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the-au-thor · 4 months

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I have an idea for Spencer Reid x female reader.

Spencer and the reader have a stable relationship. They are going through a stressful period, and Spencer struggles to realize that the reader is reaching their limit because she doesn't want to bother him. But finally, Spencer is there for her, helping her because they love each other.

If you don't like this, it's okay. I'd love to read it tho.

Love !

Hey dear one; sorry for the late very late answer. I've been very busy but I could take time to write a bit of this story on my free time. It was a little tough. I'll be talking about anxiety from my perspective although I am aware it is not the same to everyone.

I know how it feels to have your own enemy living rent free inside your brain telling you all the right things to break you. Keep fighting people! You are doing it fine, your best, don't put so much stress on your chest. Love you!

That day in the Café | Spencer Reid × Anxious! Reader

Word: 1k

Warning: Read this first!

You sat on your knees on the cold floor of the room as you tried to fold Diana's clothes, separating them carefully and leaving in a different pile those that were ready to be discarded. It had been a difficult and long week; Diana had a crisis while visiting you at home, and her psychiatrist conclude that her medications weren't working anymore and she needed a change of her prescription and that would either render her docile most of the time or leave her too disoriented and lethargic to hold a conversation.

When you and Spencer woke up in the mornings to give her the first dose; a cocktail of extremely strong medications, she would babble unintelligible and incoherent things. Every time you saw her swallow her pills heavily, you knew that wasn't Diana. Diana was fire, she was grace, and mental agility. Even with the mental lapses her illness caused, she could hold conversations, argue, defend herself, and string together five words without sounding like a poorly pronounced murmur. You hated seeing Diana like this.

Spencer was also distant; you knew you had to be patient; he struggled to open up with his feelings and above all to express them in a way that didn't make him feel vulnerable. Even with you and after all that time, you had to pick the right moment to remind him that you were a team, that he wasn't alone anymore, and that he simply had to let you in. Plus, you knew the routine would be different. Spencer wouldn't dedicate as much time to you, and it was understandable. After all, it was his mom. But he was forgetting to hold your hand occasionally, or cuddle with you at night while you solved word puzzles and he read his books. He was also leaving dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and if he made a mess, he forgot he had to clean it up. The towels were spread damp over the bed, he left puddles of water outside the shower for you to mop up, and honestly, you were also a bit exhausted. You didn't blame him; his mind was elsewhere with good reason lately. But yours was going to that negative place you had relegated to a very dark corner of your head but whose door occasionally opened to release all those negative emotions, self-sabotaging thoughts, and memories you preferred to forget. Stress was starting to take its toll on you, and you felt alone, you needed someone to hold you while you cried, but you didn't have anyone. And the worst: yes, you had someone, but that someone was too tense with his mother's situation and you didn't want to burden him with more worries. You tried to think of something else as you careful took a look into one of Diana's pajamas to fold it and stack it.

You remembered when Spencer and you were friends; you both fooled yourselves into thinking that was all you would ever be. You went out constantly, keeping a log to keep track of new cafés. One day you were drinking your coffees accompanied by a couple of donuts when he took your hand and told you he loved you. Your heart had beaten as if someone had replaced it with a drum that was constantly being pounded by a pair of drumsticks. You gave him a verbal list of all your flaws, all your traumas, and all the reasons why you weren't right for him. He invalidated each of your points. He wasn't going anywhere. If only he could see you now, you knew he would agree with you. Especially with the way your mind began to scream your thoughts at you, as if they were rioting inside you without apparent order. Your hands were trembling, and your eyes began to cloud over, not allowing you to continue folding the clothes. There, sitting on your knees, squeezing Diana's pajamas without being able to let them go because your mind was too far from your body to send it any orders. Tears ran down your cheeks, running a marathon, quickly slipping down the cliff of your chin and falling onto your bare, warm, and almost thick arms. You tried to do the breathing exercises your therapist had taught you, but you couldn't concentrate. You needed to get out of there; run somewhere. You didn't know what the hell was happening to you. You knew you had to ask for help, but you couldn't speak. That's when the first blow hit your face; your palm repeatedly hitting your forehead and then slapping yourself until the relief of the pain in your reddened cheek appeared, but that wasn't enough. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn't stop. You kept hitting yourself until you managed to get up and sit on the bed as you tried to breathe. You walked quickly to the bathroom and tried to clean your face in a small oasis of peace that you didn't know how long it would last; you could feel the next panic attack beginning to boil in your chest. Your hands squeezed the porcelain of the sink, and you resolved to get out of there; you walked through the living room, taking the house keys and your jacket before announcing that you were going to visit Penelope. Spencer looked at you from his desk and left his office to catch up with you at the door, with a furrowed brow and a worried face. He took your shoulders, stopping your departure knowing that something was wrong because you didn't want to look him in the eye. He saw the trail your tears had left on your face, the tip of your nose red, and then the marks on your cheek and forehead.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, but you were unable to speak. He enveloped you in his arms and began to trace circles on your back, massaging between your shoulder blades and lower back. "It's okay; cry. Let it out," he asked, beginning to hear the crying come out.

It seemed like you had so much, that the sobs bottled up in your throat made it hard for you to breathe.

"I-I'm s-sorry so much. I hate crying," you murmured between uncontrollable tears, feeling Spencer stroke your hair, burying his fingers and massaging your scalp.

"We're made for that. You don't have to apologize, breathe, my love. Here; listen," he said softly as he lovingly guided you to his chest so you could hear his heartbeat.

At first, the frequency wasn't noticeable, you were too aware of yourself for that, but slowly the sound of his heart managed to overpower the volume of the screams inside you, and you felt your breathing becoming easier. Spencer's hands firmly squeezed your shoulders, and you felt his fingers giving affectionate massages.

"What happened?" he murmured as he continued holding your face against his chest.

"I d-don't know," you murmured still with a trembling voice. "I was folding Diana's clothes for the clinic, and then I started to..j-just feel too much" You heard his sigh, and then a soft kiss on your forehead, brushing his lips against your skin. You felt his warm breath collide against you, and that seemed to calm you even more.

"My love, I told you to rest," he remembered with an almost tired whisper, "you've done too much this week."

You shook your head frantically, feeling more tears coming out of your eyes. "I feel like I can't do anything right lately."

That managed to make Spencer let you go to take your face in his hands and look into your eyes as he wiped the tears from your cheeks. "Are you kidding? You've done too much this week. A-and I...my love; you've done things you shouldn't be doing. She's my mom."

You frowned slightly before defending your position.

"I love Diana, nothing I've done has been out of obligation. I do it willingly. It's just that...I-I feel so bad doing it because I know that if it weren't for her new treatment, she would be perfectly fine, and she wouldn't feel like I'm invading her personal space every time I help her bathe or dress."

He nodded several times with a tired half-smile, resting his forehead against yours.

"I know. I understand. I'm sorry."

"And I think that she has been through this before, and you've had to take care of her alone, and it's not fair. And now I'm worrying you just because I can't be s-strong enough," you felt his fingers caressing your cheeks and jawline as he kissed your face softly.

"Don't say that," he spoke almost sadly, "it's a very difficult situation."

"You're handling it well."

"No, I've been through this before, and every time it's a challenge."

You frowned touching his face with the palm of your hand.

"And why...? Why didn't you tell me?"

He seemed to hesitate before answering, "Because I didn't want to worry you."

You slowly pulled away from him, feeling your eyelids beginning to feel heavy from crying.

"I didn't want to either," you whispered and shook your head tiredly, "this won't work if we don't talk."

He nodded slowly. "I know."

"I know you don't want to worry me, but by not telling me anything, you isolate me, and I feel like a burden, like I'm not doing anything to help you." Spencer looked at you regretfully and shook his head vigorously.

"Sweetheart, no. You're spectacular; you do things that I wouldn't think of. You cleaned mom's closet, you washed her hair, you cut it, and painted her nails. I wouldn't have thought of that, believe me."

"But I want you to trust me; you need to tell me what's happening here" you placed a finger on his forehead and your palm on his chest "and here" He nodded, placing his hand over yours gently, and you felt the warmth of his palm on your skin "I know you've done this alone all your life, and I know it's going to be hard to share your feelings with me. But I'm here for all the time, and if y-you can accept my panic attacks and intrusive thoughts, I want you to share with me the ugly and the painful." Spencer's eyes read you for a good while before speaking again. He hugged your hand with his and brought it to his lips.

"I've been pushing you away lately, haven't I?"

You nodded "But I know it's because you've been worried"

"No," he denied, "I was selfish. I only thought about mom and licking my own wounds like a sort of solitary bear. I didn't take into account that this is new for you, and that you would feel overwhelmed. Really, my love, forgive me. You're right: we're a team. And I've been just... not cooperating at all"

"I don't want you to blame yourself, please," you pleaded almost begging.

"No. But it's something I have to fix. I'll call Pen and ask her to come; mom's sleeping and she'll be doing it for a while" he searched for his phone in his pocket and began typing rapidly on the screen "We're going to take a little trip to an old friend's cabin, and on the way, we're going to talk: find a blanket and a coat. I'll do something for us to eat when we get there," he began to walk through the living room, and you watched him standing halfway. He stopped and furrowed his brow "what's wrong?"

"I don't want to leave Diana," you stammered nervously, "not because of a panic attack."

He approached you in giant steps and took your face in his hands again.

"For years I kept my friends away from my private life. Especially from what concerned mom. I isolated myself and growled and dismissed any help the guys offered. Because I'm her son, and I didn't care about sacrificing myself," he offered you a brief kiss to look at you again "But now I have you, and I'm not willing to sacrifice you. I love you, and I also have to take care of you" he planted another one of his kisses on your lips, but this time it lasted a little longer "let's put some ice on your cheeks, okay?"

You nodded.

"I love you. I will take care of you too"

He brushed the tip of his nose against yours and smiled "You are already doing it" then you heard the doorbell, and he kissed you once more before stepping away. "I told you, right? At the café: that there was nothing that could make me stop loving you or push you away, right?"

Your chest still felt somewhat tight, and you knew there were still many tears inside you waiting to come out, but still, it made you smile. And there it was; everything your mind had fabricated, the fears and self-sabotaging thoughts started to slowly fade as Spencer held your hand all the way to the old Gideon's cabin near the woods. And that night Spencer cuddle with you while you talked. And you knew everything was gonna be alright.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid au #criminal minds au #diana reid #spencer reid blurb

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hrefna-the-raven · 4 months

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Hot as Hades

Misc. masterlist - masterlist

Chapters 1 - 2 - 3

Warnings: none

Words: 1620

Summary: getting ready for the next date (this chapter will be a bit boring, sorry in advance)

Chapter 4 - Invitation

"Whaaaaaaat-is-it-now?!", he bellowed, causing them to immediately fall into silence.

Pain and Panic exchanged glances, uttering unintelligible words to each other before one of them eventually took a step forward.

"Your most lugubriousness, we're sorry to disturb you but uhm you have a visitor."

"Guys this is the Underworld", Hades scoffed while conjuring himself a drink, "we constantly have visitors down here, like", his hand waved towards the never-ending stream of souls spiraling downwards past the window, "permanent visitors."

He sipped on his drink as he sunk back on his throne, already dismissing his minions' announcement under unimportant when suddenly the heavy stone doors of the throne room swung open, crashing into the walls on both sides.

"Brother", Zeus swaggered into the room as if he owned it, grabbing Hades by the shoulder and pulling him into a tight hug.

The Lord of the Dead growled, squirming to free himself but failing.

"What brings you to my room of doom, Zeusy?", Hades grumbled, finally able to free himself out of Zeus' iron grip.

"Aw Hades, can't I just check on my favourite gloom from the tomb brother?"

"You rarely, no wait, in fact, never do so. And forgive me if this sounds a bit impolite, but I'm highly suspicious. Sooooo what in the undead are you doing down here?!"

Hades' voice cracked, his attempt to conceal his anger failing, his venom slowly seeping through his words. The night he spent with you was absolutely enchanting, from the delightful conversations to the shared laughter at each other's jokes. He could feel the intense desire you had for him, and he wouldn't forgive himself if he allowed anyone, especially his meddling brother Bolt Boy over there, to ruin it now. His gaze shifted towards his brother, who suddenly appeared overly interested in the table that still stood in the room, a physical reminder of the sweet memories he had created together with you merely hours ago. As if on cue, Zeus turned around, revealing a delicate sapphire belt held triumphantly in his hand. A self-satisfied grin spread across his face, growing more pronounced with each passing moment.

"Did you have a visitor?", Zeus asked, wiggling his eyebrows in a mischievous manner.

Hades' eyes widened in shock as he saw your belt dangling from Zeus' hand. He jumped up and snatched it away.

"None of your business", Hades snarled.

The last thing he needed was Mister High and Mighty snooping around his affairs. He knew Zeus too well, having experienced his meddling firsthand. The first time, it resulted in the rather involuntary responsibility of overseeing the underworld forever, the last time, it ended his relationship and, because it wasn't bad enough,Hades had to make constant, very conscious effort to forget all the instances where he got the blame for his brothers fuck ups. Therefore, he had no intention of divulging any information about you. At least in his scheming mind, he deemed you his which granted you the status of underworld business, and so solely his, business.

"Anyway, tomorrow, Olympus. Make sure to come, brother. It will be a grant gathering of everyone, oh and I've heard intriguing things about the lady you're with, I'm curious."

"Oh why don't you ask Aphrodite? I'm sure if things are being heard, she might want to add some details", Hades muttered.

"I don't know what you're talking about. It's all Greek to me", Zeus winked and vanished, leaving a frustrated Hades behind.

Wasn't it already enough that his brother had imprisoned him in the thankless task of ruling the underworld for eternity? Why did he have to endure Zeus invading the very space of his confinement as well? And for what? To invite him to...something, probably a party. And you were supposed to accompany him, an unspoken invitation, and by extension meet the other gods. Hades closed his eyes, his fingertips pressed into his temples, slowly massaging the growing headache away. He called out for his minions, his muscles tensing at the irritating shuffles of their small footsteps on the stone floor as they approached, giving him a nervous salute. With a snip of his fingers, dark smoke materialised into a wrapped package he had gotten earlier from the Fates, hovering in front of Pain.

"Bring this to her, tell her I'll pick her up at sunset and nothing more! Capiche?"

"Yes boss!", Panic replied a little too eagerly, snatched the package, and scurried away with Pain.

As soon as you stepped into your house the following day after a tiring day at work, you sensed that something was amiss. It felt like the atmosphere had shifted, and there was an unfamiliar disturbance lingering in the air. As you passed through the kitchen, you instinctively grabbed a knife and cautiously made your way towards your bedroom. Carefully you pushed open the door, ready to defend yourself, but your steps came to an abrupt halt as you spotted two young boys energetically jumping on your bed.

"What in the-?"

"She's here, she's here!", both interrupted you and crawled off the bed, holding up a package.

"The boss will pick you up at sunset, wear this, nothing more!", proudly announced the boy with brown hair.

"That's not what he meant by saying that, you idiot!", the blonde one intervened, slapping the other one on the back of his head.

"Oh and how would you know what the boss meant? I was there when he gave the instructions!"

"Me too! Have you forgotten already?"

"You must be Pain and Panic", you sighed amused, giggling, finally putting the knife away and taking the package.

"At your service", both smiled, saluting you.

"So this is from Hades?", you asked, earning an eager nod from the boys.

"Please tell him we delivered and only did as asked", Pain requested, transforming back into his original form.

"We mean like really really put in a good word for us, we don't wanna be maimed", Panic added.

And with that, they both disappeared. Intrigued, you opened the parckage and ran your fingers along the smooth black material of a gown. You let out a gasp as you slipped it on, realising that not only did it reveal a generous amount of cleavage, but the fabric itself was see-through, but it also was as if magic concealed certain parts of your body, so never too much was revealed. As you gazed at your own reflection in the mirror, a delightful warmth began to spread between your thighs. Your mind danced with thoughts of the upcoming evening and Hades' intentions, especially considering the revealing and seductive nature of your robe. You weren't left with much time to wonder when you felt the air shift and the Lord of the Underworld emerged from a cloud of dark smoke beside you.

"Hi babe, I'm a bit early so I figured I'd pick you up here since we've gotten to know each other a bit better yesterday, you know it's more personal and all", Hades strolled around you, his eyes scanning the room, "I must say I dig your style, simple and yet those small skulls and bones give this place a personal touch, thumbs up-", his gaze finally landed on you, "wow wow wow, babe, I uhm, it suddenly got super hot in here and it's definitely not me for once!"

You chuckled at the god standing in front of you, his eyes roaming over your form, dilated pupils and open mouth, unable to hide his burning desire and you could have sworn that his flames burned even hotter than usual.

"You sent the robe."

Your voice broke Hades out of his train of thoughts and brought him back into the present moment with you.

"The Fates picked it", he casually remarked, attempting to regain his usual cool demeanour, "and they weren't wrong when they promised me I wouldn't regret it. But something's missing, hm hm hm", Hades pondered, tapping his finger against his lips, his brows furrowing, "ah yes I know! Let me help with the final touch."

Your hair started moving on its own, swirling and twisting until it formed a chignon at the back of your head adorned with a small bird skull. The tips of the few long strains hanging down on the side of your face were tinted in an almost glowing shade of the same blue as Hades' flames. A silent wow left your lips as you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. The combination of the elegant hairstyle and the flowing robe draped around you gave you a shimmer of divinity and a smile danced across your lips as you turned around hugging Hades.

"It looks perfect, thank you", you whispered, your words barely audible as they sank into the soft fabric of his toga.

"So well, are you ready to start the night?", he asked anxiously, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

You nodded, though a hint of suspicion flickered in your gaze as you observed him.

"Then get ready to meet the family!", he spoke quickly, his arm encircling you tightly as he pulled you closer.

"Wait what?! Does that mean we're going to O-", you cut yourself off with a scream as your surroundings seemed to dissolve.

You closed your eyes, nausea pooling in your stomach while every muscles in your body tensed at the feeling of weighing tons and being weightless at the same time. Just as suddenly as it began, it abruptly ended again and when your feet felt steady ground underneath, you cautiously opened your eyes and gasped in surprise.

"Olympus", you murmured, blinking several times, half-expecting to find yourself back in your own home, awakening from a dream.

Chapter 5

#disney #disney hercules #hades #disney hades #pain and panic #zeus #disney zeus #hades x reader #hades x you #hot as hades #reader insert #disney villain #disney x reader

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mayandjuly1811 · 6 months

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WHY HUNTLOW IS A FORCED AND UNREALISTIC SHIP.

1. First impressions:

Raeda has the most amicable meeting. About Lumity, Amity shook Luz's collar and almost got Principal Bump dissect her. It stems from misunderstanding, because Amity doesn't know Luz is human but a strange non-Abomination that Willow used to cheat. About Huntlow, Willow seems to be violent for no reasons at all. Hunter disguises as a Hexside student so to Willow, he's just a student that she doesn't know. He's not a threat at all. Yet she summons the vines to wrap him tightly and drags him down the ground so hard that the asphalt gets damaged. Treating strangers like this is not fine and out of character for Willow.

Also, when Hunter is about to leave again, Willow drags him down the ground and takes him to the field without asking his permission. This crosses boundaries a lot. In comparison, even though Amity sees Hunter as an enemy in Eclipse Lake, she just simply uses Abomination magic to capture him, not dragging him down violently like Willow.

2. Understanding:

Raine and Eda have a genuine common interest in music, magic (Eda is interested in wild magic and Raine supports her). Luz and Amity are both interested in Azura, the idea of being not enough for anyone, the idea of being accepted and loved for who they really are. Amity is also interested in Luz's glyph magic and she learns to draw it many times.

About Huntlow, I don't see any common between them besides flyer derby. The whole “Half a Witch” is forced. Half a witch means a witch who is not powerful enough. Willow is a powerful Plant witch, her fathers just didn't realize her real magic talent and put her into Abomination track, which isn't her forte. If you're only good at Maths, but not Chemistry, does it make you unintelligent overall? Of course not.

About Hunter, first off, he is not even a witch. He's a Grimwalker with no bile sack, his pointed ears were adjusted to look like witches’. Also, he's skillful at using magic staffs so no one sees him as powerless. He's the elite Golden Guard, one of the most powerful figures under Belos. No one dares to call him half a witch, even if they do think he's weak. And how he quickly recognizes the illusion of Willow in S2ep18 is unrealistic. How come Gus, Willow's long-term friend can't figure out before Hunter? The fact that Willow seems to be scared of Hunter is understandable. Last time, he literally locked her and her friends up, then kidnapped them, he also worked for Belos. Who knows if he's gonna do the same?

Hunter and Willow know little about each other. It's one sided. Hunter knows Willow is a strong and independent person, a caring and selfless girl. But Willow knows too little about Hunter compared with Luz, Gus and Amity. They never have a serious talk about Hunter's trauma caused by Belos, only a short scene of Willow cutting his hair. In Thanks to Them, Hunter has a deeper conversation with Luz and Gus than with Willow. With Willow, he just blushes even though nothing happens. Gus and Hunter's bond makes more sense than Huntlow to be honest. They both like Flyer Derby, they both like Cosmic Frontier, Gus knew about Hunter's being Grimwalker and his conflict with Belos, Hunter comforted Gus when he felt sad in Labyrinth Runner and when he missed his Dad. Hunter's screentime with Gus is even more than with Willow. Their platonic bond is stronger than Huntlow's forced romantic one.

Feeling development.

The way Willow and Hunter like each other is too rushed and unexpected. Starting with Hunter, he met Willow only one time in ASIAS and started to have a crush on her? He only met her once directly and already blushed? And Willow, she treats Hunter the same way she treats everyone. Only until Hunter has power and saves her does she fall for him. It's so rushed all of the sudden. Some people say they live together in Luz's house for months so they have feelings for each other. But there are no bonding moments between them besides the cutting hair scene. Even though the show is cut short, from Willow's scrapbook, she and Hunter don't have any bonding moments between the two of them.

Comforting.

It's one sided again. Hunter is understanding and sympathetic towards Willow. Meanwhile, how Willow tries to comfort him is questionable. He just lost Flapjack and Willow isn't understanding at all. She gives him the Flapjack picture, causing him to feel grieving again. He's been struggling to hold back his grief to focus on helping others. This backfires really back. She should have waited until Hunter brought things up about Flapjack first, just like Gus. He knows Hunter is a Grimwalker since the Day of Unity, but he doesn't bring anything up first and waits until Hunter says it first. He thinks about Hunter's emotions after being traumatized by Belos

Also, when Hunter looks upset, Willow should have stayed to continue to comfort him?! Instead, she acts like she's the one who is hurting and leaves. Imagine you're feeling sad, someone tries to comfort you. You haven't felt better since you need time, they feel sad and leave you. Now you feel guilty because you can't be happy to make them happy. This is making things worse. Hunter can't even make himself feel calmer after Flapjack's death, yet now he'll feel guilty because his own sadness and grief makes Willow feel sad! Also, when Hunter calls out, she keeps walking and ignoring him.

In conclusion, Willow and Hunter are better off as friends. They don't have any romantic chemistry or deep understanding. The ship is so forced and rushed.

#toh #toh critical #ship hate #anti huntlow

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robyn-i-guess · 1 month

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gerrymichael enjoyers and writers i want your opinion 🎤

ok so i have this au fic for gerrymichael where it's college au, and it's a like the whole bad boy/good girl (minus the fact they're both boys, and even that's questionable)

basically, gerry is stereotyped due to his more alternative looks and everyone assumes he's probably doing illegal things or just sleeps around a lot

meanwhile michael is the head of student council "goody two shoes" type, who most are sort of aware of but don't know anything about

gerry thinks about michael. a lot. he sees them in the halls for only a few seconds a day but thinks about him for a lot longer. hallway crush vibes. and when they get put into a painting class together, suddenly they have an opportunity to meet, and gerry is freaking out a usual amount. (there's more to the whole plot but that's just the beginning bit)

putting a short lil concept thing under the cut

Gerard Keay does not know Michael Shelley.

The only reason he knows their name is because they're in the student council, meaning it's not uncommon for their name to be said during school events.

He has only seen them in hallways, passing by in a rush while holding papers or books that always seem like they're going to fall out of their hands. Even in those moments, most of what Gerard is able to catch is a blur of golden curls and eyes that are ridden with exhaustion.

So, it is safe to say that he does not know Michael.

That fact only caused confusion to him whenever Gerard realized his strange excitement once learning that Michael would be in one of his classes for the semester.

It was an art class, one that he had picked due to him already being practiced is painting and drawing. He assumed it would be a fun class, or at least one that wouldn't be too stressful. However, when he had first walked into that classroom and saw Michael Shelley sitting at an area in the back, Gerard had assumed the emotion he was feeling was stress. He couldn't pinpoint why, it wasn't like he was intimidated by their status, but he couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness he felt when he accidentally locked eyes with them. He turned his head quickly in that moment, deciding to sit in the front of the room despite that not being where he'd usually prefer to be. Something about Michael sitting there made Gerard think twice about sitting in the back as he normally would.

The lecture went smoothly, it mostly being an introduction to the professor and what would be happening throughout the classes. So did the next, and then the next one after that. That didn't get rid of the feeling he felt, however, every time that Gerard walked into that room and attempted to avoid looking at the one with golden curls in the back. He knew he'd have to talk to them at some point, it was inevitable, but there was something about them that meant he was more nervous to talk to them than he usually would be. And he very much denied the idea that it could be caused by any... feelings he may have. Gerard ruled it as impossible, as he had never spoken to them, and he wasn't that much of an idiot to fall for someone he'd only mostly seen in hallways.

Michael wasn't one to speak up in class, and instead they'd work silently on any research on the history of art they may have been doing, only giving simple responses or nods when the professor would come around and ask how their work was coming along. When Gerard thought about it, he didn't really know what their voice sounded like because it was always quiet or unintelligible from their distance. That only made him more interested in talking to them.

That day never came, though, much to Gerard's disappointment.

They both went through that class without talking to each other once, and when Gerard left that room for the last time he couldn't help but feel like he had failed at some kind of goal. A failure that had meant he would be left with only seeing the elusive Michael Shelley in hallway rushes again, which annoyed him in a way he didn't understand.

He did talk to them one day, though.

(note this is old as heck lmao i've gotten better at writing since i wrote this)

anyways yeah. should i continue it or is it too basic idk, i want to write it for me but it would also be multiple chapters long and my "1k-words-is-rare-for-me" self probably won't bother to write it unless someone else is interested

#just want a consensus idk #if anyone has suggestions i will also take those #or if anyone wants to write it with me maybe.... :3c #(please i want to write a fic with someone it's fun)#anyways #yeah #very stereotypical. very american highschool vibes #realistically would be better as hs au but i don't feel right writing romantic interactions between minors for Clear Reasons #gerrymichael #gerry keay #gerard keay #michael shelley #doorkeay #robyn-i-guess

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knickynoo · 10 months

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HELLO, EVERYONE! I SAW THE BTTF MUSICAL YESTERDAY, AND AM READY TO POST SOME (SEMI) COHERENT THOUGHTS!

[Fair warning that some things here may spoil parts of the show.]

• First things first: It was so good. It was so, so, very good. Incredible show. I'd been hearing great things about the show since it first came out in London, and I've been listening to the music since it dropped, so I pretty much went in knowing I'd like it but it still managed to be even better than I thought.

• Just the setup of the theater itself and the ambiance prior to it starting was so cool. The way everything is lit blue and there's all the electrical zapping and humming. THE CONSTANT TICKING OF CLOCKS THAT FILLED THE THEATER. Nothing had even happened yet, and I was like, "This is such a good show."

• My one big cause for hesitation was Casey playing Marty. I know absolutely nothing about the guy, but Marty is just so dear to my heart, and MJF's energy and physicality isn't something easily captured. I had my doubts about seeing someone try to bring Marty to Broadway, but Casey walked onto the stage, called out, "Doc?" and I went, "Yeah, okay. There's Marty."

• For real, though, Casey was phenomenal as Marty. He had the vocal inflection down. The right amount of crackliness. Very good balance of cool kid and disoriented mess.

• Um. HUGH COLES?!? Talk about brilliant casting. I mean it when I say that he somehow seemed more George than George from the movie. The audience reacted with a sense of awe when he started speaking and moving around the stage. It was like Crispin Glover had been plucked straight from the film and injected with More Georgeness. When he did the laugh, the audience went nuts. His physical acting and the way he captured George's gestures perfectly was amazing to watch.

• As I'd expected, Musical Doc is ten times more chaotic and unhinged than Movie Doc. Roger Bart's comedic timing is impeccable. He earned himself frequent howling laughter from the audience from the moment he appeared on stage.

• His "Good thing I kept this radiation suit from my Manhattan Project days" line was a nice touch.

• "Despite my fear of heights, I was standing on my toilet," was such a gem of a line.

• THE DELOREAN. WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE DELOREAN. I had no idea how they were going to depict a car speeding to 88mph on a small stage, but THEY DID IT. Astounding. Honestly might be the coolest effects I've ever seen done on a stage. Also, I wasn't sure how I'd feel about the addition of it being voice-activated and talking, but it worked nicely!

• The musical obviously had to trim some parts of the movie—and even omit parts entirely—but it was done so well that you either didn't even notice or miss they were gone. The change from George being hit by a car to simply falling out of the tree was one of these changes. (Marty's under the tree trying to catch him, btw, which is how he ends up getting knocked out)

• I couldn't tell if this was an ad-lib from Casey, but when he was trying to get his pants back on in the Baines house scene, he started struggling a bit with the tangled suspenders that were wrapped around one of the legs of the jeans and muttered in frustration, "Why do I wear suspenders??" Very funny little moment.

• Great chemistry between Bart and Casey. The connection between Doc and Marty was THERE. The musical GOT IT RIGHT. So many hilarious moments between them in the form of completely unintelligible banter, where they're just talking over each other and having like...verbal tennis matches of nonsense. It's hard to describe in writing, but trust me, it was so good. It went something like this:

Doc: "Marty!"

Marty: "Doc!"

Both Simultaneously: *literal gibberish*

• There's a beautiful little addition to the scene when Marty shows up at Doc's house in 1955 and tries to convince him he's from the future. After Doc asks him to take him to this supposed "time machine" Marty goes, "Sure, hang on, I just gotta grab some flashlights." Then he goes straight to a cabinet and quickly retrieves two flashlights without a second thought, to which Doc is like, "How did you know they were in there??" Marty knows!! He knows exactly where the flashlights are because of course he does!!

• Perhaps one of the funniest moments of the show was right at the end of the "Future Boy" number, where the music stops and there's that breaking of the fourth wall moment. Doc and Marty look around in confusion at all the backup singers and dancers awkwardly standing around his house (one of the singers continues dancing/singing long after the others has stopped lol) and Doc wordlessly opens the door so they can all scurry out.

• Doc's dream of visiting the year 2020 where everything is perfect and there's "no disease" got some very loud laughter from the audience.

• Oh. Oh, the scene at Doc's house at night after the demonstration with the toy car. The way everything gets solemn for a moment, and Doc is doubting himself and worried about failing. Marty's lovely little speech about how everything will be okay because he believes in him. He trusts Doc. He knows it'll work and they'll get him home. The way Marty is the one looking after and taking care of Doc in that moment. When he asks, "Do you need anything, Doc? Can I make you a sandwich?" And then when he says softly, "Goodnight, Doc. Pleasant dreams."

THE MUSICAL GETS IT RIGHT. THE WARMTH. THE LOVE. THIS WAS SUCH A NICE ADDITION.

• "PUT YOUR MIND TO IT" !!!! I loved this sequence so, so much. Marty gets to strut his stuff while George flails around trying to imitate him. It was funny, the choreography was great, and we get such a nice Marty and George hug at the end! Why didn't they hug in the movie??

• The audience was super engaged and reactive through the whole show, but it noticeably ramped up in the latter part—starting with the night of the dance. There was such an excitement as people anticipated George swooping in to take down Biff and protect Lorraine. When Biff went down, the audience whooped and clapped and cheered so much.

• EARTH ANGEL! THE MOMENT GEORGE AND LORRAINE KISS. It was just like the movie. The music suddenly swelled, Marvin belted out, "The vision of your happiness", George and Lorraine kissed, and the audience. Lost. Their. Minds. It was as if people were experiencing the story for the first time—that's how strong the reaction was. So cool.

• Audience also went wild at the start of Johnny B. Goode. That was a neat sequence as well. Huge laughs at the "But your kids are gonna love it" line.

• The clocktower scene! Marty handing Doc the letter and saying, "I wrote you a thank-you note; don't read it until you get home!!" LOL. So many amazing effects going on in this one. For those of you who have seen the show, you probably remember Doc running up the clocktower stairs, right? Did the audience nearly die of laughter like they did at my showing? That was truly one of the top 5 funniest moments of the show, in my opinion. It had me giggling hours later once I was home. For those of you who have not seen the show, I don't think I can adequately put into words what was happening during this scene, but it was incredibly funny. It's good there wasn't any dialogue during it, because no one would have heard it with the way everyone was laughing.

• The fire trails on stage got quite the awed reaction. Super cool.

• The hug! We get our Doc and Marty hug at the end! I'm so glad they realized that moment was missing from the movie.

• I liked the shift from Marty waking up at home to him waking up on the bench in town instead. The "George McFly Day" part was a fun addition, and it flowed nicely into Marty's "Power of Love" performance.

• THE CAR FLEW. IT FLEW UP IN THE AIR AND THE WHEELS TURNED IN AND IT WENT OUT OVER THE AUDIENCE. HOW DID THEY DO THAT. IT DID A COMPLETE ROTATION UPSIDE DOWN WHILE CASEY AND BART WAVED TO PEOPLE. If anyone knows of any videos or articles explaining how they did things with the car, please let me know because I can't find anything and I would love to know how they did it! You couldn't see anything holding the car, and i'm so confused! The effects were so good.

• Love how, when the show ended, the giant screen on the stage just said, "Make like a tree and get outta here."

...I think those are all my thoughts. I was planning to write up a post with just a couple of bullet points of highlights and instead. Well. This is what you get from me, and if you've followed my blog for any length of time, you know that. But really, the show was so well done. I had a blast. I bought a pin that says, "Whoa, this is heavy" and I'm going to put it on my denim jacket :)

For those who are planning to see the musical, I hope this helps hype you up for it. And for those who can't see it, I hope this gives you a good look at what it's like!

#back to the future #bttf #back to the future: the musical #bttf: the musical #casey likes #roger bart #broadway

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astudyincontrasts · 2 years

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Another day, another Viktor drabble! This one suggested by a dearest friend who wishes to remain anonymous 😘

Your wish is, as ever, my command my beloved.

Lore faithful act 1 Viktor, established/newish relationship with reader, nothing but steamy sexy times let’s gooooo

Viktor x Fem!Reader NSFW

Neither of you had even seen the storm coming.

Sure it had been getting darker and darker on the horizon, but nothing could drag you two out of the maths you were bent over as you sat at the fountain in the University courtyard. It was a compromise you’d worked out. You’d accept Viktor’s help in tutoring you, no small blow to your ego and boost to his, but he had to do it outside. Get some sunshine and fresh air.

Problem was, that sunshine had become in short supply as the pair of you argued relentlessly over first this equation then that theorem, checking and double checking each other’s work until nearly half your notebook was full on indecipherable hieroglyphics of higher arithmetic scribbled one over the other. About to become even less decipherable as the first fat raindrops began to fall, hitting the paper in slow succession to have you both finally look up and realize the winds had kicked up, the sky was black, and you’d both been abandoned together by everyone else who’d previously been lazing about or strolling in the courtyard too.

Lightening split the sky overhead and thunder nearly did the same for your eardrums. Viktor’s shoulders tensed for his ears as yours mirrored the motion in twinned reflexive shock, each of you staring at the other with wide eyes.

Then came the scramble to gather up books and papers and the messy headlong rush to try to get through the courtyard as sky literally opened up, drenching down buckets. The rain was freezing in comparison to how hot, heavy and humid the midsummer air had been before the storm rolled in.

You might have sprinted faster alone, but you weren’t about to leave Viktor behind, huddled beside him as the pair of you were soaked to the bone, rushing as best you could toward the building that housed the apartments for administrative staff, a lovely little perk Viktor enjoyed by whit of his assistance to the Dean, rather than slumming it in the dorms with the rest of the students. Mad rush, both of you shouting unintelligibly and laughing intermittently until at last you were safe in his little flat, door shut hard and both of you dripping on the floorboards, grinning like idiots.

Even sodden, Viktor’s hair refused to plaster flat to his head, so terribly thick it simply hung in damp and bedraggled strands, far from the smartly brushed back loose coif he so liked. Shirt and vest and silk tie all wet through and water dripping from the tip of his nose and sharp of his chin as you grinned at him, sure you yourself looked no better than a drowned rat. You plopped the ruined papers and books on the table beside the door and shook your hands, splattering water every where... and then flicked your wet digits at him, laughing as he flinched as the droplets hit him harmlessly.

“You don’t look so haughty and impressive now Mr. Assist- ah!”

He cut off your teasing, lunging forward to catch you hard up against the door with a little thud that reverberated in your shoulder blades and the back of your skull. Stopped your smart mouth with his own, licking away a drop of rain that hung from your lower lip before delving in, kiss deep and undeniably, suddenly hungry. You moaned, murmured into it in both surprise and encouragement, trying to peel hips off the door to press to his, only to have him catch you with a shove of his own and push them back, crush them in hard, one hand falling to scoop under your backside, pull your thigh up and draw it over one narrow hip.

Your own hands found their desperate busy work, yanking messily at the damp silk knot of his tie, struggling to get it loose until he released the kiss with a frustrated, breathless grunt and did it himself, flinging it down with a heat that had you grinning wickedly, reaching to undo buttons, shove his waistcoat off shoulders and yank his shirt open too.

He was making as much or more of a mess trying to blindly get your uniform off as he buried his face in a line of suckling kisses down your wet throat. Every article of clothing hanging half off, partially undone, nearly shed or still stubbornly in place as you tore in soaked, lividly aroused delight at one another, every little inch of skin bared or nearly there a tiny victory celebrated with a biting kiss or warm lick of a tongue, a drag of nails or quiet moan.

He pulled back from your collarbone to hiss breath through the clench of teeth as you dug nails into his bare hips, hands in the open part of his shirt. So deliciously exciting to watch your normally gentle boy come all undone in his hot rush, to see a hint of impatience and that slightly glazed, feral want take over where usually only sweet generosity made its home. It looked good on the shape of his mouth, had that delicious electric heat at your core drop straight down between your legs, heavy and crackling outward like the lightening streaking across the sky outside in flashes that lit the angles of Viktor’s face to a breathtaking degree.

He was terribly beautiful. Often quiet and sullen at times, sweet and kind and wickedly funny at others. So many little facets each time you turned him to a new light, each prettier than the next. This new one was the best by far.

He slid fingers in your mouth as he bit kisses at your cheek, and you opened willingly for him, tongue a soft flat he pressed index and middle finger hard against, rubbed wetly along. This was his favorite, as you well knew. Some boys couldn’t get enough of watching their lover with their cock in their mouth...and it was true enough Viktor had nearly doubled over in bliss the first time you did that to him.

But this... this was what got him hard, had his heart racing. Watching you take his fingers, suck them slow, nearly gag softly if he pressed them in hard enough. How he could drag you forward toward him if he hooked them gently to your lower teeth, how softly and needily you sucked at them while you came for him. The way he could muffle your moans around them or have you practically drooling at the right angles. All the while enjoying the wet heat of your mouth around those beautiful long digits while he watched you submit or be greedy.

You often wondered which he preferred more; that demure way you would keep eyes shut or at least cast down and damn near closed under the dark of your lashes... or the defiant pride of the way you made eye contact with him while you sucked, let him press against your tongue, as you did now. Holding his gaze like a dare, like a challenge, unashamed of how badly you wanted him.

You heard his shiver in the way he sucked a breath, saw that sly smile of his grow past his clenched teeth into a smug little grin. He knew full well it turned you on just as much. Knew full well how you loved those long fingers of his, wanted them in you in any which way, craved them on your skin, slick within your pussy, teasing nipples until you cried out and arched for him and begged for his mouth instead to soothe the soft burning ache. How he could play you out for hours until you were a shivering wet mess too far gone to make the words you needed to demand he end it and just fuck you already.

Oh he’d gotten very good at that little game indeed. You had a inkling the assistant to the Dean had rather a quiet little craving for power. Nothing insidious, just a strong drive and a silent hunger to be the one in control, the one who was always right or smartest in the room. Far from that very soft spoken gentleness that was his nature, hidden deep through necessity or a lifetime of struggle just to be taken seriously.

None of that tonight though. This was as headlong a rush of a thing as your run through the rain had been. You had already pulled his pants open while he was busy watching you suck at his fingers, and slid a hand into the waistband of underwear to cup at his cock, palming messily as he ground into your grasp. He caught your mouth up again the second he pulled fingers free, cradling up your face to kiss you hard, let you sink teeth softly into his lower lip as his hands fell, spanned your ribcage under breasts and lifted you back against the door slightly with another little omph as breath left you again, all but disrupting your ability to keep stroking at the hard length of his cock.

Wet linen stuck to your skin and you wanted it off, wanted him inside you, his hands on you. The pair you crumpled as one, a slow slide against the door down onto the floor. He managed to shed both his shirt and waistcoat and you got free of waistcoat and panties under your skirt with his tugging help, kicking one leg free to let them hang about the other thigh as he buried a sucking, biting line of kisses up the inside of the freed one. Spread you with fingers to catch your clit a slow drag of his tongue that had you lifting hips, digging shoulder blades into the hard floorboards as you gasped out his name.

You’d just managed to get one bra strap down, and he came crashing over you, hands braced again on the span of your ribs as his head ducked, hair dripping across your skin to catch the one nipple you’d managed to bare in a hard little suck, teasing the stiffening nub of it with the soft tip of his tongue. Had you writhing under him, trying to hook legs over his where he knelt between your thighs. Sighing soft wordless pleading as eyes drifted shut and head rocked back against the cold floor while every sensation dialed down to that sweet blossoming tickle, joined by a lovely little spike of pain when he managed to free your other breast and finger and thumb took up a series of tiny pinches, not satisfied till both little nubs were stiff as stone and you mewling for more and working hips up against him, nails digging gentle lines down the nape of his neck.

“Ple- oh! Viktor, please... hmmn...!”

Sinking back on his heels he pulled himself free of the part of pants and shoved both them and underwear lower before grabbing hold of your hips and lifting, dragging you up the plane made by the bend of his long thighs to fit you to him, press against your entrance. No grace in this, no gentle slowness, both of you far too eager and fumbling. It felt good to have him take you hard, mouth dropping open as he spread you, stretched you. As you watched the long line of him curl over you, hands fitfully tight on your hips as he fought himself against how deliciously hot and wet you were, how tight walls clenched around him. Had him pitching forward to catch himself on the brace of one hand before he rocked toward you, pinning you to the floor, one hand caught under the bend of your knee to force it higher, wider as he thrust home. His own strangled moan a near echo to yours as he finally fitted as tight and deep as he could go.

Thank god he gave you no time to have to wait, the pair of you moving tandem as you tried your best to meet each ragged thrust, hands a constant state of movement, from the cradle of his lovely face, to the rake of nails across the back of his ribs, the sliding caress up one lean bicep and the digging push into the floor above your head to catch at the door and use it to press yourself back into him.

Somewhere in his apartment he’d left a window open in the stifling heat earlier in the day, now the pattered beating of rain and hushed howl of the wind and the distant rumble of thunder sometimes breaking into a sharp cracking boom was the only other noise that filled the space beside your sounds and his. The air of the dark apartment still sharp with the petrichor scent that had heralded the storm, and the light dim and richly blue as it washed over bared skin on bared skin. Flash of lightening a licking illumination to the shape of him cradled over you, rocking hard thrusts to soft moans of encouragement.

That sweet tension in your belly was coiling taut, legs shivering and fingers a hard tremble against their grip of him and you knew he could feel it, hear the way moans had become gasps as you lifted toward a hard tight arch in the small of your back, sweet tension strung tight as it would go as he picked up pace.

“Ahn, miláčku... do you, hn... want to come for me?” He was breathless, so close to spent himself but determined to keep that delicious pace until you followed him off this cliff. You were nodding frantically, lower lip caught between teeth as you reached up to pull him toward you, opened mouth under his own to taste his moan. That hot twitching pulse of him caught tight in little vicious thrusts your undoing. Sweet broken release clenching like a fist in the pit of you before dissolving into a thousand little fluttering spirals and a warm rush that flooded out with each delicious little buck that lifted your hips toward his stilled ones as he spilled inside you.

He held there as you rode out your release under him, his head dropped, damp hair tickling at your throat and chest before you both collapsed together, just another combined puddle on the wet floor.

Later there would be a blind fumble in the dark to find where he’d dropped his cane in the rush to pin you to the door. There’d be wet clothes to be hung in the bathroom to drip dry and warm towels to wrap up in, a soft bed to collapse upon. Later he’d be reading a book by the dim light next to the bed, head pillowed upon your bare bottom, only to roll you over, settle between the soft of your thighs and take his sweet time licking and sucking at the still sensitive little bud of your clit till he drew a second, slower release out of you, warm lapping waves that had you drifting off to sleep cuddled up against him after. Later there’s be the muffled thud of his heartbeat under your cheek.

For now though there was a wet tangle of limbs and soft laughter that picked up again as you both came down, each of you just a little delightedly embarrassed at the frantic rush and sodden mess.

#viktor #viktor drabble #viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane viktor x reader #arcane #arcane fic #viktor fic #drabble #drabble requests

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therabbitthatpostthings · 8 months

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This is hell.

That was the first thing to cross your mind. The second was: Is it ethical to have a pet snake surrounded by drunk people?

This question was sure to go unanswered for at least another hour since you, Obanai and Rengoku were the few somewhat sober people left. Rengoku sat at the end of the table blissfully unbothered, he claimed “I do not enjoy alcohol so I will not be drinking tonight!”

Obanai on the other hand, sat huddled in himself trying to keep the giggling and sleepy drunk, Mitsuri sitting upright and the loud angry drunk, Shinazugawa from stepping on him. You almost feel bad for him if it weren’t for the ever-boutious flashy Uzui, shouting directly into your ear. You had such a deep profound respect for your fellow Hashira but, this moment was making you test that devotion. You could of easily left before the dinner with Muichiro or an hour ago with Gyomei. You stayed though to watch over-

“TOMIOKA!” Shinazugawa yelled. “STOP BEING WEIRD!” His foot slammed on the table while pointing at Giyuu who was currently leaning on your shoulder, absolutely drunk.

Giyuu's face was flushed and his eyes were half-lidded. He didn’t even look awake. He mumbled something unintelligible which only set Sanemi off more.

“You shouldn’t feel the need to shoulder him (L/N).” Shinobu smiled. She poked at Giyuu’s shoulder.

“Oh it’s not a problem, he isn’t bothering me.” You replied. You were not expecting Giyuu to drink this much or at all. Then again, besides Mitsuri he ate the most of everyone.

Shinazugawa snickered, “Oi! He can’t handle his liquor can he?! Tomioka! Wake up! (L/N) isn’t gonna carry your drunk ass home!”

“I’m not asleep.” he muttered. “I can walk.”

“Tomioka, it's fine! I can help you.” You smiled. His eyes opened slightly as he shifted to look at you. He looked a little upset but brushed it off. Your own face started to heat up as you felt him take your hand, hidden by the table.

“Walk home with me.” He huffed.

You giggled at the personality change, “I’ll walk home with you.”

The night graciously came to an end when Makio and Rengoku both had to carry Uzui home. Sticking true to your promise, you helped Giyuu home. He didn’t take much trouble, still being coherent enough to walk. Obanai parted ways with Mitsuri on his back, and the remaining group continued home.

You laid Giyuu on the bed, “You seemed huffy with me tonight.”

“You called me Tomioka.” he grumbled

“That’s your name.” You replied plainly.

He reached for your hand and brought it up to his lips. He kissed each of your knuckles, “Not for you it’s not. You don’t call me Tomioka.”

You smiled and brushed the hair out of his face, “I know Giyuu.” You leaned down to kiss his forehead but he pulled you into a hug.

“Stay with me tonight.”

“I can’t. Shinazugawa and Shinobu are outside.”

“Tell them to go home then.”

“Then our little secret will be out, do you want that?”

He was quiet for a moment, before grumbling again, “I just want you here for the night.”

“Okay, okay,” You resigned. “I’ll think of something.”

You were able to spin some kind of tale of Giyuu being a lightweight and not wanting to leave him to at least satisfy Shinazugawa. Shino gave you an all-knowing smile and said to come by the Butterfly Mansion if he’s still sick, “If you two aren’t too busy in the morning.”

You sighed, “That’s gonna come back and bite me one day.”

#shitpost #shitposting #giyuu tomioka x reader #giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka #tomioka giyuu #kny x reader #hashira #writing fanfics at 3 am #cringe-#no beta we die like men

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illusioninfnty · 2 months

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Outlast: Chapter Nine (Sam Giddings x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.1K

4:07

Sam was usually the one that was put together, the one that everyone could rely on, but when it came to you, she was stressed out beyond repair.

She bites her nails as she anxiously awaits your return. She wasn’t a big fan of this idea—leaving Josh outside—anyway, and your being purposely vague was making it worse.

She knew you were hiding something, and as soon as you got back to the safety of the lodge she was going to wring it out of you.

Sam ignores Ashley’s whines behind her as she begins to pace back and forth, deep in her thoughts. She mentally checks over all of the events that have happened tonight.

Chased by a psycho who was actually their friend, and apparently another of their friends is dead and two more are still somewhere out in the woods—

Sam’s thoughts are cut off by a sob escaping Ashley’s lips.

She sighs. “Ash, honey,” Sam approaches Ashley’s shivering form, placing each hand on the other girl’s shoulders and rubs her thumbs along them in an attempt to calm her. “They’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. Okay? Just hang tight. Chris, Tex, and Mike will be back soon and we can figure out a plan.”

“I’m sorry,” Ash sobs, dropping her head in her hands. “It’s just—what the fuck is happening?”

Before Sam can respond, a sharp knock on the lodge door interrupts, drawing both girls’ attention to it. Sam turns back to Ashley, patting her arm. “See? Perfect timing. That’s probably them.” She moves to unlock and open the door, but her smile slowly vanishes as she sees only two people in front of her—and her girlfriend isn’t one of them.

“Where’s Tex.” It’s more of a statement than a question, and Chris awkwardly shuffles away from Sam and closer towards Ashley as Sam glares up at Mike.

“She wanted to stay,” he replies.

Sam crosses her arms and her stare hardens even more.

Mike rolls his eyes. “Look, I tried to get her to come back, but you know how she gets.”

Aggravation seeps from Sam as she huffs out a quick fine towards Mike and turns away from the rest of the group.

God, why couldn’t you care about your own safety for once? You were really stressing her out.

And here she was supposed to be the adventurous one.

Sam doesn’t have much more time to think about what you’re up to when a banging on the door sounds.

A faint let me in! can be heard and the voice is without a doubt Emily.

Chris is the first to reach the door, opening it for Emily as she falls inside.

“Shut the door! Oh my God, shut the door!” she yells out, scooting as far as possible as she can away from it.

They guide her all to the Great Room, sitting her on one of the couches as she tries to compose herself.

“I didn’t think I’d make it,” she mutters.

“Em, are you okay?” Chris asks.

“The hell was that?” Mike pipes in.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” Ashley whispers.

“Guys!” Sam cuts in. “Let’s give her some space, okay?”

The three stop, and the pause allows Emily to continue.

“There was something out there!” She cries. “Like, something bad.”

Chris furrows his eyebrows. “Like what?”

Sam sighs. “Em, relax...it was Josh. It was all Josh.”

“That issue’s been fixed,” Mike adds in from behind Sam, and she glares back up at him.

“No, no. Guys, you’re not listening!” Emily yells out, frustration evident in her voice. “There’s something else out there. Something really bad. Like…a monster.”

4:18

The ropes around Josh are just nearly untied when the unmistakable screech of the creature—of the Wendigo—fills your ears.

And it’s not very far away.

“Oh, fuck,” you mutter.

You take in your surroundings. The shed is almost entirely one big open space, not giving you many places to hide. Josh is clearly still out of it, uttering random phrases that are unintelligible to you. He keeps swaying and squirming, and you know he’ll be instant bait for the Wendigo.

“I’m sorry, Josh.” You wince, both at what’s about to come and the pounding headache that still ruminates inside you.

“Huh?—”

You wind your fist back and knock Josh out with one swift punch.

“It’s for your own good,” you say, hoping he can hear you, but also for your own comfort.

You get to work quickly. Josh is a lot heavier than you expected, especially with the stuffed overalls he’s still wearing weighing him down. You maneuver your arms through his as you try to pull him to the side, somewhere out of the open so the Wendigo doesn’t see him. But the rustling that you hear causes you to drop him quickly and find your own corner to hide from the creature that had just entered the shed.

You stay as still as you can, holding your breath as the Wendigo crawls into the shed, its head swiveling back and forth. Josh’s body is still laying on display, and you fear that the Wendigo will take him, even if he is unconscious.

When the Wendigo turns its head away from where you hide against a small pile of junk, you slowly reach into your waistband for your gun. When your hand hits nothing, you mentally curse. Once again, another thing you desperately needed that you left at the lodge.

You can only watch helplessly as the Wendigo snatches up Josh’s body with ease.

But a glimpse of black on the Wendigo’s wrinkly, leathered shoulder has you doing a double take.

It was unmistakably that of a tattoo. One in the shape of the butterfly. The same design of your friend’s tattoo, your friend that you lost a year ago.

Hannah?

4:30

You’ve already been waiting a good couple of minutes when you hear the crunch of snow outside, alerting you to someone out there. You listen closely, and there are two things you notice. One, there are definitely two pairs of footsteps, and two, those are definitely humans—not a Wendigo.

“Fucking damn,” you mutter as you stand up from your crouched position, trying to go through as many possible plans you can in a couple of seconds to try to save who was out there. But what could you possibly do with no weapon on you?

You didn’t know who would be coming out here right now. Mike and Chris surely would’ve told the others that you voluntarily hung back to keep an eye on Josh.

Was it the two of them, back to retrieve you for some reason? Or—and it better not be—Sam coming out here, wanting to see you?

You tug at the roots of your hair in frustration, and soon you can hear the voice of Chris just outside the closed doors.

“Here!”

The doors swing open carelessly slamming against the walls, and it takes all of the power in you not to run up over there and throttle Chris.

His eyes widen as he sees the empty stool that Josh was once sitting on, and you jump out of your hiding spot before he has a chance to speak again.

You raise a finger to your lips and your eyes widen sternly, indicating to Chris that he needed to shut the fuck up. As you approach, you’re startled to see that the person with Chris is someone you don’t recognize. It’s an older man, and by the amount of equipment he has on, he’s someone who’s been hardened by this environment, not someone who was called here to save you all.

Someone who definitely knows about the Wendigos and the curse upon Blackwood Mountain.

There’s a glint of familiarity in his good eye as he gazes upon you, almost as if he knows of your knowledge, of all that your parents have told you. Does he know them?

You can’t even ask him before Chris interrupts.

“Where’s Josh?”

“Shut it!” You hiss, your tone much quieter than his. “He’s gone. We can’t leave here yet. It’s not safe.”

Chris ignores you and shakes his head stubbornly. “No, we need to go back and warn the others.” He turns to leave the shed, and the strange man follows, likely trying to pull him back in. But Chris stumbles back into the snow, the man right on his heels. You stay back in the safety of the shed, lingering as you hope the man can convince Chris to get back in.

But within seconds, the rustle of the trees causes the blood to rush from your face. You know the Wendigo is very near, and it is definitely not happy.

You see the man gesture for Chris to stay still, and all seems to be going well until the Wendigo jumps right in front of the two.

“Run! Go! Now, now!” The man yells at Chris, and he himself only gets a few steps forward until the Wendigo nimbly darts across the area, a gangly arm outspread as it slashes the man’s throat with ease.

He goes slack and his body drops to his knees, his head detached from his shoulders as the now detached part rolls away from the owner, and closer to you.

You wince as you turn your head away from the unseemly sight, catching as Chris clumsily raises the shotgun in his hands and aims it at the Wendigo that is now poised to jump and attack him. His shot miraculously hits, and the Wendigo goes tumbling back.

“Oh, shit!” Chris stumbles backwards, falling into the snow, but he eventually gets up and runs away, disappearing into the forest as the Wendigo chases after him.

Hurriedly, you run out of the shed and over the man’s body when the Wendigo is a safe distance away. You scour his person for anything that would be of use to you; you immediately go for his flamethrower, strapping it securely around yourself. You notice a flask on him and take a quick swig before placing it back where it came from.

Now armed, you follow the path that Chris took back to lodge. You can only hope that you make it back in time to help him, but the unexpected weight of the flamethrower has you slowing down as you struggle between both it and the weight of the heavy snow on your feet.

4:43

It takes longer than you expected to make it back to the lodge, and the sight that greets you is not a pretty one. The Wendigo is nowhere in sight, but neither is Chris’s body—only his head remains.

You inhale shakily as you see the furious red of his blood stain the pure white snow beneath it. You run over and see Ashley standing in front of the door, one palm flat against the glass and another covering her mouth as she cries.

As you approach the disturbing scene, you have to avert your eyes as you can feel the tears pooling up. If you were just a minute faster, you could have saved him.

Mike appears from behind Ash, pulling her back as he quickly unlocks the door for you. He grabs your arm and pulls you inside, shutting the door behind you.

“Come on, we gotta get down to the basement. Now!” He ushers Ashley ahead and you follow the two behind, clinging to the flamethrower like a lifeline.

“What the fuck happened?” You ask them both, and you don’t even try to hide the anger in your tone. “Why the fuck did he leave the lodge?”

Ashley shuffles ahead down the stairs as Mike turns to you, and you’re startled by the pure anger in his eyes. “He told us everything,” he says, “and I have a good feeling I know what you’ve been hiding from us.”

You can feel all the color drain from your face and you feel utterly exposed under Mike’s gaze despite the many layers that cover you. There was no way out of this one. If that man knew just as much as your parents did and he told all of your friends all of what really lingered beneath the depths of Blackwood Mountain, you truly had nothing to hide anymore—your secrets were all exposed for them to know.

This was really not the way you wanted it all to turn out, but it seems as though the truth always found its way out, even if you weren’t ever ready for it.

It was time to fess up to your friends, and it was time to save them, and fast.

Character Traits:

Honest: 4/10

Charitable: 9/10

Funny: 4/10

Brave: 7/10 ↓

Romantic: 7/10

Curious: 5/10

Relationship Status:

Ashley: 6/10

Chris: 7/10

Emily: 5/10

Jess: 3/10

Josh: 7/10

Matt: 7/10

Mike: 5/10 ↓

Sam: 10/10

Chapter Eight || Chapter Ten

#until dawn x reader #until dawn #sam giddings x reader #sam giddings #until dawn fanfiction #until dawn sam #until dawn sam x reader

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fionajames · 3 months

Text

war is over

A/N: HEY GUYS!!!! The lyrics in this are from Happy Xmas (War is Over) by John Lennon, Yoko Ono!!!! I recommend listening to the song as you read!!!! ENJOY, SEND REQUESTS!!!!!

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

And so this is Christmas (war is over)

Ahsoka felt the moment the war ended, she felt the flood of relief pouring from all the Clones and Jedi, an overwhelming sense of solace. She turned to Rex immediately, watching him step towards her. His face was contorted with realisation, and before she could realise, she was hugging him tightly with her face buried in the crook of his neck.

Anakin felt it too as he watched Mace pluck shards of glass from his frame. They raised their gazes and locked eyes, and neither could help the grin that covered their faces. Never had Anakin pictured hugging Mace Windu, but now here he was, hugging the man as they murmured the same words over and over.

Obi-Wan felt it as the alcohol swabs stung his wounds, Cody by his side instantly. All of a sudden, the man’s lips were on his and he grinned widely, the relief and joy from the war ending puring from him and into the kiss.

And what have we done (if you want it)

The reunion was bittersweet, as when Ahsoka and Rex stepped off of the ship they were immediately greeted by Padme. She brought Ahsoka into a tearful hug, her brother standing loyally by her side. Rex was bewildered when Padme gave him a hug too, but embraced it with euphoria.

Obi-Wan ran to meet them, Cody by his side, the men hand in hand. Neither let go when Obi-Wan pulled Ahsoka into his chest, blubbering unintelligibly as he studied his sister. Rex was quickly tackled in a hug by Cody, the both of them sobbing in Mando’a. Padme was pulled into the Jedi and former Padawan’s hug for a minute, before a shout interrupted all of them.

Anakin was hurrying up to them, a large cut on his cheek from the shattered glass. He’d obviously come as soon as possible, as it was untreated. But that didn’t matter, as he pulled all five of them into a hug, kissing Padme freely.

Cody hoisted the not-so-small Ahsoka onto his shoulders as they cheered, surrounded by members of both the 501st and 212th. Many tears were shed as everyone celebrated. Kix managed to grab Anakin at one point to treat his wounds, struggling to do so as his General giddily forced him to dance.

Another year over (war is over)

None of them cared about the repercussions the Order would bring on them for Obi-Wan and Anakin as they continued on throughout the night. All of Coruscant was lit with celebrations, civilians flooding the streets as Clones and Jedi arrived.

Young Caleb Dume pulled his Master through a festival with overwhelming excitement, passing a gangly Cal Kestis as he was paraded around by his Clone Commander.

The Jedi Temple was loud and bright for weeks, busy with partying and celebrations. Younglings pulled Jedi alike to play games, Padawans danced together, Knights laughed with each other and Masters cried of joy. Not a single minute since the end of the war was quiet.

Soon, the Order was changing its rules, with the persuasive word of none other than Mace Windu, who was getting along with Anakin like they were old buddies.

Ahsoka moved into Padme’s apartment for the time being and was greeted every morning by Rex, who was crashing on the couch - refusing to take a bed. They were some of the first to meet the twins, and didn’t stop chattering about it for days.

Cody snuck into Obi-Wan’s room and remained there, unbothered by the curious Jedi who would ask questions. Instead, he would give them glares. Unless they were Younglings or Padawans, who he had a special stash of sweets for.

And a new one just begun (now)

On a planet by the name of Lothal, a small baby boy bearing strange blue hair was born to a happy family, playing with the Force naturally. On Coruscant, Luke and Leia were born with their big grins and chubby faces.

Anakin too lived in Padme’s house, cherishing his children and treating them as though they were made of glass. Ahsoka sang lullabies to them in her native language, educating Rex about Shili excitedly when he asked.

The six members of their strange family flocked together almost every night, new traditions being created as their celebrations continued.

Ahsoka would grow to study and rebuild the Grey Jedi Order, educating millions of people in the ways of her forgotten Order.

Anakin would continue to love his children like nothing else, teaching them everything they needed to know, and generally being the best father he could.

Rex would go with Ahsoka, his best friend and sister. The two were never far apart, by each other's side as they travelled the galaxy.

Padme would stand by Bail Organa’s side as the new Chancellor, fighting for Clone rights and stability throughout the Republic.

Obi-Wan would eventually marry Cody on Stewjon, curiosity about his family getting the better of him.

And Cody would never leave his husband’s side, a pocket full of sweets for the different children he met.

The Order grew to be better, the Republic strengthened, the Clones got their rights, and the galaxy was finally at peace.

Peace, at last.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed!!! Please send requests!!!!! I'm begging you!!!!

(taglist: @skellymom, @techs-goggles9902, dm me if you wish to be added or removed)

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apersonwholikeslotus · 5 months

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do you have any fluffy aushun headcanons? (we need more loving content of aushun, I feel like there are so little of it😔❤️)

BOY DO I and I completely agree!! I feel like there’s so much angst and not enough fluff 😭

Erzsébet is a terrible piano player, just absolutely cannot get a hang of it, Roderich writes simple duet parts to songs so they can play together <3

Erzsí can speak German with a perfect Viennese accent but purposefully exaggerates his Hungarian accent anyway to annoy Roderich (jokes on her he thinks her accent is adorable).

opposite way except Roderich couldn't speak Hungarian sounding like a native speaker if his life depended on it, honestly he borders unintelligible, so he's very self conscious about speaking it. (jokes on him they think his accent is adorable)

they have so many pet names its not even funny, you think you've heard them all you are wrong and fool for thinking so.

On a similar note usually they call each other pet names in their own languages but Erzsí will call him süße or he'll call her szívem and u can just watch both of them melt over it <3

the whole thing sometime in the late fifties where they had to decide to love each other is really soft, like the shift in their relationship from being forced into proximity, and then the technically arranged marriage to the "I want you as a person, not you as a nation"

they refer to each other as if they're still married to the point that other nations have started referring to them as if they're still married.

they are the couple that gets into serious arguments in public but then you actually listen and realize they're fighting over like,,, idk the best type of cake frosting.

Roderich's response to Erzsébet being sad is to bake for them, Erzsí's response to Roderich being sad is to cook for him.

They realize the other is sad and make food for them. That's it. That's the hc.

They go to balls still and Roderich can't dance for very long (and as much as she'll deny is Erzsí's age is catching up too) but even then they'll stay all night just to watch everyone else because it reminds them of when they were younger.

Also to show everyone else up by being the best waltzers there.

Also also Erzsí literally thinks Roderich will never look more handsome then when he's in a tux so :\

They both actually HATE snobby art museums but will spend all day at small local art shows

idk what they're snobby about and what they're not is kinda funny bc they do still have date nights thats shit like going to opera's and to see symphony orchestras.

music nerds of the highest degree named both their sons after composers

Roderich hates horse riding with every ounce of his being, simply despises it, cars are his favorite invention ever bc they insured he would never have to ride a horse again.

he'll go horseback riding with Erzsí because it makes her happy.

i ended up rambling i'm sorry but yeah i love them <3

#hws austria #hws hungary #aushun #hetalia #i know a lot of these are music related idk i just think music is such an insanely important part of their relationship

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abarbaricyalp · 1 year

Text

Something to Hold Onto

Rated E // 3.3k words // AO3 // y'all all got thirsty over SebStan's long hair, so I figured Sam would do the same with Bucky

It had been months since Sam had seen Bucky. Other than the occasional text, or the ever aggravating and endearing note left in their kitchen, they'd barely even spoken since the world's bitchiest woman with way too many names showed up in the middle of a late breakfast with a pardon-dependent order for Bucky to work for her.

Sam tried to investigate on his own, but it’s not like he had much time. Despite both of them working out of DC, getting orders from the same organizations, Sam felt like every attempt to get more information on the so-called 'Thunderbolts' had been met with a brick wall. It has something to do with Thaddeus Ross, was the only full sentence anyone would say. Information which made the name even more irritating.

It also made Sam's stomach turn over in knots. Because Bucky under Ross' thumb, Ross with that thumb over a button that could yank Bucky's pardon away, was asking for trouble. Sam didn't like Ross. Steve hadn't liked Ross. So Bucky obviously didn't like him either. And Ross couldn't be trusted with the command of a soldier like Bucky. Sam was sure Ross referred to him as the Winter Soldier still. That’s all he’d want out of Bucky.

Bucky's notes were as lively as Sam could hope for. He left flowers now and then. There were grease stains in the pattern of Bucky's long fingers once. No blood. And his texts were coherent and neat. Sam knew from experience that Bucky’s words got shorter and more unintelligible if he was hurt or upset.

Still, Sam was supremely jealous that maybe Bucky got to see him on TV. Captain America had to give interviews and everyone filmed daring rescues and gossip shows talked about every picture of him. Sam, on the other hand, was working with nothing. He rarely even knew where Bucky was–the only hint ever being how he signed off a letter or a text in a different language. And that was usually after the fact.

Sam was worried. And he was angry. But he was also pouting. Below all the big, intense superhero things, when he stripped away the bureaucratic bullshit and removed the danger of this kind of arrangement, at the end of it all, he just desperately missed his partner. He hated living in a house alone. He hated not being in the house when he had to be in DC. He wanted Bucky's opinions on reforming the Avengers and he really wanted his help training and wrangling a bunch of teenagers who suddenly came out of the woodwork with powers. He didn't want to be cooking for one again. He missed being able to talk about TV with someone. His heart broke when the boys asked where Bucky was and even Sarah had started to shoot him worried glances when she thought he couldn't see.

It was a lot to deal with. And he knew he was being a pain at this gala event because he could feel frown lines digging in around his mouth and no one had asked for a picture in an hour. To be fair to himself, the woman with sixteen names was here and there was really no saving his mood after seeing her. Thankfully, she hadn't tried to talk to him this time. The last time they ran into each other, she had grabbed his bicep while saying something undercutting and mean and he had genuinely sneered at her. Sam Wilson didn't sneer. He could count the other times he had on one hand, and probably none of them involved people. But he couldn't help it around her.

The event was something to do with the formation of a new organization that was supposed to help young powered individuals. Something had shifted in the world in the last ten years, between everything ending and then coming back. Homo-Superior became a phrase Sam had to learn. Aliens co-existed (and co-populated) with humans. Multiverses. Every day, there seemed to be new fallout from old battles. Kids who trained themselves, kids who were exposed to some material that affected them, kids who picked up artifacts they shouldn't have. Half of the new semi-Avengers weren't even out of college. Or younger.

Pepper had been part of this, so Sam trusted it. He and Stark didn't see eye to eye often, but Pepper had honored Stark's memory and legacy in a way that surpassed what was already there. He kept a wary eye on alphabet soup officials, but no one particularly bad, aside from the obvious, seemed to be around.

There were other heroes. Faces Sam recognized and friends he missed. Barton was around and Sam had almost melted in relief to see him. Pepper, of course. A few others he recognized from the news but hadn't met yet. He had been introduced to a few at the beginning of the evening but the trend had trickled off as the night wore on and heroes lost their handlers. Funny how, even at something like this, people wanted heroes controlled.

It wasn't until he saw Belova that something finally clicked in his brain. The woman with 64 names wouldn't just be here by herself. She took her new menagerie with her everywhere. Sam just about spun on his heel to figure out where Belova had come from and found the rest of her team standing a little awkwardly by the door. Except for the one who wasn't.

Bucky was striding after Belova, calling after her under his breath. Sam couldn't hear him but he knew exactly what he sounded like–the quiet, irritated hiss of his words, the way he'd press his lips together and clench his jaw. Sam had been on the other side of it often.

He looked good. Actually, he looked amazing. He'd filled out again and was wearing a suit Sam had never seen. It fit him snugly and clung to all the new-old muscles of his legs and his chest and his arms and his ass. At first, Sam thought the suit was black but then Bucky stepped under a sconce and Sam realized it was a dark burgundy velvet with black silk lapels. He was wearing a black turtleneck under it, which he kept yanking away from his throat. Which, yeah. Sam wasn't sure who dressed him, but Bucky hated most things touching his neck. But, damn if it wasn't a pretty look. His beard had come in, full and kempt. And his hair.

Sam liked the short hair. It made Bucky look boyish and charming, took off decades worth of suffering. And it had been a whole part of him regaining his own autonomy and getting used to his reflection again. It was clean and fluffy and it curled on the really humid days. Sam's fingers fit right into it short. There was always a little downy at the base of his neck that, when Sam played with it, could put Bucky right out like warm milk.

His hair was not short right now. It was long enough that he had it wrapped in a neat bun on the back of his head. Pieces fluttered around his face, which seemed to be aggravating him as much as the turtleneck. He didn't have a bunch of product in it–a miracle, honestly–and Sam just wanted to put his fingers through it. Pull out the ponytail holder and massage away the tension of having it tied back.

Bucky caught Belova’s wrist and she barely even reacted. She just gestured across the room and Sam watched Bucky’s eyes snap up towards him. It felt like a physical crash when their gazes met and Sam watched Bucky forget about keeping Belova in line–as if that was possible–in favor of crossing the room towards Sam. Sam had prepared himself for a real collision, but Bucky came up short just before his hands could land on Sam’s waist.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in a far softer way than Sam was expecting.

“Man, I should be asking you that. Where have you been?” Sam asked. He had less self control than Bucky, and he reached for Bucky’s suit coat to drag him closer. At that point, Bucky broke too and wrapped Sam so tightly in his arms, Sam actually lost breath. Still, he just pressed his face against Bucky’s shoulder, pressed his cheek against the coolness of the metal that was coming through his suit. “God, I’ve missed you,” he sighed.

“Not the way I’ve missed you,” Bucky answered and held him tighter. He put his face against the top of Sam’s head, took a deep breath that tickled Sam’s scalp, and just stood there. “Do you know how hard it is to know exactly where you are but not be able to go to you?”

The words sent a deeply possessive, needy shiver through Sam. “We’re both here now,” he breathed. He found Bucky’s elbows, stepped away just enough to hold onto him. “Come on, let’s make the most of it before one of us has to disappear again.”

Continue on AO3

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #sambucky fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #writing

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alegendoftomorrow · 4 months

Text

Ice Skating

Summary: A fun outing after Christmas turns into a tease fest when one of the Dagger Squad may not be as good at everything as they pretend to be.

OC: Olivia Carter (Liv, Livy, Olive,). Photo Journalist assigned to the Dagger squad to do a piece on Naval Aviators in the modern world. Official character sheet coming soon!

Word Count:1,971

Warnings: None

A/N: This is my first entry into @sailor-aviator ‘s winter challenge. My prompt was ice skating, though I did also use this as a springboard for a possible series that I hope to start soon. Now, is this late... so very much so. Did life decide to send me into the new year with one finale kick…. Also yes. Is this also the first personal thing I’ve written for myself in a long time…also yes. But I had so much fun doing it and it feels good to get back to writing again. I hope you all have a phenomenal New Year and you find all the things you were looking for…. Enjoy some Christmas in February

“This was a terrible idea,” Jake’s voice calls from somewhere behind Liv. His tone lacking its usual confident swagger as she turns towards it to find him clutching the edge of the ice like it’s his lifeline. His feet slipping and wobbling as he attempts to walk rather than skate.

“I thought you said you had been skating before?” Liv called as she glided closer to him. Stopping sharply in front of him and meeting his pouting glare with an innocent smile.

“Yeah, when I was ten,” he said sharply. Ducking his head in something that resembled sheepishness. “I thought it was like riding a bike.”

Liv shouldn’t laugh. She really shouldn’t. Yet she can’t help the barely contained giggle that bursts past her lips that she tries to disguise as a cough. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s not funny. Just try to—”

“What’s not funny?” Bradley’s voice cuts through her words and the Christmas music still playing on the loud speakers around them. “Seriously Hangman, you’re still attached to the wall? You know there are five-year-old’s doing laps around you right?”

Jake rolls his eyes and mumbles something unintelligible, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose while Bradley leans down and kisses Liv’s cheek. His mustache scratching her warm skin in a way that still sets her heart racing like it did the very first time he kissed her there. His arm wrapping around her waist and tugging her closer to his side. Effortlessly using his strength to keep them both balanced and upright.

“Come on my love leave the poor man alone. Can’t you see he’s struggling enough?” Liv playfully smacks Bradley’s shoulder as he throws his head back and laughs. The California sun catching his blonde-brown curls and throwing that warm light back down onto Liv. Momentarily making her forget there are other people around her until Jake very loudly clears his throat.

“If you two are about to start making heart eyes at each other again I’m going to throw up.”

“Oh, whose making heart eyes?” A voice calls out. All three sets of eyes turn to find Mickey and Reuban skating towards them. Bundled up like everyone else around them against the “cold”. Matching knitted candy cane stripped scarves around their necks that were a gift from Reuban’s wife. They’d opened them yesterday when they’d gotten back and had yet to take them off. Somehow Mickey seemed more excited them Reuban had been. Proudly declaring “his shared wife” had made it for him. Reuban had found this far less amusing then the rest of the squad.

“No one is,” Bradley said quickly. Squeezing Liv closer he nodded towards Jake who was doing hi sbets to look like he didn’t need the wall to stay balanced. “We were just making fun of Jake here and his inability to skate.”

“You can’t skate?!” Mickey’s voice added to the shock in his wide eyes and dumbfounded expression.

“I can—”

“No way!” Reuban continued. “You mean there is something even the great Hangman himself can’t do.”

Jake sighed deeply and hung his head into his hand, groaning as the teasing continued. Liv wanted to feel bad but considering Jake was often the first to jump on someone else’s weakness she really didn’t feel too bad about it.

“Yeah, well not all of us grew up in the ice and snow,” he weakly shot back. Another round of laughter as Bradley argued that he too had grown up in California for some time, and Mickey put in that he’d grew up without snow too.

Liv just leaned into Bradley’s chest and looked at the group with an amused smile. The California heat was new to her. As was a Christmas and New Year without snow. Her parent’s farmhouse was likely half buried in snow and the pond she’d learned to skate on would have been frozen for months.

“Yeah, and didn’t Javy grow up in New Orleans?” Bradley added with a pretend thoughtful expression. “Yet I know that man can skate nearly as good as Livy here.” He jostled Liv out of her thoughts for a moment.

“Speaking if Javy, where is your wingman, Jake?” She asked.

“Oh, he hasn’t made it to the ice yet,” Mickey said. Pointing across the rink to the outdoor rental building where Javy was leaning against the counter with a wide grin as his hands animated the story, he was telling to the beautiful woman working the counter. “Yeah, he’s too busy flirting to come and save you.”

The woman laughed at something Javy said and Jake gave a long-suffering sigh, a look of betrayal crossing his face.

“Don’t make that face.” Liv smirked. “Like you haven’t done the same thing to him a thousand time.” She raised her eyebrow in an almost dare to have him disagree with her. He did not.

“Yeah, well how come Bob gets to sit this activity out?” He shot back instead.

They all looked over to the row of bleachers sparsely filed with mothers helping their kids tie up their skates, friends huddled around hot chocolate mugs laughing with whipped cream on their faces, and a few older people with cameras waving to their families on the ice. Right in the middle was Bob. His cheeks covered in a pink blush as he stuttered his way through an explanation of his booted ankle while he helped a woman’s young daughter stand up in her skates. The woman’s son was sitting on Bob’s other side continually shaking his head when his mom tried to offer him a pair of skates. Bob must have said he would watch him because the woman smiled and took Bob’s hand, nodding her thanks which made the blush on Bob’s cheeks worse. He nervously adjusted his glasses and pointed to the ice, saying something that made the little girl laugh.

Good for him, Liv thought as she turned her gaze back to Jake who was growing increasingly annoyed.

“Because he twisted his ankle playing volleyball with us all yesterday,” Nat said. Her sudden appearance causing them all to jump and Jake to scramble back into the wall.

“A little warning next time Tasha!”

“Sorry,” she said in a way that made it clear she wasn’t sorry at all. “What are we all doing hovering awkwardly over here?”

“Jake can’t skate,” Mickey supplied.

“We’re making fun of him,” Reuban added.

“I hate all of you,” Jake shot back.

“Even me?” Liv asked. Turning out of Bradley’s grip to face Jake fully with her best puppy dog eyes.

“Especially you Olive. This was your idea.” Jake pointed a finger at her and yet there was no venom in his words.

Liv gasped and gripped at her heart. Mock hurt flashing across her face as she fell backwards and suppressed a laugh when Bradley’s strong hands caught her. “I’m hurt Jake. You have wounded me and I don’t think I can recover from this.”

She peeked an eye open just in time to watch Jake roll his eyes and the other laugh.

“You’ll get over it,” he promised.

Before Liv could say anything back, a very breathless and unsteady Javy called out for them as he skated quickly towards them before nearly crashing into Mickey and Reuban. Both men exclaiming as they caught him and scrambled to catch their balance. Bradley pushing Liv back to standing and Nat skating a step forward with her hands out to help if needed.

“And where have you been?” Jake asked accusingly when Javy had been rightened back onto his own feet. Though Mickey and Reuban kept their hands floating beside him just in case.

“Whoa, whoa why the aggression?” Javy asked with only mild confusion. Liv recognized that mischievous glint in his eyes as meaning he was only half listening to whatever any of them said. He had come here with a plan. “I was only gone a few minutes.”

“It’s been half an hour and I could have used some backup,” Jake said.

Javy tilted his head and scanned his eyes over all their faces for a moment before just shrugging and plowing on to what he’d come here to say. “Okay so I was talking to Claire and—”

“Who’s Claire?” Natasha asked.

“Unimportant,” Javy continued. “Anyways—”

“She’s the woman renting out skates,” Liv whispered to Natasha who leaned over so she could see the woman in question and then nodded.

“She’s cute.”

“I know.”

“—So, she says her friend Amelia is the best there is,” Javy finished with a flourish.

“Wait. Who’s Amelia?” Liv asked. Clearly having missed something while talking to Natasha.

Javy fixed both of them with an exasperated look. “Do either of you ever pay attention when I talk?”

“As a general rule of thumb, no,” Natasha teased.

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t listen to any of you,” Liv added.

“Hey!” Bradley turned to face her with a pout. His honey brown eyes locking onto hers as he stuck his bottom lip out.

“That doesn’t include you, my love. I always listen to you,” Liv added quickly. Cupping his cheek and patting it softly with her fingers.

A chorus of groans and gagging noises followed the action.

“Alright back on topic. Amelia is the red head over there that’s offering lessons. She’s also single,” Javy added with a smirk.

More groans and eye rolls followed as they all watched Jake’s interest immediately shift to the woman a few feet away from them. She was tall and had a white hat pulled down over her ears, her long red hair only barley contained in a thick braid down her back. Smaller red curls poked out around her face and her ice blue eyes were filled with light as she clapped for a pair of siblings who had just finished skating the length of the rink without falling.

“Don’t worry I already talked her up for you.” Javy nudged Jake in the ribs and the other man’s confident smile once again wavered. His eyes snapping to Javy.

“What did you tell her?”

“Only the good things don’t worry. Come on, consider it my very late Christmas present to you.” Javy didn’t give Jake a chance to protest as he wrapped his arm around his and dragged him over towards the woman. Jake attempting to still look as tall and in control of the situation as he still white-knuckle gripped the wall.

“Oh, this I have to see,” Natasha said as she too moved to follow after them.

“I’ll race you there,” Mickey dared. Tucking the edges of his scarf back into his jacket so he was ready.

“Twenty bucks says I beat all of you,” Reuban chimed in. Living up to his callsign as Bradley and Liv shared a look before declaring their intention to race too.

“Let’s maybe not race towards the group of beginners though,” Liv said. Pointing instead to the bleachers on the other side of the rink where Bob was still conversing with the young boy beside him.

The pilots and Liv all lined up against the wall and waited for an opening while Natasha cupped her hands to her mouth and called out.

“Bob! Call it when we get there.”

Bob looked up and squinted at them before shaking his head with a sigh and flashing a thumbs up. Liv was pretty sure he mumbled something about pilots and there need for speed but her lip-reading skills weren’t the best.

“Go!” She called.

More laughter mixed with the sound of skates cutting into ice as the last bars of Jingle Bells played on the loud speakers. Just for this moment at least, they were safe and happy, and really that was all any of them had wanted for Christmas anyway.

#top gun maverick #top gun fic #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #natasha trace #natasha phoenix trace #payback #mickey fanboy garcia #bob floyd #javy coyote machado #Liz’s Christmas Challenge #dagger squad #writing challenge #ice skating

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reminiscingtonight · 2 years

Text

Emily Sonnett x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: love myself some country songs

[WOSO Masterlist]

It’s dark and dingy inside this back-alley bar but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be after a long hard fought soccer game. It was a high paced constant back and forth between the two clubs, but if the confident smirk on Emily’s face as she sits next to you at the table is any indication, your team sadly lost.

Despite that fact, there’s a light atmosphere around the table. You had agreed to go out with your girlfriend and some of your friends for a quick drink before your flight back out to the west coast in the morning. But as Kelley starts questioning your pre-college decisions, you start debating stealing your girlfriend to spend the night alone.

“You mean you had the chance to be a Cardinal and you turned it down? To be a Cavalier?” The last word is spoken with so much disdain that you have to fight the urge to laugh. Kelley looks so genuinely insulted at the insulation that you had the opportunity but then refused to go to her alma mater.

Before you or Emily can say anything, Becky’s swooping in, landing a slap against the back of Kelley’s head. “Is there something wrong with being a Cavalier?” the UVA alum tuts, raising an eyebrow at the brunette.

Kelley mutters something unintelligible under her breath, but whatever she says is enough for Becky to sit back with a satisfied look on her face.

Rolling her eyes, Kelley turns her attention back to you and your girlfriend.

“Fine. How did this decision come to be?”

You and Emily share a look.

“Well, it all began with Peter from homeroom.”

---

You’re well aware of all the looks you’re getting. Standing next to the prettiest girl in the school, you’re also wondering why she agreed to go with you to the school dance.

Emily’s always been your best friend. You met her and Emma on the first day of preschool, and you’ve stuck by each other’s sides since. The three of you were always doing everything together. Soccer, dance, anything that kept the three of you active and not causing a ruckus at home.

When you quietly asked if Emily would go with you to homecoming, you’re not sure if she got that you wanted it to be a date. Emma sent you a pair of thumbs up from behind her twin’s back when Emily agreed, but the blonde had yet to give you any indication that she saw this as anything but a friendly accompaniment.

It’s always been clear to you how everyone either wanted to be the confident jokester or be with her. You only considered yourself lucky that she hadn’t said yes to anyone else by the time you asked.

You’re across the room, getting the two of you a drink when you spot Peter coming to a stop in front of your best friend. From all the classes you share, you’re more than familiar with the way Peter persistently tries to get Emily’s attention in every single one of them. He never does it in an overtly creepy or arrogant way, but a girl can only pretend to be interested in bland conversation so many times before she loses her mind.

All it takes is a pleading look sent across the room and you’re abandoning your drinks, throwing an arm around Emily’s shoulder, and pressing a kiss against her cheek. “Hey babe, everything okay?”

Both of them turn a shade of red, Peter from the clear display of affection in front of him, Emily from your undivided attention.

“Peter was just telling me about tickets he had to the Hawks game next week.”

You nod, casually slipping your free hand into Emily’s. She catches on quick, tangling your fingers together. Peter’s eyes widen at the action.

“Right, I think Em told me something about how they’re on a six game winning streak.” Emma’s currently dating a varsity basketball player, and you and Emily are way past aware of the Hawks’ current win-loss ratio. Emily hums under her breath, making sure Peter can see the way she snuggles deeper against you.

“Oh, the two of you…” he trails off, not sure how to ask the question.

Emily’s hand tightens around yours. She fixes him with a stare. “Yeah. She’s my date.”

The way Peter’s jaw nearly drops to the floor with the revelation is almost enough to get you to break your facade. Thankfully he hastily makes his exit before either of you can give up the charade.

“I hope that was okay,” Emily murmurs the second he’s out of sight.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure. “Yeah, no, that was fine.”

Emily simply hums in response. You’re a bit confused why Emily hasn’t pulled away yet. If anything, she seems to settle against you more.

“To be fair you did kinda start that whole thing by kissing me and calling me babe.”

The response is instantaneous. This time you’re the one turning red, stiffening against Emily’s body. You hurry to pull your hands back to yourself, but Emily tightens her grip against you, not letting you escape. Amused hazel eyes lock against yours, a light smirk on the blonde’s face.

“Though that was a pretty lame kiss, if I’m being honest.”

You don’t miss the way her eyes briefly drop to your lips. Nor do you miss the way her tongue darts out, wetting her own.

Your mouth suddenly feels dry.

“If we’re making this a real thing, I’m expecting a step up in effort.”

With that, she gives your hand a pat before releasing you. You’re left with a racing heart as Emily walks away, heading to grab your abandoned drinks from earlier.

A familiar gray jeep pulls up to pick you up for your first date. Emily didn’t even ask you out. She more or less willed it to happen, texting you a date and time, no explanations given.

You bugged Emma the entire week, but she refused to spoil her twin’s plans. “Patience is a virtue, you know?”

Emily looks dashing, a nice pair of pants and light blouse replacing her usual soccer tee and basketball shorts combo. Her hair is down in soft curls, out from her normal ponytail. It makes your heart skip a beat at the obvious effort she takes to make this date all the more real.

The blonde gives you a blinding smile before handing you a single rose.

“Where’s the rest of the bouquet?” you rib, trying to hide your blush.

“Waiting for our next date, of course,” Emily shoots back, not missing a beat.

When you pull into the familiar Waffle House parking lot in true Emily Sonnett fashion, you can’t help but let out a laugh.

Emily grins and she offers you a hand, pulling you towards her favorite restaurant. Your intertwined hands swing freely between you on your walk to the table. They stay together even as you sit down, hands moving to sit on top the table.

In this moment it’s as if nothing else in the world matters except for the two of you. You’re not unaware of the eyes that glance your way every couple of minutes, but with Emily captivating all of your attention, you couldn’t care less.

Between stuffing her face and cracking jokes, Emily still manages to charm you. You find yourself entranced by everything the blonde does. The way her eyes light up whenever you bring up a topic of delight. The way she nervously scratches at her neck when you say something that makes her blush.

Emily brings you to an ice cream shop for dessert after your breakfast-for-dinner meal. You spend the entire time complaining that you’re too full, but Emily only takes that as free reign to eat both your servings of ice cream. You simply look on in adoration, swooping in to wipe away any stray drops that make it down her chin.

By the time you make it home, it’s been dark for hours. You had spent the rest of the night strolling around nearby parks, watching the stars appear in the night sky, wrapped around one another. But as your time draws to a clear end, you find yourself disappointed at having to part ways. If the frown on Emily’s face is any indication, she also feels the same way.

Before you can open your car door, Emily grabs ahold of your hand.

She looks extremely nervous now, eyes constantly darting between your touching hands and the floor.

“Can I kiss you?”

When you nod, Emily’s quick to lean in. And when she nervously kisses you there, sitting under dim lights in your driveway, it’s perfect.

Autumn turns to winter, winter into spring, and with the changes in seasons comes college decisions. You’re a bit proud to be accepted into nearly every college you apply to, but you can’t deny the special skip in your steps that sets in when you see the acceptance to UVA sitting in the mail. Emily had already committed there a couple weeks back, taking an athletic scholarship to play soccer there. Your first choice before this moment had been Stanford, but faced with the prospect of playing soccer at the same college as your girlfriends seems too enticing to give up.

Your parents are more than unamused when you tell them your plans.

Your mom scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. What happened to Stanford?”

You shrug, eyes glued to your feet. “I don’t want to go to Stanford.”

“This is because of Emily, isn’t it?”

You grit your teeth at the way your father says her name. Your parents never liked her, you know that. She was always ‘too wild,’ ‘not proper enough.’ Their tolerance of the blonde only went down when they found out you were dating.

“Don’t let this relationship throw off your entire life. You’re too young to know what you want or what’s good for you.”

The number of quality star soccer players that have come out of Stanford isn’t lost on you. Stanford’s reputation far precedes itself, but none of it holds a candlelight to the prospect of playing for the rising UVA soccer team or spending another four years with your favorite person.

“Whichever college I go to is my choice. I’m going to UVA and that’s final.”

When Emily hears about your commitment to the University of Virginia, she’s enthusiastic at first. She kisses you senseless, excited at the thought of playing for the same team and spending the next four years together.

But it’s clear when the guilt sinks in.

You’re over at her house, studying for your chemistry exam the next day when she tries to do something about it. Emily’s quieter than normal, but you don’t confront her. She’s always pondering over things and you know that if it’s serious enough she’ll bring it up herself in due time.

You’re in the middle of describing the processes of oxidizing iron when Emily finally breaks her silence.

“I want to break up.”

You falter for a moment, pausing briefly to give her a look. It only takes a second before you’re completely disregarding her declaration and continuing your explanation.

When a minute passes and you still haven’t acknowledged her statement, a peeved look crosses Emily’s face. “Did you hear me?”

This time Emily’s words are accompanied by a wild wave of her hand in front of your face, successfully drawing your attention away from your science notes.

“Yes. But like I was explaining, the H2O--”

“I’m breaking up with you,” she interrupts. Emily cocks an eyebrow as she waits for your response.

Sighing, you put your book down, giving her your full attention. “Yes, and I hear you. But no, I decline to accept.”

Her mouth drops open. “What? Hey! You can’t do that, I’m being serious!”

You shrug. “So am I.”

“I-- I…” she sputters, face turning red. “We’re breaking up, right now.”

“Nope.”

“(Y/N)--”

“Look, Son.” You fix her with a look that has Emily instantly shutting her mouth. “You can try to break up with me, but I’m not going to accept it. Sorry, but you’re stuck with me.”

It’s almost as if you can see the gears turning in her brain. Eventually, Emily settles with crossing her arms, leaning back against her chair. The blonde huffs, blowing out a breath of annoyed air. “You’re insufferable,” she mutters.

You grin, seeing the smile she’s trying to hide herself. “Well you’re dating me so what does that say about you?”

When Emily gives you a hard shove, you know that everything’s going to be okay.

UVA wouldn’t be ready for the two of you.

---

And here you are now. Despite playing at different clubs across the country from each other, both of you are proud national team members that have somehow kept your relationship alive even after all these years.

It’s clear Kelley feels the same way, the furrow between her eyebrows being an indication. “So. 18 to now? That’s… that’s a lot of years.”

“The longest,” your girlfriend agrees, taking a sip from the beer in front of her.

“So how come y’all haven’t tied the knot yet?” Kelley questions, leaning in towards the two of you.

Emily simply cocks an eyebrow at the defender. “Who says we haven’t?”

“We haven’t,” you insert quickly before Kelley has an aneurysm. The defender looked two seconds from passing out at Emily’s automatic quip. You give Emily a gentle kick under the table and she grins at you in response.

Kelley starts whining and pouting at Emily, claiming she’s being too cruel towards her elders, but you’re too busy laughing at the self-satisfied smirk on Emily’s face to pay too much attention to the brunette.

No, the two of you haven’t “tied the knot” yet, but it doesn’t mean you’re not almost there. You’ll keep pretending you don’t know what’s hidden in the old pair of cleats Emily claims doesn’t fit anymore and she’ll keep pretending she doesn’t know what you have hidden inside a cereal box that’s been finished ages ago but still lives in your pantry. You’ll keep turning a blind eye (and ear) when you catch Emily and Lindsey scheming away about the best place to pop the question while Emily will keep coincidentally “going out for a run” when she catches you doing the same with her sister.

The two of you will keep pretending you don’t know how this whole thing will end (spoiler: with wedding bells and matching rings) because you know you have the rest of forever to spend by each other’s sides.

#emily sonnett x reader #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

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incomingalbatross · 7 months

Text

Trying to decide how the TARDIS handles her crew being around two groups of people with two different languages at the same time. Possibilities I've come up with so far:

Each group hears the TARDIS team speaking their own language, full stop; if you have, like, an Italian group and a German group, the Italians will hear the TARDIS team answering the Germans in Italian, and vice versa for the Germans

The TARDIS does a juggling act where the Germans hear the team speaking German to them and Italian to the Italians, and vice versa; gets messy when the team is trying to address both groups at once

The TARDIS just extends the translation field to EVERYONE in the room for as long as they're in the room; the Germans and Italians perceive each other as speaking their own language (probably has the most canon support, at least for Classic? Thinking about War Games specifically)

I think probably the most likely option is the TARDIS going You Are All Mutually Intelligible Now (And You're Not Going To Think Too Hard About This), at least pre-Time War when her translation circuits seem to work on a more subconscious level. I don't know if she could pull this trick off as effectively in NuWho.

Other, more complicated questions may arise when A) one of the TARDIS team intends to be perceived as speaking an unintelligible language (like Donna in Pompeii, but how would that work in Classic?) or B) when a multilingual character is trying to perceive the TARDIS crew (does their perception of which language they're hearing shift depending on context? Do they think the TARDIS team are also multilingual?).

I mean, probably the answer is just "the TARDIS bypasses all questions about which language they're hearing and they only comprehend context," judging by how extremely little any of this comes up in Classic. But still.

#these thoughts brought to you by sherlock holmes #who WOULD be very subconsciously uncomfortable if he couldn't even perceive them as speaking a specific language #and who i also assume is multilingual #dw

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dark-elf-writes · 10 months

Text

Still thinking about the Cousin Clint Au.

Thinking about that first meeting. just Clint at first. He knows just how overwhelming the full force of The Avengers™️ can be and the last thing he wants is to scare Harry away. From the briefing he got the things the kid went through…

(There was a hole in his wall that attested to exactly how he felt about some of the things he saw. About the year Harry had spent nearly getting possessed at every turn. About some wacked out nut job digging around in his baby cousin’s head whenever he so well pleased.

The hole would be gone before they returned to the tower. Part of Clint wished it wouldn’t be.

He had a feeling people being angry for Harry Potter was a rare enough occurrence. There should be some mark on the world left from it.)

Harry, when he staggered into the office in some corner of SHIELD looking decidedly green around the edges and holding a whimpering toddler both was and wasn’t what he had expected. Clint had seen the photos, of course, snippets from newspapers throughout the last seven years what all had him clenching his jaw and wishing for his bow.

(Hadn’t anyone seen how thin Harry was? Hadn’t anyone seen how he shied away from everyone around him? Hadn’t anyone seen the textbook case of abuse looking back from the gossip rag slandering him as a minor?

Tony would have a lawyer ruthless enough to handle it, Clint was sure.)

Harry was still thin, perhaps even thinner now, with dark bags under his eyes and the kind of paranoia in his scowl that only came from someone who had been burned repeatedly before. Green eyes flicked to each exit. Weighing them. In the off chance his magic wasn’t enough this kid (eighteen. The kid was eighteen.) was prepared to fight his way out with a toddler on his hip.

Clint loved the kid for it.

Would be right there next to him offering covering fire if shit hit the fan.

(He had a known soft spot for broken things. For child soldiers and shattered kids forced to kill to young. If SHIELD didn’t expect Clint to give them the finger to protect two of the last remaining members of his family they deserved to be double crossed.)

“You look like shit, kid. When was the last time you slept?”

Around the room the other agents observing the meeting tensed.

Harry laughed.

“A git like you must be family.” The kid’s voice was hoarse. Raw. Like he had been screaming. The toddler in his arms shrieked something unintelligible and lifted pudgy hands to pat at Harry’s face earning the closest thing to an honest smile Clint had seen in any of the pictures of the kid.

“A certain level of ‘git’ runs in the family,” Clint agreed, just to see that smile flick up to him for a heartbeat before fading away.

(Hope was a fragile thing. One that Clint had learned to cling to with bloody fingers. It had driven him and his brother from their father’s house to the circus. Had driven him to SHIELD. Had driven him to save his mark, dragging back a half feral Russian spy he was supposed to have killed with a smile.

It was pushing him to save this kid too.

No matter what it took.)

#the elf talks #harry potter #mcu #cousin Clint #I love him your honor

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