Hi! I love you! It’s finals season and I’m barely scraping by and suffering lots, so I could use a fanfic to live through! What about a mini fic where Peter is doing some homework in his room (compound/tower, or just Tony’s house but Morgan doesn’t exist) and he has a pretty bad fever. Tony notices he’s getting frustrated really easy and checks his temperature and then lots of cuddles?
Another mini-fic! This time staring a feverish, grumpy little rain cloud Peter and a very dad-like Mr. Stark. :) Very very very mild angst and some good old-fashioned fluff. Oh. And Peter gets a hug.
Finals Week Heat 980 words
Peter sat at his desk in Mr Stark’s workshop and grasped a fistful of his hair. It was only Wednesday, and he was already burnt out. Finals had been going strong all week, and he still had two more to go. His worst subjects. Spanish and world history. He released his hair in favor of rubbing his eyes and stared at his notes. As they blurred in and out of focus he slammed his fist down on the desk.
“Easy, Pete,” Mr. Stark called from across the room. “ What’s got you all worked up over there?”
“Nothing!” Peter snapped before he could stop himself. But he was so exhausted he ached and his head was starting to throb. It was making him unreasonably irritable. “I'm not worked up! I’m just tired.”
Mr. Stark arched a single brow. “It’s only eight o’clock.”
“Does it matter? I’ve been busy for days! I think I’m allowed to be tired.” Peter flourished a dismissive hand and directed his attention to his notes. “Just go back to your work and leave me alone.”
“Hey,” Mr. Stark warned. But for some reason, Peter didn’t take the hint, He visibly bristled and narrowed his eyes.
“What?” he aggressively shouted. “I know you’re in the middle of at least three projects and I have to study. Actually. You know what? I’ll just take this to my room. It’s whatever.” Immediately, he started haphazardly stuffing things into his bag, ready to flee the situation before it escalated further.
“Nuh-uh, no way, no how. Sit back down Kid.” Mr. Stark stood up, taking on an authoritative posture. “We need to talk about your attitude.”
Peter knew he should listen, and any other day he probably would. However, the tension in his body was wound so tight, he snapped instead. “I don’t want to sit down and don't want to talk to you. I just want to get this done.”
Mr. Stark's jaw clenched. “Sit. Down. Now.”
Knowing it was best to give in, Peter threw himself into his chair and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. Whether it was out of indignation or because an unexpected chill had consumed him, he wasn’t sure. Rather than contemplate it, he glared across the room.
“What are you studying for?”
“Finals. You know that,” Peter spat.
Mr. Stark’s face remained stoney as he regarded Peter with scrutiny. A few beats passed. He sighed and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You’ve been at it for hours with the flashcards, Kiddo. Why don’t you just call it a night?”
“Because I happen to like my 4.0 GPA, Mr. Stark!” The sarcasm was thick but the sentiment was genuine. He was at the top of his class and the pressure to remain in that slot was high. “If I don’t study, I don’t get to keep it.”
Mr. Stark's head tilted to the side. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I'm fine,” Peter grumbled. “Why?”
“You’re not usually this snippy with me,” Mr. Stark casually replied. He spanned the distance between them and ran his hand through Peter’s hair, down to his neck. The contact Made Peter shiver. “You’re burning up, Buddy,” Tony said, his voice significantly softer. “FRIDAY? Get me a tempt, will you?”
“Mr. Parker’s temperature is at one-hundred and two point three degrees.”
Mr. Stark nodded and gave Peter’s shoulder a squeeze.“Well, that settles it. You’re definitely done studying for tonight. The good news is, you’ll have a few extra days to review the material because you are definitely not going to school to-’”
“I have to go!” Peter growled. “I have finals to take!” He wished he didn’t. Staying home sounded idea.
“Nope. Zip it. The adult is talking.” Mr Stark, sent him a look, daring him to say anything else. Peter snapped his mouth shut. “You’re not going to school with a fever of a hundred and two. Not happening. You can make up the test.”
Peter slumped in his seat. “I want to be done with them,” he mumbled.
“And I want you to feel better,” Tony replied without missing a beat. His fingers went back to Peter’s hair. “You’re clearly miserable, Buddy,”
“Yeah,” Peter agreed, his eyes beginning to water. He gathered a tremulous breath and closed his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t feel good.”
“Okay, Kiddo. You’re going to be okay.” Mr. Stark wiped a stray tear from Peter’s cheek and hauled him into a firm hug. “Let’s get upstairs, hmm?”
Inside the elevator, Peter leaned into Mr. Stark. “Sorry, I yelled at you.”
“I’d say it’s okay, but I definitely don’t want you biting my head off like that,” Mr. Stark said. He paused to swipe the bangs off of Peter’s forehead. Probably gauging the fever again, in the process. “It would be much easier if you just told me when you were sick.”
Peter sighed, unsure of how to explain how difficult it was to satisfy literally everyone’s expectations. “I didn’t want to-” he began, but Mr. Stark cut him off quickly.
“Another time, Bud. We’ll talk about it another time.” They had arrived at the penthouse. Mr. Stark stepped inside first and gestured down the hall. “For now, go get in your pajamas and meet me on the couch. I’ll fetch you some meds, and we’ll watch a movie until you conk out on me.”
Peter huffed a small laugh, knowing that’s exactly what would happen. He’d arrive at the couch wearing his comfiest pajamas, soft blanket in hand. Mr. Stark would give him some pills and sit in the corner of the furniture. He’d allow Peter to burrow into his side and, together, they would pick a movie. Probably something science fiction. It didn’t really matter. Mr. Stark was right. He’d be warm and comfortable and sound asleep before they made it a quarter of the way in.
Super happy to see you again @yescaptainmarvel123875 I feel like it's been a while! Hope you are doing well and enjoy this fic!!
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okok, one more ✨
so i know you would like to make the other Goblin King outfits. but are there any other characters you would like to cosplay? or that you have already cosplayed?
Thank you for asking! Yeah, I have cosplayed before. None of the proof of it's here because I've designated it as a Labyrinth blog. My interests and projects do not resemble each other at all, and my cosplay history reflects that. hahahaha
Anyway, my last cosplay was the Mad Hatter from Disney's 1992 series "Adventures in Wonderland". The show is extremely dear to me, and I also love the costumes, so I made his entire outfit (vest, tailcoat, pants, spats, collar, bowtie, hat), which were my introductions to making clothes. Didn't crawl before I ran. hahaha It took about 10 months to complete in 2021. A couple of videos of him can be found on my youtube channel.
Before that, I had been closet-cosplaying Dance Magic Jareth from time to time, and had made a much easier less screen accurate version of his ballroom attire minus the coat, and this blog has that content under the "jareth cosplay" tag.
Before that, I closet-cosplayed Kurama from the anime Yu Yu Hakusho from 2017-2018. I was obsessed with the show and characters, and having a quarter life crisis, so I dyed my hair red and let him consume my entire being.
Before that, I for some reason had a fixation with Jared Leto's Joker from Suicide Squad (2016)... Don't judge me, I know he wasn't a very good joker! I just didn't care! I didn't know how to sew yet, so all the pieces were collected, the bowtie was commissioned, and I had to go all around town trying to find dress shirts for my tiny body. All the while, I holed up in my room practicing his makeup. It took about 3-4 months? @mistahgrape was my handle on instagram and tumblr.
Then finally, there was my first cosplay which is also my cosplans for the future. I used to closet-cosplay Nosferatu when I was a bub (2011-2013) the whole time I was away in film school. I have a degree in film which was heavily focused on the German silent era, so he meant/means a lot, and I would make videos pretending like he visited me in my apartment. lol The blog strange--cargo is all about that. I desperately wanted to commission a screen accurate outfit but just never did, so I'm going to make my dreams come true and hopefully take him to cons and make people laugh/creep them out.
watch out!!
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Emmet Snaps
Emmets up trying to figure out how to get Ingo back to normal when all his doubt consumes him.
‘Its not really Ingo’
‘You are just projecting on a normal pokemon’
‘This sneasel probably thinks your ingo’
‘Just a cruel joke played on you by god’
‘You are a fool’
Till finally he snaps. Tears rolling as a laugh starts to rip out of him. Small at first. He grips his arms, hugging himself. The laughs grow louder and more distressing. What a fool he is indeed. This pokemkn isnt his brother. Hes just being made a fool. For Arceus amusement. What a joke.
Then Sningo walks in clearly seeing his brothers horrid state. How to calm him w? How to help him. Ingo starts to say something but is cut off by the look Emmet sends him. A manic smile, tears streaking his face. Ingo freezes in horror. ‘Em-emmet?’ But he knows his brother only heard the worried cry of a sneasel. And it didnt help. Emmet stands up fully and faces Ingo. That wild look in his eyes. Ingo has never seen such a look on his brothers face. An icy fear courses through him. “You. You had been in on it too hadnt you” his voice level and calm but laced with malice. Ingo went to ask what but Emmet cut him off “So is this fun for you? Hmm did you all get a good little GIGGLE out of me? A fun SHOW for you two??” Emmet was quickly closing the distance. Ingo not liking where this was going started to slowly back up but Emmet slammed the door shut, trapping Ingo. “Oh where are you going ~dear~ brother?” The words spat at Ingo with such sarcasm and hate it made Ingo freeze once again. The way Emmet seemed to growl out the word ‘brother’ made Ingos heart ache. “Did you enjoy your little game?! Did you enjoy watching me stumble!” Now Emmet was hovering right over Ingo a hand placed on either sode of Ingos head as he started to yell right into his face. All Ingo could do was sit there and huddle as close to the door as he could. “DID I MAKE GOOD ENTERTAINMENT FOR YOU! YOU AND THAT MASTER OF YOURS THAT THAT TWISTED GOD!” Emmet now gasping for breath as all his hate and anger flowed through him as he yelled at this-this… finally he looks at who hes yelling at. This small pokemon, cowering in front of him. Shaking as it holds its ears and tries to say something. He realises its repeating something. Over and over. Oh-oh no, what was he doing. A cold stab of shame ran through him. What was he doing. Oh how could he. He went to reach for the small creature and it flinched so violently he quickly pulled his hand back. “This creature “ “this pokemon” “it” what was he talking about. He knew this was Ingo. He knew this was his brother. Hadnt it no he proved it to him. Their computer password. He knew it. Only they knew it. Thats how Ingo had proven himself. What was he thinking. Tears once again fall from his eyes as he stared in horror, frozen in place, as his brother cowered and tried to as small as possible. Away from what? Away from him. Hes the monster here.
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Scura was panting, disarmed and bleeding from a couple of new slashes across his arms and shoulder besides. The sight actually steadied Nick. Judy had been his better for sure. And there was genuine fear on his muzzle now, leaking past even that unsettling spark in his bulging eyes.
"You don't have it in you," Scura spat, and scrambled backward when Judy advanced on him. "You didn't before, you don't now."
"It doesn't matter what I want anymore, Scura. This is larger than the deaths on your paws, or mine." She hefted her blade. "It has to end here. All of it."
The rock beneath them shivered again, as whatever combat spooled out below them took another deafening turn. Nick risked a glance down as the magic crackled underfoot.
The raven was growing, rising on giant wings. Lightning struck the walls again and again, scoring them into glass that bubbled and shattered in the heat.
Its energies were right here now, too, arcing between the bricks, so close that Nick took a cautious step backward onto more solid footing. The whole haven must have been one big magical lodestone by now. How they weren't already consumed Nick would never know.
"Then do it, if you have the guts," Scura taunted her. His eyes glinted where they flicked to the magic and he got a little sneer. "Come and get me. See if you're good enough with that spear of yours. Else you're as soft as I thought. A little kit playing at Sentinel."
Nick could see the words cutting at her. It was in her ears. But she didn't back down from her duty now. Even amid the chaos of a magical storm, and the sacrifice and pain and death she'd already seen and caused, and the call that doubtless dragged at her as hard as any of them, Judy was grim and steady. She finally knew what she had to do.
She drew back her blade for a killing strike, and lunged.
---
Tumblr is such a black box sometimes. I'll never quite get the hang of when and why certain link posts can't be renamed. Maybe if I posted more often, huh.
That to say that this is chapter 13! Enjoy.
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happy friday!! for Taliesen/Merrill, how about this one from the sensory prompts? "Twist in your gut as you say goodbye"
This makes me think about their breakup. It was messy. 😢 They didn't talk to each other again until Taliesen became Inquisitor.
@dadrunkwriting
Rating: T
“Was it worth it? Was it worth all that happened?” Taliesen’s brows knitted closer together. Her knuckles scraped across their table, almost knocking their tools off it.
“I don’t know.” Merrill’s head continued to slump down, unwilling to look at her.
“I warned you.” Taliesen rubbed her temples, her eye sockets would want to give out with how much she wants to keep snaring. “Don’t let the Eluvian consume you. We had to be more than our lost history.”
“It was my choice.” Merrill spat, pointing her finger to shut those insinuating lips. Nights spent together fixing that cursed mirror didn’t matter now. The one person who supported her, now bears the same judging eyes as the rest of her clan. “Marethari had no right to intervene. Whatever the consequences were, would come to happen to me.”
“When has that ever been the case?” Taliesen scolded, hands thrown up, almost ready to shake sense into the one she once loved. “You’ve not once talked to anyone in the Alienage. You hadn’t cooked in months. You haven’t cleaned,” she waves her hand at piles of clothes that littered their house, “I had to do that for you. And it hasn’t changed since I left.”
“We both knew the challenges that awaited us when we set out to do this.” Merrill reminded. “Whatever sacrifices. We would recreate a piece of Elvhenan by the end,” pushing Taliesen away, “but when we finally got somewhere. You weren’t here.”
Her steps weighed heavy, pacing forwards and back as the twitching in her legs kept biting at her. Tali’s hands kept scratching against her scalp, unable to rip that nerve out of her. “I couldn’t want to watch you throw yourself down that path. Getting consumed by our history has been beneficial to the Dalish.”
The Dalish? Merrill grits her teeth at Taliesen. She should have known that they were never of one mind about the Dalish.
It bites at her, now consuming her all thoughts. But it wasn’t just at the girl that she talked with until the candles burned out, she was mad at both of them. It should have been brilliantly clear to her, they wanted different things. She was just blind to it, the first Dalish elf to support her.
“And what do you know of benefiting our people?” Merrill bore out her fangs. “We are Dalish, walkers of the lonely path. You’d sacrifice our dignity, whatever possible to appease our oppressors. Whatever it takes for peace. Our history has never mattered to you.”
There were words that wanted to leave Tali’s mouth, words that she needs to say to the woman she once loved, had spent the bests nights together with, the woman that she cherished all the nights spent working on their project together.
Instead what actually came out of her was a dry coarse cough, no words in existence will mend what has happened. She simply chooses to close the door to Merrill’s home for the last time.
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Made a drawing series about podcast besties!! :DDDD (click for quality)
in order:
Eiffel and Hera (wolf 359)
Tim and Sasha (the magnus archives, + a camp here and there reference)
Sir Caroline and Sir Angelo (the penumbra podcast, second citadel)
The Audio Tour Guide and Clockwork Mother (mistholme museum)
Juno and Rita (the penumbra podcast, junoverse)
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@millie-andrews-rose requested: Alex gets put with a bully on a paired project, so Willie goes with him when they work on it to help him stay calm. Willie and the boy bond over skateboarding and Alex gets jealous, causing an argument between them. The boy then apologises to Alex for being so awful. Alex and Willie make up and it ends with their first “I love you”s. (This was edited/simplified just to make it shorter.)
This is the longest oneshot I’ve ever written and I absolutely love it. I really hope I’ve done you proud, especially since this was such a great prompt! Thanks!
And It’s Not My Fault
Alex adored projects. He loved having something big to focus on, a goal to work towards, something to keep him preoccupied. Any big time-consuming task was a lot of fun for him whether it was a five-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle or work for school worth a large part of his grade. There was, however, a single word that could be placed before the ‘project’ that would instantly transform it from Alex’s dream to his worst nightmare.
The word wasn’t ‘group’ as it would be for a lot of people. Alex liked group projects almost as much as he liked solo projects. Group projects were what he did with Julie, Luke, and Reggie almost every day, jamming in the studio and working towards having a complete set list in time for an upcoming gig. Group projects were what he occasionally did with Carrie and the girls of Dirty Candi when he would assist them with some choreography. Group projects were even tolerable with people Alex didn’t know well because he knew how they were supposed to work and usually he could convince everyone to do their fair share. So group projects were fine.
The word the ruined any chance of Alex having fun was ‘paired’.
Paired projects were the worst type of project. They always spelled trouble and Alex had never got a decent grade on one in his whole school career. It never felt like his fault, but when he thought about it he was the common denominator in every nightmare paired project scenario, so he had long ago decided that there must be something about paired projects that he was simply doing wrong.
Maybe it was that he wasn’t good one-on-one. Alex had always functioned better in groups (albeit small ones that couldn’t be overwhelming) and being face to face with just one person could be stressful. It was fine if it was a friend, and more than fine if it was his boyfriend, but when alone with a stranger Alex found himself running out of things to say and having nowhere to turn when the awkward silences set in. Or if he didn’t run out of things to say he would eventually say the wrong thing and that would start an entirely new alarm bell ringing in his mind as he panicked about accidentally being offensive. Overall, conversations without his emotional support band could be frustrating at best and somewhat dangerous at worst.
Perhaps it was true that Alex was the link in all these situations, but what he had always failed to consider was the fact that he had never been paired in a project with somebody who was actually willing to try and do well, which perhaps was a more prominent reason he’d never received a decent grade.
Alex had been having a good day. He was feeling bright for no reason in particular – needlessly optimistic days like this were his favourite, even though they usually were followed by needlessly pessimistic days as all those bad feelings caught up with him at once. Still, by now Alex had learnt to clutch that senseless joy while it was there and relish it before it was gone.
The joy was gone by noon.
“Alright, class,” Ms Osbourne said, clapping her hands to gain the class’s attention.
Alex hated his English classes. While he was good at English and rather enjoyed the subject itself, his class was rowdy and unruly and made it difficult to concentrate, while Ms Osbourne was a teacher so strict that if someone so much as thought about breaking a rule she would be able to sniff it out like a dog – but her bark was worse than her bite, and while she would shout an unnatural amount she rarely doled out punishments. The combination made for a lesson that was purely people shouting and no work being done.
The class quieted to a steady hum of chatter which was usually as silent as Ms Osbourne could get it. She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and continued. “Seeing as the end of the semester is coming up, I’m going to be setting you a project that will be worth forty percent of your grade. Essentially, it’s your final exam on our study of Macbeth.”
Alex perked up a little. He had been assigned projects for a lot of classes, but English projects were always the most enjoyable – they involved a lot of writing, which most people hated, but Alex found therapeutic; the only downside was that the source material was usually dreadfully dull. Still, Alex suddenly found himself looking forward to it.
And then she had to go and ruin it.
“I will tell you your assigned partners at the end of the lesson.”
Alex felt himself deflate and heaved a sigh. It had been too good to be true. Now he was going to be stuck on some boring project with a random student from his awful English class because he had no friends in this lesson and it was going to be horrible. It was all he could do to not let his head fall onto the table and scream in furious defeat.
It was on his mind all lesson. Who he was going to be with, what specific things the project would be on, how he could get out of it. His mind was buzzing with questions, building up energy that released itself by making his leg bounce up and down. Several times he found himself tapping out a rhythm on the table like it was his drumkit, his bouncing leg acting as if it was pounding the bass drum, and he had to force himself to stop and actually pay attention to the lesson.
The end came painfully slowly. The school bell rang and most of the students were up out of their seats immediately, ready to leave.
“Hang on,” Ms Osbourne yelled. “Everyone sit back down! I need to tell you your partners for the upcoming project.”
Alex listened attentively as she reeled off a list of names. Most people let out an annoyed groan when they found out they weren’t with a friend, and there was the occasional excited, “Yay!”
Alex knew he wouldn’t be one of the ones celebrating.
“Alex Mercer,” Ms Osbourne said eventually, pushing her glasses further up her tiny nose. “Your partner is Harry Reynolds.”
“Oh god,” Alex murmured. He felt his stomach squirm just as somebody kicked the back of his chair so hard that he jolted forward and nearly whacked his face on the table. The person laughed a moment later, obnoxiously loud, begging for retaliation – Alex didn’t dare turn around to look at them.
He knew already that it was Harry Reynolds sat behind him who had kicked his chair. His project partner, and possibly the worst person in the class that it could have been. For reasons unknown to Alex, Harry had always had it out for him. In middle school he had pushed Alex down a flight of stairs and he had landed unceremoniously in a trash can – Harry had started calling him Bin Boy and the nickname had stuck for a year afterwards; Harry was the only one who used it anymore though. Since then, Harry had just been a general jerk towards him, and upon hearing that they were going to be partners, Alex’s whole body told him to run.
Run where? Alex thought. This wasn’t a problem he could run from. Besides, Harry could probably run faster.
“Looks like it’s you and me, Bin Boy,” came Harry’s voice from behind. “I’m sure we’ll have loads of fun.”
Ms Osbourne finally finished listing pairs and then announced, “These partners are non-negotiable. I will not indulge any requests to switch for any reason. Life isn’t fair, sometimes we have to work with people we don’t like. Get used to it. Now go on, you’re already late for your next class.”
Alex wasn’t usually one to ignore instructions, but as the rest of the class filed out into the hallway he remained behind. He didn’t know what he was planning to say to Ms Osbourne, but he desperately needed to find a way out of the project, or at least switch partners.
“Go on, Alex,” Ms Osbourne said, “you’re going to be late.”
He swallowed thickly and said, “Miss, I was just wondering about the proj–”
“You’re not swapping partners,” she returned sternly. “I’ve already said this. I won’t make any allowances.”
“But, Miss, I can’t work with him,” Alex protested. She raised her eyebrows and started walking around the room, putting sheets on each table for her next class. Alex followed her as she went. “He hates me! It’s going to be awful.”
“Well, maybe the two of you can use this as a way to bond and get to know each other better, hm?”
“Miss, please,” Alex said, his desperation finally rearing its ugly head in his voice. He could feel his legs shaking and his hands wringing themselves together and his head tingling in a way he couldn’t describe, and finally he broke. “He has it out for me and I don’t even know why! He’s been awful to me ever since we were kids, he tries to pick fights with me, he calls me names. Last year he chased me around the field with a baseball bat for a whole PE lesson! If I have to work with him I’ll just end up panicking – or dead, that’s also a possibility – and the project will go terribly and I’ll fail the class. Please can I just work by myself?”
Ms Osbourne’s expression softened as she look at Alex over her glasses. For a moment, Alex’s hopes were raised just that tiny bit – maybe he had got through to her, maybe she would see sense.
But then her face turned to stone again.
“No,” she spat. “What you can do is figure out with Harry when the two of you are going to work on this project and how you’re going to go about it. And you can get to your next class.” She turned away with a cold air of finality. Alex could have sworn he actually felt chills.
Without a word, Alex heaved his bag onto his shoulder and made his way out of the classroom, crushed and dejected. He stared down at his feet as he walked and tried not to think about what the next few weeks could have in store for him.
Lunch couldn’t have come sooner. After what felt like an eternity, Alex finally made his way down to the cafeteria to meet up with his friends. If there was any one thing that was guaranteed to cheer Alex up when he was in a bad mood, it was the good company of his band and his boyfriend.
The rest of the group was already sat at their usual table when Alex arrived in the cafeteria; just seeing them laughing and joking together put the tiniest hint of a smile of his face. He headed over to them, but was stopped in his tracks by somebody stood in front of him – it was Harry Reynolds.
The boy had his arms crossed over his massive chest and was leering down at Alex with an expression of disgust. Alex tried to look past him at his friends, to get their attention, to ask for help, but they hadn’t seen him. Instead, he forced himself to look up into Harry’s brutish face and try not to squirm.
“Partners, huh?” Harry grunted. “I’m failing English so you’ll need to get us a good grade.”
“That’s the plan,” Alex said, willing his voice not to shake. It wasn’t that he was too frightened or intimidated by Harry, it was just the fact that he really didn’t feel like getting chucked in a bin today. One wrong move and he could consider that a real possibility.
“Be at my place on Saturday at one. Bring all your notes – I don’t have any.”
“I can’t do Saturday,” Alex told him, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I have band practise.”
Harry took a step closer. Alex couldn’t move back – his feet were rooted to the spot. “You think I care about your dopey little band practise? You’ll be there. That’s that.”
Alex swallowed, nodded hurriedly, and finally forced himself to take a step back so that he wasn’t chest to chest with Harry. “I’ll be there,” he echoed, still nodding.
Harry snarled, condescendingly patted Alex on the head, and walked off. Alex took a moment to collect himself, to breathe, to remind himself that he was okay and he wasn’t hurt, that Harry hadn’t done anything. He steadied himself and kept walking towards his friends, trying to mask the worry on his face.
Of course, he failed miserably.
The moment Alex sat down in his usual space between Willie and Luke, Willie took his hand, watching him with concern. “Hey,” Willie said gently, “what’s up?”
Julie, Luke, and Reggie immediately stopped their conversation, turning to face Alex and Willie. Alex hated the way they were looking at him, like he’d break if they dropped him, but it wasn’t like he could ask them to stop caring – instead, he looked at each of them, trying and failing to give them a reassuring smile before he spoke.
“Nothing,” Alex said, “nothing, it’s just… just this project for English.”
Luke sighed dramatically. “Has your class got that stupid Shakespeare assignment too? I get it, bro, it’s totally pointless–”
“No,” Alex interrupted quietly. “No, that’s not it. Well, kind of. Yeah, we’ve got the Shakespeare assignment but that’s not… not the problem.”
“What is it?” Willie prompted gently when Alex didn’t continue.
Alex shrugged. “It’s stupid.”
Julie leaned over the table and grasped Alex’s other hand. “Alex, your feelings are not stupid.”
She smiled warmly. Funny things happened when Julie smiled – when she did it to Luke, it wasn’t uncommon for him to literally trip over himself; when she did it to Reggie, it made him smile in return for hours on end; and when she did it to Alex, it gave him such overwhelming confidence that for a moment or two he could truly do anything.
“It’s just that we were assigned partners and I got stuck with Harry Reynolds,” he admitted, clutching Willie and Julie’s hands tighter. “It’s nothing and I shouldn’t be worried but–”
“It’s not nothing,” Willie said. Alex couldn’t quite read his expression – it looked to be something between sympathy and outrage. “That guy is the worst. Did you talk to your teacher about it?”
Alex nodded gravely. “She wouldn’t let me switch.”
“How much did you tell her?” Willie asked.
“What I thought would have been enough,” he replied, shrugging like it was nothing. “But it wasn’t.”
“She should be fired for that,” Reggie interjected. Everyone turned to look at him. “I’m just saying – if by ‘enough’ you mean that you told her what a jerk he’s been to you then she should follow that up and treat it like an issue instead of making you work with him.”
What would have been wise words were ruined slightly by the fact that Reggie spoke them around a mouthful of pizza.
“Reggie’s right,” Julie said, “she’s definitely in the wrong here.”
“I know that,” Alex told them, because he did, that much was obvious. “But it’s a little late for that now. I’m stuck with him.”
Willie clutched his hand tighter, threaded their fingers together. Alex leaned to the side, rested his head on Willie’s shoulder. Julie let go of his hand and Willie immediately picked it up – he smiled a little at both of them.
“I know saying it’s all going to be okay won’t help,” Willie whispered to him, “but you’ve got to try and believe that it will. And if it isn’t, I am just one call away. If you need anything – I mean anything – you call me and I will be there. Okay?”
Alex’s tense muscles relaxed the tiniest bit. “Okay,” he muttered back. “That’s okay.”
Willie kissed the top of his head and a fraction of Alex’s anxiety lifted. Willie would be there when he needed him no matter what. That was something he could always count on.
*
Luke hadn’t been happy when Alex had called him early on Saturday morning to tell him he wouldn’t be coming to band practise that day. He had given Alex a half-hour-long earful about how they had a gig coming up in a few days’ time and they needed to be rehearsing like crazy. It hadn’t been pleasant for Alex in the slightest, but at least it had been a welcome distraction from the other thing on his mind, the reason he had had to cancel band practise in the first place.
It was the day he was supposed to go to Harry’s house to work on their project. Alex had hardly slept the night before – he had lay awake in bed for hours, tossing and turning, trying to empty his mind and relax, but sleep just wouldn’t come. At half past two he had crept downstairs and made a batch of brownies using a recipe of his grandmother’s. At the time he’d thought that maybe he could use them to placate Harry once he got to his house, but he’d accidentally ended up stress-eating the entire batch instead.
He felt sick, but couldn’t tell if it was the brownies or the anxiety. Probably an unhealthy mix of both, he decided.
But he had passed the first hurdle and he told himself to be proud of that – he had arrived outside Harry’s house. It was a small bungalow on a road that led nowhere and Alex was struck by how normal it looked. It didn’t look like the sort of place somebody like Harry Reynolds should have lived; Harry was larger than life, tall and brooding, moody and mean – this house looked as if its occupants sold flowers and rescued kittens in their spare time.
Despite the outward appearances of the house, Alex was almost certain that he was in the right place. The front window seemed to show Harry’s bedroom because through it Alex could see innumerable trophies, all for different sporting events; a large stack of magazines (Alex was sure he could already guess what each contained); and a small enclosure that looked to Alex unbearably similar to a tank that might house a snake or a spider or any other creature that Alex would have preferred stayed thousands of miles away from him where it belonged.
He could not make himself walk into the house.
He had been trying for almost fifteen minutes and had walked past the house almost thirty times. He had counted his steps and was somewhere near eight thousand. His mind was racing, shooting through a hundred anxieties before Alex had the chance to dwell on any of them – maybe that was for the best. But it didn’t help the fact that he could not force his legs to walk in the direction of the door.
The worries stopping him weren’t even big ones like ‘What if he tries to hurt me?’ which Alex stressed over every time he interacted with Harry. It was the little things and the impossible things pricking the back of his mind like needles: What if he doesn’t answer the door? What if nobody’s home? What if I’m at the wrong house? What if he’s changed his mind? What if I got the wrong day? What if I got the wrong time? What if he’s not actually my project partner? What if… What if… What if…
What if I call Willie?
Alex blessed his brain for having its first sensible thought that day. He fished his phone out his pocket and called Willie, who picked up after one ring.
“Hey,” Willie said, “what’s up, hotdog?”
“I, um… I’m at Harry’s house. I can’t go inside.”
“Why not?” Willie asked. “Is the door locked? Are they out?”
Alex shook his head although Willie couldn’t see him. “No. I don’t think so. It’s just… I… I can’t do it.”
“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Willie asked patiently.
“I can’t go inside,” Alex repeated. With his free hand, he tugged at the strap of his fanny pack, fiddling with the buckle where it lay over his chest. “I can’t go up to the door. I’ve been trying for, like, twenty minutes and every time I try my head starts buzzing and my legs go numb and I’m starting to feel really sick now because I ate an entire batch of brownies meant for at least ten people and I can’t do this–”
“Okay,” Willie interrupted. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Breathe, Alex. Remember the breathing exercises we went over? Breathe in for four and out for six. Come on, hotdog, you’ve got this.”
Alex did as he said, taking great shuddering breaths of bitter air and releasing them slowly. Willie kept talking him through it, slowly, softly, kindly, and after about ten minutes Alex felt refreshed. Not necessarily worry-free, but his mind had cleared a little bit.
“Okay,” Willie said. “That was great, well done. Can you give me this guy’s address?”
Alex gave it to him.
“Luckily for you, that’s just down the road from where I am right now,” Willie said, chipper. Alex could hear the smile in his voice and it almost made him smile himself. Almost. “I’ll be there in a minute. I’ll go inside with you, if that’s what you want?”
Alex breathed a haggard, relieved sigh. “Yes. Please. If you don’t mind. Thank you, Willie.”
Willie gave a small chuckle. “Any time, hotdog. You know I’d do anything for you. I’ll see you in a minute.”
And he hung up.
Alex waited, still doing his breathing exercises, but didn’t need to wait long. Hardly five minutes later, Willie rolled up (literally – he was on his skateboard) and gave him a bright smile. Alex didn’t hesitate before lurching forward and pulling him into a hug.
“Thank you, Willie,” he whispered. “I really appreciate it.”
Willie’s response was simply to hug him tighter.
Together, hands clasped tightly between them, Willie with his board tucked under his arm, they made their way up to the bungalow’s front door. Alex swallowed, steeled himself, and then firmly knocked on the door. When nobody answered it in the first five seconds, Alex told Willie, “This is a bad idea,” and tried to turn away to leave.
However, Willie just pulled him back and a moment later the door opened. On the threshold of the house was Harry, staring down at Alex and Willie. Something about him wasn’t quite as nightmarish as it was at school, yet at the same time Alex was much more afraid. He held Willie’s hand tighter.
Harry nodded in Willie’s direction. “Who’s this, Bin Boy? You brought your boyfriend?”
“Actually, yeah,” Willie said, speaking for Alex. He was glad – his throat felt thick and he didn’t think he could have summoned up any words if he tried. “I’m Willie. I’ve heard about you.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What?”
“Just a few things,” Willie said nonchalantly. “Nothing important. Anyway, I was in the neighbourhood and Alex and I are set to hang out when he’s done here anyway so I thought I’d come along. Is that alright with you?”
“It’s fine,” Harry returned with a shrug. Then his eyes landed on something and his entire expression changed. Alex didn’t think he’d ever seen Harry look like this before. Could it have been what he thought it was: excitement? “Bro! You skate?”
Willie lifted his board half-heartedly. “This isn’t just for decoration.”
Harry grinned, clapping Willie on the shoulder so hard that his hand dropped from Alex’s. “Dude, that’s sick, I do too. Come on, get inside, man.”
Harry headed back into the house and Willie followed him. Alex took a moment to wonder what the hell that had been, then took a deep breath and hurried after them. When he caught up with Willie he grabbed his hand again. Willie just smiled bemusedly up at him.
Harry led them to his bedroom and beckoned them towards his desk.
“Come look at this,” Harry said. “I had a photo taken with Tony Hawk last year!”
Alex perched himself right on the edge of the bed awkwardly as Willie went over to inspect the framed photo.
“Are you sure that’s Tony Hawk?” Willie asked. “Doesn’t look like him.”
Harry shook his head. “You’ve got to imagine he’s holding a skateboard, then you’ll see it.”
Alex watched Willie squint at the photo for a moment or two longer, then he gasped and, to Alex’s horror, began to smile. “Oh, wait… yeah, kinda. That’s awesome, dude!”
“Yeah! Anyway, how long have you been skating for?”
As Willie answered, Alex zoned out of the conversation. Ordinarily, he loved listening to Willie talk about skating – he lit up whenever he explained a new trick he’d learnt, and seeing him flush with pride after he demonstrated it perfectly to Alex always made him feel giddy – but it just wasn’t the same listening to him chat with Harry Reynolds of all people. Alex didn’t even know who that Tony Hawk guy was and it didn’t seem like anyone was about to bother explaining it to him. He would never have admitted it, but listening to Willie talk to Harry was almost annoying.
He busied himself by looking around the room, getting a glimpse at what the real Harry Reynolds was like. At school, Harry was the classic, early-2000s movie jock, on every sports team the school had to offer, constantly bragging about his luck with girls, and picking on people smaller than him (which, because Harry was built like a tree trunk, was pretty much everyone). His room reflected it too; there were even more trophies than Alex had seen through the window, most for football or, unexpectedly, karate, and the walls were plastered in posters displaying buff men and weirdly specific motivational quotes. Only now did Alex notice the skateboards stuck on the wall and the stack of helmets by his bed, as well as several skating posters directly above them.
He turned back to Willie and Harry just in time to hear Willie laugh. Properly laugh, loud and genuine. Willie only laughed like that with his friends and it hearing it in Harry’s room stirred an uneasy feeling in the pit of Alex’s stomach.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, trying to smile.
Willie waved him off. “Don’t worry, hotdog, just a skating joke.”
Harry snickered, shaking his head. “Pretty freaking funny though.”
“Oh,” Alex said. He tried for a laugh but it was the least genuine noise he had ever made – judging by the look Harry sent him, it had been obvious how fake it was to him too. Alex cleared his throat awkwardly. “Shouldn’t we get on with our work? We’re already running behind schedule.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Shut it, Bin Boy, we’re having a conversation here. You start if you want, I’ll join you whenever.”
Alex sent a look to Willie, eyes wide and pleading. Willie frowned, looking conflicted, but then shrugged.
Willie and Alex didn’t fight often, but Alex wouldn’t have minded giving Willie a piece of his mind right then and there.
He didn’t though. He sighed, shuffled back on the bed so that he could have more room and lean on the mattress, and he started working on the project. It wasn’t too difficult, just an analysis on the themes of Macbeth, something they had gone over in class a hundred times; still, Alex would have appreciated some help, seeing as this was a paired project and he didn’t exactly want to do the whole thing alone.
But it was fine. He kept telling himself that it was completely and utterly fine. But every so often Willie or Harry would laugh or suddenly shout, and the abrupt noise would startle Alex. The third time that happened he accidentally jogged his highlighter so it zigzagged all over his painstakingly neat paragraph on King James I. He gripped his pen so hard that the plastic almost cracked, and set about writing the whole thing again on a new piece of paper.
Alex didn’t know how long he had been working for, but he did know that it had been a hell of a long time and Harry still hadn’t made any effort to help him. He had copied up all his notes on the supernatural, women, ambition, and the Great Chain of Being, all the while Harry had sat there with Willie, not doing anything.
The strange thing was, Alex found himself more angry at Willie than he was at Harry.
Eventually, he checked the time, his hand aching. It was almost five o’clock, which meant he had been working alone for about four hours solidly. He had done pretty much half of the project in that time and was nearing his breaking point – he thought that if he left now he could catch the tail end of band practise and take his frustration out on his drumkit.
Gathering his notes and all his work, Alex said, “I’m going to head out.”
Willie checked the clock on Harry’s desk and then set about clipping his helmet on. “Yeah, we should get going. This was fun, though, man. It was nice to talk to a fellow skater for once.”
“I hear you, dude,” Harry returned. They fist-bumped and Alex physically cringed. “Catch you later.”
Alex didn’t say goodbye, just saw himself out. He didn’t wait for Willie. He simply walked, trying to get out of the house and as far away as possible in as little time as he could. Alex could hear Willie shouting for him to wait up but he didn’t stop.
He felt Willie grab his hand and pull him to a halt, but pulled his hand from Willie’s grasp.
“What’s up with you?” Willie asked, seeming truly bewildered. “I thought that was alright back there, it was relaxed, not stressful. Are you still feeling anxious?”
Alex didn’t answer his question and instead he said with much more venom than he had intended, “What the hell was that?”
Willie looked taken aback. Alex almost felt bad. Almost.
“What was what?”
“In there!” Alex yelled, pointing in the direction of Harry’s house. “You talking to him like you’re best friends! That guy is a jerk, you know that, Willie, so why were you laughing and joking with him as if he’s the nicest guy in the world?”
Willie didn’t look impressed. “Sorry, I was under the impression you wanted me there. I was talking to him to distract from you. That’s what you wanted, right? You were nervous about going so you wanted my help to take the pressure off you. I was helping you, Alex, because that was what you asked me to do!”
“Not like that,” Alex protested. “You weren’t supposed to bond with him, leave me out completely so that I had to do all the work by myself and listen to you two talk about skateboards and… Toby Eagle, or whoever that guy was!”
“It was Tony Hawk. And it’s not my fault that Harry likes skateboarding,” Willie shot back. “It’s also not my fault that I enjoyed talking to someone who shares that interest for once. You listen and you pretend to know what I’m talking about, but it isn’t the same.”
“It didn’t have to be him!”
“Actually, given the circumstances, it did. And like I said – it got the attention off you, so I don’t see why you’re complaining.”
Alex felt his temper rising with each sentence. He never got this upset at Willie, this was a complete first. Sure, they had argued like any couple would, but he had never felt any real anger towards his boyfriend. It frightened him, and that fright stopped him from seeing any sense, taking a step back, calming himself down.
“I didn’t want you to do it like that,” he said, as if it was obvious. It was obvious to Alex – why wasn’t it obvious to Willie?
“I can’t read your mind, Alex,” Willie shouted, pointing at himself. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head!”
“You should know!”
“I don’t! It could be anything! I don’t think you realise that when it comes to you and your anxiety, I’m pretty much flying as blind as you are. Sure, I’ve done my research and I can handle it, but I never know what’s going to trigger you and set you off like earlier today. I may seem prepared, but I don’t know what you’re thinking and I don’t know what you’re going to worry about most. It is not my fault that sometimes I might not handle it in the best way. I’m trying my hardest, Alex.”
“You aren’t the one who has to go through the panic attacks and the constant worry, are you?” Alex seethed.
Willie shrugged. “No, I’m not. But I still worry about you all the time because I don’t know what’s going to set you off.”
“It’s not my fault I have anxiety,” Alex yelled.
“I never said it was! But it’s not my fault either – I dropped everything just to come and help you today and all you’re doing is throwing it right back in my face and arguing with me for helping you out! It’s not my fault that you can’t do these easy things and that you need me to hold your hand all the time!”
Alex froze. Willie did too. The words were out there, they’d been spoken without hesitation. They hung between the two of them like a toxic cloud, as both of them slowly realised the weight those words had held.
Willie broke the silence, reaching out his hand to Alex, trying to bridge that gap between them that had widened impossibly in the last ten seconds. “Alex, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean t–”
Alex stepped back, out of reach from Willie. Willie flinched and he withdrew his hand, instead crossing his arms and rubbing circles by his elbow with his thumb. It was a nervous tick Alex only ever saw when Willie was really stressed out. Normally he would have tried to soothe him, calm him down, but all he could hear were Willie’s words echoing back and forth through his mind.
It’s not my fault that you can’t do these easy things and that you need me to hold your hand all the time!
Alex schooled his features to careful neutrality, not betraying any emotion. It wasn’t hard, seeing as he wasn’t feeling much at that moment anyway, just a cold detachment.
“I heard you,” Alex said quietly. He couldn’t look Willie in the eye. “I heard exactly what you said. I know what you meant.”
“Then you’ve got to know that I wasn’t trying to–”
“I know what you meant,” he repeated. “I’m going back to band practise. I don’t think you should come and watch today.”
He shook his head and, turning on his heel, walked away. He didn’t hear Willie’s footsteps following him this time.
*
Band practise had helped calm Alex down with a mixture of wrestling his drumkit and talking things out with Julie, Luke, and Reggie. They had all seemed utterly shocked that Willie would say anything like that, but Alex wasn’t so surprised. After all, things like this were what he worried about – being left alone, being disliked by the people he cared for most, being a nuisance, being abandoned. Deep down in the pit of his worst anxieties, he had been worried that something like this could have happened.
He just had never thought it would have come from Willie.
While band helped him calm down, it didn’t help cheer him up. He regretted even bringing the argument up in the first place – if he had ignored his feelings (which Julie had bluntly explained to him were jealousy) then he could have avoided the whole argument. Instead of lying in his cold bed, unable to sleep that night, he could have been curled up with Willie on the couch in the studio, warm and cosy because Willie was like a human radiator.
He knew that neither of them had been fair on each other. He could see Willie’s side of the argument once he had calmed down. But he knew that what he had said was equally valid and he couldn’t get past the scorn in Willie’s voice when he’d said those damning words.
He didn’t hear from Willie all throughout Sunday and didn’t make any moves to contact him himself either. If he did, he had no clue where he would have even begun. Perhaps an apology – but where was he supposed to take the conversation from there?
So Sunday was silent.
Alex was slightly dreading school on Monday, but he wasn’t about to ruin his high grades by not showing up, especially this close to the end of the semester. Grudgingly, he headed to school and went straight to his first lesson, which just so happened to be the lesson from Hell: English.
He arrived there before the rest of the class, including Ms Osbourne, which meant he had time to dwell on his thoughts alone. He probably wasn’t going to fail this class – despite Saturday having been a nightmare, he had managed to get a lot of good work done on the project and it would be of a very high quality when he finally got it finished. But he still had more work to do and he knew that he really ought to do it with Harry. Absently, he pondered whether or not to bring Willie next time he needed to go to Harry’s house.
Talk of the devil, Alex thought as the classroom door swung open and none other than Harry himself sauntered in. He looked at Alex sat there alone, the only other person in the room, and grunted, coming to sit beside him.
Alex didn’t have the energy to be scared of Harry Reynolds today.
“I’ve been looking for you, Mercer,” Harry said conversationally.
“Oh, joy,” Alex deadpanned. Harry looked surprised, probably because Alex wasn’t cowering in fear, but he shrugged it off.
“I wanted to talk to you,” he continued. “I just wanted to say that your boyfriend, that Willie guy, he’s really cool. I mean, the way he was talking about skating the other day – I don’t know if you realise it, man, but he has a real shot at going pro.”
“I know,” Alex spat. “He’s my boyfriend, of course I know. Maybe I don’t skate but I still listen to him. And I know him better than you do.”
Harry held up a hand. “Woah, calm down, Bin B– uh. Alex. I’m just trying to say the guy is really cool and you’re really lucky to have him. And also… talking to him the other day, he said– well, you weren’t listening, were you?”
Alex shook his head.
“We did stop talking about skating at some point, you know,” Harry told him. “Willie was telling me how awesome you are and, you know, explaining why he likes you so much. And I guess it made me realise that I’ve kind of been a jerk to you for a long time – I mean, he literally told me so. He told me to stop being such a douchebag to you.”
Alex grunted. “He’s right. You should stop. It sucks.”
Harry nodded. “I wanted to apologise for it, I guess. I’m sorry for being so nasty to you. I think it’s just because I was young and dumb and I didn’t realise it was hurting you at first, then it just stuck. I kind of always thought it was friendly too – I didn’t think you minded. I thought it was banter.”
“It wasn’t,” Alex said, meeting his eyes. “It never was. I’m terrified of you, you’ve made my life a misery. Thanks for the apology, but it’s no excuse.”
“I know that,” he admitted. “But I just wanted to explain why. I’m going to try my best to be a better guy from now on. It won’t make up for everything I’ve done in the past, but can you give me a chance to get this right?”
Alex considered. Somehow, Harry seemed completely serious. His expression was slightly pleading and he looked a little awkward and uncomfortable to be asking this of Alex, but it seemed real.
So he nodded.
“Fine. Thank you.”
Harry clapped him on the back. “No worries, dude. And, uh… this might not be my place to ask, but are you okay? You look down.”
Alex shrugged. “I had an argument with Willie after we left your place the other day. I’ve not spoken to him since.”
“Was it my fault?” Harry asked.
“Kinda,” Alex told him, shrugging again. “I just… I didn’t like how friendly you two seemed. After everything you’ve done to me in the past, watching him get along with you like it was nothing made me a little mad.”
“Sorry, bro,” Harry said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m not into him or anything, so you’ve got nothing to worry about there – plus, he’s crazy about you, so even if someone else did like him they’d be out of luck. I just wanted to talk with someone about skating for once, none of my friends are into it.”
“Willie said the same thing,” Alex admitted.
Harry nodded awkwardly. “I don’t have any say in your relationship, but honestly I’m kind of invested in it now and I think you guys should talk it out. I’d hate to think I played some part if you ended up breaking up over this.”
“I don’t want to break up with him,” Alex objected, horrified. The thought of breaking up with Willie, losing him forever, made him feel sick to the stomach.
The rest of the class began filing into the classroom. Harry stood up, shrugged, and then clapped Alex on the shoulder.
“Go talk to him, then.”
*
Alex, for the first time in his life, took the advice Harry had given him and decided to take that first, absolutely terrifying step towards fixing the break between himself and Willie. If he knew his boyfriend (and he did) then Willie would have gone to the skatepark straight after school, so that was where Alex headed too.
Sure enough, Alex found Willie at the skatepark, sat at the top of the highest ramp. Every now and then, someone on a board would do a trick nail-bitingly close to Willie’s face, but he didn’t flinch even once. He was staring off into the peachy sunset, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Alex climbed up there and sat himself down next to him.
“Is this seat taken?” he asked uneasily.
Willie startled and turned to Alex, caught unawares. “Alex! I thought you–”
Willie didn’t get to finish his sentence because Alex pulled him into a tight, bone-crushing, fierce hug, pouring every last ounce of love and regret into it. He felt Willie hug back with equal force and buried his face into Willie’s long hair. This, he knew, was how it was supposed to be – Alex and Willie, boyfriends who care far too much about each other, not Alex and Willie, boyfriends on the edge of a break-up.
Eventually, Alex withdrew himself and let Willie go mostly, still keeping a tight clutch on his upper arms.
“I am so sorry,” he said, breathless. “I’m sorry for everything I said and for starting the argument and for everything that happened that day.”
Willie shook his head. “Don’t. I’m sorry, I should have realised how talking to Harry like that would have made you feel. It was dumb of me, and I shouldn’t have said such hurtful things to you, and–”
“I get it,” Alex said breezily, “I’m a lot to deal with.”
Desperately, Willie said, “But that’s not what I meant! I can’t explain what I was trying to say, but I wouldn’t change anything about you or our relationship for the world. You mean the everything to me, Alex, and I never want to do something to jeopardise what we have ever again. I’d do anything to take back what I said to you that day.”
Alex pulled him back into the hug, needing to be close to him. “It wasn’t just you. It was both of us. And Harry. But we’ve all apologised now, even him, so we can put this whole thing behind us.”
Willie pulled back, surprised. “He apologised?”
“Yeah,” Alex said, nodding. “Because of you. He said you were going on about how amazing I am and he realised he’d been a jerk.”
Willie blushed the tiniest bit, and playfully punched Alex’s arm. “Well, you are amazing. You’re more than amazing. You’re a miracle and I’m lucky to have you.”
Smiling, Alex cupped Willie’s cheek and gently pulled him in for a kiss. It was soft, slow, and Alex felt like they were glowing, bright and warm and happy. They kissed until every unspoken word had been said, until the last of the orange sunset had ebbed away into night-time blue, until streetlights cast an amber glow across the skatepark, in which they were the only ones left. Alex felt like he was finally at peace, with himself and with Willie.
He pulled back and rested his forehead against Willie’s. “I’m lucky to have you too. I can’t even begin to understand what good luck brought you to me.”
Willie moved back slightly, shuffled further away until he was only holding Alex’s hands, until that was the only point where they touched. Alex missed his warmth.
“Sorry,” Willie giggled, smile bright. “I wanted to be able to look you in the eyes for this.”
“For what?” Alex asked.
Willie’s smile softened. “I love you, Alex. And I’m pretty sure I always will.”
Alex’s heart stopped. It was the first time he’d ever heard those words out loud. Sure, he had felt them in every little action from Willie in all the time they’d been together – he had felt his love in the way he cared for him when he was sick, in the way he bundled himself up in Alex’s hoodies, in the way he played with Alex’s hair, in the way he brought him back from the edge when he was anxious, in the way he devoted every part of himself to Alex.
He had loved Willie in return too, in the little ways – how he listened to Willie talk about skating and watched him practise, how he brushed and braided Willie’s hair to relax them both, how he danced with Willie whenever he wanted because he simply couldn’t say no, how he wrote songs that only Willie would ever hear, how he listened to Willie talk nonsense in his sleep on those nights they slept at the studio together.
But he too had never said the words out loud.
He pulled Willie in for another kiss, brief but burning, and then held his hands again. Willie was right – this was something Alex wanted to look in his eyes for.
“I love you, too, Willie. I’ll never stop.”
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Thenerius - pt 2
word count: 5,675
male tiefling x female reader
Read Part 1 here
AN: whelp i guess this is getting (hopefully just) a third part... good luck to everyone else who’s going through finals week and don’t procrastinate your final projects/tests like i am! literally have a final today to study for and take after my 8 am and a portfolio due friday i haven’t started on lol
You were getting one last bucket-full of water for a much-needed bath from the pump around the back of the barn, too far to hear when the thundering sound of hooves on the dirt path approach the cottage. You also miss the shout of greeting and the sound of voices entering the cottage.
The sun was finally dipping below the horizon on a long day of playing catch-up around the homestead, and your only plans for the evening were to wash up and make dinner before passing out. So, when you finally reentered through the back door soaked in sweat and worn work clothes only to see your mother sitting at the small wooden table with none other than Thenerius, you were understandably shocked.
He was obviously here to kill you, getting revenge for how you humiliated him and refused his advances when he wanted you to accept them the most. You had been brave in that moment, brushed aside the fact that he was a pirate and more likely than not a killer, and now you would be paying the price.
When the tiefling saw you frozen at the doorway, his already bright demeanor seemed to reach the levels of the surface of the sun, blinding then burning when he stood up to greet you enthusiastically. You almost wish he was here to kill you, that fate infinitely better than whatever he actually had planned instead.
Pointedly ignoring him, you addressed your mother only, asking if she took her medicine yet.
“Your friend from work was keeping me company,” your mother smiled, though it was clear that she was drained from the encounter, “He brought your weekly payment from Aedan.”
Your head snapped over to Thenerius, the tiefling having the nerve to grin and hold up a pouch of coins. You were distracted, however, when your mother let out a soft cough she tried in vain to hold back. She broke out into a coughing fit, starting small and growing until they wracked her body.
Your concern grew, helping her to the bedroom and quickly getting some cough syrup into her. Once she was settled, you went back into the main room to deal with the purple menace.
He was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room once you returned, the pouch sitting on the table. You stalk over and grab the pouch, shoving it into the tiefling’s chest.
“You need to leave,” you hiss, beginning to usher Thenerius towards the door.
“Wait!” The bastard had the nerve to dig his heels in, refusing to move until you give up on forcing him.
“What?” You spat, glaring up at him. Perhaps you would have found it amusing, how he had to duck his head to keep his horns from scraping the ceiling, a grizzled pirate trying to make himself fit inside the cozy cottage. No, you definitely would have found it hilarious, if said pirate wasn’t in your cottage unannounced, the location of which you never divulged during working hours, apparently trying to win your affections after your admittedly callous rejection.
“I-” Thenerius hesitated, any confidence he had that carried him all the way to your home dissipating when you weren’t as responsive to his charms as he’d come to expect from you, “I wanted to apologize. You were right, about the proposal. I shouldn’t have done that.”
You blinked, having assumed you’d be given another unwanted love confession. You’re not sure what to make of the admission, though you’re certain it wasn’t a trick, as he seemed genuinely remorseful.
“What part, that we’ve only known each other for three weeks or that it was because you were so lonely and any girl who wagged her tail at you would have had you falling for her?” You’re internally grimacing as soon as the words are out, unable to believe how cold you sound even to yourself. You didn’t want to goad him to anger if he was just here to apologize.
“If my memory serves correctly, I believe the exact phrase you used was ‘bat their eyelashes’ at me.” The attempt at humor didn’t quite reach Thenerius’ eyes, but you still allowed yourself to deflate at the opportunity of a reprieve, “but that it came too soon. I had done it thinking of all the time that had passed since I met you, the time I spent halfway across the world and all I could think about was returning to you. Your smile alone made the entire six month journey worth it, but you gave me so much more in that time - not your love. I know that, now, but… your time, and affection. Once you said that - that we’d only been in each other’s presence for three weeks - I realized, perhaps I was rushed in my assessment of who you were. I filled the gaps of who I wanted you to be in my head.”
By the end of his faltering speech, you had shut your eyes, screwing them tightly shut in order to avoid having to look into Thenerius’ eyes, the raw emotion that swelled behind them that threatened to consume you with it. You refused to allow yourself to be caught up in the moment, to let yourself fall any deeper in than you already were entrenched from his flowery words. Just words, you told yourself.
“Is that all you needed to say?” You clear your throat, opening your eyes and looking anywhere but him, your resolve thinning with the mere awareness of his gaze upon you, feeling yourself being worn down.
Perhaps ‘worn down’ wasn’t the right verbiage, though it very much felt like it. Dragging you out into the light? Exposing you to be scrutinized, or to be known? What is the difference, if any? Either way, you felt as though Thenerius could read every passing thought darting around your head at lightening speed, projecting loud and clear your true desires no matter what you could say to the contrary.
“No, I want to know you. My feelings haven’t changed since that night, but I want you to feel the same.”
You let out a deep breath you weren’t aware you were holding. The short sentence is so simple, clear in meaning and intent. It’s… infuriating. A wave of something flowed over you in that moment, a realization like a bucket of ice water dousing you. You were shaking, your realized, but not with cold.
“You want to change my mind?” You whisper, cursing yourself for your inability to do much more in this conversation than to parrot his words, “You come to my home - unprompted, in fact, considering our last conversation, entirely unnecessarily - to what, exactly? Prove that I’m some prize to be won over by you? Come see how sorry my life is, see my sick mother and how I work my ass off at the tavern and here and think I’ll jump into your arms with some words? You must know that I wouldn’t go with you. Nor would I sit here waiting for you to return from the sea, hoping you’ll return for a few weeks every year and grace me with your presence and gold.”
You pause for air, realizing with horror that you were crying of all things. You quickly run your hands over your cheeks, glaring at Thenerius in a silent challenge, waiting for him to turn tail and run, “Now go.”
In yet another turn of seemingly endless events that should no longer have surprised you with how consistently they’ve been happening, Thenerius surprised you yet again.
“Well, this is awkward. I may have sent my men back south with my ship. I’m in need of room and board,” Thenerius said, and for the life of you, no matter how closely you examined his expression, you could not figure out what the hell he was thinking.
“Go to The Deep, then. I happen to be of the inside knowledge that there’s plenty of vacancies this time of year,” you said, brushing past the tiefling on your way back to your forgotten bucket of water, ready to escape this suffocating atmosphere.
“I don’t have enough gold for the length of time I’m planning on staying,” he replied.
“This is sounding more and more like your crew left you here and took the ship for themselves,” you deadpan, hefting the bucket up and carefully carrying it back towards the bathroom.
“My crew wouldn’t do that,” Thenerius’ voice suddenly turned serious, “I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t have come here if they had.”
“Well, unlucky me, then,” you grumble, “You’re still not staying here.”
“You’re very sarcastic,” Thenerius noted, and you prayed for his sake that the comment wasn’t a part of his vow to get to know the real you.
You disappear down the hall and into the bathroom, dumping the bucket into the basin. To your great relief, the water was still steaming.
“Wait, your pay!” Thenerius walked in behind you. You could tell the exact moment he realized where he was, quickly averting his eyes from you.
You roll your eyes. As if you would undress for any reason while he was still in the house.
“Please, you may have lied to my mother, but I’m no fool,” you snort, ignoring the outstretched hand to check the water, “Mr. Thistle would never trust a pirate with money, much less tell you where I live.”
“I’ll- come back later,” he says, turning to get out the room.
“No, you’re leaving,” you follow after him.
“Dear, it’s much to too late for him to ride, he can sleep here.” You and Thenerius both jump at your mother’s sudden appearance, both of you having forgotten that you were arguing right in front of the bedroom.
“But-” your protest is cut short when she only shakes her head, and you hope to Tova that she only caught the tail-end of your conversation with Thenerius.
“If you must, you can ride with him tomorrow to ask Aedan to give him a discount. Tomorrow.”
You run your hands down your face, glancing out the nearest window to confirm it was in fact dark out.
“Fine,” you sigh, pointing at Thenerius, “but you’re gone first thing tomorrow!”
Thenerius at least has the decency to not look too excited under your scrutiny, thanking your mother quietly.
“Go wash up, mom, it’s ready,” you inform her, moving away from the doorway so she can slip past.
You consider telling Thenerius to go last in the bath, but you’re covered in dried mud and animal shit and you weren’t going to have his tavern smell stinking up the sofa.
“You’re next,” you tell him, finally noticing how cramped the hallway was with two people in it. You push past him to to sit at the table again.
Thenerius followed you, keen to the fact that he was on thin ice and remained wisely silent as you waited for your mother to finish in the bathroom.
When she exited, dressed in her nightgown and hair wrapped tightly in a towel, you ushered Thenerius in, barely giving him time to grab his bag on the floor next to the chair he’d been sitting in when you first walked in. You enter close behind, going around him to grab a towel for him to use and quickly leaving him to his privacy, letting out the longest exhale of your life once the door shut behind you. You go back to the table and sit, trying not to think about the naked tiefling in your bathtub as you started the fire under the stove.
As soon as Thenerius stepped out of the bathroom with his bag in hand, you rush in, not making eye contact before you slam the door shut behind yourself.
The water is still somewhat lukewarm, and clear enough besides the murkiness from the soap. You think about literally anything else besides the fact that Thenerius had been in the same water just minutes before you, using the bowl to run water over your hair and quickly lathering the bar soap with a clean washcloth. The sooner you get out the better, you think.
It isn’t until you’re out of the bath and looking at your nightclothes that you realize you’re going to have to wear them in front of him, unless you change into clean day clothes just to change into them in the privacy of your bedroom later.
It’s just tonight, you tell yourself, he’ll be gone tomorrow. And why would you have to modify your routine for him? He’s the one intruding. It won’t be a big deal so lang as you act like it isn’t. It’s not like you’ll be prancing around naked. They’re your winter ones, the material made much thicker than the normal cotton.
Properly talked up, you walk out, pretending not to notice how Thenerius stops mid-sentence in a conversation with your mother to stare at you like the moon herself descended in front of him.
“I’ll have dinner ready soon.” You mumble, not stopping until you were safely in the kitchen.
You take the last eight eggs and crack them onto the iron skillet sitting on the stove, immediately sizzling before you take a flat spoon to scramble and scrape them into three plates. You then add leftover cuts from a chicken you culled from your flock a week ago to the skillet to cook, already seasoned. Then, you took the stack of unleavened bread your mother made during the day while you worked before putting them on another flat slab of iron on the stove to warm them.
Once you had a sizable enough stack for three people, you wrapped the resulting unleavened bread in cloth and balanced the three plates in your arms and carried everything back into the dining area.
You had heard Thenerius and your mother sharing a hushed conversation through the walls, but weren’t able to make out any specifics. However, when thy both immediate hushed up once you entered, it was clear who the topic of their chat was.
You set down the plates, frowning once you realized you’d have to sit next to Thenerius, as it was only a four-person table and they were already sitting at opposite ends. Once you were seated, however, the dinner conversation was thankfully limited as everyone focused on their plates.
Then it was time for your mother to take her tablets, you watching carefully as she downed them with a cup of water. She retired to the bedroom shortly after, and though she tried to make it seem as though she was solely doing it to give you and Thenerius some privacy, it was obvious she was drained of all energy as she slowly shuffled down the hall.
You ignore Thenerius and grab the plates, taking them to the kitchen to dump the scraps in the bin and be washed. Thenerius’ plate is practically clean already, but your mother’s is concerningly hardly touched at all.
Dunking the emptied plates plates in the half-full sink, you scrub vigorously. Just as you are about to place the first one on the rack to dry, however, Thenerius takes it from you and dries it with the dishtowel.
You decide to say nothing, simply handing him the next plate once he placed the previous one on the rack.
You bring Thenerius a stack of blankets, dumping them on the cot next to where he sat for him to assemble himself.
Just as you turn to leave, a hand falls on your shoulder and you immediately stiffen. It quickly retracts.
“I don’t need this many,” Thenerius says quietly, looking dejected when you look over your shoulder at him as he tries to hand you a few of the blankets back.
“You do,” you inform him, “we’re at a higher altitude. It’s going to get colder.”
Thenerius places them back on the pile, his mouth opening and then closing. You wait. Finally, he clears his throat, “Thank you, for dinner. And for letting me stay here.”
“Thank my mom,” you reply, “and don’t get used to it. I was serious when I said you’re gone tomorrow.”
After a moment, Thenerius smiles, small but hopeful, “not first thing?”
“You have to pay for the meal and bed,” you huff, turning back around and going into the bedroom, careful to be quiet as you cross the cottage so as to not wake your mother.
You make sure the door is shut securely, and for good measure, you stick a piece of paper in the gap between the top of the door and the frame. You don’t think you’ll be able to sleep with the knowledge of a stranger sleeping in the next room, but almost as soon as your head hits the pillow, you’re waking to the sound of the rooster crowing the next morning.
You sit up abruptly, your mother still asleep next to you. You swing your legs over the edge of the mattress and scurry to the door, the paper still in the same spot you placed it when you take it back down.
You open the door quietly and slip out, glancing around the corner at the end of the hall to the cot. On the side closest to you, the stack of blankets are folded neatly, Thenerius’ pack leaning against one of the cot’s legs.
Your eyebrows furrow, going back to make sure the bathroom was empty before checking the kitchen, seeing neither hide nor hair of Thenerius in the cottage. Before you go search outside for the tiefling, you decide to at least get the stove going to warm up the cottage. As you stand in the kitchen looking for the box of matches, you realize you can hear the familiar, rhythmic thumping of an axe hitting wood.
Glancing out the window, you see Thenerius at an old stump splitting firewood a few yards away, his coat off and hanging from a tree branch. He stops to brush his hair back, careful to avoid his horns, before continuing.
Against your better judgement, you study him from the safety of the indoors. The last time you’d seen him, it had been shaved close. He apparently grew it out since then, dark waves forming curls around the nape of his neck that you’d noticed when he first arrived at the deep and now was sticking to his scalp with sweat.
As the sun broke over the horizon and illuminated the clearing, you could see how Thenerius’ back muscles flexed under the fabric of his shirt, sleeves rolled up to expose his thick forearms. Obviously, as a pirate, he would have to be at least somewhat fit. Hell, you’d felt them whenever he would insist you touch his arm while he flexed or would pull you into his lap.
But none of that quite prepared you for how he would look without the barrier of his coat, how he likely looked working out at sea.
You force your eyes back to the task at hand before they can venture downwards, finally finding the matches and lighting one with shaking hands before lighting the scrap of paper and tossing both into the stove.
Shutting the door and opening the grate, you return to the bedroom to change into your day clothes.
You immediately regret stepping outside as soon as you do, the light of the sun doing little to warm the icy air rushing inside your lungs and burning against your skin. Still, you are determined as you march around the cottage to where Thenerius continues to split the pieces of wood, though the pile of wood that took you months to chop down and cut into sections was now nearly gone and a neat stack of his split pieces had taken its place.
“I noticed you were running low,” Thenerius calls out as you approach, smiling as your eyes met his.
“It’s fine,” you huff, Thenerius’ smile brightening as though you just extended him the best praise of his life.
Annoyance bubbled in your stomach. Did he think he was cute? Acting like a love-struck teen and not a Tova-damned pirate? Or did he think you would be tricked by the illusion he put forth if he played pretend enough?
“Hurry up and finish that. There’s more work to do before breakfast,” you mutter, turning towards the barn as he would no doubt be crestfallen as you continue, “Then we’re going to The Deep.”
You go back to the kitchen briefly to grab the scrap bin before going to the chicken coop, making sure to latch the screen door behind you. You drop the scraps at the center of the enclosure, the chickens running over each other in a clucking mass of feathers and beating wings in their attempt to get at the food first. A few even manage to steal a few morsels before the more dominant ones chase them off.
Once the nesting area was empty, you went over and started collecting eggs in the same bin. Only six today, and you cooked the last of them in storage for dinner the night before. You worry your bottom lip, looking at the flock.
There were five hens and the rooster. You had been planning to let them breed in the spring to bring their numbers up, but that was still a long ways away.
You glanced over at the goats, currently in the pasture with the horses. You had two bucks and eight does. You had sold off the kids of four of the does, leaving you with five kids, three males. There was still the cured meat you got from the storehouse the other day, so you wouldn’t have to do anything drastic for food just yet, but it wouldn’t last soon at your current rate.
You had been planning on buying rabbits to raise for meat and fur, but you hadn’t been able to find the time to finish the winter hutch that was still partially completed in the barn.
Then you thought about everything else you had to do soon - castrate the three kids, patch the barn roof, harvest the second pasture’s grass and dry it for hay… and it seemed like every day you found something that needed repairing or replacing.
But… if Thenerius does plan on staying, you just may be able to keep everything afloat for the time being. With him there to collect the eggs and milk the goats while you worked shifts at the deep, then- appalled that you were planning ahead as though you would allow Thenerius to stay for months on end with you. No, you survived the last winter without any help, you could do the same this year.
Letting out a sigh, you dropped the eggs off in the kitchen before going back to the barn to wrap the horses snugly in blankets and let them out to graze in the pasture connected to the barn.
By that point, Thenerius comes to find you. You were admittedly surprised he’d finished that quickly, soaked with sweat and breathing heavily as he told you he was finished. You had even gone to check, not quite able to believe he’d gone through the entire wood pile that fast, or at least correctly. He looked proud when you peer up at him, but you refuse to praise him, directing him instead to the pasture while you grab two pails from the barn.
After showing him how to milk the does, you quickly fill about two pail's worth of milk between you from the four kidless does.
After taking the milk to the small pasteurizer in the barn, you set about making breakfast.
After taking the milk to the small pasteurizer in the barn, you and Thenerius returned to the cottage, your mother already up and standing by the stove.
You waste no time getting breakfast ready, making the six eggs you collected and take out the smoked meat. You make up two plates, setting them down in front of the two.
“I’ll be back soon,” you tell your mother, gripping her shoulder for a moment, “Don’t forget to take your medicine.”
“I’ve been taking it for three years, I don’t need you reminding all the time, you know,” your mother huffed, but she still pressed a kiss to the top of your head and waving you off.
“You aren’t going to eat?” Thenerius asked, thankfully swallowing his mouthful before speaking.
“I ate a couple boiled eggs while I cooked,” you reply, “clean the dishes after you’re done. We’ll go to The Deep afterwards.”
Grabbing your purse and heading to the barn, you click your tongue at the door leading out to the pasture, grabbing his saddle as your horse neighs loudly and nearly trampling over Thenerius’ horse in his attempt to get to you.
Any attempts on your part to name the capricious animal had been in vain, as he only ever responded to the sound of a clicking tongue, what your mother called him over to eat. It explained why he was fatter than a pregnant mare when you got here, unridden and getting fat on the lush pasture to himself and the treats.
Horse, as you’d taken to referring to him in your head, shoved his face into your hands, sticking your entire hand into his mouth in search of treats. You fish out a peeled hard-boiled egg from your pocket, the treat disappearing from your hand before you can even unfurl your fingers, Horse chewing it down quickly. Thenerius’ horse ventures over once she realizes you have food, and you have to press an open palm against Horse’s face to keep him from snatching the second egg you pull out before she can gently take it from you.
“Are those the eggs you ‘ate’?” You jump as Thenerius suddenly appears next to you, and you glare at him for sneaking up at you.
“I need to bribe him to come over and let me saddle him,” you said, neither confirming or denying the tiefling’s accusation, “he’ll be angry the entire ride otherwise.”
“Why didn’t you eat?” Thenerius presses, his eyes never leaving you as you unpin Horse’s blanket and refold it, throwing it over his back before securing his saddle on top.
“There wasn’t enough,” you shrug, climbing onto Horse’s back and pressing your legs momentarily into his side to get him to start walking.
You’re almost to the main road when you hear Thenerius pull up beside you.
“You should have taken mine,” he says after a moment.
You sigh. Clearly, wanting a nice, quiet stroll into town was too much to ask for, “Our horse is fine. He needs the exercise, anyways.”
“Not the horse, the food,” Thenerius said, actually sounding irate with you, “if there wasn’t enough you should have eaten mine.”
You bite back a laugh. You’ve heard Thenerius actually angry before, yelling at his crew members when one shoved another into a table in the tavern and broke it.
He’d been absolutely furious then, scaring even you with how his red eyes burned like hot coals, his face darkening to what you assumed to be an unhealthy purple-blue color as he nearly came to blows with the offenders. That feared pirate captain now reprimanded you like a child.
“Please, it’s one meal,” you snort, “I had plenty while I was working.”
“You shouldn’t skip meals,” he insisted, drawing close to your side to look down at you sternly, “You’re going to still be working the rest of the day after this, aren’t you?”
You roll your eyes and snap your reins, Horse speeding up to a canter and leaving Thenerius behind. The journey was familiar to you both, and you don’t even need to provide the horse with direction as he follows the twists and turns of the winding path with a sure foot.
You just want to hurry and reach The Deep, collect your pay, dump Thenerius on them and then go to Alfore to meet with the doctor about your mother.
You reach The Deep before Thenerius, tying Horse to a post outside the stables and making a beeline inside with barely contained excitement.
When you enter the tavern, Lenora is the only one in. Her welcoming smile quickly shrinks into a sheepish one once she sees you, however, turning on one heel to head straight towards the inn portion of the building.
Your eyes narrow, making a detour from Mr. Thistle’s office to go after her. You had an inkling as to what that was all about, and you couldn’t help but need to confirm it.
Your hand falls onto her shoulder and grips it tight, yanking her back just before she can abscond up the steps.
“Where are you going?” You ask, putting on a pleasant smile for the few patrons at the bar as you steer her down the hall to the privacy of the storage room, once an office.
“Please don’t kill me - he tricked me into telling!” Lenora begged for mercy immediate, clasping both hands in front of her.
“I highly doubt that,” you cross your arms, raising an eyebrow and waiting for her to try again.
Lenora had always been something of a romantic, constantly falling for one sweet gesture after another and declaring someone her ‘soulmate’ every few months. If she caught wind of Thenerius’ proposal, of course she’d think it was fine to play matchmaker. But that didn’t mean you weren’t going to make her sweat to teach her a lesson.
“Ok, but my intentions were good!” She pleaded, shaking your arm, “I mean, he obviously loves you, so I thought if he saw how you were living, you could get him to give you enough money for your mom!”
Your eyes widen, anger draining from your face and replaced with hurt, “so you told a stranger where I live, where my mother lives, so I could get him to feel sorry for me and bankroll my expenses? What else would I do, hm? Let him sleep with me for an allowance?”
Lenora realized her mistake too late, unable to backtrack as you spun around and left the room. You walk straight past Mr. Thistle’s office, too distraught to think about what you came here to do.
You untie Horse and quickly mount him, spurring him to go forward.
“Please don’t be angry! I didn’t mean you would do anything like that, I just wanted to help you-” you snap the reins twice to get Horse to a gallop.
“Are you okay?” You think Thenerius calls out, but you pay him no time as you race past, reaching the main road in no time and heading down the straight path to Alfore.
Your breathing is erratic as you try to get a handle on the unfamiliar emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. Perhaps in the past, you would have acted out in anger, lashed out at Lenora for the insult implied.
Now, however, you’re just tired. Worn out from two years of being back in this shithole, struggling to make ends meet, doing whatever you could. And because of that, your own coworker - someone you thought of as a friend, even - believed you to be so unscrupulous in your need for money that you’d take advantage of someone’s emotions for your own ends.
The worst part is, you were tempted. Tempted to step back. Tempted to let someone else take the reins. Tempted to use Thenerius’ misguided feelings for you to your advantage.
Had this what you’d been reduced to, from academic work to flirting shamelessly with customers to line your pockets? Do things your mother never did even when she was doing the same job, running the homestead, and saving money for you to move to the capital for your schooling?
So, at the end of your rapid-fire cycling through the stages of grief, you have no desire to fight Lenora over her true thoughts about you, nor do you wish to turn on Thenerius for the way he’s crashed into your life. You don’t qualify every action you ever did out of necessity or lay bare the fact that you were actually embarrassed by them. You don’t try to separate yourself from your choices by bringing up your past life or hard work. You simply loathe yourself for it.
Without your constant commands, Horse slows to a trot. You allow it, not wanting him to get hurt because of you. However, you soon regret your decision as you hear hooves charging up to you from behind.
You pull over to the side of the road, praying that whoever it was just passed you by. Of course, you had no such luck, the other horse slowing down next to you and Thenerius looking down at you with a concerned expression.
You say nothing and you don’t bother trying to outrun him, resigned to the fact that you wouldn’t be shaking him anytime soon.
“It wasn’t her fault,” he said once it was clear you weren’t speaking, drawing your sulking expression to point directly at him, “I pressured her to tell me where to find you.”
“Why are you still here?” You ask instead, exasperated and unwilling to have a conversation with him of all people about what happened between you and Lenora.
“I told you, my feelings for you haven’t changed,” Thenerius said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Even if I allow you to stay, it would only be to use you,” you argue, “you could work for months and waste your time if I never change my mind. Doesn’t that make you angry?”
“No,” he replied, a warm smile adorning his face as he looked at you, “because you said if.”
You blink dumbly as he spurs his horse forward, leaving you to catch up.
part 3
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Tired of Being a Fighter - PART ONE
Pairing: Axe Woves x F!Reader (no actual pairing in this first part!)
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: Violence, death.
Summary: Bo-Katan has become a woman obsessed with taking back the Dark Saber and will stop at nothing to reclaim it. Things come to a head, violently, one night, and Axe makes the difficult decision to leave her service. Left with no path and no oath to honor, he is unsure of what to do with his life until a fateful trip to Nevarro...
A/N: Did I write this to explain why he was absent in the finale? Maybe. Did I have to desperately try not to write with a bar as a setting?? Also maybe. Enjoy.
This will likely be like a three or four parter 😬
----
The night was cold on Lothal, and the streets were bustling with those returning home from their jobs at the local factories and warehouses. From his rooftop position, Axe could see the building he had been assigned to watch- waiting for their target to enter so that he could signal the other Nite Owls to begin the assault. In the alley below, a figure moved through the shadows and approached the large warehouse door before rapping, loudly, four times in a distinct rhythm.
Axe trained his night vision on the figure- a Rodian, eyes nervous and darting as if he expected to be attacked at any moment. Axe tapped his comm unit on and hailed Bo-Katan.
“Target is here. Looks nervous-”
The door opened with a pneumatic hiss and the Rodian entered a dimly-lit room. Axe could make out at least three figures inside before the door shut and the sound of jetpacks rumbled behind him. Bo-Katan and Koska landed softly on the rooftop, their armored boots surprisingly soft on the concrete.
“Where is he?” Bo-Katan’s voice crackled through her vocoder, impatient and full of venom as usual.
“Inside,” Axe had grown accustomed to her vitriol, “At least three others in there with him.”
There was silence for a moment before Bo-Katan spoke again.
“We’ll blow the door open, take them by surprise. Keep the Rodian alive, but kill the others.”
There was no point in arguing with her, Axe knew that by now. In her quest for Moff Gideon and the Dark Saber he carried, she had become reckless and gripped with an all-consuming rage. Since they had taken down the Imp cruiser on Trask, the missions had become more dangerous; Axe found himself patching wounds and repairing his armor more often than he liked.
But Bo-Katan pushed them harder each time.
Axe knew tonight would be no different. He hardly had time to think of the possibilities as his two companions leapt from the rooftop and jetted down to the alleyway. Axe landed behind them as Koska placed an explosive charge on the door and set the timer for ten seconds. As she hit the igniter, the three of them jogged for cover behind the opposite building. The beeps of the charge grew more rapid and Axe braced himself; there was a half a second’s pause, then the door erupted into pieces with a bang that shook the street.
“MOVE!” Bo-Katan gestured to the door and they moved quickly, drawing their blasters and engaging their thermal visors. Through the smoke, Axe could see four figures huddled near the center of the room, and one on the floor closer to the door. A blaster shot clipped through the smoke, narrowly missing Axe’s helmet, and he dove for cover behind a shipping crate as his companions followed suit. The haze began to clear and Axe glanced down at the figure on the floor- a human, dressed in the clothes of a warehouse worker, emblazoned with the Torrent Industries logo. A civilian.
“Shit-” Axe muttered under his breath before reaching out to grab the civilian by his boot and drag him behind the cover. He was still breathing- likely knocked unconscious by the blast.
“What the hell are you doing?” Bo-Katan screamed from her cover, blaster fire singeing the wall opposite her as their targets continued to fire on them.
“It’s a civilian!” Axe shot back, pausing to lean out from behind the shipping crate and return fire at the figures now visible through the fading smoke. One of the figures let out a yelp and fell to the concrete floor with a thud.
Axe silently prayed that he hadn’t just shot the Rodian.
“I’m moving out-” Bo-Katan moved, crouched, from her cover with Koska in tow. Axe engaged his jetpack and lurched forward, bursting into a jetted sprint. The smoke had cleared and he could see the Rodian now, crouched near a starship turbine.
“I’ve got the target!” Axe lifted from the ground with a leap and tackled the Rodian to the floor as Koska and Bo-Katan engaged the other three. He stood up and drug the target to his feet, producing a pair of stun cuffs and latching them to the trembling Rodian’s wrists. The last assailant fell to the floor with a strangled grunt and Bo-Katan turned her attention to Axe and his captive.
“Please-” the Rodian’s voice was brimming with fear, “Whatever you want-”
The butt of Bo-Katan’s blaster caught him in the jaw and sent him crumpling to the floor with a cry of pain.
“You know why I’m here, aruetii,” her voice was barely more than a whisper, filled with seething hate, "you helped to secure arms for the Empire."
Axe reached down and hauled the Rodian up by his jacket, planting him on his unsteady feet.
"I know you worked with Moff Gideon. And you will tell me where to find him." Bo-Katan moved closer to the trembling quarry as she spoke, her black visor trained, unwavering, on his face.
The Rodian let out a humorless chuckle, "You think I'd betray the Moff? Do you have any idea what he would do to me?"
Bo-Katan took another step forward and unsheathed her vibroblade, moving to hold it under his chin.
"It's nothing compared to what I will do to you," she tilted her helmeted head slightly, as though analyzing him, "have you ever seen a heated vibroblade at work?"
Bo-Katan ignited the blade and the Rodian's eyes flicked to it, nervously, as it began to thrumm and grow hot.
"A skilled Mandalorian could dismember their quarries entirely-" the blade glowed, ember-hot, in her grasp, "without letting them die."
The Rodian began to tremble at her words, and Axe tightened the grip on his jacket in case his legs gave out.
"The beauty of a vibroblade is that it cauterizes the wound as it makes it." Bo-Katan's visor was just inches from the Rodian's face, "So you won't bleed out before I finish."
She turned her visor to Axe, "Woves, hold him down." Axe obeyed without hesitation, moving to pin the Rodian on a nearby workbench.
"Wait-" the Rodian's voice was a strangled cry, tinged with hysterical fear, "I'll tell you!"
A chuckle cracked through Bo-Katan's vocoder and she sheathed the vibroblade. "I knew you would see reason. Now tell me-" she grabbed the Rodian by the front of his jacket and pulled him to his feet, "where is Moff Gideon?"
The Rodian produced a datapad from his jacket pocket and with the press of a button, a holo-projection of the planet became visible. "Here-" he used his fingers to zoom to a set of coordinates on the northernmost sector, "They have a hidden base built into the mountainside. Some kind of weapons lab. Lots of troopers and an AA gun on the roof."
"You made the right choice," Bo-Katan unholstered her blaster as the Rodian's eyes flicked between the three of them.
"I can go now, right?" His voice shook, but held a tinge of hope, "I mean, you got everything you w-"
The blaster shot hit the Rodian's chest point-blank and he dropped to the floor in a heap.
Bo-Katan retrieved the datapad from the floor as the smell of singed flesh filled the room. "We have our location. Let's go-" her words were cut short by a rustling sound from the front of the warehouse. The civilian was on his feet and moving toward them.
Bo-Katan drew her blaster and the civilian raised his hands to show he wasn't hostile. "He's a civilian- wearing a Torrent jumpsuit." Axe put a hand on her blaster, attempting to lower it, but she didn't budge. "I said he's a civilian-, Kryze," Axe raised his voice slightly as the worker froze in place, his arms still raised above his head.
"How do we know he wasn't part of this?" Bo-Katan's voice was steady- cold and calculating.
"I'm just a warehouse worker!" The civilian cried, "I worked late tonight- I had no idea what was happening. When the door blew it knocked me out and-" before Axe could stop her, Bo-Katan fired her blaster, striking the worker in the chest and sending him to the floor with a strangled cry.
"Haar'chak!" Axe cried out before he could stop himself, "He was a civilian! He was surrendering!"
Bo-Katan shrugged and holstered her blaster, "One less loose end."
"No-" Axe moved in front of her, anger burning hot in his chest, "You've gone off the deep end, Kryze. When this first started, I was with you. But you've lost your mind!"
Bo-Katan poked a gloved finger into his chest and shoved him backward, "If you're not with me, you're an enemy to Mandalore, Woves." She spat the last words out like a Voxyn spitting venom, and Axe knew she meant them.
"If this is how you plan to rule Mandalore, I want no part of it." Axe pushed her hand aside and moved closer, so his helmet was mere inches from hers, "And don't you dare try to stop me."
"If you do this, you abandon everything we have worked so hard for! You abandon your duty to your fellow Mandalorians!" Her voice was filled with her usual self-righteous fervor, but Axe had heard enough.
"I abandon nothing, Kryze. But you have abandoned reason, and you will pay for it."
Axe pushed past Koska and Bo-Katan and made his way through the doorway into the cold Lothal night.
---
TAG LIST FOR AXE:
@djxrxn
@jango-fettish
@lestrange2703
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Chapter 35
No. As much as I want to, this is not a Taylor Swift reference.
THE ROAD SO FAR
Red
John 'Soap' MacTavish
Site Hotel Bravo, Afghanistan
The plan was simple, infiltrate the area, locate for intel regarding Nero and leave. The darkness of the cave was at their advantage, but despite all that, the area they were situated in was far too crowded.
Green laser pointers scattered everywhere, they danced like party strobes inside the dimly lit tunnel on the way deeper into the base. Loud chatter could be heard as they discussed their tell tales on the different kinds of women they met.
France crouched by Soap's side and whispered.
"John, we lost Ghost. He said he was going to cover our six. Now he's gone." For a second, Soap looked worried but then again, Ghost was capable of handling his business on his own.
“We’ll just rendezvous with him later. For now, we need to focus on our main objective.” He muttered, advancing stealthily as the patrol passed through them. Francine took a while to check on her corners and she advanced farther than Soap, using her adept indoor combat skills into play.
Soap just watched her, marvelling at her swift movement. This was her forte, the initial thing that stunned him back on the O-course. He couldn't help but drop his jaw as her movements left him awestruck.
"Clear." She muttered, causing the Scotsman to shake back to reality as he took one last glance at their six and moved forward.
"This place has a lot of rooms. Should we split up and scan one by one?" Soap asked, looking at Francine. The interaction was serious but they could feel sparks in the air. It was inevitable, but they both dismissed these lingering feelings and proceeded to the mission.
"Okay… but stay on the line. I don't want to lose you again." France muttered shyly as she moved left.
"Aye. Will do." Soap chuckled and moved left.
"Sheesh. Get a room you two… Captain, can they move on a different line?" Gary interrupted over comms. Price just chuckled.
"Glad to hear you're nearby, Roach." Soap replied, entering one of the many rooms.
Leaning close to the wall, he carefully scanned the documents lying on the desk. They consisted of academic research regarding EMP effects on the battlefield and how to repel it's effects.
"No sign of Nero here but a lot about their big project." Soap muttered.
"Copy. I also have the same results. It's just aerodynamic manuals and books about flight." France said on the other line, her tone sounded curious and amused.
"Team, brace yourselves. I'm bringing the party in full swing. Gary! Hit the lever!" Price advised as the alarms started blaring, bringing the whole facility on high alert.
"Price! What was that for?!" Soap asked, covering behind the room.
"Sorry lad, desperate times call for desperate measures, we have to stop the nuke." Price stated and his line cut off, with gunfire being the last thing they heard on their end.
"Price? Alex? Roach? Ghost? Does anyone copy?!" Soap roared over comms.
"Soap…" a faint British gasp from comms.
"Ghost is that you?! Where are you?!" Soap sounded panicked, lowering his voice after he heard footprints stomped outside his room.
"I'm on the lower floor. Shit… Alexandra… she's here…" Ghost groaned, Soap could hear the pained expression on his voice.
"We're on our way! Hang tight! Don't you dare die on us!" Soap said as he kicked the door open, shooting enemies that were already cornering France.
“I won’t, but make it fast. hehe… I should've just watched your six…” Ghost’s low tone continued over the comms as Soap and France hid by the doors and fired whenever they could. Enemy waves seemed to go on forever and the longer they got stuck there, the longer they got worried about Ghost.
Out of desperation, the duo began cooking grenades, tossing them on spots where enemies gathered, on corners where they hid and on every entryway where swarms would appear.
“Shit. That was my last one.” he muttered as he felt his body lighten. They've consumed most of their ammunition in a single room.
“I guess that was the last of them.” France sighed, wiping sweat off her forehead.
“Let’s go get Ghost.” Soap ordered and they both made their way down the stairs. The two had no idea about the map layout, but the urgency of the situation led them to where Ghost was. The room was dimly lit, sparks of faulty electronics flew from the roof and the spinning red signal light was the only bright light illuminating the area.
Upon seeing his teammate, Soap quickly stepped forward but paused as soon as Ghost warned him.
“No! There are traps. One got me.” he heaved, slowly raising his head. Maxine immediately inspected the door and disarmed the set trip wire, as they quickly moved by Ghost’s side.
“Ghost, you're going to be okay.” Soap assured, assisting France in applying first aid on his wound. It was a huge burn by the stomach, the explosion deeply injured his skin causing him to bleed out. Crimson red blood glinted off the surface as the red signal momentarily illuminated the floor.
“I used to be careful you know… But as soon as I saw her, I lost all my senses. I had to break her free from that prison.” He breathed, almost struggling, grunting as France applied pressure to the wound.
Soap quickly got up and shot the lock with his pistol, kicking the door open and approached the unconscious redhead lying on the floor. She had a notable few bruises and scars here and there, signs of torture. Soap attempted to wake her up but she didn’t move, he quickly pressed his hands on her neck until he felt a faint pulse.
“She’s alive.” Soap declared, turning to Ghost and Francine.
“Haah- Thank God she’s fine.” he groaned as Francine shushed her as he attempted to get up.
“It’d be better if you don’t force yourself for a while.” She suggested.
“We’ll get you two out of here.” Francine said, Ghost just chuckled, coughing in the process.
“Don’t do that!” She scolded. The ground suddenly shuddered causing them to lose balance.
“This is bad. We can’t stay here any longer!” Soap yelled, carrying Alexandra on one shoulder while assisting France on Ghost on his other shoulder.
“Price! We got Alexandra and Ghost and they're injured! Where’s Nikolai?” Soap yelled over comms.
“He won’t be here until after two hours. Shepherd’s making his escape using the river.
Roach! Go grab that boat, we won’t let him get away!” Price’s final transmission was relayed to their ears as the connection turned blank.
He had no idea where Alex and Jack are, but as long as the Nuke hasn’t launched yet, they still have time.
Halfway through the prison cells, Soap and the rest of the team heard footsteps echo from nearby.
“You have got to be bloody kidding me!” he cursed as they picked up the pace and escaped the area.
They hid themselves in the room with the aviation books, barricaded the two unconscious allies while France continued to tend to Ghost’s wound.
“Haaah- You’re getting nowhere with me like this. Just leave us. Like Romeo and Juliet.” Ghost whispered, his tone was serious and both France and Soap didn’t like it.
“No.” France spat as he unslung her rifle and tossed it to Soap, along with her ammo.
“I’m not going to leave anyone behind. Not again.” She declared, eyeing at Soap, someone she once lost on a mission. This prompted Soap to move forward and take a peek outside.
“It’s clear.” he announced, the ground rumbled once more. He went back to assist France, Ghost tugged his rifle.
“I think I can still shoot.” he mutters as Soap gave him the gun without any arguments. And so they moved to the docks, it was going to be a long walk from their location, but they did it anyway. Their formation occupied the whole width of the hallway, meaning any bullet flying toward them would surely hit its mark.
Despite the huge flaw, Ghost managed to make it easier for the group to move forward, despite the room being dark and blinking red, and the fact that Ghost was still injured and continuously losing a lot of blood, he still could target and shoot down enemies.
"Nice shot." Soap praised as they carefully navigated to the outer part of the cave, the raging river coursing below them.
Soap could feel another tug on his rifle as Alexandra started to move.
"Gun. I'll cover your six." She whispered faintly as Soap did his best to give her his gun.
They became a human tank of sorts. With Soap and France as the tires, capable of carrying and navigating their descent to the river, while Alexandra and Ghost were the weapons, shooting incoming hostiles that dared to block their way.
From the distance, Soap and France could see speedboats coursing through the river, following a huge helicopter not too far ahead of them. The trail they left behind was utter chaos. The ground shook as they almost lost their balance, urging them to descend quickly.
Under normal circumstances, Soap would've felt pain, but his adrenaline rush compensated through, making him finish the last step and board on the remaining boat.
The engine hummed as Soap navigated through the river, they carefully followed the path of destruction caused by the two.
Broken speed boats were everywhere, unconscious or dead bodies floated by the water as the grand chase happened. Soap wondered if Price and Roach caught up with Shepherd.
"All these for info on Nero." France frowned, her hands tended to both Ghost and Alexandra.
"There's still a nuke out there. I wonder how Jack and Alex are holding up." Soap glanced at France and muttered. Her short hair blew as she assisted the two, Soap envisioned her as a nurse for a short while, then shook it off immediately after a bump on the river.
"John! Look ahead." France warned as John turned. The place was hugely filled with water and destruction was still everywhere. He coursed the safe path without all the debris and the wreckage.
"What happened here…" Alexandra groaned.
From a distance, the ground shook and smoke bellowed just by the horizon ahead.
"There's a…" Francine whispered.
"Shit! We're headed to a waterfall!" Soap roared and gripped the controls to shore, luckily they saw it quickly as they settled on the dusty riverbank as the sand blew against the team.
"This is dangerous. Sand might infect their open wounds." Francine said, concerned about the situation of the two injured.
"I'll help you seek shelter then I'll check on Price." He said, lifting Alexandra and assisting France on carrying Ghost.
They soon found a small cavern like structure that would provide shade from both sun and dust that masked the area. Soap took his rifle from Alexandra, slung it on his body and left.
"John. Be careful." Francine said, her eyes looked very concerned and Soap would do just about anything to protect that kind of look. He didn't want to disappoint.
"I always am." He smiled and turned back, his head hitting the roof of the cave.
"Ack!" he muttered and left, causing France to chuckle.
A quick peek of the waterfall and Soap saw the plane crash which bellowed black smoke. The rest of the ground was unclear as the sandstorm covered most of the area. There were no signs of movement and Soap carefully crossed the mountain path downward to the crash site. Shepherd didn't make it out. This is the end of the line for him.
Next Chapter : The TEN Kilometer River
Notification Squad my Beloved
@bumblingbee1 @smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @ricinbach @whimsywispsblog @enderio
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‘Erase this please’ - Percico secret santa fanfic
@duchessmb (MidnightBunnyy) , I am your Percico Secret Santa, bringing you fluffy & angsty flustered boys after Christmas has long passed but i still got my Christmas tree up so you can’t kill my spirit!
I want to start by saying: Happy late Christmas and Happy New Year! I dearly hope this year brings you and the rest of us some better memories. That being said, i want to apologize for posting my gift on the very last day of the event but, hey! At least it’s in time! (unlike all of my school projects :’) ) I hope it doesn’t seem too rushed. I wrote something, read it, hated it and decided to rewrite everything in the last three days. Also, i hope it doesn’t contain many grammar mistakes. I’ll proof read it the morning but if you see it until then, just know that i’m not actually illiterate, just tired. Now that you know how much of a dumbass i am, let’s go on with the story! Hope you enjoy!
This...
Nico stared down at his arm, eyes almost piercing trough the new-found initial that marked the skin from right near his elbow.
Is so confusing...
... a sturdy ‘P’ stood proudly, as if laughing at the son’s of Hades suffering.
P could come from many things! It can come from... Patrick... Paul... Phineas...
What kind of name is Phineas even, Nico?
The boy sighed deeply, his mind stubbornly struggling to remain attached to the same name it has been focused on since he’s seen his soulmark...
The most beautiful name on his list, the one he’s been dreading to say so badly...
Percy Jackson
But that name isn’t supposed to come out of his mouth, to glide between his two lips... That name isn’t supposed to even stroll so casually around his mind every single goddamn day.
Why? Because the thought of Percy Jackson was stuffed so deeply inside of Nico that it now felt like part of him; it was almost painful. Oh, the thought of him was very close and reachable alright..., but Percy Jackson himself was excruciatingly far away.
Nico would stare helplessly... His heart will scream and his mind would struggle to find a coherent thought, one that didn’t scream ‘you’re alone’ or ‘you’re pathetic’. And in spite of all that, he could imagine... was Percy in the arms of his future lover whose face didn’t reasamble Nico’s in any shape or form. He’d imagine them sneaking out in the middle of the night to go and count the stars from the black abyss of the dark sky, the only light accompanying them being each other’s love and company.
... Why couldn’t Nico have that?
...Why did Percy’s future... seemed like one he could never be part of?
Love was for lucky people. He guessed that he just wasn’t the guy.
The dim sounds of flowing water from the well known Styx river the demigod was currently standing close to grew quieter as Nico's eardrums were filled with the obnoxious sounds of his own consuming thoughts. No. He must not pay attention to that mark. To him, the soulmark had to be no longer. It didn't exist to him.
And yet, for the next following weeks, the only place his eyes seemed to want and glance towards as he roamed around his father's kingdom was that idiotic mark. Not even the hopeless whispers of the dead could distract him from it. Truth be told, he felt just as hopeless then.
-
''Boy.'' Hades's cold voice dared to soften just a dime as he tried to catch his son's attention. Nico remained still by the Styx river in the not so far away distance, eyes lost and heart seemingly sinking alongside the dozens of sticks and rocks from the acid water. ''Boy!'' he bellowed once again, steps becoming bigger as he kept advancing towards the shore.
Nico's head turned suddenly, black eyes harmoniously meeting black eyes. The bond wasn't kept for long, the teenage boy immediately starting to glare back at the water. ''What do you want, father?'' his voice was distant and lost, as if it tried to show itself off as threatening and furious but gave up amid the way.
Hades cleared his throat. ''I want to see your mark.''
Nico's eyes widened. The demigod tried to control his panic before opening his mouth again. ''What mark?''
''Your soulmark.''
''I don't have it.''
''Well, i think you do!''
Hades rushed forward, grabbing his son's arms and bringing back the sleeves. Nico stood up and struggled as tried to escape his father's firm grip with no succes.
''A 'P'... Ah, i see...'' the god spat as if utterly unsatisfied with his own statement. His fingers unclenched from around the demigod's wrists and the poor boy grunted as he stumbled back.
''...I told you, i don't have any soulmark.'' his eyes looked up to meet his father's for a second time. He was speaking through gritted teeth, voice stubborn and decisive. ''It's meaningless to me.''
''Too bad it's not meaningless to me then. As much as i hate that it starts with... that boy's name and i dearly hope it's not him... you are still going to go find said person.''
''That boy?''
''Poseidon's brat!''
Hades sighed and closed his eyes, trying to regain his patience. It didn't work much as his voice trembled with annoyance as the god began speaking once again. "Don't play with me. Don't disagree with me. If going to that... cursed camp is what it takes for you to be happy, then so be it.'' He said the world 'camp' with a tone that revealed worse despise than when he'd talk about one of his brothers.
Nico's eyes widened in confusion. ''Happiness...? Going to camp...? What in Hades are you saying?''
''Soulmarks are made by Aphrodite and Hestia, you idiotic child. Yeah, sure, Aphrodite often goes on and on about the drama and chaos that must take place in a romantic relationship for it to be entertaining enough for her, but Hestia, on the other hand... she doesn't let explosions go off and burst when soulmarks are involved. She doesn't let the chaos lay a finger on that. As much as i hate my family sometimes... soulmarks are a good thing. You are not going to remain alone and pouting. Go to camp. Now.''
Nico followed his father's words, but they simply wouldnt clench around his brain. Now is when his father showed care out of all times? Now? When Nico's heart kept yelling 'no' with an unshaken vigor?
''No.''
''Now!'' Hades spoke again and his words were conclusive. With a simple hand gesture, Nico was sent to the one place he currently dreaded most.
-
A girl's hand wrapped around Percy's wrist and, to him, it felt almost like a betrayal. The mark was right there, staring back at him. It looked like it was gaping up and shaking its head, perhaps mumbling a 'you idiot, wrong soulmate, wrong hand to hold.'. He tried imagining the exact voice a hundred of times. It sounded more pissed off than his french teacher from fifth grade when he'd raise his hand during class to ask if he could go to the bathroom. 'But can't you say it in french, s'il te plait?'
...
Why couldn't Percy listen?
''Let's catch lunch before it's over!'' Naomi from Aphrodite's cabin said sweetly as if trying to lure him in. It felt wrong. Why did he keep following her?
''About the mark...''
''Percy...'' the daughter of the love goddess spoke clearly even as Percy tried to replay the memory in his head. Her voice was sweet and lucid, her vocabulary was rich and her intelligence was definitely blossomed and visible, especially when compared to the other children of Aphrodite's. And yet... he's never been attracted. ''It's an 'N', right?'
Percy stared down at his arm as if he expected the mark to grow legs and run away any following second. "..yes."
"So why not give it a try? When mine will appear, we'll know for sure if we are meant to be or not. Do you have any other guesses...? Please, Percy...?'' her smile was bright, hopeful.
'But it doesn't feel right.' his heart said. Percy didn't say that.
Instead, he smiled back, drowning all of his other thoughts with a simple 'we'll see. we'll see...'
'It's been two months.' his mind kept repeating now.
'I know. But now we'll see soon.'
'You even kissed.'
'...We are basically in a relationship.'
'Did you even agree to that?'
'In a way.'
'Why did you even agree to that?'
What could you expect from a dude that's arguing with himself...
"Percy?"
...
"Percy...!'' a hand tapped his shoulder and he finally woke up, in spite of the fact that his eyes have never been closed. "You've been weirdly staring at your shoe laces. If you were Grover, i'd be sure you were about to eat them up.''
"...Sorry. I'm fine."
Naomi smiled again.
"Then all it's fine. Let's go eat.''
-
"Your name is Pollicem? Doesn't that mean, like, big toe in latin?"
"You asked for my name, kid!" the angry satyr bellowed. "I ain't asked for no judgement!"
"Right, right, sorry..." Nico cleared his throat, straightening his back before speaking again. "What's your soulmark's initial? Is it an 'N'?"
"It's a 'D' and i definitely haven't found the chosen one by going around and asking other people about their love life. It doesn't work like that...," he sniffled the dark haired boy and crunched his nose up in disgust. "..., offspring of Hades. Bleh, you always smell like dead grass and corpses."
He was right. Nico was just stupid. Why would he even search for his chosen one, after all? Not even the Gods of Love could make him desirable. Love has brought anything but happiness to him up until now. Why would things change?
"Say kid, do you fancy anybody?"
"Huh?!" Nico's breath got caught up into his throat, the boy getting mildly startled.
''I see... So, in that case, that person is your soulmate.''
''Impossible.''
''You've got your soulmark today, offspring of Hades?''
''I did.''
''The initial matched your loved one's name?''
''...it did.''
''You still love that person?''
Nico bit down on his lip, self-hatred and anger spilling from his gaze. ''What's this about?'' he mumbled.
''If you still love them, then the gods of love approve. You've found your other half. If that wasn't your case, the affection you held for them would start fading by now.''
''I don't believe that.''
''Stop believing so much in the fact that any child of Hades's destiny is lonliness and isolation. Why do you think soulmarks even exist, kid? To form arguments, envy? No. They are supposed to bring peace. Each person with their designed lover. That way, love is clear and true, unbreakable.''
''I've been assigned... a lover?''
I've been assigned... Percy Jackson... as a lover?
Nico's heartbeat started to freak. ''How am i supposed to believe that?''
''Just like that, demigod. You're currently talking to somebody with two hooves instead of feet and yet you can't believe in love?''
Nico looked back at the other half-bloods from camp, their silhouettes blurry and gray under the dim light of the afternoon. They were all laughing, raising their sleeves and proclaiming that 'look, there's somebody out there for me too' and yet Nico couldn't see himself fitting into the scenery.
''That mark holds a lot of power within you.'' the satyr spoke again. ''I can feel it. Don't be afraid of closure, kid, don't be afraid of vulnerability.'' and off he went into the dark forest, leaving Nico alone.
-
The way Percy stood alone at his table, peacefully eating his usual all blue food plate. The way his lips would slowly, leisurely turn upwards at unexpected times, perhaps thinking about something so weird and stupid that he felt like laughing at himself. So unnoticable... so pretty.
Nico watched in silence. Like always, truth be told... But this time, the moment itself seemed more intense, adrenaline and dread rushing up his veins as a familiar warmth settled in his stomach.
A girl makes her way to the Poseidon tabel.
...What?
That's an intruder. An intruder into this portrait that's been meant to only focus on one single person, on Nico's favourite person.
Her fingers laced around his arm. He looked up. Eyes met. The girl smiled. Her eyes sparkled. She leaned in. She pecked his cheek.
No...
That was not his cheek.
Those were his lips.
Those from between which Percy has said so many stupid, dumb words that somehow Nico didn't find dumb at all. Those that would open and scream in triumph after he'd win yet another battle. Those that were always curving up, forming that beautiful smile.
Nico has always found looking at Percy painful. But now's the moment when the pain did no longer feel good at all.
His eyes filled with hatred. It’s almost funny how the soulmark could turn as meaningless as before oh so easily. He turned around, but that's when he's finally spotted.
"Nico!" Grover yelled with excitement from near a tree, letting a chewed piece of plastic drop out of his mouth.
...stupid satyr
"Nico?" another voice called him from behind. He turned around. He shouldn't have turned around.
Sea blue eyes were staring back at him. How did Percy even get here so fast?
"You've come to visit!" his eyes expressed joy. That felt like a punch in the stomach.
"Like you care." he spat, voice annoyed and hateful.
The glint of joy was dipped in hurt. That felt like another punch in the stomach.
Percy looked him up and down, a sudden act that flustered and startled Nico, who covered it up with even more anger.
"What the hell do you want?"
"You've got musclar.''
...
W-what?
Percy's eyes were glued to Nico's biceps. "Stop staring, weirdo! What the heck...?! What do you want?!''
The taller demigod finally brought his gaze up, looking into the child of Hades's black orbs. They seemed more intense to him this time, mysterious, endering... Percy felt weird.
"What's your soulmark?"
"What?!"
Nico seemed surprised. Percy was surprised, too. He didn't know why he asked. He felt pushed too, interested.
"...It's none of your business." the boy replied.
It felt like his business.
Nico perhaps felt suffocated by Percy's fixed stare because he soon spoke again. "I didn't even get it yet.''
Black and green eyes were locked together still. There was a lot of tension. Dozens of words seemed to be hanging in the air. A sudden realization washed over Percy, but he remained silent. When he tried to open his mouth again, he realized that Nico has already left.
-
''You what?" Percy almost staggered as he listened to Annabeth's words. They were on their morning walk. From what the demigod has heard, Nico came back and stayed at camp over night but Percy didn't get the chance to see his face a second time.
"You gain feelings for your soulmate immediately after you get your mark, as well as loose feelings for anybody else you have previously fallen for." Annabeth explained again. "An organized system through which the gods make sure there are no third parties involved in soulmark work."
"Then Naomi's..."
"...not the one." she finished his thoughts. He's been saying that same goddamn sentence in his mind over and over again, but saying it out loud... it finally felt real, believable.
"You didn't tell me this before?!"
"I'm surprised you didn't know. But i did always think you dated Naomi out of kindness. ...I still think that."
"Maybe you were too scared that i'd finally come to the conclusion that Nemo's my soulmate."
Annabeth rolled her eyes, but her smile was playful. "A fish can't be your soulmate, seaweed brain."
They sank in a comfortable silence for about a minute or two. Then the girl started speaking again.
"But... suddenly finding somebody attractive that you didn't before, feeling the need to see somebody else's soulmark, the sudden feeling that you're deeply connected to someone, emotionally and mentally, are all signs that said person is your soulmate."
The odd interaction with Nico from yesterday was the first thing he thought off.
He stopped in his tracks, sweat covering his forehead and eyes opened wide.
Wait a damn minute-
-
"I'm sorry, Percy."
Huh...?
The girl that stood in front of him - his ex, i suppose you could say - had tears straining her cheeks. Whether the cause of them was guilt of sadness, he didn't know. But they left soft, unnoticable traces down her skin, which were glowing vividly in the summer sun as if they tried showing off hope and relief rather than regret.
"My mark appeared today... It's not a 'P'."
"I know." Percy said softly and the girl looked up in confusion. The male demigod was the one who smiled sweetly this time. "And you've probably talked with somebody else today. And you've probably felt reborned in a way, like you've suddenly found a long lost part of you, a piece of puzzle that didn't fit you before but for some reason it now embraces you so perfectly."
"Percy, how-"
"I know the feeling. And it's alright. I've found him too."
-
Waking up in the morning...
'What a bother' Nico'd say if you were to ask him.
Rolling right and left underneath the covers, the demigod realized that the blanket couldn't even provide him warmth. He's never felt colder.
Knock Knock
"Leave."
Knock Knock
"Leave, god dammit!"
The door creaked open. Nico got up with a snarl.
"Why the f-"
The words got caught up into his throat. A whimper softly slided from between his lips as Percy stepped closer.
"Stay back!" Nico took the stygian sword from near his bed and brought it in front of him to keep the distance. The other demigod raised his arms in surrender and then Nico cursed himself for paying so close attention to his lips as the boy started talking.
"What's your soulmark?"
"I told you i don't have it."
"...liar" Percy mumbled.
"What the fuck is your problem?! I told you i-" he yelped as Poseidon's stupid son kneeled down and rushed forward, avoiding the sword as arms came around Nico's legs and brought him up on his shoulders. The sword fell down on the floor with a quiet thud and the smaller male started cursing and yelling in protest.
"Dumbass! Wait, wait-"
Percy brough him down on the bed, caging the boy and struggling to bring one of his sleeve's down. Nico shoved a fist into his left shoulder, throwing the boy off the bed. The son of Poseidon still had his hand clenched around one of the black-eyed male's wrist, therefore they ended up rolling toghether onto the dusty floor, fighting to be the one on top. They stopped spinning when they hit the wall and Nico still remained the one trapped under Percy's dominating figure. The green haired male reached down and finally managed to work with the other's sleeve and see his bare, naked wrist.
A proud 'P' stood glinting under the pale bedroom lights.
"...why didn't you tell me?"
Nico didn't speak. He looked scared, he looked ashamed.
Percy released the boy's wrist and showed off his own. The 'N' no longer felt wrong. It felt like it's finally found its part, its continuation, its home.
There was some strange tension in the room, hidden from the human eye yet touchable and itchy. It felt as if the air was trying to suffocate them. The boys' limbs felt numb and cold, searching for alleviation. The whole atmosphere around the boys was pushing them together, uniting their souls, their bodies... And not even a demigod could do anything but kneel down in front of such a mighty power.
The next few seconds were so intense and brimmed with emotions and sensations that it almost felt like a lucid dream: blurry and vague but real. Percy leaned down while Nico brought his chin up. The son of Poseidon allowed his arms to find their place around the other's hips, pressing their foreheads together while rubbing the tip of their noses in an ardent manner. Nico's breath was hot against his lips. Without being certain of who started the following act (perhaps it was both of them at the same time), their mouths clashed together, speaking the words and feelings which the two demigods haven't got the courage to say yet. Percy's soft, moisturized lips were gently scratched by Nico's dry ones, moving in perfect sync. It felt as if they've completed that one abberant puzzle that they've been working at for decades, twisting the pieces and always wondering why things didn't fit, why things didn't feel right.
Well, finally... things felt right.
They eventually parted and Percy's lips suddenly felt so empty and full of sorrow that he attempted to dive right back into the affectionate act. Nico's index finger stopped him on the way.
"Your shitty girlfriend..."
"It's no longer."
"You got more explaining to do than that."
"I know- i know... I will... But for now, can't we just enjoy this?"
Who was Nico to complain?
While their lips reconnected, tingling with a newfound passion and desire, while their limbs began tangling toghether, focusing on nothing else except the other's warmth and soft skin, Nico could be heard mumbling one single thing against Percy's parted lips:
"My dad's going to kill me."
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Happy FFWF! 💛 What would you say are the top 3 scenes you've ever written? This can be for any story or drabble you've written for :)
Happy (late) FFWF!!!
oh wow uh idk hmmm
this is gonna get long so ill cut it
3) This one's whumpy but I like it
"Why do you even care? You're never around anyway," she muttered, bitter and spiteful.
Tony didn't flinch, "I'm never around, huh? I don't care? Well, excuse me if I have to leave to try and keep the world spinning, or because a certain group has threatened you again."
"I don't need you to protect me all the time!"
"Because you can lift a bus? Because you think you're some kind of invincible teenager who sneaks out knowing that the UN wants to arrest you. Knowing that there is a whole terrorist organization out for your blood. And you leave the tower anyway, using your powers as a party trick."
"They're not a party trick!" she protested heatedly. She wasn't a party trick.
"But you still went to that party. You ditched Happy and left your trackers and went to a party and got drunk apparently. How long were you lying about doing that little stunt? You can definitely keep a secret longer than I thought. Though you're a terrible liar."
Penny didn't say anything, the doubts the worries and the fears all unfolding before her. She'd tried so, so hard to be exactly what Tony expected of her. Of what everyone expected of her. She was smart in her classes. She was well behaved. She tried to be what Tony had been at her age; a prodigy. Even though she wasn't.
The few secrets she'd held close to her chest--some locked deep and hidden, never to see the light of day--had been the last of what felt like her life, before it had completely crumbled. Spider-Woman was the only thing that let her know she was important, that she was okay. If she could save other people, if she could make sure that others were okay, surely she must be okay too.
"Was it a dare? Or did you make that idiotic decision on your own? To get kidnapped and Happy hurt and Rhodey paralyzed and everyone else worried out of their minds." Her breath caught. Paralyzed. "Do you think that you can do this all on your own? That some radiation and spider experimentation means that you can do whatever you want, willy nilly?"
"I don't--"
"No, this is where you zip it, all right? The adult is talking. What if somebody had died tonight? What if Rhodey had? What if Phoenix had taken the weapons they'd wanted? Because I can assure you that they don't want them to make sure everyone holds hands. Different story, right? ‘Cause that’s on you. And if you died, that's on me," he paused, but she didn't notice the fear and the guilt, as though he were reliving the moment he spoke of. All she could think of was what she'd done. And about what she hadn't done, "I'm still waiting on the why. Why leave? Why lie? Why trust Natasha and not me?"
"I didn't tell her," Penny muttered, "She found out."
"And then you swore her to secrecy. You made her promise not to tell me, because...? Because you don't trust me? Is there anything that can make me trustworthy in your eyes? What the hell do you need, Penny!?"
"I need for my life to be normal again!" she spat, not even noticing as she sprung up onto her feet, her eyes watering as she yelled, "I need to not be a celebrity! I need to see my friends and feel free in my own home without people breathing down my neck all the time! I need my dad to be here when I feel like I'm dying or losing my mind, like May and Ben always used to!!!" Her voice broke, "I wish I was just a Parker again! I wish I wasn't your daughter!!!"
Tony flinched. Tears slipped down her cheeks. They stared at each other, tense silence that stretched in thick tension between them. A storm ready to break.
She'd already broken.
Without a word, the man stalked over to her. He didn't make eye contact with her, didn't say anything. He didn't even look at her. He brushed past Penny, grabbing the bright red suit sprawled on the hospital bed.
She didn't watch him as he did, staring straight ahead at the offending wall, her breaths gasping. She couldn't think. All she could feel was regret. Her hands trembled with it, her legs shaking in fear at her own words.
Her father walked past her again, the suit clutched in an angry fist. He left.
A sob tore from her throat.
2) This one will be spoilers for the next chap for my Ashes fic, but I figure its been so long ive got to throw some bread crumbs
Tony smiled at the thought, but it quickly disappeared when the teenager flinched, followed by a guttural whine. Nightmares, he guessed.
As he was pondering what to do, his muggy mind failing him, he caught sight of a familiar matted figure. His eyes lit up at the sight of Platty sitting on top of the white hospital blanket. Moving without thinking, he reached out for it, tucking the stuffed animal up to Penny's collar. He followed the action by hugging her closer to him and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She didn't flinch again, but the twitching and whimpering continued. He tried his best to urge her past whatever nightmares were tormenting her, rubbing soothing circles into her back and peppering kisses onto her hairline whenever there was a pained murmur.
It took a few minutes, but, finally, Penny stilled. Tony wasn't sure whether it had been his comfort or if the nightmare had simply run its course, but he couldn't find the energy to understand which. With the danger of Penny's pain gone, his eyes began to droop again, dark eyes slipping until he was consumed by slight snores.
The two were stuck in the motion of instinctual comfort. A teenager tucked against her dad's side, her cheek draped against his shoulder. A man's head curled into his daughter's hairline, asleep mid-comforting kiss. Between them, a yellow stuffed animal buoyed warmth and familiarity.
1) I just love this scene. ive very rarely ended fics so far and i loved trying it out (* ̄3 ̄)╭
"Boss, Mr. Parker is back."
Tony glanced up from where he was working in the lab, looking away from his newest project to smile brightly at the ceiling. He stood up, wiping his oily hands off on his equally oily pants, finally conceding to grab a cloth and rub the slick grease from his fingers. The mechanic gave the new project one last glance before throwing the cloth down on the nearest table and stepping toward the elevator.
"Great. Tell him I'm on my--"
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Tony turned, a confused expression turning into a small smile as he caught sight of the red and blue figure stuck on the window, waving at the mechanic in excitement. He rolled his eyes, walking over and undoing the latch on the window to let the teenager finally at a healthy weight roll into the room.
"I'm gonna start putting bug spray around the apartment until you learn to use a door," Tony warned. Peter pulled his mask off, revealing hair pulled down by sweat and a bright smile. They grew brighter and brighter every day. The teenager rammed a shoulder into Tony's playfully.
"Why can't a window be a door?"
"Because it's a window."
"Old houses in the south used to be able to transform between windows and doors to evade taxes."
Tony considered him. "How do you know this?"
"Decathlon."
Tony rolled his eyes, unsure of how he hadn't guessed that. He was going to the kid's competition next week for heaven's sake!
"Well, this is not the old south. We use doors here."
"That's less fun."
"Yeah, yeah. Go wash up for dinner."
"But it's barely five! I was going to go out again."
"Should've thought about that earlier," Tony teased. "It's family dinner night. And don't you have an essay due?"
Peter mumbled, but listened nonetheless, beginning to pad away towards the elevator to go up to their apartment suite, when there was the ringing of an oncoming call. Both of their heads turned as a screen popped up, displaying an unknown number, untraceable too. Tony and Peter exchanged raised eyebrows as the kid walked back over.
"What is this, Fri?"
"It is an incoming call from the phone Captain Rogers sent you."
Peter glanced between him and the screen warily. "That means there's a problem, doesn't it?"
"Probably," Tony admitted.
He turned to the kid, patting the kid's back and fixing him with a steady stare. Peter's doe eyes attached to his, trusting in a way that had been growing exponentially recently. Tony hadn't known it was possible to look at someone with that much trust. That much love. Especially from a kid whose first interaction with Tony had ended up in him running away, but life had become steadily calm, steadily trusting, as the days had gone by. As the months had. A few bumps in the road and a couple of mishaps, some bigger than others along the way, but good nonetheless. Yeah, life was good.
Tony liked to think he was right most of the time, but even he knew he was pretty hit or miss on how to remain any kind of relationship. But this--Tony knew he'd been right. His purpose was to protect Peter. And he loved every second of it.
"But if it is, I'll keep you safe. We'll fix it together."
Peter's lips tugged in a trusting smile. He held out a fist. "Together. MacaTony--"
Tony returned the fist bump lightly with a roll of his eyes, grinning as he caught sight of their shadows switching, "--And Peter-butter."
Whatever Steve was calling for, neither would be going in alone. They were never alone.
Their shadows made sure of it.
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Grouch - Part 3
Pairing : Bucky x Plus Size Reader ; Avengers x Plus Size Reader
Warning : Language ; Bucky being an ass (again) ; Angst ; Mention of major death
Word Count : 1.5k
Disclaimer : I do not own the characters, nor the universe where they were created and interact in. This series/fiction is only for entertainment purposes.
A/N : I’m sorry it took so long but hope it was worth it :)
Steve woke up early. For several weeks now he was incapable to get some good night sleep. He blamed himself for not interfering between you and Bucky when he had the occasion, before it all went south. He blamed himself even more after discovering what Hydra did to you. Your legs and arms were replaced by Vibranium, your memories erased and your reflexes and fighting mode improved, meaning they transformed you as a Super Soldier. In appearance, you were no more but Steve was stubborn and he would not give up on you. He put some clean sweatpants and a tight white T-shirt and made himself ready for a run. After a quick stretch, he began his running routine.
“Did you sleep last night?”, asked Nat entering Tony’s lab. “What’s that?”, he responded ironically. A sad smile formed on her lips for a fraction before looking at him seriously. “You need to rest. We won’t find her if you’re not one hundred percent your best and right now, you look like a mess.” “Wow thanks love”, sarcastically replied the billionaire. “We all want her …” “Look I get it I do but you didn’t see her eyes. Her lifeless look. Her last words towards me.” Nat nodded in comprehension and patted his back. “I know it shook you up but if F.R.I.D.A.Y finds anything, the slight hitch, she’ll warn us. Go get some sleep Tony.” He rubbed his eyes and sighed after the Widow left the room. He decided to take her advice and informed the A.I to wake him up at any news. While the other Avengers were at their occupation, Bucky took refuge at the gym. His punches became more and more violent at each memory of you crossing his mind, especially the time he asked you on a date.
Flashback (4 years ago)
“What do you guys think about spicing this evening up?”, smirked Sam, a beer in his hand. Steve chuckled before taking a gulp of his own drink and letting his gaze wander across the dim lit club. Not getting the reaction he was looking for, Sam stubbornly continued. “Ah come on grandpas. When’s the last time you two got nasty in the sheets?” “Hmm Tuesday”, mumbled Bucky. The other two men looked at him dumbfounded. “You were on a mission on Tuesday”, said Steve. “Exactly”, smirked Bucky. “You did not? The target’s wife?”, choked Sam. Bucky’s grin was enough of a reply for both men to understand. “You could have compromised the whole operation”, commented Steve with a frown to which Bucky rolled his eyes at his friend’s strict policy. “What can I say, she practically jumped on me. I would have been a fool if I left a damsel on distress.” Steve took another gulp of his drink while shaking his head in disapproval.
“Alright, alright, let’s make some bets. Steve, I bet you don’t have the balls to go talk to that lady over there whose been eyeing you since we got here”, grinned Sam. “Ha ha ha very funny and she has not”, counterattacked Steve. Both of Sam and Bucky gave him a knowing look and Steve took a deep breath. “Ok, you’re lost Wilson”, said Steve and marched towards the woman in question and engaged conversation. The Falcon quickly checked his phone before turning towards Bucky with a smirk gracing his features. “I bet you to ask the next lady stepping foot in this club for a date.” “You’re sure you wanna play with me little bird?”, cockily answered Bucky. “Absolutely”, he immediately replied. “Fine”, exclaimed Bucky almost triumphantly. Both of them kept looking at the door until they saw you enter the club. Bucky’s smiled instantly faded away before mumbling through greeted teeth. “You got to be fucking kidding me!” “Seems like you gotta ask the new team member on a date Barnes”, chuckled Sam. “You said the next lady not that”, spat the former Winter Soldier. His friend frowned and turned his way, “What the hell is your problem man? Y/N is a good-looking woman, very nice, with a great sense of humor and sweet. I don’t understand why you’re being such an ass. You don’t even know her and a bet is a bet.”
“Why don’t you date her since you like her so much”, spat Bucky, his clenched fists beside him. “Because I don’t see her more as a friend and besides, I’m sure she’s interested in someone else”, he simply replied. “Who??”, immediately asked Bucky before regaining his composure. “Why? I thought you didn’t care?” “I don’t.” Sam hummed at Barnes’ non so convincing answer. Bucky looked at you up and down and clenched his jaw before drinking the rest of his drink and clear his throat.
You were finishing a line of shots with Wanda and Natasha when you felt a presence at your right. “Hello Barnes, having a good time?”, you asked without looking at him. He chuckled softly before replying, “How did you know it was me?” “I can smell your cologne from a mile away.” He took a deep breath before leaning in closer. “Always on duty I see.” You decided to face him and leaned on the counter, his eyes scanning your cleavage before he realized he was busted. “Danger is everywhere. Gotta stay sharp”, you simply replied. “Can I get you another drink?” You skeptically rose your eyebrow at his attitude. You didn’t know why he was acting that way towards you. Since you joined the team, his constant posture towards you was cold. You shook your shoulders and replied, “Sure, why not.” He kept small talking to you before he asked you on a date making you almost spit your drink out. “Excuse me?” “I figured that I came across as cold and was wondering if we could start over again over a diner?” You hummed in hesitation but eventually agreed. Who wouldn’t? The infamous Bucky Barnes charms didn’t leave you indifferent.
A few days later, after preparing yourself from head to toe, you arrived at the restaurant and were escorted to your table. Bucky wasn’t there yet. “Would you like something to drink Miss?” “No thank you, I’m waiting for someone.” The waiter nodded in comprehension and gave you some space. You checked around the crowded restaurant and it was even more disturbing since your table was in the middle of the room. Your patience began to ran thin when you realized that he was being 15min late. The other client’s looks weren’t helping and neither was the waiter who kept coming back to you. “I’m sorry Miss but it’s been over an hour and we have other clients waiting.” You nodded, fury consuming you. “I understand, I’m sorry.” The term walk of shame never sounded so correct. Shame, embarrassment and humiliation were the exact feelings would describe the state you were in.
As soon as you entered the compound’s elevator, you retrieved your high heels and took a deep breath, sadness taking over. Arriving at your floor, you heard some noises coming from the living room and cautiously, you decided to check on them. What you saw make your blood go cold. There he was, on the couch, a blond top model dry humping on his leg, his mouth on her neck. Feeling that they were being interrupted, the former Winter Soldier turned his face towards you and smiled, “Oh hey Y/N” “Are you fucking kidding me? I waited for you for an hour”, you spat. “You really believed I would go on a date with you? So naïve. It was all a bet with Sam.” He could as good as stabbed you right through the chest. You were seeing red and retrieved the hidden gun from your chest and pointed at his face, pulling the trigger. He managed to block the bullet with his metal arm at the last second. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”, he screamed while his date began screaming. “Next time I won’t miss”, you exclaimed deeply making him slightly shiver.
Present day
Natasha was the last one to join the team in the kitchen for some breakfast. Something wasn’t right. “Where’s Steve?”, she asked. “I don’t know, probably finishing his early jog”, replied Sam nonchalant. “That’s weird. He should be back by now”, she mumbled to herself. Across the table, Wanda was digging holes at Bucky’s head, who kept himself as quiet and small as he mastered. At that precise time, F.R.I.D.A.Y alerted the compound and turned the TV on. What they saw made them shiver. “No”, whispered Bucky. Hydra projected on all channels and media their last video in which we could see Steve strained on a chair and you, emotionless pointing a gun at him.
“My name is Madame Hydra and this is for the greater cause. Witness our power in action. The day has finally come for the universe to get the scum disappear for good. Isn’t it poetic, an ex-Avenger killing his comrade?” The next second, the sound of you pulling the trigger echoed and Steve’s head bursting backwards. The video ended and the news flash began, declaring Captain America’s death all over the world.
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5, 6, 8!
(In reference to this ask meme.)
5. Share one of your strengths.
Dialogue. I consume a lot of media where dialogue is the only or primary form of actual writing (movies, video games, etc.), so that is something I have good knowledge of. I like having characters chatter, banter, and engage in long complex discussions.
6. Share one of your weaknesses.
A while ago I would have said "description", but I think I've actually gotten pretty good at that after writing a choose-your-own-adventure game where description was crucial. I think the thing I struggle with more now is character design; I've made exceptionally few original characters in my stories, and then only for minor roles. I have a hard time coming up with original characters that feel as rich and real as canon characters. All those character design lists that are like "What's their favorite color?" and "How do they like their coffee?" just make me go... I dunno! How is this relevant!!
8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.
From chapter 12 of The Darkness Between Stars:
White Diamond’s lips tightened. “Just as I suspected. We felt Pink’s presence, but this gem is not her. This is Rose Quartz, hiding herself in the shards of her crime, come to deliver us one final insult. You fools,” she spat, looking between Blue and Yellow Diamond. “You should have known this at once. She is nothing like Pink. Her gem is not even the right shape! How did this happen? Why did you allow this embarrassment to occur?”
“Because I wanted it to be true.”
Steven turned towards the voice.
He braced himself for her hatred, but Yellow Diamond only looked back at him with sorrow. All her anger, all her stoicism, everything she had worn on her face like a shield, had been wiped away, leaving her looking as vulnerable as a child.
“I knew,” she said. “I knew it couldn’t really be her. But I let myself believe it. I wanted to pretend, because…” A tear spilled from her eyes, and rolled slowly down her face. “I miss her. I miss her so much.”
White Diamond was quiet for a long time. “We all do,” she said, with real sorrow. Then her expression hardened, and she continued, “But it does no good to cling to fantasies. We must accept the truth.” She turned back to stare down at Steven. “Rose Quartz took Pink from us, and now she plans to destroy us as well.”
Connie grabbed Steven’s hand again. With a burst of energy, he forced his arm down. “No!” he cried out, staring White Diamond in the eyes. “Rose – I never wanted to shatter Pink Diamond, and I don’t want to shatter you either! It doesn’t have to end this way! Please, we can –”
“Silence.”
Steven’s mouth snapped shut.
“You are correct, Rose Quartz,” White Diamond said. “It will not end that way. Your little game, the mockery you have made of our empire and our authority, ends here and now. You believed you knew better than us. You believed you could defy us. You believed yourself better than what you were. All these things you told yourself and all the gems you perverted. All were lies. You are and were always our gem, to use and to discard as we pleased, and now, you will obey your final order:
“Die.”
I really love incredibly ornate, overdramatic ways of speaking, especially villain monologues. I had to hold myself back for so much of this fic since everyone was a kiddie cartoon character established to talk much more casually, so when I got to this villain monologue I finally got to go all-out. A long speech converging onto a single, powerful point is also a favorite of mine.
I was also amused by having Steven try to interrupt only to get smacked down; characters interrupting long speeches by characters who assume everyone's just going to let them have the floor is hilarious, doubly so in the context of a god-queen with mind control powers who has probably never had to deal with that before.
Additionally, the beginning bit with Yellow Diamond was heavily inspired by episode 7x16 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, where after an entire episode of lying and pontificating, Andrew breaks down crying as he admits he knew the specter wasn't really Warren but he followed it anyway. I always found that to be an incredibly powerful scene that played wonderfully with the concepts of masks, projection, and narrative, and did an incredible job of humanizing a character previously built up to be nothing but an annoyance and a joke. In the early planning for The Darkness Between Stars, I kept wondering how we could justify the diamonds getting fooled by such a transparently pathetic ruse, until it finally clicked that we didn't need to; people never act perfectly rationally, and if they're desperate enough they'll fool themselves better than the best liar ever could.
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Fic: Closer to the Light Part 4/? Kylo Ren x Reader
Closer to the Light
Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader
Summary: You rejected the Force once, but it’s pull won’t be denied.
Spoilers: No TROS spoilers. Takes place just before The Force Awakens and continues from there. Rey will feature but not as heavily.
Tag list: @babsbixby, @i-am-lokii-of-asgard, @holacherrycola90, @bookworm-nerd6, @fanofallthingsnstuff, @bulba-bulbasaur, @thomasscresswell, @vampgguk, @johnnysactualgf, @siobhanlovesfilm, @hockslutter, @hopplessdreamer, @prurose, @hoki-lokison, @flashcal
Four:
Two weeks had passed, by your estimate, since you last saw Ben. Since you last saw anyone besides anonymous storm troopers who only came by your cell to drop off your meals. The food was rather meager but you had hardly expected a feast. At least it kept your stomach relatively full and your body in decent enough condition.
With little options left to you for entertainment, you spent most of your time meditating.
It felt strange to return to your old habit. As a child, you spent hours a day meditating in between training. Master Luke said it would help strengthen your connection to the Force. The more you welcomed its presence, the easier you could call upon your power in times of need. It had been many years since you had actively reached out to the Force. When you were in hiding, you never tried to create a connection. You had wanted nothing to do with it.
When you meditated back then, it was simply in hopes of calming your mind. The hard work you forced upon yourself kept you distracted during the remaining time of your exile. As long as you kept busy, your mind didn’t wander and the temptation to return to Leia, to find your wayward Master, or to dwell on thoughts of Ben didn’t overwhelm you.
But there would be little benefit from denying your connection with the Force any longer. You didn’t know why the Supreme Leader wanted you here, or what Ben intended to do with you, but you would need your wits about you.
Your powers were weak, had always been in comparison to Ben, but if you hoped to survive your imprisonment you would have to embrace them once more. You could no longer deny your Jedi training.
It might be the only thing that saved your life.
You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath through your nose and exhaling out your mouth. Your back rested flatly against the cold wall of your cell, legs crossed and hands in your lap. The background noise of the ship, the marching feet of storm troopers, the occasional announcement on the loudspeakers, faded as you allowed the Force to flow through you.
When your eyes opened you were no longer in your barren cell.
Taken aback, you pushed yourself slowly to your feet. You studied the room you where you now stood, unsure. The gray walls resembled those on the ship and you imagined you were still within its confines.
It had been so long since you had even attempted projecting your consciousness, that feeling had you floundering.
A lone pedestal caught your attention and you took hesitant steps toward it, regarding it curiously.
Something warped and black sat atop what almost looked like sand. But the color was too dark, and it’s texture flaked instead of gritty. Your stomach dropped when the only logical answer came to you.
Ashes. But what, or who, had burned?
The prized piece at the center of the pedestal was mangled but anyone who had lived through the Empire’s reign, or its subsequent fall, could tell what it was. Its owner had been the stuff of nightmares.
Darth Vader. His melted and disfigured mask was on display like a treasured possession.
It was then when you knew exactly where you were, whose rooms you were in.
“Kriffing hell,” you muttered in shock.
“How did you get out?” a sharp demand caused you to turn on your heel. You were confronted with an angry Ben glaring down at you.
His mask was off, but his expression only spoke to the fury that was running though him. His hand shot out, calling the power of the Force to him as he tried to pry your answer from you. “Tell me.”
You didn’t feel any compulsion to reply, which took you slightly by surprise. Instead, you cocked your head to the side curiously.
There had been a time when you and Ben were so close, so entwined in friendship that it felt as if you shared thoughts. As if you could speak to each other with merely a look. But nothing like this had ever happened before.
Kylo’s eyes narrowed, looking you up and down.
“You aren’t here,” he considered, taking a tentative step forward. You took an unconscious step back. “You aren’t strong enough to project,” he was mostly talking to himself. “It would kill you. No…this is something else…
“I can’t see where you are. Can you see where I am?”
“You have Vader’s mask,” your voice shook, appalled. “Like a trophy, an idol. Kriff, Ben!”
You could never quite bring yourself to call him by his chosen name. You didn’t know Kylo Ren. You knew Ben Solo. And no matter what he had done, and planned to do, you wouldn’t delude yourself into acting as if he were a separate person.
“No!” he shouted furiously. He pointed an accusing finger in your face, “Don’t call me that!”
You shook your head in stubborn refusal.
“He was a monster!” you exclaimed, disgusted by the sight. Your normal sense of caution around him vanished as you stumbled away from the cursed object.
“He was a leader,” Kylo snapped. “He was powerful. He had a vision for the galaxy and I will see it through.”
“You’re delusional,” you murmured sadly, forcing yourself to stand your ground as he strode angrily toward you. He dwarfed you with his presence, made you feel paltry and fragile.
“I am stronger than he ever was,” he spat, his body crowding you now as you turned in on yourself, making yourself smaller. “He allowed emotion to overcome him, to weaken him. I won’t make the same mistake.”
The sneer that crossed his face spoke volumes about how he felt about you. Whatever feelings he had for you in the past, platonic or other, they were gone. He had smothered all trace of affection and care until only a shell of his former self remained.
It made you want to cry. To see what had become of him shattered a tiny part of your heart you didn’t even realize still belonged to him.
“Then why am I here?” you wondered, voice soft and confused.
And you were utterly confused. If his new Master taught him to eschew all attachments, what was the benefit of keeping you around? You were nothing but a physical reminder of his past. A reminder of his parents, Master Luke, the Jedi, everything he had left behind that night in the temple.
You met his stare and you saw the first crack in his stone faced facade. You inhaled sharply at the uncertainty in his eyes.
Jaw clenched and mouth tense, he reluctantly admitted, “I don’t know.”
You licked your lips nervously and allowed a sliver of hope to enter your heart at his hesitation.
All too quickly the steely determination returned to his gaze and he spoke softly, with a dark promise.
“But I am going to find out.”
And in an instant you were back in your body, back in the cell that had become your home, and you felt fear like never before.
———————————-
The larger than life hologram of the Supreme Leader glitched before coming into focus. In the darkness Snoke appeared like a colossus, dwarfing his apprentice who greeted him on one knee and with bowed head.
Kylo attempted to look pliant and submissive, but Snoke was hardly fooled. Ren’s temper was nearly a physical thing and even from a distance he could feel it ebbing and crashing as his pupil struggled to remain calm.
“Why have you called upon me?” he drawled, his scarred mouth pulling into a deep frown.
In truth he knew what had brought Ren to his throne, it had only been a matter of time. Snoke had purposely left the boy to fret and seethe these past weeks. The dark side was fueled by passion and anger, after all. Kylo Ren, with all his resentment and indignation, was feeding it heartily even when he was merely thinking of the girl.
“Supreme Leader,” the vocoder on Kylo’s mask making his voice sound hollow, “I seek your wisdom.”
Snoke waved his hand lazily and Ren moved to stand, still showing deference to his Master.
“The girl…” he began again, unsure how to approach his temperamental lord. “She is no Jedi. She has no knowledge of the Resistance. She is of no consequence and yet she remains on the Finalizer—”
“And there she shall remain,” Snoke interrupted with a curl of his lip.
“She is a distraction!” Ren erupted, and Snoke didn’t bother covering his delighted grin.
“Precisely,” he agreed, and Kylo fell silent. “She distracts you.”
Leaning forward in his throne, Snoke towered above Kylo. It made the Commander of the First Order feel like an errant child and he loathed it.
“You say she is of no consequence,” he continued drolly. “And yet you failed to kill her at the temple. You allowed her to escape. I have taught you to reject sentiment, and yet sentiment is what has kept her alive all these years. Even now, locked away and out of sight, she haunts you. Do you know why that is?” Snoke eyed his apprentice with vague amusement.
“A bond, when forged through the Force, is not easily broken.” Kylo was thankful for the mask he donned, it kept Snoke from seeing his embarrassed rage. “Your grandfather, without benefit of such a bond, allowed jealousy and passion to consume him and caused him to lose sight of his plans. To waste his potential. But where Vader failed, you will flourish.”
“Supreme Leader—” Kylo tried to argue, but Snoke huffed scornfully.
“The bond exists,” he jeered. “Do not deny it, boy. You may not have felt it as strongly until now, until the girl began to connect to the Force once more, but it has endured since your youth.
“It has benefited your training until now to allow it to remain unacknowledged,” Snoke revealed, and Kylo’s body tensed. “You needed to separate yourself from the child you once were. Now that you have grown so powerful, it can be of use to us.”
“You taught me to renounce emotion,” Kylo tried to understand.
“Emotion is what fuels the dark side,” Snoke hissed. “I taught you to reject sentimentality. Love. Love is a weakness. It is what cost your grandfather everything. But passion is an emotion. Passion, and hate, and anger, all are food that nourish your strength and power.
“If you are to grow to your true potential, you also need control. No one can rival your power, but you lack discipline. You are reckless. You are heedless and feckless and it will get you killed.”
Kylo’s teeth ground together at his Master’s reprimand.
“The girl is no match for your power over the Force,” Snoke admitted blithely. “But in regards to restraint, she is your superior.
“The bond you wish to deny can grant you the control you lack. But you must nurture it. The girl is but a pawn,” he said dismissively. “She is a conduit. Through your bond, you will only grow stronger.”
Head bowed in reluctant acceptance, Kylo entreated, “What would you have me do?”
“Keep her close,” Snoke command was low and coaxing. “Foster the bond you share. Learn from it. Master your emotion until you can wield it just as steadily as your lightsaber.”
“And then?” he wondered aloud. Snoke gave a sinister grin. It was a terrible thing to behold and a small part of Kylo worried at the sight of it.
“When you have succeeded,” the Supreme Leader declared, sitting back in this throne with an air of victory, “you will sever the bond and kill the girl.”
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THE QUIRK DATABASE HAS BEEN UPDATED !
incoming information on villain, chef.
get to know them !
faceclaim: kim seokjin
name: seong shik
villain name: chef
gender & pronouns: nonbinary | they/them
age: 30
association: anyone who pays for their services (evil or restaurant-related)
occupation: runs a small restaurant near u.y. academy called “Shaping Plates” | run for 5 years now | it’s popular with students, teachers, and civilians!
reputation: when a villain is in need of information or a hit that doesn’t trace back to them or even just a temporary secret hideout, seong shik is your person. with the proper payment and necessary ingredients, they’ll carry out the job no questions asked. most villains are wary of shik, though, because while they don’t ask questions, they are observant and seem to always know what’s happening among the villains and heroes. information is their bread and butter so villains know to hold their secrets close to them when around seong shik, but that doesn’t seem to stop chef from discovering them.
the quirk !
quirk name: food coma
quirk description: controls whoever eats their cooking
abilities:
when their cooking is consumed, the person’s will is taken over
it’s sort of like when someone goes into a food coma and they feel like they’re in a hazy dream
they can give orders and the victim has to follow until the task is complete or the trance wears off
if the dish is the person’s absolute favorite, the effect last longer (12 hours)
the dishes are created from a clay that coats their hands, all they have to do is shape the dish how they want and it becomes the food—tastes delicious too!
it’s a regular old dish that doesn’t brainwash if they don’t use the necessary ingredients (dna)
so they use their ability to run a restaurant when they’re not doing evil deeds
weaknesses:
needs the other person’s dna to incorporate into the dish (hair tends to be the easiest to use)—think poly juice potion from HP but for brainwashing
lasts until the food leaves their digestive system (about 8 hours)
if the dish is the person’s least favorite food, the effect doesn’t last as long (4 hours)
mutation: There’s a clay that coats their hands and turns soft when they’re using their quirk
the history !
triggers: violence, bullying
there was little in life seong shik wanted as a child—a roof over their head, food in their belly, stability, and people to share these things with. seong shik grew up to have some of these things…less of others.
born and raised among a poor family—their parents were always struggling to keep their children fed and clothed. often, shik had to fend for themself, finding food, maybe persuading pitying adults to give them hand-me-downs or scraps. they shared what they gained with their younger and older siblings, but more often than not, they left shik with nothing. shik was bullied by their siblings, classmates, and adults who saw the child and nothing but a nuisance or street brat.
all seong shik wanted was to have a full belly, nice clothing, and the world to leave them alone.
their quirk manifested in grade school when they were doing crafts. shik noticed that their hands were producing small amounts of clay as they were making a rendition of a plate of food with paper, glue, and cotton. instead of questioning it, they used the clay on their craft project—but a kid at some point decided it’d be funny to put a tuft of their own hair into shik’s craft.
shockingly, it turned into a real plate of food! seong shik was surprised, but it turned to alarm and anger when the same kid who messed with their project ate said plate of food! shik glared as a glaze came over the child’s eyes, looking exhausted all of a sudden.
shik, in their anger, demanded an apology—the child apologized immediately. they told the kid they needed to do better than that—get on their knees and bark like a dog if they really felt sorry. the kid did and shik was shocked, to put it simply…and very confused. they had only said it out of anger, not really expecting to demanding the kid actually do it. what was going on? shik looked at their clay hands, but no answers were forthcoming.
they played with their clay quirk in their free time and discovered it only took the shape of food, but that food was real and delicious and even better, free! their parents realized shik had an amazing quirk that would keep food on the table and less worry to have about their family. shik became the family’s provider, even going so far as to sell their creations on the street. their parents half-joked that shik should open restaurant when they were older.
to shik, it was no joke—maybe they would open a restaurant. no one would go hungry if they ate from shik’s kitchen. they’d make sure of that.
their siblings became jealous because of the praise and attention shik received from their parents and others—so they decided to get back at them. the children did what any bully does—destroy shik’s work.
they did the unthinkable, putting their own nail clippings and hair (one even spat) into shik’s half-finished dish. in a rage, seong shik took that same plate of food, finished making it, and then proceeded to serve it at dinner that same night. they made sure only their siblings had to eat it. after all, shik’s parents had done nothing wrong. with a sweet smile and earnest eyes, shik insisted their brothers and sisters eat every last bite—they’d worked hard on it and this family never took a meal for granted. with their parents’ encouragement, shik’s siblings reluctantly took bites from their respective dishes—and a glaze came over their eyes, just like that child from so long ago.
the siblings didn’t respond when asked how they liked the food, shik’s parents becoming concerned after heartbeats passed without so much as fluttering of eyelids. seong shik panicked, thinking they had accidentally poisoned their siblings. they pleaded for their brothers and sisters to say something.
“something.”
…was that a joke?
“that’s not funny,” their parents had chastised, but there was no response. a suspicion hovered at the back of shik’s mind and they decided to test it.
“apologize”
they did—interesting.
“hop on one leg and bark like a dog.”
suddenly, the dining table was surrounded by barking children hopping on one foot.
at the pleading of their parents to explain what was happening, shik turned excitedly to their parents and told them what they only just now realized their quirk can do—brainwash! the look of horror their parents gave them wasn’t completely unexpected, but why were they so upset? the others obviously deserved it. they were always bullying shik and now the quirk they hated so much was making them look like idiots! shik couldn’t be happier! their parents scolded shik, telling them to release their quirk, but shik refused.
instead, they told their siblings to tell their parents everything they’d ever done to shik—maybe then their mother and father would understand, even praise shik!
it changed nothing, though.
or rather, it changed shik.
they discovered the limitations of their quirk—that the effects would wear off once the food had passed through the person’s digestive track.
their family turned on them—where love and pride had been only days before, now sat fear and horror. shik’s quirk no longer seemed as wonderful as they had first thought and shik…shik could not possibly be their child, right? none of the seong’s other children had such…sinister quirks and shik’s parents certainly had no brainshwash-like abilities. their powers were all similar—mineral-manipulation and production.
well, except for shik’s great-grandmother who had been able to do something similar to the child—manipulating the water in living things. she’d been a notorious villain because of it.
would seong shik become her?
they weren’t going to wait to find out
seong shik woke one year later to find their home devoid of their brothers, sisters, and parents; their clothes, car, and favorite toys missing in an otherwise untouched space.
seong shik was only 12 when they became homeless, getting by on their quirk (food coma, they decided to finally name it), though they made very little money from their small corner on the street. it didn’t escape shik’s notice that many heroes were quick to pity, but slow to help a homeless child struggling to survive on their own. they’d grown to realize heroes couldn’t be relied on.
shik knew they couldn’t survive like this—they needed to make money and fast. and seong shik had just the idea.
there was a local gang of small-time villains that often used shik as their personal punching bag—claiming the corner shik occupied belonged to them and shik refusing to relinquish the one space they had stayed since their family had abandoned them. they made good money, shik knew, based on their own loose lips, vendors in the area, and heroes who had made polite conversation with shik while waiting for the young child to finish making their order.
that day was no different—shik took the beating, but this time they fought back, aiming for the guy who was clearly more important than others as he always stood back and watched the violence with a sick grin on his face. it was all shik needed, managing to pull out a couple strands of hair.
shik made what they guessed was the man’s favorite food (they had watched him purchase hotteok from a nearby vendor on more than one occasion). they waited patiently until the goons’ head was seen making a trip to the hotteok cart. stealthily, they replaced the hotteok the vendor prepared with shik’s own quirk-filled treat.
and what a treat it was to watch the man take that first ecstatic bite, seize, and take on the same trance-like state as shik’s siblings had. it was easy after that to issue orders and gain access to the small gang’s bank accounts, wipe them out, swiping what looked like important documents for good measure—in case shik needed leverage to keep the jerks from killing them outright if the villains figured out what they’d done.
little did shik know that those documents held information important to a far bigger, badder, and more important group of villains. it took the villains a few years to trace seong shik, now 15, and attending middle school. the young person had used the money they’d stolen to pay for a small room in a low-end part of the city, sharing it with other struggling children. from there, shik started school again, determined to make a better life for themself. it was finally looking up again, only using their quirk when money was a bit tight and to keep their belly full.
when the villains caught shik on their way back to their shabby apartment, they had been watching the teenager for awhile, observing, and coming to the conclusion seong shik was more useful to them alive than dead. seong shik was offered a deal: become an informant, hitman, whatever they needed from shik’s quirk—and they’d give shik access to the best education and good pay. shik didn’t need long to decide—this was the opportunity they’d been seeking since being abandoned.
for the next decade, seong shik worked under this group of villains, earning themself a reputation among the villain community and even among some heroes for being a capable and elusive figure who’d do the dirty work…for the right price.
shik earned their freedom from the group after the villains had been caught by a group of heroes. shik had managed to escape, but not before covering their tracks so no one could figure out shik’s connection to the group. and it seemed the villains they’d tagged-teamed with for so long had also kept their mouths shut about the brainwash-quirk user.
with the money they’d accumulated from their under-the-table jobs, and having completed business school, seong shik decided to pursue their childhood dream—they opened a restaurant. they cooked meals for their patrons, garnering popularity and a steady stream of return customers, including villains, heroes, and nearby u.y.a students.
seong shik was widely known among the villain community and once their restaurant opened, many sought the brainwasher for dirty jobs—hits, robberies, cover-ups, espionage—and shik provided them the use of their quirk. heroes had some information on the elusive villain, “Chef” as they were known by, but no information on who they were or what they looked like or where they currently resided. funny since many heroes had come face-to-face with Chef, praising their skill in the kitchen.
present day, seong shik, 30, is flourishing as the owner of Shaping Plates, and is a successful villain too. they had everything they’d hope for as child—a roof over their head, food on the table, steady income…but nobody around to share these things with.
maybe…seong shik didn’t have everything they wanted after all…
the personality !
“chef,” as many refer to seong shik as, is known to many to be quite friendly on any given day. always prepared with a warm welcoming smile, many feel right at home in their presence…enough so that many feel they can tell chef all their problems. when they walk away, many realize they’ve told shik much about themselves and yet learned nothing about them. seong shik can charm anyone and that makes it easy to get their target’s guard down, easily using their food coma quirk to get the dirty work done for clients. shik is prideful and won’t take kindly to insults about their cooking, quirk or no. you’re expected to eat every last bite or face seong shik’s anger. while they have plenty of clients, shik is not one to have many friends. after all, they’ve worked hard to keep under the radar and out of the prying eyes of heroes; friends make it harder to hide who you are..even if shik desperately wants to have people to open up to and trust. this means holding secrets above shik’s clients’ heads so they keep their mouths shut and never allowing themself to become close to the friendly students, heroes or civilians that frequent their humble abode. it makes for quite a lonely life…one that shik often finds themself desperately wishing they didn’t have to live.
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