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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 311: Hand Gun

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “thinkin’ about dropping in some woke analogies of the very real and very presently relevant issue of racial profiling idk what do you guys think” and then shrugged and did it without waiting for an answer, and ngl it was a bit sudden, but I’m here for it. All Might was all “DEKU YOU NEED TO EAT” and Deku was all “OKAY” and took his hero bento and went to go stand dramatically on a tower in the rain whilst having some highly anticipated Vestige flashbacks. OFA II was all, “sup, I guess I’m not Kacchan... OR AM I,” and ngl I think he is?? Alternate universes anybody?? Hello??? But anyway, so OFA the First a.k.a. Yoichi was all “remember that time you guys rescued me from my evil brother and Two took my hand and we Had A Moment?”, and Two and Three were all “ahh yeah good times”, and it was very nice and very, very gay. The chapter ended with it being very unclear if Two and Three have actually lent their power to Deku yet or not lmao. Y’all need to get your shit together dudes.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “what if I gave a random bad guy a fucking tommy gun that shoots nails” and jesus christ calm down son. The Hawksquad, a.k.a. SQUAWK as per @hotchocolatier, are all “time to drive aimlessly around town acting like Deku has a restraining order on us because that’s literally the best plan to combat the League we could come up with,” and I have no further comment. Hawks is all “idk about you guys but I want to know more about AFO and Tomura’s whole deal” and I can’t remember the last time I identified so strongly with one of these characters. All Might is all, “[EXPLODES???]”, and the chapter ends with that mysterious hot girl from the Tartarus breakout being all “HELLO I CAN TURN INTO A GUN AND I LITERALLY DON’T GIVE A FUCK” and (1) WOW, and (2) IT’S TRUE, SHE CAN, AND SHE REALLY DOESN’T. GODDAMN.

(ETA: so this wholly escaped my notice on the first go, and also has nothing to do with the chapter itself, but I only just realized that this chapter was scanlated by a new group, TCB Scans. they actually did a very good job, and I’m curious if they’ve found a new RAW provider, because the quality this week is actually crazy good in comparison to what we’ve been dealing with for the past few months. I’m gonna have to get caught up on what exactly happened here lol.)

so what will it be this week? more Vestige antics? more of Sad Nomad Deku standing on buildings and pretending like he’s some cool aloof antihero, as if he could fool us when we all know his hero backpack is secretly stuffed full with his nerd diaries and the remnants of all the hero bentos that All Might keeps giving him?? or, just putting it out there, just a crazy thought, but you don’t suppose we might actually cut back to U.A.? mmm. side-eyes emoji

maaaaaan I’m starting to get tired of this trend of beginning chapters by dropping in on random power-tripping civilians and/or Shindou lol. just once can we get a chapter that opens with someone I actually give a fuck about

oh at least Endeavor is here

A WHAT SUPPORT ITEM!??! HOLY SHIT DDLKJSLFKJL

lol somehow that’s more terrifying than bullets for me?? like I’m fully aware that bullets will fuck you up way worse and that in real life nail guns probably don’t work like this AT ALL and only have a range of like... hold up let me just google... up to 100 to 150 m/s and distances of up to 500m wait WHAT

okay wait. hold up. like I was expecting google to tell me nail guns only shoot a few feet at most, and instead the first search result is some CDC blog article that’s “dispelling” the “””myth””” -- please note my repeated sarcastic quotation marks -- that nail guns can fire 1400 feet per second, by explaining that actually they can fire anywhere from 315 ft/sec to 1,295 ft/sec, and that “it is in the pneumatic nail gun user’s best interest to handle these tools as if they were a firearm despite having a lower velocity” dlkjdslkjflkl

SO THAT SCENE IN IRON MAN 3 WHERE TONY RAIDS A HOME DEPOT AND BUYS A BUNCH OF RANDOM TOOLS AND SHIT AND GOES ON TO STAGE A ONE-MAN INVASION OF AN INTERNATIONAL TERRORIST’S FLORIDA MANSION HQ IS ACTUALLY TRUE. YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THE FILM “HOME ALONE” IS ACTUALLY A DOCUMENTARY. “the Discovery Channel television program “Mythbusters” compared the penetration capacity of an airborne projectile shot from a pneumatic framing nail gun to that of a 9mm hand gun” HELLO YES AND A MERRY “WHAT THE FUCK” TO YOU AS WELL

anyway, so. there’s apparently a reason why the Number One hero, who can burn people with the intensity of a sun going supernova, is hiding here behind this concrete support column making frowny faces. nope. nuh uh. he ain’t about that. I don’t blame you buddy

so now he’s barrel rolling out of his hiding place and setting this dude THE FUCK ON FIRE because HELL NO. BAD ENOUGH I HAD TO WATCH THAT FUCKING MUSHROOM EPISODE LAST WEEK! YOU TAKE THAT SHIT SOMEWHERE ELSE

LOL look at his face

I know the context is actually him being all “I know I’m responsible for basically everything that happened and so that’s why I’m so grim and serious about this mission to set things right piece by piece,” but in my mind this pissed-off face is 100% all because this dude tried to shoot his eye out with a nail gun. look at that. you made him go full flame face again. beard and all. protecting his face so that it can hopefully melt any stray nails that get too close. nope nope nope

good lord. so what’s up next. let me guess the guy fighting Best Jeanist has like an atomic chainsaw or some shit

lol nope we’re just cutting back to Hawks and Jeanist chilling in the Jesla after they’ve wrapped things up

Jeanist has got some serious Groot energy you guys jesus christ he’s like 12 feet tall

oh snap someone threw a pipe at him now

today is just the chapter of Endeavor being assaulted by random DIY tools I guess

I mean, I get why they’re pissed at him obviously; I would be too lol. but tbh I also don’t really understand the “get out of here we don’t want your help” attitude that all of these people suddenly seem to have?? like it if were me, I would be fucking DEMANDING for him and the other heroes to be working round the clock to fix their stupid mess. I mean who else is gonna do it?? it’s their mess, I sure don’t want to be the one to clean it up instead. anyways but whatever lol

oh shit?

so they haven’t dropped the whole “OFA secret potentially gets revealed to the world” thing yet after all. that makes sense I suppose, it did seem like that whole thing wound up playing out a bit too easily

anyway so yeah

the locals are definitely none too happy. well at least Dabi’s got something to be cheerful about I guess

so now we’re cutting to the interior of the Jesla and they’re chitchatting about the current investigation

oh wow this actually makes a bit of sense now. so there was a reason they were keeping their distance from Deku

please note that even in this abstract Endeavor’s-Mental-Image-Of-Him panel, Deku’s eyes still don’t have the light in them anymore :( my poor son

also ftr I still think using Deku as bait in this particular sense is the shittiest idea ever ngl. like sure, let’s let the sixteen-year-old run around battling miscellaneous escaped prison convicts while we stay several kilometers away ON PURPOSE despite the fact that you’re using him as bait to draw out the Big Bad, who just a reminder can destroy anything with a mere touch and who you were all basically helpless against. what exactly are you all planning to do if Tomura or one of the other League VIPs actually shows up to retrieve him?? are you even keeping tabs on him at all in real time?? jesus

(ETA: well that escalated quickly lol.)

Horikoshi is all of a sudden dropping whole pages of exposition here and I can’t be bothered to summarize this lol so just,

a big fat YES to what Jeanist said, though. that’s why imo they would have been better off laying a trap at U.A. rather than just wandering around out in the open. I assume they’re trying to cut their potential losses because U.A. is full of students (and civilians), but those students also happen to be more capable than pretty much anyone else in the manga at this point. and tbh they’re already in life-threatening danger regardless of how things play out from here on, so they might as well at least try to use the few advantages they have right now. U.A. is almost certainly going to come under siege at some point anyway, so they might as well prepare for it

lol I don’t think I’m explaining this very well because I don’t have the patience right now to break it down point by point like it really ought to be, so for now I’ll just say that imo “U.A. siege” stands a good chance of being the eventual endgame even now, and so this whole “Deku runs around being bait” arc is really just killing time until then lol. like and subscribe for more rambling nonsensical takes such as this. maybe next time I’ll even put it all into one single sentence for maximum meandering senior citizen rant value

well it’s nice that they’re finally talking about all of this I guess

we readers have known all of this for months now but this confirms the heroes are finally caught up. ALSO, Hawks is so fucking smart, as always. kinda wonder if things would have played out differently if All Might had let him in on the secret a bit earlier. probably that’s why Horikoshi made damn sure they didn’t find out until after the War arc lol

OH MY GOD YOOOOOO HAWKS OUT HERE ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS

“anyone else wondering why AFO bothered to raise Tomura as his fake heir for fifteen years when he was secretly planning on taking over his body the whole time” YES, [raises hand] lmao Hawks where the hell were you when I was debating this “AFO is the final villain and Tomura is just his pawn” thing on multiple occasions over the past several years lol

lmao seeing them debate the metaphysics of OFA and all of its mystical bullshit is seriously surreal you guys

JEANIST HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT MY META TAG I HAVE WRITTEN SO MANY ESSAYS. I ACTUALLY WAS PLANNING ON WRITING ANOTHER ESSAY ABOUT THE THING THAT I’M PRETTY SURE HAWKS IS ABOUT TO BRING UP, BUT I NEVER GOT AROUND TO IT WHOOPS, BUT MAYBE I WILL NOW LOL LET’S SEE HOW IT GOES

yes!!

WHICH AFO FUCKING ENSURED HE WOULD BE BY LITERALLY PLANNING OUT EVERY LAST DETAIL OF HIS FAMILY TRAGEDY, FROM SECRETLY GIVING TENKO THE QUIRK TO MAKING SURE NO CIVILIANS OR HEROES WOULD HELP HIM UNTIL AFO FINALLY STEPPED IN. I’M 1000% CONVINCED THIS IS THE CASE YOU GUYS. NOT JUST BECAUSE I’M NOT A FAN OF “THE WORLD IS A FUNDAMENTALLY SHITTY PLACE, ACTUALLY” TAKES BECAUSE MISTER ROGERS TOLD ME TO ALWAYS LOOK FOR THE HELPERS, BUT ALSO BECAUSE IT LITERALLY JUST DOESN’T MAKE A LICK OF SENSE OTHERWISE. THEIR ENTIRE HOUSE CAVED IN FFS, YOU’RE TELLING ME NONE OF THE NEIGHBORS FUCKING OVERHEARD THAT SHIT AND WENT “UMMMMMMMMM” AND WENT TO SEE WHAT WAS GOING ON?? “DIDN’T THERE USED TO BE A HOUSE HERE, AND LIKE A WHOLE FAMILY, AND SHIT?”

LIKE I’M SORRY, BUT IT’S ONE THING TO SAY IT’S REALISTIC THAT NOT A SINGLE PERSON WOULD ATTEMPT TO HELP THE WANDERING TRAUMATIZED CHILD AFTERWARDS (WHICH I DISAGREE WITH AS WELL BUT AT LEAST THAT’S MORE SUBJECTIVE), AND IT’S A WHOLE OTHER THING TO ARGUE THAT IT’S REALISTIC THAT NO ONE WOULD BE FUCKING NOSY. LIKE THAT’S A WHOLE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF “THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS” ENTIRELY LOL. anyway tl;dr AFO is a piece of shit and Tomura’s entire worldview is based on a magnificently intricate and savagely cruel lie more at 11

anyway so after all that ranting it looks like that wasn’t even what Hawks was talking about after all lol. I just went off for absolutely no reason lol oh well. instead it seems that Hawks is suggesting that Tomura’s carefully cultivated hatred might not yet have actually reached “can defeat OFA” levels even after all of that trauma. interesting!

don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here while my brain furiously scrambles to put together all the parallels between Hawks and Tomura that it never noticed before until exactly this second. like I’m not even sure that was the intent here at all (I need to check out another translation or two lol), but regardless my mind decided that now would be the perfect time to make the connection between these two twenty-somethings who both had horrific childhoods and spent years being molded by their respective manipulative guardians, and developed eerily similar “laugh at everything because what else can you do” coping mechanisms to deal with it all hmmmmm

anyway so they were talking more about their strategy, but now all of a sudden Jeanist’s phone is beeping??

AND NOW WE’RE CUTTING AWAY TO ALL MIGHT AND HIS MIGHTMOBILE DAMMIT so that means the call to Jeanist was actually something important then!! WAS IT BAKUGOU OMG. DOES YOUR INTERN WANT A WORD FFFKLFSJK please it’s been so long I just need a little crumb or two to tide me over lmao have mercy

anyway so All Might’s following the GPS tracking device he’s apparently got planted on Deku (which in my conspiracy headcanons he’s actually had for a long time now, like since before DvK2 lol because HOW ELSE WOULD HAVE HAVE KNOWN THAT THEY WERE FIGHTING EACH OTHER IN GROUND BETA, PEOPLE) and thinking angsty thoughts about Deku’s sucky life

AND NOW ALL MIGHT’S PHONE IS RINGING TOO?? BAKUGOU HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE YOU CALLING. “WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THE NERD GODDAMMIT”

OMG

lol is he under attack or is he just finally giving All Might the slip like we all know he SECRETLY PLANNED TO ALL ALONG oh my poor dumb angstmuffin

OMG AHHHHHHH WHAT

DID ALL MIGHT JUST FUCKING DIE LMAO NO OF COURSE NOT, BUT WHAT

WHAT IS HAPPENING OMG

THE FUCK IS THAT. AT LEAST IT’S NOT A NAIL

OH IT’S A SPEAKER!! OMG DID THEY TAKE ALL MIGHT HOSTAGE

“THEY’RE HERE” WELP, TIME TO SEE JUST HOW SHITTY THIS SHITTY PLAN REALLY IS LOL

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SHE!!!!

omg. AND OVERHAUL JUST CHILLING THERE IN THE BACKGROUND ALL “WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT ME TO DO I’VE GOT NO FUCKING ARMS” YEAH GOOD RIDDANCE LOL

DOES THIS GIRL HAVE ONE GIANT LEG OR WHAT, LIKE WHAT’S THE DEAL HERE

-- HOLD UP WAIT, THE GUN IS HER ARM, HOLY SHIT SHE CAN TURN INTO A GUN -- OKAY HOLD UP BECAUSE I NEED TO SAY THAT IN BIGGER TEXT BECAUSE !!!!

YOU GUYS, THE COOL TARTARUS GIRL IS BACK AND HER QUIRK IS “CAN TURN INTO A FUCKING GUN.” THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! MY BEST GIRL MT. GUN IS FINALLY BACK ON THE SCENE WITH HER QUIRK “CAN DO ANYTHING A GUN CAN DO.” “I HEARD Y’ALL WENT AND NAMED ONE OF YOUR HEROES ‘GUNHEAD’ EVEN THOUGH HIS HEAD ISN’T EVEN A GUN, LIKE WTF IS UP WITH THAT LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT’S DONE” DANG OKAY

lmao only fifteen pages this week, and STILL NO KACCHAN (THEN WHO WAS PHONE!!!), but man I don’t even care because finally we’ve got a cliffhanger that’s actually deserving of being a cliffhanger! hot dog. okay then

#bnha 311 #endeavor #hawks (bnha)#takami keigo #shigaraki tomura #best jeanist #all might #midoriya izuku #cool tartarus gun transforming girl #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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lokiondisneyplus · 3 years

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Most Marvel post-credit scenes hint at the future. Loki opted for a blunter approach: the God of Mischief would return in season 2.

Based on the final turn of events, there was really no other choice: Loki (Tom Hiddleston), having journeyed to the furthest point in spacetime with his variant Sylvie (Sophia Di Martino) to meet the founder of the TVA, a scientist-turned-survivor-of-multiversal-war known as He Who Remains (Jonathan Majors), finds himself zapped into a new reality when his lady self slays the omnipresent being. The mind reels!

Creator Michael Waldron takes delight in the endless possibilities of Loki’s core premise. And as a veteran of Rick and Morty, he knows what anchors a mind-bending show, and what will keep Hiddleston’s character hurtling through his chaotic, rewritten future. Below, Polygon talks to Waldron about landing on the key choices of Loki season 1, what to expect from season 2, and a bit on his next project, the wrestling drama Heels, which is set to premiere on Aug. 15.

Did you know there’d be a second season of Loki from the beginning or was that choice made later in the process?

Michael Waldron: We always knew that it was a possibility. We always knew that we wanted to propel Loki and these characters out into the MCU after this, into further stories. But that didn’t really crystallize as a sure thing until we were in production and everything. And as we were really figuring out the finale.

So you were still cracking the ending as you shot the show?

There was a hiatus due to the pandemic. So things were constantly being retooled because of that. I think, by and large, everything with He Who Remains and the Sylvie-Loki conflict was always there. But that cliffhanger was the sort of thing that suddenly became a really appealing opportunity, a chance for that to lead into a second season.

What element of the series helped you crack the macro story of Loki, and made all the other pieces fall into place? Each episode almost feels like a standalone adventure, similar to Rick and Morty, but what helped it all click?

The first couple of weeks in the writers room was just laying out the individual episodes. It was very important to me that each episode stood on its own, and you could say “This is the Lamentis episode,” “This is the apocalypse moon episode,” “This is the Void episode.” I didn’t want it to just be cut up chapters and have one long continuous story. Obviously, we had to figure out the time travel for things to slot into place. I think a big idea for us was the way you get around the TVA by hiding in apocalypses. That felt like such a big, cool, exciting idea that it drove the action of episode 2, episode 3, and in a way it’s like Alioth is the ultimate apocalypse that He Who Remains is hiding behind. That sci-fi idea cracked a lot open for us. I know that after we had that I went home and I slept a little sounder.

Did adding the multiverse to the Marvel Cinematic Universe feel like blowing something up or expanding it, in terms of narrative possibilities?

In the same way that after the first couple Iron Man movies, and with the first Avengers, suddenly these movies were kind of going to space. Then we had Guardians. I think of the multiverse as another version of that. It’s new ground to cover, and particularly interesting because characters meeting other versions of themselves and other versions of people they know is... cool. That’s just a cool sci-fi concept! But I think with anything, as you expand outward, it only works if the humanity remains. It’s exciting to watch characters dealing with big crazy multiversal conflicts because we can see ourselves in them. I think you just have to hold on to the humanity that makes these stories work in the first place.

Did you go back to the Thor movies for Loki? Was there anything to find in the past of Marvel as you were paving the future?

Absolutely. I mean I watched them many times, contrary to what Twitter might think because I did some bits on there saying that I’ve never seen Avengers and I upset some people [laughs]. I have seen it many times. “Confirmed: Loki writer has seen Avengers and saw it before writing Loki show.”

In fact, I was watching all these movies on a loop in the writers’ room. I gleaned so much because you watch the evolution of the character. Avengers was particularly informative because our story picks up Loki right after that, but I also I found a lot of inspiration in Thor: The Dark World, a maybe sometimes maligned movie that I actually really enjoy. I just think there’s great stuff with Loki being tangentially responsible for the death of his mother, how he reacts to that. That is the start of his journey of that version of Loki’s redemption, so I was inspired by that.

What’s propelling the characters into season 2? Where are you headed in basic terms?

In season 1, you saw a lot of characters reckoning with and questioning their own glorious purpose, and that glorious purpose changing, [characters] realizing that that can change. Everybody except for Sylvie. I think she holds onto hers, which is vengeance, and to the detriment of us all, perhaps. And we’ve got a Loki who, at the top of our show, assessed himself as a villain and, I would argue, at the end of our show, has become a little bit of a hero. There’s nothing more heroic to me than fighting for the right thing and losing. You see that washing over him as he’s there back at the TVA, after Sylvie has knocked back there. And then he gets up because that is what heroes do — they keep going. So I think that you’re gonna see a Loki that looks at himself in a different way certainly that at the top of this.

Do you hope to explore more of Sylvie’s backstory in season 2?

I guess we’ll see. We certainly have our own rich backstory for her, stuff that didn’t get to make it into the show. Elissa Karasik, our episode 2 writer, wrote a lot of amazing backstory for Sylvia and everything. So those ideas exist out there.

And her version of Thor?

Tune in.

How did He Who Remains come about? Did you bring the character to Marvel or was that a character Marvel hoped to introduce?

I was pushing and our team was pushing early on in the writers’ room that it should be a version of Kang up in that Citadel, sort of fusing the mythology of He Who Remains with a little bit of the Immortus mythology. And that was a thing we were excited to do. And it became clear that it actually made sense for our story. The only way we were going to do it was if it made sense, but it was like, who had a better argument for creating the TVA to prevent other versions of themselves from existing then a guy as evil as Kang the Conqueror?

You wrote the upcoming Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness — did Marvel hire you for that after Loki? Does the movie feel like a continuation of the show?

Yeah, that opportunity came as we were getting ready to start production on Loki. It was a pleasure. I got to work with Sam Raimi, a hero of mine. I was in London for five months making that movie at the top of this year. We had a blast. I think that it’s a continuation in as much as ever every Marvel movie is to some extent a chapter in an ongoing story, but these things are meant to stand alone and the most important thing about Doctor Strange too is making the most kick ass Doctor Strange movie we could.

Is Loki a two-part show now or are you invested in telling a longer story with future seasons beyond season 2?

Time will tell, but I do my hope is that season 1 stands on its own. We always wanted to tell a complete story there. And in whatever the next chapter may be will stand on its own as well.

Your next show, Heels, is already on the way. We got a big preview out of Comic-Con this year, but I’m curious about the scope of this story. You’re starting with two brothers running an independent wrestling franchise, but you’ve dropped the name “Vince McMahon” a few times — is this about the building of an empire? Would you liken it to The Godfather or Breaking Bad?

I always thought about it a little bit of a Scorsese-sort-of rise, and we’ll see if there’s a fall. Starting from humble beginnings and trying to build some crazy. Wrestling was certainly not always the empire that it is and that’s what’s interesting, to watch the evolution of a family-run wrestling business from something you do in your small towns and perhaps a national, even global empire. That would be a really compelling arc for a show over the course of several seasons. I’d be excited to explore that.

What’s the most dramatically fulfilling wrestling moment you’ve witnessed? What’s the bar for the wrestling drama of Heels?

It’s gotta be Hulk Hogan turning heel in the WCW. There was an invasion storyline, these guys from WWF, Kevin Nash and Scott Hall, came over and they were the bad guys. It was at a Pay-per-view and and they were beating up on the good guys that you love, and here comes Hulk Hogan in the yellow and red and he’s the hero. “The Hulk’s gonna get ‘em! The good guy’s here!” And then the Hulk just leg drops Randy Savage. That was the original Red Wedding. I just think about the boldness of turning him heel. To a little kid... I wasn’t even like a massive Hulk fan, but he was just such a mythological figure. What a chance that Hulk Hogan took as a performer, as a bankable kind of movie star at that point. That was bold, risky storytelling and it set off two years of amazing storytelling with Hogan just playing a craven, cowardly heel and just being so evil. I really respect the hell out of them for doing that. That was a great storyline.

#michael waldron #interview #loki #s1 #s2

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ssson-of-sparda · 3 years

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Two Dresses (Dante x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Patty desperately wants to know what happened between Dante and Y/N. Hopefully, Morrison is here to help. (Part 3 of A Tab To Erase) (Part 1) (Part 2)

Tags: Pre DMC3 Dante / Dante is Tony Redgrave / Love / Fluff / Slight ANgst / Implied Sexual Content / Explicit Language

Author’s note: Part 3 is out. Sorry for keeping you waiting. The story is coming to its end. Only one or two chapters left.

MISSION 3

Indifference is the worst form of contempt. But how can you be indifferent when a squeaking tiny voice as unbearable as fingernails on a chalkboard constantly splits your ears with endless whining? Dante wished to know. “Pleeeeaase Dante. You promised.” Patty begged again as she almost sprawled on the man’s desk, strangely not caring about the grease or the tomato sauce that were disgustingly splattered on the wooden surface. “I didn’t do such thing.” Dante nonchalantly took a bite of his pizza, trying to ignore Patty’s pleading blue eyes and her feeble attempt at convincing him to tell her the rest of his ‘love story’ (she had decreed it was one) with Y/N. “Come on, Dante! You have to tell me!” The frustration in every single word coming out of her mouth was growing stronger. You could hear it in the way her voice was becoming more and more piercing by the minute. And in spite of all the time spent with Patty, Dante had never succeeded in really ignoring her childish whims. “Don’t you watch TV shows?” She added. “You know full well I don’t.” And it was the truth. Except for adults programs once in a while, Dante cared less about television, contrary to Patty who was a professional binge-watcher capable of watching a dozen of episodes a day and still yearning for more. “Well, even if you don’t, haven’t you ever experienced the frustration of a cliffhanger? Like, in Bolero in Spring, when Jenna has a car accident right after she decides to run after Josh to finally tell him he is the love of her life and that she loves him too and you know you’ll have to wait a whole week to know what happens next?” Dante’s brain shut down after the first question, or maybe even before that, finding a not-so-surprising fascination for the slices of salami on his pizza and their perfectly round shapes. “Like I told you, I don’t watch TV.” “Haven’t you ever longed for anything?” “Yes actually. Right now, I long for peace … and quiet … and for you to finally shut up.” The girl glared at him, shooting daggers at him as sharp as a thousand Rebellions.

“What’s going on here?” Relief immediately shone in both Patty’s and Dante’s eyes when Morrison pushed the door of Devil May Cry, replacing the tension in the room with paternal warmth that was so like him. “Morrison! You got to help me. Dante doesn’t want to tell me what happened between him and Y/N” She complained with her small fists clenched tightly, a childish attitude that would have made Morrison smile if it hadn’t been for his surprise.“ You told Patty about Y/N? How weird of you.” “Not for free.” “You know her, Morrison?” There was a gleam in Patty’s eyes, one only curiosity and excitement could create. “By reputation. Everybody in the mercenary business knew who she was and was aware not to touch a hair on her head. I bet even demons knew. Y/N. Tony Redgrave’s beautiful girlfriend. And probably the only girl that could make Dante act somewhat … mature.” He said as he chose his words wisely, though he wasn’t sure they were fit for the memories of Dante he had in mind. “ What are you talking about? I’ve always been mature.” “ Yeah. Because eating strawberry sundaes and pizza everyday is very adult.” Dante frowned, pretty sure he had once heard a similar reprimand coming from someone else’s mean mouth. His mother? No … but close. “Have you been spending time with Trish lately?” “ Stop changing the subject and tell me the story!” Dante eyed at Morrison with an insisting look that meant ‘Get me the hell out of here.’ but today, he would not receive any help from his friend. “You know she won’t let go, Dante. So, should I tell her or should you?” Dante sighed. “Two dresses off my tab and it’s yours.”

TWO DRESSES

Two star-crossed lovers in fair Redgrave City, where we lay our scene …

Are you kidding me?! What? I thought you loved that kind of lovey-dovey crap. Dante! Fine …

The rest of the story was no Shakespearian play. There was no betrayal, no sword fighting, no friend or parent tragically murdered, no forbidden love, no unfair ending, no … Who was Dante kidding? There was all that and worse. Another reason why he hated Shakespeare so much. But when love started to bloom and with it the chances at a normal peaceful life, Dante never considered those dramatic events. Not even a slight second. After all, he was an overly enthusiastic nineteen year-old with the girl of his dreams on his arm and a long-awaited roof above his head. What could go wrong? Especially when all he thought about, all he imagined were simple mornings waking up with the one he loved so dearly and nights with his silver head in between…

“In between what?” “ Y/N’s fingers... Y/N’s fingers of course.” “ You’re not so good at making this story family-friendly you know that, Dante?” “I’m doing my best here, Morrison.”

And his epicurean – though quite lewd - plans were all shared to the utter despair of Y/N’s parents who constantly reminded Y/N of the big mistake she was making in getting involved with a boy like ‘that vermin Tony’. “What about college? What about that confortable life we wanted for you? How can you throw all this away for that boy?” Dante remembered the time Y/N’s mother had said that with a menacing finger and a poisonous tongue. That and the infamous “Is breeding with that trash and raising his filthy bastards truly what you want Y/N?” So long the time that family had generously taken him under their roof for a few days. Guess money does make you stuck-up assholes after all. That’s what he had wanted to reply. But instead, he had just stood still, arms crossed over his chest and had remained silent, out of respect for Y/N and also because, deep down, he was sometimes thinking the same.

He wanted the best for Y/N. He wanted to give her the best life had to offer, all the things she wanted, all the things she needed but he only had a few dollars in his pocket and a list of debts he didn’t really know how the erase. And even though she seemed like she didn’t mind now, what would happen in a few years, or even just a few months. What would happen when the little he had to offer would not be enough anymore?

“Will you love me all the same in a few years?” She asked him, soft hands placed over his strong naked chest and (colour) eyes staring deep in his looking for the truth. “I’m sure I will love you even more if that’s anything possible.” “Then stop worrying and stop with the silly questions already.” And she kissed him with all the comfort and the love she could gather. She kissed him like there was no tomorrow, like there was just them, only them, together, on that mattress on the floor in this furniture-less and decaying shop he had just been allowed to rent for an astronomical amount of money. “A neon sign.” “ What?” Dante asked a bit confused. “You should get a neon sign, like the one my parents had at the restaurant.” She added with a soft smile. “You want me to get a pink neon sign?” He joked and took delight when she laughed. She was so insanely beautiful when she was laughing. “It wasn’t pink. It was red.” “ My coat is red. That sign was definitely pink. And pink doesn’t scream ‘menacing devil-hunter in the house’?” “Menacing devil-hunter?” She repeated, arching an eyebrow suspiciously. “Where?” Dante looked at her smirking mockingly at him. “Watch it you!” He pushed her on the mattress and went to lie his burning yet still sweaty body over hers to place a multitude of hungry lovely kisses on her neck, wishing this moment would never end.

But it ended, as all good things end eventually. Thanks to Enzo Ferino, once again. That piece of shit had the knack to ruin things after all. “Tony! Per l’amore di Dio! Tony!” He shouted from downstairs, visibly alarmed if not terrified. “Speaking of the Italian midget.” Dante sighed, his lips still on Y/N’s skin, thinking that maybe ignoring Enzo would make him leave. “Tony!!!” “Damn it.” “Pretty sure the menacing devil-hunter hiding in this shop will scare him away?” Y/N taunted again and Dante grinned before pressing his lips on Y/N’s one last time. “Oh, he sure will. Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Dante said as he reluctantly left his girl’s loving embrace to put on a pair of pants and go welcome his unwanted guest fidgeting in the hall. “ You’d better.”

“It better be important, Enzo.” Dante demanded as he lazily walked down the creaking stairs to show him how annoyed he was to see him here. “You’ve just ruined a perfect moment with my girl.” “Y/N? Y/N is with you?” The man’s eyes were widened with fear and distress and even though Dante knew how much of a coward Enzo was, he had never seen him that way. “How many girls do you think I have?” The short man leant against the wall and took a deep sigh. “Well, that’s relief I guess.” Dante frowned, unsure if he should remain annoyed or start asking questions. Hell, why not both. “Will you tell me what’s going on?” “A man came to Bobby’s Cellar. Looking for you.” “Not a first.” Dante walked pass Enzo to grab a bottle of whisky he had left early on on one of the many boxes he had not yet unpacked. “One of Denvers’ goons presumably.” He leant against the wall and took a mouthful of amber alcohol, thinking about the girl waiting for him upstairs and how he should have never left her. “No. Not Denvers. That man was working alone and he asked about a certain Dante.” The half-demon froze for a second and his blue eyes darted a brief astonished glance at his partner. A man looking for Dante - Dante, not Tony - was no good news. “I said I didn’t know any Dante but then he described you and I thought che cacchio è. Then he threatened me and … He was scary, Tony” “What did you tell him?” Dante frowned. He had the feeling Enzo had fucked up. He could feel it in his guts. Otherwise he would have never rushed to his new place in the middle of the night to warn him. “That you weren’t here. That you certainly were with Y/N. And then he had me, Tony. I …” “ You mentioned Y/N?” Enzo took an immediate step back when he heard the anger in Dante’s voice. “ I … I’m sorry. He … He tricked me.” Then he took another step and another one, trying to stay as far away as possible from Dante, until his back bumped against the door and he was able to spot a terrifying red flame burning with rage in the mercenary’s eyes who was towering him menacingly. “What did you say about Y/N?” If the weird man in Bobby’s Cellar had scared the shit out Enzo early on, what he had felt back then was nothing in comparison to he was feeling right now. Paralysed with fear, he couldn’t move anymore, couldn’t speak. He could only stare at the raging fire in Dante’s eyes and feel a burning warmth emanating from the young man’s body against him. Were those the flames of Hell? Was he about to be punished for his sin? For betraying his partner? “What did you say?” He shouted and Enzo trembled and squealed like a pig, arms covering his face to protect himself. Yes, his man Tony was about to flay him alive. He was sure of it. “What are you?” He mumbled.

“Tony.” Enzo thanked all the gods for that divine intervention. Though whom he should have truly thanked was Y/N and her soft reassuring voice that had miraculously pulled Dante from his dark rage.

I like her. Dante smiled.

“Stop please.” Enzo felt Dante calm down and when he finally walked away from him, the small man took a deep breath. “If something happens …” Dante didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to and Enzo was already nodding furiously. “I know.” He blindly grabbed the handle behind his back and quickly opened the door to run away as fast as he could.

Dante watched him running in the cold night with a frown until he couldn’t see him anymore. Then he swiftly strode back to Y/N waiting for him on top of the stairs to pull her in a strong protective embrace. And when his lips pressed in her silky hair and she realized he couldn’t let go, she started worrying. “What is it?” She had never felt him like that. “It’s nothing.” He replied softly even though the voice in his head was screaming things like Don’t you get out of my sight, even for a second. I can’t lose you. Not like my mother. I love you so freaking much. “Stay with me tonight.”

But deep down, Dante wasn’t sure this was the smartest decision.

***

“And so was it?” Patty curiously asked as she stared at Dante with her big blue eyes. “ Was it what?” He replied, pretending not to understand. He loved teasing her. “ The smartest decision?” She clarified with an enthusiasm that clearly showed her interest and her will to know more. “ I thought you loved cliffhangers.”

#DEVIL MAY CRY #DMC #DMC FANFICTION #DEVIL MAY CRY FANFICTION #DANTE #DMC DANTE #DANTE X READER #A DOZEN ICE CREAM CONES #A TAB TO ERASE

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fountainpenguin · 3 years

Text

It’s an Update

Hello, Riddle here! I know I’ve been pretty quiet on Tumblr lately. Here’s an update on my situation:

I will definitely post more fanfic updates soon. I’ve picked at drafts, but haven’t posted anything lately. Here are the reasons why:

I got a new IRL job. It’s a good fit for me, but I have less free time than I used to, of course. It’s a job that involves writing lots of articles on a variety of topics, and I enjoy how every day is a little different

Most of my free time for the last year has gone towards my mod work at the Creature-Crossing ARPG, and to my personal CC writing. I’ve been working on new activities over there (my recent favorite being our seasonal familiar shows... I won first place in the summer show!) and I have a lot of plot plans that are coming together now. If you ever want to see my original characters and read my CC writing, you can find my character directory HERE and my Table of Contents HERE.

Once November 1st hits, I won’t be preparing for the release of any more CC activities or events. All future activity or event releases will be overseen by the other mods, and I’ll simply be someone they can ask for extra help if needed. This is a big change for a mod who spent the last 12 months working on new releases, and will give me back some of the free time my IRL job will eat

The Creature-Crossing admin (my boss) greenlit my request to bring an assistant on the mod team who will specifically help me with a lot of my behind-the-scenes work, such as data entry and organization. I’ve never had another mod who specifically helps me with the back end duties before, so that will be awesome. I will need to spend some time training them, but once they are official, that will take some of my workload off and allow me more free time for this blog and personal writing time.

===

Fanfic updates you can expect to see soon:

- Reedfilter Rules

- Frayed Knots

- Origin of the Pixies

- Debut of Factor It In, my Kid Math-centric “WordGirl” fanfic (Subtitled “Tales of a third-grade superhero in training”)... Yes I am still in love with this idiot boy, expect lots of doodle pages soon

- The 130 Prompts project is on a slow-burn writing schedule... I’ll write for it when I want to, but I mostly want to focus on Origin and Knots this year.

Further info below the cut. There is more info about non-Fairly OddParents ‘fics in here too (under “non-FOP fanfics”), so if you’re looking forward to Mario World or “WordGirl” ‘fics from me, give this a click so you know what’s coming!

So, what does this update mean for your fanfics?

They’ll be active again soon! I’ve been picking at them behind the scenes, trying to build up a buffer. In an ideal world, I would love to release a new chapter for SOMETHING every Friday. I doubt this will be possible, but it’s something I would love to work towards in the future. Realistically, you can probably expect some kind of fanfic update once every two Fridays (two updates per month).

There might be some Fridays where posting an update is not possible. Instead, I’ll make a post about what progress I made instead. In the past, I often overworked myself to get a chapter out in time for my old deadline. I will not be doing that anymore, but will instead hold myself to a goal of “Make progress on something every week.”

In the best ideal world, I would love to post one FOP fanfic update per week and one non-FOP fanfic update per week. This is not likely to happen for a long, long time, but that would be the dream.

Here are the things I most likely worked on if there is no fanfic update:

- A fanfic chapter draft that needs more time

- A sideblog profile

- A Toyhouse profile for personal characters

- IRL work or mod work may have kept me busy this week

- Creature-Crossing writing... I will try to prioritize my fanfics more, but my CC writing is still important to me and I will be working on it in a lot of my free time too. At the moment, I have a hard deadline of December 14th that I need to meet if I want to release huge plot drama on the day that it happens in canon. I’ve been building up to this for a long time, so I’m really excited about that.

I currently have summer or autumn 2022 planned as the “finale” for the majority of my plot to explode. I will be hosting a member-run event in Creature-Crossing that will last for two months, so a lot of my time from January until the event’s release will be spent doing event prep. Once the event ends, my story content will mostly be a “return to slice of life.” Stories will be more casual one-offs as characters grow, live their lives, and start their own families. Hitting seasonal deadlines for plot will no longer be so important. I’ll be giving Creature-Crossing work less attention after that, and much more attention to my fanfics.

- I may not have a fanfic chapter out each week, but I WILL post a note every Friday to let you know what I have been doing with my time. You’ll see me around. Feel free to send Asks and talk!

===

What non-FOP fanfics would you like to work on?

For literal years, I’ve been claiming I want to post Mario World fanfics. This is still something I want to do. I tag Mario World posts as “mushrooms and more.” I’ve already done a lot of worldbuilding, I have thousands of words of content written for this fandom... I just haven’t posted any of it. I hope to do this soon.

- “WordGirl” fanfics are prioritized over Mario World fanfics. After I finish my first “WordGirl” multi-chapter, I will probably be ready to post my Mario World ‘fics. I may possibly post some Mario World one-shots in between other fanfic updates. Might take another year or more before I touch Mario stuff unless there’s high interest in seeing it sooner?

I also really want to write some WordGirl ‘fics and get more involved with the fandom community. I’ve been building headcanons and lore for this show ever since I was a kid, and I have multiple ‘fics for this fandom that I want to write.

- “AlgoRhythm” is a ‘fic I have already posted on FFN and AO3, about WordGirl introducing Kid Math to the villains in town

- 28 Cities is a ‘fic I started about Rhyme and Reason before they arrived in Fair City. I put it on hiatus since it didn’t seem like anyone was interested, but I’m willing to post more for it if there is interest in it now that years have passed and I’ve gotten more followers who like WordGirl. I have a lot of worldbuilding and plot I never shared for it

- Factor It In is a ‘fic I’ve been working for a while that parallels the official show from the moment Kid Math arrives in town. It focuses on Rex’s struggle to adjust to this world as a child coming into his superpowers for the first time (Y’know, the whole “superheroes don’t have powers when they’re on their home planets” thing), his struggle to adapt to the social world of a non-logical planet, and Becky’s struggle to help him become accustomed to Earth and learn to share it with her as well. If the episode “Kid Math” was a full-length novel about Rex’s arrival and character development, that’s what this story is. This is the highest priority of all my non-FOP ‘fics... I’ve had a cover image made for 6 months and even though I tried setting it aside, I’ve always been super inspired to write for it. If I felt like it would be a good idea to commit to weekly updates alongside my FOP updates, I would, haha.

- I have two one-shot WIPs called “Squishy Feelings” and “A Little Ambiguity”, one of them focusing on Becky and Rex talking about the events of “Rhyme and Reason” and what it means for Rex’s secret identity, and the latter being a future ‘fic showing WordGirl and Kid Math dealing with life 10 to 15 years down the road. I’ll probably post the latter, not sure yet on the former.

- If desired, I may make a WordGirl specific sideblog where I post lore, answer Asks, post character profiles [smaller than my FOP sideblog ones], and mention fanfic updates. If you would be interested in this, feel free to send me an Ask requesting I do this. If there’s not interest, I’ll just keep my WordGirl stuff on the main blog.

- I’d like to get more involved in the WordGirl community, so I’ll probably post more content and reblog more art and headcanons

I also have a handful of miscellaneous ideas I might follow through with. I’d like to write at least one “TUFF Puppy” fanfic so I can say I did. In a perfect world I would like to finish the two “Danny Phantom” and “Bunsen Is a Beast” fanfics I started because... I just kind of want to dip my toe in each of the Hartman shows once since I already went through all the effort of worldbuilding for them to make them canon in a single Hartman show universe. “ChalkZone” is another show I adore and might touch someday (You may recall I have a full outline planned for an FOP/ChalkZone crossover ‘fic called “Dust to Dust”).

Will I write all of these things? Maybe not. I have no idea if I want to spend the next 10+ years writing fanfics, or if I’ll simply be done with all misc. fanfics immediately once I decide to be done with my main ‘fics. I definitely intend to write for a few more years and finish my main ‘fics, but I might not go through with some less popular side ‘fics if life is getting busy for me.

===

What is the posting schedule for FOP ‘fics?

Reedfilter Rules, Frayed Knots, Origin of the Pixies, the 130 Prompts project, and “Come What May” are all high priority FOP writings. I will swap between them depending on my mood that week.

Here are some other ‘fics I want to work on.

- If you like, you can send me Asks requesting I work on a specific story above the rest. I will try to prioritize whichever stories interest you guys most.

Snips and Snails is a ‘fic I started and posted the first chapter for years ago. I’m not sure when I will get back to it, as I ran into some writer’s block. It’s still on tentative hiatus for now..... Possibly forever, though I hope it isn’t forever since it’s only supposed to be, like, five more chapters.

Pink and Gray is on official hiatus. I actually have a lot written for it, but I know it’s a little weird to put so much time and energy into Gary and Betty content when... well, let’s be honest: they’re my niche favorites and most of you probably don’t care. So, I am lifting my usual “no spoilers” policy from my Ask Box. If you would like to ask about my Gary and Betty backstory headcanons, feel free. I will tag my replies as “ridwriting spoilers” for anyone who wants to blacklist the tag, and spoilers will be hidden under a Read More line.

I’d like to return to this story someday because there are tons of things I like about it (ranging from Betty’s secret tattoos to Gary’s plot drama with his mom to the background drama between Talon and Anti-Cosmo, but I always feel immense pressure to make it extra cool to make up for the fact these are weird side characters, so... it’s officially at the bottom of the priority pile. Once Talon shows up in Frayed Knots and readers understand who he is and why he exists, I’ll consider coming back to it.

Identity Theft is a story about Foop and his time in the alternate dimension he was flung into following the episode “Playdate of Doom.” To put it short, Foop was abused by alternate versions of his parents in this dimension and he witnessed some pretty intense stuff, including the death of the alt version of himself who existed in that reality. The trauma he experienced resulted in his alternate personality, Hiccup. Foop himself has very few memories of what happened, as Hiccup has all of those memories. This story is canon in my works, and it is regularly referred to during the 130 Prompts as part of Foop’s backstory. It’s my highest priority side story to work on.

Along the Cherry Lane is a 20-chapter work focusing on the lives of the main human cast from age 11 to age 30, with one chapter showing a snippet of their lives each year. You see Timmy raising Tommy and Tammy in this ‘fic, and it ends with them receiving godparents. Since the 130 Prompts don’t give humans much attention, this ‘fic does. You’ll probably see it debut two years from now, closer to when the 130 Prompts is ready to talk more about humans.

If this becomes a popular ‘fic of mine, I’ll probably write a sequel or continue it past Chapter 30 and write about Tammy and Tommy living with fairies, but I won’t if there’s no interest in that.

Little Imperfections is a Pixie AU ‘fic of mine about what life would be like in a universe where the Fairies are even more like insects than I play them as during my main works (where I already play them as semi-similar to insects). In this world, the Head Pixie is a figurehead whose duty is to reproduce for the sake of the colony and do nothing else, and he’s bored out of his mind until he befriends Sanderson, who introduces him to music. It’s extremely self-indulgent and silly because I like Pixies.

Francis is a multi-chapter ‘fic about bully Francis’s life getting yet another fairy godparent in a long string of memory wipes and godparents. It takes place during the canon series, and when you see an “orange fairy” mentioned in some of my writings, it’s usually referring to this fairy. His name is Rover and I occasionally post art of him. I feel like I can’t truly call myself an FOP fanfic writer until I actually write about a godkid and their godparents, haha...

Hawthorn Haven is a side ‘fic that will be posted towards the end of the 130 Prompts, as it veers off from the prompts in its own self-contained multi-chapter story. It will be approximately the length of “Baby, You’re a Rich Man.”

Acacia Arcadia is a far-past ‘fic detailing the fall of the ancient fae, the imprisonment of the nature spirits, the rise and fall of the chimera nation, the fall of the Martian genies, and the early days of the cloudlands. This is close to the bottom of the priority pile... It’s something I spend time on for personal reference to ensure accuracy in my other ‘fics, but it’s probably not what you guys came here to read.

AA has a bunch of characters in it that you might vaguely recognize, such as Ezekiel Whimsifinado, Evadne, Ione, Two Feathers, Rho, and Sablewood (If you’re astute, you might recall cloudland legends and landmarks in modern day that refer back to these characters). There are also a lot of characters who were reincarnated as Anti-Fairies, in accordance to traditional Anti-Fairy beliefs; Foop for example exists as a main character in one of his past lives, and you’ll see a hint dropped about each of his lives in the first chapter of Identity Theft. My tentative plan is to use Foop’s past lives as my central characters, following the events of each part of the timeline until he gets killed and reincarnates at a later point of the timeline.

I also keep some one-shots in a file I call Mixed Nuts and I may possibly post them someday (they’re mostly just one-shots of main cast characters I do to get a feel for their personalities, I have some Wanda and Cupid in here). @zachbrightside and I are also working on a collab ‘fic called Like a House On Fire that shows more of Timmy and Chloe’s lives during Season 10 (especially around the time of “Which Is Wish?”) No news on a release date for that yet.

As I’ve said before, once all my other FOP works are complete, I will write Devil’s Backbone, which is my far-future ‘fic and the finale of my FOP writing. I do not plan to write any more FOP content after that story is finished, as I expect to have all other FOP projects done by then.

- Devil’s Backbone is a finale 'fic, so all worldbuilding from all stories is fair game to blend together, and it’s highly recommended you read everything else first. This story has been outlined since 2016, and it might not be published for another 10 years... Who knows! But it’s something I always work towards as a concrete endgame goal.

- If something serious comes up in my life and I officially decide I don’t want to write this story, I will post the outline for it. The link to this draft is included with all the other Google Docs links I have in a far-future queued post unveiling my WIPs in case I unexpectedly die and you still want to know how my stories would have gone, so you’ll get access to this story eventually even if I die young. Yes, share access is turned on for them all and I do take extra careful measures to be sure that post doesn’t get posted early skldfj

===

What is the plan for the main blog?

Every Friday, I will post either a fanfic chapter or a progress update. You can blacklist the tag “ridlife” if you do not want to see the progress updates on your dashboard. Fanfic updates will not have the “ridlife” tag, so you will not be blocking them.

During the rest of the week, I might post doodles, reblogs, or general comments. Basically... you’ll see the blog become active again. Feel free to send in Asks about my worldbuilding and thoughts on fanfic characters.

@fountainpenguin is my personal blog, so you will see non-fandom things on here sometimes

@riddledeep is my FOP-exclusive sideblog. It contains all my lore notes and goes into a ton of depth, more than my fanfics give in one breath

===

What does this mean for the Riddledeep sideblog?

I really want to go back and edit those character profiles that were posted early by mistake. The reason they were queued is because if I turned them into drafts, they would have been buried all the way at the beginning of my draft collection, and I have many, many drafts saved. There are no page numbers to navigate quickly through the draft collection, so I would have to click through each page one by one if I ever wanted to look at them. I hated doing this, which is why I kept my posts queued.

I was regularly updating the queue deadlines, trying to keep things in the order I wanted to post them in, but Tumblr made a change to the way drafts are dated and it kept throwing off my system. My inability to remember when my queued things would post combined with my busy schedule led to some profiles being posted early and incomplete. I want to fix these.

Over a year ago, my good friend Vulpix150 helped me finalize my designs for the Aos Sí and Daoine Sith. I’ve been sitting on that art in secret for a while, and at some point I plan to post it on the sideblog and talk more about that lore.

Updating fanfics is my higher priority (and it was the priority my followers voted for when I asked you to send votes to my Ask Box a while back). So, I will usually spend my free time working on fanfics unless I need a break from them and want to work on sideblog profiles instead. Thank you for your patience!

===

TL;DR

I’m posting fanfics again soon. I’m going to take a more relaxed approach to posting them. I’m going to post more of what I want to post and what I feel motivated to post, not always a main ‘fic update. If I’m not “feeling it” when working on a draft, then I’ll set it aside for a while unless I know my followers and readers have high interest in the next chapter of that story. I always write for me first, but if I know there are other people who care a lot about a story, then of course I want to write it for you too!

I’m going to embrace my decade-long love for WordGirl and post more ‘fics and art or this fandom. I’ve always been a little shy about doing this, but I’m ready to make it an official fandom on my main blog (unless there are lots of requests for WordGirl things to be contained in their own sideblog). I will be posting the first chapter for a ‘fic called Factor It In very soon. Love my easily frustrated alien kiddos having a long day.

I am working on Creature-Crossing stuff too, and will be especially busy in November and December. Updates will be slow for a few months, but I hope to find my groove and a good pace soon.

Each Friday, I will post either a fanfic update or a mention of what I am working on. I will be checking in on Tumblr regularly. Feel free to talk! I much prefer you send messages to my Ask Box, not my private messenger, please <3

===

Is there a specific story of mine you like and want more updates for?

Asks and reviews help me know which ‘fics people are enjoying. I plan to keep writing ‘fics no matter what, but I definitely give more time to the ‘fics that get more attention (and I have been spending so much time writing for Creature-Crossing because that’s where the attention was coming from)

It’s easy to stay motivated and get the next part of a story out soon if I know that people like it. It’s always harder if you feel like people are silently judging you and ignoring your posts. So, let me know what you’re interested in. And if you only leave Likes or Favorites instead of asks and reviews, that’s okay too! Thank you for interacting anyway and enjoying my work.

Thanks for reading!

#WordGirl #Factor It In #Kid Math #FAIRIES!#ridlife #riddleverse mention #ridwriting #Mushrooms and more #Satirical vocab alien child show #Frayed Knots #130 Prompts #Origin of the Pixies #Pink and Gray #Acacia Arcadia #Devil's Backbone #Hawthorn Haven #Along the Cherry Lane

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doctorreids · 4 years

Text

folklore - spencer reid x reader

CHAPTER TWO - cardigan

previous chapter | next chapter

summary: reader reflects upon her first time with spencer, upon the loss of her father and whether or not she did enough to save their relationship.

warnings: death/loss of a loved one.

word count: 2,494

“sequinned smile, black lipstick, sensual politics. when you are young they assume you know nothing.”

This case hit the team particularly hard. Child abductions could either end with a happy ending or… This one was not one of those times. She was sure Reid had a statistic but they were all too exhausted to even keep their eyes open on the jet. The air was somber and tense - everyone feeling all too guilty to indulge in any kind of conversation.

By the time the plane had landed, none of them had slept and it was completely dark outside. She knew she needed a drink and a strong one at that. Reid had sat by her the entire flight home, she noticed how he could barely focus on his book in front of him, his shoulders completely tense. The 20,000 words per minute was slashed to 10 minutes. She hated yet understood that they all felt guilty, but there was always a special sadness in her when Reid was upset. He was the one negotiating, all that weight fell on his shoulders and she just wanted to hold him and tell him that everything will be okay.

They all filtered into the office, Reid following sluggishly behind her. This was routine now, having only been at the bureau for just shy of a year, she had learnt how everyone took their coffee or tea, what time they all headed home with Hotch and Reid being the last out of the doors. She’d become accustomed to joining them in burning the late-night oil.

Reid didn’t even spare a glance at the kitchen as he sat down at his desk, a frown etched onto his face. She just wanted him to smile.

Making his coffee was second nature to her now; she knew exactly how much sugar he took depending on how he was feeling. Smiling to herself, she placed his mug on his desk and as he glanced up she walked back to her own desk to start working on the post-case paperwork and other cases she’d been asked to consult on.

She didn’t see it but he smiled. Only slightly but he did.

A few hours passed when she was finishing up her last file when a note was dropped onto her desk as Reid walked past her desk.

'Would you like to get a drink at Dan’s tonight? - S’

Grinning, she packed up all her files into her go-bag, grabbed her coffee cup and jacket meeting him in the kitchen. Silent words were exchanged as they met each other’s eyes, walking in sync towards the elevator.

“Didn’t take you for a Dan’s person, pretty boy.”

He blushed at the nickname, she rarely used it. “I-i just thought you could use a bit of respite is all.”

“We both could.” She giggled, nudging him with her shoulder. “You barely read your book on the way home and you couldn’t concentrate on your files, is everything okay?

She didn’t want to push him into talking to her, he would talk when he felt comfortable. However, his silence after her question and his eyes trained on the pavement made her nervous.

“N-not that you have to tell me! I just worry about you.”

His head snaps up. He meets her eyes with a slight smile.

“All I know is that I’m okay when I’m with you.”

After nursing a few drinks between them, despite both of them knowing they were lightweights, they stumbled out of Dan’s and into a cool January night. Pressed up against a streetlight, she grabbed onto the lapels of his suit jacket.

They’d spent the night talking about the case. How much she saw herself in the kids that were abducted. How he felt as though he had let everyone down. Her heart broke at his vulnerability.

Their noses were so close, she could feel his hot breath fan across her face; the smell of whiskey and wine mixed together. On a cold, winter night, they were each other’s warmth. Taking him in under the dim, amber streetlight she traced his features as if it was the last time she would ever see him, ever hold him, ever be this close to him.

His hair was short yet long, he was growing it out. She liked it either way. She’d have him anyway just as long as he was hers.

His eyes bore into hers, occasionally flickering down to her lips, filled with the same yearning and desperation she felt herself filled with.

His lips. She watched as he swiped his tongue across them. Suddenly she was sixteen again at homecoming waiting for that first perfect kiss.

In his embrace, she felt whole. No feeling of loneliness nor was this just pure lust. That underlying promise of something more made her stomach sink. She tried to figure out what was going on in his head.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She laughed.

They pulled back from a moment, the intimacy of their embrace broken.

“Can I kiss you?”

She nodded.

Their lips connected and winter disappeared. It was sweet, his lips soft against hers. Her hand rested on the nape of his neck, his on her hips pulling her into him. Moving together, they were intoxicated by each other. She could now taste the whiskey on his tongue, each of her senses was consumed with Spencer. Just Spencer. Running her hands through his hair, she doesn’t want to let go.

Their lips parted, the cold breeze cut between them. Giddy smiles graced before their faces as he brushed her hair out of her face. A mutual understanding that they need each other, unspoken they know how much they do. She’d never needed someone as much as she needed him.

She tries to calm her breathing, her heart beating so fast it might burst out of her chest, as they walk wrapped in each other back to his apartment. His hand rests on her hip, rubbing small circles into it as they walk home. She had never seen him as brave as he was tonight.

Yet nervousness surrounded them both. They were so young, they knew so little but so much about the other.

She wanted everything.

“when i felt like an old cardigan under someone’s bed, you put me on and said i was your favourite.”

The note he wrote all that time ago is tattered now and she toys with it. She’s kept all of the notes he’s passed her since her first day at the Bureau. She knew that he would profile her, it’s why he left the notes.

She knew that he understood that she sometimes needed a reason to smile, that he wanted to make her laugh and to make their working days just that little bit easier.

She wonders if he ever kept her responses.

The warmth of his cardigans that she used to wrap around herself when they queued up a new documentary on Netflix or when they watched an episode of Doctor Who together always reminded her of the warmth between them that first night they shared together.

Curling up further in her leather armchair, she tries to recall his touch. Trying to remember how his hands felt as they brushed her inner thighs, on the small of her back, or the place where she needed them most. She can’t remember where he used to hold her but she remembers how it made her feel.

Even on her worst days, the days were the grief, frustration and sadness were all too much, his embrace made her feel as though he was the sun; the centre to her universe and she was a whole galaxy of stars passing through. Old wounds healed and winter turned to spring in his arms.

But even that feeling has started to fade as his eyes no longer look at her as though she lightens up the night sky, now they just look through her.

It’s hard for her to pinpoint the exact moment things went wrong. Maybe they just left their rose-coloured glasses on for too long to avoid the reality that everything was collapsing around them.

The pain she held in heart, all the times she felt used or abandoned, became non-existent in his presence. The pure happiness he brought her she finds hard to describe; he reminded her of hot chocolate on an autumn night, but he also reminded her of the hot sun beating down on your back as you lie on the beach with nothing but the sound of gentle waves to keep you company.

She wonders if she ever brought him the same happiness he did for her?

It keeps her up at night. All the questions. What did she do right? What did she do wrong? Can it be fixed? But she reminds herself that it’s been months, if fate wanted them together she’d still be waking up on the other side of town to the smell of coffee and Beethoven.

“you drew stars around all my scars, but now i’m bleeding.”

The monitor flatlined, piercing through the silence of the blisteringly white, pristine hospital room.

She knew that she would lose him eventually. Just not like this.

This was her father - the one constant in her life since she lost her mother. He was her closest friend, confidant and companion. He taught everything she knows about life, love and good food. She needed more time. She was only young, she even believed their assumptions that she knew nothing and this was proof.

Finally, she allowed herself to weep. Hopeless tears rolled down her cheeks as Spencer wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him. Her head pressed against where his heart lay in his chest. Even his heartbeat couldn’t calm her down.

Too weak to carry herself, the doctor’s words to her barely registered to her. All she knew was that it wasn’t painful, he didn’t suffer. Her father was finally at peace.

That provided her no comfort in that moment.

She can’t recall the week leading up to the funeral. Every day felt as though she was outside of herself, watching everything else happen. She felt numb, frozen in one place, and unable to move. People tackle grief in different ways, she knows the stages, yet she never felt herself go through any of them. She was completely and utterly disembodied by grief.

She listened to the kind words at the wake, at the funeral. She tried to remember them all but all she could think about was Spencer’s hand in hers. His gentle squeezes brought her back down to earth, out of the turmoil in her mind.

She thinks about how her Dad told him to take care of her. She remembers overhearing a conversation about blessings but she let that go a long time ago, they were too young for marriage her father would always joke.

She knew he was trying to be there for her as much as he could be, he couldn’t take time off of work to provide her with the support she needed. All he could do was call, check in as often as he could. The distance only made her heart shatter more and more. He didn’t urge her to talk about how she was feeling, he knew it would come in time but she all she wanted was that embrace. She wanted to feel his hands lightly trace her skin, the feeling alone mended the scars on her heart. But he wasn’t there.

“i knew you, tried to change the ending, peter losing wendy.”

She didn’t blame him for not being there. Work was as demanding as ever, that was the excuse time and time again. Then again, they were both not ones for sharing their feelings - she knew that he agreed with her when it came to spilling their souls. Sometimes it felt as though they were burdening each other with the weight they both held on their shoulders. Despite all the instances where they told each other that they would be there for it all, they still held back.

She didn’t know how to trust him with it.

He didn’t know how to express how scared he really was.

Their love was reminiscent of first love; full of childlike wonder, hope, and open to the world and its seasons.

But everyone grows up. Everyone is faced with the reality of life. Things come to end, there is suffering and there is happiness - everyone, whether you believe it or not, is in the hands of fate.

She laughed at the thought of Spencer believing in fate, he was a man of science after all. She believed that it was fate that they met that day, that they fell in love. She always will but she wonders if it was fate that pulled them apart or just a set of cruel circumstances and their fears of vulnerability.

The loss of her father impacted her in ways she struggled to comprehend herself. Her heart started to come apart that day, the cracks starting to show.

She loved her father, she was grateful for all he did. Her mother passed when she was 7 and her father never faltered. He taught her all she needed to know about love, about who to love, and who to let go. She didn’t know who to be without him. She had so much more to share with him.

She needed Spencer there and he wasn’t. Somedays he was so quiet she wondered if he had left his or her apartment. He never made her a cup of tea when the jet landed late, he never left her any notes, he never touched her anymore.

She tried to convince herself that she had done all that she could to try and save the sinking ship that was their relationship; cooking his favourite meals, bookshop dates, movie dates, long walks whenever they could. She tried talking to him, to try and get him to tell her how he felt but he shut it down. She knew it was easy to point fingers and place the blame on him for the end of their relationship but it’s not that simple. Maybe she stopped paying attention to everything he said, maybe she was too closed off, maybe she missed the signs. Maybe she clung onto him too much or maybe she left him alone too often.

For now, the loss is too much. From her father to her love, it crushes her. Each glass of wine provides her with the liquid courage to press that call button. But each time she reaches for it, she retracts and her nerves kick in.

Letting go is easier said than done, but all she needs right at this very moment is his embrace. Maybe just one more glass. Maybe then she’d call and he’d come back to her.

#spencer reid #spencer #reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction

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unholyobsessions · 4 years

Text

And life goes on (though not always in the right direction)

Spencer Reid AU

Description: Spencer Reid has lived a horrible life, and every time he thinks it’s getting better, it somehow gets worse.

Warnings: Bullying, Self harm, Suicide, Kidnapping/blood, Rape/Sexual assault, Depression, Death, Cussing, Drug use (if there are any others please message me and I will gladly add them. There is no warning too small.)

Word Count: 5.4k

The first time Spencer gets beat up it is his eight birthday. He doesn’t celebrate. His dad gets “stuck at work” (in reality he is out cheating on his wife with his assistant) and his mom forgets. He goes to the park with a book knowing that would be the best way to spend his birthday. A group of neighborhood kids walks up to him and asks him if he wants to hang out. He, of course, says yes.

Oh stupid and naive little boy.

They guide him to the bleachers and push him to the ground. Spencer looks up at them through teary eyes and they laugh. The first punch breaks his glasses and the second breaks his nose. The kicks against his abdomen bruise his ribs and cause him to throw up his breakfast. They all keep laughing. It isn’t until an hour later when they finally get tired and leave. Spencer curls himself into a fetal position and tries not to swallow the blood gushing from his nose.

He walks alone to the hospital. His mother doesn’t notice he’s gone until the doctor calls her and asks her to pick up her son. His dad shows up with her. Spencer thinks he looks embarrassed. He refuses to meet his eyes. At first he thinks it’s because of his now crooked nose that will certainly need surgery but he later realizes that he is embarrassed of him. He is ashamed of who his son is. That is the first time that he cries himself to sleep. He gets beat up regularly after that.

. . .

Spencer is ten when his father leaves. He tries to convince him to stay. He keeps reciting statistics about how a divorce could affect a child but all his father does is look at him with disgust and walk out the door. His mother has one of her episodes later that same night. Spencer can’t bring himself to calm her down so he locks his door and picks up his physics text book. Half way through the chapter he feels tears falling down his cheeks. He does his best to wipe them away but it’s no use. He allows himself to cry as he thinks about what his father leaving will inevitably cause. His mother is in no condition to hold down a job and he has no way of making money to pay for food and electricity. He’s glad that their medical insurance takes care of all of his mother’s medication. He eventually settles down and brings his blankets over his body, the distant sounds of his mother practicing for a lecture that will never come lulling him to sleep.

The next day he goes straight to the local newspaper station and asks if he could have a job delivering the papers to the local neighborhoods. The owner is apprehensive at first until Spencer explains his situation. The man sighs and hands him a bag filled to the brim with the day’s news. Spencer rushes out of the building and jumps on his bike. He delivers newspapers everyday at six in the morning for the next two years.

He becomes used to hunger. He can’t buy books anymore as he is barely scraping together enough money to have a decent meal everyday. He never complains though. He forces the tears away and keeps moving forward. Things will get better.

. . .

When he’s thirteen when he leaves for university. Cal-Tech. It’s the start of a new life. He enjoys his classes and regularly converses with his professors. Every time he gets the chance he takes the trip down to Las Vegas to check on his mom. She always assures him that she is perfectly fine (even though she isn’t) and he needs to stop worrying so much.

He gets a job at the library. He puts the books back in their respective shelves and his eidetic memory certainly makes it easier. It isn’t fun, not in the slightest, but it pays better than selling newspapers and he’s in desperate need of money. He stays at the library between shifts and works on his homework. He uses the library’s computer since he can’t afford his own.

He excels in all of his classes and makes extra money out of tutoring. The older students don’t take offense to a fourteen year old correcting them on their mistakes, for that he is extremely thankful. Still, it doesn’t mean he has friends. Most twenty-year-olds don’t want to spend their free time hanging it out with a know it all pre-teen.

. . .

He slides a razor blade against his arm for the first time when he is fourteen. He doesn’t know exactly what makes him do it. The stress of college at such a young age or maybe the fact that he is completely alone in California. He considers the fact that it may be from the bruise forming on his lower abdomen, courtesy of a group of Frat guys. Maybe it’s all of the above.

The only thing he knows for sure is that he relishes in the pain it gives him. It isn’t the same type of pain he feels whenever he gets beat up, no this feels better. He gives himself two cuts before hiding the blade and cleaning himself off. He wraps a bandage over his forearm and goes to class.

The next day he sits in the bathroom and debates whether he should do it again. He knows he shouldn’t. He is aware that this is not good for him. He thinks about going to the campus therapist but quickly shuts down the idea. He can’t talk about what he is going through. He has no right to feel the way he does. He is going to a prestigious college on a full ride scholarship. He is passing all of his classes, he finds them easy. But he can’t help the way he feels. He looks at himself in the mirror and feels disgusted with what he sees.

He has no one. No one to take care of him. No one to talk to. No one to ask him how his day went. He understands why his father left. He wouldn’t want to have himself as a son either.

He slides the blade three times.

Two weeks later he is up to six cuts per day. The scars are ugly but Spencer can’t bring himself to care. He avoids looking in the mirror, it only makes the desire to feel the cold blade on his skin worse. No, he isn’t suicidal, at least he doesn’t think so, but he can’t help but throw his head back as blood gushes down his arm.

. . .

He is sixteen when his mother dies. He has just finished his first PhD and comes home to visit and celebrate. At one point he goes out to the store and comes back to find his mother on the floor.

She isn’t breathing.

He eyes the bottle of pills on the floor and then looks to the counter to see another one.

They’re both empty.

He cries. He cries for over an hour before he gets up and starts packing his stuff. He takes all of his money as well as some clothes and other necessities. He calls the paramedics on his way out the door. He takes the first bus out of Las Vegas and never looks back.

He doesn’t return to Cal-Tech. Social Services finding him will be too easy if he does. He’s a minor and his guardian is dead. He has two options. He can either find a way to contact his dad (which social services probably does) and go live with him. He doesn’t dwell on the thought long. Option two is to allow himself to be turned over to the state and be inevitably placed in an overcrowded foster home that only takes children in for money. He dismisses the thought quickly. He ends up choosing option number three.

He runs away. He ends up in Arizona. He doesn’t remember how many buses it takes him to get there. He stays at a cheap motel and has to resist the urge to walk to the bathroom and open old scars. It’s been months, he tells himself, you have to be strong. He makes a call to the University of Oxford. They had offered him a scholarship when he had originally applied when he was thirteen. He declined their offer, obviously, and decided to stay closer to home. Closer to his mom. Who is dead now. He shakes his head and forces himself to stop thinking about it. He requests to talk to the Dean. He gives his name and he is quickly transferred to his office.

Yes, they do have a place for him in school. Of course, they would be honored to have him complete his studies there.

Spencer hangs up the phone and calls the airline. One way ticket to England please. The next day he lugs his belongings all the way to the airport, not having enough money for a cab. He boards the plane and stares out the window officially saying goodbye to his life in the states.

. . .

Maeve is dead. He is twenty years old and he is tied to a chair staring at his dead fiancée. He sees the blood pooling around her body and his throat feels raw from all the screaming. This isn’t supposed to happen. His life was finally good, stable. The first real glimpse of happiness he’s had since he was ten. Life can’t have gotten this bad.

They have both been held captive for four days. Spencer being forced to watch as the man who took them repeatedly raped the woman he is in love with. Forced to endure having the shit beat out of him. Having to endure the feeling of the needle piercing his skin and ultimately enjoying the high that came afterward.

The man smirks at him, the gun still in his hand.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” His voice comes out hoarse, not even he can recognize it. The man simply laughs and walks over to him. He holds the gun to his head and Spencer closes his eyes. He’s going to die. He wants to die. He craves the feeling of vast emptiness that came with death. He doesn’t think that he can deal with any more pain.

The pressure of the gun leaves his head. He looks up and the man smiles at him, but there is no sincerity in his eyes. He hears the man saying something along the lines of “death is too easy” before plunging another needle in his vain. Spencer’s eyes roll back as a feeling of ecstasy overcomes his body. He hears the man walk away before he passes out. He wakes up to see officers untying him. He sees paramedics close the black bag over Maeve’s face. He feels tears fall down his face.

“No,” he repeats over and over. He hears paramedics ask him his name. Does he remember how he got here? Can he tell them where he lives? Their questions fall on deaf ears. All Spencer can think about is how when he eventually gets out of the hospital he will have to go back to an empty apartment. He will have to pack up Maeve’s stuff. He will have to face her parents and tell them what happened. He will have to tell her dad that he will never get to walk his little girl down the aisle and her mom that she would never take her dress shopping. Spencer would never meet the eyes of the woman he loves as she reaches the altar. He will never get to say ‘I do’ and call her Mrs. Reid.

He finds a dealer as soon as he gets home.

. . .

He’s twenty two when he gets his fifth PhD. He has been clean for a little under a year and it is all thanks to his boss. He’s been living with him since he moved out of his apartment. He works at the local police station. He gives profiles on serial criminals. No one is ever going to have to go through what he went through. Not if he can help it.

He based the past two years of his schooling solely on his new career choice. He gets an internship two months after the incident.

He’s high most of the time.

He still passes all of his classes with flying colors but his new boss knows that something is up with him, even if he has only known the kid for a month. The police chief approaches him one day when Spencer is sitting on his desk going over a cold case file. He invites him to dinner at his house and Spencer is both relieved and worried. Relieved that he wouldn’t have to go back to his god forsaken apartment for a few more hours and worried because he doesn’t know how bad his craving will get. He has developed a routine. Shoot up, go to school, go to work, come home at five, shoot up again.

An hour into dinner and his boss asks him the question. Are you okay? It’s a loaded question, they’re both aware but Spencer notes that the man is genuinely concerned for his well being. He breaks down. He tells him everything. He doesn’t know why he is sobbing in front of a man who he has only known for a short while. Why he is telling him all of his problems. Why he rolls up both of his sleeves and shows him the scars that graze his inner elbow, and the ones that have healed over his forearm.

From a psychological perspective he knows why he is doing it, why he allows himself to be so vulnerable in front of the man. He longs for a father figure. For a man to comfort him and care for him. He wants what his father never gave him as a child, what he never gave him as a teenager, what he never gave him as an adult.

“I’m sorry sir,” Spencer sniffles. He is being unprofessional.

“You don’t have to call me sir, you know? You can call me Roger.” Spencer nods, not having the strength to speak up again. “You’re staying the night and then tomorrow we’ll go to your apartment to pack up your stuff and you’re moving in. I’m going to help you get clean.”

Spencer is shocked but can’t bring himself to argue. He is exhausted. The next day they do just what Roger said they would do. It is a long journey. He will stay clean for about three weeks before something happens that makes him fall back to his disgusting habit. Roger will sometimes come home to see Spencer sobbing in the bathroom, a syringe lying next to him. He immediately pulls him close and assures him that it’s okay.

He beats it though. It will be a year next month since the last time he had any drug in his system. He’s proud of himself.

Roger walks over to him as he closes his phone. They are in one of their co-worker’s backyard. They all insisted that they needed to celebrate his new achievement. Spencer had rolled his eyes but accepted their kind gesture and is now sipping his drink and making conversation when Roger calls his name.

Roger takes a second to mull over the progress Spencer made. He’s proud of him. He loves the kid like his own but the future of their father-son relationship will be determined what he is about to say.

“Hey, what’s up?” Spencer asks casually, pushing a hand through his long hair.

“I just got a call from Interpol,” he pauses, Spencer freezes. “They have offered me a position.” He waits for Spencer’s reaction.

“You’re leaving.” Spencer can’t believe this is happening. Not again. He starts to wonder if life will ever allow him to have even a sliver of happiness.

“I am.” Spencer avoids looking at him. “But I want you to come with me.” That catches his attention.

“What?”

“I told them that if they want me then they will also have to offer a position to the smartest and most hard working man I know. I made it clear that I am not going to take the position unless they put you on my team. So what do you say? Want to work at Interpol with me?”

Spencer is shocked to say the least. It’s a great opportunity. Tears well up in his eyes as he looks at the man who cares for him like a son. The man who encouraged him to beat his addiction, who makes him feel like he is worth something. He nods his head and hugs him. He hears their co-workers cheering behind them and he lets out a laugh. Maybe life will allow him to be happy.

. . .

Wrong. Life always likes to give Spencer a nice kick in the ass. He has been working at Interpol with Roger for about a year and a half and at the ripe age of twenty-four he is one of their most valued members. He is seated quietly at his desk, nursing a horrible migraine when a file is dropped in front of him. He looks up at Roger and sees the sympathy in his eyes. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion before picking up the file.

His breath hitches in his throat.

Couple kidnapped and held for four days. Woman shot execution style with evidence of repeated sexual assault. Male beaten brutally with traces of narcotics in his system.

He can’t breath. He tries but he can’t seem to make his lungs work. He starts to hyperventilate. He can hear Roger saying his name but he can’t focus enough to respond. He’s back. It’s been four years and there has been no cases with even a similar M.O. He is aware that he is having a panic attack but he can’t bring himself to even try and match Roger’s breathing. His inner elbow itches.

No.

It would make things easier. No dealing with the pain.

No. No. No. I won’t do it. Not again.

It’s only once. You want to. You’re weak.

No. I’ve come so far, I will not give it up.

Then how about the blade? Just like when you were fourteen. Weak little Spencer Reid. You’re pathetic.

NO!

He doesn’t remember passing out.

He wakes up with Roger standing over him. He apologizes and Spencer reassures him that he is fine. He wants to work the case. No, not wants, needs to work the case. Roger refuses. But he knows the case better than anyone. They argue for a while. In the end Spencer wins (he always wins).

Roger informs him that a team of profilers from the FBI is coming to help solve the case. The killer wasn’t dormant, he went to the United States and continued killing there. Same M.O. Only last week did he return to the U.K.

“The FBI has worked this case and they want to continue working it,” Roger explains.

Spencer nods and walks back to his desk. He starts going over the file and victims. He realizes that his name isn’t listed. The victims start with his first kill in the U.S. He feels relief at the fact. He studies the file for a few more hours before Roger tells him to call it a night. They walk to the car together and head home.

The next day the FBI team arrives. The Behavioral Analysis Unit. Spencer has heard of them, he even studied some of their cases when he first started profiling. They walk in and go straight to Roger, completely ignoring Spencer. He’s not surprised. Strangers never seem to realize that he actually works here. He doesn’t exactly have a sign over his head that reads “I have an IQ of 187 and have five PhDs. I also have an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute.”

Roger greets them and introduces them to Spencer.

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid, he’s my lead on the case and my second in command. If I’m not available, anything he says goes.” The team all wears various expressions of shock.

A white male with dark hair, who Spencer assumes is the leader, breaks first and introduces himself and the rest of them. “I’m Agent Hotchner, these are SSAs Rossi, Morgan, Jareau, Greenaway, and Prentiss and our technical analyst Penelope Garcia.” He holds out his hand and Spencer hesitates.

“Oh uh I don’t shake hands.” Roger snorts fondly while the team all assumes the Dr. to be a pretentious asshole (he isn’t) (most of the time). They were all led to the conference room which Spencer has already set up. There are two maps on the walls, one of England and the other of the U.S. There are tacks placed at the places where all the victims were held.

The FBI has been here for three weeks and are no closer to catching the killer. Two other couples have been taken. Spencer never goes to the crime scene. He is barely holding it together, the itch on his arm getting stronger as he clutches his sobriety coin, he can’t bear to look at the scene that is almost identical to the one he found himself in four years ago. Of course the team doesn’t know this. They all think that he doesn’t have the guts to do the job. They often find themselves discussing the young man’s incompetence and how if he can’t handle the case then he shouldn’t work it. They always stop the conversation when he walks in though. One day however, they don’t hear his approaching footsteps as they make fun of him.

“How old is he? 15? The kid is too damn young to be working a job like this.” Morgan pops a peanut in his mouth after speaking.

“He probably fucked his way into his position,” JJ says.

“I mean the way he handles the files. He can’t even look at the pictures. He looks like a baby watching a horror movie,” Prentiss laughs.

“I still don’t understand. Who let him in here? This isn’t a daycare or a kindergarten.” All three agents laugh at JJ’s comment before a voice shuts them up.

“You don’t know me.” Their heads snap up to see the man in question standing in the doorway. “You have no right to judge me.” The glare he is giving them is scarier than Hotch’s.

“Kid we-” That draws the line.

“I’m not a kid Agent Morgan. The only people acting like children in this building are you three. You have no idea what I have been through. I’m sure you wouldn’t even be able to handle a fraction of the shit show that is my life.” His breathing is heavy and his voice is rising along with his temper.

“We’re sorry it’s just that you’re so young. We didn’t think-” Spencer cuts Prentiss off.

“Exactly. You didn’t think did you? Well let me enlighten you. I was brutally bullied since I was eight. My father left me and my paranoid schizophrenic mother when I was ten. I had to work to pay the bills and to be able to have a meal at least once a day. Then I went to college and things got better right? Not really since I still had no friends so I decided self harm was the way to go. Oh and my mother died when I was sixteen. The only person who ever gave a shit about me, killed herself. I came home one day and she was lying on the ground with an empty bottle of pills next to her. I packed up and left because I refused to go with my father or go into foster care. Do you think my life got better after that?” He waits to see if they will answer. They don’t.

“Well for a while it did. I met the love of my life and we were going to get married. And then we were kidnapped. I was tied to a chair and drugged regularly as I watched my fiancée get raped. Then the psychopath put a gun to her head and shot her in front of me. I watched as the blood pooled around her body and I kept wishing that he had killed me as well. I kept doing drugs. Believe it or not, four days of getting shot up with dilaudid made me an addict. It took me a year to be able to get clean. And when I finally thought it was over a file got dropped on my desk. He was back. The reason for my nightmares, the man my therapist keeps trying to make me forget, was back,” he paused and took a deep breath. “So I’m sorry agents if I can’t go and examine the scene. I’m sorry that I get a little jittery when looking at the case files. But don’t you ever accuse me of not being able to do my job. I’m damn well good at what I do, despite my age. Yes I am only twenty-four but you three have made it quite clear that I am much more mature and capable of doing this job than you are.” With that he turns around, only to come face to face with Roger. He nods at him, a sign that he can leave. Spencer walks out of the conference room and toward the elevator. He gets in, waits for the doors to close and bursts into tears.

Back in the conference room Morgan, Jareau, and Prentiss are faced with an angry Unit Chief and a fuming Director.

“I want you out of here,” Roger looks at the three agents before turning back to Hotch. “I will not allow you to continue working this case with us unless they leave right now. They should get suspended for the trouble they have caused. Dr. Reid is one of Interpol’s greatest assets and I will not tolerate three strangers who got here three weeks ago to stand here and insult him. So Agent Hotchner unless they are sent home, your team is no longer welcomed here. And I will make sure to report this to your Section Chief and the FBI Director.” Roger walks out of the room and goes after his son.

Hotch turns back to his team and none of them think they have ever seen him look as angry as he does that very moment. “Prentiss, Morgan, Jareau, pack your bags, you're leaving. You’re suspended two weeks without pay, effective immediately. After your suspension is over you’ll have a meeting with the director to discuss your future at the Bureau. If it were up to me the three of you would be fired, but sadly it isn’t. You have shamed and dishonored the reputation of the Bureau and frankly I wouldn’t be surprised if Interpol severed ties with us. Now I am going to apologize to Dr. Reid and Roger and I hope to see you gone by the time I come back. I do not want to hear another word out of you unless it is an apology.” Hotch leaves the room but not before sending them one last glare. Rossi, Elle, and Garcia all look at them and follow after Hotch. To say they are disgusted by their teammates’ behavior is an understatement.

Spencer is inside his car, sniffling and trying to get himself together. He doesn’t know what came over him inside the conference room but all the stress from the past three weeks took a toll on him and he found the perfect outlet to release it. A knock on his window startles him. Roger smiles before opening the door and sitting in the passenger seat. They sit in silence for a while, neither of them sure how to approach the conversation.

“You’re not in any trouble,” Roger starts. “If you hadn’t yelled at them son, I was going to and we both know how that would have ended up.” They both chuckle and fall into a comfortable silence.

“Do you think we’ll catch him?” Spencer speaks up.

“With you working the case? There is no doubt in my mind.”

They do catch him. Two weeks later Spencer is standing in an abandoned warehouse in front of the unsub with his revolver raised. The man, Tommy Montgomery, had his gun at the woman’s head, a sick smile on his lips.

“I remember you,” Montgomery exclaimed. “I killed your fiancée four years ago, didn’t I?”

Spencer could kill him right now. “Put the gun down. You don’t have to do this. We can help you if you just put the gun down.” Spencer recites the speech that he has said dozens of times to dozens of criminals.

“Help me?” the man laughed. “You don’t want to help me. You want me to rot in a cell for the rest of my life. We both know there is only one way this can end.” Montgomery raises his gun at Spencer but he isn’t fast enough.

Spencer unloads three rounds straight to his heart. He lowers his weapon and rushes over to him. He places two fingers above his collarbone--he will never admit that nothing brought him greater joy than realizing that he had no pulse. He goes to untie the male victim as paramedics rush inside. Roger walks over to Spencer once they are outside and pulls him into a hug.

“It’s over son.”

Spencer cries and clings onto him as sobs rack his body. He separates himself and takes a few calming breaths. He walks over to the BAU team, which now only consists of three members and their tech analyst. He thanks them profusely and the three of them reassure him that he has nothing to thank them for. Hotch looks at the young genius for a second before making an offer.

“You know we have three spots open on our team now. If you want to, you are always welcomed at the FBI.”

“Oh,” he doesn’t know what to think. He hasn’t gone back since he was sixteen. Was he ready? “Thank you really. I’m not sure I’m ready to go back to the states at this moment but maybe in a few months or years, if you’ll still have me, I’ll gladly join you.” Spencer holds out his hand and Hotch laughs before taking it and giving it a firm shake.

“Good luck Dr. Reid.”

“You too.”

. . .

Five months later Spencer goes back to Oxford. He’s doing better. His cravings don't come as often and when he looks in the mirror, he isn’t ashamed or disgusted at what he sees. His therapist only requests to see him once a week now and Roger doesn’t hover over him at work.

He stands in the cemetery next to the church he was going to be wed at. He walks across the wet grass, scrunching his face at the squishing noises his shoes make. He faces Maeve’s grave and a shaky breath leaves his lips. He sits down next to the tombstone and starts talking. He tells her about everything that happened in the past months and how he finally avenged her death. He tells her about his progress and how his mental health has improved so much since he last talked to her. He sits there for hours during the day and well into the night until he runs out of things to say.

“You would be so proud of me sweetheart. But now to what I actually came here to say. I came to say goodbye.” He takes a deep breath as a few tears roll down his cheeks. “I will love you forever and I will keep missing you every single day. But it is time that I move on. I need to find happiness and maybe that happiness isn’t here. I ran away when I was sixteen and I don’t want to run away anymore. So this may be the last time in a while that I come and talk to you. I love you Maeve Reid, to the moon and back.” Spencer stands up and places the ring he was going to wear for the rest of his life on top of the tombstone. He walks away as he takes out his phone and dials a number he never thought he would actually call. It rings for a few seconds before a familiar voice comes through the receiver.

“Hotchner.”

“Does the offer still stand?”

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justauthoring · 4 years

Text

No Reason To (39/50)

Prompt: “And I guess… when it comes down to it, I trust you.”

A/N: This chapter is a bit shorter and for fair warning, chapters from this point on most likely will be! Especially compared to season five. There will be one to two episodes per chapter! OH! And from this point we are on the last TWELVE CHAPTERS!

Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. As usual, I hope you all enjoyed!

AGAIN, remember if you’d like me to continue this series, just leave a little comment or an ask letting me know. I will NOT continue the series if no one wants me to.

Please don’t plagiarize my work!

Pairing: Stiles x McCall!Reader

Based off of: Teen Wolf 06x01

“Okay, so, you think you’re good for tomorrow?”

The boy sat across from you flickers his gaze up at you at the sound of your voice. Almost instantly, a bright smile crosses his lips as he sends you a confident nod. “Totally,” he assures, slowly shutting his textbook. “And I wouldn’t be without you. So, thank you.”

With a soft smile, you follow the younger boys lead, shoving your books into your bag. “Of course, Jeremy. That’s what i’m here for. To help you.”

“No, I mean,” he begins, voice sharp in an attempt to stop you. He catches you just as you push yourself to your feet, reaching across the table to set his hand over your own stretched one. Your eyes flicker from his hand back up to his eyes, gaze questioning as he eases, cheeks warming faintly. “I just mean, we went way past our hour all because you wanted to make sure I was ready for the test tomorrow. So... thank you.”

“Oh,” you mumble, biting your lower lip, not oblivious to the way the boy still has his hand on yours. “Of course,” you repeat, smiling warmly. “You’re a smart boy anyway, i’m sure you would’ve been able to get it on your own. Though,” and a smirk falls on your lips then, a twinkle shining in your eyes. “The effort does help.”

He lets out a light chuckle, finally pulling his hand back and mimicking you as you move around the table, heading out of the library. You gaze at him from the corner of your eye, watching as he runs a hand through his hair, brushing it back and out of his face. The soft warm glow to his cheek is still there, and as your brows furrow in puzzlement, you’re sure his cheeks get even warmer.

“I’m only able to focus with you.”

Laughing lightly, not really sure how to respond to what you’re sure is not just a friendly statement, you pull the strap of your bag up on your shoulder, swallowing thickly. Your eyes flicker around quickly, relief flooding you when you realize you’re nearing the exit doors. “Good to hear,” you comment lightly, nodding slowly. “And I’m sure you’ll ace the test tomorrow, but..,” you begin, pushing open the doors and pulling your keys out of your bag. “It’s been a long day, so I think i’m gonna head home.”

“Oh,” Jeremy mumbles, and you’re not oblivious to the way his shoulders fall. “I was thinking maybe we could grab a bite to eat or...”

Lips parting, your chest tightens, eyes widening as you scramble for a response. By the disheartened look in the boys face, you can tell he won’t give up that easily on convincing you to hang out; even if only for a little. And saying you’re tired probably isn’t enough of an excuse anymore. But you are tired and you do want to go home; and above all, this boy was freshman.

And maybe, just maybe, your heart was still set on someone else.

Still, you did have to give the boy credit; he had guts.

“I, uh,” you stammer, licking your lips, “I should--”

Thanking the Gods on whoever decided to call you at that exact moment, you send an apologetic glance Jeremy’s way before reaching for your phone from your bag. Your eyes narrow slightly in confusion when you read Stiles’ caller ID, ignoring the way your heart races -- even if just slightly -- at his name, swiping yes to answer.

“Stiles?”

“Hey, Y/N!” Stiles calls, almost sounding breathless. “Good news! They need us!”

“Uh,” you hum, brows furrowing as you glance around, “who needs us?”

“Beacon Hills,” he explains, as if that’s suppose to make any sense.

Stiles takes your silence as it doesn’t.

“My dad called me. There’s a kid who can’t seem to remember his parents. Like, at all. Where they are, what they look like... Scott’s going to see if he can find out anything from the kid.”

Pursing your lips, you nod even though you know Stiles can’t see you. “I’ll be there in a minute. I’m at the school anyway.”

There’s a pause, then; “you’re not at home?”

“No,” you frown, “I’ve been tutoring, remember? Tonight I had a session with Jeremy.”

“Jeremy... Jeremy. Oh, the freshman!” He pauses, again. “I thought you were finished tutoring him.”

“What? No, I... It doesn’t matter. I’ll meet you there.”

You hang up before Stiles can argue any further.

Turning to Jeremy, you smile softly over at him. “Sorry, that was--”

“Stiles,” he interrupts gently, nodding as he shoves his hands into his front pockets. Your eyes narrow at the deep set frown that curls onto his lips. “You’re boyfriend, right?”

You blink in surprise; “he’s not...-- anyways, um, I have to go. My brother and... Stiles need my help with something.” Shaking your head, you begin to shuffle backwards, pointing behind you in the direction of your car as you send a wave Jeremy’s way. “Text me tomorrow letting me know how the test goes. I’ll see you next week!”

“Yeah,” the boy mumbles under his breath, watching as you leave. “Next week.”

“Here. You can hold my hand.”

The young boy glances up at you, obviously terrified. However, as you hold your palm up towards him, a gentle smile on your lips, he seems to ease; even if just a little. And he doesn’t refuse your hand either, his smaller hand slipping into your own and squeezing tightly.

Meeting your brothers eyes, you nod.

Scott braces the boy by sending him one last questioning glance, to which the boy nods in agreement. And your eyes flicker to the back of his neck, watching as Scott inches his claws closer and closer until finally, with a sharp jab, slips them into the boys neck. He instantly tenses, his fingers digging into the skin of your hand but you don’t dare respond or pull back.

You can’t imagine how terrified this poor boy must be.

And for a while, Scott’s silent. Even through his lids you can see his eyes turning every which way in response to what he’s seeing through the boys memory. But it only lasts for a couple of minutes before he’s pulling back with a gasp, springing to his feet and stumbling as Noah and Stiles rush to help him steady. You keep close to the boy, eyes scanning across him to make sure he’s okay as his grip finally eases.

“What’d you see?” Stiles asks, eyes flickering from Scott to Alex.

Turning to Scott, you wait for his answer.

“I saw a guy on a horse.”

Stiles blinks; “horse?”

“He had a gun,” Scott breathes, panicked eyes meeting Stiles’.

“Okay,” Noah begins, “a guy with a gun. That sounds like my department, not yours.”

“Wait,” you call, shaking your head, “what about his parents? What happened to them?”

“I don’t know,” Scott shakes his head, brows furrowing, trying to remember what he’d seen. “That’s all I remember. But... I got this feeling.”

“What kind of feeling?”

Scott winces. “They’re coming back.”

Flinching lightly at the boy’s sudden voice, your wide eyes fall on him. You watch, baffled, as his head slowly rises, meeting your gaze before flickering to the others.

“They’re coming for me.”

“I don’t think they’re dead.”

Handing Malia her clothes, you frown at Lydia’s words in bafflement.

“They’re dead,” Malia argues, shaking her head adamantly as she takes the clothes from your hands gratefully. “Probably torn apart,” she continues, “the only thing I don’t get is why there’s no blood.”

“They’re not dead,” Lydia repeats, confident in her words. “If they were dead, I’d sense it.”

“If they were alive, I’d smell it.”

“Yeah,” Scott nods, “i’m not getting anything either.”

“Scott, what’re you talking about?” Stiles questions, baffled. “You were in his head for four minutes. I timed it.”

“Well, it’s not an exact science,” Scott explains. “And he’s a kid. Maybe he’s too freaked out to remember.”

“He was scared,” you nod, meeting your brothers eyes before glancing at the rest. “Like, terrified. I could see it in his eyes,” pausing briefly, you shudder at the thought. “Whatever he saw...”

“Okay,” Malia says slowly, letting out a huff; “why does it matter if they’re dead? Dead is dead.”

“Okay, if it’s just a robbery, we can’t help them,” Stiles sighs, “and if it’s something supernatural, my dad can’t help them.”

“It sounds like you want it to be supernatural.”

“He does,” you say simply, nodding at Lydia.

Stiles pauses, meeting your eyes with a frown. “It’s been like, three months since something’s happened.”

“Yeah,” Lydia huffs, ,”and once a week you drag me out of bed like I’m some sort of supernatural metal detector.”

“Okay,” Stiles calls in defense of himself. “It is way more often than that.” Shaking your head, you cross your arms over your chest. “You-You can’t tell me that you think this is just some series of impossible coincidences?”

“What i’s saying is maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.”

With that, Lydia turns, walking off. You can’t help but smile, biting your lip in an attempt to hide it, as Malia sends a look Stiles’ way, flipping her hair over her shoulder in agreement of Lydia and following after her.

Stiles rushes after them, but only makes it two steps, not really saying anything. He turns to you and Scott in hope you’ll agree. You don’t.

Neither does Scott if the shrug he gives Stiles is anything to go by.

“I mean, Stiles,” you mumble, shaking your head at him. “Would it really be that bad?”

He just scoffs at the both of you, storming past and slipping into the drivers seat of the Alex’s parents car. Slamming the car door shut behind him, he slumps against the seat, staring at the broken windshield.

With a brief glance to Scott, you both make your way over to Stiles.

“You’re staring at a broken windshield.”

“There’s something wrong with it.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “it’s broken.”

Stiles’ eyes fall shut.

“And,” Scott adds, leaning towards Stiles, “it wasn’t a magic bullet. It was a regular bullet. That blew out a regular windshield.” Then, turning over his shoulder, he points to another car; “just like that one, and that one, and...”

Brows furrowing, your eyes fall on Scott as he slows.

“...That one.”

Stiles seems to understand his meaning, eyes flickering across the broken windshield of the car he’s in before picking up a shard of glance.

Your eyes widen in realization.

“Magic bullet.”

Shoulders dropping, you frown; “can’t it just ever not be something supernatural?”

“Y/N!”

Blinking at Stiles, you slowly lower your books onto the table where everyone else is sat, eyes flickering from Malia, to Lydia to your brother, before back to Stiles. “Stiles.” You call back lightly, shaking your head in confused and mocked excitement.

“They,” he glowers down at the rest, “don’t want to come with me but I know you won’t fail me.” You blink. “So, would you like to come with me to an abandoned house?”

“Uh, um... why would I want to go with you to an abandoned house?”

“The missing parents!” He exclaims, explaining it all. You slump slightly at the mention, face easing with understanding but unable to stop the way your shoulders fall in response. “Come on!” He calls in response to your reaction, “missing parents, suspicious guy on horseback, magic bullet. Wanna come with?”

Glancing down at the other three, you bite back your smile, taking a seat at the table. “As much as that sounds like absolute fun,” you tease, “I can’t.”

Stiles’ face instantly falls. “Why not?”

“I’ve got tutoring.”

“You’ve always got tutoring,” he groans, frowning at you.

“Yeah, well...” You don’t really have any other response then that.

“No, Stiles is right though,” Scott pipes up, pulling your eyes on him as he leans towards you. However he pauses in regret at the way Stiles perks, shaking his head; “meaning the tutoring,” he turns to you. “You’re always tutoring people. You wake up early and go home late just to keep up with it all.”

“And,” Malia adds, frowning, “you barely have time for us anymore.”

You jerk your head back at that; “what do you mean? I always hang out with you guys.”

“Uh, no, you don’t,” Lydia smirks, pointing her finger at you. “It’s practically a miracle you’re even here now.”

“Won’t even come to an abandoned house with me,” Stiles grumbles.

You choose to ignore him. “It’s not that bad.”

They all send you a look.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you give up trying to convince them otherwise, slumping against the table, arms sprawled out in front of yourself. “It’s just this one kid, Jeremy?” They nod in recognition. “He’s a freshman and he’s always extending our sessions way past the set time. And I can’t say no because he always looks so... desperate. It just takes a lot out of me, I guess.”

“Just tell him that,” Scott reminds, shaking his head at you in confusion.

Letting your head fall in your hand, you sigh. “I can’t.”

Malia frowns; “why not?”

“Because the boys got a crush on her,” Stiles huffs, causing everyone to blink over at him in surprise. Lips parting at their reaction, he shrugs: “what? I’m not wrong. He’s like in love with Y/N.”

Lips parting, you try to fight the blush that threatens to grow; “he is not! He’s just... sweet.”

Stiles rolls his eyes; “sure.”

“How would you even know?” You call back in defense of yourself, sending Stiles a quirked brow.

It’s Stiles’ turn to be stumbling for a response. “I... I may or may have not checked in on a few of your tutoring sessions.”

Your eyes bulge; “what? Stiles, that’s weird!”

Stiles doesn’t waste time arguing back. “I’m just making sure nothing bad is happening!”

“He’s just a freshman!”

“Doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous!”

All the while, the both of you seem to forget the audience watching the both of you.

“Stiles--”

“Hey, can I get a candid?”

You blink at the sound of Lori.

“Uh, no--” Stiles tries to argue, but Scott cuts him off.

“Yeah, sure.”

Rolling your eyes at Stiles, you laugh as Scott pulls him forward, making room for him to sit next. You stand up in response, falling to your brothers other side and leaning on the table to make it into the shot.

“Okay, fine,” Stiles huffs, “if you can explain to me why this,” he pulls something from his back pocket. “Is blue. I’ll let it go.”

You glance over Scott’s shoulder, brows furrowing at the blue stained glass. It was strange--

“Everyone, smile!”

Blinking, you raise your eyes to the camera, pushing back your thoughts briefly. You teasingly raise your two fingers behind Scott’s head, lips curling upwards brightly and eyes twinkling with delight as you pose for the picture.

Y/N...

“Not again.”

“Sorry?”

Blinking at the sound of Emma’s voice, pulled from your own heavy thoughts, you shake your head, smiling softly -- forced. “What?”

She blinks, puzzled; “you said ‘not again’. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble, moving to stand up. “Yeah, of--”

Y/N...

“Of course. Yeah, woah, um,” glancing around, you gesture towards the windows in the library. “Look at that. It’s dark. Can we, uh... can we wrap up this session for today?”

Emma follows your lead, slowly standing. It’s obvious she’s confused, her brows furrowing and a deep frowning marring her lips. But she doesn’t argue, instead, she simply nods her head, slow and hesitant. “Uh, yeah, of course. Is... Is everything alright, Y/N?”

“Yeah, totally,” you dismiss, hastily shoving your books into your bag. “I’ll see you next week.”

Help...

She calls after you but you don’t answer. You hastily turn, making your way out of the library and into the parking lot. You’re thankful no ones around when you make it out, setting a hand against your chest and trying to calm your racing heart. Why? Why now?

After all this time?

Help me...

“Theo,” you groan, his name leaving your lips in a hiss. It didn’t make sense. Since that first day, so long ago now, Theo hasn’t tried to contact you. Not once.

You still didn’t even know how he had...

But why would he now? Why specifically now?

“Get out of my head,” you huff, pressing the palms of your hands against your ears. “Get out, Theo. Get out.”

There’s a moment, just a brief one, of silence. Then,

Not Theo...

Chest tightening, you pause. Not Theo? Who else could it be? Who else... It didn’t make sense. Not one bit of it. The logic behind how Theo had reached you, through your head, still didn’t make sense. However, this was different. This, somehow, wasn’t Theo and someone else. But who else would? Who else would be able to?

Who needed help?

It’s then, almost like a slap across the face, you realize that this feels different but yet, familiar.. It’s a sensation you’ve felt before, just slightly different. Stronger, even. This.... This sense inside of you bubbles within the middle of your chest like a fire waiting to burst. There’s something pounding in your head, screaming at you to listen.

But who else would need your help?

Remember...

“Stiles...”

You’re not sure why it’s his name that leaves your lips. However, as it does, it just makes sense. It just fits.

You can’t explain how or why, and the voice doesn’t even sound like Stiles but... you realize why this feeling is familiar. Why this sense of panic that overwhelms you suddenly makes so much sense; it was your instinct. The instinct you’ve ignored time and time again and because of that, things have gone wrong. Terribly so.

Starting from Void Stiles to Theo...

It was your instinct, yourself... somehow, warning you. Warning you of what’s to come.

Something was wrong with Stiles.

You move to grab your phone, move to call Stiles knowing him and Scott had gone to that house after school and you hope to reach at least one of them. But as you do, you seem to register the flickering lights from afar; out of the corner of your eye. You turn your head, shuffling in the direction, eyes squinting as you try to make sense of what you’re seeing.

Your lips curve into a deep frown when you realize it’s police cars.

You’re not sure why you hadn’t noticed them before.

Shoving your phone back into your pocket, you pick up the speed in your step, racing round the school, to the other side and towards the police cars and ambulances. Your lips part, trying to understand what’s happening or to find a familiar face; maybe the sheriff and ask him what’s going on.

But, before you can, you run into another.

“Y/N!”

Blinking, you stumble back, finding your footing thanks to the hands that hold tight onto you, holding you steadily. You pull your head back, a bout of brief relief flooding you at the sight of your brother. “Scott,” you breathe, chest tightening as that voice, that faint, light voice in the back of your head reminds you; something’s wrong.

Stiles is in danger.

“Thank God. I was looking for you.”

“Me too,” Scott nods, panic clear in his gaze. “Have you seen Liam or Hayden?”

“Liam and Hayden?” You question, baffled, shaking your head. “No. But, Scott, there’s something wrong--”

“Yeah, Liam and Hayden are in danger. They’re next.”

Lips parting, you huff; “next for what?”

“The Ghost Riders. They’re next.” He explains in a rush, words leaving his lips quick and frantic. “Alex’s parents were taken and then Alex just was. They take you and erase all memory of you. From everyone. Everything about you seizes to exist.”

Your heart plummets.

If that was true, then...

“Scott, Liam and Hayden aren’t the ones in danger,” you swallow thickly, heart pounding madly against your chest. “It’s Stiles. He’s next. I can’t explain how I know, but I just do, okay? We need to find him--”

“Stiles?” Scott questions, brows furrowed.

“Yes,” you huff, frantically moving to step past Scott, moving to pull him with you. “You just have to trust me. We have to find Stiles before--”

Scott’s hand wraps around your arm, surprising you as he pulls you back, halting your movements. Blinking down at his hand before meeting his gaze, your lips part to speak but he beats you to punch. And the words he says absolutely breaks your heart. “Whose Stiles?”

It’s already started...

“Stiles,” you emphasis, “your... your best friend? The boy you’ve known since you were four?”

Lips parting, the look in Scott’s eyes tells you he has absolutely no idea who you’re talking about.

Eyes watering with distress, you take a step back, pulling your arm from Scott’s grasp. “You don’t remember?”

“Y/N,” he calls, voice firm, reaching out for you. “Who are you talking about?”

“Oh, God,” you breathe, voice shaky. “It’s already started...”

“What’s already started? Y/N, whose Stiles?”

You ignore Scott. Ignore the worried and confused look in his eyes as he glances back at you. You meet his gaze one final time before turning, running off and past him before he can even attempt to stop you. He calls after you, but you don’t bother to listen, your feet racing beneath you, eyes frantically searching every which way for even just a glimpse of Stiles.

You need to find him. You need to. Before this gets worst; before... before you maybe forget him too.

You... don’t want to forget him.

Not before telling him...

“Okay, okay, Y/N. Just breathe. Breathe.” Slowing your step, you glance around the open courtyard of the school, nodding to yourself in encouragement. “He has to be here. He has to be. Where would he--”

The sound of doors opening interrupts you, catching your attention.

You’re not sure if you’ve ever been as relieved as you are in that moment to see Stiles.

His eyes catch yours and he hesitates, terror flooding his gaze. But the second you call out his name in distress, voice cracking and you’re racing towards him he knows that you remember him.

“Y/N!” He calls, hands falling on your arms as you reach him. “You know me. You remember me. Oh my God, you remember me!”

“Of course I remember you,” you breathe, hands falling on his arms too, gripping onto him tightly, afraid of him disappearing on you. “How could I not? But Stiles, Scott--”

“I know, I know,” he cuts in, glancing around before focusing in on you. Meeting his eyes, you pant, chest rising and falling frantically as you step closer to him, refusing to let go.

The two of you are silent, unsure, but then, the distant sound of wind picks up in your ears.

Glancing around, your brows furrow when you don’t see anything.

However, Stiles’ grip tightens on you, and he leans closer. “Hey, do you see him?” He asks, pointing past your shoulders. You follow the direction, lips parting and eyes narrowing when there’s nothing there.

“See what?”

“The guy on the horse.”

You blink. “Stiles,” you call slowly, turning to him. “Does that mean...--?”

“No, I know, I know,” he cuts in, shaking his head at you before he can continue. Cupping your cheeks, he leans in close, keeping his eyes trained on your own and trying to remain calm. The words he speaks he says with certainty, without an ounce of doubt in his mind. “Okay, they’re coming for me. Which means you have to get away from me right now, okay?”

He shakes you, voice firm as he tries to convince you. But you won’t listen. Of course you won’t listen. There’s nothing, nothing in the world that could convince you to leave Stiles right now and right there; not even if you’re life was in danger because of it.

Shaking your head, you grip firmly onto his arms; “no, no,” you argue, voice soft at first. With each word you say, your voice spikes higher and higher, panic bleeding into rational thought. “No, i’m not leaving you, Stiles. I won’t.”

And he pauses at that. Part of him must of known there was no way you’d leave, but you’re sure a part of him, a rather large part of him, hoped you would. You watch as his eyes flicker from your own to past you, where you assume he sees the man on the horse, the Ghost Rider, before back to you. It’s then he comes to a decision, shifting his grip to your hand and gripping onto it firmly as he tugs gently. “All right, come on. Come on!”

You follow without fault. You’re sure it’s a situation of the blind leading the blind because of the way Stiles is glancing over his shoulder every few seconds, you assume that the Ghost Rider is directly behind the both of you.

“This way. This way, come on!”

You make a sharp turn, but only make it a few steps before Stiles is calling out in panic, desperately pulling you back. Eyes wide, you shake your head.

“Okay,” Stiles gasps, turning the opposite direction, “this way. Keep going!”

Again the two of you only make it few steps before Stiles comes to an abrupt halt.

Using your free hand to brush back strands of wild loose hair that had fallen into your eyes, you glance around frantically, eyes squinting in the hopes you’ll something, one of them; but you don’t. You never do. “Where are they?”

And Stiles takes a moment to reply, and when he does, your heart falls at his words.

“They’re everywhere.”

He paces on his feet, hand gripping onto yours tightly but you barely feel it. You’re too scared; and not for yourself.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Stiles calls, pulling you back. Your head turns over your shoulder in response, blinking at the sight of his jeep and understanding his meaning. You gain more controlling over your own footing, quickening your pace.

“Okay, Y/N, don’t look at them, okay? Don’t even try to!” Stiles warns, slipping his hand from your own to make his way to the drivers seat. You try to hold onto it for a moment longer, terrified it’ll be the last time you’ll feel his touch, before you shuffle, moving towards the passenger’s side. “Don’t try to do anything. Don’t try to use your powers. They’ll take you, too. Just do not look at them.”

You quickly climb into the passengers seat, eyes instantly falling on Stiles’ own. “But maybe.... maybe I can help-- my powers, maybe--”

“No, no, you can’t. You can’t.” His words are muffled but clear. You don’t try to argue anymore as your eyes fall to his hands, watching as he tries to put his keys frantically in the ignition. But his hands are too shaky and far too jittery so it takes him a few tries before he even gets the key properly in. And then, when he does, he stops, doesn’t turn the key -- doesn’t do anything.

He just stills.

You watch him for a moment, staring at the keys, before you whimper; “what are you doing?” And then, turning your head towards him, you plead with him; “we need to go!”

Stiles doesn’t say anything. Not at first.

He pulls his key out of the ignition, “there’s no time.”

Meeting his eyes, your lips part; “Stiles--”

“Y/N,” he calls, leaning towards you, grabbing onto your arms and pulling you close. Then his hands slide lower, never letting go of you. “I’m going to be erased, okay?” You can’t say anything, your head shakes and your lips part, but you’re stunned silent. “Just like Alex. You’re gonna forget me.”

“No,” you cry, the word just spilling from your lips. “No, I... I won’t. I couldn’t forget you, Stiles.”

“Y/N... you will.”

And you blink at that, heart breaking at the fact that he’s right.

“Just... try to find some way to remember me, okay?” His hand slips into your own again, threading his fingers through your own, gripping onto you tightly, firmly. “Remember... that it’s always been you... Remember that it’s never been anyone but you, from the first minute I saw you...”

Swallowing thickly, you let the words sink in, never tearing your gaze away from Stiles. These are the words you’ve been wanting to hear for months, wanting to know if you’re feelings for Stiles were one sided. If you were still the one he loved.... and now that you are hearing them, he’s about to be taken away from you.

“Remember that you saved my life.”

Lips parting, you whisper; “you saved me life too...” And then you shake your head, small, stiffly, and you feel your eyes water. “Countless times...”

He’s silent for a moment, gazing back at you, as if taking it all in for the last time. And then,

“Just remember... Remember that I never stopped loving you and...” He blinks, eyes never wavering from your own. “I never will.”

There’s an echo of silence, and then, he’s being ripped from you.

You watch as he’s pulled out of the car, and even as you try to hold onto him, you can’t. His hand is pulled from your own and yours is left wandering there, flinching when the car door is slammed shut behind him. There’s a flash and then there’s just... nothing.

It feels like the image of him is... disappearing.

“Remember,” you mumble, softly, inaudible except to yourself. Eyes flickering lower, to your hand, your brows furrow. “Remember... you have to.... remember...”

Remember... what?

Pushing open the doors to the school, you find you’re slow in your step.

Your eyes wander across the crowd of students, feeling your chest tighten for some reason as you do. Things feel wrong, but you can’t explain why. It feels like a blank spot in your mind when you try to search for the reason why. And as you glance around, catching sight of Hayden, Liam, Mason and Corey, they smile and wave at you like nothing is wrong.

And everything else seems normal.

But it’s like this instinct, this sense...

“Y/N?”

Blinking, your head turns, meeting a familiar pair of blue eyes.

“Everything okay?”

At your silence he takes a step towards you, curling his arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. A soft smile curls onto his lips as he does, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, and blinking back down at you in curiosity and mild concern.

“Yeah,” you say softly, a whisper. Then, you blink, shaking your head, smiling softly up at him. “Morning, Isaac.”

His grin brightens, turns goofy as he squeezes your hip gently. “Mornin’,” and then, his smile falters, even if only a little. His brows quirk, furrow, and he tilts his head. “You sure you’re okay? You look a little distant in the eyes.”

“I--”

“Hey guys.”

Blinking over at Malia and Lydia, you find yourself slow to respond to their greeting smiles. Which, of course, instantly catches their attention.

“Everything okay, Y/N?” Malia asks softly, her brows quirking in concern.

“That’s what i’ve been trying to figure out,” Isaac calls, frowning down at you.

“She won’t tell you either?”

Turning your head, it’s your turn to frown as Scott walks up to the four of you, eyes already trained on you. For some reason, it felt... well, it felt like someone else was supposed to be with him...

But it’s just him.

“Won’t tell any of us by the looks of it,” Lydia calls, pursing her lips at you.

“Guys, it’s nothing...” You mumble, falling into Isaac’s side, letting your head fall against his shoulder. “It’s just... I don’t know... I woke up this morning and something felt wrong...”

Isaac’s brows furrow; “wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “just like a sense...”

Just then the school bell rings. You blink at it, eyes flickering to the students that bussle around to get to class.

Glancing back at your friends, they seem to eager to go as well.

“But i’m fine,” you assure, plastering a soft smile to your lips. “I promise.”

“Well,” Scott says slowly, obviously still worried. “Just let us know if it get’s worst, okay? Your instincts are usually right.”

“We’re all here for you,” Malia adds, sending you a warm smile.

Nodding, you wave at them as they all go their respective ways. And for a moment, you forget Isaac is still there, gaze falling to your feet.

The feeling just won’t go away.

Slipping his arm from your waist and instead slipping his hand into your own, Isaac squeezes it gently, pulling your eyes on him. And, as your eyes flicker up to his own, you can’t help but have this feeling that it’s supposed to be someone else holding your hand. And not him.

And that there’s supposed to be a different pair of eyes gazing back down at you like he is.

But that wouldn’t make sense.

Isaac has been your boyfriend practically all through high school, so... who else would it be?

“Ready?” He calls gently, pulling you from your thoughts.

Blinking, you pause; “for what?”

“Class?” He mumbles, gesturing around you at the now practically empty hallway.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Shaking your head, you smile apologetically up at him. “Sorry, i’m just tired. Haven’t been sleeping much lately.”

Pulling you gently along, Isaac smirks teasingly; “it’s all that tutoring you’ve been doing. You’re pushing yourself too far.”

“Yeah, well,” flushing lightly, you just smile up at Isaac. “It’s extra credits. And the two i’m tutoring are very sweet.”

“Yeah, especially one.”

You don’t miss the tone behind Isaac’s words. And you push back the feeling that this conversation almost seems familiar, like you’ve heard it before. That sounded absolutely ridiculous. Maybe it just sounded similar because Isaac’s had an issue with you tutoring this kid for a while -- yeah, that must be it.

Rolling your eyes, you just laugh; “Jeremy’s nice, Isaac. There’s no reason to be jealous.”

Isaac’s eyes widen in disbelief; “he totally has a crush on you!”

“He does not!”

“Yes,” he emphasizes, “he does.”

Shaking your head, you decide not to argue, already knowing that this is something Isaac has been convinced of for a while.

“Well, it doesn’t matter if he does or doesn’t,” you smile gently, leaning against Isaac to press a quick, teasing kiss against his cheek. “You’re the only one for me.”

And he eases at that; “of course,” he grins, “who else?”

Someone else...

No.

Chuckling at his words, you pull back from him, ignoring his attempt for a proper kiss. “I’ve got to get to class, Isaac. I’m already late.”

“Which is why one last kiss won’t matter!”

Slipping your hand from his own, you shake your head; “i’ll see you later, Isaac.”

He just sighs, but doesn’t argue, letting you slip into class. You offer one last wave, before moving to your seat and settling down, taking out your books and everything else you’ll need. However, just as you move to set your bag down, something causes you to freeze;

And not just something but a... voice.

Remember...

“Remember,” you whisper, to yourself mainly, shaking your head. “Remember what?”

Part 40?

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traumatizedkids · 3 years

Text

What’s next for the Traumatized Kids?

Good guys, as you well know, today's episode was the Season Finale, so the second season has definitely ended.

I have decided to do this post to talk a little about the future of this series, and what is to come.

As you well know, this month (I have not started yet, but this week I will start with it) the # 1 Tie In for the Marvel event: King In Black will be released.

I plan to do 2 or 3 tie-ins while the official event ends, unlike conventional chapters, the Tie-In will not be biweekly but Monthly chapters, and instead of being one page per day, they will be released in ONE single chapter.

In this event, we will be told what the traumatized children will be doing while Dylan faces the dark god Knull (in other words we will see how they react to events) I plan some surprises which I have teased in this concept art.

We will see children with powers use their abilities, and those who do not, use the cunning that helped them survive on their planets, it will undoubtedly be a new trauma to talk about.

If you do not know the world of Marvel Comics, you should not worry, because a character that we all love from the comic is going to give us his own summary, and I will try to focus more on children than on the event itself.

Well now a bit of bad news, when the Tie in ends there will be a hiatus of a couple of months. Why?

Traumatized Kids is a comic that I really enjoyed, really every time I published I couldn't wait to see people's reactions, especially littlepuffy4ever and hideawayintheimaginationworld who have always been there and I don't know how to thank them.

But these comics occupy me a lot of time, and I want to take a little break to focus on other projects that I have had to stop which are:

Into the Pit the Graphic Novel, my own interpretation to comic of the First Story of the Fazbear Frights.

and FNAF Last Guard, and RPG Maker survival game with my own interpretation of the Story.

I want to start making a weekly schedule to be able to have time for everything, and between what I organize and not, I want to prioritize my abandoned projects in these two months, because they are quite ambitious.

But that does not mean that I am going to leave the account dead, oh no kidding, I have no words to thank all the support that more than 70 people have given me, and simply leaving the account dead twice would be betraying your trust.

The section to ask the children will ALWAYS be open, I will not close that, you can ask what you want, I will always take my time so that the children can answer them, even if it takes a couple of days.

I'm also planning on releasing teasers and new character sheets in my spare time, maybe I'll get more random dialogues like the one I posted a month ago.

Now, speaking of what the third season will be technically, I want to talk about some changes.

The first of all is that I am going to start scripts for the chapters and do a few in a row, to have them already prepared weeks in advance.

I also want to say that there are not going to be many new characters (I will add a few, don't worry) because I want to focus on all the ones that already exist, I have noticed that all the attention has gone to the FNAF characters, and this is not a comic From FNAF, it's a massive crossover, so I want to do more subplots that are related to these kids.

For those who follow me about the FNAF characters don't worry, I'll try to ensure that at least one FNAF character interacts in the comic.

I also want to inform you that I want to finally present TRAUMATIZED KIDS 1980 the first trauma children that were at the meeting. I plan on doing an arc over them, or maybe some separate flashbacks, I still have to think about it.

and not only that, an arc that I am thinking for this new season is: A parents meeting! I really want to do this third season, really.

Thanks to everyone for all the support, and i hope you guys get hyped for the Tie In.

PD. Now you can also ask things to Hazel and Alex, they’re not on the meeting really, but i believe you guys have a lot of question for them.

Bye, have a good weekend guys, i love you all.

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

CSI Rogers and Barnes: The Serious Cereal Serial Killer Episode 16: Is This Thing Rolling...

Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Part 1

Summary: Having figured out previously where Rumlow has taken Katie, it’s now a race against time for The 4 Avengers to reach her before it’s too late. Armed with…yeah…ok, actually, we’ll let you read that bit because frankly this entire chapter is ridiculously fun!!!

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: LONG update here guys so we split it into 2 for you to read as you wish. I know we said Episode 15 was the penultimate chapter but we had too much to cram in so…THIS is the Penultimate chapter! Episode 17 will be the last, followed by an Epilogue.

Anyway, enjoy!!!

Chapter Song: Everything by Michael Buble

CSI R&B Masterlist // Main Masterlist

You’re a falling star, you’re the getaway car, you’re the line in the sand when I go too far. You’re the swimming pool on an August day and you’re the perfect thing to see.

Almost two and a half months after the unit cracked the case of the Serious Cereal Serial killer, as Thor had coined it one morning while watching Bucky scarf down a bowl of oatmeal at such a rate that he almost choked on it, everything seemed to be fitting into place.

Rumlow and Wanda were rotting in jail. The former had been taken to a prison of maximum security in another county where he had been isolated while he waited for his trial to take place, whereas Wanda had been taken to the female wing, called Nidavellir, at the Nine Realms prison.

Katie had been back at the 99 for almost two months now and was working hand in hand with Peralta, which had given Santiago some relief as Katie was able to appease her husband’s excited and unorthodox methods. Gina had also been back at the 99 full time since another police technician, Scott Lang, previously in charge of the switchboard, had been appointed by Fury as the new Captain’s assistant at the 101st. To say he had been star-struck by the most famous police Captain in the NYPD would be an understatement, wringing Steve’s hand up and down for what felt like 5 minutes.

All in all Steve and Katie were doing well. They were in a happy domestic arrangement. She had moved in with Steve the moment Tony and Pepper had set a date for the wedding, even before she was taken by Rumlow after they had cracked the case and well before she decided to finish her secondment in DC and come back to Brooklyn permanently. And two months later she had given up pretending it was a temporary arrangement.

In fact, one Sunday morning while they were cuddling on the sofa, after an exhausting night and an invigorating breakfast, Katie had shyly asked Steve what he would think if she said she didn't want to find her own place but stay with him till they both found a place of their own. Steve had then flashed her a smile that would have lit up all of Brooklyn on a blackout night and had kissed the life out of her before commenting on how that would be everything a man could ask for. Earning another blinding smile from Katie and a groan from Bucky who, as usual, had shown up from nowhere when he was least expected and headed for the kitchen mumbling something about being fed up of mushy remarks and having to get better ear plugs to avoid having to go to therapy.

This particular Saturday morning, Katie was slumped over the breakfast bar in the kitchen, suffering from the mother of all hangovers after returning from Pepper’s bachelorette party in the small hours. And she was whimpering like a dog when Steve slid a plate of toast and an orange juice over to her.

"You need to eat something, doll."

"Trust me, I really don’t." she said, her voice muffled by the arm that was supporting her head.

Steve was trying to be sympathetic, he really was, but he was also having a hard time simply keeping himself from laughing. Frankly, the whole scene was hilarious. She had been in a right state when she had got home and he’d had to put her to bed once she had finished puking and he had arrested and cuffed her pumps for murdering her feet as per Katie’s request. So he let out a soft chuckle and she groaned as she squinted up at him.

"You know, it’s so not fair." she said blinking at the kitchen lights which felt like piercing her eyes.

"What isn’t?" Steve asked as he poured himself some coffee.

"I came home looking like a raccoon with my make-up smeared all over…and you…" she said as she waved her hand up and down his body "you still looked gorgeous even with that black eye."

"I’m surprised you can remember anything about what you or I looked like last night."

"When I go get my eyelashes done, remind me to take a photo of yours to show the beauty therapist what I want." she continued her ramblings ignoring his comment just before her head fell back on her arms.

Steve watched her and snorted.

"Don’t laugh at me." she whined, her voice once again muffled by her arms.

"I’m not. I’m trying to decide whether you’re still drunk or hungover." he said while he took a seat on the stool next to her.

"Trust me, this is 100% hangover…" she said peeking up at him. “How are you not even remotely ill?"

Steve rolled his eyes as if the answer couldn't have been any simpler. “I didn’t drink enough to be hungover. I know my limits."

"Hmmm yeah, not enough to avoid getting into a bar brawl." And just as she said it her eyes flicked to the bruise along his left cheekbone and eye socket. She sat up to trail her fingers gently over it. "You gonna tell me the full story about what happened?"

"I already told you before Doll, it was some drunken punk in a bar picking a fight. I had to put him in his place, that’s all."

"Yeah, and he put your eye in a dark place from the looks of it." she jabbed at him.

"Trust me, he ended up far worse."

Steve saw her watching him and he tried to hold her gaze as best he could, working on keeping his face straight. But it was proving hard work seeing as he was the worst of liars, he always had been. For a moment he thought she was gonna argue but she didn’t, whether she believed him or was simply too hungover to bother pulling him up on it he had no idea. He was just grateful she didn't.

"Sure he did. Anyway, what are you and your black eye doing today?" she asked.

"I’m on groomsman duty, my suit was a little short last time I tried it on so Tony wants to make sure it fits.” He replied, thankful of the change of subject, trying to sound as casual as possible, when a sudden idea came to him. “Hey, how about we head to Ma’s for lunch? I can meet you there? That is if you feel better later. You got anything else planned, baby?"

Katie reached for the orange juice before answering "Yeah, lying on the couch waiting for death to come and take me."

Steve chuckled and leaned over to press a gentle kiss to her temple but he saw her flinch as Bucky made his accustomed loud entrance in the kitchen.

"Hey doll face..." he trailed off as he looked at her, taking in her appearance and then snorted."Yikes, not looking very doll face today."

"Die Barnes" she bit back at him.

"Gladly Stark, but before I leave this world remember you promised to help me find my suit for your brother’s wedding today." Bucky informed her, a side smile on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

Katie then stilled "That was today?" she asked with a croaky voice.

"Yup." Bucky said and headed to the fridge to fetch some milk. "And seeing as his wedding is next week we are running out of time."

"Fuck my life." Katie groaned as Bucky poured some cereal into a bowl. "Can’t you ask anyone else? My head is killing me and I can’t feel my feet thanks to being in those ridiculous heels all night…"

"Not happening." Bucky shook his head. "Sam has some reports to finish today, but says he will join us later, and I need a woman’s advice."

"Well I don’t feel like being a woman today, Buck. Have some mercy." she said in a pleading tone, earning a chuckle from Steve who was amusingly watching the interaction while he munched his breakfast.

"Maybe I would if you hadn’t sent me the video of the stripper." Bucky took the big guns out.

Suddenly Steve spluttered on his coffee "What?"

"I thought you might enjoy it." she shrugged. "Anyway, I only did that because it was that Gemini Flannagan dude you told me about."

"Gemini Flannagan…huh, no shit?" Steve said as he dried a few coffee drops that had landed on the breakfast bar with a paper towel.

"Wanna see?" Bucky asked him with a grin.

"No, why the fuck would I want to see that?" Steve frowned, visibly disgusted.

"Because in the background to all the thrusting and gyrating dearest Gemini is doing, there’s a very interesting conversation going on between your lovely girl here and Natasha where Stark is clearly saying, and I’m paraphrasing here, that his cock is nothing to write home about because yours is bigger."

At that point Katie could only groan and hide her head in her hands.

But Bucky continued as he was having a ball "... and for the record, punk, if that’s true, I don’t know how you stand up straight." And just like that he took a spoonful of cereal and watched the pair of them.

Steve was sure he was flushing, he could feel his ears and neck burning but he was also a bit smug, well ok, not a bit, he was full on smug. That most certainly was not a bad thing for his girl to be crowing about…

And then it suddenly hit him what Bucky had said.

"Hang on…he was naked? Like…did he strip?” Katie rolled her eyes and Bucky smiled at Steve's naivety "Clue's in the name…STRIPPER. Duh." she said.

“Like he was completely naked?”

“Well not completely, no.” Katie said, “He had this little leather thong pouch type thing covering his, crotch, but it was tight enough not to leave anything to the imagination.”

"You know, if you ever get tired of chasing bad guys there’s a gig there. You already have the uniform." Bucky told his friend as he munched his cereal.

Steve, who was now bright red, tilted his head at him. "Buck, just don’t."

Bucky smiled and decided to let it go but then he saw Katie looking at Steve and a wicked smile flicked across her face.

"Can you strip for me, Captain?" she asked suggestively.

Steve groaned and stood up, still flushing. "Just eat your toast and take a painkiller. I’m going for a shower."

"I love it when you put on your Captain's voice…" she purred, which did nothing to stop Steve’s blush, quite the contrary. And he rolled his eyes, trying to maintain a straight face as she continued "Are you stripping to get in the shower, Captain?"

Bucky laughed loudly as Steve sighed and looked him. "Keep her out of trouble, punk." He ordered.

"I’m not some mischief making teenager, Steve." she protested.

"Then stop acting like one." Steve said sternly, hands on his hips and it didn’t pass him by that he was really adopting his Captain stance.

"Says the man with the black eye." she glared at him and Bucky sniggered.

"I’m going for a shower now. Behave with uncle Bucky sweetheart." he said, winking an eye at her. And as he turned to leave Katie threw the toast from her plate at him but missed completely and it ended up on the kitchen's floor by the door.

"Fuck you, Rogers." she shouted in frustration.

They heard Steve's laughter die down as the bathroom door shut.

"We don’t play with food, little miss." Bucky mock scolded Katie as he picked the toast up off the floor.

"You can piss off too."

Bucky laughed, now she was being a brat. "Sorry, but you’re cute when you’re angry and hungover."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" she frowned at him.

"A James Buchanan Barnes original, yes."

"Well, given how I look and feel this morning, I’ll take it." She breathed in and nodded behind him. "Pass me the Advil, will ya Buck?"

"Sure, doll face." he said as he reached into the cupboard over the sink and tossed the packet down on the breakfast bar. "Take a few, I need you at your best this morning."

"Just my luck." she said, taking the painkillers from the packet.

Bucky chuckled and poured himself a coffee. "Blame your brother, if he had chosen me as a groomsman, I’d have my suit sorted now."

Katie snorted and tossed the pills into her mouth, taking a gulp of orange juice and swallowing.

"I mean, I get why Rhodes is his best man, like they’ve been friends forever but Rogers, Wilson and Banner as ushers, really? What about me?"

Katie looked at him "You really don’t want me to answer that, do you?"

"What you trying to say?" Bucky asked, not understanding why his question was so odd.

"Brucie and Sam are his closest friends at work and Steve’s…"

"The guy fucking his sister." he cut her off.

Katie narrowed her eyes "I was gonna say his Captain, ass hole."

Bucky simply grinned at her over his coffee mug. He loved their little bickering moments.

***** Steve pulled up outside Tony’s and headed up to the door of the large brownstone terraced house. He sighed as he rang the bell. He had been sure about this but now he didn't know if he was anymore. Anyways, he was already there and he'd better roll with it.

"Oh hey Rogers, wasn’t expecting you." Tony greeted him as he opened the door.

"Hi Tony."

"Eurgh, that black eye looks worse now than it did last night. What did Katie say?" he said pointing at Steve's face

"Nothing much. I told her it was just some drunken ass hole causing a scene. She doesn’t need to know anything else." he shrugged.

Tony arched an eyebrow at him "Ooh, Captain straight lace telling lies."

"It’s not a lie, just not the whole truth." Steve explained with a smile.

He had begun to take a liking at Tony's teasing, as long as it wasn't too personal that is. But he had to concede since they had rescued Katie from Rumlow the scientist had toned down his little jabs at the Captain.

"Whatever, your funeral when she finds out." Tony brushed Steve's explanations off with a wave of his hand. "And speaking of my sister, where is she?"

"Shopping with Bucky…complete with one hell of a hangover."

"Yeah Pepper ain't much better. Made her one of my miracle beverages. Looked worse on the way back up, which is saying something…Come on in."

Tony stepped back and let Steve into the tiled hallway, shutting the door behind him. He led the way, taking him through to the kitchen and Steve caught a glimpse of the living room when they stopped at the door.

"Pepper's on the sofa... dying. Probably best we leave her to it." Tony explained when he saw Steve was looking in her direction.

Steve smiled and nodded as Tony looked at him. "So Kiddo is shopping with a hangover? Bet she loved that." he scoffed.

"Well, you know her…never one to let someone down when she’s promised something. Bucky needs a suit for the wedding so…"

"Oh, shit, yeah…er…let me warn you, I was in the middle of a thing with our wedding planner."

Steve paused and turned to face him, raising an eyebrow "What do you mean?"

Tony had never been one for warnings, he just let people draw conclusions by allowing them to dive in head first. He just sat back and enjoyed the ride.

"You’ll see." Tony said before heading into the kitchen.

Steve frowned, there was not a spark of wickedness in Tony's brown eyes when he uttered those words as he would have expected. Instead Steve could feel the exasperation in his voice.

"Steve this is Grandmaster, our wedding planner. Grandmaster this is Steve Rogers, my sister’s boyfriend."

Steve looked at Tony, mouthing Grandmaster? What kind of fucking name was that? he thought. Tony didn't bother answering. Instead, he merely took out his glasses and rolled his eyes, a gesture Steve knew only too well to mean ‘don’t ask’ as it was identical to the one Katie made.

"Nice to meet you, Steve Rogers…you’re a lucky man." the man suddenly spoke.

"Sorry, I’m not…I don’t…what?" Steve was utterly confused and finished a little lamely. His brain was having a hard time registering the wedding planner's flamboyant appearance. He was wearing a sparkly golden jacket even Bucky would have sworn off in the 80s. But his greying spiky hair and blue eyeliner combination was what had Steve floundering for words. Then, what the man had said registered and he frowned. “Lucky man?”

"Your girlfriend, Tony’s sister, I met her at the dress fitting a few weeks ago. She’s an exquisite little thing." Grandmaster explained softly.

"Oh, err, yeah… yes she is. Thank you.”

Steve saw Grandmaster bat his eyelashes at him as if to acknowledge his words. He looked at Tony once more, utterly dumbfounded. Tony simply shook his head in a just roll with it gesture and Steve suddenly realised exactly why Tony had issued a warning.

He then looked at the large table which was adorned with bits of paper, one of which looked like a seating plan, and suddenly he felt like he was intruding.

"Look, if this is a bad time I can come back…"

"Oh, no, Anthony and I were just discussing the brunch…" Grandmaster explained and grinned at Tony.

"For the last time, it’s a Reception, idiot." Tony hissed.

"No, can you…you know I don’t like that word." Grandmaster shook his head, cringing.

"What? Idiot."

"No, the…why would I not like the word idiot? I mean the R word."

Steve stood there, watching the exchange between the two men, his mouth hanging open in confusion. That Greatmaster was certainly a greater piece of work than Tony, which was saying something. Or was it Grandmaster? Whatever...

Tony let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It’s not a brunch, it's an afternoon... you know what? Fine. The post wedding meal."

"Ok, better." Grandmaster grinned again at him.

Steve now understood why Tony had done nothing but moan about this guy for the last few months. He was clearly a fucking sandwich short of a full picnic.

"As for the seating…just do whatever. I don’t much care." Tony conceded, visibly fed up. There's only so much a man can take after all.

"Alright, seeing as Miss Potter is not available, I’ll work on this later and email it over." the man agreed.

"It’s Miss Potts." Tony practically growled and Steve could see he was about to lose it.

"She’s more open to my ideas than you are Anthony." the wedding planner observed, not in the least fazed by his client's angry tone.

Tony stared at him, blinking. His mouth hanging slightly open in a look Steve had seen only a handful of times before, when something had rendered him speechless, which was no mean feat, before the scientist took a deep sigh.

"Whatever."

And just like that Grandmaster moved graciously around the table. Steve watched him as he gathered his papers up and popped them into a leather briefcase. He then fastened it with a click and looked at Tony.

"By the way, it smells in here…burnt toast I think.”

"Yeah, well I like my bread well done." Tony's voice was deadpan and Steve snorted as Grandmaster nodded with a smile. The guy had no idea Tony was literally making fun of him to his face.

"Alright, guess I’ll be leaving now. Bye, Anthony. Nice to meet you Mr Stevenson."

Steve's brain had not quite registered the man's name mixed-up when he heard Tony hiss through gritted teeth "It’s Rogers." He was literally lost for words. So when Grandmaster left the room Tony looked at him.

"Don’t mind him, took him some time until he stopped calling me Mr Starch. That’s why I don’t rip his tongue out for calling me Anthony."

"Yeah erm…where on Earth did you find him?"

“I’m not actually sure he’s from Earth.” Tony mumbled before he shook his head. “He was some acquaintance of Banner. Thor knew him too. He runs a company called Sakaar. They deal with events planning. And orgies, apparently." Tony explained, rubbing his temples.

Steve thought Tony had aged a decade in the ten minutes he had been dealing with his wedding planner and gave them a sympathetic smile just before his brain registered the last part. "What?"

"Don’t ask." Tony said before clapping his hands together. "Anyway, what can I do for you, Cap? You want a coffee or…?

"No thanks, I’m good." Steve cleared his throat. With all the Grandmaster dude shenanigans he had forgotten the real purpose of his visit and suddenly he could feel his palms were sweaty with nerves. "I... err... wanted to talk to you alone. There’s this thing I’ve been meaning to ask you…"

Tony arched his eyebrow. "Me?"

"Yes." Steve replied way too fast. "I mean, I wanted to ask you before I ask her…"

"Her? Are you talking about Katie?"

Steve lowered his head and sighed "Yes."

"Oh, I see what’s going on." Tony said leaning against the counter, folding his arms.

"You do?" Steve asked, lifting his head up and looking at him shyly.

"No thanks to you, you’re a mess Rogers." Tony said, a gentle smile curling on his lips. "Come with me."

Steve frowned before following him "Tony, I…"

"Trust me, I have something to show you." Tony stopped and turned to look at him with a soft smile.

Steve took a breath and followed him. They headed down the hall then up the stairs and into Tony's study. Once there Steve saw Tony sit on his desk chair and begin tapping on the keyboard. Just as the screen sprang to life Tony explained. "See dad had a thing for recording videos, kind of like pep talks for the future." He pressed a few buttons more and moved the mouse before continuing. "After the one he recorded for that old journalist Mr Lee, well it got me thinking there had to be more. So I started searching through his old archives and among other things, I found something I think you’ll find interesting."

Steve frowned "What do you mean?"

Tony looked at him for an instant before looking back at the screen and smiled as he selected a file. "Lets just say my dear old pop was a visionary…"

Steve looked at him, he had no idea what the fuck was going on. Tony stood up and motioned for Steve to take his place on the desk chair

"Just watch this, then you can ask me what you wanted to ask me."

He leaned over Steve to click another button and the screen suddenly displayed Howard, perched on his desk, scotch in hand. Steve felt a shiver running down his spine.

"Is this thing rolling?" Howard asked the person behind the camera as he swirled his glass around.

"Yeah, it’s on…" a voice from off screen confirmed.

"Alright…" Howard took a swig of scotch and cleared his throat. "Tony…congratulations on being the only person I know who is nosey enough and clever enough to crack into my archives…anyway, if you’re watching this it means something has happened to me before I got the chance to tell you all this in person so…."

Steve watched as Tony pressed a key to fast forward the recording a bit, he was winding to find something, before he stopped and the screen showed Howard giving a chuckle and taking another mouth of scotch.

"So yeah, there’s always a secret door." he said before taking a deep breath. "Now I want you to show this next bit to Rogers."

Steve’s eyes widened and he felt his heart start beating fast.

"Steve, you’re like a second son to me, you know that. I hope you’re doing well. I have no doubt you’ve made Captain by now, possibly even Commissioner, depending on how old this recording is. Not too old I hope. Anyway, I digress. I’m willing to bet you’ve cracked a few big cases too."

Steve gulped as he watched his old mentor continue to talk to him through the screen. He couldn't even tear his eyes from the screen to see Tony's reaction.

"Good job son. Now, onto something far more important to me. I hope you and my princess have realised by now you’re made for each other, because I already know you are."

Steve’s breath caught in his throat, his heart was now pounding.

"So if you’re watching this, and you’ve finally figured that out, then I’m giving you my blessing son. If you haven’t figured it out, then you’re a pair of dumbasses." Howard groaned at the last part and Steve gave a soft snort of laughter, shaking his head. "I’d be over the moon knowing you two have finally realised what has been in front of you for the past god knows how long."

"10 fucking years…" Tony mumbled from where he was leaning against a bookcase behind Steve, arms crossed and his right hand covering his mouth and jaw.

Howard then swallowed a little and wiped at his eye as he looked down at his feet taking a deep breath, clearly emotional, before he looked back up.

"Just look after her, treat her well and make her happy. I’m trusting you with one of my most treasured accomplishments son. And I only wish I could be there to walk her down the aisle to hand her over to the person I’d trust her with over anyone." Howard smiled and then thought about something a moment before he continued. “Just don’t try to understand her.” Howard shrugged “Because the minute you think you know what’s going on inside a woman’s head is the moment you’re goose is cooked.”

At that he sat up straight, slipping back into the Howard Steve knew all too well and looked at the camera.

"Ok, you can stop that thing now…" Steve heard him say before the screen went blank.

The room fell silent and Steve swallowed, trying to digest what he had just seen. The lump in his throat felt like a damned golf ball. Seeing his old mentor, his girl’s dad like that, in such an unguarded way had really made him emotional. When he recovered a bit he turned to look at Tony, who was in turn looking at him, and saw his eyes were misting over slightly. "What was it you wanted to ask?"

Steve chuckled "You still gonna make me say it?"

"Humour me Rogers, I like to see you squirm." Tony teased him, regaining his composure.

Steve took a deep breath before speaking, hoping his voice would come out as steady as possible given the circumstances.

"Tony, I’m gonna ask Katie to marry me. And it would mean the world to me, if I had your blessing."

Tony smiled and looked at his feet before he glanced back up "Then you got it, Steve."

Steve felt a feeling of relief wash over him, the fact he had used his name, for the first time in years, and not some stupid nickname didn’t pass him by. He smiled widely as Tony extended his hand, before he pulled him into a brotherly hug.

“Scotch?” Tony asked him as he pulled back.

Steve nodded, smiling widely. "Absolutely."

CONTINUED IN PART 2

#csi rogers and barnes #csi au #steve rogers #steve rogers x original female character #katie stark

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strawberriestyles · 4 years

Text

Chapter 4

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: HELLO HELLO PLS ENJOY MY BIRTHDAY CHAPTER MWAH

Harry’s mood seemed to improve, but according to Sean, it was only around Melody. When it was just him with Harry, he was just as miserable as he’d been the past few weeks. And Melody didn’t know what to think of that.

“Harry, I don’t think you’re getting how to play this game.”

“What d’yeh mean? ‘M playin’ just how yeh explained it.”

Sean coughed to hide his laughter, but Melody didn’t even try to mask the wide smile breaking out over her face. She shook her head and laid her hand of cards facedown on the table they'd swiveled over Harry’s bed.

“You just claimed you had three queens when you only had one,” she said to him, “which meant that either Sean or I already had at least two. You can’t have three queens.”

“Sound like the ‘inconceivable’ guy from that movie yeh made me watch,” Harry grumbled, tossing his own hand onto the table. “Nothin’ yeh’re sayin’ makes any sense. Whatever. Whole game seems like bullshit, anyway.”

Melody shot Sean an amused look as she sat back in her chair. “Was there something else you wanted to do, then?”

“Yeah, wanna get the fuck outta here.”

Melody crossed her arms over her chest and drew in a deep breath. Sean shuffled all the playing cards into a pile so he could return them to their box. “It’s pouring out, Harry,” he informed him.

“Can see just fine, thanks.”

“See?” Sean directed to Melody. “Miserable. You’re not nice, Harry.”

“Well, he does have two working eyes,” Melody agreed, gesturing to the windows, where rain was beating heavily against the panes and the sky had grown dark and gloomy. “And that’s not what he meant, anyway.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. He covered half of his face as he yawned, and then added, “At least one of us has a whole brain.”

Sean laughed like he’d just witnessed comedic gold. Harry grinned at him. “Was good, right?”

The smile was so bright, something that she hadn’t seen in so long, that Melody felt that all too familiar ache again. Even though she didn’t find his joke funny. She didn’t find any of his self-deprecating jokes funny at all. But she would endure them if this was the way that he delivered them, all bright-eyed.

Sean must have made a joke too, because Harry was laughing. A full, loud laugh. Melody couldn’t contain her own smile at the sound of it, at the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners. And then it stopped. Abruptly.

Harry’s spine curled forward. His head dropped into his palms and his fingers curled into his scalp. His breath stopped short in his throat. And then he let out a gasp, a heavy groan laced with pain. Melody had never heard him make a sound like that. Her smile fell faster than a drop of rain.

“Harry?” she whispered, leaning forward and slipping her fingers over the back of his neck, beneath his hair. “What’s wrong?”

He winced again, loudly, and hunched further forward.

“Sean, go get the doctor,” Melody muttered urgently.

Sean nodded quickly and was out of his chair, rushing into the hallway before Melody could even move again.

“Hey.” She shifted onto the edge of the mattress and ran her hand down Harry’s spine. Her other fingers rubbed at his wrist, where he was holding his head. “What’s going on?”

Harry did nothing but grit his teeth together and tip forward until his forehead met her chest. His breath returned, heavier, and his legs pulled in toward his body.

There was a rustle in the doorway as Dr. Florin entered the room and Sean stopped at its threshold. Melody caught the doctor’s eye as she leaned over the bed and began to lay Harry back. He grunted. His eyes were clamped tightly shut, his fingers still curled into the sides of his head.

“Harry, I need you to tell me what you’re feeling,” Florin said quietly. She pulled his hands away with a bit of an effort and began to probe around his head. Melody settled back into her chair, her fingers twitching around the edges of her lips.

“Feel’s like my head’s on fire,” Harry spat out before clamping his teeth back together.

Dr. Florin finished examining his head and as soon as her touch retreated, his hands returned. She peeled back the lid of one of his eyes and shined her penlight into his pupil, then repeated the same on the other side. Harry’s heaving breaths continued throughout, and then she backed away. She gestured to Melody as she returned to the hallway.

Melody squeezed at Harry’s forearm and then hurried after the doctor. “What’s going on?” she asked without a pause as she stepped up beside Sean.

“His brain has healed as best as it’s ever going to, Melody, but that’s a lot of trauma for it to go through. It’s amazing that the bullet didn’t ruin any of his basic functioning, but he’s probably going to have pains like this for the rest of his life. We’ll get him something to dull them. I was going to discharge him in the morning, but I think he should stay another day for monitoring. All right?”

“Are you sure we don’t need another MRI or—“

“He’s okay, Melody.”

Melody clutched at her elbows and gave a minute nod. Dr. Florin pursed her lips as she turned to hurry down the hall, and Sean met Melody’s eyes for a short second before the two of them returned to the room.

Harry’s hands were knotted into fists, his knuckles pressed to his brows. Melody could see his arms shaking at their odd angles. She stepped back to his bedside and smoothed hair back from his forehead, whispering into his ear.

“They’re gonna give you something for the pain, okay?”

Harry’s head barely moved, but she could feel the hint of a nod beneath her palm.

Dr. Florin returned shortly. She hooked Harry back up to the IV drip that he hadn’t needed for weeks and then injected a medication into the line. Sean sat back down in his chair, fingers working at his jaw. The doctor watched Harry’s pulse begin to steady in the next few minutes, and then nodded and stepped out of the room silently.

“Okay. Okay,” Melody muttered, sitting on the edge of the mattress once again. She took Harry’s hand when he finally lowered it from his forehead after another few minutes. His eyes were open, lazily roaming the ceiling as she curled her fingers around his. He parted his lips and mumbled something.

“What’s that, man?” Sean asked, leaning forward.

“Really am a hothead, yeah?” Harry said, raising his voice just above a whisper.

Sean exhaled a weak chuckle and leaned back in his chair.

Melody rolled her eyes. She lifted his hand to place a kiss on his thumb and then leaned in to settle her lips at his temple. “You need to work on your jokes.”

“Hmm,” Harry murmured. He closed his eyes and Melody pulled herself back upright. “Maybe you just need to work on your sense of humor. Sean thinks ‘m funny.”

“Yeah, well you’re both idiots, so.” Harry’s lips twitched. His fingers were loosening in her grip. “Sean and I will go get some food while you take a nap, okay?” Melody said.

He hummed, barely above a breath. Melody slid back onto her feet and settled his hand at his side. She took a final sweep over his relaxed form and his lulling head, and then led Sean out of the room.

***

Harry slept for hours. Melody ate a large salad in the cafeteria, as per Sean’s instructions, since she wouldn’t be training the next day and didn’t need to load up on carbs. They took their time eating, and after returning to Harry’s room, played a few games of cards and watched an episode of a court program on T.V.

Sean yawned when the show ended. He looked out the window, where the rain was still falling, but had let up just a bit. “I should get going,” he said, “before it starts coming down heavier. You gonna stay the night?”

Melody looked over at Harry’s face, still relaxed with sleep, his lips parted but his breathing soundless. She nodded.

“Okay, well let him know I said to get his ass out of bed tomorrow.”

Melody smiled. “I’ll tell him.”

“We’ll take a break from training until he gets settled in at home, but don’t forget about your match on Friday. Keep your muscles loose.”

Sean slipped into his jacket and took one last look at Harry before heading for the door.

“Get home safe,” Melody called after him, and he lifted a hand in farewell before disappearing into the hall.

The room was quiet and the shows dull without any conscious company. Melody had grown used to this loneliness over the past few months, but that didn’t make it any better or easier. Her feet were kicked up onto the corner of Harry’s mattress and her head kept lolling.

“Mel?”

She lifted her head from the back of her chair, twisting around to see Harry’s face. He was rubbing at his sleepy eyes. Melody was surprised how the smallest things opened up wounds in her chest and then stitched them right back together. She hadn’t seen him so tired and fresh from sleep in what felt like an eternity.

“How’re you feeling?” she whispered, blinking her own exhaustion away.

“Don’ even know,” he mumbled.

“Are you hungry?”

Harry shook his head. He glanced up at the T.V. and watched its picture with a blank gaze.

“Had me a little panicked,” Melody said after a moment’s pause. She pulled her feet back down to the floor and turned her chair toward the top of the bed.

“Yeah?” Harry dropped his eyes to her face and ran his tongue over his dry bottom lip. “What’d Florin say?”

Melody hesitated. She didn’t want to be the bearer of even more bad news. Harry’d received enough of that in the past few weeks to last him multiple lifetimes. But she didn’t have much of a choice.

“She said you might have random pains like that for the rest of your life.”

Harry blinked once, twice, and then rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Just my luck,” he muttered.

“You’ll have medication for it, though,” Melody added. She didn’t know if that was any comfort at all.

“Sean leave?”

Melody nodded. “But he said you need to get up tomorrow. Dr. Florin thinks you might be discharged Thursday morning.”

Harry’s eyes brightened, as they usually did when there was talk of leaving the hospital. He was beginning to grow skeptical, though, that he would ever be free. Especially when his physical therapy seemed to be so slow-going. He was wary, even as Melody smiled at him.

“Thursday mornin’, for real?” he asked.

“Yeah, if you don’t have another one of...these again,” Melody answered, gnawing on the inside of her cheek. “And Aiden wants to check that your motor function is improved enough to leave.” She leaned forward, out of her chair, to press a kiss to the corner of Harry’s lips, to his temple. She settled her chin into his hair, thick with dried sweat from his episode earlier. She didn’t mind the scent or the texture. It was all just Harry to her.

He lifted a hand to the back of her head. The other to the dip of her spine, and when she pulled back from his hair he pulled her face down to meet his.

Melody locked her lips with his, fitting together like magnets. She cupped the corner of his jaw and buried her other fist in his pillow cover. There was something in the firm pressure of his lips, the way that they slipped from hers only to return at a new angle. It made her shoulders shake. Her very bones ached so powerfully she thought he could have splintered them himself. She slumped into him, struggling to pull air through her nose but unwilling to break the kiss. And when Harry finally broke it for her, she felt her body grow slack.

He pressed his hand into her back as she dipped her chin into his neck. She was gasping against his skin like she’d just sprinted a mile. He turned his cheek into the curl of her fingers around his jaw, stroked the hair spilling between her shoulder blades, and breathed in the scent of her conditioner. He felt her relax beneath his hands, but he was craving this touch just as much, and there was a delay to his movements when Melody began to pull away.

Her breathing had evened out. She felt Harry’s hands snag in the locks of her hair, in the waist of her sweater, and she bit her lip as those hands fell back to his chest. Her fingers smoothed down the slopes of his shoulders. She paused and then pressed another short kiss to his mouth before standing up straight, trying to shake off the gelatinous feeling in her limbs. Now that she’d kissed him like that again, she wanted to feel the heat of it all the time. Her lips wanted to always be touching his. She didn’t think she could take even the most chaste of pecks for granted anymore.

“Get some sleep, Harry,” she whispered, her voice raw. "Gotta show Aiden you’re ready to get outta here tomorrow."

“Are yeh stayin’, love?”

Melody nodded, pulling her hands back to cross her arms over her chest. There was a full ache when she was no longer touching him. Was this normal?

“D’yeh want me to move over? Yeh can lay up—”

“No, no,” Melody rushed with a quick shake of her head. It didn’t feel right. Although she wanted nothing more than to curl up with him. She didn’t want that in a hospital bed. “It’s okay. I’m used to the chair.”

“But yeh don’ have—”

“I’m okay, Harry. I promise. You won’t be in here in a couple days and then we won’t have to worry about it. Don’t worry about it.”

Harry sighed, letting his eyes flutter as Melody’s fingers skimmed over his wrist to emphasize her point. “Okay,” he assented.

Melody offered him a twitch of her lips and trailed across the room to shut the door with a soft click.

“What’re yeh doin’?” Harry asked.

“Changing,” Melody answered as she wandered back over to her chair and pulled her bag onto the seat, digging through its contents for the clothes that she always brought, just in case she decided to spend the night in the hospital. She hadn’t slept here since the week that Harry woke up.

Melody yanked her sweater over her head and unclasped her bra without a moment’s hesitation. Even staring out the room’s windows, into the sky, dark with night and rainclouds, she still felt the heat of Harry’s gaze, his eyes streaking down her bare torso. She slipped a t-shirt over her head and then kicked off her shoes and peeled off her jeans. It was only a moment before she was in a pair of sweatpants and kicked back in her chair, her heels propped on the edge of Harry’s bed again. He was still watching her, crease between his brows.

“What?” she mumbled around a yawn. The television was still humming, rain pattering against the windowpanes in the background. It was meditative and it made her sleepy.

“Yeh used to be nervous takin’ your clothes off around me.”

Melody pulled a blanket out of her bag and tilted her head on the back of the chair as she draped it over her legs. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen a hundred times.”

“Haven’ seen that bruise on your hip.”

Melody pulled her lip between her teeth and let her fingers fall to the hem of her shirt, just over the tender skin that he’d pointed out.

“Let me see it.”

Melody frowned, shaking her head. “No, Harry.”

“Why not?”

She rubbed at her eyes and smoothed hair out of her face. “Just because, okay?”

“No, I—”

“Harry, please.” Melody stared at him, holding his heavy gaze. She tapped her toe against his shin through the sheets. “I don’t wanna argue.”

He snorted, a dry half-laugh, and closed his eyes, resting his head back against his pillow and lowering the upper portion of his bed. “Goodnight.”

Melody pulled her blanket up over her shoulders and watched Harry’s jaw flex as he relaxed. She pulled in a long breath and let her own eyes close. “Goodnight, Harry,” she whispered.

Chapter 5

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles series #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #boxer!harry #boxer!au #harry styles ferocity

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percabeth4life · 4 years

Text

The Painted Boy

Chapter One || Next Chapter || AO3

+++++++++++

Percy was learning waterbending.

He knew his mom said he had to be careful, and he didn’t think she wanted him to use it much, but he had to! He was a waterbender!

It’s just like Katara, having to hide her bending to protect herself and her home. He could do the same, but he would also train.

After all, unlike Katara, he had easy access to a master. Katara herself.

He may have maybe kinda snuck money from Gabe.

But he’d been careful! He’d only taken a few bills, a little at a time, snuck a few from his gambling buddies too. He was smart, like Katara was with her gambling in that episode with Toph.

You’ve gotta be smart and distract them. He’d bring them beers and food, then sneak a few bills when they weren’t looking.

In the end he got enough money to buy the complete Avatar: The Last Airbender video set. And one of the neighbors gave him their old video player, a small one, they got a better one and didn’t need it anymore.

Now he had his teacher, which meant he could learn how to bend better.

First thing he had to do was take notes, that’s what all the teachers said.

He would figure out what he could do, everything according to Katara, then work on doing it.

Water was his new favorite drink, easy to carefully practice moving the water in the cup.

Watching the show he figured out all the little things to do, small bits of waterbending he could practice.

Lift the water, manipulate it, spin it, make shapes, see how far he can push it. He practiced freezing the water like Katara could, making ice cubes. He started to practice changing the ice cubes shapes.

He frowned watching the videos, they have to be really quick to do some of it, maybe he should practice running?

And he needs to learn how to pull water out of the air and plants like Katara learned from the creepy old lady who forced her to learn blood bending.

He wanted to learn blood bending, he knows it’s dangerous, but if he uses it like Katara, for the bad people, then it should be fine.

Of course, in the middle of all his interesting research and learning and practicing, he had to finish the summer assignments, and then… He was gonna have school again soon.

++++++++++++++++++++

The teachers just didn’t appreciate his smarts. He knows he’s smart, he’s learning from Katara really well!

He could make the water form any shape he wants now, and when he showers he practices controlling the moving water. He’s doing good!

School was just boring! How was he supposed to pay attention to geography? He could be practicing making a water whip instead!

He scowled, it’s not his fault that the words didn’t work, he couldn’t read it when it was gibberish. He kicked a rock on the playground, he hates school.

Ugh, Katara was smart though, she was amazing and smart, he wanted to be smart! He was trying. He swallowed back the tears, ignoring the burning in his eyes.

He was trying so hard.

++++++++++++++++++++

Percy huffed, glaring at the paper in front of him.

He had to really work hard to not let the numbers float around and mix everything up. Why did they have to be so close together? He carefully printed the work, and the answer in careful bold writing.

He was going to be an amazing waterbender, and to really be amazing he had to be smart too. Mom said that waterbender’s all work hard in school, and in the northern water tribe that seems true. It’s just annoying, he bet they didn’t have dyslexia like him, and they got to do stuff with their hands! That’s so much easier!

He turned in his test then sat back down to wait for the bell to ring.

He was determined to get at least a B in every subject this year. He would!

+++++++++++++++++++

Practicing his waterbending was hard. His mom always got so worried when she saw him practicing, but there was only so much he could do hiding in his room with a glass of water, or in the shower. He needed more space, a body of water where he could actually work at his bending.

He could do the little water whip, he could control the shape of the water, turn it to ice and back, coat his hands in it, pull little bits out of the air, dry himself off with a flick of his wrist, and stop the shower water in mid-air.

But he wanted to practice the big things!

He wanted to be able to make the octopus! Or make a big wave! Or those spirals of water, or the whips that cover her arms, or the shield, or stop the rain… There was so much he wanted to do, and he couldn’t cause he had to keep it hidden.

He didn’t like it, but he didn’t want to upset his mom.

He would just have to find someplace that no one would notice him waterbending.

The pool? He could make it look like splashes there, or he could try to go the rivers, but they’re dirty… Well, he could go to them and practice waterbending to clean them?

There’s an idea!

Oh, and he should totally keep a water-bottle with him at all times. Just in case of an emergency.

++++++++++++

Cleaning the river was going strangely.

He swears he saw two weird figures in the water. One had wolfish features and a seal-like body. It was kinda scary. Especially his glowing green eyes. The other wore rags and seaweed with a big beard. His appearance wasn’t as scary, but his eyes were angrier.

Neither of the two guys spoke to Percy mind you, and he’d only caught glimpses of them. But they kept reappearing,

He just focused on cleaning the water one day of bending practice at a time.

+++++++++++

Percy learned that the fish could talk. Or maybe he could just understand him?

There wasn’t much in the rivers, not many fish or other animals. But there were some. And the one’s there talked to each other, and when he commented on one of their conversations, they started talking to him.

He learned a lot about what happened nearby.

They also made him more determined to clean the river, the fish were thankful.

+++++++++++

It only took Percy three weeks to get the octopus technique down… roughly. It wasn’t perfect, but he was getting it.

The wave tricks were harder, more water to manipulate.

But at least he was getting better at… fine control?

That’s what that wolf-seal guy had mumbled before disappearing again.

Percy guesses that’s good, so he tried to practice it more.

Cleaning the river was hard though. He was starting to try to lift the water and filter all the bad stuff out onto the shore.

He didn’t quite get it to work right, too much bad stuff was going back into the river, but he was slowly figuring it out.

The more he worked, the easier it seemed to be too!

Like how Katara went from a little bit of rain stopping to making a huge dome!

He could do this!

Plus, he thinks that the weird scary guys in the water were happy, they didn’t glare so much anymore.

++++++++++++

Percy was only able to go to the rivers so much because mom worked late.

He tended to find bits of money in the trash and told Gabe he was working to ‘earn his keep’. It made Gabe happy, and he would give little bits of the money to Gabe. So Gabe didn’t tell mom.

He felt bad for lying, but he needed to get better! Waterbending was a part of him!

He wanted to do his best, to do as good as Katara.

++++++++++++++

It was getting colder now. Winter was coming.

Percy was determined to not be bothered by it. Katara wasn’t, she could control the ice and snow.

Though she did wear a jacket…

Percy used the money he found in the river (after cleaning it with his super cool waterbender powers) to buy a waterproof warm jacket.

There, that fixes that problem.

++++++++++++++

There was a new figure in the river.

It didn’t approach him, but also didn’t disappear when he looked at it, not like the scary ones.

This one was green. As in, his skin was green. His hair was black. He looked a lot neater than the scary ones, like clean neater. With pearls and cool armor. And you know, two fish tails. He was a mermaid, or merman, Percy guessed, but with two tails.

Did all mermaids have two tails and humans just got it wrong? Percy would have to ask Elli the Eel (he still couldn’t believe that was actually the Eel’s name).

But the fancy merman stayed while Percy was there, too far out for Percy to approach (he hadn’t managed to figure how to move on water like in avatar, his ice wasn’t thick enough yet). Percy decided to ignore him for now, maybe he wouldn’t come back?

Percy cleaned the river more, he also managed to get the rising wave trick (he’d named it himself!) down at last. He was happy.

+++++++++++++++

The merman came back.

It was about a good three months of irregular appearances (he was learning big words! He’d got an audio tape of some cool stories to listen too while cleaning the river. Audio tapes were easier then reading.) from the merman before he was approached.

It was also February, and very much cold now.

He’d managed to get his ice float down now, it was thick enough to sit on, and he was starting to get good at maneuvering it. Hopefully he’d still be able to make it when it was warm.

The merman approached him when he was trying to pull up a partly buried piece of trash.

Percy’s little ice float dipped suddenly.

“What are you doing?”

Percy blinked, turning to the voice, and the cause of the dip.

The merman had come up to him, was leaning on the ice float.

“Um, I’m trying to clean the river?”

The merman studied him.

“Why?”

Percy frowned, thinking.

“I just wanted to practice waterbending, but the river’s really dirty and it’s not nice so… I just thought… I just thought I’d try to clean it?”

The merman studied him. Percy felt like he was being judged.

“Waterbending?”

Percy faltered, he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about it. But this is a merman, that’s not the same is it? Of course, he probably just calls it something different. This wouldn’t be disobeying mom, right?

“You know, controlling the water… It’s called waterbending in the…” Well now he felt like it was childish but, “In the TV show avatar. And it’s basically what I do so…”

The merman hummed, “In the winter?”

“Well, it’s not gonna get cleaner just because the weather is colder. If I want to clean it then I’ll have to work even when it’s cold!”

The merman hummed again, “What’s your name?”

Percy shifted on his ice floe, “Percy, Percy Jackson.”

The merman nodded.

“What’s yours?”

He blinked, studying Percy again.

“…Triton.”

Percy smiled brilliantly, “Nice to meet you Triton!”

The merman nodded, still studying Percy intently.

“Nice to meet you as well… Percy.”

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