#that's you looking at pictures of max next to other people examining his shoulder to hip ratio

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 11

Cult Girl goes on a little solo excursion while Hannibal works.

@wisesandwichshark @pearlstiare

Trigger warnings: (fake) blood, mentions of death overseas, anti-choice harassment, discussion of abortion

Archie and Max leaving the picture was a problem you couldn't bring yourself to deal with when you awoke the next day. You anticipated a massive downward spiral if you didn't do something for yourself and fast. You'd spent so much time worrying about your schoolwork and your baby that it was long past due.

You made a couple of phone calls and found a GameStop a little out of the way with a used copy of Pokémon Alpha Sapphire for sale. About twenty minutes drive. Hannibal had back-to-back appointments clogging up his day, so it gave you an excuse to go on a little excursion.

You climbed into your car, picked an extensive playlist of your favorite songs and set off. You plugged the directions into your phone and let the map guide you. The roads narrowed as you watched your surroundings grow less and less familiar.

Soon enough, you pulled into a parking lot. Nestled between a Planned Parenthood and a used bookstore, the GameStop beckoned you. At the end of your tunnel vision was that game and nothing could stop you from getting it.

Certainly not from lack of trying.

"Stop right there!" A voice said. It chuckled, trying to make the rude interruption seem friendly.

An obstacle appeared in your line of sight: a plain-looking middle-aged white woman with dyed blonde hair. Just your garden variety Karen.

"Can I help you?" You said, giving your voice a distinct, annoyed bite.

She smiled, though not without discomfort. "Are you going, y'know, in there?"

She gestured to the building behind you. Uncertain of what she wanted or why she was making a trip to the GameStop so weird, you answered in the affirmative.

"Yeah, why?"

She wrapped her hand around your arm, as if to restrain you. Her touch made your skin crawl.

"I really don't think you should go in there."

You finally put the pieces together. This lady was just some anti-choice maniac, waiting outside a Planned Parenthood for any random pregnant woman to approach.

"Yeah, I totally carried this baby for five months just to get rid of it within a week of the legal termination threshold." You rolled your eyes. "I just want it to feel the maximum possible amount of pain when I destroy it."

The woman's face turned into one of abject horror and you smiled, feeling proud of yourself. You yanked your arm from her hand with full intent to walk away. That should have been the end of it.

"Wait!" She shouted, snatching you by the shoulder. "Please, reconsider. God gave you that little one because he wants you to be a mommy!"

"For the love of fuck, woman." You snarled. "Can you seriously not pick up on sarcasm? I'm not even going to the clinic. I'm going to the GameStop."

She wasn't convinced. "See, I think you're lying to me. I think you're telling me one thing and then you're gonna do another thing."

"What the hell is it any of your business, Karen?" You scowled at her. "Leave me alone!"

"Just pray about it, please!" She pleaded. "What if your baby grows up to be a soldier? Protecting your freedom?"

"Oh, then I should definitely kill it now." You snarked. "Would save him the trouble of getting blown up by other Americans in a senseless war like my dad."

Adda girl, [F/N]! You thought to yourself. Nothing gets nosy strangers to go away quite like revealing even more personal information!

She put both her hands on your protruding belly. "Don't worry, angel. Mommy isn't going to kill you! Aunt Laurie won't allow it!"

You vaguely remembered your obstetrician saying something about how twenty-week fetuses could hear the outside world. You weren't planning on subjecting the kid to violence this early on, but desperate times call for desperation.

You grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her down. She screamed, getting the attention of a few onlookers.

"Help!" She wailed, lying on the ground as if she couldn't get up. "I'm being attacked!"

You dashed as quickly as your legs could carry you into the GameStop. The lone cashier, a purple-haired girl with a nose ring, pretended that she hadn't been watching the altercation and looked back down at her sandwich.

"Welcome to GameStop." She said, hesitantly. "Are you... [F/N]?"

You nodded. "Yeah, I'm here for that copy of Alpha Sapphire."

"Tubular." She rummaged in a drawer beside her for the envelope.

A rather massive eevee plush displayed behind the counter caught your eye. "How much for her?"

The cashier placed the game on the counter and looked back at the massive eevee. "Fourty-four ninety-five."

"I'll take her too." You said.

The cashier pulled the eevee down from the shelf and scanned its tag.

"Aight, your total is sixty-nine eighty." She said.

"Nice." You snickered, reaching for your credit card.

The cashier smirked as you inserted the chip. "Hey, was that crazy lady accosting you outside?"

"I take it she does that a lot?" You asked.

She heaved a sigh. "You have no idea."

You looked behind at the large windows and saw the woman standing outside the door, waiting for you. You felt like a caged animal. Your eyes scanned the room and landed on a couple ketchup packets. A sick idea formed in your head.

"Are you gonna use those?" You asked, pointing to them.

The cashier glanced at the woman and raised her eyebrow. "Not if you have a better use for them."

The bell jangled as you walked out of the store with a shopping bag around your wrist and a ketchup packet in each hand. Just as suspected, the woman grabbed your arm.

"Oh, honey!" She exclaimed. "Before you leave, god put it on my mind to say a little prayer for the unborn soldier he's gifted you in your womb."

"I'd rather you not." You said, trying to yank your arm out of her surprisingly strong grip.

"You're brave, but foolish, girl." She barked, positioning herself in front of you. You fidgeted with the ketchup packets behind your back, opening them just enough.

The woman put both her hands on your belly. The second you felt her touch, you threw yourself backwards. You landed, not without pain, squarely on your ass.

"Oh my?" The woman covered her mouth with her fingertips. "Are you--"

You leaned forward and moaned in pain, clutching your baby bump with one hand while drenching your shorts in ketchup with the other. You pretended to cave around the pain, then threw yourself back, revealing a bloody stain leaking from between your legs. The woman shrieked.

"Oh my fucking god!" The cashier from the store said, rushing to your side. She put her hand on your shoulder and glared at the woman. "What did you do?!?"

"She pushed me and I think it hurt my baby!" You wailed.

"Holy shit, why would you hurt her baby?!" The cashier shouted, allowing you to slink your arm around her shoulder for support. She then snatched your shopping bag from the ground.

"I didn't mean to, honest!" She said, on the verge of tears. "I was just trying to spread god's love and joy-"

"By assaulting a pregnant woman?!" The cashier yelled. You were clutching your stomach in fake pain. She helped you to your feet. "Come on, let's get you to the clinic."

You conjured up some fake tears. "You killed my baby!"

"You wicked woman!" She cried out. Her voice faded out as you approached the clinic. "You don’t deserve a baby!"

You kept up the crying and wailing until you arrived at the Planned Parenthood. More interested in covering her own ass than begging for forgiveness, the crazy woman made herself scarce. Entering the clinic with an incriminating bloodstain on your pants was awkward, for a moment. But it was easy enough to explain and even earned a laugh or two from the doctors on staff.

Once you were completely certain the crazy lady had left, you scooped up your shopping bag, said goodbye to the cashier and climbed into the car.

Before you put the key in the ignition, you took a moment. You took a moment to do something you knew you shouldn't have.

You placed your hand on your belly and stroked it. "We make a pretty good team, huh?"

You didn't know why you paused. It wasn't like the fetus was going to answer.

"Sorry you had to see that." You said. "Or, I guess, hear that. I wish I could tell you that people aren't really like that in real life, but I can't. Either that or I'm just a magnet for insane people. Hope that it's not genetic."

It just occurred to you that, if your obstetrician was right, the fetus heard everything that you said about killing it. Logically speaking, you knew it wasn't developed enough to comprehend what you were saying, but you still felt like you owed it an apology.

"Hey, scamp." You said, appropriating a nickname your grandfather gave you. "I'm sorry that I talked all that shit back there. About killing you and whatnot. I don't want to kill you. I actually want you to live an amazing life."

Just then, you felt a kick. The doctor war right: there was no mistaking it. The baby kicked.

Your mouth hung dumbly open, delight and fear chasing each other around in your mind. "Holy crap!"

You drove home as fast as legally possible. You needed to get home. As you pulled into the driveway, you noticed that Hannibal's car wasn't there.

He'll be home any minute, you thought. Might as well stay out here to catch him when he arrives.

That was an hour ago. Not that you'd noticed. You would have sat in that car, talking to your baby for an eternity. It wasn't until you heard a tapping on the window did you exit your trance.

Hannibal examined the scene. The ketchup, the massive eevee and his suddenly very chatty fiancée shooting the breeze with her fetus. He smirked.

"Did we have a fun afternoon?"

#hannibal x you #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #cult girl #cult girl doctorate #cult girl 2 #tw abortion #tw pro life #Karen

[deputy-videogamer]

Gemini |Part 4|

Summary: Who knew try to ask more question  about the ‘Mad Princess’ was harder than they thought while many people not willing to spill the truth, watchful eyes, and to top it all off are attacks on livestocks

Part 3

As Geralt and Yennefer had asked around the kingdom, they had hoped they would gain more information about the princess though things were going as planned. While they were asking for more information many citizens had horror written on their face, refusing to answer their questions many had even shut their doors when asked. It was always the same situation when they asked the citizens only for them to look around their area, seeing some knights patrolling or guarding certain areas leading them to not answer at all.

They wonder just what the kind did to his citizens that made them so scared about talking about the ex-princess. The only thing they did get was that the king had fabricated the story of the princess going mad, Lucius being controlled like a marionette on a string as follows what its master  tells them what to do, and how the citizens are terrified of the king to the point of being watched.

“We should end here, Geralt. We aren’t getting any information about the princess.” Yennefer recommended. The mage and the Witcher were sitting on a fountain at the heart of the kingdom with no leads. She believed that they should call it day.

“It doesn’t make sense, Yen. There has got to be some kind of information that will lead us to the truth.” Geralt grumbled in frustration. The black haired beauty sat down next to him and started to sooth him.

“We will find the information that we are looking for, but for now we need rest. Tomorrow we will go back in town and look for more clues.”

“And if we don't, what do we do then? Just kill a princess for some misleading information.” Yennefer stopped her comfort as she didn’t know how to respond to the Witcher’s question. Just as she was going to answer him a man had approached the duo.

“Are you the Witcher and the mage that arrived in our kingdom?” 

“I don’t see anyone else have two swords strapped on their backs or any woman wearing black.” Geralt bantered at the man while Yennefer slapped his back.

“Got a job for you then. I’ll pay if you take it.”

“What kind of payment?” Geralt raised an eyebrow based on his clothes. He looked like a farmer, he knew that the man didn’t have much money to pay him depending on what job he was offering.

“About a certain girl.” Both Yennefer and Geralt looked up at the man where he gave them a smirk knowing he got them.

“What’s the job?” Yennefer beat Geralt on answering the man.

“Best if I show.” 

The man went ahead going to the direction where he came from. He then looked over his shoulder when he noticed that they weren’t following them. With no leads and no information the duo had no other choice but to follow this man in hopes the man promised the information they were looking for.

The place that man was taking them was a small village just outside of the kingdom, there were maybe ten farms each had their own livestocks. At first Geralt didn’t see anything unusual about the small village that required his help until they had reached the middle of the village; it was only then that he got his answer. A pile of dead animals that were starting to rot was releasing a decaying smell, all the animals had ranged from goats, cheeps, and cows all dead in a similar way three thin claws marks that didn’t belong to any large animals, from a swarm of small birds.

“As you can see our livestock were attacked in just one day. If you look at each land you will see only one dead livestock, killed in a similar manner.” The farmer explained then looked at Geralt. “Any ideas what our mysterious creature is?”

Geralt walked up to the pile and started examining the damage done of the once living creature. “Not a creature, but creatures. If it was a bigger animal it would’ve attacked and dragged the corpse to be eaten init’s home, but instead the creature didn't attack for food or in defense.”

“Do you have any witness or thing that was left from the attacks?” Yennefer placed her hands on her hips and eyed the man.

“Black feathers.”

Yennefer looked at him in surprise and pulled out the crow feather that they got from the cart. “Like these?” The man eyed them for a moment then nodded in confirmation.

“You said that these attacks had just started in one day, correct?” Geralt stood up, starting to get the picture on what was happening.

“Yep, all in one day. The only one who witnessed it is Old Max.” He pointed to one the homes that just meet the border between the kingdom and the forest.

Geralt tooked the feather out of Yennefer’s hand and looked down at them. This work was obviously the work of a Leshen going back on how the incident with the delivery man and the cart the crows were protecting the man from the robberies, but then why would they suddenly attack the villager’s livestock? Leshen don’t attack unless it’s on defense or there was a sudden unbalance in their habitat, the forest that the Leshen resides in was big enough to leave the village uninterrupted, but then again Lucius did mention that this wasn’t the first time they had requested help so could it be in defense?

No, it couldn’t be. The villagers haven’t done anything harmful that could trigger the Leshen to attack…..unless it was a warning for them. That they shouldn’t go even near the forest to kill their princess or was it to lead them astray from their mission and focus on the sudden Leshen attack? Whatever the cause was, Leshen was smarter than any other Leshen that Geralt had encountered and slain. 

As Geralt was lost in thoughts the wind had begun picking up speed taking the feathers away from his hand. But this wind was no gust of wind, but like a siege of wind blaring through the region. The wind was so strong that clothes that were hung started to flow away, crops that were ready to be harvested were beginning to be destroyed, the animals that were there had panic trying to find shelter or trying to escape the sudden change of atmosphere. 

“What is going?!” Yennefer yelled over the sounds of the roaring winds trying to shield herself from the attack.

“I don’t know, but it seems like it's coming from the forest!” Geralt yelled back to her. Geralt was right of course, the wind was coming in and out of the forest almost like there was some kind of source that was happening.

As the wind grew more violent a red light was starting to appear in the heart of the forest. Both Yennefer and Geralt knew that this was the work of magic; it was definitely not coming from any woodling creature that lived in the forest, but it most belonged to someone who possessed magic. The wind some died down while the red light had dimmed down in the forest, the trio had looked back at the forest, everything was dead silent to the point even the farmers who came out of their homes spoke nothing.

They knew one thing only, you were upset for some reason whether it was another sign of a warning or something else. Geralt and Yennefer need to stop you now before you get out of hand.

Right before the light and the wind had appeared, inside the heart of the forest you were humming a tune as you were making some food for yourself. Currently you are squishing some berries to form into jelly, you licked some jelly off your fingers after storing the jelly in your stone jar. Wondering what you should do next you had heard hooves approaching your home,at first you thought it was some deer, but when you heard the hooves getting closer you knew that it was no deer that was coming towards you.

Peeking down your treehouse, you discover who this was at the end of your tree. During your stay here, Aspen had taken you to meet someone that he and the other residents of the forest called ‘The Guardian’. The location where Aspen had taken you was somewhere deeper in the forest, unlike the beginning and middle of the forest that was full of life and greenery, this part of the forest had become a formidable atmosphere. The once lavish plants had now become corpses of branches, the trees that were once young and healthy were now twistering in an erriely way with no signs of leaves on it. While the sun was still burning it had already felt like it was night while this grim forest. When you look back in front of you torches were all lined up forming some sort of pathway with another line up with rocks between each torche. 

Aspen pointed to the path. He wants you to go alone, whatever lies ahead in the path this ‘Guardian’ will be waiting for you. At first you were hesitant not knowing how you would do if you ever encountered ‘The Guardian’, you didn’t know if they would kill you or if they had other plans for you. As the fear started to rise up in your heart, a sudden motherly comfort prevented any more fear to continue.

‘Do not fear.’

You had heard a voice that can only be described as your mother’s voice had whispered so softly in your ear, though when you looked around to find the voice it was only Aspen who’s eyes stared at you in curiosity.  

‘You will meet an old friend of mine. Offer something of value and it will protect.’

Not knowing if it was really your mother’s words or your only illusions of your thoughts, you decide to trust the voice. The only thing that was something of value was your mother’s choker; it was a simple choker that had the collar made out of lace with a blue quartz that was shaped in diamond.

Taking a deep breath, your once feared expression became all serious. Every step you took the torches lit up as you walked by them, almost taunting you to turn back. But you weren’t going to turn back, you were down running away from your danger, this time you are going to confront it. The end of your path had a huge opening before another path had shown that had the same torches with rock trails. What you notice about that trail was that there was a little dot in the distance before it had started walking on the path.

The dot became bigger and bigger, giving you a chance to see what the dot was. But it was not a dot, it was a creature. The lower part of the body had four deer legs, but instead of a beige color it was midnight black that had it’s entire body covered in scars. The upper part of the body was all lanky and thin, but not to the point where it was all malnourished only enough where you couldn’t see the bones. The longs were elongated to the point where it reached the joint of the leg, while the fingers were about the size of a new grown tree. What was interesting about this creature was that it had a deer skull as its head with deer horns and ears, but instead of regular herbivore teeth, there were fangs that had stuck out of its skull. BY the time the creature had reached the opening of the patchway it was only there that you noticed how tall this figure was. The creature's height was about eight to ten feet tall, its horrible yet fascinating form had towered over your form. On the horns of the creature had strange emblems that were tied with a string and had vines and small flowers that was wrapped round themselves from the base all the way to the tip. 

 The creature raised it’s long fingers to your cheek, creasing it in a gentle manner similar to a family member creasing the cheek of a newborn babe. The finger trailed down to your mother’s choker where it remained on the gemstone, the vortex eyes stared endlessly; you wonder if it was looking at you or the gemstone. Remembering your mother’s words your hands went behind your neck to remove the jewelry. The creature’s figure was then removed as it saw your actions, you then offered your necklace to the creature. The creature clamped it’s fist around to where it was, bringing it up to his eyes. It stared at it for about two minutes then then a motion in the air, that caused the wind to swirl around you. You closed your eyes, bringing your arms to shield you as the wind became more vicious around you. When you opened your eyes again, you were back at the beginning of the pathway where Aspen had waited for you. Just as you asked what had happened to you with Aspen, your wrist had started to burn.  On your wrist was a deer skull that had liquid coming out of the eyestockets, around the skull were vines and twigs forming a circle around it. There was strange on the bottom of the design that you couldn’t decipher, but the way Aspen looked at you meant that you were safe.

Dropping down from your treehouse you greeted the Guardian. “What brings you so far from your home?”

How the Guardian talked was unique in a way, instead of one single voice, there were multiple voices that range from men, women, young, old, soft, croaky. “Misleading information blinds us from the truth. Only a few can see through the lies.”

The phrases they say have always been riddles, some were easy to interpret and others not so much. This phrase was something that you could easily interpret.

“The Witcher and the Mage see through my father’s lies. Hmm go figures.” You scuffed as you walked around your little area.

“Decisions aren’t fun. To take or ignore. The outcome will not be pretty.” Once again an easy interpretation.

You faced them with a sideways smile on your face. “They must choose to kill me or forget me, but each outcome will not be pretty. Surely this isn’t all you have come to warn me about is there?”

The Guardian was silent for a moment, before speaking up once more. What they have said made your eyes become red.

“If that bastard thinks he can do whatever he please just so he kills me. Then he’s dead wrong!” The Guardian felt the sudden change of the atmosphere, the once singing birds that sang their secret songs  had no longer sang almost like their tongues were cut. The animals that were around the area had sprinted away knowing there was danger close. What was really the cherry on top was how the once tranquil breeze had become a violent zephyr.

“I’m not crazy nor I am not insane! Everyone in my kingdom knows, but are too afraid because of HIM!” The Guardian’s leg lifted off the ground a bit similar to how a deer would be scared when they are threatened. “My mother fought for her kingdom! Now this man thinks that because she’s gone he acts like that is his kingdom? I SHOULD KILL HIM WHERE HE STANDS!”

A glowing red light appeared around your form with the winds swirling around you creating a barrier around you. If the Guardian had eyes their eyes would widen as soon as they sense a small and weak fragment of magic. All the nymphs had said you were poisoned by your father, the poison had not only taken your magic, but caused your split personality. So why is that he able to sense magic from you?......Unless your mother has to do something about this? 

Creating a motion in the air, the emblem on your wrist glowed. This emblem was more than just a protection charm, but as a way to calm your other side in case for violent outcomes. Your eyelids had felt heavy. The last thing you saw was The Guardian trotting to you. They picked up your form while he was thinking if he should bring you up back to your treehouse, but that thought was removed when he remembered that the light you created was enough to see outside of the forest. The Guardian didn’t hesitate to bring you to his home, they just hoped that your friends would keep the duo out of the forest until they discover your true origins.

@whitewolfandthefox​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions @seanh-boredom​ @dopepizzaenemy​ @charliestufff​ @whotperlinda​ @imdreamingof-you @dopepizzabouquetzz​ @sadclowngorl​ @mattiej15

#Geralt #geralt of rivia #Yennefer of Vengerberg #geralt fanfic #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt of rivera #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x you #geralt x you #geralt x reader x yennefer #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg imagine #yennefer imagine #yennefer x reader #the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher imagine #the witcher x y/n #fanfiction

[foramomentonly]

In the Dark I Know That You Do

Summary: I have a headcanon that Alex slept with a photographer overseas and, as a result, some tiny art gallery in New York is displaying artfully erotic black and white photographs of him. He signed the release form when it dropped in his inbox because the pictures made him feel powerful and sexy, and he figures no one he knows will ever see them.

Then I thought: What if Michael sees them?

Author’s Note: I feel the need to say that this fic, and all my other fics, like my blog, is Maria-friendly. Just putting that out there.

Title is lyrics from "I Want You To Love Me" by Fiona Apple.

Read on AO3

Alex hears a soft, shuttering click and turns his head. 

“This okay?” Josué asks, lowering the camera from his face and smiling softly. “You’re just—so fucking gorgeous, man.”

He’s squatting naked across the room, just returned from the studio’s tiny bathroom. His thighs are thick and meaty, the muscles corded as they support the weight of his body. The sight of them makes Alex burn, makes the vivid memory of him grinding down on Alex’s cock, riding him single-mindedly as Alex gripped those same thighs tight flood his senses. Alex feels weightless, somehow simultaneously above his body, and very much in it; he feels every scratch of the stiff sheets underneath him, every delicious ache from the evening’s activities, but they only serve to elevate this heightened feeling that Alex is good and right and glorious. Alex laughs, runs a teasing hand up the length of his own naked torso, his fingers catching in his dog tags. 

“It’s okay,” he says, and Josué grins, raising his camera again, the lens re-focusing and the rapid-fire, fluttering click resuming. 

Alex stares down the lens, willing the camera to stop time, to capture and hold him in this moment and this feeling forever and for real. He’s twenty years old; he’s free, he’s whole, and he’s alive within himself for maybe the second time in his godforsaken life, since the moment time failed to stop in the first place and Jesse Manes had crashed into the shed and into Alex’s sacred space, defiling it and him and the only thing that had ever felt right to him. The only person. Because time, unfortunately, doesn’t work like that.

Alex hears the soft buzz of his phone vibrate on the wooden table and looks down.

“Shit,” he breathes, picking up his phone and staring at the name and subject line next to the little e-mail icon: Josué Medina, Photo Release.

“Is something wrong?” Maria asks from across the table, and five pairs of inquisitive eyes focus in his direction.

 They didn’t plan this gathering, but Michael, Isobel, Max, and Liz were having a drink when Alex wandered into the Pony, and it seemed rude not to sit with them. Traffic petered out as the night went on, and Maria eventually joined them, and before he knew it Alex is nursing his third beer at a reclaimed wood table with five people who’ve been in his personal orbit for so long that it never occurred to him they haven’t actually spent much time together as a group. It’s awkward.

“Who’s José Medina?” Isobel asks, leaning shamelessly into Alex’s shoulder to better read his phone screen. Max, sitting on her other side, pulls her back.

“Iz, personal privacy?” he chides.

“It’s Ho-sway,” Alex corrects, sounding the name out phonetically. “And he’s someone I knew—Jesus, seven years ago?”

“Oooh,” Isobel drawls, “so he’s an ex.”

“He’s not an ex. He was—”

“An itch?” she supplies, and Alex kind of hates her.

“Sure,” he says, rolling his eyes and pretending to miss the way Michael’s briefly flash with something unreadable when they cross gazes across the table.

“So, this is a booty call?” Liz asks, chin in her hands and eyelashes fluttering suggestively. “Is he passing through town and never quite got you out of his system?” 

Alex forgives her much easier; her blood is basically tequila at this point in the night.

“Seven years ago,” Maria cuts in, redirecting the conversation kindly. “You were overseas at that point, right? First tour?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I was on leave in Italy. He was—well, is a photographer, from the looks of the e-mail, but at the time he was just a student. I don’t know why he’s sending me a release form.”

Alex scans the e-mail. It’s brief pleasantries and apologies for popping up unannounced in Alex’s inbox, all written with that easy, magnetic confidence that drew Alex in so many years ago. And then there’s the ask:

There’s a call for submissions for this arthouse photo book on queer military personnel as erotic subject. It’s not fetish; it’s art. It’s a tiny press and less than fifty people will ever see it, but it would be a big deal for me. I want to submit the photo attached and I need your consent. I know it’s intimate and I understand if you aren’t comfortable. But a guy can try, right? If it helps, it’s just for us, you know? It’s not going mainstream anytime soon.

Alex doesn’t understand half of what he’s reading; well, he’s unfortunately very familiar with the dark side of fetish since he lost part of a limb and gained a prosthesis. It’s the reason he’ll never re-activate his Grindr account. But the rest goes completely over his head, so he just taps the icon to open the attached image file.

It’s. 

It’s intimate, all right. 

Erotic, for sure, though the image stops short of full nudity. 

And, before he can really fully process what he sees, it’s tugged out of his hand by Isobel’s bony fingers.

***

Michael is trying to focus on the conversation around him—on Maria, beautiful and loose by his side; on Max, reserved, but happy, flanked by his best girls; and decidedly not on Alex, staring at his phone with a dazed expression, lips parted softly and quirked in a barely-there smile. He shouldn’t care that Alex is receiving an email from a long-lost fling, or that he’s staring at said email as though transported. Michael is so fixed on not watching Alex out of the corner of his eye that he misses Isobel leaning over to pluck Alex’s phone out of his loose grip, and jumps at Alex’s cry of protest.

“Excuse me!” Alex says, turning towards her incredulously, but making no move to take his phone back.

“Damn, Alex,” Isobel whistles, tapping at his phone with two fingers to enlarge and then zoom in on the screen. “Save a horse, ride an Airman.”

Alex rolls his eyes, but there’s a proud, playful smirk pulling at his lips.

“Lemme see!” Liz cries, reaching across Max for the phone. Max looks back and forth between Liz’s grabby hands and Isobel sliding the phone her way, then shoots Alex a plaintive, deer-in-headlights look.

Alex shrugs.

“Isobel probably already forwarded it herself,” he says easily, and Isobel nods shamelessly.

Liz picks up the phone eagerly, mouth dropping open in an exaggerated grin, hand on her chest, faux-scandalized. Michael watches Max’s eyes dart over in curiosity, then quickly away again, back straightening and eyes fixed forward. He coughs gruffly.

Liz passes the phone across the table to Maria. Maria hesitates, looks questioningly at Alex.

“It really is fine,” he assures her, eyes sliding to meet Michael’s gaze next and raising a brow, almost in a challenge. Michael gazes over Maria’s shoulder and inhales sharply.

The image is in black and white, maybe so it will pass as high art rather than cheap erotica. Though Alex in the picture looks anything but cheap. He looks—He looks fucking sinful. He’s lying on his back on a small, messy pallet bed in what looks like a sparsely-furnished studio apartment, clearly post-coital. His hair is short and messy, soft tendrils sticking out at wild angles. He’s clearly naked, but his closer leg is bent at the knee, foot planted on the mattress, preserving some semblance of modesty. Michael notices with startling clarity a small bead of sweat caught mid-roll down the crease of his hip. One arm is thrown over his head languorously, the other resting on his chest, long fingers tangled in his dog tags. He’s thin, the outline of his ribs visible thanks to the stretch of his arm, but his body is toned and tight, the small swell of his bicep and the curve of his quad and calf muscles evident even at a distance. His head is turned towards the camera, dark, hooded eyes gazing directly down the lens, full lips quirked as though in acknowledgment of his audience. 

It’s the expression that truly unsettles Michael. He knows that look. Intimately. Has spent hours and days and years, a whole lifetime coaxing that look onto Alex’s face with his hands, his mouth, his reverent touch, and all the other ways he’s pressed unspoken truths into Alex’s skin. Alex is at peace, lazy and comfortable and confident in his body, in its form and how he’s using it. This is an Alex blissfully alive and shameless in his own skin, absent the unrelenting control with which he holds himself back, the careful disassociation and denial of his own needs and desires. This is Alex basking in himself rather than swallowing himself whole. It’s intimate and sexy and, until now, Michael had thought only he had seen Alex like this. Only he had earned it.

Michael tears his eyes away from the screen, away from an Alex that’s no longer just his to focus on an Alex that isn’t his at all.

“So, this guy wants to display it or something?” Liz asks.

“Sort of,” Alex says. “There’s some kind of art book he wants to submit it to.”

“Would you get paid?” Maria asks, and Alex snorts, taking his phone back from her when she holds it out to him. 

“I posed for it for free, so I think that window is closed.”

“So you knew he was taking it?” Michael asks abruptly, and Alex furrows his brow.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. 

Michael is suddenly aware of several pairs of eyes on him, and he nods hastily and stammers, “Good. You know. That you weren’t—that you didn’t not know.”

“So what are you gonna do?” Isobel asks, examining her manicure. She seems bored with the conversation now that there’s nothing in front of her to ogle. 

Alex takes a breath, looks down at his screen again.

“I’m gonna sign the form,” he breathes, and Liz actually claps in delight.

“You sure?” Michael can’t stop himself from asking, even as Maria kicks him with the heel of her boot under the table. “Doesn’t seem like something you’d be into, is all.”

Alex narrows his eyes and quirks his lips teasingly, but there’s a bite in the tone of his voice when he asks, “You trying to slut-shame me, Guerin?”

“Never,” he drawls in return. 

Their eyes lock and their smiles slowly fade. 

“I would never,” Michael adds, softer and more sincere. Alex nods once, looks away.

“It’s a gorgeous photograph, Alex,” Maria says, smiling warmly at him. “If you want to share it with the world, I say go for it.”

“And I say let’s go for another round,” Isobel declares, holding up her empty glass, officially over it. “Michael, I believe this one is yours?”

“It’s mine, actually,” Alex says easily, effectively ending the conversation. He grips the table for support as he slides out of his chair and stands, pocketing his phone as he goes. “I’ll be right back.”

***

They’re saying hasty good-byes in the parking lot, Liz and Isobel piling into Max’s car, Max extremely sober behind the wheel. Maria heads back inside to help her staff close up, and Michael stands quietly with Alex, waiting on his rideshare.

“You seem pretty sober to me,” Michael comments, pulling his jacket tighter around his torso.

“I’m tired,” Alex admits, “and my leg is bothering me. It’s just easier for tonight. I’ll pick up my car tomorrow.”

He glances sideways at Michael.

“You don’t have to stand out here with me,” he says. “Go inside and help Maria.”

“Why’re you releasing that picture?” Michael blurts, not realizing the words he’s speaking until they’re out there, irretrievable, and Alex turns slowly to consider him.

“I liked remembering how I felt when Josué took it. I felt free,” he says quietly, and Michael is shocked he’s even deigning to answer. “I was far away from Roswell and everyone in it. I felt strong, like I was in control for once. Maybe if the photo’s out there, that feeling won’t seem so far away.” He smiles mischievously. “And, I mean, I looked good. Hadn’t been too long since basic.”

Michael catches his gaze, holds it.

“Did I make you feel free?”

Alex’s smile is small, but genuine.

“You used to,” he breathes. “For awhile you were the only thing that made me feel that way.” 

 Michael feels his whole body release, as though he’d been holding in a breath, clenching every single muscle unconsciously. Alex shakes his head.

“What?”

“That’s too much pressure,” he says. “No one person can be everything good for someone else.”

Michael looks down and kicks at the dust and grime of the parking lot with his boot, and thinks of Maria.

“I told you I couldn’t be your medicine,” Alex continues, “but I think I was doing the same thing to you. Maybe that’s why I reacted they way I did when you started acting out.”

They let his confession hang in the air between them before Michael, now in possession of a one-track mind apparently, speaks.

“So you aren’t worried someone you know is gonna see it?” Michael asks softly.

Alex shakes his head.

“That’s why it feels safe,” he says. “New York, the 'art scene.' That’s a whole nother world.”

Michael nods, stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“So, what if someone wanted to see it?”

Alex looks at him blankly.

“What if I wanted to buy a copy?” Michael explains. “I mean, you’re right. You were in spectacular shape back then.”

Alex bursts out laughing.

“Not like now,” Michael goes on, grinning as Alex’s shoulders shake. “You really let yourself go, private.”

The silence between them as their laughter dies is the most comfortable of the night.

“I’m okay with that,” Alex murmurs as a car pulls into the lot and a notification pings on his phone. “Good luck tracking it down, though.”

“Alex?” the driver of the car asks, rolling her window down an inch.

“Yeah,” Alex says, and pulls the car door open.

“Night, Guerin.”

“Sweet dreams, Fabio.”

It takes Michael three months to find the book after Alex mentions that it's out and his photo made the cut, and it takes some intense eBay stalking at that, plus he's out $60—indie press, my ass, he thinks as he clicks purchase. 

#rnm #rnm fic #malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #isobel evans #max evans #liz ortecho #maria deluca #maria-friendly #my fic #background miluca

[phenomenal1500]

The Blood In My Veins | Black Sails

Chapter 63: The Ludicrous Plan

For Chapter 62: The Deciding Destination click here.

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

"No. Perhaps. God, what I meant was.... there is always a plan b, somewhere, so don't worry, we'll find a way if this won't work."

"Naida, I appreciate your optimism, but I think the bottom line is that we are already carrying out plan Z. This is it. This is where the world decides if Nassau will be free and handed to us or if it will die at the hands of Woodes Rogers."

~~~

Hopeful, but yet freezing, Jack and I roamed back to the docks and I took Charles' hand which he had offered to me to get me back on the ship before Jack.

Charles had waited outside the whole time until his dearest friend and I made our return and I detected it because of his blue colored lips and the warmth his hand had lost. Max stood alongside Charles and didn't even give us a minute to rest or warm up before firing questions our way.

"What happened with Mr. Guthrie?" She interrogated us with her thick French accent, though, my brains had stopped working and the comfort I felt rushing over me when Charles' hands made their way underneath my shirt and, with time, regained their warmth on my bare stomach made me not even care about answering her anymore. "Were you able to speak with him?"

"Mm-hmm." Jack was only able to hum owing to the fact that his lips were no longer capable of forming words.

"What did he say?"

"He told me to go fuck myself." Charles snuggled his face into the crook of my neck, leaving small, gentle kisses before trailing up to kiss me on my lips.

"Well, that does not sound good." Max struggled to find her words and Jack finally turned around, putting a hold on his cold staggering.

"The business isn't his." He confirmed and sat down onto an old barrel who could snap any moment if it wasn't this frozen. "Well, the horses are his, the cart is his, but it appears the wife is the one holding the reins." Jack sniffed because of a starting cold.

"Eleanor's grandmother?"

"And she is interested." Charles suddenly looked up. He didn't stop cherishing me, nor did he stop planting kisses on my hair and shoulders, but he did pay full attention to the chat that was in progress in front of us and furrowed his eyebrows as I could feel his chest pressing up against my back. A sign of him feeling confident. "She invited me to return this evening to provide details of our proposal. Prove that we can be trusted to manage Nassau in the event of Rogers' removal. And I think you should come with me." Jack rested his gaze on Max and Featherstone joined us too, shaking his head slowly towards Jack, hoping only Jack had seen him.

"You do?" Max inhaled for a moment. "Why?"

"Because our plan is ludicrous by any sane measure and my suspicion is if she's going to say yes, it's going to be for emotional reasons rather than financial ones. She would look across the table and see a woman with some experience quietly wielding power over men without them knowing it, and a woman who might remind her of herself. It might go a long way towards winning her."

"What about Naida? Perhaps she is a better option for our ludicrous plan." Max declared, trying to show some generosity even though she actually wanted this badly. She wanted to prove her worth again and she was given that chance.... whatever reason Jack had for giving her that opportunity so I didn't know why she declined it.

"Naida, first of all, is still expecting and I can understand if she and Charles want to spend some time together. Second of all.... She is a known pirate. If that bounty still rests on her head and when she has to introduce herself and her name echoes through the streets, Mrs. Guthrie won't see Naida as a rich madame who is anything like Mrs. Guthrie herself." Jack pointed out as he talked with weird hand gestures and it made me smile.

Jack always had been a little uncoordinated and awkward even though he was one of the smartest and persuasive people I knew in this world and those little habits made him him.

It was also pretty funny and interesting to witness.

"Finally." I could hear the sound of his deep voice bounce through my ears. "Finally.... some time with my woman." I chuckled as he pleasantly bit on my bare neck, leaving a small mark and Charles exhaled deeply, his hot breath brushing over my soft skin.

Of course Featherstone had to survey the intimate moment and I smiled awkwardly. Always when Charles and I did something intimate in public, which wasn't that common, he was the one to notice it first and he was the one to gaze at us in revolt.

"Mind to continue these activities somewhere more private?" I requested and I could feel his hands move, going from my stomach to my hips to let them rest there.

"Of course not, little one." It was unbelievably clear to me that Charles had some sort of 'gentle' lust in his eyes when I had shared a look with him and slowly everyone had already spread out to follow their own paths. Jack and Max had to leave to get ready for tonight's appointment, Featherstone had to instruct a few more men on deck who had done something wrong and Charles and I made our way to a rented room under Rackham's name. The property was not far from the harbor where we were anchored and we could arrive unseen.

It didn't take long before we checked in and I locked the door behind us.

Turning myself around so I could examine the room, I was secretly expecting Charles to push me against the wall.

Strangely, that wasn't the case because when I rotated myself, he sat on the edge of the large fur bed and stared at the large picture hanging on the wall.

It represented a gigantic ship with thirteen white sails that won from the high waves that the sea brought with her to try and swallow the ship.

Dark colors had been used to paint it and the piece of art was encased in gold. It spoke up to me. It somehow reminded me of what had happened these last few weeks. Nassau conquered by the English, Charles who managed to outrun his death, us now seeking aid from the bitch her grandparents in Philadelphia. All to preserve Nassau and save our generation of pirates.

The ship represented us, pirates, and the deadly waves were the dark times that had rested on us, but no matter what, we'll always stay alive because even if there is just a little wooden plank left, it will float and it will strand.

In silence I sat down next to him and wrapped my arms around his waist so that my head could rest against his shoulder.

"It's a rough time, but we'll get through it." I tenderly whispered while the both of us now stared at the painting, him wrapping an arm around my lower back.

"I should be the one telling you that." Charles had let out a small laugh and I chuckled with him. Then I slowly shook my head, disagreeing with him. It was my time to comfort him, not the other way around.

"I don't agree with ya."

"And why's that?" He moved his head back a little so he could watch me in his arms and raised an eyebrow.... something which he did that I loved so much.

"Because love should come from both sides." I responded and shifted my body so I was straddled on top of his lap. "And we are finally alone.... in weeks! Weeks, Charles."

It had indeed been weeks ago since we were alone and we both had suppressed some urgent feelings.

"I know, sweetheart.... so why not put us both out of this misery and strip for me."

~~~

I had put on a long sweater to keep myself warm as I leaned against the soft headboard with Charles refreshing himself, splashing some clean water in his face. Gosh, Jack did go full luxury with this room. It was massive and had different blue shades coloring the walls and floor. The only downside was that a cold breeze filled the room, but until now I wasn't really bothered by it.

I glanced up at Charles' bare torso and I knew he felt my gaze on him when I saw him smirking, but what else did he expect? He had left the door wide open leading to the bathroom while he was located inside of it before the mirror.... with no shirt on.

I had nothing else to stare at.

"You think Jack and Max can pull it off?" He spoke up as he secured half of his hair into a tail while letting the rest hang loosely.

"Let's just hope they can." I sighed, pushing myself up with the thought of doing my hair as well. I approached the bathroom and took my time to walk inside. "Want me to braid it for you?" I chuckled as Charles jerked his head back, nodding.

Never did I think he would let me do his hair, but now he gave me actual permission.

He sat down onto the bath edge and I shook my head, knowing he did so to mock my height. I took a few thin strings between my fingers and started braiding small braids in his hair. An hour had passed and laughs and flirts had filled them before we suddenly heard horrible loud knocks on the door.

"Shit."

"Hide in the bathroom, Naida." I began to stress and didn't want to concern Charles even more than he already was so I did as I was told until a voice came from behind the door.

"CHARLES! NAIDA!?" Relief washed over me as it was Jack who pounded on the heavy door.

"Goddammit, Jack!" Charles growled as he opened the door, pulling his friend inside to quickly lock the door afterwards.

"Sorry to disturb-...."

"Disturb? You scared the shit out of us." I corrected and pulled my sweater tighter around my body because of the coldness that had entered the room, coming from the hallway.

"Sorry, but I have some news." He pointed to the bed and hoped for us to get the gesture and sit down, but neither of us understood him. "Please take a seat. With the help of Max's financial ledgers and feminine wiles, we convinced Mrs. Guthrie this evening to cooperate and to work with us.... but there is a catch. I must kill Flint...."

"YOU MUST WHAT?!" I shouted.

I didn't want to lose my temper, but sadly there was no control over my emotions anymore. Well, I didn't have control anymore, something else had.

"Naida, just hear me out, I kno-...." Jack tried to continue the conversation and tried to calm me down, but I had cut him off.

In the corner of my eye I could see Charles switching positions today , standing alongside Jack now as he wanted to let me burn out for a second.

"He's my fucking father figure and you want to end his life?!" I yelled and I could feel the strong arms of Charles wrapping around me, embracing me tightly.

One of his hands slowly stroked my hair downwards and the other one rubbed in circles on my lower back.

Rage had filled me and I struggled to surrender to his comfort.

Flint.

Jack had to kill Flint...?

For fuck sake, calm down.

"I.... I can't stop the rage. I'm sorry." I apologized before finally giving in and burying my head into the crook of his neck, closing my arms around Charles.

"It's okay, it's okay. Just breathe. You don't have to be sorry for anything."

~~~

After the incident I started because I suddenly broke by the news, I apologized to Jack and we now were standing on the dock, waving him goodbye. Jack's plan was to return to Nassau, find out where Flint was going, and execute him. My heart dropped at that thought, but somehow there was some kind of truth in what Charles and Jack had discussed when I tried to fall asleep on Charles' lap to calm down; Flint is the only man who will continue the never-ending circle of violence in Nassau and it had to be stopped.

#black sails #charles vane #charles vane x oc #Edward Teach #oc #enemies to lovers #edward low #jack rackham #james flint #Benjamin Hornigold #augustus featherstone #anne bonny #Billy Bones #john silver #woodes rogers #eleanor guthrie #thomas hamilton #miranda barlow #abigail ashe #gates #mr. de groot #Captain Naida Jones

[ggukcangetit]

Dreamcatchers Chap 2

Pairing: jungkook x oc

Synopsis: DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.

Rating: NC-17

Genre/AU: fluff/action/mystery | detective! au | police!jungkook, police!oc

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of violence, alcohol, blood, drugs, death. basically stuff you’d associate with a murder mystery/crime drama.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Acknowledgement: shoutout to @stutterfly​ for designing this beautiful banner which i am completely in love with and stare at for no particular reason throughout the day

A/N: second chapter! i was planning to post a chapter each friday but got slightly delayed this week. reminding everyone that this story features a named oc because i’m still very unfamiliar with writing second person reader inserts. i’m not aiming for strict accuracy in this story, and all criminal investigation/forensics knowledge i have has been gathered by watching crime drama/procedural dramas! my knowledge of geography is also not totally accurate so apologies for that. once again, one thing right by @hobios​ prompted me to write a police inspector! jungkook story. would highly recommend reading that because it’s probably one of my most favorite pieces of writing!

17th December

Yuri walked into the station at 7 am the next day and found that it was surprisingly empty. She had brought a few small things to keep at her desk - a picture of her parents, a couple of pens, a small sticky notepad, and a mason jar filled with snacks. She smiled to herself as she recalled how her old colleagues always used to teased her about the mason jar.

“Good morning, DI Choi! Hope you’re settling in properly.” Seulgi came over with two cups of coffee and placed one in front of her.

“Oh, thank you! I forgot to get coffee on my way here,” Yuri replied with a smile. “And please, let’s not be so formal. Call me Yuri.”

“Alright then, Yuri, please call me Seulgi!”

Yuri was grateful to see a friendly face at the station. She hadn’t slept a wink the previous night, and had been dreading having to see Jeon in the morning. 

“You’re here really early,” continued Seulgi. “I’m sure Chief Inspector Goh will be very impressed.”

“Ah no, it’s nothing like that.” Yuri brushed it off with a laugh. “We’re bringing in a witness today. I just wanted to orient myself with the station before we questioned him.”

“Oh? A witness?”

“Hmm.” Yuri swirled the contents of the cup in her hand, looking at it absentmindedly. “We couldn’t bring him in last night, unfortunately.”

“I see. Oh, before I forget,” said Seulgi, checking something on her phone. “The autopsy should be ready by this afternoon. That should hopefully help you a bit.”

“Perfect! I think we can start creating a proper timeline once we have the results.”

“I’ll leave you to it then, Yuri,” said Seulgi. “I have to get back to the lab.”

Yuri sighed and leaned her head back against the headrest of the station’s revolving chair. She recalled the interview with Mr. Kang the previous day; he hadn’t exactly been uncooperative, but something about his manner was odd. The absence of grief might not be indicative of guilt, but it definitely hinted at something lying underneath his polished words.

“DI Jeon? DI Choi?” Jisoo came over with an uncomfortable expression on her face. “We’ve brought in Mr. Park. He’s waiting in interview room #3.”

Yuri wondered why Jisoo looked so disturbed. Then again, she had only met the junior officer for the first time the previous day; she really didn’t know anything about her or her usual disposition.

“Don’t accept things from people for the sake of being polite.” Jeon brushed past her, the frown firmly embedded on her face. 

“What?” Yuri quickly put her phone into her pocket and followed him.

“The coffee,” he said, as if self-explanatory.

“What about it?”

“You don’t like it. You aren’t going to drink it. But you’re still holding onto it because Seulgi gave it to you. Just dump it in the trash. We don’t have time for  unnecessary courtesy, DI Choi. It’s a hindrance.”

Although his tone was hard and tinged with irritation, Yuri realised that Jeon was right. She had taken one sip of the coffee in front of Seulgi, but the truth was that she hated plain black coffee. Indeed, the last 15 minutes had been spent swirling the contents of the cup but never taking a sip. Yet, Jeon had noticed and somehow come to the right conclusion. Was she really so easy to read? A tiny bubble of annoyance began growing inside Yuri - what gave Jeon the right to comment on her choice of beverage, or anything for that matter!

Interview room #3 was the largest one in the station. Yuri walked in to find a young man leaning back in the uncomfortable metal chair, looking like he was the one in charge. His silvery blond hair was parted in the middle matching the cold hue of his grey eyes and the pallor of his porcelain white skin. Everything about him looked frosty except, Yuri realised, the reddish pink of his rather plump lips. 

Jeon sat down across from him, flipping open a thin file. “Thank you for coming in, Mr. Park. W-”

“Now now,” interrupted Park Jimin, his voice more soft and high-pitched than Yuri had expected. “We’ve known each other far too long for formalities, Jeongguk. You’ve been to almost every one of my New Year’s Eve parties, remember?” 

Jeon clenched his teeth, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “As I was saying-”

“But I don’t believe we’ve met.” Jimin turned towards Yuri, the right side of his lips twitching upwards slightly. “I’m Park Jimin.”

Suddenly, Yuri felt uneasy. There was something about the way Park Jimin was looking at her that made her stomach feel queasy. 

“DI Choi,” she said, gulping down the bile that threatened to rise inside her. “Can you tell us what you were doing on the night of December 15th, Mr. Park?”

“I can,” he said, leaning back once again. “But whether I will, is another question.”

The thing about Park Jimin was that he was being incredibly transparent about his desire to hinder the investigation in any way. On top of that, his gaze kept flitting towards Yuri - a fact that Jeon seemed completely oblivious to - and lingering for the briefest of moments. 

“I’m asking you again, Mr. Park,” said Yuri, placing her arms on the table. “What were you doing on the night of December 15th?”

“I really don’t think that’s any of your business. Unless,” he paused, his lips lifting into a smirk. “You’re interested in joining me afterwards for a drink.”

“This is a murder investigation, Mr. Park! Stop propositioning the investigating detective and answer the question!” Jeon slammed his fist down on the table, a vein throbbing along the side of his neck. 

 “A murder investigation, huh?” The silver haired man finally made eye contact with Jeon, his eyes no longer flippant and suggestive. “Finally getting down to the facts, aren’t we?”

The air had grown considerably more tense, and Yuri sensed that there was definitely something about Park Jimin that she hadn’t read in his files.

“Who?”

“What?” Jeon clenched the fist that remained stiff on the table.

“Who’s murder are you investigating, Jeongguk?”

The balance of power in the room had tipped in favor of Park Jimin when Jeon reluctantly opened his file and took out a picture. Sliding it towards the other man, he leaned back into his chair and waited for the latter to finish looking at it.

“Kang Eunwoo was found dead in his home yesterday. His father says you visited him the previous night and were possibly the last person to see him alive.”

“No.” Park Jimin pushed the picture back towards them. His body language had stiffened considerably.

“No?”

“I didn’t visit him. I haven’t seen Eunwoo since the Grand Fundraiser Gala held at the end of November.”

“Then you won’t mind telling us where you were that night,” Jeon asked, folding his arms across his chest. 

“I’m afraid not.”

“You’re not going to tell us where you were on the night of 15th December?”

“That is correct.”

“I insist you provide a statement of your movements, Mr. Park,” said Yuri, frowning slightly. “Things could get very tricky for you otherwise.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

xxx

“How long can we detain him?” Suho asked Jeon, glancing worriedly at the door to interview room #3.

“24 hours max,” said Jeon, checking his phone. “Unless we come across something more concrete connecting him to the case. Just because he’s being an asshole, doesn’t necessarily mean he’s guilty.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not,” added Suho, with a shrug. 

“Have you checked his bank records? Credit card usage?” asked Yuri. “We could try and construct a timeline with that - find out his whereabouts, where he went, what he did.”

“On it!” replied Suho with a grin.

Jeon, on the other hand, didn’t look too thrilled. He sat at his desk, flipping through some files that were clearly not part of the current case - judging by how many of the pages were dog-eared and worn from repeated examination. 

“Why isn’t Jimin providing an alibi?” Yuri asked, recalling the trainwreck of an interview they had just completed. Jeon didn’t answer; the rustling of pages the only indication of his presence.

“If the Kangs and Parks are such bitter rivals, it probably gives him a strong motive. If he didn’t have anything to do with Eunwoo’s death, why is he refusing to tell us where he was?”

Silence.

“Unless, of course, he did have something to do with the death.” Yuri got up from her chair and peered over the partition between her and Jeon’s desks. “Something about him shifted after he saw the picture of Eunwoo.”

Yuri frowned, as Jeon continued to ignore her. Walking over to his desk, she tapped him on the shoulder a few times before he reluctantly turned towards her.

“What’s your problem, Jeon?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You’ve been an absolute dick since I joined yesterday. I’d chalk it up to a personality defect, if it weren’t for the things that Ahreum told me. So I’m asking you again,” she said through gritted teeth. “What exactly is your problem?”

Jeon shut the file and slammed it on his desk. Standing up straight, he was almost a head taller than Yuri. His strong brows emphasizing the ire in his dark eyes. 

“I don’t need a newbie coming in and telling me what to do, and messing up the system.”

“I am not a newbie...” Yuri barely managed to contain her anger. “I haven’t told you what to do! And I damn well haven’t messed with your fucking system!” 

“You really have no idea about my fucking system, Choi.” Jeon glared at her. 

At any other point, the unfortunate choice of word order would have made Yuri cringe. But she was too angry to consider any sleazy innuendos Jeon was trying to throw into their argument.

“I don’t care what Ahreum said about you. You’re a humongous asshole and if this was any other situation, I would’ve walked the fuck out of here! But as it stands, I will be working here. And I will be working on this case. If you continue making things difficult for me-” she picked up the file Jeon had been reading in favor of answering her questions- “I’m gonna drop this off at Goh’s desk. Then you can say goodbye to whatever the fuck it is that you’re so obsessed with!”

“Don’t you dare.” He was standing very close to her now, his jaw hardening aggressively. “If you so much as touch that file again-”

Jeon was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Seulgi stood a few feet away, looking slightly alarmed at the scene unfolding in front of her.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, uncertainly. 

“What do you want?” snapped Jeon, snatching the file away from Yuri.

“I have the autopsy report.” Her expression still remained concerned, but she handed the file over to him nonetheless. “COD is blunt force trauma to the back of the head. It’s most likely that he hit his head on the granite mantle above the fireplace. Death was instantaneous so he must have hit it with considerable force - not something I’d attribute to an accidental fall. Time of death estimated between midnight and 1 am.”

“He was hosting a party that night,” said Yuri. “There was definitely plenty of alcohol present. Was he very drunk?”

“I’d say there was enough to loosen his inhibitions considerably, but not enough to be completely pissed.”

“What about drugs?” 

Jeon scoffed at Yuri’s continued questions, his eyes never leaving the autopsy report.

“Do you have something to say, Jeon?” asked Yuri, irritably.

Seulgi intervened before the argument could escalate once again. “No, there weren’t any drugs in his system. At least not the regular ones. I’d have to check specifically if we’re looking for rarer, less traceable ones.”

“Can we get the people who were present at the party to come in give us a blood sample?” asked Yuri. “Maybe Eunwoo didn’t do any drugs, but that doesn’t mean there weren’t any drugs at the party.”

“I can run the tests. Most of the drugs I tested for remain in a person’s blood for at least 2-3 days.”

Jeon returned the file to Seulgi. “There’s no need for that.”

“What?” Yuri snapped her head in his direction. “Why not?”

“You won’t find drugs being used at the Kang mansion.” He picked up his backpack and started walking towards the exit.

“Where are you going, Jeon?!” yelled Yuri.

“Home.”

xxx

lemme know how you liked the chapter! 

#jungkook #jungkook x oc #jungkook fic #yoongi #seokjin #hoseok #namjoon #taehyung #jimin #bts fic #c me write bangtan #btsbookclub

[princessselene126]

Family Bonding Night

Ask and you shall receive. THIS FIC CONTAINS SUPERNOVA SPOILERS. 2686 words of Nodrian and the Everhart/Westwood family. This is kinda a second part to Game Night, but could also be read alone. There’s nothing but fluff and sass, but not too much sass. Come on, these guys are great, but let’s be honest, they’ll never live up to Kaider’s sass level.

This is part of a larger series that can be read as individual fics or one big one. If you’d like to read them in order, please go to the second masterlist linked below.

masterlist We Rise with the Sun masterlist

Nova sat at the worktable Adrian had drawn in her room after she officially moved in at the mansion. She turned the screw of a new device she was working on. Well, device was the wrong word to use for that. Instead of weapons, lately she’d taken to making toys. There wasn’t much use for weapons now that the entire world was filled with powered people.

She wound up the key on the back of the toy, then set it down on the desk. The little dinosaur figurine wobbled across the surface. 

Her lips pulled up into a smile, proud of the work she did. It was a different type of pride from the kind she felt when she made weapons. Making this felt more… pure, like she was making something for happiness instead of destruction.

The golden dinosaur stopped moving so she picked it up and rewound it. Setting it back down, she then rested her chin on her arms crossed over the table. Nova watched it walk around again.

A knock sounded on the door.

Without looking up she called, “Come in!”

The door opened, but she didn’t turn around. The person moved closer and then wrapped their arms around her shoulders. Adrian, Nova thought. He was the only person in this house that would hug her so intimately.

Lifting her head, she leaned it back against his shoulders. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he greeted. “What are you up to?”

“Making stuff.”

He chuckled, a low tenor that made her heart soar every time she heard it. “I can see that, but what are you making?”

She grabbed the tennis ball sized figure and held it up in front of them. “A wind up toy. I wanted to make something meant to bring people joy for once. Think Max would like it? I know he’s eleven but--”

Adrian moved around the stool she sat on and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I think he’ll love it.”

“If anything for sentimentality, I hope. I modeled it after Turbo.”

He took the dinosaur from her hand, fingers brushing her soft skin as he did. They’d been together for six months now, but even that simple touch sent shivers down her spine. 

“It looks just like him.”

“That was the goal.”

She watched Adrian examine the toy in his large hands with a smile on his face. “This is really cool, but I came up here to steal you away from your room.” He set the Turbo toy back down on the desk then faced her. His glasses were starting to slip down his nose.

Nova’s eyebrows quirked up. “Oh?”

He reached his hand out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His cheeks had a faint pink color to them. “Now that everything is settling down, I thought maybe we could, uh, go out on a real date?”

“A date?” she repeated slowly.

The pink in his cheeks got even brighter. “Yeah I thought--I don’t know. It would be fun?”

Nova’s lips curled into a smile. “Yeah. Okay. I’d like that.”

“Okay, change into something nicer and meet me downstairs in 20.”

She nodded and kissed his cheek then gently pushed him away from her. “Alright. Go away so I can.”

Twenty minutes later Nova was walking down the staircase in her best pair of jeans and chocolate leather jacket. Her hair feel in loose waves around her shoulders. She didn’t put any makeup on her face because she never really liked it to begin with. It made her feel like she was trying to hide something.

Adrian’s eyes widened when he saw her and Nova rolled her eyes to try hiding her embarrassment. She stepped closer to him, only an arm’s length away. “This alright?”

“You look beautiful.”

“I wear this all the time,” she deadpanned.

He smiled, leaning over to press a kiss to her lips. “I know, but you still look beautiful.”

“Adriaaaaan,” she sighed. Nova buried her face in his shoulder, once again trying to hide what he was making her feel. She should’ve been used to the affection by now, but she wasn’t even close. It was so strange to have someone love her the way Adrian did. Strange, but more than welcome.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked, voice a low rumble.

Pulling her face off his shoulder, Nova looked up into those pretty brown eyes of his. “Whenever you are, Sketch.”

“Actually it’s whenever we are,” Max said as he bounded down the stairs. He was dressed and ready to go just like Nova and Adrian.

He let go of Nova and looked down at his little brother. “Uh, we’re going on a date, Max. You’re not coming with.”

Nova tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowed at the child. “Wait, he said ‘we.’” 

“Yes he did,” Simon said, entering the room with Hugh behind him. He pulled a light jacket over his shoulders and buttoned it up. “We’re having a family bonding night.”

“Non-negotiable,” Hugh added.

Nova glanced at her boyfriend, not quite sure what to say. Adrian had looked so excited when he told her to change and now he looked beyond disappointed. She reached over to take his hand.

“Can’t we do this another night?” Adrian asked. “Even tomorrow? We already have plans.”

Simon grinned. “What, you don’t want your dads and little brother fifth wheeling?”

Hugh pulled his own jacket on, checking the pocket for car keys. “Also we have a meeting tomorrow night and we know you two aren’t working tomorrow, so you can just change your plans to tomorrow night, which we can’t do.”

“That’s fine with me,” Nova said. It really wasn’t the end of the world having to wait a day for alone time with Adrian. She’d wait for forever to spend time with him if she had to.

“Alright, fine,” Adrian sighed.

Once that was settled, Nova piled into the car with the Everharts. Max sat between her and Adrian on the back seat while Simon drove and Hugh sat next to him. She wasn’t sure where they were going. During the ride they talked about random things that happened at HQ lately. 

Her eyes flickered to the center console where Hugh and Simon had their fingers twined together. It was cute. Their easiness with each other made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Would she and Adrian be like that years down the line? Were they already? She honestly didn’t know. Maybe she’d have to ask Ruby what their relationship looked like from the outside the next time she saw her.

Simon parked the car on the side of the road next to Cosmopolis Park. It was dark out, but the lights from the carnival made everything bright and beautiful. It’d been rebuilt since Nova’s fight with the Detonator--Ingrid, an Anarchist she killed, someone she once considered family.

Nova swallowed down that memory.

They all got out of the car and Simon locked it. Together they walked toward the entrance. 

Adrian’s hand found hers again and she could help looking up to smile at him.

“Sorry they crashed our date,” he said.

She squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. You can make it up to me tomorrow.”

“I will,” Adrian promised. Nova knew it was a promise he would keep. There wasn’t a promise he made that he hadn’t kept. At least not any to her.

Hugh and Simon paid for their entrance wristbands, though the teenager at the counter tried not to make them pay. It was a frequent occurrence given who they were. Nevertheless Hugh and Simon insisted. He then asked if he could get a picture with them, to which they happily agreed.

Nova looked around at the park. People of all ages wandered around, laughing and smiling. There were more people than ever before with outward manifestations of powers. Here and there she saw someone with wings or horns molten lava skin.

Almost a year ago she wanted prodigies to just not exist. She’d wished that people were merely people with no special abilities so that they were all on an even playing field. But now she didn’t feel that way. She was happy that the Supernova gave everyone abilities, it gave people something to be proud of.

Adrian squeezed her hand, bringing her attention back to him. “What do you want to do first?”

Nova met his eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve never been here to have fun, only to blow stuff up.”

“Right,” he laughed. “How about…” Adrian turned around, looking at all the games and rides. “Tilt-A-Whirl?”

“You do know I don’t know what that is, right?”

“Oh you’ll see.” His eyes glimmered with something that would have looked malicious on anyone else, but on him it was adorable. “Come on.” He pulled her through the people on the grounds. Max and his dads followed behind them.

She couldn’t help wondering why he knew exactly where he was going.

They stopped in front of a ride where seats spun around in a small circle while the platform below also spun. Most of the people were laughing. One man’s face was pale as if he were about to be sick. 

“This is the Tilt-A-Whirl?”

“Yup. And it’s the best ride here.”

“If you say so.”

He let go of her hand only to wrap his arms around her waist from behind. His chin rested on her shoulder.

“Adrian,” she sighed.

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?”

“Holding you.”

Nova took a deep breath, then relaxed against him. She wasn’t going to admit it out loud, but she really loved when he held onto her like this. It made her feel cared for, cherished even. “Alright then.”

Max rolled his eyes in front of them. “Dads make them stop being gross.”

“If you want me to be gross I can kiss her,” Adrian said.

“We don’t need you accidentally sticking your tongue up her nose again,” Hugh teased.

Nova couldn’t see Adrian’s face, but she knew he was blushing from how hot his skin suddenly was on hers. He hid his face in her neck and groaned. “I’m never going to live that one down, am I?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. Her hand moved up to pat his head.

The short line of people moved in front of them, showing their purple wristbands to the man in charge of the ride. Hugh, Simon, and Max moved past the small gate and sat in one of the carts.

Nova tried to move too, but Adrian held onto her like a koala bear. “Adrian, stop pouting and let’s go on this ride.”

He lifted his head off her shoulder. “Right. Sorry.” 

They showed the operatory their wristbands then sat in a cart next to his dads and Max.

Nova examined the steel cart as Adrian lowered a bar over their legs. It was rusted and looked like it’d seen far better days, but it must still be in decent enough shape if they were on it.

“Are you sure this is safe?” she asked.

“Of course. They’re legally required to do safety checks every week.”

The operator came around and made sure the metal bar over their lap was secured. Satisfied he moved on. A minute later the carts started to move.

At first Nova didn’t understand what the big deal was about, they were just going around in circles, or rocking side to side. It wasn’t that fun… That’s what she thought until Adrian urged her to lean to the left, then to the right. The next thing she knew, the cart spun faster and faster.

She couldn’t stop laughing, tears rolling down her cheeks from the force of her exhilaration.

When the ride stopped they went again. Then again. Then after that she went with Max. She even went with Hugh and Simon. Boy did the cart move faster with Captain Chromium’s frame taking up the small space. 

They alternated between the Tilt-A-Whirl and some other rides. There was one called the Gravitron, and another that looked like eggs attached to a ferris wheel that would roll as it spun. 

When they decided they’d had enough rides, Adrian lead them all over to the games section. The first one they stopped at was something where they were supposed to throw darts at balloons to pop them.

Nova laughed at how easy it was to pop then. All she had to do was ake the darts arch a little bit and gravity did the rest. When she looked over at Adrian though, he was having a much harder time. 

With a smile, she took his hand holding a dart. “Can I show you?”

“You can try, but with how terrible my aim is, it shouldn’t make much of a difference.”

“We’ll see about that.” Pressing herself against him, she directed him through the motion and told him about how he should aim high so the dart arched in the air.

The first few times he missed miserable, but he slowly started to pick up on it. After another couple tries he got one.

“See, that wasn’t so hard.”

“Yeah, easy for you to say. You’ve always been a great shot.”

“Not always,” Nova admitted. “I used to be terrible, but I practiced a lot. Maybe if you practiced more…” she trailed off, giving him a teasing smile.

“Hey, I do practice, I just don’t get better.”

They played other games of course. Nova won all of the sharp-shooter ones that Adrian didn’t even have a chance at beating. She picked out a giant purple teddy bear and gifted it to her boyfriend. 

Max ended up winning a goldfish in a ring toss game and somehow a sugar rush from all the cotton candy he ate. He rode out a sugar high like never before. Nova couldn’t help thinking that maybe he hadn’t experienced one before.

Hugh had his arm over Simon’s shoulders as they walked the grounds. “Think they’re having a good time?” 

Simon looked ahead of them to Max weaving through people, then to Adrian and Nova giggling to each other about something--probably the purple bear Adrian could barely carry. “I think family bonding night was more than successful.”

It was so good to see their children--and Nova whom he thought of as family--so happy. He never thought he’d see Max outside around people, let alone prodigies. Now that everyone but Max was a prodigy, he almost wished their son had been gifted some form of power from the Supernova.

Leaning closer, Hugh pressed a small kiss to the corner of Simon’s lips. “I think so too.”

“But it’s not over yet, we still have one more thing to do.”

“Ah, yes. I believe you promised Max,” Simon said. Gathering their growing family, Simon and Hugh directed them all to the ferris wheel. Once again they showed the operator their wristbands and sat down in one of the cars. Simon and Hugh faced Adrian, Nova, and Max on the other side. The giant purple teddy bear sat in the corner of the car.

“Everyone have fun tonight?” Hugh asked as the wheel started to move. 

Slowly they rose up into the air.

Max smiled down at his goldfish. “Yeah. I think I’m going to name this guy Aurum.”

“The latin word for gold,” Nova mused. “I like it.”

Max beamed.

Adrian ruffled his little brother’s hair. “We should do this more,” he said to his dads. “Make it a monthly thing. Maybe even replace game night.”

“We’re not replacing game night,” Simon said.

“Can you at least stop telling terrible stories about me?”

“No.”

Nova leaned her head on Adrian’s shoulder, looking out at the park below. Everyone looked so happy. It was getting colder so she leaned further into Adrian. He must have noticed because his arm wrapped over her shoulders.

“Will you stop telling stories about me?” he whispered.

Nova grinned, tilting her head to look at him. “Not a chance.”

Adrian huffed, not at all meaning it. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I am.”

#nodrian #renegades #arch enemies #supernova #supernova spoilers #renegades fic #renegades fandom #fanfic #We Rise with the Sun #nova and adrian #hugh and simon #nova artino #adrian everhart #max everhart #hugh everhart #simon westwood #mine mine mine #my fic #my post

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E4; Chapter Four, Will the Wise - [Pt. 4 - FINAL PART]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

An ailing Will opens up to Joyce --  with disturbing results. While Hopper digs for the truth, Eleven unearths a surprising discovery. A conflicted Y/n reconciles with Mike amidst the rising panic.

Warnings: Abusive behavior. Racism. Animal death

||3rd Person POV||

Will continued to draw, never faltering. And his movements never slowed.

Several sheets of paper, with similar purple and blue features.

The second he was done, he would swiftly swipe the drawing behind him and it would land on the floor like the others. Not unlike a printer would.

Joyce grabbed a handful and returned through to the living room, where Hop sat, looking at a handful of Will's drawings himself.

"This is more of the same," she said, joining him on the couch.

"Oh, it's nothing. It's just scribbles."

The pages they held before them, as well as the ones still being made in Will's room usually featured a black page with some variant of purple-blue sections. Ranging from corner to corner, corner to side, bottom to side, top to corner and so forth. Some of them were just pure purple and blue.

"Wait," Joyce had caught sight of the drawing Hopper was currently looking at. "Wait."

"What? What?"

"Wait. These black lines, see?"

She held up one of the several drawings she possessed up to Hopper.

Hopper was still confused.

"What?"

The drawing she held matched perfectly with the one in his hands.

"They connect. They connect!"

×××

Hopper had now pushed aside all the furniture in the living room, opening up space for the drawings.

They grabbed more piles and scattered the drawing all over the floor, matching piece after piece.

Finally, the duo stood, marveling at the large intricate design the pictures had made. They were sprawled out all over the room, so much so in fact that they twisted and curled and began creeping up the walls.

"Does this mean anything to you?" Hopper asked.

Joyce scoffed, gesturing to the work before them. "No."

"I mean, is it some kind of maze or a road?" She wondered.

They began wandering around the room, careful as to not step on the drawings.

"I-I mean, it's sort of forking and branching like... like lightning." She gestured to the many twists and turns below her feet.

"You think it's that storm?" He asked, referring to the drawing.

"No, the storm he drew was completely different. He used red." She said, certain about her son's artistic patterns. "And this is all blue and it has some sort of weird dirt color. I mean, maybe it's roots."

"'Cause remember," she continued, lost in thought. "he was saying it was spreading and--"

"killing." He finished. "he said they were killing."

Hopper felt his chest sink at the words. Familiarity tugging at his mind. He hoped he was wrong. But he was almost certain he wasn't.

"Vines." Joyce looked to Hopper just as he retreated to the front door, gathering his things. "He's drawing vines."

×××

The bell rang harshly, signaling the end of the school day. Just as he had hoped, Lucas found Max at her locker.

"Hey, Max. Have you seen Dustin? We're supposed to meet after class."

Max slammed her locker door and stomped away.

Lucas frowned and called after her. He chased her trailed after her, and it wasn't until they reached the steps outside the school that she answered.

"Hey, Max! Hey, where are you going? Come on! We've gotta go look for Dart."

"Yeah, good luck with that." She spits, not looking back.

Max made it to the parking lot when Lucas finally caught back up to her.

"What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" She scoffed. "What's wrong with you?"

She brushed a stray piece of hair from her eyes angrily as she walked.

"I don't understand!"

Max whirled around on her heels, looking at Lucas for the first time in the conversation.

"No! I don't understand!" She shouted, and Lucas jumped back slightly. "You guys act like you want me to be your friend but then you just treat me like garbage!"

"That's not true!" He said defensively.

She scoffed and nodded.

"Actually, you're right," she smiled, and Lucas briefly relaxed.

Her face quickly hardened once more.

"Y/n hasn't. She's the only one of you jerks that have actually been nice to me. The only one who's making an effort to get me in the party. But, ya know what? Tell her I said thanks but she doesn't have to try anymore. I don't want to be in your stupid party anyway."

Lucas tried to find words but Max stopped him before he cod say anything.

"All you guys do is lock yourselves in the AV room keeping secrets like we're in second grade or something. You know, I thought you actually wanted me in your party."

"I do. But it's..."

"But what?"

He sighed, at a loss for words.

"There... there are just things. Things we can't tell you, all right? For your own safety."

"My own safety?" She repeated, fuming.

"Yes!"

"Because I'm a girl?"

"What? No! Why would you think that? Y/n's in the party."

"Yeah, do you keep secrets from her too? Or El?" She asked, her voice lowered but was still hostile.

Lucas stiffened.

"How do you know about El?"

"Did you?" She pressed.

"That was different. Trust me. Okay? That was just... different."

"Okay. You know what? Forget it. Have a nice life."

Max spun around and stomped away, ignoring his cries if protest.

"You still stink by the way!"

Lucas's heart sank as he watched Max walk away. He frowned and hesitantly brought his sleeve to his nose.

He recoiled at the stench.

"Oh, shit!"

Max set down her skateboard and stepped on. Besides one little push, she let gravity do its work and she steadily rolled down across the parking lot towards her stepbrothers car.

Unbeknownst to her, he had watched the whole exchange.

When she approached the car she hopped off her skateboard and tucked it back under her arm. Billy pushed off from where he was leaning against the hood and he stormed around to the driver's side door.

"That kid you were talking to, who is he?"

"He's no one."

"No one?"

"This kid from class." She replied impatiently.

She got in the passenger side but Billy lingered, glaring at Lucas as he looked in their direction in curiosity.

Billy narrowed his eyes and got in the front seat, slamming the door behind him.

He placed a cigarette between his lips and he lit it. Staring ahead, he took a puff and held it out the window as he rested his arm.

"Why was he talking to you?" He asked lowly.

"It was just about a stupid class assignment." She muttered.

His jaw clenched and he fidgeted with the cigarette at the end of his fingertips.

"Then why are you so upset?"

"I'm not!"

"He causing you trouble?"

"Why do you care?" She snapped, looking at him.

"Because, Max, you're a piece of shit, but we're family now whether we like it or not meaning I'm stuck looking after you."

She rolled her eyes and threw her arms up in a shrug.

"What would I ever do without- Hey!"

Billy grabbed her wrist tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white. She froze in fear and he leaned in, teeth gritted.

"This is serious shit, okay? I'm older than you. And something you learn, is that there are a certain type of people in this world that you stay away from, and that kid, Max..." he tightened his grip on her wrist and tugged on it. "That kid is one of them."

Max tried to pull her arm back but he gave it a shake, his eyes burning holes in hers.

"You stay away from him, you hear me?" He growled. "Stay. Away."

He roughly shoved her arm away and returned to his cigarette, and started the engine.

Max turned to the window in an attempt to hide her tears and quivering lip.

×××

The tires of the chief's car blew sent dirt and dust flying in his tracks. The car bounced as he crossed the end of the dirt road and onto the bumpy field on the pumpkin patch.

He drove to the center of the pumpkin patch wasteland and the car swerved to an urgent stop. Hopper got out of the car and grabbed the shovel he kept in the truck bed and closed the trunk.

He walked through the fields, shovel over his shoulder to the very center of the field. He stopped when he reached the strongest patch of rot and decay, the patch where the most flies occupied.

Where everything had been killed.

Shovel in hand, he threw it into the ground and began his excavation.

×××

El started at the files before her. Familiarity tugged at the back of her mind at the words 'missing experiment'

Curious she opened it.

El frowned as she read, understanding only bits and pieces.

Before her was a collection of papers stapled together that were typed, like it belonged in the folder. On top of that were scraps of paper, one of them was a photocopy of an old news article, a small section of it highlighted, and then several handwritten notes in red ink. It looked like Hopper's handwriting, El thought. There were scribbles of red ink on several pieces of paper, off to the side with several footnotes in different articles

The first thing she examined was a piece of paper from Hopper's notepad, the one, she recognized from the Don't Be Stupid Rules. It was a messy jumble of words like he was trying to get them down on paper before he forgot. They were scribbled quickly and were barely legible.

"Another volunteer pregnant. Either escaped with kid, or escaped and gave birth?? Woman killed, daughter lived (presumably) Somewhere in Hawkins???"

El frowned, reading further, intrigued.

"Hiding?" The word was scratched out with a single line, next to the words, "she wouldn't remember."

Below that was a small bullet point list of the kid's possible traits.

"13/14 y/o female

Orphan?

Adopted?

Living on the streets?"

El's mind snagged on the familiar word, 'adopted'. She remembered when she first heard it, Mike's voice echoed in her mind.

《●●●》

"...It's funny actually, [Y/N] is from Hawkins. Or at least that's where they found her."

"...Dustin was so young he doesn't remember any of it, but I think him and his mom were visiting family here and they just... found her, I think?"

《●●●》

El's' first initial reaction was to dismiss the thought, it couldn't be Y/n. But the doubt vanished almost as soon as it came. Memories of her week with Y/n came flooding back to her mind. Granted, she often dwelled on this week, but this time was different. She looked at moments in a whole new light, and it only made sense that it could be Y/n.

《●●●》

"Oh, he was such a great student. Oh, he's going to leave a hole in the community." A boy farther down the bleachers mocked, beginning to fake sob.

Y/n began shaking, El noticed, facing the boy who spoke, visibly furious. El's eyes fell to Y/n's hands. They were gripping the bench she sat on and El noticed the hot shade of pink her friend's hands were turning.

"[Y/N]!" She heard Lucas whisper, making Y/n look at him.

"What?!" She asked.

El watched curiously as Y/n's eyes fell to her own hands and seemed shocked at their hue. Y/n's mood seemed to change drastically El noted, and then she realized Y/n was looking back at her, slightly panicked and confused. El's eyes fell to Y/n's hands one last time, knowing something peculiar happened that couldn't be easily explained.

It almost reminded her of when she used her powers for the first time...

No. It couldn't be.

She shook her head ever so slightly and remembered the word Y/n had taught her. Looking at the boy that upset Y/n, she repeated it back to her.

"Mouth breather."

Much to El's excitement, Y/n chuckled slightly and smiled at El, seeming to feel slightly better.

"Yeah." Y/n nodded. "Yeah, mouth breather."

《●●●》

El thought about that moment a lot. Y/n had always shown that she cared about her, and was truly the first real friend she ever had, besides Mike of course. But she always felt close to Y/n in a different way. A way she couldn't really explain. And she felt truly happy and proud to be the one to make her friend feel better in that moment.

It was no big feat, but to El, it meant a lot.

The only thing that came to mind to explain how she saw Y/n, was another word she had learned from Mike.

Sister.

But she supposed that's why she often overlooked the odd moment with the bench and her red hands.

Then, of course, there was that moment at the school, minutes before she said her goodbye.

It was very hazy though, and she could only remember bits and pieces. After all, she was fighting consciousness when it happened.

El never really understood how she was rescued from Papa that night.

But she did remember being knocked back slightly. And how all the bad men had been standing around her, holding her friends hostage, and then the next thing she knew everyone was on the ground. And a sense of warmth in between. She had still been awfully cold from the bath, her clothes were still slightly damp, but in between consciousness she felt a small and brief burst of warmth. She remembered thinking it felt nice on the still damp and cold dress she wore.

El realized she never really stopped to think about how they escaped. Especially when she hadn't done anything, that she could recall of course, besides getting rid of the woman that killed the nice man who fed her. And the guards with her.

Then Papa showed up. And she called out to Mike. And then the warmth.

As El dwelled on the memory more, she remembered something she didn't before. Something that was said after the warmth.

"'Surprise'"  El repeated her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n. It must have been. Y/n must be the missing experiment, she realized.

It only made sense.

She remembered how tired Y/n had been after they escaped Papa. She must drain easily like she does.

And she must have done something when they got briefly separated when they were all fleeing from the vans. That would explain why Y/n passed out.

But had known? She must not have, El thought, because she was almost certain that Y/n would have told her.

El realized she had been rereading the same sentence over and over again this whole time, as she considered these things.

Shaking her head slightly, she focused all her attention on the words once more, trying to make sense of what they meant.

It was a single sentence at the bottom of the same notepaper, in quotation marks. It was a quote.

"This baby was supposed to have some sorta,"

The words she read next, made her shiver. She couldn't quite say why, but she knew it was important.

Familiar.

"untapped potential for the greater good"

Maybe it had been one of the many things Papa and said to her to get her to work harder.

How she could be just what he was missing.

No, no that wasn't it. How she was what he had to work with.

'She would be enough.'

'They didn't need the other one.'

'Eleven had her potential.'

El hadn't realized her eyes were watering until she noticed she could barely make out the words anymore. Her vision was blurring.

Was Y/n the one Papa had been whispering about all this time when he thought she couldn't hear?

She sighed heavily, setting down the file folder down in her lap.

El looked around the room, steadying her breathing. Her eyes fell on a pinkish-red folder than sat in the box.

She set the missing experiment files down next to her, and picked up the new folder.

El realized her knees were aching so she rose to her feet, taking a seat on the couch.

"Ives. Terry." She read aloud.

She recognized the name from the small mention in the other folder. Curious, she opened it.

Not unlike the other folder, it was an organized mess of articles and files. The first one she read was in big letters and it caught her eye first.

"INDIANA WOMAN  SUES D.O.A. CLAIMS CHILD WAS STOLEN"

She looked to the picture below it, and her heart ached thumped. She had no memory of ever seeing this woman but for some reason she felt like she knew her.

She turned the pages over, and found another article.

"DAUGHTER JANE TAKEN WHEN SHE WAS A BABY, IVES CLAIMS."

"Jane," she whispered.

El noticed a small handful of things, too short to be pinned in like the others, and was paper clipped to the side.

"CHILD ABDUCTIONS AGAINST HAWKINS LAB THROWN OUT."

and

"TERRY IVES SUING - 'They Took My Daughter' By Benjamin Buck"

A specific passage from this article had been highlighted and underlined more than once, like Hopper had looked over it several times.

"Ms. Ives suit seeks unspecified damages against Dr. Brenner and his facility, alleging physical abuse, sleep deprivation, malnourishment, and multiple allegations of kidnapping both attempted and successful..."

Next to it was another note from Hopper.

A question of his had been crossed out, and statement was written beside it, as if he answered it.

"Attempted and successful? 'Attempted' must be missing experiment."

El was about to flip the page when she noticed a small corner peeking out from under those two articles. Placing one hand on the files, she grabbed the corner with the other to find a photo.

It was a photo outside Hawkins Lab, of Terry and next to her was,

"Papa," she whispered in slight fear.

Eli suspected who the woman was, but something in her needed to know for sure.

She could contact her.

No, the TV was still broken. But the radio wasn't, El realized.

With picture still firmly in her hand, El grabbed the radio from the bookshelf  and her blindfold before returning to her spot near the files.

She knelt down on the floor where she left the missing experiment folder and turned on the radio, switching through all the channels until she finally heard the static she was hoping to find. El placed the radio on the floor next to her and secured the blindfold over her eyes. Holding the photo tight in her hands and bringing it up to her heart she searched.

She was back in the familiar void. She saw a woman in a rocking chair, facing away from her. El couldn't see her face but it looked like the woman from the photo.

She was muttering something El couldn't quite decipher until she walked closer.

"Three to the right. Four to the left."

El had reached the woman she believed to be her mother, her heart pounding. She walked around the chair to see the same woman, but older, aged by time and trauma.

Her eyes were closed, but she was still mumbling passionately as she rocked slightly back and forth in the chair.

"Rainbow. Three to the right. Four to the left."

El was standing in front of her now, watching her with worry and confusion.

"Rainbow. Three to the right. Four to the left. Four-fifty..."

Her eyes ripped open and she looked at El lovingly.

"Jane,"

It was her. All the doubts she bad washed away and she looked at her mother.

"Mama?"

She stepped forward, leaning down ever so slightly. She extended her hand out to her mother, her mother's finger twitching slightly as if she were trying to reach out to her daughter.

El placed her palm on her mother's hand, having given her nothing more than a loving squeeze when suddenly her mother disappeared under her very fingertips.

El breathing picked up and she looked around frantically, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Mama!"

She grasped feverishly thought the air, where her mother once was, watching the dying smoke of her image escape from her grasp.

"Mama?" She wailed.

She dropped to her knees in defeat, sobs wracking her body. Back in the living room of the cabin, El cried out still clutching the photograph.

"Mama! Mama!" El shrieked, pain enveloping her heart.

She ripped the blindfold off her eyes and she felt her upper lip grow wet from the blood mixing in with her snot, tears staining her cheeks.

"Mama..." she sobbed as if by some miracle her mother would hear her cries and come for her, comfort her.

She was told her mother was gone. Hopper had told her that. And there her mother was, alive, somewhere out there.

And just like that, she was gone again.

El collapsed in on herself, holding her own head in her hands as she wept.

||Reader's POV||

The trip to Will's felt like hours, but eventually, we rounded the corner and found ourselves on Will's lawn. Mike and I ditched out bikes and ran up the porch steps. Both of us were still panting from our ride over here, we went as fast as we could.

I knocked on the door quietly but urgently, and waited. That was until, Mike sighed growing impatient and pounded on the door a little harder.

"Hello?" He called.

"Will? Mrs. Byers?" I added.

I heard muffled footsteps and then the deadbolt unlocking.

Mrs. Byers peeked her head out, reluctant to show any more than her own frame.

"Hey,"

"Hey, Y/n, hi Mike" She eased.

"Mrs. Byers, we don't mean to intrude but is Will here? We were hoping to ask to him, see if he's okay."

She looked over her shoulder, growing antsy.

"You know what? Now is not really a good time,"

Mike beat me to it.

"Is he okay?"

She sighed, looking over her shoulder briefly once more, and stepped out onto the porch with us. She closed the door behind her.

"Yeah. You know, he's... he's just not feeling real well."

She kept walking, putting a gentle hand on either one of us, politely ushering us away.

"He's lying down, so I'll tell him you two stopped by, okay?"

She gave us a polite smile and retreated to the door.

I didn't bother to stop myself from what I said next.

"We know about the shadow monster."

She turned to look at me, worry and recognition flashed across her face.

"Will saw him, didn't he?"

||3rd Person POV||

"Mew-Mew! Where are you? Mew-Mew!"

Mrs. Henderson poured out her cat's dinner in the usual bowl, just as her son walked in the front door.

"Hey, Dusty!

"Hi, hey. Hey, mom." Dustin spoke quickly, his movements just as quick.

He was anxious to get to his room and check on Dart.

Mrs. Henderson frowned and straightened up.

"Everything okay, Dusty? Where's your sister?"

"Oh, uh, yeah she's hanging out with Mike and Will. Everything's fine" He said quickly.

He slipped past his mother and into his room. He closed the door and locked it behind him, making his way to the terrarium and shedding his hat and backpack on the bed.

"Dart, I've gotta talk to you, buddy. It's about my friend, Will. I think-"

He ripped off the pink sheet and his stomach dropped.

The glass was broken and slime was everywhere. It was a pale olive green and it dripped from the remaining shards of glass and all over the sand.

And exactly where Dustin had left him, was what looked like a thick, slimy sheen of green film.

Hesitantly, Dustin picked it up to examine it, and he cringed in disgust.

"What the hell?" He whispered, horrified.

Dart had shed his skin.

Dustin jumped in fright and whipped around when he heard a deeper but familiar screech come from the opposite end of his room. Behind his chair.

"Dart?" He said.

Dustin heard a horrible squelching noise, followed by grunting.

His heart pounded loudly in his chest and slowly he crept forward slowly.

His eyes fell to his rug and he noticed a trail of shredded pieces of skin. These pieces were much darker, almost black, and they looked less smooth.

Dustin still heard grunting and growling from behind his chair and he gulped as the trail of skin turned into streaks of blood. It was stained into his carpet and up his chair.

He heard a sickening crunch as he approached the corner, what he found behind the bloodied chair made him gasp in horror.

A dark green slimy creature on four legs hungrily and viciously attacking the lifeless and bloodied body of Mews.

Dart looked up from his meal and faced a horrified Dustin, his long slimy tail flicking back and forth. He roared, causing his head to open up, hundreds of bloodied teeth showing as any other Demogorgon would.

×××

Dusk had fallen over Hawkins, and Hopper panted heavily as he dug. He had been digging all day and it was growing harder to see. The horizon was now a soft lilac bleeding into a darker shade of blue.

His limbs ached but he never yielded, striking the shovel in the dirt for the thousandth time. He had dug a miniature crater that he now stood in, the dirt and untouched ground around him reaching the top of his hat.

Dirt flew over his shoulder and landed in the many mini hills of dirt that had formed around the edge of the crater.

Panting, he threw his shovel into the first once more, and just as he was about to give in to the doubt that he dug in the wrong place, he felt the shovel slow and heard an odd squelch.

His hopes rising, he swallowed his exhaustion as best as he could and dug faster. He held the shovel in the air, before heaving it into the ground with a forceful grunt.

He felt the shovel break the oddly thick wall and pulled the shovel back up with all his strength. He heard the substance rip and tear as it broke and it was soon followed by a sharp hiss as air escaped from the opening. A hiss reminding him of a hiss of compressed air leaving a can of beer.

A small hole formed as dirt filtered through the hole he had created.

He brought the shovel up once more and slammed into the ground. He heard it bubble as he prodded the ground. He cringed at the smell that wafted into his face and chunks of the ground came up with the shovel.

Hopper paused and looked on, mystified and concerned.

He didn't know what he would find below his feet and the thought scared him now. Nevertheless, he dug a hole big enough to fit through and he lowered himself into the ground.

He planted his feet on the ground and caught his breath. Flashlight in hand he looked at his surroundings. He was in a dark tunnel and familiar flakes of dead earth floating in the air.

"Oh, Jesus,"

It was the same purple-blue tunnels from Will's drawings.

Tunnels from the Upside Down.

+++

Tag List: @dickkwad @aimee-lucass @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely @missmulti @youpi-chan @peeperparkour @ba-responds @bibliophilesquared

DM me if you want to be added!

#stranger things #stranger things 2 #will the wise #will the wise pt. 4 #will the wise final part #will byers x reader #will byers #y/n henderson #el hopper #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #billy hargrove #joyce byers #jim hopper #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine

[chiefnooniensingh]

I Won’t Hesitate (for you) Chapter 10

Chapter 10: I can’t keep it all together

In this chapter: In the past, Isobel Bracken-Evans finds something that changes her life forever. In the present, time is running out and Alex is stuck. Michael is more and more honest, but is he as trustworthy as he seems?

A/n: A little shorter than usual perhaps, but we're hurtling towards the end here. Anyone have any idea yet?

As always, a special thanks to Aileen (@acomebackstory), Callie (@callieramics), @hm-arn, @royalshadowhunter, @ladymajavader and May (@merlinss) over on Tumblr for their continued support and cheerleading. I don’t know if I would’ve finished it without you guys! 

So @Lire_Casander guessed both last week's title and the one the week before that. Chapter 7 was called You should give me a chance (this can't be the end), which is one of the most heartbreaking lines of the song Still in love with you by the Scorpions, and I always imagine Malex while singing it. I even made a gifset of it. Chapter 8 was called Come Back (I still need you) which is from Hold on by Chord Overstreet.

Can anyone guess this week's?

also on: ao3

other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

June, 1934

Isobel Evans-Bracken was clearing out the attic of their new house. They’d been living there for well over a year, yet the attic had filled up with their stuff fairly quickly, as stuff was wont to do. Old reports cards and art projects Mrs Evans had kept, and Isobel had never had the heart to throw away; pictures of her and her brothers before she and Max were adopted; toys from when she was little – okay, so maybe it was mostly her stuff. Her husband wasn’t a sentimental man, he barely had anything from his youth. Isobel knew precious little about that time in his life because it was very painful for him to talk about. She knew he fled a colonized, war-riddled country after the Great War and had a hard time adjusting to the States. But the circumstances that caused him to leave, the hardships of living in and not being accepted in a new, strange country, those details he had never shared with anyone.

She loved and trusted him anyway. If he ever wanted to share those details in time, she would be there to listen.

In the back Isobel found some boxes she didn’t recognize. There was no name scribbled on the sides and she couldn’t even remember these being part of the many, many boxes the movers took upstairs for storage. Odd. She pulled one towards her and opened it, curiosity getting the better of her, as it often did.

“Izzy? Are you home?”

“I’m upstairs, darling!” Isobel called down as she took out several yellowed newspaper clippings. They were all connected to a 15-year-old cold case, a little girl who was murdered in Roswell, New Mexico. Isobel sorted through them, going from the first “Ortecho Family Drama Unfolds” clipping, to the discovery of the body two weeks later. Why was Noah keeping these?

“What are you doing in the attic?” Noah’s voice was coming closer, climbing the stairs towards her.

“Oh, just sorting through some of my stuff,” she said absentmindedly as she flipped through the newspapers. “You know, old memories and – ” She broke off mid-sentence as she came to the date of the arrest of the one and only viable suspect. A picture was next to the short report of the arrest and the young man, whose identity was not known at the time. She knew it though.

It was Noah.

He was about 20 in this picture, and since it was 1920, the timeline matched roughly with him fleeing his country. He looked younger, thinner and harder. But Isobel recognized him immediately.

“Old memories?” Noah’s voice was now almost at the attic door and Isobel jerked out of her stupor. She stuffed the newspapers back in the box and pushed them to the side, grabbing some art projects from a nearby pile, just in time before the attic door opened and Noah came in, smiling. She held up her projects, working hard to bring a smile on her face and not giving anything away.

They spend the rest of the afternoon looking at her projects and old pictures and Isobel, having learned from early childhood to lie through her teeth, pretended nothing was wrong.

The next day, after Noah had gone to work, she went back to the attic and took out the box again. Now with more time she spread the newspaper clippings out before her and examining them more closely. Now she saw Noah’s tiny handwriting in the margins. If before she could pretend this was just her husband’s weird hobby, after reading some of his notes, she couldn’t deny the truth any longer.

His note under the news of the discovery of Rosa’s body was especially damning. Weren’t supposed to find her this soon. Cover tracks immediately.

Isobel let out a single, shocked sob.

The note by the news that Jim Valenti had killed herself made her blood run cold. Good riddance.

Her husband had killed Rosa Ortecho and had gotten away with it.

She had married a murderer.

Present day, 22nd of October, 1935

“No one gets off this train without being accompanied by me or the staff from the other carriages, is that clear?” Alex stood in front of the train door, having arrived just in time to stop people from swarming onto the platform for one last breath of fresh air before the final leg of the journey. Every face he saw was mutinous, but Alex couldn’t risk anyone escaping. Kyle was locked up for now, but the mystery was by no means solved. Someone else still could’ve committed the crime, could still be planning to run.

“Can I at least get out?” His father appeared beside the other travellers, his nose still very noticeably broken, a front tooth missing. Alex felt a savage pleasure at seeing the tables turned.

Alex shrugged. “I could literally not give any less of a fuck what you do with your time.”

Despite the hard feelings towards him, the other passengers sniggered, which made Jesse Manes turn red. He shouldered passed Alex and disembarked the train, letting in a blast of cold air. But it was clear they’d cleared the Alps; the cold wasn’t as biting as it had been. Michael stepped up, looking sheepish. Alex knew why; he was feeling it, too. They were each other’s something, which made this entire situation all the more complicated. They didn’t know how to act around each other. “I need to call Jack, tell him we’ve arrived at Lausanne.”

“Yes, alright. I’ll have to accompany you,” Alex said, opening the door and allowing Michael to get out ahead of him.

“Well, if you must,” Michael said, with a mock tone of exasperation. Alex followed him to the phone booth on the platform, then sat down on a bench a few feet away, taking out his notebook and going over it all for what felt like the eight thousandth time. He knew most of it by heart now, but that didn’t mean it made the mystery any clearer.

He was still immersed when Michael sat down next to him. “Jack says the Compagnie is not pleased by our delay. I told him to tell them to ‘stuff it’. I’m not sure he will.”

Alex snorted, looking up from his notebook and straight into Michael’s eyes. They were twinkling lightly, as if a murderer had never ruined this trip beyond repair. “You always did have a way with words.”

“I try.”

Alex shook his head with a smile and looked back down to his notebook. “I don’t think I can figure it out, Michael,” he said after a minute silence. Michael looked up, his eyes filled with sympathy. “Literally anyone could’ve done this. Sure, there are several people with motive. Kyle, Max, Isobel – ”

“ – me,” added Michael, with a half-smile. At Alex’s shocked expression. “Come on, Alex, you know you can’t deny it. I have as much motive as Max has. I love Isobel. I don’t know if the allegations of abuse were true, but you know I would never have waited to find out if those rumours reached me.”

“Yes, but I know you – ”

“You saying I’m not capable of murder?”

“No, I’m saying you wouldn’t have the patience to wait around and plan a perfect murder. You’re impulsive and rash and emotional and if someone hurts someone you love, you don’t wait to get retribution. You find it immediately.”

Michael choked out a surprised laugh. “Well, you’re not wrong. I’m surprised you still know so much about me.”

Alex brushed his hand against Michael’s, only briefly, but enough for the familiar rush of warmth go through him. “I don’t think I ever could’ve forgotten about you.”

Michael grabbed Alex’s hand and pressed a swift kiss to the back of it. “You’re a foolish romantic, Alexander Manes.”

“I know. Always been my problem.”

The two of them looked at each other, before Michael tore his eyes away. “So what are you going to do when we get to Paris?”

“I don’t know. I have to give the police something. There was a murder on this train. I can’t show up empty-handed after three days spent with all the suspects.”

“Tell me your thoughts,” Michael said, sitting up straight and giving him his undivided attention.

Alex blinked, surprised. “Okay,” he said, then opened his book. “Noah Bracken, 35, murdered in a locked room. Stab wounds to the chest. No stab wound is identical. It’s like the person stabbing him tried to make it look like different people did it.” Michael straightened further, giving Alex a nod to continue. “Isobel is the most obvious suspect, since she was in the room. But there’s nothing else that points to her, and if it’s true she took Barbital, she was physically incapable of waking up. Max Evans lied about being her brother and was seen fighting with Noah just a few weeks before the murder, possibly about Isobel. You brought on board the murder weapon – which you stole from my house fifteen years ago, I might add – and turned out to be Isobel’s other brother. Kyle has the strongest motive, seeing as his father killed himself in the wake of the Ortecho case. But he supposedly has an alibi, provided by Maria, whose alibi was first her mother and then Kyle, which makes her a very shaky character witness. Mr Otto tried to run, his daughter’s alibi has him sleeping. However, she was apparently also talking to Max Evans. The murder was committed at 4:30, not 3, a fact Kyle knew and decided to conceal, along with his true identity…” He trailed off, sighing deeply. “I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to tell the police. I can’t give them anything.”

“Would that be so bad?” Michael said softly, and Alex looked at him startled. “Noah Bracken was a terrible person, a murderer. Would it be so bad to, I don’t know, let his murderer get away with it?”

Alex rested his head against the station walls behind him and let out a long sigh. “I don’t know if I can. I’ve always had a very clear moral code. And no matter what crimes a person committed, they should always get a fair trial. Murder is not an excuse for murder.” He looked at Michael with a sad smile. “I’m a murderer, too, you know.” Michael looked back at him, shocked, and Alex swallowed. He’d never told anyone about this particular dark place of his psyche, but he pressed on. “I murdered dozens of faceless men on the battlefield. I am a murderer. And I got away with it. Because it was in service of my country. That…injustice to my victims will never go away. But I can try and give other victims justice. That’s why I became a private investigator after I was injured. To make up for the murders I got away with.”

“Oh, Alex…” Michael began, but then jumped up as the train whistle blew. “Jesus, we have to leave! Get on the train, quickly!”

They ran inside and only just jumped on when the train lurched into motion. Out of breath, the two men leaned against the train wall, both chuckling. “You know, Alex,” Michael said, turning his head to look at him with a smile, “I think you’re closer than you think you are. You have all the puzzle pieces, I’m sure of it. Now you just gotta find how they fit together.”

He closed the distance between them and pressed a light kiss to Alex’s lips, before sauntering off in the direction of his cabin. Alex stayed behind, biting his lower lip pensively, his thoughts whirling.

Most of his thoughts were devoted to the question that was driving him insane; was Michael guilty or not? He tried his hardest to push it to the background, because he didn’t know the answer and it wasn’t helping. He still had almost a day before they would arrive in Paris and he needed to figure it out before then.

Even if Noah Bracken was an absolute monster, he deserved justice. Just like Rosa Ortecho had deserved justice.

Alex looked at himself in the reflection of a window. He scoffed when he realized the truth in his eyes; this hadn’t been about justice for quite a while now. It was a mixture of pride and protectiveness. Alex protected those he loved, and even ten years apart hadn’t stopped him loving Michael.

He wanted to solve this case to prove that he could. He wanted to solve this case to clear Michael’s name. Preferably, the solution would lead to both outcomes.

Worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, he went over to the Bracken’s cabin, which had been locked after Isobel had been moved into Miss Otto’s cabin for the remainder of the journey. He took out Michael’s keys and opened it. The body had been moved to the freezer in the kitchens for preservation, but the rest of the cabin remained untouched. Alex turned to look at the inside of the door, inspecting it closely, hoping to find any clue. A handprint. A hair. Anything that would help Alex in his search for the murderer. Not even the lock was picked, there were no scratches or signs of damage on it whatsoever.

It meant the killer had either had a key or had left through the window.

That information helped exactly no one, because those had always been the only two options of this murder, shy of Isobel having murdered her husband herself, which Alex still didn’t think the most likely of options. He straightened up and looked around the cabin. He crouched down, realized his leg wouldn’t allow it and sat down completely instead, changing his perspective. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine a scenario.

It was evening, Mr and Mrs Bracken had just returned to their cabin, exhausted after a long day of travelling. “Darling, can you give me the Barbital, please?” Isobel asked. Noah handed the bottle to her without speaking. He changed into his pyjamas and got into bed, while Isobel rummaged some more. “I ordered some tea,” Isobel said, arranging her pillows.

“That is excellent, my sweet,” Noah said, already half asleep.

There was a heavy knocking on the door and the door opened to reveal Michael, who was holding a tea tray. “Here you go, Mrs Bracken,” Michael said, his eyes flickering to Mr Bracken, who threw him a dirty look for having woken him up. “A good night to you both,” Michael continued, seemingly unbothered. With a nod and a smile at Isobel, he left.

Isobel poured out the tea and handed a cup to her husband. They drank in silence, before Isobel dropped a kiss to Noah’s cheek and went to bed herself. Noah dropped off to sleep almost immediately, but Isobel stared at the ceiling for a good long while.

Alex opened his eyes, wondering how close to the truth this scenario was. Was this when Noah Bracken had been sedated? Had Isobel put the Barbital in his tea? Or had Michael done that? He looked around the cabin again, trying to reset the scenario. He settled his back against the door and tried to get comfortable for a few rundowns of possible scenarios.

He was going to be here a while.

#malex #malex ff #rnm ff #malex fanfic #roswell new mexico #Alex Manes #Michael Guerin #a disaster bi and a chaotic gay #what could go wrong #otp:I Don't Look Away #my fanfics #my rnm ff #my malex ff #motoe au

[dragonhrte]

Destiny? Chapter Five: Out There

Author's Note:

Thank you so much for giving this work a read! Quick disclaimer, for all intents and purposes MHA/BNHA are not mine they do not belong to me. The manga and anime have inspired me to write this fiction and dialogue as well as events are given credit to the beautiful people who have blessed us with this series. Aside from standard story line events this work is mine. Here's a long one for you guys, sorry about the long wait. I've been busy with finals and such.

Please note that

*abc* is a sound effect

'abc' is internal thoughts of whomever

"abc" is dialogue

(abc) is a side note from yours truly ;)

~Love, DragonHearte

After walking home for the day I go to my room and immediately sit down at my desk. I type "Sludge Villain Incident" into the search engine, I get thousands of hits. After clicking on a few articles and videos, I find an amateur video taken from what seems to be a handheld device. The video quality isn't that good and it's also really shaky but it's the only video that taped the beginning of the sighting. The sludge monster appears to have a hostage, the camera zooms in to get a grainy image of 'Bakugo?' I would be able to recognize the utter hatred practically oozing off of him in waves. 

None of the heroes are helping him, I am not able to make out exactly what's being said. I squint at the video on my laptop, closely examining the events that are transpiring, and then widen my eyes, 'The sludge from the villain is covering his nose and filling his mouth! He's probably not even breathing!' Then, for a split second, the camera steadies and focuses on Bakugo's face. A pleading look, devoid of the ever-present scowl on his face. I quickly pause the video before I lose the image. I sit there cross-legged on my desk chair staring at the frozen image before me. 'How is Bakugo of all people even able to make that face? He truly looks like he's asking for help, not that he was helpless. But in a way acknowledging the fact he couldn't get out of that situation on his own. How can you make such a face?' I think this to myself as I stare at the image. The emotion in his eyes striking a chord deep within me. I open a new tab and search for articles on the incident, and I find the aftermath of the situation. At this point, I'm not really looking for anything specific, but I come across the date of the incident. 'This happened this past summer?' I think to myself.

 I can't help but admire the fact that Bakugo is not only strong physically shown by the group exercise, but he is also mentally strong. After enduring such a traumatic experience, he's been able to remain mentally sound. I shake the torrent of my own experiences from my mind, and turn back to the computer. I start to do my homework before I get distracted by my past.

Max is at work late, so I heat up the leftovers from dinner the night before. I set the table for one and carry my reheated meal to my spot. I eat in comfortable silence, not thinking about anything in particular, my mind wanders to the reports that I read earlier that afternoon. 'Bakugo was stuck like that for a while.' My mind flashes the image of his pleading eyes back at me. 'He was devoid of oxygen until Midoriya tried to help him. It was clearly Midoriya because the camera was able to capture a somewhat clear picture of him as he ran to Bakugo's side. Why does Bakugo hate Midoriya if he saved his life?' I dismissed the thought for the moment and put it aside to address another day.

I've gotten settled into bed and finished my homework. I turn off the lamp on my bedside table and allow myself to fall into the dark abyss of sleep.

*Beep*

*Beep*

I wake up to the sound of my alarm clock informing me that it is time to go to school. I reach over, face still stuffed in my pillow to turn it off. I miss the first two times, but I finally hit the right button on my third attempt. I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes, and simply sit there for a few moments letting myself wake up. I look over at the time sleepily, and see 7:50 am. My eyes snap open, 'Oh no, I hit snooze too many times! I'm gonna be late!' After flinging away my covers and jumping out of bed I rush over to uniform, I have set out and hurriedly start putting it on. I hop over to the bathroom to brush my teeth while getting my second sock on. I grab a slice of toast on the way out the door, then I immediately turn back around to grab my phone and backpack.

I am sprinting through the halls to get to class with the least amount of annoyance on Mr. Aizawa's face when I get there. I skid to a halt right before I enter the room and try to catch my breath. I speed walk my way through the door and make brief eye contact with Mr. Aizawa before falling into a deep bow as I make my way to my seat. I walk in front of the class, then round the corner of the front row of desks. As I approach my seat, I hear a faint tutting noise. I swing my head towards Bakugo and catch him rolling his eyes and looking away from me. I bump into my desk and a short brief screech emits from it, my cheeks slightly heat up from the attention being drawn to myself.

"Schaffer, if you're going to show up to class late, be quiet while doing so," A violent blush spreads across my face as I sit down, "I guess tardiness is a trend today because All Might is late, but he will be meeting with us later on during class. Today we will be doing a rescue training. It's going to teach you how to deal with disaster relief from fires to floods. You can choose to wear your gym uniforms or not, just know that some of your costumes are not well equipped for this training exercise. We're also going to be transported to a separate training location via bus. Anyways, that's it so get changed and let's go."

When the class gets outside, we all are instructed by Ida on the proper way to board the bus. ‘Does he think we’ve never ridden on a bus before?’ I think to myself as I board the bus, I end up in the back and sit next to Yaoyorozu, it's a bit cramped in the back row, but not too bad. I keep to myself, but a conversation between Tsuyu Asui and Midoriya peaks my interest.

"Your quirk is similar to All Might's in many ways, Midoriya." Tsuyu states.

A look of complete panic comes over Midoriya, a bit more than his usual worried or panicked look, a quick thought passes through my head, 'I wonder what that's all about?' Stammering, Midoriya responds, "R-r-really? I n-never notic-ed!"

I quirk my eyebrow in confusion, and then Kirishima pipes up, "That doesn't make any sense, his quirk is different in a big way. He gets hurt whenever he uses his quirk, and All Might doesn't. His quirk is pretty cool, way cooler than my hardening quirk. It's pretty boring, I will admit though that it's handy in a fight."

I frown slightly at his comment about having a boring quirk and then turn my head when I hear Midoriya say, "It's not boring, I think it's really cool and extremely useful."

"Don't forget that in order to go pro, you also need popular appeal." Kirishima adds

"My navel laser is the perfect well-rounded quirk because it's cool and also strong." says the flashy, self-centered blonde, Aoyama.

Ashido cuts in and says, "Your quirk is great and all up until you overuse it and give yourself a stomach ache."

Aoyama's face turns bright red after this comment. Tsuyu says, "Todoroki and Bakugo have really strong quirks, but Bakugo is a giant asshole. He'll probably never be popular enough to be the number one hero."

I try in vain to stifle a laugh, thinking to myself, 'This is what the class thinks of him? That explains why I was the only one who voted for him.'

Bakugo then yells, "Who the fuck do you think you're talking about Frog-face?!"

He then jerks his head in my direction and shouts, "What're you laughing at?!"

I start to turn my head with the intent of responding, but then decide against it and resume looking at the scenery we pass by. I think to myself, 'I’m pleased to know I’m not the only one who thinks that you have a flaming turd for a personality.'

We get to our destination and file out of the bus. The class walks into the large building and there are so many different things to look at. A person in what appears to be a spacesuit approaches the class and says, "There's a zone for any and every disaster and accident possible. There's a flood zone, landslide zone, and conflagration zone to name a few. I built this facility and I call it the, Unforeseen Simulation Joint!"

'Who is this?' I ask myself, and overhear Midoriya say, "It's the space hero, Thirteen! He's a gentleman hero who does his best work in rescue scenarios!"

Thirteen and Mr. Aizawa speak briefly and then Thirteen resumes talking,

"Many of you know I have a quirk called, Black Hole, it can suck and tear apart literally anything. This is a cool but dangerous ability that has a high potential of killing someone. I'm sure many of you have an ability that fits this description. In our society, quirks are kept under control for safety. The system we have in place right now may seem sound, but we shouldn't forget that if we're not careful we can accidentally kill someone with these amazing abilities. Through the battle training you were able to experience that your quirks have the potential to hurt others. Your powers are not meant just to inflict harm, today you will learn how to use those same destructive powers to save people. I want you all to leave here today with the understanding that you are here to become a hero to help others."

When Thirteen is done with his opening statement, he takes a deep bow. The lights flicker and the fountain in the center of the building sputters for a second. I walk over to my group of friends. I poke Kirishima in the shoulder and ask, "What do you think is going on?"

"I don't know, I hope everything's okay though." he says as he casually places his arm on my shoulder.

All of a sudden Mr. Aizawa shouts out, "Huddle up and don't move," I look around at everyone in their costumes, there is collective confusion apparent on their faces. "Thirteen! Protect the students!"

Kirishima puts his other arm that's not resting on my shoulder up to his face to look out at the figures appearing in the center of the building and says, "What the heck is that? More battle robots like the ones we saw during the entrance exam?"

I go on my tiptoes and try and lift myself up to see the figures he's talking about when Mr. Aizawa says, "Don't move those are Villains!" 

"What villains would be stupid enough to come to a school full of soon-to-be heroes?" says Kirishima.

Yoayorozu asks Thirteen, "There are intruder sensors right?"

"Yes, of course!"

I think for a moment about the whole situation and then say, "Well, are they just here or are they at the main building too? Maybe the sensors aren't working because they have someone with a quirk that renders them useless... We're pretty far away from the school's main campus. There's not a lot of people here, but it feels like they picked this time specifically. So, maybe they're not as dumb as they look. Also they probably have an objective. This seems like a well thought out sneak attack."

Mr. Aizawa moves to the edge of the platform we're all on and says, "Thirteen take the kids back to the main campus, evacuate the building. Call the school. Like Schaffer said, there's a high likelihood that one of the villains is jamming the sensors with their quirk. Kaminari can you use your quirk to signal for help?"

"I can try!" Kaminari responds.

"There's too many! Sensei, you can't fight them all alone! Your quirk won't be able to nullify all of theirs. You work best as a subdue and capture hero. Your strength isn't head-on battle." says Midoriya.

Mr. Aizawa pulls his goggles up and over his eyes, then says, "A true pro hero, is well-rounded. Thirteen take care of my students."

He jumps off the ledge and plummets to the horde of villains below. My eyes widen in shock and awe as he's taking them down one after the other. Thirteen and the rest of the class start walking towards the doors to leave the building, but we're stopped by a dark smoky mass.

The smokey mass speaks and says, "I won't allow this. We are the League of Villains, we've come here with one goal in mind. To kill All Might, the symbol of peace. The schedule we intercepted promised he would be here. Perhaps he had a change of plans, it doesn't matter if they have. I still won't let you leave."

I quickly survey my classmates and see the fear in their eyes. I squint through the darkness and catch a glimpse of shiny reflective metal from the center of the mass. "There's something there in the most concentrated part of the entity." I say more to myself than anyone else. Then suddenly Kirishima is gone from my side and so is Bakugo from our group. I see them both dart forward.

*Boom* 

"You'll have to get through us first!" yells Bakugo

Kirishima shouts, "Ha! I bet you didn't think of that when you were planning this!"

"You're right I didn't. We forgot that you're not just students, but you are also going to be the world's best someday,"

"Boys, get back!" Thirteen exclaims.

The talking mass, starts expanding rapidly, blocking out the light. My feet move instinctually, sprinting towards them into the fray, with nothing going through my mind other than, 'Save them.'

An ominous message rings out, "Begone. Writhe in torment until you breathe you last breath." 

It's the last thing I hear before the darkness consumes me, and everything goes dark.

Chapter Six: Elsewhere

#mha #mha x reader #my hero fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha fanfic #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #soulmate #soulmateau #katsuki bakugo x oc #katsuki bakugou x oc #x oc fanfic #x oc fanfiction

[emybain]

can you do some with nova and adrian in the house with hugh & simon like in archenemies

soo...I tried. im terrible at writing adults for whatever reason. also, im sorry bc I used this as self indulgence and basically continued a previous tiny group of fics that I plan to keep adding on to

anyway, this is nodrian house hunting, basically. that's it. 

Nova’s hands curled tighter around her mug as thunder and lightning disrupted the steady downfall of rain. She shifted closer to Adrian underneath the blanket they were sharing to get a better look at the new image he pulled up on his tablet.

    “Two bedroom, one bathroom,” he read off, scrolling down to look at the description of the apartment. “Sun filled updated condo in a great location...completely renovated kitchen...front porch and fenced in back patio…” He nodded, lips pursed.

    Nova sipped her tea, enjoying its warmth. “Square footage?”

    “Just over one thousand.” Adrian scrolled back up to the pictures included with the condo. Nova nearly choked on her drink.

    “Great skies, Adrian. You said you were looking for an apartment, not a house.”

    Adrian began swiping through the photos. “This is a condo, Nova. It’s just the first floor, not both.”

    “Well, they’re charging quite a bit for just the first floor.” Nova leaned in front of her to set the mug down on the coffee table.

They were sitting in the living area of Adrian’s home, looking for a place for Adrian to call his own due to the many circumstances including privacy. When Adrian had first mentioned house hunting after he returned from his Africa trip, they had planned on meeting at Nova’s place to keep away from the prying eyes of Simon and Hugh, Adrian’s nosy dads. However, they hadn’t planned on the heating system to stop working throughout the entire apartment complex during a week of storms, so they agreed to just meet at Adrian’s house and keep it low key. Lucky for them, Simon and Hugh had been gone for the better part of the day, running errands and working with other Renegades to rebuild the system. Neither of them held the knowledge that their former worst enemy and current girlfriend of their son was cuddled up next to him on their couch in the middle of their living room, doing the most domestic thing on the planet. Max, who was just in the early stages of his teen years, was locked away in his room with his video games. He had been in the living area when Nova came over, but immediately fled to the safety of his bedroom to ‘avoid gross couple-y things’.

“I don’t mind going a little over budget.” Adrian shrugged nonchalantly. “The kitchen is actually really nice for a condo. Lots of light. New appliances. I think this is in one of those old neighborhoods that they’re trying to bring back to life.”

Nova raised an eyebrow. “A little over budget is a few thousand. Your price ranger is under one-fifty. This is almost three hundred, Adrian.”

“I’m well aware.” Adrian shot her a look, eyes glinting in amusement. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “The yard’s too small anyway.” He exited out of the condo and went back to the main list.

“Now you want a yard?” Nova shifted to face him better. The blanket twisted with her. “What are you going to do? Adopt a dog?”

“I might.” Adrian glanced at her again, this time quicker than the last.

After a few minutes of scrolling, he opened up another listing. Nova resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This one was a house. Or, as the description read, single family home. “What are you going to do with a two story house, Adrian Everhart? With three bedrooms?” Upon closer examination of the description, she blinked in confusion. “Buddy. This isn’t even in Gatlon.”

“Would you like to do the searching for me?” Adrian offered her the tablet jokingly, although she could tell he was a little miffed from the tight set of his shoulders. Nova wanted to shrink back into the blanket, but she refused to.

“I just want to know why you’re looking at places bigger and more expensive than you mentioned before. Not to mention that they don’t really look like a first home for a twenty year old planning to live by himself.”

Adrian set the tablet back down in his lap. “Maybe I don’t plan to live by myself.”

Nova gave him a long look, which he returned. “And who’s going to be living with you? Oscar and Ruby are getting married, so that rules out him. One of your old friends?”

“Well, maybe I plan to live by myself at first,” Adrian paused, “but it never hurts to be prepared for the future.” He went quiet after that and tore his eyes from Nova’s. As he returned to the main list, it struck Nova, turning her cheeks a dark color.

“Adrian-”

“Look, here’s an apartment. Two bedroom, one bathroom, in the price range and in Gatlon.”

She rested her hand on his neck, forcing him to turn his head back to face her.

“What?” He feigned being oblivious, but Nova saw through it.

“Adrian,” she started again, biting her lip. “We don’t know what’s in the future. We haven’t even been together for six months yet.”

“I don’t need six months to know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Nova.”

It was Nova’s turn to fall silent. Her eyes fell to the tablet, with the apartment Adrian had pulled up. It was hideous, judging from the first photo. Definitely not Adrian’s style.

Nova couldn’t deny that she had thought of what life would be like if she and Adrian stayed together long enough to make a huge decision like moving in together. But every time that her mind brought it up, it terrified her. Almost her whole life had been spent alone, even when she lived in the subway tunnels with the Anarchists. Even now, when she had been spending the past two years surrounded by people and building relationships that had previously been made up of lies. She lived alone, she made all her own decisions, she worked independently among a group of people. The last time she hadn’t truly been alone was before her family was killed.

Sure, since she had started dating Adrian, for real, some of those things were altered. She began to be more open and friendly (because Adrian told her that she gave off a ‘I’m-better-than-everyone-else’ bitch vibe whenever she kept to herself), and she was more open to collaborating. But none of those were as big as changing her whole living situation by moving in with Adrian. Moving in with Adrian would mean exposing herself and trusting him in the rawest ways possible. Not that she didn’t already trust him. She trusted him with her life. But this was a different kind of trust, and she didn’t know if she was ready for it. For now, at least. So she told him.

“But things could change later,” Nova said quickly, upon seeing Adrian’s face fall. “And...I guess you’re right. It doesn’t hurt to prepare for the future.” To reassure him, she tilted her head up and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

Adrian reached for her hand, entwining their fingers together. “So, what you’re saying is that you’re not against moving in together one day?”

“I’m not saying no,” Nova corrected, although the corner of her mouth began to twitch at the change in mood.

A grin painted itself on Adrian’s face, and he leaned forward, cupping Nova’s face and pressing his lips to hers, not quite as gentle as before.

“I love you,” he murmured, tracing his thumb just underneath her ear.

“I love you, too.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again. As Adrian slowly moved his hands to her waist to pull her into his lap, the tablet slid to the ground with a thud that neither of them heard.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, wrapped up in each other’s embrace, kissing slowly and savoring the moment, when a click came from the front of the house, followed by the sound of a door opening.

Upon hearing the voices of Adrian’s dads, calling to Adrian and Max that they were home, Nova’s eyes flung open, meeting Adrian’s panicked ones. She all but leaped from his lap, nearly falling to the ground in her struggle to unwrap her legs from where they were previously situated around his waist. Adrian reached for the fallen tablet and straightened his collar, which was slightly disturbed. Nova pushed herself to the other end of the couch, and reached up to make sure her hair wasn’t tussled.

Adrian loved playing with her hair, she had come to learn since starting their relationship. Whether it was when they were just spending time together or an hour long of kissing and cuddling, he liked to have his hands in her hair. Because of that, her hair tended to be messy after their dates. And not just unbrushed messy; it made it clearly obvious that Nova had been doing questionable things with someone. That someone being Adrian.

His dads entered the room, Hugh leading, and paused when they saw Nova sitting next to their son on the couch, both trying to keep their breathing steady. Simon was the first to break the silence with a smile.

“We didn’t know Adrian was having you over, Nova. It’s nice to see you.”

Nova managed to smile back, eyes flickering between him and Hugh. “Uh...yeah. It’s good to see you, too.”

Hugh, who remained quiet, had been wary of Nova ever since her identity had been revealed years ago. While they were on friendlier terms, he still exercised caution around her, and he still held a bit of a grudge against her for everything she did to his family. Which he was allowed to hold. Just as she was allowed to hold a grudge against him for all the times he had wronged her. Despite the fact that both parties had apologized for wrongdoings against the other. Perhaps one day, they would find a compromise that would put the past behind them. Today was not that day, for obvious reasons.

Simon cleared his throat, glancing at their set up, made of blankets, pillows, and hot drinks. It was practically screaming evidence that he and Hugh were interrupting a date. “So...what are you two up to?”

Nova exchanged a quick glance with Adrian. “Apartment hunting,” he stated plainly, holding up the tablet to show them. “I, uh, asked Nova the other day to help me out. She actually has a knack for real estate.”

Nova nodded, maybe a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah! Who knew, right?”

“Any luck?” Hugh finally spoke, strolling over to the couch to peer over Adrian’s shoulder. Nova tensed.

“Not really.” Adrian laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck and readjusting his glasses. “At least, not in the city.”

“What about the suburbs?”

“Nova doesn’t think it’s wise to buy a house at my age.” Adrian’s tone was light, meant to come across as joking, but Nova still felt a wave of guilt roll through her when Hugh’s eyes laid on her again.

“Well, it’s not like you have to listen to me,” Nova retorted, looking down. “I’m just here for suggestions.”

She nearly jumped when the couch shifted with the weight of Captain Chromium settling into it, creating a barrier between her and Adrian. Simon caught her eye as he sat down as well, although in the armchair beside the couch; his look was sympathetic. Nova tried to hide her blush.

“You see, the key to narrowing it down…” Hugh went off onto a lecture on house hunting, going full out and using his hands for emphasis. Nova watched as Adrian nodded along, clearly uncomfortable, compared to not twenty minutes before when they were snuggled up together.

“Well, I guess I should be going.” Nova stood to leave, only for Hugh to push her back down. She had to restrain from glaring at him. She was already on thin ice with this man.

“This is important for you to hear as well, Nova. You may learn a thing or two.”

The smug look Adrian gave her almost made her throw a pillow at his face, just to wipe away the smile.

#renegades #archenemies #archenemies spoilers #nova artino #adrian everhart #nodrian #my writing

[jazztripp]

Belated Birthday Gift!

For the stinkiest peach ever @momosweetpeach, this was supposed to be a birthday present but time had gotten away from me! But I hope you like it anyways!

Rated: T (sorry no smutt this time around. Just took rotting fluff) Harpy!Max AU Their relationship is already established in this one. Also not beta’d so sorry for errors.

Spring was probably Wilsons favorite season. Sure it was a bit wet, but there was something wonderful about being able to stroll around and not have to worry about food or dying from the harsh elements of the other seasons.

Not that spring didn’t come without it’s own challenges, but they were minute compared to the blistering heat of summer and the terrible cold of winter.

Although Wilson was probably alone in this feeling.

Maxwell hated spring. His perpetual scowl was even more severe come the wet and rainy season, and while Wilson understood his plight, he also found it really funny.

Because it wasn’t exactly the season that Maxwell hated; it was all of the rain. The poor bird-man didn’t do well when he was wet. His feathers came with a certain degree of waterproofing, but he was no duck. Water collected in his soft downish feathers eventually and clung to his too-thin body, making him cold and weighing him down enough to where flying was difficult.

Today, thankfully, was one of the rare dry days of spring and both men were taking full advantage. Wilson busied himself with harvesting the bountiful resources that littered the constant while Maxwell replenished their food stores with the small animals he managed to catch.

Wilsons pack was only half full despite the day coming to its end, and that was okay. They had plenty of resources at the moment to sustain them, so it was no emergency rush to gather, so Wilson was taking his time. The soft cool breezes tickled his hair and lifted his spirits, and he simply couldn’t pass up a little time to relax.

All around him he could hear Maxwell terrorizing the local fauna and it made Wilson smile. Maxwell rarely had fun, but it seemed like he was enjoying himself.

Wilson called to him, knowing full well that the bird-man would be able to hear him.

“Hey Maxy! Find anything good?”

A harsh fluttering came to him ears a few moments later as Maxwell took a perch on a nearby boulder. Weirdo loved being up higher than Wilson even if it was only by a few feet.

“Hmm a few things. Frogs mostly,” despite his obvious good mood, Maxwell still spoke as if everything was making his life unnecessarily difficult. Everything was either a sigh or a grumble.

“Well it’s better than living off of old corn,” Wilson supplied. Last winter they had a metric fuckton of the stuff and Wilson was ready to never look at corn ever again.

“You can say that again,” Maxwell said with a sneer. “Next winter we are stocking up on more preservable things, yes?”

The lanky man hopped down from his perch and folded in his wings as he took in stride along Wilson. Surprised, but genuinely happy, Wilson took up step right beside him and case him a warm smile.

“Definitely. I think I’ve figured out how to pickle things properly. By the end of spring I think I’ll finally be able to get us some pickled eggplant. How does that sound?”

Maxwell humphed, but his back feathers puffed up in anticipation.

“Anything is better than corn.”

At that Wilson laughed. He had no idea why Maxwell could never voice his opinions in a positive manner. It was an odd tick that used to bother Wilson, but now he found it endearing how obnoxiously stubborn the other man was. It wasn’t that hard to just say, ‘Yeah I like that idea’ and move on with the conversation. Everything had to be a negative or a play on words. You had to look into everything the man said. It should have been taxing, but it really wasn’t.

Maxwell was easier to read than most people realized.

On impulse, Wilson ran his fingers over the soft feathers on Maxwells upper arms. Back in the day this would have earned him a wingslap to the face, but now Maxwell didn’t seem to mind. His fingers came away with a couple feathers, and he held them close to his face to examine them.

“You’re moulting again?” Wilson asked as he ran his fingertip over the soft edges.

“Moulting still,” Maxwell corrected. “It comes and goes until it���s all gone come summer. It doesn’t all just fall off in one fell swoop, you know.”

It was a funny image to picture. Just sudden poof, naked Maxwell. Bald and furious.

“What’s so funny, Higgsbury?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he assured through a few chuckles. Maxwell didn’t seem convinced, but he let it drop.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the company. They basically lived together but it was actually very rare to spend this much time together like this. Wilson had his farms and his science projects to attend to, and Maxwell was a very lonesome fellow and often preferred to keep to himself.

Maxwell would go out and hunt for food or perch up high to keep an eye on Wilson while he worked their modest crop field.

They were usually within earshot of each other, but always doing their own thing, so this was nice.

“You need to shave,” Maxwell said rudely ruining the silence.

Wilson snorted and took Maxwells impressive clawed hand into his and played with the talons.

“It still gets cold at night Maxwell. Unlike you I don’t come with a layer of insulation, and since you refuse to sleep with me I have to make due.”

Maxwell eyed him with barely masked irritation.

“You know I hate the tent, Higgsbury. Damn thing is worse than a cage.”

“Thats a vast overreaction, and you know it. Besides you know if I sleep outside I’ll probably die of exposure so it seems we are at an impasse.”

It was an old argument, so Wilson just gave his automatic response. He was more interested in Maxwells impressive claws. He always wondered what exactly they were made of. Probability pointed to them being made of keratin just like all other forms of claws and nails, but Maxwells were just so thick it was easy to speculate if they were made of something else. Perfectly curved and black as charcoal, they were nearly as impressive as the ones of Maxwells feet.

Now those were a sight. Using his weight and impact to crush small prey, Wilson has watched Maxwell crush and shred through small animals like they were nothing on more than one occasion.

Once, during a particularly desperate time right after a harsh winter, Wilson helped Maxwell take down a Beefalo. They had been starving. The cold kept rabbits and other foodstuffs at bay for far too long into fall, and once Wilsons ribs started to show Maxwell had had enough. It had been his idea, and while Wilson was adverted to putting his lover in danger he went along with it because he was literally starving.

He’d never seen Maxwell act so vicious. Shrieking and clawing at the beast back while Wilson tried his best to spear something vital, it was a hard fought victory.

As they ate Wilson admitted that the display of violence was probably the most attractive thing he had ever witnessed.

Maxwell had blushed and gave a rare smile full of pride.

“Where did you go, Higgsbury?”

Maxwells voice snapped him out of the fond memory and the steamy night that had followed.

“Huh?” he looked up, finding a soft look in Maxwells eyes.

“Are my claws that interesting?” He teased, taking his hand back and hooking said claws in Wilsons messy hair. He gave an attempt to comb it, careful to not let the sharp tips prick him.

“Heh, all of you is interesting, Maxwell. You know I enjoy studying you.”

Maxwell hummed, gently picking a leaf out of Wilsons sideburn.

“Yes I’m very well aware. You’ve been poking and prodding me since we started spending more time together. I still don’t understand your fascination.”

Wilson laughed, the soft picking becoming ticklish and he pushed away those tactile claws.

“Have you considered the possibility that you, Maxwell, are in fact very interesting?” Wilson teased and pushed their shoulders in close so that he could feel the warmth of the other man through his feathers. They had stopped walking at some point.

Maxwell scoffed but this close he couldn’t hide the soft color that came to his cheeks.

“You only find me interesting because there is nothing better around. Remember that albino beefalo? I didn’t see you for months.”

Wilsons eyes misted.

“It…was so cute Maxwell. Could you blame me?….Poor Snowball…”

Maxwell scoffed again, oblivious to the other mans distress and started walking again toward the treeline back toward camp.

“It was a sticking beast. Get a hold of yourself Higgsbury,” Maxwell called back, stretching his wings up and back in an attempt to look bigger.

Maxwell always insisted that the gesture was simply to stretch but Wilson knew better. Maxwell always took every opportunity to show off in Wilson presence, and Wilson always took full advantage.

It was always so nice to see the powerful flight muscles that rippled just below the feathers of Maxwells back.

As they came back into their camp, Wilson was still distraught over the murder of his poor beloved beefalo. Damn hounds got to it. White was a very stand out color.

Go figure.

But he snapped out of it when he head an indignant squawk from up ahead.

“You little bastards!”

“Maxwell?” he called, concerned and broke out into a jog.

As he broke the treeline he gasped at the state of the place. Littered about the camp was the remains of his tent, the science machine lay broken into dozens of pieces, and a few of the chests had been ripped open and their contents scattered about.

Gripping his hair with both hands, Wilson willed himself not to cry as his poor creations lay broken and useless.

Pigmen normally weren’t a problem to he and Maxwell in the slightest, but a wandering few had decided that their camp was a good raiding ground. By the sounds of the terribly squealing in the woods ahead, they were already regretting it.

The urge to help was high, Maxwell wasn’t invincible after all, but the devastation of seeing all of this seasons hard work destroyed was affecting Wilson more than usual.

Even as Maxwell came out of the woods, flushed and furious, Wilson was still staring at the carnage. Ugh this would take all season to fix! And they were finally doing so well too!

“I slaughtered two, but the third got away. Hopefully he’ll tell his friends,” Maxwell said proudly, still baring his sharp teeth in his irritation.

It ebbed a bit, though, when Wilson didn’t answer.

“Higgsbury?” Maxwell approached, eyeing his lover as if he were weary of an outburst. Ridiculous seeing as Wilson would never take his aggression or feelings out on his lover.

“They…God they broke everything! Those…those…bumbling assholes!” Wilson growled and kicked a shattered piece of wood. It went satisfyingly far.

“And it’s almost night! Ugh where am I gonna sleep! I’m sure the furs are all filthy from their feet too,” Wilson all but whined as he gestured to the skeletal remains of his poor tent, and to the rumpled furs that once lined the inside.

Maxwell hummed, his ire dying down completely in the presence of his mates distress.

“We’ll fix the tent tomorrow,” he started as he approached the tattered tent and retrieved the blankets and furs. “These are relatively undamaged,” he called to Wilson, and he sighed in relief at that.

“Well…guess I’m outside with you tonight huh? I’ll….start cleaning up I guess.”

Wilson was mad, oh so mad! But there was nothing to be done now. Maybe they needed to invest in some walls in the future. He knew that Maxwell would love having high walls to sit on, and maybe a complicated gate would deter pigs until the stupid animals got the hint that the camp with the temperamental harpy was not to be messed with.

Regardless it took the rest of the evening to even get the camp somewhat back into shape and take stock of everything that needed to be replaced. It wasn’t as much as he initially realized, but it was still enough to set them back a few weeks. Thankfully the lock that Wilson had made to go around their fridge was too complicated for the pigmen. Their food was thankfully still intact. (And replenished even further by the poor pigs that Maxwell had ripped to pieces for their blunder.)

As the sun began to set, Wilson got to work making a good fire in case the night became chilly. Judging by the temperature now, it was safe to say that it was going to get quite cold. Wilson contemplated getting out some of his winter gear for the night but Maxwell assured him that there would be no need.

“Here. It’s not your precious tent but it will do for the night, yes?” Maxwell said as he gestured to what had been keeping him busy while Wilson tidied up.

Wilson hadn't actually noticed what the bird-man had been up to, but as he looked up it became immediately obvious what he was looking at.

He let out a little breathless laugh, oddly touched as he approached the obvious nest-shaped blankets stacked all cozy under a tree. Close enough to the fire for warmth, but also sheltered in case it started to rain in the night.

“For me?” Wilson asked and Maxwell nodded. Of course it was for him, but he still loved the confirmation regardless.

“No need to look so elated…its just a nest…” Maxwell mumbled, obviously not sure how to take Wilsons delight.

Wilson didn’t care, though, and took the gesture for what it was. Maxwell was taking care of him in the best way he knew how, and that was all that mattered. He took off his boots and took a seat in the surprisingly spacious nest and beamed up at the bird-man.

“Thank you. I love it,” he exclaimed and watched as the feathers on Maxwells shoulders gently fluffed.

“I’m….glad,” Maxwell cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot.

“Are you gonna join me?” Wilson asked after a moment. “You made this plenty big for two.”

It must have been something that the older man was waiting for because he wasted no time hopping into the nest right alongside Wilson. His enthusiasm made Wilson laugh, and after a moment or two of shuffling Wilson was comfortably laying down with his head resting lightly on Maxwells thigh. In that moment the bony man was suddenly the best pillow in the constant.

“If I hadnt known better….I’d think that you planned this,” Wilson teased, his earlier bad mood completely gone as their warmth mingled together.

Beside him Maxwell snorted.

“Of course not…though I cannot deny the appeal of you occupying a nest of my own creation. Deeply satisfying.”

Curious, Wilson turned his head to look at Maxwell. The other man was looking at him with an expression that did indeed look satisfied. It made Wilson smile.

“Well I’m happy you made it for me…You do alot for me and I don’t know if I even express how truly thankful it makes me.”

Maxwell shifted to free his hand so that he could go back to picking at Wilsons hair as he spoke.

“You say it plenty…I’d do it even if you weren’t thankful, Higgsbury.”

Wilson laughed, leaning into the touch.

“I bet you would complain a hell of alot more, though.”

Maxwell smirked, the nighttime reflection of his eyes catching the firelight and making them glint.

“Yes. Yes I would. Now go to sleep. We’ll set about fixing everything in the morning when it’s cool enough to work. I’ll even help you,” Maxwell added as if it were an afterthought, making Wilson snort.

“Ah the Great and Powerful Maxwell has offered my help. I’m forever in your thanks.”

Whether he had actually caught onto the sarcasm or not was a mystery because Maxwell neither looked affronted or amused.

Instead he replied with a calm, “You’re welcome,” and got comfortable as he continued to muss the scientists hair. It was easy to fall asleep like that, and for once he didn’t mind sleeping out under the stars. Maybe he should invest in some kind of…open air tent? Something like that. He could really get used to sharing a nest with Maxwell every night, and he was pretty sure that Maxwell would feel the same if he could nail the design.

He already had a few ideas in his head as the gently petting put him straight to sleep.

#maxwil #harpy maxwell #dont starve #dont starve together #dst #maxwell #wilson

[aliencowboyqueen]

FIC: The Rules to Accidental Dating (9)

Pairing: Alex/Kyle

Summary: In which Kyle and Alex accidentally pretend-date their way to love.

Rating: Teen+

Find Chapter 1 here. | Find previous chapter here. | Fic Masterlist.

Chapter 9

On the morning the day Liz plans to wake up Max, Rosa comes in for her regular check up.

"Do we really have to do this every month?" she asks while Kyle gets ready to take her blood sample. He isn't sure Rosa trusts him, but neither of them trusts anyone else in the medical field with Rosa's secret.

"You were dead for ten years," he says. "Excuse me for wanting to be sure you are alright." So far, he discovered no signs of deterioration. In fact, she was probably healthier than before her death.

"And it's a good way to make sure I'm staying clean, isn't it?"

Kyle looks into her unfriendly face. "I wasn't even thinking about that," he says. "But now that you mention it…" He wonders sometimes if life would have been different if he'd known she was his sister growing up. "You really don't like me, do you?"

Rosa shrugs. Kyle takes her blood and grabs his stethoscope, not expecting her to say anything. He lets the silence stretch between them.

But then she starts talking.

"It's been ten years for you. But me, it's been months. Every shitty thing you did or said… All of that is more real to me than…" She gestures to all of him. "This Mr. Congeniality, everyone's favorite Doctor."

And she doesn't stop there. "It's like… I got really high and woke up in a bizarro world. Where my best friend is all grown up and my little sister is an adult and Alex Manes is a war veteran action hero and you are gay…"

"Bisexual…" Kyle corrects, but Rosa is not listening. He thinks maybe she's not so much pouring her heart out to him as simply getting all these feelings off her chest. 

"And I missed the entirety of Obama's presidency and woke up into a dystopia and none of it makes sense and none of it feels right and I keep thinking it's only temporary. I'll wake up and…" Her voice is breaking and tears roll down her cheeks.

Kyle is half-persuaded she'll punch him if he tries to give her a hug but he reaches out for her anyway. She rests her head against his shoulder.

"Have you been talking to people?" he asks softly. "I know we've all been wrapped up in our own drama but…"

"To Maria a little," Rosa says. She pulls away from him and wipes her eyes with the heels of her hands. "But it's… Everything is weird for her, too."

"What about Isobel?" Kyle suggests, offering Rosa tissues. He sees her shoulders tense.  "I know it's… I can't imagine what seeing her must be like. And I'm not saying you should be friends or whatever, or that you should hang out with her at all. But maybe talking about what actually happened…" He doesn't know how triggering the sight of Isobel could be to Rosa, but he thinks his suggestion is not unreasonable. It broke him to watch Jesse Manes murder his father, but it helped him to know the truth. "Some clarity might help."

Rosa huffs. "You're starting to sound like Liz," she says. She wipes her face again.

"I'll take that as a compliment. If you don't want to talk to her alone, I can go with you," Kyle offers. He wants to mention the serum, too, but that might be a little too much. Isobel is not the enemy. He is not sure he likes her much, but she is on the same side of all these battles.

Rosa's jaw tightens. "I'll take Liz," she says.

With his sister falling into silence, Kyle grabs his stethoscope again. But then Rosa says: "I still can't believe you and Alex are dating."

You might be the only one in town, Kyle thinks. But he says: "You keep saying that. But we've always been a good team."

He waits for Rosa to argue about high school. Instead, she says: "You light up around him. Suddenly you're not so broody."

"I'm never broody!"

"Oh, you are. Don't get me wrong, from what I've heard, you've got plenty to be broody about. But then Alex is in the room and you go…" She makes a gesture with both her hands that Kyle thinks might be fireworks going off.

ooo ooo ooo

Max is in a rather good shape, all things considered, when Kyle examines him at Max's place some hours later. "At least based on my knowledge of alien physiology. Which is limited." Kyle is starting to wonder whether he should change his job description to that of a general practitioner for the extraterrestrials and the undead. This all might cost him his license one day, he thinks while he packs away his instruments.

Michael Guerin is sitting outside Max's place, the black cowboy hat low in his face and a beer bottle held loosely between his fingers.

Kyle tries to sneak by unnoticed but Guerin's voice stops him.

"What's the prognosis, Doc?"

Kyle looks at the alien cowboy, but Guerin is staring straight ahead of himself.

"The drinking will kill you by the time you're forty," Kyle says. "As for Evans… He'll be fine. Thanks to Liz. And you."

Guerin salutes him with his bottle. Kyle starts walking away when Guerin says: "So, you and Alex Manes." He sounds less angry than Kyle'd have expected, and more resigned. But there is that undercurrent to his words that tells Kyle that one wrong step could turn this situation ugly.

Maybe Kyle should tell him the truth. Tell him that he and Alex are just friends, good friends, that they find comfort in each other and make a good team. He should tell Michael that it's the rumor mill that turned it into something it's not. That if Michael wants to make things work with Alex, he still can.

But Kyle realizes he doesn't want to say any of that. Not for Alex's sake but for his own, because there is a part of him that likes being Alex Manes' boyfriend. He thinks of Alex's hand on his knee, of Rosa saying how he lights up around Alex. It'd all be so much more complicated with Michael back in the picture.

And why should he be the one to tell Guerin the truth when Alex didn't?

"Me and Alex Manes," he agrees.

Guerin takes a swig from his bottle. "Don't fuck it up, Valenti."

Which is not what Kyle expected from him, at all.

"I'd think you'd want me to."

The sound Guerin makes could be a laugh. If so, it's self-deprecating. "It'd be a good excuse to slash your tires."

ooo ooo ooo

Kyle isn't sure how he expects his day to develop from that point, but it's definitely not what greets him at the door of his apartment.

He comes home to find Alex standing there, his expression one of determination.

"You wanted to go on a date," Alex says in stead of a greeting. "So let's go."

And Kyle almost laughs because of course the way Alex says it is more an order than an invitation. Of course he would look like he is about to embark on a mission rather than go out on a date.

But he just beams at Alex and gestures to his own outfit. "Give me five, then I'm all yours."

↳ Next Chapter

#kylex #kylex fic #rnm fic #myfic

[choicesfanficanonymous]

The Wonder of You

The Wonder of You

The Royal Romance - Drake x MC

Summary: After being married for some months, there is still one thing Drake is keeping from his wife. And she is determined to make him stop holding it back.

Content Warnings: None, this is just silly and fluffy.

Word Count: 2466

Alie’s foot unexpectedly connects with a pair of boots clearly left in the wrong place, making her stumble and almost fall altogether as she makes her way from her closet to her bedroom.

“Shit” she mumbles to herself. Her toes hurt a little from the impact, but it’s not as she has the time to give it any attention. Instead, she focuses on her ears’ reflection on the mirror in an attempt to finish as quickly as possible putting on her earrings. In her mind, Alie promises herself that next time she will start getting ready earlier, and all this crazy rushing and making a mess can be avoided. It’s not the first time she tells herself that, though.

At last, she sighs and steps back to look at herself in the mirror. Looks like everything’s in its place. With her, at least, for she can’t quite ignore the chaotic state of the duchy’s master bedroom reflected behind her figure.

“Wow.” A voice suddenly cuts through the silence of the room.

Turning to look at where the voice came from, she spots her husband, leaning at the door frame with a grin on his face. The gray dress shirt he wore for work accentuates magnificently his broad chest and strong arms, crossed in front of him. She will never get tired of marveling at the sight that is this man.

“Drake! You’re here already!”

He makes an incredulous face. “I texted you fifteen minutes ago saying I was entering the estate.” She can only give him a sorry smile as he approaches her. “Where are we going tonight anyway?”

Alie hides a gigantic smile that threatens to take over her face. She slowly turns her body to him. “Sour Apple… you know, that small pub downtown.” She tries not to show anything in her voice as she speaks.

“The one with the karaoke? Really?” He can’t hold back a slight frown from appearing in his face.

“Yeah, what’s wrong about it?”

“Nothing, it just looks like somewhere Maxwell would choose, not you.”

She doesn’t say a word, but stares at him with her eyebrows shot up.

“Alright, it seems exactly somewhere Maxwell or you would pick for a birthday celebration.” He concedes with an annoyed look.

“Do you not wish to go?” She knew he wouldn’t love the idea, but now she’s afraid he is dreading it.

She can’t tell him her real intentions for choosing that pub. Alie almost feels guilty for preparing a trap for her husband. But ever since she learned about the barbershop quartet he used to be a part of, she practically begged him to sing for her, but he never gave in. So, she had to find the perfect opportunity. And three weeks ago, she devised a plan.

-

“Drake, I can’t believe it!” Alie yells from the kitchen.

The dark haired man appears from the hallway in their estate, only shorts on and barefoot. “What is it?” He had a concerned look on his face.

“Look at that.” She snaps, pointing at the calendar hung up on the wall.

“What is it? I don’t-” He examined the calendar with brows knitted, trying to understand what he is missing.

“It’s been seven months since our marriage, Drake.”

“Oh” He doesn’t know what to say, “I didn’t know we were celebrating-”

She cuts him in again “No, we didn’t plan anything.” She sighs and pretends not to notice the relieved look in his eyes. “I just can’t believe all this time has passed and you still haven’t sung to me.”

“Oh, that again…” He says, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. His wife sure knows how to be insistent. When she hasn’t brought up the subject for months, he truly believed it was finally put to rest. He should have known better.

“Come on Drake… your sister said you were the best of all four. And you know I’ve only heard you guys twice, and it was too quick and in occasions where I couldn’t pay enough attention to it.”, she pleads him.

“Of course she said that, I’m her brother.” His voice grows softer as he steps closer to her and wraps his strong arms around her small frame.

“Anyway, I just can’t understand why, why can’t you sing for your wife?” She pouts. She really hoped he would have no barriers with her now. Maybe it’s a silly thing to dwell on, but Alie wants him to be sure he never have to be insecure with her. She loves him completely.

The duchess doesn’t notice her husband is slowly moving her towards the kitchen counter until she feels her lower back touching the cold stone surface through her robe.

“I will” he speaks softly, moving his body even closer to hers and planting light kisses all over the side of her face, “… eventually.” He finishes, and moves the kissing closer to her mouth.

“You can’t seduce your way out of every subject, Walker.” She presses her palms against his chest, yet barely putting any effort at all to push him away and failing to suppress a smile.

He pulls back just enough to look her in the eyes. “What can I do for you to let it go?” The deep, hungry look in his dark eyes is enough to weaken his wife’s knees. Oh, he knows exactly what he is doing.

“I will never let it go, especially after you just said you’re going to sing to me eventually. But for now…” she pauses, eyeing him up and down and sliding her hands from his chest to his abs, “you can take me to shower.”

-

Drake notices her concern and quickly puts his arms around her waist, bending his head down until their foreheads touch. “Of course I wish to go. It’s your birthday, and anything that makes you happy is worth more than all the gold in this country.”

His words make her smile, and she reaches up to kiss him in the lips. “I love you.”

“And I, you”. He smiles too, as she turns around to take one last glance at herself in the mirror. “Although I would prefer if we stayed here and celebrated only the two of us.” He adds, noticing how beautiful she was in a short yellow dress that showed just enough for his mind to picture the rest of her underneath it.

“Oh, we will.” She forewarns, looking him in the eyes. “But first, let’s have some fun with our friends.”

“Fine.” He grabs her hand in his, pulling her out of their room and down the staircase. “But you’ll have to make it up to me, Walker.”

“If you’re a good boy tonight…” She jokes, thinking about her plans for the evening. Max is almost as excited as her, but Liam is still skeptic his friend would agree to sing alone in front of all of them. Even after several shots of whiskey. “And it’s Smoak-Walker and you know it.” She finishes while he helps her get in the car that’ll take them to her celebration.

-

They are sitting for two hours now in a round table that’s too big compared with the small pub it’s in. Drinks never stopped coming, so all of them are already a bit tipsy, some more than others.

Max had just told a joke that made Alie cry of laughter before a wrinkle appears between Drake’s brows as he looks around. “Where did Liam go?”

Alie looked around too, she didn’t see him leave the table. The pub is small and there aren’t too many people, so it is reason enough to be concerned that the king is missing. Drake’s vision is slightly blurred to begin a search party out of nowhere, and he reassures himself that there is no need to worry, for Bastien has the pub secured with a couple of guards. He decides it’s best to go have a word with Bas, but before he can get up, Hana suddenly begins giggling. Alie, Drake and Max look at her, questioning looks on their faces.

“Oh I’m sorry.” Hana’s cheeks are already flushed from the alcohol, but now they seem to have gotten even more flushed. “Liam went to the bathroom.” She lowers her tone, clearly forcing a serious face.

They all nod at her but still keep looking at her, a bit confused by her behaviour. Alie finds it obvious that she is hiding something and she can’t hold herself back. “Do you need to speak in private, Hana?”

“Oh no, it’s just…” Everybody stares at Hana and she looks back at them like a deer in the middle of the road looking at the shining lights of a vehicle approaching fast. She finally sighs and speaks up “Fine. Liam said he was going to the bathroom but walked towards that hallway in the other side of the pub.” She points to a dim-lighted entrance at the side. “… one minute after Olivia had done the same.” She concludes.

Maxwell’s jaw drops and Alie stifles her own giggles with her hand.

“I’ll drink to that.” Drake’s voice cuts the awkward silence that came up between the friends. He grabs his glass with a smirk on his face and takes another sip of his whiskey, rising his other arm to rest behind Alie’s shoulders.

“Really?” Alie looks up at him. She thought Drake would be a little more reluctant to Liam and Olivia. Of course they knew something was going on, but Drake was always making sarcastic comments about the duchess and talking about their friends’ dates as if it is something temporary. Alie would say he was in some sort of denial. Maybe he finally accepted Liam and Olivia are a great match. Or there’s already enough alcohol in his system. Realizing what that means, she meets Maxwell’s gaze and they both share a knowing look.

“So,” Max begins, “who wants to sing in the karaoke?”

As if summoned, Olivia and Liam instantly reappear at the table, avoiding each other’s gaze, but their flushed faces and the small, almost unnoticeable red lipstick stain on the corner of Liam’s lips betrays them.

Drake has just opened his mouth to make a snarky remark, but, knowing his friend all too well and judging by the look in his eyes, Liam decides to cut him in before any words can be said. “Did I hear karaoke? Who’s singing?”

“Come with me, Drake!” Max stands up, grabbing Drake’s hand, which he instantly jerks away.

“No way, Beaumont.” He doesn’t move, instead takes another sip of his drink.

“I’ll go, Max.” Alie stands up, feeling bold. If she’s gonna make Drake sing, she’s got to play with all her cards.

Once they reach the small stage, Max start picking up a song. “Ooh, I got the perfect one” He says, handing her a mic. “I love duets!”

She laughs, and the song starts playing.

“All my life has been a series of doors in my face And then suddenly I bump into you”

Drake looks at his wife with adoration while she and Max keep on singing and dancing animatedly. She is indeed breathtaking. What did she see in him? Why does she love him? He brushes the thought aside, knowing very well he shouldn’t question fate, especially when it grants him with so much more than he’d ever dreamed of asking for.

“With you With you With you With you Love is an open door”

The song finishes and the few people at the pub, apart from their friends, clap and cheer while they make their way back to the table.

“You were great, baby.” Drake encircles her waist and roughly pulls her to sit across his lap. He is definitely drunk enough.

“Well, I think now…” She moves her fingers over his stubble. “you can be a good boy by granting me a birthday wish.” She smirks at him.

“And what is that?” He looks in her eyes, only to find mischievous ones looking at him. His face falls and he pulls back from her. “What, you don’t want me to-”

“Please, Drake! There’s only your friends here… and those hippie kids or whatever over there. For me?” She makes her best puppy eyes at him. This is it, she thinks. It’s now or never.

She keeps staring at his eyes until he says something. “You better make it up to me for a whole month, Walker.”

Surprised with how little she had to beg and scared of him changing his mind, she doesn’t say a word, only beams with joy, eyes wide open, swiftly sliding off of his lap as he gets up from his seat.

All of their friends cheer while Drake makes his way to the small stage. He gets there and spends a moment choosing his song. Alie can’t help but to squirm with anticipation.

Finally, music starts playing and Drake takes his place in the center of the stage, grabbing the mic and looking directly at his wife.

“When no one else can understand me When everything I do is wrong You give me hope and consolation You give me strength to carry on”

If it’s even possible, Alie falls in love with the man singing these words. Her husband. She already loves him inexplicably so, and now she could swear her heart is ready to combust at any given second. Even with all the whisky he’s had, his voice manages to stay on pitch and is so, so beautiful. She’s not the only one to notice that, as she looks around her for a brief second, she can see awe in her friends’ eyes and some eyebrows raised up in appreciation among the strangers’ faces.

“I guess I’ll never know the reason why You love me as you do That’s the wonder, the wonder of you”

Not able to discern whether it’s the alcohol, simply the words to the song, or the fact that her husband is singing to her - even in front of several other people - with emotion almost audible through the speakers, but tears start falling from her eyes.

The song ends and Drake hears the people cheering and clapping, but his eyes are fixated on her. His legs are wobbly, probably from the alcohol as well as his nervousness about singing alone in front of people. Yet, he makes a straight line to his wife, their eyes never leaving each other’s, until her hands reach for him, locking behind his neck.

Her eyes are glued to him, and in a minute that seems like eternity, if feels as though there is only them in the dim-lighted pub. Her heart is his, and his, hers, completely. Forever. And Drake realizes he doesn’t need to know why.

#the royal romance #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #choicesfanficanonymous #drake walker #drake x mc #september submissions

[deijnar]

Always by your side

<previous day // overview // next day>

Adrinette April, Day 10: Holding Hands ran by @adrinetteapril 

When the question came up what kind of charity project Madame Bustier’s class would like to implement at the end of the school year the entire class made up their collective mind almost instantly.

They had a technically gifted genius, an amazing DJ, a talented artist, a girl with a phenomenal organizing ability, an ambitious journalist as well as a brilliant designer and an actual model – perfect preconditions for a fashion show.

While they discussed their first ideas it turned out that Ivan was eager to build the stage setting and Nathaniel joined him to paint the constructions as soon as they were ready.

Inspired by all the ideas Mylène took over as the director while Sabrina gladly offered to manage the administration.

Obviously Nino would take care of the music and Max would handle the lights to create a proper atmosphere.

Alya was responsible for promotion and planned to stream the whole show on the Ladyblog to spread the word as wide as possible.

Nobody was as excited as Rose was, already coming up with ideas about poses and faces, including Juleka into her plans who couldn’t get out of the situation even if she’d wanted to.

To everyone’s surprise Alix agreed on giving modeling a chance as well as Kim but both of them demanded sporty outfits and Marinette followed their instructions.

Due to the fact that he wouldn’t have a task on the show itself even Nathaniel was willing to present at least one outfit too, preferentially a suit.

The best part in Marinette’s eyes was that she, as the designer, wouldn’t have to present herself on stage, thoroughly examined by a bunch of perfect strangers with no mercy on their criticism.

For Chloé, on the contrary, that was the primary reason to even participate.

And then there was Adrien. He said he didn’t want to model since he’d done it so many times already so the whole class decided he would take on the hosting along with Mylène.

Everything was set.

***

The planning and preparation went well, everyone had fun and got excited for the big day.

And after 4 months of hard work, that day had finally come.

It was the same day Mylène got sick to a point where her croaky voice was barely audible.

“Ok guys” Ivan sighed as he put his phone back into his pocket and turned to face his tensed classmates “she can’t talk. She may come here to at least see the results of all our effort but she won’t do the hosting-thing.”

A shocked murmur went through the crowd until Madame Bustier spoke up. “Adrien, are you ok with doing this on your own?”

All heads turned to Adrien.

“Eeeeehh…”

His eyes widened and he kept quiet for a while, imagining the show without Mylène by his side before snapping back to reality.

“I would do it, yes, but the text we’ve rehearsed won’t work if it’s performed by just one person.”

Another, more panicky, murmur.

“Okay, is anyone willing to step in for Mylène?” Madame Bustier asked stressed, looking around.

The models were out of the picture, obviously, even though Chloè declared she could do both. As well were Nino, Max and Ivan who had to take care of what happened on and around the stage. Sabrina had to coordinate everything backstage like the order of the costumes and helping the others putting them on so she was out too.

“Alya?” Adrien asked his friend hopefully but she just shook her head apologetically.

“Sorry Adrien, I have to film the entire show. I made a promise to everyone who isn’t able to come here today that they can watch and donate online instead.”

Silence.

Apparently everyone seemed to be ruled out, except…

Oh no.

Suddenly Marinette stared into what felt like thousands of eyes full of expectations.

“No!” she exclaimed, waving her arms vehemently.

“Come on, Marinette!” Alix begged ready to fall to her knees and all their friends joined her. “You’re our last hope!”

“But… But I can’t do it!” Marinette explained, already feeling the anxiety rising up inside of her. “I will not get a single word out!”

Yes, she was Ladybug and yes, she was used to being in the limelight but this was different. This was about fashion, about her passion. What if it all went wrong? Because of her clumsiness, because of her?

All of a sudden Adrien stood right in front of her, put his hands on her shoulder encouragingly and looked straight into her eyes. She stared back, hypnotized by the familiar soothing green of his eyes.

“Would you at least try, Marinette? I’m sure it’ll be fun” he said in a calming tone and smiled at her sincerely, sending pleasant shivers down her spine.

“Yeah man! And you’re our class representative after all!” Nino shouted from his platform and Marinette acted like that was the reason why she couldn’t say no anymore.

But as she stood in the darkness backstage, hearing all these voices of who knew how many people her heart beat rapidly against her chest.

If she would die out there she would at least do it at his side.

“I’m proud to introduce our hosts for today’s evening; Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng!” Madame Bustier already announced them and left the stage.

Frozen Marinette stood still and clutched at her microphone. She couldn’t go out there. Who knew, maybe Gabriel Agreste waited for her in the audience, sitting in the front row to see her failing big-time from up close.

Adrien had already took the first steps to the stage and turned around as soon as he realized she wasn’t following him. Her fear was writ large in her face and he knew he had to comfort her immediately.

He walked down the stairs again and reached his hand out to her. As soon as it appeared in her field of vision she slowly looked up at him.

“Come on, we’ll do this together. I won’t let you down” he promised and gave her the same endearing smile she’d fallen in love with almost one year ago. She could even imagine the umbrella above them.

Hesitantly Marinette placed her hand in his and let him pull her up to the stage.

And he held her hand the entire time, not even once leaving her side or letting go of her.

It wouldn’t be the last time he would hold her hand this way.

#adrinetteapril2018 #adrinette #adrienette #day 10 #holding hands #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculous ladybug #Guess my hand slipped again \(^o^\) #I just love every single classmate #forgive me

[smilingformoney]

It Lives Beneath Diamond Scene: Sneak Away with Danni

Danni: The five words I’ve been waiting to hear all night. You put a hand on Danni’s back and steer her away from the display, leaving the oblivious men behind. You: Let me buy you a drink? Danni: It’s an open bar. You: Okay, Miss Technicality. Trying to make a gesture here. Danni: Sorry. Yes, I’d love a drink. You make your way to the bar and order two flutes of champagne. You: Okay. Let it out. Air all your grievances. It’ll make you feel better. Danni: Ugh, where do I even start? This whole place pisses me off. You: The whole thing or a few things in particular. Danni: Everything. The clothes, the jewelry, the tablecloths that probably cost more than I make in a month… On cue, the bartender reappears and sets down your drinks. Light winks off tiny flakes of gold swirling in the champagne. Danni: See? Even the booze is bougie. Danni: Is this what’s in store for me? Displaying my art to people like this? You: But they’re showing off your work, right? That’s cool. Danni: It would be, if everyone here wasn’t so spectacularly missing the point. Danni: Take that photo over there, for example. What would you say it’s about? You study one of Danni’s photos on a wall nearby. 

EXAMINE -Photograph of Boats 

You: I think it’s about… -Class division.

You: The way the yacht is just plowing right through, while the smaller boat can barely stay afloat… Danni: Exactly! Thank you! At least someone gets it. Danni: I thought the metaphor was fairly obvious, but you’d never know it from the reactions I’ve been getting tonight. You: Maybe they just don’t want to see it. I mean, this isn’t exactly the most receptive audience for a message about the plight of the working class. 

-Social anxiety.

The way the smaller boat is quietly floundering, but the yacht doesn’t seem to notice… Danni: Hm! That’s not exactly what I was going for, but it’s an interesting lens. Danni: Certainly more interesting than half the other dumb things I’ve heard tonight. You: Oh yeah? Like what? Danni: One guy thought it was about motherhood. Like the big boat was a mom and the little boat was its baby. You: I… Wow. Just wow. 

-Boats?

You: What even are they? How do they float like that? What do they want from us? Danni: You can’t be serious. That’s… You… Danni: …You’re messing with me. You: Maybe a little. So what’s the picture really about? Danni: Well, it’s supposed to be about entitlement. How privilege can blind you to the struggles of others. I guess it could be clearer… You: No, I totally see that. Especially with how you captured the smaller boat in the shadow of the yacht. Danni: Right, exactly. Now if only these people got it…

Danni lifts her glass, squinting sceptically at the swirl of gold flakes inside. Danni: I don’t know… I can’t decide if displaying this kind of work, at a part like this, makes me a rebel or a sell-out. 

You: I think… -You are a rebel.

You: Think about it. They’re paying you to mock them, and they don’t even see it. You: Imagine if one of these goobers buys a photo and hangs it in his boardroom, because he thinks it’s just a nice picture of some boats. Danni: …Okay, I have to admit, the prospect of my work quietly undermining some CEO’s authority all day is pretty fantastic. You: That’s the spirit. 

-It doesn’t matter.

Danni: What do you mean? You: I mean who gives a crap what these people do or don’t think? They’re not your audience, right? They’re the yacht. Danni: Yyyesss… I guess that’s true… You: What matters today is that you made art you enjoyed and got paid for it. And now you can go make even more! Danni: Well, when you put it like that, it’s hard to argue. 

-You should go even further.

You: The next time they invite you to one of these things, you should go full-on Banksy. Really punch them in the face with it. Danni: Ha! I wonder how much I could get away with? Maybe a fifty-foot photo of a sinking cruise ship? You: Bigger. Danni: A sinking cruise ship that’s on fire. Danni: With ‘eat the rich’ written in caviar on the side. And I’m standing in the foreground with two thumbs up, dressed like The Fonz. You: Is this going to be available as a poster? Because I need this image on my wall. Danni cracks up laughing. 

You take a sip of your drink. Danni: So how are the gold flakes? Do they taste like success? You: Not really. They’re pretty flavourless. Danni frowns and takes a sip of her drink. Danni: Wow, you’re right. So they’re just cosmetic? Edible glitter? You: Very expensive edible glitter. Danni: Ridiculous. She shakes her head, laughing. Danni: Say, speaking of edible, are you hungry? I’m starving. You: I think I saw one of those guys with a tray of food by the door. You and Danni grab your drinks, snag some hors d’oeuvres, and stroll outside. 

You near the neat fire pit and warm yourselves by its gently licking flames. You: So how did you get into photography, anyway? Danni: Growing up here, I think. Danni: I know my work’s all about inequality now, but when I was a kid it was more about trying to… I dunno, capture the magic of this place. Danni: I used to spend all day running around the woods and waterfalls. Then I’d come home and tell my mom about everything I’d discovered. You: Aw, Danni the Explorer! That’s adorable. Danni: It got on my mom’s nerves, actually. She likes to joke that she bought me a camera so I’d close my mouth and open my eyes. You: She sounds nice. Danni: My parents are actually really supportive. A little too much sometimes. Danni: Their latest thing is trying to convince me to go to art school. But I’d rather look for a job, so I can help them out. Maybe in advertising. 

You: Wait… -Your parents need help?

Danni: They would say no. But yeah, they do. Danni: They’re struggling with money right now. Medical bills. 

-Advertising? Seriously?

You: That’s surprising for you. Danni: Well, it’s not like I’m dying to sell fast food and sports cars. But advertising pays well, and full-time photography jobs are scarce. Danni: Especially if you need good benefits… You: ‘Need’? 

You make your way to the pool and look out over the rippling cerulean water. Danni: My dad hurt his back about a year ago and had to get surgery. Danni: My mom’s insurance is totally maxed out. And between that and Dad not working… Danni sighs. Danni: They might lose their house soon. I’ve been trying to help out with a part-time job. But I’m barely making ends meet as-is. 

You: Danni… -I’m sorry.

Danni: Thank you. You: How’d your dad hurt his back? Danni: He worked in a warehouse for twenty years. To provide for me. 

-It’s not all on you.

You: I know. But I want to help them. They’ve worked hard their whole lives. They deserve to be happy. You: Yeah, but you can’t take the whole world onto your shoulders. Danni: My dad says the same thing. You: What about your mom? Danni: My mom says if I offer to pay for groceries one more time, she’s gonna whack me with a shoe. 

You: It sounds like you all really care about each other. I hope everything works out okay. Danni: Me too. Danni: Thanks, Gina. You’re really easy to talk to. You: That’s not all I’m good for. Danni: Is that so? 

You: Yeah. I’m also good at… -Kissing. Danni +10

Danni: In that case, I have a question to ask you. Danni’s eyes shimmer in the warm evening light as she sets down her glass. You: So ask me. Danni: Okay. Danni takes a step toward you, her face just inches from yours. Danni: Can I kiss you? You: I don’t know. Can you? Danni laughs as you grab her by the waist, pulling her closer. Her mouth presses against yours, the taste of champagne sweet on her lips. You kiss for a long moment, then gently come apart. You: So. Are you enjoying the party yet? Danni: It’s growing on me. Danni plants one last kiss on your lips, then steps away. Danni: We should probably get back, though. The others might be waiting for us. 

-Making toasts. Danni +10

You lift your glass. You: We may still have problems, but here’s to one good night. You: And champagne somebody else paid for. Danni: I’ll drink to that. Danni picks up her glass and clinks it against yours, then you both knock back what’s left of your drinks. Danni: Phew! That’s a little stronger than I thought. You: Maybe we should go easy. Probably not the best ide to get our buzz on in the middle of a cultist convention. Danni: We should be getting back anyway. The others might be looking for us. 

You and Danni head inside and rejoin the party.

#playchoices #choices stories you play #choices it lives beneath #choices ilb #it lives beneath #it lives beneath walkthrough

[dammit-stark]

the great marvel vs dc debate: as understood by hawkeye

hey remember that phlint comic con fic i mentioned the other day? yeah well this is it. 

Clint/Phil, rated G

Summary: Phil Coulson is a certified nerd who loves everything Captain America and works at the SHIELD headquarters downtown as a Level [REDACTED] [REDACTED]. He loves his Harry Potter-loving, future nerd of a niece so very much that he agreed to give her mom a break and bring her to comic con with him this year. Clint Barton is strictly Not A Nerd but it turns out there isn’t much of a market for fancy, handmade bows and arrows beyond comic conventions, and where there’s money Clint goes, so he finds himself at these things at least once a month and they’re usually pretty dreadful because he has exactly 0 idea what’s going on but hey that one guy dressed as captain America is really hot maybe nerds aren’t half bad.

[Read it on AO3!]

“Hey, you! Yeah, you- you Brown Guy! Get away from those!” Clint barked, tearing his eyes away from the handsome-looking soldier eyeing the custom coasters across the aisle just in time to see a kid dressed in some brown cloak fidget with one of Clint’s arrows, dropping it, “These are really expensive! Be careful!"

The Brown Guy just snickered and ran off, his whopping four foot tall body disappearing into the masses easily.

“Dammit,” Clint said, left to stare at the shards of an arrow in bits. The hot guy across the aisle moved to a different booth, farther away.

“Did I just hear you call that kid dressed as a Jawa a Brown Guy?” Veronica, Clint’s booth neighbor, leaned in, practically snorting with laughter. She had bright purple hair and glasses the size of her face and made awesome prints (mostly with acrylic paint and digital applications, but she used almost every medium), lots of them, and created pins of characters and actors that sold like hot cakes (if hot cakes had pictures of hot guys in intimidating fighting stances printed onto them).

“How am I supposed to know what he was?”

“You don’t know what a Jawa is? They’re in the first Star Wars movie, on Tatooine. Ringing a bell?” Nothing. Literally just a blank stare from Clint, “They’re the guys in A New Hope that sell Artoo and Threepio to Luke and Uncle Owen.” Still nothing. Veronica sighed, exasperated, “Why are you here if you don’t even know what a Jawa is, Barton?”

“Oh, Veronica, Veronica, Veronica, such a simpleton,” Clint said, scooping up the broken arrow pieces, “I do it for the money, that’s all. I would much rather be anywhere but here, but sadly this is where I find myself this weekend. I have no clue about any of this nerd stuff.”

“Well then, Barton,” Veronica said, giving Clint a rough clap on the shoulder and a wild smirk, “You’re in luck because a panel just started on the other side of the hall and it’s supposedly going to be a super popular one so business is about to thin out. Plus, Amy said she could guard my booth for awhile just in case. I can freely explain to you the intricacies of The Con. And Star Wars. You definitely need a lesson on Star Wars.”

Clint looked up just in time to see the handsome soldier shopping for coasters move into the masses that were heading in the direction of Veronica’s Super Popular Panel.

“Okay, I’ll listen. I don’t have anything better to do, I guess.”

“You better,” She said, taking a big sip of Mountain Dew and looking like she was about to start talking a mile a minute.

“You gotta explain who the people in the red, white, and blue soldier costumes are, too.” He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, he really did.

Veronica just smirked, like she knew all of his motivations, “Oh, don’t worry Archer Boy, I will, I will.”

////////

A flash of a red and black floppy hat (if that's what you would call a hat) rammed into Clint’s booth just as a harried, high pitch voice yelled from somewhere deep in the crowd, “Just because I let you dress up as Harley Quinn does not mean you can act like her! Come back here, missy!”

An overwrought BatMom of some sort appeared out of the crowds and reached for a handful of the back of the red-and-black checkered costume. But it was too late. An entire bow had ruptured, it’s string peeled right off the wood by the unruly hand of a child (Clint hadn’t even know that could happen to his bows, but children apparently found new ways to destroy things every day).

“Oh. My. Goodness. I am so, so sorry, sir. I’ll pay for it, I promise,” The BatMom was already pulling out her wallet, “How much did it cost?”

Clint shyly told her the price of the bow and she practically dropped her wallet.

“That much? I-I can’t afford that, I’m so sorry. Could I possibly buy something a little less expensive? What can I buy for, um, $65?”

Almost nothing. That bow had cost $300. Clint was losing money left and right today. He really hated comic cons.

“You could buy one of these arrows, m’am. I really appreciate this,” He smiled, trying not to show on his face that he was doing the math in his head of how many other arrows he’d have to sell to make up for the loss of this single bow and the Jawa's broken arrow.

“Well, I’ll buy it.” The BatMom reassured, keeping a tight grip on the back of Harley Quinn’s costume (whoever Harley Quinn is, Clint had no idea). The little girl was already trying to inch toward Veronica’s booth, or the coaster one across the aisle.

Clint started to make change and BatMom was getting antsy, practically hissed at her daughter to sit still for once for once in her life.

“So what are you two dressed as?” He said, just to pass the time and make things less awkward.

“Are you kidding me? You don’t know who we are?” BatMom said, as if he were crazy.

“No?”

“Well this little runt is Harley Quinn, and she’s not usually this bad, I swear, she’s just excited. She loves it here. And I’m Batman, obviously.”

“Isn’t Batman a… man?”

“So what?”

“Alright, I respect that,” Clint said, trying to make his chuckle as non-threatening as possible, “So what are you, from Star Wars or something?”

Clint could hear Veronica trying not to laugh from her booth.

“No… we’re superheroes.” Clint could tell that BatMom was wondering if she was being pranked or something, her face twisted and she looked towards the ceiling as if she'd catch some sort of secret camera.

“Like Captain America?”

“Well, kinda, but they belong to different universes.”

“Different universes? What does that mean?”

Veronica appeared, out of nowhere with a huge smile, “Go on, Batman. I’ll explain to our archer friend why Marvel and DC fans will forever be at war.”

BatMom smiled, “Well, good luck then. Again, I’m so sorry, sir. Have a good day!”

And she scurried off, just like that, with her daughter pulled tight to her side so she couldn’t run off again, leaving Clint alone with Veronica to get an earful on why Marvel and DC were completely different.

/////

The next time a kid showed up, Clint held his breath. He couldn’t afford another lost arrow. But instead, the little girl with her cloak and her yellow and black scarf and her wand just looked up at him with her wide, innocent eyes and shyly smiled.

“Can I help you?” Clint asked, hesitating. The sweetness could be a trap, the calm before the storm.

But instead, the little wizard (or rather witch, as Clint is corrected later) smiled at him and said, “Your bows and arrows are really pretty.”

“Thank you,” Clint said, because she may be a kid but he worked really hard and all compliments were appreciated, no matter how small, “Do you like archery?”

“It’s pretty cool, I guess, like Katniss!”

“Yeah, sure, like Katniss.” That was usually what people thought of when he talked about archery nowadays, it used to be Robin Hood. Not anymore. Now it was just all Katniss, all the time. Clint missed the days of Robin Hood (and the occasional Annie Oakley, which didn't completely make sense, but it was still appreciated).

“Katie, please don’t run away like that!” A voice appeared, out of nowhere, from the depths of the crowd, red, white, blue, and… hot. It was the Captain America from earlier, the one that Clint had been checking out as he checked out coasters. And apparently he had a daughter which meant there was probably a wife or significant other of some sort not far behind. Damn. But then, the cosplayer frowned and opened his mouth again, “Your mom would kill me if I lost you. Do you have any idea how easy it would be for my sister to kill me for losing you? With ease. She’d have no problem with it. None.”

Oh. So it wasn’t his kid, it was his niece. It appeared that there was still hope for Clint Barton and the Hot Cosplayer afterall.

“I’m so sorry,” Fake Captain America said, turning to Clint and oh, “She’s a curious one. I hope she didn’t bother you.”

This was his chance. Clint smiled as charmingly as he could, “Not at all. She was just explaining Katniss Everdeen to me.”

The stranger wrapped his arm around his niece, chuckling almost to himself, “She does like Hunger games. I’m Phil by the way, and this is Katie.”

“It’s Nice to meet you, Phil. You too, Katie. I’m Clint. I own Hawkeye’s Collectables." He widened his smile, just a little, to somehow make himself seem amicable to the max, hoping Phil would get the hint, "Here’s my card.” Clint hoped that the fact that his cell number was written on the back of the card was hint enough to call him. He didn’t want to blatantly ask this stranger out in front of his niece. Now that’d just be rude, right?

Phil smiled down at the card and Clint loved it, felt his stomach bloom as Phil spoke, “Thanks, Clint. So you make these all on your own?”

“Yeah, from start to finish at my studio.” Clint tried not to sound like he was boasting, but well, he was very proud of his craft.

Phil examined a nearby bow, “They’re amazing.”

Clint couldn’t help but smile, “Thank you so much. And y'know, I really like your costume.”

Phil smiled, so fucking wide it was unreal. Clint was gonna go for it. He really was. Just ask outfront, not wait for all that complicated dating subtext. The signals were there, right?. He just had to go for it, “Listen, I couldn’t help but notice-,”

But then he stopped because a beautiful redhead dressed as one of those people from Star Trek appeared seemingly out of nowhere and wrapped her hand around Phil’s elbow in such a familiarly intimate way that it made Clint’s stomach do a nose dive.

“Phil! I was looking everywhere for you!”

“Oh, Nat! Look at these bows! Aren’t they amazing? Clint here made them himself,”

Nat really looked at them, leaned over Phil to do so, like she was judging them, ranking them in her head, and maybe Phil wasn’t single afterall, this woman was certainly beautiful enough to be Phil’s girlfriend or wife or whatever. Nat smiled and Clint felt himself burn, almost vicariously, “These are really cool,”

“Thanks... I guess.”

Nat turned back to Phil, “Come on, the cosplay contest is about to start. You can totally place again, maybe even win!”

Katie got excited, too, started tugging on Phil’s sleeve, “I wanna see you win, Uncle Phil! Come on! Come on!”

Phil rolled his eyes at the two girls and looked at Clint, “It was nice to meet you.”

“Good luck with your contest,” Clint replied and slumped against his table. There was once again no point to Comic Cons apparently. Not without the hopes of hot guys dressed as Captain America.

////

The next day when Clint received a text from someone saying that they were Phil From The Con, he was ecstatic for approximately 0.2 seconds before he remembered that Phil was most likely completely and utterly Straight and Taken. Damn.

So he did what any mature and reasonable adult would do. He ignored the messages. Dealing with his problems would obviously be too difficult. Obviously.

When Clint was laying on his couch watching Dog Cops and his phone rang, the caller idea reading the number that Phil had texted him with, Clint (very maturely, by the way) threw his phone to the other side of the couch, conveniently underneath one of the ratty purple throw pillows so that the ringer was muffled, and pretended that he had no idea what that ringing sound was.

Clint received three more texts before the end of the week when they just stopped coming altogether.

Clint went back to his everyday life. He crafted some more bows, made replacement arrows, scheduled his next con, did whatever he could to take his mind off of the texts dinging from his phone. Thankfully, Clint received a particularly expensive request through his website that allowed him to take his attention away from Hot and Straight Phil and onto working on the order.

He liked to personally deliver the more expensive orders himself. It was sort a place of pride for him. So as he finished up the customized product, Monday came around and he packaged up his work and set out for the address on the email. It was nearby anyway, only a 15 minute drive. Once at the correct address, Clint maneuvered the package to the door and waited patiently for the customer after hearing a muffled, “I’m coming! Hold on!” From within the condo.

It was a medium-sized, modest, uber-modern condo that looked barely lived in, like the owner had somewhere better to be all the time. It was entirely different from Clint’s apartment, that looked like a tornado had hit it no matter what the time of day it may be. The door opened just as Clint began contemplating how many items he left out just on the path from his front door to the couch and how long it would probably take to tidy that area up (too damn long).

Clint gasped, “Phil?”

And sure enough, Phil stood there, smiling like he was the smoothest motherfucker in the entire world and well, granted, Clint had not seen that coming. But here Phil, the very person he had been avoiding for over a week and a half, stood in his nice and tidy house with his probably-girlfriend probably somewhere in there, answering the door wearing a ratty old t-shirt with a faded Captain America logo printed across the front.

“Hey, Clint. How’s it going?”

“You- um-,” Clint seemed to be having difficulty speaking, “You ordered something?”

“Yes, I believe I did,”

And before Clint could stop himself he found himself blurting, “Why?”

“Because I like you,” Phil said, so effortlessly, so easily, like it wasn’t something that Clint had been struggling to put into words for over a week and a half.

“What about your girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?”

“You know,” Clint said, gesturing, “Nat?”

Phil honest-to-god snorted aloud, “Natasha is not my girlfriend. And trust me, she never will be. We just work together and well, let’s just say that neither of us exactly swing that way.”

“Oh. Oh.” Clint said dumbly, “So you-?”

“Yeah, Clint, Yeah.”

“Oh. Well, um, in that case, would you like to go out sometime?”

That trademark Phil Smile that Clint found himself loving returned again, “If you promise to respond to my texts, Clint, yeah, I’d love to.”

“Good,”

“Would you like to come in?”

Oh boy did Clint ever want to. But, nerd or no, Clint knew nothing real about him, and he had kinda liked the mystery, the waiting while it had lasted, “Not today, Phil,” Clint said, like some sort of half-promise, “Not today.”

Clint left, inadvertently forgetting all about the bow that he had made for Phil, leaving the wooden masterpiece on Phil’s doorstep, like part of his heart or his soul or something, left right outside of Phil's home to face the weather and all its irony. Clint only remembered it after he had already started the car, considered it a gift to Phil, and drove off.

At the end of the month, when Clint was looking over his bills (Phil made him do things like that, it was cute how heated he got about Clint doing Adult Things because they were Important), he found a mysterious entry of money without identification, equal to the price of the bow.

Almost like somebody had hacked his accounts and imputed just enough money to repay him for the bow. Weird. The name said something like Fury, but Clint didn't know a Fury. He'd certainly remember a name like that. Oh well.

#clint/coulson #phlint #shieldhusbands #clint barton #phil coulson #clint barton/phil coulson #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #marvel #avengers