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anonymousbaev · 3 years

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RFA+Minor Trio Celebrating New Years Eve w/MC

I hope you enjoy it! It kind of sucks but it’s my first one...so pls bear with me! (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) !!WARNING!! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

!!PROFANITY AND SLIGHT MENTION OF NSFW!!

☆Yoosung☆

☆Everyone agreed on staying more lowkey for this year’s New Years and decided to stay home instead of doing their traditional New Years Eve get together party. Especially with the pandemic... it would be safer to stay home...

☆ Yoosung and you didn’t mind as you’d get to stay home being all lovely and touchy with each other. You two planned to chill playing LOLOL till 10 PM and have a mini party with just the two of you and Lisa waiting for the big count down on TV with an enormous box of fried chicken.

☆ Yes, that was the plan until...Yoosung had to whine about wanting to play a few more rounds. You gave in to his adorable begs and played a couple more rounds.

☆ Looking up to check the time after playing what only felt like two rounds, your heart dropped. It had past 12, the countdown that had only come once every year has passed as you stayed playing games- something you could do anytime, any day. Yoosung doesn’t notice the darkened expression on your face and continues to blabber on about his new favorite equipment. Yoosung stop...

☆ He stops talking, as he takes off his headset when he notices your silence and follows your heartbroken gaze up to the clock. The longer needle directly pointing at the 12 and the smaller pointing at the 20. He gasps, unable to close his mouth before shaking his head back into reality. He carefully reaches out to your cold hands before begging for forgiveness, “Baby I’m so sorry- I had no idea...” He knew how much you had looked up to this New Years Eve- the first New Years Eve you would spend with him, the New Years Eve you had talked about for 3 days straight on how perfect you wanted it to be.

☆ You let out a helpless sigh before holding his hand, “It’s fine, really” you smile as he brightens back up standing up to lean towards you. He pecks your lips before a smug grin appears on his face, “It’s not too late to celebrate now.” You flush red as he pulls you into a deep make out session before he screams, “YAY ITS 2021!!!!” What the fuck, just ruined the moment there Yoosung... ಠ益ಠ

☕️ Jaehee ☕️

☕️ The timer on your phone rings as you and Jaehee jump up from the couch in excitement and rush over to the oven where the cookies you two have baked spread the scent of chocolate around the house. When Jaehee looks away to get plates , hallucinated by the sweet smell you reach out to the oven without second thought . “MC!” Jaehee yelps as she grabs your wrist, an inch away from the flaming hot oven.

☕️ Startled you back away, “I’m so sorry I don’t know what I was thinking.” you reply still surprised on what you were about to do. She ruffles your hair, pinching your cheeks as she laughs, “Why’re you apologizing? Let me see your hand.” she lets out a sigh of relief when your small soft hands are clean from any burns. She grabs her oven mittens and take out the fresh batch of cookies.

☕️ You follow her into the living room where you put in Zen’s special New Years musical DVD. Jaehee holds your hands together quickly placing a kiss on it before blushing and looking away. “Be careful next time, I don’t want you to get hurt...” you giggle as you laugh at her adorable bright red face before nodding in agreement.

☕️ You both sit down waiting for the plate of cookies to cool down as you both fangirl over Zen, a duvet over the both of you cuddling. You whisper a suggestive and gentle, “Happy New Years” before Jaehee places a quick peck on your cheek as she immediately looks away after, embarrassed. You giggle gently shifting her to look at you as you place a kiss on your adorable Baehee. ♥‿♥

🎤 Zen 🎤

🎤 You rub your eyes sitting up to see that you’ve been sleeping like a mess diagonally, thankfully though, the bed was a king sized and you were fairly petite so it didn’t really matter. Except, Zen was no where to be found on the bed. You brush it off as Zen was always an early riser. You head to the bathroom connected to the bedroom to freshen up. After brushing your teeth and hair, you wash your face. Looking at the mirror you blush, you’re wearing Zen shirt, only 3 buttons barely holding together from exposing your body. But you don’t remember putting it on after yesterdays interesting events with Zen so he must’ve dressed you when you were sleeping...

🎤 You get dressed in a comfy sweater dress because you know Zen will avoid you all day trying to contain the beast if you go out in his button up shirt. You close the bedroom door to be astonished when you look up to see the decorated living room. Lettered balloons writing out “Happy New Years”, confetti all over the apartments wide living room with Zen coming out of the corner with a party hat on his head. He kisses your forehead, “Jagiya good afternoon!~”

🎤 Something overwhelms you as happy tears swell in your eyes, Zen is flustered as he rushes to put down the plate of fruits in his hands and pulls you into his arms. “Thank you so much. I must’ve saved the world in my past life to deserve you...” He laughs as he brings your face closer into his lean build. You hug him for ten minutes straight and ask with a baffled expression, “But wait what time is it exactly? Good afternoon?!” He scratches the back of his neck wondering if he should really tell you, “3...PM...”

🎤 You stagger back before screeching, “THREE PM?” He lifts your chin up to see your eyes, “To be fair I did keep you up all night.” your face turns red as you refuse to answer him. He scoffs before guiding you to the couch, “It doesn’t matter that you woke up super late. It actually gave me more time to decorate. Now let’s celebrate our first New Years Eve together babe~” He was right, and you didn’t really care that you woke up at three in the afternoon, just a little guilty he had to set this up all by himself. But either way you were super thrilled and touched that he’d taken so much time and effort to make your first New Years Eve with him the best. You kiss him thank you once again as he gets flustered, stumbling away to contain the beast.

🎤 Bonus: It took Zen 30 minutes trying to dress you in his shirt. One minute trying to dress you, another minute looking away with a flustered face as he apologizes to god. Back and forth, and barely manages to dress you...✌♫♪˙‿˙♫♪✌

♛Jumin ♛

♛ Let’s pretend the covid doesn’t exist here...You explain to Jumin about how excited you were for the first New Years Eve with him and you only. He doesn’t really see the point of celebrating New Years Eve. However regardless of what he thinks, he books a private jet so he can bring you to see the big countdown in New York. He’s just thrilled to see you so excited for something and is willing to do anything to make the day as perfect as you wish it to be.

♛ You’re SO-SO- surprised when he wakes you up five in the morning, telling you to get up and dressed for the private jet waiting for them outside. You haven’t known about this AT ALL! Either way you didn’t want to waste his money so you and Jumin fly to New York City first thing in the morning, barely keeping yourself awake.

♛ After spending the entire day eating delicious food, visiting intriguing landmarks, and relaxing at the luxury hotel suite it was finally around 11 pm when the countdown was soon gonna start. He makes sure you’re in warm clothing as he wraps a scarf around your neck. He holds your waist to keep you close to him as your eyes twinkle on the big screen of the countdown. He quietly laughs as he watches you without you noticing him. The entire crowd begins to countdown when the clock is at 10 seconds. You countdown along with the crowd as Jumin just watches you as he thinks you’re adorable.

♛ “10!, 9!, 8!, 7!, 6!, 5!, 4!, 3!, 2!, 1!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!” You pull on his tie and stand on your tippy toes to peck him on the lips. You blush as you brightly smile at him and look away quickly after. He stands still startled at first before he gently pulls your arm and leans in for a warm French kiss. Before you know it you’re on live TV on a channel as a camera records the both of you.

♛ When you go back home a couple days later, the RFA can’t stop making fun of the two of you, you’re embarrassed and hides from all of them for the next couple days while Jumin is just proud he had showed you off. (n˘v˘•)¬

👓 Saeyoung 👓

👓 You’re upset to wake up, Saeyoung not next to you on the bed. He’d probably stayed up working again...even if he was piled with work he’d always make time for you except for the past 3 days. You understood as you assumed work had become incredibly overwhelming this time. Although, you’re a little upset because you were hoping to celebrate New Years with him. You put a long fluffy cardigan over your strapped night gown. You freshen up in the bathroom before heading out to the living room. It was chilly in the house, worried for Saeyoung you go down into the basement where you find to see the door is locked. You bang on the door, “Saeyoung?”

👓 He seems to be awake already, his voice sounds like he is genuinely surprised as he says “I’ll be there in a bit!” He opens the door blocking your view from the room. You frown crossing your arms below your bosom before bursting into giggles when you see his worried expression. “Come on Sae, what’re you hiding? Let me see!” you try to jump up in attempt to get a glance but he’s too tall. “Just a bit later!” he laughs as he bops his finger gently on your nose. You jokingly act pissed before muttering fine. Suddenly Saeran comes from behind Saeyoung screaming, “ARGGG IM SO DONE!” he shoves his way through Saeyoung and heads upstairs. You take the chance to steal a glance, you see balloons everywhere, everything themed galaxy. But before your eyes explore more Saeyoung hugs you as he buries your face into his red shirt. You can feel his abs through the thin cloth.

👓 “Woahh!! C'mon let’s go up babe” he continues to walk up as you both struggle to waddle up the stairs still hugging. He suddenly picks you up like a princess and places you back on the bed. “Promise me you won’t come down until I’m done with...something?” you sigh before breaking into a smile, “Fine.” He pecks your cheeks thanks before heading down again.

👓 You chill watching TV with ice cream on the couch with Saeran. You flood Saeran with questions like ‘Can you pretty please give me hints?’ ‘What were you doing down there?’ ‘Did you guys stay up all night?’ When he ignores everything you say you pout and quietly watch the TV again.

👓 Later, it’s already night and Saeyoung finally runs up the stairs to hug you in his warmth. He pecks you on the lips and blushes as he says, “Sorry I made you wait long.” You pretend to wonder either to forgive him or not before saying, “Depends, let me see what you did first.” you smile as he immediately picks you up in his arms. He whispers in a seductive voice, “Don’t open your eyes until I say so.” You nod and smile nervously. Saeran follows you both into the basement.

👓 You feel your bum on something extremely soft as he whispers, “Open your eyes.” You slightly flutter your eyelashes as you peak up and around the room. In front of you is a big screening of the galaxy. Everything is magical and astonishing, you can’t take your eyes off of it all. Then you gasp, Saeyoung kneels down in front you neatly in a suit with his glasses hanging on the pocket of his shirt. He takes a quick cute little breath before saying...”Will you marry me?”

👓 You burst into tears as you can’t stop crying. You take a moment to take deep breaths so you can talk. You nod furiously, “Of course!!!” He smiles brightly, his bright pearl teeth showing as he brings you into a hug before kissing you with tongue. You hear Saeran whisper ew in the background but you also can see a slight grin on his face. New Years Eve celebration? Psshh, you didn’t need that. You were so thrilled your heart couldn’t stop pounding. You loved this man in front of your eyes so dearly. He stayed up 4 days straight to prepare such a wonderful proposal for you. You held onto him so tightly for dear life as if he would disappear if you didn’t. You wipe his tears of joy before he wipes yours. You would never forget about this day...♪ ♬ ヾ(´︶`♡)ﾉ ♬ ♪

👓BONUS: MY OWN HEADCANON MADE ME FALL IN LOVE WITH SAEYOUNG EVEN MORE...Vanderwood is dead on the floor after Saeyoung forced him to help him with no sleep for 4 days straight凸(¬‿¬)

🌚 Saeran 🌚

🌚 It was 8 pm, New Years Eve you were explaining all the fun things you and Saeran could do but Saeran rather seemed indifferent as he slumped back in his chair, drumming with his fingers on the table. You frown at his rather uninterested replies, you had even dressed in a white ruffle nightdress despite it being unbelievably uncomfortable.

🌚 You’re slightly disappointed but you also don’t want to show him you’re upset not wanting to force him into doing stuff he doesn’t want to do. You gently whisper, “It’s fine if you don’t want to do anything. I’ll be in bed.” you don’t see his surprised expression when you walk into your shared bedroom with him.

🌚 He walks into the room as you put down your phone. You were watching memes. He sits down on the side of the bed as you lean your head against his shoulder. He stutters nervous to say, “Um... so shit, how do I say this. I wasn’t trying to be indifferent I was just nervous...because I have something for you. Sorry...” Your eyes light up and you smile so brightly you can’t even hide it- you don’t even make an attempt to hide it.

🌚 You startle him when you immediately don’t hesitate to jump on his muscular back, wrapping yourself on him. “Well? Bring me to this little surprise of yours!” you giggle as he scoffs and holds your legs to secure you. He stands up to bring you up to the rooftop?

🌚 You notice to see a telescope as you gasp in amusement. “Wow...” you don’t hesitate to run over and peak your eyes through the telescope and watch the stars before you pull Saeran as you both fit your eyes through the big glass. You laugh pointing out all the interesting and astonishing stars. “Thank you” you mutter still amazed. He takes off his coat and places it over your thin nightgown as he attempts to snuggle into your chest but he’s too tall.

🌚You eventually fall asleep on the bench on the rooftop so Saeran carries you back into bed where he falls asleep next to you. ★~(◡‿⊙✿)

♧ Jihyun ♧

♧ You feel someone petting your head on the table when Jihyun takes his hand away flustered as soon as you wake up. He clears his throat and pretends to read his book attempting to keep his composure. You smile gently pulling his arm to kiss him on his lips. “Sorry I fell asleep while reading.” you blush as you fiddle with his sleeve. “Why are you apologizing? No worries.” He smiles, tucking a strand of your hair behind.

♧ You and V didn’t care for New Years Eve at all. You both just spent the day just like any other day, loving each other without missing out a single second. You then come up with an idea, “You haven’t gone out for a long time! Let’s go out to the greenhouse!” He laughs as he gently ruffles your hair, it’s almost ticklish at out lightly he’s doing it afraid to hurt you. “If that’s what you want to do.” You help him grab his cane as he opens the backdoor.

♧ You can immediately smell the scent of fresh flowers, each one you and Jihyun have planted personally together. He did most of all the work. He holds your waist and carries his cane with the other hand. He doesn’t really have to use it because he’s already so familiar with the garden. You lean your head against his strong and tall build before crouching down by a pot. “Wow look we planted this last week! It already has a sprout!” you help his finger gently touch it as he smiles. “I’m going to go get the watering can, wait here!” he nods as you search for the watering can before whimpering in pain at your finger that has slashed against a piece of broken glass. He rushes over to you so quickly he is able to immediately find you with his hands and pull you into his arms. “What happened? Are you okay darling?”

♧ “I’m okay. I almost tripped that’s all.” he can smell your blood and holds onto your hand before feeling a streak of blood. “Where are you hurt really?” You blush embarrassed from your failed attempt of hiding your pain. “I cut my finger but I’m okay.” He holds your waist as he guides you back into the house, sitting you down. He takes a quick breather before he smiles, “I’m scared because you always try to hide your pain from me.”

♧ “That’s not true! I just didn’t want you to...worry.” He bandages up your finger, pulling you into a hug “But we said we wouldn’t keep anything from each other. However, there’s something I have also kept from you...” You look up curious and kind of nervous awaiting his next words. “I’m going to get surgery for my eye.”

♧ You’re so surprised, you knew he didn’t want it at first, so why so suddenly? You caresses his cheeks, “Because I’m so damn clumsy, and you can keep your eyes on me?” he nods as you frown, crossing your arms with a small “hmph” he must’ve heard you because he didn’t hesitate to apologize, “Ah sorry, I was joking...” You’re so startled, why was this man so kind? You giggle, “I was joking as well.” he rests his head on your lap “Actually I want to get this surgery because I want to be here for you, and I know I can do more of that when I get my sight back. Are you okay with this?” He’s so damn surprised when you fall to the floor next to him and slightly sit on your knees to kiss him. “Of course! I’ll support you no matter what.” he’s touched by your words and pulls you into another kiss. ★~(◡ω◡✿)

🧸 Vanderwood 🧸

🧸 He’s a teddy bear just because “So why’re we doing this...” Vanderwood faces down in shame as you scoot him over to sit next to him and turn on the Boogle meet. “What do you mean ‘why are we doing this’ silly. This is a safe and great way to interact with other people during quarantine!” You turn on your camera and mute your mic as you enter the room. Jaehee and Jumin are the only ones on so far, Jaehee with her camera facing the roof of her kitchen and Jumin’s camera in his neat apartment as he sits with Elizabeth the 3rd like a statue. Nobody really wants to be here except for you and Seven but they all agree to because you desperately want to and they all give in to you.

🧸 “Hi Juju! Hi Jaehee!” Jumin is taking aback as he quickly says, “I have told you not to call me that-...” he sighs as if saying ‘whatever’ when you pretend to be sad. He forgets to mute his mic afterwards but his house is extremely quiet and he doesn’t talk so it doesn’t really matter. “Hello MC. I’d like to say this was rather quite an intelligent idea.”

🧸 “Aw thanks Jaehee!” Jaehee also forgets to mute her mic afterwards, these two Boogle idiots. Soon after everyone begins to join and you introduce them to your boyfriend Vanderwood. Everything is utter chaos and you can’t help but regret this. Saeyoung even hacks the meeting at one point making everyone sound like demons. When Yoosung is drunk and begins to rant about V being here, you decide to leave. You look next to you, Vanderwood has left the chat his soul looks like it’s escaped his body.

🧸 “Thanks for doing this, I know you hate interacting with other people.” you peck him on the lips as his face flushes red. “It was okay...at least it was through a screen...”

🧸 “Still...I’ll make it up to you.” You kiss him as you push him down on the sofa until you’re interrupted with “MC! NO! ALL MEN ARE WOLVES!” You realize in fact that you’ve not left the meeting, flustered you immediately click ‘End Call’ You and Vanderwood awkwardly refuse to look at each other before he leads you to continue what you were doing. (●´ω｀●)

#mysme headcanons #mysme ray #mysme v #mysme #mysme zen #mysme luciel #mysme jaehee #mysme jumin #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger #mm saeyoung #mm saeran #headcanon #mm headcanons #vanderwood #yoosung #Fanfiction #mystic messenger fanfic

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i-need-entertainment · 3 years

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Just Right

Character: Chronostasis x short reader

*In this story the reader is about 5′0, Chrono is in the 5′9-6′0 range*

*DISCLAIMER, I will do my absolute best to portray a short reader but I can only be so accurate...since I myself am 5′9..BUT I love the idea and will do my best! Thank you to @goblinchild99 for requesting! I hope you enjoy it!!<3

TW- Mean words from dad, reader self doubts, mentions of insecurities

“Wait…what..?” Your heart shattered as you sat in front of your stone-faced parents. Your family was head of one of the many Yakuza of Japan, and your father was a cold and ruthless man not like your mother was much better. “You will be given to the Shie Hassaikai. What they do with you is none of my concern, but for our sake and for your own, behave. I know you are not wanted because of your…stature…but do not be a bother. I don’t want you being sent back h ere, I cannot imagine the shame you would bring to our name if you upset the new young leader.”

You held back tears at your father’s decree. ‘Given…? Is that all I’m good for… To be given as a peace treaty when one of my brothers makes a mistake… Why do I have to pay the price for their actions…why am I just being used as compensation?’ Quickly wiping the tear that fell you stood up and left the room, going to your room to pack since you’d be leaving that evening. You sat down on your bed, sobs racking your body as you clutched your small frame. Your whole life you had been treated as an outcast, as the disappointment of the family. All because…because what? Because you were shorter than most? Because you were more ‘petite’? Just because you were small it didn’t make you any less important…any less deserving of love and affection. Instead you were being bargained off for ‘peace’. The sadness you felt was replaced by frustration. You angrily took out a suitcase and filled it with clothes, precious items, and whatever toiletries you knew you’d need. Without saying a word you rolled your suitcase out of your room, where an underling of some sort took it from your, and made your way to your parents. “Goodbye mom…dad…I wish you both the best.” You hugged your mom while your dad gave you a nod. “Make us proud, Y/n.” You held back your tears at your dad’s heartless reply and instead chose to nod, walking out the door and never looking back. After a good 2 ½ hour drive you made it to your new home, the Shie Hassaikai Headquarters. Where you would spend the rest of your life…Now anyone in your position would probably assume the worst..especially being a small female. But you were more afraid of being killed than…that. I mean, Overhaul was a major germaphobe so that stilled some worries you supposed…The car stopped and you shook yourself from your daydreams. Unbuckling your seat belt you exited the car, thanked the driver and made your way to the front gate. There to greet you was a man, who was much taller than you, wearing a white raincoat that reached just below his knees with black shiny boots. But the things that stood out to you the most was the hood he had covering his head, and the mask that covered his face. “Y/n L/n?” You looked up to the man, meekly nodding. He waved over one of the other masked associates, this time a man with a black mask, coat and hat to get your bag. The man in the white coat turned towards you. You couldn’t see his eyes but you could feel them burning holes through you. “Follow me, Overhaul would like to meet you.” You nodded, “But, put this on first…and don’t touch him, I imagine you wouldn’t like to die on your first day here.” You stilled as you shakily took the white medical mask and put it on, clasping your shaking hands together as you followed behind the strangely dressed man. “You don’t talk much…do you?” You looked up as you walked through the dim hallways of the Shie Hassaikai basement. “No…not to strangers, anyway…” You tried your best to sound normal, but you couldn’t deny you were scared. And rightfully so! “Yeah, well that might actually do you well here, you’re less likely to tick him off then.” You made a sound to let him know you understood, still not feeling well enough to answer him with a real response just yet. The two of you stopped at a door. Being raised in a Yakuza family you were no stranger to scary encounters, but this would be the scariest you’ve ever faced by far. Let alone faced by yourself. The man, who you had to have learned his name knocked on the door, answering that ‘L/n was there’ before the boss man told him (and you) to enter. Entering the office you were ushered over to the couch to sit down. So now here you were sitting directly across from a man that could kill you with a single touch. “L/n, I’m sure you know who I am, yes?” You nodded your head, looking down with your hands crossed in your lap. Overhaul may not have been the biggest guy, but he was still easily almost a foot taller than you…not to mention he had a fairly big build. “I won’t lie to you, I wasn’t fond of your fathers implications of why he was sending you here, but I assure you I have no intentions of following through with his original plans.” Your head shot up at this. “You may be small in stature, and it’s true that could be a weakness, but you also have a strong quirk. I’m offering you a place here, amongst me and the precepts…not everyone gets that opportunity. Should you choose to take it you will be taken care of, and your abilities will be praised.” You felt like you could cry, not from fear, but from being…wanted. “So? Will you join the Hassaikai, not as whatever it was your father wanted, but as apart of it?” Your face took on a determined look, “…I’ll do it. I know I’m not the strongest, and I’m not very strong, but I promise to do my best. Thank you..” Overhaul’s expression changed to a happy one. “Wonderful, I am aware of your inability to fight or defend yourself, so I’m putting you directly under Chronostasis,” He motioned for the said man to step forward. “Chrono, become acquainted with her, show her the ropes, teach her to fight, and utilize her natural abilities. Consider her your…assistant for now. Understood?” Chronostasis as you had learned his name was nodded, “Yes sir, come on L/n, I’ll show you around the base.” You nodded, standing up you bowed, “Thank you for this opportunity, I’ll do my best.” Overhaul nodded, walking passed you to his desk. “The pleasure is mine. You both are dismissed.” With that the two of you left the room and started navigating the hallways. “I’ll show you around first before getting started on what you’ll be doing here if that’s okay with you.” You nodded, “That’s fine.” You started walking, while you were talking he showed you the different rooms, which ones to avoid and which ones you’d be spending a lot of time in. “This is my office, which will be yours now too I guess.” He opened the door and stepped in. You didn’t follow. “…I’m sorry…” He turned around, “For what?” You nervously looked down, hands wringing together. “For being a burden…” He sighed, lightly guiding you into the room. “Listen, you’re not a burden, in all seriousness I could use the help, Overhaul gives me too much as it is anyways. And…I have a pretty good idea of how you were treated at your family’s Yakuza, and it kinda ticks me off. So I assure you, you’re not a bother.” You smiled at him, “Thank you…” “Yup.” He shut the door and sat down at his desk, motioning for you to do the same at the couch in the room. Without warning, he removed the mask he had on, the hood falling to his shoulders as he did so. “You can go ahead and take the mask off, I don’t wear mine when I’m not around Overhaul and he doesn’t care as long as you’re not interacting with him.” You sheepishly nodded, desperately trying to hide how flustered you were, because he was attractive. Not just the ‘oh yeah, he's good looking’ kind, more like the ‘Oh my gosh, I think I JUST DIED ‘ kind. He had the perfect proportions of traditional attractiveness and uniqueness to make him that much more appealing to you. He had sharp narrow dark gray-blue eyes, a jawline that could draw blood and a general intensity about him that made your heart stop beating. Remembering you were probably staring you quickly looked away. But something else about him caught your eye…his hair. It was a white silvery color, and medium in length, but as you examined him further you noticed the ends of his hair ended in arrow shapes. “Is that part of your quirk?” His dark eyes met yours, he figured you’d ask, most anyone who had ever seen him asked sooner or later. But when he looked at you, you weren’t looking at him like he was a freak. Your eyes held an innocent and honest curiosity. With no malice to be seen. “I’m sorry if that came off as weird or rude!! It’s just…I’ve never seen anything like it…” He nodded, “It’s fine, I kinda figured you would. My quirk is called Chronostasis. I can extend these clock needle things to pierce someone, but I need to be extremely still. If I do pierce someone I can slow them down, but the length depends on which hand I struck them with. If I use the minute,” He pointed to one of the ‘clock needles’ on the end of his hair, “They’re slowed for a minute, same thing if I use the hour.” He looked at you, noticing your expression. “I know it’s weird but-“ “I don’t think it’s weird.” He looked at you in shock, “You don’t? You can be honest, it’s pretty weird.” You shook your head, that honest and sincere glint never leaving your e/c eyes. “I think they’re really cool…beautiful…even..” In his 22 years of life, no one had ever told him his quirk was cool, let alone beautiful. If words could kill, Chronostasis would probably be dead. The red tint on his cheeks giving aware his flusteredness. “A-Uh..Thanks…What’s your quirk anyway?” “It’s called Seamless…Um basically I can sew without using needles, controlling the threads and what not…but it only works on sewing things, I can’t use it on people or anything..” You looked up, expecting him to be bored only to see interest gleaming in his eyes. “Sounds cool to me, useful too.” Never in your life had you felt so secure, safe, appreciated…it felt good. It felt good to know there were people out there who wanted you, even if it was just for work it still felt nice. Fast forward a bit, you’ve been with the Hassaikai for a year now. You had cemented your place here, and you felt great. You didn’t use your quirk too much, but you did save them a lot of money on clothes. You had also become a lot closer to Chrono, or Kurono Hari as you had learned his name was, and called him in private. You talked a lot, ranting to each other about your problems, spending time together even if it was just doing your own things in silent. It was safe to say the two of you had become good friends, but more than that you had developed feelings for the man. That was why you were on your current mission, making your way to Overhaul’s office. You knocked, and after hearing a ‘come in’ entered. He was sitting at his desk, fiddling with papers and what not. “Ah, L/n, what can I help you with?” You walked to stand in front of his desk, nervously messing with your fingers and fidgeting. “…I came to ask you something…” Overhaul sighed as he set his pen down, leaning to place his chin in his hand, which was propped up on his desk. “Oh? What is it? I take it everything is going fine?” Over the past year besides getting close to Chronostasis, you had also gotten close to Overhaul. Although you noticed he acted very protective of you, like an older brother. You had asked him about it a few months ago, he had simply told you he had met with your father a few years ago when he accompanied a business meeting with Pops. He had seen how you were treated and it made him sick especially because of how much potential you showed. In his own special way, you knew he cared somewhat about you. You nodded your head. “Everything’s fine, great, actually…I need to talk to you about something else…someone else….”. His eyebrow raised in interest, he pretended to act surprised but he had an inkling of why you were really here. “I want your permission to…to…” You opened your mouth to speak but ultimately chose to close it, not really knowing how to go forward. He sighed again, leaning back in his chair while his hands clasped together, resting by his mouth. “Let me guess…you’d like my permission to pursue a relationship with Chronostasis? Am I correct?” You felt heat raise to your face as you stiffened. ‘How did he…?’ “I may seclude myself to this office and limit my interactions with people to a minimum, but I’m not blind. I am well aware of he feelings the both of you have for each other.” You gulped, here it comes…”I don’t care, just don’t let it get in the way of your work. But if it ends the pitiful gazes and flirting between the two of you, by all means, get married for all I care.” Your eyes widened as your brain proceeded to implode. “A-are you sure?! You really don’t mind?!” He looked at you in disbelief before shrugging. “Nope, just don’t do any of that lovey-dovey stuff around me, affection like that makes me nauseas.” You nodded, “I promise.” He nodded and got up, walking you to the door. “…I’m trusting you won’t tell him what I’m about to say but, take care of him…He’s stupidly in love with you, so I know he’ll take care of you, but please be good to him…” You smiled, nodding your head. “I will…wait, did you say he’s in lo-“ “Time for you to go, goodbye L/n.” Before you could refute, he pushed you out of the room, shut the door and locked it. Sighing, you made you way to your and Chrono’s office, finally ready to tell the man of your dreams your feelings. To most you may be considered ‘short’ or ‘small’, and to some they might even think of you as ‘inadequate’ or ‘lesser’ than them. At one point you probably thought Chrono felt that way. (but as you were soon about to find out)But to Chrono? You were just right, just...perfect.

#chronostasis x reader #chrono x reader #chrono #chronostasis #bnha x reader #BNHA #bnha fanfiction #bnha villains #shie hassaikai #y/n #angst #requests

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scullydubois · 3 years

Text

Only the Light Ch. 13

As Scully copes with her diagnosis, Mulder joins her for the Scully family Christmas dinner. Plus, Melissa's girlfriend meets the family.

TW for disordered eating, cigarette smoking, references to abduction/medical rape.

-------------

Self destruction is a natural impulse for Dana Scully, though she’ll try to deny it. Take one unexplained abduction, add a dash of premature menopause, and sift out time spent proving Mulder wrong, and you’ll get a struggling Scully.

She can tell she’s entering a bad mental state when food becomes a suggestion rather than a necessity. Every bite is either earned according to whatever trivial rules she’s set for herself in that particular moment, or is not deserved and therefore not eaten. It’s a game where she’s the coach, player, and referee, yet she still loses every time. Nourishment is both prize and punishment, feeding her hunger but vacating her control.

This habit started when she was a teenager and wracked with feelings her petite frame couldn’t contain. It felt much safer than the route her siblings had taken of sneaking out in the middle of the night or using fake IDs to buy alcohol or skipping church on the regular. As far as fifteen-year-old her was concerned, she wasn’t bothering anyone by foregoing some meals. Her mother disagreed and called her out every time, humiliating her into her second coping mechanism, smoking.

There were the times when Scully was really young and enticed by her sister’s cigarettes, but that was simple preteen rebellion. What developed when Dana was seventeen was something different entirely. A survival mechanism with poison inside, snuffing herself out while keeping her alive and sane. She would walk to the gas station and buy packs of Marlboros with coins from her piggy bank. The laws were lax in the 80s, the prices too. She would blow rings of smoke while walking home, then hide the pack in her bra and swish some mouthwash. She’d repeat the process to and from school, steadily acquiring a nasty nicotine habit. It continued until the summer before college, when she made herself go cold turkey so as not to take the habit with her. As far as she knows, neither her parents nor any of her siblings ever knew about it.

It resurfaces in times of stress, though normally for no more than a single pack. Lately she’s accustomed to keeping a pack and a lighter with her at all times. Her building is smoke free so she steps outside, but her car is off limits because she doesn’t want the smell to cling to her. It is a hassle, but then again, so are most things.

Missy knows about the poor eating habits--those are hard to hide from someone who shares the same space as you. Nevermind the fact that the scale shows six less pounds than before, and that adds up when the number’s not that large to begin with. Scully’s edges protrude now...that can’t be hidden.

Missy never says a word. She remembers Dana complaining about their mother’s condescending comments about her weight, and she knows the damage that does to a young psyche. Instead, she offers. Healthy meals, guilty pleasure meals, all her sister’s favorites. She cooks more than she ever has before, well aware that her sister will struggle to refuse her.

“I recognize what you’re doing,” Missy told her sister when she tried to turn away a caesar salad, of all things. “I’ve been known to do that too,” Missy admitted. “Eat. You’re hungry, you just think not eating will give you some form of control over your body, or your life...but wasting yourself away is letting the bastards win.”

And so she did, that time at least. Scully has enough shame regarding her habit to push it aside whenever confronted---that’s how she insists to herself that it’s not an eating disorder. She can stop on command. That makes it okay, right?

Getting back into the office helped her a lot---you can’t starve yourself and function as an FBI agent. Besides, she would dissolve into thin air if Mulder figured out what she was doing. He was the one who batted around the idea of Scully helping prep each case and supervising any tests he might need the crime lab to do while he’s in the field. He understood that in lieu of therapy, she needed something to take her out of her own mind.

It was as much for him as it was her; at this point, it’s almost incomprehensible to him that the X-Files had existed before her. Of course he was the laughingstock of the FBI! He had huddled in the basement by himself with UFOs and blurry Bigfoot sightings pinned on the wall like a shrine to his own delusion.

Her fall from grace was his absolution. He’ll make an angel of her, somehow. Even if it means he has to meet the devil.

Scully has no interest in becoming an angel, though she’d sure like to avoid hell, and that hasn’t worked out too well. Locker room jokes are one thing. Underestimation another. But assault? Rape? Trauma and torture because she is who she is doing what she does? She is not a quitter, and that is killing her.

Her barrenness haunts her because it was bestowed upon her as punishment, an implication that she only has worth as a walking womb. She wants to be seen as a person, not a pawn.

The arrival of the holiday season is another weight on her shoulders. It used to be Scully’s favorite time of year; now the sight of carolers makes her want to poke her eyes out. It’s the first Christmas without her father, and that is simply unimaginable. Her and Missy spent a quiet Thanksgiving with their mother---small portions and whispered thanks--in preparation for an elaborate family Christmas. Bill Jr. and Tara are flying in from California for the annual Christmas dinner and midnight mass. They will all try to move forward, pretend it’s just like any other year, but it’s not and it never will be again. Happy Christmases are over for the Scully family.

And yet, they will try to enjoy the moment. Missy told her mom that she’s bringing a friend, which is completely true. Trinity is her closest friend that she doesn’t share blood with. That said, she plans to use the occasion to introduce Trinity as her girlfriend, come what may.

Then there was the suggestion that their mother made, which caught her youngest daughter completely off guard. “Why don’t you bring Fox?” Margaret Scully proposed demurely during their weekly phone call. “I’m making a zoo’s worth of food, I could use another mouth to feed. I hate to see any of it go to waste.”

“Mulder’s spending Christmas with his family, I’m sure,” Scully had replied. “But I’ll pass along the offer.”

That was how Scully learned that Mulder’s family isn’t much for celebration, that he usually spends the holiday flipping between It’s A Wonderful Life and the 24 hour marathon of A Christmas Story, and that he has a particular fascination with the idea of midnight mass.

“I just don’t get it,” Mulder mused. “You believe that a jolly old man with flying reindeer leaves presents in your house, but you think he waits until after you’ve gotten home from celebrating Baby Jesus’ birthday? Didn’t you ever look for his sleigh in the sky on the drive home?”

“No, Mulder,” Scully sighed. “I just believed that he knew when we were tucked in bed. Santa’s all-seeing, you know,” she teased.

Mulder chuckled. “Kind of presumptuous to assume he functions on your schedule, huh?”

Ultimately, Mulder said yes. He figured attending the Catholic equivalent of Jesus’ birthday party would be another check off his supernatural bucket list, though he did not say this part out loud for fear of Dana Scully’s wrath. Besides, what else was he gonna do on Christmas Eve? Shake the shoebox of junk he stuck under his mini-basketball hoop so he felt like he was getting a gift?

And so the fateful day arrives. Mulder flips his Garfield page-a-day calendar to December 24th, chuckles at the comic strip of the orange cat eating all his owner’s Christmas cookies, and makes his way to his partner’s increasingly familiar doorstep. The sun has already slipped behind the trees by the time he arrives. It gives up easily in the winter.

He rings the bell and hears Scully’s dainty footsteps on the other side. She’s snuck up on him enough times for him to have developed a keen sense of her light footing--no more jump scares for him.

“Hey Scully,” he stammers as she opens the door. She had told him to look “festive,” so he donned his nicest green sweater (a gift from his mom from J. Crew...he had never worn it) and slacks. Scully rounds out their show of holiday spirit with a velvet red blouse and black trousers.

“You look lovely,” Mulder says reflexively, unsure when he started using such a word. Scully pulls at her shirt, obscuring the bit of cleavage that has revealed itself. “Thanks Mulder,” she mutters, ushering him inside.

He holds up the shiny silver gift bag he hastily stuffed with tissue paper. “Some candy canes I picked up at the gas station. I figured the whole family could enjoy them.”

Scully nods, amused by his feeble attempt at gifting. “I’m sure they won’t go to waste.”

A fire crackles in the fireplace. It’s so hot in the apartment that Mulder is surprised it hasn’t melted the snow outside on the sidewalk.

“Where’s Melissa?” he asks, hoping they will hit the road sooner than later.

“She’s picking up her girlfriend from the airport. She couldn’t get an earlier flight.”

“Dulles?” He sure hopes not. It’s all the way across town.

“No, Reagan.”

Whew. Much closer.

“She should be back any minute now,” Scully continues. “Trinity’s flight got in at 3:30.”

Mulder rolls his sleeves up. “So your family doesn’t know about Trinity?”

Scully shakes her head.

“Do they know that Melissa’s…” He gestures, unsure which word to fill the space with.

“Bi? No.”

“So she shows up with Trinity, and then what?”

Scully shrugs. “She introduces her as her girlfriend. Mom already knows Missy is bringing a guest so she’ll have a plate for her.”

“You’re not worried about how the family’s gonna react?”

“Well, I’m sure Bill is gonna be a dick about it, but that’s normal. We only see him once a year, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“Bill’s your brother?”

“Uh-huh. And Tara is his wife. They got married about a year and a half ago.”

Even as he pushes into his thirties, it still surprises Mulder that anyone close to his age could be married. He doesn’t even sleep in a bed.

“You think your mom’s gonna be cool with Trinity?” he asks.

“I think she loves her daughter enough to be.”

“Mmm.” Mulder sticks his hands in his pockets. If only he had dilemmas like this. He imagines him and Samantha speculating about their mother’s reaction to Sam’s nose piercing or dyed hair or...anything really. He would give so much to have someone to laugh about his uncle’s sideburns with.

His emotional deep-dive is promptly cut off by the entrance of Melissa and a brunette woman whose bangs graze her eyebrows, her hair falling just below her shoulder. “Hi!” she chirps, taking in the magnificence of Dana Scully. “Dana, I presume?”

Scully nods.

“May I hug you?” Trinity asks, hazel eyes shining.

“Sure,” Scully says, feeling the brisk air against Trinity’s coat as she’s pulled in.

Scully lets go first, and Trinity takes that as a cue to pull away. “You look just like Mel, wow,” she remarks, fighting the urge to run her fingers through Scully’s hair.

Scully smiles softly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Oh, it is,” Trinity assures, exchanging a gooey gaze with Missy. Next, her attention falls upon Mulder, who does an awkward half-wave. “Hello!” She points between Mulder and Scully. “Boyfriend?”

Mulder chokes. Scully picks up his slack--”Oh, no. This is Fox Mulder, my partner at the FBI.”

“Ahh,” Trinity smiles knowingly. “Yes, I’ve heard about you. I didn’t know you would be joining us for Christmas.”

“Christmas is not exactly my family’s cup of tea, so I figured I’d get an authentic experience with the Scullys.”

“Same! I’m looking forward to Mama Scully’s ginger snaps. I’ve heard fantastic things about them.”

Mulder elbows his partner playfully. “Damn, Scully! How could you leave me in the dark about ginger snaps?”

Scully rolls her eyes but smiles. “I apologize, Mulder. Though for the record, the fruitcake is better.”

“Says no one, ever,” Mulder teases.

She grins. Now this is Christmas.

---------------------

Taking a seat at Margaret Scully’s dinner table feels like existing inside a Christmas movie, in Mulder’s mind. Fancy china, green and red serving platters, paper mache snowflakes hanging from the ceiling, and a porcelain nativity scene; the dining room has it all. Not to mention the heaping piles of food there for the taking...if this is Christmas, Mulder wants in every year.

Scully does not share his cinematic fantasy. She knows better, having actually attended one of her family’s dinners before. Bill will get too drunk and start saying whatever comes to mind, their mother will laugh along like he’s still a five year old babbling about nothing (as opposed to the thirty-something spewing bullshit that he actually is), Missy will attempt to debate him to get him to shut up (which never works), and she will sit there and wish to be somewhere, anywhere else. And all without their father to hold the reins and keep a fight from breaking out.

The night has gone smoothly enough, Scully supposes. Missy introduced Trinity as her girlfriend in a very non-ceremonial way, forcing Bill and their mother to nod and accept it, in the moment at least. Mulder received a hug from Margaret and a pat on the shoulder from Bill, so pretty much the highest token of approval. Mulder’s candy canes earned a place in the center of the dessert table, which gave him way more satisfaction than it should have, and he couldn’t help but feel that if they were to vote on favorite man at the party, he would win. A room with Bill Jr. in it is probably the only place he would ever earn this honor, and he’ll take that.

Yet everything unwinds as Scully suspected. Bill waits until everyone has packed plates and full mouths to unleash his particular hyperfixation for the night.

“Trinity?” he questions, raising his fork diagonal across the table toward her. “Is that your name?”

Trinity smiles and nods, oblivious to what she’s in for.

“And you know Melissa how…?”

She pats a napkin to her mouth. “We worked at the same restaurant in Oregon.”

He chuckles gruffly. “What was it, one of those gay bar things?”

“No, an Italian bistro,” Trinity continues calmly.

Missy, however, is not so calm. “Gay people can go places other than gay bars,” she retorts. “We’re not segregated. Though I’m sure you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Bill sets a fist on the table, clanging his silverware. “Yeah, that’s what I said. Why the hell do you insist on being so politically correct all the time? I’d shoot myself.”

“Gee, maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Now Melissa…” Margaret Scully’s voice rises above the clamor.

“I have the right to defend my girlfriend and I against Bill’s thinly disguised homophobia,” Missy responds.

“You act like I give a damn what you and your friend do,” Bill sneers. “That’s not my business.”

“Then stop pretending like it is.”

“Oh boo-hoo, little Missy thinks the world revolves around her.”

“Bill, honey, I think that’s enough,” Tara says, laying a protective hand on his arm.

“You’re right.” He raises his can of beer toward Mulder. “Whaddya doin here, hot shot? Trying to seduce my sister?”

Scully frowns, but doesn’t say anything, pushing food around on her plate.

Mulder seems rather unbothered by Bill’s advances. He chuckles. “Actually, I think it’s the other way around.”

Bill snorts. “That’s a likely story.”

“You don’t think I’m worth your sister’s time?”

“I don’t think Dana thinks you're worth her time. You’re not her type.”

“I am sitting right here, you know,” Scully says, staring daggers at her brother.

“Then tell us Dana! Is hot shot here your type?”

Her eyes brush Mulder’s face. His cheeks flush, reddening like a stormy sunset. She wishes she could read his mind. The safe answer and the true answer are not often the same. “I think Mulder is a wonderful man. I’m very lucky to know him,” she answers stiffly, her annoyance aimed at Bill.

“Oh, the old run-around!” Bill scraps his fork against his plate. ”Typical.”

Scully grabs her now empty canned cocktail and sulks into the kitchen, leaving her chair pushed away from the table. Everyone watches her go, but Bill gives off the only visible reaction. He laughs. “Scared her away. Thought it would take more.”

Mulder and Melissa exchange a glance. She nods, granting him permission to play knight-in-shining-armor. Quietly, Mulder slips out of his chair and pushes it back into place. He catches the kitchen door as it swings closed behind his partner.

Her anger concealed from the rest of the family, Scully drops her can in the recycling bin with a bang. She ignores Mulder, instead opening the refrigerator and pulling out another cocktail, saying nothing.

“What is this, your fifth drink?” Mulder brushes his hand over her shoulder, and she recoils. “Leave me alone, Mulder.” She slams the fridge and tries to turn around, but he’s cornered her.

“C’mon Scully, Bill’s harmless. He doesn’t bother me.”

“It’s not fucking about Bill,” she fumes, alcohol fizzing through her bloodstream. She inhales, trying to keep it together in front of the man who has done nothing wrong to her. “Please get out of my way.”

“What’s wrong?” He frames her shoulders with his hands, creating their own little bubble.

“Don’t touch me!” she growls. Mulder knows as soon as hears it: he will never forget the pure anguish in her voice. As she retreats to the corner, he looks down at his palms, the stovetop that burned her...he would cut them off if he could.

Unfortunately, the commotion attracts the Scully’s like a dog whistle. Bill leads the charge into the kitchen, getting a full view of his sister hunched over by the back door while her partner stands by the fridge like an idiot. “Ooo, a lover’s spat!” he exclaims, only nominally concerned about Dana’s well-being.

“Shut up, Bill,” Missy hisses. To everyone’s relief, he does.

Mrs. Scully comes forward, maneuvering around Mulder to get to her daughter. “Are you alright, Dana?”

Scully keeps her back to the crowd. “I just need a minute.” She taps her pocket, confirms that she slipped her pack of cigarettes in. “I’ll be outside. Everyone can go back to dinner, please.”

She twists the doorknob and steps onto the back deck without waiting for any response. Mulder feels the tug of tears in his throat, like a dormant animal waking up in him. He is used to being hurt (though not by Scully, never her), but inflicting the hurt is a whole other beast. He doesn’t know what he’s done, but he doesn’t need to. The look in her eyes, put there by what he thought was a harmless touch, made his heart tremble. He is frozen in place, grateful when Melissa appears at his side as the rest of the party returns to the dining room.

“I didn’t mean to upset her, I was trying to make her feel better about Bill…” he laments.

“I’m sure, I’m sure. It’s not you specifically, she’s going through a lot right now--you know.”

Mulder rubs his neck. “I don’t know if I do.”

“She hasn’t shared her diagnosis?”

His eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “Diagnosis?! Is she okay?”

Missy sighs. “I think you two need to talk. If she gets pissed, tell her I sent you.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Tell me if she’s okay.”

“She’s okay. It’s not fatal or anything.”

“She would tell me, if it was...wouldn’t she?”

Missy bites her lip. “I don’t know, Fox---Mulder. I would hope so, but I was under the impression you already knew about this, and you see how that’s gone.”

Mulder turns toward the back door, desperation living in his voice. “I’ve gotta go. I’ve gotta check on her.”

Missy nods. “Don’t let her weasel her way out of this one. I’m expecting a heart-to-heart, mushiness and all.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

He turns the back doorknob and slips through the door, trying to imitate his partner’s ninja skills. The old wood on the door frame shakes as he shuts it. He winces--so much for the sneak attack.

Mulder follows the arc of the deck, winter’s bite colliding with him. He didn’t have a chance to grab his jacket, and now that he’s thinking about it, Scully didn’t either. He can grin and bear it but she is all skin and bones, now more than ever. It scares him to see her like that, but it’s none of his business, he feels, to comment on her body. He can break her fall, but he must not provide an extra push.

The wind has no friends to protect nor foes to defeat, so it will give away anyone. It carries the unmistakable tarnish of smoke to Mulder’s nose, an ashy haze that has come to remind him of Skinner’s office and the shadow lingering in the corner. He almost expects to find him there with his Morleys and his sadistic laugh. Instead, he finds a redhead and her Marlboros shrinking against the December cold snap.

“Bum a cig, ma’am?” He scoots up to her, ready to retrieve his own smoke from her long, slender fingers.

“Mulder!” She pulls the cigarette away from her, holding her last puff captive in her lungs.

He wiggles his fingers like an impatient child. “We’re all gonna die someday, right?”

Her jig up, she rolls her shoulders back and releases the smoke with a great rise and fall of her chest. It mingles in the air with the chill of her breath, becoming one and the same as they leave the contours of her body. Head tilted back and lips parted, she is alive with nicotine’s ease and intoxication’s freedom.

It is better than porn, according to one Fox William Mulder. He’ll keep this observation to himself for now.

“Did your parents never teach you that sharing is caring?” he rambles. “C’mon, give me a light!”

“It’s a nasty habit, Mulder.”

“I’m a connoisseur of those,” he replies loosely. “Now, you’re not gonna make me put you in a headlock are ya?”

Scully rolls her eyes. She’s never felt less threatened in her life. “You’re exhausting, do you know that?”

“I’ve heard it a time or two.”

She pulls a cigarette from her carton and slips it into his fingers. They are warm; hers are ice-cold. “I wanted to be alone.” She hands him the lighter, watches as he generates heat from thin air.

He lights his cig and sticks the lighter in his pocket rather than handing it back to her. “According to my calculations, you should be very drunk right now. Other than your Oscar bait performance back there, you’ve got things pretty under control I’d say.”

Scully gestures at her cigarette smoking, teeth chattering self. “Yeah, I’m the picture of health.”

“Do you have some exceptional alcohol tolerance I should know about, because that’d make you very valuable in undercover work.”

Scully gazes out into the distance. She’d smile if she were to look at him right now, and that doesn’t feel right for the situation. “Those drinks have low alcohol content, Mulder. You can buy them at Dollar General.”

“You ever looked at their hand sanitizer? It’s like 95% alcohol.”

“Well, now I know where you go to get your fix.”

He chuckles. “You got me.”

She stuffs her hands in her pockets and he wishes, god he wishes, that he had grabbed his jacket. He’d take off his sweater if she wanted him to--stand there with his bare chest to the cold--but he has a feeling that would only exacerbate the situation.

He tries a more gentlemanly route. “Do you want me to grab your jacket? I won’t give away your trade secrets.”

She folds herself together. “No, it’s okay. It’ll make me get a move on at some point.”

They stand united in their rebellion, blowing smoke and freezing their asses off. Who needs Christmas cheer when you’ve got Christmas resentment?

Mulder sways a bit to keep his blood circulating. He is careful not to bump her. “You wanna tell me why you’re out-Scrooging Scrooge this year?” he prompts as gently as he can.

“In case you haven’t noticed, it hasn’t exactly been the best year of my life.”

“I gathered that, yeah.”

“And it’s the first Christmas without my father…” her voice warbles.

“Shit, right. I’m sorry,” Mulder murmurs.

“...So it just doesn’t feel very celebratory.” She takes a long drag. Mulder can tell that this secret smoking habit is not new to her, and he wonders when she picked it up, how long she has kept it from him.

He takes a deep breath, watches as it is written in the air. “Melissa told me you received a diagnosis, and I think we’ve already established that sharing is caring…”

Scully looks him in the eyes for the first time since he joined her. It has the sudden intensity of a black-and-white film, Scully the 1940s scarlet and he the leading man who pales in comparison to her. There is no one he’d rather be overshadowed by.

“It’s humiliating,” she croaks. “Missy and my mom are the only ones who know.”

“I’ve got the monopoly on humiliation in this partnership, so I wouldn’t worry about that,” he says, flicking some ashes to the ground.

“This is a particular form of humiliation you can’t experience, I’m afraid. Or at least, it wouldn’t impact you the same way.”

“Let’s hear it.”

She sighs. “My abductors removed all of my eggs, causing my menstrual cycle to shut down and me to enter perimenopause.”

His breath catches in his throat. “Jesus christ.”

“Uh-huh.”

He throws his cigarette on the ground and stamps it out, though it could have burned longer. “That’s fucking horrifying, Scully. You’ve got to inform the Bureau. We’ve got to catch these--whatever they are. We’ve got to make them pay.”

“No, Mulder. It’s too much. I don’t want to keep reliving it, I want to be able to move on with my life.”

“How can you move on when they’re still out there, probably doing it to more women?”

She shakes her head, feeling the snag of tears and holding them back for fear they might freeze on her face. “I don’t know, but I can’t think about it like that. It sort of...shatters everything, the idea that this could be a phenomenon happening to other women in secret. I wouldn’t believe it if it didn’t happen to me. I still don’t believe it.”

Mulder shudders. He can’t discern whether it’s from the cold or their conversation. “Do you think it was men who took you? Or do you believe Duane Barry?”

“It seems like a level of monstrosity that only man could achieve. It requires a certain understanding of society, gender roles...dehumanization that only humans could perpetuate.”

Mulder nods. Her reasoning tracks, but the thought of him failing to outsmart humans who stole away his partner is something he cannot fully process. It makes sense that he couldn’t find her if she was in space, but if she was on the face of the Earth, he had no damn excuse.

“You were just gone, Scully...you were just gone.” His aching is so palpable, his voice a cliff’s edge they could both tumble down.

“I know I was.” She takes one last puff, then lets her cigarette fall to the ground. She crushes it with her heel, her force premeditated and brutal. That pain is for the ones who took her, the ones who have obviously never loved a thing at all.

Head bowed, she moves toward the door, but not without grasping for Mulder’s elbow, assuring that he is following behind. He is and he will be, for as long as she lets him.

Inside, the home’s manufactured warmth hits them, unreal in comparison to the cold they have known. The kitchen is as quiet as it was before their ordeal, the dining room empty aside from Mrs. Scully clearing serving platters.

“Where did everyone go?” Scully asks, momentarily alarmed that she may have ruined the entire gathering.

“We’re going to drive around and look at lights before mass. Everyone’s getting ready.”

“Oh.” She looks to Mulder, as if to check that he hasn’t left her stranded. “I think I’ll stay here,” she tells her mother. “Make a cup of hot chocolate and relax for a bit.”

“Well, you’ll be missed. Fox, would you like to join us?”

He takes a leap, hopes he’s got the right idea. “I’ll stay here, but thank you.”

“As you wish,” Mrs. Scully says with a slight smile. Mulder had never noticed her resemblance to her daughter until that moment. It was like looking at a sketch of a famous painting; the lines are there but the colors missing.

Soon enough the crowd leaves and Scully and Mulder settle on the couch with mugs of hot cocoa. Margaret Scully’s tree forms the centerpiece of the living room, and it’s hard not to admire its gold and red decorations and the shiny angel on top.

“That’s gorgeous. Does she do it every year?” Mulder asks, ignoring the steam rising out of his mug and going right in for the kill.

Scully nods. “Every year since we were kids. There used to be a lot more homemade ornaments, but I guess she swapped those for a more elegant look now that we’re grown.”

“Well, it’s beautiful.” He looks at her, curled up with the glow of the fireplace falling upon her, and he feels warmth and safety like never before. It would be so easy to slip in “and so are you,” it is practically begging to be said. But she wouldn’t believe him if he said it now; she would think it was a pity compliment. Instead, he mouths the words, and she is not looking, and that is okay.

She snuggles deeper into the cushions, closing her eyes and letting her mind wander. She is the most at ease she has been in months--here in the house she lived in during high school with the fireplace crackling and her partner by her side--and that’s not what she expected from Christmas Eve. Heaven strokes her skin, and she blinks her eyes open to find Mulder tucking her in with her mother’s microfiber blanket. She smiles her soft Scully smile. “Thank you,” she coos, burrowing herself deeper into the blanket’s embrace.

“You’re welcome,” Mulder whispers into her ear. His fingers tangle in her hair as he pulls her toward him, his lips meeting her temple. She catalogues the feeling for her memory bank: chapped but carrying the hot chocolate’s warmth. She will spend the next while convinced that it was a dream, a fleeting image in the moments before sleep, but she will carry the feeling until she feels it again.

#in true x files fashion it's an angsty christmas with some fluff at the end #just pretend that christmas hasnt passed haha #guest starring: bill jr being a dick #and missy's gf <3 #if you continue to follow this I'm literally in love with you thank you #the x-files #only the light fic #txf #txf fic #missy and scully fic #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #mine

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diosefm · 3 years

Photo

ATONEMENT: the demise of diose valey

there’s a new revolution, a loud evolution that i saw born of confusion and quiet collusion of which mostly i’ve known a modern day woman with a weak constitution, ‘cause i’ve got monsters still under my bed that i could never fight off a gatekeeper carelessly dropping the keys on my nights off

tw: death, alcohol, paranoia, violence, kidnapping, murder, torture

TIME OF DEATH: 2:13 AM

trigger free tl;dr

FRANCIS FOREVER — i don’t know what to do without you, i don’t know where to put my hands. i’ve been trying to lay my head down, but I’m writing this at three am

3:08 AM

Sleep evades you. It’s a recurring thing now.

Wine doesn’t help. You’d think it would at least make you tired enough to lie in bed and empty your head, but all it does is give you a headache that can only be cured with more and more glasses. And you think too much. Hyperaware of everything going on around you.

And even if you can’t sleep, you still have nightmare. You’re wide awake when you swear someone is banging on your window, but it’s just the rain. The sun comes out, hits your eyes and forces you to close them as you get used to the light. Then your door opens.

You’ve lost count of how many times the avoxes there to serve you have been victims of your latest tirades. You lash out. Scream and shout as you destroy your suite because it’s all you can do. Hysterical, that’s what you are. So you drink more. Slur out a poor attempt at an apology. It doesn’t matter. Next morning it’ll be as if nothing happened and you will snap again.

Sleep could help, but you’re no longer used to not sharing your bed with someone.

Days and nights blur together. There is not an end nor a beginning to your days. You’re lying on the floor, at the brink of passing out with a glass of wine in your hand. For weeks, you’ve feared someone will slip something in your drink, poison you. Little did you know, you’re already doing all the work for them.

You can’t remember the last time you ate, nor the last time you slept. You’re delirious. Weak after spending the little strength you had yelling at the avox with the black hair. That is why when your door is opened, you don’t bother to look up.

Your bruised cheek rests against the floor of your suit, the coldness making some of the soreness go away. Someone approaches you, kneels down beside you and runs their hand through your messy hair.

“Pista?“

Incredible how despite everything, you are still able to hold onto the smallest glimmer of hope. If he is there, maybe you can stand up. Do better. Be better. You promised.

Your eyes are tired, but even despite how blurry your vision is, you can tell it’s him. Desperate, you prop yourself up with the help of your arm and cling onto him, allow him to lift you off the ground. It’s not until you breathe in his scent that you notice his smell is different.

Frightened, you take one look at his face and realized you’ve been tricked. It’s eerie how much this man looks like him. Has all of this been done on purpose? Flight or fight. You manage to get him to let you go, but your body is nothing but alcohol at this point, you stumble and fall onto the ground. He calls you a bitch, which you think you deserve. Grabs onto your hair before you can flee, tugging so hard you feel he pulls part of your scalp with it.

You’d yell for Slate to move save you like he’s done before, but he is gone. And soon so will you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him pull something out of his pocket. He jabs a needle into your neck, and you finally get to sleep.

SEVEN DEVILS — seven devils all around me, seven devils in my house. see, they were there when i woke up this morning. i’ll be dead before the day is done

8:42 PM

The faint scent of expensive perfume stirs you awake. Your body is sore, and your head pounding. But your outer appearance doesn’t show how terrible you feel. You catch your reflection on a glass table and marvel at what you see, because you swear you’ve never looked more beautiful.

The dress you are wearing is very familiar. It takes you a few minutes until you realize it’s one of your projects, one that had been sitting in your studio for months. They’ve been at your home, invaded your privacy, gone through your things.

Hair is freshly dyed, perfectly styled to frame your face and the gorgeous job the makeup artists did. No matter what your circumstances have been, you’ve had the ability to always look magnificent. Still, they’ve done a masterful job showing your full potential.

No wonder so much people have always been desperate to be you, with you, or they just want to end you.

As your eyes get used to the light, you notice you’re sitting in the middle of what appears to be a television set. Your first instinct is to explore it, to leave the pristine mint green couch you’re sitting on, but you notice the shackles around your ankles, essentially holding you in place.

You’re not alone for long. Far away, you notice your father’s assistant woman. A petite woman with a fiery red mane of hair and much younger than you. You know very well she’s his latest conquest and a social climber you managed to spot the second you first set your eyes on her.

Cherry, you think her name is. Tacky, just like her. But as much as you hate her, she seems to be your only hope. You call out her name, but she ignores you. Long gone are the days of her begging for your attention. Now you’re the one desperate for her to even glance your way.

This is only the start.

Slowly, more people start arriving,, all of them with a job to do. And despite being surrounded by a crowd now, you’re ignored by everyone. It’s the first time this has ever happened. It doesn’t matter how much you’re glowing, you’re no one to them.

Despite your screams and your pleading, no one tells you what’s happening until a man arrives. You’ve seen him already, you just can’t remember. It’s his scent that clues you in, and you go feral. But you can’t move. the shackles are noisy enough to get everyone to look at you, but he is the only one focused on you, telling you that you need to shut up and avoid making yourself look bad because you will have all of Panem’s eyes on you soon. He adds a threat to his spiel, he brings up Sage and shows you her icture and you instantly press your lips tightly together.

Caesar arrives shortly. Does’t greet you, doesn’t acknowledge you. Whatever fake yet cordial relationship existed between the two of you is now gone. He is there to do his job, that’s it. He shuffles his notes, deep in thought. The show should commence shortly.

Prime time TV, here you come.

YOU’RE ON AIR

The title card is gorgeous. But how could it not, given who seems to be behind all of this. First thing you see on the screen behind Caesar is a slide announcing the following show will be a mandatory viewing all across Panem. Odd, so you keep watching.

Next, you see your father’s name on his signature font and golden lettering following by his title as executive producer. It only adds to your confusion, brows furrowing as your eyes remain fixated on the screen. Your father is an all-too powerful media mogul whose name is attached to anything related to the games, but you still don’t understand why you’re there.

At least not until you see the name of this TV special. Inside Panem: Framing Diose Valey

What happens next is a blur. Two hours filled with memories you thought you had forgotten or wish you could forget. The list of little tidbits and scenes the people of Panem are presented with are as followed:

It all starts with your more than humble beginnings. Images of the run-down house you were born in are shown. You find out who your real parents were along with the rest of the country. A butcher and a seamstress. Both starved to death after after the Capitol left Ten with almost nothing to eat. all to celebrate Snow’s birthday. Your father doesn’t show it that way, but you are able to look past his tricks and propaganda now.

He is an artist, painting the image of a perfect family. Her parents are heroes, saving a child from an imminent death and giving her a life she could have never dreamt of. If you didn’t know any better, you’d be touched. But you are that child, and you’ve grown up and realized you were nothing but a pawn. A tool to up their social standing, to improve their public image. Not that it matters now. Your father has done an incredible job making himself look like father of the year. And maybe a long time ago you genuinely believed that, but the more of this you watch, the less you’re inclined to give him or your mother the benefit of the doubt.

You grow up, flourish into a poised and beautiful young lady. But you’re still a child. Barely into your teens and already perfectly groomed to be just like your parents. It’s the Valey way. Why bother with a normal childhood when you ought to be busy aiming for greatness. Everyone loves you, lauds you. Great things are coming for you.

Your debut is a complete success. The younger stylist in the history of the games, it’s a great honor and your parents couldn’t be any prouder. From the get go, you demonstrate how talented you are. Despite your age, your creations are the best in the entire lineup. Many stylist didn’t want you there, thought you had only gotten a spot in the team due to your name. You proved all of them wrong.

You are a child forced to grow up too fast, but why does that matter when you have a successful career and a thriving business.

To you, the next scene doesn’t come as a surprise. More of your accomplishments are shown before you are forced to see a summary of the 55th games. You look away, not wanting to see Aven and what they did to Caspian, but your head is held in place by someone behind you. Your eyes begin watering as you see him take his last breath, covered in blood, his face unrecognizable. A makeup artist is ushered in and she pats your face with a tissue and fixes a makeup. Someone orders her to stay by your side, telling her that will happen again. That sounds like a warning. Not directed at her, but you.

Showing what became of Caspian right at the start is something you think was done on purpose. It makes it hurt more when images of you two appear on screen. Laughing, talking. Your father’s collection really has everything; he’s kept a close record of every single thing you’ve ever done. It enrages you when you replay your first kiss in the middle of a private fitting, the way Caspian caresses your cheek and promises he is coming back for you. It’s pure evil that you are forced to watch all of this, but you think it’s even worse every personal detail of your life is now being used to keep others entertained.

Your father, always so careful about his image, does not show how he refused to keep him alive. Your mother’s punishment after his death is not mentioned either. Your trauma doesn’t matter.

After more images of the rest of your teenage years, your introduction into adulthood is shown and there is a shift in the tone of the program. Your innocent is now long gone. You’re a woman now, one that is perfectly aware of how to use her womanly charms to get what she wants. What your mother encouraged is now a bad thing. Unbecoming of a high society lady. Your behavior is a product of your own trauma, a combination of your mother meddling with your unresolved issues, using them to toy with your head and turn you into something cold and calculated. Having her tell you tears weren’t a woman’s only weapons was a recurring thing all through your life, but given that she is supposed to be the perfect mother, Panem doesn’t see that.

Tiberius was a constant in your life for years. Not in the same way Slate was, obviously. You never shared your bed with him. You never schemed with him to cheat and favor your tributes. You never plotted to have nuisances murdered. Tiberius was the brains behind everything but the Capitol won’t let such a beloved figure like him see his legacy be tarnished, especially by the likes of a newly disgraced figure. Everything is blamed on you. Diose tricked him. Diose forced him to do this. Diose seduced him. Tiberius is innocent. It’s all bullshit, but you’re not innocent either. If there is something your father has proved so far, it’s that the best calumnies are spiced with the truth.

You’ve left a sizeable list of victims. Some are dead, some were luckier, having only suffered by seeing their own reputations ruined by the great Diose Valey. This was something else your parents encouraged, but not it’s being used against you. You could argue that things are being taken out of context, but you did all of those things. You lied, you cheated, you killed. Not directly, but does that matter now? You’re heinous person, the worst Capitol has to offer. Why someone wanting to do good and change the system you’ve upheld and taken so much advantage of would trust you is a mystery.

Your accomplishments are presented along with more of your escapades and intrigues. Death, suffering, greed. Diose Valey is nothing but an evil woman, a harlot desperate to amass as many power and money as she could No one saw it before, but thankfully this story has a hero. Minos Valey is here to open everyone’s eyes. He’s proved no one outside the Capitol should trust you, potentially destroyed the few alliances you’ve made, what else could he do?

Rebel sympathizers have more than enough reasons to hate you now that it’s been shown you’re the shining example of the sins and crimes important Capitoles have incurred in. They’ve always know they’re bad, but now your name is at the top of the list of the worst of the crop.

Cut all ties. Despite everything, you’re not the only one with skeletons in her closet. There is still people out there stupid enough to forgive your sins because they don’t know any better. Everything you’ve done so far could be excused by saying you did it to continue protecting the values and principles of the Capitol. People have done worse and still came out of top, you could do it. Or could have, had it not been for the train.

You see Pista and you start screaming again. Caesar glances at you before he asks someone to gag you, your screams won’t let him focus and you’re giving him a headache. As per usual, the editing is top notch. Diose Valey, the perfect Capitolite, is now a heinous traitor. More of your words are taken out of context, a narrative crafted to make it all seem that your change of heart happened because you wanted to benefit only yourself. You were willing to destroy the people that gave you everything and turned you into what you are now. Murder can be excused, disloyalty and treason cannot.

Neither you or Pista did anything to hurt any of the Peacekeepers that stood in your way. Did you threaten them? Absolutely. But it was done to protect the man you forced to help you. An image of you attempting to intimidate a peacekeeper by telling them they don’t know who they’re messing is shown. You remember that. It happened. But the next bit revealing the bloody remains of the Peacekeeper you confronted was not your doing. Thing is, who would believe you at this point?

You’ve switched teams, seem content plotting against your current government. The sensitivity that came with your new goals is nowhere to be found. According to your father, all you’ve done after the train has the only intention of benefiting you. Selfish, entitled, spoiled. You will never change.

He doesn’t misses the chance to embarrass you even further by letting the whole country be a witness to your outburst at the wedding along with you supposedly mistreating your poor mother after some heavy drinking. There is a new narrative line he is following, one you don’t quite understand until it’s explained how unstable you are. You’ve been kind enough to give him more than enough material to work with in the past few days. The awful behavior caused by your paranoia has been turned into a montage of Diose Valey’s worst moments. You’re an unhinged drunk now, an unruly and hysterical woman that can barely function because the weight of every bad thing she’s ever done is eating her up. You think she is being poisoned, people are ought to get you. The terrified faces of the avoxes tasked to care for you are shown in between shots of you screaming and destroying your suite. No mention of Slate’s disappearance and it being the cause of most of your lunacy is made.

It should be all over now. The screen goes black, no one is talking. They’re all too busy looking at you in pure disgust. You’re given a three minute break before you have a camera pointed straight at your face. Another threat is made. The same man who’s been silently torturing you ever since he took you from your room shows you more pictures. Virgo, Robyn, Slate, Pista. That must mean he is still alive, but you’re not given any time to process this information. He doesn’t have to say anything for you to understand. You know how it all works. If you don’t comply, others will pay. A nod is given before the makeup artist fixes your makeup.

The show is back on and a clearly glum Caesar comments on what all of you have witnessed. Everything is a shame, it’s all so sad. You were a role model, what happened? Please, as if this isn’t nothing more than a punishment. You’re being framed by your own father and every person in that room is a willing participant.

The interview part of the special doesn’t last very long, because it’s not actually an interview. It’s your father’s own clever way forcing you to confess. You get the privilege of being the final nail on the coffin you will be buried in. that is, if you ever get that.

You blackmailed Tiberius, forced him to be part of your nefarious plans. Yes, you meddled with the games. We got a list of people who passed due to your doing, can you confirm it all being true? Fine, that one you can’t deny, even if everything is not what it seems.

I cheated, I lied, I killed, I destroyed many families. You hate that you’ve been beaten at your own game, but there is nothing else to do. It’s either this or seeing those you love suffer. You tired of seeing people be affected by your actions, so you lie again let them pin every single bad thing that’s ever happened on you.

Everything is almost over. You’re quite proud of yourself or avoiding crying. You were warned about having to look perfect, and you’ve complied with them again and again. No one else is getting hurt. Only you. But you’ve accepted it.

Caesar goes on a spiel about your recent actions, questions your mental stability, though he is not talking to you, but to the camera. Another announcement is made. His voice is soft and sympathetic as he explains that given how clear it is you’ve gone beyond dangerously teetering on the edge of insanity and have clearly crossed it some time ago.

Do you agree? There is no answer from you. Well, as we all care so much about you, certain measures have been taken. Diose Valey, all your assets will be seized, put under your mother’s name.

Some more is said, a proper explanation is given in order to give viewers some context and explain what all of this means, but you stopped listening the second you understood you now have… Nothing. Your home, your business, your money. Without people to trust that was all you had to rely on, your only way of protecting yourself, but now you’ve got nothing.

Your credibility is shattered. The alliances you’ve made on both sides, you fear, are certainly ruined now. All the information, connections, and secrets you’ve gathered throughout the years and could be used against them now are unusable. The Capitol has shown you the house always wins.

Everything is over and you’re dragged away. You’d scream, but it’s pointless. You’ve come to terms of what’s coming next. Because, there is nothing else they could do to you. Death, that’s it. You’ve been shamed and humiliated, tortured one last time before they get rid of you for good.

YOUNG & BEAUTIFUL — will you still love me when i’m no longer young and beautiful? will you still love me when i got nothing but my aching soul?

1:51 AM

You didn’t notice you were put to sleep again. You don’t understand why you’re still breathing, nor why you’re naked and tied to a table face down. Everything is pitch black until you manage to spot a very faint and orange light near you. You can’t make up what it is, not until it’s almost dangerously close to your face you can feel the heat whatever that thing is irradiates.

ЯOTIAЯT

You’re so out of it. But then, you remember seeing those things before. Your father owned a customized branding iron he used to mark all of your horses with the Valey family logo. Everything clicks into place and you start screaming again just as more people come into the room, one of them holding you down as the tool is pressed against the back of your right shoulder. It’s past 2 am by that point.

All you remember is the smell of burnt flesh before you pass out due to the pain.

4:29 AM

Beaten. Bloodied. The wound cauterized itself and that’s enough for them to be done with you. They’ve done a number to your face, and body. You can feel it in the soreness affecting you from head to tie, but you’re not concerned with that. It’s your shoulders that is killing you. You can still smell the burn flesh as well as the dried blood stuck to your skin all mixed in with the putrid scent of the garbage all around you. You don’t know what time it is, whether if the darkness you see is due to the time or being inside a garbage bin.

You attempt to get out, but the pain on your shoulder is unbearable. It renders you unable to move enough to be able to do much. And when you attempt to use your hands, you notice them going numb, refusing to follow your orders.

Maybe you ought to stay there. Maybe now that they’ve taken your money and the allure that drove people to you, you’re finally right where you belong.

#IT'S PRIME TIME TV BELOVEDS #sp #ch: 5 #i spent a lot of time writing dis. read all of it or perish

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raleighcarrera · 4 years

Text

writing masterlist

f u l l - l e n g t h s t o r i e s

playchoices

blades of light & shadow

mal volari x mc (raine)

sparks | 6.6k words | T a penderghast college of elemental magicks au.

bloodbound

adrian raines x mc (amy)

doorways | 3.6k words | T adrian agrees to accompany amy to her high school reunion... as her boyfriend. a fake dating au for @bbappreciationweek.

holiday | 2.3k words | T adrian and amy take a much needed vacation.

jax matsuo x mc (amy)

static | 3.4k words | T an au where jax officially meets amy for the first time at a clan meeting where her boss, adrian, is petitioning for her turning.

foreign affairs

blaine hayes x mc (kennedy monroe)

knockout | 4.1k words | E blaine and kennedy get a little alone time. cut scene from the house party in chapter 2.

on the ropes | 2.5k words | T a bonus scene from the end of chapter 3; kennedy accidentally goes home with blaine’s phone.

outpoint | 3.3k words | T a cut scene from chapter 4; after dionne’s party, blaine and kennedy work on their project a little bit and then not at all.

parry | 4.7k words | E after the polo match, kennedy sneaks out to see blaine. bonus scene from the end of chapter 5.

pulling punches | 2.7k words | T the night’s not over yet. a bonus scene from the nightclub at the end of chapter 7.

ringside | 2.4k words | T kennedy’s upset. blaine knows a place. a bonus scene from chapter 8.

saved by the bell | 3.5k words | T blaine springs kennedy from her date in chapter 10.

sucker punch | 3.2k words | E blaine and kennedy take their hot tub party inside. an extended scene from chapter 11.

toe-to-toe | 2.4k words | T after dinner, blaine spends the night. a cut scene from chapter 13.

uppercut | 2.2k words | T blaine and kennedy take a breather. an extension of the club scene in chapter 15.

victory | 3.6k words | T what happened next: a foreign affairs epilogue/extension of chapter 16.

immortal desires

cas harlow x mc (parker reese) x gabriel adalhard

it was a graveyard smash | 2.2k words | T parker, gabriel and cas made it to college. they deserve a night off at a halloween party.

open heart

bryce lahela x mc (casey valentine)

christmas in hawaii | 10.3k words | T bryce brings casey home for christmas. set post-book two.

daylight | 5.8k words | M bryce and casey have to share a bed at a medical conference in san diego.

make way | 2.3k words | T bryce tells casey that he loves her while she's falling asleep.

platinum

raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian)

be mine | 9k words | E raleigh and cadence end up on a couple’s trip together as the fifth and sixth wheels to their friends, four months after they’ve broken up.

birthday | 2.5k words | T raleigh can’t let cadence spend her birthday taking care of him.

breathe in/breathe out | 2.3k words | M raleigh needs some air. a bonus scene from chapter 9 for @choicesjunechallenge, day 2! (breathe)

catch up | 6k words | M it’s been eight months since the breakup. they have a lot to catch up on.

everyone but you | 5.2k words | T proposal fic :’)

falling | 10.5k words | T a soulmate au where the first words raleigh & cadence say to each other are tattooed on them their whole lives, for @platinumweekend.

famous | 5.4k words | M an au where raleigh is still raleigh but cadence is an actress on a teen tv drama.

live from new york | 3.6k words | E coda to famous - cadence is hosting last call, and raleigh is the musical guest. for @choicesjunechallenge day 8! (live)

magic in the hamptons | 3.4k words | E raleigh and cadence enjoy the summer before he leaves for tour in the fall.

skeletons | 4k words | T cadence doesn’t realize she’s at the same halloween party as raleigh, who’s just broken up with her.

understanding | 2k words | M raleigh and cadence have an understanding. for the @choicesmaychallenge day 27 prompt of the same name.

shane parker x mc (cadence dorian)

circles | 3.1k words | T shane and cadence have been best friends their entire lives. so why do things feel so different when she comes to visit him at college? set pre-book.

ride or die: a bad boy romance

colt kaneko x mc (ellie wheeler)

after class | 10.1k words | M ‘part of me wishes things were different. we could’ve met at college… pushed each other in the classroom…’

a safe bet | 3.7k words | E call me a safe bet / i’m betting i’m not

bruised | 3.9k words | E colt and ellie bump into each other in a bar.

cliché | 15.5k words | M a best man/maid of honor au.

control | 5k words | E colt gives orders at work all day. sometimes, when he gets home, he just wants a break.

everywhere we go | 6.1k words | E ellie comes back to LA. colt’s been saving a place for her.

finally | 4.2k words | M but the truth is this / i’ve never seen a mouth that i would kill to kiss / and i’m terrified / but i can’t resist

honey & the moon | 20.3k words | E a werewolf au following mtv’s teen wolf lore.

lonely | 3.5k words | T he never expected to have to do any of this by himself.

notes | 2.3k words | E colt and ellie have one night together. for @julychoiceschallenge day 14! (love)

routine | 18.6k words | M a best man/maid of honor au. companion fic to cliché, told from colt’s pov.

saturday | 2.2k words | T ellie shows colt around the east coast. for @choicesjunechallenge day one! (wander)

strategy | 2.9k words | M instead of trying to get a few hours of sleep after they get home from the rave in chapter 10, ellie and colt stay up all night.

we’ve been up | 14.3k words | T a sequel to ‘everywhere we go.’ car accident & temp. amnesia warning.

logan x mc (ellie wheeler)

best of me | 2.3k words | T a picture of logan and ellie in their thirties for @rodappreciationweek and the time capsule challenge.

daydream | 2.2k words | T ellie takes logan home from the hospital. he’s had a couple of painkillers.

rising tides

robin tora x mc (josie thompson)

bright | 4.2k words | T josie and robin have one last day together in cedarport before robin heads back to northbridge for the holidays.

the royal masquerade

hunter fierro x mc (juliet rosario)

hushed | 2k words | E hunter & juliet return to the library.

kayden vescovi x mc (juliet rosario)

in these walls | 4.6k words | E juliet tries to goad kayden into playing roughly with her again.

what we do | 2.2k words | T queen juliet rosario and former crown shield kayden vescovi meet up somewhere no one knows who either of them are.

the royal romance

drake walker x mc (riley brooks)

different | 16.9k words | M drake and riley meet at a frat party in college. they’re not, like, dating dating.

other

nancy drew: the video games

frank hardy x nancy drew

c’mon, sweet catastrophe | 11.7k words | T an obligatory harry potter au.

missed calls | 22.6k words | T what happened after colorado, scotland, georgia and greece? a fic following the aftermath of frank’s voicemail at the end of the deadly device.

same mistakes | 15k words | T five years after nancy starts her own detective agency instead of joining the hardy boys’ venture, they cross paths on a case.

trouble | 4.3k words | T nancy and frank stay up late in salem.

the wayhaven chronicles

mason x mc (kira langford)

backflip | 6k words | E there are a lot of people that want to take kira home.

be nice to me | 5.1k words | E this is how mason apologizes. for day 13 of @31daysofwayhaven (apology)

jinx | 4.1k words | E mason and the detective go home together after the carnival. set immediately following the end of book 2.

limits | 5.6k words | M mason has a realization.

scorch | 2.8k words | E the power goes out. things go bump in the night.

d r a b b l e s

au writing prompt fills

best vs. worst prompt fills

choices prompt list fills

cliché tropes and prompts fills

college au writing prompt fills

holiday writing requests

fifty types of kisses prompt fills

first time vs. last time prompt fills

kissing prompt fills

kinktober/ns*w prompt fills

‘things you said’ prompt fills

travel writing prompt fills

ways to say ‘i love you’ prompt fills

r e q u e s t s / r a n d o m

playchoices

the wayhaven chronicles

m i s c .

3 sentence fics tag

ship meme tag

edits tag

art gifts/commissions

ao3

#masterlist #long post #sheeeesh i wrote a bunch #hope this is more convenient for u all !!#esp. bc i know people asked to be tagged in things and i forgot to do that lmao

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bakubaewritings · 4 years

Text

Lost (4)

Warning Cursing

(1) (2) (3) 5(coming soon)

If you’d like to be tagged in the next part feel free to comment or private message me <3

The air was thick with tension; it loomed over the two of you like a dark fog, in complete silence. No one dared speak a word. Outside there was no sound of traffic or bird song, just silence.

"Y/n." Emotions consumed Todoroki all at once. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold you in his arms. He missed you; he missed everything about you, how you smelled, how your skin felt against his, the sound of your voice, the taste of your lips. Those long sorrow-filled weeks without you, without speaking a word to you after having you run out of his life, due to his fault.

"Get out," your voice was low and harsh. The coldness in your tone bitterly nipped at Todoroki's hopeful aura. His eyes began to swell with tears at her words.

"Y/n?" He beckoned again, walking over to the hospital bed. He craved your touch, the warmth that radiated off your skin was so much more than superficial. It warmed his heart; in your time together you had become his safe place. He found comfort in your voice and calmness in your eyes.

However, the look painted all on your face was not one of joy; it was rage and disgust.

"Get out, Todoroki." Your voice grew louder, down an octave as it fell to a low growl. He wanted to convince himself that you didn't mean him. However, he understood. You deserved to feel angry at him for his actions; he would be fooling himself to think you'd ever be able to forget and forgive.

"I know you want me to go, but hear me out Y/n, please." His hands balled to fists at his sides. Heat radiated off him in waves as his emotions began to fule into his quirk. The way his heart pounded against his ribcage rang in his ears. Shoto had never been one to show so much emotion, he was always calm and cool, however when it came to you, maybe he wouldn't demonstrate it, but you were what connected him to his genuine emotions. You had introduced him to emotions he'd never felt in his life. You had become his gravity, the center of his whole world. You kept him human, while still pushing him to follow his dreams, something he'd never really had as a child.

You stayed silent, biting down on the inside of your cheek in an attempt to distract yourself from the urge to begin sobbing. You refused to look him in the eye; to you his eyes only held betrayal. You'd already spent the entire summer attempting to scrub away the image of Shoto and Momo. You didn't need a reminder.

"I betrayed your trust, and I know that . I was an awful partner ,and you have every right to be upset and angry at me. I know me simply saying sorry will not erase the situation; what I did was unforgivable, but for what it is worth Y/n L/n I am so sorry, I never met to hurt you at all." There was a brief pause, Todoroki swallowed the lump in his throat. It took every bit of strength to hold back his tears. He made his way towards you; his gaze never left your face as your eyes desperately tried to keep starting at objects around the room.

"Y/n you know me, you know me better than anyone. You know how much I love you, and I'd never do anything to hurt you purposefully." He was next to you, knees firmly on the ground. You could feel his quirk radiating off him in polar temperatures. His face burned in the white hospital sheets that clung to your lap.

"You didn't kiss her." The words fell from your lips as clarity began to paint your thoughts. Shoto hadn't properly hugged a girl that wasn't in his immediate family before you, he was always reserved and respectful, never one to demonstarte so much emotion, especially kissing a fellow classmate in a dormitory gym. It was completely and utterly out of character for the bi-hair colored boy.

"I'd never, disrespect you like that Y/n." His words muffled against the sheets, you could feel his burning skin through the thin fabric as the heat began to dance on your thigh. "I love you."

There they were, for the first time in what had now been months you'd finally heard him utter those three words. You'd remember how patently you waited for him to feel comfortable enough to understand the feeling of love between two people that were more than just friends.

"Forgive me for assuming it was mutual but you can't blame me Todoroki, You became so distant from me. All it became was Momo this and Momo that. How was I supposed to feel?"

His head shifted from your lap. He looked up at you with small tears wetting his long lashes. "I have no explanation, to be quite honest, I was oblivious. I should have taken your feelings into account, you were always so patient and understanding, and I took advantage of that. I assumed you didn't need me as much to help you, and when Yaoyorozu asked for my help, I just wanted to be kind, just like you. You're always putting others before you, helping people with everything you can. It's the quality of a true hero, an amazing hero. I wanted to be like you." You'd be lying to yourself if you said his words did not affect you. No, every sentence was another tug at your heartstrings.

" I did notice we weren't spending as much time together, and I didn't like it either. I let another girl occupy the time I should have been giving to you. The one girl who's been by my side through it all. I have no excuse for what I did, I know it was incredibly wrong, but please Y/n, I love you. Give me another chance." Your hands, so petite compared to his much larger frame, came to cup the sides of his head lovingly. However, that was also when you noticed it, the diamond that shone brightly on your finger, placed on there by his own brother.

Dabi, Todoroki Touya. The man who had comforted you in the last days, a man who you'd grown incredibly close to, a man who you were to marry.

Unfortunately, the cold band did not go unnoticed by the youngest Todoroki either. He flinched away from it in confusion. He was peering down at it in a clear face of disdane.

"Y/n?" It sounded more of a warning than a question. Like a desert, your words had dried out in your troat. Your mind only drew blanks. How were you going to explain that you were to marry his brother?

The sound of the door creeking open tore your attention from one another.

"Hey, little brother, finally decided to make a comeback." An apparent scowl was on full display on Dabi's face as he walked into the room, a white paper bag in hand, letters decortating the bag displaying the name of your favorite restaurant.

"Touya? What are you doing here?"

"Bringing food for my Fiance." He said nonchalantly. Oh, how you wanted to smack him square in the face. The atmosphere changed into a hostile one. Shoto's eyes looked as if they were to pop out of his head at the moment.

"Fiance?" He asked blankly. His face was fully corrupted with anger and confusion.

"Yep, you can ask the old man about more details, but after you graduate this little cutie is gonna be the next Mrs. Touya Todoroki." Your mouth hung open, every word of of Dabi's mouth was laced with venom. He wanted nothing more than to crawl under his perfect little brother's skin.

"What the hell is going on? Y/n?" He looked at you for any sort of answer, he hoped you'd just laugh it off as a joke. A hilarious way to make him feel awful for what had happened, but when you gave no such indication of a joke he knew. This was real.

"I.." You couldn't speak. No string of words that formed in your brain were coherent. There was nothing you could say that would fix the situation. Of course, you had to tell him all this eventually, but this was way too soon.

"Someone explain what the hell is going on?" A deep growl came from Shoto as he glared daggers at Dabi.

"Why don't you leave Shoto, Y/n needs to rest. She doesn't need you here with your petty apologizes."

'Dabi." You let out a gasp at his words.

"You leave Touya. You have no part in this. Y/n is mine." The two men advanced at each other, getting into a fighting stance.

"Shoto, Dabi stop!" You pleaded with the two boys. The gap between them getting smaller, ready to use their quirks against each other at any minute. Shoto's right side had begun to cover in a thin sheet of frost, while the left began to heat up. Dabi, on the other hand, his aura turned dark as a blue glow emitted from his hands.

"Enough!" You shouted out, now using your quirk to gather any water from the room and using a technique to shape it as tentacles and pull both boys apart from each other.

"Dabi, Shoto and I are going to have to talk about this. This is sooner than I'd would have wanted, but It's going to happen." You huffed, at the dark hair colored boy, turning to Shoto, "we may have a lot of talk about, and you will get an explanation, but both of you need to control yourselves and not try to kill each other! Now can I please get discharged then we can go to Endavour and, he will explain everything because I'm, not wasting my breath talking about this whole bullshit anymore!" Wide eyes stared at you, as your voice rose in anger. You were annoyed, you couldn't seem to catch a break. You just wanted to disappear.

Pent up anger and frustration towards everything had been coming undone just by seeing Shoto.

"I'm so over this bullshit!" Never one to curse, never one to raise your voice, always the perfect little lady. The facade was coming undone.

"I can't catch a god damn break; when everything seems to be going okay another damn brick is thrown my fucking way. I'm just trying to get better, does no one care how I feel?" Your voice was getting louder by the second. A crowd of people, doctors, nurses, and even your fellow classmates were at your door.

"Does no one care I had no time to grieve? Does That asshole of a god damn man take pleasure in fucking with my future? Does my own family really care more about our god damn imagine than to let me actually live and be myself?" To be honest, eveyone had faded from your eyes. All you see was an empty red color as you continued to rage.

"Grieve?" The word played in Shoto Todoroki's head like a broken record. Grieving what? He asked himself.

You hadn't realized, but you were standing now, your water tentacles wrapped around the men's torsos tightening with your quirk.

"Doll, calm down now, please. It's getting a little too tight." Dabi struggled to attempt to wiggle out of the grip.

"Too tight!?" You know what's tight?" You yelped, hot tears falling from your cheeks. "This god damn burden, I have pushed my god damn chest inward. I'm going insane!"You cried, falling to the ground. You lost your control on your quirk, and the water splashed into the ground.

Shoto's mind was moving 50 miles a second in attempting to understand what was going on. Had you felt a burden for being engaged to his brother? Surely he knew his father was responsible, but why you had agreed to, he still coudn't understand. Nevertheless, he was first to rush to your side. Falling against his chest, you laid silent, letting your tears finish falling.

Crying, felt like the only thing you could do for these last months.

"Let's get you home. Okay, let's get you out of this place." Shoto whispered softly in your ear, brushing yout hair back so you can bury your face deeper in his chest. He couldn't lie, having you this close again, this made his heart sore.

Now Dabi could only stand and watch holding back his own emotions as the girl he'd come to love fell right back into the arms of the man you truly belonged with.

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punksarahreese · 4 years

Note

what do family celebrations look like in the murmur au? like birthdays, Christmas, thanksgiving etc 👀👀

👀

Birthdays

Vivi’s birthdays are always super important

Because honestly she was born premature, addicted to meth, and with major heart defects so obviously her outlook wasn’t good

They didn’t expect her to live a week

But she got stronger and when Ava adopted her she was ~6 months old and well on her way to a full life

So ever since then birthdays have become a reminder of how lucky they were and how precious Vivi is to be in their lives 🥺

Sarah and Ava take the day off work and spend it with Vivi and take her shopping and let her pick out a special present

Usually she picks a movie or game that they can watch/play as a family cuz she loves being around her mums <3

Sometimes she’ll get a plushie or a blanket

Or one of those plastic doctors kits because “Vivi be like mama-mummy” 😌✨

After that they’ll go home and do whatever Vivi wants that day

Which is usually cuddles with her mums and just playing games

When she gets older they take her to the park for a little while because her immune system is stronger and its okay for a little if she doesn’t overwork herself

And she loves those days

Especially when she gets to have Ava push her on the swings <3

Also once Ava, Sarah, and Crockett become friends its common for Crockett to bake cupcakes and bring them over

And they usually have little bumblebees made out of fondant on them because “it’s for ma petite abeille, of course” 🥺🥺

Uncle Crockett supremacy !!

For Sarah’s birthday she doesn’t like a big fuss but Ava and Vivi love to spoil her

Vivi always makes her a card and adds cute little drawings and even adds some of her cutest cannula stickers for mama :((

Ava almost always plans to have Maggie or Crockett watch Vivi for the evening so she can take Sarah out to dinner

Because with work and parenting they don’t get out much on real dates

And it’s not a big deal but Ava does like to spoil her girlfriend because she deserves it

And she also gets her thoughtful gifts like an expensive curl shampoo she’d wanted or a certain kind of coffee/tea she mentioned liking

For Ava’s birthday Vivi does the same, making a card and adding stickers (the anatomically correct heart stickers that Doctor Latham gave her are the obvious choice 😌)

Sarah and Vivi always get up early to surprise Ava with breakfast and coffee because she’s always in a rush and she deserves to have a good breakfast especially on her birthday

Sarah is very practical with her gifts for Ava and it’s usually whatever medical book she had been wanting or a new stethoscope or scrub cap

But she’s also been known to splurge on a good bottle of wine for them

Christmas

Christmas was never a big thing in Sarah’s house what with her divorced parents and all that

But it was important in Ava’s family

And even though Sarah lost her Christmas spirit somewhere along the way she was happy to spend time with Ava and Vivi in whatever way they wanted

Vivi just loved any time she got to spend with her mums so she was content

She loved to sit in the window seat of their apartment and watch the snow 🥺 and she was kinda sad when she was too sick to be outside

So sometimes Crockett and Ethan would come over and everyone would bake cookies and decorate them to make her feel better <3

And Ava made special hot chocolate (made with real dark chocolate and with chai steeped into the milk it’s so good) that everyone loved and it was a signature part of their Christmas time

They would visit friends if Vivi was up to it, stopping by the hospital to bring cookies to the nurses and CT/peds staff

And on Christmas Eve they sat together by the window to watch the snow fall and Ava read all her favourite books from her childhood and it was just soft :((

There was one year when Vivi was 4 where she had a bad infection and was in the PICU over the holidays :((

She felt so poorly and couldn’t understand why she couldn’t just go home with mama and mummy

She cried when she realized she wouldn’t get to watch the snow and have hot chocolate that year on Christmas Eve 🥺

And Sarah just sat with her and kissed her head and promised she would spend Christmas with them even if it was in the hospital

When she spiked a bad fever on Christmas Eve Ava was devastated

Vivi wasn’t very lucid because of the fever and the amount of painkillers they had her on and she was just crying when she was awake :(

But Ava just stayed with her, in the bed with her baby in her arms

And she read all the books that they read together every year

And she promised Vivi that things would be better soon

Sarah was by their side the whole night and she watched over them when Ava fell asleep with Vivienne held tightly in her arms

And the next morning her fever broke and she was feeling well enough to have half of a cookie that Crockett brought (which she shared with uncle Latham because he walked in and she decided he needed some Christmas cheer)

(And Latham was kinda like ??? But Ava laughed and told him that she had explained to Vivi about how he didn’t celebrate Christmas but she still wanted to make him smile and share the cookies 💞💞)

Thanksgiving

Ava never celebrated thanksgiving before moving in with Sarah because it just isn’t a thing in South Africa

She didn’t quite get it but she enjoyed any time spent with her family

And thanksgiving in particular was a time when the whole ED staff (+Sarah/Daniel/Ava/Connor) got together if they could

Usually at Maggie’s place

Vivi would spend time playing games with Noah and April while Ava and Sarah helped with the cooking and stuff

And sometimes Vivi just liked to be held on Sarah’s hip, head resting on her shoulder as she watched mama stir whatever sauce Crockett was showing her how to make

Everyone sat down to eat and had a great time and even if Ava didn’t celebrate thanksgiving and Sarah never really did because of her family situation this was just perfect

Because they had their own little family now and traditions are always best when spent together <3

#mushy !!!#🥺🥺🥺🥺 i just love them so much #chicago med #ava bekker #sarah reese #reesker #murmur #mum!ava #mum!sarah #my aus #my-writing #asks #mutuals #crockettstiddies #vivi tag

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ironmansuuucks · 4 years

Text

Like Father, Like Daughter - Part 3

dewey finn x stark!reader

bonour mon petite croissants! okay so like this part is vvv different to the other parts and the ending is really rushed so my apologies. there’s pretty much no dewey in this one its all reader and tony because context and story lmao but it is vvv angsty!!!. sooo i hope you enjoy! also, i tagged you guys because yous have read and commented on the last parts and i hope yous are still liking it lmao lotsa love xxxx

Part 1

Part 2

words - 1800

warnings - alcohol, mentions on drugs, angst

“JARVIS, you up?” Tony questioned his AI as he walked back into the workshop. “for you sir, always”. It was dark and cold in Stark Tower. Tony had been footering around with mark 34 all day, non-stop. He had no idea where his daughter was. In fact you hadn’t spoken in days. It broke his heart but he knew that he needed to wait until you were ready to talk, and the fact that you were both as stubborn as each other didn’t help. As he checked his watch he couldn’t believe the time, 3:20 AM. “yeah, now flip it.. uh huh and push the revolvers up.. more to the left” Tony spoke to JARVIS with a holographic model of mark 34’s chest cavity moving around in front of him.

Suddenly his phone began to ring. “send it to voicemail” he quipped at JARVIS, still spinning the holograph, but the AI hastily responded “uh sir, it’s y/n’s mobile that’s calling you”. “what? Where is she?” he replied worriedly. Tony had a secret tracker on your phone for years and you had never noticed. JARVIS checked and replied “she’s in Katie’s bar sir”. Tony furrowed his eyebrows, folding his arms, expecting some drunken call from his daughter about how much she hated him, “ok answer it”. The AI answered the call and all Tony could hear was the loud, muffled music of the bar.

“hey sweetie how you getting on?” he answered the phone condescendingly, preparing for her shouting and swearing. But the voice he was met with was not his daughters. “uh, hey Mr Stark, it’s Peter, y/n’s friend?”. Tony furrowed his eyebrows again, concern building. “oh hey Pete, everything ok?”. Peter paused for a second. “well uh.. no, not really.” Tony’s heart was racing, his mind spinning and coining the worse scenarios. “I think you may need to come pick up y/n. She’s super messed up, worse than I’ve ever seen her.. and she uh.. she was about to buy.. uh cocaine from these random guys on the streets before we stopped her” Peter replied hesitantly. Tony was furious. Who the hell did you think you were and what the fuck did you think you were doing. He had been down this route before and it was one that he struggled to get out of. The rich and famous lifestyle was not an easy ride, but he would die before he let you fuck up as much as he did when he was your age.

Tony darted toward the door, not even lifting his jacket “uh huh kid, keep her at Katie’s bar, I’ll be there in five”. He didn’t even wait to here what peter had to say. He almost ran out to the Mercedes and drove at a speed that was lethal to get his daughter back and safe in his arms.

* * * * * * *

“yeah well fuck off” you shouted at the bouncer as your friends dragged you out of the bar, stumbling into the back of them. You pulled out of Peter’s grip and slid down the wall to sit on the ground. Your head was spinning. You had consumed a destructive amount of alcohol. You put your head in your hands. “ugh I haaaate my liiife” you almost shouted as your friends stood in front of you, patiently waiting for Tony. Peter bent down and rubbed your knee “you’re fine, y/n, everything will be okay”. You sobbed slightly “n-no it won’t Pete, im.. I’m fucked up”.

Just then was when the jet black Mercedes stopped outside of the bar, the door flinging open. You looked up at the sudden noise of the car acceleration, Peter standing up and thanking the lord that Tony was here. You squinted your eyes as someone got out the car, and then the realisation hit “you dicks called my dad?!?!?” you shouted drunkenly at your friends, who stood in silence. “right, come on.. up you get” Tony said as he attempted to pull you to your feet. To be honest, you didn’t want to protest too much. In your head you didn’t have to speak to your dad, you could just go to your own cosy bed, so you let him pull you to your feet, stumbling into him as you did so.

Your friends stood silent, feeling bad, and severely worried about you. “what has she had?” Tony questioned Peter as he put her in to the front seat of the car. “ugh, tequila, jack, vodka.. honestly a mix of everything”. Tony sighed, shutting the door and ignoring your protests from the car. “ok so just about everything she could lay her hands on? You’ll be the death of me kid seriously” Tony spoke as he walked round to get in the car. “Thanks guys, I’ll let you know how she gets on” he thanked your friends as he drove off.

The car ride home was filled with silence. Tony was too angry, and you were too drunk. You stumbled trying to get out of the car and fell on your knees, Tony went round and helped you up, putting your arm around his shoulder, almost carrying you up to the penthouse.

When the elevator dinged, and you both walked into the living room, you pulled yourself away from him “I don’t need your help”. “uh huh, sure you don’t miss independent. If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be here”. You rolled your eyes “I’m away to b-bed” you drunkenly began to attempt to walk towards your bedroom but you swayed and fell into one of pillars. Tony crossed his arms and watched you as you slid along the pillar and attempted to walk without it but couldn’t.

“please to god tell me what Peter told me wasn’t true y/n” Tony began, sternly. “w-well I don’t know? How th-the fuck am I supposed to know what peter told you” you snapped, head spinning. Your eyes were closed, head resting against the pillar. “you know damn right what I’m on about y/n. Cocaine? Random guys in the street? I’ll be damned if I let you ruin your life like that.” Tony lectured you as he went to put on the coffee machine. “well you kn-know what they say dad.. like father, li-like daughter right?” you slurred.

That hurt. This was the last thing Tony wanted to happen, for his daughter to end up like him. He had tried his best on his own, and he was so proud of you, but he just didn’t understand. Was it his fault? He walked out of the kitchen area and looked at you. His heart was shattered seeing you like this. His eyebrows were furrowed, and the hurt was seeping out of his eyes. Once you had locked eyes with him you looked away. You knew you were hurting him but you didn’t know how to help yourself.

You started to tear up. All of your emotions coming to fruition. You bounced very lightly against the pillar as tears began to stream down your face. You still couldn’t look at him. “dad.. w-why am I such a f-fuck up”.

This broke Tony’s heart. He instantly came over to you and pulled you into his embrace, tightly. “no- listen y/n. You could never be a fuck up. Look at everything you’ve achieved. I’m so so so incredibly proud of you sweetheart”. You sobbed into his shoulder as he rubbed you’re back. “y/n I just want you to realise your worth. You’re so beautiful and smart and you deserve the world. I hate seeing you try to drown your sorrows every night and bring home these random dudes. I just wish you’d talk to me”. He stroked your hair and kissed the top of your head.

“why don’t we make a coffee, if you can stomach it, we’ll go lay on your bed and you can talk to me if you’d like, or I’ll just lie with you until you fall asleep?” he pulled you off of him but kept you in his arms. You nodded, sniffling.

Tony took you to your room and sat you on the bed, you still being too drunk to function properly on your own, then went and made you both coffee. He came back in and sat it on your bedside table “this should help with the head in the morning”. He then went to the other side of the bed and laid down, “here, come rest your bones next to me”, he opened his arms and gestured for you to go and cuddle into him. You instantly shuffled over and let yourself relax into your dads embrace. You began to sob. Tony ran his hand through your hair.

“dad, I just feel like I’m not good enough” you managed through your sobs. “now what in your damn mind would make you think that y/N?”

* * * * *

You and Tony spoke all night. It was the first time you had both spoken like that in a long, long time. It broke his heart to hear why you felt the way you did and he would pay endless amount of money, and do anything in the world to help you, but he couldn’t. Eventually you both fell asleep, you had needed to get up a few times to be sick, and your dad was right there for you. He never left your side that night, and hardly slept a wink for fear you would throw up and choke in your sleep.

In the morning you thanked him, and you both made a plan. You had promised you would stop going out as much, and you both promised to spend more time with one another, which meant Tony had to stay out of the workshop more. And as time gradually went on, your relationship got better and better. You would both have coffee in the morning together, you both went to concerts again, and you were both cheeky smart asses to one another. You were a new person. You became more responsible, looked after yourself, stopped hooking up with random guys. You were unrecognisable.

“did you ever get in contact with that guy?” Tony had asked you one day as you were both working on mark 36 in the workshop, “what guy? There was that many” you joked. Tony laughed lightly, “no the one who uh, liked all the guitars remember? Had the cool ACDC t-shirt on?”. Dewey Finn. Suddenly you were taken back. Where the hell was he now? It must have been 4 months since that one night, but you would never forget it. That was one of the best nights of your life. “uh, no.. I don’t know if he would want to meet up really, given the circumstances. He probably hates me”.

But little did you know..

tags: @large-unit @little-miss-shy-goth @paxenera @heknowshisherbs @thewolfisapartofmysoul

#dewey finn #tony stark #dewey finn x reader #stark daughter #school #marvel #avengers #Alex Brightman #robert downey jr

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frostclawdragoon · 4 years

Text

Prompt #13: Don’t Think Twice (Extra Credit)

(Cameos by @verdantbard and @ishgard-dragoon‘s characters! Also a follow up response to @verdantbard‘s Echo Prompt. :3 )

It was always an exciting event when Khamri’a returned from… Wherever it was he would go. He never stayed in the Manor for as long as he could help it, something about not being an official member of Windsong. His excuse always made him laugh. Regardless, whenever Khamri’a went away on business or whatever he did out there in the world, Ouros would wait for him to come home, because it was always so fun when he walked in through the door.

It was always the same every time too. He’d show up at his room, Ouros would excitedly let him in, and the two would spend the rest of the day chatting about all the things they did while they were apart. Then when that was done, Ouros would gather up the latest books he’d purchased and they would go over them together. And that was exactly what happened today. Like clockwork, Khamri’a arrived at his room, Ouros let him in, they talked and then they read together into the odd hours of the night.

That is when Ouros noticed Khamri’a had dozed off.

It wasn’t uncommon for Khamri’a to snuggle up to him, he had always been a physically affectionate person, Ouros had noted, even with friends. Being affection-starved for his entire life, Ouros welcomed the closeness. It made him feel all warm, fuzzy and comfy, feelings that were becoming commonplace for him these days. So when Khamri’a laid his head on his shoulder, Ouros responded by resting his head against his, all the while reading aloud to his dear, dear friend. It wasn’t long after that did he hear the ever-so-tiny snores coming from the Keeper, and it took all of Ouros’ strength to not bubble out with laughter at how cute he sounded.

So here Ouros was, carrying the slumbering Khamri’a down the hall on his back with a delighted, hopeless smile on his face as he approached the Keeper’s bedroom. He didn’t want to move him in fear of disturbing his sleep, but he was a man of respect, and also felt it better for Khamri’a to sleep in his own room after a long trip away from home.

It took him a bit to open the door with his arms occupied with keeping Khamri’a on his back, and it was a time for him trying to navigate the unlit interior -- he always had such a time trying to see in the dark. Once he finally made it to the bed, he carefully slid Khamri’a onto the mattress and gently tucked him under a blanket or two. When it looked like Khamri’a was safe and comfortable enough for a good nights rest, Ouros smiled softly with adoration at the slumbering miqo’te, and gently reached over to brush the hair out from his face as a silent goodnight gesture.

It was when the back of his fingertips brushed along Khamri’a’s cheek that a sudden shock of excruciating pain shot through Ouros’ head. He winced away, his eyes pinching shut as his hand grabbed at his face and he grunted in agony. Flashes of memories, of a childhood, of a girl, of love, of pain, of regret, heartbreak, anger. It flooded his mind quickly, overwhelming him with emotions and visions of a life that was not his own.

When he snapped back to reality, he gasped in air like he had just breached the ocean’s surface, and nearly tumbled over onto the floor. He steadied himself quickly by grabbing onto the edge of Khamri’a’s bed while simultaneously covering his mouth to silence himself from making any further noises. His eyes wide with frightened confusion, he looked at the Keeper who slept the night away, none the wiser to what had just transpired.

Ouros fled the room as quickly, and quietly, as he could.

With trembling knees, Ouros made his way down the hallway using the wall as a guide, desperately trying to shake off the lingering effects of the Echo. His mind was a jumbled mess as it was, to add someone else’s complex emotions and past into the mix was enough to give him vertigo. He needed to sort this out, to figure out what exactly he saw, and why he saw it. And he needed to understand why now, of all times, did Hydaelyn decide it was a good time to invade Khamri’a’s privacy? To invade his past and feelings without his permission?

He stumbled again and quickly caught his footing by flopping his back against the wall he had been using as a guide. He waited there, completely still, until he was sure he could safely stand up. When the dizziness faded and he was able to stand upright again, his gaze then settled on a familiar door across from him. Silian’s door. Rayana’s door. Without hesitation, he moved toward it quickly and knocked lightly.

No answer.

He knocked again, this time louder, still no answer. Desperation set in as his anxiety climbed higher and higher. He opened the door slowly, the light of the hall illuminating the dark room just a tiny bit. He slipped inside, leaving the door ajar so he could see somewhat as he crept across the room. Reaching the bed, he knelt down, trying to see the petite, scaled auri form of Rayana. Which he was, thankfully, able to find. She was snuggled down in the massive elezen arms of Silian, barely visible with her face mushed into his chest and the blankets up to her horns. If not for the spots of green hair lying haphazardly behind her to give her position away in the extremely dim light, Ouros might never have spotted her.

He reached over and gingerly shook her shoulder, hoping to rouse only her and not the loud peacock of a man beside her. A few light shakes, and she stirred; a pair of bright, glowing green eyes opened toward him within the darkness.

“Ro-chan…?” Rayana whispered in tired confusion.

“I-I’m sorry to wake you, but--…” Ouros whispered back. “I need to talk to you.”

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Ouros had led Rayana out of the Manor and down to the lake at the base of the Lavender Beds, where he began pacing about anxiously as the tired au ra sat herself down on a bench. He could feel her watching him, and he knew she could see how panicked he was, but he wasn’t saying anything. He wasn’t sure where to even start explaining why his anxiety was running haywire.

“What is wrong?” Rayana finally asked after a long few minutes of watching him nervously walking back and forth.

Ouros stopped. He looked at her, then down to his hands that fiddled about idly. After a moment of weighing the pros and cons of revealing the truth to her, he sighed and made his way over to the bench to plop down beside her, his head falling into his hands.

“I don’t even know where to start.” He murmured loudly.

“Start from the beginning then.” Rayana said.

The beginning?... They’d be out here all night if he started from the beginning. Still, he needed someone to talk to, someone to help him pick this vision apart and help him sort everything out, and he trusted Rayana with everything. She had become his big sister in a lot of ways, and he leaned on that whenever he was troubled with something Khamri’a related.

And this was definitely Khamri’a related. He made a noise of discomfort, not wanting to get into too many specifics out of respect for Khamri’a’s privacy... But he needed help, and knew she could keep a secret.

“... So I have a special power.” He started as he leaned back, his hands running down his face. “This power lets me see the future and the past of people I meet or know, and lets me feel their emotions to understand them, but it’s random and I have no control over it or when it happens.”

“You can see the past and the future...?” Rayana asked, her voice and expression in pure awe.

“Yes. It’s a complicated matter, one I don’t want to get into right now.” He looked at her. “I just needed to tell you that so you can understand when I say that I--... Saw Khamri’a’s past, just before I came to wake you up.”

The look of shock and surprise on Rayana’s face made him want to laugh, not out of amusement, but more of hopelessness at the situation he had found himself in. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees while he stared at the grass below his feet.

“I didn’t want to. I would have much preferred if he told me about his past himself. But unfortunately, I didn’t have a choice… And I saw… Felt… So many terrible, terrible things.” His expression grimaced to the pain weighing heavy on his chest. “I knew he had a past, one that broke him and made him cold, I just--... I didn’t know--”

He felt Rayana’s hand touch his shoulder reassuringly, and he shut his eyes and pressed his lips together tightly at the tight pain in his chest. He felt awful telling her this, even with how vague he was being. This was Khamri’a’s life he was just spewing out to her, and without his permission...

“... He suffered in silence, kept it bottled away.” He buried his face into his hands. “I don’t even know how to process any of what I’ve seen. Just that it hurt--... It hurt so bad, and there isn’t anything I can do to help him. He’s in so much pain and feels so much anger and I can’t stop it.”

“I always suspected Neko-chan’s past to be one full of much sorrow.” Rayana said as she turned her gaze downward. “He always had that air to him… Especially with how distant he could be.” She looked back to Ouros. “But regardless of how hopeless you may feel right now, you are helping him through his pain! You are his friend, and that is what he truly needs right now.”

“He wants to kill Khito.”

There was an awkward pause that hung in the air.

“... I mean… I am sure a lot of the members in Windsong wish to kill Khito, or at the very least, punch his face in severely.” Rayana said, suddenly.

Ouros whipped around to look at her, stunned. She raised her hands in defense.

“Not me!” She exclaimed. “I know he was your best friend and I do not want extreme harm to come to him!” Ouros frowned at the fact she only said extreme pain. Her too?

Rayana’s hands lowered slightly. “But you must understand that their anger toward him is from the fact Khito nearly killed you... If we had not found you under the rubble...”

“He doesn’t deserve to die for that.”

“And I agree. And I am, by no means, not justifying Neko-chan’s vengeful thoughts on the matter either, but… You are important to Windsong, and very important to him. It’s only natural they want to protect you from those who seek to do you harm. Especially after how we found you that day.”

Ouros turned away from her again and sighed heavily, a hand running through his hair. “This is why I didn’t want anyone to know he existed… The worst part is, I can’t talk Khamri’a out of this, I can save him from this darkness because he’ll know I saw into his past and--...”

“And...?”

“He’ll want to know what else I saw…” He answered, his head hanging low.

“What else did you see?”

Ouros tensed slightly. “... He loved--... Somebody. Still loves her, I think… And knowing how private he is, I don’t think those were feelings he ever wanted to come to light.”

He heard Rayana hmm and he peered at her out of the corner of his eye. She was tapping idly at her chin.

“While one does not forget their first love, I do not think he loves her as much now…” She said aloud with a thoughtful tone.

“Except I felt it, Rayana.” Ouros turned to face her fully. “My power lets me feel what another person feels, to understand them and the intentions behind their actions. He loves this woman with all his heart--...”

His voice trailed off as his mind wandered back to the visions. The feelings that Khamri’a had for Caoimhe, how strong they were and how fond he was of her. He loved her dearly, and wanted nothing more than to see her happy and safe. To protect her from the man that had wrongfully abused and crushed her heart. To ensure that man never, ever hurt her again, that he was willing to kill that man…

And then he remembered how the very same things applied to the visions involving himself. The fondness, the want to protect, the desire to ensure that no one would ever hurt him again. The want for vengeance against the one who broke his heart.

Ouros stared distantly as his eyes went wide with gradual understanding, and he could see Rayana’s head tilt in confusion at his long silence of shock. His mind was racing, going back to every moment, every talk, every gesture, every smile and laugh, every gift left behind in his room. Everything after the Ghimlyt Dark, everything on Norvrandt, every last second spent with Khamri’a. It all clicked.

“Ro-chan…?” Rayana asked, her voice soft and careful as though she were afraid to frighten him.

Ouros didn’t answer. He couldn’t remember how. His mind just shut off, his ears ringing loud, his heart pounding so hard and his stomach churning in the worst way possible. There was no way… No… None of that made sense, it couldn’t make sense, there was no sense to be had!... Except it did make sense. He saw it, felt it, he understood Khamri’a and the feelings behind his intentions. But he couldn’t register it, he couldn’t grasp it. There wasn’t any possible way that--... There couldn’t be! It’s impossible--!

“Ro-chan?” Rayana asked again, this time leaning forward with worry. “Are you okay…?”

“He loves me…” Ouros answered, finally, his gaze still distant as he traversed the memories flooding his mind. “Khamri’a loves me.”

Rayana leaned away, her own eyes growing wide with shock. “W--... What? How did you--?”

Ouros turned away from her again, his eyes darting about as if to find the answer he sought in the grass below. He didn’t even acknowledge Rayana’s shock at his discovery.

“But why?" He asked to no one in particular. “Why would--? Why would he ever see me as anything other than a nuisance? I’m obnoxious, I’m terrible, a waste of energy! I--!”

The more memories surfaced, the more overwhelmed Ouros became. He could feel the hot stinging of tears in his eyes, and his chest swelled with a pain so great he’d stopped breathing. He wasn’t worthy of any kind of love, he had accepted this long ago when he looked into his mother’s eyes and saw only disgust and frustration. So the idea that anyone could love him unconditionally sounded fake, false, unreal.

Except he felt it. He knew it wasn’t fake. He knew it was real.

Ouros covered his mouth with his hand, squeezing his jaw slightly as the tears in his eyes poured over. His emotions were all over the place. He was terrified and sick, but also overwhelmed with excitement? Or joy? Relief? He didn’t know what he was feeling specifically, just that it was happening all at once. For a brief second, he thought he might explode.

“Are you going to be alright, Ro-chan?” Rayana asked as she placed a hand on his shoulder again to lightly shake him out of whatever mind-cage he was in.

Ouros jumped at her touch and looked at her, the confusion he felt ever present on his expression. “Did you know?” He asked.

Rayana stared for a moment, then gave him a soft, sad smile. “... I did… I think I figured it out before he even did. He always treated you with a different kind of softness, one not unlike the way Sillyman treats me.”

“How long?”

“I think before Norvrandt--”

“That long?”

When Rayana nodded, Ouros lowered his head slightly, his mind still running a million malms a second. All this time… All this time he thought Khamri’a felt the exact opposite. That his feelings would go forever unreturned, unrecognized, ignored. That no one in their right mind would ever love a sick and broken mess of a man incapable of shutting his mouth for more than two seconds. And yet, here he sat, his deep rooted belief shattered in a single instant. That his mother, his tribe, his own thoughts were proven wrong. Someone out in the world really did love him, and there was no way for anyone to prove otherwise because the feeling was there.

A sudden feeling formed in his stomach, replacing that sick feeling with something else. An urge. A need.

He… He had to tell him…! He had to tell him how he felt, he needed to know that he was loved too! That he wasn’t alone--!

…

No… No he couldn’t.

This knowledge wasn’t meant for him, he only happened upon it because of the Echo, not because Khamri’a wanted him to know. If he went to Khamri’a right now and confessed everything, even his own feelings, he would surely chase him off. Khamri’a was a broken man, one who had his heart shattered in ways Ouros was far too familiar with. So he knew. He knew he had to be careful, that such a topic was not to be treated lightly, no matter how much his heart yearned to finally be heard and free. No matter how badly he wanted to hold Khamri’a tightly and tell him how much he loved him.

It was one thing to be told you would never leave, that you would be at their side no matter what, that their heart was safe… And another thing entirely to firmly, deeply believe in it. His own experience with the Echo just seconds before this realization was proof of that. He was still struggling to believe in the idea that someone could love him, despite having felt the emotions himself.

Khamri’a hadn’t had a chance to know Ouros’ feelings, not in the way that Ouros knew his. Given what he saw in that vision, how he felt for Caoimhe, Khamri’a probably let himself believe he wasn’t deserving of Ouros’ affection or attention, or that he would likely be replaced by someone who was far better… Even though there was no one better, but he didn’t know that. Or rather… Didn’t believe it.

… He doesn’t believe…

... That’s it!

“Thank you.” Ouros said as he stood up suddenly, catching Rayana off guard. “I think I know what I am supposed to do now.”

“Eh?” Rayana tilted her head again, still hopelessly lost about everything happening right now. “What do you mean?”

He looked at Rayana and smiled weakly, the confusion in his expression gradually shifting to resolve. “I know how I can help Khamri’a, to make him stop hurting.”

“You--... You do? How?” She asked.

“You’ll see…!” His smile grew. “I’ll see you tomorrow! And thanks again!”

Rayana stood up to ask further questions, but was too late. Ouros had already sprinted off, shaking off the last of his pent up energy from the anxiety he had been feeling for most of that conversation. Though the overwhelming confusion had not left him, nor the worry for Khito’s life being in danger, he at least now knew what he had to do, and was mentally preparing himself for his most difficult challenge yet.

He had to help Khamri’a believe.

#FFxivWrite2020 #FFxivWrite #my writings #Ouros Stories #EEEY a response post to another story DFGLMDFGLDF #story RPs Are Fun

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khaoticallykat · 4 years

Text

◇The Prince and The Punk◇

Chapter 5: No Plan

Word count: 1,794

Summary: you and Ransom go out to the city.

Warnings: language, fluff

A/n: I'm actually 3 chapters ahead and I really wanna post all of them, but I won't. Also trying to make these chapters short for scrolling purposes, because I post on mobile.

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You sat on the bed, playing on your phone, wrapped in the soft white bathrobe while you waited for the dryer to finish with yours and Ransom's clothes, he soon came knocking at the guest door and opened it, holding your clothes in his hand.

"I hope you didn't sniff my underwear like some creep." You said, taking your things.

"I didn't. I smelled your socks." He joked as he held up your leather jacket, "Hope you didn't mind that I washed this too, it smelled like beer."

Your face dropped as you saw your washed leather, it was warped and you could see cracks forming on it, "Aw shit," you took the jacket from him, rubbing the ruined fabric, "you do know that you're not suppose to machine wash leather, right?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." he raised his eyebrows, "I can buy you another one? In the meantime I can let you borrow one of mine."

You shook your head, "I can just buy one myself, I know you meant good, but next time, read the tags."

Ransom nodded and closed the door behind him, leaving you to get dressed. Once you were ready, you met Ransom downstairs to head out for lunch. He threw a long brown petite coat around you before leading you downstairs to the garage to the already warmed up car. On the way into the city, you and Ransom made little small talk, dancing carefully around the subject of what would have happened in the bathroom. He mainly talked about football and tried to convince you to come to one of his games, you both settled to see him practice. You talked about concerts and which one you wanted to go to next, Ransom begged to be in the pit of every show you mentioned, even the ones that could get really out of control. Once you both arrive in the shopping district of the city, Ransom parked in what could only be described as a fancy parking lot, other nice cars were parked there and the security guards looked professional and the cashier wasn't sketchy.

You followed Ransom closely, taking in the city around you, everyone you passed looked like they had on something designer made, it made you cringe deep down, they all looked snobby too. Ransom walked you into the first shop, obviously the store's name was in French and you thinking about the prices made your blood pressure rise.

"I'll help you look for something similar, but we can always get it custom made for you too." Ranson smiled, walking to the women's section.

"You really don't have to do this Ransom," you sighed, "we could have went to a Macy's or JCPenny's-"

He scoffed, "You deserve a better jacket after my little fuck up, don't worry about it."

You groaned, head resting against his shoulder, "Fine. Just this one time you can get me something like this, but I'm going to pay you back."

"Again, my fault, you don't owe me anything Y/n."

You picked up a jacket similar to your old one, the material felt amazing, but as you read the price tag you quickly placed it back, mouth agape and eyes widened.

Ransom was dying at your expression, "What? Too expensive?" He picked up the jacket and looked it over, "It's really nice, try it on."

"Hell no, can I even do that in here? I feel like I'm making it lose value when I touch it."

He took the jacket off the hanger and began to pull off the coat you were wearing, "you're being weird, just try it on."

You rolled your eyes and took it from him, the jacket fitted perfectly on you, it was longer and more comfortable than your last one, you had to admit, Ransom picked a great store.

He watched you, knowing that getting a new jacket would make you happy, he couldn't help but to blush at your amazement, "Wanna wear it out of the store?"

You shook your head, "nah, I'll save it for special occasions, that jacket you have is pretty comfortable." You said, "Why don't we find a leather jacket for you?"

"Seriously?" He laughed, looking over at the men's section, you grabbed his hand and dragged him over.

"It'll be your first one, baby's first real leather jacket," you teased, "you're the baby in this situation."

Ransom smiled as he watched you bring up different jackets to him, he started to wonder, when was the last time anyone helped him with clothes? Clarissa always looked at stuff for herself, it felt strange but humbling to know that someone else thought he could have stuff. It made him become more self aware of his feelings, his feelings for you, he liked this feeling, he loved feeling like himself with you.

"Ransom, for fuck's sake, pick one," You groaned, "leather is heavy and I'm holding five of these for you to try."

"Well who told you to do that?" He asked, picking up one and trying it on, "so? Can I be part of a gang now?"

You laughed at him, "you look like you just stepped out of the 80's motorcycle scene."

Ransom smiled and slicked back his hair, something back that made your heart thump harder in your chest, it looked really good on him you wouldn't admit it to yourself. But you would admit that he was cute when having fun, he was actually funny and charming in his own sense. It made a panic alarm go off in the back of your head, he was your friend and friends can have little crushes on their friends, right? Just as long as there were boundaries.

"Guess I am cool by your standards." he winked, a wink that would have killed you.

"I guess so, punk does look good on you."

"And fancy looks good on you," he said, "wanna look around more while I pay? I feel like you'll faint if you see the total."

You nudged him in the shoulder playfully, "I think I would, thanks Ransom."

Ransom paid for the jackets and met you by the door, he handed you the receipt but you shook your head. You headed out, Ransom right next to you, he kept talking about the restaurant he was taking you to for lunch. It was in French and you couldn't pronounce it, but he swore that you would like it. By the time you got to the last block, you were huffing, trying to keep up the pace with Ransom, he stopped, letting you hold on to his arm as he pointed like an excited child to the restaurant.

The restaurant was in the style of a french bakery, but larger. The waiter greeted you and lead you to your table, Ransom pulled out your chair for you, thanking him you sat and took in the restaurant. Looking at the menu, your eyebrows were raised, you knew it would be expensive, but this expensive?

Ransom reached across the table and took your hand, "Order what you want, stop looking at the price."

"I'm not looking at the price." You lied.

"You do that thing with your eyebrows, you're looking at the price."

You sighed, "fine, you got me. I'll get everything on the menu."

"And I won't hesitate to buy the whole restaurant." He smiled.

"You need to control your spending."

Lunch went by easy, the food was beyond amazing, the first bite would have brought tears to your eyes. Ransom's phone would vibrate a few times during lunch, but he soon turned it off, clearly annoyed with whoever was trying to contact him. You both finished and he paid, he took you around to a few other shops, a bookstore which kept you busy for a while. There were books that you've never seen in a major bookstore before, you wondered to yourself if you needed more books at the moment, but you knew you worn out Ransom's kindness with paying today. He took you to a record store next, Ransom would ask you questions about what you listened to, picking out a stack of records from your choices. You reminded him again about his spending habit.

He replied with the classic, "one record is fine." Using his big pleading blue eyes to soften you up.

"Puppy eyes don't work on me. But I'll let it go this time."

The last store Ransom took you to was like an art gallery, you were busy looking at the different paintings while Ransom was looking at his phone, missed calls and messages all from Clarissa. He replied back, seconds later, a text from her.

'You need to answer me faster next time, some of the football team and cheer squad want to have a little party before winter break is over. You're hosting at your house. It's big enough."

Ransom rolled his eyes, he didn't mind having people over, but that many people would mean he would need some sort of security for his house. He looked over at you, your back to him. Ransom slowly walked up behind you and placed his chin on your shoulder, making you jump in surprise.

"You wanna come to a party, Y/n?" He asked, sounding bored, "I'm having one before the break ends, the football and cheer team are coming."

"A party? With those kind of people?" You laughed, "I guess I can come for a bit, but I won't stay."

His arms wrapped around you as he breathed a sigh of relief, "great. It's two weeks from now, I can text you the date."

You shuffled nervously in his arm, pulling gently at his finger from your waist, "Ransom…" you murmured.

"Too close?" He asked, quickly letting you go, "I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's fine, if you need a hug, I'll hug you," You turned at faced him, "and honestly, you give good hugs."

He happily picked you up in his arms and swung you, "Thanks! Clarissa is stressing me out with this party."

You frowned, wondering what she said to him, did she know that you were with him?

"We should get going, I have work tomorrow."

Ransom dropped you off at home after a long day together, you took your new jacket from him and began to take the coat he let you wear off.

"You can keep that, it's old," He smiled "plus, it looks better on you."

You nodded and thanked him before getting out the car, once you had your door open, you waved him off as the lights flashed and the car took off down the street. Once you were up in your room, you were finally able to lay down on your bed and fell asleep.

#the prince and the punk #tp&tp #knives out #ransom drysdale x reader #kat writes

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katsukiboom · 4 years

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Emerald Green and Darkness

hey guys! this is a commission for my dear @xpegasusuniverse, who requested a retired Eraserhead with an equally old cat, I hope you guys enjoy this! <3

Ko-Fi || Commissions

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The smell of vanilla and the warmth of the place quickly engulfed 53 year-old Shōta’s presence as soon as he entered the little house at the end of the street – Hizashi had found it by chance online and presented it to him, and while it didn’t look sketchy at all it still felt weird to just drop by someone’s house with the excuse of adopting a new pet. The ad his loud best friend had seen only spoke about a middle-aged woman who rescued kittens and nursed them back to health with the help of her quirk, much like Recovery Girl used to do all those years back then.

With grey replacing most of the black in his hair and beard, he sighed as he eyed the place with a certain glee growing inside. It wasn’t long until the petite woman came rushing from behind one of the few doors that were on sight, and quickly introduced herself as the owner of the place. She went on to talk about how she had loved Eraser Head before he retired from the hero world, something that he didn’t feel too comfortable discussing but didn’t do anything to stop either. He thanked her with a small smile. She remarked one last time that she had been beyond thankful for everything he had done, then saw all the strays that were still looking for the one person who’d give them all the love they deserved.

In all honesty, Shōta wanted to take them all home, but as they passed through a small bedroom a dark lump on top of the single bed caught his attention, causing him to stop walking and stare questionably at the breathing figure.

“Oh, that’s one we got a few weeks back,” the old lady told him gently as she noticed he wasn’t following her anymore, walking back to his side. Both their gazes on the animal, they watched as it began to stretch and he noticed there was something funny about him – he only had three legs.

“I can only guess he had an accident,” the woman continued. “We found him when his injuries were still healing. At least, I’d like to think it was an accident. He’s also missing an eye, and the doctor told us we had been lucky to find him before it could fester. Due to him being about 13 years old, they only gave him six months.”

“Can I?” asked a curious Shōta, and the lady only nodded.

“He doesn’t really get along with people… it took him so long to even trust us enough to eat what we gave him.”

Despite her words, something pulled him closer, and his hunch hadn’t been wrong.

He ended up taking the green-eyed cat with him that same day, after a bit of struggling to get him in the cage. When they got to his apartment the blob scuttled away from him as soon as the small metal door opened. Shōta then spent all the remainder of the afternoon trying to get him out from under his bed, only to sit right beside it to eat dinner, putting a plate with food next to him in hopes the cat would come out.

It took him a few days, just like the lady had told him, to get it to trust him enough to eat freely when he was around. Soon he found its company to be rather… peaceful. Even during his long walks out all he could think about was if the cat was alright or if it was hungry, if he should buy him more toys or even new kinds of food. Hizashi found his friend’s new facet quite adorable, yet was turned down whenever he requested to meet his pet, partly because Shōta knew how the cat acted around strangers and partly because he feared he’d make it deaf by accident.

As he soon came to know, taking care of a cat also meant having to take extra care of your furniture. He didn’t get mad as the old cat learned how to use his litterbox but rather at how he seemed to do his business everywhere else for a while as well, testing Shōta’s patience. For some reason, the man believed the pet knew he was pissed off at this attitude and eventually stopped doing it, instead turning to scratching whatever he could lay his paws on. Shōta soon bought him the thickest scratching post he could find online, hoping that would end the rebellion that had left parts of his couch and coffee table completely ruined. Despite the ruined furniture, he was happy that the disabilities didn’t stop the cat from doing its own thing.

Surprise filled the old man when, one morning around three weeks after that, he woke up and felt a lump at the end of the bed right above his feet as if to keep them warm. Opening his eyes and sitting up quickly in fear that it was something bad, he saw his companion sleeping lazily over him, only opening his eye to look at him as if he was crazy and then stretching before going back to sleep. A big smile appeared on his lips and the mere sight made his heart warm up. Not really having the will to make the cat move from the bed – he lay back down and opened his phone, quickly sending a photo to the group chat with Hizashi and Nemuri to share the amazing thing he had just witnessed.

It was only when she asked about its name that he realized he hadn’t really given it much thought at all, and then spent most of that afternoon trying to come up with something that suited both the cat and him. The task proved to be harder than he had imagined, and Shōta gave up when the clock reached 7 pm. Instead he took a moment to sit on the floor with it nearby as he turned on the TV to catch up on the events that were going on in the city. It had been quite a peaceful day much to his surprise, with no real bad news to worry about when a familiar face caught his attention right before he started to channel-surf. Green curls and a gentle smile with freckle-covered cheeks were the main features that decorated the familiar face Aizawa was now watching attentively, and Deku’s imposing voice filled the room with ease.

“Oh, look at that,” he talked to the cat as if it could understand every word he said. “I know him very well. Used to be my student and was quite a troublemaker at first… much like someone I know,” he muttered with a smile on his face. A soft meow distracted him from the screen for a moment and he noticed the animal now standing right in front of the screen, looking up at Izuku like he was the only thing to focus on at the moment. “What are you doing?” he asked softly, trying to call out to him but to no avail. “Do you like Deku?” To this, the cat’s ears perked up and it looked at him with its eye open wide. Then it went back at him and meowed again. “Deku,” Aizawa repeated, but the cat didn’t move this time. “De…” he started, carefully watching the animal in front of him look back at him with a curious gaze. “Ku?” To that one syllable, its eye widened once more as it got up on its hind legs and the man had an idea pop into his mind.

After that night he ended up naming the cat Kuro, both because of its colour and because it reminded him a lot of Izuku himself – rough around the edges when he met him yet sweet and diligent on the inside. Both took their time to truly open up and let others see their true self. Just as if he knew, his pet got used to the name faster than he would’ve expected and even seemed happier when called by it. Shōta’s friends also seemed to like the nickname, laughing just a little bit when he told them the backstory but agreeing that the cat had been a troublemaker at first.

Shōta didn’t notice until the seventh month that Kuro had actually managed to surpass his assumed lifespan of only six months left and while he didn’t think much of it his heart stirred a bit in his chest as he snuggled closer to it one night, its warmth and little paws on his chest more than enough for him to be sure that everything would go more than fine. He had never paid much attention to his own way of acting or if having a pet had changed him at all and vice versa, yet all he could think about was coming back home every day to spend time with him and revel in the company as much as he could.

It was almost as if it had been fate bringing them together but Shōta would never admit to believing in such an erratic thing – he did however believe that it had been their love for each other that had managed to make the pet stay by his side almost twelve times the amount of days that had been given to it up to its seventeenth summer, making the old man very happy as they counted birthdays and holidays together and just coursed through life relying on each other for support. Not even once did Shōta remember the cat’s disabilities and in return Kuro didn’t seem to be bothered about his owner’s casual aloofness and low energy, choosing instead to keep his distance until Aizawa called out to him.

But good things always come to an end, and Aizawa Shōta knew this very well.

After almost four years of living together, it became apparent to him that there was something wrong when the cat gradually stopped grooming himself as often as he was used to witness and eventually started keeping its distance as well, choosing to sleep hidden under the coffee table or just lying on the couch, but not with him. When he noticed those symptoms he didn’t hesitate on taking him to the vet in order to prevent something worse happening to him, though the news he was given was less than encouraging. Shōta had to stop himself from crying right then and there at the vet’s office – the cat wasn’t ill but rather naturally dying due to aging and Kuro’s bright green eye was fixed on him, as if he knew what was happening in his owner’s heart.

It wasn’t as if Aizawa chose not to focus on anything else the next few days – he just couldn’t rid his mind of the worst scenarios possible, even if they felt closer than ever before. Having been through so much with his pet, he felt the need to do whatever he could to make him feel better; he tried to help him groom, eat and brought him to bed at night, but it was only when they paid another visit to the vet for a check-up that he was told there was really no use in doing so. With his hopes crushed and his heart still not ready for what would unfold sooner or later, he returned home that evening to a cloudy sky that mirrored his feelings in every way.

It all came down to a bittersweet ending when one morning, he woke up to feel the same familiar lump at the end of the bed; sitting up slowly and stretching his arms, Shōta would’ve thought it was one of those rare days when Kuro decided to sleep with him had it not been because his perception was extremely good. Reaching out, he took the frail, lifeless body on his hands and brought it close to his chest, unable to conceal the tears that came out after making sure his best friend had already gone to a better place. He felt a knot forming in his throat as he tried his best to hide his crying and bottle it up as he always did, but it was all for nothing when he realized he hadn’t had the chance to say a proper goodbye.

“I hope you’re better and happier now, I’ll try not to miss you too much,” he murmured against the cold fur, and for a moment he thought he had heard a soft meow come from somewhere close in the room which made him look up and around. With wet cheeks and a heavy heart he smiled, knowing he wasn’t truly alone still.

Thank you for everything.

#bnha #aizawa shota #bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #mha eraserhead #mha aizawa #boku no hero academia #boku no hero scenarios #boku no hero imagines #mha imagines #mha scenarios #eraserhead #mine #anime commissions #ko fi link

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wistfulcynic · 4 years

Text

To Keep It All The Year (3 /4)

Anyone up for a spot of pure fantasy in which people are essentially good and their positive actions are rewarded with deserved happiness? Yeah, me too. It’s been a WEEK, for me and @katie-dub and anyone else in the UK with a conscience and a shred of human decency, so let’s all have a bit of an escape.

SUMMARY: Killian Jones is a broken man, betrayed by everyone and everything he thought he could believe in. He’s all but given up on life until a fateful meeting with bartender Emma Swan and her son Henry gives him a reason to live again, and a chance to redeem his past.

All it takes is a little Christmas magic.

On AO3 | Tumblr: Part One | Part Two

Thanks as ever to @thisonesatellite who keeps me fuelled with whisky and lebkuchen, a paring ordained by the gods, and also because MAGICAL WREATHS OMG WUTTT ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Tagging all the folks from the last tag list, PLEASE do let me know if you want to be added or removed. @kmomof4 @shireness-says @snidgetsafan @darkcolinodonorgasm @snowbellewells @stahlop @mariakov81 @courtorderedcake @jonirobinson64 @tiganasummertree @ohmightydevviepuu @shardminds @jennjenn615 @superchocovian @teamhook

PART THREE: THE FUTURE

Killian moves out of his apartment that very afternoon. He can’t bear to spend another moment there. He needs a fresh start in a new place, one that will encourage him to be better rather than indulging the worst of him.

Everything he owns, every single thing, fits into a large satchel and a medium-sized suitcase. Packing it all takes less than an hour. Killian drops his key into the landlord’s mailbox and heads across town to a guesthouse he found with a quick internet search, not a great place but his finances are limited and it’s still better than that apartment. There’s an actual bed, for a start, and part of him is tempted to crawl into it and drink until his chest stops aching and he no longer sees the crushed look in Emma’s eyes each time he closes his own, but he has made promises to himself and he intends to keep them.

So instead he falls back on the least damaging of his old crutches and heads out for a walk. The guesthouse is a bit rough around the edges but the neighbourhood whose western boundary it marks is a vast improvement over his old one. There’s an elegance and dignity in the slightly run-down buildings here, like they’ve aged gracefully and in comfort without any of the desperation and squalor that characterised his old place. They’ve kept their head up, even through hard times, and they haven’t given in. A lesson lurks in there somewhere, he thinks.

He’s been wandering for about half an hour when his attention is caught by a door. Not a particularly remarkable door, but has a jolly little Christmas wreath hung upon it which brings a smile to Killian’s face. Something about those little wreaths always draws him in, he thinks. Something he can’t quite put his finger on...

The door is made of wide wooden planks painted a deep forest green and boasts an old-fashioned brass knocker in the shape of a roaring lion. It belongs to what appears to be a small bookshop, and as Killian pushes it open he feels a stirring of eagerness that he hasn’t felt in years. He can’t remember the last time he read a good book. Something layered and complex, he thinks, with a well-crafted world that he can dig into and lose himself for a while.

The shop is surprisingly spacious, with row upon row of tall wooden bookshelves lined up straight as soldiers along its walls and a broad central aisle leading to the till and a small cafe at the back. Twin spiral staircases rise up on each side to a mezzanine where he can see more shelves and a cosy reading area with overstuffed sofas and armchairs and a few scattered beanbags of the perfect size for children. Killian walks slowly down the centre aisle, aware his mouth is hanging open and barely resisting the urge to spin around, gaping in awe. Were he asked to give a description of his ideal bookshop it would be precisely this, he thinks, from the aged patina on the shelves to the fluffy grey cat curled on a cushion in the window, to the truly dizzying array of books. It is magnificent.

“Can I help you find anything?” Killian shakes himself from his reverie and turns to see a petite brunette in towering heels smiling a friendly smile.

“Ah, no thank you, lass,” he replies, “I’m just br—you know what, actually, yes. You can.”

He explains what sort of book he’s after and the woman—Belle, according to her name tag—leads him around the shop in search of it. She makes excellent recommendations, a fair number of which he’s already read, but after an enjoyable hour or so Killian has a small armload of books he can’t wait to crack open and perhaps, he hopes, a friend.

After he pays for them he and Belle stand at the till for another ten minutes or so, chatting amiably. Killian formally introduces himself and informs Belle that he’s just moved to the neighbourhood and is out exploring. He’s just about to ask if she knows a good place to eat when he spots the small sign taped to the cash register.

“Are you hiring?” he says in surprise.

“I am. I could use an assistant three or four days a week,” says Belle. “You interested?”

“I might be,” Killian replies. He’ll need a job to afford the new life he intends to build for himself, he thinks, and working in this lovely little shop with Belle would be a dream come true.

“Any retail experience?” she asks.

“None. But I’m a fast learner and fairly widely read.”

“I’ll say,” says Belle wryly. “Okay, let’s give it a try. I can start you on—” she names an hourly wage that has Killian’s eyes widening.

“Is that the standard market rate for a bookshop assistant?”

“Nope.” Belle’s voice is cheerful and also makes it clear she doesn’t intend to answer any questions on the subject.

“Er—okay. Well, that would be more than satisfactory.” Enough to give him the new beginning he needs, he thinks. More than.

Belle nods. “When can you start?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Perfect.”

—

Belle lives above the bookshop, in a two-bedroom flat that she claims can get a little lonely. She claims this a week into the new year when she learns that Killian is looking for a place to live, and insists on showing him the spare room that very minute.

Her flat is tidy but comfortable and the room she shows him plainly furnished, with polished hardwood floors and plaster walls painted a warm ivory. A large chest of drawers takes up one corner and in another is a metal framed bed spread with a quilt that he’s sure is handmade. There’s a single wide window framed by soft yellow curtains that turn the afternoon light golden and a single framed poster on the wall, of Waterhouse’s Miranda. Killian stares at the painting for some time, thinking it should probably upset him. Instead he feels soothed, by the room’s gentle simplicity and by the shipwreck safely tucked away in the brushstrokes of an oil painting. He moves in the next day.

He and Belle get on splendidly. Their habits mesh in a comfortable way, both being meticulously tidy early risers, equally content to spend their evenings in heated argument about books as in the silent companionship of reading or watching television. Killian almost wishes their easy friendship could develop into something more, though it does occur to him that he’s never had a woman as just a friend before and perhaps this is a thing that might do him some good.

That and he still dreams of soft golden hair, and green eyes that see into his soul.

He begins to eat regular healthy meals, sharing the cooking duties with Belle, and after a month or so of that he joins a gym. He still goes on his long, rambling walks but far less frequently than before, using them as an opportunity to explore new neighbourhoods rather than a desperate attempt to escape his demons and he never, never stops at the docks.

He also starts seeing a therapist, on Belle’s gentle suggestion after one too many nights of being woken up by his nightmares. She can recommend one personally, she confesses, for the very same reason that she is able to pay him so well. The bookshop is financed by hush money—she spits the words—her lavish divorce settlement from a man who controlled and abused her for years and when she finally managed to leave him tracked her down and nearly killed her. She grips Killian’s hand tightly as she tells him this, tears rolling unheeded down her cheeks, yet there is a ring of triumph in her voice as she explains how he signed over more than half his assets to her in exchange for her promise not to prosecute, or sell tales of his abuse to the press.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have taken it,” she says. “Maybe I should have exposed him instead, or pressed charges. But he could weather bad press or bribe his way out of jail time while it will take him years to build his business back up again. Decades, even. And meanwhile I have my shop. And my freedom.”

Belle knows as well as Killian does how heavily tainted money can weigh on person’s conscience, and that the only way to bear its weight is by turning it to something good. She’s a survivor, just like him. Just like Emma.

Slowly, so slowly, Killian feels the parts of himself he thought were broken beyond repair begin to mend, and every day he focuses on that healing. He nourishes his body with exercise and good food and he nourishes his mind with books and conversation. He nourishes his soul as well, with his therapy sessions and with the bookshop’s weekly children’s story time, which Belle insists he take charge of after catching him watching wistfully from behind a shelf as she sat surrounded by a semicircle of rapt faces, reading an adventure book.

He was thinking of Henry.

He thinks of Henry often, and of course of Emma. Every time he rambles through a new part of the city he wonders if they are living there, perhaps in one of the sprawling houses with soft green lawns in the residential areas, or maybe in an airy loft in one of the edgier, artier neighbourhoods. He hopes that wherever they are they’ve found a true home of their own, with security and comfort and reliable childcare for Henry. Emma no longer needs to work so she could study full time if she wished, or do something else entirely. She wouldn’t strictly speaking need to do anything, but if Killian knows her—and despite the short duration of their acquaintance he’s quite certain he does—she will want to keep studying, for her own satisfaction and to find a career that suits her. Emma Swan could never be content sitting around all day doing nothing. She would want to do some good in the world, regardless of her personal circumstances. The kindness she showed to a strange man in a bar when she had next to nothing of her own was proof enough of that.

It hurts to think of them but it’s a good sort of pain, a gentle, bittersweet ache that warms his heart, nothing like the tearing agony he felt for so many years whenever he thought of Liam. Thoughts of Emma and Henry inspire him, keep him moving steadily along this new path he’s chosen to tread. Though he’s certain he’ll never see either of them again he wants to live his life in a way that honours his feelings for them.

He doesn’t go back to the bar where he and Emma met, not often. It’s just a place to drink without the magic her presence lent it, and drinking is a thing he’s trying to do less of these days. But the following Christmas Eve he finds himself back in his old neighbourhood standing before the plain brown door. There’s a jolly little Christmas wreath hung upon it, and Killian knows by now that he’s powerless in the face of those wreaths. He lets it draw him in through the door and over to a stool at the bar where he orders the expensive rum Emma gave him last year and sips it slowly as the memories that infuse the very air of this place both warm and pain him. He’ll allow himself this, he thinks, just this one small lapse. He’s worked hard all year, he can have one evening of self pity. His Christmas gift to himself.

“Hey, sailor.”

The voice is impossible and yet he hears it, turns towards it in astonishment then scrambles to his feet.

“Emma!” he gasps. He stares at her, drinks in the sight of her, of the face that’s haunted his dreams for a year lit up by a bright smile. “What—what are—I had no idea you’d be here.”

“I almost wasn’t,” she replies. “I was at a Christmas party across town, actually. but then I just had the strangest urge to come here and so here I am.”

“It’s wonderful to see you, love.” His astonishment ebbs and gives way to a fierce and fearsome joy. He can’t believe she’s here, right in front of him and real, and so lovely he aches to look at her. “How are you? How’s Henry?”

“Henry’s great. I’m great. We’re great.” She laughs.

“That’s... well, it’s great.” His smile is beginning to hurt his cheeks, but he could no more stop smiling it than he could make the Earth spin backwards.

“It is,” she agrees. “Listen, um, can we sit down somewhere?”

“Of course. Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah.” Something shifts in her smile, sharpens it in a way that steals his breath. “I’ll have a rum.”

He orders one for her and another for himself and they sit together in a small, round booth in the corner of the bar. It’s cosy and intimate and it envelops them, making Killian’s heart pound and his mouth go dry.

Emma seems unfazed, giving him a cool once-over as he slides in beside her on the leather seat. There’s a new confidence in her demeanour now, the kind of quiet assurance that forms in people who answer to no one but themselves. It sits well on her, he thinks. Comfortably, like it was always waiting for her to slip it on.

“You look good,” she tells him.

“Um.” He feels himself flush and gulps some rum to wet his throat. “Thank you. You look lovely, but then you always did.”

She observes him in silence for a moment, sipping her own drink. “I looked for you, you know,” she says.

“You did?”

“I did. Do you know how many Killian Joneses there are in the phone book?”

“Er—no.”

“Zero,” she declares. “Including you.”

“Ah. Well I don’t really—”

“But,” she interrupts, “as it turns out, I’m pretty good at finding people, even when they don’t want to be found. I found you, eventually. In that bookstore where you work.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I was going to come in but you, ah, weren’t alone. I saw you through the window, standing with a woman. Laughing.” She stares into her glass. “I’d never seen you laugh like that before. Or at all.”

“A woman?” Killian frowns in confusion. “What woman?”

“A really pretty one with long brown hair,” says Emma quietly. “Cute dress, very petite. You looked... close.”

“Belle,” he says. “My boss and flatmate.”

“Flatmate?” Emma repeats with an odd note in her voice. Her eyes flicker up to him then back to her glass.

“Er—my roommate,” he amends.

“I know what a flatmate is, Killian.”

“Ah. Yes of course, I just, er—”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

He’s taken aback by the non-sequitur, and the shy smile that accompanies it. The shy smile and the eyes shining with something that makes his already galloping heart pound harder still. “Well, it’s Christmas Day,” he replies weakly.

“That’s also a thing I know.”

“I was just planning to have a meal with Belle, maybe watch some Christmas movies,” he says. “Nothing special.”

“Why don’t you and Belle come to my house instead? For dinner?”

“Oh, well, I—”

“Come on, you have to,” she cajoles. “Henry would never forgive me if he found out I’d seen you and not invited you. He talks about you all the time.”

“He does?”

“He does.”

Killian takes another gulp of rum, emptying the glass. He feels dizzy at this turn of events, almost afraid that they will turn out to be nothing more than another fevered dream. Surreptitiously he pinches his thigh and when he feels the sharp prick of pain he risks a look at Emma. She’s still smiling, that same hopeful, expectant smile he’d been so powerless against one year ago. “Well, I’ll have to check with Belle but I’m sure she’ll agree,” he says. “I’ve—mentioned you and Henry once or twice myself, she’ll be over the moon to meet you both.”

Emma’s smile turns radiant. “Give me your number and I’ll text you the address,” she says. He does, and a moment later his phone dings with a new message. Her address he recognises from his rambles as belonging to a part of town that’s nice but not ostentatious, with comfortable family homes and plenty of parks and very good schools. He thinks about Emma and Henry living there and feels a warm glow of sheer delight. It’s exactly what he hoped for, for them.

“I have to get home,” says Emma. “I told Henry’s babysitter I’d be back by midnight. But—you will come over tomorrow, won’t you? About noon? You promise?”

Killian smiles. “You have my word. I’ll see you then.”

—

Belle agrees to have dinner at Emma’s with as much enthusiasm as he predicted, practically dancing with excitement at the prospect.

“The mythical Emma and Henry!” she sings. “I feel like I’m about to meet a unicorn, or Santa himself.”

Killian’s stomach is dancing too, with anxiety and eagerness and hope. Foolish hope, he tells himself firmly, but it ricochets around his insides nonetheless and refuses to be quashed. He walked away from Emma a year ago so she could have the freedom to make her own choices and she chose to find him, to invite him back into her life. He’s not certain quite what that means but he thinks—he hopes— that at the very least he won't have to go another whole year without seeing her and Henry. That thought alone is enough to make his Christmas bright.

As he stands in the shower with the hot water flowing over him he thinks about how very different his life is than it was just a year ago. The fact that his shower is hot and the water plentiful is the very least of the changes. He no longer has nightmares, no longer feels haunted by his past or fears he might be swallowed up by bleak despair. The dark moods still come from time to time but he is prepared for them now, equipped to weather them without turning to self-destruction. He feels healthier than he has since his navy days, physically as well as mentally. His paunch is gone, replaced with firm muscle, and though he’ll never be as ripped as some of the younger men he works out alongside, he’s toned and strong and that’s enough for him. His complexion now has a ruddy glow, especially when he returns from one of his walks, and he’s begun to take more care with his appearance again, keeping his hair trimmed in a flattering style and investing in a nicer wardrobe.

He gets out of the shower and towels himself dry, then dresses in some of his new garments: charcoal trousers and a black sweater over a shirt with a soft tonal pattern, pale purple and blue against dove grey. He wonders what Emma will think of his new clothes, what she will think of all the changes this past year has wrought in him. He wonders if she’s thought of him the way he’s thought of her.

He wonders what he can bring to dinner this afternoon. There’s a bottle of good wine in the cupboard that he and Belle planned to have with their own Christmas meal and of course many things in the bookshop he’s sure Emma and Henry would love. That should be fine for gifts but still something troubles him, an itchy sort of tingle at the back of his mind, like he’s forgetting something vital. What was it that he brought for them last year? He frowns as he tries to remember. The ship for Henry, that was it, and flowers for Emma from that odd little shop, the one with the florist who reminded him of... of...

Bloody hell.

Killian reels, gripping his bedpost for balance as memories from the year before come flooding back, clear and perfect as though they happened only yesterday. It couldn’t be, he thinks, it’s impossible, and how could he not have noticed at the time? How could he not have seen?

Magic, little brother.

“Killian!” Belle raps sharply on the half-open door of his bedroom, her tone of voice suggesting she’s been calling him for some time. “Are you ready to go? It’s nearly half past eleven.”

“Aye, love.” He breathes in deeply and stands upright. “Be right there.”

They go down to the shop where Killian selects several books for Henry, some of which are slightly above his age group—because a child should have a library that builds towards the future—and, remembering the shelves in her old apartment, a picture frame for Emma made of delicately carved rosewood. He wraps them carefully and rings them up on his employee account as Belle calls them a cab. It’s not far at all to Emma’s house but when Killian suggests they walk Belle informs him crisply that while he might enjoy a snowy stroll across twelve city blocks her shoes would not, and takes out her phone.

The quiet Christmas streets make the ride a short one, but Killian is glad of even a few minutes of peace to sit and to think and spends most of the journey staring out the window at the snowy trees and lawns and attempting to sort through the chaos in his mind.

“Why didn’t you put the wreath on the door this year?” he asks Belle.

“What wreath?” She turns to him with a small frown.

“Last year there was a Christmas wreath on the door of the bookshop,” he replies. “A small one, made of evergreen and holly with pinecones and cinnamon sticks and a big red bow. It’s what caught my attention as I was walking by, why I went inside.”

Belle shakes her head. “There wasn’t any wreath, Killian, though that’s a lovely idea. Maybe we can get one for next year.”

“Aye. I know just the shop to get it from,” he mutters, and then the cab pulls up to Emma’s house.

It’s a charming little house, two storeys of dark red brick with slate blue trim on the windows and on the wide porch where comfortable looking wicker furniture and outdoor toys are all jumbled together. There’s a snowman on the lawn, jaunty and quite pleased with himself in his red and green striped scarf and an actual top hat, surrounded by piled-up and solidly-packed mounds of snow and the gruesome remains of what was evidently a long and hard-fought snowball battle.

The mat lying at the foot of the front door reads Welcome! Everything is fine in soothing green lettering and Killian and Belle exchange a grin as they ring the bell. From within they can hear the sound of voices and then the door swings open and Emma appears, looking festive in skinny jeans and a green sweater with the cartoon face of Rudolph on the front, his nose large and round and glittery red. There’s a plastic holly sprig behind her ear and a bright smile on her face.

“Hey!” she says. “Come in! You must be Belle, I’m Emma. You can hang your coats just here.”

They do so, shrugging the coats off and handing Emma the wine and gifts which she accepts with a laugh that holds a touch of surprise. She leads them down a short hallway and into a cosy living room with a plush sofa along the wall and a tall and brightly decorated tree in the window. A fire blazes beneath a wooden mantelpiece where Christmas stockings labeled Henry and Emma still hang, empty now, and bits of wrapping paper and ribbon still cling to the rug in front of it. Killian has just enough time to observe these things before a miniature whirlwind bursts through the door and barrels into his solar plexus.

“Killian!” Henry cries, squeezing him in a tight hug. “Mom said you were coming but I couldn’t believe it. I missed you. Why didn’t you ever come back?”

Killian’s chest feels as tight as Henry’s arms as he struggles for breath and for the words to explain his conduct. “I’m sorry, Henry, I just—I—I had some things I needed to sort out with myself, before I could be good company to others.”

“But you’re here now, right?” Henry pulls back and looks up at him with brown eyes as wide and trusting as ever. “And you won’t go away again?”

Killian hesitates. He doesn’t want to presume, but then again Emma did come to find him. Surely it wasn’t overstepping to say he would visit Henry from time to time? He senses her watching him and looks up, catching her eye with an imploring look. She nods to him and he swallows hard before returning it.

“Aye, lad,” he says, stroking Henry’s hair with a hand that’s not quite steady. “I won’t go away again.”

“Good,” says Henry solemnly, and then his face lights up. “Guess what? I have my own room now!” he cries. “Do you want to see it?”

“I do indeed.” Killian glances at Belle who waves him away. “Go,” she says. “I’ll stay here and chat with Emma.”

Henry’s room has bunk beds with Thomas the Tank Engine sheets and an overflowing toy chest in one corner. There’s a small bookshelf as well, with the beginnings of a fine library already on it, and taking pride of place in the centre of the very top shelf is the ship Killian gave him last Christmas.

“I play with it in the tub. We have a tub now,” says Henry when he notices Killian looking at the ship. “Mom made sure we did but she says I can’t play in it every day because I splash too much and take too long, but on Saturdays I can play as long as I want.”

Killian takes a moment before replying. “What else do you like to play with?” he asks hoarsely.

Henry shows off his toys and books and though Killian is anything but an expert in parenting he can see that they’ve been carefully chosen for both fun and enrichment, and that while they are plentiful there aren’t too many for one child to use. Emma hasn’t spoiled him, or herself, despite how easily she could have.

When they head back downstairs they find Emma and Belle laughing together on the sofa, each with a cup of hot chocolate in hand and a plate of Christmas cookies on the coffee table in front of them.

“Hey!” says Henry indignantly. “I want hot chocolate!”

Emma gives him a stern look and he flushes. “Please,” he adds.

“There’s some for you in the kitchen,” she says, setting her mug down on the table and getting up. “Would you like some too, Killian?”

“Yes, thank you,” he replies.

They drink their chocolate and munch their cookies and conversation flows easily and merrily among them. Killian is amazed at how well Emma and Belle have hit it off and Henry is ‘on his Christmas behaviour,’ Emma says with a laugh, sitting on the floor playing with his trains and listening, occasionally piping up with a question or comment. Belle and Killian tell them all about the bookshop and Emma promises to bring Henry there as soon as possible.

“For the story time!” cries Henry, eyes wide at the prospect, and then Belle suggests he might like to open the presents they brought him. He squeals with delight at the new books, and Killian gets so caught up in telling him about them that he doesn’t notice Emma quietly unwrap the picture frame until he hears her soft “Oh!”

He turns to see her staring at it with misty eyes and an expression that makes his heart clench. “I know how you love your pictures,” he says softly. “I remember.”

“Henry, what do you say we find a place for those books on your shelves,” says Belle. “Then maybe you can show me your room and the ship Killian gave you last year?”

She ushers Henry from the room, leaving Killian and Emma alone, staring at each other.

“Emma—” he begins, just as she says “Killian—” and they share a nervous laugh.

“Me first, please,” she says, and he nods.

“Of course, love.”

She licks her lips and takes a steadying breath before she speaks. “When you walked away last year,” she begins, “outside the bank, I was so hurt. I know why you did it—I think I know—but it still hurt and for a while I was angry. I thought—I thought we had a connection, and then for you to just leave like that, I—” She shakes her head. “Well, I tried to forget about you and move on, build this new life for myself and Henry, and I did build it but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. All year I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, and I missed you. That may sound dumb since we only spent a day together, but that’s how I feel.”

“It doesn’t sound dumb at all,” he says. “I missed you too.”

She gives a small, choking laugh. “I thought you didn’t,” she says. “When I saw you and Belle in the bookstore, I thought, well, he’s forgotten all about you.”

“I definitely did not,” he replies. “I couldn’t. I thought about you too, all year.”

“Really?”

“Oh, aye.” He attempts a smile. “Every day.”

Her eyes are liquid soft and their expression makes his blood hum. “I don’t want to go through that again next year,” she says. “I want to… to see you, and not—not just as a friend.”

“Emma—”

“And don’t say you’re too old! I know that’s what you’re going to say.”

“It is true.”

“It’s not. You can’t be more than what, thirty-four, thirty-five?”

“Thirty-five.”

“I’m twenty-three.”

“That’s—”

“But I don’t care about that, Killian. I like your silver hair and that you’ve had experience of the world. Sometimes I feel like I missed out on so much, getting pregnant so young and since then my whole life has been Henry and trying to get through college. And now I have all this money and I know there’s so much I can do with it, and places I can go, but I don’t really know where to start.”

“Love—”

“Not that I want you to be a tour guide or like an adviser or something, I want—fuck, I’m making a mess of this.”

Killian realises he’s holding his breath, forces himself to exhale and draw in fresh air. “Emma,” he says firmly, “there’s nothing I’d like more than to have a place in your life, and Henry’s, in whatever capacity you wish.”

“Whatever capacity?”

“Aye.”

“So if I said I wanted you to be my—” she takes a deep breath—“my date for a New Year’s Eve party I’m invited to, you’d agree?”

“It would be my honour.”

“And then if I asked you out to dinner?” she continues. “My treat.”

He laughs. “I know a restaurant I think you’d love.”

“And afterwards? If I invited you back here for some coffee?”

“You do make excellent coffee, I don’t think I could refuse.”

“Then if I wanted to go out again, someplace else?”

“You could choose the restaurant, and I would pay.”

“Then maybe a movie sometime?”

“At the old cinema near the bookshop.”

“And what— what if, after a little while, I wanted to have coffee again in the morning? You’d—you’d stay and have that second cup with me?”

“I would love nothing more.”

She nods. “That’s the capacity I wish.”

She’s so close now that he can count the flecks of gold in her eyes and he realises that her hand is on his thigh and his is on her hip, and then she closes the remaining distance between them and kisses him. He moans and pulls her closer, his other hand tangling in her hair as hers curls around his neck and he loses himself in the taste of chocolate and cinnamon on her tongue and the promise of her lips on his. The promise of a future, their future, together.

There’s a clattering noise of footsteps and loud voices on the stairs and they break apart. Killian leans his forehead against Emma’s, revelling in the sight of her dazed and happy smile, and silently thanks Belle for her discretion. Emma stands and pulls him to his feet, and when Henry and Belle appear she beams at them both.

“I think dinner’s nearly ready,” she says. “Henry, let’s go set the table.”

Belle gives Killian a smirk that’s thoroughly ruined by the delight dancing in her eyes. “You look happy,” she says. “And a bit shell-shocked.”

“Aye, to both those things.”

“And you appear to be wearing lipstick,” she teases, handing him a tissue and grinning at his blush. He wipes his mouth and when he offers it back to her she takes his hand as well.

“I’m so glad for you,” she says. “Merry Christmas, Killian. The first of many, I think.”

Killian looks into the dining room where Emma and Henry are laughing as he sets the table and she lays the food out on it. “Aye,” he says gruffly. “I think it will be. I hope.”

#cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #christmas fic #christmas magic #healing #in mind and body and soul #captains swan #captain book #captain cobra #captain cobra swan #there may be a kiss #to keep it all the year #profdanglaisstuff

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master-sass-blast · 5 years

Note

Time for me to waddle myself into your ask box and ask for ALL the OTP questions for Kastle~~~

SEFKLJSLKFJDSLFLDSKDHHDSLKSLSLDKFJLDSL

Okay, okay, deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

*hyperventilates*

(Throwing this under a cut for length reasons; my deepest apologies if you’re on mobile.)

Okay, so let it be known that I am fond of some very specific Kastle tropes, namely where both Karen and Frank are hot messes and really don’t have their shit together, so that’s gonna be immensely present in this list.

1. Acts like they’re dying when they have a cold: I’d venture to say neither; they’re both the type to soldier through like nothing’s changed until the other person ties them to the bed and laces their drink with Nyquil to make them sleep.

2. Gets mad at the TV and throws the remote: Again, I’d say neither, but if someone was going to do it, it’d be Karen. I think Frank would be too self-aware of keeping his rage/strength in check to do something impulsive like that.

3. Gets the worst road rage: KAREN. Like, Frank will get annoyed, but Karen Page has road rage rivaled by none other. She’s the type to swear like a sailor and level death threats at the other drives, which amuses Frank to no end.

4. Spends too much time in the bathroom on their phone: Canonically, Frank basically doesn’t have a phone (I’m sorry, but fucking flip phones don’t fucking count), so Karen. Mostly because she’s trying to keep track of news stuff as a journalist/private investigator.

5. Packs the whole closet for an overnight trip: Frank. Except the closet is his entire arsenal, the dork.

6. Hates the in-laws: Also Frank. It’s fanon that Frank’s parents had him old and aren’t around during DD/TP, and it’s canon that Karen’s mom is dead, which just leaves Karen’s dead, and whooooo boy.

Do you honestly think that Frank Castle, the man who loved and lost his family, the man who’s calming mantra is a phrase from a book that his daughter loved, would be amiable with the likes of Mr. Page, who told his daughter that he didn’t want to see her again after she got into a car crash/the death of her brother, and turned her away when there was a literal assassin after her?

Because I don’t.

So, yeah. Frank hates Mr. Page and would have no issue letting him know that with exact reasons. Maybe a Powerpoint presentation too, just to drive the point home.

7. Hits the snooze button…11 times: Karen, because she’s up too late at night researching.

8. Makes the other late for work: Karen, actually. She’s usually running late for her own work, and Frank’s a stickler about timing so he’s not about to delay her any further than she’s already delayed herself. If we’re talking about the odd jobs/construction work he picks up, he’s usually a little late because she needs to shower, and he lets her go before him so she can get to work on time, which pushes his schedule back.

Not that you’d ever hear him complain about it, though. It’s basically canon that Frank Castle would let Karen Page get away with murder.

And if we’re talking about Frank’s Punisher “work,” well, Karen still runs the end of making him late for a few things, but that’s for an entirely different set of reasons. *wink wonk*

9. Uses the television as a babysitter: Karen, but only because she’s usually super busy with work.

10. Takes in the stray dog: Frank. He basically already did that in Season 2 of Daredevil. Next question.

11. Suggests a 3am trip to McDonald’s: Karen, because she’s up late researching.

Frank always humors her.

12. Leaves their shoes out for the other to trip over: Karen. Frank’s too neurotically organized (military) to leave his shoes everywhere.

(Bear in mind, though, that it’s Karen tripping over her own shoes. Frank’s too aware of his surroundings to have that happen to him.)

13. Can’t make up their mind when it comes to dinner: Frank, actually. The military wasn’t exactly the places of many choices, and Maria usually handled meals when he was home so he usually wasn’t in the wheelhouse when it came to making those decisions. Plus, as the Punisher, he sticks to nonperishables (canned food, MREs, etc) and coffee, so it’s not like he’s got a ton of choice now, anyway.

He usually lets Karen order and calls it good. He likes just about anything she picks, anyway.

14. Needs to be reminded of all their appointments: Karen, mostly because she’s liable to overbook herself otherwise.

And the only appointments Frank keeps are murder-y ones, so… yeah. Karen.

15. Bribes the other into doing chores, getting out of the house…and taking a shower: Doing chores and taking a shower? Neither of them. They’re both pretty functional in that area.

Getting out of the house (or, more accurately, doing something that’s not work)? They both have to do it with each other on a regular basis. Karen’s go-to’s with Frank usually involve dogs; Frank’s go-to’s with Karen usually… also involve dogs.

They’re people of similar tastes.

16. Picks the movies: Both of them.

17. Takes the safety steps when building a pillow fort: Frank. “If you’re gonna build a pillow fort, you gotta do it right, Page.”

Karen thinks he’s nuts, but lets him do it anyway.

18. Kisses the other’s injuries better: Both of them do.

Karen does it before/during/after making love (and in general, but there’s more access to Frank’s skin when they’re, you know, naked or in the process of becoming naked), as a way of reminding him that she loves him and he deserves to be loved.

Frank does it once when she scrapes her knee (she tripped on a flight of stairs) out of the habit of having been a father, and then Karen asks him to “kiss it better” each time she gets an injury afterwards.

Which he does because he loves her and we all know that Frank would do just about anything for Karen Page.

19. Is addicted to angry birds, game of war, candy crush, temple run, or flappy bird: FRANK. He’s got to have something to do to pass the time on his stakeouts (look, I know this doesn’t match up with what I said about his flip phones, but just humor me, okay).

20. Kills the spiders: Frank. Karen’ll do it, but she likes having Frank do it (and he likes being rewarded with her kisses, so it works for both of them).

21. Hogs the blankets: Karen. Take one look at Karen/Deborah Ann Woll and tell me that someone that petite (frame wise, she’s taller than me and I’m tall) doesn’t get cold easy. Go on. I’ll wait.

22. Takes pranks too far: Neither of them. They’re both pretty careful with each other in that regard.

23. Makes the dirty jokes: They’ll both make the occasional joke, but neither of them are “frat boys” about it.

24. Keeps a piggy bank: Karen. It’s a convenient place to keep her spare change.

25. Has no problem having ice cream for breakfast: Karen, if only to piss Frank off.

26. Gets a tattoo when they’re drunk: Frank’s been there, done that, during his bootcamp days.

27. Trips over their own feet: Karen, every now and then.

28. Makes the other go for a walk: Frank. Karen works a lot of long hours, so he makes a point to drag her outside and make her stretch her legs.

29. Whines until they get what they want: Karen, mostly because it makes Frank laugh.

30. Tries to act tough but really isn’t: Neither of them. These two are tough as nails when it comes to it.

31. Talks the most, says the least: Karen. Granted, Karen knows how to make her words count when she needs to, but she’s more prone to rambling.

32. Talks the least, says the most: Frank Castle, aka the Man of Few Words and Many Grunts.

#sass speaks #frank castle x karen page

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shadowreine · 6 years

Text

The Art of Falling in Love - Chapter 4

Fandom: Mystic Messenger

Pairing: V x MC (reader/custom MC)

Chapter Summary: In which MC has a chat with some of the boys.

Note: Finally an update! October was kind of a busy/stressful month, so I apologize for the wait. Thanks so much to everyone who’s been reading/liking/commenting on this fic so far. It means a lot to me. <3

Chapter 4: Candid

Once you returned to your apartment after dinner, you were ready to finally collapse into your bed and sleep, especially after such a long, eventful day. However, sleep eluded you. You lay wide awake, tossing and turning, your mind running at a million miles a second. You thought about the party, what went well and what didn’t, and what suggestions for improvements you could posit to RFA. You thought about the GCA and made a mental checklist of all the paperwork you had to submit in order to obtain a visa for working abroad…which brought to mind the fact that even before you could start that step in the process, you needed to stop procrastinating on working on your lesson plans for the upcoming semester—which was two weeks away, no less—and you needed to do a good job. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be needing a work visa at all. You let out a groan in the darkness of your bedroom, knowing that these anxious thoughts would never let you rest.

Ever since Hana had suggested your class could focus on art this semester, you couldn’t shake the idea. It was a good idea, and you were very low on ideas at the moment. The only problem was that you never really considered art as one of your strong suits, so you didn’t think you could excel at teaching it… But Hana was right, children love doing art. Maybe she was also right about asking Jihyun for a little help…

“Jihyun, Jihyun…” you said out loud, testing out the name. “Jihyun…”

V was a punchy name, short and straightforward. It was a good moniker for a hip photographer. But Jihyun was soft, almost a whisper, a pleasant sound sliding off the tip of your tongue. Now that you thought about it, it suited him better than V ever did.

Part of you regretted declining his offer to have dinner with him because you didn’t know when you’d have the chance to see him in person again. You imagined he’d be busy trying to get resettled into the city. He’d likely want to find a new place to stay. Maybe he wanted to meet up with others he might’ve lost contact with. He’d probably be caught up doing his own thing for a while, and you’d rejected your only chance to catch up with him.

Though, you couldn’t have just canceled on Hana. You had responsibilities, you had your own life. You had to make compromises. Wasn’t that adulthood? You couldn’t just drop everything because someone from your past decided to turn up again.

But… you just really wanted to see him.

You let out a sigh and turned onto your side, frustrated that your thoughts were keeping you awake. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand and checked the time. It was half past midnight.

Might as well check the messenger, you thought. Throughout the evening you’d received RFA app notifications, but you hadn’t been able to check any before now. Opening the app, you logged in and read the past chat logs. Only Zen and Yoosung had been there. Zen had entered the chatroom sometime after he finished his show, and Yoosung was taking a break from LOLOL. Zen told Yoosung about how Jaehee had waited for him outside the backstage door with her girlfriend Soomi (along with a dozen other rabid fangirls clamoring for his attention), and he sent a selfie of the three of them. Zen was the focus of the picture, of course, while Jaehee and Soomi stood together behind him, leaning so that they were in frame. This was the first time you saw what Soomi looked like. She was cute and petite, her blonde hair cropped short in a stylish bob. Jaehee and Soomi had matching poses, both winking at the camera and holding up their hands in a peace sign. They looked like they were having a great time, and you couldn’t feel happier for them.

Zen and Yoosung then spent the rest of the chat lamenting how much they wished they had girlfriends too and feeling sorry for themselves. Your eyes glazed over as you scrolled to the bottom of the chat. By now you knew very well how much the RFA boys, except perhaps Jumin, regretted the lack of romance in their lives. Sometimes it was cute that they had so much love in their hearts that they wanted to share it with someone, but more often than not, it got repetitive and eye-roll inducing, so much that you wished they could just find someone already so they could stop moaning about it.

Once you reached the bottom of the chat, you logged out to the main user interface to check everyone’s status updates. As you looked at the row of user icons, you started to feel like something was missing. The icons felt too big, as if there could be room to fit one more comfortably among them.

Then you realized why: Jihyun’s icon was missing. It had been missing for a long time, actually, but now that he was back in the country, it felt wrong not to have him in the messenger.

After Jihyun left to go overseas, Jumin asked Seven to revoke his access for security purposes. He wouldn’t have had time to log into the messenger on his travels anyway, so there’d been no point in keeping his profile active. Even though you were about to travel abroad yourself, you couldn’t see yourself staying away from the messenger for too long. RFA had become like family to you, and you’d want to keep in touch no matter how far away you went.

You wondered if Jihyun still had the same phone he used two years ago, or if he’d deactivated his service altogether. Come to think of it, since he wasn’t on the messenger, you realized you had no way of contacting him.

A window popped up on your phone screen indicating that a new chatroom had been opened. You looked at the time–it was almost one o’clock in the morning. Who could be online at this hour?

You entered the chatroom. Seven greeted you.

707: Hello, pretty lady!

MC: Seven, you’re still awake.

707: Yup. So are you, I see.

MC: Can’t sleep.

707: Me neither. Still reeling from the high of the party?

MC: lol sort of. I got a lot on my mind right now. How was your evening?

707: Fine fine. It was pretty good actually!

He sent the emoji of him excitedly shouting “yahoo!”

MC: Good day at work?

707: Yup! I was super productive. Got everything done in record time… I see Zen and Yoosung are complaining about being single again. SMH. They’re just jealous that Jaehee has more game than them.

You laughed out loud. Sick burn, Seven.

MC: You’re not wrong, lol. Jaehee can be very sweet and charming when she has the chance to relax every once in a while. I’m happy that she and Soomi found each other.

707: They wouldn’t have met each other if you didn’t push Jumin to give Jaehee a vacation.

MC: Yeah… That’s true…

As if summoned, Jumin Han entered the chatroom.

707: WHOA that’s creepy, dude.

Jumin Han: What are you talking about? Good evening, MC.

MC: haha hey Jumin...that is a little creepy.

Jumin Han: ?

707: We were just talking about you.

Jumin Han: I see. I just read the log.

MC: I think you’ve read enough books on witchcraft that you’re starting to become a witch yourself, Jumin. Speak of the devil, and all that.

707: Hehe where’s your broom, witch boy?

You didn’t ask Jumin what he was doing up so late because he was always awake at this hour, either spending time with Elizabeth the 3rd or doing business with investors and companies in different timezones. On the rare occasion that you had a bout of insomnia, he would be in the chatroom, keeping you company until you finally fell asleep.

Jumin Han: Will Yoosung and Zen ever get tired of complaining about not having significant others?

MC: Probably not. Though, I feel like once they do get girlfriends, that’s all they’ll talk about on here.

Jumin Han: You’re probably right. I don’t know which is worse.

707: Jaehee is pretty modest about her relationship. They should act like her! Speaking of Jaehee, as I was saying before Jumin interrupted us with his creepy black magic, I think Jaehee has you to thank for meeting Soomi, MC.

MC: Oh, that’s more credit than I deserve. I just yelled at Jumin.

707: lmao you did yell at him

Well, you had typed in all caps in the chatroom, which was just as good as yelling. A few months ago, Jumin had swamped Jaehee with so much work that Jaehee broke down crying on the phone with you. You felt so awful and helpless at first, but after you did your best to console her and hung up, you decided that the only way to fix the problem was to go straight to the source.

Jumin was unreceptive to your suggestion at first, which you’d expected, but once you laid out all the reasons why it was a good idea to give her a break and why she deserved one, his cold, distant attitude started to irritate you. You tried to be civil, but the man was as stubborn as a mule sometimes. So you snapped and capslocked on him. Then once you said your piece, without warning, you logged out of the chatroom and called his phone to tell him off some more.

Jumin Han: I’ll admit I’ve never been yelled at like that before.

MC: I didn’t *yell*.

Jumin Han: You gave me a very stern lecture.

MC: Well, Zen yells at you on here all the time.

Jumin Han: I correct my previous statement—I’ve never been yelled at like that by someone whom I respect.

You knew that was high praise coming from someone like Jumin Han. Sometimes you couldn’t help but have the utmost respect for him too. After the incident, you learned that Jumin had been so stressed due to his father’s current romantic engagements and the prolonged absence of his best friend, and he had taken it out on his assistant. You felt bad for yelling at him, and you apologized to him personally on the phone the next day.

After that, he decided to give Jaehee three weeks of vacation. Jaehee was resistant at first, but you convinced her to take the offer. She spent those weeks off the messenger and met Soomi at one of her favorite coffee shops downtown. They hit it off rather easily, and the rest was history.

Jumin Han: Anyway, I am glad that Jaehee has found someone she cares about deeply. It seems to have made her more motivated in her work.

707: …

MC: sigh

Jumin Han: What? It’s true.

707: Only you would make something that’s supposed to be romantic into something totally not;;

Jumin Han: I don’t understand romantic relationships myself, so I see no point in commenting on it.

MC: I guess I can understand where you’re coming from. I’ve had enough of talking about romance for one evening.

707: Oh?

Seven sent his heart eyes emoji.

707: Who else are you talking about romance with, MC?

He sent the same emoji again.

“Oh crap,” you said to your screen. Suddenly the whole awkward conversation you had with Hana came back to you. You couldn’t very well tell Seven or Jumin that you and Hana had talked about Jihyun. You had to play it cool.

MC: Oh… I just had dinner with Hana tonight. She told me all about her new boyfriend.

Seven sent his gasping emoji.

707: The hot new actor Hojin Park! He and Hana were spotted smooching down in the Maldives last week!

Again with his heart eyes emoji.

MC: …Are you stalking my best friend, Seven?

707: It’s not stalking when paparazzi pictures of them are posted on every celeb gossip site!

MC: I am not going to talk gossip about my own friend. If I did, you’d probably try leaking it to the media for a quick buck.

707: They pay a lot of money for ~insider info~ you know.

You sent an emoji that depicted you giving a very unamused side-eye.

707: Fine, fine. I won’t ask about Hana’s love life. You need to lighten up, MC. Maybe you need a l-o-v-e interest of your own, eh?

The heart eyes. Again. You dropped your head into your hand. Why was everyone so hung up on romance this evening? You needed a change of subject, quick.

Thankfully, Jumin seemed to have the same idea.

Jumin Han: I think this conversation has derailed quite a bit.

MC: Thank you! Can we talk about something else, pls?

Jumin Han: I actually came onto the messenger to make a request of you, Seven.

707: Hmm, ok. What is it?

Jumin Han: I’d like you to grant Jihyun access to the messenger again.

Your phone almost slipped out of your hand.

Jihyun...on the messenger again? Weren’t you just thinking about that only minutes ago?

MC: Oh?

707: Oh, I didn’t even think of that. Does he want to get back on?

Jumin Han: No, but I imagine he’d like to be, once he gets a new phone, that is. He deactivated his old phone some time ago, and he needs to get another one first. I’ll pass on the information once it’s available.

707: …Do you think it’s a good idea?

Seven’s question took you aback. Why wouldn’t it be a good idea? You asked him what he meant.

707: …never mind. It’s nothing. When he gets a new phone, let me know, and I’ll add him back onto the messenger.

You didn’t know what to say. Where had his sudden hesitance come from? You would have thought Seven would be one of the more enthusiastic about his return. You remember Seven once telling you that he considered Jihyun almost like a father to him despite their relative close age gap. He trusted him more than anyone. In fact, back when you first met the RFA, you noticed there were secrets that Seven and Jihyun had kept between only them. Seven had come to Jihyun’s rescue at Mint Eye, after all.

...That was two years ago, though. The more you thought about it now, the more you realized that since then, Seven hadn’t spoken much about Jihyun at all. He certainly never brought him up in the chats of his own volition, and whenever someone else would mention him, he didn’t have much to say.

But he seemed happy to see Jihyun at the party earlier, didn’t he? Well, now that you thought about it, perhaps he wasn’t so much happy as he was shocked and…confused. Almost as if he had truly believed he never would see his old mentor ever again.

“We have a lot to catch up on, I think,” Jihyun had said. And Seven had agreed.

There was something tense about the exchange, some underlying thoughts and feelings that you couldn’t begin to decipher. That must have been what bothered Seven now. What was the missing link between them?

MC: You ok, Seven? You sound weird.

707: I’m fine. Gotta go, though. Long day.

He signed out of the chatroom before you could type another message.

Jumin Han: …

MC: Is it just me, or did something sound off about him? Does Seven not want Jihyun back on here?

Jumin Han: He seemed hesitant about it at the very least.

MC: Why? You don’t think it’s because he doesn’t trust Jihyun, do you? I know he had trouble with keeping secrets from everyone, even to Seven, but he just doesn’t seem like that kind of person anymore…

You weren’t sure if that were entirely true, but everything you knew about what he’d gone through seemed to indicate that Jihyun had had enough secrecy for one lifetime. The man you saw at the party didn’t look like someone who would harbor any secrets.

Jumin Han: I agree. I’ve been with him all evening, and he is definitely changed.

MC: …wait. You’ve been hanging out with Jihyun?

Jumin Han: Yes, he’s with me right now.

“What?” you said aloud. Jumin had been chatting with you all this time and Jihyun was with him?

MC: Really? Where are you?

Jumin Han: At my penthouse. I invited him over as a guest, since he currently has nowhere to stay.

You were typing to ask what he was doing, but your fingers froze over the screen when a picture popped up in the chat.

This time, your phone actually did fall out of your hands...and landed right onto your face, since you were lying in bed. You let out a pained shriek and massaged your nose. Then you jolted up into a sitting position and looked back at your phone.

Jihyun was in the photo. He was standing next to the dining table, across from where Jumin seemed to be sitting. He was pouring himself a glass of red wine. You could tell it was a candid picture because Jihyun’s eyes appeared as though he’d looked into the camera just as it was being taken, his brows raised in a half-expression of surprise. It was cute, actually. But that wasn’t what got your attention.

What got your attention was the fact that his hair was wet, sticking to the left side of his face. He had a towel draped over his shoulders, and he wore gray lounge pants and a white tank top...

MC: …

Jumin Han: He just got out of the shower. He’s jet lagged, so that’s why he’s still awake, if you were wondering.

You were actually wondering why his bare arms looked appealingly firm and smooth, and why his tank top clung so tightly to his slender but lean torso…but you weren’t going to type that.

MC: Um, thanks for the pic haha

Jumin Han: I thought I should prove to you he was in fact here.

MC: You didn’t need to do that lol. I believed you.

Jumin Han: He’s asking me who I sent the photo to.

MC: Oh...what did you tell him?

Jumin Han: You.

You blushed. Should you take a selfie of yourself just to make it fair? You couldn’t do that. You probably looked like a mess after tossing and turning in bed for a few hours… Wait, why did you care what you looked like? You’d sent less than flattering pictures of yourself through the messenger before.

Jumin Han: I need to go. Elizabeth the 3rd should be put to bed soon, and I’m going to keep Jihyun company.

MC: Okay. Tell Elizabeth the 3rd hello for me.

You debated whether you should add another line. Oh, why not?

MC: ...and Jihyun, too.

Jumin Han: Will do. Goodnight.

Jumin logged out, and so did you. You lingered in the main UI a little while longer, wondering what Jumin and Jihyun were up to right now, what they were talking about. Jumin must have liked having the chance to catch up with his best friend, especially considering how much you knew he’d missed him and worried after him since he left. You could only hope you got your chance, too.

You went into the messenger’s photo folders. Even though Seven had taken away Jihyun’s access to the app, he kept his photo folder untouched. You opened it and looked at the newest picture of him. Out of curiosity, you told yourself. Once it expanded across your screen, your heart did a flip in your chest, which was a sensation that utterly confused you. It wasn’t as if you weren’t used to being friends with so many pretty people. Part of the reason why it was so easy for you to initially believe that the RFA were AIs in a dating simulator was because they were all too good-looking to be real. Even now, you would catch yourself admiring just how beautiful Zen looked in his selfies, how well Jumin wore his business suits, how cute Yoosung and Seven were in an adorably nerdy way. Even Jaehee was exceptionally gorgeous.

Yet somehow none of them made you react the way you reacted to this picture of Jihyun. What was happening?

You reasoned it was because you’d never seen him like this. So candid, so...underdressed. You felt as if you shouldn’t be even be looking at it.

Get a grip, MC.

You exited out of the app, tossed your phone onto your comforter, and collapsed onto your pillow, trying desperately to wipe the image out of your mind so you could finally, finally, get to sleep.

#jihyun kim #v x mc #vxmc #mystic messenger #mystic messenger v #mystic messenger fanfic #mysme #mysme v #i'm participating in nanowrimo with an original fic on top of writing this fic #so rip me i guess #taofil #my fic

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sandstonesunspear · 6 years

Text

Shopping

Director Sanvers, genderfluid!Lucy centric

Found a prompt chart for Pride Month and figured I’d try my hand at it. I’m a day behind because life. Parings are random.

Thanks to @change-the-rules and @nerdsbianhokie for letting me borrow Leon for this piece. Also @queercapwriting, I borrowed Adrian, or at least his clothes, for this. Hope you don’t mind.

AO3

He woke up as Leon. Maggie was still asleep next to him while Alex’s side was already cold, telling him that she had already left for work. A piece of paper of her pillow caught his eye. He grabbed it and read it over.

L, J’onn called and said you have the day off.

Something about you needing to spend more than 3 hrs away from work :P

See you and Mags tonight.

Love you both

Leon let his head thump back against the pillow. He couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed that J’onn had benched him, but as the co-Director of the DEO, he understood. J’onn had the uncanny and, in Leon’s opinion, unfair skill of identifying when an agent was starting to lag or was on the verge of coming apart, often before the agent themself knew. If he was being told to take a personal day, it meant that there was something bothering him and that he had the day to figure it out.

He sighed. Laying in bed wasn’t going to help him figure it out. He got up and grabbed some clothes that were scattered about. A flat with three people, two of whom were similar in size, meant that clothing as bound to get mixed up.

He didn’t pay attention to what he grabbed. He tugged a shirt over his binder, wiggled into a pair of Jurassic Park boxers, and slid on a pair of jeans, all without a care. Then he looked in the mirror and felt his stomach twist.

Nothing looked right. He frowned, trying to figure out what was wrong with the picture in front of him.

The hair. It’s probably the hair.

He grabbed one of the leather hair ties that Vasquez had bought him ages ago and tied his hair back. It helped a little, but something was still off.

He looked himself over again. Even with his binder on, the shirt didn’t fit on him. The skinny jeans he had put on accentuated his hips too much.

Clothes. It’s the clothes.

Clothes could be fixed. He stripped down and dug through the drawers to find something different to wear. He threw on a wifebeater, one of Alex’s flannels, and tugged on a pair of ripped blue jeans that he was pretty sure were Maggie’s. A quick glance in the mirror told him that his outfit was little better than the last. While it looked fine, the cut of the flannel highlighted curves in a way he didn’t want. He shook his head and went to change again.

It was four more rejected outfits before Leon finally let out a frustrated breath. He sat heavily on the bed and put his face in his hands. He was getting nowhere. Aesthetically, nothing was wrong with his clothes, they just highlighted parts of his body that he really didn’t want to pay attention to or have attention drawn to. If he went out as he was now, he would having people calling him ‘ma’am’ and ‘she’ all day long, even with his binder disguising his chest.

“Mmph…Luce?” Maggie’s sleep-heavy voice caught his attention.

He flinched.

It didn’t go unnoticed by her. She sat up. “Lee, what’s wrong?” she asked, blinking blearily a few times. Then the scene registered with her.

“Nothing,” he said immediately. He wished he had taken the time to fold the clothes and put them away before Maggie had woken up.

Maggie glanced around to see the various piles of clothing scattered about the room. Then she looked back at Leon and saw just how upset he looked. It clicked. She threw the covers off and got out of bed.

“I’ll be right back.”

Leon’s brow furrowed in confusion as they watched Maggie head to the closet. There was some rustling before she reemerged a few seconds later, a pair of dark blue jeans in her hands.

“Try these on real quick, okay?” She said and kissed the side of his head.

Leon kicked off the pants he was wearing and unfurled the jeans Maggie had given him. He recognised them.

“Why do you have Adrian’s jeans in the closet?” he asked as he pulled them on.

Maggie shrugged. “He left them here a while back when he was staying over and just hasn’t been by to pick them up.” She tilted her head. “How do they feel?”

Leon could read in between the lines of her question. He looked in the mirror and nodded, a small smile appearing on his face.

“Better,” he said. He looked back at the piles of discarded clothes and went to start cleaning them up.

“Good,” Maggie said. She patting him on the shoulder. “Grab your shoes.”

He looked up from the pair of jeans he was folding back up, confused. “Why?”

“Because I’m taking you shopping.”

Leon’s shoulders were hunched as he and Maggie walked into Uniqlo. He glanced around. There was a clear gender division when it came to the clothing, but he had to admit, some of the women’s pieces looked pretty gender neutral. He even saw a few things that he would be more than happy to wear on days when he was Lucy.

“How’d you find this place?” he asked her.

“I didn’t, Adrian did,” she said as they headed in the direction of the men’s section. “He swears by this place because they’ve got clothes for petite guys.”

Petite guys. Maggie had said the words so casually that if he hadn’t been paying attention, he would’ve missed them. But they meant the world to him right now.

They stopped in front of a large selection of various styles of pants. She glanced at him then at the rack before nodding. She grabbed a pair of jeans and joggers and shoved them into his arms.

“Go try those on while I go looking for shirts.”

Leon did as he was told. He went over to the changing rooms and took his time. He found that the jeans looked great, but he hated the way they felt against his skin. The joggers both looked and felt great, but he knew he’d have to get used to the cuffed ankles.

There was a knock on the door.

He opened it to see Maggie with a pair of chinos and a small mountain of button ups. She eyed the jeans as she handed them over to him.

“The jeans didn’t work?” she asked.

“They did, I just didn’t like the way they felt,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, Lee, I’ll find a different pair.” Then she was gone, leaving him alone again.

He kept the joggers on as he tried on each shirt. The olive green linen button up went great with the pants, but the shirt reminded him too much the old green Class A’s he had worn until the Army finally switched over to the blues. To his delight, Maggie had picked out a flannel that resembled Alex’s, just with a more masculine cut. The baby blue oxford he tried on right after it made him question wrinkle his nose and question Maggie’s taste in colours, though, but the light pink dress shirt that followed it made him nod in approval.

Another knock.

He opened the door and found himself with two different pairs of jeans into his arms.

“Different style of denim,” she told him.

“Thanks.”

He took off the joggers and put on the first pair. They felt great, but the colour reminded him too much of dad jeans. The second pair of jeans was the clear winner for him. He nodded.

He changed back into Adrian’s jeans and tugged his West Point sweatshirt over his head before making his way out of the changing room. He handed over the items he knew he wasn’t getting then headed towards where Maggie was standing.

She looked over the large pile of clothing that Leon had in his arms then at him. He had a shy smile on his face.

“It’s a lot,” he said. “And I don’t have to get it all today--”

She cut him off. “You’re getting it all today,” she said. When he looked ready to protest, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “You deserve to feel comfortable as you are, Leon.”

Leon had to blink away tears. He was used to not being comfortable. He was used to the discomfort of hiding. Time with Alex and Maggie had changed that, as had coming out as genderfluid, but there would always be a part of him that would insist that he didn’t have the right to be comfortable. That he needed to hide.

Maggie gently nudged him towards the cashier line. Leon placed the items down and went for his wallet as they were scanned, only to get stopped by Maggie.

“I’ve got it,” she told him.

He started to sputter. “Maggie--”

“I’ve got it,” she said again before giving him a pout that Alex would have been proud of. “Let me do something for one of the people I love, alright?”

Between her words and the pout, Leon really couldn’t say no to that. He put his wallet away and watched as Maggie chatted with the cashier.

“Your partner’s pretty handsome,” the cashier noted as she finished scanning everything.

Maggie flashed a grin at Leon. “Yeah, he is.”

Leon ducked his head, feeling his face head up in embarrassment.

The cashier handed the bag to Maggie who handed it to Leon. “You both have a great day,” she told them.

“Thanks,” both of them said before making their way out of the store.

“You want to stop by a bathroom so you can change?” Maggie asked quietly on the way out.

Leon thought about it. “Yeah, I kind of do.”

They headed over to one of the family restrooms nearby.

“I’ll be outside,” Maggie said. “Take your time. You’ve got a lot of clothes to get through.”

Leon rolled his eyes. “I know that I’m going to wear.”

“I look forward to seeing what you come up with.” She shot a grin his way. He couldn’t help but return one of his own.

Maggie scrolled through her phone while she waited for Leon to change. Her phone pinged with a text from Alex.

How’s Leon doing?

A lot better. He’s getting changed rn.

That’s good. Send pics!

Will do.

A cough to her right caught her attention. She glanced over and nearly dropped her phone.

Leon had traded the borrowed set of jeans and his West Point jumper for men’s slim fit jeans and a red flannel, with black shirt underneath.

“Wow.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a good wow or a bad wow?” he asked.

“Good, definitely good,” she assured him. She looked him over. “What do you think?”

He glanced down at himself. “I don’t mind looking down,” he said. “And I definitely didn’t mind the image in the mirror in the bathroom.”

Maggie nodded.

Leon bit his lip. “Do I look, you know…?” He motioned vaguely.

Maggie closed the distance between them and kissed his cheek. “You look handsome,” she said.

He could see in her eyes that she was telling the truth. He felt his shoulders slump in relief.

She took his hand. “What do you say we go grab some ice cream?” she asked, deciding the change the subject. “You know, to celebrate your new and improved wardrobe?”

“Sure, if we can get real ice cream this time,” he said, giving her a cheeky grin.

Maggie rolled her eyes. The three of them had had this argument before. “Vegan ice cream is delicious and you and Alex both know it,” she said.

“It tastes like lies, Sawyer,” he snarked. “And you know it.”

“Please, Lane, you can’t even tell the difference,” she protested as they started to walk.

“I so can.”

“Uh huh.”

Alex stumbled inside their flat, utterly exhausted. What was supposed to have been an easy turned out to be anything but once a junior agent had uttered the word, “calm day.” Three containment breeches, one Boloxvian rampaging Downtown, and a very annoyed Pam later, and Alex was finally home.

She was met by laughter as soon as she made it past the doorway. She raised an eyebrow at the sound and saw Leon and Maggie sitting on the couch together. Maggie was settled up against him as they watched a B-grade horror flick.

“Watch where you’re running or you’re going to--and you just tripped on a tree root,” Leon sighed. “And now you’re dead.”

The unlucky camper was promptly cleaved in two moments later.

Maggie shook her head. “It’s like horror movies don’t exist in those universes.”

“You never know, they might not,” Alex spoke up from behind the two of them, startling the both of them. “Multiple Earths and whatnot.”

“Multiple Earths or not, that’s no excuse to not watch where you’re running when you’re facing a serial killer,” Leon huffed.

Alex laughed. “True,” she conceded. She leaned over the couch to kiss Maggie and then kissed him. She glanced at the shopping bags nearby. “Looks like you two had a productive day.”

Leon grinned. “Yeah,” he said. “Maggie’s the best.”

Maggie preened. “Of course I am,” she said.

“Careful, Lee, otherwise Detective Sawyer’s ego won’t fit in bed with us,” Alex said jokingly then chuckled when Maggie stuck her tongue out at her.

“So how was your day?” He asked. “Am I going to be facing a mountain of paperwork when I get back?”

“Exhausting, but no,” Alex said. “Let me go get changed and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Okay.”

When Alex came back, she found Maggie and Leon both dozing. She shook her head and smiled.

“Scoot over,” she said, nudging Leon.

Leon grumbled and cracked an eye open, but shifted over nonetheless before closing his eye again.

Alex settled her head on his shoulder. “You look great, by the way.”

His face turned pink.

Alex leaned up slightly and pressed her lips to his cheek. “Love you, Leon,” she said.

Even though his eyes were closed, he smiled, letting Alex know he was still awake.

“Love you too, Alex,” he said. He briefly opened his eyes to glance down at Maggie, who had her head in his lap. “Love you too, Maggie.”

“Love you both too,” she mumbled, eyes shut.

Alex and Leon traded looks before he settled back. Alex shifted and closed her eyes. She listened to the breathing of her lovers even out before she dozed off alongside them.

#director sanvers #Lucy Lane #maggie sawyer #alex danvers #genderfluid!lucy #Leon Lane #supergirl #my writing

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