#just because they're a middle aged man and an old man voice doesn't mean they can't be girlfriends okay | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shhh-secret-time · 2 months

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We're back with another Soulmate AU request AND another request from AO3, they're so rare these days! I wanted to do something special for Craig, I kind of feel like he'd be a fuck destiny kinda guy. Anyway y'all know the drill.

Warning: Hot Pokemon takes, Strong-Language, Clyde being a dork again

Pairing: Craig x GN!Reader

Crack

"Hm.."

Snap

"Dude. Stop."

Pop

"Dude! Stop!"

Clyde's voice pulls Craig's gaze over, the bored expression on his face would normally make anyone flinch back but Clyde's used to the look. Years of friendship with the stoic man will desensitize anyone to that kind of look. Craig swears it's just because Clyde's an idiot, no one else in South Park takes that kind of tone with him.

"You sound like a glow-stick over there! I swear you've already popped all those fingers a minute ago, are you on your knuckles now or something?" Clyde puts his DS down on his lap with a grumble.

He's slouched so far down on Craig's couch it looks like he's melting into it, the lower half of his body is barely on the couch at all. He's all but holding himself up with his legs while his back rests on the firm cushions beneath him. He looked like a slinky being tossed down the stairs, but if it got stuck going down a step.

"You're in my house." Craig responded so matter of fact.

Then he finished cracking the hand he was in the middle of working on. He presses his thumb against each finger on his hand. Once each little finger makes that satisfying sound, he wraps his hand around the other and squeezes. His thumb and index finger settle just below the knuckles, feeling the muscles and bone shift under his grip a shiver runs down his spine.

"Gaaaaaah! That doesn't hurt you? You're gonna fuck up your hands man." Clyde physically squirms at the sound, twisting and rolling back and forth as if he's trying to escape the sound.

"No. I like it." Craig picks his DS up from his lap and continues playing on the little handheld device.

"Alright but when you have old grandpa hands at the age of twenty-five don't come crying to me. Spongebob broken finger head-ass." Clyde smirks, returning to the game with his friend.

Craig side eyes him, shooting a small glare his direction but it goes unnoticed. Once again, Clyde is lucky he's one of his best friends. Being stupid makes you brave apparently.

The two fall into a comfortable silence, the music from Clyde's DS playing loudly while Craig's is shut off. The sound of both games going on at once drove Craig mad. If the music didn't line up it felt like someone jabbing him in the head. So, he settled for listening to Clyde's, he knew the brown-haired man liked the Pokemon sound track anyway. A small tradition they started in middle school that's held up. Playing Pokemon next to each other on the weekends, if one got Green the other got Red. If one got Sapphire, the other got Ruby. Right now, Craig has Diamond, and he has Pearl.

Craig was no means a perfectionist, but something about the incomplete Pokedex drove him mad. He hated looking at the black silhouette of a Pokemon uncaught, the taunting ??? made him want to spike the thing into the ground. They would spend hours next to one another talking about their teams, racing to see who could beat the Elite Four before the other, making fun of each other's favorite Pokemon. Craig long since beat the game and was just waiting on Clyde to catch up, he was still waiting on Clyde to catch his Slowpoke like he promised him forever ago.

Clyde was a Slowpoke.

He chuckles at the thought making Clyde look up at him with his brow raised but he chooses not to say anything. After a while Craig closes his DS and chooses to watch Clyde walk around the tall grass.

"You're using the Scyther I traded you?" he asks, resting his cheek on top of Clyde's head. Holding himself up right now sounded exhausting, Clyde made the perfect head rest. Even if he wasn't slumped down on the couch, their height difference allowed for it. To be fair Craig's height difference allowed him to do this to just about anyone. The only person he couldn't comfortably do this too would be Broflovski.

"Yeah! He’s my favorite! He's a handsome devil, reminds me of myself!" Clyde tucks his chin in between his index finger and his thumb, the smug smirk on his lips makes his face look stupid.

"Do you wanna evolve him? You can trade him over and we can turn him into a Scizor."

"Nah, then I'll lose all the affection I've been building him with! Look I've got two little hearts by his head! He loves me man!"

"You can build it back."

"Maybe you can toss away your Pokemon’s affection, but not me Tucker! He doesn't need to change! He's perfect the way he is!" Clyde exclaims as he throws his hand in the air.

Craig's about to respond but stops when Clyde encounters another Pokemon, a Pachirisu nothing out of the normal. But what was out of the normal was the stripe on its tail wasn't the typical baby blue, it was a bright pink. Craig's eyes widen as the sparkles swirl around the little animated creature.

And typical Clyde just button mashes through the whole thing, he's not paying attention to the DS, going on about his love for his Scyther. His thumb moves over the attack button and Craig wants to grab his hand to stop him. But once again he's not fast enough, and the low leveled thing is easily defeated by his level sixty something Pokemon.

"Um dude...you know I love hugs and all, but I thought you hated them?" Clyde's voice is muffled under Craig. Craig has him pinned under him against the couch, chest pressed into his side, arm outstretched to grab the DS.

"Dude! That was a shiny! You could have caught that!" Craig's exclaims shaking the man under him.

"What?! Oh man! I didn't know!"

"How the fuck didn't you know?! It sparkled! It's fucking pink!"

"Uh...was it?"

"What?" Craig stops shaking him at that, tightened fists around his collar loosen only slightly.

"I didn't know, you know I'm color-blind right?" Clyde takes the opportunity to sit up, he chuckles at Craig's expression.

Although rare, it's not unheard of. Craig isn't a robot, or a man born without emotions, he just has a hard time expressing them sometimes. Clyde knows that, but it's still funny every time he sees that crack in Craig's usual stoic nature. Even more so that it was over a stupid video game and Clyde's inability to see color.

So instead of responding to him Craig shakes his head and furrows his brows, confusion written clear on his face.

"Yeah man," Clyde takes a breath in between cackling. "I'm completely color blind, lost it when we were in high school. It's my soulmate thing. I see in black and white now." He waves his hand over his face with a dorky grin.

He doesn't respond at first, taking a moment to take in what his best friend was saying. "I just thought you dressed like that on purpose."

"Come on dude! Would it kill you to say something nice to me?! Just oNCE!?" Clyde smacks him with the cushion tucked behind him which Craig uses to beat him back.

After a brutal beat down using a couch cushion, Craig pulls back the weapon and looks down at the defeated pile of Donovan further pressed into his couch. He sits back with his leg pulled up towards his chest, arm thrown lazily across his knee.

"So, you can't see color because you haven't met your soulmate? That sounds rough."

"Yeah, it kinda sucks, it's gonna sound gay but I miss seeing things like the sunset and movies are kinda lame now. I still wear this jacket because at least I know it's red." Clyde collects himself and tries to fix his hair that's been flattened down.

"Hm." A low grunt and Craigs on his feet.

To anyone else it would be the end of the conversation, it would be their que to move on and talk about something else. But Clyde isn't just anyone. He's the guy who's been with Craig since they were kids, he knows that grunt. That shift in body language. Craig's uncomfortable but wants to say something.

"Come on Tucker Bear don't be like that, tell me what's going on." The nickname earns him a glare, but it stops the black haired man from going to the kitchen. He grins at him in return, telling Craig that he's getting what he wants.

"What have I told you about calling me that?"

"That you love it so much and you're so grateful that your best friend would give you the best nickname ever." The sentence is almost cut short from the way he scrambles back away from Craig, holding his hands up defensively. His voice is cracking from the way he tries to keep the giggle out of it.

Craig stops and sighs, his hands come up to the strings on the side of his hat. The frayed yellow rope splitting at the ends from how often he twists it between his fingertips. He does it when he needs to collect his thoughts, figure out a way to put them into words.

".... you didn't tell me you got your Soulmate thing." It finally comes out in a soft tone.

"Are you upset because I didn't tell you? I'm sorry man." Clyde's silly demeanor drops, quickly shifting to one that matches his friend’s tone. He stands up and follows him into the kitchen.

"No. I just..." A pause and he opens the fridge door. Scanning the inside for something to drink, his mouth is incredibly dry right now. "...didn't know. I thought you were like me."

"Like you?"

"Like...born without a mark or whatever."

"Oh."

That's all he can say, all that comes out of his mouth. Craig snaps the can of soda open and takes a sip and it feels like a rock settling in his stomach. His lips press together tasting the sugary drink on his lips. The rock in his stomach lurches up when he sees Clyde's eyes well up with tears, little beads of water spilling from his lids. For the second time that day, he makes Craig's eyes widen.

"Are you crying?"

He quickly goes to wipe the tears away from his brown eyes, the little orbs always looked like a baby cow's. Using the sleeves on his jacket, he sniffles and looks up at him. "It's just- you don't have a soulmate!"

"Yeah, I know."

"That's so sad dude!"

"I guess."

He sobs again, the tears spill faster and harder down his face. Craig sighs and gives into the over dramatic man an awkward pat on the back. The rest of the day was spent calming Clyde down and reassuring him that he wasn't actually angry at him for killing the shiny. They watch a few episodes of Red Racer where Craig describes the colors for him until he got tired of it.

All through the day the conversation gnawed at the back of his head. It followed him to bed and kept him from sleeping. Clyde refused to go home so he spent the night on the floor next to him. Didn't want to sleep on the couch but didn't want to sleep in the bed with him. Wanted to be near but not close enough to make Craig want to peel his skin off. He appreciated the idiot.

But it was that idiots fault he was thinking so hard on this. Why was he born without a soul-mate tic, or thing or whatever the fuck it was called. Were there others like him or was Craig Tucker really that just unlucky? Why did he care so much, he made it this far in life by himself. So why was it just now starting to eat at him?

With a huff he turned and rolled over towards the window next to his bed, staring up at the night sky. The moon was half full today, and it was cloudy out so he could barely see the stars. He was a grown man majoring in Astronomy, he didn't need a stupid mark to tell him where to go and who to be with. He could still see color fine. No flowers were blooming out of his face making his allergies act up.

No, it was just him. Just him and whatever was out there waiting for him. Right now, he really wanted it to be sleep.

Eventually he gave in to the tired behind his eyes, lids so heavy he couldn’t keep them open anymore but burned when he finally closed them. Clyde was gone the next morning when he finally woke up, he left him a text saying he was going to pick his sister up and do something with her.

It didn't matter he had class to get to anyway, the semester was in full swing, and he didn't have time to fall behind. As he gets ready, pulling his blue hat over his head and the matching NASA jacket over his shoulders, he peers down at his DS left on the side table. He picks it up and tucks it into the pockets of the jacket, in between classes he could wait in the lounge and play on it a little more. There wasn't much left to do but he could always grind his team to a hundred.

Once he feels ready, he steps out of his house and starts the walk to the bus stop. Ever since he moved out of his parents the walk to the college campus took a little longer than normal, so it was easier to just ride the bus there. He sticks his headphones in and settles in the worn-out seats of the dirty looking white bus. Somehow cleaner than the yellow ones from when he was still a teenager, but not by much. The music from his DS playing in his ears drowns out the sounds of people mumbling to themselves and whatever other weird thing South Park could throw at him.

It also drowns out your footsteps. Drowns out your question if the seat next to him was taken. So, it isn't until he feels you sitting next to him that he notices you're there. He side-eyes you for a moment, which you return with a little nod. A part of him is relieved when you don't immediately try to make small talk with him. Instead, you offer him a little smile and go back to the book in your hand. His amber eyes travel down to peek at what it is you're reading, and he's surprised when instead of a textbook he sees a comic.

Guardians of the Galaxy

From the angle you were holding it, he couldn't tell exactly what issue you were on, but the cover looked good. He cocks his head to the side a little to get a better look. Feeling his eyes on you, you look up at him and raise a brow. It takes a second, but you piece together what he's trying to do so you close the comic and show it off to him.

You're on an issue he's already read through. He removes the headphones from his ear.

"I didn't think anyone else read the Guardians series." Craig says, it's out of pocket for him to be the first to initiate but the thought of meeting someone who's a fan like him is actually exciting. It's enough to pull him out of his little mental funk.

"Yeah! I just started collecting these issues last week! Have you read this series?" You say with a smile that’s a little too bright for him.

He nods again at you, and that's where the conversation should have ended. You go back to your reading, and he goes back to his game. But it doesn't, you lean over and catch a glimpse at what he's playing. He watches the recognition sparkle up in your eyes.

"Oh, which one is that? Gen four, right?"

"Yeah. It's Diamond."

"Oh! Cool! I've got Platinum! I gotta default to the third one because I don't have friends who play the game!" You laugh at your own joke, eyes going from the DS to his.

Craig stares down at you for a while. He sets the DS in his lap and pushes the palm of his hand against his fingers. Hands popping and snapping again, the little tic making him relax. You don't comment like Clyde does, but you are still talking.

"Gen four has to be my favorite in the series! I just couldn't get into Black and White!" That makes him stop and look at you like you're crazy.

"That's the best one in the series though."

"That's what everyone tells me, but I hated the starters!"

Time slips past him, the way you pull him into the conversation so naturally. It isn't until the bus pulls up to the campus that he realizes he's been talking to you the entire time. You perk up when the bus lets out a sigh and a hiss, telling its passengers that they've reached their destination.

"Oh, this is my stop! Hey, it was awesome talking with you!" You grin and stand up, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

You give him a little finger salute and take off, you're so quick to scurry away he doesn't have time to tell you that this is his stop too. Of course he's never noticed you around campus before, Craig was never one to waste his energy on things that didn't require it. He had his select group of friends and was happy with that, but now here you were wedging your way into his mind. As he stands up to get off the bus, lazily throwing the headphones over his neck, it dawns on him that he didn't even catch your name.

Oh well, so much for that. Maybe he'd see you around.

The universe must have answered that for him because the next morning he sees you on the bus again. He watches as you push past the isle of seats and plop down next to him with another book in your hand. A different issue, a different conversation. There are days where you sit in silence doing your own thing. Then there are days where you talk his ear off and he just sits and listens, occasionally throwing in his thoughts on whatever you're talking about.

But he listens. That was new, normally he just tends to zone out if he doesn't care. Somehow you find a way to make him care, a way to make him invested in the conversation. He even goes out of his way to learn your name and what you're studying.

"Ah it's just general studies right now, a little bit of everything until I figure out what I wanna do. I wasn't even planning on going to college, it just kinda happened." You tell him leaning back in your seat.

"What, so you just woke up one day and decided that was it?" Craig scoffs a bit at the idea but the amused glint in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"Heh. Well Mr. Space-boy not all of us know what we wanna do with life from the womb." You snicker at his reaction, tallying another eyeroll in your head.

"It's Space-Man. I'm Space-Man Craig." He corrects you before moving on, so you don't comment on the little pink hue on his face. "I get that but how do you go from I'm not going to college, to just doing it?"

You smile, it's different than the dorky one you usually shoot at him or the one when you tell a bad joke. It almost seems sad. He can't put his finger on it, but he doesn't need to wait long for you to roll up your sleeve. On your wrist is a font that looks almost like an alarm clock, the block black ink reads "0:00".

"Had this guy I was with. Was with him for six years, we were high-school sweethearts, prom date, whole nine yards. They were my soulmate, the little counter on my wrist told me that much." You take a deep breath, and he watches the way your fingers move across the skin.

He pops his fingers again, pushing them against each other.

"Well, about a year ago I realized...I kinda hated it? Hated the fact this stupid mark on my body got to dictate who I fell in love with? I mean we didn't even have anything in common, and while we never really argued we just had a different outlook on life. I think a part of me still loves him, but...I can't really love him in the way this thing wants me to." You emphasize that you're talking about the marking on your skin by holding it up.

Little rays of sunlight brush across your skin and Craig can't help but follow it. You had a soulmate, of course you did. He feels that rock in his stomach again, weighing heavier than it did last time. The week he got where he wasn't thinking about this whole thing was nice, but now that he's reminded his body tenses back up.

He cracks his fingers again, squeezing the side of the palm.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to trauma dump on you." He raises a brow at you silently asking you what you mean by that. "Call it a sixth sense, or the fact that you pop your fingers and do that little Hm when you're thinking about something. So, I figured you were annoyed by the random dump."

You were more attentive than he would have given you credit for. He hasn't known you that long and you're already picking up on things that took Clyde years to. Then again, Clyde and attentive don't really go hand in hand.

"No, it's not you. It's the..." He rolls his wrist a few times trying to find the words, fingers eventually find purchase on the strings of his hat dangling by his face. "Soul-mate thing. I don't have one."

"Ah yeah, I can see how that's a weird topic for you then! But hey that's kind of cool!" You beam up at him, the sunlight slips off your wrists and onto your lips.

Wait, what?

"You get to pick who you wanna love, that's awesome. That means the connection goes deeper! You gotta build something with someone, nothing telling you to just jump straight into a relationship! No pressure, just you and the other person!" Your eyes are like little stars as you speak. A tiny galaxy that he can't seem to pull himself out of.

Wait, what?

Like clockwork, the bus stops and you go to get up. Except this time Craig is fast enough, he takes your hand. His fingers slip into your palm and stop you from moving. Your finger salute falls back to your side. He just looks at you for a while, the only thing he can hear right now is the collection of people getting off the bus and his own heartbeat drumming in his chest.

"If you're not getting off, I need you to sit down please!" The bus driver makes you flinch and sit back down next to Craig.

"Sorry sir!" You call back.

When you look back at him with a confused look, he freezes again. His mouth hangs open for a second, only to close. He almost looks like a fish out of water from the way he's trying to collect his thoughts. Craig expects you to get back up and tell him goodbye. To run off the bus and never speak to him again.

Instead, you sit there, patiently waiting for him to collect himself. You wait there even when the door to the bus shuts and the engine kicks back on. You look at him with wonder and he has to avert his gaze from you. Pulling his hat over his eyes for a moment because he realizes he's still holding your hand and the heat coming up to his face is too much.

"I... I’m sorry. I just wanted to-" What did he want? His mind was drawing a blank, he was floating and the only teather was your hand in his.

He knew he wanted to keep holding your hand. He knows your touch doesn't bother him like it should. He wants to steal a few more moments with you because these bus rides aren't enough time. Something he's never felt before.

"You're good. Take your time." You can't know what that means to him to hear you say that. To not pull your hand away and call him a freak for just grabbing you like that. Instead, you turn your palm over and give his hand a squeeze back.

"I want to...do that." He says it. With his eyes covered so he's not blinded by that smile on your face. He can hear it in your voice, the way you chuckle.

"Do what?"

"You know what I'm trying to say."

"Maybe. You better say it just so I can be sure." You're teasing him now, leaning forward so you can get a peek at his blushing face.

Craig huffs again, frustration building up in his chest. He moves the hat from his face and stares you down like a showdown. His brows knitted together with newfound determination.

"I want to build a connection past this." There. It's out. Out in the open, out in the space between the both of you. Confession falls from his mouth in that monotone voice he's so famous for.

"Hell yeah. I'd like that Space-Man Craig." You laugh and it sounds so sweet.

He smiles down at you, and it feels like a gift. It's the first time you've seen him look at you like that. You make a silent promise to yourself that it will not be the last time you see it.

"So, any idea where the bus is going now?"

"No idea. Wanna get off at the next stop and walk to campus?"

"Nope! You stopped me from going to class so now you're taking me out. I want food!"

Craig scoffs at you and takes the headphones off his neck, he offers you the other bud. He sticks the one in his ear and pulls out his phone. His fingers slide across the screen going for the music app. He hands you the phone and gestures for you to pick something.

You excitedly take him up on the offer, sticking the bud in your ear. You begin going on about whatever album you’ve been listening to, and the whole ride he sits and listens to you. Nodding along so you know he’s listening, not that he really has to. You can tell from the way he looks at you that you have his undivided attention.

So wrapped up in the music and your voice he doesn’t even notice the font on your wrist change. It’s not that boring clock anymore, it shifts and swirls around. A moving tattoo that eventually turns into a painting melting down your arm. The deep darkness of space with a little astronaut sitting on the moon, just watching the sun.

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rubyreduji · 1 year

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eat your young | the before pt 1

tags: hunger games!au, gn!reader warnings: mentions of death, corrupt governments, depictions of poverty, mentions of sickness, parent loss wc: 5.6k an: if you wanna know the characters ages then you can look at the run down sheet i've posted here

m.list

It’s too hot out to be standing in the direct sun for so long in your opinion. Especially with everyone crowded together in one area, but it's not like anyone can do anything about it. It's the reaping. Everyone will stand here until two innocent kids are sent off to slaughter.

You shift a bit in place, your feet already hurting. You wish you had on your works boots instead of the dress shoes your father forced you in to, but you learned years ago this is not your battle to fight.

Everyone stands waiting in relative quietness as things get set up and more and more people sign in. You stand in the back section next to your best friend Joshua, but the two of you don't talk. Your face is hardened as you stare at the Justice Building. Right in front of it is the group of the youngest kids. They stand in their group all fearful and jittery. The heat probably isn't helping their nerves.

You can't pay them too much mind though. They're not the ones with their name in the bowl thirty-nine times.

There are five seats on the stage. In a row sit the mayor, the Capital representative, and the past victors Lee Jooheon, Hirai Momo, and Kwon Soonyoung. Once everyone has finished packing into the square and the clock hits the designated start time, the mayor gets up and starts to talk. He does the usual speech on the history of Panem before introducing the victors of District 7.

Jooheon is a middle-aged man who nobody really sees besides during the games, and that's only because he is required by the Capitol to attend. From what you know he carries a serious attitude and doesn't take anyone's shit. He's the oldest living victor District 7 has though, so everyone respects him.

Momo is a beautiful woman in her early thirties who tries her best to stay positive and do as much community work as she can. She's well liked by everyone she meets, in the districts and in the Capitol. She won her game at fifteen by pretending to be weaker than everyone else until she was one of the last one left, and then took the others out by surprise.

The most recent victor is Kwon Soonyoung. He's a twenty year old boy who won just two years ago. You're not close to him by any means, but you're definitely not strangers. He's a joyful personality and you and Joshua have a theory it's because he's trying to cover up the pains from his time in the games.

After introducing the victors, the mayor goes on to introduce the Capitol representative. Kim Jennie. She's new this year. At least she's easier to look at than the previous escort. He was a sleazy man who reminded you of a weasel. He was creepy and always had a sinister smirk on his face during the reapings. You hated him.

Jennie starts to talk. She is putting on that fake persona you despise from Capitol citizens. She goes on about how she's "so honored to be able to represent the Capitol" and how she can't believe she's "working with the brave tributes of District 7 who are serving their country" and that she "can not wait to bring two new tributes to the Capitol with her". You're sure she doesn't have a single thought in her brain that the Capitol didn't implant into her. She knows nothing about the true nature of the games and the real reason they exist, the horrors that are hidden behind them. No to her it's just all a game, one she gets to sit back and enjoy watching.

"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor." Her voice is starting to get on your nerves. "Now, to pull the first name."

Jennie moves to the large bowl that sits off to the side of the stage and pulls out a single slip of paper before walking back to the microphone. She eagerly unfolds the paper and leans into the mic. "L/N Y/N."

You don't move at first. It takes a moment to even recognize that it was your name that was called. For a second, you feel Joshua gripping onto your wrist, almost telling you to stay, but then he lets go and you start to walk up to the stage, like you're on autopilot. You're standing right on the edge of your section, so you don't have to pass anyone and see their looks of pity. Good.

Before you know it, you're on stage, staring at every face in the district. Jennie is gesturing to you. She has pink hair and a matching pink dress that looks like planet's rings surrounding her body. It's ugly. For a moment, before she starts talking, Jennie looks intimidated by you. You get that a lot.

"Do we have any volunteers?"

No. Not that you're surprised. Nobody volunteers in District 7, let alone for someone like you. Everyone in Seven already thinks you're capable of winning the games, why would they risk putting someone else in?

When you turned twelve you and a couple other kids started to do Hunger Games training on your own, picking up skills you saw in previous games. You've always been one of the best at, being able to fight and picking up on survival skills. Over the years you've built up even more skills working with your axe in the woods. You're grateful that you belong to a district that has a trade that's useful in the arena.

You look out at the crowd and your eyes land on the closest familiar face you see, which just happens to be your little sister in the middle of the crowd, standing with the other fourteen year olds. You lock eyes. She has tears in her eyes and her lips are quivering a bit, but she looks like she's trying to keep composed for your sake. You're grateful for that because if she started to bawl, you're sure you won't be able to keep your own composure.

You're knocked out of your stupor when Jennie is talking again. "What a brave young soul. Now for our next tribute." Her heels clack against the concrete of the Justice Hall's stage as she walks back over the bowl, pulling out one more slip.

The energy of the crowd is tense as Jennie brings her lips up to the mic. "Lee Jihoon."

You start a bit at the name. Jihoon? There’s no way she just said Lee Jihoon.

You hear commotion from behind you and you suddenly remember that Soonyoung is best friends with Jihoon. That's a tragedy for them. It's even more of a tragedy for you, because now you know what tribute the mentors are going to be rooting for.

"Lee Jihoon."

Jihoon feels a chill run down his back. Shit, that's him, isn't it? Jihoon can already see the fit that Soonyoung is throwing and he starts to make his way to the stage. His legs feel like they're about to give out from under him and he nearly trips on the first step up to the stage.

He makes eye contact with Soonyoung as he finally makes it to the top step. Soonyoung looks panicked and Jihoon has the urge to reassure him it's okay, even though it's not. Jihoon can't comfort his best friend though because Jennie is pushing him towards you.

"Shake hands."

Jihoon reaches his hand out to you and it takes you a moment to register the act and do the same. Your eyes pierce into Jihoon as you shake his hand. Your grip is firm and it intimidates Jihoon a bit. Unlike most of the kids in District 7, Jihoon doesn't work in lumber, so he doesn't have the skills like the lumber kids do. Jihoon has always been an artisan, rather than a woodsman.

Jihoon is too entranced by you to realize that Jennie is presenting you both to the crowd. "Our District 7 tributes!" Nobody claps. It takes Jennie a little too long to realize that.

The ceremony ends and then you and Jihoon are ushered into the building and into separate rooms. It's a sitting room with a nice couch being the main focus. There's art on the walls and a few other chairs scattered around the room.

Jihoon sits down on the couch and runs his hand over the velvet upholstery. He's never felt something so nice before and he wonders if District 8 kids helped make the fabric. Jihoon is still distracted by the couch when the door opens and his mom and dad walk in.

Seeing them makes Jihoon's stomach churn and the weight of the situation finally starts to set in. His mom's eyes are wet with tears and his father doesn't look too far behind. This is most likely Jihoon's last time he'll ever see them and he can't find any words to say to them.

They just sit together and enjoy their last moments together before peacekeepers come to take them away. Jihoon hugs both of his parents tight and tells them he loves them before they're gone for good.

The next person who walks into the room is Jihoon's only other close friend who isn't Soonyoung. Beomju is probably the only other person in District 7 who cares about music as much as Jihoon does and they spend long days together just working on songs.

"Jihoon-ah, I'm sorry this is the situation you've been put in." Beomju is older than him and aged out of the reaping drawing a few years ago.

Jihoon just nods. He wants to tell Beomju that he's sorry he can't write music with him anymore. He wants to tell him that if anything happens to him, to keep writing music. He wants to tell him where he keeps his music journal so maybe his music can carry his memory on after he's gone. He wants to tell Beomju that when he's scared in the arena, he'll think of their songs to calm him down. None of those words come out of his mouth though. Its's like his whole throat is closed up, but Beomju still seems to understand. That's always been something Jihoon appreciates about him.

Beomju leaves Jihoon with a nod and a good luck and then he too is gone. Nobody else comes into his room after that and it's not long before a peacekeeper is coming to escort him to the train. You're already standing outside of the rooms when Jihoon exits his. There's a scowl on your face but your eyes are red like you've just finished crying.

L/N Y/N. Jihoon doesn’t know you too terribly well, but he does know you. You live in the poorer part of the district, working as a lumberjack with your dad. You’re smart, always towards the top of the class with your grades. Jihoon sings in the choir with your friend Joshua. You’re killer with an axe and Jihoon doesn’t fail to see the irony in that statement. You’ve had a few run-ins with some peacekeepers for one thing or another, but you’re generally well liked by the public.

You can be gruff at times, but you make up for it with your overall caring nature. It’s no secret that in your free time you do woodworking, either carving figurines or building things like furniture. You help take care of your family and the people in town. It’s commendable.

It's a bit embarrassing, but Jihoon can admit that you do intrigue him. You’re a year older than him and you’ve always been a big personality, someone that everyone knows. You two are at two ends of the spectrum in District 7. You’re well respected, a helpful citizen, and skilled in many areas. Jihoon is none of those things.

Jihoon’s only interacted you with a handful of times but every time he does, he’s enraptured by you with your strong hands and woody smell and attractive face. Jihoon’s feelings for you fall somewhere between intimidation and admiration.

Neither of you say a word as you’re taken to the train station. When Jihoon boards the train the first thing that draws his attention is the meticulous interior design of the train car. The second thing he notices is the people inside of the room already. The escort and mentors are all sitting around, most likely waiting for you and Jihoon to board the train.

“Great, you guys are here!” Jennie stands up at the sight of you two. “We’ll be in the Capitol by morning so go get cleaned up and I’ll come and collect you two for dinner.” Jennie guides you and Jihoon to where your rooms will be and leaves.

Even just on the train, the room is nicer than Jihoon’s at home, and he lives in the nicer part of the district. The bed is large and dressed in heavy, soft looking blankets. There’s a bathroom attached to the room and there’s an actual shower inside. Jihoon has been sweating from standing out in the sun all day and he sheds his clothes and steps into the shower.

The water pelts down on his skin and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt something feel so good before. There’s a wide arrangement of soaps and shampoos to pick from and Jihoon takes his time cleaning himself up. If he’s going to die in a few days, he can at least enjoy himself now.

His skin is red from the heat of the water when he finally steps out of the shower. There’s a machine that blow dries his hair for him and he dresses in a soft pair of pants and a t-shirt in the closet of the room. Even though Jennie hasn’t come to tell him it’s time for dinner, Jihoon wanders out of his room and into the living room like compartment.

Sitting on a chair is exactly who he’s looking for. Soonyoung looks up when Jihoon enters the car. His face is riddled with a look that’s mixed between distress and relief.

“Jihoon.” Soonyoung stands. Jihoon walks closer and allows Soonyoung to pull him into a hug. Jihoon buries his face into Soonyoung’s chest and finally allows himself to let go, tears finally starting to prick behind his eyes.

The arms of his best friend wrapped around him bring Jihoon a bittersweet comfort. It takes Jihoon a few minutes to recompose himself as he sits down in a chair next to Soonyoung’s. The chair is plush and it dips down when Jihoon puts his weight on it.

“I would have volunteered for you if I could,” Soonyoung says and Jihoon knows he means it, but Soonyoung has already won his games.

“It is what it is,” Jihoon says with a shrug. “I just have to hope for a quick death.”

“No!” Soonyoung nearly tackles Jihoon out of his chair. “You have to try and win! I know you can do it. I was your age when I won and with me as your mentor, we can do it. You can’t give up already.”

“Soonyoung, I don’t stand a chance out there. You know that.” Jihoon loves to live in his delusions day by day, but this isn’t one he can believe in.

“But I need you.” Soonyoung’s voice is no longer loud and desperate, but rather soft and melancholy. Jihoon doesn’t know how to respond. That seems like a common theme today. He can write song after song about everything and anything under the sun, but ever since his name was drawn from the bowl, he’s been rendered speechless.

“I can only do my best,” Jihoon finally settles on.

“You do your best, and I’ll do the rest,” Soonyoung says. “I promise we’re going to make it out of this.” Jihoon doesn’t skip over the fact Soonyoung says we’re going to make it out. We. A team. Jihoon and Soonyoung. This is just as much as a fight for Soonyoung as it is for Jihoon.

“Boys! It’s time for dinner!” Jennie pokes her head into the room before leaving again, most likely towards the dining room.

Soonyoung still looks disgruntled but stands anyway. Jihoon follows and they walk to the dining room. All of the mentors are already sitting there, the only person missing is you.

The first course has already been served by the time you make your way into the dining room. It’s a crazy idea to Jihoon that the people in the Capitol eat multiple courses, but he decides to take advantage of the fact and eat as much as he can. Jihoon watches you as you eat. You tend to pick more of the protein filled options and Jihoon wonders if it’s a tactic to help you further in the games.

It’s no surprise that the games have already started. From here on out, Jihoon won’t be able to rest until he’s dead. Literally.

At last dessert makes it to the table but Jihoon is too full to even touch it. You turn your nose up at the treat as well and Jihoon doesn’t know if it’s because you’re full or because you don’t want to put that much sugar into your body.

Before Jihoon can dissect your eating habits even more, Jooheon starts to talk. “So, what are we working with this year. What skills do you guys have?”

Jihoon doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have any skills. At least not any that could help in the games, unless the arena is a stage and they have to sing to survive.

Jooheon looks at you two expectantly but neither of you say a word. Jooheon sighs. “I’m trying to help you guys, give me something. You, kid, do you use the axe?”

You nod. “Yeah. I have some basic survival skills and I can fight, both hand-to-hand and with the axe.” You’re strong too, from lifting wood and swinging an axe all day long, Jihoon thinks, but he doesn’t say that out loud.

“That’s a good start. A really good start. Once you start training keep working on those survival skills, but don’t let anyone see you use that axe until it comes to evaluations.” You nod only as Jooheon advises you. Jooheon then turns to Jihoon and Jihoon feels like sinking into his chair and disappearing forever. “And you?”

“Don’t worry about him,” Soonyoung interjects. “I can take care of him.”

“Soonyoung, we’ve talked about this. We’re a team and we have to work as one.” It’s Momo who’s scolding Soonyoung.

“I hate to interrupt, but the reaping recap is about to start broadcasting,” Jennie informs the group. It’s clear the conversation isn’t over and Jihoon assumes the mentors are going to finish it later, in private.

Everyone moves to the train car where Jihoon originally found Soonyoung in. The broadcast has already started but it’s just the introduction stuff. Jihoon’s attention is peaked when the reapings start.

Like always, the careers look threatening. It’s more intimidating to see them on the screen knowing that Jihoon will have to face them in the arena in a week. The most prominent career is a tall boy with a large build from District 4, Kim Mingyu. He has to be a foot taller than Jihoon and just thinking about it makes the shorter boy sick.

Jihoon cringes when the District 7 footage plays. You looked so strong and sturdy when your name was called and as you stood on the stage. The only time even a flicker of emotion was shown on your face was when…Jihoon’s name was called. In all honestly Jihoon thinks it’s probably because he looked like a clumsy deer in the headlights as he walked up to the stage. It’s embarrassing. It’s even more embarrassing to watch himself as he’s forced to shake your hand. He definitely stared you at way too long. You look like a statue on stage, hardened and beautiful. It’s clear from even just a glance that out of the two of you, you’re the more promising tribute. It makes Jihoon’s gut twist knowing that your skill assets are miles ahead of his as well.

The youngest tribute this year is a thirteen year old boy from District 12 named Lee Chan. The other District 12 tribute, Chwe Hansol, isn’t much older being only fourteen. It makes Jihoon frown as he watches them stand on the stage, visibly shaking with fear. The two seem to be close and it makes Jihoon’s heart ache even more.

The broadcast ends and Jihoon feels even worse than he already did. The whole situation feels like it’s crawling up his throat, threatening to spill out with all of his dinner. Jihoon is grateful when Jennie sends everyone off to bed.

“It’s getting late and we will all need as much rest as we can get in the next week. Tomorrow we’ll be in the Capitol and the opening ceremony will commence,” Jennie tells the group. She then moves to make her way to her own compartment. “Happy Hunger Games!”

You can’t believe your eyes as the train pulls into the Capitol. The buildings reach up into the skies and you don’t think you even knew this much technology exists. You hear the Capitol citizens screaming before you see them, and you have to back away from the window when you do. They’re terrifying. Not just their presence, but their actual appearances. If you thought Jennie was bad, they’re ten times worse.

The train finally stops at the station where you and Jihoon are quickly whisked away to the remake center. You don’t know what you were expecting when you showed up, but it definitely wasn’t being scrubbed, plucked, and prodded at by a team of strangers.

You’re honestly a bit disturbed by the time you’re left alone in the room. You already feel uncomfortable from how raw your skin is, but you know it’s only going to get worse from here. Another thing you’re not expecting is for a handsome young man to walk into the room.

He’s tall with a smooth face and blue and purple hair. There’s black makeup smudged around his eyes and his eyes are a bright blue that cannot be his natural iris color. Other than that, he looks normal. He’s wearing a flowy sheer shirt and tight pants and he looks at you up and down before speaking.

“You want to robe?”

You nod and the man hands you a soft robe to cover your naked body. You wrap yourself in it before sitting down in a chair opposite of the man.

“I’m Minghao, I’ll be your stylist while you’re here in the Capitol,” he tells you. “My friend Junhui will be styling your district partner. Our goal is to make you two look desirable. You want sponsors and we’re going to get you them.”

“You two are new this year,” you say, instead of addressing anything he said.

Minghao nods, though he looks a bit surprised that you know that. Despite having a large disdain for the games, you do keep up with what happens in them. “The old stylists were…outdated. We want to elevate your looks and focus on lumber, but not just as raw trees. Would you like to see what you’re wearing for the parade?”

The garment is beautiful. The construction is made out of a mix of paper origami and fabric. There are sharp edges all over it that gives it a regal, yet dangerous look. You wouldn’t want to mess with anyone wearing this outfit so you’re glad you’ll be the one in it.

“Now, I know my work is good, but it’s not the only thing that can be pulling the weight around here. Be presentable, darling. Smile and wave and get the people to like you. That’s the real key to winning.”

You decide that you like Minghao. Not just due to his designing abilities but also because he genuinely seems like a good guy. As good of a person you can be from being from the Capitol.

Minghao helps you get dressed and once you’re in the outfit he styles your hair and adds on all of your accessories. When you’re fully put together you look in the mirror and you have to stand and stare at yourself. The image is beautiful and all together everything looks like a dream, but that’s not you in the mirror.

You don’t have too much time to stand and dissect your whole new look though, because Minghao is ushering you out of the room to go to your chariot. You meet up with Jihoon and his stylist, Junhui, in the stables. Jihoon is in a similar outfit to yours with its own variation and accessories.

When you look at his stylist, he also looks oddly normal for a Capitol citizen. His hair is bleached to a platinum blond and his eyes are smudged with makeup like Minghao’s, but instead of black his is red. He’s wearing a white ensemble with a ruffled shirt and lots of jewelry. Other than that, if you put him in a different outfit he would look like a normal guy from the districts.

Something about Minghao and Junhui intrigues you, but you can’t dwell on it because you’re being forced to board the chariot. Jihoon climbs on beside you and two stand there in silence as the parade starts. Minghao and Junhui wish you two luck right before your chariot pulls out of the stables.

Right away your balance is thrown off and you nearly topple off the side of the chariot. You probably would have if it wasn’t for Jihoon grabbing your arm. You’re about to thank him for making sure you didn’t die before you even got into the arena, but you see that it seems he’s grabbed onto you to steady himself.

You two stand on the chariot, clinging to each other, as it moves through the streets of the Capitol. Once you finally seem to have gotten your footing on the chariot you lift your free hand and start to wave to the audience. It nearly pains you to do so, falling right into the trap of being their little plaything, but you know Minghao was right when he told you to please the Capitol citizens.

You smile and wave at them and they cheer and throw roses and you can even hear a few scream out your name. It’s sick.

Your stomach feels nauseous for multiple reasons when the chariot finally comes to a stop. You can’t even bother to listen to what the president is saying, too focused on not throwing up or toppling over. Jennie, the mentors, and Minghao and Junhui are waiting for you guys when the chariot pulls up. Minghao helps you down and you nearly fall on your face getting off, but you’re able to steady yourself last minute.

Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for Jihoon who does in fact fall and takes Soonyoung down with him. You look around to see if anyone saw what just happened and it seems like everyone else it too preoccupied with their own matters to care.

“You two looked marvelous out there! I’m sure that everyone will be tripping over their feet to sponsor you,” Jennie gushes. “Now let me show you guys where we’ll be staying.”

The training center is insane, and way too over the top. Each district gets their own whole floor and you want to scream knowing that back home your parents sleep in the living room so you and your sister can share the one bedroom in your house.

If you were disgusted by the bedroom on the train, you’re absolutely horrified by the bedroom in the training center. The bed could fit your whole family on it comfortably and the closet is so big it could serve as a whole new room. The room is upgraded with different technological gadgets that you don’t even bother messing with, knowing you’ll have no clue what they do or how to work them.

“Y/N, dinner time!” Jennie’s voice floats through your door accompanied by a knock. You sigh and head out to the dining area. Momo is the only one at the table which means Jennie is still out rounding everyone else up.

Slowly the table fills up until everyone is gathered around. You notice the people standing around, most likely servants. It makes your skin crawl knowing that other people’s punishments are to wait on the wealthy for the rest of their lives.

“Training starts first thing tomorrow morning. Do not be late,” Jennie says, her tone strict.

“Remember to focus on survival skill stations. They’re often overlooked but that’s seventy-five percent of staying alive in the arena,” Jooheon says. “If you feel up to it, find another weapon to try and get moderately good at, but don’t show any skills you already are good at.”

It’s clear the more Jooheon talks that it’s more aimed at you, rather than Jihoon, who never said if he has any skills. You almost feel bad for him, but you know that Soonyoung won’t let him go in blind.

“Rest up tonight, training days take a lot of stamina both physically and mentally,” Momo tells you both.

You start to formulate a plan in your head. You have three days to train and on the third day you’ll have your Gamemaker assessment. You know for sure you’ll be messing around with an axe for the assessment and that’s not something you’ll ever be rusty on, so you know not to touch it until it’s time.

You can make a fire, tie knots, and purify water pretty well but you’re not as strong with your plant identification. You’d like to get better at handling a regular knife and you’d like to brush up on your hand-to-hand combat.

Earlier Jooheon mentioned that there are tasks that everyone has to do as a general skills assessment, so you’ll have to add those into your plan as well.

“Y/N.” You’re pulled out of your thoughts at the sound of your voice. You look around to see it’s Jihoon addressing you. It’s actually only you and Jihoon in the room, everyone having already cleared out from dinner.

Neither of you have spoken to each other at all this whole trip, the most interaction you’ve had has been steadying each other on the chariot.

“Jihoon?”

You have mixed thoughts about Lee Jihoon. He’s a little famous in your District, but not exactly for the right things. He’s a small boy with an innocent face and round cheeks. You can’t deny that he’s wildly talented though.

“I’m sorry about your mother.” It’s not at all what you’re expecting him to say, and it knocks you off your game a bit.

Last year, shortly after the reaping, your mother had fallen sick. The doctor wasn’t able to diagnose it and any medicine given to her wasn’t enough. The only possible way to cure her would have been to send her to the Capitol but your family was too poor for that, and they wouldn’t have accepted her anyway. She died a few months later. Your family is still healing from the situation and now the reaping has gone and messed up your lives even more.

You don’t know what to say to Jihoon. You settle on, “Yeah, me too.”

Jihoon wasn’t at the funeral, but you remember that one of his songs was sang during it.

A lot of the district citizens don’t like Jihoon because he doesn’t work like most of the other district kids do, he writes music instead. His music is widely known throughout the district though, his most popular song being a song of mourning sung during saddening events.

It’s one of the reasons why you have such mixed feelings on the boy.

You’re not sure if you should keep talking to Jihoon or if he has more to say to you. You guys should talk about the situation you guys are in. You’ve been trying to avoid the fact that in a week you’ll be in an arena fighting for your life, but you can’t do that for much longer. The fact of the matter is that Jihoon is now your enemy, but he also has no chance of winning against you.

Jihoon is smart and his mind is well matured, but he’s not the kind of intelligent you need to be to survive the games. You hate to think about it but it’s the harsh truth. You know Jihoon knows this as well. If District 7 is bringing home a winner this year, it’s going to be you.

Even if Soonyoung does everything in his power to save Jihoon, it’s clear the other mentors do not share Soonyoung’s favoritism towards his best friend. If anything it seems like Jooheon favors you and your hard earned skills you’d built up.

Not that you’re confident enough to think you are going to win. You saw the group of careers. It would be foolish to think you can even hold a flame to them.

“Are you-,” Jihoon cuts his own sentence off. “Never mind, I’m sorry.”

You want to ask him to continue and ask you what he was going to, but you don’t say that, and you let him walk off, leaving you alone in the dining room with nothing but your thoughts. Thoughts, and curiosity for the boy who is going to die in a week.

taglist: @hotricewoozi @embrace-themagic @066hc @biromogeulworld @belladaises @candidupped @justwonus-recs @im-gemmy

join the eat your young taglist: here!

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #lee jihoon #woozi #svt woozi #woozi fanfic #woozi imagines #woozi scenarios #woozi x reader #woozi x gn reader #gn reader #kpop #kpop fanfic #rru.writes #rru.fics #rru.eyy #★ sfw

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egg-emperor · 2 years

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Alright you know what, I'm talking about the new addition to Eggman's Sonic fandom wiki page that's really been bothering me lol because the misinformation is killing me man it's paining me and I can't stfu

So recently someone asked Mike Pollock for Eggman's age on Twitter early October and this is all he said, clearly just for the sake of answering:

And for some reason, now the Sonic fandom wiki was actually updated to say "age: 40s" on Eggman's page with this as the source? What?

I don't think I should have to explain what's wrong with them updating the wiki because of this but I will.

First of all, this isn't the first time Mike has been asked and answered this, as I brought up in the past. But here, some screenshots this time:

But it's not confirmed or clear if that means they intend for it to be the actual character's age because that's not always how the casting specs work, as he followed it with back when he answered it that time with the above and below here:

So there's a big chance that even the actual people for English casting weren't stating the actual character's literal age. And I don't think it's even known if this was also ever something listed in the Japanese voice specs either and you know, Sega of Japan created him and are in charge of his character information of this kind.

And if it were only America casting that did this, then it would especially mean it's not actually what they actually envision for Eggman as character as they're not in charge of this stuff. And even if it was in Japanese too, there's still the possibility that they don't mean the actual character age.

But wait, there are more reasons why this as a wiki addition is bothering me and here they are:

The Sonic CD JAPANESE concept art implied that they considered putting Eggman in his 60s but they didn't update the fan wiki to say that, now did they?

And it makes sense because it clearly wasn't actually confirmed to be their final decision for his age in the end, as all his bios after have had his age down as "unknown".

Mike Pollock even randomly said Eggman was "supposed to be about 60" without elaboration in a tweet one time too and nobody updated the wiki saying that then either.

Also makes sense for them not to, because his age in all his officially published bios for the games is down as "unknown".

And then focusing more on Sega of Japan, the actual creators of the characters and the one that makes all the major defining character traits, ages, and other major details obviously, they have Eggman use the Japanese washi pronoun, refer to him as middle-aged and old, and have associated him with Respect for the Aged Day, a day to celebrate senior citizens in Japan.

Sonic Channel using Eggman in the art for celebration for Respect for the Aged Day:

Them doing the same again the next year:

This made me curious about what age you have to be to be considered a senior citizen in Japan and apparently it's 60+. So wouldn't associating a dude any younger than at least 50s with that day be waaay too young? I'd fucking say so lmfao! They could've associated any of their gray haired old guy Sonic characters with the day but they specifically went with Eggman more than once and that's saying something.

And with all this aside whatever your take on it may be, it doesn't change the fact that the age for him in official bios by Sega of Japan has always been "UNKNOWN", so that's obviously the official published canon truth. Plus didn't they literally just remove all the ages from Sonic Channel anyway? So there's a chance they'll either change some things or keep them all unknown.

Having his age down as 40s on the wiki makes no sense. The only time it's said something like that in something official and actually published and finalized at all was Archie, which isn't canon to the games and wasn't connected to Sega of Japan at all, so it has no indication towards the real canon intended age by them and no power in making that decision for them. Neither do any American English specs in casting that might not have even intended it for the actual age of the character anyway.

With all the hints and signs implied by Sega of Japan themselves, it seems way more likely that Eggman would be in his 50s-60s. But even that still shouldn't be in the wiki page either, you know why? Because all his actual finalized and officially published bios have had his age as "UNKNOWN!!!" We aren't supposed to know his exact age and they aren't telling us officially and until they genuinely confirm his age in some kind of bio like that, no other guess or word from anyone else is 100% canon confirmed fact.

So that's why they shouldn't state that he's in his 40s on the wiki like it's a canon, confirmed, finalized, officially published fact by Sega of Japan because it isn't and it's not connected to them in this particular case. It's no more final published canon than actual SoJ considering to put him at 60+ in CD, especially not when it isn't even them. Why does it feel like suddenly nobody seem to care about what the actual official finalized canon media from Sega of Japan says and take literally anything else but the original source as immediate fact instead? Come on

Eggman's age is unknown and the only other thing that's canon besides that that's blatant, and not just a hint like the other stuff, is how he's also referred to as old and middle-aged. Unless that changes with a new bio or description somewhere approved and published as official and final by Sega of Japan, that's how it will stay no matter what anyone else says, whether they're involved officially or not. If the Sonic fandom wiki really cares about the published facts, it shouldn't say anything more than "unknown" with possibly a "(middle-aged)" next to it as an extra and that's it.

#you know how passionate I am about this #no way I was gonna keep quiet lol #dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #age #my post

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rwby-encrusted-blog · 1 year

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Would Long Memory, Harbinger and Disciplinarian get along? Also how do Midnight, Thief’s Respite feel about their wielders?

They Get along quite well.

Long Memory acts as mysterious as Ozpin, but she wears her emotions on the hem of her cloak. She's a great tease and is prone to trying to handle everything herself, while also trying to convince others to take a rest, so she's a hypocrite to some degree.

Disciplinarian is Sharp, and direct, and usually just as serious as Glynda, but in the moments where she allows herself whimsy, she always tries to pull Glynda into her shenanigans, and often succeeds, bringing some slight (very slight) chaos in wonder into her Wielders life.

Now Harbinger is. Well.

I took the "Haughty Tsundere" trope usually attached to Crocea in these types of AU's and gave it to Harbinger But there's a very good reason for that.

When I give the weapons personality, I try to;

make a voice of Reason

Make someone contrarian to the Wielders personality

Exaggerate the Wielders personality

So making Harbinger like "That" It creates a nice contrast between "Alcoholic Depressed Middle aged man" and what's effectively a daughter for him. Harbinger is genuinely angry with him, and tries to help him, but ultimately Qrow is the only person who can change his life. (Please Note Harbinger is a DAUGHTER to Qrow)

Generally the Trio of LM, Disc, and Harbinger take turns teasing each other - LM for being old or weird, Disc for being Uptight and Dry, and Harbinger for being, well, Harbinger. They would be friends (As Long Memory only Awakens later in the story) and really do care for each other, as much as they care for their Wielders.

Now Midnight and Thieves Respite.

Midnight, as stated in an earlier post, is a genuine Child, 7-9 years old in terms of mental Acuity and disposition. Before the Fall, Midnight loves Cinder! That's her Mom! She's Warm and Takes her out for ice cream! And her Friend "Mistew Towchick" Pays for it! He's Very Generous!

and then the Fall happens.

And Midnight is Horrified. Cinder tried to make her hurt someone as sweet and Kind as Pyrrha! Why would she do that! and she won't explain herself! Cinder's a Mean Bully! Who hurts People who are nice! Why? Why would she do that? Why would her mom make Her do that!?!

As for Thieve's Respite, since it's a pair, each one has a different idea on what to do

Thief is very much "We should leave, and go back to being street urchins! We are in WAY too far over our heads, and need to save ourselves from this!"

While Respite is like "We're in too deep! We gotta See this too the end! If we leave they'll track us down and kill us! Sunk cost! SUNK COST!"

Both of them Hate Cinder. For obvious reasons, mostly getting Emerald into this situation, and then also for how she treats their Wielder.

The second Emerald is offered Redemption they both decide that Emerald doesn't get a choice in this, they are all leaving, Because they're no longer Stuck on the side that Will get them all killed, and also no longer under Cinder. Ultimately they just want Emerald to live as free as she can, and ultimately that means she has to help out the Good Guys, whether she wants to or not.

#rwby #AEBMO au #asks and answers #anonymous #long memory #disciplinarian #Harbinger #Midnight #Thieve's Respite #rwby au

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sevenciircles · 1 year

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oc page. | piper west |

General Information

First name: Piper Middle name(s): Lillian Surname: West Age: 26 Date of birth: September 3rd Gender: Demi Woman (She/They Pronouns) Sexuality: Pansexual Current residence: Pentagram City, shitty apartment. Relationship status: Single Social status: Commoner Sinner

Traits of Voice

Accent (if any): Southern Language spoken: English Other languages known: Spanish Style of speaking: Piper speaks in 80s and 90s vocab, not because she's really from the 80s or 90s, but because she just likes the slang ebdlqbf. She speaks a mile a minute, she's a quick talker, but she can distinguish her words pretty well. Volume of voice: Piper doesn't speak too loud, but she doesn't mumble.

Physical Appearence

Height: 5'2 Weight: - Eye colour: Pink Skin colour: Pink, with hints of blue sprinkled in. Shape of face: Oval Distinguishing features: Blue splotches, Pointed Ears, Sharp Nose. Hair colour: Dark pink, with blue splotches. Hair style: Piper typically keeps her hair down and straight, although when working it is typically in a bun. She'll curl her hair for special circumstances. Piper has a lot of hair accessories she likes to wear, primarily in flowers or clips. Complexion: Clear Posture: A bit slouched. Tattoos: N/A Piercings: Ear lobes Typical clothing: She's very fashionable, wearing the latest styles and trends. Preferably crop tops and high waisted jeans. Piper will dress formally when it is time to work. Is seen by others as: Piper is typically seen as just another face in the crowd, she blends in perfectly.

Personality

Likes: Cooking, Fashion, Paleontology, Taxidermy, Makeup, The Ocean, Dancing, Stuffed Animals, Heights, and Cats. Dislikes: The Color Yellow, Insects, Fast Food, Escapology Magic, Being Touched, Cold Weather, Car Rides, Elevators, and Dolphins. Education: Culinary School & Cosmetology School. Fears: Enclosed Spaces, Ice Cream Trucks, and Basements. Personal goals: To Survive Hell, Make a Living, and Make a Solid Group of Friends. General attitude:

Piper is someone who is very cheerful. She’s optimistic and bright, often taking on the role of motivator and hype man when it comes to her coworkers and friends. She tends to think things are going to work out for the best as long as people try their best, something that she tells themselves as well. They're not pessimistic, preferring to look on the bright side of any situation. Piper is not overly optimistic, she knows when shit is bad, but she still exercises cautious cheer to get her coworkers out of slumps. They also get over things relatively quickly, not holding grudges. Piper is also very outgoing. She will approach people they don't know and talk to them like their old friends. She’s not really shy, wanting everyone to feel included and valued. She takes life by the horns and goes for it, not really thinking of the consequences of her actions or the trouble she could get in. They welcome challenges because it means that they can overcome them. Piper a peacemaker at their core, wanting there to be calm waters. They're more than willing to talk to more racous coworkers and get them to calm down, while also not taking their shit. She's not passive, but she does want peace among the environment. Piper's peacemaking is the result of them wanting there to be as little strife as possible. They're also determined, not giving up on things easily. She can get kind of a one track mind when it comes to things, and she’s got a laser like focus when it comes to things she wants to do. She doesn’t give up when she sees a goal, making her ambitious as well. She thinks of ways to achieve her goals, and goes for it. They rarely weigh the pros and cons, preferring to take the chance when it comes. Piper tends to be daring and bold, not hesitating to do what they thinks is the right thing. They have a lot of nerve, something that drives them to be the best that she can be.

Piper has a bad habit of being self sacrificing. She’ll do anything at the drop of a hat if it means it’s for the greater good, or for her goal. She doesn’t care if she gets injured, as long as her friends are fine she’s prepared to sacrifice her life for his friends. She’s supportive, and will support with not only her time but her resources too, even if it is a detriment to herself. They're also terribly self conscious, although not exactly self loathing like they used to be although they still has moments of it. She fills her persona with confidence because that’s the kind of person she strives to be. They eventually fulfill this persona, becoming genuinely confident, but they do worry about whether or not they are a good person or not. She doesn’t want to be just a one trick pony, and is all for versatility. They don't want to waste any opportunity that comes their way. Piper also isn’t the smartest person around, not having much common sense or book smarts either. She’s not a total dummy, though. Despite all this, Piper is noble and selfless, wanting to do the best she can for the people around her.

Religious values: Atheist in Life. General intelligence: Piper is really not the sharpest tool in the shed. Her common sense is slightly better than her book smarts, but not all there. Her main strength is her EMOTIONAL intelligence. General sociability: They are incredibly social! They love to talk.

Health

Illnesses (if any): N/A Allergies (if any): Shellfish Sleeping habits: Insomniac Energy level: High, but also chill. Eating habits: Scattered. Memory: Good. Any unhealthy habits: A bit of a drinking problem, some self destructive tendencies.

History

Birth country: United States Hometown: Small Ass Town, Texas. Childhood: Piper was born in a small ass town in Texas to a large family. Her childhood years were spent fighting for attention with her various siblings, being the baby of the family among numerous siblings and cousins was difficult. They were a poor family, but relatively loving. Her town was small, so a lot of their fun came from just making up games in the yard or playing with the toys they've made themselves. Piper was relatively popular in the neighborhood, having no shortage of friends. She had normal interests and normal hobbies. It was in her pre teen years that she began developing her weirder hobbies, such as her love of reptiles and her fascination with taxidermy. She liked the art of preserving things and bringing people peace. But beyond that habit, everything was pretty much normal. In elementary school, she also developed an interest in the Ocean that has persisted throughout her life. She had decided she wanted to be a Marine Biologist, you know, as a lot of kids do.

Teen years: When she turned 13, a year into middle school or so, then kids turned mean. Not as popular as she once was due to her weird habits and hobbies, she still was popular on the 'other side' of the school. They had friends everywhere. Piper wasn't bullied or teased, but she never hit that same level of popularity. At least, they didn't get bullied from the students. The teachers however, were a different story. Piper was mercilessly ridiculed by their teachers for not being as smart as the other kids, and not picking things up quicker. In particular their math and science teachers were the cruelest. It turned them off to Marine Biology and being a taxidermist herself entirely. Not believing she was smart enough for it. Not to mention, once she hit high school, her English teacher would continue to make passes at her, telling Piper that she was only good for her looks. Piper slowly started to believe it. One day, however, there was a fair for seniors for jobs and colleges. They knew that they likely weren't cut out for anything, but she was drew to something. A culinary school was there, and Piper had never considered that an option. She found herself helping in the kitchen at home, but she never thought it to be a career path. It opened up a world of possibilities.

Adult years: Staying in her hometown for two years, she hustled her way to the city. Getting jobs and doing whatever she could do to make money. All the while, she practiced her cooking skills. But Piper also continued to develop one of their oldest interests. Makeup. Regular makeup looks weren't challenging enough, so Piper switched to starting to learn special effects makeup, something different. She worked for the high school theatre department too, getting commissioned to do the makeup for their performances. Eventually, they saved up enough to move to the city and begin culinary school. For two years, she busted her ass. At 22, she graduated from culinary school with a whole host of skills. They landed a job in an upper-middle tier restaurant on the recommendation of one of her teachers, but the culinary industry is tough as shit y'all. So, while working, she got the idea to go to cosmetology school. At 24, she graduated from cosmetology school. There wasn't a lot of work, so she stuck with her restaurant job until she could get enough money to move somewhere else. However, that never happened. At the age of 25, a massive kitchen fire overtook the restaurant. In a true Al Capone scheme, the owner wanted to burn the place down and collect the insurance money. But, Piper was trapped in the walk-in when it happened. She burned to death. And wound up in Hell.

Past places of residence: Earth Present: Falling into Hell wasn't pleasant, but it also wasn't like what she expected. After a few months of struggle, she managed to land a job at one of the largest corporations, Vogitech. Not as anything important, mind you, just as a makeup artist for the talent and helping whoever needs helping. She's managed to avoid a soul contract, so far, so that's good. They ended up with a shitty apartment, but it is a space to rest her head. It's not much, but it's her life.

Combat

Peaceful or violent: Peaceful Weapon (if applicable): Two Knives Style of fighting: Cut and Running.

Others

Occupation: Makeup Artist & Low Level Crew at one of Vox's studios. Current home: A very shitty apartment in Pentagram City. Favourite types of food: Piper adores sweets in general. Favourite types of drink: They like milkshakes and smoothies, but also really strong alcohol surprisingly. Hobbies/past times: Dance, Taxidermy, Cooking, & Watching Reality Shows. She also records a podcast that she never releases, just has stored on her computer in a random folder to never see the light of day. Guilty pleasures: Strong Alcohol, Celebrity Gossip, Drama She Is Not Involved In, and Tombstone Tracing. Pet peeves: People Taking Her Pens, Unblended Foundation, People Who Randomly Start Fights, Drama She Is Involved In. Gym Bros also have a high place on her shit list. Pets: A snake named William Snakespeare Talents: Dance, Makeup (Especially FX), Cooking, and Sewing. Favourite colours: Blue, Pink, and Green. Certain shades of red are appealing as well. Favourite type of music: Jazz, Disco, and Pop. Some rap songs are okay too, but can't stand country.

#if i make it through tonight everybody's gonna hear me out! ~ piper

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sansaorgana · 1 year

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hy do you think Aegon is the way he is? Do you think Alicent was a bad mother to him, only being dissatisfied with him and slapping him often? Because many say she is a terrible mother, I truly don't think it is all her fault, Viserys also is to blame, but why she isn't to Aegon like she is to Aemond and Helaena and in future most probably Daeron? Do you think she is a bad parent? Because she is not much better than Viserys, favouring Aemond, in future Daeron and sometimes Helaena and casting Aegon aside. Aegon is a piece of work, but her constant yelling or disappointment isn't helping. Even Otto didn't treat Alicent like that, in fact he was concerned when he saw her nails and asked why are you hurting yourself. He was strict, yes, but he never raised his voice on Alicent or slapped her.

Oh man, that's quite an emotional topic for me because I get very defensive when someone calls Alicent a bad mother. She reminds me too much of my own mum, of course with some differences but overall she does a lot.

Before we start analyzing Alicent's motherhood itself we have to remember two things, though: 1) it takes place in a world based on the middle ages and 2) she was a teenage mom forced to marry an old king (she was in no position to say no to him nor her father). She was mentally unprepared to become a mother, even the fact that teenage motherhood was more common (or rather: more acceptable) in middle ages doesn't change the fact a child shouldn't be responsible for another child. Now we can also add her own traumas to that picture and of course Alicent will act in a certain way, however I think she's a good mum at the end of the day.

I would never say she's abusing Aegon, especially in medieval standards. She's not locking him up in a dungeon to torture him. Whenever she slapped him, it didn't happen out of the blue, it was her way of disciplining him. She reprimands him when it's needed but only once we actually saw her telling him she's disappointed him in overall and that was after him mistreating the maid in a horrible way. Alicent was justified to feel this emotion at that time. They are both vicitms of Viserys being a bad father and a husband and they both kinda take it out on each other but they would also die for each other and it's visible how Aegon leans on her – he moves close to her when she's being accused at Driftmark and then he asks for his mother before his coronation. She literally stands between him and the dragon.

Maybe it's because of the fact it's my own experience and I can see my own relationship in theirs, but just because their relationship is a bit messed up, doesn't mean they don't care about each other. Alicent is patient with Helaena, she asks her questions about the bugs to create some sort of bond, she's protective over all her children equally. She is sweet to Aemond since day one, too. Aegon is just quite difficult to handle and I believe it's kind of beyond her but she's trying her best and it's visible she loves him. I wouldn't call her guilty for the way Aegon is by the way, as I said before they're both the victims of the situation.

Now, about Otto. I also don't think he's a terrible father. The only thing I strongly disagree with was pushing teenage Alicent into Viserys' bed but that was like... The reason why this whole book and TV show exists so otherwise we wouldn't even be discussing those matters. He had to do it in order for the story to exist and apart from that yes, he is strict but he is always taking care of Alicent and protecting her.

#lovely anons #sansaorgana: Answered #House of The Dragon TV Show #Game of Thrones Universe

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ashtrayfloors · 2 months

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Confessions: My Father, Hummingbirds, and Frantz Fanon

Every effort is made to bring the colonised person to admit the inferiority of his culture... —Frantz Fanon

And there are days when storms hover Over my house, their brooding just this side of rage, An open hand about to slap a face. You won't believe me

When I tell you it is not personal. It isn't. It only feels That way because the face is yours. So what if it is the only Face you've got? Listen, a storm will grab the first thing In its path, a Persian cat, a sixth grade boy on his way home From school, an old woman watering her roses, a black Man running down a street (late to a dinner with his wife), A white guy buying cigarettes at the corner store. A storm Will grab a young woman trying to escape her boyfriend, A garbage can, a Mexican busboy with no papers, you. We are all collateral damage for someone's beautiful Ideology, all of us inanimate in the face of the onslaught. My father had the biggest hands I've ever seen. He never Wore a wedding ring. Somehow, it would have looked lost, Misplaced on his thick worker's hands that were, to me, As large as Africa. There have been a good many storms In Africa over the centuries. One was called colonialism (Though I confess to loving Tarzan as a boy).

In my thirties, I read a book by Frantz Fanon. I fell in love With the storms in his book even though they broke My heart and made me want to scream. What good Is screaming? Even a bad actress in a horror flick Can do that. In my twenties, I had fallen in love With the storms in the essays of James Baldwin. They were like perfect poems. His friends called Him Jimmy. People didn't think he was beautiful. Oh God, but he was. He could make a hand that was Slapping you into something that was loving, loving you. He could make rage sound elegant. Have you ever Read "Stranger in the Village?" How would you like To feel like a fucking storm every time someone looked At you?

One time I was At a party. Some guy asked me: What are you, anyway? I downed my beer. Mexican I said. Really he said, Do You play soccer? No I said but I drink Tequila. He smiled At me, That's cool. I smiled back So what are you? What do you think I am he said. An asshole I said. People Hate you when you're right. Especially if you're Mexican. And every time I leave town, I pray that people will stop Repeating You're from El Paso with that same tone Of voice they use when they see a rat running across Their living rooms, interrupting their second glass Of scotch. My father's dead (Though sometimes I wake And swear he has never been more alive—especially when I see him staring back at me as I shave in the morning). Even though I understand something about hating a man I have never really understood the logic of slavery. What do I know? I don't particularly like the idea of cheap Labor. I don't like guns. And I don't even believe White men are superior. Do you? I wanted to be St. Francis. I took this ambition very seriously. Instead I wound up becoming a middle-aged man who dreams Storms where all the animals wind up dead. It scares Me to think I have this dream inside me. Still, I love dogs—even mean ones. I could forgive A dog that bit me. But if a man bit me, that would be Another story. I have made my peace with cats. I am especially in love with hummingbirds (though They're as mean as roosters in a cock fight). Have You ever seen the storms in the eyes of men who Were betting on a cock fight?

Last night, there was hail, thunder, A tornado touching down in the desert—though I was Away and was not a first hand witness. I was in another Place, listening to the waves of the ocean crash against The shore. Sometimes I think the sea is angry. Who Can blame it? There are a million things to be angry About. Have you noticed that some people don't give A damn and just keep on shopping? Doesn't that make you Angry? A storm is like God. You don't have to see it To believe—sometimes you just have to place Your faith in it. When my father walked into a room It felt like that. Like the crashing waves. You know, Like a storm. This is the truth of the matter: I am The son of a storm. Look, every one has to be the son Of something. The thing to do when you are caught In the middle of a storm is to abandon your car, Keep quiet. Pray. Wait. Tell that to the men Who were sleeping on the Arizona when The Japanese dropped their bombs. War is the worst Kind of storm. The truth is I have never met a breathing Human being who did not have at least one scar On his body. Bombs and bullets do more than leave A permanent mark on the skin. I have never liked The expression they were out for blood.

There are days When there are so many storms hovering around My house that I cannot even see the blue in the sky. My father loved the sky. He was trying to memorize The clouds before he died. I confess to being Jealous of the sky.

On Sunday Mornings I picture Frantz Fanon as an old man. He is looking up At the pure African sky. He is trying to imagine how it appeared Before the white men came. I don't want to dream all the dead Animals we have made extinct. I want to dream a sky Full of hummingbirds. I would like to die in such a storm.

—Benjamin Alire Sáenz (x)

#poetry #benjamin alire sáenz #recently read #family #lineage #beauty #this fucking poem

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kthynes · 3 years

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Hello!! Could I request a chris imagine where he and Y/N have been bicjering all day and he raises his voice at her in front of friends or family and she kind of recoils and then he feels like shit. A hapoy ending please! Need some hapoy endings haha💛

- spoke too soon -

pairing: frank adler x fem!reader

warning: some language

a/n: hey nonnie I hope you don't mind but I went ahead and tweaked this request by replacing chris with frank because IMO I thought he'd work this scenario the best. But thank you for the impromptu request and the inspiration, I def needed that :)

requests are closed. I'm only tying loose ends with pre-existing requests, that’s about it.

This is not beta'd. Any mistakes are my own.

I do not own this gif, all credit goes to the rightful creator!

There's no levelling with Frank Adler. He is a virtuously stubborn man, nearly impossible to talk down and you could almost blame his mother for the acquired trait that he wouldn't legitimatize knowingly. It was inherent, incubus to his nature that even with your best wager he'd still don that mangy old Hawaiian button up as a retaliating fashion statement, convincing you it was a good enough.

"You're seriously not wearing that." You launch with despair, glaring at the crooning boat mechanic who'd never allow himself to walk into a Gap if it meant that it would potentially save his life. Maybe even facet yours.

The motions of Memorial day had been a galling spiral, Mary would know as she'd been pitifully caught in the middle of it all while running her own discourse.

"C'mon Fred let's get out of here, they're at it again." She grumbles under her breath while quietly scooping up one eyed tabby by its underbelly. Her tiny feet stomp away before you choose to chuck more Lego pieces at Frank who stood by the bedroom door with his veiny hands propped on his hips; a standoff was ready to ensue.

"And what's wrong with this shirt?" He malignantly quips, bowing down to examine the stonewashed chemise that was smattered with brown leafing over a deep mustard canvas. He never did have an iota of care except for when it came to Mary, that's when the world below her feet mattered and rightfully so. But with your sanguine request Frank doesn't budge one bit, testing your love and his, which in recent times came at a stagnant trifold.

"You can tell that it's been through the ringer." You shift across the kitchenette, snapping Tupperware lids and packing up the potato salad and bread pudding that you had whipped up for the occasion. You were doing your best. "Don't you have anything better? Nicer?"

"Nope, this is it - this is all I have." He confirms, scooting past you with less inclination and all the wrought out frown lines gracing his features. "Mary!"

"No you're changing." You snap in synchronous to the overhead cabinet door that swings shut for added effect.

"Look, it's just Roberta, I'm sure she won't mind." He sternly tells you, leaning with an indescribable look that certainly doesn't sway your affirmations.

"I mind, this is execrable Frank." You reiterate and soon the heavens call out to him.

"Oh will you stop that?" He winces, aging himself to be the cranky old man he'd ought to be. It's a terribly programmed look, soured like a overgrown child trying to throw a tantrum or at least the cusp of one.

"What does ex-crap-able mean?" Mary asks with burgeoning puerile. She stands at the screen door in her cute little overall like dress, Fred slinking out of her arms again as she looks to the both of you. She becomes the unmistakable mediator, almost always taking your side yet today she's a bit indifferent maybe because it's routinely for you and Frank to bite each others heads off.

"It's exe-crable Mary, it means that Y/N is being ridiculous. Now c'mon let's get going." Frank corrects her while briefly eyeing you up and down.

"So that's it? Okay, fine, if so, then I'm not coming." You huff with contradiction as the reusable bag full of food thumps on top of the countertop. "You guys go on ahead and have fun."

"Over a shirt?" Frank cautions and your silence is deafening which then has him ripping off his shirt with agitation. "How is it that we work?"

"Get in the truck Mary." You instruct the brilliantly minded young girl who gleamed with concern. She mumbles a heartfelt OK and discernibly ambles to Frank's Chevy.

"Don't air out your grievances when Mary's around. We work because we're intolerable of bullshit." Frank appears in a dress shirt, trying to be testy and tactful. "Unless the other is being posted up for bail, what the fuck Frank."

"You wanted me to change right?"

"This is not what I meant." Your posture sags as he does up each button with unsettling frustration. So maybe you should've left him be because now he was being petulant and crass with his sighted outlook. Having taken note, your hand stops him from doing up the rest of his shirt and he clocks you a 'what now' glare.

"You know what just wear the damn shirt you wanted to wear, I don't care anymore." You reconcile after seeing the anchor clock tick away behind him. "I'll be out, waiting with Mary."

His jaw tightens a little just as you gathered all the bags of food and miscellany. You disappeared outback with an unspoken ultimatum.

In the moments to himself, Frank sucks in a deep breath. He's been facetious about his mother who was in town with her own incriminating judgements and you didn't have the slightest clue, you weren't supposed to know. So his snappiness and edge was partly because of the custodial ligation he was severing, never you. His rock and solstice of love, so it was damning.

The drive to Roberta's place was a short one. Everyone stared out their respective windows the entire time and Frank who was still larking on his indolent irritability would occasionally glance at you from the drivers seat. You were a bit weary, tired to be exact as your body would move with the dip and bumps of the potholed country roads.

"Jesus." You mutter under your breath.

"Do I have to believe in him?" Mary hears you and asks, again beguiling another fact that has Frank reeling.

"Only if you want to." He gently mimes with father-like sternness.

"It's good to have faith Mary. Believe in whatever you want baby." You infer and she smiles. Frank's knuckles turns white against the steering wheel. His atheistic beliefs came from a rooted place, he couldn't addendum to your words. They meant nothing to him.

"Okay!" She chirps as the truck tires gravel against the driveway before coming to a full stop.

"What was that?" Frank slams the rusty car door shut just as Mary bounds across the front yard and into Roberta's arms. You're baffled, close enough to Frank to smell the stale beer from his changed, unlaundered shirt. You're both goading pointed looks, standing toe to toe when you purse your lips into a fine line.

"I didn't say anything wrong, alright." You defend, shoving a bag for Frank to hold before walking away to greet the awaiting Roberta.

The Georgian air is thick. The dense temperatures were acclimating as everyone tinkered around in the shade while Roberta and Dennis went around serving and plating food for the small group of people who stopped by for their little housewarming party.

You were trying to have a good time, helping out while you could and being congenial with guests. But as you danced in and out of conversations you were also watchful of Frank who got his grimy hands on another beer, his third loyal one.

"Hi sorry." You say while insurgently inserting yourself in between Frank and a rallying group that pass on light smiles and nods. You turn to him, a light hand on his shoulder and your voice barely above a murmur. "Hey you should cool it with the beers."

"I'm not even drunk." He wasn't but he could get there and that's what you were worried about. "You can't just come up like this."

"I know that but—" your pleading whisper gets drowned out when Frank looses his last straw, getting torrentially annoyed with you.

"Seriously Y/N." You flinch at the inordinate loudness that came all too soon and at a beckoning rate. "Fuck off!"

You're taken aback as heads turn and the sheer warmth of humiliation creeps up the back of your neck, the prudence of hurt glosses over your features in a quick instant. Upon seeing this, Frank softens, his lips move with no passing sound as he's about to take back his unprompted outburst. But you were far from gone and unwilling to hear him out. You retreat with a scoff as you find yourself backing away with indignation, at least whatever was left of it.

"Gladly." You hoarsely whisper and Frank mentally kicks himself while standing at a crossroads. He watches you stalk away, shrugging off Roberta who tries to get a ahold of you.

The yard of people stood around in silence before there's a summoning of pie being served which then shifted the group away from the lingering aftershocks of your little tiff.

Begrudgingly, Frank stands by himself, sulking in reverent thought while continuing to sip on his beer.

"She's not going anywhere child. So if I were you I'd smarten up and apologize for being an asshat." Roberta states as she comes up next to him. "What's gotten into you?"

"I wish I could say." Frank bows his head with defeat.

"She's not your mother Frank, she loves you, unconditionally and it's beyond me as to how or why but she does."

"I know that."

"So then what's there for me to know? Go, go and console her, bring her back — Frank, she's washing the dishes for Christ's sake! And in my own home!" Roberta exasperates with tittering laughter.

"Is she now?"

"Do the right thing, you hear me?"

"Yes ma'am." He chuckles a little sorely knowing you weren't one to bite without a bit of a fight. After downing the rest of the beer, he hisses the last swallowing drop and then makes his way over to you.

"And don't be in there for too long. I will be checking." Roberta cheekily warns him as they both walk off in different directions.

Frank skips up the patio steps and slides into Roberta's quaint one storey home. He spots you aggressively washing up dishes that could've easily been left in the dishwasher. This is how you cowered and this is how Frank felt like a total jackass.

He admires the way you're focused, cutely scrubbing away each china with determination while cursing him out under your breath.

Frank bites down on his lip and bubbles with adoration that is unyielding for you. He nervously rubs his palms against his greased up jeans while tip toeing up to you.

"Owns a stupid boat and thinks he can run his mouth, asshole." You syllabizes vehemently to yourself.

"If I stand corrected it's the boat that got me to you." Frank hums into your ear as his arms tightly wound around your mid-section. You jump in his embrace, soap suds flying in different directions. Frank lovingly snuggles into you as you put up a gaunt fight.

"Let go of me Frank."

"I'm sorry." He whispers, imprinting a kiss against the nape of your neck while barring your body against the ledge.

"Of course you are." You relent at his admission.

"I am. I'm so, so sorry." You throw the sponge back into the filled basin, letting more backwater to splash as you whipped around to angrily look at your boyfriend.

"Why are you like this?" You inquire as Frank holds you against him, defiantly remorseful. "What's going on?"

Frank exhales heavily. "My mothers back in town and it hasn't been the greatest reunion."

"That's fine, that's your mother but just know that I'm not out to get you Frank. I'm not trying to make your life miserable. I care about you and Mary so much and I... I want to be there for you, I want to matter as well but I didn't think-"

"Hey, hey. You matter alright? You matter so much to me, to Mary, and to everyone else in this town. I love you, Y/N." There's a volleying of dialogue as Frank uses his large palms to keep your face up, forcing you to look at him. "I need you and it's scares me because you're too good, you're perfect and because of my life, my mother, I always have this fear that I might some day loose you."

"You'll always have me Frank. I'm yours and I make that known to you almost every other day, you know that?"

"I know, I know and I'm so sorry." He whispers, kissing your forehead, your nose, your cupids bow before ghosting his lips over yours. "I love you so much Y/N."

Your eyes draw shut for a fleeting second. "I love you too Frank."

Frank airs a slight half smile as his lips slot over yours for a sweet, rendering kiss that lasts for half a minute, maybe even less than that.

"I think we should get back before all the pie is done and Roberta thinks the unholiest of thoughts." Frank pulls away from the kiss to state and you laugh knowing she was probably expecting the both of you to walk out hand in hand all merry berry canary.

"I guess these dishes can wait." You sigh.

"They most certainly can, now c'mon."

#frank adler #chris evans #frank adler x you #chris evans fluff

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peterrparrkerr · 3 years

Text

Hanahaki disease - read on ao3

Tagging: @lokitonypeter @just-things-things @thegreenmetblue @someonepostedart @andacheesyoneliner @bluestarker @lilcoffeecup @useless-fanfictions-for-mcu

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Peter's known for a long time that he was in love with Tony. Since he was seven, and Ironman saved his life. Since he came home to Tony Stark on his couch, talking with his aunt.

Since the trip to Germany, and everything else leading up to now. The more time he spent with the older man, the more in love with him he became.

Peter never really thought he'd be the one to get sick. He thought he'd been immune. He's had crushes before, been in unrequited love before, and he never got sick.

But with Tony, it came on so suddenly. One day he was fine, and then the next, blue petals were in his sink after a coughing fit.

He'd been so shocked he'd stumbled back and almost hit his head on the bathroom door.

That was six months ago, and its not gotten better. He's been lucky enough to hide it from everyone.

With May's long hours at the hospital and his school's wacky scheduling, and the Avengers keeping Peter on the outskirts, its easy to hide the blue flowers.

He's read stories about people with the disease getting better on their own, or even learning to live with it for the rest of their lives.

He's also read about it killing people.

But he can't tell Tony how he feels. He just can't. Tony thinks of Peter as a kid. Plus, while the age difference doesn't bother Peter at all, it might bother Tony.

The man was old enough to be his dad anyway. So Peter decided to hide the flower petals. For as long as he could.

"Hey, Pete, you getting the popcorn or what?" Clint calls from the living room. Peter coughs again, hunched over the trashcan beside the kitchen island.

"Yeah!" He shouts, coughing again. He reaches into his mouth, picking the petals off his tongue before straightening. He glances down at the trash, covered in wet, wilty petals and feels his stomach roll.

He quickly grabs a bunch of paper towel, throwing them into the trash to cover them, then pushing it all down as far as it'd go.

After a second, he grabs the two bowls of popcorn and makes his way back into the living room.

"Sorry, I had to melt the butter," he excused, handing one bowl off to Clint -who would be sharing with Nat, Bruce and Steve.

Peter handed the other bowl off to Sam, who was in reach of Tony, Thor, Bucky and Peter.

"What are we watching again?" Peter asked, clearing his throat. It was always worse when Peter was around Tony.

"Halloween," Sam said, smirking over at Peter.

"Its August," Peter exclaims.

"Yeah, and we were going to watch A Walk To Remember but Tony doesn't do chick flicks, and the grandparents haven't seen it yet."

"Hey, Tony hasnt seen it either," Steve yelped, waving a hand at Tony, sitting at the corner of the couch, beside Sam.

Peter tried not to think about how close they'd be if Sam and him just switched places.

"That's because Halloween is a terrible series."

"It not!" Peter can't help interjecting. "Its right up there with Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th."

"How do you even know what those movies are?" Clint asks, laughing on the other couch.

"I watch old movies," Peter shrugged, feeling the familiar sense of self-consciousness creep into his chest, tickling at his lungs.

"Old!" Tony barked. "Kid, the 80s aren't old."

Peter forces himself to laugh and shrug and make a joke about hanging out with people twice his age, and the conversation moves on.

But it just reminds Peter that Tony would never see him as an equal because of his age. There was no way he'd ever accept that Peter loved him. Or would love him back.

The movie plays, and Peter chews handfuls of popcorn to keep from coughing up a lung.

Bucky and Steve are on the edge of their seats, fully invested in the corny horror film when Tony starts coughing.

Everyone glances over in concern, but the man just waves his hand, mouth pressed into his elbow.

"Pop-corn-" he chokes out between coughs.

"You're supposed to chew it," Nat laughs. Peter tries not to outwardly show how worried he is when Tony's face grows red, the coughing so bad he has to get up and make his way to his bedroom down the hallway.

Everyone returns to watching the movie, but Peter can't help but wonder if Tony's okay, especially when he doesn't come back right away.

"Uh, I gotta take a leak," Peter lies, climbing to his feet.

"Thanks for sharing, little man," Sam huffed. Peter doesn't say anything else,just makes his way down the hallway.

Tony's bedroom is all the way at the end. The only people who live in the penthouse with him are Steve and Bucky, and Wanda and Vision -though they're out on a date for the night.

He passes the bathroom door, and his frown deepens when he hears Tony hacking in his bedroom.

He keeps light on his toes, reaching the bedroom door that's not all the way closed, and pushes it open just a little.

"Ton-" the sight before him cuts him off, and he ducks back a little, worried maybe the older man might've seen him.

He feels his chest tighten at the sight. Tony, leaned over with a bedside trash can between his knees, coughing up little pink flowers.

Peter's eyes widen when the man spits a glob of blood into the basket before continuing to cough.

Tears burn at Peter's eyes and he quickly backs up, rushing down the hallway and past the living room.

"Hey, where you going? Where's the fire?"

"I-I gotta go home aunt May- uh, I gotta go she wants me home," Peter shouts, snatching up his keys and phone on the way out.

He's in the elevator, and he can't stop the sobs from tightening his throat.

Tony's sick. Tony's in love with someone who doesn't love him back. Tony's in love with someone and its not Peter.

Be chokes on tears and petals all the way to the main floor, shoves the petals into his pocket and runs from the building.

He knew his love was unrequited. He knew there was no chance, but to see Tony so in love with someone else -it was like digging a knife into his heart and twisting.

He makes it to his bedroom and buries his face into his pillow, muffling his crying so May won't hear when she gets home. Hopefully she'll think hes still at the tower and won't check on him until the morning.

He cries himself to sleep, eyes gritty and heavy.

*-*

"Hey, kid, how's patrolling going?"

Peter jolts at the sudden sound of Tony's voice in his ear, momentarily forgetting he has a connection to the tower now. New upgrades.

"Uh, good," Peter huffed, swinging from building to building. "Stopped a mugging, and helped a couple people with the parking meters."

Tony chuckles over the coms. "You gotta stop showing people the coin on tape trick."

Peter can't help but smile through his mask. He clears his throat when he feels the familiar tickle at the back of his throat.

"Fuck capitalism, Mr. Stark," he says.

"You do know capitolism is kind of my job?"

"Its not," Peter countered. "I mean, it relied heavily on it in the beginning -what with the weapons and war profiteering- but you've come a long way! Sustainable energy and you're even recycling!"

Tony chuckles again, and Peter has a moment to regret his words -Tomy probably thinks he's just a dumb kid- before a coughing fit hits him out of nowhere.

It's so bad, Peter loses his momentum and drops onto a rough of a small cafe. Hes on his hands and knees, crawling from the edge of the roof as he coughs and hacks.

"Pete, you okay? What's wrong?" Comes Tony's worried voice.

Peter feels the petals coating his mouth with nowhere to go and frantically tugs on his mask. He's choking, suffocating.

He rips the mask off and heaves a mess of petals and blood onto the gravel roof.

Its never been this bad. Panic grips his chest when he coughs and wretches more than he can get a breath in. He's suffocating.

Tears burn his eyes as he struck less desperately to take a breath. Just one breath.

His head begins to spin, chest heaving and he drops from his knees to his hips, legs curled off to the side as he holds himself up with shaky arms.

There's so much blood and petals, Peter doesn't know where its all coming from.

He's too busy dying to notice the suit of armor that drops onto the roof, or that Tony's suddenly rushing towards him.

"Jesus, kid!" He breathed.

Peter lets out a sob, blood and petals continuing to fall from his mouth. His stomach hurts from the heaving, his chest from lack of oxygen.

Tony grabs him by the arms, pulling him forward until he's away from the pile of bile, blood and blue wilting flowers, nearly cradling him in his arms.

"Its alright, you're okay, you're gonna be okay," Tony repeated, rocking Peter while he continued to cough and sob.

He shakes his head, even as exhaustion and lack of air flow has his eyelids drooping, body settling further into Tony's hold.

When he wakes up again, he's in a hospital bed. Theres an iv in the back of his hand, and a tube running down his throat from his nose.

He swallows around it and has to fight back panic at the strange feeling.

There's a heart monitor on his index finger, and a few on his chest -which is bare.

Peter moves shaky hands to the blanket and pulls it up just enough to see. Someone had taken his suit off, leaving him in his red boxers.

He blushes at that. Who had taken his suit off? Damn, he hoped it wasn't Clint or Sam.

He drops the blanket just as the door opens. He looks up to see Tony step inside and he wants the bed to swallow him whole.

"Hey, kid," he greeted, shutting the door behind him and making his way towards Peter's bed. "You had us all pretty worried."

Peter drops his eyes to the itchy white hospital sheet, picking at a loose thread and not saying anything. What was there to say?

Tony sighs as he settles down into the chair beside the bed.

"Your aunt May is in the middle of a shift, but she'll be stopping by when she's got a break to check up on you."

"Okay," Peter barely manages to murmur.

"The doctors had to pump your lungs," Tony continued. "But its not a cure, Pete. They'll come back."

Tears burn at his eyes and he quickly brushes them away, sniffling as he does so.

"I know," he said. "Its alright, I'm okay."

"Peter," Tony sighs, grabbing Peter's hand. He looks up then, seeing the concern in the older man's eyes. "You're not okay, you're really sick."

"People live with it all the time," Peter brushed off.

"Who is it?"

"What?" Peter asked, heart monitor matching his fast pulse.

"Who is it? How long have you been like this?"

and it must be because Peter is tired -exhausted and drained and so sick of being sick- because fresh tears bloom and he pulls his hand from Tony's.

"Long time," is all he can say as he presses his palms into his eyes, rubbing at the tears.

"Who," Tony presses.

Fuck it, Peter thinks. He's already dying, he's already humiliated. Why not just confess?

"You," he says, pulling his hands from his face. "I've-I've been in love with you for- for years."

He can't handle the shocked look that filters through Tony's features, so he looks down at the iv in his hand, lower lip trembling.

"And I know you don't think of me that way," he continues. "I know, so its okay, I'm fine, I'll get over it or, or get the surgery or something-"

"Peter," Tony interrupts, moving from the chair to the side of the bed. He grabs both sides of Peter's jaw, forcing him to look up at Tony. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because," he says on a wet breath. "Because you've always thought of me as a kid. You- I'm still just a kid to you, and thats okay, Mr. Stark, I'm-"

Tony's eyebrows furrow as Peter has to stop talking. He's getting to the point where he's babbling, not understandable.

"I don't think of you as a kid," Tony says.

"Yes, you do," Peter huffed, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself down. "You do, and thats okay, I promise, I've live this long with it, I'm okay."

"Has it always been that bad?"

Peter shakes his head.

"What made it worse?"

Peter's showing his hand already, he might as well expose the card up his sleeve too.

"I saw you," he murmured. "During the movie. You're sick too. I didn't mean to, I was just- checking to make sure you were okay but-"

"Peter, sweetheart," Tony interrupted, and Peter looked up at him, realizing suddenly the man's eyes are watering a little.

"I'm sick because of you."

Peter feels like someone punched the air from his lungs, and he blinks up at Tony, eyebrows drawing close as he tries to process what Tony's said.

"What?" He asks feebly. A small smile pulls at the corner of Tony's mouth and he leans forward, kissing Peter softly on the mouth.

It's a simple kiss, but it sucks the air from Peter's lungs.

"We're really bad at communicating, kid," Tony chuckled wetly, their noses brushing. Peter can't help but sniffle a laugh as well, his hands moving to grip the front of Tony's shirt.

"M'not a kid," he mumbles, pressing his forehead against Tony's. The older's hands are still cradling his face, thumbs brushing against his wet cheeks.

"No, you're not," Tony agreed.

#marvel #tony stark #peter parker #ironman #spiderman #starker #ao3 #my writing #sfsummerbingo21

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bumbershots · 3 years

Text

A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER ONE: JUEVES

Author’s note: Hello! I’ve decided to give it a go, this is my first chaptered fic in this website. This story just occurred to me a while ago and I’ve tried my best to make some sense out of the concept which honestly is forever changing on my mind. I hope you don’t find many grammar mistakes, if you do please let me know. Enjoy! (:

Story masterlist ** Word count: 2.3K **

It's been years since Harry last had to use the tube, but it's not as hard as he thinks, buying the ticket was fairly simple and soon enough he was sitting on the train comfortably. The northern line wasn't too busy, no delays were announced through the speakers, his journey to Ladbroke Grove station was going to last around thirty six minutes. He suddenly can't remember how long the ride would be on a car. Maybe it's time to start using the London Underground a bit more, contributing to saving the planet, lessen his carbon footprint. With all the aeroplanes he takes a year, he should use it from now onto the rest of his life, he thinks with a bit of guilt.

He changes to the Hammersmith and city line with ease, passing by lots of people, no one truly pays attention to him. The school girls that would usually come up to him and ask for a picture are too busy gossiping among themselves, the grown up adults that are more fond of his solo work are too immersed into their own thoughts about annoying bosses. Harry likes to blend into the crowd that's gathered now at the station and awaits for the train. In the eyes of the others, he's just another guy patiently waiting for the train to hop on and get to his destination. Even though he was on his way to meet with the team that will take care of his house renovation, a property valued approximately on £4.175 million.

The train arrives and he follows the multitude that pile into the wagon, he isn't lucky to find a seat this time but doesn't mind as he finds a good spot to lean against, the doors close just as he skips the ABBA song he doesn't feel like listening at the moment and settles for Hanson instead. He bops his head along the tune before slipping back the mobile in his pocket, eyes traveling along the passengers' faces, trying to guess what they're up to.

A group of lads wearing the Tottenham jersey discuss the latest game, one of them praising Kane's goal and regretting him missing the next match. Harry knows a thing or two about football, he even plays it regularly with his friends not so far away from his home, but he doesn't keep up with Manchester United, perhaps he can do that from now on he thinks before letting his gaze fall upon the pack getting down on Baker Street and the few ones hopping on. Most of them are tourists chatting about the Sherlock Holmes museum, the singer smiles, remembering the first time he visited it with his family, many years ago. Sometimes he longs for those days to be back, so he can do the typical touristy things with the people he loves the most once in a while or have a date without a good amount of lenses focused on his every move.

Not that he regrets being a well known musician, actor, model. It comes with a lot of perks. But he's just moving on from a breakup that might have been his fault. He's a workaholic for sure, even though he's supposed to be taking it easy, his mind can't help but keep throwing song ideas for the next album. That is why Jeff suggested the home renovation, knowing that the project will keep him busy for about three months, maybe more if the contractors up sell their ideas.

Harry makes his way out of the station in one piece and without being spotted, he checks the address again on his phone, confirming the place where the meeting will be held is within walking distance and makes his way before choosing a Pink Floyd song for the six minute walk. He pulls his coat tighter around him, relishing in the forever changing weather of the city, this time he will stay and enjoy it in full, maybe even delight in the autumn too, have his mum over for a couple of weeks, maybe he'll even stay longer and take her to the ice rink.

Just as Harry plots on where to go when his favourite person pays him a visit, he reaches the private front garden off a beautiful car-free garden square. He remembers to text Jack, who doesn't take long to appear in the distance and unlock the gate for his friend.

"You're impossibly early mate," the man greets with an amused chuckle.

"Sorry, had to take the tube because of what you said about car-free development, probably miscalculated the time." Harry admits sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck as Jack leads the way through the garden. "Is this where they filmed Notting Hill?" He wonders with another look around.

"Couple of scenes that didn't make the cut, our neighbour Mrs. Black will tell you all about it, if you happen to run into her around Hugh Grant's birthday." Harry laughs as they reach a private entrance with a well-maintained front garden adorning the forepart of the property, he follows Jack inside the home where a strong coffee scent greets them both.

The musician quickly scans the large open plan kitchen/reception room with large glass sliding patio doors to a delightful independent garden where a round table is surrounded by four mismatching chairs. He doesn't remember Jack's old place, but it certainly didn't look as the dream home they're standing in right now.

"Thanks for agreeing to do the meeting here mate," Harry's words are sincere his companion can tell, he tries to shove it off as if it's nothing, handing him the mug with coffee while he pours another one for himself, "I know it can be a handful, the NDAs too." Now he's almost blushing.

"We should be thanking you H, work from home for the next couple of months, my dream come true." Jack manages to make him laugh and feel at ease again, just before the steps of a third party come from the stairs and grow closer towards them. "Just in time, Harry this is Fernando Gonzalez, my housemate and architect of the team." He introduces the tall man to his friend and watches them shake each other's hand, "Fernando this is our client, Harry Styles."

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Styles," his voice is soft and melodic, like an aerophone instrument.

"Please call me H, all my friends do," the musician knows this is business, but he wants to have fun too, like Jeff suggested. And the guy looks way too young to be calling him Mister Styles.

"I warned you Fer, he likes to keep it easy, breezy." Jack says motioning both of them to follow his lead and sit down in their dining table that is covered with house design magazines, floor plans of Harry's home and a couple of what the pop star assumes are sketch notebooks. "Alright, tell us about your vision for this project." In all honesty, Harry doesn't know how to answer that.

He fights the urge to say that he had purchased the property knowing that not much is needed to be done to the décor. The style and the flow of the house is already lovely. After a quick glance at the plan he thinks that maybe, more room is needed and, most importantly, a new kitchen-dining-living space that would be grand enough to entertain in, but cosy enough to be the central 'hub' of his home.

"The windows, for starters, have to be replaced." He begins with a tone so confident that the pair before him don't suspect he's improvising the whole thing. "New bathrooms, perhaps from Lusso Stone, demolish an existing rear extension from the top and design and build an entirely new expansive ultra-modern one, like the one at Lou's home." Jack nods understanding what he means, "I also want a kitchen diner extension, pink granite worktops, if possible." Harry finishes before grabbing one of the magazines and starts flipping pages just to look busy.

The whole project can take six months, they let him know, through the summer and autumn. He's elated at achieving double the time he hoped for in the beginning.

"We'll send the paperwork to your team and see you next week to sign it once they approve it," Jack concludes the meeting as they all finish their coffee. "Are you busy on the nineteenth?" His friend's voice is warmer now that he's not on business mode, it makes Harry smile.

"I don't think I am, why?"

"It's Freddie's birthday, you should come, catch up with the lads," Harry nods while thinking about it, a bit unsure because it has been a while since he's seen the rest of the pack, he's not sure they'll welcome him just like that. "They're always asking about you, could be like old times, lads doing laddy stuff," the green eyed musician chuckles at that, not sure if he wants to go back to those activities of their youth.

"Sure I'll go, text me the address a few days before," his friend nods in approval to his request, "I better get going, I have to pick up my sister for dinner, see you both next week." The youngest nods and shakes Harry's hand before Jack leads the way out the house and square. The sun is setting now and the sky is a mix of pink and purple hues just as the two men bid their goodbyes until they meet again in a week's time.

Harry scolds himself for buying a one way ticket earlier instead of sorting out an Oyster card, he'll do that next time, he thinks before stepping into the train and finding a seat in the middle section of it. Led Zeppelin is a good soundtrack for his journey back home, for some reason he is craving the powerful, noisy, speedy rebellion that came with the band's songs, he loved to get so lost in the music that whatever activity he did came in second, every single time. Which is why he almost didn't get off at the King's cross stop, he hurried out of the vehicle, laughing to himself for being so immersed into the music.

The way back to the northern line was now familiar, but not as busy, he decided not to walk too fast after confirming that he had enough time to go home and take a shower before going over to Gemma's. Waiting at the platform he decides to change his playlist, again. Just as he's about to settle for Wings, out of the corner of his eye he spies what the person next to him is listening to and he stops from hitting play on his own device.

The who.

It's been ages since he heard them, three years if he is being honest. The train arrives and the girl next to him puts her phone in her coat pocket as she prepares to board the wagon, Harry does the same, but instead of training his eyes on the descending passengers, he lets them focus on her. She's wearing a nice burgundy coat, a black newsboy cap, high-waisted jeans with a blue polka dot blouse tucked underneath them. She's much shorter than he is, probably about Helene's height, he thinks as they make their way inside.

Without meaning to, he follows her and leans on the wall, across from her. She doesn't seem to notice how his stare is burning holes into her face, he's itching to ask her where did she buy the red boots she's wearing. Harry knows the moment he speaks to her, it will all go to shit. Some of the school girls sitting nearby might recognise his voice, his dimple could pop out to play and give him away too. She might also think he's a creep and kick him in the shin, leaving a nasty bruise that would heal in about a week, unlike the invisible one in his ego.

"Are you telling me, you developed a ten feet tall crush on someone you saw on the tube?" Gemma asks later that night, her fork full of linguine was stopped mid-air, making her brother roll his eyes but nod bashfully. "I'm speechless." The fork resumes its trajectory and she chews her pasta slowly.

"It happens to everyone, only because you both know that there's almost no chance to see each other again." Harry shrugs and bites a piece of bread, still feeling weird about the situation.

"Did she make eyes at you?"

"What?" He's completely taken off guard by his sister's question, his northern accent coming out and making him drop the 't' at the end.

"Yes, did you flirt with each other making eyes," Gemma's eyelashes flutter as if she was a Disney princess meeting her love interest for the first time, Harry shakes his head in denial, "what was it then?"

"I don't know! It was weird, couldn't take my eyes off of her but... she didn't even notice, I sound like a dirty man," he does, his sister agrees but the pink spots on his cheekbones tell a different story.

"I once had a crush like that, with a cashier at Waitrose," she remembers before sipping her wine, "he was nice to look at, one day he wasn't there anymore, just like that." Gemma sighed and took her younger sibling's hand on hers before adding. "If our lives were a Nicholas Sparks novel, perhaps we would be getting ready to have a date with those lovely people but..." Harry laughed and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"How's the sunnies collaboration going?" He asked before taking the last of his gnocchi. Listening to his sister talk about things that she enjoyed was the highlight of his days, he managed to push his silly underground crush to the back of his mind.

But there was the truth of what Harry couldn't see, or say. He'd probably like to have a shot with a girl like that and if Gemma could only see her, she would agree. Agree that there might be a story around there.

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Next chapter

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oc #harry styles series #harry styles fan fic #harry styles ou #harry styles imagine #a certain romance

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d-xs · 4 years

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PROMPT:

KEEP THEM ALL IN AWE

Jason Todd & Damian Wayne & Jason Todd

The ruckus that welcomes Jason Todd into the cave is very different from the usual post patrol noise he is well used to. The atmosphere is tense and he knows, if he didn't have the protection of his helmet, he would be choking on the scent of their stress.

For starters, one of the batmobiles is revving, Tim's arm is bleeding so badly it looks like someone almost got away with the arm. Dick's usual smile is very strained, while Bruce and Damian are absent. Usually, when there's a ruckus of this magnitude combined with a bleeding Tim, Damian can be found in the middle of it.

Jason is debating on the merit of getting on his bike and leaving the others to deal with whatever mess they're currently in the middle of when Dick pulls out what is unmistakably Damian, from the driver's seat of the batmobile.

"Tim!" Dick growls with a slight hint of alpha command, as he bodily hauls Damian away from the car.

The brat doesn't make it easy on Dick.

"You were meant to be watching them!" Dick scolds.

"Yeah, I was!" Tim retorts angrily from where he is trying to clean his freshly acquired cut.

It looks more serious than Jason first thought.

"And I almost lost my arm for it. Why didn't you search him properly for all his weapons?"

"Be grateful I did not go for your jugular," Damian's haughty voice cuts in, before Dick can respond to Tim's retort. "The next time you attempt to lay a hand on him, I will relieve you of your head."

There is so much wrong with this picture, Jason feels like he's slipped into an alternate universe.

That must be it, because Damian in Dick's grasp is much smaller than the Damian Jason had seen earlier on patrol. Hell, he's much smaller than he was when he took up the Robin mantle. He looks just like the kit in Jason's memory of the League.

It has been years since he made an attempt to hurt Tim. Not to mention, he is fighting against Dick, the only person in the world who can get him to behave.

On second thought, Jason wishes he was in an alternate dimension. At least that way, he could return to his own universe without dealing with a de-aged Damian, who still has the values Ra's instilled in him.

Since settling into his life and his place in the pack, Jason has been recovering some memories he didn't even known he was missing. A lot of them he could do without. Especially his memories of the League, both before the pit and the early days after.

As bad as remembering how he really died and the events that led to it had been, Jason would take that over the memories of just how evil Ra's al Ghul truly is. The vile things the man had put Talia and Damian through always makes Jason sick.

However, as much as Jason would like to escape this situation, the Omega in him would never abandon a kit in danger. And there was no one in greater danger than someone challenging an alpha.

Damian is backed up against the passenger side of the batmobile now. Or rather, he's blocking Dick's path to it. His dagger is missing, but he's not deterred.

"Damian, no one will hurt him here," Dick says in a placating tone.

"Of course, you will not," Damian sneers. "You will not live long enough to regret it if you do, because I, unlike you lot, do not suffer those who hurt my family to live."

"Then let us help him."

Dick may be trying to maintain his friendly attitude, but Jason can see how strained it is.

"I have seen what help you offer," Damian says, absolutely unrelenting. "We have no need for it. If my father will not come out to face me, then we will be on our way."

Jason snorts at the brat's attitude.

The sound distracts them from their fight, gaining him both their attention.

"Who are you?" the brat demands, as he takes in Jason's form.

Jason can see the wariness in his eyes; he knows he won't stand a chance if Jason decides to team up with Dick against him. But the kid stands his ground and holds his chin up.

Brave boy.

Now Jason is curious about what he's protecting so fiercely.

"What are you doing here?" a deep voice asks from behind him, before he can answer Damian's question. "I told you not to return to the cave after patrol." Bruce continues, stomping into the cave from the manor.

"When have I ever done anything you told me?"

"Little Wing, B is right," Dick cuts in softly. "You don't want to be here right now.

The fact that Jason knows they're not dismissing his presence from the cave because they don't think he is a trusted member of the pack does not help. He may be an Omega, but he does not need to be protected. Certainly not from a child.

Not Damian.

Dick may be their resident Damian-whisperer, but he's clearly out of his element right now.

"Go fuck yourself," Jason snaps,

He takes off the helmet and domino mask underneath to give Damian a better view of his face.

"Ahki," Damian breathes, staring at Jason in disbelief.

The brat's reaction is exactly what Jason hoped for, but he did not anticipate how hearing that word from the kid would make him feel. He's stripping out of his jacket and armor to rip off his scent blockers before he's aware of what he's doing.

"Habibi," he acknowledges, crouching down so the kid can look him in the eye as he runs a hand through Damian's hair.

A soft cooing sound he wasn't aware he was capable of escapes his throat when the kit leans into his touch. He's not aware of his actions when he pulls the kid into a hug.

Damian is speaking to him in Arabic, and Jason knows he should listen, but his instincts are too jumbled for him to make sense of anything.

It has been too long since the Omega in Jason was let loose like this. Having this kit, the one he claimed so long ago in his arms again is pushing everything to the extreme.

He and Damian never talked about their shared past in the League. Jason knows it's partly due to his lack of memories, but also because he would never make Damian relieve those awful memories.

"Jason." The name is a command, a demand and a question all rolled in one, judging by the tone of Bruce's voice. It drags Jason out from the haze of instincts and hormones.

Jason bares his teeth, snarling at the alpha, even as he gathers his kit into his body to shield him from both alphas.

"Hey," Dick says, raising both hands in surrender.

"You're both safe, Little Wing. No one's going to hurt him," Dick continues.

Jason knows deep down that he's safe. They are his pack, his alphas. They will never hurt him or his kit, but the thought that they would take him away is unsettling. However, the haze of instincts has cleared off enough for him to think.

He turns an accessing gaze on Damian. He looks dirty and unkempt. Jason notes that his pants are a part of the traditional League attire, but he's missing the shirt and hood coat.

"You know Dick and your father," Jason tells Damian. "You can trust them."

Damian doesn't respond for a moment as he watches both alphas warily. "Even him?" He sneers at Tim who's currently stitching his arm.

"Yes, Habibi. He means well."

He gives the kit a little lick on the neck when he doesn't argue with Jason. He is proud to know that this Damian, at least, trusts him.

"Can you tell me what happened to you?" Jason asks, ignoring Bruce and Dick's looks of surprise and confusion.

Instead of speaking, like Jason expects, Damian pulls out of Jason's hold and nudges him away from the passenger door of the batmobile, reminding Jason that Damian has been protecting someone since Jason arrived.

It takes a while for him to coax them out, so Jason rises from his crouch to stand beside Dick and Bruce as they wait.

Knowing Damian, Jason had been expecting his precious cargo to be a dog, or cat or just about any one of the strays he has a penchant for adopting.

The last thing Jason expected to see, however, is a miniaturized version of himself.

The shock of it causes him to stumble forward, which turns out to be a very bad move as it sends the kid scrambling back inside the car.

"What the fuck?" Jason hisses, turning to Bruce and Dick for an explanation, while Damian -- God, that's not their Damian, is he? He wasn't de-aged by a spell or anything. Just one from an alternate universe -- focuses on comforting the kid.

"That's what we were trying to avoid," Dick sighs tiredly. "Red Robin ran into them on patrol. We still don't know how they got here, but Bruce thinks they've been in our time a couple of days, at least."

"And you weren't going to tell me that you have a younger me present?" Jason growls lowly. "Where's Damian?"

"Upstairs," Bruce grunts. "Where you should be. We don't know how you two interacting with your past selves will mess with the timelines."

"Yeah, you have Flash turning back the time whenever things don't go his way, or hopping back and forth to the future, but Damian and I interacting with our past selves is what will mess with the timeline," Jason scoffs. "Perfect logic, Bruce."

"It's not like that, Jay," Dick says, in his mediator voice. "We were looking out for you, too."

"How about you ask me next time?" Jason informs them.

During his confrontation with Bruce and Dick, Damian has disappeared inside the car with little Jason.

"I'm going to talk to him," he informs the alphas. "Both of you make yourselves scarce by the time they emerge."

He doesn't wait for a response before he turns away. It's not like they can object. He's the only one who can ensure this doesn't end in someone getting seriously hurt.

He knocks twice on the door to announce his presence, before opening it.

Little Jason is curled up against Damian. He looks even smaller next to Damian. Jason knows he was very small for his age when he was younger, but he has a hard time remembering ever being this tiny. He can't be older than four or five years old.

The kid doesn't look up at Jason, but the tremor running through him, the hand clutching Damian tightly, and the scent of his fear filling the car lets Jason know he's aware of him.

Jason knows the feeling. It was a constant companion whenever Willis was around and he's aware that he's reminding this kid of the man.

"Hey, Sky Lark," Jason coos softly, just like his mom used to. In hopes that both the familiar pet name and the tone will help him relax.

The boy's head snaps up to stare at Jason, mouth hanging open like he had something to say but has forgotten it.

"I know you're scared, and that's okay," Jason says in his most comforting tone. "But you don't have to be. No one here is going to hurt you."

The boy is watching him with wide eyes now, through the mistrust.

"I promise you."

"You can trust him, Jason," Damian adds confidently. "He is what you become in the future. You should be proud."

Jason isn't sure about that. Sure, he has come a long way from the helpless little kid he used to be, but he's not sure he can take pride in what he is now. But young Jason is even more fascinated with him as he watches Jason with big doe eyes.

"Is that true?" Little Jay asks, his voice a timid little voice. "Are you me in the future?"

"Yes, I am."

"But you're so big!" the kid exclaims with a cute lisp.

Jason grins. It's all he can do not to gather the pup in his arms and scent him. "You will be as big as me when you're grown, too," he promises. "I'm going to take care of you, okay?"

"Can Damian come too?" he asks, his hold on Damian tightening for a moment.

"Of course, I will," Damian assures him. "Not that I need caretaking." He backtracks.

Jason snorts. "Damian is coming with us. I'll take care of both of you."

The kid looks to Damian for support, copying Damian's action when he nods.

"'Kay."

When Jason stretches his arm to pick the pup up, Little Jay meets him halfway, snuggling closer as he breathes in Jason's scent.

They remain there for a while longer, with Jason scenting and grooming his mini me before stepping out of the car.

When he does, he doesn't pause to speak to anyone. He heads directly for his nest in the manor. Whatever there is to know can wait until the kids are cleaned, fed and well-rested.

One thing he knows is this: there's no way he's returning these kids back to their timelines. If Bruce has a problem with it, he can take it up with Jason.

#ojtserversunday #cara writes #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #Omega verse

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live-laugh-lesbian80083 · 3 years

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La Vie en Rose

1 - Don't Forget About Me

Summary: Everything about her is perfect. Her grades, her looks, her personality, everything. Desiree Hale is known as little miss perfect all throughout middle school. But when she makes the transition from being in eighth grade to being a freshman, everything changes. Not because of the change in her surroundings, but because of a girl. A girl with gorgeous brown locks and stunning eyes to match, with a voice that sounds like an angel and a smile that could melt anyone's heart. The moment Desiree laid her eyes on the girl, she knew there was something different about herself.

Word Count: 3,205

Warnings: None

Please do NOT copy, rewrite, or translate onto another site. Permission will not be given if asked for it.

Water splashes on the light gray concrete, soaking the people nearby. Meat sizzles on the grill, sending a delectable aroma through the air. Adults and children cover the lawn, chatter fills the surrounding space. The Sun's rays beat upon everything it can reach, making anything hot to the touch. This is what a Fourth of July party looks like. People having fun interacting with each other and forming relationships with people they had just met.

But not me. I've been sitting in the corner underneath an enormous oak tree with my journal full of short stories and other random notes. No one has bothered talking to me. It's not like anyone would want to talk with the girl who has her face buried in a journal. They're too busy enjoying the sun and partying. I'm not a big fan of the sun. Or parties. I'd much rather sit inside and read or write all day.

I turned the page in my notebook and began jotting down random thoughts that pop into my mind. As I looked up to relax my eyes, I noticed a girl my age approaching me in a bright blue two-piece swimsuit with a bright smile on her face. I smiled back and watched as she sat next to me on the grass.

"So, what brings you to this miserable party?" She asked, her smile not fading.

"My parents are friends with the hosts." I deadpanned. "You?"

"My parents are the hosts." She chuckled.

Silence. We stared into the distance and watched my little sister -who's only six years old- jump into the pool with a bright pink ring sitting around her waist as my dad caught her. I smiled when I heard her screams of joy.

"What's your name?" The girl said as she cleared her throat.

"Oh, it's Desiree." I stuttered, clearly being thrown off guard by the sudden question. "What's yours?"

"Zoe." She replied.

More silence. That's enough of our conversation. It's obvious neither of us gets out there or talk to others often. We've only said six things to each other. And every time we try to converse, it always starts with her asking a question.

"Wanna come to the pool with me? I think it's a lot cooler than sitting out in the sun." Zoe comments. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"Actually, that sounds nice. I'll be right back." I said, standing up as my arms naturally spread to the sky to release tension.

"If you're changing, I could show you where the bathrooms are." She commented.

"That's alright. Your mom told me where they were when we got here." I replied, grabbing my bag and hurrying into the house and towards the bathroom.

Once I was inside, I quickly stripped off my clothing and changed into my black two piece. I turned to look at the mirror and pulled my dark brown hair into a high ponytail to prevent it from getting wet. Smiling, I made my way out of the bathroom and found Zoe standing by the door, waiting for me.

The two of us ran to the pool and dove into the deep end with grins spread across our faces. Fully submerged in the water, I opened my eyes and looked to my right to see Zoe watching me. I smirked and began swimming to the surface. As I broke the fine line between the water and air, I felt my lungs gasp for air and my wet hair stick to the back of my neck. There was no point in that ponytail. I quickly stroked to the edge of the pool where I met with Zoe and got greeted with a splash of water to the face. I let out a dramatic gasp and pushed water towards her as well. Before we knew it, we made our way back out to the middle of the pool again in a huge water war. The two of us looked up to see my dad running towards us from the surface. I took in as much air as possible into my lungs and dove under the water just before he got to the pool. Zoe continued swimming in place and tried to protect herself from the oncoming tidal wave, but it was no use. Dad hit the water, and I felt myself get pushed towards the other side of the pool. As I felt the water calm down, I quickly resurfaced and swallowed a breath of fresh air.

"Dinner's ready, girls." Dad laughed as he swam over to us.

"That wasn't necessary." I said, brushing loose strands of wet hair behind my ears.

"I know. I just wanted to make sure you heard me." He replied as he stepped out of the pool. "I was also extremely hot."

Zoe and I glanced at each other and laughed, making our way out of the water. We hopped in line and draped brightly colored towels around our shoulders to dry off a bit. I grabbed a paper plate and collected a hotdog, some condiments and a small bag of Doritos. I thanked the man standing by the grill for the meal and scanned the yard for Zoe to find her sitting under the tree we met at. Smirking, I rushed to the grass. Standing at her side, I placed my food onto the ground and lay the towel flat next to where Zoe had done the same. I then sat criss-crossed on the fabric and dug into my meal.

"Tell me something about yourself." I prompted, breaking the silence.

"Oh, I uh, I play guitar and bass. I'm planning on trying out for the Jazz Band at my high school at the beginning of the year." She replied simply.

"What school are you going to?" I questioned.

"James Madison. You?" Zoe answered.

"Wait, no way, me too!"

"Really? What classes are you taking?"

I told Zoe almost every single one of my classes. Art, choir, French, and theatre for my electives. Earth science, honors language arts, secondary math one, and world geography for my core classes. Zoe's classes were a lot more complex than mine. Band, creative writing, and debate for her electives. Earth science, honors language arts, secondary math two, and AP human geography for her core classes. Not to mention if she makes it into the jazz band she'll have an extra-curricular.

We talked about our friends and lives in middle school. How I was perfect with grades and had little to no issues while she had to deal with drama and barley passing classes. Why we both made such big changes for high school is a significant question that neither of us know the answer to. The conversation dragged away from school and ventured into our home lives. Zoe told me about her brother Connor, and I told her about my little sister Brooke. She talked about how Connor has changed. How they used to be friends and would play with each other when they were younger and how they've drifted over the years. How much she wishes they could be close again and how it can't happen because of things he's done.

Zoe has dealt with so much shit throughout her life. From fights with her brother to being ignored by her parents, all she wants is to be seen. Usually I'd say the two of us are different people, but in reality, we aren't. After Brooke was born, I felt lost. My life took a sharp turn I didn't see coming. But yet again, doesn't everyone who has younger siblings been through the same thing I went through? I bet it doesn't last as long for them as it did for me. The rejection, I mean. It's been six years. Six damn years and my parents still give Brooke the attention they gave her when she was born. And what have I been doing? I've tried getting them to notice me, but it never works. I learned how to paint and made them something for their anniversary. It ended up in the basement. I drew my dad something for his birthday and it ended up in the basement. I learned how to sculpt things out of clay and made a sculpture for my mom and it ended up in the basement. Everything Brooke makes gets hung up or put on display. Everything I make gets put away. On the outside, we appear as a happy family. On the inside, we appear as a happy family. But it doesn't feel like it.

I finished eating quicker than I had expected and offered to throw Zoe's trash away for her. After many tries, she gave in and let me, telling me to grab her a Dr. Pepper while I was by the drinks. I complied and grabbed myself one.

"Thanks." She said as she popped the tab on the can, sending small droplets of the soda into the air.

"It's no problem." I replied, doing the same.

Everyone at the party had resumed their activities before the meal in no time, which meant Zoe and I had returned to the pool. We were floating on a raft together, chatting about anything that came to mind, when we suddenly felt someone flip the raft, throwing us into the water. I screamed and accidentally swallowed a bit of water. Zoe did the same. We both resurfaced, coughing the liquid out of our lungs while diabolical laughter rang through the air.

"What the hell was that for, Connor?" Zoe yelled, continuing to cough.

"Your screams were hilarious!" He laughed, falling dramatically into the water.

I eventually caught my breath and finally got a glance at what this Connor character looks like. He has pale white skin and unruly dark brown hair. He's incredibly slim with little to no meat on his bones. I brushed loose strands out of my face and tucked them behind my ears. A wave came from behind me, water splashing across Connor's face. I turned to see a wicked grin on Zoe's face. I know exactly what's happening. A water fight. I quickly dove under the water as the fight began, the siblings splashing each other with water. Reaching the concrete wall of the pool, I swung my leg onto the ground and popped myself out. I cautiously ran over to a bucket of water balloons and grabbed one, chucking it at Connor's back. He turned around with a playful glare, paddling himself towards me.

"Shit, shit shit shit shit." I muttered under my breath, grabbing as many balloons as I could, sprinting onto the grass.

I heard Connor leave the water and his wet feet against the concrete. I turned around to see Zoe climbing out of the pool herself, rushing to the pool house. Getting distracted with Zoe's actions, I felt a balloon hit the back of my thigh. My head whipped around to see Connor running in the opposite direction.

Zoe ran up next to me and handed me a super soaker, saying, "Those balloons aren't getting you anywhere."

I gladly took the gun and searched the yard for her brother when I saw an arm disappear behind a bright green bush. Pointing at the bush, we nodded at each other and sneaked up on the boy. I verged left while she went right. Slipping into the groups of people, we approached the bush with smirks on our faces. Zoe held up her fingers, silently counting us down from three. Three, two, one! Both of us blindly fired our super soakers at the bush, hoping we hit Connor. Swifter than we expected, he emerged from the bush and threw his hands into the air in surrender.

"Okay! I surrender!" He yelled.

"We'll forgive you if you get us popsicle." Zoe said, not putting her gun down.

"That's not how surrender works." Connor fought.

I squirted him with water. "Well, it's how it works around here."

"Jesus, fine." he replied, walking over to the cooler with his hands remaining in the air.

"Keep your hands where we can see them." Zoe called out.

"I am." Connor said. He grabbed three rocket pops and headed back over to us. "Have we made peace?"

"Yes." Zoe and I said in unison, each of us taking one popsicle.

As all of us peeled the wrapper off the cool treat, Connor and Zoe's dad approached us. "We're starting fireworks in the front if you'd like to join us."

"We'll be there in a minute." Zoe smiled.

She snatched the wrappers from all our hands and tossed them into the trash. I hurried over to my bag and slipped on my pair of blue shorts, completely disregarding my shirt. No one will care if I'm wearing a swim top and shorts. And besides, it's way too hot. She held out her arm to me to which I took, hooking my arm around hers. For only knowing each other for a few hours, I think we're getting along well. I've never clicked with anyone so easily before so this feels too easy. Maybe Zoe's being forced to hang out with me. It doesn't feel forced, though. Or maybe our personalities function perfectly together. Whatever it is, I don't think it matters. The bond we have is like a friendship that started many years ago. But it's only been hours. And hopefully, it lasts much longer than hours. Maybe we can have what those friendships that last for years have.

Skipping towards the gate that separates the backyard from the front, I grinned and started humming the theme to The Wizard Of Oz to myself. Zoe must have heard me, for she began singing the song. I laughed and sang along as we joined the rest of the party. Glancing around the area, I found an empty spot on the grass. I pulled Zoe to the spot with me and noticed it was right next to my family.

"So that's where you went." My dad commented, throwing a handful of glow sticks at me.

"Did you not just see me chasing Connor around with a squirt gun?" I questioned, taking a seat on the grass, pulling Zoe down with me.

"Apparently not." He replied.

Zoe, Connor, and I each grabbed a handful of the glow sticks off the grass and cracked them in one snap. Light illuminated in our hands and I took one of my red sticks and poked Zoe's shoulder. She poked me back with a blue one. And the war began. We poke each other back and forth with the glow sticks, breaking into a fit of giggles.

"How about you two use the glow sticks for something other than poking each other?" My mom recommended.

"No, I don't think we will." I replied, continuing to poke Zoe.

"Yeah, this is a lot more fun." Zoe added, poking my arm.

After poking each other for way too long, we tired of it and grabbed those plastic connectors and connected the ends of the glow sticks, forming bracelets just in time for the sun to set, putting us into darkness, the glow of streetlights illuminating our surroundings. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bright white light appear. My head snapped to look at the light to find it was someone handing a sparkler to a small child. I smirked and turned to Zoe to find her looking at me. Her cheeks dusted with a light shade of pink as her gray eyes flickered away from my blue ones.

"Hey, wanna go get some sparklers?" I asked.

"Sure!" She smiled.

We headed over to the table that held all the fireworks and grabbed a few sparklers. A man neither of us knew lit them up for us, and off we went into the middle of the street. We waved the sticks around in the air, creating patterns with the sparks. I tried spelling my name in cursive, but spelling Desiree in cursive isn't the easiest thing, and neither is Zoe. Instead, we drew pictures like hearts, stars, and cats. Yes, we drew cats in the air with sparklers. Why would we not? Is that not something that everyone does? Eventually the flammable portion of the sparkler was no more, and we had to toss them into a bucket of water on the curb.

The rest of the night was full of laughter and pure joy, something I sadly haven't experienced in a long time. Fireworks were exploding around every corner you turned. People were running in the street with explosives in their hands, with no fear in their eyes. Zoe and I quickly tired of the noise and went inside. Zoe dragged me upstairs to her room. And it looks exactly what you'd think it would look like. Periwinkle bedding with pink decorative pillows and a white chunky knit blanket displayed across the foot of the bed. The walls are a lighter shade of blue with pink flowers painted on top. White panels cover the bottom half of the walls, creating a sense of contrast. Above her bed sits a display of all the pictures she's taken with her friends and boy, is there a lot.

"Sorry, it's kind of messy right now." Zoe apologized.

"It's alright. My room is in worse condition right now." I laughed. She laughed too.

She began explaining to me how she discovered her bedroom was the perfect place to view fireworks. By simply flicking off the lights and pulling up beanbags to the window, it gave us a front-row seat to a firework show with no noise. You can see the explosions of bright colors for miles and miles across the city. Some are mere specs of light, while others are large bursts of color that illuminate the room. The sounds of the explosions are small pops, some being more powerful than others. The two of us sat in a comfortable silence for quite a while before a pair of feet came down the hallway and towards the bedroom.

"Des, it's time to go." My mom said, cracking open the door.

I groaned and stood up. "Thanks for making this party a lot more tolerable." Zoe said.

"It's no problem." I replied. "So, maybe I'll see you at school?"

"Yeah, maybe. It was nice meeting you." Zoe stood and followed me out of her room.

"You too." I smiled.

Once downstairs, Zoe joined a group of people in the backyard while I headed out to the front door behind my family. I slid into the backseat and pulled my phone out of my backpack to see multiple texts from my friends. I responded to them one by one and quickly resumed my quiet and reserved personality I had at the beginning of the day. Eventually all my notifications had receded, and it left me staring out the window of the car, watching as buildings and fireworks sped past us in blurs. Suddenly I gained the feeling you get when you think you forget something somewhere, but you don't know what it is. After sitting and thinking about it for a bit, I realized what I had forgotten. I forgot to ask for Zoe's number.

#dear evan hansen fanfic #dear evan hansen #deh fanfic #deh #zoe murphy #oc #connor murphy #larry murphy #zoe murphy x oc #bisexual fanfic #pansexual fanfic #lgbtq fanfic

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meandmyechoes · 4 years

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i think a lot of frustration i have with the mandalorian (watching it real-time the first time) is unfairly redirected from my timidness to interact with "mainstream" star wars fandom. I'm jealous of the attention it's getting.

our local fandom is already small, and traditional in its making-up of middle-aged men. I joined a few facebook groups in observation, both local and global. Outside of tumblr, the original fandom activity is centered on either swordfighting or toy collecting. While I appreciate the talent shown in customization and diaoramas, it's not as satisfactory for my experience as it would about creative work and literary criticism.

I also feel kinda prejudiced to catch all fans as "mindless fanboys" but that has been consistent with my observations so far but as always i've been biased and looked down on everyone— Even though I'm interacting with the Ordinary Male™ and they are always less intelligent than I am— Either way it doesn't sit well with me

On the forum, where I have more anonymity, I'm braver to voice out even if the userbase says really sexist things sometimes, (fortunately not overlap with star wars posts). It's okay becuase it's grassroot humour. It's also not okay because at my least observant, I'd still be reminded to "why so serious". I'm definitely exaggerating here because last times I post several long metas the reponse has been wholly positive — I can't place the origin but I just feel very out of place with the local community :(

The weird thing is the attention there isn't even something I need? I have a very satisfactory fandom life here (that's why I come to the uniqueness of this platform in the first place) but I'm instead dwelling on a first-world problem

Like, of course I'm happy more people are liking Star Wars and now curious about my era, I'm slightly gatekeeping?

No that wasn't the issue. There was this party-pooper right-wing man in the group that is the worst. His repeated, insensitive word choice, craving attention. I think there are valid criticisms regarding Disney's treatment of the sequel trilogy and their hypocrisy at diversity versus telling good stories but this guy's wording and attitude comes off so hostile it feels like even if we have common ground, I'd still be labelled as a brainless leftist Karen. But it's really just that one guy and it's not like he's even that influential I think? All the same it makes me feel very uncomfortable talking about certain issues without disclaimers every time. But I'm definitely over-thinking in this respect because it's not out of necessity we interact even if we share the same platform. And he's just one outlier case.

I think the root of the anxiety is coming fron as an Animation fan, and we've been receving the short end for years. As a universal trend Children-oriented media has always been despised and receives blame for being "too kiddy". But what they don't realize it's that there are very important messages to be sent through these shows and making them palatable for children and adults alike is no easy task, and those shows that succeed should be praised and taught with. What's important is that the violence and trauma depicted is enough to springboard children into their own research, raise their awareness and tell them there's a big world out there.

It's so infuriating how in the Kamen Rider fandom, those complaints come not only from man-childs, but actual 14-year-olds who think they're too cool for school. I mean if you don't like the direction of the show, you can just, drop it?

The most common excuse I've heard about people missing out on the shows is they just don't have time, which is reasonable, and relatable, for a 133-episode show. There are more dismissal towards Rebels but always accompanied by comments in its defense. So I think those who are passionate enough about Star Wars to join the local online community, are not entire jerks to animated canons but instead are too busy or not their favourite era to focus on, which is totally valid! The thing is I've heard mostly positive comments on Clone Wars (albeit horny ones from time to time, luckily I'm 18+ now), but I'm still very cautious about revealing myself as a female fan, and that of the animated shows, and that who knows little of the OT or swordfighting. I think I'll be more comfortable if I could dm someone and get a concrete sample of the audience before I feel more confident to put myself out there. It's definitely not like they're bad people, but there's a discrepancy in our fundamental paths of enjoying Star Wars and that may lead to a rocky start. It's like having different majors :/

Another point is involving myself there could be my most sexist experience yet. Yes, even more than a woman in STEM. I'm mature enough to handle even more tinted lenses thrown on me I just won't be very used to it. The other close encounter I had was visiting a warehouse sale a few months ago. The owner was obviously surprised to see a girl visit such a niche event and gestured me the Leia toys. He was friendly in every way but I immediately sniffed the stereotypical assumption. 1) Nobody loves the Prequels and 2) Girls only like girl characters. It was a brief conversation as I rushed to Maul's side and started checking out the clone troopers. Though no hard feelings, the incident adds to how I've been consistently right about my generalization of the (male) fandom.

And it comes back to a vicious cycle about how such anxiety hinders representation, and the lack of familiar voices fuels that anxiety. It's easier here because this is my personal blog and not everything is meant to induce a response. I feel more comfortable speaking things aren't designed to be understood or to communicate here. But out there with a bunch of elders instead of peers (whom I respect even if they haven't seen/don't like Clone Wars, because I hold them to the same expertise in their era as I do with mine), it's tricky to navigate between condescension and firmness, humility and shamelessness. I do feel compelled to "prove" myself if I'm even to share a post in the group. You know? The feeling of working extra hard just to be judged without prejudice?

P.S. Since I mentioned the Right-wing Guy I should also mention the only active female member I saw in the group. She definitely sounds like an older adult and obviously a Disney fan, and just, very stereotypically a "Hong Kong Gal" (-ve intonation), in her obsession with Disneyland and Pandoa bracelets. And I'm unnecessarily disappointed by that because I too look down on capitalism and corporate monopoly.

**********

On a tangent, let's take the opportunity to briefly talk about sexualization of The Clone Wars.

A baffling phenomenon I noticed coming back is the explosion of reader fics, nsfw reader fics. Now I'm not a fanfic person first and foremost so I'm even more baffled by the necessity of the existence of such fics. I am utilitarian on this matter. While I personally do not enjoy them, there's nothing morally corrupt about the bloom and it honestly stays just beyond my alert of annoyance.

I attribute the bloom to first, how like me, the first generation of tumblr users (and thus its majority) are now adults and would like to explore the indulgence. But I just take a step back and imagine the tight, tight frown on my 16-year-old self had she seen the clone wars tag flooded with nsfw fics. She'd flee the site and bleach her eyes so bad.

But that definitely isn't a problem. Although it caught me off guard, the insert writers I've come across are passionate people who abide by tag etiquette, so it's all good, and safe.

On the other hand…

Sexualized Ahsoka isn't my first rodeo. Actually, it probably was my first rodeo with many more in the decade that came. 2009 was the time when even official art sexualized her horribly, let alone the power of Google Images. To this day, it's still easy to find ani//soka fanart (pregnant fanart, in the 2011 deviantart flat colour) outside here (on top of the usual hellship *sigh*). But if you don't go look them up, it's mostly okay.

but yeah, winding back to the "mainstream" entry problem I've been ranting about, I keep seeing fetish threads/comments regarding Ahsoka and it's just very uncomfortable to have my exposure in that accumulate. It's a little bit better here than mainland which I've shunned away totally becuase they just, takes nothing seriously. Of course I do agree Ahsoka has grown into a beautiful young woman and her badassary is off the charts but maybe, one can keep inappropriate thoughts to themselves?

Joking about physical attraction towards a fictional character is… so trivial I ain't even gonna bother (and the age issue really don't need to be repeated) — the joke got old. But seeing men comment on female figures like that, with no mindfulness that they are on a very public forum is just pathetic. It really shows you how deep men can sink.

(and those horny but appreciative comments is only tip of the iceberg from that too explicit one i wish to delete from my mind. I really hope that doesn't become a recurring issue when Ahsoka is live-actionized ﾟ･｡(´Д⊂ヽ)

It's totally gonna become an issue.

#myechoes #it's a thought process the wee bit mess

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ahsana · 4 years

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Rehab ~ Dean Winchester

Chapter 1 - The Party

Summary: Gwendolyn Anderson is in her early twenties. For most people that age, they're in college or just starting to find their way. For her, she lost the person closest to her in the universe and she has to find a way to pick up the pieces because everything as she knows it as about to change. After a few events that are less than coincidental, the only thing that seems to make sense anymore is a man with green eyes and a twelve step program.

Pairing: AU!Gabriel Novak x OC!Gwen, AU!Dean Winchester x OC!Gwen & possible other variations. Stay tuned to find out ;)

Word Count: 2038

Chapter Warning: Just like every other chapter in this book so far, there will be detailed drug use, mentions of drugs, paraphernalia, mentions of death and other very sensitive topics. If this could trigger you or set you off in any way possible, I urge you not to read it. If you or someone you know is struggling with addiction, please reach out and get help. You are not alone. Always keep fighting.

Even when things were okay, I still never feared death. I've been on the edge many times; never quite falling off, but never quite holding on either.

A lot of people say overdosing was their rock bottom. It wasn't for me. Heroin is a strong word, and sometimes it even shocks me when I say it. Weird, right?

In health class as a teenager, I saw the pictures of drug addicted people and made a pact with myself in my head that I'd never become one of those people and here I am. I guess I should explain how I got here, though.

« FLASHBACK »

Why did I snort that line? My nose burns, my brain hurts, and my whole body feels like it's buzzing. I'm not exactly sure where the cocaine came from or why exactly I did it but I know that I have to get out of here and fast.

Parties aren't usually my scene, but I figured since it was my last day as a teenager I might as well indulge. My surroundings aren't familiar, just some college frat party that I knew of because I attend school here, but other than that I really have no idea where I am or how I got here.

I'm searching for the exit, pushing past sweaty bodies and other young adults who reek of alcohol and marijuana. I gave up hope halfway through the search because it feels almost as if though it's impossible, so when my eyes land on the staircase in front of me I sigh gratefully.

The door at the end of the hallway is propped open slightly; a large rock wedged between so it couldn't close. The loud music was causing my ears to ring so I walked as quickly as I could and became elated when I realized the door at the end of the hallway leading to outside, giving me a chance to get some fresh air.

I push the door open and realize it's heavier than I first assumed, so I try and let it close behind me gently so it doesn't knock rock out of place. I inhale deeply and look around, only to be met with the fact that I'm on the roof somehow.

"Wow," I mutter, and make my way towards the edge of the building; my shoes making the gravel of the rooftop crunch along the way. I peered over the ledge, and for a second considered flying.

Worse case scenario, I land flat on the pavement, ultimately dying in the process or I make it to the rooftop across the way. I step onto the ledge, squat and then sit; dangling my legs over the side of the building.

My heart is pounding a hundred miles a minute, and all of a sudden tears start streaming down my face.

"I wish you would step back from that ledge my friend," I gasp out of shock because I didn't realize that I wasn't alone up here—and also because a random man is singing to me. I turn my head to face the mystery man and am pleasantly surprised. "You could cut ties with all the lies, that you've been living in," He continues, and I recognize the song and join in with him.

“And if you do not want to see me again, I would understaaaand. I would understaaand," We both sing in unison, and the stranger lets out a fit of giggles which makes me laugh in return.

"So Miss, how are you on this lovely night?" He questions.

"You aren't even going to ask me my name?" I inquire with a grin.

"Nope, don't need to." I nod in response, pretending to understand why.

“I'm doing well, by the way." I add.

"That's amazing.. or.. would be, if you were telling the truth." I cock my brow up, and he quickly adds, "I mean you wouldn't be sitting on the ledge for nothing, right?"

I shake my head in disagreement. "That's where you've got it wrong, sir."

"Sir? Do I really look that old?" He jokes.

"No, but I'm not sure what to call you since we don't need to know each other's names." The stranger sits beside me and lets his legs dangle over the building as well. I take a closer look at his features that are illuminated by the street lights below and I am captivated.

The ridge of his nose, the length of his lashes and his eyes—Wow, his eyes. It's dark, but I can tell that they're brown with a swirl of honey and it reminds me of a Hershey's bar.

"So, did you find what you were looking for?" He asks, and I shake my head no for the second time. "Well then what are you doing?" I shrug. "You're not very talkative, are you?" He asks, seeming genuinely curious.

"I am, but I'm not sure what to say. I'm at a party, drunk and high off coke, sitting with a stranger on the edge of the roof; trying to come up with something I could tell you but I'm at a loss for words here." The man gives me a goofy grin in return.

"Well. We'll probably never see each other again, so why don't you tell me your biggest secret?" I laugh out loud.

"Sir, I've known you for mere minutes and you want me to do something like that? Strange." I mumble in awe.

"I'm not from around here, so I couldn't possibly hold it against you in any way."

"Why did you come here then?" I ask.

"Free booze."

"Interesting. Here—I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." I whisper cheekily to him and he nods his head, agreeing.

"Sure. Okay. Let's start," he thinks for a moment, "My guilty pleasure is Lazy Town, the kids show."

"Ha! That's an awful secret, shame on you!" I reply but laughing while doing so.

"Fine, fine. Um, when I was seventeen I slept with my best mate's girlfriend. He still doesn't know." He whispers guiltily.

"Wow, that's pretty deep. Are they still together?" He nods.

"Been together for eight years, married for three—with two kids."

I chuckle, "How do you know you aren't the baby daddy?"

"Timeline doesn't add up—trust me, I did the calculations as soon as she told everyone she was pregnant the summer after we graduated high school," He trailed off but then turned his head towards me, "Your turn."

I gulp, and try and think of something.

"Um... Well, I might as well go all out then. My parents are both government officials. Amelia and Doug Anderson?" I throw the names out to see if he recognizes them.

"Holy shit," He marvels. "You're Gwendolyn Anderson. I should have recognized you as soon as I seen you! You and your parents are all over TV." I sigh.

"Yeah. But call me Gwen, I hate it when people call me Gwendolyn. Anyways—That's not exactly my secret." I look towards him and he motions for me to continue.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this but.. here we go. My entire life, I've felt like the weight of the world has been on my shoulders. Ever since I was a kid my parents have been pushing me to be the best in every category there has been or ever will be. My senior year of high school was the worst, obviously because of the impending doom of getting into the best college and working on getting scholarship offers; meanwhile keeping all A's, playing volleyball and volunteering."

I continued, glancing back now and then to see if he was still paying attention and he was alert the entire time. "It got to the point where.. I needed some extra help. Adderall was basically my scapegoat and how I functioned for the entire year. My parents were so busy being wrapped up in their own lives and pushing me to my limit that they never discovered I lost myself along the way. Now I'm in college, and I'm still trying to find my way back to a happy medium. But when I looked down at the ground, I realized that for some reason it doesn't even matter anymore."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"Have you ever gotten to the point where you feel like you're just numb? Everything is grey scale and there's no color at all? I'm just going through the motions. There's no highs or lows; only this weird middle ground. I thought coming to this party tonight and getting trashed would make me feel better but it didn't change anything." He nods, knowingly. I can tell he understands. He rests his left hand on top of my right one and somehow it felt like my body couldn't get any hotter.

I should be scared, uncomfortable even. I just met this guy and don't even know his name but I'm letting him touch me like we've been friends all our lives. A sudden thought makes me speak up.

"You know, it's not really fair that you get to know my name and I don't know yours." He chuckles.

“It's Gabriel." I smile because it's very fitting. He looks like a Gabriel.

"That's a beautiful name."

He laughs, "Beautiful? More like average. Your name is beautiful."

"I wholeheartedly disagree. I have a grandma name, at least yours fits your age no matter how old you are." He smiles. We sit in silence, his hand still resting on top of mine and I take another look down at the ground.

"How long do you think it would take to reach the ground?" I ask as if he'd actually know the answer.

"For a suicidal person? Too long. For a person just looking for some answers, too fast."

“How do you know which is which?" Gabriel lets out a grunt and laughs.

"Well, do you want to die?" He asks, raising his voice but continues smiling; which is oddly contagious.

"I don't think I'd ever do anything to speed up the process, so ultimately no. Probably not."

"I guess there's an answer then." Gabriel replies.

"An answer?"

"Yeah, the one of many you're looking for. I won't have them all, though."

"B-But I thought you were an all-knowing wizard!" I gasp out sarcastically.

"No, no. But... I maybe might have one.. just for now,"

I raise my eyebrow again and ask, "What might that be?" Gabriel reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny baggie with pills inside of it.

"You might like these," he whispers gently.

"Ah, man. I don't know--"

“I'm sure drugs weren't the first thing you thought of, but maybe they'll help you forget until tomorrow." I sigh and stick my hand out apprehensively.

"What are they?" I question.

"Percocet. Strongest prescription." I nod, remember hearing some of my peers talking about it previously this week. I swallow two of them without a second thought.

« FLASHBACK OVER »

I look down at the person who brought me into this mess, and his face is quickly turning a light shade of blue.

"Gabe, God, You fucking idiot! I told you not to do that much!" I shout and dial 911 as quickly as possible.

The next thing I know, I'm sitting on the front porch steps of his apartment as they're carrying him away on a stretcher. My best friend is dead, and I can officially say I'm terrified.

#dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #gabriel novak #castiel #fanfic #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #rehab au #crowley #charlie bradbury #au #slow burn

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fortheloveofkuroo · 5 years

Text

Partner?

A/n: This fic is already waiting on my waiting list to get published. I write this story like 3 years ago. With a diffetent character ofc. This fic is inspired by a tumblr post about a Agent!AU.

Todoroki Shoto × F!Reader

!WARNING!: Swearing, Guns, and violence.

• • •

A huge, old yet classy building stands tall infront of you are crowded with a lot of people. From commoners untill the famous one.

Your eyes quickly did a quick scanning about the whole area around you. Making sure that there are no one, not even someone is following you. Trying to act as casual as possible, you grip your clutch to your chest and looking around with an amazed face as if it's your first time being here.

"Invitation?" a big and scary guy suddenly stops you.

You look over to that guy and hands over a small invitation that wrapped in a gold paper. Giving him an innocent smile.

"This way." his big hand welcoming you while opening the glass door. Exposing the hidden world inside. You look around. Scanning the whole Club area carefully through the drunk people that's been dancing on the dance floor and making sure you don't miss a thing because your eyes searching for someone.

Legs stepping in. Your 6in red stilletos heels make a captivating sound everytime your feet touches the floor. Your short spaghetti straps black-velvet dress showing off your curve. All eyes on you.

"Damnit Mina. I told you to not dress me with something eye catching but look what you did." you whispered under your breath, anticipating an answer from a device that's been plugged in your ear.

"Sorry sweetie, but hey look at the bright side, you look gorgeous!" a voice reply with a chuckle and you sighed. You made your way to the bar.

The bar is not so crowded. Only few people sits their ass on there and enjoying their liquor. But the bartender seems busy. There are 2 bartender in that bar. One is mixing the drink while the other one is serving.

You walks closer and take a seat that's closest to the bartender position. Planning to make him spill every information about the target.

Of course you're here with a reason. Your Department, Shiketsu gave you this important mission to capture the big Mafia group that's been troubling this area and doing as they want. Stealing, robbing, killing. You name it all.

And you're the one who will stop it.

Your (E/C) eyes linger around the bar area. Scanning any abnormal things, CCTV, or even a microphone but luckily you found nothing. Your eyes turn to the bartender. He prepare the drink for his customer with such a skill. He's trained and good.

"What can i make for you tonight, Ms?" the other bartender with bright yellow hair greets you.

"One Bloody Mary please." you order simply. Giving him your deadly smile which struck him for a while and made him froze. The bright yellow colored hair bartender order the other bartender to make your order.

Once He's done, he serves the drink to you. "Enjoy your drink." his deep voice creeps to your neck. Lucious black hair with bangs covering his left eye. His face is emotionless but those smug smile.

"[DG], find any information about this club. Find a proof that our target is really here." a voice command you from the device. Easy.

"Say.." you look over to the yellow haired bartender's his uniform. Searching for a nametag.

"Say Kaminari. How is this Club? I would like to know more. This club is very interesting and gorgeous.." you say, leaning close to his ears.

"..Like you." His ears gone red. He's embarassed.

"Um.. Well this club, Golden Rose Club is developed by Mr. Chronos. As you already know, the biggest Mafia in this area. That's why.." you sits back straight, not listening to him anymore. You're in the right place and with the right target. Now you just need to find him.

"Ooh.. And where can i find this Mr. Chronos, Kaminari?" your hand, carresing his cheek and slowly moving down to his neck and chest.

"Um.. He's usually not here but. He's here now. Because there are few important guest that's meeting him here-" he shuts his mouth suddenly. Looks like he spill too much to you. You smirk and drink your bloody mary. Leaving a few dollar to pay but a hand stops you.

"It's on the house." his deep voice makes you feel a little chill again. It's that black haired bartender again. You thank him with a smile and left immediately. You can feel a pair of eyes watching you from far. It's him. He seems suspicious.

But you decided to focus on your target more. You sail the ocean of human in the dance floor, trying to find this "Mr. Chronos".

Untill you found a large couch in the middle of the dance floor with a middle-aged man sitting in the center. Arms extended and young attractive girls around him. Those girls are practically throwing themself to him.

"Remember [DG], Mr. Chronos is a middle-aged man. Often identified as Mr. C in his club. He had a few tatoo on his neck, arm, and face. A claw on his left neck, a demon on both of his arms and a skull on his left cheek."

You match the features one more time and it is. It is him. Your target. Well that's easy and this is gonna end well you tought. You walk confidently and approach him.

"Oh look, what a pretty girl. Who's your name darling? Come sit sit!" he offers you a seat beside him by pushing a girl that's been sticking to him the whole time away.

You smile sweetly and pulls out your gun. Pointing your gun at his forehead while smiling.

"It's over Chronos." you said, feeling win.

But, instead of feeling scared, Chronos laughed. "This is why i like the agents. They're good with surprises. I've been expecting you Agent. Code name [DeadlyGorgeous] am i right?" he smirked playfully while sipping a wine.

You frown. How did he know? Did someone blow your cover? It doesn't matter. The problem is, now you're surrounded with 10 big guy. His subordinate pointing a gun at the same place. Your head. And at that time, you feel dizzy. Your knees feels weak.

The everything is black.

• • •

You woke up in a car. The car is not moving. But for some reason, your body feels heavy and tired.

Wait. You sits immediately. Checking every part of your limbs. They're still there and everything is still in place. Thank goodness. But something fell off. A black vest fell off from your lap.

You picked it up and inspect it closely. Wait.. This vest seems familiar.

"Oh you're up." a voice startled you. The black haired and emotionless face. It's the bartender.

"Y-You! What happened? What did you do to me?!" you point at him. Searching for your gun that you always put in your stocking.

"Looking for this?" In his hand, there's a gold revolver. It's your gun.

"Hey give that back!" you hurrily get out from the car and tried to get your gun back.

"Deadly.. Gorgeous. What a unique code name. But it's definitely suits you." his finger ran over the carving on the barrel. He gave you a smug smile again. What's with him and his smug smile?

Your hand tried to get back the gun but he keeps teasing you and lifting it high on the air. You can't help it he's taller than you. "Give it back!" and your legs slipped. Your body automatically falls into his embrace as he hold you.

With you in his chest, you can feel his warmth and his heartbeat that slowly go faster. "Um.. You okay? Can you get off now?" he asked. "Oh right! Sorry.." you pulls your body away from him. Feeling embarassed and blaming yourself for being so reckless.

He takes off his jacket and put it over your shoulder. "The vest is not warm enough so wear this. With that dress you'll catch a cold."

You're touched with his kindness. But you don't even know who is this person. Can he be trusted?

"Actually.. Who are you?" you hold his hand. He looks at your eyes and sighed.

His hand pulls something out from his pocket and show it to you. "Agent Todoroki Shoto, code name [Twilight] from U.A Agent Department. Nice to meet you, Agent (Y/N)."

You dropped your jaw. 'That' [Twilight]? He's a very famous agent on the secret agent world. He's a very high-class agent.

"Wait but.. The bartender.. How.." You're confused. Somehow your brain cannot process this simple information.

He chuckled. "Have you heard about disguise, Agent (Y/N)?"

Right. How stupid. How can you forgot the basic of undergoing a mission. Disguise is a must.

But, why did such a prestigious agent department send it's finest agent to a club like this? Usually they will handle things a lot more serious than this. Something like the government or even internasional.

"What? Is something wrong?" he asked while cracking open a can of coffee. He offers you some too.

"No it's just.. Why a high-class agent like you is handling a not-so-big mafia in the club? I thought your job is way more dangerous than this." you wondered. Once again you hear him chuckle and he gave you a pat on your head.

"Why are you so cute, agent?" his words immediately make your cheeks heating up. What's this?

"Did you forget that the department can send their agent anywhere, everywhere right? Even to the North Pole if they can." he explained.

"Ah right. I forgot about that. My head is still dizzy." you hold your head and massage it a little.

"Ah the drug is still working."

Drug? Wait what?

"Drug? What drug?"

Todoroki seems dumbfounded, he scratch his neck and smile. "Well, when you order the bloody mary back at the club, i put in a few dose of low anesthetic. Because i know from the first time that you're after that Mafia and we have the same target."

You can't say a word. Speechless. He's just too good.

"I apologized for making you unconscious in the middle of your important moment, but hey i save your life."

"And how about the Mafia" you stare right to his eyes. Demanding an answer. "Calm down. He's already with the police."

You sighed and slump. That means you fail at your mission. Even though you almost had him. You feel a warmth on your shoulder and look up.

"Don't be sad. I sent him to the police with a report that you're the one who capture him. So it's your win."

Shocked. This man always made you speechless.

"Afterall you're the one who attempted to capture that mafia first. So i told them that you fight him and capture him. And you faint because you're too tired. They offer an ambulance but i refuse. Also i told them to report to your Department."

You smiled softly and approach him. Slowly tip toe-ing to reach his cheek an peck his cheek quickly. He surprised and cover his cheek.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"Thank you. You saved my life and my job. I can't thank you enough." you bowed deeply to him. You hear him sighed and his hand slowly brings you to stand up.

"Don't be so polite geez. It's weird, just a moment ago you're flirting with my partner and now you're being so polite." he's averting his gaze and his cheeks are a little flushed.

"Ah it's already 3 in the morning. I have to go home now." you hurrily wear your shoes but Todoroki holds your hand. "I'll drive you home. I can't call myself a man if i let you go home alone in this hours. You're a girl too." he steps in his car and starts the engine. Then he starts driving.

And the whole time, none of you two have spoken a word. It's just silent and awkward. Untill Todoroki breaks it.

"Where do you live?" his eyes focused on the road.

"Oh right. Luxury Apartment beside the station." you answered.

"Oh wow. You live in Luxury? You must be paid well huh? A month in Luxury itself is around ¥700.000 am i right?" he said while admiring you.

"How about you, Todoroki?" you asked him too. He smiles. "I live on a small simple house." his eyes is still attached to the road.

He clear his throat, then out of the blue asked. "Do you have a boyfri-" "No. We broke up 3 months ago." you answer instantly. "Oh..Why?"

"He found out that i'm an agent. He think that my job is too dangerous for him. He doesn't want to be with me again because i'm always dealing with a criminal and i will put him in danger." you explained with a blank expression.

"What a loser. I'm sorry you have to be with that guy."

you laughed softly. "What for? It's not that he treat me nicely too. Not like you.." you said under your breath at the end of sentence. Hoping that he doesn't hear.

"And we're here."

Todoroki's car stops at the lobby of a fancy building. Your hand unbuckle the seatbelt and stare at his eyes for a while. His turquoise and brown eyes are beautiful. You got off, but you decided to tell him a few things first.

You knock on his window, he opens it quickly. "What's wrong?" he asked, brow furrowing. "Listen, once again thank you for saving me and my job. Also-" before you can even finished your word, his lips already crashes to yours.

He kisses you slowly but full with passion. Then he pulls away and smile. And you froze.

"Your welcome, also do you live alone?"

You nod.

"Good. Can i visit you sometimes?"

You nod again.

"Also one more thing. Would you go out with me?"

And you nod again. Causing him to grin.

"Perfect, Have good rest (Y/N)~" then he just leave like that.

#boku no hero academia #boku no hero imagines #my hero academia #bnha #bnha imagines #bnha todoroki #shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto #todoroki shouto #fluff #secret agent #shoto x reader

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