn’t too much for him. The last thing you needed for him was another reason to leave you again.

You shuddered at the thought. You just got him back. It would be a cruel world if he decided to not talk to you again. Oh god, would he do that? You thought as you looked over at Shinso who was staring at the floor in thought. You wanted to know what he was thinking. “Um… Shinso?”

He jerked his head with a “Huh?” and locked his indigo eyes with yours.

“What… what are you thinking?” you dared to ask.

“A lot.” He replied. “Everything is starting to make sense.”

You tried so desperately to stop your hand from shaking from anxiety. Your heart was practically waiting for him to either understand or tell you off for not trusting him. Before you could get your answer, a nurse knocked and walked in. “Shinso? I’m sorry to tell you this, but we need you back in your room to do some more testing.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be there in a bit.”

The nurse took her leave and a heavy silence fell in the room as you still waited for his opinion on the matter. He takes a deep breath and stands. “I should get back.”

“Okay.” Your body was frozen in place as your thoughts screamed Just ask him! as he started to make his exit. “Wh-wait!” you practically screamed at him as he was holding the door.

“Y-yes?” he tripped over his words, startled by your sudden outburst.

Your fists clenched as you tried to find the right words. You’ve been waiting years for the opportunity to tell him this and you doubt he can even comprehend the significance of this moment. Of course, he wouldn’t. You remembered the many nights you spent just talking with him. He shared everything with you. His dreams and his thoughts were no secret, yet you wouldn’t even spare a conversation about your day, always steering the conversation back to him when you had the chance.

“Um… have a good night.” Was all you said as you let him go. You figured he’d been through enough for the weekend and you didn’t want to push him to be emotionally available, especially with what he had to go through just the day before.

You just hoped he could understand.

  This… is not good, you thought as you awoke in the stairwell of the agency you currently worked at. You run your hand through your hair and sighed as you made your way back to your department with a blanket that you seemed to have taken from the lobby room. For two weeks at random times, you found yourself forgetting time or waking up in random places. Thankfully, the episodes didn’t last long, and you’ve managed to stay in the good graces of the bosses despite this setback. Yet still, it is a mystery why it keeps happening.

You dropped off the blanket in the lobby, trying to avoid questioning glances as you made your way to the elevators to get back to where you worked. Entering the elevator, you didn’t even notice another person was with you until you heard a deep voice call your name. You looked to the man to see clear indigo eyes that you had not seen in weeks. You missed them.

“You don’t look too good.” He looked at you, concerned. “Have you been sleeping at all?”

You debated on whether to tell him the full truth or just tip-toe around it. “I’m still getting used to the new job. I’m sure it’s just temporary.”

He clenched his jaw. He was sure that wasn’t the case as he heard rumors that you had been spacing out lately. But he didn’t want to intrude if it was personal. Besides, if you needed his help, you would tell him… right? “Well, you went through a lot in the last couple of weeks. Don’t push yourself.”

The air felt heavy. You knew he knew that you were holding something back. You didn’t want him to worry. He’s a pro hero and he’s already busy enough. You decided you could handle it alone. “I won’t.”

The doors open and you gave him a small smile before you leave. Taking a seat at your small desk, you checked the time to see you stayed five minutes over your break. You groan as you tried to resume your work, but your thoughts never strayed from those indigo eyes. Shinso never really held a full conversation with you since that day. Of course, meetings and villain attacks kept him busy, but you couldn’t stop the negative thoughts that flooded into your head, wondering if it was just an excuse to not see you.

You wanted to see him.

You grabbed your head as it felt like white noise was spreading through it. You massaged your skull in an attempt to make it go away. Seriously, what the hell is going on? You didn’t even notice your team leader quietly walking up to you until he put his hand on your shoulder. You jumped and let out a small embarrassing yelp and tripped over your words as you asked him if he needed anything.

“You seem stressed. I know it’s your weekend off tomorrow, so why don’t you head home early?”

You pursed your lips. If even your team leader could tell something was off with you then Shinso definitely could. “I just haven’t been getting a lot of sleep, Sei. I’m fine. I don’t want people to pick up my slack over such a reason.”

“Such a reason is why we want you to go home.” Sei responded. “Go home and get some rest. We can cover you for today.”

“But-“

“No buts!” Another coworker chipped in. “You went through some crazy shit a couple weeks ago. You haven’t even given yourself a chance to rest. Just take the weekend and go get a massage or something.”

“Or get laid.” Everyone glared at the girl who said it. “What? It’s what I do to relax!”

You chuckled at everyone’s efforts to cheer you up. “Thanks. You all have no idea how much this means to me. I promise I’ll be much better by Monday.”

You gathered your things, said your goodbyes and left the office. As you were making your way down the hallways you felt yourself go light headed again. What the hell is happening? To avoid staring eyes, you made your way to the bathroom and splashed water on your face. You wished Shinso was here.

What? You questioned the intrusion thought. Why is he coming up in this situation? You groaned as the fuzz in your head started to grow fierce, becoming a full-on headache. So many thoughts suddenly flooded your head that all lead to the same person: Shinso.

Stop, stop, stop! You tried to control your thoughts and the sudden increase in blood pressure. Please just make it stop!

And then you felt everything go black.

  “Thank you all for the hard work this month and enjoy your early weekend!”

Shinso lightly massaged his neck as he made his way to the elevators. He was elated to finally have an early weekend, although, he was sure it would pass unceremoniously. Entering the elevators, he hovered his finger over the ground floor button. Would it be okay to visit them? Shinso debated in his head if it was okay to see you. Worry for you filled his mind the entire meeting, wondering if what you said was true or if there was another reason for you spacing out. He decided you probably wouldn’t mind and he had promised to do more for you anyway, visiting you could be a start. He pressed the button to your floor and made his way to where he knew your office was… except you weren’t there.

“Hey, Professor X, what’s up?” Sei, your team leader, asked.

Shinso smirked at his antics, amused that he still poked fun at the pro-heroes, despite his position. “If you’re referring to my vast intellect, then thank you.”

Sei chuckled at Shinso, also amused that he still puts up with his teasing. “Seriously, what’s up? It’s not like you to stop here.”

“Where’s the newbie?” Shinso asked. “I just saw them before my meeting.”

“The newbie looked like they haven’t been resting well so I sent them home early.” Sei answered. “Why? You interested or something?” He nudged Shinso with his elbow.

Shinso averts his eyes and anxiously rubbed his neck. “Something like that.”

“Then you better get going. I just sent them home not too long ago, you might be able to catch them.”

Shinso thanked the man and quickly made his way down the hall. He had no idea how he would be able to find you, but he knew he had to try. Hopefully you-

“Ahh! Help!”

Shinso’s thoughts were cut short when he heard a womanly scream from around the corner of the hall. He immediately clutched his capture device, ready to face a villain but as he turned the corner, he saw… the lioness?

He was confused to see the spirit was sniffing a woman who was trapped against the wall. The lioness growled and turned her nose up, as if repulsed with her smell. The lioness continued down the hall until she spotted Shinso. Immediately, the lioness charged him.

Shinso was frozen in place. He could barely make out the voices advising him to run, or even react when the lioness pounced on him to the floor. Shinso shut his eyes expecting his face to be chomped off but it never came. Instead, he felt a wet muscle run up his cheek. He opened his eyes to see the lioness licking his face and then burying her head in his shoulder, letting out a deep purr as she nestled on top of his body.

“Well this is quite the predicament.” Sei said, observing the situation before him. He tried to get close, but the lioness growled at him when he took a step forward. “You two know each other?”

Shinso was about to question him if he knew about you but stopped himself. If you didn’t want to tell your team about your quirk, then he probably shouldn’t. “In a way, yes.” He simply said, reactively petting the giant cat before him. “I can take care of it.”

“Should probably do it fast. Before someone calls animal control.” Sei chuckled before walking away.

Shinso groaned at his attempt at a joke, but he was right. Shinso figured he should probably get you out of there before someone tried to take control of the situation. He pushed the lioness off enough so he could stand. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” He started to walk toward the elevators and easily enough, the lioness followed him inside, everyone else refusing to ride with them.

Eyes were trailed on him the entire way home. Even in a world filled with quirks that make people look like animals, people are still afraid of lions? Shinso questioned. He looked toward the lioness that was happily trotting next to him, her tail bouncing back a forth. Shinso wondered what to do with you. He could try to take you back to your apartment, but he didn’t know where that was. He decided the best thing to do was take you to his apartment. It was a builder floor that had plenty of room for a lion to live in. Reaching the apartment, he opened the door and the lioness immediately pounced inside, sniffing and rubbing on everything in sight. Shinso chuckled to himself. If only you could see this.

But Shinso didn’t know if this was you or not. From what your team leader said, you weren’t sleeping well and when he saw you in the elevator you looked far from okay. Was this the reason? He felt a little saddened that you didn’t confide in him with your struggle. He thought you were beginning to trust him again.

He decided to put the situation in the back of his mind and go to the kitchen to find something to eat. As he was rummaging through the fridge, he could feel the lioness rubbing against his thigh. “Are you hungry too?” He asked, petting her on the head as she made happy growling noises. “I’m not sure I have enough to feed you but hopefully this could hold you over until you change back.” He pulled a chicken from his freezer and set the oven to preheat. The lioness hummed as she laid down on the kitchen floor, her tail still happily moving back and forth. As Shinso made dinner, he pondered why you would change into that form. Perhaps too much stress from what had happened… or maybe summoning lioness the first time did something to you.

He finished cooking the chicken and placed a large portion on a plate. He placed the plate on the ground and the lioness ate it in just a couple of bites. Although she finished fast, she looked satisfied. Shinso set his plate on the counter and ate while the lioness sat next to his feet, occasionally pawing at his toes. He couldn’t help but reach down and ruffle his hand on her head. Despite being a ferocious beast, in this state, she looked just like a house cat.

He finished his meal and cleaned up his kitchen. As he was finishing, he realized that the lioness wasn’t in the spot he left her. He searched the apartment to find that she had cuddled up in his bed, her whiskers twitching as she slept comfortably in his spot. Shinso smiled as he grabbed extra blankets and pulled them over her form. He stroked her as she cuddled herself under the blanket.

It was so strange to think that this was you but in a different form. Even still, he was happy just to be next to you, even if it wasn’t really you. Or maybe it was you. Shinso wanted to ask you so many questions about your quirk, how it worked, what are the drawbacks… (Midoriya must have rubbed off on him.) He wanted so desperately to see you and make sure you were okay after the villain attack, but he found himself busy at every turn. At least now, you were where he could see you, and he wasn’t going to let you go until he knew you were okay.

He decided to let you rest as much as you could. He started to leave, but then grunted in embarrassment when he remembered what happened when you woke up from your quirk. He searched through his dresser to find a sweater and sweat pants that looked to be your size and left them on the edge of the bed. He left the room but not without giving one last look and a quiet “goodnight,” leaving you to get a good night’s sleep.

#shinso x reader #shinso hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi #bnha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #oocwrites #xreader