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uswntxfootball · 3 years

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i get a little bit stressed out (when i think about you) (jill roord x arsenal!reader)

how were you supposed to ask her out when just thinking about her made you nervous?

word count: 3342 ish

rated: F for flirtation sugar daddy

title- nervous by shawn mendes

——

your eyes followed her even when you didn’t mean for them to.

there was just something about the way she carried herself… you really just couldn’t get enough of it and-

“hello? y/n?”

you really really really had it bad. it really didn’t help that she was talking adamantly about something to viv, the other dutch forward having a relatively hard time keeping up with the taller girl.

its only when daan claps in your face that you turn and look at her.

“sorry what?”

daan face palms before saying:

“you know if you stare any harder you’re going to strain your eyes.”

you blush a little.

“i’m not staring….i’m-”

daan’s pointed look shuts you up.

you blush harder and look down at your cleats, adamantly avoiding the midfielder’s gaze.

her tone softens a little when she sees you.

“you really should just ask her out y/n. its been like two years.”

you scoff a little.

“it has not been two years what are you-“

daan cuts you off with a matter-of-fact tone:

“she joined the team in 2019 buddy.”

“yeah but that doesn’t mea-“

“and exactly how many words have you exchanged with her?”

you think before saying with an air of false confidence:

“like a lo-“

“not counting on the field.”

you sigh and hang your head in defeat before whispering:

“like two.”

the dutch midfielder hums and asks again:

“mhmm now what was that?”

you roll your eyes and say it a little louder, still with that air of defeat:

“like two words.”

daan patted your shoulder encouragingly before the whistle blew, indicating the end of break, and training picked up once again.

jill was talking about you during the break, actually.

to viv across the field from you.

the dutch forward had slowly realized that you were different around her, that you didn’t speak as much, and actually that you avoided her at all costs.

this she found out because there were instances, such as during team dinners, where if there was an open seat next to her, you didn’t take it, opting to stand or sit on the floor as far away from her as possible.

or that whenever she sat down next to you you shot up out of your seat almost instantly.

or that when you saw her coming down the hall you immediately turned and walked the way you came from.

or- you get the point.

she couldn’t tell if you hated her, because frankly that’s what it looked like.

so that’s what she was speaking to viv about.

and to lisa about.

and really anyone who would really listen.

of course, everyone knew your predicament, as you weren’t exactly subtle in your staring and stuttering.

they all assured jill that you didn’t hate her, that maybe you were just shy, something jill had a hard time believing since she watched you hold confident eye contact and conversations with literally everyone else but her.

if you were someone else maybe she would care less.

but you weren’t.

see, this is only how you acted off the field.

but on the field, you were a completely different person.

you had a confident, almost authoritative tone when you spoke, one that made everyone stop and listen, and was something that ultimately landed you the role of captain for every team you’ve ever played for, with arsenal being no exception.

you spoke to her that way too, and it was really the only time you made eye contact with her and spoke to her.

granted it was more like you giving orders and directions, but same difference really.

it was also something jill found really really hot.

so safe to say she cared about what you thought of her.

jill eventually decided that if you weren’t going to talk to her first, she’d do it instead.

and so began her quest, getting y/n y/ln to talk to her and hopefully become her friend.

you noticed the change in jill immediately.

it seemed as though the dutch forward was tailing you every chance she got.

every corner you took she seemed to appear right in front of you, every time you glanced at her it seemed as if her eyes were already on you.

it got so bad that you tried even harder to avoid her.

for instance,

one day before training you were out on the pitch shooting from midfield and muttering game analysis under your breath when you heard a familiar, heavy dutch accent making its way through the halls.

you panicked and-

daan found you ten minutes later inside a trashcan.

needless to say you had a pretty hard time trying to explain the smell and stains on your jersey to joe later that day.

in your defense because the field was so empty, that was the only plausible option in your mind.

as time went on, it really didn’t get any better.

there was another day during training where you turned to catch a glimpse of jill only to see her eyes already on you, and you turned back so abruptly that you knocked down the entire weight rack in front of you.

jill giggled, and the rest of your teammates were rolling their eyes and collectively face palming at your stupidity.

it all came to a climax when you were on the bus to your first match of the year, and jill plopped down in the seat right by you.

your eyes widened and cheeks flushed immediately, and you trained your eyes on the seat in front of you, not daring to turn and look at the girl beside you.

“hey how are you?”

you gulped and slowly looked up at her, and you cursed internally.

she was just so unfairly attractive.

the slightly shy smile and arched eyebrow was a combination you swear only she could pull off and-

“i’m doing okay, how are you?” you managed to force out.

at least you didn’t stutter.

jill gave you a lopsided smile that made your heart skip a beat, and went on talking.

she knew you weren’t much of a talker around her, and subsequently filled up all the gaps with her rambling, something that you both appreciated and hated, as it really didn’t help the queasy feeling in your stomach.

when the bus pulled to a halt you felt like you were going to puke, and shot up out of your seat wanting to run off before you freak out, only to remember that you were in the inside seat.

jill moved slightly without hesitation, something you were more than thankful for.

she whispers a little dejectedly when you get off:

“are you sure she doesn’t hate me?”

lisa gives her a sympathetic look and smile.

“she doesn’t jill.”

“but she just-“

“trust us, she doesn’t.”

jill nods a little apprehensively, and gets up and grabs her stuff, making her way off the bus along with everyone else.

during the game, jill was so distracted that she almost ran in the wrong direction.

“jill! press! now go!”

you were yelling at her from midfield, glancing all over the place as you watched every player’s movement and stance.

jill almost stumbled upon hearing your voice.

you note that she’s acting weirdly, and bring it up during a quick break while the ref is assessing a potential foul.

you catch her arm when she walks by you, an action that catches her entirely by surprise.

“hey you alright? your head is all over the place.”

jill swallows a little bit before smiling weakly and replying:

“yeah yeah i’ll be okay.”

“alright well get your head in it, you’re really talented and we really need you right now.”

you give her arm a reassuring squeeze and move to take the free kick which had just been given.

jill still stood there a little dumbfounded, its only when you snap loudly and point in the direction of the box that she remembers there’s a game going on and moves into position.

all in all, arsenal wins with an emphatic victory of 5-1.

after your duties as captain were fulfilled and you gave your post game talk, you quickly fell back into your off field self.

now why was the previous bus interaction the climax?

simply put, it had been the last straw for a lot of your teammates, who were now fed up with your idiotic gay panic, and decided to do something about it.

you should’ve known something was weird when you get a text from viv reading:

“URGENT- team meeting in 15 min at me & lisa’s apartment”

you furrowed your brows in confusion.

you were the team captain and the one who called team meetings, so what was up?

also it was saturday night, couldn’t it wait?

you texted kim, the vice captain, and pretty much the only responsible adult on the team, to double check.

she replied with:

“yes- joe told us about it.”

you furrow your eyebrows again because you took your job of captain seriously and you honestly didn’t remember joe mentioning an impromptu meeting on saturday night at viv’s house.

but you made your way there just in case anyways.

when you make your way inside you glance suspiciously around the apartment and only get more confused when you see less than half the team there.

the only people there besides viv and lisa were daan and beth, caitlin and lia, leah and jordan, and katie.

by this point you should’ve known.

you open your mouth to speak but you’re cut off when daan shoves you down into a chair.

“sit.”

you shoot back up and fight her back a little bit before asking:

“guys guys guys what is going on?”

leah calmly looked at you and said:

“sit down and we’ll tell you.”

and so you begrudgingly take a seat.

lisa starts.

“alright so collectively as a group, we decided that watching you deal with jill is making us all lose brain cells.”

the group in front of you nods adamantly in agreement.

“and so we’re here to help you. to teach you how to flirt.”

you cross your arms and snort a little.

“and how are you going to do that exactly?”

“well-“

beth piped in here.

“we’re going to employ katie and have her flirt with you and teach you for the next week or so.”

you shake your head.

“katie? no i would rather go on my own thank you very-“

katie cuts in here with an offended look.

“what do you mean no?! i’m obviously the best here and-“

the room quickly broke into a loud cacophony of sound, as they began debating about katie’s comment.

its only when lisa yells for silence that everyone quiets again.

“wait how many people are in on this?” you ask suddenly.

“the whole team with the exception of jill,” leah replies offhandedly.

your eyes nearly bugged out of your head when you heard this.

“is it really that bad?”

lia snorts.

“can birds fly?”

you let out a sigh.

“fine.”

you turn to katie and very adamantly say:

“but don’t you dare make it weird.”

katie holds her hands up in surrender.

and so it began, your “training” as they called it.

katie, surprisingly was pretty good at what she did.

she did unfortunately call herself your flirtation sugar daddy, but that really made you uncomfortable so you avoided those terms at all costs.

so day after day, katie stuck by you and flirted with you 24/7, with occasional performance evaluations from lisa and caitlin, all who approved thus far.

on the downside, jill, who had been kept out of the loop from everything, saw this as you being interested in katie.

she wanted to tell you that katie had a girlfriend, but didn’t really know how to start that conversation without making it weird.

she couldn’t just go up to you and say, “hey i’ve been watching you flirt with katie for the last few days and just so you know she’s taken.”

so she just stood by and watched.

she did ask viv about it one day though.

“does y/n know katie has a girlfriend?”

to which viv replied:

“yup.”

“so why is she flirting with her?”

“its just for fun.”

“it doesn’t look like its for fun to me.”

viv turns and looks at her dutch teammate.

“are you jealous?”

jill almost sputters out her answer.

“wh-what no of course not! why would i be jealous?!”

viv turns to hide her smile.

“sure jill. whatever you say.”

two weeks went by, and katie was delighted by your performance.

next saturday, the ten of you met up at viv and lisa’s apartment again.

“alright so you might be asking why we’ve gathered you here today!” lisa proclaimed with a very poor attempt at victorian english.

“we’re gathered here today to-“

“oh just get on with it,” viv butts in.

lisa turns to her with a glare.

“all right all right,” viv relents.

“we’re going to assess y/n’s flirtation capabilities.”

you quirk an eyebrow.

“how are you going to do that exactly?”

“ooh we didn’t actually think that far. we’re going to ask you questions?”

“what like ask me to finish the line? like ooh girl are you from tennesse cuz you’re the only ten i see?”

lia cringes a little at that line.

“what ever you do, don’t say that.”

“mhm yeah wasn’t going t-.”

leah cuts in.

“alright the point is. just be yourself y/n. you exude confidence on the field so just bring it out when you talk to her. that’s all”

the others all nod in agreement.

“that’s it really. you can do it y/n, we all believe in you.”

“thanks guys i really appreciate it.”

“wait but i can still be your flirtation sugar da-ow! you didn’t have to all hit me!”

the next day at training you were shoved and funneled in jill’s direction by almost half the team.

a particularly hard shove from daan had you slamming directly into jill.

the dutch forward turned and grabbed your waist in lightning fast speed to steady you.

your arms immediately fell to rest on hers, and you took a shallow breath in when you saw her concerned look.

“are you alright?”

“yeah i am thanks to you…”

well here goes nothing.

“…though i have to say if this is what it takes to get you to hold me i’ll gladly fall for you again.”

jill’s face was worth the burning on your cheeks.

“w-what?”

you had to admit, jill’s stutter only made her cuter.

you just gave her a wink and reluctantly pulled her arms off you.

“come on jill, we have a training session to get to.”

you gave her a final wave before you made your way out of the locker room.

jill still stood there, shocked and a little confused.

viv rolled her eyes.

“come on jill.”

and when jill didn’t move, viv just grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the room.

later during training almost the exact same thing happens.

except this time it was more jill’s fault than yours.

she wasn’t watching where she was going and ran right into you.

your hands found their way immediately on her waist.

“is this how we’re going to meet and talk from now on?”

jill blushed and mumbled a “sorry.”

you grinned.

“don’t be, i’m kind of enjoying it, though…”

you stopped to fake pondering something.

“…i don’t know what we should do now that we’ve both fallen for each other.”

you finished your sentence with another wink, essentially rendering jill speechless.

and so, this became a trend.

you would flirt with jill, and the dutch girl would essentially just freeze up and stare at you in shock.

you thought it was cute.

jill thought it was mortifying.

she complained to viv later on.

“i can’t even flirt back what is happening to me?”

viv just gave her a reassuring pat on the back.

“that’s what we call gay panic my friend.”

jill groaned and buried her face further into her hands.

“what’s a pretty lady like you doing all by yourself?”

you ask, plopping down in the empty bus seat beside her.

jill blushes and looks down at the seat in front of her.

she could barely see your playful grin out of the corner of her eye and it was enough to kick the butterflies in her stomach to a higher gear.

you had a little deja vu during the bus ride, except that in the previous predicament the roles were switched.

jill somehow managed to hold it together for the remainder of the bus ride.

it was on the pitch when jill really couldn’t take it anymore.

you didn’t even do anything, except fulfill your captain duties.

you were standing on the sideline, watching a scrimmage between lia’s team and kim’s team.

joe had asked you to sit out and assess every player’s strengths and basically coach them.

and coach them you did.

“caitlin! daan’s open on your left! and malin! cover daan better so she’s not wide open!”

you looked down to scribble notes in your note pad, and when you looked up you saw jill staring at you on the field.

“jill! focus!”

her gaze snapped back onto the game.

before the second round, you gave a bunch of pointers to both teams.

“okay so you guys are doing pretty well, just make sure to keep up your back line, don’t make it sloppy.”

and to the other:

“alright so pass accuracy is something you need to work on, because half of your passes are being intercepted at the moment which probably isn’t something you want.”

after a few minutes the teams took their places back onto the pitch and you began scribbling down a few more notes.

a pair of cleats makes their way before you, and you look up.

“what’s wr-“

jill leans down and kisses you.

you drop your notepad in surprise.

she pulls back quickly and searches your face for any sign of disgust or repulsion, and finding none, she leans in again.

this time, you met her halfway.

it was electric and a little needy, really everything you wanted a first kiss to be.

you briefly heard the cheers and clapping of your teammates, too caught up in the moment to care about anything else.

jill’s hands fell to your waist and yours rested on her cheeks.

you pulled back after what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only a couple of seconds.

“so i guess i don’t have to fall for you to hold me like that again,” you whisper.

jill giggles.

“definitely not.”

you’re silent for a few seconds, but jill beats you and breaks it first.

“you know, i thought you liked katie.”

your eyes widen in surprise, and your face quickly contorts into disgust.

“oh god no way.”

“oh that’s good.”

you ask her a little teasingly:

“why, were you jealous?”

jill scoffs a little.

“shut up.”

you arch your brow a little in challenge.

“make me then.”

jill’s eyes flash back onto your face dangerously but before she can do anything you give her a little shove back.

“now go back to your scrimmage, we’ve had them wait long enough.”

she rolls her eyes and turns back towards the pitch, and towards a hoard of your giddy teammates.

“flirtation sugar daddy for the wi-ow!”

your perfectly struck ball hits katie square in the chest and your glare cuts eliminates any objections.

still you hear her mutter:

“still if anyone needs any help with flirting i’ll be free to-“

“katie!”

“sorry sorry i’ll stop.”

#jill roord #jill roord x reader #jill roord imagine #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc imagine #nedwnt x reader #nedwnt imagine #uswnt imagine #uswnt x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine

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legitlaur · 3 years

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lightweight // harry styles boxer au pt. 1

boxer!harry x reader

Warnings: language, nsfw content (in future parts), violence

word count: 5k

summary: Harry Styles is a notorious boxer in London. He has been in a funk for a while and can’t stay focused in training or matches. One day he sees you. You change his perspective, and however the universe blesses Harry because he keeps bumping into you.

a/n: this is a disclaimer if anything. All boxing and medical references are sourced from google. I don’t know much about either. But please enjoy some boxer!harry because he is currently my favorite harry

Sweat was dripping down my face, my hair was sticking to my forehead and my head wasn’t in the right mindset. I kept my hands up, I was playing defense this morning.

“Harry!” My coach, Sam, barked but not fast enough.

A gloved fist swung around and smacked me in the face.

I grunted in pain but stood my ground.

“Get over here man.” Sam shook his head in disappointment.

I walked across the ring to the broody man. I rested my arms on the ropes and opened my mouth wide. I was about to get a lecture and I wasn’t in the mood.

Sam took my mouthguard out and started pouring water down my throat. “What’s your problem today? You’re not hitting a single combination, and even on defense you’re getting the shit beaten out of you.”

A lecture.

“I know.” I panted, “I can’t focus today, something is going on. I, I. I just don’t know what.”

“Hmm. Why don’t you take a 15-minute break? Go outside, hopefully, the fresh air will do you good.” Sam untied my gloves and pulled them off.

I ducked under the ropes back onto the carpet of the gym. Even with my back turned to him I knew Sam was shaking his head in disappointment, but I didn’t care. I didn’t have any big fights lined up for the next few months, I was just training for the off-season. He must have noticed there was definitely something going on because he never let me have anything more than a quick water break.

A few people were in the bathroom when I walked in, but they left without saying a word once I made eye contact with them.

They feared me, as they should.

I was Harry Styles, one of the best boxers in London.

Some people liked to call it fear, others liked to call it respect. I didn’t care what it was, so long as I was in the ring winning.

I looked in the mirror of the rusted bathroom. My hair was getting too long, Sam was going to start getting on me to go to the barbers. I took out the little ponytail that rested at the crown of my head, it was coming apart and this was a shit practice anyway. A few curls landed in front of my eyes, I ran my hands through my sweat-soaked hair trying to push it out of my eyes.

“Make yourself worth it!” I repeated to myself.

I stared at my opponent. His hair covering half his face, his eyes had less determination in them. The bruise on his right cheek was finally healing. He looked tired, sad, and weak. Nothing like a champion.

I was staring at myself.

Somehow, I had become my biggest competition. My mindset was all wrong. I didn’t have the motivation and drive I had when I put on my first set of boxing gloves. The spark burned out. Something was missing.

I slapped my face and shook my head. After bouncing around a few times I left the bathroom and went straight to the front door of the building. I could hear the busy London streets before I pushed the door open.

A cool breeze hit my bare chest. I walked a few feet away from the gym to clear my head. I had my hands resting behind my head as I inhaled and exhaled the polluted London air.

I looked around at the people walking past. Most of them were either giving me a weird look because I was walking around shirtless in the street with both hands wrapped. Others knew who I was and were nodding at me.

My head was spinning, I wasn’t sure what was happening. I felt like I was overheating but freezing at the same time. The sounds of traffic were making me panic, I couldn’t get enough oxygen into my lungs. Something was wrong with me.

When my eyes landed on you, it left like the biggest fist to the gut I’d ever taken. The air that I couldn’t inhale was somehow knocked out of me.

You were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen before. When you walked past me, it wasn’t the confusion, fear, or respect that you gave me. No, you gave me pity.

I looked into your eyes and felt peace and passion all at once. There was a mutual understanding of what I was going through. Even if I wasn’t sure what it was. I felt like we were staring into each other’s souls.

I turned around as you walked right past me. Not even giving me a second thought. Why would you?

I tried to keep my eyes on you for as long as possible, but you turned the corner before you could blend into the crowd. I was pretty certain a woman with your beauty and confidence would never blend into a crowd.

I pinched the bridge of my nose when you disappeared. I knew the chances of me seeing you again were slim to none. I never had much luck in my life, except maybe boxing.

You. The bizarre angel sent from heaven above to show me pity.

I didn’t even realize pity was what I needed until you showed it to me. I wasn’t sure how you’d shown it to me, there had been nothing but eye contact.

A dreary man in a suit bumped into me. “Watch where you’re going, man.” He gave me a disgusted look. It was probably deserved after my sweat got all over his blue blazer.

“Sorry," I muttered as I walked back into the gym. Sam was sitting at the front desk with his hand covering his face. He was getting more and more frustrated with me. My practices hadn’t been great recently, and neither of us knew how to fix whatever problem I was clearly having.

I didn’t know what came over me or why the next words came out of my mouth, but I had a feeling I would regret them soon enough.

“Schedule me for a fight.”

Sam's head popped up. His eyes were wide. “What?”

We both knew me getting in the ring for an actual fight right now would end with me in the hospital. I didn’t care, if anything I hoped it would inspire me to find some form of inspiration.

“I want to fight someone! Anyone!” I reiterated as I walked up to my coach.

“Are you sure you wanna do that? We both know you’re not ready for a real fight.” Sam offered.

I wasn’t sure, hell maybe this was suicide. I shrugged, “Why not? I haven’t had a real fight in months and it’s starting to show. The fans are losing interest.”

Sam nodded, “That’s true. Maybe this will get you out of the funk you’ve been in.”

“So you’ll schedule me for something soon?” I was getting a little too eager.

“Yes, but if I don’t think you’re ready for it I’m pulling you out.” He was already on his phone, probably trying to find me a decent opponent that wouldn’t ruin my title.

A week later I was in the locker room of the York Hall. I was getting my hands wrapped in preparation for my match that evening. I could hear the audience through the cinder block walls. Word had spread that Harry Styles was going to be back in the ring tonight. People from all over London were coming to see me fight. I had an audience, now all I needed was to put on a show.

Once Sam gave me a quick pep talk and I was in my gloves I threw on my robe. I waited for my walk-out song to start. It was my cue to head out to the ring.

The song “Death May Die” began, dramatic violin blasted through the speakers I stood up straight and walked out into the arena. The crowd erupted into cheers when they saw me. I kept my stoic face and didn’t interact with the fans at all. It was part of my act. Harry Styles was someone to fear after all.

Once I climbed up into the ring my team took off my robe and tried to get my adrenaline pumping. They pushed my mouthguard up against my teeth and climbed out of the ring.

“In the middle.” The ref called out.

I turned to face my opponent. Jack ‘JawBreaker’ Jones. He walked out to Machine Gun Kelly’s ‘Jawbreaker’ a little too pretentious if you ask me.

He was 6’1 and 150 pounds. His long blonde was tied back into a bun, I wasn’t sure how he managed to have such long hair while boxing. It was nearly impossible for me. I had long hair for a few years, but when I got serious about my boxing career I had to chop it off. Jones was rather tan for a Londoner, and he was chiseled out. From what I’d seen and heard he was a good boxer too. This would be an interesting match.

The plan to win was simple. Sam and I knew I had the better cardio, so we strategized that I would go with defense and tire Jones out. When he started getting too tired to keep trying for the offense I would knock him out.

We made eye contact, tapped gloves, and started the match. There were five rounds, each for three minutes.

Once the bell rang Jones and I started dancing around each other. Waiting to see who would make the first move. I did my best to keep my distance and not let him back me into the ropes. I had a longer wingspan than him, which meant I could be further away and still land a punch.

Finally, Jones threw a punch. I ducked and spun out of the way, keeping myself away from the ropes. He got closer again and jabbed me in the ribs. I fought back, swinging an uppercut to his face, and landing it right on his nose. Blood started dripping down his nose. I knew I didn’t break it, but I’d had a similar injury and I knew his head was pounding right now.

The bell rang through the arena. I finally heard the crowd again, realizing they were there watching. Just as fast as the round started, it ended and I was back in my corner on my stool guzzling water and listening to Sam tell me to go for Jones’ jaw.

Once the break was over, Jones and I were staring into each other’s eyes to start round two. So far he wasn’t wearing down as we anticipated. His cardio was pretty decent. The round started and Jones immediately landed three punches to my side. I groaned in pain but kept standing. I couldn’t let this wanna-be boxer beat me.

I inhaled deeply through my nose, my torso ached as the oxygen reached my lungs. I landed three or four punches to his side and arms, but Jones kept his hands up to guard his face the entire time.

We were in the fourth of five rounds, and I was out of it. I barely made it through the third round. I was up against the ropes getting the shit beat out of me. All I could do was keep my hands up to try and protect my face.

I had a busted-up lip, slip-open eye brown, and definitely a bruised rib. I had to take the defensive side this round. Jones had landed enough blows for the ref to call the match and the judges to easily declare him the winner.

I threw a few here and there as we bounced around the ring, but he was landing just as many punches. Before I knew it, I was back up against the ropes. My eyes were hardly open, I was trying to keep my gloves up but my arms were so tired and sore I couldn’t raise them high enough to keep my face out of the line of fire. My knees were beginning to wobble, I was going to blackout any second.

I turned my head slightly, that’s when I saw you again. In a crowd of hundreds of people, I saw you. Everyone else was a blur, you lit up like a Christmas tree. Your eyes caught my attention like a firework in the middle of a blizzard. You looked frightened but the concern and pity were screaming at me through your dilated pupils.

I don’t know how, but I felt an adrenaline rush kick in. I threw punch after punch right into Jones’s face.

Make yourself worth it!

With my mantra in my head, and you in the crowd I knew I had to finish off ‘Jawbreaker’. I flipped us, he was backed up into the corner against the ropes and I was slamming my gloves into his face, really going hard on his jaw again and again. The ref stepped in and pushed me off Jones.

I gave them a little space while the ref gave him his eight-second stand. When the ref yelled six, Jones fell to the floor. His knees gave out and his head crashed against the mat.

The crowd went wild and started screaming. There were chants of my name and boos from every corner. I went back to Sam, he took out my mouthguard and untied my gloves. Once my hands were free he had me follow a pen with my eyes. It was harder to stay focused on the pen than I cared to admit, but it wasn’t because my head was pounding from the beating I’d endured. It was because you were somewhere in the audience and I had to find you.

I’d won. Even in my darkest months I still had some grit in me. Perhaps it was only because my eyes somehow found yours in my weakest moment, or maybe it was the fighter in me finally resurfacing. The moment I thought I would end up on the mat with a concussion I ended up getting my arm lifted into the air and called a champion.

The title ‘Best Boxer in London’ still rang true.

I ran into the locker room, not bothering with any post-fight interviews or fan interactions. I wanted to get okayed by the paramedics, get showered, and get into the crowd to find you. I had to find you.

My legs were bouncing up and down while the paramedics cleaned up my cuts, and stitched me up. They took a look at my ribs and told me to take it easy for the next few days. My eyes were fine but I did have a gnarly black eye forming on my right eye.

The paramedics finally left, it had taken everything in me to let them take their time with the stitches and checking for a concussion. I flexed my hand muscles and frowned at the light purple bruising on my knuckles. Once I was alone in the locker room I stripped and limped into the shower. The hot water seared against my aching muscles, but I had a feeling this would be the only warm shower I had until I was able to get back into the gym.

Once the water ran clear again and was no longer slightly red, I hopped out of the shower and dried myself in record time. I was dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, and back in the arena before Jones left the ring. He still had doctors looking at him.

The number of people still in the arena dwindled significantly from when I had won. I could only pray that you hadn’t left yet. Maybe with some grace from God, you would be waiting out the traffic of leaving York Hall.

I scrambled through the groups of people congregating together. I couldn’t describe you to anyone, I didn’t know your distinct features. All I knew was that when I saw you, I would know it was you.

I looked and looked, but you were nowhere to be found. I sighed through my nose and dragged my feet back into the locker room to grab my bag.

“Awesome job Harry, I don’t know how you managed to pull through in that last round. I was certain Jones was going to knock you out.” Sam pulled me in for a hug.

I wrapped my arms around him and patted his back then released him. I went to my locker and grabbed my duffle bag. “I had a random burst of energy I guess.” I shrugged and left the room before Sam could ask me any more questions.

I’d won a fight when I was at my weakest. Normally all I wanted to do was go get my earnings and spend most of it at the bar or club to celebrate. Today, I just wanted to find you. I wasn’t sure why you were so important, or why you had such an impact on me, but I needed to find out. I was determined to find out.

I went to the back office where I found myself at the end of every match. The bright lights in there burned my sensitive eyes. Inside the ring, the light was bright but the rest of the arena was pretty dark. I only ever focused on my opponent, the light was never an issue.

“Styles! Congrats man, that was an epic fight.” Jeremy, the owner of York Hall (and also the guy who organized all these matches) greeted me as I opened the office door.

I nodded, “Thanks, Jeremy.”

The tall skinny man stood up from his desk, “You know you brought in quite a fanbase tonight.” He picked up a thick white envelope and handed it to me, “There’s your cut. $1500.”

“$1500? I fucking won man, that fight was worth $2000 easy.” I threw my only good hand up in the air, “I knocked out ‘Jawbreaker’!” I raised my voice but added a sarcastic flare to Jones’ stage name.

Jeremy only shrugged, “I don’t know what to tell you, Harry. The business has been slow lately. Maybe it’s time to find some other way to make money if this isn’t enough for you.”

I grabbed the envelope, stuffed it into my hoodie pocket, and left the office before I did something I would regret.

I was fuming when I went down the stairs. I needed to get out of York Hall. This day had been a complete shit show, and on top of it all, I was getting paid absolutely nothing. Not to mention I had rent due, and Sam was expecting his next paycheck soon. $1500 wasn’t going to cut it.

I huffed as I pushed the doors open and walked out into the dark and muggy London nightlife.

“Took ya long enough.” A voice called out.

“Excuse -” I began to yell but clamped my mouth shut when I turned and saw who spoke. It was you.

You were leaning against the street lamp post on the corner. You were wrapped up in an oversized black trench coat, and your hair fell perfectly at your shoulders.

“Excuse me?” I finished the phrase and started walking closer to you.

“Knocking him out in the fourth round, when you should have knocked him out at the beginning of the third. Your head is out of the game, Lightweight.” You stated matter-of-factly.

“Lightweight? Is that meant to be some kind of insult?” I mused.

You shrugged, “What do you think?”

What did I think?

Only that the universe really thought I deserved something good in my life right now, because I was standing less than a foot away from the girl that had been stuck in my mind since the day I first laid my eyes on you.

I cleared my throat, “Have we met before?” It was a trick question, one you shouldn’t know the answer to. I wasn’t even sure if I knew the answer. We’d never officially met, I’d just been seeing you in my mind over and over again.

“Not officially.” You shook your head. “I’m y/n, y/l/n and I already know who you are. The infamous Harry Styles ‘Best Boxer in London’.” You used finger quotes on the last half of my name.

“What’s with the finger quotes?” I mimicked your actions.

“The best boxer in London should have knocked ‘Jawbreaker’ out in the third round. Not gotten his ass handed to him before a weak knockout at the end of the fourth.” You explained.

My lips formed a thin line, as much as I hated to admit it (even to myself) you were right. Sam worked hard to make sure I was guaranteed a win, but I almost lost.

“How do you know so much about boxing, y/n?” I tried out your name for the first time. It felt good rolling off my tongue. It was a beautiful and eloquent name for a beautiful and graceful woman. Very fitting.

You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, “I’ve been in the ring here and there.”

You’d boxed.

“I’d love to see you in action sometime,” I smirked.

“I suppose something could be arranged.” You stepped out into the street and lifted your arm in the air. Hailing a taxi. When a small black taxi pulled off and stopped you opened the door. “If we meet again, Lightweight.”

The taxi door slammed after you climbed in. I had a pit in my stomach when I watched the taxi drive off into the night. My initial thoughts were that I’d never see you again, but I’d thought the same the first time I saw you. Then against all odds, I somehow spotted you in the crowd at my weakest moment in the match; and I bumped into you while you were waiting for a taxi. I had a feeling I would see you again when I least expected it.

I didn’t see you again. Not for a long time. The morning after my fight with Jawbreaker every headline read something along the lines of:

JawBreaker gets his Jaw Broken by Harry Styles the Best Boxer in London

Sam called me and was freaking out. Apparently, I broke Jones’ jaw during the knockout. The media went crazy, and I was blowing up on the internet. I took the next two weeks off to recover - doctor's orders.

When I finally was able to go back to the gym Sam had me doing press and interviews instead of training. He kept telling me I had to have a name in the media to have fights to train for. I understood what he meant, but I had become a local celebrity overnight. I couldn’t even go into a local coffee shop without someone asking for a photo or autograph.

I’d come up with the tough scary guy persona to avoid this. I didn’t want to interact with people. I absolutely loved my fans, but most of these people weren’t boxing fans. They saw my knockout on social media somewhere and thought it was cool. They were not real fans, they were the trend followers.

After a month of not being in the gym, I finally had to sit Sam down and tell him he had to start doing what I paid him to do. Train me. He agreed and got me in the gym the next morning.

I spent another few months doing the most intense training of my life. Not to mention I now had a fight every other week. These random guys kept showing up at York Hall telling Jeremy that they could beat me.

They were easy fights, and they kept the cash coming in. I hadn’t had this many zeros in my bank account since I went bankrupt in college. Only this time, there was no negative sign.

I was in the best shape of my life, and my head was finally getting back in the game. I did everything I could to keep myself busy. When I wasn’t busy, I would start to think and get in my own head. That’s how I got to my dark place only months before.

Today I was finishing up my last set of weights before ending my workout with a quick sparking session with one of the gym’s trainers.

Once I put all the weights away properly and wiped the sweat off my neck and hands I went upstairs to the ring. When I got up there I heard a sparring match in progress.

Two women were in the ring. I couldn’t see much of their faces. Only what they were wearing and their skill. The faster and more agile girl wore a black sports bra and matching black shorts. She was able to throw a lot of punches, but the ones she did land were weak.

I started watching her opponent. She wore a white sports bra and lavender shorts. She was stronger and preferred to throw perfect punches. She landed every punch she threw. Overall the two of them were good boxers. I was impressed with what I’d seen.

Sam was a few feet in front of me watching. I closed the distance between us and crossed my arms across my chest. “Who are they?” I asked.

“Hannah Lee, and y/n y/l/n. They’ve been practicing here once or twice a week for a month now. They said it was just a fun workout, but I think with some serious training they could really be something.” Sam explained as he watched the match.

y/n y/l/n. There was no way. I knew you mentioned you’d been in the ring before, but seeing this sparring match. This was different.

“Did you say y/n y/l/n?” I asked as nonchalantly as possible. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but the chances of someone with the exact same name as you sparring in the same gym as me were almost 50/50.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, you know her or something?”

“Not really. We met once, at the ‘Jawbreaker’ match. She called me Lightweight.” I smiled as the memory of you insulting me ran through my head.

“Sounds like y/n.” Sam chuckled.

Did he know you? Had you been right under my nose all these months and I’d been too self-centered to notice? Would you even want to talk to me? Was I worthy of you?

Make yourself worth it!

I reminded myself of my mantra.

Sam and I watched in silence as you and Hannah finished up your session. You ducked under the ropes, someone I didn’t recognize untied your gloves. Once your hands were free you grabbed a water bottle and downed it.

Sam walked up to you and started making a conversion, I stayed by the stairs. There was a pit in my stomach from just thinking about talking to you again. I wasn’t sure how it would go, I didn’t even know what I would say.

“Lightweight.” Your voice could bring me out of trance, but your voice calling me - even if it was that horrible nickname - was enough to end my life.

“Really? You coulda picked any name and you went with that one.” I quickly shook my head in disappointment while trying to keep my cool. I blinked a few times and refocused on reality.

You were standing in front of me, unwrapping your hands. This was the closest I’d been to you in decent lighting. Your eyes were still as electrifying as the last two times I’d stared into them. You had the kind of eyes that made people feel like you were peering into their souls.

Your eyes remained focused on the white tape you were unwrapping as you spoke, “Lightweight suits you,” you shrugged your shoulders.

“Long time no see. Looks like you finally got to see me in action.” You quoted my eager words to watch you in the ring months ago. “I figured I’d be running into you soon enough. This is where you train, no?”

“Yeah, it is.” I wasn’t sure what else to say, I was still stunned that you were here and even more so speechless that you were more than decent at boxing.

Words started tumbling out of my mouth before I could filter them. “When you said you’d been in the ring here and there I didn’t realize you really knew your way around the ring.”

You kept your head down but I could still see the small smile that grew on your face. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy being a hotshot media magnet you would get your ass back in the ring and train with the rookies.”

You’d noticed that I had been properly training in the last little while. Maybe you’d be able to convince Sam that I needed time working on combinations for matches, instead of working in front of cameras for the press.

I threw my hands up in the air dramatically, “You hear that Sam? I need to get back into the ring with the rookies!”

“Cut him some slack, you’re not his only client ya know.” You defended my coach.

“Wait, is- is Sam training you for a match?” I asked with a little too much enthusiasm.

You nodded, “I have a really small one this weekend, if you’re not too busy being ‘the Best Boxer in London’ you should swing by.” You used finger quotes for my title again. “It would be really motivating to have a ‘pro’ there.”

“What is it with you and your finger quotes when it comes to my skill?” I rolled my eyes.

You picked up a small duffle bag from the floor and walked past me towards the stairwell. “Buy me a smoothie and maybe I’ll tell you.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanficton #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #one direction #fanfiction #harry styles boxer #legitlaur #lightweight #harry styles x reader #boxer harry styles x boxer reader #harry styles x y/n

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manicr · 3 years

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X-Factor: Daken

Since I did a development analysis on Daken in X-Men Blue, it feels only reasonable to do one for X-Factor, especially considering the the latest issue (#8). I had thoughts that I articulated in the tags, but I think I should try to put them together and look at Daken as a character in the whole of X-Factor.

Firstly, Daken isn’t recruited into the team, he persistently volunteers despite the objections of the team. He is presented passed out on the bar floor, drinking to deal with his feelings. Word of God states he’s depressive again and Laura being in the Vault is a big factor in that. Daken later confesses that he’s been “playing nice”, implying what he did was trying to be good and finding it a role, rather than natural. His drive to join the team seems to be desperate to distract himself from his negative feelings, needing purpose and preoccupation.

However, very in-character, he excuses himself with flippant commentary, and the fact that he finds Aurora attractive:

He, as in XMB, makes himself useful to the team with his powers and instincts, despite them not being welcoming of his presence. He persists and tries to reach out to them, even if only a little, like he’s learned to do with his sisters and what we saw in XMB. He even calls them out on their bullshit against him, and tries to “be good”. The team still doesn’t trust him, and are bothered both by his flirtatiousness and his past villainy.

He actively pursues Aurora and gets himself thrown out of Mojo-verse, however his interest isn’t just romantic/sexual, but he wants to solve what happened to her when she died. He knows she’s not telling everything. He tries to be kind and reach out to her, not forcing her to say, but curious -- maybe having his own hypothesis on what happened. He knows something is off, and can’t let it go. Seems to care enough to want to help her.

Now were three issues in and Daken has been trying his best to help, reach out and fit into a team that is not very welcoming or accepting of him. Aurora is a fixed point of interest for him, and he tries especially with her. She seems flattered by the attention at this point.

Then the X of Swords event happens, essentially without Daken though he fights in the background, and we get our first major time-jump. That jump seems noticeable in text, as there seems to be a greater comfort and trust in the team as a whole, not just towards Daken.

At a party in the Boneyard, Daken talks with Polaris, trusting her enough to ask her if the kindness he sees is real It is, and it’s a bit of an alien concept to him still. He equates it with lack of intelligence “simple-mindedness” or faking it as an act to get ahead/mask whatevers beneath. Polaris mentions his childhood trauma.

Daken also takes some ribbing from Lorna regarding his past and glum attitude, but laughs it off, but we get some foreshadowing through it. Daken’s trauma regarding snow is tied together in XF, harking to a Dark Wolverine era trauma of him as a child being forced to ‘train’ in snow by Romulus. It’ll repeat itself in XF again.

We also get to see a little of what Daken does on his spare time, drawing with charcoal: having finally found some other outlet than fighting, fucking and drinking for his feelings.

He also reaffirms his interest in Aurora, as well as his familial affection for Polaris. He shows off growth in being able to have different types of affection, to have family that he cares for when back in his own series he refused social bonds like family (in ref. to the Fantastic 4) and saw them as based on fear, social obligation, and naivete.

Themes of being trapped, trauma and abuse are repeated in XF by different characters -- it applies to all of them in different ways. The letter “Why didn’t you just leave?” that speaks of this.

It echoes trauma that Daken needed to deal with himself under Romulus control -- even when he was physically away from him. His character arch has been to find himself, and not just flippantly in his eat-prey-killing comment, but also a way out of the trauma of abuse and making himself ‘smaller’ lesser to fit with the living weapon Romulus wanted. To find and dare to feel, to feel worthy, and not fear some punishment from his abuser. Of course, this applies to so many characters in X-F, both sub-textually and directly like with Siryn and Shatterstar.

One of the major relationship changes now in the book is Daken and Northstar’s relationship. Northstar confides and trusts in Daken as a team-mate from previously having refused it. Daken in turn takes his orders and seems to want that trust:

This culminates in Northstar rescuing Daken when he was trapped and beaten by the Morrigan. And according to Aurora, Northstar is behaving towards Daken as a person he doesn’t want to lose, by yelling for him and checking on him. He explicitly cares for Daken now, even with the protectiveness he still feels for Aurora. The dying in the snow theme repeats it self.

Then there is Daken and Auroras long conversation about his powers, her feelings and his feelings. He reveals the limits of his skills and she insists on understanding, which seems to make him feel better about it. She empathizes with the burden of his skills, seeing the drawbacks.

There’s a lot of subtext regarding his relationship with his own powers, he outwardly uses them shamelessly but at the same time this implies that it’s far more fumbling, uncertain and emotionally harrowing for him. And that he’s willing to see that and feel that rather than see it as his right to do whatever or refuse his powers utterly.

The Morrigan fight is overlayed with a speech about trauma, highlighting how it directly relates to Daken. He’s traumatized. He’s been abused. He’s been rewired to be dysfunctional, to hide his pain and the suffering. And it makes him feel worthless, unloved, and that no one cares, has never cared.

Later, Daken acknowledges how poorly he felt, how helpless, and how suicidal it made him feel. Even if he thinks its hypnosis rather than his own real feelings. His description fit in with depression and trauma-related issues, the feeling over never reaching shore, of drowning, and helplessness combined with the negative-self talk, that no one cares, loves him, or will be there for him since he’s worthless and a burden. But also how he looks to Aurora for comfort to deal with that.

Generally this issue irons out issues of consent, the genuineness of both their feelings as well as Daken being more like a real friend and family member to the team, but also about revealing his trauma. To show that he is not alright, despite his flippant flirty exterior. He struggles with his past, his trauma and his feelings about himself, and the belief that he deserves to be loved, cared for and to belong. This is repeated in issue #8 which hammers these themes home once more. Daken is not alright, but he wants to be.

This is growth from early Daken who didn’t even want to admit to himself that he was abused and molded by Romulus, and using rage and hurting others as a way of dealing with his own feelings, as well as using others and himself because it didn’t matter, he didn’t and no one else did either.

The in the snow theme is repeated and his fervent desire to be saved, from everything, himself as well as everything and everyone that might harm him. He seems to believe that being loved by Aurora will save him. Which is not the healthiest approach to dealing with trauma but a very common one, latching onto other people, because he doesn’t yet have the sense of self or self-worth to believe in it unless someone else does too. This for most people a necessary step towards growing and getting better.

He also is still stuck in the abuse-trauma-victim cycle and blaming himself for being harmed, seeing that he’s somehow not being good enough and that’s why he’s being hurt. “I’ll be good” are the words of someone who has been hurt over and over again by someone who made them believe they somehow deserved it. That they were ‘bad’ and needed to be punished.

...then he is faced with the fact that he truly does believe this about himself, that he’s not over it, that he’s not yet free or saved from the feelings that the trauma left behind.

But then... he dies, self-sacrificing to save his team mates and the information they carry, knowingly risking up to a week of his memory and experiences. He uses Aurora as a morality pet, to prompt himself into action, excessive such even.

He is resurrected without the memory of any of this to the point BEFORE Northstar came for him. He knows he lost that. He knows from reports that he lost things, even if not the extent of it, and now the hurt and pain from DAYS in the snow is fresh again, without any help from Aurora to process it nor knowing for certain that she loves him, without being proved that his team cares and came for him in the end. He might now the latter in paper, but that’s not the same emotionally speaking.

So, he’s angry. He knows he’s lost things, he’s been hurt and killed. But he doesn’t have the comfort of resolving these things with his team like he did, not with his habit of hiding his pain, and feeling like a burden. So he fights instead.

So, where have we ended up at the end of issue #8 of X-Factor?

Daken has been accepted by his team, because of all of HIS hard work, reaching out and kindness

Daken has opened up about his powers and his suffering (though lost half of it to the mind transfer time gap)

He has established a relationship with Aurora with clear consent, affection, but not yet full transparency of their mutual pasts (again some lost from his perspective)

He is starting to realize that he’s not yet ‘over’ his own trauma and that he’ll need to continue working on it (some lost)

Daken isn’t a perfect character nor perfectly written, he was abused and shaped by that abuse and trauma into something vicious, that he didn’t dare change from for a long time. Instead he tried to enjoy it, to revel in it, rather than face the pain and grow. He hurt and killed a lot of people, including himself, and it’s takes years of development for him to start to grow past that old self. Getting away from Romulus was only the first step.

He needed people to make him see how fucked up he was and to motivate him to be better, from Johnny back in Dark Avengers, then Laura and Gabby, and then trying on his own, attaching to Donna for a while, before teaming up with the X-Men and then X-Factor and Aurora as support for himself. It’s pretty clear that on his own, he can’t do it, he needs help, support, structure and purpose -- as do the majority of people. I’d also recommend therapy, but he’s not there yet.

One day he might stand on his own feet when it comes to feeling good about himself and managing his own life. But right now he’s in a place where he needs a strong support system, not just his family and lovers but also friends.

#daken #daken akihiro #marvel #long post

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thefossilwhale · 3 years

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i filled out this super cool button character profile by @extraordinarymage for sabrina! thank you for making this, it was a lot of fun to fill out <3 the bulk of it is under a cut and oh boy is it long !!!

Short, Quick Reference

Name: Sabrina Wiseman

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Love Interest: Kent

Main personality trait: Confidence

Secondary personality trait: Morbidity

Relationship with Nick: Full of love, haunted by unaddressed guilt and frustration. But mostly full of love.

Nickname for Nick: Saint Nick (used sparingly)

Resentful or accepting?: Slightly resentful

Main strategy (interpersonal, insightful, innovative?): Insightful

Ethical or expedient?: Expedient

GENERAL

Name: Sabrina Larkspur Wiseman

Nickname(s): Sab, used by anyone; Sabby, only Nick and Sally; and, of course, Button for Nick.

Birthday: I think I made her an October Libra for the purpose of a template I did months ago, but I’m not sure! No concrete birthday yet, I’m always very slow to nail down details like this.

Age: 20

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Hair color + style: Blonde. A little past shoulder length, sometimes wavy. Usually a middle part. For Aeon, tied back in a bun.

Eye color: Blue, entirely because of the section of Frank O’Hara’s “Meditations in an Emergency” that goes, “My eyes are vague blue, like the sky...”

Height: 5′5

Piercings: Multiple in each ear, but a couple have started to close.

Tattoos: None yet! Sab likes the idea of a tattoo but is worried about finding the perfect design, whether she’d end up hating it, that the pain might be greater than she expects and she’ll look like a baby in front of her tattoo artist. I’d like to think she eventually consults Sally and/or Glitch to come up with an idea that she falls in love with, but I haven’t come up with what that would be!

Clothing style: Mostly solid colors, not a lot of patterns. Nothing super bright, but a fairly varied mix of pastels, neutrals, dark colors, black. Partial to denim skirts and sweater tops. Ankle boots. Likes a good turtleneck. She’s bolder when it comes to formal wear, and especially loves suits. Big fan of silk and satin.

Since she has a pretty accurate face claim, I’ll link some gifsets I’ve rb’d for appearance ref if you are so inclined.

STATS

I’m always adjusting minor things and swapping scenes around, but these are from my most recent Sab run! Most scores hover somewhere around these values.

Personality:

Confidence: 53%

Humor: 5%

Morbidity: 22%

Resentful: 57% | Accepting: 43%

Strategy:

Interpersonal: 12%

Insightful: 50%

Innovative: 10%

Ethical: 43% | Expedient: 57%

KEY DECISIONS:

What is Nick’s nickname and why?: Saint Nick, used very rarely. It’s a joking reference to the time she thought Santa was an evil Ment out to ruin Christmas, and a point about Nick overdoing it with the cheer. “Saint Nick” is usually code for “I know you mean well, but please mind your own business.” Otherwise, she just calls him Nick.

What is their favorite type of cookie (and its name and why?): Salted caramel chocolate chip! No special name.

What was their initial reaction to Sally hugging them, as kids?: She just froze. That could just be me projecting adult Sabrina onto her childhood self; I don’t imagine that she was as uncomfortable around strangers or quite as cautious back then. But that’s what I’ll stick with.

How did they ace the ASE test?: The in-game option she takes is “My entire life has revolved around strategic avoidance,” but the one about being just plain smart also sounds like her. If Sab has the chance to thoroughly (over)prepare for something, she will do it. Her mind blindness also has her constantly (over)analyzing situations. So, hard work and relentless anxiety!

Did they manage to win their first assignment? How?: Yes, by having Sally block the door. I’ve headcanoned some slight differences in how it plays out, which I wrote about in-depth here. To summarize, Sab thinks of blocking the door as a desperate last resort, not a clever loophole, and she pushes back against Rosy’s praise because she wishes she could have done it the “real” way. Rosy goes from being impressed to being annoyed that she’s willfully missing the point.

What was the primary emotion Button felt during the Aeon bombing (love, gratitude, etc?): Guilt. She feels very guilty about how much Nick has given up for her in general, but I think that in the moment, it’s on a smaller scale. The fact that Nick was on the phone with her when it happened, coming to her rescue like always, becomes emblematic of their whole relationship for her, and she really fixates on that.

Who drove them home from the hospital from and why?: Glitch. Sab responds to her initial text with “Are you sure?”, and is relieved when Glitch takes that as “Yes, please.” She doesn’t relish the idea of being around someone more connected to her family or Nick at that point.

How do they feel about Nick riding around in their mind?: Worried, at first. Just because it’s so unknown and absolutely insane. After seeing Doctor Amari, she’s excited! Sab is thrilled to be a Pollard Five and intends to take full advantage of it. I am not looking forward to seeing how she reacts when that’s taken away from her.

Why did Button agree to do the undercover mission?: To prove she still deserves to be an MIV. Sabrina feels stupid and reckless for putting herself, Nick, and Aeon in this position, but she knows she’s smart, and she hasn’t worked this hard for nothing. She wants to prove what she could do with a normal Pollard Score and make herself too valuable to give up even when she’s back to Zero.

Told Glitch about your mind blindness?: Depends on the playthrough. I’m constantly going back and forth on whether Sab meets Glitch for coffee or wanders the city with Nick in her second chapter 5 slot (after trying to track down Kent). If she does meet Glitch, though, she absolutely tells her; with how touchy Sab is about privacy, she couldn’t stomach not warning Glitch that Nick could hear everything they said.

Figured out K’s secret?: Nope. She finds enough of the clues to be given the “I knew it!” option in-game, but she didn’t actually put it together. Sab is too angry and embarrassed by learning that Kent is an AMO to find any reason to interrogate it. “The random guy I met before school just happens to be a jerk” is a perfectly sound explanation to her.

Found Noh’s clues?: Not at the metro station. Sometimes she sees the Vengeance brooms in chapter 5 (again, depending on the playthrough), but that’s it.

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP:

Love Interest: Kent

Why them?: Sab feels an immediate kinship with Kent after learning about the NPO program. It’s kind of funny how quickly he moves from the least sympathetic position in her eyes (Ment who got past me and read my mind without my knowledge) to the most sympathetic (non-powered child of a prominent family aiming a league above where he “belongs”). A lot of new respect for his competence. Her fate is sealed when she realizes that his kindness at the hospital wasn’t him trying to make up for some wrongdoing, but just him being very sweet. (She had scoffed over “You needed help.” But now she’s like, “Oh. He meant that?! Fuck.”)

As they spend more time together, Sab realizes how weirdly similar they are in other ways, too. And she starts to feel safe/secure around him in a way that she’s extremely not used to. Growing up surrounded by Ments, Sab has a lot of issues about being too much, too difficult, needing to “be worthy” of love. So someone like Kent who is not a Ment, who has no “obligation” to care about her, and whose judgement she trusts implicitly? Being around him and being loved by him mean a lot, and I think will go a long way towards helping her reflect on her other relationships!

What are their first impressions of each other?: Okay, there are like 3 first impressions with Kent. First: he’s tall and handsome and secretly adorable, and they have similar career goals, so she’s drafting a five-month plan to woo him and get his number. Second: he’s a lying, self-obsessed loser who owes her many explanations. Third: oh no, the first impression was true! And he’s been continually, selflessly kind to her in spite of her overt hostility. Scratch the five-month plan, because the crush was only fun when it was entirely superficial; now she really, really likes him and that just sucks.

We know that Button makes a good impression on K by stopping for their dogs, but apart from that... I mean, the “we confused each other” from chapter 7 is very apt. Sab has lots of shifting personas, and Kent sees pretty much every one within 24 hours. The prevailing impression before everything gets cleared up is probably just that she cares a lot? About everything? Her stopping for the dogs, how seriously she takes the first assignment, the way she seems so deeply affected by something he said or did that morning. It’s a rare side of her to meet first because she usually pretends to be above everything.

What feature does your Button find most attractive in their RO (ex. appearance, personality, etc.)?: Probably his composure. And his... steadfastness? The way he seems unruffled by anything, his soothing presence. She really admires that about him and finds the calm contagious.

What do they do to spend time together?: Going on drives together! Kent driving while Sab plays songs she thinks he’ll like, talking or not talking. Cuddling on the couch while reading their own separate books. Museum dates. Walking the dogs together.

Do they argue? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? How do they make up?: I imagine that the first month or so of their relationship would be difficult, just because they’re both bad at expressing themselves and not used to relying on other people. Kent kind of negates a lot of Sab’s impulses to get defensive or hostile, so instead of arguments, I think there are more likely to be awkward periods where she’s just stewing in something without addressing it. Most of their fights would be, like, one of them becoming really distant for a concerning number of days until the other tries to awkwardly check in on them.

What does their future look like?: Uhh some random lore: I think eventually they do get married, despite neither of them caring that much about it. Sabrina would be excited to have something to plan, and she knows it would make the people around her happy. They have a long engagement; there’s never really an “official” proposal, just an acknowledgement that yeah, they’ll get married one day, and then eventually they get rings. The engagement is almost Sab’s favorite part, honestly. She likes planning and showing off her ring and calling Kent her fiancé, a lot of fanfare on her part for a wedding that ends up being very modest and chill.

OTHER RELATIONSHIPS (Feel free to go in depth!)

Relationship with Nick: When I first started developing Sab, I thought that with as difficult/prickly as she can be, her relationship with Nick would be worse than it is. Never bad, but certainly strained, with more jealousy/resentment on her side. However, she rejected this. She is resentful, but never towards Nick—she internalizes the negative parts of their relationship so they manifest as guilt instead. And that’s the problem, not resentment. Sab thinks he’s overprotective, but that doesn’t make her angry; it just makes her sad. She wishes things were different and he didn’t feel so responsible for her, but she also doesn’t know how she could manage without him taking on so many of her burdens. So, guilt! So much love, but always looming guilt.

Having Nick in her head has helped. It’s added a new kind of guilt (“I’m a horrible person for being so giddy that people can’t hear my thoughts even though that requires my brother to be in a coma”), but getting inside Nick’s head for once and really feeling his love for her changes things. Makes her feel way more secure, I guess? It’s easier to see her brother as human person, a friend who loves her, rather than a perfect selfless paragon who sacrificed everything to raise her, which is an important shift.

There are also Things happening with self-presentation in the fact that they’re both models, and flirts, and pretend to be shallow. And the ways that they’ve responded to vastly different expectations. And selflessness versus selfishness. But I have no idea how to talk about that yet.

Relationship with Father: Strained and distant. Sabrina doesn’t necessarily blame him for leaving, but she hates how he’s handled it. She’s incredibly frustrated that John insists on keeping them in this miserable limbo of uncomfortable visits, even though moving away was (to her) a tacit acknowledgement that she and her parents are better off without each other. He’s trying to force a relationship that Sab thinks is ultimately harmful for everyone involved. For Nick’s sake, she’s willing to grin and bear the visits, but it never works because John can obviously tell it’s an act. He pushes her, she gets defensive, and so on to infinity.

Relationship with Mother: Like with John, Sab doesn’t resent Hope for the incident itself, or for leaving afterward. It was terrifying, and the idea of being around Hope makes her panic—but she thinks of that as just another irrational anxiety symptom, and she’s trying to work through it. What she does resent Hope for is letting it get to that point at all. Sab is incredibly bitter that Hope will suffer silently to the point of almost killing her (during the incident) and potentially herself (with the BRS), while Sab has no choice but to be completely open. Especially because they’re so similar in that way—she’s almost jealous. “Oh, so your silence is allowed to almost kill me and it’s ‘nobody’s fault’ but I can’t pretend to enjoy a single lunch with Dad without him calling me out for lying?”

And even though she doesn’t hold the incident itself against her, Sab is very hung up on “Why are you never quiet? Why are you always there?” She knows, on some level, that this was not a Personal Judgement against her. But because Hope keeps so much quiet, this is the only honest expression of her mother’s feelings that she can remember! It would take a lot for Sab to believe that Hope was really, genuinely interested in reconnecting with her, rather than just pretending to love her "enough” this time because to do otherwise would reflect poorly on Hope as a mother.

Relationship with Sally: Besties <3 Sally is the only member of the Wiseman inner circle that Sab doesn’t have complicated feelings about. They both have hidden morbid streaks that they bring out in each other, and can laugh about. They both have competitive streaks that work well together because they’re always on the same team. And their wants/needs from the relationship complement each other well, I think. Sally has always felt valued because she’s useful and not because she’s loved, while Sab has always felt smothered by love/care without feeling like she genuinely adds value to other people’s lives. So it means a lot to both of them that they’re able to help each other practically, while also genuinely loving and supporting each other outside of that.

Relationship with Gray: Full of trust and genuine care, but predicated on distance. Sab loves him a lot for being so careful not to cross any boundaries, physical or emotional, with her. She’s grateful that he’s there for Nick in a way that she doesn’t feel she can be. But "I like Gray because he doesn’t push me and is good to Nick” means that any hand he extend makes her defensive, because she’ll either view him as an emissary of Nick or start to panic because their normal routine is being disrupted (she doesn’t tell him about Hope in ch 3, for example).

They get along very well in a friend-of-a-friend sort of way, and bond over being cautious counterparts to Nick. Also, Sab never had a crush on Gray, but she is not immune to tall superhero and thinks it’s fun to fake flirt with him. (You know Isabela’s “You have pretty eyes” routine from DA2? Sab does that to Gray when conversations steer towards things she’d rather not talk about.)

Relationship with Glitch: I’m really excited about these two! They click from the start, and Sabrina feels immediately comfortable around Glitch, which makes her feel distinctly uncomfortable whenever she catches herself. Externally, they have pretty different personalities, but they’re both perceptive and... socially manipulative? aware of their self-presentation?... in ways that they both pick up on right away. So it’s a lot of conversational maneuvering and trying to figure out what the other’s game is, while also genuinely enjoying each other’s company.

Relationship with Kent/Kenna: I could go truly insane here. See the romance section above instead.

Relationship with Kim: Sab wants him to like her sooooo bad. He’s one of the only people to ever really get through to her, re: my headcanon conversation after the first assignment. Authority figures tend to treat her as special, whether that’s negatively because of her mind blindness or positively because she’s such an overachiever. She had no idea how to respond to that not being the case (and didn’t handle it well at first), but chapter 6 solidifies her respect for him.

It also turns Rosy’s opinion of Sab around; he was impressed by her in class but left his office thinking she was self-absorbed and naive. But the bombing is a reality check, and her response is very measured and practical in a way that surprises him.

Relationship with Lev: She doesn’t mind the comparisons to Nick or the “maybe one day they’ll fix you” comments as much as you might think. They aren’t her favorite, but she prefers that sort of thing to the inspirational platitudes belied by coddling that she got from her family growing up. Sab has fond memories of Lev and is grateful that he’s always been kind to her, but doesn’t have any particular feelings apart from that.

Relationship with Clarence: Holds a grudge against him for causing a scene, making her late, and generally being a jerk. But she can’t fault him for being right, after what happened! Mostly she just wants to avoid him, but she’ll be thrilled to lord her success over him if/when she proves herself.

Relationship with Dean Branham: Like Rosy, another authority figure that Sab desperately wants to impress. But without the personal investment she has in Rosy’s validation, more “Oh, this person is in charge, so I should make her like me!” Despite Nick’s and Rosy’s reservations, Sabrina doesn’t really have a problem with being “strongarmed” or manipulated into cooperating; for now, she figures Branham was just doing her job and respects her tactics.

Relationship/attitude towards Ments in general: Mostly just uncomfortable and wary around them. Sab doesn’t want her mind read, and she figures that no Ment wants to be forced to read it either. So she has a pretty strict “no Ments” rule for close personal relationships (excluding Nick, Sally, and Gray, of course. But only Nick really counts because he’s the only one who can hear her thoughts whenever she’s nearby). Not out of hatred or resentment, just because she knows it will be easier for everyone in the long run.

Do they have any other important relationships, past or present? (Relatives, friends, etc.?): Not many, but yes! Sab dated around a lot in the 2 years before Aeon (more like year and a half, because she completely shut it down once she was more focused on preparing for the MIV program), but there are 2 relationships that were formative/important for her. A high school sweetheart, and someone Sab met through modeling. She doesn’t keep up with her high school ex, but the model is her best friend outside of Sally and Nick, and they still keep in touch! I’m still developing them/the relationships, and I’ll probably post more about them someday. They’re fun!

PERSONAL BIO

Describe their personality: Confusing and contradictory. She has two main modes that confuse people who meet both (e.g., Kent). She’s either cold, stuck-up, and sometimes hostile, OR she’s charming, frivolous, and sometimes flirty. Mode 1 is tense but stoic and inexpressive; mode 2 is seemingly relaxed but very posed and insincere. Mode 1 is for when she feels uncertain or has no agenda apart from “get to point B”; mode 2 is for when she’s more comfortable or trying to manipulate someone. Her actual personality is a bit closer to the second, but she doesn’t pretend not take things seriously or hide when she’s annoyed.

Strengths: Analytical, methodical, detail-oriented. Very driven and hardworking. May not always act like it, but does have social skills/charisma; a great liar, if you can’t read her mind. Unfailingly loyal and loving to her favorite people, so so so warm and affectionate and supportive if she really loves you. Very perceptive.

Weaknesses: Way too proud. Can be petty and vindictive. Self-absorbed (she doesn’t mean anything by it, but it’s hard for her to see past herself sometimes). Stubborn, hates being wrong. And... emotional isn’t the word, but strong negative emotions can really cloud her judgement. It ties into her being proud, petty, and stubborn; if she’s really upset about something, she can cling to that emotion instead of re-evaluating it or moving forward.

Phobias: From this ask about the phobias that are planned to show up in-game, there are a few that I could see fitting Sab, but I want to wait to see how they’re implemented before I fully commit. Which is very metagame-y, I know (and I am very metagame-y about IF), but “fear of X” is so broad that it really does depend on when/how it manifests in the text.

That being said, agoraphobia is almost a lock; crowds do make Sab very anxious if she can’t keep track of everyone within a certain distance, and if she can’t leave when she starts feeling antsy. Claustrophobia is a maybe. The choice that triggers it (in chapter 4, about hating MRI machines) suits Sab, but I’m not sure if she hates MRI machines because she hates tight spaces, or if it’s more related to her general anxiety about hospitals, medical tests, etc. Which she definitely has!

What activities/club did they do in school?: She avoided anything group-oriented as far as possible. She took piano (maybe violin?) lessons and did recitals, but wasn’t in orchestra. The one exception was maybe National Honor Society or some equivalent, which she would have joined for her resume’s sake. And I think she would have tutored!

Where do they escape to when they need space?: A little used library corner, where she can people watch without being seen/heard.

How do they feel about/cope with their mind blindness?: Sab hates it but tries not to dwell on it. She knows that it’s no one’s fault, and she mainly just tries to... minimize it? Drown out her thoughts, limit her contact with Ments. And, least healthily, very rigidly managing herself. Because there’s so much of her that exists outside of herself, without her control, she tries to either filter or completely suppress everything else. Part of why she got into modeling, she can perform and be perfect and have total control over the final product of her body in the photographs for whatever campaign. Some Day This Will Be Better. But definitely not where she is in current canon.

How has your Button changed since the Incident with Hope?: Developed many new anxieties and disorders and syndromes :) She also became way more self-conscious, as in literally conscious of and way more tightly monitoring herself, what she’s thinking, what she’s expressing, how she’s sitting, etc. Less emotive face, more rigid posture.

If they weren’t an Aeon student, what would they be doing?: Sab would have beaten herself up forever if she “proved everyone right” by avoiding Unity/Ments entirely, so she’d want to stay in the family business somehow. She probably would have ended up doing scientific research on mental agility. Maybe even working for Mirrortech or some other biotech company, which I imagine would have been an interesting conversation to have with the family.

RANDOM FACTS:

Zodiac sign: Like I said, I assigned her Libra months ago for the sake of a template. But I don’t know enough about astrology to commit. Libra or Leo, probably.

Hobbies: Music, reading poetry, “cooking” (i.e., sitting on the counter and not helping while Nick makes dinner)

Likes: Watching other people (Nick) play video games, dressing up, taking long showers/baths, dark chocolate with caramel, back hugs

Dislikes: Being patronized, hot weather, going to the doctor, driving, doing anything she is not good at

Type of bedsheets: Bamboo.

Drink of choice: Cucumber mint lemonade! For hot drinks, some kind of caramel coffee. For alcohol, she refuses to get drunk because she’s terrified of having even less control of her mental broadcast, but at home/around people she trusts she’ll have a glass or two of wine. Doesn’t know enough to be picky, but doesn’t like it too sweet.

Favorite food: Probably some pasta dish Nick makes with asparagus and tomatoes and a lot of garlic.

Favorite color: Like a light turquoise!

Favorite music: Music to her was another mind-shielding tactic before anything else, so she tends to like upbeat-ish electronic/pop stuff. Catchy and repetitive, and/or with lots of personality to drown out her own thoughts. On the other end of the spectrum, she does have a soft spot for crackly, lo-fi, old or old-sounding slow songs—something about fuzzy recordings simulating a weak telepathic signal.

Favorite season: Hmm, spring and autumn are both good. She likes either side of winter.

Anything else you’d like to share: My heart and a long, fulfilling marriage, with anyone who reads all this 💍

#wow this is so long. insanity luv lit ral insanity #this was super helpful for articulating certain things about sab's character so it's already done its job #pls do not feel pressured to read Thousands of words about sabrina my beloved. but if you read all or even some of this <333 a kiss for you #why am i embarrassed to overshare about my own ocs on my own blog. i live here #oc: sabrina wiseman #also this was very much a stream of consciousness deal but i tried to go back and make it comprehensible. good luck all ye who enter here

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gravelyhumerus · 4 years

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Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter 5

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Summary:

Emily surprises JJ at her soccer game.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr: Tumblr: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

Emily walked out of her Philosophy class, waving goodbye to Spencer Reid, who had back-to-back classes that afternoon. He walked away, dodging the crowds of students milling about on his way to his Physics class.

Things had calmed down in the weeks after midterm season, giving Emily a bit more free time to relax into a rhythm during her second year at college.

In her bag was a small bag of cookies that she had baked last night, wrapped up in carefully and tucked away. She was making her way through the quad, setting her sights on the soccer field. Emily checked her phone for the time: it was 2:25 PM and JJ’s soccer game should be almost done. She knew she was going to miss most of the game, but if she hurried she would catch the tail end.

That morning, Emily had looked up the games time on the varsity sports website, and triple checked that she’d be able to make it.

Dodging an enthusiastic skateboarder who was using the ramp down to the field as his own personal skate park, Emily hurried towards the bleachers, climbing onto the second row near the away team’s goal.

Emily squinted towards the field, setting down onto the ice cold metal bleacher seat and regretting her choice of a plaid skirt and fishnet stockings. A familiar blonde ponytail caught her eye and her heart jumped at the sight of her tackling another girl, freeing the ball and turning Emily’s way, barrelling down the field.

She had the ball! JJ pulled ahead, dodging the advances of the other team before kicking it to her teammate, who confidently circled around past the defence.

Emily’s heart was in her throat. She had never particularly cared about sports, but with her time in Italy, football (or soccer as she reminded herself to refer to it as) was something Emily could confidently say she understood enough to have a conversation about. She thanked her lucky stars that the first jock Emily had a crush on played a sport she at least knew the rules of.

JJ ran into centre field, and her teammate passed the ball to her, JJ kicked it right into the net, sneaking right past the goalie’s outstretched fingertips.

Goal!

The crowd cheered, Emily joined in and clapped as JJ’s teammates swarmed her, jumping and hugging her in a mess of celebratory bodies.

Emily looked around, while the crowd was spotty, there was still a fairly good turn out. Most of them seemed to be family members, though there were certainly groups of students, wearing their school colours and the logo emblazoned across their chests.

Emily peered at the scoreboard, it was 4–2, as JJ just scored a tie breaking goal with ten minutes left in the second half. They reset, and JJ switched out with another, taller girl who high fived her as she walked onto the pitch.

JJ sat on the bench with elbows on her knees and her feet planted firmly on the ground in her running shoes. She gulped some water as her eyes remained fixed on the action as the ref blew the whistle, and the game continued.

Without JJ to watch, Emily’s eyes roamed across the field, taking in the action without that much interest. She hoped that their team won, obviously, because that would make JJ happy, but she had no personal investment into their college’s athletic standing.

Emily knew that while her class had cut into most of the game, she would be able to linger around and hopefully walk back to residence with JJ. She had cookies to give her.

Now, the cookies were just an excuse to hang out with her. Or a bribe. Probably a bribe. Well, JJ had said, back when they studied together almost two weeks ago, that she wanted more cookies. As she had enough free time to walk to the nearby grocery store to pick up the dough, Emily was furiously trying to bake the best cookies she’d ever made. She had briefly considered making them from scratch, but the pressure of it all made her choose the prepackaged dough.

Emily actually didn’t spend more time eating the dough than baking, this time, because she wanted them to be perfect for JJ.

She had been tempted to invite her to bake with her, but despite JJ’s initial request for Emily to tutor her, JJ had not really followed up. In fact, Emily hadn’t seen much of the girl at all. The anxious part of her brain told her that JJ was avoiding her, but Emily, for the life of her, could not figure out why. Every time that she ran into JJ, the blonde seemed anxious to leave.

The clock counted down, five, four, three, two, one. The buzzer sounded. The other team hadn’t managed to score another goal, so their team had won!

The crowd cheered in delight at the victory. JJ and her team jumped together, piling on top of one another in a group hug.

While the other audience members packed up their bags and blankets, chatting as they filed out of the bleachers, Emily remained, waiting for JJ.

She watched as JJ removed her cleats, shin pads and long socks, swapping them instead for a pair of boots. She zipped up her windbreaker on top of her shirt and followed her teammates as they grabbed their bags and made their move to go home.

It was now or never.

“JJ, hi!” Emily called out, waving at her from the side of the bleachers.

JJ caught her eye, then said something to her teammates, who waited for her on the edge of the field.

“Great game!” Emily said, “at least what I saw of it.”

“Emily!” JJ said, smiling at her.

“I, uh-” Emily rifled through her bag. “The cookies you liked. I made some last night and thought that you may want some.”

JJ’s eyes widened as she took them.

“Thank you, Emily,” she stated, smiling quickly. “That’s very nice of you, I hope you didn’t go out of your way for me.”

“Oh it was no problem,” Emily said, trying to keep her voice calm, “Derek practically begs me to and well, you know, it’s nice to do something relaxing during midterms.”

JJ nodded, then turned to look at her teammates, who were beckoning for her.

“I haven’t seen you in awhile,” Emily said, “Did you need any more help with your French?”

Something strange passed across JJ’s face, first she looked happy, excited, but then nervous she looked away from Emily.

JJ hadn’t texted her. Emily had given her number to her last Wednesday, and had received radio silence ever since.

“Uh, maybe. I’ll text you if I need any help,” JJ said, “I’m actually having a bit of trouble writing a presentation.”

A spark of hope ignited in Emily’s chest. Just as she was going to reply, she heard someone approaching them from the bleachers, clamouring down the steps from behind.

“JJ!” Penelope Penelope exclaimed, “And Emily! I didn’t know you were here! You could have sat with me!”

She was dressed in a long purple peacoat and had her bright blonde hair tied up in space buns. She had a small blanket folded up in her arms that she was likely using to sit on the cold bleachers.

“I didn’t see you,” Emily says honestly.

“Hey Pen,” JJ said, turning to her roommate, “No Spence today?”

“He has physics,” Penelope and Emily responded in unison, before laughing.

“We just had Philosophy together,” Emily explained. “He had to run to his next class.”

“Wait that reminds me,” Penelope exclaims, “Emily you must come with us to trivia tonight! We need six people for our team and I don’t wanna get stuck with some randos like last time.”

Emily looked over at JJ quickly to gauge her reaction. Trivia sounded really fun, and the excuse for spending time with JJ sounded even better.

“You could bring your friend Derek,” JJ replied, not balking at the idea of Emily’s presence. “Spence hasn’t stopped talking about him since the party.”

Emily felt herself breathe an internal sigh of relief. JJ wasn’t avoiding her after all. And maybe even wanted to spend time with her.

“Oh he really is a beautiful sight, that Derek Morgan,” Penelope just about purrs in response.

Emily can not help but laugh.

“That makes, what, five?” Penelope counted on her fingers, “Jennifer, do we have another friend?”

JJ frowned, shook her head, which made Penelope laugh.

Emily thought for a second, thinking about who in her circle would enjoy trivia. Aaron. Of course.

“I think I could talk someone into it,” she said.

“It’s a date!” Penelope exclaimed. “Now off to the locker room with you Jennifer! You stink!”

She gently pushed JJ towards her teammates and JJ laughed before waving goodbye and heading towards the gym. Penelope looped her arm through Emily’s and had already begun to explain the details of the trivia night.

From what Emily gathered, it was at the bar right off campus, and luckily for them, allows underage students in on Monday nights to play trivia, and the bartenders didn’t really check IDs at the bar so they could usually get served if they didn’t get too wild. There were prizes and Penelope was convinced that with Reid, they had a good shot at winning, depending on the topics of course.

Emily and Penelope walked back to their building, finally exchanging numbers and the promise to meet in the hall no later than seven that night.

As soon as Emily was in her room she found herself grinning. She did a small dance in her room in excitement for the evening before pulling out her phone to tell Derek and Aaron that they had plans for the evening.

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floralkittygambler · 3 years

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RadioDust is the Healthiest Toxic Ship for Angel so far

@honesthazbinarchives Briefly. I’d like to go into this more in the future BUT these are the main points I said I’d do. Heh ‘stay tuned’ for why HuskerDust is toxic [haaaa funny fuckin reference n shit like Viv herself aint overdone it]. Yer dont even wanna know the lack of enthusiasm in tryna do a playful ‘cringetopia’ joke - wasnt as fun as anticipated. Anyfuckinways, the shit. Before we begin, disclaimers n whatnot, no hate intended, dni if you’re a bit of a knobhead [either stan or extreme anti], an all that nonsense. I dont own the characters no shit. In this I’ll discuss how RadioDust aka SpiDEER (thats right, yer stuck w my shit humour now) is both the healthiest ship for Angel we’ve seen so far but still rather toxic. Idc if you hate me for it but dont fuckin waste yer time telling me. Great. I dont care. Yer fuckin hard n whatnot for harassin strangers online. Big dick energy to you. This will be slightly messy, my apologies, it’s a quick summary of many points.

Alright. Firstly, out of the entire male cast Angel interacts with over all platforms, Al is given a fair bit of mercy in terms of sexual advances. In fact, a swift ‘no’ and Angel doesn’t do it again - unlike most of the other cast [pent’s is covert, husks is overt]. One thing I like is that Angel himself admits to their chemistry (claiming that whilst he thinks Al’s a prick, he thinks Al dislikes him which saddens him as he’d at least like to be friends as he feels they have good chemistry - according to the VA via Hunicast’s 1yr anniversary), there’s no further efforts to jump on his dick but a clear curiosity/interest in what Al can do. Lets go to the basics, both are of similar age [allegedly in their 30s, though Ive heard Al may be up to mid 40s] as well as created near the same-ISH time (as in, Viv’s oldest characters, at least for HH). Likewise, Viv admitted to knowing fuck all on either of their eras (and to make that public wasn’t really a wise choice BUUUT if you felt the need, it’s better worded with interest “Right now I’m working towards educating myself more on their time periods to improve their portrayals” <-- crucial if yer want that ‘realism’). Because of their real-world ages, Viv confesses they’re her favourites (even if you didnt know, she makes it pretty clear). It could be a nice ‘homage’ to their impact in her life but not too relevant otherwise. It could fulfil the need for self indulgence that she’s unhealthily leaking into the canon - which will ultimately make the series shit. No sugarcoating there. As for their ages, a relationship can work whether the gap is large or small HOWEVER there are many ethics and conflicts to each. And being an adult into kids is always fucked up. With that being said, studies have shown that closer ages often work better due to the often similarities in mindset, maturity and life goals (older folks are more likely to want to settle, younger often have more ambitions), likewise there tends to be an unbalanced power-dynamic if the ages are too far, which can lead to various types of abuse. Dont get me wrong, being with someone much older (AS LONG AS NONE OF YALL ARE KIDS) very much CAN work - but rarely. There’s much more hardwork needed as well as being in the right mindset for both, otherwise it’s bad. More on that in HD. Long story short, both are closer in age meaning both are more ‘relatable’ to one another. There’s common grounds, even in the eras there’s some higher understanding of one another. Notice how Vaggie and Charlie are similar in age? (Even though Charlie is far older, her appearance and mentality for her race is on par with Vaggie’s, making it far more likely to work out positively) One of the most prominent out of all of this however is their actual interests. So listing; Both like action/chaos/having fun (often at the expense of others), both love cooking and can be food snobs in their own right, both have sadistic AND masochistic tendencies, Al likes performance and theatre whilst Angel loves *to* perform, on that last point Angel was very intrigued and enjoyed Al’s song number/performance naturally, both really enjoy pranks and both enjoy liquor (neither show an actual addiction, but rather an interest in social drinking - no dependencies on it). Again, close eras mean both have a higher probability of understanding the other and their lifestyles better. Both are high on appearance and love themselves, implying self confident mindset (healthy BUT the narcissism isnt) yet enough consideration for how they are viewed. On the parent system, one adores his mama whilst the other hates his pops. Now Ive gone on about how they’re similar. But similarities ALONE is not enough. If it was, then fandom’s would be a lil more harmonious~ A HEALTHY relationship needs compatibility, POSITIVE conversation flow, common grounds, trust, openness and understanding. Even then, some people click and some just dont. It’s like how you can just hate someone for no reason. It just IS. Common grounds and similarity is scientifically proven to be attractive to someone - be it good or BAD. People are drawn to those like their parents in some way usually, likewise we look for people similar to ourselves (from our interests, to humour, beliefs, goals, etc). Science itself states that ‘opposites attract’ solemnly applies in the real world successfully. Though similiarity plays a large role, there has to be some differences too - that person is STILL an individual separate to yourself. Too similar and it’s boring. Too similar and you’ll do everything together without some ‘you’ time. Both Vaggie and Charlie have similar interests/hobbies in dance and music, yet still have enough differences to be identifiable when together. Vaggie is more grounded than Charlie. Charlie gives some optimism and fun to Vaggie. Remember, a partner does NOT complete you - that’s a toxic mindset when taken too seriously, You complete YOURSELF. Whether you have someone or not, you must feel complete in yourself as to not slip into toxic dependency on a lover - to become them, a shadow of them or feel like you’ve lost your identity without them. Sounds harsh but it’s true. Chaggie compliments each other without a dependency. You stand alone yet uplift one another. You don’t always agree but in the end you always have each other’s backs. Love is often butchered in a toxic light in the media. So taking that into consideration, how does spideer work? Well, here’s some examples of good, bad and neutral: - Angel loves animals, Al fears/dislikes dogs. Perhaps Angel could assist him in overcoming this? - Al hates being touched, Angel dislikes being squeezed. Maybe this could help them reach an understanding... Or cause a rift? - Angel was the only one to break Al’s composure, either Angel is the *key* to delving further into Al’s more raw self... Or just another obVOXious pest? (yeah, I said it-) - Neither respect other’s boundaries, meaning both may fuel the other to be overly disrespectful in this area. Not good. - Angel is a sarky/sarcastic fuck, Al loves dry humour. Both seek amusement and chaos. In relationships one needs to see how conversation flows and in the hunicasts, both keep up some good as well as toxic banter. Both could roast the fuck out of an opponent however. - Al is acro/ace, Angel is hypersexual (appears like a sex addict - now I say this as his book has a crossed out ‘fun stuff’ with ‘work shit’ written on it. He’s always fixed on sex from his job to his humour), this could either aid Angel ease up on the sex stuff OR make him overly push it onto Al causing major rifts and discomfort (aces can have sex, ref to ace posts that real asexuals put to understand more but no one wants to be forced into sex is the point here). And we’ve already discussed their lack of respect for boundaries. The positive is that maybe this will make Angel understand how Val is rubbing off on his own behaviour towards men [again, more on that in the HD post]. - Both similar yet different in a way that does suit their compatibility chances but that doesnt mean they will click, it just improves the odds. - Both have similar enemies in Val and Vox, they’re on common terms. Likewise, Al is against the ‘sexual deviance’ of hell meaning he may be oddly supportive and protective of Angel in terms of Val. I dont even think his sadism will override this either. - Al dislikes modern tech, Angel seems to use it as his job requires it. A nice little menial difference. - Only ONE is an addict. Take it from an expert, you NEVER put two addicts together. They’re very vulnerable and prone to slipping deeper into their addictions as well as depending on each other too much that they essentially become very clingy, suffocating and toxic to each other. Seen it in action, it’s ugly. - Both could have a lot of fun and calm moments with each other. - He isn’t immediately smitten with Al but immediately shows a natural interest in Al’s powers and performance, embracing it openly. Leads for a good friendship turned lovers plot. - In Viv’s patreon, she confirmed Angel loves confident guys [sounds exactly like Al] We need to think about where both are mentally. What benefits would a relationship give both? How would they be good and bad for each other? For Al, aside from his outdated views and being a fucking murderer and narcissist, he actually seems in a good mindspace for a relationship IF he opted to be in one. Angel however has a very immature mindset, likewise is in a phase of life where hes bed hopping. IF he were to be in a relationship, I’d say he needs a male equivalent of Cherri - someone with a similar mindset yet some differences, willing to have fun and in touch with their younger side, down to cuddle, open to share and receive love as well as not afraid to publicly be affectionate with him, someone who sees him as more than just for sex, someone fun, someone who’ll let him embrace his cutesy side publicly without shame - Cherri is younger so maybe someone who’s his age or slightly younger perhaps? I think Angel’s not retirement home ready to settle and needs someone on his level that can cuddle and chill as well as feels free and youthful enough to go wild with him. In one sense, he’s got a teen girl sorta mindset (dont put him with a teen though, it’s fuckin weird-). He needs someone positive and raw, someone to let him be himself as well as someone comfortable to be themselves around him. He has a habit of latching onto unobtainable men (in psychology, this is self sabotaging subconsciously): Travis the client, Val a pimp, Husk (emotionally unavailable and needs HEAVY self work - interestingly far more than Angel - plus he’s still onto his last relationship and an addict to gambling and alcohol), Pent who’s the enemy he was currently fighting (inappropriate timing), Alastor who’s not interested in another but his own needs [selfish, VERY bad for a relationship]. Subconsciously he’s self sabotaging on purpose. There’s many psychology books as well as sources online for this, if you’re interested. Either way, Angel is drawn to men either like his father [who dislike him, shun him, or are otherwise cold, abusive or just blatantly dislike or otherwise dont care about him] or anyone with money to fuel his drug addiction/’debt’ to Val. Going with any of these men isn’t a good idea. Preferably, Angel needs someone who he doesnt immediately crush and obsess over. Someone who he doesnt sexually harass or assault. Someone he can build a connection with quickly that can bud into romance (think how Chaggie started as a friendship which clicked immediately). Maybe even someone he doesn’t expect to fall for but does so anyways. It would be more realistic as Viv wants as well as more healthy. That for once he isnt sex or money craved instantly, thus doesnt sexually harass/assault and is given a proper chance to develop and grow a friendship and love. Someone who isnt an addict. Someone with an on-par mindset where they click. Someone open to love. For any chance of a good relationship, Angel needs to be with anyone BUT who we’ve already seen. There’s too much toxicity that’ll be swept under the rug and justified otherwise. Too much shit to fuel homophobes in terms of gay stereotypes. Even though Ive focused a fair bit on Angel, it’s NOT just about Angel. That’s something fans forget. Some he depends on or someone who depends on him in the long term wont last and will be very dangerous to both. Just because you suffer, you dont then deserve to be rewarded with ‘something nice’. You dont get to have everything youve ever wanted. Giving him any of these blokes [minus Val] gives him a pass. Gives him what he wants. I get Viv loves him but life doesnt work that way. True lasting growth comes from learning that. Acceptance and growth. You dont get everything you want and sometimes thats a GOOD thing. He’s not a spoilt kid who gets everything he asks for, he’s YOUR creation. If you really wanted what your creations deserve then you need to research and be realistic with it. Because hes starting to feel like a shitty Gary-Stu at this rate. I live with an ‘Angel Dust’ like person. It used to feel like life gave her everything and most times it did. Everyone loved her and she could get away with murder if she wanted to. But now she’s had to struggle and grow, let go of some ‘wants’ because they werent good for her and she’s becoming better for it. She has a long way but she’s more humble for it now [still got self confidence but it’s less narcissism now, which is more healthy for her]. Also, they make the word anal lol

#stans and antis dni #pros and cons to radiodust #spideer #anti hazbin #viv needs to actually research #vivs been in toxic relationships so she should know better and how these come across #wait until anti huskerdust #ill really be fuckin loathed then #anyways #enjoy?

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debbiechanclub · 4 years

Text

Best Two Out of Three, Part 2

Best Two Out of Three

Synopsis: Callie is in The Elite. Alex is in Best Friends. Callie is dating Adam. Adam is best friends with Alex. Callie hates Alex. And Alex is just trying to figure her shit out, already.

Part: 2/26

Parings: Kenny Omega x OFC and Adam Page x OFC

Warnings: Language, angst

Word Count: 1.7k

Find Part 1 here.

“You know Alex is pissed at you, right?”

Callie overheard Adam ask Kenny the question just as she stepped inside The Elite’s locker room at Daily’s Place. She bristled. For the last few weeks, it seemed like every other second Adam was talking about Alex. But rather than round the corner and announce her presence, Callie quietly waited and listened.

“I know, man, but what can I do?” Kenny returned. “Alex has lost a couple matches recently; Penelope hasn’t.”

“Come on, her last loss was bullshit,” Adam returned. “The ref did a fast count and you know it.”

Callie had heard enough. “You’re not still defending her, are you?” she shot as she rounded the corner.

Adam let out a sigh. “She’s my friend, Callie. And I think she was cheated out of the match with Kris tomorrow.”

Callie rolled her eyes as she walked over to her bag. Adam never hesitated to remind her that Alex was his friend. They’d known each other since they were teenagers; they’d started in the business together; blah, blah, blah. Furthermore, he swore that friends was all they were. But whenever Callie saw them together, she couldn’t help but feel like Alex wanted something more than friendship.

“Look, I can’t do anything about it,” Kenny said. “Alex’s last match is in the books as a loss, and Penelope overtook her in the rankings. So Penelope gets the match.”

“Dude, you’re an EVP. You can at least make it a triple-threat,” Adam pressed.

“You should be focusing on the Stampede match instead of worrying about Alex,” Callie interjected. Right on cue, a cameraman knocked on the door to tell The Elite they were ready for them.

Kenny let out a sigh. “Let’s go,” he said, and he stood and walked out of the locker room. Adam looked over at Callie. She pursed her lips and followed Kenny out without a word.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie was exhausted. They’d been up all night filming the Stadium Stampede match, and now she was back at Daily’s Place for the pay-per-view proper. Adam had told her several times to go back to the hotel and get some sleep, but she’d been too stubborn to listen. If she was going to make it through Double or Nothing, she’d definitely need caffeine.

She headed to catering and made a beeline for the coffee. She fixed herself a cup; but as she stepped away from the cart, someone knocked right into her. Scalding hot coffee spilled out onto her bare arm and she let out a curse as she dropped the Styrofoam cup to the floor.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”

She bit down on her jaw when she heard that familiar voice. Alex.

“Did it get on your clothes?” Alex hurried to grab a fistful of napkins and mop up the mess. She held out a napkin for Callie. She snatched it from her.

“No, but I’m pretty sure it burned me.”

Alex’s face fell. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “I wasn’t paying attention. I was up late last night, which made me late to get here today, and—”

“Just watch where you’re going,” Callie cut her off. She didn’t have the patience to listen to her apology; she’d been up late, too.

Alex’s brow furrowed at her rudeness, but she let it go. “I’m surprised you’re here today. Adam told me you guys were up all night filming.”

Callie paused. When had Adam told her that? “Yeah, they didn’t finish until five-thirty in the morning. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go watch the show from the comfort of my locker room with my boyfriend.”

She said the last word on purpose as she left, making it crystal clear that Adam was hers. But if Alex was fazed by it, she didn’t let on. “Okay, then. Sorry again!” she called after her.

Callie rolled her eyes as she marched out of catering and back down the hallway, suddenly wide awake with anger. She’d barely set foot inside The Elite’s locker room when she proclaimed, “Alex just spilled burning hot fucking coffee on me.”

“What?” Adam and Kenny simultaneously asked. “What happened?” Kenny added.

“I was in catering getting coffee and she knocked into me and spilled it all over my arm.” She held out her arm as proof. “See? It’s red already!”

“It was an accident,” Adam gently returned as he inspected the burn. “The way you burst in here made it sound like she dumped it on you, or something.”

“Well, she might as well have,” she shot.

Adam bit down on his jaw. “Come on, let’s go run it under water.” He led her into the bathroom, everyone’s eyes following as they went. They stopped in front of the sink and he turned on the tap, testing the water and adjusting the temperature. And then he said, “You’ve gotta stop with all the Alex shit, Callie.”

Her eyes widened. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I have to stop?” she gaped. “That’s rich.”

He sent her a look as he put her arm under the water. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think, Adam? Lately you’ve been acting like your friendship with her is more important than our relationship.”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, that’s not true.”

“Well that’s how I feel!”

He bit down on his jaw again. “And I feel like I can’t even look at Alex without having to reassure you that nothing’s going on between us.”

They held each other’s gaze; and then she abruptly pulled her arm away from him. “I’m going to the trainer,” she said. “This needs burn cream, or something.” And just like that she left.

* * * * * * * * * *

Later that night, Callie sat in The Elite’s locker room with Matt and Nick watching The Buy In pre-show match between Best Friends and Private Party. Adam and Kenny weren’t with them; they were watching the match at Gorilla. The winners would face them for the AEW World Tag Team Championship at Fyter Fest, and so they had a particular interest in it. But while Matt and Nick were engrossed with the action inside the ring, Callie couldn’t take her eyes off Alex. And the longer she watched, the more upset she became.

If there was anything Alex lacked, it certainly wasn’t confidence. The camera absolutely loved her, and her facial expressions and comments were comedic gold as she enthusiastically cheered on Chuck and Trent. Even though Callie didn’t want to admit it, she understood why Alex was so popular backstage. She just wished she wasn’t so popular with her boyfriend.

Suddenly, Chuck and Trent hit “Strong Zero” on Marq Quen for the win. Alex let out an excited yell.

“Best Friends versus Adam and Kenny for the tag titles at Fyter Fest,” Matt noted. “That’ll be a good match.”

But Callie didn’t hear him. Her legs seemed to move of their own accord as they carried her out of the locker room and down the hall toward Gorilla. “Callie?” Adam asked in surprise and confusion as she passed them, but she ignored him as she marched through the curtain and down to the ring. She ordered Dasha out of her chair. The next thing she knew, she picked the chair up and swung at Alex, laying her out on the ringside mats.

The ring bell clanged loudly in her ears as she stood over Alex’s prone form. “What the fuck?!” Trent exclaimed as he and Chuck both jumped out of the ring; but Callie didn’t respond. Kenny appeared and shoved her out of the way as he crouched down next to Alex.

“Get her out of here!” he ordered.

Before Callie could even open her mouth, someone grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. Adam. He carried her back up the ramp and through Gorilla. He didn’t put her down until they were back inside their locker room. “What the hell was that?” he demanded. “What were you thinking?”

Callie stole a glance at the monitor. Trent was heatedly arguing with Kenny as Chuck helped Alex to sit up. “I had nothing to do with this!” Kenny proclaimed, and he whirled around and marched back up the ramp.

“Callie!” Adam shouted.

She looked back at him. “I’m sick and tired of her bullshit, Adam! She has everyone wrapped around her finger, you included!”

Adam’s eyes bulged and his mouth dropped. He ran a hand over his face, stunned. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

Kenny suddenly burst into the locker room and made a beeline for Callie. “What the fuck was that?”

She glared back at him. “Why are you so upset? Alex has been giving you shit for weeks just for doing your job! Someone needed to put her in check!”

“No, don’t make this about me,” he returned. “This is about you, Callie. You’re jealous of Alex; just fucking admit it. What you just did was completely out of line.”

Callie’s jaw dropped. She looked to Adam, hoping he would say something in her defense; anything. But he couldn’t even look her in the eye, he was so angry. She felt herself start to shake with the adrenaline still pumping through her body. If Kenny wanted to make this personal, then she had no problem making it personal. “Well while we’re all sharing our feelings, then, why don’t you just fucking admit your feelings for Alex?”

The room was thrown into silence as Kenny stared back at her. “Really?” he eventually asked, incredulous.

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Nick said under his breath. Matt smacked him on the back of the head.

“Alright, I’m done with this,” Kenny muttered. He turned and walked toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Callie asked.

“Away from you,” he returned, and he disappeared out the door.

#aew imagine #aew fanfic #aew fanfiction #kenny omega fic #kenny omega fanfiction #adam page fanfiction #kenny omega fanfic #adam page fanfic

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hiyadarlingirl · 5 years

Text

EVERGREEN LOVE

Slowburn love story about Roger Taylor.

click here for masterlist and full story

Hello my beautiful, beautiful people!

Thank you for staying with me, loads of kisses to each. and. every. one. of. you. I appreciate you and I see you and you are wonderful!

Without further ado, here is part 16! 3,6k of fluff and smut! This is mostly fluff though, as requested, more smutt will follow

All my love,

Murphy

Click here for masterlist

--------

‘Morning honey.’ Roger bent over you to kiss the bridge of your nose.

‘Wwah?’ You blinked, still gaining consciousness. You faintly noticed arms sliding under your back and got pulled into his chest tightly. He nuzzled his face into your hair pressing his lips to the warm skin of your neck and mumbled something you couldn’t understand.

‘Hmm?’ You asked sleepily.

‘I’m going for a shower.’ He clarified.

You yawned. ‘No, stay.’

The light in the room was warm and bright, trying to pull you into the new day but you refused to do so. You felt still rosy and warm from the sleep so you slowly closed your eyes again, enjoying the feeling of his bare skin against your cheek.

‘I feel dirty.’ He smiled against your skin.

‘I don’t care.’ You replied, crawling deeper into his arms to emphasize your words.

‘You should take a shower too love.’ He murmured.

You groaned softly. ‘Why.’

‘Let’s just say.’ He started, nuzzling his nose in the crook of your neck. ‘That by certain events of last night that flowery smell of yours has long since fleeted.’

‘Are you saying I smell bad Taylor?’ You replied, lifting your head to frown at him.

‘I certainly do not.’ He laughed and pulled the fabric of your baggy shirt down your shoulder to brush his nose against the exposed skin. ‘Actually, I like this better.’ He breathed, voice still raspy from the sleep. His breath felt hot against your skin and you sighed.

‘Okay, go take your shower then Rog.’ You gave in and let him go.

He got up, sheets gliding off, exposing his naked body and stretched out one hand. ‘Join me?’ He pleaded, eyes hopeful.

You looked at him. ‘But the bed is so so comfortable.’ You whined, burying your face into the pillow.

Roger kneeled next to the bed and grabbed your waist, pulling you to him. You had your eyes closed but could feel him pushing up your T-shirt and suddenly felt his lips pressed against the soft skin of your stomach, warm and open-mouthed. You turned your face to see what he was doing.

‘Come join me, love?’ His voice sounded needy which woke up your senses.

‘Err.’

‘Please?’ He asked. ‘We could save water and I’m also very, very poor.’

You grinned. ‘Well, you are indeed very poor.’ You agreed. ‘So I reckon I have no choice in the matter then.’

He nodded an agitated yes.

‘Alrighty.’ You pushed yourself up and got rid of the T-shirt. You tossed it on the floor and got into the shower first.

‘Where is your roommate by the way Rog.’ You asked, turning on the water and waited for it to turn warm. The thought had occurred to you before last night but you had forgotten to ask.

‘Helping his dad with his house.’ Roger replied getting into the shower with you. You opened your mouth wide to let your cheeks fill with water and made room for him.

‘Holy fuck.’ He cried out when the water hit his body.

You sprayed the water you had gathered in your cheeks right in his face. ‘What, you think it’s too hot?’

‘Are you bloody insane? It feels like I’m in the fiery debts of hell!’

‘Hmm.’ You frowned while pushing him gently to the center of the stream. Then in one swift motion you reached behind him for the shower handle and turned it to cold, jumping away yourself. Before he could realize what was happening he got the icy-cold water all over.

‘Y/N!’ He shrieked and stepped back. ‘You are so going to get that back.’ The look in his eyes made you shiver though you hadn’t even touched the water yet. He grabbed you by your waist and tried pushing you under the cold stream. You fought back but he was stronger and you screamed when you felt the icy water running over your naked body.

‘Roger!’ You squealed. ‘Let me go! Please!’

‘Fair is fair.’ He muttered in your ear in his low sleeping voice.

‘Rog, please.’ You laughed and tried to catch your breath. Fuck it was cold.

‘Okay.’ He gave in, and for a second you thought he would really let you go but then he pushed you against the wall. For a short moment you just looked at each other, anticipating what either of you would do next. He tore his eyes away from yours and let them rest on your lips. You could see his chest rise and fall and bit your lip. With that, he grabbed your ass and pulled your lower back away from the wall. Your back arched and he pressed his hips against yours. He bent forward to kiss you but stopped just before your lips touched, making you whine in frustration. You stretched your neck trying to reach for him but he wouldn’t let you.

‘What do you want?’ He asked teasingly.

‘To touch you.’

‘Do you.’

‘Yes.’

‘Ah.’

‘For fucks sakes Rog!’ You groaned. ‘You got me enough already.’

‘That’s true.’ He breathed and then pressed his lips to yours, biting your bottom lip and tugging at it softly. You sighed into the kiss, your hands running up his back to pull his wet hair gently.

‘Wait.’ He muttered and reached out of the shower cabin to reach for something on the sink. It took you a second to realize what it was before he opened it, slid it over his length and lifted your left leg in one swift motion. Then he pushed into you. You breathed in sharply at the sensation. His head dropped to your neck, lips gliding over your wet skin. You should really start using the pill, you thought.

‘You okay?’ He mumbled against your shoulder.

‘Uh-uh.’ You replied, simultaneously liking the feeling of him inside you and disliking it as it still felt slightly uncomfortable.

‘Sure?’ He wasn’t convinced.

‘Yes.’ You nodded. ‘Just try not to be too rough, for now, yeah?’

‘Of course love.’ He replied, lifting his head to examine your face and slowed his pace. ‘Does this feel okay?’ He asked, trying to read your facial expression.

You looked at him and smiled. ‘Yes. It does.’ You replied and let him pull up your knee a little higher so he could sink into you a bit deeper.

He kept his slow pace and you let your head drop back against the shower wall, hands still in his hair. You liked listening to his heavy breathing, having nothing between your naked bodies but droplets of water. You let him kiss your breasts and neck and closed your eyes enjoying the softness of his lips. You let your hands travel down to his lower back and pressed him impossibly closer against you. Then you let them wander lower, gliding over his soft skin and grabbing his ass. He groaned softly against your skin, giving off a vibrating feeling and you chuckled softly.

When you felt he was getting close you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him open-mouthed, tongue slipping between his lips. He came softly, almost inaudibly. You smiled. He looked so soft with his wet hair. Adorable, you thought to yourself, not saying out loud as he wouldn’t want to hear it.

He lifted his head to look at you. ‘You feel really good.’ He mumbled and pressed a light kiss to your cheekbone.

‘Thank you.’ You replied, resting your forehead against his for a moment. ‘So do you Rog.’

He shot you a lazy smile. ‘Can I pull out?’ He asked. You nodded. It felt alright. Much better than yesterday anyway. He did so and then he laughed. ‘We’re still not clean, now are we.’

‘Depends on how you look at it.’ You smiled.

Roger pulled away from you and turned on the shower to a medium warmth. ‘Come here you dirty girl.’ He said and pulled you under the water. He took the shampoo bottle and started rubbing it into your hair. You closed your eyes at the feeling of his fingers on your head, letting your shoulders drop in relaxation. He rinsed the foam thoroughly under the warm stream once he was done. Then he took the shower-gel that smelled like cucumber and began running his hands all over your body. You leaned back against his torso while he lathered your ribs, stomach, hips and then your legs, squatting down next to you.

‘Your turn.’ You uttered lazily when you were all clean. You switched places and got behind him, just like he did with you and started with his hair, massaging the soap in and rinsing it out under the water. Then you took the shower gel, making foam between your hands and started dividing it on his chest and back and shoulders, traveling lower. His body felt heavy and warm against yours and you pressed your lips to his shoulder.

‘What are your plans for today Rog?’ You asked.

‘Appointment with the lads and our new manager.’ He sighed.

‘Sounds… exciting?’

‘Nah.’ He replied and turned around to face you. ‘I want to be with you Y/N.’

‘And I with you, Roger-Meddows.’ You copied his serious expression. He tilted his head to the side and smirked. ‘Meet you after?’

‘Alright.’ You poked his side making him yelp and jumped out before he could do the same.

‘What time do you have to be there?’ You asked, wrapping your body in a blue towel.

‘Well, to be exact… Now.’

You looked up and sighed. ‘Roger…’

He shrugged and got out of the shower as well. ‘Priorities love.’ He said and squeezed your ass.

---

June, one month later, De Lane Lea Studios London

You were sitting on the velvet couch in front of the recording room next to Freddie and Mary. In your lap rested a book on DNA-replication you had a test on tomorrow and you tried to imprint the information into your memory. It wasn’t too hard and you were quite confident you would do fine tomorrow so after a while you put the book away and looked up.

You were able to see the boys through the glass window and though you couldn't hear them you knew Brian, Tim and their producer Fritz Freyer were arguing furiously about something by the way they moved their hands and arms agitatedly. Roger was in the back trying out some new riff and threw you occasional glances.

You had advised him to bring his glasses but he had refused to do so which resulted in him squinting and squeezing. After a bit Fritz called him at which he walked to the front and joined the argument but kept throwing you looks. Normally he would enter an argument with devotion, screaming the loudest but he didn’t involve in it at all this time. You lifted one leg, pulling the fabric of your long floral dress over it and rested your head back against the wall. It was a warm day in June and the door to the small inner garden was open, warm breeze occasionally playing with your hair gently.

The manager was saying something at which Brian laughed and suddenly they were all looking at you. Roger shook his head at Brian and you frowned, wondering what they were talking about.

The mystery got solved quickly when the manager turned on the mic to the common room and bent forward.

'Freddie or Mary, can you distract Y/N for a bit, Roger needs to concentrate.’

Freddie and Mary both laughed and you huffed indignantly.

'But I'm not doing anything!' You protested.

Frits just shrugged. 'You existing seems to be enough.’ He replied. ‘Sorry girlie but it ain't working with this fella like this.' He gestured to Roger who lifted his hands at you as an apology.

You laughed and got up. ' Okay, okay, I'm going alright.' You conceded.

Their producer put his thumb in the air and winked at you at which you rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless.

You turned to Freddie and Mary.

'I'll just go into town to do some shopping then.' You announced.

'I'll join ya.' Mary said and got up. She turned to Freddie. ‘You’ll be okay Fred? Do you want to join?’

‘No, I’m fine.’ Freddie replied. ‘I’m joining those children.’ He gestured with his chin to the boys who had turned back to arguing. ‘It’s not going anywhere like this.’ He got up to enter the recording room.

‘Yes go help them, honey.’ Mary said and kissed him on the cheek before grabbing your arm.

----------

You spent the rest of the afternoon visiting vintage shops and returned to the studio early that evening.

'Am I welcome now?' You asked jokingly when you entered the studio and saw the boys chilling on the couch. Brian and Freddie were chattering about a certain melody and Tim and Fritz were disagreeing about the location of their next gig.

'Sure thing babe.' Roger said smiling and stretched his arms out to you. You sat down on his lap and let him slung his arms around you.

'How was the shopping love.' He asked and pressed his lips to your bare upper arm.

'I got a summer dress, I'll show you later.’

'Looking forward to it.' He replied and you smiled at him.

'How's the recording going?'

Roger shrugged. 'Could be better.' He sighed and then leaned in to whisper something in your ear. 'Tim keeps complaining. I'll explain later.' He added. You nodded and looked around the room.

'Are you staying the evening?' You asked.

Roger gave you an apologetic smile. 'Afraid so, love.'

'That's okay.'

'Tomorrow is your last exam isn’t it?’ He asked. ‘Shall I pick you up so we can go together?"

'Yes please.' You nodded. looking forward to your summer break. Roger had still two tests left that week.

You rested your head on top of Rogers and closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun falling right on your face through the opened door.

'Brian and Fred and I were thinking about celebrating the start of summer break this Friday at the Lakeside out of town and have a little barbecue. What do you think?'

'I love it.' You exulted.

'Lovely.’

-------

last day of uni

Roger picked you up that morning. Ally and Sam came with you, also having to attend an exam and together you entered the examination hall.

Just like you predicted the test went smoothly and you were confident you had passed it since you prepared for it well this time. Rogers test went okay and he was complaining that he had still one left on Friday.

‘I’ll help you.’ You promised when you were both standing in the hallway waiting for Ally and Sam.

‘I’d like that.’ He replied, resting his cheek on top of your head, arms wrapped around you. Personal space had become a foreign concept to you two and you tried to be close whenever possible.

The rest of that week you spent together in the library. You were completely relaxed since you were already done for that year and spent your time reading Jane Austin in the windowsill between the books and making tiny braids in Rogers' hair whenever he felt like having a break. In the evenings when he had been bending forward over his books the whole day and his shoulders were tight you massaged the tension out of them, making him sigh softly in relief.

Whenever he felt like giving up you sat down on the table in front of him and gave him pep-talks.

‘You are beyond smart Roger.’ You would say. ‘Your intellect is vaster than the bloody universe, do you hear me? You are Plato and Steven Hawking combined. You can do this.’

He knew you were exaggerating gravely but it made him laugh and that was worth enough.

That Friday he drove to the examination hall and promised to pick you up after to go to the lake with the gang.

‘How did it go?’ You asked when he arrived at your door, car parked behind him.

‘It was alright.’ He replied. ‘I think I’m safe.’ He slung his arm around your neck, pushing you down playfully and pulling you with him.

You laughed. ‘Okay, let’s celebrate!’

He let you go to open the door and you got into the car.

‘No!’ He objected out of the blue when he sat down next to you.

‘Huh?’ You asked surprised.

‘Don’t you dare put your feet up at the dashboard missy.’

You laughed. So he hadn’t given up on that after all. ‘Okay, but only if you ask nicely.’

‘Can you keep your cheeky little legs down, please.’

You pulled up an eyebrow at his choice of words but gave in anyway. ‘Alright alright.’ You replied, crossing your legs in front of you.

You were already wearing your swimwear and couldn’t wait to enter the water.

----------

When you arrived Brian and Freddie were already there, making a fire on the stony beach at the lakeside.

‘Hello, you guys.’ You smiled and put your stuff next to theirs.

‘Hello, darling.’ Freddie came and squeezed your and Rogers shoulder. You noticed Brian was struggling with the fire severely so you decided to help him out.

‘You need to start with tiny pieces.’ You explained and squatted down next to him.

‘Hmm?’ He asked.

You showed him how to tear small pieces of bark off the wooden logs. ‘Like this.’

You could hear Freddie and Roger talk about you softly from the side. ‘She did scouting when she was younger.’ You heard Roger explain to Freddie. ‘Her father thought it to be of importance.’

You looked up and saw Roger standing with his hands on his hips, proud smirk on his face. It made you feel proud too.

Mary arrived just as the fire started burning. She dropped two huge bags of food on the ground.

‘So, I’m done for today. You can feed me.’ Freddie went to help her.

As the fire got bigger you decided it was time for a swim. You got out of your dress and your shoes and walked to the waterfront. The water felt cool on your toes but not too cold. You walked in slowly, looking out over the lake. It was a gorgeous body of water, a lot bigger than the one you had been in that spring in Cornwall but not too big to cross. Though trees partly surrounded it was still covered in sunlight and you blinked at the sparkling water.

A little to the left was another group of friends having a picknick and you enjoyed the peaceful sounds of laughter and chattering being mixed with the rippling of the water. Your hair tickled against your bare back and you closed your eyes at the warmth of the sun. Your peaceful moment of quiet got erupted abruptly when someone suddenly grabbed you by the waist and lifted you above the water. That had to be Roger.

‘Put me down.’ You ordered, at which he just dropped you right in the water.

You went under completely. ‘Asshole.’ You muttered when you came up.

‘You ask, I deliver!’ He defended himself. You jumped on his back in revenge to push him under.

‘Enough, enough!’ He squealed when he came up again.

You looked at him suspiciously, half expecting him to pull you under again but he didn’t. You looked back at the others and saw Tim and another friend of Roger had arrived as well. Ally and Sam would come too and you looked forward to having such a big group of your favorite people together.

You and Roger got out to dry up and laid down on a blanket in the sun.

‘Oi, you lazy love birds, help with roasting the corn will ya?’ Tim asked. You both laughed and got up. They had put a grill grate over the fire and were now roasting bell peppers and sausages.

You took over from Brian and Tim.

Brian took his guitar and started strumming. You hummed softly to the melody and sat down cross-legged putting corn that was still covered in leaves on the grill.

After dinner, the sun started to set and the first star appeared in the soft blue sky. You were sitting next to Roger with your legs in his lap, wearing his sweater and together you looked out over the calm water.

‘Hey Y/N?’ Roger asked after having been quiet for a while.

‘Yes, Rog.’

‘Driving around this summer. You and me. England, France, what do ya think.’

You turned your head to face him. Was he being serious?

‘The whole summer?’ You asked, excited.

‘As long as you won’t get sick of me.’

‘As long as you won’t forget to bring fuel I’m with ya.’ You grinned.

He shook his head softly. ‘I won’t forget. Cross my heart.’

You narrowed your eyes at him but then smiled. ‘Alrighty.’

‘Well, that’s settled then. Brilliant.’

You both turned back looking out over the lake.

‘I gotta learn you how to drive, though.’ He added after a bit.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah, if I’m tired or something you can be back up.’

‘Hmm.’

‘It’ll be fun love. I’ll make sure of that.’

You nodded. ‘Okay, sounds good.’

‘So you’re all in?’

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his ear. ‘All in Rog.’ You breathed.

He smiled brightly.

What a summer that would be.

Click here for next the part and full story

Thank you for reading darling! If you liked it please let me know or share;) ! love you infinitely! x

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milfgritty · 5 years

Text

nowhere i’d rather be | n. patrick

❀ ⇢ requested: yes | no ❀ ⇢ word count: 1.4k ❀ ⇢ a/n: this one goes out to patty’s goal that should’ve been if it wasn’t for those meddling refs. lmao, but really though this was such a pain to write so i’m sorry in advance if it’s shit

can you a Nolan Patrick one about how you guys are going to an event and are all dressed up fancy and Nolan insists on driving and you get lost in the middle of no where and he feels guilty about it and on the way home he stops and slow dances with you in a parking lot to make up for it?? lol sorry for being so specific

⇢ posted: 02.12.19 . | . masterlist

“Nolan, come on,” you called, “We’ve gotta go.”

“I’m coming, don’t worry,” he replied, appearing behind you adjusting his tie that you had done for him earlier. You really needed to teach him how to tie one, you thought absently as you looked around trying to figure out if you had everything.

Coming to a stop in front of you, Nolan spread his arms wide, “How do I look?” Pausing, you took the chance to drink him in.

He looked… good.

Really good.

You had finally convinced him to get his hair trimmed a few days ago and made sure he thoroughly washed it earlier, leaving it fluffy and soft. What stubble he had left was gone, shaved while he was getting ready. Your eyes roamed over his suit-clad figure, the dark gray material that was tailored just right nearly making your breath catch in your throat.

“Great,” you breathed out before swallowing and repeating yourself with more strength, “You look great.”

A smirk found its way to his lips as he walked closer to your body and grabbed onto your hips to pull you closer to him.

“Oh, I look great?” He teasingly hummed, voice deep. He brought his head down to brush his lips against yours lightly, eliciting a soft sigh from you before you pulled away. “Shut up,” you rolled your eyes good-naturedly.

He chuckled under his breath, pulling you back to him and giving you a real kiss. “You look pretty great yourself, you know,” he told you, not moving back and his words coming out muffled in return.

Eyes glancing down at yourself, a grin pulled at your lips, “I’d hope so, you saw how long I spent getting ready.”

Nodding in agreement with a low laugh, he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before moving away. “You got everything?” He asked, grabbing his phone and wallet from the table and slipping them into his pockets.

Confirming with a nod, you picked up the keys and dangled them in the air. Nolan rolled his eyes at your cheeky grin, plucking the keys from your fingers.

“Let’s get going, then.”

Thanking your decision to not wear a full length dress, you followed behind him with a reminder to lock the door after you. The walk down to the car was quick, the only conversation being Nolan insisting that he drive—something you easily agreed to.

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” You asked a few minutes later when you saw that he didn’t have a GPS. “I’ve been there before, babe,” was his confident response, glancing over at you with a reassuring smile, “I know how to get there.”

Sighing under your breath, you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and slunk down into your seat. Fiddling with the music was your way of occupying yourself and so you deemed yourself the DJ of the car. Mind off the situation at hand, it wasn’t until you heard Nolan uttering low curses awhile later that let yourself become slightly annoyed at your stubborn boyfriend.

It was abundantly clear that he did not, in fact, know the way there, proven by the two of you now being lost in what appeared to the literal middle of nowhere.

Letting your head drop back against the headrest, you chose to stay quiet and let him deal with it and instead stare out the window. Stretches of land passed by outside, dotted with houses every so often. Vaguely registering Nolan’s huffs of irritated breaths, your eyes peeked over at him.

His hair that had previously been tucked neatly behind his ears was now messy, signs of him having run his hand through it visible. Rosy red spots were painted across his cheeks, bringing a tiny smile to your lips.

Seeing how stressed he had become, you let go of your annoyance and grabbed his hand from where it had been making its way back through his hair. Head tilting towards you, he furrowed his features confused as you brought his knuckles to your lips and brushed a soft kiss to them.

“It’s fine if we’re a little late, Nol,” you mumbled, hoping to ease the tension from him.

The attempt worked in part, his shoulders drooping down as he sighed. He tugged your hand over to him and repeated your actions, giving you a small grateful smile. Silence settled over the now calmer vehicle, Nolan managing to figure out how to get there all the while keeping a grip on your hand in his.

Expecting the chirping and teasing from the rest of the team, you weren’t disappointed when you finally arrived. The bolder ones of the bunch made subtle comments about what they thought were the actual reasons behind your tardiness, only for both you and Nolan to respond with scathing remarks that held little heat and in turn caused laughter from those present.

The two of you showing up late had left you with less time to mingle and enjoy the event, giving you little choice but to quickly brush away the lingering disappointment. One thing, in particular, you were saddened about not being able to participate more in was the dancing. Having always found joy in having an excuse to force Nolan—someone who avoided dancing at all costs unless drunk—onto the dance floor, it was a small regret not being able to this time around.

Overall though, you had fun, as you often did when the entire team was gathered.

Exchanging goodbyes with everyone took longer than it should’ve, but soon enough you were making your way back to the car to head home with Nolan.

It was with great relief that you were able to pull off your heels and relax into the seat. Pulling out your phone to give yourself something to occupy your time with, you exchanged tired smiles with Nolan as he started the car and began the drive home.

Quickly becoming distracted, you paid little to no mind to where he was going.

Which is why you became very confused when you felt him pull the car to a stop, the confusion worsening when you glanced up and saw that you were in a parking lot.

“Nolan, babe,” you started, eyes lingering on the stores that appeared abandoned, “Are you planning on murdering me?”

A choked laugh escaped your boyfriend, turning your head to watch him shake his head with a fond grin. He remained silent, however, instead changing the song playing to a slower one and turning up the volume before opening his door.

Bending down to stare at you, he motioned with his head, “You coming or what?”

“I still don’t know what’s happening,” you laughed airily, baffled and having to raise your voice when he made his way around the car to open your door for you.

Shifting you around and pulling out your shoes that were laying across the car floor, he began putting them back on your feet. “Even though you were trying to hide it,” he started, gazing up at you with a soft look in his eyes, “I know you were disappointed about not getting to dance with each other.”

You were unable to do anything but stare at him as he worked, too shocked to even form a word. It wasn’t until he finished and pulled you to your feet while continuing to talk that your trance was broken.

“And since it was my fault we were late, I figured I should make it up to you,” he shrugged, a hint of embarrassment making its way onto his face.

“But you hate dancing,” you found yourself saying, voice weak. Another laugh left him as he began pulling you to a spot in front of the car, far enough that you wouldn’t be blinded by the headlights. And since the only light that you had was from the headlights and the moon shining down on you, it was apparent that you needed them on.

“Yea, but I love you even more.”

Breath catching at the sweet sentiment, you let him pull you close to him. It took less than a few seconds for you to wrap your arms around his neck, fingers playing with the ends of his hair as the two of you swayed together.

“I love you so much, Nolan James Patrick,” you whispered, overwhelmed with emotion, not having to speak louder with the only sounds being the soft music and quiet rumbles of car engines in the distance.

Meeting him halfway as he leaned down to kiss you gently, you knew without a doubt there was no place you’d rather be than in his arms.

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sherlockxreader · 5 years

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A Time Of Change - Chapter Eleven - The Man With The Umbrella

Title: A Time Of Change Chapter Eleven: The Man With The Umbrella Summary: Ava Bradford is a former Behavioral Analyst of the Miami Police Department. After the events of the past force her to journey to England and take up a job away from the family she had created, she tries to start anew. At Scotland Yard, she struggles to keep to herself and her life under control, as her nightmares from her past come to haunt her once again. Author: Alexa @alex-awesome1023 Words: 3240 Characters/Relationships: OC x Sherlock Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Past Physical Abuse, Nightmares Author’s Notes: Ho ho ho ho... Wow four chapters in one day is just crazy

All you could hear was the ringing of your ears and the fiery pain coming from your upper arm. You let it a grown as you felt your adrenaline lessen and the pain rush in. Holding your arm you slowly get up and walk over to Jeff who was whining and squirming from the painful gunshot to his right shoulder.

Sherlock rushed over to the window seeing the bullet trail lead to the other building across the courtyard. You knew it was John… It was a good shot. You stood over Jeff's body watching him squirm with pain and discomfort making a grin appear on your face.

“Who is your sponsor?” You said sternly glaring down at his body, you watched as he shook his head at you which made you clench your teeth. “You're dying but there's still time to hurt you.” You said a you lifted your foot above his wound and applying slight pressure. “Tell me!” You didn't register Sherlock’s gaze as your vision became closed with determined rage.

“Who told you about me?! You shouted

“A name!” Sherlock interjected as you put pressure into Jeff's wound. His agonizing scream filled the classroom.

“Moriarty!” You removed your foot and the whole room was silent once more. You met Sherlock's gaze and he was as confused as you were. What kind of name is Moriarty?

The question rattled in your mind, never dulling as you sat on the back steps of one of the ambulance with a paramedic tending to your arm. Good thing was that it was just grazed from the bullet; nothing a few painkillers and gauze couldn't fix. Across the way, you see Sherlock similarly sitting on the back of another ambulance and you watch as a paramedic puts an orange blanket around his shoulders as Lestrade walks over to him. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him waving it around in Lestrade’s face. They're talking about the shooter I bet.

As the paramedic finishes tending to you, they placed another blanket on your shoulders and you instantly felt warmer, bringing the edges closer to your chest to tighten the cocoon. You thanked them and stood, noticing Lestrade was gesturing you to come over. Reluctantly you obeyed making your way over. You started nibbling your lip as soon as you got within hearing distance.

“Ok, before you fire me let me just say this. After you sent me home, I deduced that it was the same cab driver that had drove me home earlier this morning. And then I figured it was him and he had the phone so I tracked it with the tablet.”

“Detective Brad-” Lestrade said but you were too immersed in your own guilty words.

“I'll take the responsibility for any reckless endangerment. I worried because I figured out that he was after Sherlock so I took action. I know it was dangerous but-”

“Ava!” Lestrade said raising his voice a bit to get your attention. The sudden outburst made you flinch but not enough for him to see, but of course Sherlock noticed. The middle of his eyebrows creased in concern. “I'm not firing you. You did what you were trained to do and both you and Sherlock caught us a serial killer.”

“Well, more or less.” Sherlock said bluntly to Lestrade.

“So you're not firing me?” You asked looking to Lestrade with hope.

“No, I’m not. If anything you helped Sherlock catch him. You were the one who found him.” Lestrade said confidently looking between the two of you, making you look to Sherlock for a moment watching as he mumbled out a yes and cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. “But next time call it in first.” Lestrade said jokingly making you smile. “Now, since we have nothing on the shooter, I'll need to pull you both in tomorrow to take statements.”

“Yes sir.” You said quickly nodding your head, as you did you noticed John standing some distance away behind the police tape, looking as if immensely interested in the architecture of the school. The sight made a smile appear on your face. Sherlock seemed to noticed him as well and without a word he walked over.

“Hey, wait up!” You jogged to his side, waving to Greg over your shoulder kindly. “Have a good night.” As John notices you both approach, he scuffs the toe of his shoe on the concrete and Sherlock, taking his time in crossing the street, takes the opportunity to speak to you privately, albeit briefly.

“Thank you, for um, what you did.” Sherlock said lowly making sure those words were only for you. Turning your head to him politely, you watched as he threw his shock blanket through the window of a nearby police car, his eyes darting to look everywhere after except to meet your own. You smile at his obvious nerves. You could tell he didn't do ‘Thank yous’ well.

“No problem, you're worth keeping around.” Your cheeky smile brought his gaze to your face and you could see the surprise, amazement and genuine relief upon his own.

“Um, Sergeant Donovan's just been explaining everything to me, about the two pills. Been a dreadful business, hasn't it? Just dreadful.” John mutter nervously looking around. Sherlock looks to you for a moment, confirming his suspicions.

“It's a shame about the shooter.” You said giving him a small, knowing smile, shrugging towards the building.

“Ava, I'm so sorry that I-” John started muttering an apology but you cut him off by look him in the eye.

“No, I told you not to miss and you didn't. End of story.” You said quietly putting your hand on his shoulder to reassure him that it wasn't his fault, and really, it wasn't. You were the one who jumped in front of the bullet.

“But good shot nonetheless.” Sherlock said quietly to John making him shuffle once again in his shoes trying, and utterly failing, to look innocent.

“Yes. Yes, must have been, through that window.”

“Well, you'd know.” John looked up to him, still unsuccessfully trying not to let his expression give him away. “But you’re getting rusty.” Sherlock added gesturing over to you making you glare at him. You knew John felt horrible and you didn't want him feeling any worse.

“Anyways, you need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don't think you'd serve time for this, but let's avoid the court case.” Sherlock finished noticing the glare you sent his way making him think twice about what he was going to say. You notice John clear his throat and look around nervously.

“Are you alright?” You asked as you squeezed his shoulder making him look to you.

“Yes, of course I'm alright.” John says with a smile trying to his his nerves.

“You’ve just killed a man.” Sherlock says looking intently to John.

“Yes, I…” John trails off making Sherlock look at him closely. “That's true, innit?” Making you grin, Sherlock continues to watch carefully. “But he wasn't a very nice man.” You watched as John’s expression change and his body language relax you knew he was okay in a sense and you dropped your hand back inside your blanket. You look to Sherlock who noticed the same and continued, nodding in agreement.

“No. No, he wasn't really, was he?”

“And frankly a bloody awful cabbie.” John adds making the three of you burst into quiet chuckles as you start to walk away. You couldn't believe these two grown men. Laughing at a crime scene.

“That's true. He was a bad cabbie. Should have seen the route he took us to get here.” Sherlock continued making you and John burst into giggles and Sherlock smile.

“Sherlock! Quit it, we can't giggle, it's a crime scene! Stop it!” You whisper shouted over your shoulder trying to shush the laughter coming from the two men behind you. But you couldn't help the laughter coming from your lips. You couldn't believe these two.

“He's the one who shot him. Don't blame me.” Sherlock sassed back to you making you turn and face a face at him.

“Keep your voices down!” John looked around and found that Donovan was walking past the three with a distasteful look. “Sorry - its just, um, nerves, I think.” John said towards Donovan as she passed. Hearing Sherlock mutter a ‘sorry’ in her direction as well.

“You were gonna take that damned pill, weren't you?” John asked spinning around and looking puzzled to Sherlock. As he did, Sherlock shot a look your way, knowing what you heard and saw…

“Course I wasn't, I was biding time. Knew you two would jump in at some point. I needed Ava to figure out the end game beforehand so I bought her time, well she did but not long after you fired your shot, hence her arm.”

“No you didn't. This is how you get your kicks, isn't it? You risk your life to prove you’re clever.” John says looking at him with disbelief and amusement.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you're an idiot.” You spoke up answering his question simply making John chuckle and agree with you.

“Exactly.” John agreed with a satisfied grin on his face.

At that moment you saw Sherlock's eyes soften and his lips form into a beautiful smile, one that you could tell doesn't come often. It was a look of contentment and delight. He had finally found people who understand him and, more to the point, didn't care about his eccentric behavior. But he only showed it long enough for you to witness before forcing his smile down.

“Dinner?” Sherlock asked looking to both of you.

“Starving.” John simply replied. You on the other hand watched as the to men walked ahead of you. You watched the back their heads and couldn't help but feel a crack in your mask. You had never met any men like these two and strangely, it was comforting and refreshing. As you were getting lost in your inner thoughts, John’s voice brought you back.

“Ava, are you coming or are you gonna stand there and shiver?” John yelled turning to you making your train of thought come to a stop. Quickly you sped up to catch up with them.

“Yeah, sorry. Where are we going?” You asked as the three of you continue to walk. Unconsciously you snuggled closer to your shock blanket. Was I meant to return this? Oh well.

“At the end of Baker Street, there's a good Chinese place that stays open ‘til two. You can always tell a good Chinese place by examining the bottom third of the door handle.” Sherlock starts to explain as you walk. Looking down the road you see a car pull up and a tall man with an umbrella and a very pretty woman exit. Apparently John noticed them as well.

“Sherlock. That’s him. That’s he man I was talking to you about.” John says quickly not braking his gaze on the duo. As Sherlock’s eyes lock on the man, his expression and body language change.

“I know exactly who that is.” Sherlock says before walking over to the man with an angry look. John looked around searching out where the police were in case they needed to be summoned.

“So, another case cracked. How very public spirited… Though that's never really your motivation, is it?” The man says pleasantly to Sherlock who returns it distastefully.

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock asks angrily.

“As ever, I'm concerned about you.”

“Yes, I've been hearing about your ‘concern'.” Sherlock replied gesturing slightly to John who was avoiding the man's eyes. At this moment you too the opportunity to ‘look' at the mystery man.

Telling by the suit, he had money and the way he held himself with such high regard means that he has power but he's humble about it, but still wants to subtly show others his success. Tiny ink stains on his fingertips and jacket; he's a busy man, probably government official of some sort going by the car and assistant. You tilted your head as you started picturing a brotherly figure. Telling by his shoulder and body language he’s an older sibling, probably seven or eight years apart. John said that he was interested in Sherlock and his whereabouts… Looking down to the man's umbrella you notice an engraving ‘To my brother, Mycroft’. You smiled to yourself as you read it, looking up to Sherlock who still held a distasteful look for the man. You looked between the two of them for a long moment. Sherlock and the man had noticed your movement and turned to you. John had seen the change as well and looked to you as you were spaced out in your deductions.

“Ava?” John's voice went unheard as you continued to gaze at the two men.

Looking back and forth between the men you start to make the connections. The structure of their faces are a bit off but uncanny. The heights are right and the mannerisms are on par. Finally you looked hard to their eyes and made the final conclusion.

“You both have your mother’s eyes. But Mycroft, you have her smile.” You said aloud making the man, Mycroft, freeze in shock for a split second. Sherlock on the other hand, grinned at the fact that you had figured out that he was if fact his brother so quickly, exactly 7.4 seconds. Mycroft tightened his grip on his umbrella but other than that, he seemed as composed as ever.

“And you must be Ava Bradford. Sherlock’s new colleague?” Mycroft started to ask in a annoyed manner, his voice making you snap out of your thoughts and look quizzically to the men.

“Oh! I’m sorry, did I say that out loud? I didn’t mean to, I swear.” You asked worriedly to John who had disbelief written all over his face and Sherlock was in complete awe.

“No, no, wait. Who’s mother? Ava, are you saying that they're brothers?” John spoke up trying to figure out what was happening.

“She's not wrong.” Sherlock said looking to Mycroft with a raised brow.

“She’s good, almost better than you. She might even be faster.” Mycroft said with a challenging look on his face to Sherlock who rolled his eyes at the comment.

“Oh I wouldn't say that at all, I’m just… He’s more precise and to the point with his deductions. I’m mostly… wrong.” You spoke up looking between them then down to your shoes realising the words as they left your mouth. Unconsciously you spun the ring that was on your right ring finger. And once again Sherlock notices your thoughts change.

“He’s your brother!?” John sputtered with disbelief, thankfully pulling you out of the spot light for a moment.

“Of course he my brother.” Sherlock says rolling his eyes, annoyed of how obvious it was.

“So he’s not…”

“Not what?” Sherlock asks as both him and his brother turn to John who shrugged out of embarrassment.

“I dunno - a criminal mastermind?” You could see him grimace at even having suggested it. Sherlock looks to Mycroft disparagingly. All you could do was laugh at how childish their brotherly bond was.

“Close enough.” Sherlock replies looking to Mycroft who rolls his eye and sighs. Even their eye roll is the same! As the thought came, you couldn't help but cover your mouth to try to muffle the laughter trying to escape.

“For goodness sake. I occupy a minor position in the British government. Nothing more.” Mycroft says with a sigh looking to John.

“Oh please, you practically ooze ‘British government’. By the car, video surveillance, your tailored suit and freshly polished shoes.” You said looking him up and down to emphasize his authority. Mycroft was taken back by your knowledge, not confirming his use of video surveillance.

“Did John tell you about the cameras?” Mycroft asked with raised brows. Looking to John with distaste.

“Lucky guess.” You said coldly making your point clear. Mycroft stayed silent, failing to look unmoved by your skills. You could practically see his skin crawl. “I’m not a fan of people who use power to intimidate others, especially my friends. Now, it was very nice meeting you Microsoft, but I haven't slept in forty-seven hours and all I've eaten in that time is coffee and sugar cookies so good day!” You stated with an innocent smile but your eyes held only a cold stare. You spun on your heels, the orange blanket flaring out spectacularly and, with your nose in the air and a Cheshire Cat grin on your face, you began to make way, yet you turned back briefly at hearing the eruption of laughter come from Sherlock and John.

“Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know what it does for the traffic.” Sherlock bids him goodbye, walking away to catch up to you. John starts to follow him but then turns back to Mycroft, who has turned to watch his brother.

“So, when- when you say you’re concerned about him, you actually are concerned?” John asked making Mycroft turn his attention to him.

“Yes, of course.”

“I mean, it actually is a childish feud?” Mycroft turned back to watch his brother.

“He’s always been so resentful. You can imagine the Christmas dinners.”

“Yeah… no. God, no.” John shaking his head to rid himself of the image he had created, before half-turning to follow the both of you. “I-I’d better, um…” John said to Mycroft but before he could he eyes the woman from earlier, ‘Anthea’, who has been standing nearby throughout the conversation with her eyes fixed on her BlackBerry. “Hello again.”

“Hello.” She looks up and smiles brightly.

“Yes, we- we met earlier on this evening.” John explains but she only stares at him as if she's never seen him before.

“Oh!” She says pretending to remember him making John give up hope on her.

“Okay, good night.” John quickly bidding her and Mycroft a somewhat exhausted ‘goodnight’ before catching you to you and Sherlock. “So, dim sum.”

“Mmm! I can always predict the fortune cookies.” Sherlock says confidentially, side glancing John.

“No you can't.” John says straightly without having to look up at him.

“Almost can. You did get shot, though.”

“Sorry?”

“In Afghanistan. He’s talking about your shoulder, John.” You spoke up, leaning forward to look past Sherlock to John innocently. Sherlock wasn’t even surprised

“Oh, yeah. But how did you…”

“When I had squeezed your shoulder back in flat when I thought you needed a seat. You didn't notice but your shoulder tensed by the pressure. I thought it was just because you were nervous but when I did it a moment ago to the opposite one, there was no tensing.” You explain simply without taking a breath.

“So you can tell that my shoulder was shot but Mycroft’s cameras? That was a guess?” John stops in the middle of the pathway, looking at you in puzzlement. Sherlock had also stopped to see what you'd say.

“Oh but John, I never guess.” You said spinning on your heels to look at the boys. “Now, come on. I don't know the way back home and I'm starving.” You turned your attention back to the road leaving the boys to catch up, all the while your smile hid the worrying topic racing through your head. Who is Moriarty?

As Mycroft watches the three of you walk away down the street, ‘Anthea’ turns to him.

“Sir, shall we go?” ‘Anthea’ gestures towards the car.

“Interesting aren’t they? That soldier fellow and the detective woman.” ‘Anthea’ looks briefly at the departing trio, then turns her attention back to her BlackBerry. “They could be the making of my brother – or make him worse than ever. Either way, we’d better upgrade their surveillance status. Grade Three Active.” ‘Anthea’ looks up from her phone.

“Sorry, sir. Whose status?” She asks looking between him and the street. “Sherlock Holmes, Doctor John Watson and Detective Ava Bradford.”

MASTERLIST

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#atoc #a time of change #sherlock x reader masterlist #Sherlock #sherlock x oc #Sherlock Holmes #sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock #john watson #ava bradford #chapter eleven

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roseate7 · 5 years

Note

Any words of consolation about what’s probably going to happen tonight? It hurts so much and it hasn’t even happened yet. You seem to have good perspective and I could use some.

I’ll answer this one because it’s very sweet and must’ve come in right before I switched anon off.

I can very easily and confidently say to you that this indeed shall pass, because unlike many a swift rout in which a team and fanbase must cast about in bewilderment for what went wrong, the enemy has shown himself and it is within. For all that the superstars were gassed with overwork by the time the playoffs arrived, and for all that the eventual lineup were too bewildered to pull out a cohesive performance by the end, the man responsible for all of this - and I mean all - is Jim Rutherford.

A lot of folks understandably held out on my level of bolshiness toward him this year, but from day one of this playoffs series the truth of the entire season’s mess and muddle and hasty plastering-over had shown itself in rapidly coming undone beneath playoffs pressure. And he’d done the same botched jobs before in Carolina.

I know most folks don’t agree with me on this point especially but the Hags trade set the tone of Rutherford losing the team’s confidence in him entirely. The bulk of the work was done then. His “point was made” but the point was both a misfire and an eventual backfire. But whatever difficulties the Pens had at the start of the season, we only ever got to see them just beginning to repair the longer the team got to bond and gel… only for trigger-happy-trader Jim to come and throw it all into disarray again.

There’s no way of ever knowing which of the trades were truly any better because there was no time the crucial identity to be formed with any of them. He lucked the fuck out with the Florida trade, but what good are two solid players in isolation on a disjointed team they barely know and may not even stay with past the summer? Where is the hunger and fight for them? To lift a Cup with men they’ve known a matter of months? They’re not Black Aces, they’re key players who felt rushed in and did their best which is honestly a waste of talent in the end. Certainly no way to form that team identity. All it did was help keep the Pens on life support.

That’s the theme of Rutherford losing this season: what good are solid players in isolation? Do they make a defense? Do they create goals? Do they give his superstars space to work while leaving the speed up to the younger and lighter, or even just faster…. oh yeah those are all gone. So, no. No they don’t. They add up to a first round sweep and have done ever since the late fall.

It might seem like strange comfort to know that the season was ultimately jeapordized by a man who we can only see the back of if pressure mounts outside and in, but ironically when you look at all of the good that he has wasted in either neglect or over-work, it is reassurance.

Because it’s very good to know that the Pens have a core on the other side of thirty who are hitting and breaking franchise and league records and are still able to overcome major mid-season injury and reignite the team’s playoffs hopes. They’re not the Hawks or the Kings. Their core leave ample cap space in their salaries and more importantly, the problems aren’t scattered all over the locker room and the coaching and the management. It’s down to one man getting into a job using more talented colleagues and then reverting to type once left to his own devices. Hell, even Sully being out-coached wouldn’t have led to a first round exit if the team had formed the kind of identity and drive that it should have. 87/71 can lead a motley crew of a roster to the second round just fine, so long as they can get to know them before March.

And 87/71 being what they are - an isolated and rare organism - and having veteran status, none of the past two seasons will be allowed to remain when they return to Pittsburgh in the fall. They’ve proven how fearless they are in doing what is right for their team and that they’ll run up against any level of front office to fight for glory again. Hell, just look at Geno’s post-games after tonight! He is already planning on the upturn of all they’ve settled into that doesn’t work. I truly do not think Rutherford has the clout, especially after these past two years on his own, to stand up to what those two want. They’ve got the ear of the owners far more than he has. I doubt he’ll be gotten rid of, but his workload could easily become much ‘lighter’ and the purse strings taken out of his hands.

From my hockey perspective, this exit honestly feels like a logical turn in direction for a team who have needed to be wrestled out of the jaws of victory rather than the other way round for most of one dynasty. The years between 2009 and 2016 were such twists and turns, and they’ve all faded into normal and natural lows and suffering that happen to absolutely every club - especially to ones who have had success so frequently. The past two seasons aren’t at all unusual for a much older club whose legs have largely never bounced back from a gruelling back-to-back and an unbroken succession of playoff appearances.

All of Rutherford’s botched work needs to be either undone or removed. I’m sorry folks, I know it’s extremely unlikely and most don’t agree with me but getting Hags back would restore heart and identity to a team that couldn’t bear to have lost it in the first place. But even if not him, then a team assembled and left to actually find itself next season. I’m also not convinced that dropping Horny makes sense, it feels way too much like the overly-reactionary trades of the entire season and yet more loss of identity. Bringing in youth and speed is doable without disintegrating the core even more. We all love Olli but he’s sadly become disposable (I don’t really know why) and I say it’s far wiser to shift a younger player who is already showing signs of slowing than a teammate who brings much needed heart to the locker room.

Anyway, all of this can be done. There is now time, room and with intelligence there can be money. Geno will rest and clear his head and be Russian and Miamian for a while, Sid will go off with trainers like last summer, and they’ll both return of one mind: to never, ever allow their ship to be steered so wildly off course ever again.

So when it comes to the pain, the bitterness, the feeling of desolation and confusion of tonight I really can promise you this will be a kinder loss in the long run. It didn’t drag on, it was against a team who had the jump and the desperation on the Pens, and there were no cruel twists of the knife to age-old wounds. The Isles were better and wanted the win more and they won. It’s clean, if still gutting.

I can say all of this because I was baptised by fire and blood into hockey. I saw Bloody Wednesday and I had seen the previous season’s lead-up to it, all of which is told best by Kris Draper himself. I saw hatred and cold-bloodedness and rage that transcended ‘just hockey’ between the Avs and Wings of those days. I can safely say that no one will ever experience transcendent agony and ecstasy of the like ever again because the sport is now more about... well, the sport, rather than the spectacle.

And as I soon realised, all that gnashing of teeth from the players represented the most pathetic side of a game that was already on it’s way to losing it’s audience precisely for a lack of substance. It all stopped being satisfying when the enforcers were no longer made invisible in their traumatized retirement and the gladiatorial was proven to be ultimately almost as fatal and cruel as the old coliseums. We all got sick of games halting for the latest wild man to do his bit and to have teams hoarding up talent in ways that even refs could tilt the balance in their favor so well. The rivalries are boring younger fans now that testosterone flare-ups no longer run the show, and instead look like weak distractions - or downright dangerous in ways that are no longer considered acceptable - from letting your hockey speak for itself.

And well, as Draper and Nick Lidstrom proved to me many years later when they both went belly-aching that a 21 year-old Sidney Crosby wasn’t prompt enough to shake Lidstrom’s hand after the 2009 final. I will always respect those guys as players, but hoo boy the irony of their childish sore loser attitude in calling Sid immature and unprofessional still looks terrible for two men who won four Cups in their time. Same with the fans and journalists who saw fit to bemoan this perceived slight from Sid due to nothing but sour grapes over the fair loss of yet another trophy to add to their groaning coffers. Especially targeting a kid charged with rescuing his sport and his franchise, who had returned to the Joe after a bitter disappointment the previous season, and at last gained the achievement that had been expected of him since he was between fourteen and sixteen.

For shame on two men I had witness do battle and perform so valiantly, even after some of the glory of their days had begun to tarnish, to gang up on a boy because their days of domination were fading. I still love those first seasons I watched, but I am glad the days are gone of two men knocking forty launching a PR campaign to damage the image of a kid only just realising the dream they had many times repeated themselves before he was even in the draft combine.

Why did I take that trip down memory lane, you could well ask if you’re still even reading this, anon???

Because while players like the 90s Red Wings represent the last of the old dynasties, the post-2004/5 lockout effects on hockey haven’t been felt in full effect really until the Penguins back-to-backs. You know, the team who won using speed and cohesion? The team who set the standard which all other teams were not-so-secretly rushing to copy? That was a core of existing champs who dictated their own identity and who had two leaders with their eyes wisely on the future-present style of hockey.

The Kings and Hawks days of glory had one foot very much in the past. They are both in different stages of trying to work out the puzzle of a league whose playing style has been flipped even more on it’s head in just the past three drafts. Forget McDavid: how does Mitch Marner weigh what he weighs and do what he does and bounce back up every time old-style defense tries to knock him down? How do you get more of those little nuggets of your own to find gaps and evade muscle and create chances? That’s the question the Pens already know they have to get back to answering as they had before.

But Jim Rutherford has fumbled his two years unsupervised, this is resoundingly true, and his old ‘grit and size’ tendencies are coming up against a Pens core who have far more knowledge of what it takes to return their team to being champions because they have seen the sea changes taking place in their franchise from day one.

Ol’ Jim’s can come and go. But Crosby and Malkin are neither petulant veterans who would moon about over their losses and angrily deflect onto the youngsters who beat them, nor are they superstars existing in a bubble and bemoaning the slow decline of their team after each short or non-existent post-season. Neither of them will mind handing over some depth work to speedier youngsters. Neither of them will mind adjusting their roles to accommodate the next generation of Pens, because it’s what they’ve been doing for a good few years now. No clashing of egos or sense of grudge over age and perceived superiority to stop these two from doing whatever it takes to keep the club on the right path.

The Pens will always have a shot at being champions so long as Sid and Geno are on the thrones in Pittsburgh. And the more they come into their age and embrace their sway over a franchise that knows it owes it’s existence to them both (even if fucking nobody else seems to remember that Geno’s throne sits in every way equal to Sid’s) the more chance there is for more Cups.

At the very least, and it’s still a wonderful least, seasons like this one will stand as nothing but a stark but isolated reminder of how close to disaster their ship has ever sailed.

I have absolutely no doubt that they know what to do in the wake of it, and I have no doubt that they would gladly fly in the face of front office if it meant a more harmonious locker room.

They’re two heroes who won’t complain about the young bucks coming in and the league changing around them, and trust me when I say Pens fans should take endless comfort in that, even in the toughest years. And the natural order of things in hockey absolutely dictates that you’ve gotta at least have some of those.

#inbox #lmao sorry for the fucking epic #wow do I talk a lot when it's late #Anonymous

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disappearinginq · 5 years

Note

First of all: Thank you for replying :) What do I want to see wrapped up...? God appearing would be a bit too much wouldn't it be? Maybe a sign or something from his side? But I don't know, like Chloe knows everything. Maybe one of the archangels fixing the mess that happened. and oooh hugs. thank you for considering my thoughts :)

I will always answer asks from people who bothered to read anything I wrote. The day I don’t, assume I’m dead.

But no lie - God actually was going to make an appearance. The original version went that Samael and his brothers in an all out fight accidentally killed Chloe (I think I made it that Ragiel, in an effort to hit Samael, missed and got her instead) and that’s what snapped him out of Delilah’s influence. Except then it got super complicated, because it’d originally been based on everyone thinking Samael was the worst of Lucifer, when really, Lucifer was the worst of Lucifer, and Lucifer in a fit of rage destroyed the Earth by ripping apart the boundaries between Earth and Hell and letting everything from Hell swamp the Earth....and God showed up because Chloe wound up meeting him a la Sam and Dean in the Garden in Heaven style, but...anyway. It was already almost 100k words, and I figured I should be wrapping things up, not making things more complicated, so I decided Lucifer was going to save himself instead.

BUT - because you were kind enough to give me an answer, here’s a preview of what I have written (but I’m not married to), and lemme know if this is a direction I should pursue, or if you would prefer the final chapter be IMMEDIATELY following the previous one.

There was no such thing as normal.

One of those beautifully crafted lies humanity liked to sellitself.

After everything – everythingbeing an entirely mind-warping view of the world, the universe, life afterdeath, the cosmic forces of the existential nightmare that was being human, andthe new found and not easily ignored knowledge that her partner and her friendwas proof of a higher power – Chloe didn’t know what to do. What to think. Everythingsince meeting Michael and Gabriel and allof them, there’d been no time to stop and think about what exactly was going on. To consider all of theramifications, and all that it meant that Lucifer wasn’t human, that there wasa God with a capital G, and…now that she hadtime to process it, it just made things worse.

Somehow, breaking through to Lucifer was the easy part.

Which just explained how much of a shit show circus herreality had become.

The part that really, well and truly threw her though, wasjust how fast everything tried toreturn to normal.

After the better half of…weeks? Months? It felt like yearsfrom her point of view – of investigating serial killer cultists who used magicto try and steal Lucifer’s soul or rip him in half to jump start an apocalypse,of seeing him destroy downtown LA with an epic battle between his brothers andbarely managing to avoid Lucifer killing himself out of spite…

After all that…

Monday mornings at the precinct seemed surreal.

She burned herself twice at the coffee pot because she wasn’tpaying attention where she was reaching, zoning out as she tried to go over again what exactly she’d witnessed. Shewalked face first into a glass door, much to a patrolman’s amusement, becauseshe couldn’t keep her mind off the sight of magnificent, damaged wingssprouting from her partner’s back. She misfiled three separate warrants becauseshe couldn’t stop herself from picturing the almost reptilian features of afully enraged archangel as his brothers threatened to literally drag him toHell bound in chains.

But most of all, she couldn’t stop thinking about the look onhis face when he admitted just how lost he truly was – not just as Lucifer, butas Samael.

And she didn’t know what to do about it.

She stayed away. She didn’t know what to say, or what to do.There was no one to really talk to – Dan hadn’t been there for the finalbattle. He hadn’t seen just how far gone Lucifer had been, or what he wascapable of. Hadn’t seen him turn a crowd with little more than a whisper in aneager ear.

She wanted to talkto Michael. Or Gabriel. Or even Ragiel or Azrael. Any of them. All of them. Itdidn’t matter. But no matter how many times she tried to…contact them…she wasmet with stoic silence. It was like past the moment where Lucifer savedhimself, they ceased to exist. They didn’t stay. They didn’t warn they wereleaving. They said nothing and were simply gone. Maybe she was doing it wrong.But she had asked Dan how exactlyprayers worked, because maybe she was just doing it wrong. Maybe she didn’tmake the right gesture, maybe she hadn’t said the right words.

She just wanted toknow what she should do.

After days of silence, she understood Lucifer’s frustrationwith his biological family. Prayers became littered with vague threats ofviolence, and language that would make a sailor blush. She even caught herselfonce doodling a haloed stick figure getting whacked with an umbrella before shesighed and crumpled the paper up in frustration.

If she was being truly honest, she was more frustrated withherself than angels.

The desk across from her remained noticeably empty, a starkreminder that all was not right in the world.

Lucifer hadn’t come in since…well, actually, he hadn’t beenat the precinct since before he wastaken. It’d been weeks since she’d seen him at work.

She eyed her cellphone.

She could call him.

She should callhim.

But every time she her finger hovered over the ‘call’ buttonon his number, she chickened out.

Because what couldshe say?

Despite her confidence that Lucifer could make his owndecisions and save himself…she felt ridiculous thinking she could offer animmortal being with phenomenal cosmic powers anything like advice. Or comfort. She’d thought she could look pastthe new reality she found herself in. Lucifer was still Lucifer.

Except he wasn’t.

And she wasn’t the same, either.

And every time she thought back to a moment or an instancewhere she lectured Lucifer on humanity and what was right and wrong, she felther cheeks start to burn from embarrassment. It must’ve been like listening toa talking monkey try to tell a god about the world. And now, when she suspectedthat they both needed that connectionto someone who maybe understood, she found herself flailing.

She tried to rationalize that he hadn’t called her either.That must mean he wasn’t ready to talk yet, right? Or maybe he just needed timealone. He had narrowly avoided death.Ish. An undoing of a soul. That must be traumatic, right? She hadn’t wanted tosee anyone, except her daughter, after she’d been shot, either. Maybe he wasthe same way?

Facing mortality for a mortal was one thing.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine what the sameconfrontation meant for an immortal. Lucifer once treated his mortality as agame, but it was one thing to experience the novelty of pain for the firsttime. It was an entirely different matter to consider death.

Chloe stared at her phone. Maybe he wouldn’t pick up.

Maybe he would.

She wasn’t sure which scenario was worse.

Every time it buzzed, she snatched it like a fat kid snaggedfree cake, hardly daring to breathe until she realized that it was just ane-mail from someone else. A text from her mother. A picture from the babysitterand Trixie.

At night, when her shift was over, she purposely took thelong way home, cruising past Lux, telling herself every time that this time would be the time she stoppedin.

Except it wasn’t.

Lux remained shuttered and closed, devoid of the pulse thatgave the building a life of its own. Somehow, what happened there seemed tolinger. It might have been her imagination, except that others seemed to feelit too. No one lined the sidewalks waiting to get in. No one approached thebuilding, peering in windows to see when it would re-open. People skirted thesidewalk, crossing the street without really seeming to know why, because oneblock later, they stopped and looked around, confused as to why they crossed inthe first place when their destination was the other side of the street.

There was no evidence of what happened. Nothing every made itto YouTube, or the news, or any other media platform. She assumed it was thearchangels at work – or at least, some other cosmic force. She had nothing elseto explain why one night, downtown LA looked like an aftermath scene for amonster movie, and the next day like nothing happened.

And stranger still…the more she tried to recall exactly whathappened in the aftermath, the less clear her memories became. Was it stress?Was it shock? Was it the frailty of the human mind? Was it something…or someone…else entirely?

She sat in her car outside of Lux, parked just beyond thehalo of a streetlamp, staring up at the darkened building. Lucifer couldprobably answer her questions. Now that he didn’t have to answermetaphorically, or she knew that he wasn’tbeing facetious, it would probably help them both. Right?

Or maybe it would just make it worse. At least now she had abunch of ‘maybes’ or ‘what ifs’ that she could easily shrug away or make up ananswer that while perhaps being utter BS would make her feel better at night,and not like someone was staring at her from on high no matter where she was.

God saw all, right? How much was all? What kind of pervy God were they talking that?

She sighed and growled in frustration, grabbing the steeringwheel with both hands as she let her forehead drop against it. “Uggghhhh, why does everything have to be so goddamn difficult?”

“Because that’s how the world works.”

Chloe screamed, and almost hurled herself out of the carbefore her brain even processed who’s voice it was.

Maze sat in the passenger seat, feet up on the dash, one armpropped on the open window, sucking on a lollipop of all things, lookingcompletely unimpressed by Chloe’s cardiac arrest.

“Maze,” Chloehissed through clenched teeth as she reflexively put a hand to her heart. “Areyou trying to kill me?”

Maze considered it for a moment, cocking her head to one sidebefore pulling out the stick candy with an audible ‘pop’. “No,” she said. “I am wondering what you’re doing with yournightly drive-bys though. Seems a little stalker-ish, even for you.”

Chloe declined to answer, because she didn’t have one.Instead, she changed subjects. “Where have you been, anyway? I haven’t seen yousince…” she actually had to think about it. When was the last time she saw Maze? The night Lucifer disappeared fromthe penthouse? And how long ago was that?“Since before Michael and Gabriel showed up.”

Maze flat out laughed at that. “Well, duh,” she sneered, lips pulling back an almost feral snarl. “Demonsand archangels are no bueno. We gothistory. I wasn’t about to get in the middle of all…” she waved her lollipoparound in a vague circle, “that.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be Lucifer’s bodyguard or something?”Chloe pointed out.

Maze pursed her lips, raising one eyebrow. “Aren’t yousupposed to be his partner? Where have you been, besides skulking outside theclub like some sort of creeper?”

Chloe cringed, looking away.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Maze said. She fell silent fora moment, sucking on her candy. “It’s the kind of tragedy I expect from his Dadby now.” Maze glanced skyward through the open window of the car. “Giving himexactly what he wants, in the worst way possible.”

She considered it for a moment. “How…” she stopped, trying tothink of exactly what she wanted to ask, whether or not she wanted to know thetruth. She chewed her lower lip. No. She didn’t need to what Maze meant – notreally, not from her. “How is he?”

Maze leaned forwards, looking up at the darkened penthousethrough the windshield. “Different.”

Chloe didn’t ask any further.

Thunder rolled gently in the distance. Another spring storm,coming across the Pacific.

“What are you waiting for? Permission?” Maze snapped. “Go.”

Chloe reached for the ignition. Maze was right. She didn’thave the right to sit out here and stalk someone who clearly wanted to be leftalone. Lux was empty for a reason. He hadn’t come to work, hadn’t called,hadn’t reached out for a reason. Sheshould know well enough what it was like to have someone who didn’t listen toboundaries.

Maze slapped her hand away from the keys. “Not leave go, go see him go.” She pointed towards the club’s front doors. “It’snot locked. He’s in the penthouse. Go.”

Chloe began to shake her head. “No, he hasn’t invited me, hehasn’t reached out – I need to respect that –”

Maze growled in frustration, and for a moment, sounded lessthan human. “Oh, for the love of – he’s not thatdifferent. He hasn’t reached out because youhaven’t said anything. He thinks you’re just like everyone else who’s everfound out the truth about him, and so far, he’s right. Now go.” She wavedtowards the club.

That hit Chloe like a sucker punch to the gut. It was onething to stay away because that’s what Lucifer wanted.

It was another thing entirely to abandon a friend in need whodidn’t know how to ask for help.

“Okay, I just…do I need-” she glanced back over and Maze wasgone. Chloe heaved a sigh. “Of course she vanishes into thin air. What demonninja bartender doesn’t? Using a door would be unrealistic, right? Who does that? No need to say good-bye, oranything. Pfft.”

She made sure the windows were up, the door was locked, anddarted across the street before she could change her mind.

(*(*(

Lux was silent. Eerily so. Not like the sound proofing Samaelhad, or the frigid temperatures, but like all the electronics were shut down.The bar was dark. The screens were off. The central air wasn’t on.

The last time she was here, she witnessed Samael rend his brother’swings from his back and throw him down into Hell through a tear in reality shewatched him create.

The columns were repaired. The piano replaced. The glasspicked up and everything polished to a glass-like shine.

Everything looked exactly the same as it had beforeeverything started on the surface, and yet somehow…still felt dead underneath.

As she watched the numbers climb towards the penthouse, shehad a sudden urge to hit the emergency stop and climb the rest of the way bystairs just to draw it out.

She needed the extra time. She had no idea what to say. Shedidn’t even know where to start. Would he even see her? She hadn’t felt thisnervous facing down Samael, and she’d seenwhat he’d done.

Lucifer was a friend. A bestfriend.

Who was an archangel who fell from Heaven, ran Hell, andthen…took a vacation in LA.

Yeah. She could do this. She could totally do this. Yep. Onehundred percent, she owed this to Lucifer, she owed it to herself, she –

The final ‘ding’ echoed like a gunshot in the tiny space. Shefelt her heart hammering in her chest like she’d run a marathon and she wasn’teven sure why. She wasn’t afraid ofLucifer. She hadn’t been afraid of him as Samael. Michael, Gabriel, Death – she’d faced them all withoutfeeling like this. What the hell waswrong with her?

Maybe she should leave. She should go, she hadn’t beeninvited, it was too soon it was-

The doors slid open and she froze.

The penthouse was destroyed.

Absolutely destroyed.

The piano was upended against the marble walls, the bench inpieces flung to the other side of the room. The bar and every bottle shattered.Bits of glass peppered the floor. Expensive alcohol leaked from broken bottles,drying where it lay on the black floors.

Ta daaaaah!

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5hfanfiction · 6 years

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Wicked Games (Chapter 21)

“Every time I look into your eyes I see it, you’re all I need.” - Daniel Caesar

It was now Thursday and the team was huddling together during a timeout. We were in the middle of our game against our rivals, Bearmount College.

Not only is Bearmount College a traditioned rival to our school, since we both typically are always battling it out for the top spot in the conference in almost every sport. There was also an extra level added for our pride because Coach Tommy and Bearmount’s head coach played in college together. For me though, the biggest reason why I take this game so seriously is because their top guard is my own personal college rival.

Hanna Grace. Don’t let the name fool you, she does not have much grace to her. She is cocky and overly aggressive. Her play style is completely different from mine. I like to beat people with my technical skills, she likes to beat people mentally. I have to give credit where it is due though, she is phenomenally talented at what she does. She has incited numerous fights and has personally caused multiple people to get suspended throughout her career. I would imagine much of Bearmount’s success is linked to how she is able to manipulate and distract her opponents into making reckless, emotional mistakes.

She is one of those players that does everything she can to get under your skin. She talks to you the whole entire game, biting on every insecurity you may have. If you make a mistake, she won’t let you forget it. She constantly swipes at your arms in a very subtle manner that most referees do not notice because it is when you don’t have the ball in your hands. However, when you do have the ball in your hands, she is not afraid to get in your personal space, screaming at you, and if she fouls you, she fouls you hard. The whole forty minutes she pushes you physically and mentally.

I dread, but also look forward to playing her every year. She is a senior same as me, so I have dealt with her my entire college career. I have won some against her and she has won some against me. To me, the real victory is being able to get through the game without losing my cool. Aside from one time my sophomore year, I have been able to accomplish that.

Ever since I started getting really successful on the court during my sophomore year she has taken a special interest in making my life hell. I learned the hard way that year that the girl does her research. She brought up the fact that my mother had cancer during a game. In response, I got in her face and started yelling at her. For the first time in my life I wanted to punch someone, but luckily I held back. She did enough to earn me a technical (my only technical of my career), but it didn’t go any further than that. I thought something like cancer should be an off limits topic, but Hanna is ruthless, nothing is off limits to her if she can gain a special edge and help her team to a win.

Although I have only truly been affected by her once, I was worried for this game. My emotions have been on a roller coaster ride this past month so I am not so confident I will be able to keep calm. I normally consider myself one of the best in the game at keeping my composure, but against her, anything can happen.

We were up by five with one minute left in the first half. Despite the lead, I had been playing mediocre by my standards and Hanna was enjoying every moment of it. I had kept my composure well so far, but I could not deny that she was starting to wear on me. Her aggravatingly high pitched, but stern voice had not been quieted since the game started. She was in my ear whether I was on offense or she was on offense. I was amazed that she could even make time to breathe.

The refs were not calling many reaching fouls either and Hanna was taking advantage of that. Her arms and hands were all over me any time I had the ball in my palms, which was making it much more difficult to keep hold of the ball and run through our plays successfully.

“Camila!”

I looked up at Coach Tommy who had just yelled my name, realizing I had completely zoned out and missed everything he was telling our team. He looked at me with a mix of frustration and understanding.

He quickly strode towards me, putting an arm around my neck and angling me away from the rest of the girls so only I could hear what he said. “Is she starting to get to you?” he asked more softly than I would have expected. Coach was just as antsy as me when it came to playing against their star player. After four years, he understood as well as anybody else how much importance I placed on this game and besting one particular girl on the other team.

I hated to admit it, but she was starting to get to my head. I had missed my past three shot attempts and in our most recent offensive possession I had turned the ball over on an awry pass that was deflected by Hanna. I could hear her calling me ‘weak’ over and over again in my mind.

The refs blew their whistles signaling the end of timeout. Coach Tommy pulled out of his arm lock, but put his hand on my shoulder, demanding my full attention.

“You can either give her what she wants and believe all the nasty things she is saying about you, or you can believe in yourself and how great you can be and achieve what you want.”

I nodded at him, feeling his belief in me. Getting down on myself was only feeding into her hands. It would only benefit her, which is the opposite of what I want to happen.

The refs blew their whistles again, growing impatient with our stalling. I made eye contact with Coach Tommy’s dark blue eyes and nodded, letting him know I was mentally back in this game. He smiled and gave me a thumbs up with one his large hands. I turned and ran back out to the court with a newfound determination.

I stood in the right corner, watching Normani bring the ball down the court, putting two fingers in the air, signaling for our play called “Two”. Two posts go set a high ball screen at the top of the key for Mani. One post goes on the left side and one post goes on the right side. This play is rather simple for my position because the other two guards space out in the corners to be outlets if needed. The play begins once Mani makes her choice on which post screen she wants to use.

I was waiting for Mani to make that decision when Hanna’s irritating voice reached my ears.

“Too scared to have the ball in your hands again?”

That was a sly comment meant to dig at my pride and remind me of my recent mistakes. Before our timeout that would have bothered me, but since talking to Coach Tommy I felt much calmer. Besides, that comment was extremely tame in comparison to a lot of other things Hanna has said to me before. I didn’t even give her a glance.

Mani did an in and out move faking to her right and then crossed over to use Dinah’s screen on the left. Her defender got completely caught on Dinah’s brick wall of a screen, which forced Dinah’s defender to step out on Mani. The very moment she did that though, Dinah slipped towards the basket. Mani faked a pass to Emily in the corner, making Dinah’s man jump slightly to the right just enough to create an opening for Mani to give Dinah a beautiful bounce pass. Hanna tried to help over but by the time she got there it was too late, and even if she did get there in enough time I would have been wide open in the corner for a three. Dinah scored an easy left handed layup.

We weren’t given much time to be happy about that though because Hanna quickly threw an outlet pass from out of bounds to another guard on her team who sprinted up the court in transition, making an incredibly arching pass over my head to her teammate that was running down the opposite side of the court. Mani was there at the basket, preventing her from getting an open look, but the Bearmount guard performed a hesitation move, impressively finishing the contested layup.

Missy inbounded the ball to Normani and she lightly jogged up the court. Coach Tommy was yelling out instructions and tapping the top of his head, which means he wants us to slow down and run the clock out. The team went into their positions for the play Coach was calling for.

Mani tried to come in my direction, but her defender cut her off, purposely forcing her towards Emily’s side.

Mani drove towards the left wing and Emily dropped down to the block, making a V cut running up towards the opposite elbow to set a screen for Missy. Missy ran over top the screen, sprinting across the paint towards the block Emily just left. Unfortunately, her defender snuffed it out and she was not open for a pass.

Dinah from the other elbow stepped over to set a screen for Emily so that she could sprint up to the top of the key. She was only open for a small moment, but Normani was able to funnel a dagger to her that only Emily could catch.

Dinah set a screen on Emily’s right side, which she was subsequently about to use when her Bearmount defender stepped out and made a literal wall with her body, totally attempting to send Emily back to her left. They must have scouted this play because they knew exactly where we wanted to go with the ball. Emily made a freshman mistake and tried to force her way to the right anyway, but lost control of the ball as her defender swiped at it. Her and the Bearmount player got tied up and luckily, she held on long enough for the refs to blow their whistles and call a jump ball. It was still our possession.

I looked up at the shot clock, noting that we only had fifteen seconds left as we set up our sideline out of bounds play. Once again I was hanging out in the right corner, getting out of the way. The play was ran through, but nobody was open enough to get a comfortable pass. Eventually, Mani was able to get a risky long pass over to the left side of the court above the three point line. She drove towards the basket, but was cut off by a help side defender around the block. She quickly retreated back out to the wing.

“Ten, Nine, Eight!” our bench began screaming how much time was left on the shot clock. The play had broken down so I needed to get the ball in my hands. I swung my arms in the air, signaling to Normani to make a cross court pass to me.

I caught the ball on the right wing, with Hanna a mere inch from me defending, lifting her arm to swipe at my right hand once. I pivoted away from her, avoiding that strike.

“Five! Four!”

I started slowly dribbling towards the left, pretending to be looking for a hand-off from Emily who was standing at the top of the key, but then I quickly went into a crossover between my legs that Hanna bought and paid for. She lost her balance for a moment, not ready for my sudden change in direction, and I was able to dribble past her. I appeared to have an easy layup ahead of me, but just when I jumped off the floor, I felt a hard shove on my back and a stinging smack across my arm. I went down to the ground, hard.

I looked up, watching the ball roll around the rim and out as the shotclock buzzer went off. I missed, but heard the whistles from the refs, calling the obvious shooting foul.

“This is real basketball,” Hanna hissed at me as I laid on the ground, pain shooting from the knee I landed with all of my weight on against the floor.

For some reason, Hanna has always been of the opinion that I don’t play what she considers real basketball. She grew up in the inner city of Los Angeles, so she is accustomed to street style play. To her, I cannot handle aggressive opponents. Maybe that was true when I was a young freshman, but now I have no problem with that.

Why she is so narcissistic to think her form of basketball is the superior form of basketball, I don’t know.

Dinah and Missy rushed over to me and each one grabbed a hand of mine and helped me up.

I got up with a terrible pain and soreness emanating from my knee. I limped towards the free throw line. I stretched my leg, and bent it back and forth, trying to shake out the discomfort. Coach Tommy called to me, asking if I needed a sub, and I shook my head at him. No way was I coming out of this game and no way was I giving Hanna that satisfaction.

I went through my free throw routine. I spun the ball and dribbled it twice very quickly before going into my shooting form. I missed.

“Really Cabello? Can’t take a hit?” Hanna chimed in from my left using the wrong accent.

I clenched my jaw for a moment. The fellow senior purposely pronounced my name wrong just to irritate me more. It’s so small and stupid and yet it works. I am used to my name being mispronounced, but when you hear your name intentionally said wrongly about a hundred times in the span of one game, it starts to tug on your nerves.

“Quiet, 23,” the ref under the basket finally scolded her. A small smile reached my lips as I finally experienced some quiet.

I shook my leg out once more, the pain starting to subside slightly. The ball was passed back to me and this time I made sure to slow down and take my time. I took a deep breath, went through my routine, and then paused for a moment, making sure to bend my legs and then took my shot. Swish.

I ran back on defense for what I presumed to be the last possession of the first half. There were now sixteen seconds left and surely Bearmount was going to utilize the entire clock.

They started running through their play when their point guard lost control of the ball and it ricocheted off of her shin in my direction.

The ball was rolling across the floor and both me and the point guard from Bearmount dove on the floor to get it. We got on top of each other, fighting for control of the ball, until the refs blew their whistles to call a jump ball.

Hanna ran over and helped her teammate up, her high ponytail swishing from side to side. “Oh don’t worry, I know she loves that girl on girl action, that little lesbian,” she laughed to her teammate, motioning in my direction.

I smiled sardonically and shook my head in disbelief. How did she always know the perfect thing to say to poke the fire? I pushed my palms against the wood and got up from the ground.

Since we got the ball last jump ball, it was Bearmount College’s possession still. There was only nine seconds left now, however.

That means one thing. Hanna Grace is getting the ball.

I was proven right immediately when the ball was inbounded directly to her. She dribbled to the left wing calling for her teammates to clear out. I kept my eyes on her midsection, focusing on her body language so I could anticipate her next move.

She smoothly and easily crossed over between her legs twice, getting extremely low to the ground, waiting for me to slip up. I kept my footing and stayed solidly in the center of her body, angled slightly towards the baseline where my help defense is.

She dribbled towards the left for a moment, getting me to shift my feet, and then threw the ball behind her back. I assumed she would drive all the way to the basket. I assumed wrong.

I sprinted to get back in front of her and rushed to beat her to the basket. Only problem was that she didn’t go to the basket. She performed another behind the back along with a small step back once she reached the free throw line. I didn’t anticipate that, so I was too far back to reach her as she jumped in the air with her arm bent into her shooting form. She went through the motion and the ball went through the net as the buzzer went off.

She left her follow through in the air just to be a cocky jerk. One side of her mouth was lifted in a tight smile of disdain. “Too easy, Cabello! Too easy!”

I let my head drop for just a moment. She didn’t break my ankles, but it was nearly just as humiliating. Dinah put a hand on my shoulder as we jogged back towards the locker room. “You’ll stop her next time,” she encouraged me.

Back in the locker room, Coach Tommy went through his half time talk, making adjustments to our game plan. Our new emphasis for the second half is to feed it inside because Bearmount’s posts are weak in comparison to Dinah and Missy. Simultaneously, our trainer was poking and stretching my knee, applying some sort of tissue pain relief cream that smelled terrible. My knee was already turning a deep shade of purple, but honestly a bruise is nothing to really fret over because it could be something much worse.

“Are you just gonna let her push you like that?” Lauren exclaimed suddenly. I am not sure when she got here, but Lauren was seated at the locker to my right. My guess was she was referring to Hanna.

I had not spoken to Lauren once since Tuesday unless I had to because of basketball. It was nice being the one ignoring her for a change. Although my heart would still beat excitedly every time she attempted to speak to me, I would always remember the Matt situation, and it would immediately dampen those feelings. That gave me the courage and motivation to not respond to her. Maybe it was petty, but it was the best way I could think of to keep myself from forgetting that she is bad for me. I don’t trust myself to stay away from her and not see the fantasy version of her I created in my own mind. Instead, I keep the memory of her kissing Matt, the memory of her public declaration for him, and the memory of how guilty she looked when Keana exposed her at the forefront of my brain. If any other memories of good times between us tried to fight their way to the surface, I would cut them off immediately by flashing to the ones that hurt me.

“Hello?!” Lauren waved her hand in front of my face with clear agitation because I didn’t respond.

I looked at her coldly for just a moment and then looked back at the white board, pretending to focus on the play Coach Tommy had written on there. A simple, “yeah,” was all I gave her, which was even more than I wanted to offer.

She groaned and grumbled some words under her breath that I could not hear. Then she got up and left me alone at last.

I came out of halftime with my game stepped up to a higher level, but so did Hanna. Most of the possessions were like a chess match between us two. She was hitting buckets that shouldn’t go in and I was reading defenses like a book, making the right passes and taking the best shots.

It was the beginning of the fourth period and we were only up by three now. Our team was setting up our zone defense before Bearmount’s in bounds play started when Hanna shoulder checked me on her way to pass the ball in.

“Oops,” Hanna lipped with heavy sarcasm.

“Watch yourself, Grace,” Lauren threatened out of nowhere, appearing next to me.

Hanna stopped in her tracks and turned to the raven haired girl. “Oh, this doesn’t involve you sweetie.” Hanna spoke with a sing-song tone as though she was speaking to a child.

“She is my teammate so actually I am involved,” Lauren fearlessly stepped up to her.

“Who are you again? I don’t even think you were on the scouting report,” Hanna dismissed her and started walking again towards out of bounds.

I could already tell that comment had my teammate boiling by the furrowed eyebrows, stiffened body, and slightly popped open mouth about to respond with something equally nasty. Feeling like a parent reprimanding their child, I yelled, “Lauren!”

Her head snapped in my direction as I realized this was the first time I had directly addressed her in days.

“Stop. She’s not worth it,” I told her, doing my best to abate and deescalate the situation. Lauren nodded, but I could recognize that Hanna had already gotten to her with that one comeback. I quickly leaned over to her and whispered in her ear, “You’re playing amazing, don’t let her get to you.”

It was true. Lauren was playing one of her best games in a long time. She was on a roll, having just recently scored her fourth three-pointer of the game. If I wasn’t so mad at her, I would have been proud. I could not allow Hanna to mess with her confidence because this game was still close. Even if Hanna wasn’t lying like I presumed she was and Lauren wasn’t on the scout, she clearly should have been.

The ref handed the ball to Hanna to get their in bounds play started, so I had no more time to chit chat.

A few more minutes went on when Lauren hit a shot that was suspiciously close to the shot clock buzzer. None of us, including the referees, were quite sure if she had gotten the shot out of her hands in time or not.

We were all standing around, waiting as the refs reviewed the play using the monitors at the scores table. Of course, this was prime opportunity for Hanna to come bother me some more. She stepped up beside me. I braced myself for for more onslaughts, but she didn’t say anything for a minute or so, like she was just trying to annoy me with her presence. I was thankful though, because it was her damn voice that drove me insane, I could deal with her bad smell for a few minutes just fine. Then she had to go and ruin the quaint silence.

“Heard you and your girl broke up.”

That got my attention. I looked at her, my nostrils flaring at the mention of Emma.

She grinned triumphantly, seeing that she had finally won a reaction from me. “Oh.. sore subject?” Hanna’s voice dripped with fake sympathy. Her dark and long eyelashes fluttered with joy. “My condolences.” She over dramatically put a hand over her heart, feigning like she cared.

“Shut up,” I spoke through gritted teeth.

“Oh Cabello, why do you want me to shut up? Are you worried I’ll bring up the reason you two split?”

It was finally working. Hanna had found an angle that she could crack me open and mess around with my insides with.

“I heard she didn’t want you anymore. She finally realized that you’re nothing. Good for her.”

If smoke could fly out of my ears like in the cartoons, they would be in this moment. The game temporarily faded from my mind. I stalked towards her, staring her dead in the face with no fear. I was daring her to try something. She flinched backwards slightly, but only for a moment, keeping up her tough facade.

“You’re all bark and no bite,” I snarled.

She narrowed her eyes at me, but the arrogant smirk didn’t leave. “I know you’re probably desperate for a rebound, but I’m not gay, so could you please get out of my personal space?” she finished with a small shove to my shoulders.

We were standing close to the Bearmount bench so when Hanna shoved me a few of her teammates stood from their chairs and started talking excitedly, egging her on.

She was certainly very brave for shoving me like that. Most people in my position would have started swinging, but I am not most people. I knew what she was doing, she was trying to provoke me into doing something stupid that would have repurcussions. Something that would get me ejected from the game and possibly suspended. My team needed me in the game, not to get in a useless fight. Although I was pissed off and wanted nothing more than to punch her so hard that she could never smirk again, I was not going to let her get the best of me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same for another dark headed brunette on our team.

“Get the hell off of her!” I heard Lauren growl from behind me. I turned to see her charging towards us and before I could stop her, she shoved Hanna so hard she nearly fell backwards past the sideline into her bench.

I didn’t even have time to enjoy the sight of that because that is when all hell broke loose. Bearmount’s bench erupted. From the corner of my eye I could see multiple players running towards Lauren. Hanna was rushing back towards her too, with her arm wound up, ready to punch. I wasn’t about to let that happen, especially after Lauren had just come to my defense. I crossed the distance between me and Lauren as fast as lightning, wrapping my arms around her, basically picking her up, and started pushing her back to our side of the court. As I wrapped my arms around her, I felt a slight pain on the back of my head and realized it must have been Hanna who was in the process of punching Lauren, until I got in the way just in time. Instead I got punched in the back of the head. I ducked, hoping to avoid anymore hits.

Lauren was fighting me every inch of the way and hurling swear words at the other team. I had seen the green eyed’s temper before, but never in this capacity. She was like a rabid dog and started swiping at my arms and screaming at me to let her go.

I could hear yelling, but I had no idea what was going on behind me. To be honest though, I didn’t care. My only objective at the moment was calming Lauren down. “Lauren,” I spoke sternly, trying to gain her attention. That didn’t work, she was still looking everywhere but at me. I put my hands on either side of her face and firmly, but more softly this time said, “Lauren, Lauren, look at me.”

When she finally did what I asked and green met brown, I collectedly assured her, “It’s ok, I’m ok, calm down.”

To my surprise, Lauren instantly relaxed. For a moment, there was an unfamiliar tenderness in her eyes while she was looking at me. Despite the chaos of what was going on, my knees started feeling weak as I got lost in what felt like a trance looking into Lauren’s eyes. My heart started beating uncontrollably fast as we just stared at each other. I had all of her attention and I was addicted to that. I was relapsing quickly, getting high on her. My eyes could not help but to find their way to her full lips.

A very loud whistle from a ref snapped me out of it and I finally realized my hands were still resting on her cheeks. I quickly removed them and took a step back from Lauren, confident that she wouldn’t try anything else. I turned to my left to see Coach Tommy walking up to us with an upset look on his face. He immediatey huddled us back to the bench and yelled at us to stay there as he ran back out towards the court where now I could see there was two groups being separated.

Dinah was being held back by Normani, Jamie, and CG, while on the other side Hanna and six other Bearmount players were being held back by their coaches. The refs were in the middle of the two groups, mediating the situation.

Lauren and I shared a look like 'holy shit, what did we do’.

Ally placed a hand on my shoulder and her, along with the rest of our team on the bench started asking us questions about if we were ok and what happened out there. We both tried to answer the questions, but there was still so much commotion going on that I couldn’t focus.

I couldn’t make out what Dinah was saying, but she was screaming her head off back and forth with the group of Bearmount players all by herself.

Eventually, everyone was separated and dragged back to their respective benches. Dinah was pacing by the water cooler, ranting to Normani. Coach Tommy’s head was so red I thought it might explode and CG was yelling at Lauren by the gym doors at the top of her lungs. I understood why they were furious with Lauren, but I was feeling the complete opposite emotion. I was flattered.

She cares.

Yeah, maybe it is not in the way I want, but I have lost sight of the fact that she does care about me as a person. It’s not fair that just because I have feelings for her that she can’t reciprocate, that I should cut her out and ignore her. Yes, it will be extremely difficult for me to be friends with her, but the least I should do is try.

It did not take long for the refs to come to the decision to eject Hanna, Lauren, and three of Bearmount’s bench players. It is an NCAA rule that if a bench player steps on the court for any reason during a fight, they are automatically ejected. Luckily for us, none of our bench players stepped on the court, mainly due to the quick thinking of CG and our trainer, who held everybody back.

The rest of the game went on relatively without a hitch. The tension and aggression levels were still pretty high, but without Hanna on the floor, Bearmount stood no chance against us. They have no one else on their team that can match her level of obnoxious intensity.

We all sat around in the locker room after the game, everyone abuzz with the events of the game. I, on the other hand, was sitting quietly in my locker, somberly reflecting on everything that had occurred. I was proud of myself for how I handled the nuisance that was instigating and prodding at my anger, but things she had said, particularly about Emma, left me feeling down. I was elated that we won the tumultuous game, but I was not impressed with how I performed.

I looked to my right to find Lauren sitting at her locker with an almost equally crestfallen expression. For a small moment I wanted to get up and go hug her, but then I remembered the prior week’s events and re-centered. Still, I needed to speak with her.

I trudged over to her, slightly nervous. I was still shocked that she came to my defense the way she did and conflicted about how I should approach our friendship with the feelings that I have. I still had not decided whether I should be glad for what Lauren did or angry at her for it either.

I cleared my throat. “Hey.”

The pale faced Junior looked up at me. Her mouth twitched slightly as she blinked at me, but her facial expression did not change much. “Hi,” she spoke delicately.

I sighed, scratching the back of my neck and feeling awkward. “I just wanted to say thank you. You stuck up for me and I wanted to let you know that I appreciated that.”

Lauren’s eyebrows raised slightly, astonished. “You’re welcome.” Her eyebrows went back down as she crossed her arms and continued, “That girl is just jealous of you.”

I scoffed and shook my head, not believing that for a moment.

She made eye contact with me subsequently after my dismissal and added, “What’s there not to be jealous of?”

I stared at her and she stared at me. My mouth dried at the flirtatious undertone of what she had just said. 'Wait, no’ I thought to myself, 'she is just being nice’. Here I go again, trying to believe in this fantasy version of Lauren, trying desperately to assume that every look she gives me is filled with love or desire, and every thing she says to me has a seductive motivation. 'Stop being delusional’ I censured myself.

“Um.. thanks,” I responded before quickly spinning around to go back to my locker and leave my delusions in the dust.

Coach Tommy gave us all a long and critical talk in our post-game meeting. He understood Lauren’s response completely, as most everyone did. Many heads nodded in agreement when Coach expressed that sentiment, however he was disappointed in how she had handled her feelings of anger toward Hanna Grace, as well as her need to protect her teammate.

To my resentment, Coach made an example out of me. He told our entire team that how I handled the situation should be how everybody handled a situation like that. I felt bad for Lauren because I could tell she felt like no one was supporting her or coming to her defense, so I did.

I raised my hand and once Coach Tommy saw me, he nodded in my direction, giving me permission to talk. “Lauren had my back like a real teammate today. Sure, it is unfortunate that we might lose her for a couple games over this, but I know now that Lauren is loyal to this team and willing to defend all of us if someone should try to bring us down. I trust her as a teammate more than ever now and I just felt like that needed to be said.”

I was relieved to see most of the other heads in the locker room nod in agreement. I chose not to look at Lauren because who knew what kinds of feelings that might stir up inside of me.

Soon enough, the talks were over and we were all free to go home for the night. I was relieved because I needed to work on my Neuroanatomy project tonight.

I changed my clothes, packed up all of my stuff, and said my goodbyes to my teammates. Exiting the locker room door, I turned the corner of the hallway to head for the parking lot doors. Leaning up against the wall with one foot propped up was none other than Hanna Grace. Her jet black hair was put up in a messy bun. Her duffel bag was lying on the floor next to her and she was in normal clothes. Nike leggings covered her long, athletic legs, and a basic Bearmount College basketball sweatshirt, covered her upper body. She smirked with contempt as soon as she saw me.

It did not take long before she had something to say. “Was that your new girlfriend coming in to fight your battles for you?”

It was like she had been waiting for me and had prepared that line. She truly is one of the most annoying people I have ever come across. “With how weak your punch was, I don’t think it would have been much of a battle for me,” I countered.

She laughed bitterly, nodding in approval to my comeback. She had one of her own though. “Does the rest of your team know about your new romance?”

My jaw clenched slightly, but I smiled, pretending to be completely unfazed.

“Want me to tell them? I can spread the good news for you,” she continued.

I laughed at that comment. The threat was real, but I was unconcerned because I knew my team would never believe her anyways considering she is the source. I relaxed completely knowing she had zero leverage against me and I had come out victorious tonight. The girl was now grasping at straws to edge out a mental victory, but I was not going to allow that for her. I realized in this moment that I truly had bested her today, considering she was going to these kinds of lengths to try to get to me after the game.

“Have a good night, Hanna.”

I waved her goodbye and strolled out of the building into the cold breeze of the night.

______________________________

Wattpad: mothertruckin

#UPDATE #series #AU #slash #camren #based on song #angst drama #submission #Wicked Games

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insomniiyac · 6 years

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Finished my third (and hopefully last) BNHA baby, Anthony~. I tried to copy the whole ref thing and failed horribly. 10/10 will never do again ;__;

Sorry for the low quality, I had to use freaking Google Slides for the text ;__;

She’s totally open for friends and such, so reblog if you’re interested

██████ G E N E R A L // I N F O

“If it wasn’t illegal, I’d have my birthday suit as my hero suit.”

name : Anthony DeLosReyes (

アンソニー・デロスレイズ)

nickname(s) : “Aunt Anthony”, “The Secret Weapon” (Neito) hero name : Inka age// birthday : 18 ll February 28th gender : female height // weight : 5'7 [172.72 cm] // 168lbs blood type : undetermined

nationality: Venezuelan-American

class : 1-B (temporarily) / 3-A

██████ B A T T L E // I N F O

quirk type : Blood Ink

quirk description : Anthony’s quirk is a mutation of the illness hematidrosis. Hematidrosis, also referred to as blood sweat, is a rare condition in which a human being sweats blood. It is very rare, so it is not very understood. However, the blood sweat generally happens in times of fear and stress. With her quirk, it is the combination of her father’s excess blood quirk and her mother’s ink manipulation quirk. Her blood is a combination of red blood cells and specialized ink cells that she can control at will by drawing it out of her pores and manipulating it.

ability1: (Ink Typhoon)- Anthony wields her ink blood as a huge wave, drowning those in it. Can cause anemia.

ability2: (Bullet Bonanza)- Combining her ink blood with keratin, she hardens it and shoot at her opponents. Very painful with strong chances of tearing of the skin.

ability3: (Ink Poisoning)- Blood Ink gets released as toxic gas, poisoning those in the area (up to 25 sq feet). Only available under times of intense stress when skin is heated enough. ability4: (Magenta Magic)- She can harden her blood and wield them as weapons such as gauntlets and bats. quirk drawbacks : This is a very unstable and dangerous quirk for its user, so if Anthony isn’t careful she may end up hospitalized from severe anemia. To use this quirk effectively, she has to keep a healthy workout regime and food palette with lots of nutrients as well as staying within a certain weight class. Stats: power: [4/5] B speed [2/5] D technique[3/5] C intelligence [5/5] A cooperativeness[5/5] A

██████ P E R S O N A L // I N F O

personality : Anthony, as described by most, is a very relaxed individual. There isn’t much that she’s particularly fazed by and often keeps up an air of optimism wherever she goes. She is also very hardworking and persistent in her goals. Despite growing up with a “literal IV needle in her arm” as she would describe it, it never stopped her from traveling overseas to become a hero.

likes : >>Spicy food. Everything needs spice- even lollipops. She refuses to eat one if it isn’t covered in chili flakes. >>Hair cuts. She prefers her hair short and loves the look of a fresh cut from time to time. >>Lighters. She doesn’t smoke or anything, but she is an avid collector of antique lighters. >>Music. Any in general, really. She has no real preference. Being naked. She’s very confident in her skin and wishes the world was the same way.

dislikes : >>Injustice. Only a villain would like that. >>Lazy, entitled people. She’s had to work hard to get to where she was today and she expects others to put in that same energy. >>…That’s about it, really. She’s fairly open-minded to things.

history : Anthony grew up as an only child to a biker father and a tattoo artist mother in New Mexico, America. Her quirk manifested at the very early age of two which made it very uncontrollable for those around her. She was often dehydrated and sick, often waking up to the horror of being in a pool of her own blood. She had to walk around with an IV needle in her at all times to keep her from passing out and was home schooled up until junior high where they felt she could control her quirk a little better. There, she was able to meet friends and develop the social life she never had growing up. She often hid her quirk and pretended to be quirkless for a while as to not freak anyone out for sweating literal ink blood. However, she drew inspiration from her favorite Japanese hero, Vlad King, whose blood manipulation quirk was similar to hers. Studying her favorite hero closely- she attempted time and time again to manipulate her quirk, mostly with damning results. She’d stay out in the school gym for longer nights as she trained herself to become a hero just like her idol. When she hit eighth grade, a huge opportunity had rise for her. Her school (which was a middle to high school) had recently developed the Hero Acceleration Program (or HAP). The HAP is an international program created for other schools to learn and replicate the same practices and experiences that are offered at Yuuei. A select amount of students are handpicked all over the world to be sent to Yuuei for free through this program and report their experiences back to their home countries. The requirements are that they are to have at least 200 hours of volunteer work, fluent in Japanese speech and writing, a GPA of 3.75, and have at least passed two AP Hero Courses with an A. They tend to pick out those from freshman to sophomore year and is automatically set up with an internship of their choice. Sacrificing the perks of high school life and social interaction, she dedicated herself to meet these requirements; studying kanji and spoken formal and informal Japanese, constantly doing volunteer work after school and on weekends, and loads of studying as well as physically training her body to its limits. She was able to fulfill all of the requirements by sophomore year, though there was one problem… her parents. They didn’t trust her to go overseas without them due to fear of her quirk taking over and killing her and them not being able to do anything about it so they held her back for another two years. Anthony trained harder, hard enough to prove to her parents that she can control it and that she was responsible enough to live out there on her own. She refined her Japanese, learned her social norms, and also lived her social life she never had the ability to years ago. They finally relented and flew her out to Japan where she attends Yuuei. There she met her childhood hero and got so emotional from the fact that he had accepted her to mentor. They set her back as an extra in 1-B so she can get used to how things worked in there for a semester. She wasn’t able to participate in the Sports Festival or the School Field Trip due to her HAP status in the school, but she participates in the training exercises and regular class time. During the duration of her time in 1-B, she took on the nickname “Aunt Anthony” due to her laid-back attitude and her tendency to play a secondary mentor to the others. Recently, due to her level of intelligence and quirk control, she was placed up to 3-A.

██████ R E L A T I O N S H I P S// I N F O

Sekijiro Kan

: Her biggest idol growing up as well as her mentor. They have a very father-daughter relationship that her actual father gets jealous of- but can’t really blame him. Kan often looks out for Anthony despite her class change and will do random checks with the teacher to make sure she doesn’t get too comfortable. The fact that she even interns under him is still surreal to her.

Pony Tsunotori

: She took a huge liking to Pony Tsunotori who shared her nationality as foreigners from America. They frequently speak to each other in English, Anthony teaching her a bit of Japanese to hopefully combat Neito’s influence on the poor girl.

Neito Monoma

: Neito’s crush is pretty one-sided, though he mostly shows it through passive-aggressively making jabs at her and other genuine mischief. He’s secretly happy that 1-B has a very capable student in their class that can probably rival majority of 1-A despite it all. Anthony knows this and continuously plays along in entertaining his crush, possibly even developing one for the sap.

██████ T R I V I A L // I N F O

“Aw babes, don’t make that face. I’ll always be your Aunt Anthony, no matter what~!”

Family: DeLosReyes, Gael (41) - Alive Quirk Type Blood Overgeneration DeLosReyes, Ximena (38) - Alive Quirk Type Ink Manipulation

Friends: Pony Tsunotori, Itsuka Kendo, Neito Monoma, Ibara Shiozaki, (all of Class 1-B really, lol), Izuku Midoriya, Kirishima Ejirou

hobbies :

drawing intricate patterns and artwork.

fun facts + headcanons:

1) Anthony is actually fluent in three languages: English, Spanish, and Japanese.

2) She managed to sucker her mom into tattooing her body as a parting gift before she left to Japan.

3) She was originally supposed to be shipped with Tetsutetsu (in which I have a fic that I may or may not post >u>)

4) She’s a nudist which is mainly why her costume shows so much skin. She uses overheating mainly as an excuse.

#bnha #bnha oc #boku no hero oc #mha oc #my hero academy oc #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #character design #digital art #anime art #my art #💉 oc tag: Anthony

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theclaravoyant · 7 years

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The Sum of Our Parts [FitzSimmons]

AN ~ for @florchis, who prompted “Daisy trying to help FitzSimmons mend their relationship after the Framework,” and also tagging @buckysbears who recently wrote about how we need more fics about characters recovering by learning to stand on their own two feet, which is a concept I’ve also threaded strongly through this.

FitzSimmons, Bus Kids. Rated T for general angst & Framework references (no A*da refs though).

Read on AO3 (~2600wd)

The Sum of Our Parts

It was a miserable time on the SS Space Prison. Not the routine itself – that was not too bad, not too different from being on base, but for the grating knowledge that they were here against their wills. No, what was really getting down on everyone was the shadow of the Framework, still hanging over their lives.

Coulson replayed Captain America’s speech to the Hub at the Fall of Shield; a call to action that the meek, obedient teacher in the Framework world had never heard, had never felt. He’d sent children to be brainwashed and killed. They were computer-coded children, and he a computer-coded version of himself, but still. It was a harrowing thought.

Mack was haunted by memories of his daughter, in a grief that was different from his first grief in all the most painful ways. Having her back had always been a dream and though that should have helped him move on, instead it led him to question the nature of reality. It plunged his faith into doubt, and he felt more alone than he had in years. If Hope could exist in a godless world like that, and not here, what was the point of it all?

Elena did not have the answers, and she knew it was more than just language and culture that kept her from understanding Mack now. But she stood by him, and did her best. Even so, she puzzled over her final decision in the Framework. To stay with Mack. To die with him. She had passed it off as a gamble she had been willing to take, but really, in hindsight, she had not been confident. She had been ready to die. It was true: everyone who loved her most had been in that room. Her family was dead and gone. Her closest friend had disowned her. She had nothing but Shield, and even they were distrustful – except Daisy, perhaps, but still Elena wondered. Would she ever find a place?

Daisy herself, ever resilient, was the backbone of the team in this time of crisis. Having lost Trip, lost Lincoln again – having been hunted and beaten by her friends, by May and Fitz – she felt all her old wounds ripped open again. The only way to heal them, she found, was to try and patch up the people around her. She had never loved God like Mack did. She had never been a drone, or feared being one, like Coulson had. She couldn’t even understand how May had managed to come out of this so lost: though her decision not to save the girl had been reinforced, by seeing the horrors of the aftermath of the alternative, May could feel how lost and broken her team was, and could do nothing.

But Daisy could.

And that’s why, one night, Jemma came knocking on her door. Frantically, heavily, incessantly, until Daisy hauled the flat of the door out of the way of her desperately rapping knuckles.

“It’s Fitz,” Jemma gushed, in explanation. Daisy nodded in understanding, and pulled Jemma into her room. Jemma shoved a packet of Oreos into her arms, as some sort of payment for the disruption, and begged: “Can you go talk to him, see how he is?”

“I talk to him plenty,” Daisy assured her. “He’s going through some stuff, for sure, but he’ll be alright.”

Jemma shook her head. That wasn’t good enough.

“I just. I want. To help. So badly. But I can’t be near him right now. I can’t. Not after -”

“I know.” Daisy swallowed the knot in her throat. “Fitz knows too, okay?”

“And he’s beating himself up about it, isn’t he?”

“In fairness, he’s beating himself up about a lot these days,” Daisy pointed out, and hoped she didn’t sound as cryptic as she thought she did. Last week, Fitz had been hit by a depression so deep and so bleak that believing he deserved to breathe had barely been in the picture, but Daisy wasn’t about to tell Jemma that. The last thing Fitz needed was Jemma in overdrive, and the last thing Jemma needed was to fear that the man she loved, but couldn’t look at, was about to off himself in her absence.

“I want to fix him,” Jemma insisted. “It. The situation. I just wish I knew what to do to make it better.”

“You know that’s not your job, right?” Daisy checked. “To fix him?”

Jemma sighed.

“I know,” she promised. Tears pricked at her eyes, and tugged at her voice. “But I love him, and he’s hurting, and it’s hard.”

“I know,” Daisy agreed. She wrapped her arms around Jemma, and together, the two of them took a big, deep breath. A little reluctantly, Daisy pulled away.

“You want to know what I think?” she offered. “I think you need to stop trying to solve the problem for him.”

Jemma blinked, surprised and a little hurt. Those words sounded brutal, coming from Daisy, who was such a friend to them both. But Daisy continued:

“Firstly, you don’t see the world like he does, and maybe he doesn’t need what you think he needs.

“Secondly, you have your own stuff to deal with. I know you want to help Fitz and I know you know he’s not the same person as the one in there, but I think you should take a beat. Your heart doesn’t always know what your brain knows. You had to kill a man who loved you, and who looked like Fitz. A robot man, but still. He tried to kill you – and then, inside the Framework? Another man with Fitz’s face looked you in the eyes, and shot you. Actually shot you!”

“Stop it,” Jemma hissed, clenching her fists. Hot tears dripped down her face. Daisy pulled back a little.

“I’m just saying,” she explained more carefully. “Solving other people’s problems isn’t going to get you out of this one. And acting like everything is the same as it was two weeks ago is going to destroy you both. It’s nobody’s fault, but it still sucks ass, and it’s still going to take time to get over. I think you should take this time as an opportunity to process what’s been going on with you. Don’t worry about your relationship. It’s still there. It wants to be there. It’s not going anywhere. But it’s not going to move forward, either, unless you trust that Fitz can get back onto his own two feet without you. He has done before.”

It was a hard reality to face, but Jemma could not deny the truth of Daisy’s words. All she wanted to do was curl up in safety, but there was nowhere safe, and she was in no condition to offer the help she wanted to, and sometimes… sometimes she wasn’t what Fitz needed. Just as he – as much as it hurt them both – was not what Jemma needed right now.

She took a deep breath. Tears fell freely down her cheeks now, and Daisy was tearing up too, bleeding empathy.

“I just want everything to be okay,” Jemma begged.

“Me too.” Daisy hugged her again, briefly, and then held her at arms length to meet her eyes. “And yes, I will keep an eye on Fitz, and help him if I can. I promise. In fact, I’ll go see him right now. Sounds good?”

Jemma nodded absently, distracted in thought and wiping at her eyes with her hands until Daisy passed her a tissue.

“I’ll go… book a treadmill,” she decided. Daisy looked at her, puzzled, and she explained: “Regular exercise has meditative qualities, and can help with emotional regulation as well as sleep and circulation. Amongst other things, of course.”

She smiled briefly, and Daisy smiled, more encouragingly, back.

“That’s my girl,” she praised.

When Daisy knocked on Fitz’s door, he called her in. He was in bed, with a sketchpad on his lap, removing a set of earphones from his ears as she pushed the door open. Immediately, her eyes were drawn to the pictures all around the walls. There were strings and pegs up, decorated by pages he’d torn out of other books, and drawn all over in pen and pencil and apparently, charcoal. Some of the images were quite horrific, and almost made Daisy flinch: faces in agony, dead trees, hellish landscapes. Others were not so bad. A woman on a hill, silhouetted in moonlight. A candle, burning brightly in the darkness. A butterfly, drawn in black charcoal and decorated with bright blue and red ballpoint pens.

“You’ve been busy,” Daisy remarked. Fitz looked around, unsure how proud he should be of these scribblings, born from nightmares.

“It relaxes me,” he explained.

“That’s good.”

Daisy nodded, and perused the pictures some more, but she no longer paid so much attention to the details. Her mind churned over Jemma’s concern, and how to raise the subject with Fitz. In the end, she decided, she couldn’t be much more brutal than he was being with himself, so she forged ahead.

“Jemma’s worried about you.”

Fitz lowered his eyes. “I know.”

“She’s sorry she can’t see you.”

“That’s not her fault. It’s…”

“Complicated,” Daisy finished for him. “But she wanted to make sure you knew. She still loves you, you know. Like, really a lot."

“I still love her too.”

Fitz’s eyes burned with tears. His heart had been yearning for Jemma for so long, it had become a dull and pounding ache now that they were apart… but not really apart. Not separate. Just separated. It was always a struggle to remind himself of that, especially on the bad days.

“Do you want to send her a message?” Daisy offered. “Write her a letter. I’ll deliver it, if you like.”

Fitz shook his head.

“I’m not… ready,” he explained. His voice trembled a little. It was hard, not to reach out to Jemma with everything he had. But in spite of how beaten down he felt, and how he could hardly believe she would still hold this olive branch out to him, something inside told him not to do it. Something on the page in front of him, told him not to do it.

“Not ready… how?” Daisy wondered.

“Not ready to… be Jemma’s. Without being myself first. I thought I knew who I was but now I don’t anymore. I don’t know if I’m a good person. I don’t know who I’d really be without Jemma. Until I know that, I won’t be able to prove to myself that the Framework wasn’t a real potential outcome. That it really wasn’t me. And until I can prove that, I won’t be ready.”

Daisy pressed her lips together, and swallowed hard. Her stomach turned.

“Does this mean you’re gonna go run off and find yourself in the wild?”

Fitz laughed, a short and breathless dismissal.

“No! I don’t want to leave you guys… I sure as hell don’t want to break up with Jemma. I just want to be sure that, by the time we can be together again, I can be my best self. Does that… make sense?”

“Not really,” Daisy confessed. “But if it did, I think I’d be concerned.” Fitz snorted.

“Can I at least tell her you’re alright?” Daisy pressed.

“Sure.” He wasn’t, really. Not every day. But he was going to be.

Sensing the gravity in his words, Daisy nodded. They lived messy lives, but here they were, making the best sense out of it that they could. She dropped down on the bed, scooching in beside him, and sighed.

“So, what’s the plan?” she asked him. “How are you going to figure out that you’re a good person?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Fitz replied. “A lot of thinking, I s’pose. And overthinking. It’s going to take a while which… well, sucks.”

Daisy nodded in sympathy. “Welcome to the human race, I guess. And the Inhuman race. Existential crises are another thing we share, apparently.”

“Oh, good, so you’re not too evolved to look at my bugs?”

Daisy screwed up her nose. “Are they real bugs?”

“No. Pictures of bugs.”

“Are they like… eating people, or something?”

“No!” Fitz gagged. “They’re just really geometric to draw. I thought I’d try my hand at something a bit less…”

He gestured around the room. Scribbles born from nightmares. Even the nice ones, Daisy saw, were rushed and urgent and painfully soul-bearing. Still, they held promise; the promise that Fitz could still produce something beautiful, and if he couldn’t do that by building, maybe this was a better way.

“Okay,” Daisy agreed. “Shoot.”

Daisy couldn’t help but be proud of them, as much as it hurt, as she watched them struggle toward the light on their own. In fits and starts, they made their way toward progress. Jemma started exercising, sleeping and eating better, and meditating with May each morning. She was less inclined to panic attacks and catastrophic spirals, and gradually she was getting her PTSD back under control. Fitz, meanwhile, started talking to Mack at length about philosophy, and as he stumbled through hundreds of years of humanity's existential crisis he began to find he no longer felt so lost. His art evolved, too, and he developed two separate notebooks: one for the nightmares, and one for his more deliberate art. He drew flowers, and beautiful beetles. Scarabs were his favourite. Sometimes, he drew people, or even scenes, like the one of an old couple walking a dog. One night, Daisy found him by the big viewing window, trying to draw a picture of space, like the one he’d had in his bunk since the Bus days, and even before that. Apparently, he’d bought it from a goodwill store back home, and carried it around with him all this time. It wasn’t here, prisoner with him, but it was reassuring to know that he was finding roots of what he loved before Jemma, outside of her.

Plus, Daisy couldn’t lie, it made her intensely happy that this love – their love of space – was so much older than their love for each other and yet, it was something they shared.

(The cosmos says what? Daisy almost teased.)

Then one morning, she was eating alone at a table in the cafeteria, watching Jemma and Fitz across the room, each one table apart. Now that they were both on steady ground, Daisy wondered if she shouldn’t reprise her matchmaker role; no doubt both were hesitant to make the first move with so much at stake. But then, before her very eyes, Fitz got up and walked to Jemma’s table. He held out a sheet of paper.

It was a page from his notebook. A bird, based on a bluejay, and beautifully detailed as if in flight.

“I… made this for you,” he offered. Jemma’s eyes flicked over his face, still not sure if she was ready to meet his eyes, but she took the paper and studied his drawing and sighed in admiration.

“It’s beautiful,” she praised.

“Thank you,” he said. It wasn’t as hard to swallow the compliment as he remembered. “I’ve been working on my art lately. Helps me think.”

“That’s really nice,” Jemma agreed. “I’ve started meditating with May. Though I’ve missed having you at morning tea.”

“Me too.”

And then Jemma took a deep breath. She looked up, and met Fitz’s eyes. They were a little heavier, more burdened than she remembered, but just as rich and soulful and loving as the eyes that she remembered. That she herself loved.

“Fitz, I – I mean, would you – “ She pressed her lips together for a moment. “Would you like to sit down?”

“Jemma,” he breathed. “I would love to.”

And he did.

#fitzsimmons #brot3: bus kids #thefitzsimmonsnetwork #engineering vs biochem #aospositivitynet #team engineering #clara's fic tag

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