#ya just gotta trust the process y’know?

[handsoffmyscarfsherlock]

Featherlight Flirtations

hawks x reader

Summary: A chance encounter with Pro Hero Hawks turns into relentless flirting, playful chaos, and a growing attraction that’s impossible to ignore.

Warnings: None!

You were having a great morning. Fresh air, a light workload, and—most importantly—a perfect cup of coffee.

Then, suddenly, he happened.

A blur of red and gold collided with you, and before you could react, hot coffee drenched your shirt. The hot coffee begins to heat your front, feeling similar to the embarrassing flush crawling up your neck and face. 

“Oh—shit, sorry! Didn’t see ya there.”

You barely had time to process the words before looking up, way up, into a pair of golden eyes, partially obscured by red-tinted sunglasses. Hawks. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed, not believing who stood in front of you. 

He smirked. “You a fan?”

“No,” you deadpanned, peeling your soaked shirt away from your skin. “I just say that whenever I get second-degree burns.”

Hawks winced. “Yeah, fair. Here, let me—” A feather plucked a wad of napkins from a nearby table and zipped them toward you before you could protest.

You snatched them from the air, dabbing at your shirt. “Thanks, but I think the damage is done.”

“At least let me make it up to you,” he offered. “New coffee? Dry-cleaning bill? Dinner?” He grinned. “Autograph?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ll take the coffee.”

“Deal.”

And that was how you found yourself sitting at a café table with Pro Hero Hawks, sipping a fresh latte while he shamelessly flirted with you.

“So,” he mused, golden eyes locked on yours, “is this the part where you forgive me?”

“For scalding me with hot coffee?” You scoff. 

“Exactly.” He grinned. “I feel awful, really. Ruined your morning. Drenched your shirt. Completely wrecked your trust in pro heroes.”

You huffed in slight annoyance. “I’ll survive.”

“But will our relationship?” He sighed dramatically. “It was love at first spill, and now you’re acting all cold.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “Love at first—? Oh my god.”

Hawks smirked. “What? You don’t believe in fate?”

“Not when it involves coffee casualties.”

“C’mon,” he drawled, propping his chin in his hand. “There’s something poetic about it. A hero crashes into a beautiful stranger, drenches her in caffeine, then sweeps her off her feet—”

“—buys her a replacement coffee,” you corrected, “because he has a guilty conscience.”

“Guilty? Who, me?” He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Nah. I just wanted an excuse to sit across from a pretty girl.”

Heat crept up your neck. “You are unbelievable.”

“I’ve heard worse.” He leaned forward, voice dropping into something lower, smoother. “So, tell me, Coffee Girl—what do I gotta do to make this up to you?”

His voice curled around your spine, and you knew he was enjoying watching you squirm.

You swirled your coffee lazily, fighting a smirk. “You could start by promising not to bowl me over in the street again.”

Hawks hummed, tilting his head. “That’s a tough one. What if it’s just fate trying to push us together?”

You smirked. “Fate’s pushy.”

“I prefer persistent.” His foot nudged yours under the table, feather-light but deliberate. “What about dinner? That enough to get me back in your good graces?”

“Tempting,” you admitted, enjoying the game now. “But who says you deserve redemption?”

His eyes gleamed. “Guess I’ll just have to prove myself, huh?”

And judging by the way he was looking at you, like a challenge he fully intended to win, you had no doubt he would try.

Days later, while walking home at night, you heard an all-too-familiar sound:

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You sighed. Why is it always alleys?

Three men stepped into your path, grinning like they had the upper hand. The way they stood made a chill rush up your spine, holding themselves like predators. Ready to attack at a moment's notice. 

You squared your shoulders. “Not interested.”

One of them chuckled. “C’mon, don’t be like that.”

You were this close to just kicking the guy in the shin when—

“Y’know,” a familiar voice chimed, “she said she’s not interested.”

Red wings cast a shadow overhead before Hawks landed in front of you, arms crossed, smirking. Immediately, your eyes roll in annoyance, gazing upon your savior. 

The thugs froze, staring at his giant wings, looking him up and down. 

You blinked. “Seriously? You again?”

Hawks glanced at you. “Oh hey, Coffee Girl.” Then he turned to the thugs. “I’d run if I were you.”

They bolted. 

You exhaled. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have an excuse to see you again.” His eyes wander for a moment to take you in. A part of you would say he’s checking to make sure you’re ok, however, you genuinely suspect he’s admiring other things. 

You gave him a look. “You could’ve just asked for my number.”

Hawks grinned. “You sayin’ I’m not normal?”

“You’re wearing aviators at night.”

“Touché.”

He offered you his arm. “C’mon, I’ll fly you home.”

Flying with Hawks was… an experience.

You clung to him as he soared over the city, arms locked around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist because, obviously, there were no seatbelts in midair.

“Y’know,” he mused, voice dripping with amusement, “for someone who plays it cool, you’re really holding on tight.”

You shot him a glare. “Because I don’t have wings, Hawks.”

His grin widened. “Nah, but you do have me.”

Your stomach flipped, partly from his words, partly from the fact that he tilted you slightly mid-flight just to mess with you.

You tightened your grip. “I swear to God—”

“Relax,” he laughed. “I’d never drop you.”

His arm shifted beneath you, adjusting your position against him, and that’s when you felt it.

A hand. Lower than necessary.

Your eyes snapped to his face. “Excuse me?”

Hawks gave you his most innocent smile. “Somethin’ wrong?”

Your grip on his jacket tightened. “Your hand is a little low.”

He tilted his head, feigning confusion. “Is it?”

“Hawks.”

His smirk deepened. “Just making sure you’re secure, sweetheart.”

You glared. “If you don’t move your hand, I will jump.”

He snorted. “Babe, the only way you’re getting outta my arms right now—” he suddenly let go with one hand, leaving you dangling slightly, your stomach plummeting—“is if I drop you.”

A startled shriek ripped from your throat. “HAWKS!”

He immediately caught you again, laughing so hard his wings shook. “Oh man, that was cute.”

Your heart was about to beat out of your chest. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” He smirked, holding you a little closer now, his arms firm around you. “You trust me.”

You wanted to argue. You really did. But the way he was holding you—solid, secure, safe—had you biting your tongue.

You exhaled, grumbling. “Next time, I’m taking a taxi.”

“Sure you are,” he teased, nuzzling into your hair for just a second before tilting his head down, voice softer now. “You doin’ okay?”

You hesitated—because yeah, he was a menace, but he was also making sure you were comfortable.

“…Yeah,” you admitted, relaxing just slightly.

Hawks grinned. “Told ya.”

His arms shifted again, adjusting your weight just right as his wings curved to slow your descent.

“Hold on tight, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something low and smooth. “Landing’s the best part.”

You swore he meant more than just the flight.

You landed safely, and Hawks set you down on your balcony.

“Well,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “guess I should go before you call the cops on me.”

You smirked. “I’d need your number for that.”

His grin widened. “Now we’re talkin’.”

And just like that, Hawks had your number.

Finally, you were home. Entering in from your balcony, you flop onto your couch. You start scrolling mindlessly through your phone when it vibrates in your hand.

Hawks (aka Best Hero Ever): Hey, Coffee Girl. What’s up?

A smirk tugged at your lips. You should’ve known he wouldn’t wait long to text you.

You: Trying to forget that nickname.

Hawks (aka Best Hero Ever): No can do. It’s yours now.

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach still did that annoying little flip.

You: Rude.

Hawks (aka Best Hero Ever): Hey, I could’ve called you “Screams-Like-a-Baby-When-Dropped Girl.”

Your jaw dropped.

You: EXCUSE ME??

Hawks (aka Best Hero Ever): Oh, I didn’t stutter.

You grabbed a couch pillow and launched it across the room like it was somehow his face.

You: First of all, you LITERALLY let me go midair. Second, I didn’t scream like a baby.

Hawks (aka Best Hero Ever): Babe, you made dolphin noises.

Heat rushed to your face.

You: I hope you trip over your own wings.

Hawks (aka Best Hero Ever): Wow. That’s cold.

You chewed your lip, debating if you should keep the conversation going. It was probably smarter to stop engaging with him, but… you didn’t want to stop.

You hesitated before typing:

You: Why are you even texting me, Birdbrain? Don’t you have hero things to do?

His reply came immediately.

Hawks (aka Best Hero Ever): Maybe this IS hero work. Maybe I’m saving you from a lonely, boring night.

You huffed, but the warmth creeping up your neck was undeniable.

You: So you’re saying I’m pathetic?

Hawks (aka Best Hero Ever): Nah. Just saying your night got a whole lot better since I texted.

You should have called him out on his ego. You should have shut this whole thing down.

Instead, you typed:

You: You’re awfully confident for a guy who got rejected for dinner…

For a second, no reply came.

Then—

Hawks (aka Best Hero Ever): Wait.

Hawks (aka Best Hero Ever): Hold up.

Hawks (aka Best Hero Ever): Are you saying if I asked AGAIN, you’d say yes?

Your lips twitched.

You: I don’t know. Are you gonna drop me out of the sky again?

Hawks (aka Best Hero Ever): Hmmm. Maybe. Guess you’ll just have to trust me.

Your stomach did that thing again. The annoying thing.

You sighed, shaking your head. You were so screwed.

You: Fine. One dinner.

You barely had time to process what you’d done before your phone buzzed again.

Hawks (aka Best Hero Ever): Hope you don’t regret that, sweetheart.

You groaned, flopping back against the couch. You already did.

After that wild ride of a text conversation, a cold shower was calling your name. You were back in business in your comfiest outfit, AKA an oversized Hawks T-shirt that was way too big to be anything but pure comfort. You weren’t proud of it, but it was soft, damn it. And maybe, just maybe, a part of you found it a little funny to be wearing his logo after the coffee fiasco. You would never admit that you admired the winged hero, long before you had actually met him. 

You had just finished brushing your teeth when you heard the tap, tap, tap on your window.

You froze.

There is no way.

Slowly, you turned your head, and sure enough—there he was.

Hawks stood outside your balcony, smirking, golden eyes glinting through his red-tinted glasses. His wings shifted lazily behind him, catching the city lights like molten fire.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Good god, how many times do I have to see you in a day?”

He grinned. “What can I say? You’re my favorite part of it.”

You gaped at him, heat creeping up your neck. Shameless. He was completely shameless.

Then, as if the universe despised you, a gust of wind breezed through your apartment, ruffling the oversized T-shirt you were wearing.

Your Hawks T-shirt.

The realization hit instantly.

His gaze locked onto the bold golden logo emblazoned across your chest. His smirk curled into something positively wicked.

“Oh,” he drawled, stepping through the balcony door like he owned the place. “Now, this is interesting.”

You instinctively yanked the hem down, trying to also cover the fact that you only had panties on underneath it. “It was on sale!”

Hawks hummed, pretending to consider. “Mmm. That’s one theory.” He took another slow step forward. “Or maybe…” His fingers grazed the fabric at your hip, teasing. “You just wanted to feel close to me.”

Your stomach flipped. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet…” His hand trailed up the side of your waist, bunching the fabric ever so slightly. His smirk deepened. “You’re still wearing my name to bed.”

Your breath hitched. He was so close now, heat radiating off him in waves.

“Didn’t say when.”

You blinked. “What?”

His eyes flickered with mischief. “Dinner.” He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “I never said when I was taking you out.”

A full-body shiver wracked through you. His voice was too smooth, too warm, wrapping around you like silk.

You swallowed. “I—I need you to leave.”

He chuckled, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. “Are you sure?”

No. Absolutely not.

“Positive,” you lied.

Hawks grinned, then—just as quickly as he had stepped in—he backed off, making his way toward the balcony.

“Alright, alright,” he sighed, stretching. “I’ll let you off easy this time.”

Then he turned back one last time, flashing you a smirk over his shoulder.

“But don’t think I didn’t notice…” His voice dropped to a husky murmur. “That’s definitely not the only thing you’ve thought about wearing for me.”

And with that, the bastard winked at you. He winked like he hadn’t just sent your brain into a full meltdown.

Then, he was gone.

You exhaled, knees buckling, hands shaking, heart pounding.

You were so, so doomed.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Do You Trust Me?

Pairing: Arvin Russel x Reader

Summary: When Lenora finds out she’s pregnant and another girl turns up pregnant and murdered, Arvin and Y/N take matters into their own hands. 

Warnings: Violence, Murder, Sexual Assualt, Teen Pregnancy, Cursing, Mentions of Rape, Bullying, Dark Religious Themes, Talk of Abortion  DO NOT READ IF THESE BOTHER YOU (Very similar things to the movie)

Word Count: 7000

A/N: So Lenora doesn’t die in this but that part is instead replaced by the Reaster girl being found dead (I named her Jeanette... I didn’t remember if they gave her a first name)

A/N 2: I know I’m writing characters that exist already but like I feel like I’m going to Hell for writing this. Any other Christians feel that way about liking the movie?

___________________________________

Secrets were hard to keep in such a small town as Coal Creek. Everyone knew everyone and if one person saw something, the whole town knew about it by next morning. That’s why Lenora had kept her secrets with Reverend Teagarden from all except you. Other than Arvin, you were her only friend in the world. It felt nice to have another girl to talk to because as much as she loved her brother, it was nothing like having a sister. Though you weren’t related, just friends from school, it was the closest thing she had. 

The two of you had bonded over the harassment from boys at school. Unlike Lenora, you had no problem dishing back threats and abuse. You were more like Arvin in that sense, not always terrified that the Lord was going to smite you for defending yourself. You and Arvin were close too because of it. 

The day you two met, he’d gone to pick Lenora up from school one day to find the two of you cornered out back by Dinwoodie and his boys. They called Lenora ugly, as per their daily routine, and said they wouldn’t fuck her with a bag on a her head. Tommy Matheson had a paper bag held over her face, holding her down while she squirmed. 

“There ain’t nothing alive that would willingly let you touch them, Dinwoodie!” You spat while Orville Buckman held you back, his arms wrapped around your body, keeping your arms . pinned to your side, “You’re a vile thing. Hell, I’m sure a dead pig wouldn’t let you fuck it.” 

Dinwoodie spun around and blew a hard smack across your face, “Lenora here ain’t much different than that. But you on the other hand, I’d take you whether you wanted it or not. I like a girl with a dirty mouth. And lucky you, I won’t make you wear the bag.” 

He fisted your hair and pulled your face close to him, trying to force a kiss from you but spat in his face, a massive drip of saliva landing in his eyes and smaller particles spewed across his lips. “You nasty bi-” Gene Dinwoodie reared back, ready to hit you again when suddenly Arvin came out of nowhere, sending a solid blow straight into Gene’s face, sending him flying to the ground with a crack. 

Orville let you go to go after Arvin and Tommy did the same to Lenora. You ran over to her and pulled the bag from her head, seeing evidence of her silent tears all over her face. Once you saw she was okay though, you ran over to help Arvin, who had found himself dragged to the ground by the three boys. Lenora got up too, screaming for them to stop. 

“Stop!” You yelled, pulling at Gene’s arms to try and get him to stop kicking Arvin. He shoved you back harshly by the chest but you caught yourself, returning with a sharp blow to his face with your locked fist. 

The enraged boy smacked you even harder than before, sending your ass to the ground with thud that you knew would leave a bruise. Your hands and knees got skinned up as you skid slightly on the pavement. Lenora kept pulling on the boys too, begging them to stop but to no avail. 

“Ha, sister fucker!” The three of them called out to Arvin before leaving the three of you alone. 

“Are you okay?” You asked the boy that you hadn’t met before, who was curled up in a ball on the ground and holding his stomach. He groaned in response, trying to push himself up but requiring your assistance. “Thank you for what you did back there. I’m sorry this happened.” 

He stretched, flinching at the slight movement. He sent a small nod towards you but then turned towards Lenora, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner, Lenora.” Words couldn’t describe the guilt he felt for allowing this to happen. 

“It-it’s okay, Arvin. It wasn’t that bad this time. Y/N here took the brunt of it, unfortunately.” Lenora turned to you, “‘M sorry about that, by the way. You didn’t need to step in for me.” 

You had stood up about the same time Arvin did, brushing as much of the dirt off your bleeding and scraped up knees as you could without flinching, “Those guys are ass holes, Lenora. I did need to.” 

Lenora piped up, “Oh, um, Y/N, this is my brother Arvin. Arvin, this is Y/N. She just moved here.” 

“It’s nice to meet ya.” You greeted the boy with a pained smile, your face hurting from the blows you’d just taken. 

Arvin nodded, “You too.” He paused for a moment, “Can I give you a ride home? I don’t need them boys catching up with you again on the ride home. Besides, your face is getting mighty red. I might have something back at my house to keep it from bruising up too bad.” 

You looked over at Lenora, sending her a questioning look, like asking if you could trust this boy who had just come to your rescue, which may have seemed like an odd inquiry to have since he just tried to take on the guys harassing you, but your encounters with boys in this town hadn’t gone all too well thus far. The girl looked unfazed though with almost a hint of excitement that you could possibly be going to her home. 

“Um, yeah, I’d like that. Thank you.” You tucked a messy strand of hair behind your ear before looking back up at Arvin to see that he was already staring at you. 

That was months ago. You’d gotten settled into Coal Creek by now and the abuse from Dinwoodie had stopped entirely after Arvin had gone full vigilante to beat the shit out of them all. Speaking of Arvin, the day he saved you and Lenora, he asked you on a date and the pair of you had been going steady ever since. If there was ever a couple to not be fucked with, the town had learned it was you two. 

This weekend, you’d gone over to the Russel’s home for supper at their Grandma’s invitation. It was delicious, as usual, as that woman had the God-given ability to produce miracles in that kitchen. As you all finished up, Uncle Earskell asked Arvin to help with something upstairs so he left without a second thought to help his kin. 

Lenora had been looking at you funny all night, as if trying to catch your eye. After helping Grandma (which she insisted you call her as well) clean up supper, Lenora pulled you off to the side, “Y/N, let’s go on a walk. I need to tell you something.” 

The weight in her eyes told you how serious this was so you just nodded, “Yeah, yeah, of course. Let’s go.” 

She grabbed a lantern on her way out the door and towards the barn. It was already dark, despite only being seven in the evening. Lenora led you out there and then closed the door before sitting on the hay. “So what is it?” You asked nervously. Normally, you would have made a joke but something told you that this wasn’t a joking matter. Anxiety buzzed all around her. 

“Y’know the new pastor? Preston Teagarden?” Lenora began, wringing her hands together and beginning to hide under her long red hair. 

You nodded, the question having an obvious answer as everyone, including your God fearing Mama and Aunt, went to church every Sunday. “What about ‘im?” 

“Well… um… y’see. We… we had sex.” She whispered the last word like it was the dirtiest thing she could fathom saying. 

Your eyes blew wide and your mouth dropped open, “You what?” You whispered back in shock. 

“Shh!” She held her finger up to her lips, “He said that to bear yourself as God made his first children was to truly turn yourself to Him.” 

You were having a difficult time processing this new information. Arvin and you had both agreed that there was something off about that new preacher since the first day you met him but you wouldn’t have guessed it was anything like this. “Lenora, that makes no sense. God sees everything. He’s already seen you in your birthday suit. He doesn’t need the preacher to see it too.” 

Part of you felt bad for the way you were reacting, especially when you saw the way your best friend shrunk back a little in embarrassment. Clearly, he’d manipulated her into getting what he wanted, using her faith as a weapon for her sexual exploitation, but of course she didn’t see it like that because his words were specifically tailored to get her to believe him. Now as you said these things, though, it was becoming clearer to Lenora that she had been manipulated. 

“That’s not all…” She continued. 

You held her arm gently, “What is it?” 

Her eyes got wide with fear, “You can’t tell anyone okay? You gotta promise.” Her hand covered yours, gripping tightly to ensure that you grasped the severity of the situation. 

You swallowed hard, honestly scared by her reactions to whatever was happening. This wasn’t like sweet, simple, calm Lenora. Nonetheless, you nodded, “I promise.” 

“I think I’m pregnant.” 

You actually choked, “What? Are you sure?” This was bad. This was so bad. 

Her eyes began to well up with guilty tears, “Yeah, I am. I was pretty sick a few weeks back. Couldn’t eat nothin’ cause I kept throwin’ up. And I haven’t had that time of the month in  two months.” 

“Two months, Lenora? Shit…” You whispered, leaning back against the hay. Even before moving to Coal Creek, you came from a small town in Pennsylvania where this had happened to a few girls. In fact, it wasn’t uncommon in that particular town. Your daddy had been a doctor before he died so you’d seen more than a few cases of teenage pregnancy. For Lenora, though, this was practically unheard of. Good Christian girls don’t have babies before marriage. “Did you tell ‘im?” 

Lenora’s breath shook, “Yeah ‘nd he said I was crazy and delusional. Just imaginin’ things. Said we never did nothin’ in the car. Then he said that I had to get rid of the baby or I’d be branded as the town whore with a bastard son. Even said it’d kill Grandma from the shame of it all if anyone found out.” 

“That is not true, Lenora. None of it. You’re not a whore and it would be best for everyone if that baby inside you was a bastard. That disgusting man isn’t fit to walk the Earth we live on, let alone be a father.” It felt like the blood was rushing through your veins with full force, internally panicking about the situation. This was a big deal and, unfortunately, you weren’t sure if Lenora was emotionally capable enough to handle it alone. She’d always been quiet and lonely and an easy target for cruel people. “Are you keepin’ it?” 

Her breathing shuddered as if she’d started crying, “I can’t kill the baby inside me and go on livin’ with that. But I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared,Y/N.” Lenora threw her arms around you and you held her as her body rattled against yours. 

“Shh, you got me, alright? Me and Arvin. And I’m sure Grandma wouldn’t be ashamed if she knew what Teagarden did to you.” You insisted but she shook her head. 

“You must think I’m stupid for believin’ that man.” She sat up wiping her eyes with her sleeve. 

“No! I do not think you’re stupid at all. That monster took advantage of you, told you things to make you believe that his dirty, lustful thoughts were vindicated by the Lord. And he’s going to fucking pay.” You were furious now as you began to stand up, unsure of exactly what you’d do but you knew you were gonna do it. 

Lenora grabbed your arm and pulled you back down, “No! Wait! Please-” 

“What’s going on here?” Arvin opened the door with a concerned face. 

Both you and Lenora jumped at his sudden intrusion but were even more nervous about what he’d heard. 

“How much did you hear?” Lenora asked her brother, rubbing her hands on her thighs. 

He walked in and slammed the door shut behind him, kneeling down in front of you and his sister, “That someone took advantage of you and Y/N was gonna make ‘im pay. Now what happened? What’s going on?” 

This was one of the things that you’d always loved about Arvin. He had this protective nature over what he loved, ready to do anything to keep his loved ones safe, whether that was his sister, his girlfriend, or his grandmother. His brown eyes held so much sincerity and understanding for his younger sister but also fear for what had been done to her. 

When she didn’t respond right away, Arvin looked over to you with questioning desperate eyes but you chewed your lip, knowing that it wasn’t your secret to tell. Instead, you looked back over to Lenora sadly and nudged her slightly. 

“C-can you say? Please? I don’t wanna say it again.” Lenora begged you quietly, avoiding eye contact with Arvin. Though you could never truly know she felt, you tried to understand all the emotions that must have been running through her. 

Arvin met your eyes, begging you to tell him what had happened. “She’s pregnant. It’s that Reverend Teagarden’s baby. Said that he told her that the only way to get close to God was to show him her in the form of Adam and Eve. But now he’s saying that she’s delusional and that it’s not his.” 

Arvin’s temper flamed inside his chest. That explained the Reverend’s intense sermon about delusion this last Sunday. Nobody did this to his sister and got away with it. “I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking ki-” 

“Arvin please-” Lenora tried to calm him but it was a weak attempt, still trying to stay quiet so Grandma wouldn’t notice.

“No, I’ll end his life for what he did to you.” 

You watched your boyfriend reel around, hands holding onto his hat. He was livid, understandably so. 

Lenora wasn’t quite sure why she wanted to protect Preston Teagarden after what he’d done to her but she thinks it’s that she was more concerned for her brother. Besides, no matter what Teagarden had done, did he really deserve to die for it? 

“We don’t have to hurt him,” You spoke to your boyfriend, “If she wants, she can just have the baby and we’ll help raise it.” 

“But he said it’s not his and that I’ll just be considered some no-good whore. He said it’ll kill Grandma. I don’t want to kill Grandma.” She was almost crying again at the thought of their grandmother ending up six feet under because of the shame of having her as a granddaughter. 

“He said that?!” Arvin nearly yelled. 

“But what if he’s right?” Lenora thought out loud, “I couldn’t live with myself if I got rid of the baby but I can’t risk killing Grandma. Maybe it would be better if I were dead-” 

“No!” You and Arvin both said firmly in unison. You held her hand tight and Arvin knelt down again. 

He swiped his thumb comfortingly across the back of her hands, “Don’t you ever say that. We have both already lost too damn much to lose each other too, ya hear me?” 

Lenora nodded, tears falling down her cheeks when she closed her eyes. 

“Why can’t we just ruin him? You can have the baby and let everyone know what he did. Everyone will know that he’s the father and it’ll destroy his life.” Arvin suggested, all of the miserable ways this could end for the man twisting his heart in sadistic pleasure. 

You shook your head though, “No, they won’t. It’s different for girls in small towns like this. Doesn’t matter what happened, you’re still the dirty no good whore, even if you were raped. The man is treated like a victim for even having the inkling of an accusation brought up.” After a few minutes, you suggested, “Why don’t we run off. We’ll all go to a new town, somewhere where nobody knows none of us. We’ll tell ‘em that your husband died in the war, leaving you with the baby. I’ll go with. I’ll help you raise it.” 

She shook her head, “But what about Grandma and Uncle Earskell?” She did have a point. They were both getting on in age and would need more help than they already did. 

You all sat in silence for a few moments, brainstorming ideas of what to do. Eventually, Arvin looked at his sister, “Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out.”

The three of you went back to the house for the rest of the night, knowing that everyone would be getting suspicious if you were out any longer. 

The three of you kept the secret quiet, barely even speaking about it to each other. You’d been doing as much research on babies in the libraries at school, which earned you quite a few disapproving looks from people who assumed that you and Arvin were expecting. You were serious when you said that you had every intention of helping Lenora and so was Arvin. 

Weeks had gone by with relatively no news. Well, that’s what the town thought at least. After finding out about what the Reverend had done to Lenora, Arvin had told you about his plan to watch him. 

The pair of you had spent several afternoons staked out near the church, watching as he went to the place of worship and then left at night. But then you started noticing a frequent visitor. Jeanette Reaster. The pair would drive off to a little secluded field and, sure enough, Teagarden would have his way with her. Though you couldn’t hear what was said, it was clear that they’d been praying beforehand before she submitted to him fully. Now, you knew Jeanette Reaster and, much like Lenora, she was the last person you’d imagine having premarital sex for the fear of being struck down by God. Whatever this man had said to them must have been real convincing. 

“Piece of shit…” Arvin leaned forward against the steering wheel of his car while you sat beside him. You both watched on as the Reverend laid the girl down and began his assault of falsely “holy” acts. 

For respect of Jeanette, you both looked away during the actual act but when you saw her ride off, Teagarden got out of his car, a bunch of fabric in his hands and sniffed them as he watched her. “That fucking perv. How does nobody know about this?” You asked, disgusted. Reaster was a good girl. She didn’t deserve this abuse. 

“We know about it.” Arvin said, putting the car in reverse, “And that’s enough.” Less than a week later, word got out that Jeanette Reaster had run off. Grandma had told Arvin and Lenora that her mother had said to her privately that Jeanette left a note saying that she was pregnant but the father refused to believe that he was the father. To spare her family the shame, she ran away and begged them to just say that they had no idea what had happened to her. That’s what her parents intended to do for their daughter’s sake but had entrusted Grandma with the secret just so they had somebody to talk to about it.

The day after she disappeared, they found her body on the side of the road just a few towns over. Nobody had any idea of what had happened except for you and Arvin. Both of you were convinced that Teagarden had murdered her to keep his secret from getting out. 

The anger that was held between you and Arvin both was unparalleled. In part, you both felt partially responsible for her death. If only you’d said something, maybe you could have saved her. But neither of you even knew she was pregnant. That monster did to her exactly what he had probably planned to do to Lenora. 

“We have to set things right.” Arvin said, sitting in his car one night with you in the woods, “That girl is dead and I can’t help but feel like it’s on me.” His head hung sadly, the weight of another death weighing on his heart. 

You shifted sideways in the seat, your jeans rubbing against the vinyl car seats. You placed a hand gingerly on his cheek, “This is not your fault. This is the evil of a wicked man.” 

“A girl is dead, Y/N. He got her pregnant and murdered her. He got Lenora pregnant and tried to convince her she was crazy. He’s taking advantage of innocent girls out here and then tying up the loose ends.” Arvin sat there, so much hurt behind his brown eyes. Then an idea dawned on him, “Do you trust me?” 

The question took you off guard and it showed but you answered honestly, “Yes.” 

** 

Perhaps being quieter in church was for the best for this particular scenario. You’d never been as religious as the rest of your family or the rest of the town, for that matter. But this morning, you found yourself on your knees by your bedside. “Lord, please forgive the things that I am about to do. Please understand that I do this with the best intentions of protecting every other girl to cross paths with Preston Teagarden and to avenge the death of Jeanette Reaster. I pray that you please forgive Arvin as well as I know he is a man with nothing but good and love in his heart. In Jesus’ holy name, amen.” 

Almost on cue, your mom knocked on the door to see you on your knees, “Arvin is out front waiting for you.” She announced with a warm smile, noticing your outfit, “You look nice, sweetie! Since when do you clean up all cute for that boy?” She teased, a loving smile on her face as you smoothed out your yellow dress that hung just below your knees. The sleeves were tight and went about halfway down your biceps. It was far from revealing with a neckline that stopped just below your collarbones but it still was tight enough to accentuate the shape of your concealed breasts. A brown belt was tied around your waist, showing off your figure. 

“Yeah, well I figured that for once I might as well dress up and do something nice.” The lie slipped out smoothly despite the racing of your heart in your chest. 

She pulled you in for a hug, “Well you tell Arvin that I want you back by nine tonight! I’ll be going over to Mrs. Hadderson’s for quilting today, just so you know, in case I’m not home when you get back.” 

You picked up your bag and pulled her into a side hug, “Alright, Mama. Love you!” You hollered, running out the door. Arvin was dressed normally, just his blue jeans and t-shirt, but he still looked great as always. 

When you slid into the passenger seat of his car, he perked up and looked over at you, “Not used to seeing you like this on any day but Sunday.” He attempted to joke but found it difficult considering what the two of you were planning on doing. 

After driving a ways down the road, he asked, “Are you sure you want to be a part of this? Because I can drop you off with Lenora and I’ll take care of this myself.” 

Looking over at him to see his eyes scanning your face for signs of hesitation, you placed your hand on his leg, “I’m not letting you do this alone.” 

Not too deep down, Arvin felt terrible for allowing you to partake in this. Death had always seemed to follow him wherever he went; he didn’t want you to be stuck with the same curse. The two of you developed a plan but Arvin had created a backup just in case you decided you didn’t want to partake, not that he would blame you. He was terrified beyond belief himself but he’d decided that for the sake of every other girl in this town and any other one’s Teagarden had harmed in the past, he had to do this. 

The only thing making him feel remotely at peace with your involvement was the fact that you weren’t actually doing the killing. You were the diversion, he was the trigger man. Arvin sighed, relenting to the fact that you were in on this, “Did you bring the rope?” He asked, eyes flicking over to you and your bag between glances at the road that moved beneath the wheels of his car. 

You dug around in your little bag and pulled out a small length of rope, a weapon chosen for the lack of clean up. “Got it. You got the gun?” 

Arvin pulled his denim jacket back just enough to show the handle of the Luger that once belonged to his father. This weapon was chosen for its reliability. Once you guys started, you had to finish otherwise he’d tell everyone. 

Before you knew it, the tires were coming to a crunching halt on the rocky sideturn just around the corner from the church. A sudden wave of nausea came over you and you had to breathe deeply to settle it down. “You okay?” Arvin asked, reaching out for you. 

You swallowed hard, “Yeah.” Sweat began to bead up on your brow as a million different images of what could happen in the next few minutes ran through your head. 

Arvin watched as you zoned out on the dashboard and he knew exactly what was going on in your mind. It was the same inner conflict he’d had this morning before picking you up, when he first pocketed the gun.  “Whatever happens today, I need you to know that I love you Y/N.” 

You sucked a quick breath in. Neither of you had ever used the L-word before. Arvin was scared to because he’d lost so many people and the fewer people he loved, that fewer people he could lose. You had just never loved anyone romantically before and were too terrified that maybe you’d say it too early or think you felt it when you really didn’t. With Arvin, though, you knew it. “I love you too, Arvin.” You leaned forward and kissed him on the lips deeply, wanting nothing more than to stay against his skin for the rest of your lives. But, unfortunately, there was something you had to do first. 

“Remember, just get him to bring you to the field. I will be there waiting. I won’t let anything happen to you, you hear?” Your faces were close together, so close your foreheads almost touched, as he went over the plan one last time, trying to make sure that you knew that you were safe as long as he was around. 

“I know.” You gave him a small, reassuring smile, though it was far from a grin of actual happiness.

Arvin watched as you got out of the car, leaving the small bundle of rope behind, and walked down the dirt driveway to the church. You looked just like someone that pervert would fall head over heels for. There was an innocent sway to your hips and the way you held your bag close to your body screamed insecurity, but the kind of a young girl who doesn’t know how beautiful she is. The funny thing was that this wasn’t something totally out of character for you. Sure, you had a mouth and fist that could dish as much as it could take, and yeah, you and Arvin had been together for almost half a year, but there was still a youthful innocence to you. There was still a brightness in your eyes and a pep in your step, one that hadn’t been beat down by the tragedies of life yet. It was one of the things that Arvin found most attractive about you but it was also one of the things that Preston Teagard would as well. 

The doors of the church were cracked open just slightly when you approached and you could see the Reverend sitting in the pews, reading his Bible, through the gap. Taking one less final deep breath, you pressed the door open and stepped in, the heels of your little white chucks padding against the hardwood. Teagard turned around at the sound, “Why, hello, there.” He greeted warmly. It disgusted you how this man could act no different after knowing what he’d just done but the worst monsters were human. 

“Uh, hi there, Reverend. I’m sorry to bother but I just needed to talk to you about something.” You began, accentuated your Appalachian drawl while trying to make your voice sound as young and innocent as you could. 

He patted the pew beside him, “Well, my child, you’ve come to the right place. That’s what I’m here for. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?” 

Skin crawling as you walked, you forced your feet to move towards the man and sit beside him. Right away, his arm stretched behind your shoulders as he sat uncomfortably close. At first, you avoided eye contact, “Well, um, you see, I’ve been… straying from the light and I really want to get right with God.” 

This had to be the first truth you’d told anyone other than Arvin today. You felt too terrible lying in the presence of God so you’d found a way to genuinely get your feelings off your chest while still luring Teagarden into your trap. 

He rubbed his chin and hummed, “The fact that you acknowledge this means you haven’t strayed too far. God always comes back to his flock, even to those little sheepies who’ve gone astray. Why don’t you tell me more.” He urged. 

Your hands squeezed the strap of your bag tightly, “I… I have lustful thoughts sometimes.” 

Preston was lucky he’d had a lot of practice concealing his emotions because he’d be lying if he said that those words didn’t stir something in him, “Now are these just thoughts or have you acted on them?” 

“Oh, just thoughts, Reverend. I’ve never acted on any of them.” You reassured, finally meeting his eyes. They seemed to look at you with such understanding that you could see why Lenora and Jeanette had fallen for him. 

He nodded in approval, “And who are these thoughts about?” 

This was where you’d have to do a bit more lying, “I don’t really want to say.” You blushed bright red. You knew that Preston must have taken this as a sign that it was about him but it wasn’t. Your dirty thoughts never strayed from Arvin. 

Preston looked away and then back down at you, “You’re going with that Russel boy, right?” 

Silently, you nodded, not wanting to incriminate your boyfriend too much in this process of confession. 

“Has he ever touched you?” Preston pressed, his body getting closer to yours inch by inch until your legs were nearly touching. 

The red in your cheeks wasn’t part of the act anymore but genuine. You shook your head, “No, never.” You felt almost panicked at the question. 

“Have you ever touched yourself to these thoughts?” His voice became slower, more cautious as his inquiries got riskier and riskier. 

You found yourself unable to maintain eye contact with him anymore and looked back down at your shoes instead, just shaking your head, “No, I feel too weird. Like it’s a violation or somethin’.” 

Preston looked away, as if considering something, before turning back to you, “Can I show you some place? I find it helps me feel closer to God when I feel like I’m goin’ astray. Perhaps I could help.” 

Hook and sink. He’d fallen right into the trap. With a shy nod, you agreed sweetly, “Yeah, yeah, I’d like that. Is it far?” 

Teagard shook his head, “Oh no, not too far at all. But I’ll drive so we don’t have to walk.” 

Getting him to drive you to the spot was just as easy as you imagined it would be. With a quick glance in the rear view mirror, you noticed a car in the far distance behind you that you immediately recognized as Arvin following. Preston’s car came to a stop in the same field you’d seen him take Jeanette Reaster to a few weeks ago, facing the woods ahead. 

It really was quite peaceful and would have been a pretty sight if you weren’t with a sexual predator. Again, his arm slid around your shoulders and you breathed in deeply, the intense sexual tension making you uncomfortable even though you had every intention of finishing him off before he even got a hand up your skirt. 

“You said that Russel boy has never touched you. Have you ever shown him yourself?” The fact that this man had the nerve to ask you such questions disgusted you beyond belief but you kept up the facade. 

“Like naked?” You clarified, seeing him nod, “No, not naked. We went to the lake one time so he saw me in my bathing suit then but that’s not exactly the same thing.” 

Preston chuckled at your naivety, “No, no, not the same thing at all. You know how you’re supposed to save yourself for marriage to be right with the Lord. But there is nothing that brings you closer back to our heavenly father than to be as Adam and Eve were in the Garden of Eden, the garden of pure paradise.” 

“How is that so?” You cranked up the childlike inquisitive nature as you looked up at him with big doe eyes. 

Preston had to fight the urge to take you here and now, looking at you like this, but he remained strong for the sake of the process. “They were made in his image. We all were but they were his original children. The pure, unaltered image of God himself, before the sin of man tainted it all. By showing yourself in your pure, unaltered image, you bring yourself closer to the light.” 

Your brows furrowed, “But didn’t you just say that premarital sex is a sin?” This may have been jeopardizing your mission but you felt inclined to point out the hypocrisy before you offed the man. 

He nodded, chest falling and rising with a heavy sigh, “It depends on who you’re with. I’m a man of God myself and I like to model myself after Jesus. I’d like to think that makes me an extension of His love and power and therefore an outlet for you to feel safe to do whatever you need to do in order to be right with Him.” 

With a shaky breath, you bit your lip, “Alright. H-how do I-?”

Preston watched as you fiddled with the hem of your skirt and let his mind wander to what else those fingers might be good at. “First, let us pray.” He reached over and held your hand, “Lord, Y/N is showing herself to you. See her Lord, as you made her. She presents herself to you. Give her strength. Amen.” 

“Amen.” You muttered after him, your fingers slowly going to unbutton your dress. This wasn’t how you’d imagined the first time a boy seeing you in your knickers going. In your mind, it had always been on a nice romantic evening with Arvin and a selfish part of you wanted it to stay that way but then you remembered why you were doing what you were doing and sucked down the reservations. At least you weren’t actually losing your virginity to the monster. 

Nervous fingers fuddled with the button for just a moment too long and Teagarden twisted sideways, hands coming to cover yours, “May I?” He offered his assistance. 

Your heart thumped so loud you could hear it but you nodded silently, letting your fingers fall onto your thighs. With deftly skilled fingers, he had your blouse unbuttoned before long and had pushed it off your shoulders. Your breath caught in your throat at this much exposure, your breasts just barely concealed under only the fabric of your bra. Lord, you prayed silently, please let this be over with quickly. 

Your eyes slid closed, trying to imagine that it was Arvin touching you instead of Preston Teagarden but then the mere thought of comparing the two made you sick to your stomach. They were nothing alike. 

A set of chapped lips kissed your forehead gently, then your cheek, and then, finally, your lips. At first, you drew back, but still kept your eyes closed, trying to mask the disgust with untouched hesitance. You forced your body to relax again and Preston took that as a cue to continue with what he was doing, his lips returning to yours. 

Wasting no time, he’d crawled over you until your back was flush against the seat. You placed your hands awkwardly and haphazardly on Preston’s shoulder’s, trying to feign inexperienced confusion. You and Arvin may not have ever gone all the way, but you’d at least gone this far. 

Preston’s lips moved down your neck and your breath got caught in your throat. As much as you hated it, he knew what he was doing. This man knew all the right buttons to push to make a nervous girl submit to his every desire and, though you were well aware of the game he was playing and had zero attraction to him, the physical reactions were almost impossible to stop. Your body shuddered when his stubble, something Arvin lacked, scratched the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes were open wide now, just waiting for your boyfriend to finally show up and save you from this situation. 

Arvin approached the car and slowly and quietly as he could. The windows were up so it wasn’t too big an issue as long as he wasn’t clanging metal but he figured he didn’t want to take any chances. When approached the driver’s window, his heart wrenched and he immediately regretted putting you in this position. 

Preston was on top of you, his hands roaming all around your semi-exposed chest. He knew that you’d never been exposed like that to anyone before and he suddenly felt sick with himself for allowing the first time to be with anyone beside him, let alone Preston fucking Teagard. 

He expected to have to psych himself up for the actual kill, to have to convince himself to do it but when you locked eyes with him, a silent plea to get the man off of you, it came unnervingly natural. With the rope already wrapped around both of his fists, Arvin reached for the handle and threw the door open, looping the rope around Preston’s neck and dragging him back out of the car. Preston’s eyes were wide with shock and fear, “What the fuck?!” He hollered in fear, the words turning to gagging and choking. His hands grasped at the rope but Arvin had it pulled too tightly. 

Preston’s body was kicking against the grass but his neck and head were pressed against Arvin’s chest, who was kneeling in the field. 

“You really thought you could get away with what you did to my Lenora? To that poor Reaster girl you murdered? And then I bet you were willing to do the same to her over there too, huh?” He seethed, notioning over to you with a flick of his chin. 

The reverend tried to say something, anything to defend himself or get himself out of this situation but Arvin never let up so the words came out as disgustingly graphic chokes. You crawled out of the car, not knowing what you could do to help or secure the situation but feeling useless now. 

In a few minutes time, his lips had turned blue and the thrashing of his body had stopped. Arvin finally let up and the body slump into the grass. He crawled back and away from the man who had only moments ago been all over you, touching you. 

That was when he remembered that you were there still. He’d gotten so blinded by rage that he almost blacked out, caught up in the task at hand. But when he looked up, his heart began to beat again and he stood up, rushing to you, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” 

Your face was pale and blank, almost as if you were in shock. Your top was still totally unbuttoned, white modest bra still exposed to the world but you didn’t look like you cared at all. If Arvin was being honest, this wasn’t how he’d pictured seeing you topless for the first time going. He always hoped it would be romantic and with more than enough time to compliment every inch of your perfect body. Instead, you looked scared and shocked and almost like you could be sick. 

“Y/N?” He urged, coming stand between you and Preston’s body, attempting to break your view of it. He reached down and began to re-button your blouse for you. 

“I’m fine,” You said flatly, only moving to look up at him, “Are you okay?” 

With a glance down at his knuckles, the rope burn was clear to see, but Arvin had been through much worse, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m so sorry that I let him do that. This whole idea was stupid and now-” 

“No,” You interrupted, finally snapping out of your shocked state and bringing your hands up to rest on his, which were on your chest now, “He can’t hurt anyone anymore.” 

Arvin didn’t actually feel remorse for killing the man. The only thing he wanted was to take you back home, or rather far away, where there weren’t any reminders of today’s events. He wanted to show you how special you were, how much he loved you, and how brave he thought you were for being willing to be Teagarden’s last victim for the better good of the world. 

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Tf2 headcanons? Aw yeah! So let's say a new merc joins the team. They're a total asshole: Cocky, sarcastic, overconfident, refuse help. But both Spy and Scout see right through that, it's a defense mechanism. How do they go about making this person comfortable enough to not be an asshole?

*chanting* HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMF

Okay, jokes aside, this is one of my favorite tropes. Maybe I’m too naïve to believe that some people are just mean to be mean, or maybe it’s a sort of comfort to know that even the worst people can be understood, but either way, WOOOOOOOOO!

*****************

An Ass For An Ass

Headcanons

Scout:

To be honest, Scout’s threshold for asshole-ery is pretty high. Growing up with eight brothers will do that to you.

But when the new recruit came around, something immediately rubbed him the wrong way.

Recruit always stole his thunder with the crass jokes and over-the-top displays. Every battle turned into a competition, which messed with Scout’s system of fighting. He never had to focus much on his own team before, and now he had to worry about keeping his own reputation upheld while trying not to get stabbed, shot, or blown up.

Recruit also kept hitting on Miss Pauling - even after reminding them again and again that she was lesbian, and was not and never will be into dudes.

“Come on…you just haven’t been with a real man yet…”

“No, no, I’ve been with a lot of men. Real men. I just wasn’t into any of them. After a while, it was kind of obvious.”

But what really pissed a lot of people off was Recruit’s fighting style.

They were an absolute monster on the field - that’s why they were chosen - but every interaction was treated as some sort of survival scenario.

One would think that would be a good thing, but Recruit was ridiculous.

No matter what the situation was, he was fine, he was okay, he could take it, he could fix it.

He could be killed only inches away from a Medic because he would never yell for one. Sometimes Recruit would even show visible anger at being healed. It got to the point where Medic didn’t heal him at all, and just allowed him to die as to not waste time he could give too more grateful patients.

Missions were even worse.

He followed orders to a T, but Pauling had to beg him to leave a failed mission, or to leave without completely destroying the site.

Everyone just took it as Recruit showing off, or having something to prove as a rookie.

It was annoying, but ultimately harmless in most circumstances.

However, it all came to a head when Recruit tried disengage a sentry by himself and was severely injured.

Both Engineer and Medic, who had had to fix most of Recruit’s past and current recklessness, ripped him a new one, one chewing out after the other.

“What we’re you thinkin’, son?! One crossed wire and you woulda blown the whole base!”

“Zhe only reason you are allowed in my lab at all is because it’s in my contract. Personally, I vould have rather left nature to it…”

Since then, Recruit did exactly as he was told, and nothing else. And most of the team liked it that way.

But Scout recognized some warning signs immediately. Fatigue, near silence except for missions, self-isolation, snapping when people got too close…it all paved the way for a pretty nasty (and, for Scout, very familiar) result.

One night, Recruit was sitting on the balcony, and Scout came out with two bottles - a beer for Recruit and a root beer for himself.

(Scout can only drink on the weekends because one, unlike most, he can’t go to work hung over because his job requires a lot of movement, and two, he has no restraint and can’t stop once he starts.)

“What do you want?”

Scout shrugged. “Depends.”

“On what?!”

“What are ya willin’ to tell me?”

Recruit just looked at the beer and sneered.

“Can’t we just skip this?” Scout said. “Maybe get to the part where you tell me what kinda Sally Sob Story we’re dealin’ with here?”

Recruit looked away.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t tell me you don’t got one. ‘Cause you do. I can see it a mile away. So what happened? Pop leave? Somebody died? Lotta brothers and sisters? Ma had a few too many and smacked ya around?”

Recruit didn’t turn around, but Scout could tell he was crying. He had hit a sore spot. Hard.

“Hey, pal, listen…”

Scout trailed off, then slowly began again.

“…the only reason I know is ‘cause I’ve been through it, ‘kay? Outta everybody I knew, I only trusted me. And that was great when I did a good job, ‘cause I knew I put me there.”

Scout opened his bottle of root beer and took a long swig.

“But when I screwed somethin’ up, it’s like everybody I ever knew just let me down. The one thing I could count on was gone.”

Recruit looked at Scout with tears in his eyes.

“But ya can’t do everything by yourself,” Scout continued. “Believe me. I learned that the hard way.”

Scout laughed, but it was mostly to clear the air. He didn’t get serious very often.

Recruit hadn’t touched his beer, but was leaned over the balcony with his head in his hands.

Scout sighed and looked up at the stars.

“But here’s somethin’ that nobody told me - it gets easier, y’know that? You just gotta relax and cut yourself some slack.”

Recruit shifted uncomfortably. “But the Administrator said…”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I know what she said. Gave ya that whole speech about how bein’ part of the team means discipline and focus and whatever. It’s all bull crap. She don’t know the first thing about bein’ on the field. If she did, why’d she hire us?”

“Sh-she said my perseverance was an asset to the team.”

“Perseverance, my ass. You know what would be an asset to the team? Stayin’ alive for more than fifteen minutes!”

Recruit looked at his feet. He had blinked away his tears, but he still looked on the verge of falling apart.

Scout put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it a little.

“You’re a great fighter, Recruit. You’re one of the best…that’s why you’re here. You got nothin’ to prove to nobody. Not to me, not to the team, not to the Administrator…not even to yourself. You’ve made it, kid. You’ve made it.”

Scout slid his hand off Recruit and started to walk away.

“Hey.”

Scout turned to see Recruit in the process of opening his beer.

“Thanks.”

Scout smiled. “No problem, pal. Plenty more under Demo’s mattress.”

“No, I mean…for that. I needed that tonight.”

“Oh…yeah! Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

Scout went back inside and to his room - but not before checking the cameras on the balcony a few times. Just in case.

Over the next few months, Scout kept helping Recruit break some old bad habits.

Recruit learned to take criticism without getting angry, to leave tanked missions, and to take care of himself.

He still occasionally flirted with Miss Pauling, but it was now more of an inside joke than anything.

Recruit still isn’t perfect - he still cringes a little when he’s healed, and falls back into survival mode when times are stressful - but he is now a much happier, much healthier person.

Spy:

Spy’s asshole wasn’t a merc, per se.

They were more of an informant, usually giving out important facts about locations, missions, and a target’s history.

Sometimes they would even use the Administrator’s PA system to announce new rules and reminders.

This would be perfectly fine - after all, you get kind of tired of hearing the Administrator all the time - except for the fact that Informant was the most sarcastic, most nasally, most apathetic, most matter-of-fact person on earth.

Even outside of a work setting, which was rare because they stayed in their office most of the time, Informant would go out of their way to be as condescending as possible.

Especially to whoever they considered to be in the “less intelligent” category: Heavy, Pyro, Scout, Demo, and Soldier.

To all the “others,” he turned every briefing into a contest to see who knew more at any given time…which, of course, usually meant he won.

“Now, does anyone know where his address is? Come on, any takers? Yeah, I thought so.”

Unlike Recruit, which would only warrant a few grumbles here and there from the team, Informant was the subject of a lot of hissed complaints and terrible rants from even the calmest of members.

Informant was the only one who could get under Heavy’s skin - a personal pet peeve of his was being considered less intelligent or less of a human being because English wasn’t his first language, which Informant chose to remind him of constantly.

It began with a few simple jabs at his grammar or word structure, but once Informant figured out that Heavy wouldn’t hurt a fly outside of battle, the taunts grew more and more daring.

Heavy would usually ignore Informant, which would only exacerbate their need to be noticed. This led to some pretty nasty interactions - from spouting the statistics of Russia’s average intelligence to even saying Heavy was a disgrace to his country by being a literature major.

“How’s that Russian literature major treating you? You know - in America.”

Sniper and Medic had tried to set Informant straight, but Heavy refused to accept any help. This was something that was his to bear, and his alone. He knew that they both took their own helping of harassment.

But one day, Informant went a little to far.

He did the one thing you should never do: insult Heavy’s family.

“You mother and sisters can’t do anything more than wait for you. No wonder you’re the only source of income.”

Before he knew it, Informant was against a wall, struggling to breathe, blood running into his eyes.

Heavy walked away after the incident, and told Medic about it, but he refused to heal him. Informant had called Medic a Nazi on more than one occasion.

This, finally, is where Spy comes in.

Spy was walking by Informant’s office, when he heard a strange sound - barely suppressed hiccups and sobs.

Despite his aversion to displays of emotion, the promise of seeing one of his greatest enemies as their lowest was too amusing to resist.

He knocked lightly on the door, then slowly opened it - always the master of drama.

Informant was under their desk, bloodied and bruised, sobbing into their knees.

Spy entered noiselessly, sitting in Informant’s office chair and lighting a cigarette.

It was only when Spy made a dramatic exhale of the smoke that Informant looked up, tears streaking their face.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Spy finally spoke.

“Oh, how the mighty fall. Flown too close to the sun, have we?”

Informant couldn’t do much more than snivel and retreat farther below the desk.

“Who did it?” Spy asked. “I want to give them my regards…and maybe a bottle of wine.”

“H-Heavy…”

“Oh? Well, if anyone can bring him to blows, it’s you.”

Spy put his feet on the desk and continued to blow smoke out of his nose, thinking.

“It’s strange,” he said. “Most offices have at least a few pictures of family. A trip to the beach, perhaps the zoo…?”

He took a quick glance around.

“No children. No army mates. No graduation photos or a large catch at a local lake. The only personal item you have is this…”

Spy picked up a Rubik’s Cube. The plastic still around it crinkled.

“Unused.”

Informant looked at the floor.

“I like to keep my personal and professional life separate.”

Spy pursed his lips and squinted.

“How noble of you. But I don’t think that’s the case. You know what I think, Informant?”

Spy took his feet of the desk and bent down, looking Informant in the eyes.

“I don’t think you have a life.”

Informant’s eyes went wide for a moment, then his face immediately crumpled. Bullseye.

Spy smirked and got up from the chair, starting to leave.

Informant’s sniffling turned into sobbing, and before Spy could put his hand on the doorknob, muffled wailing filled the office.

Spy closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He was trying not to remember something. But the imagery was too strong.

He remembered hiding under a table, like Informant was. People screaming and cursing at each other in French. His knees all scarred and his nose runny from a cold that should have resolved weeks ago. Waltz music coming from next door, trying to drown out the fighting. Glass breaking. Biting his knuckles so he wouldn’t whimper or cry.

Spy’s hand closed into fist. He took a deep breath, and turned to face Informant again.

“But to be fair…”

He walked towards the desk, putting his hand in his suit pocket. He got on his knees and pulled out a pink handkerchief.

“…I don’t have one either.”

He offered the handkerchief to Informant, who put it to his face, still staring at Spy through red eyes.

The pair were silent for a moment, with Spy putting out his cigarette and lighting a new one while Informant cleaned themselves up.

“But the difference between you and I,” Spy said, his voice wavering a bit, “is that I am a Spy. If my information got into the wrong hands, it could be the end of me and my team.”

He tapped his cigarette on a nearby trash can, letting the ashes fall into it.

“But what are you hiding from?”

Informant took a shaky inhale, the handkerchief still covering his nose and mouth.

“W-what?”

“Why do you feel the need to be, as Scout puts it, a tier five jerkazoid?”

Informant sniffled. “I…I didn’t think I took it that far.”

“Took what that far?”

“I just…snrk…I thought that’s what I had to do to get them to take me seriously.”

Informant laughed, but their heart wasn’t in it.

“I’m five foot four with red hair and freckles. I look more like someone’s Andy doll than a contract killer. I thought maybe if I knew everything…I’d be worth it.”

They shrugged.

“At best, they’d be impressed. At worst, they would never get close enough to me to know the truth: the only reason why I’m here is because I can rattle off a few names and that I had good grades in school because I had nothing better to do.”

Spy’s chest ached. He didn’t know why, but it was a strange feeling to him.

“Mon ami…”

He cleared his throat.

“If half of the team is any indication, you don’t need to be Nikola Tesla to be hired. Hell, the fact you can read is an anomaly in itself. But there is something you must understand…”

Spy cleared his throat again. His voice had gotten quite unstable all of a sudden.

“Intelligence is measured in different ways. Scout could never read even the simplest of children’s books, but his physical intelligence - reflexes, spatial awareness, aim - is phenomenal. Medic would have to put my spine back together if I even attempted to do what he does on the field.”

Informant snickered at the joke, or perhaps the image it conjured.

“And me,” Spy continued. “I can speak almost any language, adjust to any social setting, charm anyone, fool anyone…kill anyone. Just like you, I can remember, and I use the information I absorb mostly to show how superior I am to all my lowly colleagues.”

Spy furrowed his brow and looked away.

“But I know less about myself than even my enemies. I have hidden it so deep within my mind that I can hardly remember…or perhaps would rather not remember…who I was before this mask of mine.”

Informant hesitated. “I…I’m sorry, Spy.”

Spy sneered and puffed a few smoke rings.

“I don’t want your sympathy. I want you to have some self-respect - and respect for my teammates. Because next time you are beaten within an inch of your life, you might catch me in a less generous mood.”

With that, Spy got up, reached into his suit pocket and presented a small MediKit, which he tossed to Informant.

“I’d suggest freshening up before going to any more briefings.”

Informant nodded, and set to work healing himself.

Spy started to leave, then stuck his head back in.

“And hang a few posters, would you? Your office looks like a prison cell.”

Finally, the Frenchman took his leave, adjusting his suit and nodding solemnly to the team members he happened to pass - or scowling at them, depending.

He glanced over the security feed, and once he was satisfied, made his way to his smoking room.

Spy closed the heavy oak door, poured himself a small glass of scotch, and sat down in his chair next to the fireplace.

He put a magazine on his knee and began to flip through the pages, but his gaze soon started to wander.

He closed the magazine, tossed it into the fire, leaned into his hand, and wept.

…So what became of Informant?

Well, after a reluctant heal from Medic and a few well-deserved apologies, Informant began to try and break the cycle of self-sabotage.

The process took a lot longer than Recruit’s did - especially since Informant’s transgressions were a lot more egregious - but, little by little, they began to heal.

A lot of the time, the other mercs would have to tell them to tone it down a bit, or to cut him off completely if necessary.

Informant still almost has a panic attack if he doesn’t have the right papers, and his office is still pretty bare, but he took Spy’s advice - a few AC/DC posters hang on the leftmost wall.

As for Spy, well…he needs to have a talk with Medic.

******************

I am so sorry…this is all so messy and weird. One is so much longer than the other, and I’m not even sure half the dialogue sounds right.

The two headcanons were just typed out at different times, the first where I had less motivation and the second when I had more motivation. This wasn’t on purpose, it just happened.

I hope you still like it, though!

[lilyclawthorne]

Keeping Up A-fear-ance's Thoughts

I finished writing this shortly after 3 am after watching the new episode like three times because I simply had too much energy about it and I have so many thoughts because I simply live for clawthornes and also I tried to break it up with more photos this time sorry not sorry if it's a lot ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

YOUNG EDA!! let me just say I am quite a fan of opening with a flashback like we've done here and the last episode

"we have never seen a curse like this before" Lilith you had shit luck picking out curses huh

"cut it out if we have to" goddamn Gwen let'a calm the fuck down a bit.

anyways we've only really seen young Eda as a wild and confident and happy little child so I appreciate seeing this side of her with the anxiety and fear she's feeling here. I love seeing what the curse stuff was like for her as a kid

Gwen: I raised a perfectly fine kid

Me: no you didn't look at her she's got anxiety

I'm guessing this is their backyard or just some woods behind their house?? wonder if the portal was placed there by another elder family member.

lmao I can't even begin to imagine what small Eda experiencing the human realm was like for the first time

Gwens giving me "I can't accept that my child is disabled/chronically ill/etc." here. y’know the kinda parent that'll put their kid through hell over something they probably will find a way to learn to live with (which Eda did do)

ok that's it I humbly request to know the story behind the fang now (also the noise she made when she put it in was freaking cute)

new dress! new boots! new dress! new boots!

..yikes that fridge is empty

"calm down the curse acts stronger when you're stressed" Eda do you know who you're talking to here

confirmation losing limbs is in fact a side effect of the curse!! (y'know since Eda originally said it just happens when you get older)

please I love these sisters they're so sweet and make me wanna go 🥺

"suddenly curious about my past" "always. always curious" Luz says exactly what we all think

witchlet?? sweet flea?? she's got pet names for them 🥺 (although idk how much I'd like to be referred to as any kind of flea sorry Lilith)

ok Gwen is very much not close to what I expected and I'm kinda grateful for that

she's more like super caring but still managed to royally fuck up which was my original head canon for clawthorne parents so uh that's cool. but literally, look at their body language, Eda's pissed, Lilith's sad and making herself small. she's clearly messed up with her parenting on both of them along the way.

"who knows what they put in those nasty concoctions?" mama clawthorne would be a fucking anti-vaxxer wouldn't she

ok I side with Eda here more than Luz and Lilith. just because Luz misses her mother, or Lilith hasn’t seen their mom in so long doesn’t mean Eda has to feel all grateful for the presence of Gwen, especially if the woman has caused her a lot of trouble over the years

I feel like the fact that its actually both Lilith and Gwendolyn have spent their whole lives dedicated to trying to find a cure could probably have held some kind of weight on Eda at some point. Even though she shouldn't feel guilty or responsible for that, I still feel like it's gotta suck knowing these people have spent so much time on something you know is likely never gonna happen, all for you.

Lilith 😞 her mother really just didn't pay attention to her all these years

hey if this guy does some next level healing magic then why isn't he more well-known, huh? why’d it take so long to come across him?? Gwen do you know what the fuck you're doing cause I think you don't

Lilith just because you're depressed about your mom doesn't mean you have to bring king down too 😠

SUPER irrelevant but is anyone else just bothered by the way Lilith is holding her spoon?? that doesn't seem like a comfortable way to hold a spoon. also is she left handed??

"knife season came early" EDA WHAT DOES THAT MEAN. is this a boiling isles things or is this a it’s common for people to throw knives at you thing

also I want to be surprised Eda fell for the apple blood signs but I am not 😔 

Luz please trust you're gut on this one and not mama clawthorne

ok now I need to know why the fridge was empty but they had 18 cartons of ice cream this is why you guys don't have food you're wasting it all on ice cream.

wow never thought I'd see the day hooty became the voice of reason

also, night market ice cream?? are they implying this ice cream is like, edibles of some sort?? Lilith does seem kinda high here ngl. idk man but at least she wants to stand up for herself so good for her.

PLEASE kings just offering her ice cream while she transforms

"first in a series" Gwen honey oh no. you've been duped. I think we can see where Lilith got her naïveté from huh.

Also, nice snatch Luz 😊

anyways love how this show is basically making fun of moms who refuse to give their kids proper medical treatment or listen to medical professionals here

EXCUSE ME why do we know Gwen's palisman's name before we know Lilith's?????

"I am a mother who'll do anything for her daughter" you're mom who's suffocating obsession with one daughter has left the other neglected and is currently causing her to turn into a full on beast ya dummy

Eda DOES have a right to be upset. it sucks that her own valid emotions that she should get to feel will cause her while body to betray her.

PLEASE I’M SO GLAD LILITH’S BEAST DESIGN LOOKS LIKE HER AND IS NOT THE THING FROM THE TRAILER THAT IS ACTUALLY IN EDA"S HEAD WHEN SHE’S TRANSFORMED

but also why is she SO massive?? also anyone concerned that this is her first transformation and the light glyph trick wouldn't even work??

Gwen look at what you've done, you've fostered feelings of inferiority in one daughter causing her to feel the need for sibling rivalry that the pure instincts of the raven beast cannot suppress no matter how much their sisterly relationship had improved.

HOW COULD YOUR OTHER DAUGHTER ALSO BEING CURSED BE A PART OF THE PROCESS GWEN??

"after Eda was cursed, I joined the beast keeping coven" woah woah WOAH. you're telling me you only joined because of trying to help Eda. that covens existed, before Eda got cursed, and you very much weren't a part of one. combine that with "some words for belos" she has and do I smell wild witch theory still plausible???

anyways at least mama clawthorne is getting some sense into her head here

Morton c'mon help a girl out, that's some dang good art too what the heck dude

ok fine mama clawthorne to the rescue

no pls not raven beast Lilith crying im crying now

Gwen: I raised a fine and self-sufficient child

Me: no you didn't look at her. she's got, SO MUCH.

GODDAMN THATS SOME POWER. ngl this only adds fuel to the fire in my head that there was some kinda reasoning these sisters were torn apart, that someone felt they'd be too powerful together (and they were probably right)

"I heard you but I couldn't stop myself, I couldn't do anything" may be just because she's not used to the curse but again part of me is concerned that because she couldn't pull herself out of it even a little bit like Eda did that there's something wrong there. but she also could've been stressed beyond reasonably calming herself down too.

ok but this is sweet

NOOO im so sad Lilith's leaving :( I literally cried ok

"you lived here?" fine OKAY king that was hilarious even if im sad about this

"reconnect with dad" excuse me where the fuck has this man been in the middle of all of this. curse shit is going DOWN and he's just chilling at home.

I am curious about people's thoughts regarding the whole Lilith regression thing and the fact that she's literally going to be living with her parents again. I feel like it could help nurture that inner child she's been reverting back to and help her out a LOT. but I could also be concerned about it feeding into the regression and making it worse?? idk and this show probably ain't getting that actually deep into psych anyways

"some day my hair is gonna be big enough to do that too" Luz I cannot wait for the day. also mood, I wish I could do that too.

alright who's holding the fucking pen for hooty we need a volunteer RIGHT NOW so we can remain in contact with Lulu

NOT THE ONLY HUMAN? my bets on the real azura rip never mind she said he

Titan’s Blood?? interesting. If the blood of the titan is around I wonder what that means regarding the titans existence, and how long its been since the titan fell.

AHH BABY LUZ PHOTO

ALSO WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?? They're really gonna spring that on us like this??? Camila's gotta notice somethings wrong right??? Unless any differences she just chalks up to the camp?? oh god :(

well, anyways lumity shippers come get yo juice next weekend

anyways im gonna need to add a NOT canon compliant tag on that one Gwendolyn fic I wrote because it definitely do not comply anymore

[scary-lasagna]

A Different Kind of Fear || Toby Rogers

[TW: Depressive themes, social anxiety, family death]

The scratchy pillow agitated Toby’s skin as tears rubbed into the fabric. The sickly feeling of sticky tears and a hot, puffy face caused the teen to hide away in his new corner of the manor and curl up under the standard white quilt. The bland feeling of the fabric did nothing to comfort his loneliness. All it did was torment him of sadness from the previous nights with a reminder of tearstains blotching the cloth.

It was barely his first week at the manor, and adjusting has not gone well. Everyone seemed to have little to no interest in his presence; And if they did, it was always negative attention. Slender tried to assure this this was all part of a “initiation process” that the boys did, but Toby begged to differ after he received a crude error message on his phone from the blonde sitting across from him. 

Any and all conversations have lead to him either being ignored or belittled by his new peers. They’ve asked crudely about his stutter and all of his tics that he accidentally brought to the table in a fit of anxious nerves. Their amused chuckles reminded him all too well of the shadowing laughs of foul-play in high school. His tics were shameful, he was ugly, and no one cared about him anymore. The only person he’s sure who loves him is Lyra. And she’s dead.

And just the way Jeff grimaced at him for mentioning his interests muted Toby for the rest of the day entirely. It caused a silent but deadly rejection that spiraled until he couldn’t take it. Something as simple as being looked at the wrong way triggered him into a sense of worthlessness and indescribable shame. All he required now was to hide his face from the world and pretend he didn’t exist.

They’ve finally shut him off, and he’s preparing to hoard food and spend the next few days in his room to isolate himself from any social contact and reboot. That’s all he needed for now. A safe space, and somewhere to hide away from the scary, judgmental world outside of his room.

“Hey! Dinner’s ready, kid.” A harsh thump on the wooden door jolted Toby’s anxiety, and he nearly started another crying spell again. He was late for dinner, what would they think? That he’s a lazy piece of shit that sleeps all day? Or he finally caved in and realized his hatred for the kind people and creatures who took him under their wing when he needed it most? Slender would be disappointed in him and-

“Hey kid, didya’ hear me?” Tim rattled the door again with his fist. Toby waited for the shuffle of fading footsteps that would descend the nearby flight of stairs. But they never surfaced over the deafening silence. The brunette buried his quivering lip into the pillow that was due for a much needed heap of laundry softener. “Tobias?” 

The oppressing guilt finally got to him, and a choked sob slipped his puffy lips. Toby couldn’t believe how much of a pain he was being to everyone. Now Tim has to ruin his day and his precious time to drag him out of a depression cocoon. He’s being such a fucking a child; Why not just suck it up and go to dinner? 

The brass doorknob jostled and clicked. A memory of Slender mentioned there’s a spare key on the archway of the door flickered through his vision. God! How could he forget? The boy clawed into the pillow with a frustrated whine, praying to any god that he’d do something right for once in his miserable life. Failure, rejection, and being a dumbass seemed to be his constant specialty.

“Are you okay?” Even if Toby hadn’t heard his voice, he knew the unique sound of Tim’s rustling cargo jacket. When Toby stayed silent, Tim didn’t falter, and he stared at the brunette’s lame form under the covers while Toby swallowed his pride. He refused to answer, and held his breath in hopes Tim would think he’s peacefully asleep.

“Even if you were asleep, I hope you know I’m an asshole and would wake you up for fun.” 

No response. 

Tim coughed and shuffled, “I hope you’re alive, at least?” A large hand grasped his shoulder, and Toby couldn’t stop the reaction of sitting up with an inward hiss from the unwanted touch.

Toby couldn’t bare to meet his eyes. After all he’s been through? He’s crying at bullshit like this?

“Did someone hurt you?” Tim’s gruff voice lowered, and he invited himself on Toby’s bed. The boy silently shook his head, and pulled the top of his hood over his eyebrows. Tim paused in thought before speaking, “Did...someone say something mean?” We’re they actually being mean? Or did he just perceive it that way from overreacting like he’s always done? Toby shrugged, for he didn’t know. 

“Do you wanna know a secret?” Tim scooted closer, and the warmth on his leg radiated through Toby’s sweatpants onto his cold skin. Or at least that’s what he thought it was. Temperature has always been strange to him. “They’re doing this bull on purpose so they can make you depend on them when the week’s up. They do it to everyone and it’s really fucked.”

“W-What?” Toby turned his head slightly, not enough to meet Tim’s eyes, but just enough to get a glimpse of his dark locks. 

“Don’t beat yourself up.” His breath hitched and all of his muscled cramped at once as Tim removed the hood from his eyes. “It seems a lot worse than it really is, trust me.” A thick, cigarette smelling finger wiped away a hot tear traveling the length of Toby’s cheek. “There’s more people around here than you think that are willing to help you, Tob.” 

Toby finally met his eyes. There was no upturned pity eyebrows, but instead Tim held a welcoming smile.

“I-I’m sorry. Just...t-th-there’s a lot of fail-failure shit that I’ve been putting up with my whole life. I-I-I feel fucking wor-worthless at times and-and-”

“Alright, I hope ya don’t mind but I’m stopping you there. First, don’t ever let me catch you fucking apologizing for feeling emotions. Crying is good, you gotta get that shit you, y’know?” Tim’s hand moved to pull Toby’s shoulder towards his friendly warmth. “Second of all, if you were a complete failure you’d probably be dead by now. I mean, you escape a car cash, an abusive asshole, people who wanna kill you, and first-degree arson. I’d say you’re pretty fucking accomplished for a 17 year old. ”

Toby merely shrugged, and locked his gaze on a nail sticking out from a floorboard. 

“Tobias. You’re worth a lot more than you think you are. I have no clue who you are but I can still see a hell of a lot of potential in you. All you need is confidence and a little help finding it. I’m proud that you made it this far. And I believe in you, kid.” The rough pat on his shoulder reminded him of a loving fatherly touch he’s never received. It eased his nerves, and his emotions finally started to soften.

Someone believed in him. He hasn’t heard those words in at least a year since his sister departed. It was a bittersweet, familiar feeling to hear that from someone else. Toby stole a shaky breath and vented with a sigh of relief. “I guess we should go eat now.”

[mymoonagedaydream]

Only the Good Die Young (Part 4)

Summary: You tried hard to believe that Bucky was a changed man, but he made it difficult

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Language, anti-religious sentiment throughout, harmful relationship with parents

Author's Note: Alright, I’ve flaked. My different-song-per-part ambitions were too high, I flew too close to the sun. I’m so sorry Billy.

---

You buried your face in his neck.

Everything he’d said was spiralling through your mind. You knew your parents well enough to know that staying with Bucky for much longer meant losing them forever. You didn’t want to go back but, if you stayed away and things didn’t work out, there was a chance you’d end up completely alone.

Bucky was a risk, a huge one. You wanted to trust him. You wanted so badly to believe that he was everything he appeared to be.

So you did.

A leap of faith. You were good at faith.

You pulled your head up, coming face to face with him. ‘I would like to get very, very drunk.’

‘Me too.’ He went to get up, but stopped suddenly and looked back at you. ‘You ever been hammered before?’

You shrugged with one shoulder, reluctant to admit further inexperience. ‘Communion wine is pretty strong stuff.’

‘Jesus. I almost feel bad, enabling sin like this.’ He sauntered to the kitchen and rifled through the cupboards, grinning in your direction when he found a half-empty bottle of tequila. ‘Almost.’

The golden liquid burned your throat as you took shot after shot, the warm glow in your chest getting stronger with every sip. This was fucking brilliant, why had you never tried it before?

‘So, here’s the plan.’ You could see that Bucky was at least a little tipsy, he’d been matching every one of your shots with three of his own. ‘I make enough money fixing bikes to keep the flat and feed us, so you can quit that fucking college course and find something you actually want to do.’

You paused for a second, processing his words. ‘Are you asking me to move in with you?’

‘Are you turning me down?’

You grinned and shook your head, making a mental note to reconfirm that in the morning when he was sober. You had hoped that he’d at least let you stay with him for the summer, but knowing that he was willing to put up with you more long-term quelled some deep anxiety you’d been harbouring for days.

You shifted your tone, trying your best to look as sober and sincere as possible. ‘Buck. You said you just want someone to talk to, right?’ He nodded, half-smirking and pushing some hair behind your ear. ‘So talk. You know so much about me, I want to know about you.’

‘What you wanna know?’

‘Tell me about your parents.’

His eyes wandered away from yours and he dropped his hand to your shoulder, wincing a little while he strung his words together. ‘Well you’ve met my dad, he’s no different now than he always was. The only time I ever hear from my ma is when she needs money. God knows what for, I don’t ask.’

‘I’m really sorry, I can’t imagine what they put you through.’

You’d never seen him so subdued. You almost felt bad for putting a damper on the evening, but you got the impression that Bucky had never spoken to anyone about this stuff before, drunk or sober.

‘Fucked me up for a long time, I did a lot of bad stuff.’ You reached out and squeezed his free hand as he was speaking, prompting his gaze to fix back on you. ‘But I don’t want to be that person anymore.’

‘You’re a good guy Buck.’ You gave him a wide smile. ‘Plus, after all those Sundays at church, the big guy owes me a couple favours. I can get that slate of yours wiped clean, no problem.’

He narrowed his eyes at you, the warm glow returning to your chest as you watched his mouth curl back into that familiar smirk. ‘You’re buzzed, ain’t ya?’

‘Should I slow down?’

‘Nope.’ He poured you both another drink. ‘Speed up.’

You didn’t ask about the things he’d done, you didn’t need to know. It was in the past, and he regretted it. That’s all that mattered to you.

The tequila was gone far too quickly. Both of you raided the cupboards again, finding a nearly empty bottle of triple sec, three cans of cider and a bottle with Russian writing that contained something resembling paint stripper.

A few hours and all that booze later, you and Bucky found yourselves tangled around each other on the bed, nursing your slowly developing headaches.

‘You’re a terrible influence, Barnes.’ You croaked into his chest.

‘I’m barely even getting started darlin.’

---

The first thing you felt in the morning was dizziness. Even before you’d opened your eyes, you knew the room was spinning around you. You adjusted yourself a little, relieved when you felt Bucky’s arms still wrapped around you and his chest against your cheek. Scooching upwards, eyes still screwed shut, you brought your face level with his.

He stirred, croaking faintly. ‘Still here. Haven’t run away yet.'

‘I feel like there’s a bee hive inside my head.’

‘Your first hangover.’ He chuckled. ‘We should celebrate. Breakfast?’

‘I’m never eating again. Or drinking. Or… moving.’

He started wriggling. ‘Well, either you move or I piss the bed.’

You flopped onto your back, the movement making your brain rattle inside your head, as Bucky scuttled to the bathroom. You started drifting back to sleep, only to be unceremoniously woken when you were hoisted off the bed and carried you through to the front room. He made breakfast while you lay on the couch, feeling sorry for yourself. You managed a few reluctant mouthfuls and a pint of water.

‘I’ve been thinking.’ Bucky piped up whilst washing the dishes. ‘When you feel a bit better we should go back to the flat. I know it’s close to your parents, but at least my dad doesn’t have keys to it.’

You considered for a second, weighing up whether you were more intimidated by your parents or his. ‘That’s fine with me. Whatever you think is best, Buck.’

---

The two of you left the trailer the next morning. You were still feeling pretty ropey, but you were at least able to walk six feet without getting dizzy. In truth, you were pretty happy to be getting away from the trailer. Aside from the stained walls and crappy shower, you hadn’t felt safe there since Bucky’s dad had burst in the other night. Christ knows what else that man was capable of.

Somehow, at some point during your first day back at the flat, Bucky had convinced you it’d be a good idea for the two of you to go out that night. He suggested his usual haunt, a bar you’d never heard of despite living in that town all your life.

It was a dive bar. You’d never been to a dive bar before, you weren’t even really sure what it meant, but as soon as you saw the outside of this place you knew. There was a flickering neon sign advertising Miller High Life above the door and bikes as far as the eye could see.

Some extremely intimidating clientele eyed the two of you as you approached, giving a gruff chuckle when you brushed past them to get to the entrance. Bucky enthusiastically greeted a few guys who were already inside. One of them you vaguely recognised from school, but the others looked quite a bit older.

You were so far out of your comfort zone in this place, every muscle in your body felt tense and you were convinced that dozens of dirty looks were being thrown your way.

‘What’ll it be then sweetheart?’ Your eyes followed the voice to a tall, brawny blonde with freakishly wide shoulders and a crooked smile.

Your mouth opened slightly as you scurried around trying to figure out what kind of alcohol was sold in a place like this, before Bucky piped up. ‘She’ll have my usual.’

You just nodded, keeping quiet for fear of coming across as the naïve religious freak in front of his friends. A few seconds later you found yourself with a pint of beer in one hand and a shot of whiskey in the other.

‘Boilermaker.’ Bucky whispered, close to your ear. ‘Proper booze, gotta make up for all that shit the other night.’

One of the friends led you towards a cramped booth with a sticky table. You found yourself tucked in between Bucky and the blonde, the former’s arm circled tight around your waist, hand resting possessively on your thigh. You didn’t speak much, only when spoken to- that was until the blonde started cross-examining you.

‘No offence, but you weren’t exactly what I was expecting.’

Great. This shit again.

‘Leave it, yeah?’ Bucky’s tone was friendly, but you could sense a hint of warning.

‘Like I said, no offence.’ He smirked. ‘She just looks a little suburban, y’know.’

Bucky got more agitated. ‘What the hell’s that s��posed to mean?’

‘Jesus, chill out Barnes. She’s not bothered, are ya?’ He nudged you hard, pushing you into Bucky’s side. You just smiled politely, a pathetic attempt to diffuse.

Progressively more irate words were thrown back and forth between them, but everyone else around the table was seemingly unfazed by the argument. It escalated quickly, resulting in blonde reaching over to yank Bucky up by the lapels, spilling a pint of beer all over you in the process. Buck shoved him off and helped you out of the booth, apologising as he ushered you towards the door.

Blonde was shouting after you, following you to the door. Just as you thought the two of you might make it out of there intact, Bucky wheeled round and punched him square in the mouth. He got a swift jab to the stomach in return and the two of them crashed into the bar, arms and legs flying in every direction.

Finally, after intervention by a couple huge biker guys, you managed to pull Bucky away. As you pushed open the front door, flashing blue lights flooded the bar. You squinted, waiting for your eyes to adjust. Cops. One of them approached you and Bucky, the same one who came to the flat after your parents reported you kidnapped.

‘Told you your time would come, boy.’ He smirked. ‘James Barnes, you’re under arrest on suspicion of assault.’

Everything said after that was drowned out by a high pitched whining that started in your ears. Buck was dragged away and shoved into the back of a car, he shouted something in your direction before the door closed but you didn’t catch it. You were reeling with shock. They pulled away, lights fading as they disappeared down the street.

There you were, completely alone. Standing in the gutter outside a dive bar, trembling and covered in beer, playing perfectly into your parents’ predictions.

What the fuck were you supposed do? Go sleep on Bucky’s doorstep, hoping he’d get released before morning? How many more times were you going to have to do that?

You couldn’t help but feel so, so stupid. You’d leapt, fallen and landed flat on your face. Maybe your mother wasn’t exaggerating, maybe she was right all along. Christ, maybe you were just some naïve, sheltered Christian kid in way over your head.

You had no choice. You went home.

---

Waking up back in your bed sent a wave of depression crashing over you. You could still smell stale beer and cigarettes, making you feel even worse.

Only your father had been awake when you timidly knocked on the door the night before. He’d stepped aside and let you in without much more than a stern look, but you were dreading having to face your mother this morning.

You sat up, the motion kick-starting yet another hangover, and walked to the bathroom. Switching on the light, you stared into the mirror and were greeted with someone you barely recognised. Your eyes were dark, bloodshot and puffy, your hair was wild from days of washing it with shower gel in the trailer’s crappy shower, your clothes from the night before were still hanging off you, stained and reeking- but you looked alive. And you felt it.

The doorbell rang.

You ran to the top of the stairs, only to see your mother standing in the doorway, face to face with Bucky. He looked awful, cuts and bruises littering his face. You stepped back slightly to hide yourself from his view.

‘Get off my property or I’m calling the police.’ Well she hadn’t changed while you’d been gone.

‘Is she here?’

Silence. You peeked round the corner to see your mother whip her phone from her pocket. Bucky shouted your name. Fuck, so much of you wanted to just run down the stairs and throw your arms round him, but you knew there was a good chance you’d just end up here again a week or so down the line.

‘Fine.’ He backed away, holding his arms out. ‘Y’know, sooner or later, it comes down to faith. Someone’s gonna help her see through all your bullshit, I might as well be the one.’

He limped down the steps and was gone from your view. Dragging yourself back into your room, you looked at your phone for the first time that morning. Twenty-five texts and eight missed calls from Bucky. Taking a deep breath, you typed a message to him.

Meet me on the bench at noon tomorrow.

---

As you turned into the park, you saw him sitting there. He looked tense, elbows resting on his thighs while he ran his fingers through his hair. As soon as he spotted you approaching he stood up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to hug him, so you just perched on the other end of the bench silently. He obviously didn’t take the hint, moving closer and sitting right next to you.

You heard him chuckle. ‘Blink twice if we’re being bugged.’

You lifted your eyes, scanning them over his wounds. His knuckles weren’t even fully healed from the fight with his father. He was just cuts upon bruises upon scars and you weren’t sure if he’d ever stop adding to them.

His face dropped when he saw your obvious distress. ‘I’m really sorry y/n. I fucked up, bad.’

You just nodded, taking deep breaths in an attempt to keep your thoughts straight.

‘I know I struggle to control my anger sometimes, but you gotta believe I’m getting better. I’m not the person I used to be.’

‘You keep saying that.’ You couldn’t meet his eyes, too scared to see the hurt your words would cause him. ‘Then you do shit like this? I’m really struggling here, I-’

‘I know I’m not perfect, but I’m trying, now more than ever. Because of you.’

‘What happened the other night... I was so scared, Buck. I barely even made it out of the house to get here today.’ Tears were clouding your vision as you felt his hands grasp your firmly. ‘I can’t do that again.’

---

Part Five

---

@shawnie--jo @brilliantbellesoares @noiralei @bebeyeni @kingkassam @newyorkgoddess  @livingoffsavvyillusions 

I’ve bolded the names that wouldn’t let me tag, sorry guys

---

[sugar-petals]

Cuddling With SuperM

↳ ❤︎ CARO’S NOTE: their concept is all about badassery i know but we’re dealing with seven angels so let’s talk about that shall we

warnings ⚠️ some light teasing, innuendo

length: 1.5k

taeyong

am i really telling you something ground-breaking with this:

so this guy’s truly adorable

turns into a baby what else is new

draws his knees to his chest and just enjoys the ride with his eyes closed

you can do whatever the hell you want

back rubs, head pats, foot massages, caressing the neck or underneath the chin which is particularly sweet

and a whole lot of tickling he’s kinda obsessed with this

excellent chef he is, taeyong enjoys preparing snacks for a set cuddling time or movie night

so what if this turns into feeding each other basically are you ready for that

this guy’s impossible face up close is hard to bear for the faint-hearted just mentioning that in passing here

because… he has that one yearning expression and his eye contact is very steady

bit of a duality here huh

but worry not because taeyong’s tiger inside is more of a cat actually, tyongkitty behavior guaranteed right there

he does do friendly head buts and yeah the eye contact is also a cat thing now that i think about it… it all makes sense now

ten, baekhyun, lucas and taemin are pretty cocky types of cuddlers, taeyong leads the more subdued fraction in super m

it’s the kind of cuddling that needs rainy weather and a cup of tea

ten

quality time right here

banter is always included ofc

or at least a lot of talk because with ten, conversation and cuddles go together

likes pets joining, three’s a party, a cat can always make a snuggly contribution

add a ball of wool to play around

like. a-you, a-me, and a cat right in between ya see

music is always playing in the background, always

ten’s body is very sensual… you can tell he’s a dancer by the way he’s adapting, how he’s feeling it, how he moves in general

the reflexes are just so different he has great feeling for what you wanna do next it’s his bodily intuition and he just goes along with it

what you gotta tell him though is to keep it lowkey with keeping his jazzy outfits on

a hoodie cuddles better than high fashion and spiked jackets

plus he looks adorably small in it so two birds with one stone

never forget ten is really tiny that sure makes a difference

reluctant little spoon, he keeps it face-to-face or sleeps on his back

ten is glad to be approached with hugs he’s not always doing the initiative

shy thailand angel ikr

but don’t complain if he farts because he absolutely will

goddammit chittaphon

kai

if it’s without a plushie something’s going wrong it always needs one

his favorite teddy’s gotta participate y’know he’s a social creature

in this home we don’t discriminate against plush bears

and yeah, his bear ear hoodie likewise he is sure to put it on

jongin tends to be rather taciturn because he wants to enjoy the body-to-body sensations

meaning, don’t interpret his frequent silence as awkwardness he’s just observing

is not above teasing… if his outfit is showing some skin he’ll invite you to touch the area

also enjoys you putting your hands under his sweater

he’s laughing like crazy and kicking his legs all giggly if you put your head underneath it and let it roam oh la la

yeah nini likes some wit to it for sure, and some steaminess in the mix it’s just a natural byproduct if we’re honest

dim the lights down low for this one…

but also light the candles alright

cuddling is more of a soft and steady thing there’s not much position changes going on

this is the couch not the dancefloor your honor

while we’re talking about that: jongin is a buff biatch my god

prep a water bottle to chug when you’re cuddling this guy is effortlessly hot

also know that kai will almost definitely snap a picture of you huddled together for the memory of it

baekhyun

unlike his memes, baekhyun’s cuddling behaviour is entirely predictable

will snuggle against your shoulder by default pretty much that’s his favorite area

stays glued there for two hours if you’re not busy

im not kidding

needless to say he needs a partner who can handle this level of clinginess

baekhyun can’t keep his hands to himself in general

neither can you

it’s groping x cuddling these two are a dead sure combination

keen to snuggle casually while he’s gaming, cross-legged on the ground with you massaging his back

likes to lay his head into your lap, too.

baekhug i mean back hug enthusiast. something inside his face has an inbuilt magnet that sucks him into the space between your collar bones

especially when you’re at the stove cooking

caution: love bites. lots of them. does this count as cuddles? probably. it’s not like he’s eating you or is he. oop—

what am i saying all he does is nibble alright

and oh yeah bring on the sweater weather. he can’t stay still in bed it’s gonna be a pillowfort building session though

you gotta exhaust him until he naps off lmao!

energizer bunny bf

mark

enjoys being fed watermelon during the process how else could it be

wait until this guy hears what harry styles’ watermelon sugar is all about his world will never be the same again

anyway

he’ll look so cute in his striped shirt and his round glasses awh

cuddling is his favorite way to show his trust and affection before all else

his favorite time to cuddle is before going to sleep

he usually hugs pillows so you can tell how clingy he winds up as

mark really sleeps and dreams better if you do that it has an astounding effect. cuddles are his perfect recharging if you will it’s just that he’s actually calming down through it whereas he can be nervous throughout the day so he needs that downtime

spooning is a given

what he enjoys the most about it is the warmth

markie easily gets cold sometimes he just needs that tune-up with you he’s like blink blink there goes my dose of daily heat beep beep

what the fuck

anyway again

talk about tune

just like ten he’s very talkative all the way verbal stimulation and mark lee just go together

if you compare him to taeyong there’s not much of a transformation going on mark lee on two legs is the same mark lee during cuddles it’s all copy paste

all in all a delectable experience, extremely cute and heart-melting, super m truly has a super mark

taemin

much like xuxi he has that permanent smile on his lips that tries to make you laugh

in fact taemin is hard to stop with his puns and his humor

ffs he is a true brat

taems can’t help but try to escalate this into a playfight every time

not that he doesn’t enjoy the calmer types of cuddling but he needs some action in the sack

enjoys praise along the way who are we kidding

the clothes you both cuddle in are very important alright, the fabric in particular

taemin keeps it expensive here it’s just the way he rolls

satin my dear

it’s just so satisfying to the touch

but also beware of his most lethal clothing choice which brings out his innate maknae charm the most

THE FLUFFY TURTLENECK

gyeahh

which he will use during special occasions to turn you into a cuddle monster ready to pounce him

give it up for shinee my loves they taught him well and sent him out to fluff up the world

what else is there okay we also gotta mention that cuddling consists of many little kisses here and there

taemin wants to get absolutely peppered

he is and stays a prince

lucas

ideal body type for cuddling except that it needs the right place, not the environment but the spot i mean, you can imagine

lucas can explode any smol-size couch or bed

don’t even think about trying to cuddle on regular chairs my god why would you live so dangerously

king size por favor

there is a lot to cuddle against it’s really a whole wonderland

those big ole thighs are practical cushions for anything really.

and his face is just so amicable it has to be kithed

his hands… his hands! you will feel maximum protection with those giant baby fingers around your hips i’m telling you

admittedly yukhei is hard to properly hug around the shoulders obviously that’s a drawback but hey his waist is lithe and tiny so hello there, very inviting

oh, that infectious smile.

serious cuddling: 0 — funny cuddles: over 9,000

and tasty cuddles because foodcas brings some fried rice every time oh yum

hates to go to work he really prioritizes you and cuddles go on for long long hours especially when you watch your favorite series

xuxi goes the extra mile, he will touch your hair a lot, just gently combing through it

and he doesn’t mind it when you do the same, he’s got the most angelic blonde locks after all

lu calls you beautiful all the time the cheesy mf is really pulling the standard compliment alright

cue jonas brothers sucker for you

ugh, boyfriend

mlist

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Top 5 Favorite Louis Moments

So... have I ever told you guys that Louis is my favorite character in TWDG? No? I didn’t have to? You could tell by the everything that is my blog that he’s my favorite? 

Well your deduction skills are great because it’s true-- Louis is, indeed, my favorite character and after all the nonsense going on with last week’s T5F, I wanted to talk about my boy to get that salty taste outta my mouth, y’know? 

I want to talk about some of my favorite Louis moments from The Final Season, and in turn, about why I love him so much.... also this challenge of giving myself only 5 moments was just cruel and I struggled because I love nearly every Louis moment. I had to narrow it down to the favorite moments where I believe his development as a character were at its greatest, because that’s something I love about him-- his growth through the season. 

Wanna give a quick shoutout @pi-creates​ for letting me use some screenshots for this post! I’m also doing a bit of a collab with Pi and a few others for this T5F. I thought it would be fun if they did some lists for other characters! I’ll update this post with links to their Top 5′s as they come out. :D

Pi’s Top 5 Aasim Moments @kaylee-wolf’s Top 5 James Moments @taurusicorn2400′s Top 5 Favorite Things About Violet  @akemi-rose578′s Top 5 Favorite Ruby Moments

5. Appealing to Louis

I won’t spend too much time on this one because I talked about this entire scene in great detail in my Marlon character study, but I do truly love everything about it. 

When you appeal to Louis, he’s pretty insistent about staying out of it... even though you can tell this whole situation is hurting him. With Marlon still having a grip on him, Louis feels like he has to side with Marlon because he’s his best friend, he’s always had his back, he’s gotta trust him... Marlon wouldn’t kill Brody like that, it just doesn’t make sense, right? 

Add that on top of the fact that Louis is already established as “Marlon’s lap dog,” as Aasim puts it, and Marlon himself even implies that Louis is irresponsible and doesn’t ever step up.

So to have Louis instinctively puts his hands up like “Oh no, no, noooo I am not involved! Sorry, I like ya Clem but yeah, you’re on your own.... sorry,” makes sense with how he’s established, and you as Clementine have to sway him to your side by giving him some much needed courage and a chance to break from Marlon’s control to do the right thing, which is executed super well. 

My personal favorite choice is to ask Louis if he’s really going to just let Marlon shoot me just so that he doesn’t want to get involved. You can see from his body language and facial expressions that Clementine’s words struck a nerve... he doesn’t want that to happen, that he doesn’t want Marlon to murder Clementine like this, and that he knows this is all wrong. 

Also, Clementine’s “I thought you were more than that” is just.... so good. When you consider his entire arc... as far as we know, this is the first time someone has said something like that to Louis and it shows.

So he tries to talk to Marlon the first time, and Marlon intimidates and manipulates him to where you believe he’s not going to help you... and I love it. I love the way this is shot where Louis, with his hands up, slips right in front of Clementine and talks Marlon down. He sees that Marlon has a damn gun pointed at him, but he puts himself in danger to protect Clementine [and Marlon, in a way]... someone he doesn’t know that well, and he even walks towards Marlon while the gun is still pointed at him to protect her and those around him. 

There’s also the other bits where Louis tries to be reassuring to Marlon, that they’re gonna help him out, that they’re all they got, that Marlon wasn’t always pathetic.... which that last one prompts the “Yeah I was, you’re just the only one who didn’t see it,” and that’s... a whole thing. 

This is the first glimpse of growth we see with Louis and I love it. 

4. The talk in the dorms

Okay... this scene. 

I love this scene... obviously. One of my favorite’s from Ep2. After AJ is patched up and recovering in the dorms, Louis comes by to bring AJ some new clothes since his got torn up from Abel’s magic shotgun. 

At this point, we already know that Louis is dealing with a lot of shit-- his best friend of 8+ years was murdered right in front of him, he’s traumatized, mourning, and hurting buuuuuut most of the Ericson crew don’t seem to care that he’s going through this. Violet keeps invalidating this pain and calling him a shithead while talking shit about Marlon right in front of him without any care. Mitch acts like Louis should be more aggressive because he was Marlon’s best friend, which results in Louis feeling even shittier. 

He doesn’t know what to do about Clementine and AJ, all he knows is that them being there makes everything feel worse and he’s scared... AND on top of that, he just learned what Marlon was really like, Brody did indeed die because Marlon hit her, the twins might be alive because Marlon traded them away, AND there are asshole raiders coming to kidnap and/or murder them.

AND because he took part in the vote that got Clementine and AJ kicked out and insisted they follow through, AJ ended up getting shot by Abel’s magic shotgun and could’ve died... and Louis feels responsible for that, but he’s conflicted because this kid literally murdered his best friend that’s why they were kicked out in the first place. 

Also, presumably, he’s dealing with all this by himself. 

Honestly, I’m surprised he’s still functioning because that’s a lot. 

Despite all that, he still sticks with Ruby in helping patch AJ up, and is thoughtful enough to bring him new clothes so he’s more comfortable. It says a lot about him, y’know? He’s still hurting, he’s still angry, but he doesn’t hate Clementine and AJ for what happened. He never did, he just didn’t know what to do. He’s still processing what happened and sorting out his feelings. 

Oh and then the talk with Clementine... okay, I love the talk. 

It’s quiet, sincere, and emotional. Clementine kinda begins to pry about whether or not he’s okay with them staying after AJ gets better and the raiders are taken care of, and he avoids giving her a straight answer until she pushes, to which he answers with an honest, “I don’t know, Clementine.” 

Then AJ wakes up, and I love the way Louis responds to AJ asking if they’re friends again. He doesn’t lie to make AJ feel better, but he’s not a jerk about it. 

And finally, we get the final dialogue prompt with him. I usually tell him I really missed him, to which he responds with, “Missed you, too. Goodnight.” and I just... it’s so good. 

Honestly, Louis could’ve turned into a real bitch and not bothered, he could’ve remained angry and took every opportunity to remind Clem and AJ of how terrible they are... I can think of plenty characters that would’ve done that in his situation, but that’s not Louis. He’s not that kind of person... which is interesting when you consider his backstory and what landed him at Ericson in the first place. He’s seen what that kind of resentment, no matter how great, can lead to. 

Overall, one of the best moments in his character development. 

3. Louis opening up to Clementine in the music room

Oh, where to begin?

First off, not gonna gush too much about the clouis because this is a list focusing on Louis, not necessarily his romance with Clementine... I’ll only bring it up when it pertains to his character development, y’know?  Second, not gonna get into the poor lead up to this scene where the writers dropped the ball with the ‘go with Violet to protect the school vs screw around with Louis and probably die’ thing. That’s a topic for another day. Just talking about the scene itself. 

Because this moment is so damn good. Honestly, these last three entries I could probably do entire posts picking them apart and analyzing everything but we don’t wanna be here for hours so I’ll try to condense it the best I can. 

So Louis invites Clementine to the music room because he needs up with a project. Clementine enters to find him playing a song that he wrote, and they have a fun conversation. Right off the bat, we get Clementine mentioning that they haven’t heard any music for a while [implying that Louis hasn’t been playing] and Louis responds with, “Some say you’re not about to hear it now.” which we all know is him trying to make light of people telling him he doesn’t have any music talent and like.... his face. The way it falls as the music goes from cheery to sad. The way Clementine looks at him. 

I talk about Louis having a wall around him a lot. Well, that’s because he does. It’s the irony thing where the happy, loud, funny character is actually putting that on as a façade because they’re hiding behind a wall too scared to let anyone in because it’s either bit them in the ass before or no one has bothered to ever take them seriously anyway or a number of other reasons. 

Louis seems to let that wall down for little bits at a time without realizing it, then when he does, it shoots right back up. A great example of this is in ep1 when he and Clementine talk in the woods. The shift is obvious, and here he’s still doing it. 

He turns around and asks Clementine how they feel about their imminent deaths in a jokey tone. My favorite thing to do is here is remain silent. When you do that, he becomes serious again and in a soft voice, he tells Clementine that he’s here for her. 

I find this whole sections of the scene, including the tuning the piano part, so interesting because it’s him testing the waters with Clementine, if you will. He’s inching the wall down until they’re both sitting comfortably at the piano when he begins to play his song for her. They mark the piano, and I think that seals it for him that they’re here together, that Clementine isn’t like the others who have never taken him seriously or never bother to look below the surface. 

So, he takes a chance and fully brings the wall down, opening himself up to her as he thanks her for being there with him, even after everything. 

Like... Louis is just so aware of people’s perceptions of him. This is a discussion that I’ve had with people before where Louis is very much a people person in the way that he’s not just charismatic, he’s observant, too.

Anyway, you can have Clementine confess she has romantic feelings for him, establishing them as a couple, or you can remain friends but now you’re super best friends. You know me, I go the romance route because clouis. 

I do wanna point out that Louis does have romantic feelings for Clementine no matter what you pick, but if you do wish to remain friends, he’s incredibly respectful of that. There’s no bitterness, there’s no pushing. He’s maybe a little sad for two seconds before he realizes that he has a new [and probably better] best friend and embraces it. He’s just happy to have Clementine at his side.

As for the romance, I will never get over his reaction to Clementine confessing. His face? So good. Then he becomes so giddy talking about how he was hoping Clementine felt that way and “Holy shit, it’s me!” 

Then he names the song he wrote after her and they smooch~!

uhh sorry, said I wasn’t gonna gush about clouis but can’t help it... and hey, in my defense, it does pertain to his development because this relationship influences him greatly. 

What else can I say? It’s fucking great. 

2. Louis finally shares something from his past & plays Don’t Be Afraid

Yeah I’m combining them, they go hand in hand okay. 

Listen.... like I said before, I could write an entire analysis of Louis in this scene, but I’m gonna reel it in. 

We finally get the reason Louis was sent to Ericson in the first place-- he was stupid rich with parents who gave him whatever he wanted except singing lessons, and being the spoiled child he was he didn’t take kindly to that... so he broke into his father’s credit card accounts and faked an affair in order to break up his parents marriage, and then when it was all said and done, he threw his fathers words back in his face.

Like.... I’m pretty fucking sure not a single one of us thought this was going to be the case when it came to Louis giving us his backstory.  

He finally puts it all out there and now Clementine knows what kind of person he was before he arrived at the school, what he was capable of before she met him. That wall is gone.

But this is what I was talking about before. Louis knows first hand what can happen when feelings go unchecked, when resentment is held onto, when you don’t apologize or try to repair mendable relationships, when you’re vindictive and bitter and take it out on others. He’s been there and now he’s here, and he holds a lot of that with him. You can see he does in the way he talks about himself and struggles with confidence in his abilities. 

I also love the line he says when you remain silent about how he doesn’t even know the person he’s talking about, how it’s like the only thing they share is the same name. He then goes on to say that Clementine should know who she’s riding into battle, which I’ve always seen as his way of telling her she should know who he really is, good and bad, before she puts anymore effort, faith, love, etc. into him and their relationship. 

Then there’s the song. 

Tenn asks Louis if he can play Don’t Be Afraid for them, a song that he composed with Minerva back before she was taken by the delta, and it’s my favorite version. 

Just the way he looks at Clementine before he starts and she gives him a small reassurance before he starts, and he fucking dedicates the song to Minnie... who is going to try to kill him later and that’s a whole thing, but it’s still a sweet sentiment. 

Then the song plays and it’s that calm before the storm moment, y’know? Like, everyone is sitting there listening to him play this beautiful song while realizing that shit’s going down soon and this might be the last happy moment they get.... and then as he’s playing, Louis looks over at AJ’s drawing of Violet, Aasim, and Omar and just.... his expression. 

Also, he looks up at the ceiling as he’s playing and given how glossy his eyes look at the end of the song.... you know he was trying to hold it together. And that last look he and Clementine share? ugh.... it hurts my heart. 

I adore this scene.... We finally got something about Louis’ past, which is something he hardly shares up to this point. Anything shared is minor, like how he used to play baseball or he hates cantaloupe.... but nothing major, y’know? So good. 

1. The walk back to Ericson

This is it. 

When it comes to Louis’ development as a character, this is it. Let me tell you about this moment because oh my god.

To start things off, Louis gets back to the school with everyone and then alone decides he’s gonna go look for Clementine, AJ, and Tenn. Which I don’t know if that’s something he would’ve done in ep1, at least he wouldn’t’ve gone alone. This to me says that he got back, made sure everyone was taken care of based on his comment about Violet’s eyes, and then set off on his own to look for them. 

Then we get the cute clouis, Louis celebrates victory a little too early, and they begin their walk about to the school... and it starts off so quiet. He and Clementine steal glances at each other before Louis brings up Dorian. Y’know, the woman he killed. 

We learn that it’s his first human kill ever.... in the 8+ years of the apocalypse, Louis has never had to do that and it’s one of the things he was so scared off. We were supposed to get a bit about that during the party but y’know, it was cut for budget reasons.... which is lame but you can figure it out from his behavior before they snuck onto the boat anyway.

It’s a great talk between them. I usually tell him that it’ll get easier, and he acknowledges that it’s fucked up, but he believes it will get easier and he’s just glad he has it in him at all. He tells Clementine that having a home means protecting it, he shares some things about his past, and then he and Clementine talk about a dream house together. 

And this.... THIS. Okay look. Listen. I know people give Louis shit for how he behaves in ep1. You don’t have to go far before you see people writing him off as lazy, irresponsible, blah blah blah..... and like, I think people forget that character growth is a thing? That a character usually starts out flawed and over the course of a story, they change? for better or worse? 

I’m perfectly okay with Louis being portrayed as irresponsible and carefree and whatnot because from that point he grows. 

Remember what he said in ep1? He says he prefers to think of survival as a day-to-day task, he says that the future doesn’t exist and there’s only today, that the only thing anyone has is this moment. 

Louis didn’t look at the future because he didn’t care, or rather, it wasn’t a priority for him. He slacked off because he turned away from responsibility when Marlon needed him, and while I don’t disagree with his view of appreciating the now, I do believe the future should be considered. 

Now compare that to Louis in ep5. 

That whole conversation is Louis telling Clementine he wants a future with her and the rest of Ericson, and while maybe they can’t build that 914-floor purple mansion, they can still try.... they can still create a home together. I think he still believes his this moment talk, but has a better grasp of what he really wants, y’know? 

His whole journey when you stick with him is just.... so good. It’s not perfect, I mean y’all know that I have my issues with how some things were done, but Louis’ development as a character is one of the greatest accomplishments in TFS. 

Also, Louis lost the 4th grade spelling bee because of “recommend” and he had a pet turtle named Geoff. My patience has been rewarded and I know more about his backstory. 

I don’t even know what else to say? It’s #1 for a reason? Because it’s a great showcase for how far he’s come? and I love him so much? Seriously this scene is so good? 

---

Honorable Mentions

-Louis’ introduction in the music room. It’s a classic fave.  -The walker piñata moment where Louis lets his guard down around Clementine to tell her his view point on survival. -The archery moment where Louis apologizes to Clementine and opens up a bit about Marlon. -The card games. Both of them. He’s great. -Everything in the dorms in ep3. -y’know what? Just everything that isn’t the cell scene okay? 90% of Louis scenes get honorable mentions. 

---

So there we go. There’s all my gushing about Louis. Could do it for much longer, but I don’t think we wanna be here for hours. So, what are your thoughts? Do you agree or disagree with any of my choices? Or have anything to add? I’m always down to chat about muh boy. 

Have any suggestions for future T5F’s? Feel free to send ‘em in! :D

—

Next week’s T5F Top 5 Reasons Doug Was Pretty Great

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Visitation - November 2020

A full year since your first visitation, you find yourself getting ready to meet Yancy in a different place in the prison. One hour. One ‘date’. How would it go?

Word Count: 1,949

-

Even if visiting Happy Trails Penitentiary once a month was a regular event at this point for you, it didn’t dismiss the butterflies that were fluttering in the pit of your stomach as you arrived with a rucksack. This, in a way, was the first ‘date’ with Yancy since you started your romantic relationship. Finding love as part of a volunteer project was not part of the plan, but now you couldn’t see this any other way. The letters that were sent back and forth were kept together in a folder in your room where they would be safe. A year let you see the little things that happened through Yancy’s writing: how it became easier to write letters that spanned several pages, how Yancy’s handwriting grew a little neater as the months passed, how he continued using the notebook paper and stationery you gave him. You were sure he could see the same in you. Maybe he’d notice the way you spoke more about your life (the good and the bad), or how you put care into your letters, even going as far as adding some doodles in the hope it’d make him smile.

You were in love, and there was no denying that.

The receptionist gave a knowing smile as she explained how conjugal visits went while a guard checked the contents of your bag. How obvious were the nerves, despite the fact it was the same thing as usual? There was a small apartment-like setup in a quiet wing of the prison. It consisted of an open space living room-kitchen combo, a bathroom, and a bedroom that would be locked (it was reserved for families that had to travel long distances for conjugal visits). The rules were rattled off: you and your possessions would be searched to ensure nothing suspicious was inside, cleanliness would be crucial, you would receive a half-hour warning, among other things.

“An’ above all, I don’t wanna hear y’all were up to any funny business.” The Warden’s sudden appearance made you jump. “I know you two’re fine, upstanding youths, but if I catch a peep of trouble, there’ll be a firm warnin’ given. I know that’s not gonna be th’ case!” He slapped your shoulder with an amused chuckle, and it took all your might to bottle up a wince. “I wanna wish ya luck. We’ve been running this here volunteer project for over ten years now, and this is only th’ second time a volunteer and prisoner started datin’. I’m happy for the both of ya. You’ve done more good for Yancy than anyone else. C’mon, I’ll bring ya down.”

-

As you were led to the conjugal room, Warden Murder-Slaughter began telling you how he noticed Yancy’s improved mood over recent weeks. The greaser had been working on bettering himself and engaging with classes. He had a reason to do these things thanks to you, the Warden surmised. He looked like he was going to say something else, but decided against it. You were suspicious at first, but you quickly realised you were approaching an open door. A voice could be heard from inside giving a warning of some sort, before an aggravated “Youse don’t need to remind me of this for the fifth time!” was snapped in return. 

“Sounds like Yancy made it here first,” the Warden laughed as he pushed the door open. “An’ I’m sure he’s gonna be on his best behaviour. It’s a special day, right?” He smirked at Yancy, who was standing beside a coffee table. The prisoner’s response was a grumble and a hand rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ll leave ya alone. C’mon Smith.” The guard nodded and followed after the Warden, closing the door and leaving you two alone.

Even if Yancy was in his normal prisoner outfit, it looked brighter than before. Was it specially cleaned, or was it a new one just for the occasion? Then again, you had dressed up beyond your normal visitation clothes. Before anything could be said, you put your bag down and charged into his arms for a hug. It was immediately reciprocated as he pulled you close to his chest. It was better than any of the brief hugs you shared in greeting during previous visitation sessions. It was almost like you were home. A strange sentiment to feel, but it was the best comparison you could think of. He smelled like soap, with a faint lingering of smoke; and his embrace was warm.

“It’s good to see youse too.” Yancy eventually broke the silence, reluctantly pulling back just far enough to see your face. “Youse look perfect today. Can’t believe this is actually happening…” A thought that had crossed your mind many times today. It was likely why neither of you wanted to break the hug, but Yancy was the one who made the brave decision to end it so he could lift a small package wrapped haphazardly in toilet paper.

“I, uh, didn’t have no wrapping paper.” You insisted it was fine, and ripped it apart to reveal a grey prison cap. “I’ve been savin’ up money I’ve earned while working the cleaning shifts, and I know it ain’t much but I wanted to show that I do care an’ -” As he rambled, you unfolded the cap and put it on before kissing him on the cheek to cut him off. “O-oh. Looks good on youse. Thought it was better than something like a shirt. Huh? Oh, yeah. We can buy all sorts of little things like this in commissary. But youse gotta save up if youse don’t have a trust fund.” It did explain why he previously resorted to chocolate bars. You made a note to ask about that at reception afterward. For now, you plucked your bag off the ground and offered him a large bottle of soda.

“Fuck yeah, you remembered! Did youse get the chips too?” Your answer was to pull the snack out and playfully shake it. “Hold on, I seen bowls and glasses!”

-

Snacks and drinks were shared as you two curled up on the couch and chatted. It was definitely a better setting than the visitation room. Without anyone watching you, both of you could relax and be completely at ease. The only distraction was the half-hour warning, and that’s when you noticed Yancy seemed to close up a little. You playfully poked his side and pointed out that another conjugal visit could be arranged once the staff see today went well, but Yancy gave a quick shake of his head. He bit the inside of his cheek and glanced aside like he was trying to build confidence. Instead of encouraging him to talk, you took one of his hands in yours and squeezed it softly.

“Sorry. I ain’t trying to ruin the day. I just… Thought this would be easier than it is.” You were quick to assure him that it was okay, and he should take his time. It was appreciated. Yancy forced himself to take a slow breath before looking at you. 

“I love youse. I have for months. I know that’s a bit stupid since we’ve been sorta dating most of the year, but I means it. And I wanna do what I can to show I’m serious ‘bout this. This ain’t no little fling, or me being nice to not hurt youse’s feelings. I love you, really. So I, well…” Another slow breath was taken to motivate himself. “I wanna apply for parole. You don’t deserve a boyfriend locked up in prison. I wanna be a better person for youse, the man youse should be with. It ain’t gonna be easy, an’ it’s gonna take a year or so to get things going but… If youse is okay with waiting, then I’ll do everything I can to prove I can try - try and be a good guy.” You felt your heart stumble over itself in surprise. You had been told a year ago how Yancy was a prisoner that would be happy to rot behind bars. Looking at him now, you couldn’t help but smile and promise you’d help in any way you could. “I just need to knows that you’ll be there. I had nothing worth living for out there before I met you and - and while life is pretty great in here, I wanna see your world.”

You hugged him tight. It was all you could do. His arms were around you in a flash as his breathing turned slightly shaky. No matter what, you’d be there every step of the way. He wouldn’t be alone when parole was granted. You’d be there, and you’d introduce him to your own friends and family. He’d have people who wanted to help him by his side.

“Even if I’ve killed people?” You countered whether he had the urge to kill anyone now. “No! ‘Course not! I’m not some creep who loves that kinda thing!” That was enough for you to support him, a fact that had Yancy pause in realisation.

“I ain’t a nice guy. I get angry pretty easily. I don’t know a lotta stuff, an’ I ain’t good at learning things.” Points, you argued, that weren’t important enough to end a relationship. Yancy was human. No one was perfect. 

“Youse is gonna get some weird looks, dating a guy like me.” You could hear resignation in his voice at that. He was trying to talk himself out of this, not try and scare you off. Reinforcing the hug was your immediate response. No matter what, you’d be there. No one can truly look down on a man who is trying to do better.

“Y’know youse ain’t gonna be able to move out of the state, yeah? Not without a lotta paperwork.” At last, you broke into a giggle and insisted moving out of state was less important than living somewhere with Yancy there too. That was enough to help the doubts lift as Yancy laughed. “Yeah… I’d like that. You an’ me… It’d be nice, I bet.”

The last minutes were spent close together, talking about what the parole process was (you had to look it up online) and what would need to be done. It was a promising start to have Yancy feeling more confident. As he joked about how he’d challenge the parole board to a fist fight to prove his worth, you realised that it was something he did want to do. In a way, it was like you gave him the strength to look beyond the prison walls and wonder about the world that had turned its back on him years ago.

But before you could climb off the couch to get ready to leave, Yancy took your hand to keep you sitting. He looked you in the eye with a soft smile spreading on his lips. “Before we go, I, uh… I wanna do something first.” You trusted him, so you nodded to give permission. His free hand rested on your cheek as he leaned close and kissed you. It was gentle and brief, yet there was a trace of ‘thank you’ in the action. “We never properly kissed before now. Got a little carried away with all that chit-chat.” You grinned and returned the gesture. The love you had was mixed with excitement. A step had been made in the relationship, making it more official than before. 

“Love you.”

A year can bring so many things, good and bad. Even when one year ends, the next can bring about its own excitement. It might be a long road ahead, but you were ready to take it on every step of the way.

---

---

And that’s a wrap! One full year of visitations! I did have fun working on this, but I’m glad to be finished. It’s entirely your decision how things go from here, but I’m sure it will be a happy ending.

Should you ever feel like reading the entire series in one go, head on over to my AO3, where I have it all ready and waiting!

[straightouttaneptune]

You’ll come with me, won’t you?

Pairing: Harley Quinn x Reader

Warning: It’s different. Joker is a bitch. Reader becomes kind of morally weird as the fic progresses. People die. 

Summary: Y/N is a baby psychiatrist, who just started out. Suddenly, she is trusted with the most feared case of all. Harleen Quinzel. Y/N thinks it’ll be good for her career, or will it?

A/N: I couldn’t find a good ending to this for the longest time, I’m so glad I did. Also, this is for my 500 followers fic queue :) Thank you for the love, darlings✨

—————————————————————

“Harleen Quinzel?”

That was a name you’d heard before. That was a name everyone’s heard before, at least once in their lives. But it was not the name that had surprised you, but it was the fact that her name was right there on top of your long patient list.

“Yeah, congrats Y/N. She’s pretty famous around here. Straighten her out and you’ll probably be in the big city in less than a year.” Your colleague, Megan peered into your books over your shoulders and patted your back affectionately.

You were one of the new psychiatrists in the business, and you had been dealing with criminal minors, the less mental mental patients and all the clients that newbies would usually handle. Being fresh out of university after holing up in the labs and libraries, you needed to gain some experience first before taking on the really hard cases.

Or... that’s what you were told.

“C’mon, Meg, you gotta know more than that. Why would they pass her case to me? She’s a rank SS psycho.” You pushed, looking up at her through your lashes in a slightly accusatory manner.

She gave you a look that asked; “Do you really want to know?” And you nodded.

“Well, I heard the other docs, the guys who were like 10, 20, hell, 30 years into the business, they all got their brains scrambled by... this girlie.” Her index finger landed on the profile photo of Harley Quinn, an apologetic look in her eyes.

You rolled your eyes, not necessarily at Megan, but at whoever it was that tried to deal this card to you. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“It’s cruel, but you can always turn it down, y’know?” Megan set her books aside, her left arm cradling your slumped shoulders.

“Yeah... But I might not.”

Megan’s dropped gaze snapped back up, her eyes wide with surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s a good way to kick-start my career, I guess.”

\|/

“Hello, new doc.” The moment you entered the room, you regretted making this decision immediately. Harley Quinn sat in a big contraption-looking chair, her hands and feet shackled onto the armrests and legs of the seat. Her platinum blonde hair was untied and unkempt, its bottoms still dyed red and blue, although it seemed to have faded over time.

The only thing dividing the space between you and Harley was a metallic table bolted on the floor, wide enough so even if Harley broke off her arm shackles and reached for you, she wouldn’t be able to touch you. You swallowed your nerves and entered the room with a confident stride, smiling sweetly at the guards as they closed the door with eyes of concern.

“Hello, Miss Quinzel.” You thanked heavens that your words came out right, especially in front of a woman who could sniff out people’s fears from thousands of miles away.

“You’re the first girl I’ve had.” She mused, her eyes twinkling with mischief. But the light in her eyes has lost its original color, you thought. She looked much more lively in photos taken way back then. When she was just a psychiatrist.

“Hm. I guessed that it would be nice to have some heart to heart, female to female.” You reassured your anxious self calmly in your head, repeating the words ‘you got this, Y/N.’

“Do you know why I’m here, and not... Damien? Who usually comes in for your check-ups?” Stowing your clipboard away on your lap, you continued.

“Yeah. Before him was another guy, then a grandpa and just... a buncha stupid-lookin’ guys. But I didn’t like them.” She replied as if it was the most simple thing in the world. The files back in the company would argue differently. Every single guy, either was tormented by her psychotic attacks or totally gone insane from her mental tricks.

“Are you going to do the same thing to me?” You asked, not really knowing what answer to expect. Your eyes remained soft, a small smile gracing your lips as you waited for her answer.

“No. I like ya.” She answered quickly, shrugging and adverting her gaze away to look down at her shackles. “Can I sit down like you?” She shook her wrist lightly, the chains rattling against the armrest.

“Maybe next time, Miss Quinzel.”

“There’s a next time? Yeah!”

You internally smiled to yourself, what a successful human being she would’ve been if not for a man like Joker to ruin her life. Right then, you vowed to whatever higher power was out there, that you’d get Harley Quinn to break free from his spell.

The people in your office were surprised, to say the least, that you were able to keep up your visits to the prison, and that an amateur therapist like you could get the queen of Gotham in a tight little leash. You didn’t like to think about it like that, but rather that she trusts you better than any of the others.

The weekly visits became 2 days a week, and from weeks of good behavior, Harley was allowed to be without handcuffs during her sessions now. You weren’t afraid she’d leap up and strangle you, because of some sort of connection the two of you formed after all those times spent together.

“Hey doc, why can’t you visit me more ‘round here?” Harley pouted, interrupting the current therapy session with an abrupt comment.

You looked up from your clipboard, dumbfounded. Why would she want to have you around more?

“Harley, I’m just your therapist.” You tapped the end of your pencil against the material of the clipboard, locking eyes with the woman. Anyone could see that she was starting to look better, particularly her eyes. They looked more human, compared to the hollow shell they used to be.

“I know, Y/N. But I’ve been doin’ some thinkin. It’s pretty fuckin clear that Mister J isn’t coming for me, and the suicide squad was probably just a one-time thing. And... You’re all I have.” She admitted, slowly sliding down from her pipe chair and laying down on the concrete floor.

The wooden chair you sat on scraped against the hard floor as you pushed it back. Standing up from your seat, you walked over to her in 3 steps. You kneeled down beside her, her skin just inches away from you. “Do you want a hug?” You questioned quietly, your voice softer and more inviting than usual. Harley felt this too, sitting up in a millisecond just as the offer left your lips.

“Yeah.” She almost crawled over to you, her arms wrapping around your neck desperately. That would’ve been terrifying if it was out of context, but she actually wasn’t trying to kill you. She genuinely just wanted a warm embrace.

You felt her slender torso tighten and loosen as if she was trying to repress a sob. Hand carefully sliding over her back, you whispered; “Let it out.”

And she did.

\|/

Time flew by as you continued to work on her case, and you fell into the worst situation a psychiatrist could possibly be in while working. You grew emotionally invested in your client. As a friend, who cared for her well being and happiness. 

Maybe... even more.

You still didn’t know if you could trust her though, you managed to keep a cool head and your mind was rational, but that only confirmed the fact that Harley wasn’t playing any tricks on you. That you were genuinely becoming attached to the beautiful prisoner.

Harley, on the other hand, did intend on ruining you at first. Make them run back to where they came from crying, so no one would disturb her again while she waited for her puddin.

But it was all starting to feel different with you.

“Hey, doc?” Harley called out from inside her electric cage. She was being a little bit mischievous that day, and she pulled an armed guard against the buzzing bars when he wasn’t looking. He probably died, she guessed.

But she didn’t like that she couldn’t be near you during your sessions. So a man died, big deal!

“Can you let me out?” She pleaded in the sweetest voice she could muster, calling out to you who was currently propped up on the usual desk, writing down some notes on your clipboard.

“No, Harley. I don’t have the keys to your cell.” You replied without looking up, but you could imagine the cute pout that Harley had when you denied her of something.

“But would you open it if you did?” You looked up at that question, seeing her smiling from ear to ear now, anticipation glowing in her eyes.

“Maybe. I know you won’t hurt me.” You smiled back at her, watching her facial expression carefully. How would she react if you showed some warm friendliness towards her? Could she possibly return to the life she used to have?

“Maybe I will, doc. You don’t know what goes on in here.” Harley leaped up to her cloth swing she’d made for herself, her now almost completely platinum hair draping down her back.

“I hope you won’t hurt me, then.”

You couldn’t forget that split second where Harley’s eyes looked more humane than it ever has been for many, many years.

\|/

“Warning. Warning. Escape Attempt in Sector 9H11.”

The sound of the speaker and the blasting alarm merged together in a chorus of chaos, guards and officers running around to stop whoever the escapee was.

It was 9:30AM and you were just about to enter the asylum for your shift, when this sudden noise almost blasted your ears off. Before you could process what was happening, a bomb went off right next to you, making you scream and clutch your head as you ducked.

The debris fell everywhere along with broken pieces of concrete, and you just stayed there trying to collect your thoughts. Right when a random hand grabbed you by your wrist. 

“Hi, doc. I was lookin’ for ya. You’ll come with me, won’t you?” Harley pulled you to the side, hiding the two of you behind a few bushes. Her eyes were electric making you realize that the true “Harleen Quinzel” you’ve been trying to look for is right in front of you now.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.” You didn’t hesitate to take her outreached hand. Your mind had already been made up since the first time you laid your eyes on her. 

[popatochisssp]

Happy (Belated) Valentine’s Day!

I’m a procrastinator and then also I needed to sleep at one point, RIP anyway

-

Soul Searching

Your partner takes you aside on Valentine’s Day, somewhere nice and private.

You can guess at his intentions, especially when he tells you there’s something he wants to give you, but the chocolates and flowers you’re half-expecting don’t come.

Instead…

Instead, he talks to you, telling more than you already know about monster customs, monster relationships, monster milestones.

He thinks it’s time to do one of those right now, on your cute human love-holiday, a specific show of intimacy and trust like no other.

He touches his phalanges to his chest and his soul—the culmination of his entire being—comes forth.

And he wants you to hold it.

-

Sans (Undertale):

His smile is relaxed and easy, even lit from below by the soft white glow of his soul.

“Are you sure?” you ask him, and his grin widens.

“of course,” he replies without hesitation. “it’s you.”

Sans trusts you, wholeheartedly.

The thought makes you feel soft, and for lack of any kind of answer to it, you reach for his soul.

Your fingers brush against it and you’re immediately overwhelmed with…impressions, feelings, synesthetic thoughts as your mind attempts to translate this thing of pure magic into something you can understand.

A crisp breeze, blowing by your face.

Sliding into a freshly-made bed, rumpling a clean set of sheets for the first time.

The gently spiced sweetness of gingerbread, and the tart burst of blueberries.

A single, resonating chime of a bell, fading out into stillness.

“well?” Sans asks, drawing your attention back to his face. “what do you think?”

It’s said casually but it’s obvious your answer is important.

“I love it,” you tell him. “It’s you.”

-

Papyrus (Undertale):

“I’M! NOT NERVOUS ABOUT THIS, BY THE WAY! IF YOU WERE WONDERING.” Papyrus tells you.

…Which is an obvious lie by the way his leg is bouncing a mile a minute.

But you’re not about to call him out on it.

“It’d be okay, if you were nervous,” you say with diplomacy. “This seems like a pretty personal thing…”

“OH, VERY MUCH SO. BUT,” Papyrus beams at you, just the barest edge of nerves in his smile, “IF THERE’S ANYONE I’D TRUST WITH MY ENTIRE SELF, IT WOULD BE YOU!”

So saying, he nudges his soul forward; closer to you, wordlessly inviting you to touch it.

You’re not nearly rude enough to decline that invitation.

Papyrus is…

Polished marble beneath your fingertips.

Warm, gentle sunbeams on your skin.

The snap of a pretzel and the zing of cold, fresh lemonade, ice cubes clinking against the glass.

Waves, crashing onto the beach, rhythmic and powerful.

“Papyrus,” you breathe. “You’re amazing…”

He blinks at you a moment.

And then he laughs, boisterously, proclaiming, “YES! O-OF COURSE I AM! NYEH-HEH-HEH!” like he knew it all along.

He might not have…but you certainly did!

-

Sky (Underswap Sans):

“…COURSE YOU DON’T HAVE TO, IF YOU FEEL IT’S TOO SOON—I UNDERSTAND COMPLETELY!—BUT I WANTED TO OFFER BECAUSE…WELL, IT’S ABOUT THE GESTURE, AND OBVIOUSLY I TRUST YOU, SO—”

“Sans,” you interrupt, laughing a little despite yourself. “You’re…you’re rambling a little…”

Sans’ mouth shuts, a faint tinge of blue coming across his face.

“I…YES, I WAS, WASN’T I? HEHEHEH… I’M SORRY,” he sighs, a touch rueful. “I’M JUST…A LITTLE EXCITED! I KNOW YOU LACK THE CULTURAL CONTEXT, BUT THIS IS…KIND OF A BIG DEAL?”

You look at the upside down heart, bobbing before you in mid-air—Sans’ soul.

“Yeah, I kinda figured.”

“IT’S JUST…I LOVE YOU,” Sans admits. “SO…I WANT YOU TO LIKE IT…DOES THAT MAKE SENSE?”

“It does. ” And the least you can give your skeleton beau is an honest answer, so… “I am ready. I’ll do it.”

Sans’ eye-lights brighten happily as you reach out and cup his soul in your hands.

Just like he warned you, in as much magi-scientific detail as monsterly possible, it’s…weird, an utterly bizarre sensory experience for your brain.

It’s the soft, cloying sweetness of marshmallow, cut with the sharp, icy tingle of mint.

It’s the tickling bubbles of carbonation from a freshly cracked soda can.

It’s the swoop in your stomach at the top of a rollercoaster, just as you start to fall.

It’s birdsong, ambient and melodious.

It’s Sans.

So, “It’s perfect.”

-

Paps (Underswap Papyrus):

Such a bold invitation from your favorite shy skeleton is unexpected, to say the least.

But far from unwelcome.

The pale upside down heart is like a magnet for your fingers, your hands itching to touch the very core of the man you love so much.

But you have to be certain.

“This is…really okay?” you ask. “You’re okay…with this?”

Papyrus, with his ducked skull and fidgeting hands, looks utterly bashful, but the way he meets your eyes is nothing short of resolved.

“yeah,” he says. “i want to share this with you. i want you to know me…like this.”

He reaches for your hands and you let him take them, pulling them to closer to where his soul hovers.

“it’s okay,” he promises.

So you reach, and find…

The trickling sound of a quiet stream, flowing steadily forward.

Lacquered wood, smooth and sturdy.

A hot shower after a long day, filling the room with soothing steam.

Heavy cream, thick and sweet…with the faintest hint of hazelnut.

It’s probably rude, or at the very least extremely cheeky…but you can’t quite stop yourself from bringing Papyrus’ soul up to your lips for a chaste little peck.

He shivers, an enticing cerulean dusting his face.

Your intent must have quite clear, because he chuckles.

“i…i love you, too…”

-

Jasper (Underfell Sans):

“figured it was about that time,” Sans is saying with a shrug. “one of those things ya’ gotta get to sooner or later, y’know?”

His tone is blasé, perfectly casual; verging on cocky, even.

You might’ve bought it if he hadn’t stuffed his hands into his pockets, trying to hide their trembling from you.

Real emotion—vulnerability—scared the hell out of Sans and you both knew it.

With his soul laid bare before you, utterly exposed in the truest sense possible, he really couldn’t get any more vulnerable than this.

…but he’s showing you anyway.

He chose to be vulnerable to you, for you, and there aren’t words for how special that makes you feel.

“Thank you,” you tell him, hoping he understands what you mean and reaching slowly, carefully for everything that makes him…him.

The magic that settles in your palms feels like dry heat, almost insistently warm.

It feels like static, like peeling apart a pair of socks stuck to each other, fresh out of the dryer.

A puff like cinnamon and the tang of a tart apple, sour and sweet and spice all at once.

A distant rumble, like from a far off storm…

Sans’ eye-sockets go wide when you pull his soul closer to you, holding it against your chest.

You know what it probably looks like, like you’re aiming for an even more intimate type of sharing, but really, you just…want him near to you.

Because…

“Sans…you feel like home…”

-

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus):

“I’M SURE YOU’RE INCREDIBLY FLATTERED. TO HAVE WON SO MUCH OF MY REGARD IS NO SMALL FEAT—EVEN FOR AN EXTRAORDINARY HUMAN SUCH AS YOURSELF!”

He’s probably been talking for a solid two minutes now, blustering about how intimidated you must be by such a bold, romantic gesture; how loved you must feel to have such an amazing partner, willing to trust you with his soul; how he understands if you need a moment to process all this overwhelming information.

If you didn’t know better, you might’ve thought Papyrus was projecting a bit, stalling for time…

But you do know better: surely, the fact that he can’t seem to meet your eyes right now is just to…keep you from feeling nervous.

Surely.

“…AN HONOR, REALLY—”

“I am,” you say, cutting into his long-winded tirade.

Papyrus’ jaw clicks shut.

“I…WHAT.”

“You’re right,” you clarify. “I’m honored. Really.”

Ah, Papyrus hadn’t prepared a script for that response: you can tell by the way his cheekbones go the palest shade of pink, and by how he all but thrusts his soul at you.

“I! JUST…JUST TAKE IT!” he demands.

And well…you’re not often one to tell Papyrus ‘no.’

You carefully grasp his soul.

Sharp spice like ginger, dripping in rich dark chocolate, riding the line between bitter and sweet.

A razor’s edge beneath a fingertip, safe only for a careful hand.

Fine silk that flows and ghosts against your limbs, the barest whisper of touch.

Crackling, like the tamed fire of a well-stoked hearth.

You let go.

Papyrus looks uncertain, too proud to ask for your thoughts outright but obviously dying to know.

You opt not to leave him in suspense, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him down to meet you in a kiss.

Your partner is a fascinating man…

-

Mal (Swapfell Sans):

You startle when Sans grabs your hands in his own, intercepting you.

“Is…Did you change your mind?” you wonder, attempting to pull back. “It’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“NO. NO, IT’S FINE,” Sans assures you. “I TRUST YOU, DEAR. I DO.”

But still, he holds your hands, his grip firm.

“……I don’t—”

“JUST…YOU CAN…GO AHEAD. I JUST NEED…THIS……WHILE YOU DO.”

Your beloved Sans—ever emotionally-constipated—probably can’t do any better than that strained and halting explanation.

It’s a good thing that (you think) you understood it.

You can hold his soul.

He wants you to hold his soul.

…But the faint shred of control in such a vulnerable act, holding onto you while you hold onto him, is something he needs to have, too.

If it helps him feel comfortable, you don’t mind in the slightest.

You reach for his soul, with his gloved phalanges still curled around your hands.

Sans allows it.

A subtle yet persistent hum, background, like a nearly-forgotten device in a silent room.

A…strange sort of sweetness, bitter like licorice, or sour like raspberry—impossible to separate from one another, either way.

Pressure, intense and purposeful, bearing steadily downwards.

Crushed ice, stingingly, numbingly cold…

You’re not sure what to make of it…at first.

But then, you remember the last time you’d felt a wisp of this magic.

When you’d been hurt, not badly but enough to make Sans dart over to scold you, even as green light started to pour from his claws—easing your pain, putting you back to rights.

It was the same.

You release your grasp on Sans’ soul, taking no offense in the way it immediately retreats back into his chest.

You turn your hands in his, lacing your fingers together and squeezing tight.

“Thank you…for trusting me.”

And then, you lean in for a kiss.

-

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus):

You can’t believe it sometimes.

How you ever managed to snag yourself such an adorable, goofy sweetheart of a skeleton.

“i-i mean, if you don’t…y’know, ‘cause, i-if it’s weird, for you, uh…i wouldn’t want you to feel…obligated??? that’s…mmmaybe not the right word…”

Poor Papyrus is absolutely babbling by now in a way that could only be more endearing if he didn’t look so nervous.

“i don’t…i dunno, whatever, uh, whatever you want, to do, i just…wanted it to be…out there, if—………”

He goes dead silent when you make your answer to his proposition clear, taking his soul into your hands.

It’s…not what you expected.

The sensation of a thick plume of faux fur against your cheek.

Lukewarm wax cooling, growing tacky on your fingertips.

What rain sounds like when it’s falling outside, while you’re safe and dry indoors.

Dripping, overwhelming sweetness, dense like marmalade and sticky like caramel.

No…not really what you expected…

But somehow, it suits him wonderfully, this odd, clingy duck of a skeleton you’ve chosen as your own.

Papyrus visibly jumps when you raise his soul up to your face and give it a tender little nuzzle.

“I love you,” is all you have to say to make his whole skull glow violet.

It’s true, though—you really do.

-

Slate (Horrortale Sans):

He doesn’t look particularly…happy…about this.

In fact, Sans looks pretty much the opposite, a grimace on his face and his single red eye-light pointedly averted from the sight of his own soul, hovering there between you.

You manage to tear your eyes away from the sight of it, looking at him instead.

“Why?” you ask.

His frown deepens, confusion obvious.

“Why do you want me to do this?” you try again, hopefully clearer. “If it’s… If you don’t want to…”

“……no,” Sans says at length. “it’s not… you should get to……you…deserve to………to know it.”

“But…if you don’t want me to—”

“not… no, that’s not it.”

Sans looks at his soul, his expression visibly pained.

“i just…wish it weren’t…like this…”

Finally, it clicks.

He’s talking about the state of his soul, littered with cracks and fissures, marks of damage from all the horrible trauma he lived through.

He’s…

Sans is ashamed of it.

His own soul.

…

Something…comes over you.

Without hesitation, you reach out and take the manifestation of the skeleton you love into your hands.

It feels like…

Oil dripping over your fingers, dark and slick.

Plush velvet, soft and smooth.

A sharp burst like grapefruit and the warring bitter and sweet of burnt sugar.

Intermittent cricket chirps, on an otherwise still and silent night.

Just like you thought…

You pull Sans’ soul in, bringing it to your lips to pepper it with kisses—one for every little crack and imperfection on its surface—even as Sans shudders and goes that soft gray-blue color you adore so much.

He only manages to hold back the tears (relief? Joy? Disbelief?) until you speak.

“It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

And then, well…you’ve got plenty more kisses to give.

-

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus):

“So! If You’d Like… You Can Just Go Ahead And…”

Don’t mind if you do!

The soft white soul in front of you is utterly enchanting, lovely to look at—and that should be no surprise at all, knowing the man it belongs to.

You lean in closer, admiring it just a moment longer…

“Wait!”

You look up.

Papyrus, his smile gone tight all of a sudden, is reaching for his own soul too…calling it back?

No…

Just…turning it, slightly, a minor little adjustment.

Which is, quite frankly, deeply suspicious.

“Uh…what are you doing?”

“Nothing!” Papyrus assures you. “Don’t You Want To—”

He cuts off abruptly as you lean to the side, testing.

Sure enough, he re-angles his soul for you again, almost on instinct, and when he realizes how badly he’s given himself away, a nervous drop of sweat beads along the side of his skull.

“Papyrus… Why are you trying to ‘dark side of the moon’ your soul?”

“………”

You frown.

“Papyrus.”

“It’s! Not Very Nice, To Look At, Over There,” he confesses, admitting defeat. “Wouldn’t You Rather Just…Look At The Light Side? Like The Moon? The Moon Is Lovely, Nobody Needs To See—”

“I want to see,” you tell him, firmly.

His meddling hands…reluctantly retreat.

Leaving you free to take Papyrus’ soul in your grasp and see what all the fuss was about.

He was right, that the deep scar on the other side of his soul wasn’t particularly pretty—imperfectly healed, a gnarled silver streak across glowing white.

But when you touch him, his innermost self, it’s also…

Soft and impossibly delicate, like holding a single page of scritta paper between your fingers.

Cold steel, stainless and nigh unbreakable, fit to outlast anything.

Malleable marzipan and slippery olive oil, sweet and light and…weird, just a little offbeat.

A steady thrumming, beneath your fingers, like a heart; a strong, steady pulse.

“Thought so,” you say at length, gently trailing your fingers over Papyrus’ soul.

“Thought What?” he asks.

His hands are wringing in his lap, already anxious, so you decide not to make him wait for your answer.

“I love all of you,” you explain. “Not just the ‘pretty’ parts.”

And oh, Papyrus’ eye-sockets sparkle.

-

Ash (Undergloom Sans):

The way Sans looks at his own soul, you’d think he’d never seen it before.

His eye-lights are blown wide in their sockets, that soft shade of gray you’ve come to love so much filled with nothing less than total surprise.

Like he’s not even sure of what he’s seeing.

It doesn’t look like anything out of the ordinary to you.

It’s just…a normal monster soul, an upside down heart shape made of glowing white light.

Maybe…he sees something you don’t?

“Everything okay…?” you ask, and Sans finally blinks.

“huh? oh…yeah…yeah, nothing’s……”

He trails off a moment.

“i just……never seen it this bright before…”

Oh.

Oh.

If you had to make a guess, you’d say that that’s a very, very good thing.

…and it makes you want to hold his soul in your hands even more.

“So…can I…?”

“oh yeah, sure. heheh, go for it—just be gentle.”

As if you would do anything less.

You scoop Sans’ soul up, cradling it in your palms.

It feels like…

Standing in the rain without an umbrella, letting the droplets pelt your skin.

A window pane under your hand, cold, flat, and even.

Soft white noise, unidentifiable yet soothing.

A glass of milk and a fistful of semisweet chocolate chips, plain and simple—uncomplicated.

“This is…beyond cool,” you say, because frankly, it is.

Sans smiles.

You love it when he smiles, the way the expression seems to weaken the dark circles beneath his eye-sockets.

Apparently, it also makes his soul glow just a little bit brighter, and you like that even more.

You think you’ll just have to make Sans smile as much as you possibly can.

-

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus):

“SO…YOU’RE CLEAR, YES? WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN?”

You nod.

Papyrus’ concise explanation of the synesthetic experience that was holding a soul had been as well-crafted as one of his lectures, and just as informative.

Perceiving all of him, through all of your senses at once, is an exciting prospect to be sure.

“AND…YOU UNDERSTAND? WHAT IT MEANS?”

“I think so…” Which of course, makes you wonder… “Are you sure you want me to…?”

Papyrus smiles, the corners of his eye-sockets crinkling with gentle amusement…and a hint of self-deprecation.

“IT’S SWEET OF YOU TO ASK,” he says. “BUT…DO YOU REALLY THINK WE’D BE HERE IF I WASN’T ABSOLUTELY SURE?”

………

He has a point.

You remember how terribly flustered Papyrus would get, back at the beginning of your relationship—unable to hold your hand without starting to sweat and stammering over his words like you’d suggested something lewd instead.

He seems perfectly calm now, not even blushing (…you think—the pale, pearly color of his magic makes it nearly impossible to tell).

“Alright… You’re sure.”

Without further ado, your grasp Papyrus’ soul with careful hands.

He’s warm, steaming chai, sugar cubes dissolving within.

Picking an autumn leaf up off the ground, bright yet fragile.

Fingers trailing over smooth, worn leather.

A soft, slow sound, like breathing beside you in bed in the middle of the night.

You gently stroke your thumb over the surface of Papyrus’ soul.

He sighs when you do, eye-sockets falling shut.

Trusting himself wholly in your hands.

“Oh Dear-Heart,” he breathes, his voice going quiet. “I Love You…”

You know.

The feeling is very much mutual.

-

Brick (Horrorfell Sans):

“So…I just…touch it?”

Sans’ big phalanges curl, his wrist flicking twice—“yeah.”

Seems simple enough, you suppose?

Under Sans’ watchful red eye-light, you reach forward…

“wa—it…!”

You jump, your eyes going wide, and the soul darts away from your fingers but you don’t care about that.

Sans’ pained grimace is far more important to you right now, seeing his knuckles pressed against his throat as if to soothe the ache.

“Use your hands!” you exclaim fretfully with concern, grasping at his claws and pulling them out in front of him.

You’d learned sign for a reason, and it wasn’t so Sans could hurt himself trying to make words out loud with a voice that seared and stung him so painfully.

“i know,” he assures you, looking chagrined. “i know, i… sorry. i…panicked, a little.”

More than a little, you almost say, but don’t.

You’re sure it was hard enough already for him to admit, even peripherally, that he’d been…scared.

“Are you okay now? Because…we don’t have to—”

“no,” Sans signs, forcefully. “i want to. i just…i wasn’t ready. i am now. you can… you can go ahead.”

Well… so long as he’s sure.

You reach again, moving slowly this time so Sans can see exactly what you’re doing, where your hands are going…

Wrapping ever so gently around the faintly cracked white soul glowing before you.

It feels like…

Tightening your grip on a handful of hot sand, making it slip away though your fingers even as the heat starts to hurt.

The high, droning cry of cicadas in the dead of summer.

Wool, clean but unprocessed—a thick tangle of softness just shy of raw.

Earthy rye bread and sharp black coffee, warm and fragrant.

Just as slow and steady as you took it in your hands, you pass it back.

Sans takes it, absorbing it back into his chest.

His grin is crooked, almost sheepish.

“so…what’s the damage?”

You sigh, regretfully.

“I’m so sorry…I don’t know how to tell you this, Sans, but…I think you might be baby.”

“…what,” Sans signs, even as that cute hissing sound you’d come to realize was his laughter fills the air, his shoulders bouncing.

“I’m sure this is very upsetting news,” you continue. “It’s a terminal condition, to be just baby, but—mphmh!”

Sans’ hand settles over half of your face, muffling your words.

But he’s still laughing, so you think you’re alright.

-

King (Horrorfell Papyrus):

“YOU REALIZE, OF COURSE, THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THIS,” Papyrus says.

His needle-sharp phalanges locked tightly around your hands, the stern and imperious look upon his skull as he tells you so…

You’d be hard-pressed not to realize that this was important.

The scarred yet lovely white soul hovering almost hauntingly between you, awaiting your touch, only adds to the gravitas of the moment.

Papyrus releases your hands.

You don’t move.

He stares at you a moment, taking you in.

And then he reaches for you.

The backs of his claws light carefully on your cheek, stroking slow and purposeful.

“…I LOVE YOU, MY JEWEL,” he says, quietly; matter of fact. “THERE ISN’T ANOTHER SOUL ALIVE I’D ALLOW TO DO THIS. YOU KNOW THAT…YES?”

“Yes,” you answer, because you do know it.

As aloof and closed off and even mean as Papyrus once was…once he let you in, you were in, and he never made you doubt that.

You take his soul in your hands.

The sound of wind, gale-force, rushing past your ears.

Pressing down on a healing bruise, testing the fading soreness.

More heat than sweet, peppery cayenne overpowering a faint hint of juicy pomegranate.

Curling your fingers around the stem of a rose, just lightly enough that the thorns don’t prick you.

Papyrus is…a singular sort of skeleton, not the easiest to get close to by any means of the word.

But you’re here, holding all that he is in the palm of your hands, at his own invitation.

You raise his soul and press a kiss to its scuffed and wounded surface, feeding all your intent into the gesture.

I love you, too.

[world-of-socks]

Chapter one: Spies are Forever (sorry I had to…*)

*If you don’t know what Spies Are Forever is please look it up. The full thing is on Youtube, you won’t regret it!!

(Got the idea from @steven-universe-au-prompts. I’m still working on concept art and stuff I’ll post that later. Anyways this was super fun to write and I hope you all enjoy this first look into hopefully will be a series that I’ll complete for once lol)

...

“Soldiers!” A pearl roared to the oncoming sea of quartzes and other miscellaneous gems and fusions.

Nobody was paying her any mind, the camp was full of excitement, everyone was talking to each other and conversing about the next move and where they were stationed. The air was so abuzz with different conversations that Yellow Tourmaline heard none of them. Nor did she care. She was here for one purpose and one purpose alone, and that right now, was to hear that renegade pearl speak.

“SOLDIERS!” she roared again.

A few looked up and then went back to chatting.

The pearl looked towards everyone’s leader, the rose quartz, who was speaking with a fusion, and then turned towards the crowd once more, “SHUT! UP!!”

Everyone turned to face her, and ceased their conversations. Yellow watched the pearl sigh, and then continue,

“We all appreciate you being here, your service is greatly needed in our fight to win back this wonderful planet. Though, we will need to have some form of organization in our camps, you will now hear a word from my general and yours: ROSE QUARTZ!”

The crowd erupted into applause and roars and cheers. These gems loved this Quartz, loved her more than any gem Yellow Tourmaline had ever seen. The Rose Quartz dismissed the applause, humbly, and then began to speak.

“You wonderful gems, you’ve worked so hard your entire life to please someone who doesn’t care about you, or your well-being. You’ve slaved away for the whims of a dictator who thinks you are a pile of sediment, unworthy. Those days are over. When you are under my command you are free to be whoever you want, and to fuse with whoever you want!”

There was another planet shaking roar of applause, Yellow just stood there, dumbfounded, she didn’t understand. The Rose quartz held up her hand to silence them once more.

“Though I would like to make one thing clear. There will still have to be a level of organization in my camps! You will be organized by your station, you won’t be shattered if you don’t listen, but if we want to do this properly, it would be preferred if you would do as I tell you. Though, all ideas are welcome! Pearl will continue from here.”

She then stepped away and resumed talking to the fusion, her pearl then started commanding everyone on where to go.

“The front lines will be stationed in the first two barracks, the blacksmiths will be stationed…..” her voice seemed to fade away.

After the meeting, Yellow knew exactly where she was to go, she was a general on the front lines (she had perfected the basic general appointment test) and would be staying with other generals in the barracks. She hadn’t met any of them yet, and wasn’t thrilled about staying a week with everyone else, but she knew she had to.

She pushed back the fabric of the tent and stepped in timidly, inside was a table with chairs and a few gems gathered around it, a few cots (she only recently learned what those were), and a weapons rack. As she walked in a few of the gems looked up at her, a few looked a little wary, but the others appeared friendly.

“Heya, we got a new one ‘ere!” exclaimed an Ametrine.

She got up from her table where the rest of the generals were huddled over a map, and approached her. Yellow backed up slightly, she wasn’t used to being interacted with in such a way.

“Ey, I’m not gonna ‘urt ya.” Ametrine gave her a pat on the shoulder, “I’m Ametrine, by the way, but you can call me Ame, everyone does.”

Ame looked her up and down to take her in, Yellow watched the evaluation process go on in her head, “Let’s see ‘ere, a newby most likely from, what, Yellow’s court?”

Yellow stiffened up, not used to the informal addressing of the name, “Yes.”

“Ah! rough, mate. I was too. She’s a bit cold, ain't she? Kinda emotionless, yeah?” Ame shook her head, hands in her pockets,“Yeah, I’m real glad I left when I did. I started feelin’ real low, always scared of gettin’ shattered, y’know? I’m feelin’ much betta’ under Rose’s command, though, no need to worry ‘bout little ol’ me.”

Yellow just gave a weak laugh.

“Ya don’t talk much do ya?” Ame remarked, “What’s ya name anyway?”

She straightened up, “I’m Yellow Tourmaline.”

“Do ya go by anythin’ shorter?”

“No.” she retorted simply.

“Well that’ll have to change.” Ame thought for a moment, “I’m sure durin’ trainin’ tomorrow a betta’ name will reveal itself.”

There was an awkward silence yet again, Yellow wasn’t very good at interacting like this.

“Lemme’ introduce ya to the team!” Ame said with fake or real enthusiasm, Yellow couldn’t tell.

“This is Black Opal, but we call her Bo. She don’t say much either, but she’s a great archer and an even betta’ general. Her surprise attacks are some of the best and smartest in the biz!” Ame pointed to a tall and darkly colored gem towards the left of the table, she looked up and simply nodded in greeting.

“Over there’s Emerald, but we just call her Bear. She got the name cuz’ we went on a scoutin’ mission, and ran across an earth creature, Rose said it's called a bear, and she got chased by that thing for hours! Once she got fed up though she stopped in her tracks and screamed in its face and scared it off into the woods! She’s more a bear than it was!” The Emerald rolled her eyes, she must’ve been used to the anecdote.

“There’s old Peach Sapphire over there, Bismuth, and oh that there’s Cat’s Eye, don’t mess with them, they’re a tricky one. I could tell ya a million stories about all these guys.” Ame laughed, but quickly stopped when she saw the unamused look on Yellow’s face, “Ah, but, I won’t… I won’t.”

Yellow strode across the room to the map on the table, and looked at it for a moment.

“Judging our strategies, are you?” Peach Sapphire retorted to Yellow’s glance at the map.

“Wha-... no.” Yellow lied.

“Ah well you were going to.” she mused.

“I thought only Blue Sapphire’s could predict the future.”she grumbled, realizing she had been caught.

“Hm, yes, and that’s where you're wrong. Blue Sapphires can predict the future more accurately than I, but no, they aren’t the only ones.” She sighed, “And if you’re worried that we won’t succeed without good incite on the future we have a rare Blue Sapphire on our team. She’s fused with Ruby, they go by Garnet by the way, she’s Rose’s lefthand gem.”

Yellow cringed slightly at the mention of fusion, “The Pearl is the right hand?” she clarified.

“Yes.” Peach sighed and looked back at the map, “Newcomers aren’t permitted to be strategists until they go through a week of training. Our apologies, but this war has been long and hard, I’ve lost friends, loved ones, excuse me if I don’t trust you right away.”

“I… see.” the room was silent, a distant grief hung in the air.

“I assume you aren’t one to sleep are you?” Emerald asked, breaking the emptiness, “The newbys usually aren’t.”

“No, I don’t sleep.” she replied.

“That’ll change!” Ame called from where she lay on her cot, her cap over her eyes.

A few of the other generals snickered.

“Well even if you don’t sleep I recommend resting on the cots until morning.” Emerald added kindly.

“Is there really nothing else I can assist with?” she asked, desperate, not loving the idea of being left alone with her thoughts, surrounded by strange gems.

“Not until we get a chore list, a training schedule, or a command.” Emerald replied.

“Or until Jasper comes in here and breaks something.” Peach muttered.

Ame laughed from her cot, even Black Opal snickered slightly.

Yellow sat in the cot the second closest to the tent opening. She lay down on her back stiffly, and closed her eyes, but when nothing changed she sat up and looked around. She hated the feeling of not being in charge, but she knew it was only going to have to be for a week.

After an hour or so of sifting through the pamphlets for newcomers, she was startled by a loud sound. The tent ripped open and a giant Jasper burst through with a terrified look on its face. Yellow jumped to her feet.

The Jasper ran over to where Ame lay presumably asleep and shook her violently.

“Ame! Ame!!” she cried, “You gotta wake up! Please wake up!”

“Wha-... Jazz what’s,” she yawned, “What’s goin’ on ya loon.”

“I was just-...I was just!” she panted and stuttered, “I was just-... practicing my acting! Free acting lessons with Jazz as soon as the sun goes down!”

“Nobody needs ya classes Jazz, not in this war. Besides no non-sleepin newby would ever join.” Ame muttered readjusting her cap.

Jasper stamped her foot, “Yeah, but MORALE! Ya know?” she turned excitedly to Yellow who felt more uncomfortable than ever before, “Hey, would you wanna join?”

“Uh… no.” She answered, Jazz frowned, “Uh I mean- no, not really.” she stuttered.

“Dang,” Jazz mused, “This one IS new. Welp, they're always open if ya ever change your mind.”

Jazz crashed onto an empty spot on the floor which had blankets, that were probably chipped in from the other generals, for her to lay on. Yellow hadn’t noticed the broken cot pieces before.

Yellow resumed her sitting position at the end of the makeshift bed and continued looking through the pamphlet, more to look busy, she had already read the entire thing. After an hour or so the other generals retired, save for Cat’s eye who, without a word, glided to the tent entrance and stood guard.

Once she determined it wouldn’t be awkward to stop reading, she layed back down, this time on her side. She stared at the dirty tent fabric.

It would just be for a week, then she could transform back into her usual form, get into her ship, and drive home with whatever plans she could find. Nobody would know, not even the others on homeworld. She could finally end this fight once and for all.

[spookyold-saintjm]

The Day’s Still Young

[gif: @captain-flint]

Poe Dameron x reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: none; pure wholesome content

a/n: I was feeling soft today so here ya go. This was basically inspired by the beginning of 101 Dalmatians but. Y’know. With droids. Enjoy! x

—

Finn was on his way to lunch when Poe jogged up to him in the long hallway leading from the hangar, repeatedly calling out his name.

“Finn! Hey Finn, wait up!”

Finn spun around just as Poe reached him and clapped a hand atop his shoulder to hold him in place. “Poe? What’s wrong?” he asked, somewhat taken aback by the mildly urgent tone in his friend’s voice.  

“Have you seen BB-8?” I sent him off to get something.” Poe’s head swiveled as he scanned the hallway, his eyes focused toward the floor as he spoke. “I got caught up running through charts with Snap, and haven’t seen him since.”

Finn shook his head. “Haven’t seen him anywhere. Probably just got distracted again helping somebody else out with something.”  

“That’s what I thought too,” Poe replied as he and Finn continued their way together down the hall. “But it’s been over an hour.” He sighed a short breath, reaching to nervously fluff up the dark locks of his curly hair. “Gotta take a look at him once I find him, see if his wiring’s gone screwy or something.”  

BB-8 had lately been notoriously guilty of taking a bit longer than was necessary to run any errands, or had found multiple excuses to drift away from helping out Poe with his work. Duties had definitely been picking up around the base over the last few weeks, and Poe was perfectly fine with his droid helping out others who might have needed it every now and then, but it had started to get a little out of hand. He was beginning to worry that something might be wrong with his trusted droid. Something BB-8 wasn’t telling him.

Finn helped Poe scan the halls, but they were unsuccessful in their search. 

Or so they thought, until a different BB unit rolled by, beeping and squealing as it sped by them in the opposite direction.

BB-8 followed right behind.

“BB-8!” Poe and Finn both shouted in surprise and traded stunned glances, but the droid paid no mind to either of them as he followed hot on the heels of the unfamiliar BB unit. Poe bade a hasty thanks and goodbye to Finn before jogging down the hallway after them.

Poe called for his droid again with no luck, though once they reached the end of the hall, BB-8 had caught up with the other droid. The two were exchanging quick, shrill beeps as their heads swiveled sideways and back while they rolled circles around each other.

Poe was breathing hard once he reached the pair, and hunched over to brace his hands against his knees as he stared down at his companion in an exhausted confusion.

“Buddy, what’s the matter with you!” He breathlessly exclaimed. “Where have you been?!”  

The droid wasn’t listening, but was instead chattering excitedly away at the new droid. Poe opened his mouth between gasps for air to speak again, but was cut off by the sound of another human’s voice, calling out from the adjacent hallway. 

Poe quickly rose and stepped around the droids to peek at the source of the sound from echoing around the corner—

And found it. Immediately, because you thudded hard into his chest and nearly sent him tumbling on his back to the floor.

You both gasped in surprise, and you grabbed onto the man's arms to help him steady himself as he caught his fall.

“Hey, pal,” you grumbled as you quickly let go of his arms and stepped back to face him. “How about you watch where you’re—”

But your words were suddenly sucked dry from your throat, and you all but completely froze in place as you processed who now stood staring with slightly widened eyes and a dropped jaw across from you.

“Oh! Commander Dameron!” You immediately took a couple extra steps back to give him more space, your face burning at the full realization of who you’d nearly just knocked to the ground, then almost had an outburst on. You shook you head quickly, holding your hands out as if you were surrendering as words uncontrollably began to tumble out of you. “I am SO sorry, are you okay? I didn’t mean—I was just looking for my droid and I—”

A quick succession of beeps called both of your attentions away from each other, and the black and teal BB unit giddily bumped itself against your boots. You quickly kneeled down by the droid, running your hands along the orb of its body to check for any damage.

“Nine-vee, I told you that you can’t just go running off like that! What if somebody gets hurt, huh?” You glanced back up to Poe again, biting your lip in preparation to receive some sort of reprimand. “I apologize, Commander. Lately she's been so strange. I can’t keep up with her sometimes.”  

“I can relate, actually.” Poe glanced back at BB-8, who was peeking earnestly around his owner’s leg at his fellow droid and the new human in their company. “I’ve been having a similar problem with BB-8, here.”

BB-8 knew when he was being scolded, and slowly let out a low, cooing beep as he ducked his head.

Your BB unit, on the other hand, continued to chirp out some sort of enthusiastic explanation, repeatedly gesturing toward the orange and white droid who now hid behind halfway behind Poe’s leg. BB-8 seemed to perk up a bit at that, and the hum that rolled out of him was almost dreamy as he innocently looked up to his owner.

And it seemed to click in both of your minds. 

“I think—” you started, dusting off the knees of your flight suit as you stood again. “I think that they might—”

Your glances switched back and forth between each other’s droids once more as Poe finished your thought. “I think they like each other.”  

If droids could blush, BB-9V and BB-8 would have been doing so as they hesitantly looked over to each other while resting beside you and Poe.

When your eyes met again, you and Poe bursted out into laughter at the scene that had just erupted before your eyes, any tensions between you immediately dissipating.

“I’m y/n, by the way. Y/n L/n.” You hesitantly reached out a hand as you introduced yourself formally, and Poe was quick to take it with a firm shake.

“Poe Dameron,” Poe replied, though of course you already knew perfectly well who he was. Your hands separated and dropped to your sides as you both watched your droids slowly move back towards each other, heads lolling to one side and then the other while they blinked with glee.

“Never seen anything like it.” Poe mused aloud, slowly shaking his head in amusement you both looked down at the curious peculiarity of the situation unfolding between his feet and yours.

“Guess this explains why she’s been running off so much lately.” You concluded, and you both chuckled again before looking back up at each other.

Something seemed to suddenly spark in Poe’s memory. “Hey, you’re new to Gold Squadron, right?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest and your eyes widened at the declaration.  “I—uh, yes, how did you know that?”

Poe nodded in approval, a smile crossing his face that nearly had you melting to the floor. “I’ve heard stories. Most of them say you’re pretty good.” 

You blinked at that. “Most of them?”

Poe shrugged, a playful smirk twitching up the corner of his lips. “Yeah, the other ones say you’re pretty great. Maybe almost comparable to me…but I’m not so sure about that.”

Ah, yes. This really was the Commander Dameron you’d heard so much about. Cocky, but charming. And pretty damned handsome, if you’d let yourself admit it.

You shrugged dismissively as you crossed your arms over your chest, playing along. “Well, the day’s still young, Commander. I’d be open to test that theory.”

Poe’s eyebrows raised at your sharp reply. Cute and bold? You would get along with each other just fine.

After all, it seemed like your droids planned on continuing to spend some time with each other. What harm could it do if the two of you did the same?

“You’re on, y/n,” he replied, gesturing with his head toward the door that led out to the hangar. You felt your smile widen as you fell into step alongside him. “And you can just call me Poe.”

Both of your droids watched for a moment, then beeped what sounded just like small giggles as they began to follow behind, eagerly listening in to every word and every laugh you and Poe exchanged.

—

tags: @ah-callie​ @pandacookieowo​ @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​

[kaen-ace-of-diamonds]

Impending Paternity

Word Count: 3900+ (oneshot) [AO3]

Genre: Humor/Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: Peter B. Parker/Mary Jane Watson

Characters: Peter B. Parker, Mary Jane Watson, Spider-Man Noir, Peter Porker, Gwen Stacy, Peni Parker, Miles Morales

Summary: The closer the birth of his first child gets, the more Peter’s old fears of fatherhood resurface. Fortunately for him, he now has universes of parenting advice to call on and prepare him.

Written for the @dimension-zine.

~0~

Waking up in a cold sweat wasn’t something at all new to Peter B. Parker. That didn’t make it any less unpleasant.

What was new to him was registering the feeling of MJ’s arms around his waist as they slept, the flat press of her chin by his shoulders. Once again, they shared a bed: small, but more than enough room for them to lay pressed up against each other, legs entwined, skin on skin. It was almost enough for Peter to forget what had caused him to sleep more restlessly than he had in a very, very long time.

Even in the dark of the bedroom, the damn pregnancy test is staring directly at him from the mesh metal wastebasket, with its solid pink eye. He’d stared down monsters, mobsters, and maniacs of all sorts without blinking, and yet this damn near ignites his old “curl up in the shower and hide” instinct. MJ’s stomach doesn’t show any signs of change yet, doesn’t feel any different against his back...But there’s going to be a tiny person in there very soon. A person that he helped create. A person that he’ll have responsibility to.

MJ can’t stop smiling about it — this is what she’s wanted for a long time — and her joy is very nearly infectious. Peter had agreed to this, of course he had. It was time for him to quit hiding away from the fears that he couldn’t dodge or punch away so easily. But still, he isn’t sure if he can say he’s wholeheartedly looking forward to it, and still be telling the truth.

He’s never had younger siblings or cousins. He has long since lost Uncle Ben and Aunt May (knowing that other versions of them exist, even meeting them, doesn’t erase the sting). MJ hasn’t said a word to her own parents in years, and Peter has never had any problem saying flat out how unhelpful he’s sure they’d be anyway. So he has nobody to fall back on if he has questions or confusions or fears — aside from MJ, and while he loves her and trusts her judgment in all things, he can anticipate there may be times when an uninvolved third party will be invaluable. 

All of a sudden, Peter freezes, eyes going wide. He has the sudden impulse to jump out of bed that always used to come with a brilliant idea, which he feels are too few and far between nowadays. Obviously he can’t do that now, at fuck o’clock in the morning with his wife’s arms securely around him. It’ll have to wait until the morning, but oh, he can’t wait to explain to her over breakfast what he’s planning to do when he grabs enough free time over the next few months. She still hasn’t heard everything he’s had to tell about his little dimension-hopping adventure...

~0~

“So!” Spider-Man Noir slams this finished egg cream down on the table just as fiercely as he has the past eight glasses. “You’re finally becoming a daddy!”

“How...are you doing that through your mask?” Peter asks hesitantly, sipping on his one half empty glass of the drink. 

“I remember my childhood fondly,” Noir goes on as if Peter hadn’t spoken, gazing nostalgically out his window. He had wanted to take Peter bar-hopping, initially, but a guy walking around all in color attracted too much attention on the streets, and they had agreed that Noir’s apartment would be best for a private conversation. “Don’t remember my own mother or father, but my Aunt May says that she and my Ma used to trade parenting tips out of pamphlets when I was just a grub.”

Peter perks up slightly. “What kind of tips?”

“Well! First one’s for your future mama...Ah, how’s your place looking?”

Peter blinks. “It’s...fine. Better than living alone, no offense to you, but — ”

“No, no, you don’t get it. Is it all pretty?”

“Huh? Pretty?”

“Somethin’ Ma and Aunt May picked up from my granny,” Noir explains. “If a mama with an unborn baby sees ugly things, that ugly beams itself into her brain and straight down into her womb, and gets right into your baby. So you gotta be sure to keep her around pretty things to look at, you see? You want a nice kid, don’tcha?”

“Uh...Y-Yeah! I sure do!” he says, trying to keep disappointment off his face. Noir talks with absolute conviction in his beliefs, but what Peter had forgotten was that these were the beliefs of 1933. Even earlier, if he’s getting this stuff from older relatives. None of it’s going to do his twenty-first century self any good.

So the first chance he gets, Peter slurps down the last of his egg cream (surprisingly tasty, he’ll have to look up a modern recipe to compare sometime) and leaps up from his chair, sauntering back over towards an opening portal. “Thanks so much, Noir, but I gotta run! No telling when I can catch the next portal, y’know?”

Noir waves, unperturbed, pouring another drink. “Stock up on lard! You got to give baby’s first bath with it, get all that scum off ‘em!”

“Sure! Lard! No problem!” Peter calls over his shoulder, nearly diving into the portal.

~0~

Though Ham assures him that the natives find him much stranger and more unsettling than he finds them, Peter never quite gets used to being a real guy in a cartoon world. The lurid colors hurt his eyes, things move too fast and sound is constantly blaring, and for some reason he’s very, very suspicious about the contents of those hot dogs. But the veggie wraps are surprisingly good, and he chows down with one hand while typing at breakneck speed with the other. 

“Hot dog, you’re fast enough to kick some butt at the Daily Beagle!” Ham bounces up and pats his head happily. “Granted, we’re more story-ey than sciencey over there, but you get the point! That file-hunting stuff’s really not giving you any trouble?”

“Nope,” says Peter through a mouthful of tomato and lettuce. MJ’s newly emerging cravings were much less of a pain than either of them had expected: they consisted mostly of something rich stuffed into something bread, and he wished he could bring something from here back for her. “The rules are pretty different from the re -- uh, from my dimension, but surprisingly easy to memorize. I should be able to retrieve what you’re looking for in...maybe two minutes?” 

“Faaaaan-tastic!” 

“Can you keep them busy that much longer?”

“Sure can!” As he speaks, Ham is already whipping a comically large wrench out of his pocket and hurling it at the helmeted boar goons trying to break through the barricaded door. “Take that, you @#$%^&*!”

Peter still isn’t sure how Ham manages to make those sounds instead of swearing, but no matter. As far as he’s concerned, no questions equals smooth sailing. 

Well...of course he does have one. 

“Hey, Ham, this might be a weird thing to ask, but...what would you call ‘good parenting?’”

“Huh, I’m not sure. My parents passed before I was hatched, but Mom made sure her sac was settled in a nice place! My web was in May Porker’s lab for months before I transformed! Good thing, too, I was coming up on the tail end of my lifespan!”

“Oh...Y-Yeah, real good thing,” Peter stammers, fingers momentarily freezing on the keys as he processes that whole spider-turned-pig thing one more time. He’s privately quite glad that he’s never seen what’s under Ham’s mask. 

“I consider myself real lucky, actually!” Ham laughs. There’s a crash, and the metal door starts to squeal off its hinges, the enemy scrabbling to all get through the cracks at once. Ham promptly yanks out a machine gun and lets fly at them. Peter chokes down a laugh at the toy rat-a-tat-a-tat noises it makes. “Aunt May’s the best aunt a Spider-Ham could ask for! Bakes a mean apple pie, talks my ears off about her tech, supports me in all my endeavors. And you know, I can barely even see the bite scar anymore!”

Peter chokes on tomato. “The what?”

“Oh, Aunt May was the radioactive pig that turned me into Spider-Ham in the first place! My memories are slightly muddled around that time, but oh well! Doesn’t matter! Though neither of us had any idea it would do that, soooo...maybe just be extra careful about where your teeth go?”

Peter huffs, right-clicking the elusive file he’s found and downloading it to Ham’s flash drive, which is unsettlingly shaped like a bacon strip. “Yeah. Great advice. Don’t bite my kid. Next you’ll be telling me to keep my window open for the delivery stork to fly in with ‘em.”

“Well, sure, that’s just common courtesy! If ya really want to be nice, you give your stork a nice big tip!”

Peter swallows a groan from the deepest depths of his being, along with the last of the wrap.

~0~

“Six months and I still can’t believe you’re going to be a dad!” Gwen shouts, gracefully backflipping over another laser beam. “Like an actual dad!” 

“Almost seven, actually! And yep! Can’t believe it either!” Peter answers somewhat breathlessly, through his own leaping and punching of the armored thugs rushing in through the legs of the gun-toting robots. “Any ideas for names? Because MJ and I are way out!”

He hears Peni’s thoughtful humming through the speakers of her newest prototype: SP//dr, Mark Three. “Hmm...I don’t know much about historical naming conventions, but I also don’t think they’ve changed very much...Chief Stacy, what do you think?”

Safeguarded inside SP//dr’s cockpit from the onslaught targeting him and remaining remarkably calm about it, George Stacy considers it. “Hm. My daughter’s name is Gwendolyn. I’ve always thought that was the nicest name.”

Peter smirks under his mask, and gently elbows Gwen as she passes him. “Whaddaya think, Spider-Woman?”

He physically feels Gwen rolling her eyes. “It’s fine. Why don’t you just name him after you?”

“There’s millions of me! Maybe more! And besides we don’t even know if it’s a him, yet!”

“What about Ben? Or Benjamin?” Peni suggests. “To honor your uncle!”

“Oh, come on! Doesn’t anybody have an original idea!”

Gwen wrenches a robot head off and lobs it straight into a goon’s chest. “You know what, those will probably be a little easier to come by after we finish getting shot at!”

“Agreed, ma’am,” Chief Stacy says. “Excellent throw, by the way. Hey, Man-Spider, machine gunner at three o’clock!”

No matter how short and no matter how many people fight beside him, Peter’s various battles always seem to last forever as they happen, but the memory of them only lasts a blink of an eye. So it’s slightly dizzying when just a couple hours after the attack has been dealt with, Chief Stacy secured, and a plan for Gwen to hunt down whoever had ordered it outlined, the three of them are sitting on the roof of a skyscraper, eating cheeseburgers while the sun rises before them.

“I can’t even imagine eating a burger with pickles on it,” Gwen says. “You’re really telling me that’s the common thing instead of chili peppers where you’re from?”

“Yep,” Peter confirms, washing a large, hot bite down with a quarter of his soda. “I mean, I’ve had jalapeño burgers before, but they’re like a specialty thing.”

“We eat pickles on our burgers, too, but they’re all deep fried,” Peni puts in. “Crunchy.”

Gwen laughs, the breeze blowing her hair back. After hearing the story of how she’d acquired her undercut, Peter always finds it funny that she’d gone ahead and kept it after all. “So weird.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says. “Entirely unrelated, if you need any more help with your dad, you just let me know.”

“And me!” Peni adds, SP//dr waving a leg in agreement. 

“Thanks, guys.”

“Hey...Speaking of dads...” Peter pauses a moment to think before continuing, “What would you call your dads’ best qualities? Like, as a dad?”

“You’re looking for advice again?”

“A little template would be nice, sure!”

“All right, then...” Peni taps a French fry on the burger box. “I always loved how smart and loving my dad was, and that he had faith in me to continue his work when he was gone. Dad always believing in me helped me to believe in myself, when I might not have otherwise.”

Gwen nods. “I feel pretty similar about my dad. He doesn’t know about me being Spider-Woman, and he doesn’t really get the whole rock band thing. But he makes sure I know that he loves me no matter what, and that he’ll support me in whatever I decide to do. Provided I’m not, like, becoming a supervillain or anything, but I’m doing the opposite of that, so...”

Peter feels the urge to start taking notes. “Sounds good, sounds good, and...don’t take this the wrong way, but is there anything they do, as dads, that makes you not like them sometimes?”

Peni giggles. “Of course there was! I didn’t like when he’d work late and not get home on time, or when he’d make me stop reading comics and go to bed, or something like that. I’d get annoyed with him, but I still loved him.”

“My dad kind of runs the house like he does the police station,” Gwen adds. “He can be super strict, a bit like Miles’ dad. Ironclad rules and curfews for me and my brother, endless lectures when we break them. If I were a normal girl, it’d be pretty stifling, but since I have this life that I have to keep secret from him...it can be really hard sometimes.”

“Yeah, I...I can see that. I don’t really know if I should keep who I am secret from my kid, though. Would it keep them safe, or...just make them resent me? Or both?”

Gwen sighs. “There’s really no right answer, I don’t think.”

“You’re worried about being perfect.” Peni pats his shoulder. “But you don’t need to be. Just use your best judgment.”

Peter looks glumly at the street below. “I wish that was something I trusted.”

~0~

There’s a hollowness inside his chest. 

The only light on the wide, empty street are from the street lamps, ghastly white against the pitch black. He moves as if underwater: swinging, roundhousing, throwing his barely-pulled punches. His heart is pounding, but the rest of him and the world feels numb. Cold sweat soaks the inside of his mask, and heavy dread washes over his skin. 

Peter’s fighting shadows, human-shaped pillars of darkness. His strikes go right through them, when he can reach. But everything they land on him feels like being pummeled by a cannonball, and he’s not sure how long he can endure it. 

The end comes out of nowhere. One spectral arm flashes up, there’s a glint of silver, and a soundless explosion that makes the whole world ripple. It hits his chest like a tidal wave, slams him into the concrete. He can’t get up again. In the world of muted, swimming colors, the gushing of blood from his shot-open heart is sickeningly vivid. 

“DAD!”

Everything in him jolts. He lifts his spinning head to see a kid sprinting towards him, as fast as they can but not fast enough to reach him. He can’t tell how old the kid is, or whether they’re a boy or girl. But he recognizes MJ’s bright red hair and blue eyes, and his own expression of utter, gut-wrenching horror and heartbreak. 

“DA-A-A-D!”

He tries to say he’ll be okay and coughs up blood instead. His rib-punctured lungs won’t let him speak. Panic engulfs him: his death is going to be burned into his kid’s eyes forever and there’s nothing he can do, nothing he can do, nothing, nothing, nothing —

“Peter! Peter, wake up, it’s okay!”

The darkness is blue, striped by the thin gold light through their bedroom blinds. His eyes fly open and he grabs for his bare chest: intact, bloodless. It’s soft and safe around him but he still can’t catch his breath. MJ is awkwardly rolling over in bed to stroke his hair and try to hug him. 

“Peter, you’re okay. You were dreaming. Just dreaming...”

She’s no stranger to dealing with him like this, and the guilt stabs deeper. “I...s-sorry, I...”

“Deep breaths. Slow breaths. I’m here.”

“I won’t be,” he chokes out.

“Peter — ?”

“I-I dreamed that someone shot me, killed me, r-right in front of our kid. It...God, it terrified them, ruined them for life, I could feel it, and it was all my fault!”

He rolls over to look at her face, to anchor him to the real world. He half-expects to see irritation in her eyes at his weakness. Instead there’s love and sympathy. 

“It wasn’t your fault. It was just a dream. That doesn’t mean it will happen.”

“It happened to every parent I ever had. It happened to me. What if I do that to my kid? I can’t — I don’t — ”

Trembling, Peter places his hands on MJ’s belly. Their kid, determined to make sure that their mom sleeps as little as possible, kicks a drumbeat against his palms. They don’t know what fear, pain, or loss is yet. How can he be the one to bring it into their life?

“I’m not running away again,” he assures MJ, as her fingers run through his hair. 

“I know you won’t. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to leave our kid. I never did. I want to be there for you for the rest of my life,” Peter forces out through his tightening throat. “B-But that choice could end up not being mine, after all of this. The things I do, the people I fight, I could die anytime! I’d leave you again. Both of you.”

MJ cups his cheek, leans in to kiss his forehead. “I can’t tell you that nothing bad will happen, Peter. But I can tell you you’re not alone. Like, I worry about the same thing happening to me that happened to my mom. Dying before our baby can even remember me.”

Peter’s heart lurches; he’d forgotten about that. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t —“

She cuts him off with another kiss. “We’re both afraid, Peter. Your job is probably the most dangerous one out there, but you don’t have to go through this alone. All we can do is what every parent has to do: our best.”

“What if my best isn’t good enough? What if I fail, and they hate me?”

“It’ll be more than enough for the people who love you. Always.” MJ smiles. “And they would never hate you. I never could, no matter what.”

Tears slip down his cheeks. He wants to tell her thank you, but he can’t seem to speak, only hug her as close as he can.

~0~

He has one place left to visit. Something he hasn’t been able to face until month nine.

Aside from this world’s MJ, Miles is the most common visitor to Perfect Peter’s grave. After the first time, he’s never surprised to see Peter B. here too. 

“Hey,” he says as Peter walks up, morning dew soaking his sneakers. “How’s it going? Is MJ doing okay?”

Peter nods. “Her due date’s in two weeks. All smooth sailing so far as the doctors say.”

“Awesome.” Miles half-smiles. “So...you had a question for me?”

“Yeah. I just need...one more hope boost before this thing really gets started. Feel free to tell me to kick rocks back to my own dimension if you don’t want to talk about it, but...” He gestures to the gravestone. “This Peter. Your uncle. What was it like to lose them, because of their line of work? I’ve made my life so damn risky, am I doing something wrong bringing a baby into it with me?”

Miles is silent for a long time. “I don’t have a solid yes or no to that. I...I’ll always wish things were different for them both. That there was something I could have done to save them. If I let myself think about it too hard, or too long, I’ll lose myself in it.”

Peter winces. But then Miles goes on.

“I’ve just got to tell myself, what happened, happened. Can’t change the past. The best thing I can do, for them and for me, is keep moving forward. I miss them like crazy and I wish they were still around, I always will. But more than anything, I remember the lessons that they taught me. That they were good men, that they cared about me. It’s the same with you and your uncle, right?”

“I...I do remember him that way. Yeah. But I was going into college when Uncle Ben died. I wasn’t...just a kid. I chose this life, MJ chose to stay with me, our kid didn’t ask for this kind of life.”

Miles shrugs. “I worry about my dad every day. He’s worked a dangerous job in a dangerous city since before I was born. I don’t hold it against him, because I know why he does it. I’m one of the people he’s trying to protect, after all.”

“Yeah, but — ”

“Peter. Come on.” Miles turns to look at him then, with a knowing smile. “You don’t know all of what you’re doing. No one does. What matters is that you’re a good man, and that’s what’ll be most important to your kids, whatever happens: that their dad loves them and would do anything for them.”

Peter feels the same rush of pride and affection for him that he had back at the reactor, along with a sense of security around his heart. He’s surprised to find himself laughing. “You’re the best, kid, you know that?”

Miles’ grin broadens cheekily. “Oh, I know. I try.”

He wraps an arm around Miles’ shoulders and pulls him in for a hug. “Yeah, just keep trying, future godfather.”

It takes a second for the word to hit Miles, and then he spins around to stare at him with huge eyes. “I — their godfather?! Me?”

Peter laughs. “No one out there’d be better than you. Only the best for my kid.”

~0~

After the twenty-seven most stressful hours of their lives, Mira Penelope Watson-Parker emerges into the world with a long, indignant screech. 

Illuminated in the noon sun, in the soft yellow hospital room, both his wife and daughter look like angels in Peter’s eyes. He doesn’t even care that he’s about to cry. “You did amazing, hon.”

MJ grins. “Helps to have a husband whose hands I could squeeze as hard as I needed. C’mere and hold her. I’m sure she wants to meet her dad.”

Peter tries so very hard not to tremble as MJ passes their blanket-wrapped daughter into his arms. He’s never felt anything so delicate in his life. 

“She’s...so tiny,” is all he can manage.

Mira’s hair is her mother’s bright red, just like in his dream. But the dark hazel eyes staring curiously up at him are all his own. 

Peter smiles at her, cradling her close. He really would do anything for her, he knows that already.

“Hey, sweetheart. Hey. Dad’s here.”

[xavisbabie]

Birds Of A Feather - Part 14 Hawks Fic

Summary: Finch has changed, for the better or for worse?

A/N: Just got a new laptop for my birthday and I’m absolutely in love with it, only thing- the keyboard lights turn off when they go inactive and my eyesight is awful so when I go to start typing again I often mess up lol. Fun times tho.

Warnings: Angst, violence, abuse by the commission. 

It was late, Hawks was sitting up watching the news. That was when he got a call from an unknown number. Usually he wouldn’t answer to numbers he didn’t know, for fear of his phone number getting leaked but, for some reason a heavy feeling settled in his gut and he clicked answer quickly. 

“H-Hawks?”

“Who is this?”

“It’s Asami, Starlight.”

“Oh you’re Finch’s best friend right?”

“Ya actually, I was calling about Kore. I haven’t heard from her in awhile-”

“She’s been training for the commission. It’s been non-stop.”

There was a pause from the other side of the phone and then Asami continued. 

“Well, is she doing alright? She doesn’t usually ignore me like this.”

“U-uh,”

He contemplated telling Asami with the hope that she could help but he also didn’t want to worry her and end up getting her hurt.

“Ya, she’s doing great actually, she’s even tried flying a little.”

Asami gasped and made a little excited squeak.

“That’s amazing!”

“Ya, I’m sure she’ll give you a call soon, she’s just been super busy and worn out with all the work so...”

He trailed off. He hoped to god she wouldn’t try and go visit her or call. He feared Finch may snap on her or worse, him.

“Ok, well, I’ll let you go, sorry for disturbing you, I just thought I didn’t want to bother her so I’d call you. Y’know, she was really upset when you stopped visiting her in the hospital.”

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“Ya I know... I just couldn’t get too close to her without the commission riding my ass about it. We talked it out though.”

They definitely hadn’t talked out all the harbored feelings with that situation but, he’d address that later. 

“Ok, well, let her know I called! Thanks Hawks~”

“No problem!”

He replied before she hung up, letting his throw his phone down on the couch and run a hand down his face with a sigh. He’d never be able to get to sleep at this rate. All he’d been able to do was worry about Finch since the last time he’d seen her, a couple days ago. He turned off his TV, making a decision.

As he flew through the night sky he couldn’t help but wonder if he was making the right decision. Would he be making the situation worse? Stressing her out more? When he got to her window he paused, his wings flapping to keep him in place. He sighed, sliding it open and pulling himself inside the dark bedroom. Maybe he should’ve went through the balcony door, he thought, stepping into the room. He spotted her passed out in her bed, curled up tight in a ball. He left his eyes on her for a moment longer before letting out what he thought was a silent sigh but man was he wrong. Finch popped out of bed at the speed of light and was immediately coming at him before he could even realize what was happening.

“Finch, Finch, it’s me!”

He yelled, grabbing her to stop her. She struggled against him, throwing punch after punch, Hawks blocking each one before finally grabbing her by the arms and turning her around, pinning her down on the bed roughly.

“Kore, it’s me Keigo!”

She was panting hard, and then suddenly, it was like she was back to normal again.

“K-keigo?”

She croaked in a hoarse voice. He could tell she had been crying.

“Keigo, what’s h-happening to me?”

She whimpered. Hawks wanted to let her up again but was still worried that she’d try and attack him again.

“Dove, you’ve gotta calm down, then I’ll let you go and we can talk.”

He tried to say gently, he was still panting, trying to prepare himself for the next round, if she decided to attack him again.

“Keigo I don’t know what’s happening-”

Her voice broke off into a harsh sob and Hawks could feel his heart break for her. She was in so much pain, so much torment. 

“Come on lovebird, I know you can do this, just breathe, we can fix this.”

It was like she was a mechanical warrior, like she was following a string of commands. Her wings finally relaxed, no long pushing against him and folding to her back. He sighed, finally trusting that she was calm again as her feathers smoothed down and her breathing evened. He let her up slowly, bracing himself for if he had to contain her again.

“Just go slow birdie, no quick moves.”

“Y-you don’t trust m-me?”

“You’ve gotta understand Finch, I’m in a whole new situation also.”

^^^

They sat on her couch, far away from eachother as Hawks questioned her.

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know, I just did it.”

“You just did it?”

“Yes- It’s like I couldn’t control myself...”

“What have they been doing to you?”

She paused.

“What do you mean?”

He ran a hand down his face. Maybe it was different for him to grow up learning this, they had more time to teach him things, so they didn’t have to rush, they could be a little more gentle with him but, for her they were trying to pump out a new hero as fast as they could. No time for her to absorb anything but being threatened with her life. 

“What kind of training are you doing Finch?”

“T-they just put me in a room, everything is black, no lights or anything, they play really loud static noise and then they come.”

“They come?”

“People start to attack me. They take away my sight and hearing and then they start attacking me, I think it’s 3 different people but I’m not sure, sometimes it less, sometimes it’s more. Then I just have to.. I don’t know, survive? Sense them and react?”

He was silent.

“What else?”

“Am I going to get in trouble for telling you this? You can’t go to them, I’ll get in a lot of trouble-”

“What else Finch.”

He growled, his feathers puffing up.

“U-uh... They do it under water too... I get in a pool, they blindfold me, and then I fight someone. That’s always one on one, never more. Recently they’d been putting me through flight training. Fast paced obstacle courses and stuff like that. Fighting in the air.”

“Have they been giving you any breaks?”

“Not usually no. Not until they let me go home. They don’t tell me the time very often. They just bring in food sometimes and let me eat and rest.”

That’s why he hasn’t seen her barely any at work anymore. She’s been occupied fully. No breaks. That’s why she’s so paranoid, why she randomly attacked him earlier. She doesn’t know anything but danger. She hasn’t had any time to process this.

“Finch, you’ve gotta stop this, we’ve got to give you a break, you’re stressing yourself way too much-”

“I can’t take a break now Keigo. I’ll lose everything I’ve worked so hard for. I can’t give it up now, I definitely can’t go through all this over again.”

She looked so tired. So exhausted. Like she hadn’t seen peace in weeks. And he knew she hadn’t. The commission was ruthless. This was their best creation yet, and the poor girl just happened to get caught in the middle of their aspirations. He had done this. It was his fault, he brought it up to the commission, he had convinced her to go through with it. 

“Finch, you’re gonna work yourself to death, this isn’t healthy. They need to cool it, you don’t have to be a hero tomorrow for god’s sake-”

“I want to be a hero as soon as possible. It’s my fault for not being better, they wouldn’t have to do this if I would just learn-”

“No Finch! That’s not how this is supposed to work! You’re not supposed to be some machine! You’re not a soldier that does whatever they want! There is no reason to be working so stupidly hard, you’re going to keel over at this rate.”

She didn’t reply, tears brimming her eyes. She couldn’t stop now, she was so close to her goal. She was so close to being exactly the way they wanted her to be.  

Keigo ran a hand down his face and scooted closer, gingerly pulling her into his lap and hugging her tightly. 

“Finch, babybird, we have to stop this, your heart is gonna give out with the stress.”

“I-I c-can’t!”

She sobbed, her face buried in his chest. He ran nimble fingers through her hair, the feeling relaxing her slightly. Her heart was beating so fast he was concerned. This couldn’t be good for her physical health, let alone her mental health. 

“Lets get you back to bed dove, have you ate recently?”

She shook her head into his chest but when he went to stand her hands clenched around his jacket.

“P-pleas- d-don’t le-leave me..”

He didn’t reply at first, trying to figure out what her problem was.

“I k-keep having n-nightmares, p-please d-don’t leave me a-alone...”

She whimpered. A coo erupted from his throat before he could even process it, his wings fluffing up and enveloping her.

“You’re safe birdie, I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere. Lets get you something to eat and go to bed ok?”

He had no choice but to pick her up as he made his way into the kitchen area, setting her down on the counter and pulling her shaking hands off of him so he could get something for her to eat. He had to force himself to let go of her but he knew she needed something to eat desperately. 

After eating some yogurt and granola he picked her back up, holding her tight to his body before he had an even better idea than going to her bedroom.

“Hey Kore? Wanna go to my place? I think you’ll have a better time sleeping there.”

And so he flew them back to his apartment, holding onto her tightly before laying her down onto his bed. He knew it would feel safer for her, it would smell like him. He laid down next to her after peeling his jacket off and she curled up into him, letting him pull her close as her breathing evened and she fell asleep.

[imaginesbymk]

“Someone New.”

Peaky Blinders One Shot

Summary: MK loves Luca unconditionally, but she has doubts whenever she thinks about how he makes a living, and she wonders if he ever loved her at all to begin with.

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Adult!Me (MK)

Tags: swearing & my really bad italian translations + my bad attempts of writing angst (inspo; this drabble)

A/N: this plot is so cheesy, and i know i don’t write au/personal imagines, but this is just a lil something i put together as a celebration for reaching 500 followers!!! one shots are not open! 

read my luca changretta x OC x tommy shelby fic Pink + White here.

THE cigarette butt was put out in the ashtray when MK occupied the study room. Luca promised her a fancy dinner date at one of the finest restaurants in New York City, but he was late. In fact, he wasn’t even home. He wasn’t dead for sure. He was smart enough to dodge that fate. Instead he was out somewhere in the busy streets, probably attending a meeting with a company MK does not know of, or maybe got too carried away with the attractions the city had to offer at night. Maybe it was another woman. Either way, her blood was boiling. 

MK was a floater. Booze was always kept in a cabinet that opened every now and then, but she never dove into the chaotic lifestyle of partying and prohibition. She never thought in a million years she would wind up falling for a man who had an equal fair share of both, as his business dealt with importing and exporting alcohol into speakeasies, and the people who worked with him were no stranger to weapons and violence. 

The theatre in New York City was packed and busy, but they met at the wrong place at the wrong time. MK snuck backstage to get a glimpse of the performers, and instead walked in on a different room. Luca was trying to negotiate a deal with the manager of the theatre, they exchanged witty comments at each other just enough to show things were about to end on, quite literally, a broken leg. 

Luca turned his head when he noticed at the corner of his eye that someone was watching them at the door, surprised to see a person who wasn’t looking for trouble for the first time. She looked too naive to hold a gun properly. He watched as the manager shouted at MK, asking what she was doing there since only employees and performers were allowed in the back section, and tries calling for security. 

“Okay, okay! I’m going!” she backed away, not before giving Luca another glance and taking off from where she entered.

She saw him again on a different night. She had completely forgotten about their previous awkward encounter, but when she saw the familiar face taking a seat next to her at the bar, she recalled seeing the look he had when they first made eye contact.

“Apparently a lady can’t drink at the bar alone. So can a gentleman join ya?” He smirks, the bartender pours him about three fingers of gin.

She was stunned to see him nights after that. New York City was wild, and men like him took many breaths away. She slowly nodded, not using her words.

Was she sure about this? The man seemed dangerous, and more experienced in anything than she’ll ever be. Of all the women that dolled themselves up for the occasion and looked tremendously beautiful and sexy, while she simply wore what she could afford at that time, why would he give his attention to her and not them?

After shyly looking down at her glass, she dared to look back at him. He was still looking at her. The butterflies in her stomach danced as if they were listening to the song the band was playing on stage. It was those eyes.

MK gave up and headed for bed since it was already late, and the restaurant Luca had the idea of taking her to was most likely closed by now. She shuts the lamp and buried herself under the sheets, bottling her frustration by just clenching her jaw. He was home when she woke up. She found him in the study in a change of clothes, his hair was falling forward post-gel, and his raspy voice spoke in Italian with the telephone pressed against his ear.

“Sono io. Diglielo che l’affare è ancora concluso.”

MK melted every time he spoke his mother tongue, this time she couldn’t bare to hear him speak. She was still upset about last night, she didn’t wanna speak to him, yet she had so much to say. She leaves him to wake herself up with coffee without the thought of preparing a cup for him too. Minutes go by and MK sips her beverage when she hears him enter the kitchen. Luca stands on the other side of the island counter, looking down at her mug.

“I’m just gonna boldly assume you didn’t make me coffee on purpose.”

“Buongiorno to you too, Luca.” She turns away so she couldn’t face him.

“MaryKate.” She felt an odd tingle in her spine. Luca almost never refers to her by her full name, not even by her other nickname, which was Kate. It was beyond weird. He walks over and cups her face. “C’mon. I’m sorry, okay? I got wrapped up with business. I was literally losing my mind because those bird brains couldn’t do simple math—”

MK was about as half ready to smash the half filled coffee mug on the floor. “My God, Luca. Business this, business that. It was your night off for the whole fucking week. You couldn’t make Matteo take over?”

Luca swore under his breath and walked back to his study.

“Where are you going?” she asks sternly.

“Back to work.” You gotta be fucking kidding me. MK watched him disappear back into the study room, and she let out a groan. The caffeine entering her bloodstreams increased her pounding heartbeat, but she quickly calmed herself when she followed him inside.

“Can I come with you to your next meeting?”

“Do you wanna meet Santa Claus too?” Luca said dryly.

“I’ve only been to one meeting. I can’t imagine the rush of power unless I’m there to feel it, and you won’t let me.”

“Yeah, damn fucking straight I won’t let you,” Luca cleared his throat. “That last meeting, those people tried to make you feel uncomfortable.” He looked up from his work from the desk and stared at MK. “I won’t let you see what’s really behind closed doors.”

But the few nights after took a whole different turn. MK wouldn’t listen, and managed to unlock Luca’s cabinet filled with his weapons, and picked out the one she thinks she was capable of using. She didn’t enjoy stealing, but proving to Luca she could be just like him and still be with him would bring them closer was on her mind. It ended with her sneaking up on the group of men Luca and his men were speaking to, and she pointed her gun at the presumable leader.

Luca’s eyes filled with dread as he froze in his spot, immediately recognizing her. Matteo grabbed the gun from MK, cursing in Italian how stupid she was and why she followed them. They were lucky the men backed down when they realized it wasn’t a good time just yet, but the worst wasn’t over.

Luca and MK’s shouts echoed their entire manor that it was enough for the neighbors to hear them.

“I can’t trust you anymore!” Luca shouted. “You realized what you could of done?! Putting yourself in danger like that?!”

“I wanted to protect you!”

“I don’t need your fucking protection!” he slams the table. “I didn’t need you to follow me, all right?” he began cursing in Italian, something MK was never able to fully understand his language one hundred percent. He held her by the shoulders. “If you ever do that shit again, I’ll—”

“You’ll what, Luca?” she pushes him. “Leave me? You’ve been pushing me aside, you forget our date nights, I end up sleeping in our bed alone, wondering if your body is laying dead on the ground! Do you have any idea how much that scares me? I get how insane it is being in the mafia, but if you can’t spare one night with me, then why am I here?”

“Y’know what, maybe you’re right. Why the fuck are you here?” MK looked at him with an icy shock. Instead of processing what he had just said, Luca turned to head back to his office. “When you gain back your fucking senses, let me know.” And he slams the door.

None of them spoke all day, too caught up in their anger to check up on each other. Luca occupied himself alone while MK wandered around the house, avoiding the corridor to his study. She checked his schedule, he had somewhere to be the following evening, no surprise. 

She stayed in the kitchen until she heard Luca’s footsteps descend from the stairs and out the front door. As soon as she heard his car drive off and having the house to herself once again, MK slides down the wall of the hallway and finally broke down into tears.

Once she calmed down, she walked up to their shared master bedroom, and packed everything she could carry in her suitcase. The last thing Luca said to her caused an aching pain in her chest. 

She could just walk out if she couldn’t take it, Luca could find another woman to sleep with without any issue. She wouldn’t be surprised if someone new entered his life a week after. It would hurt like hell, but it was the sad reality of it all.

MK walked out. No goodbyes. No telephone calls, no handwritten note, just an empty house.

_

HER old home was now owned by a friend of hers, and it contrasted the luxurious, spotless abode Luca let her stay in uptown. The taxi drive was quite long and she was exhausted, so she collapsed in the small bed, sleeping in the dress Luca had always loved seeing her wear. 

He spoiled her with riches and shared his aesthetic with hers, making sure she had her spot with fashion and art. In MK’s old home, it was decrepit. No one paid a visit because they hated the design, and no one saw her for who she really was, but Luca was different. He wanted her, and he got her. 

Days go by and MK still had the aching heartbreak in her chest as she entered downtown New York City at night to see a show in the grand theatre. She had to admit, she was bummed out when she saw how many people brought their lovers or husbands and wives to the show, and it seemed like she was the only one without either. She was alone.

MK picks up her pace and rushed inside to take her assigned seat and sighed in relief, staring at the red curtain on stage ready to come up and showcase the night, hoping to distract her from her inexplicable grieving.

The empty seat next to her was then taken, filling in the space between her and the next guest after. MK took in how the man’s fragrance was enriched and strong, and she could see the giant rings on his finger nearly covered some of the tattoos inked on his skin, including the crown tattoo on his hand, or the one on his neck which was a cross. His hat rested well on his lap and he hooked one leg on the other. His suit was clean as usual, and the cuffs on his wrist enclosed with the golden pressed buttons. 

No. Her heart raced as she turned to see his face. She was met with those eyes.

One thing she forgot to remember was the fact that Luca loved theatre, this was the theatre he usually goes to, and this was where they met. Of course he wouldn’t miss a show. He kept staring straight ahead as the loud cheers and applause erupted when the curtains rose. 

MK could barely pay attention to the performance. The tension rising between Luca’s presence and hers pressed together so tightly. He did this on purpose, MK thought. Fucking bastard!

Unless the last two empty seats were meant for them so coincidentally, as both of them bought solo tickets and wounded up next to each other. But this was insane. Luca was entitled enough to watch the shows up on the balcony for the best seats in the house, so why pick the orchestra seats?

It didn’t matter how, she never felt so uncomfortable in her entire life and couldn’t stifle her panic. 

Luca broke the ice, quietly talking over the music that transitioned to a slow chorus. “I made the owner arrange a seating. It was meant for another couple, but they never showed up.” He tries reaching for her hand when he noticed her tensing up. “MK, amore. calm down.” He looked at her with worry. “All right. I think we need to talk.”

MK broke out in an exhaled cry and got up. “Fuck this.” She carefully goes passed the seated guests before heading out the exit, running out of the theatre in tears until she could no longer breathe.

Luca chased after her onto the streets, pushing past people along the way. “MK, c’mon! Please don’t go.”

MK stopped and covers her face in her hands. “Don’t talk to me with that intimidating mafia shit, then!” Speak like a fucking human being, Luca!”

“Fine,” Luca pulled her from behind and held her. “I’m sorry.” He kisses her shoulder up to her neck. “I need you. It doesn’t feel right not having you here, MK.”

“You have far more important things than someone like me,” she says. “And you agree with that.” MK shivers, feeling the night cold and she hugs herself with her thin layered trenchcoat.

“You had nothin’ else to wear but that?” Luca’s eyes loomed over her outfit. “That’s not for winter.” He removed his long overcoat and wraps it around her. “You’re just as important as my work, and I didn’t take that seriously. I should of paid more attention.”

“You can’t just push me aside, Luca.” She turns around to face him. “Eventually, I’ll end up finding someone new, someone who won’t treat me like a second option.”

“I’d rather die.” Luca cupped her face. “I’ll do better, you hear me? God forbid if I ever neglect you again, I would never forgive myself.”

“Luca—”

“No. It’s hard to balance love and work, but I can’t just toss you away like that. You’re all the world to me.”

MK lookes down sadly. “Luca, I just know nothing will change. We’re so different.”

Luca shook his head. “That’s not gonna stop me.”

“But why?” MK asks. “There are women out there who would gladly take my place any day, and they’re ten times more experienced.”

“Sure, that may be true. But I can’t imagine spending my life with those women, sharing my home with them, waking up next to them, holding them, possibly having a future with them.” He lifts her chin. “Because I love you.” And he leans down, kissing her softly. MK wrapped her arms around him for support. He pressed his forehead on hers, his eyes still shut.

“I love you too, Luca.” The couple pulls away. “So, are we heading back inside?”

“Actually, there’s this restaurant I’ve been dying to take you to,” he smirks as he took her hand, and they began walking off down the streets of New York City, the lights blaring up on their bright faces like they were brand new.

_

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