#i knew she was old but this stuff doesn't make sense to me at all
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WAIT wait wait wait wait okay so i had the vera timeline all off--it wasn't euhorn kaldwin who proposed to her but instead it was an emperor like 2.5 emperors behind him?? and he proposed to her when she was 15????? wtf wtf wtf
she gets married to moray at 20 years old, and then apparently doesn't go on the expedition to pandyssia until she's over 40??
the vibes are ALL wrong for this, i'm revising this lmao
#sorry ''''canon''''#if that is your real name#i knew she was old but this stuff doesn't make sense to me at all#this just isn't a world where 'old guy proposes to child and she rebuffs his flirtations' has any place#there's strong evidence that she says no to him bc she's desired enough to have her pick of suitors and she's just not into him#these ages would paint a very different story if not a very different outcome#and i think she should meet the outsider around age 25 so!! like imagine she suggests going on that trip instead of a honeymoon#idk man i'm changing things#vera moray#dishonored#granny rags
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AITA for accidentally outing my fiance?
I (27F) am engaged to a 24M guy. He is trans, but he doesn't identify as trans anymore - he's post-everything, passes 100%, lives stealth/as a cis man, and no one who didn't know him pre-transition knows him as anything but a cis man. I know keeping that up is very important to him, we've had a lot of conversations about how happy he is just being seen as cis and being able to pass. I know getting outed and 'found out' is also a big worry of his, for example for our upcoming wedding he's rushing around trying to make it clear to his family that they shouldn't mention him being trans or refer to him as she/her at our wedding because he has so many friends coming who don't know he's trans. It's not that he doesn't trust them or he's ashamed of being trans or anything, he's very supportive of his trans friends, but he just doesn't publicly live as trans.
We're in a big Discord server of friends that have been quite close for about a year now, enough that we've met multiple of them in person and two of them are going to be in his wedding party as sort of 'best man' equivalents (we're not really sticking to bridesmaid best man stuff just our mixed gender friends). He has kept his Facebook very private for as long as I've known him, the only people on there are IRL friends and family because he has in the past posted trans stuff on there, like transition updates, it still has old pictures of him pre-T or in early transition, etc. I knew he didn't want this found. He also hadn't told any of this group aside from the people he was especially close with and had invited to the wedding his surname and location in case they looked him up and found something.
People in the server were sharing their Facebook profiles and I shared mine so people could add me. My fiance messaged me right after pointing out that me sharing mine would dox him as I had him in my relationship status and friends list, but I unfortunately didn't see this message for a while as I was distracted and doing other things. By the time I saw, everyone in the group had already clicked and gone through my profile and found his.
He tried to go through and speed-delete everything he could find that was public that mentioned him being trans or showed him pre-transition, any comments from family referring to it, etc but pictures that were set to friends only were still popping up in previews on the side and some of his family have public profiles that show cover images with him pre-T and things like that.
Our friends were making jokes about finally knowing his surname, going through his whole account down to the time it was first made back in 2018, commenting on old statuses of his, so they definitely saw his profile and went through all of it. He was panicking because he had no way of knowing if they'd seen that he's trans or not and got super upset and freaked out about the possibility, and he couldn't ask without outing himself or making them suspicious.
I apologized and deleted the link but obviously by then it was too late.
I do think it's not a huge deal as much as he thinks because I know our friends would be supportive and wouldn't think of him differently, but I know it was still important to him. I'm not sure they did see because some of our friends are the type to have just blurted out "You're trans?!" in the server without thinking about it (not because they're malicious or judging it, but some of them aren't as online and don't really know how to talk about it sensitively if that makes sense) and they didn't say anything. However he thinks they did because they were talking about statuses older than the ones he managed to get to deleting in time.
Like I said i did apologize but I feel like he's still upset with me for not thinking before sending my profile. On top of that I have kind of a habit of doing things impulsively and without thinking (I have bpd and bipolar) and not always taking into account how it will affect him or what consequences it will have,which I've been working on for years but I worry this is just adding to that which I know already wears on him.
What are these acronyms?
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I’ll die with you
(Tara Carpenter x fem! reader)
Summary: Months after the 2022 massacre, you reunite with someone dear to you. But the happiness in only temporary; a new killer is targeting you.
Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7
a/n: This will probably be a multi chapters story with very irregular posting :))
Warnings: blood, injuries, Ghostface stuff, angst
(English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)
"Hey, I'm not going to disappear okay?"
You laughed as your girlfriend pouted when you pushed her away gently. You were lying on her bed, her on top of you kissing you desperately as if you were about to vanish.
"It's just two days Tara, maybe less knowing her"
"Well that's still too long! Who's going to cuddle with me if you're not here? And my morning kiss?"
"I'll make up this, I promise" you kiss her "After this weekend"
She groaned slightly, disappointed. But she knew it was important for you.
"Can we stop talking now? I want to enjoy our last moment together..."
"Don't be dramatic, it's not our last moment together. When you say it like that it looks like we will never see each other again..."
She didn't answer and kissed you again, desperately.
You hadn't been separated in a while since the... incident. You were so used to be on each other all day it was hard being without her for too long.
Her lips were soon on your neck, placing hot, wet kisses here, sucking dark purple marks there, hands everywhere on you. You let out a sight, fingers tangled in her hair.
"Tara..."
She hummed against your skin, hands sliding under your shirt. You felt her smile on your shoulder when she felt you shivering under her cold fingers.
You arrived late at the train station, hair still a little messy. You rolled down your window and looked around for the person you were waiting. She wasn't difficult to spot with her blue suit.
You texted her you were there. She looked up, and starting walking toward you, a smile replacing her previous frown.
"Where did you get that car? Are you even allowed to drive it?" she asked as she took place next to you
"I stole it"
She gave you a "are you serious" look. You rolled your eyes, smiling.
"I'm kidding, I bought it. And yes, I have a licence"
You started to drive home calmly.
"How was New York?" you asked
"Oh you know, with work I don't really have time to visit"
"You know that's not what I meant"
"I know"
"... It's going to get better right...? Does it ever go away...?"
"Not completely, never. It's normal to feel that way. You cared about him, we both did. Time will ease the pain, but he will still be in our hearts. Forever"
She had never been good at reassuring anyone, but this time she found the right words.
Months after, your dad's death still hurt. It was normal, you knew it. You wanted to get over it, like everyone told you, but there was always that part of yourself that still believed he would come home.
"I'm back" he would say with a smile "Sorry I made you wait, the delivery guy forgot the sauce, again"
But that never happened. It never would.
With your mom out of town, you didn't think too much about him. Or at least that's what you said not to worry Tara. Now that she was back, even if it was only a weekend, the good old days came back, flashing before your eyes.
You parked in front of the house, tears in your eyes.
"How can you not cry...?" you asked with a nervous laugh, trying to light up the mood
"I'm Gale Weathers, I don't cry. Not in public"
"Of course, why did I even asked?"
You both smiled a little, getting out of the car and inside the house.
You started making diner, telling her some things you learnt while she was gone, trying to give her ideas for a new novel.
"Why don't you tell me about your life? It would make an interesting book. A spicy one for sure"
So she saw the hickeys.
"Mom!"
You blushed hard, embarrassed.
"No you're right, writing about people only attracts psychos. I wouldn't want your girlfriend or you getting hurt"
"Thank you?"
You both laughed and had a good time watching your favorite series while eating, until her phone rung.
"What does he wants? I told him I was off this weekend" she mumbled
"Pick up"
"What?"
"Maybe it's important"
She looked at you for a second, before getting up and taking the call. When she came back, you already knew what she was going to say.
"They learnt I was back here and now they want me to-"
"I know. It's fine, we had a good time, you can go"
"I'm sorry Y/n..."
She hugged you tight.
"You're Gale Weathers, the best reporter. No wonder everyone wants you"
She smiled a little, relieved you weren't mad, and was quick to go.
It always ended up that way with her. But it wasn't her fault. You knew she ment it when she said she was sorry.
You sighed and called your girlfriend.
"Guess who has to work even on her days off?" you said when she picked up
"She's gone already?"
"Yep. That was quicker than I thought... want to come over to keep me company?"
"Is that even a question? I'm on my way, wait for me baby"
You smiled at her words.
"Don't hang up, I want to talk to you on your way here"
"Oh yeah? What are you gonna tell me? Tease me?"
"Maybe..." you said innocently
The landline suddenly started ringing, making you jump.
"Shit"
"What's going on?"
"Landline. Who still uses this?" you mumbled
You walked to the phone and picked up, putting Tara on speaker so you could still hear her.
"Hello?"
"Is this uh... Y/n Riley?"
"Depends. What do you want?"
"You ordered something on our website, it should be there"
"Why do you call me for that?"
"Well... I think we send you the wrong package..."
"Y/n what's going on? Who is it?"
You texted your girlfriend about the situation while talking with the guy.
"I suppose you want me to check?"
"Yep"
"And uh... what did I ordered again? I don't remember"
"I think it was... a painful death."
You hang up immediately and let go of the phone. A voice changer. He was using a fucking voice changer.
"Baby! Is everything okay?"
"Yeah... just a stupid guy using a voice changer for a stupid prank..."
"Are you sure of that?"
The voice came from behind you. You turned around so quickly your neck hurt.
You felt your heart drop in your chest when you saw a tall, dark silhouette looking at you through a Ghostface mask.
"Hello, Y/n"
You were frozen in place, incapable of moving. The Ghostface took a step closer to you, tilting his head slightly, knife in hand.
That's when your legs came back. You ran as quickly as you could, trying to tell Tara on the phone.
"Tara it's Ghostface! Fuck I-"
You couldn't finish your sentence. He grabbed you violently by the waist, making you let go of your phone. It slid on the floor.
He stabbed your abdomen, a hand over your mouth. You let out a muffled scream, and tried to escape his strong grip.
You managed to bit his hand, hard. He kicked you forward, swearing under his breath.
You barely had time to grab a lamp nearby and turn around that he was already on you again, fingers wrapping around your neck, choking you.
You dropped the lamp as he lifted you up before pressing your back against the chimney. Breathing was becoming difficult. To make things better, he sank his blade into you again, twisting it painfully this time. Blood splattered on the floor.
You struggled against him, trying to get his hand off of your neck. But he was stronger than you, you couldn't do anything.
You reached behind you, desperate, when your hands found what you thought was a vase. With all the strength you still had, you slammed it on his head.
His stumbled backward, holding his head, letting you fall to the ground. You gasped for air but didn't waste more time and staggered up.
You tried to reach your phone on the way to the door, but you were pushed to the ground. You started crawling, tears flooding down your cheeks.
"Tara help!" you yelled, voice broken
Ghostface grabbed your hair and tugged your head backward harshly, one of his knees on your back to keep you on the floor.
"No one can save you. You will die alone, just like your father."
He slammed your head against the floor. You let out a cry which only grew bigger when he stabbed you on your side. He did it again. And again. And again. You were coughing blood at this point.
You didn't want to die. You couldn't die. You were screaming for help, crying and bleeding on the floor, Ghostface on top of you. You could still hear Tara's voice on the phone, a few meters away.
He pulled on your hair again, slamming your head on the floor once more. You started to feel dizzy. Everything was blurred around you, your ears were ringing.
So that's the end... you thought as he pulled your head back up.
"Tara..." you let out in a breath
He slammed your head back down again, harder than before.
I love you, was what you wanted to say. But everything turned black before you could open your mouth again.
When she arrived at your house, heart beating faster than ever, hands shaking, she saw him. Tall. Black costume. Bloody knife. He was running away.
Then her eyes fell on your body, lying in a pool of blood in your living room.
"Y/n!"
She ran to you, turning you around so you were on your back. Your face was covered in blood, fresh tears on your cheeks. She looked at you in horror. Her worst nightmare just became real.
Your necklace with her initial, stained with your blood, was hanging lazily around your neck, red from earlier.
Tears were rolling down her cheeks when she tried to take your pulse. She gasped when she felt it. She held your head with one hand, the other taking one of your own.
"Baby please stay with me... I called an ambulance it will be here any minute now..."
She had almost lost her voice from screaming when you were being attacked. Hearing you cry for help and not being able to to anything had killed her.
When the ambulance arrived, you were still unconscious in her arms. They forced her to back up while they were taking care of you. She didn't want to. She needed to be close to you. But they didn't let her.
From where she was, she could hear their conversation. It only made her heart ache.
"We're losing her! Get ready to shock her! 1, 2, 3, go!"
"She's losing too much blood!"
After what felt like an eternity, they put you on a stretcher into an ambulance. Tara made her way to you but was stopped quickly.
"You can't go further miss."
"Is she alive?" she asked, panicked
"She was clinically dead for 3 minutes. But we brought her back. Now if you want her to live have to take her to the hospital. And no, you can't come with us, we need to be by her side. You will see her at the hospital"
They left her here, crying on the sidewalk in front of your house. After a minute, she headed to the hospital, walking as fast as her legs allowed.
Once she was there, she was told she couldn't see you yet. She tried to argue, but that was useless. She "would only have to wait a little" as the lady said.
She took the opportunity to call your mother, your friends, and her sister to tell them everything.
The first to arrive was your mom, as expected. She seemed devastated. She got mad when she learnt she couldn't see you right now and started yelling at the lady before Tara dragged her away.
They had to wait half an hour before someone told them they could see you. You were still asleep, but your life wasn't in danger anymore.
Tara sat next to you and took your hand, stroking it gently, while Gale sat on the other side, watching you with tears in her eyes.
"... Can you watch her for a minute...? I have to tell Sidney..." she asked your girlfriend
"I'll call you if she wakes up"
She thanked her and got out of the room, taking her phone with shaking hands.
You would soon wake up, not believing you were still alive, and burst into tears in your girlfriend's arms only able to think about one thing; you had a killer on the hunt again.
[Next part]
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Hello! I love your writing <3 May I ask, do you have any headcanons for Gale? I have a few (eg: his mother raised him alone - he's an only child - as much as he enjoys homecooked meals he's very well known in Waterdeep's fine dining establishments) I'm interested in hearing what you imagine about Gale outside what the game tells us!
Lighter stuff
I agree with you on pretty much all points
Gale might appreciate wine but he strikes me as a fancy whiskey boy. It's a vibe I get
His mother hates the beard, which is why he didn't grow it out until the hermit stage
He loves all books. Magical tomes, history of Faerun, tawdry bodice rippers. And he has a system to his library but it makes no sense to anyone who is not Gale
Personally, I think he's well-known in all Waterdeep's dining establishments. He's in the Yawning Portal at some point as an adult but I also feel like he visits the finer restaurants- probably with his mother
he was raised wealthy, I know he like "oh I haven't dabbled in wealth" but my dear boy was Top Teir middle class at best. I don't think they were 'own the world wealthy' but I believe he grew up with more than just a housekeeper, not having to worry about money. Mama's got Sea Ward money
And of course (because I pointed out his 'tower' is in the Dock Ward) I think as an adult Gale moved to the "rough and tumble" part of town to prove himself. (which is probably why they know him in the poorer establishments )
His tower is a freaking row home, maybe its like two floors taller. But it is a house. Gale is just a fanciful man. Or he's manifesting that shit, idk
I also think he goes home to mama in the sea ward at least 2x a week
Gale is a sorcerer
Gale is 300% a sorcerer whose mother(not magic) was fed up with her shit being set on fire, so she sent him to train in magics the way she was most familiar - Wizard Apprenticing
Less Light Stuff
Gale mentions 'parents' once (I think during the I was denied a kitten speech) I think his father was there at first and then left. Maybe he couldn't handle Gale, or he was just a shitty guy. I think that was the road to Gales "I'm not enough, I must prove I'm enough" syndrome.
I also believe he first encountered Mystra in the Sea Ward at the 'House of Wonder' which is a temple devoted to her. I believe he was young like 13/14 but my guess is she was aware of him from a younger age. (Most wizards apprentice starting at 13... and usually have no spellcasting abilities which is...)
I don't think his favorite color is purple. I think it was Mystra's color and therefor it became his favorite (which is why I like dying all his clothes NOT Purple). Judging by the only room we saw, it's red/maroon/burgundy- but he doesn't know that
I think some of his stunts at Blackstaff were not just his own hubris though he sees it that way, but also at "hey mystra look at me" thing. Which I think she encouraged
I also believe that he was a young adult when the muse-to-lover transition took place. Maybe a few years after he left his apprenticeship, he was old enough to be a 'man' but it was definitely a product of grooming.
I don't think he was ever truly her Chosen. Most gods bestow cool powers (look at the dead 3) or at least protections. She just... screwed him? Taunted him with stuff she knew was going to keep him hooked on her?
When he saw Mystra's interest waning he panicked because he didn't have very many friends (his only named or mentioned friend is Elminster who has the most messed up history with Mystra) and he'd certainly not taken a lover once she 'chose' him. And I assume this was years before the netherese orb disaster. He probably did increasingly dangerous things/adventures to keep her attention, just like he did as a boy.
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Hey so i have been watching way of the house husband lately so can i ask for some girls with a house husband s/o thanks anyway love too read your stuff
(Genshin Impact/GFL) Sara, Eula, Rosaria, Springfield, AK-15, RO635, and UMP9 with a House Husband S/O
I feel the masculine urge to love and adore my wife.
"Today's the day...we got to take your balls away."
Sara honestly doesn't know how to react to her S/O lovingly taking care of things back at home.
She's used to servants and whatnot doing so, but not her own lover.
It made her feel...weird.
(S/O) "Hey, welcome home, Sara! Dinner's about to be ready!"
(Sara) "...T-Thank you."
Sara never fails to be flustered seeing such basic acts of kindness. It made her feel like a normal person rather than a military general.
But she did not hate it, not by a longshot.
She also makes sure to not let any word of her home life. Sure there were security reasons but honestly? It'd just make her feel embarassed.
Here stood Inazuma's general, the Raiden Shogun's second in command, getting all blushy because her S/O made her a cute dinner.
Eula is also in the camp of "not used to being treated with love."
Again, she was used to servants doing these sorts of menial tasks, but S/O did not seem to mind.
It wasn't entirely strange, since gender roles for these kinds of things was quite the old way of thinking, even for the Lawrence clan.
But it weirded her out more because she just wasn't used to having meals made for her, or any type of thing done for her.
(Eula) "Dinner is great tonight, thank you S/O. Remind me to cook for you as well, lest I have my ven...-"
She gives up halfway, seeing S/O's confused expression.
(Eula) "N-Nevermind. Thank you."
She doesn't mention this to others mostly for her pride.
But it was also she wanted this part of S/O to herself.
(Rosaria) "Thanks."
Rosaria had not felt this type of love in a very long time.
She knew for a fact she would never be used to S/O being at home for her.
But she was grateful. S/O was always there at night to provide her a meal and bandaging for her wounds.
They were concerned of course, but she wasn't bombarded by questions of what she was doing or why she was injured.
It was less being submissive and more S/O trusting her. And that meant more than any meal cooked to Rosaria.
The least she could do is return that trust, even if it made her feel anxious.
She still encourages S/O to get out and do some of their own hobbies as well. The last thing she wants to do is confine them. This is the city of freedom after all.
POWER COUPLE
Admittedly, Springfield is a stay-at-home kind of wife herself, so her and S/O get along swimmingly!
The two work with the other T-Dolls at the cafe and are jokingly teased about being an old couple already with the way they act.
The two are always seen together smiling, their homely natures working to great effect at making others relax in their presence.
(Springfield) "Hm, am I cooking dinner tonight S/O, or are you?"
It's a constant battle at home of who will spoil the other, and the two unfortunately do not care about their PDA antics, meaning other T-Dolls and humans will have to suffer in their lovey-dovey presence.
May god (or the Omnissiah) have mercy on anyone in their vicinity, because Springfield and S/O certainly won't.
15 stopped asking S/O why they did the things they did a long time ago.
She did not need to eat, the Dorms were usually pretty clean, and she truly had no preference for a bath, considering T-Dolls were not made for water.
Yet S/O offered it anyways. It was clear they were being polite, and it was appreciated.
(AK-15) "...S/O, your actions make no sense to me at all. But...it is appreciated. If it would make you happy, I suppose I can accept at least a meal."
15 was the type of woman to not like anything pointless being done, but she could tell there was a purpose with what S/O was doing.
They loved her. That was reason enough.
She could at least understand that.
And...it made her happy. She didn't even know she could blush before S/O offered her a meal for the first time.
But her death glare comes back if anyone remotely teases her or S/O.
Usually, RO was the type to bend over backwards for her subordinates and higher ups.
So it was a nice change of pace having someone do so for her. Something RO is eternally grateful for.
She makes sure to always thank them and appreciate their company as her stress melts away the moment she comes into a hug from S/O.
(S/O) "Busy day again?"
(RO635) "SOPMOD found the strangest place to stick her head in, and a horde of animals escaped the rescue station..."
(S/O) "The usual then?'
(RO635) "The fact this is "usual" should really say something about how we operate as a base..."
No living soul ever knows about her with S/O, as her usual professional demeanor completely vanishes the second she steps through their door.
Unfortunately for her, T-Dolls are not really "alive" by a technical definition.
Which is to say, M16A1 and SOPMOD tease the absolute hell out of her and S/O.
(UMP9) "Honey, I'm home!~"
UMP9 completely embraces S/O's tendency to be a stay-at-home.
One of her desires was to have a real family anyway, so this was just one step ahead!
She glomps her S/O everytime she comes back from a mission, ready to accept a meal, a bath, and S/O.
UMP9 makes sure to give back in the relationship so they know it isn't one sided.
She also could not care less of who sees them together acting like the most stereotypical couple.
She loves every single second of it.
(UMP9) "Do you think we can order an apron to really get the effect going, S/O? I'm sure the Commander wouldn't mind ordering one for me!"
#genshin impact x reader#girls' frontline x reader#sara kujou x reader#eula x reader#rosaria x reader#springfield x reader#ak 15 x reader#ro635 x reader#ump9 x reader#kujou sara#eula lawrence#rosaria genshin impact x reader#rosaria genshin impact#springfield gfl#ak 15 gfl#ro635 gfl#ump9 gfl#genshin impact headcanons#genshin impact imagines#girls' frontline imagines#girls' frontline headcanons
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Some final thoughts on the Emperor:
I fucking love the guy. He is SUCH a manipulative asshole. He straight up catfishes you and when you find out about his true nature he just goes ahead and proceeds to be all like
"No dude you can still trust me, I'm just like you. I totally have Normal Human feelings. I never lied to you (except when I did). Go look at my basement with all the sentimental trinkets I keep there. I had a dog, does it make me sympathetic enough? Let's have another Heartfelt Convensation, but I'm shirtless now. Will you trust me more if we bang? Yes good so are you ready to turn into a mindflayer yet"
And boy he is REALLY good at this and sounds very convincing
But if you refuse to fall for is act he gets SO pissed off and changes his tune instantly and straight up shows you that this woman he told you about? How he cared so much for her and he is so totally sad that she's dead and do you feel sad for him as well now
Yeah he totally mind controlled her all this time
(which tbh I picked up on way too early because duke Stelmane having brain damage from being controlled by a mind flayer was a big plot point in one of our d&d games and I knew that it was a canon thing in forgotten realms lore even before bg3 came out)
And he's like WELL AREN'T YOU GLAD THAT I AM NOT MIND CONTROLLING YOU
(and by the way I reloaded my save to try those dialogue options; but in the end I played my character as someone who leaned into trusting him, maybe being just a bit wary but still considering him a necessary ally)
But you see
The best part is
That he is SUCH an asshole and keeps giving off more and more sinister vibes and when he asks you to give him the stones to control the elder brain it 100% feels like "oh yeah. this is it. this is the part where this obviously evil guy betrays you"
And then he just
Doesn't
Idk I fucking love it
Because yeah he is totally manipulating you. To do the same the same thing that you also want to do, which happens to be something that is good and beneficial for the realms
But still all he cares about in the end is self-preservation
This game really does well to show that a mind flayer doesn't have to be "evil" in the usual sense but they are beings that are fundamentally different from us and they feel and see the world differently, even being released from the elder brain's control and having some semblance of their old personality and memories doesn't make them just misunderstood humans with tentacles
I would totally kill him, but unfortunately Lae'zel died in my playthrough (the roll for saving her was SO HIGH and I just. decided against savescumming. it is what it is)
And without her my character didn't care enough about saving the githiyanki prince
Maybe next time. And of course another playtrough with a different character, who would stuff all the tadpoles into their brain and become a half-illithid and romance the guy because this is way too amazing not to try
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and peter never shuts up about trouble to may
she teases him for it all the time and when they finally make it official may tells trouble.
“i just knew you were the one for him, he always talks about you. that boy is head over heels”
trouble and frat peter are total endgame
AAAAAA WAIT WAIT PETER DROPPING THE BOMB W YOU IN HAND AND MAY FREAKS CAUSE SHE'S BEEN WAITING FOR IT SINCE HE STARTED TALKING ABOUT YOU.
---
may, never one to complain about another friendly face, was smiling hard at you.
'oh, hello! peter didn't say you were joining this weekend.'
she was extremely happy, it was the first weekend she's seen you after your split. she assumes her nephew made right like he said he would, it had been a quiet few weeks on peter's side.
'he wanted it to be a surprise, did it work?' may answers with giving you a tight hug, 'very. i missed you,' she lowers her voice, it doesn't do much. 'and he did too.'
'may.' peter doesn't like his secrets being told.
'oh, i know he did. he cried.' your hip was pinched, 'hey. no more.' he really doesn't like those secrets being told.
may gives another gentle squeeze before stepping back, she's about to give peter his own hug until you elbow him.
'sorry, i thought embarrassing you was in my job description now.'
'i'd prefer if it wasn't.' you loop your arm around him and lean a cheek on his shoulder. 'deal. can i still do it in private though?' immediate agreeance, 'absolutely.'
may sees nothing but pure love, she really hopes peter does it right this time around. peter places a kiss on your hairline before gently loosening his arm. 'i'm gonna set our stuff down, two seconds.'
it's more affection he's ever been open to sharing with may, she's caught kisses and soft touches before, but she can't place a time he's willingly done it in her eyesight. peter knows she'd tease him too much.
'i see things are going good?'
you feel shy, peter said he wanted it to be a surprise.
'very. i'm really, really happy. he um, he told me about everything.' may knows exactly what you're hinting at, not that her nephew filled her in on his plans. 'and everyone?'
you laugh lightly, 'yeah. i'm still trying to wrap my head around that, i have this weird new sense of worry now. i don't know how you do it.'
it's comforting she has someone to relate the anxiety to, it's a new feeling and it's something she never thought she'd be able to share.
'it gets easier, but it never goes away.'
'hey, hey, hey,' peter's voice becomes gradually louder when he picks up on the conversation. one look at you and you know what he's about to say, you can't even try to stop the smile.
'i just got her, let's not scare off my girlfriend, may.'
a sharp gasp, hands cover her mouth. 'shut up! you're lying!'
peter plays cool, 'i told you i was going to fix it.' you nod approvingly, 'he really did. he even... peter, you wanna show her or should i?'
'oh, i got it.' your boyfriend clears his throat, 'i love you.' loud and proud. it doesn't matter if he's said it a hundred times in the past month, it'll never get old. 'i love you, too.'
peter looks at may, 'you were right. there's nothing compared to that feeling.' your bottom lip pokes out, 'aw, petey!'
'i knew it! i knew you were the one and i knew he'd figure out a way to get you back and ah! i just knew it!' you were held tighter than before, a squeak has peter crossing the linoleum to your side.
may releases you to tug her nephew in for his own hug, she holds him tighter than you think you ever have. it's warm to know she wanted this just as much as you did.
'i'm proud of you,' it was quiet, not really meant for your ears. you'll pretend you didn't hear it. 'thanks, i am too.' since everyone's caught up and you have no reason to feel like a slight stranger, you hum around their bodies on a mission to the kitchen for the cookies you've been smelling since the second you walked in.
mumbling around a snickerdoodle, 'is this an okay time to tell you that i'd much prefer a batch of peanut butter cookies?' may turns to you with an amused look, you may have led on that peter's favorites were your own.
'what? i didn't want to feel like i was changing the routine. it's peter's fault, he knew and kept letting me lie.' peter clicks his tongue, 'oh, no, no, no. don't blame me, i told you i'd ask and you said i couldn't be trusted.'
'yeah, but,' you look at may for support. 'have you ever been at a friends house and ask for something and instead of your friend covering for you they're just like 'mom, may wants a popsicle!' and you feel like punching yourself in the head cause like, why would you do that to me?'
peter gasps, 'i would never! i would conceal a murder for you in ten seconds, you think i'd sell you out on some cookies?' may holds a hand to her chest, 'i would love to make you a batch of peanut butter cookies, or we could make them together and talk about peter.'
he shuts it down in a second. 'no, no talking of me. thank you.'
'well, since you're my boyfriend now i think i should finally be able to hear your embarrassing stories.'
'no, not allowed, trouble.'
'but i already love you!'
'and i'd prefer if we keep it that way.'
'i've loved you longer.'
you always have to one up him.
'fine. you get three, and nothing from middle school. we're not there yet.'
your teeth sink into a snickerdoodle, happiness you've never felt before hasn't faded in a month, if anything it's gotten brighter. you could really get used to this.
may can't remember the last time her apartment was filled with this much love.
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Modern Witchers
So this contractor drives into this tiny town, way out in the sticks, in the kind of beat-up white van used by many tradesman, and allegedly favored by murderous kidnappers.
He's got white hair that you're not sure is bleached or not, strange eyes short manners. Maybe (probably) he kinda gives you the creeps. White van, stranger-danger, big guy with muscles, and all. Bad vibes.
But you've got a problem, no denying: there's SOMETHING in those woods that doesn't belong there, and recently, when the local boys went to DO something about it... that SOMETHING went from killing livestock, to killing people to. And you know, once those types of creatures get a taste for human blood... best to deal with it sooner, rather than later. Hence, the out-of-town contractor.
Witchers specialize in hunting monsters, after all.
Better to put together a fundraiser to pay the (frankly, outrageous) fees now, then to have to pay all that later, plus the surcharge for beasts that've killed multiple people, plus pulling together the funds for more funerals.
A stitch in time save nine, as the saying goes.
He's got a musician hitchhiking with him, which you weren't expecting. Some hapless hitchhiker with a dufflebag over his shoulder, and a guitar on his back, who got lost on the way to Vegas, or Nashville, or wherever it is starry-eyed musicians go to Make It Big, these days.
Auntie said that any hitchhiker with sense'd be better off walking down a lonely road, instead of getting into a van like that, driven by a man like that. But I guess it takes all kinds of kinds, and that musician hadn't been murdered yet, so make of that what you will.
Anyhow, the musician started busking in the farmer's market-- some decent covers, a few original songs, and some kind of surprisingly catchy jingle for the contractor who'd given him a lift into town. It was pretty good; live music is always a treat when you can get it, and it'd been a while since the last Bluegrass Festival.
He knew how to charm people, work the crowd, how to ask for "donations to the fine arts" without being irritating about it. People dropped cash, and pennies, and quarters, into his open guitar case, at any rate.
I reckon he scraped together at least enough for lunch, form himself'n his friend. Witchers are surly and stingy as anything, y'know, so I wondered why he wasn't covering the meal, with how much he'd charged for slaying the monster...
...But I overheard mention of how he'd had to get that van fixed up at Joe's Auto-Mechanics, over by the old factory in the valley-- and everyone knows that Joe's Auto'll charge three times what the repairs are worth, with parts that cost ten times as much as they oughtta. Lord knows, those scammers'd be out of business, if there were any better options within 50 miles of their shop!
And that is why if you think your truck's getting ready to break down, you should try an' make sure it breaks down closer to home. And also why I figure it makes sense that even a Witcher'd be short on cash, after dealing with 'em.
Anyway, the Witcher spoke with the Sheriff, and he went out monster-hunting that night.
Meanwhile, that hitchhiking musician was playing at the local bar, and let me tell you-- he was pretty damn good! Played a few drinking-songs, and the kind of songs you can't play in front of the kiddos at Farmer's Market, played some catchy tunes that had people dancing and clapping along...!
I particularly enjoyed the murder-ballad about the woman who turned into a vengeful fire-monster when she found out her man was messing around with other women. Very clever wordplay, "flames of desire lighting up your funeral pyre!" Good stuff.
Then the Witcher came in-- fresh from the contract, and half-covered in mud and blood! Barkeep wouldn't even let him sit down until he'd hosed off the worst of it, out back!
Musician-- Jaskier, he called himself-- raised a toast to a successful hunt, and another to monster-hunters who let loving families sleep safely, and rowdy drunks stumble home un-eaten, and soon enough somebody was buying that Witcher a drink, and the barkeep gave him a plate of food on the house, and it was good times all around!
Beats toasting newly-dead friends, and drinking to forget the monsters at the door, any day.
The thing is, this is a small town. Not a lot of people come visit, and if they do, they're generally staying with family. Which is to say, there aren't any motels around here.
Now, that contractor, that Witcher, he'd asked around, beforehand, about what was available, in terms of overnight accomodations-- which, let's be honest, isn't much around here. Come morning, I saw that beat-up van parked outside the Rosebud Bed & Breakfast.
Now Rosebud's is a nice place, a respectable establishment, but we all know they've had some trouble since that big storm last month, when a tree smashed through the roof! Las I checked, that Bed & Breakfast only had the one bed fit for guests to sleep in!
Might've been a rather one-sided bidding war, or a tight fit, with two out-of-towners vying for a roof overhead, that night. But that's none of my business.
Jaskier the musician left town with the Witcher-- Geralt Rivera, I think the name was-- same as he came in. Well, makes sense that he wouldn't want to stay long enough to put down roots, a young musician on a mission to see the world and/or become rich and famous.
The Witcher, Geralt, did good work with the monster, too. I guess that's why they're the experts... Some folks are talking about having what's left of the beasty taxidermy'd, did you know? Might make a decent tourist attraction, or a decoration for Town Hall, or something. I don't know.
Anyway, all that's to say... don't let anybody tell you there's not still a need for Witchers, in the modern day.
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Idiot ~ Anthony Lockwood x f!reader
Requested by anon:
Hii I want to request Anthony Lockwood×fem!reader, with childhood bestfriends to rivals to lovers with the miscommunication trope, but also a happy ending with both of them being together. So the plot could be like, they were childhood best friends but then when Anthony's family died he later wanted to start the business, but she thought that he was out of his mind because she was scared about him being in danger, but he thought she just didn't think he can handle it so they got into an argument and she left. After that, they started hating each, later she joined Fittes as an agent, so he was even more angry. So they became rivals in the ghost hunting business. Then they got put on a mission later, and idk she gets injured and his like "who did this to you," but they're still enemies, even though the whole time there is sexual tension between them. This request is super chaotic, so just make your own plot with these elements, I guess. I'm not good at describing plots, I will be happy with whatever you write, but please let them have a happy ending and be together. Also, could you try to make this as long as you can because there aren't as many Lockwood fics as there should be.
I might have changed some bits a lil bit and probably spent way too long talking about their childhood, but hopefully this lives up to your expectations anon! (Please let me know if it doesn't though)
Word count: 9.5k exactly (holy shit this is insane i had way too much fun with this)
Warnings: swearing, violence, fighting, descriptions of injury, mentions and descriptions of Lockwood's family dying/being dead, major spoilers for the books (and the show), some stuff probably doesn't make sense (like at all), i might also have misremembered and made up some things but we'll go with it, Lockwood is actually kind of a dick for some of this oops, he gets better i promise, hospitals, mentions of being on morphine (for the pain), references to Lockwood being depressed, they're idiots in love.
Tag list: @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @karensirkobabes, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @wandamaximoffbae, @wordsarelife
As always, let me know here if you'd like to be added or removed from the tag list!
It was nearly 3am and Y/n L/n had had enough.
She was exhausted, weary, worn out, and pretty much any other synonym for the word 'tired', and she just wanted to go to bed, but Anthony Lockwood had other ideas.
"Give it here, come on!"
Y/n groaned, then half-heartedly chucked the bits of paper at her best friend from where she was lying on the floor of his living room. Jessica laughed, despite also losing to the 5 year old boy at Monopoly, and shook her head at his greedy smile as he counted the money. How he had ever managed to get the two of them to agree to play with him, Y/n didn't know, especially since she'd not really been paying attention when the rules were explained. But then she saw how happy he was at the idea of playing with the two girls, and Y/n knew she could never make her best friend sad.
She did really want to go to bed though.
Jessica Lockwood appeared to notice Y/n's droopy eyes, and quietly spoke to her brother, stifling a laugh at his pout when she told him they should probably stop.
"But we aren't done yet!"
"I know, Anthony, but you've definitely got the most money, I'm sure of it. You're going to win no matter what, so I think we should let Y/n/n go to sleep, yeah?"
"Oh..." he'd noticed his friend's demeanour now, and felt immediately bad for making her stay awake. "Alright then. Y/n/n?"
"Mmm?"
"You ready to go to bed? 'Cause Jess says I won, so I reckon we can go up now."
"Mkay," she murmured, too sleepy to answer in proper words. Going up to bed was a haze, and she only really woke up when she stubbed her toe at the bottom of the stairs (Anthony hadn't told her that was there, despite saying he'd guide her). She was sure she brushed her teeth, Jessica would have checked, and they were all already in their pyjamas, but the only other thing she remembered before dropping off completely was seeing Anthony's face on the pillow next to her, already snoring lightly.
~~~
Y/n couldn't remember most of Anthony's sixth birthday now, what with all the memories that came in between, but she did remember his joy at receiving her present.
He'd spent the majority of the morning since Y/n and her family went next door gloating about how he was finally six, and now he was old enough to do so much more than Y/n (who was still five). She'd rolled her eyes, laughing when he did victory dances all around the house, and laughing even harder when he fell over while doing one of the previously mentioned dances.
They'd run away and hidden in his room in the attic after collecting plates of cake, and Y/n made sure to pick up her carefully wrapped present on the way up. He'd noticed immediately that she was carrying it, of course, he was far too observant to miss it, and had demanded that she let him open it right then and there. Initially she'd refused, feeling shy and worried that he wouldn't like it, but he'd given her one of his secret smiles, one of the ones reserved specifically for her, and said "Please?" so sweetly she caved.
He placed the cake to the side, then spent a good minute unwrapping the gift, being oh so gentle with the paper in fear of breaking it. When he saw the item inside, his smile burst out, bright and blinding, and Y/n felt her own smile form on her face, pleased at his reaction.
"Do you like it?" Nerves were still coursing through her, but they left her body when he raised his head and met her eyes.
"I love it, Y/n/n," he whispered, lifting the picture frame all the way out of the wrapping. She'd convinced her parents to print the photo off, and then spent hours making a frame that would fit it perfectly, complete with lolly sticks and stickers, trying to make the best gift for the best friend she'd ever had.
The photo was the two of them the previous Christmas, bundled up in ridiculous festive jumpers and sat in front of the Lockwood family tree in the hallway, presents surrounding them. Their parents had insisted on a photo before they ruined the area with rubbish everywhere, and the two of them could barely contain their excitement. There was a slight blur to them, a testament to their energy, but their smiles were so wide and they were hugging so tightly Y/n knew it was the perfect photo to give him.
"Where did you even get this? I thought your mum hid the camera?"
Y/n giggled at his comically wide eyes. "I just asked her, silly. I did have to do some chores but I didn't mind, it was worth it."
She barely had time to move her plate of cake out of the way (she hadn't eaten any in the last few minutes, far too focused on Anthony's reaction) when he surged forward, bringing his arms around her in a crushing hug.
"Thank you," he said, although it was muffled since his head was pressed into her shoulder.
"Anything for you, Ant, anytime."
They stayed there for a while, just hugging on his bed and revelling in each others' presence, both knowing that Y/n had meant her words.
~~~
When Anthony had to fight his parents' ghosts, Y/n had cried.
He was crying too, since he'd seen them die less than a day ago and now he had to keep them dead, but seeing her best friend in so much pain had made Y/n cry harder.
Anthony was trying to push back the tears so that he could see, so that he could fight, and Y/n hated that he was doing this on his own.
She had been kept in her room by her parents, the adults being too scared for their daughter's safety to let her go and help Anthony, and she was watching him through her bedroom window. Despite the tears streaming down her face and the sobs racking her body, she could tell he was crying (or trying not to) because of the way he was hunched into himself, as if by making himself smaller he could make everything stop. His body was shaking too, heaving with silent cries as he fought off the two ghosts in front of him. Why they were in his back garden, Y/n wasn't sure, since they'd died on the road in an explosion a few minutes drive away, but she was only six, and didn't understand much anyway.
She wasn't sure how long she sat there, perched on the window seat with her gaze fixed on the boy next door, but she knew that it was far past her bedtime when he finally stopped them, and she woke up with her face stuck to the window, tear stains on her cheeks.
Realising it was light again, Y/n hurried to get dressed, tearing down the stairs and into the house next to them, knocking rapidly on the front door. It swung open a few moments later, revealing Jessica, who smiled sadly at the small girl in front of her and waved Y/n in.
"He's in his room," she said quietly, voice raw from crying.
Y/n nearly tripped countless times climbing the many stairs, and by the time she'd made it to the attic she was out of breath. Pushing his door open, and going up the last few steps (seriously, why were there so many steps?) she froze at the top when she saw him curled up under his bedsheets, shaking with near-silent cries.
"Anthony?"
She heard him sniff, the sound gross and snotty, and then he turned his body around to face her, and Y/n felt her heart break in her chest.
He clearly hadn't slept all night, eyes red from crying and lack of sleep, and he was struggling to keep back the fresh tears that threatened to break through.
"Oh, Ant."
Y/n rushed to the bed, climbing to sit next to him and pulling his head into her lap, brushing her fingers through his hair.
They sat like that for hours, long after Jessica brought up some toast for the two of them, and even when Y/n's back hurt from the headboard and her legs were numb from having his weight on them, she didn't stop stroking his hair, soothing him silently.
When he finally sat up, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose (Y/n made a mental note to put her clothes in the wash as soon as she got back home), she pulled him back in for a hug, both of them sat up this time.
"Thank you, Y/n/n."
She remembered the last time they'd done this, hugged on his bed while he thanked her, but this time it wasn't happy.
"Anything, Ant. Anytime."
~~~
"Ant, don't be stupid!" Y/n giggled, watching him climb the tree.
"I'm gonna get you an apple," he shouted, smiling down at her. "You're gonna love it, I promise!"
He'd just been reaching out for one, bright red and shining, when they'd heard a crash from inside his house, followed by a scream. They'd frozen where they stood, Y/n on the ground and Anthony in the tree, and then suddenly they snapped into action, scrambling to get inside and find Jessica.
They tore up the stairs (somehow Anthony had caught up to her, despite having been up the tree), and he pushed open her bedroom door just in time to see the ghost.
"NO!"
He moved before Y/n did, grabbing a spare rapier from the dresser and moving to fight, hoping to save his sister.
Y/n moved, but backwards, taking a step back out onto the landing, her hand on her mouth.
"Anthony."
He had pushed the ghost back, and was picking up a net.
"Anthony."
He had thrown the net over the broken pot, wrapping it up securely.
"Anthony," she said, eyes fixed on the bed.
"What?" His eyes were wide with terror as he turned to look at her, evidently scared that she was in danger, but when he followed her finger that pointed to the bed, he choked.
"No," he croaked hoarsely, and Y/n felt terrible for making him realise. "Jessica? Jessica please wake up. Jessica. Jessica, this isn't funny. Jessica, please. Jessica."
He kept on like that, repeating her name and asking her to wake up, but Y/n knew that she wouldn't. She moved again then, over to where he stood, rapier hanging limply in his hand. It had only been three years ago he'd lost his parents, why did he have to lose someone else that he loved? Pulling him into her, she let him sob into her shoulder (difficult, given his growth spurt).
Y/n knew at that point that she wouldn't ever leave him.
~~~
"You what?!"
"I'm starting training," Anthony replied, not looking up from where he stood at the kitchen counter, buttering toast.
"But... but why?"
"Because," he shrugged. When he didn't expand on it, Y/n sighed.
She was worried about him.
He'd been vacant, hollow, since Jessica's death, and although he tried to smile and make everybody think that he was doing just fine, Y/n knew her best friend better than that. She saw the bags under his eyes, the lack of joy and mischief that used to reside in his gaze.
"Because what, Anthony?"
"Look, I'll be fine. This guy called Nigel is gonna train me, and then I'll be an agent, and I can keep you safe."
"I can keep myself safe, idiot," Y/n huffed indignantly, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.
"I know, I just want to be extra sure that you'll be okay. And everyone else."
"We're nine, Anthony. You went to a funeral a week ago and already you're talking to agents?"
"Yes. I'd like it if you came with me, obviously, but if you don't that's fine too. I'm doing this anyway, with or without you."
That hurt.
They always did everything together, so why was he talking like this?
"Fine. I'll talk to my parents. You need protecting too, dummy."
She'd broached the subject that night at dinner, expecting them to say no.
"Are you sure you want to do this, darling?"
"Yep," she said, stabbing some peas with her fork.
Her parents shared a look.
"Alright. Just promise us you'll be careful, and you'll pay attention in your training, yeah?"
Surprise made Y/n jolt, sending peas skidding across the table. "I can go?"
"Yes, but you have to promise us-"
"I promise!" Her parents chuckled, shaking their heads in a way that reminded Y/n of Monopoly and a late night.
~~~
Training was horrible.
Everybody was mean to her, just because she couldn't run as fast as the others, or move as quickly with a rapier.
"Look at her, she's gonna die within minutes!"
"Nah, she'll never make it that long. On the plus side, if she's in our group we only have to run faster than her!"
"Won't be too difficult!"
Y/n scowled at the whispers, making her way over to Anthony. She huffed, plopping down on the bench next to him and glaring at the girls.
"What's up with you?"
"They're being mean about me. Saying I'll be useless in the field."
"Aw, Y/n/n, they're stupid if they think that. You'll be amazing, I'm sure." He nudged her shoulder with his, smile working its way onto his face. Y/n couldn't help but smile back; his was too infectious. "You'll prove them wrong, I'm sure of it."
After that day, Y/n worked ten times as hard on the practical elements, a new intensity coming into her training with the other agents. She sparred against Anthony when they got home, blunt rapiers clashing in her back garden while her parents cooked dinner.
Within a month, she could beat pretty much everyone she trained with, the only exception being Anthony. He'd shown a skill with the rapier from the very beginning, and his long body made him graceful in a fight. She'd nearly beaten him a few times, but then he'd had a fire light in his eyes and he'd push her back, focus deadly as he forgot everything but the fight. She grew scared in those moments, and had stopped trying to beat him, afraid that he'd forget who she was and hurt her.
~~~
When they were fourteen, Y/n broke her promise and walked out on Anthony Lockwood.
He'd started a business, his own goddamn agency, in his own goddamn house, and he'd wanted her to work with him. She barely recognised the boy that stood in front of her the day he asked her; he was a shell of the best friend she used to have. He was vacant still, and she just wanted Anthony Lockwood back.
"Please? It'll be so much better if we're working together! You can come and live here, and your parents are still next door so you're not too far away, and we'll go on cases together, and it'll be great!"
Y/n had shaken her head, fear creeping up her spine. He'd grown a death wish recently, and although he vehemently denied it, she'd seen how he didn't seem to care about his personal safety when on cases led by the trainers.
"Anthony, you can't do this, please. You're gonna get hurt," she pleaded, hoping he'd come to his senses. If he wasn't so broken, she'd say yes, gladly, and work with him as they had always planned they would. But he was broken, and this job could destroy him.
"What, do you think I can't do it?" His brow furrowed in confusion, and Y/n could practically feel his guard start to go up.
He'd never done that with her before.
"It's not that, I just don't want you getting hurt. You're my best friend, Ant, and I don't wanna lose you."
"You won't lose me," he'd raised his voice slightly, pushing off of the kitchen counter as he got defensive. "You've seen me," he swept an arm out, referencing the training missions. "I'm the best agent they've got, and we both know it. I won't get hurt. I'm too good for that."
Y/n scoffed. "Do you hear yourself, Anthony? Do you realise how arrogant you sound? Because that's gonna get you killed." She'd raised her voice too, to match his, and she jabbed a finger into his chest.
"Arrogant? You think I'm arrogant? I thought we were 'best friends'?"
"Why did you say it like that?"
"What?"
"'Best friends', like we're not. You did little finger quotes like it was sarcastic."
"You always do this! Make something out of nothing!"
"What?" Her eyes narrowed. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"You tell me! You're the one saying I'm gonna get killed when I'm the most skilled agent we know! Why can't you just trust me?!"
"Because you will, Anthony! You will get yourself killed, and I can't let that happen! You can't start a company, just join Fittes, or Rotwell!"
"Fittes? Rotwell? I'd rather eat my own foot than join one of them! You just think I'm not capable of any of this, don't you? You think, that because my family is dead, I can't do this, because I should be grieving instead. Well I have grieved, and if you don't want to stay, then you can leave. I don't want you here if you're gonna keep being like this. Come back when you've sorted your attitude out." He turned his back, busying himself with making a cup of tea.
Y/n stared at him, mouth open in shock and tears threatening to fall.
"Prick. You're the one that needs to sort your attitude, not me."
She left then, grabbing her bag from the chair and scribbling a 'fuck you, Lockwood' onto the paper cloth on the table.
~~~
A year later, Y/n was working a job, and was actually somewhat happy.
She'd joined Fittes after her argument with Lockwood (she stubbornly refused to call him 'Anthony' until he'd apologised to her), and had been put in Quill Kipps' team. He was nice enough, arrogant and conceited at times, but Y/n put that down to his failing Senses and the stress of being team leader, since he was alright the rest of the time. He was more like an overworked teacher on a school trip with a bunch of primary school kids, and the bags under his eyes really added to the image.
It was a minor threat, Type One ghost that was giving an old lady the creeps, but they'd been waylaid on their way back to Fittes by a group of ghosts in the park, and two figures struggling to fight them all. There had to have been around twenty to thirty ghosts (all Type Ones, but they were angry), and when Kipps wondered aloud who would be so daft as to take them on, Y/n sighed, knowing exactly who would do it.
The Fittes team had jumped in, using the remainder of their flares and energy to help, and Y/n found the source, securing it quickly and efficiently. Mass graves were never fun, and this one wasn't much better. Spreading the silver net over the area, Y/n stood, careful not to jostle it.
"We don't need Fittes coming in, thanks, we were perfectly fine on our own."
"Sure," Kipps snorted. "Because being completely surrounded by ghosts and nearly dying is being perfectly fine. Give it a rest, Tony. Go back to your house and leave the agent work to the professionals, yeah?" Y/n rolled her eyes as she got closer, but she couldn't help but agree with what her leader was saying.
Anthony Lockwood looked terrible.
She had no idea who the other boy was (although he did look vaguely familiar), but he at least didn't look like he was on death's door.
"Y/n?"
She raised her eyebrows (she still couldn't figure out how to raise just the one, despite practicing for hours).
"Lockwood."
He flinched, almost imperceptibly, but she knew him too well to miss it. Nobody else noticed.
"Why are you... Are you working for Fittes?"
"Yes." He wasn't getting more out of her, not until he apologised. Kipps was looking between the two of them, as was the other boy with Lockwood, both clearly confused.
"How do you know each other?" Kipps asked.
"We were-"
"We were neighbours. Didn't talk much outside of that." Her tone was bland, and her face nonchalant, and she turned to leave. "Has somebody called DEPRAC?" Ned nodded, waving the radio in his hand.
"Said they'd be two minutes. Should be here in a minute."
"Perfect. Can we get that tea now, Kipps?"
He hesitated, obviously still unsure about what was going on. "Sure. We'll drop the other Source off first though, yeah?"
They left, and although Y/n could feel Lockwood's stare on her back, she didn't turn around.
~~~
It was a month later that Y/n saw Lockwood again, and it was almost the same situation. Her team had been patrolling the streets, making sure the area was secure, when they'd seen magnesium flares going off. They'd rushed in, and Y/n had scoffed when she caught sight of the long black coat and flashy moves.
"Outta the way, Tony!"
The Fittes team had made quick work of the Type Two, bagging the Source and claiming the reward. Y/n felt a little bad about the money, but at the same time Lockwood needed to learn how to get control over the situations he put himself in if he wanted to keep the reward. He seemed to take on the cases that were ridiculously out of his reach, and if Y/n was speaking to him she'd guess that he was trying to prove a point.
She and her team were warming up in a cafe afterwards, one of the late night ones that opened specifically for agents, when Lockwood and his coworker walked in. The pair breezed past, and when the other boy had smiled apologetically at them and given Y/n a little wave, she remembered who he was.
"George! Wait, it is George, isn't it?"
"Uh, yeah," he scratched the back of his head, and adjusted his glasses on his face. "I wasn't sure you remembered me, to be honest."
"I knew I'd seen you before, it just took me a bit to remember where from. Also it was dark the last two times we saw each other, so that won't have helped. Anyway, how are you?"
They chatted for a while, George shifting the piles of paper he had in his arms.
"Do you need to put those down?" she asked after he readjusted them for what seemed like the millionth time.
"I should probably get over to Lockwood, actually. I'm pretty sure he's burning holes in my jumper right now."
"Oh, he's glaring at me, don't worry."
"Why would he be glaring at you? You're lovely," he questioned, confused. "I thought you were just neighbours anyway?"
"Yeah. We had an argument a while back. He was a knob."
"Oh. Yeah, I can see that he would be." George nodded in understanding. "I should definitely go and join him though. We've got all this to get through," he held up the papers slightly, and Y/n smiled up at him.
"Well good luck, George. See you soon?"
"Probably the next time you save us. Lockwood has a death wish apparently. Doesn't let me research for long enough," he complained, shaking his head as he turned and left. Y/n had been right. Lockwood was being reckless, and he'd get himself, and quite possibly George, killed.
She and her team were just finishing up, with Kipps paying the bill and her other teammates standing with him at the till, when Lockwood came over. Y/n had stepped outside, breathing in the cold night air, and when she heard the door she instinctively turned to look, expecting her coworkers.
"Oh. It's you."
"C'mon. Don't be like that, Y/n."
She snorted. "You know you're proving me right, right? You keep throwing yourself into situations you can't win in, and you're going to get yourself killed."
"I'm not proving you right," he started, frown forming on his face. He'd had another growth spurt, she realised. He'd stepped closer to her, out of the way of the cafe door so that other agents could enter, and now he towered over her.
"Yes, you are. Stop being a dick, Lockwood, and realise that you're going to get yourself seriously hurt someday."
"Since when was I Lockwood to you?"
"You know when."
"True. Lovely message, by the way. Great parting gift."
"Yeah, well you were being an asshole, and it felt fitting to write 'fuck you'."
He muttered something under his breath, too quiet for her to hear.
"Excuse me?"
"I said, 'Yeah, I bet you'd like to'," he repeated, louder this time, meeting her eyes with a smug smile on his face.
"Grow up, Lockwood."
"That's not a denial."
Y/n turned to him, looking him dead in the eyes. "Yes it is." She tried to sound threatening, but that was difficult when he was nearly a whole head taller than her. She was saved by her team coming out of the cafe, and she shoved her hands in her pockets, hunching her shoulders against the chill.
"You alright, Y/n?" Kipps asked, concern for his colleague appearing on his face.
"Yeah, fine. Let's go."
~~~
Those meetings kept happening, and it was beginning to frustrate Y/n.
Lockwood had started being more flirty, as if he actually enjoyed getting on her nerves, and the past year had been exhausting.
It was the same every time.
Y/n's Fittes team would be patrolling, or coming back from a job, or heading to a job, when they'd see two figures, or their flares, or hear their shouts, fighting an incessant number of ghosts. The group would jump in, joining the fight, and somehow Y/n and Lockwood ended up next to each other. She was certain he engineered it that way specifically so that he could irritate her with his comments, and that just irritated her even more. What he said was always the same thing, too.
"Do you come here often?"
"We have to stop meeting like this."
"What are you doing after this?"
When she told him to shut up and focus on the job, he'd ignore her, or answer with something just as bad.
"Make me."
"I'll stop talking if you join me later."
Both of those were said with smug smirks and winks, and Y/n went home to her crappy flat close to the Fittes building (she couldn't stand being near him after the argument) every night wondering what the hell had happened to her old best friend.
The last case had been particularly annoying.
The same routine had occurred, but this time there were three of them.
Y/n was surprised to see the girl, but as soon as she saw her fighting she decided that she liked her. She was feisty, and from what Y/n could tell, didn't take any of Lockwood's shit. She looked like the sort of person Y/n would be friends with, or at least get along with, like with George (they had limited contact outside of saving them).
But then the Fittes team had helped, and Lockwood hadn't come near Y/n.
She was glad in some ways, it meant she didn't have his incessant flirting in her ear, and she was glad, until she looked to see where he'd gone.
He was side by side with the girl, and they fought together like they'd been doing it their whole lives. For some reason it annoyed Y/n, despite the fact she'd sworn to block out any feelings for Lockwood other than annoyance and hate, and she grumbled the rest of the night. Kipps picked up on it, and questioned her.
"What's up with you? Surely you'd be happy that Tony left you alone?"
"Yeah, I am. It's something else, don't worry."
"Alright... well, don't let it get to you too much, yeah? We need you focusing on missions, you're too good at what you do."
Y/n nodded, flushing slightly at the compliment.
They made it to the cafe just as Lockwood and Co did, and Y/n bristled at seeing the three of them laughing together.
Well, at seeing Lockwood and the girl laughing together.
George she was just happy to see, he was always nice to her back when he worked at Fittes, and when they passed each other in the Archives or finished jobs together, and she didn't think she could ever be mad at him.
Lockwood and his new colleague, however, she could justify.
"Oh, hi!"
Ugh, she was nice. That made disliking her even harder.
"Hi," Y/n forced a smile, hoping it didn't look too fake.
"I'm Lucy," she said, coming closer to Y/n as the two of them trailed behind the others.
"Y/n. How long you been working with him then?"
"Uh, about a week? Do you... do you not like Lockwood or something?"
"What makes you say that?"
"You just... said 'him' like you wanted to rip his head off."
"Oh. Well, that's one thing I wanna do to him."
Apparently Lockwood tuned in to their conversation at that specific moment, because he turned around, smirk already in place.
"What are the other things you want to do to me, Y/n? I'd love to find out later. My place or yours?"
Y/n scoffed, pushing past him to join her teammates. Behind her she heard a thump, followed by a small "Ow!" Assuming that Lucy had hit him, Y/n smiled, and started liking the girl again. Maybe she wasn't as bad as she originally thought.
~~~
It had been nearly two years since Y/n had first met Lucy, and her second impression of the girl had stuck.
They'd saved Lockwood and Co far too many times since the girls had first met, but Y/n didn't mind. She enjoyed seeing Lucy and George (and Lockwood, but she wouldn't tell anyone that), and if getting involved and having to suffer Lockwood's chatter meant that the three of them lived another day, Y/n would gladly take that sacrifice.
Y/n and Lucy met up regularly in the down time that they both shared, either at Y/n's flat, or in a cafe or shop somewhere. Sometimes George came along, having snuck out under the pretence that he was researching at the Archives, and the three of them had lengthy chats about pretty much anything. Lockwood came up in conversation a lot, of course, given he was something they all had in common, but Y/n always steered away from the subject.
Tonight, however, she wasn't getting let off the hook.
"Why do you always do that?" Lucy asked, stuffing a chip in her mouth. They were sat on the floor of Y/n's tiny kitchen, take away boxes of food in front of them.
"Do what?"
"Whenever Lockwood gets mentioned you start talking about other things. Why do you do that?"
Y/n shrugged, eating some of her own food. "'Cause he's a knob and I don't want to think about him more than I have to?"
"He's always flirting with you though, and you always flirt back."
"Thanks for the observation, George. And I do not flirt back!"
"Oh you totally do, like earlier, right, he was saying something about how your uniform really compliments your complexion or something, and you look really good in it, and you said, wait, George, you take over, I need a drink," Lucy spoke.
"You said 'thanks, I look better without it', and winked at him. I had to physically push him out of the way of a ghost because he was stood staring at you like an idiot."
"He always looks like an idiot," Y/n mumbled, cheeks going red.
"George is right, he's actually gonna end up hurting himself if you two don't get on with it soon."
"He's at risk of death anyway! And get on with what?"
"Snogging," Lucy said, at the same time George said "Making out."
Y/n stared at her friends, hand pausing halfway to her mouth, chip in between her fingers. "What?!"
"Seriously, there's so much tension I could slice it with my rapier. Just stick your tongue in his mouth already."
"Lucy!"
The girl just shrugged. "We are seventeen, you know that right? I know people who've shagged at seventeen. I'm honestly surprised the two of you haven't yet, which is why you need to get on with it."
"That would be... no, that's too weird."
"Why is it weird? He's your old neighbour, you had an argument about something petty probably, and now he's flirting with you 'cause he's realised how hot you are. If he doesn't kiss you I will, just so I can say I kissed the hottest girl I know."
"Aw, thanks Luce. I'd rather kiss you than him, to be honest."
"The bar is low. He's punching."
"Definitely. You alright George?"
"I don't understand girls," he replied, having been quiet the last few minutes while Y/n and Lucy went back and forth. "What did you argue about, anyway? Because you've held a grudge against him for at least three years now and I have never known why."
"Was it petty?"
"No, Lucy, it wasn't petty." Y/n sighed, taking a break from eating. "He... We were fourteen, just finished all of our training, and he told me he wanted to start his agency."
"That is kinda petty though."
"Lemme finish. I don't know how much he's told you about his family," she paused, looking at the other two.
"Not much, but we know they're all dead."
"Yeah, and he showed us Jessica's room."
Y/n raised her eyebrows. He'd kept that room stubbornly locked since she'd died.
"Right. Well, a week after her funeral, he told me he wanted to start training to be an agent. We were nine, and he was definitely not okay at all. Anyway, we did it, and then like I said, when we'd finished, he told me he wanted to start an agency in his house and he wanted me to join him. He was still not himself, and I was just worried that he was going to end up killing himself. Hell, he'd almost hurt me a few times in training. We were the top two in our academy, so we ended up fighting together a lot. But he'd get... intense. Focused. But not in a good way. It was like... he saw anyone he was up against as a ghost, and he wanted revenge for what had happened with his family. We argued about the agency. I told him something about how if he did it he'd just end up hurt, because I knew him and I knew that he wouldn't think he had anything to live for. He took that to mean that I thought he was incapable, and he told me to leave and that I could come back when I'd fixed my attitude."
The three of them sat in silence for a few minutes, Y/n staring at her take away box in her lap, George and Lucy absorbing everything she'd told them.
"Fuck," Lucy finally said, breaking the quiet.
"Yeah."
"Wait, so you weren't just neighbours?" George asked. "You must have been closer than that if you knew him so well."
"Best friends. We're the same age, and our parents had lived next to each other since before we were born. Just made sense really that we were friends."
"Does he know? That you were worried about him?" Lucy questioned.
"Probably not. Should have guessed it though, given how close we were. I mean, he's seen me ugly cry at funerals, and they weren't even my relatives, they were his."
"Maybe you should talk to him? I know, I know, he needs to apologise for being a knob, but you were fourteen. I mean, it's three years on and he's still the mental age of a five year old, but talking might help?"
"Anyway, Lockwood's hopeless when it comes to women. Completely clueless," George added.
"How would you know?" Y/n frowned, not liking the way her heart clenched at the idea of Lockwood talking to other girls.
"Because he hasn't done anything about you, and you're probably the most amazing girl that's ever going to get a chance with in his life. Maybe he's intimidated by you."
"He's not getting a chance. Not like that. Don't look at me like that, Luce. If I don't kiss him that means I'm kissing you."
"Oh, alright then. I'm fine if you don't wanna make up with him," she replied, cheeky smile appearing on her face.
They left the topic alone after that, moving on to other subjects, but Y/n couldn't help but think about the boy with a death wish.
~~~
It was only a week after her evening with George and Lucy that Y/n had to help save Lockwood again (it was so ridiculous she was almost entirely convinced he came unprepared just so that he could see her).
"Miss me, darling?"
"In your dreams, Lockwood," she shouted back at him, dodging a Type Two. She gritted her teeth as she hit the ground, jagged rocks digging in and pain shooting through her side. Rolling, she stood again, panicking for a moment when she realised she'd dropped her rapier.
"Here you go, darling," Lockwood said, appearing out of nowhere with her rapier. "Do I get a reward for returning your belongings?"
"Yeah, you do, actually," she replied, getting close enough to him she could feel his breath on her face. "You get to not be stabbed by me. Duck." He did, almost immediately, and Y/n threw a flare at the Spectre behind him. Lockwood popped back up, somehow still smiling despite the utter carnage surrounding them.
"If I got hurt, would you visit me in hospital?"
"Yeah, to finish you off."
He laughed, and Y/n turned away so he couldn't see the blush rising on her face at the sound. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of something that definitely wasn't dead rummaging around where she had thought the Source for the cluster was.
Relic men.
"Lockwood?"
"Yes, my love?"
"Relic men, over by the Source. What are we gonna do about them?" She hadn't taken her eyes off of the two figures that were crouched by the oak tree, afraid that if she moved her gaze they would run off. When Lockwood only cursed, she panicked, wondering what was wrong. Normally by now he would have charged in to the fight, all guns blazing. Why wasn't he doing that now? Had he suddenly realised that she was right? Because this was really terrible timing if he had. "Lockwood?" Her voice had gone up in pitch, fear making it quiver. Relic men were nasty, and a lot harder to deal with than ghosts. Ghosts she'd been trained for.
"We're surrounded by them. They're blocking all reasonable exits."
"Shit. Okay. What about unreasonable exits?"
"What?"
"You said they're blocking all reasonable exits, yeah? So what about the unreasonable ones? Could we get out anywhere else?"
"Uh... there's a gap in the fence over there," he pointed. "But that would mean letting them have the Source. It's too powerful, we can't let that happen."
"Ugh, okay, hang on. Go and tell the others, just in case they haven't noticed."
"What about you?"
"I'm keeping an eye on these two, make sure they don't get away. I'll try and get closer, but there's a lot of Type Ones in the way."
"You'll be okay?"
"If I die you can take me on a date."
"That's... what? That doesn't make sense."
"Take it or leave it, Lockwood. Get a move on."
He left, casting a last look over his shoulder at her before disappearing into the night to find the others. Y/n felt unease creep up her spine, and she gripped her rapier tighter, her other hand hovering over the remaining flares in her belt. The relic men were still digging, and a few of the ghosts had noticed the disturbance now, moving over. Y/n frowned, a thought occurring to her.
Relic men waited until the ghosts were gone.
So what were they doing here, now? Why endanger themselves? Before she could think on it further, she felt the air shift behind her and ducked to the left just as a fist appeared in the space her head was in mere seconds ago.
Shit.
She pulled herself back up, readjusting her grip on the rapier and taking a quick glance over to the tree. Seeing the two relic men still there, Y/n whipped back around, ducking again just in time to miss the next punch. The man pulled out a knife, the edges jagged, and a wicked grin came over his face. Y/n gulped, then parried his attacks. He was relentless, swinging and then swinging again immediately after, never letting up on her. It was all she could do to keep her arm upright and strong enough to block him, and the ache in her side from hitting the ground earlier was turning into a throb that wracked her body with pain. The relic man noticed the weakness, and his grin grew wider, broken teeth showing. He became even more frantic in his attacks, and Y/n felt herself stumbling backwards over the grass. The floor was uneven, and she tripped, crashing onto her back. She got her rapier up in time to hold off the relic man's knife that had carved a path through the air to cut through her head, but he was stronger than her, and his blade was edging closer to her face. He was only using the one hand, and Y/n realised a split-second too late that his other hand was reaching for his belt, where a second knife was strapped. Her eyes widened in recognition briefly right before he plunged the blade into her side, and she let out a scream.
The pain was all-consuming, and it took everything in her to keep her rapier up, the shockwaves coursing through her body. She took a hazy note of the fact that he hadn't pulled it out yet, which was good, but her vision was blurry, which was not so good. At least if the knife was still inside her body then she wasn't losing too much blood. Her grip weakened, and she saw the other knife jolt towards her face before it disappeared, the man being flung backwards into the bushes in a flash of light. Lucy appeared, hair wild and filled with leaves, her own rapier in hand. She crouched down, pressing a hand to Y/n's cheek and checking if she was okay.
"Threw a flare at him, should knock him out for a while. LOCKWOOD! HURRY UP! Sorry, I told him to get his ass over here just now, but he's stuck with some ghosts, and they're-"
"Lucy?"
"Yeah?" Her voice was hopeful, glad that her friend was conscious enough to speak.
"Please stop talking."
"Y/N!"
She winced at the shout, and Lucy moved over to make room for Lockwood. Y/n rolled her eyes at the cuts on his face, and the gash on his arm. "You can't help yourself, can you? Gotta throw yourself into danger headfirst."
"Shut up. Can you sit?"
"Did you just tell me to shut up? Anthony Lockwood, do not tell me to shut up when I could be dying."
"Y/n, please, don't do this. Can you sit?" His voice was insistent, desperation seeping into his expression, and his glare was convincing enough that she tried to sit up. The pain in her side was too much though, and she ended up half-slumped against a tree. "Who did this? Y/n? Who did this to you?" His tone was lower now, with something dangerous in the background.
"Lucy hit him with a flare. He's over there somewhere." She waved in the general direction she'd seen him disappear in. "Anthony, where are you going?" He froze, looking down at her from where he now stood. The full moon was behind him, and he looked otherworldly in the silver light.
"Lucy will stay with you, okay? Just hang on. I'll be back in a minute. Don't die on me now, Y/n/n." He softened a little at the last part, trying to convey a million emotions in a few words.
"Wait, I'm staying here?"
"Yes, Lucy." And with that he left, stalking in the direction Y/n had pointed him in.
"You alright?"
"Brilliant, thanks Luce," Y/n replied, and then she promptly passed out.
~~~
A soft beeping woke Y/n up, and the harsh light above her and the sterile smell in the air immediately told her that she was in a hospital.
That didn't explain the warmth in her left hand though.
Blinking as she adjusted to the bright light, she turned her head to the left, and had she not been drugged up on painkillers she would have reacted much more quickly and jerked away.
But she was drugged up on painkillers, so instead she just stared at the boy asleep in the chair next to her bed.
Anthony looked peaceful when he slept, he always had, but he didn't look particularly comfortable right now. His right hand was holding her left, and he'd managed to pull one of his long legs up onto the chair, bracing his forehead on his knee while his left arm dangled off the side of the armrest. Yeah, he couldn't be comfortable like that. She squeezed his hand lightly, but he didn't wake. A nurse came in, and upon seeing Y/n awake, smiled.
"Your boyfriend must love you a lot. He hasn't left your side since you came in. Rode in the ambulance with you too, which he wasn't meant to. Paramedics said he was very insistent and needed treating anyway, so they let him. He's been really worried about you." Y/n was on too much morphine to fully comprehend what was going on, and her brain had stopped working properly at the word 'boyfriend' anyway.
"Oh," was all she said, and the nurse smiled, going through her checkups. Y/n drifted in and out of consciousness for half an hour before Anthony woke up.
He blinked a few times, just as she had, stretching like a cat, long limbs going everywhere but never removing his hand from hers. His grip only tightened, and when he saw her watching him with a small smile on her face, he returned it.
"You're awake."
"No, I'm dead," she deadpanned. "Obviously I'm awake, idiot. If I died I'd have to go on a date with you."
He frowned. "Would that really be so bad?"
"Yeah. You should be going on a date with me, not the other way around."
He laughed lightly, more an amused exhale than anything else. "You are so drugged up right now."
"Yep," she replied, popping the 'p'. His thumb was stroking across her hand, and Y/n wondered if he knew he was doing it.
~~~
"Ugh, do I have to live at yours? What's wrong with my house?"
"You live on the fifth floor and there aren't any lifts. You were also specifically told not to climb too many stairs."
"Yeah, but your house has almost as many stairs as my apartment building, so what's the difference?"
"The difference is that I can look after you here, because I live here. Don't touch that, it's still healing, and- ow!"
"Oh shit, sorry. It looks healed."
"Yeah, well you're not the only one that got stabbed, alright? Here, let me get the door."
Anthony sprung up the last step, fishing the keys out of his coat pocket and unlocking the door. Y/n followed behind, wincing when the movement up the stairs put pressure on her wound. She'd been in hospital for two weeks once she'd woken up, and had been told to stay at home until she was properly healed. Anthony had taken on the role of carer immediately, and the nurses had all mentioned (multiple times) what a good and loving boyfriend he was, looking after Y/n the way he was, despite his own injuries.
Neither of them had denied it.
Once inside 35 Portland Row, Y/n took a look around, and was surprised to see that it had barely changed in the last three years.
"Right. Tea? I think George has just put the kettle on."
"Anthony?"
"Yeah?" His smile was tentative, clearly not wanting to scare her off when she'd just started calling him by his first name again.
"Please don't make me sleep on the sofa. Because that looks like the same one your parents got when we were four and I remember how uncomfortable that one is." She pointed to the sofa in question, and he shook his head.
"No, you're not sleeping there. What sort of a boyfriend would I be if I let that happen?" he joked, and Y/n felt her heart flutter at the idea. "You can sleep in my bed, alright? It's only one flight of stairs, which will hurt, but it'll be good for you to get the exercise in, make sure you're healing properly."
Y/n frowned. "Where are you sleeping if I'm in your bed?" She half expected him to say that he'd be right next to her, but he smiled softly again.
"Sofa. No, don't look at me like that, I've slept in worse places."
"What worse places? Ant, you've got to look after yourself! God, you're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days."
She started making her way up the stairs, huffing from the effort. She was tired, despite having spent just over two weeks lying down, and it was already late in the evening.
"It doesn't matter, alright? Just... let's just get you to bed, okay?"
"You're sleeping in a bed, and that's that."
"You are so stubborn sometimes."
"So are you!" She made it to the half landing, and hobbled over to the door she remembered being Anthony's. "You still in here?" At his nod, she pushed the door open, going over to the bed and sitting on the edge. "Seriously, this bed is big enough for the both of us. I'm not letting you sleep on the sofa, Ant. It's super uncomfortable."
"Won't that be... I don't know. Won't that be weird?"
"Why would it be weird?"
"Because we haven't... we're not... you don't like me and I'm scared you're going to murder me in my sleep."
"You... what? Uh... okay. I'm not gonna murder you in your sleep, Ant. One, that's completely dishonourable. I would do it while you were awake so that you could look into the eyes of your killer. Two, I do like you, I just also need you to apologise. For what you said."
"You want me to apologise? I was just defending myself, because I was hurt by what you said. You made out like I wasn't capable and that stung, because you'd always been my biggest supporter."
"Oh for fuck's sake, Anthony. I wasn't saying that at all. I was worried about you because you weren't yourself after Jess died. You were... I don't know. You weren't you, and it freaked me out when you said you were starting an agency, because it's a crazy thing to do! You sort of became a shell of my best friend, and disappeared, and I was worried that you would die and I would lose you because you wouldn't care about living anymore. I know that you are perfectly capable of fighting, and you're one of the best swordsmen I've ever met, but you're an emotional wreck, Ant."
He was quiet for a bit, staring into space as he thought about her words. Y/n sighed, lying down on the covers and closing her eyes.
"I'm sorry." She felt the bed dip next to her as he sat down. "I'm sorry. I said some horrible things to you and you had every right to leave. I don't have an excuse for what I said, and if you want to leave tomorrow morning then I'll help you move into your flat again. But I just... I'm sorry, Y/n/n."
Y/n sighed again. "I don't want to go. I've missed it here," she admitted. "And yeah, you were an idiot and an arse, but you're my idiot, alright? You have a lot of grovelling to do as well." He nodded rapidly, and a secret smile spread on his face, one of the ones he showed her and nobody else.
"Your idiot?"
"Yes, Anthony. My idiot." They smiled at each other, soft and gentle. A thought occurred to Y/n, and her brow furrowed. "What happened after I passed out in the park? All I remember is you looking murderous and asking who stabbed me."
"Oh, right." Anthony looked away, blush creeping up his neck.
"What happened?"
"He's not coming after you again, if that helps. Or anyone. DEPRAC completely purified the area."
Y/n gaped at him. "You killed him?"
Anthony shrugged. "He hurt you, badly, and you could have been killed. If Lucy had been a second later..." He trailed off, eyes clouding over slightly.
"Ant?" Y/n pushed herself up into a sitting position, wincing at the stab of pain that shot through her in protest.
"Hmm?" he turned to look at her, and his eyes went wide when she slid an arm up around his neck.
"Lucy and George think that we need to make out."
"They, uh... they what?"
"They think that we need to make out."
He swallowed thickly, eyes flickering between hers, trying to figure out what was going on. When he spoke, it was in a hoarse whisper.
"What do you think?"
"I think we should listen to them. They're normally right about things. What about you?"
"Uh... okay?"
Y/n hesitated, suddenly unsure.
"Ant, do you want to? Because if you don't that's totally fine, I just assumed that you felt the same as me, and we were both fine with the hospital thinking that we're dating, and I genuinely really like you, and I probably love you-" she was cut off by his lips on hers, slightly chapped but still soft.
"I do want to, I'm just hopeless around girls, especially the ones I've loved since I was about ten." He'd barely pulled away, his nose brushing the side of hers, breath fanning over her lips.
"George was right about that too, then," she murmured, kissing him again. "He said you were hopeless with women."
"Thank god. I thought he knew I've been in love with you for years."
"Oh you're in love now, are you?"
"Started about seven years ago, but sure." He pushed forward again, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek as he kissed her softly and slowly.
"Is that why you flirted with me?"
Anthony flushed, nodding slightly. "In my defence I am completely hopeless with pretty girls, and I wanted to know if there was any chance of you sharing my feelings."
Y/n kissed him again, short and sweet. "I love you, Anthony Lockwood. Just look after yourself more, yeah?"
"I love you too," he replied. Y/n prodded him in the side.
"And?"
"And I'll look after myself more," he said, smiling. "Anything for you, anytime."
They kissed again, for longer this time, exploring each other and being mindful of their injuries, and Y/n thought she could happily spend eternity wrapped up in his arms
"You're definitely not sleeping on the sofa," she said when they paused for air a while later.
"If you say so," he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. She smacked a hand against his chest, face going red at his implication.
"Not like that, idiot."
"Your idiot," he smiled, pure joy on his face as he pecked her lips.
"My idiot," she replied, mirroring his grin.
#anthony lockwood x reader#anthony lockwood#lockwood and co#lockwood netflix#lockwood & co#lockwood x reader#lockwood x you#anthony lockwood x you
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I've seen a few ppl talk about this but I'd also like to!!! so!!!!
Jason and Annabeth would've made better "rivals" out of the seven than Percy and Jason.
if it is absolutely necessary to have a set of rivals in the seven, which it really isn't, it would've made more sense for Jason and Annabeth.
okay, I know Jason and Percy are children of the big three, Zeus and Poseidon, who don't really get along, but why does that mean Percy and Jason can't? if they'd had more time and weren't basically brainwashed into disliking each other, I think they'd have become really close friends.
Percy's humour evens out Jason's lack thereof (though he definitely does have a sense of humour in there somewhere, he was just never given the chance to find it), and as we saw a few times, they were really powerful when they fought together. Jason is logical and cautious, Percy is impulsive and quick. they even each other out. if anything, they should've been closer friends than any of the seven.
ok, back to the rivalry. so, it's said multiple times during MoA that Annabeth never really trusted Jason. she thought (correct me if I'm wrong, it's been a while since I read the books) Jason was too controlled and quiet.
also, Jason and Annabeth probably have more in common than any other duo from the seven, and that's not even their physical descriptions.
they're both smart and logical, preferring to think things through properly before making decisions, and they both use this during battle, for example.
Annabeth never really trusting Jason could've also added to their rivalry; it would've made her more apprehensive of everything he said, right? so, just imagine the seven getting into a rough situation and needing somebody with brains to figure it out. of course, we have Annabeth, daughter of Athena, who's known for being smart; but you also have Jason, son of Jupiter, who is cautious, careful, and logical. imagine they come to different conclusions, and argue about which is right.
their rivalry would've been so cool! two super smart people getting different answers for the same situation, both seemingly right, but who's do the seven follow through with? the natural choice would be Annabeth, who is, again, a daughter of Athena, who is the goddess of wisdom. it could've added to the story; having Leo and Piper side with Jason's answer, for example, and having Frank, Hazel, and Percy side with Annabeth.
but with Percy and Jason's so-called "rivalry," that really made no sense because they hardly knew each other, it's just two awkward and powerful 16 year olds, whose dislike for each other stems from their godly parents not getting along. it makes no sense. especially because Percy isn't the type of person to judge people based on their godly parents, so why would he have a pointless rivalry with someone just because his dad and their dad aren't exactly best friends? it doesn't seem like a very Percy Jackson thing to do, in my opinion.
so yeah. I think it would've made more sense to put a rivalry between two characters who have more in common, over two people who literally met yesterday and don't know anything about each other (except, of course, Jason hearing about the 'all-powerful Percy Jackson' stuff from CHB). I really do think that a rivalry in general wasn't necessary, and it didn't really add anything solid to the plot or storyline.
#also jason doesnt seem like the type to be bitter over hearing about percy's power#if anything he'd probably just be amazed#i wish we got to see more of annabeth and jason's dynamic because they had so much potential#percy and jason would've could've should've been best friends#argue with the wall#but yes an annabeth and jason rivalry wouldve been amazing!!!#if a rivalry was needed at all#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson#pjo#annabeth chase#jason grace#hoo#heroes of olympus#riordanverse#riordan universe
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Okay so. Limbus Theory Time. But I'd be lame if I did a theory about the soon-to-release (hopefully) Canto VI, so instead I'm doing Don Quixote Theory Hours.
Okay so, let me lay out my thought process. In the latest released piece of content for the main game, "Risk Levels and Classifications" I believe it's called, Don Quixote seems to recognize the name Moses. To me, this implies that she has either met or been in proximity to Moses in the past.
Furthermore, in Canto IV, Don is basically the first person to realize Dongrang is Distorting, and says something about it before even Faust can. This says to me that she has been involved in cases of Distortion in the past, since she recognizes the signs before anyone else. Before this point, supposedly none of the Sinners have seen someone Distort. There was Papa Bongy in Canto 3.5, but the group only arrived after he had Distorted.
If Don Quixote really has been involved in a Distortion case, then it'd make sense that she either knows of, or my theory, has met Moses, the Distortion Detective.
Going even further back, to Canto III, Don beats the shit out of Sinclair when he stabs a dead inquisitor repeatedly, and says that her friends had done similar to her in the past when she had been "overtaken by fervor."
What has, to this point in the game, been the most effective method of "curing" the Distortion? What method has worked on Papa Bongy, Dongrang, and Distorted Bamboo-Hatted Kim?
Beating them up.
It is my theory that, in the past, Don Quixote has Distorted. And she was saved from her Distortion by her old friends "beating some sense" into her.
Past this point is stuff I don't really have much evidence for, but want to talk about anyway. So here's your warning that we're going from "mildly substantiated speculation" to "complete spitballing."
I think that Don Quixote has not only Distorted once in the past, but potentially multiple times. The way Don speaks about when she's been beaten by her friends says to me that it has happened multiple times before. So I don't think this Distortion is juts a one-off thing. She either has Distorted, or been on the verge of Distorting, multiple times before.
Furthermore, I want to look at exactly when Don notices Dongrang's imminent Distortion.
Don notices that Dongrang is about to Distort when he begins talking to somebody who isn't present. As we've seen in every Distortion victim and potential Distortion victim, from Philip, to Yan, to Xiao, to Vergilius, to Dongrang, they all speak with Carmen before they Distort. It's well-established at this point that Carmen is the one who causes people to Distort.
My theory is that Don has spoken with Carmen, perhaps many times, due to her past Distortion. This is why she recognized Dongrang's imminent Distortion, due to the context she knew he was speaking with Carmen. Don isn't stupid, she's been shown to be able to deduce things quite easily as long as she has the background knowledge to do so.
Not only has Don Distorted before, and not only has she spoken with Carmen in the course of it, and not only has she Distorted multiple times in the past, but I think she has some kind of "Recurring Distortion" caused by Carmen not being willing to let up on Don. And I also think that she is still at risk of Distorting, even as she rides on the bus with all of the other Sinners.
Don Quixote always acts like a hero of justice, a valiant knight who respects those who keep the peace and fights to stop injustice and villains all over the City. And yet, we know she doesn't really believe this delusion of grandeur she has. As far back as Canto II, in the scene with the mariachi gang, we've been able to see a side of Don that's much more grounded in reality. The gang even brought up the idea that Don is insincere.
I believe the reason for Don's personality is that she's constantly battling Carmen. If Carmen is really trying to get Don to Distort, she may be attacking Don's sense of justice. Something along the lines of, "You can't really help people, injustice can't be eliminated by just one person." Possibly even telling Don that if she Distorts and accepts this fact, she can do more to combat injustice than she can right now.
I don't think Don's love of justice and hatred of villains is a lie, but I do think her old-timey speak and her sheer dedication aren't sincere. The sheer amount of trouble Don causes when she sees an injustice, and her lack of ability to restrain herself, I don't think can be put up to an act. So what is it?
As I said before, I think she's battling Carmen. Whether she's trying to prove she can serve justice all on her own, without Carmen's help, or whether she's trying to delude herself so hard that Carmen can't get in anymore, I don't know. But I think her act is all an attempt to stop her "Recurring Distortion" phenomenon.
If Limbus knows about her past Distorting, there's a chance they've had her talk with the LCD. If this is true, then it's another potential avenue through which Don has learned of Moses, if Moses and Don didn't meet in Moses' Distortion Detection.
If Don is also at constant risk of Distorting, then this could be involved with the "deal" that she's made with Vergilius. It's possible he sees her deranged behavior as a warning sign of Distortion.
It's possible that Don saw an "injustice" and attempted to right it when she joined Limbus Company, and her being unable to do so caused her to Distort. The "deal" could have been that she wouldn't put herself at risk of Distorting. But this is all just wild speculation.
In short, I think Don is a constant Distortion risk. Carmen saw her emotional instability and intense desire for justice, and decided she could use that to get Don to Distort. Because she is a prime candidate for Distortion.
But there's one more thing I haven't brought up, and that's Don's "friends." The people who stopped her from fully Distorting in the past by beating sense into her. Who were these people?
I don't know. Not conclusively anyway. But I have an idea.
The Udjats.
To be transparent, I did not come up with this theory. But I think it makes at least a little sense. The Udjats, and their leader Dias, seem to be quite invested in Distortions. They would know what to do in the case of one of their own beginning to Distort. It's possible that Don joined the Udjats because she thought they were just, or through some other reason entirely. Again, I have no real evidence of this.
If Don was an Udjat at some point, or knew them in some way, then that'd be another potential route she knew Moses. Moses was once a relatively high rank in the Udjats, and continued being under Dias' thumb long afterwards, as shown by her still having to do work for Dias during the time of Distortion Detective.
All together, this is a bunch of barely-substantiated theories, but I think they make just enough sense to be put out there. "Don has Distorted in the past" is the one I'm most confident in, while, "Don was an Udjat at some point" is one I'm very much not super confident in. But I think it's food for thought.
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Voice of an Angel
Kurt Wagner x OFC (Emily Reynolds)
Words: 14.5K
Warnings: Killing, injuries, bloody stuff , bad cheesy flirting, criticism regarding religion/ God.
A/N: Everybody lives, I don't care about canon it jumped out of the window
As Emily pushed open the grand doors, a rush of nostalgia flooded her senses along with that familiar scent that had clung to the building for decades. Despite the years that had passed, she couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging wash over her, accompanied by a subtle smile playing on her lips.
Amidst the bustling corridors, she caught glimpses of students darting about, some offering nods in her direction while others remained absorbed in their own world. Emily understood their indifference; after all, it had been years since she roamed these halls, and she wasn't one to draw attention to herself. Yet, amidst the crowd, there were a few who recognized her, their gazes lingering just a moment longer.
" Emy!" A familiar voice cut through the bustling noise, and Emily's smile widened exponentially as she spotted the figure of her old friend making her way towards her. "Storm." With genuine warmth, she enveloped her friend in a tight embrace, the years melting away in an instant. "God, how long has it been? Three years, four Breaking away from the embrace, Emily kept her hands on Storm's shoulders, the bond of friendship palpable between them. "Add three more, and we're getting closer," she replied with a chuckle.
"I'll never forgive Charles for sending you to Colombia," she muttered, the resentment evident in her tone. Emily's gaze softened. "But you know why I went," Emily replied gently, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on Storm's arm. "There was a surge in mutant appearances. Someone had to lend a hand, and at that moment, I had nothing better to do." A fleeting smile tugged at Storm's lips, despite her lingering frustration. "And I suppose your Spanish is impeccable now," she remarked with a hint of sarcasm.
Emily couldn't resist a playful grin. "You bet. My Spanish has never been sharper, mi amiga." Storm snorted, a mix of exasperation and genuine amusement dancing in her eyes. "I guess you didn't come here just for small talk?" Emily could see a small glimmer of hope in her eyes and was relieved not to have to stifle it. "No, not at all. I've come back home." An honest, broad smile slowly spread across Storm's face. "Does that mean-?"
Emily interrupted with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, waggling her eyebrows for emphasis. "I'm back. And you'll have a hard time shaking me off anytime soon."
Storm burst into laughter, her previous tension melting away as she pulled Emily into another tight embrace. "Come on, we've kept your room untouched. Let's catch up properly."
Emily's heart swelled with warmth at the realization that her friends, her family, had preserved her space, a silent testament to their unwavering belief in her return. Despite the overwhelming urge to accept Storm's invitation and immerse herself in the familiar comfort of her old room, she knew she had to decline.
"I'd love nothing more than that, Storm," she began, her voice tinged with regret as she shook her head gently and placed a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder, "but I'm afraid I'll have to speak with Charles first." A soft sigh escaped Storm's lips, and Emily observed a subtle slump in her friend's posture, but she was met with a small, understanding smile.
"Of course. Come with me," Storm replied, her voice gentle as she gestured for Emily to follow.
Contrary to Emily's expectations, Storm veered away from the typical paths leading to Charles' office or the classrooms, guiding her instead towards the basement. Towards the danger room. Emily's brow furrowed in confusion, but before she could voice her question, Storm sensed her gaze and shot her a knowing look, amusement twinkling in her eyes.
" The professor doesn't partake in the training sessions himself, silly," Storm explained with a chuckle, glancing at Emily from the corner of her eye. "He simply oversees and supervises."
Emily's lips twitched with a mixture of amusement and faux indignation. "Well, excuse me for assuming the great Charles Xavier might don his superhero cape and join in the action," she quipped, though a telltale blush crept up her cheeks. She knew full well the limitations Charles faced with his wheelchair, but the mental image of him engaged in combat training was too absurd not to entertain.
The doors to the monitoring room smoothly slid aside, revealing Charles Xavier seated in front of the console, his presence commanding even from behind the safety glass that separated them from the danger room.
Though his appearance hadn't changed—still bald, still in his wheelchair—his aura of wisdom and compassion remained as strong as ever. Emily's smile widened as Charles turned to greet her, his own expression gentle and welcoming. "Emily. It's good to see you."
" Likewise, Charles," she replied, her voice incredibly soft as she closed the distance between them. With a warmth that transcended mere words, she enveloped him in a heartfelt embrace, which he returned with equal tenderness. In that fleeting moment, tears welled in her eyes.
Charles Xavier had been her guiding light since she was just a frightened ten-year-old, alone and adrift in a world of uncertainty. He had plucked her from the darkness, offering her not just refuge, but a home and a family. To Emily, he had been more than a mentor or a teacher; he had been the father figure she had lost too soon.
As they parted from their embrace, Charles gently took Emily's hands in his own, his gaze lingering on her with a sense of fondness and pride. "You've grown up, my dear," he remarked, his tone reflective."
" I was already grown up when I left," Emily countered with a small smile, meeting his gaze.
Nevertheless, Charles's eyes traced over her features, as if trying to commit every detail to memory—every wrinkle, every freckle—as if seeing her anew. "Still. You've changed," he observed. " Emily's smile softened, touched by his perceptiveness. "And you haven't changed at all," she replied, a fondness coloring her words. Charles chuckled softly, releasing her hands as he turned his wheelchair to face the glass once more.
"Believe me, I've gained a few wrinkles in the last few years," he admitted with a self-deprecating smile, casting a brief glance over his shoulder at Emily. "Come on. The simulation is almost over. We'll have plenty of time to catch up afterward."
Emily stepped closer to Charles, peering through the glass pane into the room below. Familiar faces greeted her sight—Scott, focused as he honed his skills with precision, and Hank, dangling from the ceiling with a mixture of grace and agility. Yet, there were others whose identities eluded her.
"Logan," Charles offered as he followed Emily's gaze to the muscular, dark-haired man below. With each movement, he extended three metal claws from each hand, dispatching his opponents with ruthless efficiency. " He's lent us his aid on occasion when we've needed it," Charles continued, his gaze thoughtful as he observed Logan's relentless onslaught.
"He's a complex individual, and we're not entirely certain if he'll choose to remain. But he's got his heart in the right place. Most of the time."
For a few moments, Emily watched Logan's movements, however, her attention was drawn away when she noticed Storm step closer, her expression filled with concern as she scanned the room below. Who are you looking for?" Emily inquired, turning to face her friend, curiosity piqued by Storm's searching gaze.
"Kurt," Storm replied, her focus still fixed on the activity below. "He's a recent addition, and I wanted to ensure he's adapting well," she explained.
"There you are," Storm's voice broke through Emily's concentration, drawing her attention once more to the swirling black cloud of mist below. Emily furrowed her brow, trying to discern any trace of Kurt within the nebulous veil, but her efforts proved fruitless. Turning back to her friend, Emily found Storm's gaze now fixed on another corner of the room. Following her friend's line of sight, Emily squinted, only to find another ominous cloud—this one tinged with hints of black and blue, hovering over a defeated opponent.
After a few more futile attempts to locate Kurt amidst the obscure mist, Emily turned to Charles.
" That's something new," she remarked, her gaze shifting back and forth between Storm's determined expression and the enigmatic phenomenon in the danger room below.
Charles's laughter filled the room and he shook his head with amusement. "Not quite. Look closely," he urged, gesturing towards a seemingly empty space amidst the projected enemies. Frowning in concentration, Emily scrutinized the area, trying to discern any hidden details.
Before she could formulate a response, the air around the targeted enemy shimmered, and a dense black cloud of mist materialized out of thin air. The opponent staggered, collapsing under the weight of the unseen force, as another cloud of mist emerged, swirling and merging with the first.
" What the-?!" Emily's exclamation was cut short as Charles raised a hand, urging her to remain silent. " Watch carefully," he instructed, his gaze intent on the unfolding spectacle below.
Once more, Charles pointed to a specific spot, and as if in response to him, the black mist reappeared. Emily's eyes widened in realization as she finally saw what Storm and Charles had been observing all along.
Through the dense smoke and the distorted reflection on the glass pane, Emily strained to discern the figure hidden within the swirling mist. Gradually, the outline of a person, presumably a man, emerged, materializing out of thin air to swiftly incapacitate his opponent before vanishing once more.
"Teleporting. He's a teleporter!" Emily exclaimed, her eyes widening with a mixture of awe and excitement. "I've never seen anything like it, and I've dealt with a lot of them. Holy shit." Storm's smirk hinted at a hidden amusement as she cautioned, "Don't say that too loudly. Our dear Kurt is a very devout man."
"I'll be as gracious as ever," Emily replied with a chuckle. Storm's snort of amusement was accompanied by a comforting pat on Emily's shoulder. "Come on, the simulation's as good as over. I'll introduce you. Besides, Scott and Hank will be happy to see you."
Emily glanced at Charles, seeking reassurance, and found it in his nod of approval. With a grateful smile, she briefly touched his shoulder before following Storm out of the room. As they approached the door to the Danger Room, Storm offered her a brief heads-up. "A little heads up," she explained in a low voice, "Logan's often in a bad mood. Always, actually. So don't take it too personally."
"I'll do my best." With that, the doors slid open, revealing the familiar yet unpleasant scent that greeted them. Emily wrinkled her nose in distaste as they stepped inside.
Staying on the sidelines to allow the others a moment to catch their breath, Emily watched as Hank recovered more quickly than the rest, his eyes lighting up with recognition as he spotted them.
"Emily, it's good to see you," Hank greeted her with a broad smile. Knowing his discomfort with physical affection, Emily refrained from offering a hug, instead returning his smile with a nod of acknowledgment. Scott, however, had no such reservations. "You're still alive," he exclaimed with a grin, enveloping her in a tight embrace that squeezed the air from her lungs.
"Scott," Emily croaked softly, teasingly. "You stink and you're wet. Go away, old man." Despite her playful protest, there was a warmth in her voice.
Scott released her from the embrace with a playful scoff. "I'm three months older than you."
" Emily shot back with a smirk, "Judging by your reaction time in training, you'd think you'd have been around when Socrates wasn't even being planned." She could almost envision Scott rolling his eyes behind his glasses, but her attention was drawn away by a low, throaty laugh. Surprised, Emily turned to find Logan, who had lit a cigar and was regarding her with a mixture of amusement and approval, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "I like the little girl," he remarked.
Emily couldn't help but grimace at the nickname. "I'm not little," she retorted, a touch defensively. Logan chuckled and turned away towards the door. "Sweetheart, you're like, a meter fifty. Tops." It wasn't exactly mature to stick out her tongue, but Emily couldn't resist the urge, before turning back to the others.
"Forget Logan," Scott interjected, his expression turning serious as he draped an arm around Emily's shoulder. "The guy's never in a good mood. By his standards, this was just a wedding proposal." Emily grimaced. Sure, Logan was undeniably attractive, but from what she'd already observed, she could tell for sure that he was definitely not her type.
"Please don't." Scott laughed and finally released her from his grasp, prompting a grateful sigh from Emily. She genuinely loved her friend, but he was definitely in dire need of a shower.
As her gaze swept over the faces gathered in the room, something caught her attention, and she furrowed her brow in thought. "Wait, there's someone missing here, isn't there? Where's the cloud guy? What was his name again, Kain?" Emily mused aloud.
A voice behind her, tinged with an unfamiliar accent, responded to her query. "Kurt. Kurt Wagner."
As Emily turned around, her eyes fell upon the figure standing next to Storm—a man who instantly captured her attention. He was undeniably the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on. Yet, as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she blinked in confusion.
Taller than her, yet slightly shorter than Scott or Hank, he possessed a lean, muscular build that spoke of athleticism. However, it was not the sculpted physique of someone who meticulously trained for aesthetic reasons, but rather the natural result of physical activity. Emily couldn't help but surmise that he might have been involved in acrobatics or gymnastics, given his slender yet defined form.
These physical attributes alone didn't give her pause. It was everything else about him that left her momentarily speechless, caught off guard by the sheer magnetism he exuded.
His skin bore a striking hue of deep indigo blue, adorned with intricate, if unfamiliar, symbols that seemed to dance across his surface in mesmerizing patterns. His blackish-bluish hair cascaded in untamed curls, framing a face that held an otherworldly allure. Emily couldn't help but notice his pointed ears peeking through the tousled locks, a subtle yet unmistakable feature.
As far as she could tell, he had only three fingers and three toes, the latter clad in matching shoes. His smile revealed a set of sharp fangs, adding to the enigmatic charm that surrounded him. A tail, adorned with a spade-like tip, swayed gently behind him. Despite these striking features, it was his golden eyes that held her captive, their intense gaze locking onto hers with a depth that seemed to penetrate to her very soul.
By all conventional standards, he wasn't attractive, but in that moment, Emily knew she had never encountered anyone more compelling, more captivating, than the man before her and she'd be damned if she'd ever meet anyone more attractive.
With a warm smile, Emily extended her hand towards Kurt, which he accepted in a firm yet surprisingly gentle grip. Despite the unfamiliar sensation of his touch, she found his hand pleasantly soft and warm, a stark contrast to his otherworldly appearance. She couldn't help but feel a blush creeping onto her cheeks as she met his gaze.
" Emily Reynolds, it's a real pleasure," she introduced herself, her voice tinged with genuine warmth as she exchanged a handshake with the enigmatic man before her. As she allowed her eyes to roam over him once more, she noticed a slight shift in his demeanor, a subtle fidgeting that betrayed his unease under her scrutiny. Emily couldn't help but feel a surge of amusement at his reaction.
"German, I guess?" she ventured, directing the question towards Kurt. He nodded in affirmation, prompting a knowing smile from Emily. Turning to Storm, she couldn't resist teasing her friend with a playful remark. "You know, if you'd told me you'd picked up such a good-looking bloke, I'd have come up from Colombia a lot sooner," she quipped with a wink.
With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, Emily turned back to Kurt, her smile widening as she addressed him directly. "Am I right, handsome?" she teased, her tone light-hearted yet genuine.
Emily couldn't suppress her delight as she watched Kurt's cheeks darken in embarrassment. He stammered out an apology before vanishing in a puff of smoke, leaving Emily amused by his sudden departure. Turning to the others, who wore expressions ranging from astonishment to amusement, Emily raised an eyebrow defiantly.
"What?" she challenged, crossing her arms defensively across her chest. "He is handsome."
~**~
With a resigned sigh, Emily gently closed the book she had been perusing and carefully returned it to its place on the shelf. It had been three weeks since her return, and while the lessons had been demanding enough, it was another matter altogether that weighed heavily on her mind.
Unintentionally, Kurt had taken up residence in her thoughts. What had begun as fleeting musings about the teleporter had gradually evolved into a persistent presence in her mind. At first, she had dismissed it as a passing curiosity, but as time went on, his image seemed to intrude upon her thoughts more and more frequently, making it increasingly difficult for her to focus on her duties.
Despite his unconventional appearance and the initial awkwardness of their encounter, Emily had come to realize that Kurt was genuinely sweet and honest—a rare find in their line of work. Yet, his unexpected hold on her thoughts only added to her frustrations, complicating her already demanding responsibilities.
As she closed her eyes and leaned against the bookshelf, Emily couldn't help but wonder how she had managed to become so captivated by someone she barely knew. And though she tried to push him from her mind, she couldn't shake the feeling that Kurt had somehow managed to find a permanent place in her thoughts, whether she liked it or not.
With a resigned sigh, Emily acknowledged the unreciprocated nature of her flirtations with Kurt. Each attempt seemed to result in either a shy blush from him or his sudden disappearance, leaving her feeling frustrated and uncertain of where she stood.
Deciding that she wasn't in the mood to read her class's French essays that day, Emily craved a change of scenery. The weather outside was pleasant, and with most of the students still in class, she could seize the opportunity to enjoy some peace and quiet in the garden. Leaving the confines of the classroom behind, Emily made her way to the tranquil garden, where the soft rustle of leaves and the gentle chirping of birds welcomed her.
Ever since she was a little girl, Emily had felt a deep affection for the school grounds—the wide green fields, the tranquil woods, and especially the meticulously tended gardens. Among the lush foliage, there was a particular bench tucked away amidst the fragrant rose hedges—a sanctuary she had often sought out when the pressures of life became overwhelming.
However, as she approached her cherished retreat that day, she discovered that someone else had claimed it before her. Kurt sat there, engrossed in his notepad, seemingly lost in thought.
" Hello, handsome," Emily greeted him with a mixture of surprise and warmth, her heart fluttering as he looked up from his writing to meet her gaze with those captivating golden eyes. It had become a habit for her to address him in such a manner, and to her delight, he had never protested.
"Emily. I wasn't expecting you," Kurt greeted her, his voice soft and filled with genuine surprise. She chuckled lightly and looked down at him gently. Kurt sat cross-legged, dressed in simple attire, a drawing pad resting in his lap and a pencil poised in his hand.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you too much? If so, can I go?" Emily inquired, her concern evident in her tone. He shook his head tentatively, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and gestured for her to join him. "Please, sit down," he invited warmly.
Without hesitation, Emily accepted his offer and nestled herself beside him on the bench. "I didn't realize you could paint," she remarked, her curiosity piqued as she observed his sketches. Kurt shrugged modestly, his attention returning to the paper before him. "It's nothing special, though it helps to calm the mind," he explained softly, his fingers deftly moving across the page as he continued to work on his creation.
Emily hummed in agreement, her gaze drifting over the serene surroundings of the garden. "Whenever I was overwhelmed as a pupil, I came here. It was my safe space, so to speak," she reminisced softly.
Kurt's gaze lifted from the paper to meet hers, a playful sparkle entering his eyes.
"Then I really hope my presence doesn't—destroy that security," he quipped, a hint of self-deprecation in his tone.
Emily smiled, understanding the reference to Kurt's past exploits. Storm had filled her in on the incident at the White House, expressing her concerns for Kurt's well-being. But as she looked at him now, his smile reassuring and genuine, she felt a sense of certainty that her friend had nothing to fear. It doesn't. I feel more than safe in your presence, my dear," she assured him sincerely.
A comfortable silence settled between them, punctuated only by the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. After a moment, Emily spoke again, her tone gentle and earnest. "May I have a look at them?" she asked, her curiosity genuine as she gestured towards his sketches.
Kurt blinked, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features as he glanced down at his work. Emily noticed the telltale sign of anxiety in the way his tail wrapped around his leg, but she offered him a reassuring smile. "It's nothing special."
" I don't care about that," Emily replied softly. "I don't have any other friends who are artistic, and I really can't paint myself. The fact that someone can is very fascinating to me." Sensing his uncertainty, she added, "But you don't have to if you don't want to. It's up to you.“
"No, it's fine," Kurt replied tentatively, offering the drawing pad to Emily with a nervous gesture. Almost immediately, he withdrew his hand and began to fidget with the hem of his shirt, his uncertainty palpable.
Emily accepted the pad with care, her fingers tracing over each page as she studied the sketches with genuine interest. After a moment, she turned to Kurt with delight shining in her eyes, her admiration for the talented teleporter growing with each passing moment.
"Kurt, these are fantastic! Really, absolutely beautiful," she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine admiration and affection.
A tentative smile graced Kurt's lips as he accepted the pad back from her. "Thank you," he murmured softly. With a grin, Emily rose from the bench, a playful glint in her eyes.
"Although I have to say that the artist is still a lot more beautiful," she teased, blowing him a kiss before turning to make her way back to the building.
As she walked, Emily felt a renewed sense of energy coursing through her veins. The encounter with Kurt had lifted her spirits, leaving her eager to tackle the task of reading the French essays with newfound enthusiasm.
~**~
"They look good."
Emily knew better than to cry out. It was the middle of the night and even though it was vacation and the kids who weren't home visiting were on a field trip with most of the teachers, leaving the house more or less empty, it felt wrong to scream out loud just after midnight. Still, she couldn't stop the sound rising in her throat and fumbled with a knife she'd meant to put in the sink.
Cautiously, she turned to find Kurt crouched opposite her on the kitchen island, his form illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window. He was dressed in light clothes, a slight smile playing on his lips as the tip of his tail curled up in a gesture of amusement.
Despite her initial surprise, Emily couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth at the sight of him. She had grown accustomed to his unexpected appearances over the past few weeks, finding comfort in his quiet presence.
"Kurt!" Emily's attempt at sounding stern was overshadowed by the sheer relief evident in her voice as she called out his name. "I’m sorry, meine Liebe. I didn't mean to startle you," he apologized, his smile carrying a hint of mischief despite the apologetic tone.
Emily couldn't help but snort at his apology, though she appreciated the sentiment. Placing the knife on the counter, just out of reach, she chuckled softly. "Why are you still awake at all?"
Kurt tilted his head, shifting from a crouch to a more relaxed cross-legged position on the kitchen island. His tail swung lazily back and forth behind him as he regarded her with playful curiosity. "I could ask you the same thing. Or is it a tradition with you Americans to bake cookies in the middle of the night?"
His gaze flicked towards the oven, where a batch of chocolate cookies was in the midst of baking, before returning to her with a raised eyebrow, teasingly provocative.
Emily couldn't deny that she had observed a change in Kurt over the past few weeks. Gone were the days when he would linger alone in the corners of rooms, withdrawn into the shadows and blushing at every compliment she offered. Instead, he seemed to have grown bolder, spending more time with others, engaging in playful banter and offering pointed responses that often left her at a loss for words.
Admittedly, Emily found herself feeling a twinge of jealousy at times when she witnessed Kurt interacting with other women who seemed captivated by his charm. Yet, she couldn't help but feel genuinely happy for him, recognizing that he deserved to find companionship and connection with others just as much as anyone else.
Yet, she couldn't fault these women for being drawn to Kurt's magnetic personality when she herself found him equally captivating. Despite her occasional bouts of jealousy, she knew that she had no right to judge others when she was just as guilty of harboring feelings for him.
"I needed to let off some steam," Emily explained, her fingers absently wiping flour on her trousers as Kurt's gaze wandered around the kitchen, taking in the sight of dozens of cookies already baked, with more waiting in the oven and a bowl of fresh dough ready to be shaped.
"Lots of steam," she added with a wry smile, reaching for a plate and carefully placing some freshly baked cookies on it before pressing it into Kurt's hand. "Here you go, handsome. I guess this is what you came for."
With a grateful grin and a wag of his tail, he accepted the plate. "Well, I wasn't expecting such fresh delicacies, but yes." Emily watched with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction as Kurt selected one of the cookies, his movements deliberate as he brought it to his nose, taking in its aroma before finally taking a bite.
A few crumbs tumbled to the floor, but she paid them no mind, too captivated by the enraptured expression on Nightcrawler's face as he savored the treat. Now it was Emily's turn to grin, a sense of warmth spreading through her as she witnessed Kurt's enjoyment.
"Good?" Emily inquired, her gaze shifting back to Kurt as he took another bite of the cookie
"Better," he replied instantly, his words slightly muffled by the food in his mouth. Chuckling softly, Emily turned her attention back to her pastry. "Good to know my frustration baking tastes good after all." For a few moments, silence enveloped them, broken only by the sound of Kurt's chewing and Emily's rhythmic chopping of chocolate. Eventually, Kurt broke the quietude with a question.
" May I ask why you're baking in the middle of the night?" With a sigh, Emily pushed the freshly chopped chocolate into the dough and then pressed it into Kurt's somewhat perplexed hand. "School work. Stir, please," she instructed, her voice tinged with weariness but also a hint of determination.
As Kurt stirred the dough, still a little bemused by the late-night baking session, Emily busied herself with removing the trays of fresh cookies from the oven. "You'd think science would be hard to teach, but try teaching Spanish to a class of American kids who almost never have to conjugate or adapt adjectives. Or French. Or God forbid Latin," she explained, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.
"Thank you," she added, taking the bowl from him with a grateful smile.
Kurt hummed softly. "The professor said you speak a lot of languages." Emily nodded slightly, her expression thoughtful. "Always came easy to me. A lot easier than biology or chemistry," she admitted with a wry smile.
"How many?"
Emily put the bowl down and leaned back against the kitchen counter, meeting Kurt's gaze with a thoughtful expression. "About ten? English, as my first language, Spanish, French, Hebrew, Latin and Ancient Greek fluently. Arabic, Portuguese and Swahili more or less confidently. Mandarin and Russian..." She paused, tilting her head slightly as she considered.
"Let's put it this way, I wouldn't be completely helpless in a conversation, but I'd prefer to either continue the conversation in English or look for an opportunity to escape after five minutes." Kurt, who had been about to take another bite of a cookie, froze in his tracks, his eyes widening in astonishment as he processed her revelation.
Emily felt a hint of self-consciousness creeping in under his intense scrutiny, and she shifted uncomfortably, about to turn away when Kurt caught himself.
"You're fantastic," Kurt declared, his voice laced with genuine admiration and affection. Emily felt a warmth spread through her cheeks at his words, and she turned away slightly to hide the blush. "Says the guy who can teleport," she replied with a hint of self-deprecation, trying to deflect the attention away from herself.
There was a soft rustle, and when Emily turned back around, she found Kurt standing right behind her, his eyes earnest as he set aside the plate of cookies. "Don't," he murmured, reaching out to brush a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. "Please don't belittle your achievements."
Emily found herself frozen in place, her gaze locked with Kurt's as his fingers continued to stroke her cheek with gentle reassurance. His eyes held such warmth and admiration that it left her feeling both vulnerable and electrified, her heart pounding in her chest as she struggled to form coherent thoughts.
"I was just a curious child. Which Charles encouraged," she finally managed to croak out, her voice barely above a whisper.
Kurt's expression softened even further, his gaze unwavering as he spoke. "And today you are a brilliant woman whose intelligence should not be underestimated," he replied, his words carrying a weight of sincerity that sent a shiver down Emily's spine.
She thought she could feel the tension, but didn't dare do what she wanted to do (grab him by the collar and kiss him senseless).
Instead, Emily chuckled lightly and playfully pushed Kurt aside, placing her hand on his chest as she moved past him to reach the trays of cookies. "Someone sure knows how to make a girl swoon, huh?" she teased, trying to inject a light-hearted tone into the atmosphere.
"Aber nur du zählst*," Kurt muttered softly, prompting Emily to turn back to him with a quizzical expression. "Excuse me? German isn't really my strong suit," she admitted, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Kurt smiled sheepishly, hopping back onto the counter as he evaded her question. "You and the professor get on well. How long have you known him?" he asked, deflecting the conversation away from his previous remark.
Emily knew he was avoiding her question, but she was happy to take the way out as long as it meant he couldn't see her red cheeks or hear her beating heart.
"He raised me," Emily confessed, her voice soft but tinged with deep gratitude as she worked to evenly distribute the cookie dough on the tray. "I lost my family when I was ten. Charles took me in, fostered me and treated me like I was his own flesh and blood. I owe him more than I can ever give back."
She paused for a moment before smiling and putting the tray in the oven and, with that last load done, turning to Kurt. "He's like a father to me, as stereotypical as it may sound." Kurt's tail swayed slightly back and forth as he looked at her.
"I never got to know my parents. Instead, I grew up in the Munich circus," Kurt revealed, his tone tinged with a mix of nostalgia and resignation. "They may not have been related to me, but they gave me a home and accepted me for who I am when no one else did. More or less."
His expression softened. "Just because they aren't your blood doesn't mean any less. Sometimes those who aren't related to us are more important and more family than our real one." Emily cast her gaze down. A constricting feeling spread through her, a familiar feeling that she did her best to suppress.
"Storm told me that you grew up in the circus, but I could never imagine it," Emily admitted, her curiosity piqued. "What was it like, if you don't mind me asking?"
All at once, Kurt's face seemed to light up, his eyes sparkling as his tail started wagging back and forth, a gesture that Emily found incredibly endearing. "It was an indescribable feeling. The adrenaline, the ring, the audience." A dreamy look came over his face. "They didn't know that this -" he pointed to his face "- wasn't make-up, wasn't an act. I was able to teleport and received thunderous applause. It was a real magic trick for them. I was happy. I was free."
Emily couldn't help but hang on every word, captivated by Kurt's recounting of his circus days. The passion and joy in his voice resonated deeply with her, and she couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. "It sounds wonderful," she remarked sincerely, her heart swelling with happiness for him.
Kurt's eyes met hers and a wide, genuine smile came across his face. "It was."
As the night wore on, the cookies long since cooled, Emily found herself still seated in the kitchen, utterly captivated by Kurt's stories of his time in the circus. Mesmerized, she sat opposite him on the kitchen ledge, her gaze fixed on his lips as he spoke, hanging on to every word with rapt attention.
Kurt's storytelling had a magnetic quality to it, drawing her in completely. His voice, neither too quick nor too slow, held a certain cadence that was soothing yet compelling. With passion, wit, and charm, he painted vivid pictures of his experiences, bringing each memory to life in exquisite detail.
Listening to him, Emily felt as though she were right there beside him, experiencing every exhilarating moment firsthand.
Kurt had a way of speaking that left no room for distraction, his words casting a spell that held her in thrall. Despite the late hour, Emily found herself completely absorbed in his tales, grateful for the opportunity to share in his memories.
"Thanks for keeping me company and venting frustration," she murmured softly after they'd stowed all the cookies together and he'd walked her up to her room. Not teleported, they had walked while he had continued talking, encouraged by her inquiries.
Kurt smiled down at her, his eyes warm with gratitude. "I thank you for listening," he replied, lifting his plate with a cheeky smile. "And for the cookies."
Returning his smile, Emily leaned against her doorframe, feeling a sense of contentment settle over her. "It's been more than a pleasure listening to you. You have a very soothing and pleasant voice, my dear." A pleasant silence descended between them for a few moments before Kurt broke it with a question, his curiosity evident in his expression.
"Can I ask you something?" Emily laughed softly. "I've been pestering you with questions all night, of course you can."
Kurt tilted his head curiously, his golden eyes searching hers. "What are your abilities? I know you have some, the others call you 'Siren'. I haven't figured it out, though." Emily hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with conflicting thoughts, but ultimately she made a decision.
Pushing herself slightly away from the doorframe, she positioned herself directly in front of Kurt. He instinctively moved to back away, but before he could react, she reached out and grabbed the collar of his T-shirt, pulling him closer to her.
With a sudden boldness that surprised even herself, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, feeling the unique texture of his indigo-blue skin beneath her lips. In that moment, she didn't care about anything else but the warmth of his presence.
As she pulled back, she met his astonished gaze with a playful wink, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of nerves and excitement. "I'm afraid that's a story for another night, handsome," she teased, pressing another brief kiss to his cheek before releasing him.
"Good night and sweet dreams."
As quickly as she could, Emily scurried into her room and closed the door behind her, leaning against it for support. Her cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and her heart was pounding so loudly she could hear it echoing in her ears.
Where had she gotten the courage to do that? In the silence of her room, she strained to listen for any sound from the hallway, her senses heightened by the rush of adrenaline.
It seemed like an eternity before she finally heard the familiar sound of Kurt's teleportation, the 'BAMF' that signaled his departure.
*Aber nur du zählst ~ But only you matter /count.
~**~
Just in the nick of time, Emily agilely sidestepped, narrowly evading what could have turned her into a human kebab. However, her relief was short-lived as she collided with one of the training props meant to serve as shields. How these would aid her in such a predicament remained a mystery.
“ Practice with swords," she muttered, recalling the advice given earlier, as she retrieved the fallen weapon, now wielding one in each hand. "It can't hurt to broaden your horizons.”
Not so pessimistic, Emily, Charles chimed in, his voice echoing inside her head.
Shut up Charles. She glared up angrily at the pane of glass behind which he was crouching. He seemed unfazed, content to watch from his vantage point as Emily grappled with the swords, feeling increasingly like she was the only one struggling while her training partner flourished.
When Charles had proposed a training session with Kurt, Emily had eagerly accepted. However, her enthusiasm waned when she realized she wouldn't be wielding her usual weapons. Still, being ambidextrous provided a slight advantage against the monstrous creations Hank had concocted this time.
A whirring noise snapped her attention behind, and she swiftly pivoted, just in time to parry an attack from one of the holoimitations. She couldn't help but lament the advancement in technology here, longing for the simplicity of dodging basic projectiles.
"Son of a bitch," she muttered, swiftly dispatching her assailant by severing its head. With grim satisfaction, she observed as the body dissolved into particles of light until it vanished entirely.
Another buzz jolted her into action, but she realized she wouldn't be able to swing her swords in time. Bracing for impact, she was suddenly yanked aside by a firm hand. Startled, she let out a squeal, only to witness her assailant dissolve with a metallic clink and a faint glow.
Turning to face her savior, she found Kurt, his expression etched with concern. "Are you okay? Did it get you?" he asked, scanning her for any sign of injury. She couldn't help but smile faintly, placing a hand on his bicep, which tensed with effort under her touch.
"I'm fine, Kurt. Thank you," she reassured him, gratitude evident in her voice.
For a moment, Kurt simply held her gaze, then nodded with a sheepish smile. "Be careful," he cautioned before vanishing, leaving behind only a dissipating black cloud. Instantly, Emily spun around, peering out from behind the wall, searching until she located him.
And oh, she could curse the training all she wanted, but moments like this made it worth it.
Seeing Kurt in action stirred something within her, a mix of admiration and undeniable attraction. When she had first stepped into the danger room, she had thought her proficiency with two swords was impressive.
That was until Kurt entered, effortlessly wielding one blade in each hand and another clutched in his tail. His presence alone was striking, but watching him in combat … God help her.
She had caught glimpses of his fighting prowess when they first met, though back then he seemed to vanish in the blink of an eye. Now, however, he chose to stay visible, and she couldn't be more grateful.
Kurt moved with a grace and agility that left her breathless. Each strike was calculated, precise, and lethal. Engaging multiple opponents at once, he danced through the air, his swords a blur of motion as he emerged victorious. His movements were a testament to his skill, fluid and elegant, reminiscent of his circus days.
Emily had always admired his flexibility, a reminder of his past as an acrobat, but today she truly appreciated it. His fencing style appeared flawless to her inexperienced eyes, his motions so natural and fluid that she could easily picture him on the trapeze, captivating an audience high above.
EMILY!
Charles' voice reverberated loudly in her mind, but it was too late. A sudden blow to her stomach sent her crashing to the ground with a groan of pain. "Motherfucker," she cursed, reaching out instinctively, only to have someone else intervene and dispatch the assailant before she could react.
Before the body even touched the ground, Kurt was by her side, concern etched on his features as he crouched beside her, his arm supporting her back. "Are you hurt? Emily, what happened? You froze!" His gaze shifted to her forehead, widening in alarm. "You're bleeding."
A wry smile tugged at her lips. "It's not my fault. When you look impossibly gorgeous in combat, you leave me no choice but to freeze and get hit." But Kurt didn't return the smile. "Now's not the time for jokes," he admonished, his worry evident in his voice.
Emily's realization dawned as she found herself clinging tightly to Kurt's neck in panic, desperate not to tumble from his grasp. "Kurt!" she called out, but he remained silent, his hold on her tightening in response. "Hold on, this could get a little uncomfortable," he warned.
In that moment, as they disappeared into the unknown, Emily couldn't help but feel a mix of coldness and strangeness enveloping her. Yet, strangely, it also felt undeniably familiar, like a comforting embrace from Kurt himself.
Later, if asked, Emily would struggle to describe the sensation, but one thing was certain—it felt like home.
“ Whoa," Emily blinked, finding herself suddenly in a hospital room, still cradled in Kurt's arms as he made his way towards one of the beds, calling out for Hank. Gently, he lowered her onto the bed, his concern evident as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"Forgive me. I know teleporting is unpleasant, but I wanted to make sure you got fixed up quickly," he explained, his gaze filled with worry. Emily offered him a reassuring smile. "You're cute, handsome," she teased lightly, but before Kurt could respond, Hank entered the room, causing Kurt to step back.
Hank's eyes landed on Emily, his expression a mix of exasperation and concern. "One day, you won't end up in this room covered in blood after a workout," he sighed, shaking his head.
Emily winked at him. "Then it wouldn't be me. Besides, it's not that bad," she quipped, but the seriousness in Hank's gaze silenced her. Without another word, he set to work on treating her injuries, with Kurt never straying far from her side.
~**~
Emily collapsed face-first onto her bed, muffling her frustrated scream into her pillow. Don't get her wrong, she loved her job, but there were days when she felt like jumping out the window after accidentally setting the classroom on fire.
Unfortunately, this entire week seemed to consist of such days. First, she had lost her keys to the classrooms.
Then, the classwork for her French class had mysteriously gone missing, only to be discovered two hours later in the fridge.
As if that wasn't enough, one of the children had managed to kick a ball through her classroom window after class, and she hadn't realized it until the next day when she unlocked the room for her students, only to find everything submerged in water from the overnight thunderstorm, along with her teaching materials.
On top of everything else, there were the usual classroom mishaps. Students conveniently forgot their homework, offering the most implausible excuses imaginable. Then there were the pranks—like the time someone spread liquid glue on a classmate's chair, resulting in an unexpected trip to the infirmary.
Someone had clogged the drains, causing a pipe to burst in the middle of class, and as if that wasn't enough, a child with fire skills accidentally triggered the fire alarm, causing a school-wide evacuation of panicked mutant children.
It was a miracle, really, that no one had been seriously injured or worse.
As if her plate wasn't already overflowing, the situation with Kurt seemed to spiral further out of control with each passing day, reaching a point where even her friends couldn't help but notice and tease her endlessly about it. Charles, ever perceptive, had also picked up on the tension, leading to what was undoubtedly the most awkward conversation of her life.
To top it all off, she had been battling through days of excruciating pain from her period, yet still had to soldier through her lessons and contend with the unpredictable antics of her mutant students. Chasing after kids who couldn't quite control their powers often ended with her accidentally soaring across the room.
The next person who dared to suggest that teaching was an easy job clearly hadn't spent a day managing a classroom full of mutants. If anyone had the audacity to say it to Emily's face, they'd find themselves at the bottom of the ocean in no time.
But it wasn't just the chaos of the school that was driving her to the brink of madness.
As if her burdens weren't heavy enough, the approaching anniversary of her family's death loomed over Emily like a dark cloud. Every year, it brought with it a tidal wave of dread and sorrow that she struggled to bear. Nearly twenty years had passed, and yet the weight of guilt and grief remained as potent as ever, threatening to overwhelm her at any moment.
Despite knowing that she needed time to grieve and reflect, Emily dreaded the thought of taking the day off, especially knowing that Charles disapproved of her withdrawal. With a weary groan, she forced herself to sit up, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her.
She didn't really feel the urge to get up, but she had no choice. There were essays to correct for four classes, and if she had any hope of finishing them, she needed to start, even if it meant taking it one step at a time.
With heavy steps, Emily made her way to her desk, her weariness palpable. However, her fatigue melted away as she halted in surprise. There, on the tabletop, sat a small, meticulously arranged basket adorned with a delicate pink bow. A smile tugged at her lips as she approached, curiosity piqued. Gently lifting the basket, Emily's smile widened at the sight of sunflowers—her favorite—nestled within.
Alongside them lay a stash of her beloved candies, a box of chocolates, and a tin filled with homemade cookies. But it was the small note that slipped from the tin that captured her attention.
In elegant calligraphy, the note conveyed a simple message, yet its contents stirred something within her, igniting a flutter of anticipation in her chest, making her heart beat faster.
I've noticed that you haven't been feeling very well recently and that you seem very stressed. Hopefully it will help at least a little.
Kurt.
P.S. I can't promise the cookies will be as good as yours, but I tried.
With each word from Kurt's note, Emily felt her heart swell with a mixture of gratitude and affection. She couldn't hold back the tears that flowed freely down her cheeks as she absorbed the sincerity and thoughtfulness behind his gesture.
"Oh, Kurt," she murmured softly, the tin pressed tightly against her chest as if seeking solace in its warmth, whispering a silent thank you to the universe for blessing her with someone as caring and compassionate as Kurt. "You truly are a gem in this world”
~**~
“Hey, you okay?” Scott's voice cut through the drone of the jet engines, filled with a subtle concern that Emily could detect even in the dim cabin. She turned to him, unable to see his eyes, but she knew they held worry. “ Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" Emily's voice was steady, but she could feel the slight tremor in her hands betraying her calm facade.
The jet jolted, and Scott steadied himself against the wall, his presence looming over her.
“It's just... You've been out of action for a while. Are you sure you're ready to jump back in?" Scott's concern was palpable, despite his attempt to mask it.
Emily arched an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of her lips. “ a bit late for second thoughts now, don't you think?" She gestured towards the window where the dark clouds loomed ominously. "Storm said we're landing in ten minutes. Time to roll with the punches.”
It really was too late to turn back. Intelligence reports had sounded the alarm, warning of mutant extremists poised to unleash unprecedented havoc across the eastern seaboard. Their weaponry outstripped even the military's advancements, casting a daunting shadow over the cities they threatened.
Charles hesitated to include her in the response, but Emily had fought for her place, determined to stand alongside her team. Yet, throughout the flight, Scott's gaze remained fixed on her, his concern palpable.
She appreciated his worry, his unwavering friendship, but she couldn't bear the added weight of his scrutiny. She needed to focus, to steel herself for what lay ahead.
Despite her outward strength, inwardly, Emily trembled with nerves. It had been years since her last mission, her time abroad in Colombia marking a lengthy hiatus. No amount of training could fully prepare her for the surge of fear that gripped her now.
Emily recognized the protective brotherly mantle Scott had assumed, a role he’d taken on like a second skin, ready to shield her from harm at any cost. She understood that if she dared to confess her inner turmoil, he'd whisk her away from the danger in an instant. So instead, she mustered a confident facade, rising to her feet and offering him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
“ Don't worry, big guy. I've got this. Nothing's going to happen to me." Her words were laced with a determination she hoped would quell his concerns. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go check on the new recruit. You might want to save your worry for him.”
Emily's diversionary tactic wasn't entirely fair to Kurt, who had shown more composure than her that morning. But in the delicate dance of emotions, it seemed to do the trick.
Scott reluctantly relented, allowing her passage with a hint of reluctance in his demeanor.
Kurt sat at the back of the jet, his hands folded in his lap, a picture of serene concentration. As Emily drew closer, she discerned the soft murmur of his prayers, a tranquil ritual amidst the impending storm Approaching him, she observed the snug fit of his uniform, tailored to accommodate his acrobatic talents.
She knew he and Hank had labored tirelessly to enhance the fabric's flexibility, ensuring it matched Kurt's need for unrestrained movement.
Patiently, Emily waited until he completed his devotions, watching as he lowered his hands and opened his eyes. There was no startle, only a warm smile that greeted her, which she mirrored with similar warmth and affection.
“Are things looking so bad for us that you need to pray?” Emily teased gently as she settled down beside Kurt. He chuckled softly, his golden eyes holding hers. "I always pray when I'm nervous about something," he explained, his tone calm and assured. "Before every performance, before every training session, I pray and ask God for his protection and guidance.”
Emily smiled softly, her gaze drifting to where his tail swayed gently. "You're not a believer, are you?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity. "No, I'm sorry Kurt. I'm an atheist," she admitted, a hint of apology in her tone. “No, I'm sorry Kurt. I'm an atheist.”
“Why are you apologizing for that?" Kurt's response was gentle, devoid of judgment.
Emily shrugged, her shoulders lifting in a slight gesture of uncertainty. "I know how important your faith is to you, Kurt, and how much it means and helps you, but I can't bring myself to believe. That's something a lot of religious people take personally.” With care, Kurt reached for her hand, his touch warm and comforting.
"Faith is something you can freely choose. So what would be the point of trying to force you to believe?" His words were tender, infused with understanding. "Faith is about voluntary, unconditional love for God and his for you. You can't force it.”
Her heart warmed at his response, a genuine smile spreading across her face. "So I'm not a sinner damned to hell for you just because I don't believe?" she quipped, a playful glint in her eyes.
Kurt met her gaze with unwavering kindness. "Do you hate God and believers?" he countered gently. Emily shook her head immediately. "No, of course not. I admire them. I admire you," she confessed, her tone genuine as she clasped his hand in hers. The connection felt right, comforting in its simplicity.
"The fact that you have such a strong faith, such a strong belief in something that there's no evidence exists, is incredible to me. I see how much it helps you and gives you strength, and there are moments when I truly regret not being able to believe.”
Kurt squeezed her hand gently, his touch reassuring. "You don't have to," he assured her, his voice soft but resolute. "I'm praying for both of us, meine Liebe.”
Her heart skipped a beat at his words, a flutter of emotions swirling within her. Though she may not share his faith, the sincerity in his admission struck a chord deep within her. For a fleeting moment, it felt like the world around them faded, leaving only the connection between them.
Their gaze held, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Emily felt the tension between them, sensing Kurt drawing closer, their proximity almost palpable. But before anything more could transpire, their moment was shattered by Storm's announcement, signaling their imminent descent.
With a gentle touch, Emily cupped Kurt's cheek, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. "Be careful. Please don't die. I don't know how I could live without you," she whispered, her voice laden with a vulnerability she rarely showed.
Kurt nodded slightly, his gaze holding hers with unwavering intensity. Tenderly, he turned his head, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of her hand. The gesture sent a surge of warmth coursing through her, her heart quickening in response.
„You too.“
~**~
“Emily!“
Kurt's voice cut through the chaos, a desperate plea as he lunged forward. He barely managed to reach her in time, his hand wrapping around her arm just as a bullet whizzed past. With a swift movement, he teleported them both out of harm's way, the world blurring momentarily before solidifying again behind the safety of a nearby pillar.
Kurt could feel Emily's tension as she stumbled, and he instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist for support.
Taking cover, they crouched behind the pillar, the cacophony of gunfire and flying debris echoing around them. Kurt could sense Emily's unease, her body tense from the sudden teleportation.
"Kurt, we talked about this," she groaned, her hand pressed against her stomach as she tried to steady herself. “ Sorry," Kurt replied, his smile strained with apology. He lowered himself to her eye level, his expression serious. "There wasn't time for a heads up.”
As Emily steadied herself, Kurt's attention shifted to the chaos unfolding below. Peering down one of the pillars to the platform where the battle raged, he felt a surge of dread. They had been forewarned about the size of the opposing group, but the reality far exceeded their expectations.
The enemy forces swarmed, overwhelming in number, and Kurt couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his gut. With a heavy heart, he watched as Scott found himself dangerously outnumbered. Surrounded on all sides, he fought valiantly, but it was clear that even his formidable abilities wouldn't be enough to ensure his safety.
His gaze shifted back to Emily, noting her recovered composure as she stood by his side, her eyes scanning the tumultuous scene below. Kurt could pinpoint the exact moment she realized Scott was in danger. Her blue eyes widened and she clung to his arm almost painfully.
"Help him," Emily's voice was no more than a whisper as she looked up at Kurt and she so close that he could feel the warmth of her breath, see the faint flutter of her eyelashes against her skin. “Please, Kurt, you can get there faster than I can.”
For a heartbeat, Kurt hesitated, but the urgency in Emily's eyes spurred him into action. With a nod, he vanished from her side, reappearing in an instant behind Scott. “Watch it, Scott.”
Effortlessly, he leaped into the air, executing a spinning kick that connected with one assailant's chin, while his fist met another's face with a resounding impact. His tail snaked out, coiling around the leg of a third opponent, sending them crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs.
Within moments, Kurt found himself surrounded by a circle of defeated mutants, their groans of pain mingling with the chaos of battle. Scott's grateful nod spurred him into action, but before Kurt could fully savor the moment, his attention was drawn to Logan, buried under a pile of adversaries.
With a wry grin, Kurt imagined the inevitable grumbling from Logan if Scott ended up saving him, but there was no time to dwell on it as a formidable opponent charged towards him.
With reflexes honed by years of combat, Kurt dodged at the last possible moment as the charging figure suddenly split into two. "Wundervoll," he growled softly, a mix of admiration and determination as he shifted into an offensive stance.
To his astonishment, the twin assailants proved to be formidable opponents, matching his speed and agility with surprising grace. Each dodge and counterattack was met with equal ferocity, forcing Kurt to remain on high alert.
He narrowly avoided several strikes, feeling the impact of punches and kicks against his own body. With calculated precision, he danced through the flurry of blows and finally, the towering adversary lay unconscious on the ground, once again whole.
Kurt gasped for breath, his body protesting with each inhale as he felt the sharp pain of broken ribs and the dull throb of a head injury. Despite his desperate need for rest, there was no respite to be found as Emily's panicked voice pierced through the haze of his exhaustion.
“Kurt!” He turned around, slightly disoriented, and saw Emily running towards him. “Move!” Without hesitation, a strange energy surged through him, a primal instinct compelling him to obey her command without question. In the blink of an eye, Kurt found himself teleported away from danger, the world spinning around him until he landed on solid ground once more.
The sudden exertion left him drained, confusion clouding his mind as he struggled to comprehend his own actions. Why had he acted so impulsively, so recklessly? Turning to look back at Emily, his heart plummeted as he took in the sight before him.
Where he had stood just moments ago, Emily now lay motionless on the ground, a small pool of blood seeping from beneath her head.
“No!”
In a flash, he found himself kneeling beside her, his hands gripping her shoulders with urgency. "No, no, no, no, no," he repeated softly, his voice a desperate mantra. With swift determination, Kurt wrapped his arms around her and teleported them away from the chaos, seeking refuge against a nearby wall shielded by stacked crates.
Breathless with fear, he pressed his trembling hand to her neck, relief washing over him as he felt the faint pulse beneath his fingertips, a silent prayer escaping his lips. Only when he withdrew his hand did he notice it smeared with blood. His gaze flickered to her left shoulder, where a bullet had pierced her flesh, its impact sending her crashing into a nearby table.
His eyes brimmed with worry as they returned to Emily's unconscious form. Leaning closer, he gently pressed his forehead against hers, a silent apology echoing in his mind. She had rushed in to protect him, and in that moment, he had obeyed her without hesitation. Now, she bore the consequences of his actions, taking the bullet intended for him.
A surge of primal rage surged through Kurt, igniting something dark within him. His head snapped up, eyes scanning the room with intensity. High above on one of the upper floors, he finally spotted the culprit—a man wielding a sniper rifle, his sights trained on the chaos below. Kurt's lips curled into a feral snarl. The angle was right.
In an instant, he vanished into a swirling cloud of darkness, reappearing behind the sniper.
Before the man could react, Kurt struck, knocking the weapon from his grasp and ensnaring him with his tail, tightening the coil around his neck with ruthless force.
The man struggled fruitlessly, clawing at Kurt's tail in a desperate bid for escape, but it was futile. “How dare you?” Kurt's voice dripped with venom, barely more than a menacing hiss as he advanced, dragging the man closer to the edge.
“How dare you shoot at them? How dare you shoot at her?!”
The man dangled precariously over the precipice, his face contorted with panic and oxygen deprivation, but Kurt showed no mercy.
Kurt tilted his head, an almost sadistic smile on his face. “I hope you've finished saying your last prayer.” Without a moment's pause, he released his grip. The man plummeted with a scream, the impact echoing through the air, silencing him forever. Though the darkness within Kurt lingered, he surveyed the scene below with cold detachment. His eyes found Emily, untouched and safe, a wave of relief washing over him.
"Fear not, my dear," he murmured softly, his gaze shifting to a red-haired woman hurling energy balls at Storm. "No harm will hurt you, not under my watch.”
The next moments of Kurt's life slipped by like fragments of a dream, blurred and hazy. He couldn't recall the precise duration of the battle, whether it spanned minutes or stretched into hours. All that mattered was ensuring that these perpetrators endured the suffering Emily had endured, if not more.
In the end, however, he stood witness as some managed to flee aboard a plane. Despite Storm's valiant efforts, they vanished into the distance beyond her reach. Scott, meanwhile, had realized what had happened to Emily and was kneeling by her side with Kurt. With gentle care, he brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, the weight of responsibility evident in every movement. Kurt didn't need to see his eyes to understand the self-blame that consumed him.
“I should have taken better care of her," Scott whispered, enfolding Emily in his arms. Kurt shook his head solemnly. "No, if blame must be placed, it falls on me. That bullet was meant for me, but she intercepted it.” He buried his face in his hands, grappling with remorse. "I don't understand how it happened. She yelled for me to move, and I... I obeyed without question. I could have stayed, taken the bullet—anything—but I chose to teleport!”
“ You couldn't have done different, Kurt," Scott's voice was unexpectedly gentle, a touch of compassion softening his features as he spoke. "Did she ever tell you why we call her Siren?" Kurt shook his head. "I asked once, but she said it wasn't the time. Should I have pressed her for answers?”
Scott shook his head, his attention shifting to Emily's wound. "No. Even if you had, it wouldn't have changed a thing. Her power... it's her voice. She commands obedience with a word. You, me, anyone—under her control, without hesitation.”
He regarded Kurt with sympathy. "Even the professor struggles against her at times. And if she had chosen to protect you? There's nothing in this world that could have kept you rooted in place.” Kurt was engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions. Relief flooded through him, knowing it wasn't solely his fault for moving. Yet, guilt gnawed at him, a nagging sense that he could have intervened somehow.
Anger and fear pulsed within him, juxtaposed with a tender affection that threatened to overwhelm him as he beheld her motionless form cradled by Scott. Before Kurt could utter a word, Logan approached. Crouching beside them, he addressed Scott with an unexpected calmness, almost gentleness—a side of Logan Kurt wouldn't dare to acknowledge aloud.
"Scott. We've gotta keep going. We can still catch them." The turmoil within Scott was palpable, evident even to Kurt without the need for telepathy. On one hand, the instinct to stay and care for the woman who was like a little sister to him tugged at his heartstrings. On the other, the weight of leadership duty pressed upon him, reminding him of his indispensability to the mission. Kurt knew he himself was not.
“Go, Scott. They need you. I'll take care of her.” Scott looked at him doubtfully and Kurt could only imagine how the man must be feeling right now. “Are you sure?”
Kurt's nod was resolute, his conviction unwavering. "Her wounds seem superficial. I can handle them. And if she doesn't awaken soon, I can get her to a hospital faster than anyone else here.” Even without meeting Scott's gaze, Kurt could sense the turmoil within him, the silent battle waged beneath the visor.
Finally, Scott relented, his surrender evident as he bowed his head. "Okay. But not here. There's a safehouse nearby, rarely used, but it should still be intact." He rose to his feet, swiftly outlining the route to Kurt, while Logan's agitation simmered in the background.
“If her condition doesn't improve, or worsens, you're taking her to the hospital within twenty-four hours at the latest," Scott instructed, his hand finding its place on Kurt's shoulder. "Take care of her, please.” Kurt nodded solemnly. “I'll protect her with my life if I have to.”
A thin smile came to Scott's lips. “I know you will. Thank you.”
~**~
Emily's senses stirred back to life with a cruel jolt of pain. It engulfed her, rendering her momentarily breathless. She attempted to vocalize her distress, but her parched throat yielded no sound, leaving her trapped in silence. Darkness shrouded her, and it took an eternity for her to realize that her eyes were closed.
Tentatively, she tried to shift, only to be met with a searing agony that eclipsed the previous torment. A soft whimper escaped her lips, despite the desert-like dryness of her throat.
Panic clawed at her as she struggled to piece together her surroundings, the events leading to her current state shrouded in darkness. The inability to pry open her eyes amplified her fear, a relentless reminder of her vulnerability. Suddenly, a cascade of footsteps shattered the silence, followed by a gentle voice, its timbre laced with comfort and familiarity.
“Take it easy, Emily. Everything is all right. You're safe. Sleep.”
Though unable to place the voice, its soothing cadence enveloped her, washing away the edges of her anxiety. Surrendering to the reassurance it offered, Emily surrendered to the embrace of sleep, devoid of dreams.
---
The next time Emily woke up, the pain was still there, but duller and less sharp With a determined effort, she coaxed her heavy eyelids open, each fluttering attempt a battle against exhaustion. At last, her vision cleared to reveal a scene of unexpected warmth and coziness.
An open, friendly room stretched out before her. It was small, but comfortably furnished with floral curtains in front of the windows and a fluffy carpet on the wooden floor. She herself was lying in a bed, soft and comfortable, but one she had never seen before, let alone slept in. How the hell had she ended up here?
With a cautious shift, she attempted to rise, only to be met with a searing agony that coursed through her shoulder and down her arm, leaving her gasping in its wake.
As her focus settled on the pristine bandage encasing her wounded shoulder, a flood of memories crashed over her.
*
Emily hurtled down the stairs with a singular purpose driving her forward, her heart pounding in her chest as adrenaline surged through her veins. Relief washed over her as she saw that Kurt and Scott, as well as the others, seemed to be okay. Kurt had just wrestled the mutant who could make copies of himself to the ground and appeared out of breath but mostly unharmed.
As she tried to avert her gaze, however, she noticed something that stood out clearly on the man's blue skin: a small, red, moving dot. Her gaze flew to one of the upper levels, where she spotted the sniper, but her legs had already started moving before she realized what was going on. She was acting on pure instinct and her mind had only one thought.
Not him.
Her muscles strained with exertion as she raced towards Kurt, every fibre of her being focused on one imperative goal: to shield him from harm at any cost. With each passing moment, her strides quickened, propelled by a determination that brooked no opposition.
“Kurt! Move!“ The urgency in Emily's voice reverberated through the chaos, a silent plea that echoed across the room until it reached its intended target. For a fleeting instant, their gazes locked in a shared understanding, the blue of her eyes meeting the golden depths of his before he vanished in a cloud of smoke.
But far too slowly for her taste. Before he could carry out her command, Emily lunged forward, her instincts overriding all rational thought as she propelled herself towards Kurt. In a blur of motion, she collided with him, her outstretched arms shoving him out of harm's way just as he vanished into the safety of the shadows, just barely after loosing physical contact with her.
A bang sounded and a sharp pain shot through her body.
Then - nothing.
*
Emily eased herself back onto the pillow, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she attempted to process the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her. Had she succeeded? Was Kurt unharmed, safe, alive? Before she could dwell on her thoughts any further, the door creaked open, heralding Kurt's entrance. A book dangled loosely from his grasp, forgotten in the wake of the startling sight before him.
His eyes widened in disbelief, the book slipping from his fingers to clatter to the floor below. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, his arms enveloping her in a tender embrace that caught her off guard.
Relief flooded through her at the warmth of his touch, dispelling the lingering shadows of doubt that had clouded her mind. “Thank God you're awake!”
For a few seconds, Emily was overwhelmed by the warm feeling of his body pressed against hers. The familiar scent of pine, tinged with a hint of sulfur from his teleportation, enveloped her, sending her senses reeling in a dizzying whirl. Before he could withdraw, her instincts took hold, guiding her to pull him closer until she was enveloped in the comforting warmth of his embrace, her face nestled against the curve of his neck.
“You're alive," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breathless murmur and Kurt slowly pulled back, but only far enough for him to look at her. She could discern the delicate flutter of his eyelashes, feel the gentle caress of his breath against her skin.
“Only because of you," he replied, his voice soft and earnest. With a tenderness that bordered on reverence, he brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead. “You scared me. All of us.”
Emily cast her eyes down. “I'm sorry.” Kurt just shook his head and his hand travelled from her cheek to the back of her neck. “Don't be. You saved my life. You shouldn't apologize for something so selfless.” Despite his comforting words, a wry smile tugged at Emily's lips as she lifted her hand to gently caress his cheek.
“I'm afraid my intentions weren't as selfless as you might hope.”
Kurt's eyes widened in disbelief, his gaze fixed on Emily with an intensity that spoke volumes. The air between them crackled and the tension was almost palpable, but Emily pulled back at the last moment, head bowed, trying to appear as unaffected as possible.
“Where are we? And where is the rest? You can't tell me Scott just left me here without a fight.”
Her attempt at humour succeeded as Kurt chuckled softly and shook his head, backing away slightly. Momentarily she missed his presence, but she did nothing to get it back. “He didn't. However, some mutants have escaped. The others are trying to chase them, but you couldn't come with them in your condition, let alone stay there alone.”
“So you sacrificed yourself to play babysitter?" she teased, a playful glint dancing in her eyes. Kurt's lips curved into a wry smile, his amusement evident. “I wouldn't consider it a sacrifice. But yes," he admitted, his grin growing more mischievous by the second. "Someone had to pray for your health."
Emily couldn't help but snort in response. “I don't think He was listening.”
Kurt reached for her hand. “And yet you're awake," he observed, his tone gentle yet steadfast. Emily had no retort to offer.
“Why don't you believe, Emily?” Kurt's question hung in the air, laden with genuine curiosity. Her heart constricted at the sincerity reflected in his eyes, compelling her to look away. For a few moments she thought about how to phrase her words, but in the end she decided that it would be best to just tell the truth openly.
“How can I believe in a God who allows so much ... bad to happen?" she began, her voice laced with a poignant blend of frustration and anguish. "There's war, disease, poverty, persecution for any ridiculous reason. What kind of God can say He is 'kind' when He turns away when we need Him? What kind of God can say He is all-loving and forgiving when He sends people who have not acted as He wishes to eternal punishment?”
Now it was up to her to take his hand. “I know you believe in Him, but I just can't. Not after everything I've been through. Or you or anyone else in this world," she confessed, her voice tinged with a raw vulnerability that she rarely allowed herself to reveal. Averting her eyes, she allowed herself to sink back into the comfort of the pillow.
“Besides, should He exist after all? I'm afraid of that thought," she admitted. In the periphery of her vision, she caught sight of Kurt's tail swaying gently. “Why would you be afraid?" he pressed gently, his voice laced with genuine concern. Emily hesitated, her thoughts racing.
“Because I almost certainly wouldn't go to heaven," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. Kurt began to protest, but she silenced him with a solemn shake of her head. “I'm not a good person, Kurt. I've done things that are unforgivable, that deserve eternal damnation," she admitted, yet, Kurt's response was swift and unwavering
Kurt just shook his head. “No. I don't think so.”
Emily snorted. She hadn't intended to tell him, but she felt she had reached a point where he deserved to know. She knew the longing that was visible in his eyes, she was pretty sure she looked like that herself when she looked at him. “I take it you've been explained what my mutation is?” she inquired, her tone tinged with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. Kurt nodded slightly, his expression a blend of curiosity and confusion, uncertain of the direction the conversation had taken.
“I only found out very late that I have this mutation. Of course, I noticed that I was better at persuading people than others, but it never got to the... extreme of being able to command or control someone. Until I was invited to my best friend's tenth birthday party.” As the memories threatened to overwhelm her, Kurt's comforting touch served as an anchor, grounding her in the present moment.
His encouraging gaze spurred her on, a silent reminder that she wasn't alone in her struggle. She knew that she had the option to stop talking, to keep her demons buried deep within, he wouldn’t judge her, but she also understood that this was her moment of reckoning. If she didn't speak now, she might never find the courage to do so again.
“My best friend wanted to celebrate her birthday at an amusement park. She was from a wealthy family, whereas I came from ... a more modest background. So the thought of going to a real theme park made me ecstatic," she confessed, her voice tinged with a bitterness.
“My parents weren't. You have to know, I had a little sister, she was four years younger than me, six at the time and she obviously wasn't invited. My parents thought it was unfair that I could go and she couldn't and wanted to forbid me. We argued, a lot and more intensely than ever before. In the end, it became too much. My parents shouted at me for being stubborn, my sisters cried... It was too much.”
Tears welled up in her eyes and her attempt to stifle the sobs failed. “ Shhhh," Kurt murmured softly, his comforting embrace enveloping her in a cocoon of solace and understanding. With a gentle sweep of his arm, he drew her close, his tail curling protectively around her waist in a silent gesture of solidarity and support. With a gentle touch, he brushed away her tears, offering what little solace he could.
“It - it was just so loud," she whispered, her voice barely more than a fragile thread of sound. Her hands clawed at her own arms, as if seeking to anchor herself. “I just wanted it to stop, wanted it to be quiet. So I shouted back. It wasn't much, just one word, but it was one word too many.”
Tears streamed openly down her cheeks, her pain laid bare for all to see as she leaned into Kurt's comforting embrace, seeking refuge from the relentless onslaught of her memories. With a tender gesture, he held her close, his touch a silent reassurance that she was not alone in her suffering.
“Stop. That was all I said. And they stopped. Both their crying and their hearts.” Emily felt Kurt's grip on her tighten. By now, she was crying openly and unabashedly, her tears flowing freely, yet neither of them cared. “I killed them. My parents. Amy, my sweet little sister. I killed them all.”
Her voice was no more than a whisper, barely audible despite the silence in the room, but Kurt heard her. He always did. “No,” he murmured. With a gentle touch, he lifted her chin, urging her to meet his gaze, his eyes filled with unwavering compassion. “No, do you hear me? You didn't kill them.”
“It was my voice that killed them," she protested, her words a desperate plea for absolution. Yet Kurt remained steadfast in his conviction, refusing to let her drown in the depths of her despair.
“No, Emily. It was an accident, nothing more," he insisted, his voice firm yet laced with tenderness. But Emily's laughter, devoid of any semblance of joy. “Do you think it makes a difference? Dead is dead. My voice was the cause, and whether it was intentional or not, it's my fault.”
She gave him a pained look. “I'm not a saint. I'm nothing but a monster. You can't redeem me, I'm damned for all eternity. I've probably committed one of the greatest sins your god has told you about," she confessed, her voice cracking with anguish.
Emily waited with a breaking heart for him to push her away, to leave her alone, but the opposite was the case. Kurt pulled her closer so that her head was tucked under his chin and he ran his hands over her back as his tail wrapped tighter around her waist.
“Emily.”
That was all he said, just her name, but with such compassion, affection and love that she burst into tears. For how long she cried into the curve of his neck, Emily couldn't say. But when she finally pulled away, tears still shimmering in her eyes, Kurt met her gaze with a tender smile, his hand gently stroking her cheek. “You're not irredeemable. You're not a monster. You are not a murderer. You were a child and it was an accident. A terrible accident, yes, but still an accident.”
Emily's voice faltered, her heart heavy with disbelief as she gazed into Kurt's unwavering eyes.
“How can you still look at me like that?” Her voice broke in between, but she refused to cry again. “How can you still look at me like that, like I'm the best person you've ever met?” A tender smile graced Kurt's lips, his expression suffused with a tenderness that spoke volumes.
Slowly, his tail unwound from her waist, the tip trailing delicately over her cheek in a gesture of gentle reassurance. “It's not really hard, my dear. It's because you are the best person I've ever met.” Emily opened her mouth to protest, to refute his assertion, but he silenced her with a gentle shake of his head.
“I know you might not believe me, but it's the truth. I see the way you treat other people. Your patience with the students, even when they drive you crazy. Your affection for Scott and Storm, no matter how bad-tempered or annoyed they are you always bring a smile to their faces. Even Logan laughed at your jokes.”
He paused for a moment and the tip of his tail travelled slowly from her cheek, over her shoulder to her hip where it nestled close. “I see the way you look at me, like I'm the most precious and valuable thing there is. I notice how you get flirtier and more confident when I play along and I can feel how much you value me.”
With a tender touch, he placed his hand on her collarbone, his touch a gentle caress against her skin. “You're fantastic, wonderful and a completely outstanding person and I'm incredibly grateful that I was able to get to know you. You're not a monster. You are an angel.”
Emily didn't know what she was thinking at that moment. Probably nothing, she was so overwhelmed with emotion, but one thought clearly floated above all others:
She may not have deserved this man, but she wouldn't let him go.
With a surge of determination, she acted on impulse, her injured shoulder protesting but her heart overriding any physical discomfort. Grasping the collar of Kurt's shirt with as much strength as she could muster, she pulled him towards her, closing the distance between them with a suddenness that took them both by surprise and finally - finally! - placed her lips on his.
It wasn't a long or deep kiss, just a quick peck, but it made her body rejoice and butterflies dance in her stomach. Emily's veins. As quickly as she had invaded his space, she pulled back, her gaze meeting Kurt's with a mixture of hope and uncertainty, while his golden eyes shone with something she had never seen before. “Kurt-”
He didn't let her finish, leaning forward and closing the distance between them once more, his lips seeking hers with a newfound urgency. She was surprised for a moment, but quickly regained her composure and closed her eyes.
Emily wrapped her arms around Kurt's neck, drawing him closer despite the protests of her injured shoulder. His hands found purchase on her waist, pulling her closer still, while his tail wrapped around her hips, drawing her into his embrace until she was practically seated on his lap.
Their kisses grew more fervent, fuelled by months of unspoken longing and suppressed desire. Emily's hand tangled in Kurt's hair, pulling him closer as she lost herself in the heady rush of sensation. When his teeth grazed her lower lip, a soft moan escaped her lips, muffled by the fervour of their embrace.
As they broke away, breathless and exhilarated, Emily leaned into Kurt, resting her forehead against his, a smile lingering on her lips. His tail gently drew her closer until their chests met, a comforting warmth spreading between them.
“I really hope for your sake that this isn't a sin,” she whispered, her voice light with playful teasing, “because I won't be able to hold back when I'm around you.” Kurt's chuckle rumbled softly, his eyes filled with affection as he looked at her.
“If this is a sin,” he said, his tone tender, “ would gladly damn myself as long as I get to keep holding you in my arms.” Emily was speechless, overwhelmed by the intensity of her feelings.
Without hesitation, she leaned in again, capturing his lips with hers. In that moment, she didn't care about sin or salvation; all that mattered was the bliss of being with Kurt.
Let them be damned, she thought, for she already felt like she was in heaven.
#kurt wagner x oc#nightcrawler x oc#x oc#x men#kurt wagner#nightcrawler#x men united#x men movies#alan cummings kurt wagner#xmen 2003#kurt wagner x reader#xmen
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In your Toji lives au would you ever consider making Tsumiki a sorcerer, if so what would her technique be? If not, how does she feel about being the only one in the family without “powers”?
Warnings: Lore dumping for "Toji lives AU", profanity, being too long than it should be
Well, I did thought about it, anon.
In my "Toji Lives AU", Tsumiki doesn't have a curse technique. There are some reasons why I didn't give her a curse technique.
1.) My lack of understanding of the basic understanding of curse technique. I've been reading JJK for almost four years now but I have yet to understand the power system of the series. I know! I'm a fake fan but my smooth brain hasn't been able to grasp the basics/fundamentals of the series. That's why I didn't give Tsumiki a curse technique because my ideas for curse techniques won't make sense in the realm of Jujutsu Kaisen.
2.) I literally have no clue on what curse technique would suit her. Personally, I can't make/give Tsumiki one because I don't know enough about her. Generally, if there is a character that's powerless in a series I'm writing, I would writing a power/technique/ability based on how much I know them. However, since there's very little on Tsumiki in the canon story, I think it would be easier for me to not make her a sorcerer. All we know, at least to my knowledge, is she's the step-sister and step-daughter of Megumi and Toji, she's a kind-hearted and caring person but isn't afraid to call out someone(like what she did with Megumi in Middle School), she took care of Megumi every since their respective parents went MIA, and she got stuck in a coma after accompanying some classmates to the cursed bridge. That's the only information on her personality and life I have on her. But it's very limiting for me to give her a technique for the AU.
But if I had to give her one, it would most likely be a healing curse technique. Again, I don't know the fundamentals for her technique. All I know is she uses her ability to heal other sorcerers wounds but not have regenerative properties. Tsumiki, while a firm person, doesn't hit me as a fighter or someone who's needed on the battlefield. She's more of a support/healer based on her personality and nature. But yeah, a healing curse technique is something I would give her if I made her a sorcerer.
But since I didn't make her a sorcerer nor have any curse technique, she's the most normal out of everyone in the family. In my "Toji lives AU", both her and Megumi don't know about the Jujutsu world or anything curse related because I had Reader and Toji never bringing it up/mentioning it. It was not until Satoru and Suguru went to retrieve the two of them at Reader's request is when they learn about the Jujutsu world and curse technique.
She knew she didn't have powers when Satoru, Suguru and eventually Reader explained it to her and Megumi. She was aware because before Megumi's manifestation of his Ten Shadow Technique, he kept telling Reader he was seeing monsters everywhere. Reader would ask Megumi to describe the monsters and his description of them are now curses. Tsumiki knows Megumi doesn't like to lie or never really lies to Reader, he doesn't make stuff up for attention. She could tell on Mother's face that there was something else going on that Tsumiki wasn't experiencing herself.
By the time she's 6-7 years old, she knew she didn't have a curse technique or powers because she couldn't see curses, had any sort of manifestation, and she was passed the age where a kid would receive one. After meeting Satoru and Suguru, she knew Reader was a sorcerer because Satoru explained how her and Megumi's mom was just like them. But she didn't know how powerful until Satoru tells her and Megumi that Reader is a powerful sorcerer, unlike any other, to the point Satoru admits Reader can rival him herself.
While Megumi starts to look up to Reader, Tsumiki feels like a odd one out because she never got supernatural powers. Most are quick to point out that Toji doesn't have powers but that doesn't apply to her father at all. Toji doesn't have a curse technique or any curse energy. However, he can still see curses, have extremely heighten human sense and abilities, and wield the most broken weapons in the Jujutsu world because his celestial restrictions allows him. He doesn't have any powers but his celestial restriction gives him extraordinary physical abilities that beyond the supernatural in exchange. She doesn't have celestial restriction like her father nor does she have a technique like her Mother and Brother, overhearing how both of them possess techniques that have unfathomable potential and strength. Tsumiki is just...normal.
However, Reader explains to her that she and Toji still love her no matter what. Saying that she doesn't need a curse technique in ordered to be accepted and seen in their family. Reader tries to reassure her that it's not uncommon for individuals to be born without a curse technique in her clan. So it's normal for Tsumiki to not have one herself. This also means Reader reminds Tsumiki she has no need to jump hurdles to prove herself. Reader tells Tsumiki what matters is she builds up and grows herself.
Oddly enough, it's actually Toji who gave her a more earnest and honest commentary and explanation to her. This happened when she and Megumi were teenagers. She was having one of those close talks with Toji at home because Reader and Megumi were out doing Sorcery stuff. He explained to her that her being born without a curse technique can be seen as a blessing because she doesn't have to be involved in the world of Jujutsu. Explaining how the Jujutsu world isn't special compared to the real world. If not, it's a lot more grim and unforgiving to those who live in it. He openly admits to Tsumiki that even Reader and Megumi, who are born with legendary and sought after abilities/techniques, shoulder a burden not everyone experiences.
Megumi has to burden the expectations of having a technique that has the potential to rival and defeat Satoru Gojo. The strongest sorcerer in Modern Sorcery. His technique is a prized and beloved by the Zen'in clan, Toji's biological family. A clan that would do anything in order to keep their status as one of the main Jujutsu families. Toji spills a little bit to Tsumiki about the ruthless and unkind nature of how the Zen'in treats both non-sorcerers and sorcerers. Speaking about being born with a curse technique doesn't guarantee your acceptance. They will see you as sub-human if the technique is weak and useless. Even if you have a powerful technique, the clan doesn't give a shit about you. They only care for the technique, not the person. So it's a constant struggle for power and placement against your own family and clan/ fight for a place at the table.
Then there's Reader, who's curse technique can match and be on par with Gojo. However, the burdens she shoulders is a lot more different and heavier than Megumi's. She bears the burden of being one of the strongest around, meaning she constantly is needed and busy like Gojo is. Toji also speaks of the burden of guilt you carry for doing enough, if it was enough. To call the shots and make observations no one else can see. The insight and guidance you offer would be sufficient in growing the younger sorcerer. Your care and concern would be enough to help others not fall down a dark path. That what you were doing was enough to protect your family, to keep your beloved husband and children safe. Toji told Tsumiki that Reader was glad Tsumiki didn't have curse energy because it meant to didn't have to face the horrors of the Jujutsu world. Something her mother, and unfortunately her younger brother, have to face and be apart of.
Now, Toji said all of this not to be like "well you aren't missing out much" or "you're better off doing this instead of that". But rather, to make a point that having a curse technique isn't always everything and what matters the most is someone's will and personal strength. Toji confesses that a person's drive and will is what keeps them going in the Jujutsu world and the real world. Tsumiki may be powerless but her kind-heart and caring nature is something not many have the ability to do nature. Toji even says Tsumiki is stronger than most sorcerers because the conviction she has overpowers many others.
"Kindness isn't a weakness. Rather, it's a strength others don't have the capacity to understand its true nature, Tsumiki. So don't be so hard on yourself because you lack an ability. Not many are strong like you to keep doing what you're doing. The closest person I can think of that's just as kind as you is your mother(Reader). And we already know she's insanely strong as it is. So don't feel down about what you don't have, what you already have is powerful that not even that Gojo kid could understand."
"You're already strong, Tsumiki. You're just not seeing it like your mom and I do."
With that, Tsumiki feels less excluded and more empowered. When she was younger, she never voiced her shame and her alienation from her family. But after her talk with Toji, she isn't ashamed of being powerless and keeps up her kind personality. All because of the conversation she had with Toji and her being honest with her.
Tsumiki may not know this, but her kindness and caring nature is one of the reasons why Reader hasn't given up on herself and what she does/fights for in the Jujutsu World. Because to Reader, Tsumiki's kindness grounds and brings her down to Earth. Tsumiki reminds Reader that kindness exists anywhere and is needed for the world to no collapse on itself. That it takes a different kind of strength to still show kindness when there's a lot of resistance. Reader keeps fighting so people like her daughter can live and exist in this unforgiving world. That's how strong Tsumiki's kindness is and she doesn't have a curse technique to make such an effect.
Tsumiki in this AU knows and understands the world of Jujutsu. But she isn't involved in it as a sorcerer because her only connection is through her parents and brother, not herself. But she knows the basics of curse and curse energy. She's not ashamed of being a non-sorcerer and has a different yet positive outlook on life. She doesn't mind not having powers because she's already secure about herself thanks to her Mother and Father.
Leave it to Papa Toji to make things better lol
#x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#aloe's asks#aloesarchives#Toji lives AU#fushiguro tsumiki#megumi fushiguro#toji x reader#toji fushiguro#jjk toji#toji x you#fushiguro toji#dad!toji x reader#dad!toji#x fem!reader#x female reader#fem reader#wife reader#mama!reader#jjk#jujustu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen masterlist#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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But the fact we know Dot will eventually call Rooster 'Dad' makes my heart swell
Terms of Endearment Masterlist
AAAHHHH my heart just burst inside my chest thinking about this. I feel like it would just slip out the first time, and Bradley would be caught so off guard that he kinda just freezes? But not because he doesn't want to be known as dad, but because you’ve just never spoken about it before or mentioned if you were comfortable with it or if Dot should even be calling Bradley her dad because well, he wasn't biologically.
“You're her father in all the ways that matter though Bradley, so if she's comfortable enough with you to call you dad then I'm okay with it too.” You barely blink after Bradley brings it up. Dot had called him dad at the kindergarten pick-up. She’d come racing out with a drawing she had done just for him, Like she’d done in daycare a million times before. Although this time she’d come racing up to him, jumped into his arms, and squealed two words Rooster knew he’d never forget and would never stop hearing in his dreams.
“Hi Dad!!”
“Okay, well good chat babe.” Bradleys just pressing his lips together and nodding softly, hoping that it wasn't just a one time thing. It's not. Dot calls Bradley dad whenever she isn't calling him Rooster, which had replaced Tooster a few months ago because her speech therapy had actually been working much to Bradleys shock horror. He missed Tooster.
But as Odette gets older, her attitude evolves and when she's fifteen? The spitting image of her mother and a pain in the ass, Dot is calling her uncle Jake to come pick her up from a house party she’d snuck out to attend. Only the cops had shown up and she high tailed it out of there so fast she ended up down at the beach crying. Jake doesnt come and get her, he rings Bradley who's jumping out of bed so fast he doesn't even put shorts on, boxers will just have to do.
“You’re not even my real dad!” She's yelling, a sobbing mess in the passenger seat of Bradleys Bronco, he’d just finished giving her the third degree but told her if she’s gonna do this type of stuff she has to tell him because he just wants her to be safe. “Where do you get off telling me what to do?” And Bradley hates himself for it because he knows it's not good for the Bronco but he's pulling over on the side of the road and slamming on his brakes so hard it sends both him and Odette forward for a moment before their backs hit the seats again.
“Listen here kid–” Bradleys gritting his teeth, clenching his jaw and pointing his index finger at the fifteen year old whos sitting next to him with alcohol running though her system and he fucking knows she high as a kite just by the red in her eyes. “I may not be your biological dad? But I'm here aren't I?” Rooster points out the elephant in the room. “Ive changed my fair fucking share of shitty dippers and I held your hand while I taught you how to rollerskate and ride a bike and I mashed your stupid bananas just so you could throw them in my face anyway.” Dot was dumbfounded, Bradley had never raised his voice at her like this but someone had to smack some sense into this kid before it was too late. “I pay half your school tuition and I make sure you don’t starve to death whenever your mothers working late and need I remind you I’m your legal goddamn guardian, your last name is Bradshaw! So no–I’m not your ‘real dad’ but I don’t need you giving me shit when I’m here and always have been here and always will be here and that deadbeat dickhead isnt and never fucking was.”
It’s silent for a moment while Odette just takes in what the fuck just happened—usually Bradley was pretty passive, never one to raise his voice. But she’d clearly upset him. He’s putting the Bronco into gear again, shifting the gear stick in frustration as he pulls back onto the main road cautiously—his attention now back on the road as he whips the steering wheel around with one hand.
“Your mother would be beside herself if something happened to you kid, so just do me a favour here? and tell me where you’re going, no questions asked.” Again, Roosters met with silence as the fifteen year old just tries to process everything Bradley had just said when her head is spinning and she can’t tell if her fingers were real or not.
“Do you reckon he knew I was defective?” Dots letting her head rest back against the seat as she tries to hide her tears while looking out the window. “That’s why he didn’t want me?” Odette Bradshaw was too young to remember what you’d been through to keep her safe, let alone know why her biological dad wasn’t in the picture.
“You aren’t defective Dot—“ Roosters sighing, he’s still fucking pissed but he can sympathise. “He just isn’t a good person, it was never you.” If there was a conversation Bradley Bradshaw knew not to start without your permission it was the topic of Dots biological father. “But I love you? Isn’t that enough?”
“Please—“ Odette scoffing, picking at her cuticles till they started to bleed a little. Huh, guess they are real after all. “You love mum and you love Riley and you love Nick—“ She’s pausing, her bottom lip quivering as she turned to look at Rooster. “But I was just the package deal.”
“You have no idea how much I love you kid—“ Bradley’s chuckling to himself as he flicks the indicator on. “You’re my daughter, end of story.”
“Yeah but like, you don’t have a choice?” Bradley could tell by the way Dot was slurring her words that she was gonna be sick by the time they pulled into the drive.
“No I don’t have a choice with Riley and Nick—“ Rooster explained. “Because I created them, I have to love them regardless, but you? I choose to love you and I choose to put up with your recklessness and I choose to get up in the middle of the night to come get your drunk ass because I love you and I choose to love you.”
“Really?”
“If you throw up in the car I may have to re-evaluate but yeah kid, you’re stuck with the ‘not real’ dad for life.” By the time Rooster is pulling into the drive your standing at the front door in your dressing gown, arms crossed—glasses on, looking all kinds of angry.
“Oh fuck she looks pissed—“ Dots groaning all the while Rooster is laughing.
“Hey you wanna be a rebel you gotta own up to the consequences of your own actions.”
“Please don’t tell her I’m high—“
“I’m not gonna tell her shit are you kidding me?” Rooster raises his eyebrows in utter disbelief. “Im not suicidal, you’re gonna tell her yourself.”
“Dad!” Dots pleading, begging Rooster to help her out. He thinks it’s hilarious, laughing as he watches you march down the three patio stairs.
“Oh so now it’s dad when you want a bodyguard huh?”
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**~
Tags: @a-serene-place-to-be @lilyevanswhore @thescarletknight2014 @blindedbythelightt t @averyhotchner @emma8895eb @blairfox04 @caitsymichelle13 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @teacupsandtopgun @aemondssiut @feltonswifesworld87 @akalei349 @notjustsomeblonde @americaarse
#terms of endearment// bradley bradshaw#bradley 'rooster' bradshaw#bradleybradshaw#bradley x reader#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster bradshaw
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i have a request!
maybe one where steve knows he's bisexual before eddie but ofc, eddie thinks he's straight and doesn't think he has a chance, so he just takes whatever he can get with steve's friendship even though he has the biggest crush on steve and vice versa. but when eddie does find out about both, eddie would be internally screaming bc he could have been in a relationship with him and kissing steve ages ago.
i just love gay disaster eddie and confident bisexual steve haha
THANK YOU FOR THIS!!! This one could genuinely be a multi-chapter fic, so if someone has the time, I would love LOVE LOVE to read that. For now, here's a taste of something that kind of checks all the boxes mentioned but at superspeed. If I could write a 20k fic on it, it probably would have A LOT more pining first. I'm a sucker for pining. I hope you love this little thing! - Mickala ❤️
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Steve was giving off vibes, okay?
Like, major ones.
And Eddie was convinced he was imagining it or just trying to convince himself that something existed where it didn’t to make his chances higher.
When Robin came out, a small part of him believed that Steve had to be at least a little queer. Men didn’t just accept being turned down by someone they liked when they turned out to be a big old lesbian.
But when he casually asked Robin if Steve had ever been so inclined towards the same sex, she laughed hysterically and said Steve was as straight as they came, that she’d never met anyone as straight as him, and that she’d probably end up with a man before he did.
So he let it go.
But then he said stuff sometimes about actors or singers that just left Eddie’s brain a big pile of question marks.
Maybe Eddie just didn’t know how straight dudes talked about other dudes?
So he let that go too.
And then Steve was genuinely checking out a guy at the public pool. There was no other explanation for the way his eyes focused in on his ass and worked their way up his body, a nod of silent approval hidden to all but Eddie.
But he did the same exact thing to Robin when she came out of the changing room, and while he knew he had feelings for her a while ago, they were long gone.
“What was that all about?” Eddie gave in and asked when everyone else started walking to the steps to get in.
“What?”
“Checking Robin out.”
“What the hell? I wasn’t checking her out! I was making sure her bathing suit fit right. One of the things they taught in lifeguard classes was that a too big or too small bathing suit can kill you.”
“So you were just making sure it fit?”
“Yeah. I don’t want her to drown.”
Eddie sighed.
But he let it go.
He stopped hoping for the chance to be more than friends. He was fine with just being friends. More than fine. Great.
He got to enjoy having Steve as a friend.
He didn’t half ass anything.
If he said he was gonna hang out, he was ready to commit the entire day to making sure you had his attention.
If he had everyone over at his house for movie night, he had everyone’s favorite snacks ready to go.
If he was gonna join Eddie at the quarry and smoke and look at the stars, he was gonna do it while making Eddie fall in love with him.
It wasn’t fair.
But he tried to let it go.
It was one of those nights that he found out he didn’t have to let it go.
“You ever just wonder how you could have ever thought you were a different person?”
What? Okay, Steve was high. Past the silly kind and right into the too existential to make sense kind.
“I don’t have a clue what you’re sayin’, man.”
Steve giggled.
God, Eddie was fucking done for.
“It’s just that I thought I was straight for 17 years of my life. And then spent another two years trying to convince myself that I couldn’t be anything but straight. And then life smacked me with Robin and now you and it didn’t really leave me much room to argue.”
“What are you saying?”
“I mean, I’ve had a crush on you since. Well, definitely since you held a bottle to my throat, but probably before that. Like, way before that. Maybe your first senior year.”
Steve was high. He didn’t mean what he was saying, and even if somehow he did, it wasn’t fair to hold him to it. Being high was sometimes like being drunk: the words may be true, but the feelings may not stick around.
So Eddie took a deep breath, bit back the tears he could feel clinging to his eyes and the burn in his throat, and forced himself to change the subject.
It wasn’t fair, but when Steve let him change the subject easily, he let it go.
————-
It took three weeks for him to break.
He was with Steve at his house, waiting for the kids to show up for movie night. Steve was busy preparing homemade pizza because he thrived on being able to cook for everyone.
Eddie loved him so much.
He was staring. He knew he was.
But how could he not when Steve was in that stupid “Number One Dad” apron that Max got him last Christmas as a joke, but he’d sniffled and said thank you like it was the best gift he got in the world?
Steve was humming something, sliding the last pizza into the oven (pineapple and ham for El, Will, and Mike), when it all seemed to hit him.
Steve had come out to him, had admitted out loud that he wasn’t straight and that he’d had a crush on him for a long time.
Sure, he was high when he did, but he’d been high with Eddie lots of times and never given away any top secret personal information like that.
He’d wanted Eddie to make a move.
He was so stupid.
He stood abruptly, nearly banging his knee against the bar in the kitchen.
Steve looked over at him, brows furrowed in concern, lips pouting out unintentionally.
Eddie stalked over to him, not bothering to explain his theatrics. At this point, Steve should be used to them.
He stopped right in front of him, looking down at the suddenly nervous way Steve was holding himself.
He wasn’t letting it go this time.
He sure as shit wasn’t running. He didn’t do that anymore.
“You remember the quarry?”
“Like, in general…or…?”
“A few weeks ago you said something at the quarry.”
“Oh.” Steve looked down at the floor between them. “Yeah. It’s okay that you don’t feel the same. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that.”
There was no fucking way Eddie was letting him think he didn’t want him back.
He gripped his cheeks in his hands, palms tilting his face up so he could look into his eyes.
Steve was biting his lip so hard, it looked like it could start bleeding any moment.
Eddie brought his thumb over, pulling his lip from his teeth.
“How can I kiss you if you’re too busy eating your lip?”
Steve’s eyes widened.
“What?”
“Stevie. Did you mean it then?”
“Yeah, ‘course I did. I wouldn’t lie about that.”
“Then I need to ask a favor.”
“Anything.”
Eddie wouldn’t let that go to his head. Not yet.
“Can I kiss you?”
Steve’s responding smile lit up the room, more than the overhead lights, more than the actual sunlight streaming through the window.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
Eddie leaned in as Steve did, their lips meeting in a light peck that quickly deepened, moans escaping their mouths at the same moment.
He let his hands slide down to Steve’s neck, his thumbs rubbing small circles as his tongue begged for entrance into his mouth.
Steve was sinking further against him, his heartbeat steady against Eddie’s chest.
“It’s about damn time. Honestly, I was starting to think I’d have to make Steve come out to you again.”
Robin’s voice shocked them apart, but when they realized who it was, they managed to fall back into each other.
Eddie’s arm slipped around Steve’s waist as Steve rested his head on Eddie’s shoulder.
“The kids will be inside in about 20 seconds so if you would prefer they don’t know what’s going on, you should wipe those lovesick looks off your faces and find a bubble of personal space.”
Eddie kissed the top of Steve’s head before pulling away.
“Talk when the kids leave?”
“Yeah. But first,” Steve pulled Eddie in for one more quick kiss on the lips. When he pulled away, he was smirking. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
“I don’t plan on letting you out of bed for the next 24 hours after the kids leave. We’ll at least get a good start on the catching up.”
Eddie threw a wink at Steve, ignoring Robin’s gagging noises, and sat back at the bar.
The kids came running in, circling Steve to hug him or ask him what dinner was and Eddie smiled to himself.
Robin nudged him after a few seconds.
“You’re both so hopeless.”
“Not anymore.”
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#robin buckley#coming out is sort of accidental but not really#like steve is high when he says it but would have told eddie anyway#mutual pining though this is all from eddie's POV#which is weird for me so hopefully it's okay#anon requests#requests#ficlet
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so let's talk some more about gallavich and their adopted runaway trans daughter Starr (more on her here and here; it'll make more sense if you read those posts first)
I mentioned that I think Mickey and Ian would move back to the South Side, and they'd have a house instead of an apartment, and that Starr would clean up the place in thanks for letting her stay—while she's doing so, maybe she runs across a school photo of a little blonde kid with a goofy smile, and familiar blue eyes, and big glasses, and she'd bet anything that this kid is related to Mickey
and she finds a frame that isn't being used, maybe up in the attic, and puts the picture in the frame and sets it on the mantel in the living room next to other family photos (Debbie and Franny; Debbie, Carl, and Liam; Lip and Tammi and their kids; a selfie of Fiona at the beach; Mickey and Ian's wedding photo; stuff like that)
so Mickey is home one day while Ian is off visiting his siblings—Mickey is too peopled out that day and decided to stay home—when he notices the new picture with the others; Starr sees his reaction, like he's seen a ghost, and she says she found the picture when she was cleaning, and thought it looked good in the frame. but Mickey's reaction maybe spooks her a little bit, and she's like "I hope that was okay"
Mickey doesn't say anything at first, but he's uncharacteristically quiet when he nods and says "yeah, that's okay" but he doesn't explain—and look, Starr knows when people wanna talk about stuff but also don't want to at the same time, but she's thirteen or fourteen years old and has no impulse control so she asks who the kid is, and even though she guessed it she's still kinda surprised when Mickey says "that's my son"
and she asks him "do you wanna talk about it?" to which he says fuck no; she's all prepared to drop the subject when he says that he hasn't even seen the kid in years, not since he was in prison and Svetlana brought Yev to visit. and slowly—maybe over the next few weeks—she learns more of the story, and even though Mickey doesn't tell her everything, she's smart enough to put the pieces together
because I really love the idea that Mickey and Svetlana get back in touch after everything went down and he and Ian got married (she'd give him shit about where was her invitation and he was all "I didn't know your fuckin address!" but she loved seeing the pictures and said "you and carrot boy look very happy together"), and now they meet up every few months for lunch or something, maybe text now and again; she keeps him updated on Yevgeny and how he's doing in school ("he wants to go to college and be doctor") and she told Mickey that if he wants to meet Yev properly he can, but he's never taken her up on the offer because he thinks Yev is better off without him
and Starr just looks at Mickey, and the picture of Yevgeny—he's a couple years younger than she is, I figure this would be when he's about ten or so—and tells him about how she thought her parents loved her, but that was only when they thought she was their son, and "I don't know what you did before but you can't be worse than my folks"
they talk about it now and again—Ian knows they do but he's learned to let Mickey work through things at his own pace—and she finds out Yevgeny is about to start middle school, and Starr eventually tells Mickey that he should go see his son. Mickey of course thinks it's a terrible idea but she's like look, man, you guys have been great to me, and it wouldn't be the end of the world if your kid at least knew you were out there. unfortunately she's painfully aware of what it's like knowing your parents don't want anything to do with you, but it's also clear to her that it's painful for Mickey to think about his son ("talking to him might be hard, but it can't be worse than staying away")
finally after Starr has been staying with them for a while—she eventually got Ian on the "talk to Yevgeny" train too, and Mickey complained that they were "fuckin ganging up on him"—Mickey goes into the kitchen after dinner, and Starr and Ian can hear him talking on the phone to someone about "-wanna see the kid next time, if that's okay" and they give each other a tiny high five
when he comes back from lunch with Svetlana a few weeks later it's with a smile on his face and some new pictures of him and Yevgeny on his phone, as well as one with him and Svet and Yev
Ian is absolutely over the moon, too, and insists they print out the pictures and put them up on the mantelpiece; and Mickey asks if the two of them wanna come along the next time he sees Svet and the kid (and Ian is like uh yeah I haven't seen Lana in forever and I wanna know how Yevgeny is doing because he loved that kid so much and I really feel like the show dropped the ball on Ian and Svet's relationship too, which is a crying shame)
and the three of them settle in to watch TV together, their cat Duchess sprawled across Mickey and Ian's laps, and their pit bull Lady curled up by Starr's feet in her chosen armchair, and Ian just grins at Mickey and doesn't have to say how proud he is of his husband, because it's written all over his face
(I'm sure I'll write more about Starr and her adopted gay uncles in the future but I just love the idea that she'd be a catalyst for Mickey reconnecting with Yevgeny, and how he'd try his best to be the exact opposite of his own dad ;~; )
#starr verse#gallavich#galladads#ian gallagher#mickey milkovich#svetlana yevgenivna#yevgeny milkovich#shameless
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