#((and yes to randall being the one to make the first move! i like the idea in modern-ish au's like this))

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

Oh. I didn't think I'd get this far.

"Well, uh," Randall replied, briefly rubbing the back of his neck, briefly unsure of how to proceed (having fully anticipated her to turn him down in favor of other plans) before suggesting with a little shrug, "W-Well, like I said, the, uh, the little second-run theater is playing a double bill of Dracula A.D. 1972 and The Satanic Rites of Dracula this week...h-how does dinner and a movie sound?"

That sounded like a nice, casual get-together to him-dinner and a show! There was a nice little restaurant that made the best sandwiches and gumbo in the city (and for a very reasonable price, to boot!) that they could go to, and then they could go see the movies-he hadn't seen the second half of the double bill yet, and had been pleasantly surprised to see it was playing there when he checked the paper the other day. It'd be nice to have someone to go with him...

And even after that, maybe they could go for a walk afterwards-after catching a matinee, he liked to go walking through the park, taking the sort of long way home, so to speak, being a little more leisurely in his return, sometimes pausing to take in the beauty of the world around him, sometimes stopping to buy some flowers for the house too, if he had the extra change for it. It was always a pleasant way to end a day out, and he hoped she'd enjoy herself too, if they went that route.

[jaded-jezz]

Your American.

My first Formula One Driver story!

Obviously had to do Logan as he is my favourite. And I want to pretend that he is going to be here next year! (James better watch out).

Please do not repost, reblogs are appreciated.

Logan Sargeant X F!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (mdni 18+), kinda sub Logan I guess, annoying coworker at start, timeskip, 2.3k words. First time writing smut so don’t tell me if it’s bad!

Leah please don’t read this

Logan’s been away from you for this amount of time before but he’s not normally this clingy when he comes back. His hand has been either linked with yours or on your hip the entire night. He only let go when you had to make a speech thanking your company for another successful year.

You are finally making your way out of the ceremony hall after many awards, speeches and long goodbyes. The music from the dance floor had slowly started to drown out due to the distance you had walked and the whispers from Logan in your ear.

“Hey Y/N, I missed you all night!” Jack, your colleague shouts. You and Logan sigh in sync. Jack is that guy at work who nobody likes yet he seems to think he’s the company favourite. Since the day you started your job, he’s never left you alone. Even after you and Logan went public he would still sit next to you and talk about himself every lunch break.

You think about speeding up but it’s very obvious the couple can hear him as the entrance hall is completely empty.

“Hi Jack.” You grimace and turn to him as Logan grips your waist harder. “We were just leaving, it’s getting quite late.”

“Without saying goodbye to me?” He pouts. I feel Logan shake as he tries to suppress a laugh due to the fact that there is a grown man pouting like a two year old in front of us. “Irish goodbyes are the quickest.” I respond as politely as possible, turning into Logan’s grasp hoping to leave.

“Well I actually needed to talk to you about your final hand in for the year… and by that I mean you need to do more” he laughs, as if it’s going to make everything ok.

“More? Mrs Randall said my work was fully complete and the best of the company. I’m not doing more unless she tells me!” I snap back just wanting to leave and relax with Logan due to the fact that it’s his winter break too.

“Yes, exactly the boss says yours is the best. So I need you to do mine! I’ll email it all over- oh actually I’ll just come over tomor-“

“No mate it’s our time off now.” Logan steps in realising how tired you are of Jack and his antics. “Cmon Y/N/N let’s go home.”

“You don’t have to listen to the American, be the independent woman that I know you are” Jack pokes, as if he’s trying to anger your boyfriend.

Yet that last remark is the final straw for you, you’d had enough.

You reach up to your American, grab him by the face and pull him into you. Your lips don’t have to fight for dominance as Logan knows you want to make Jack as uncomfortable as possible. If his eyes weren’t closed, they’d be rolling to the back of his head due to the pleasure that your possessiveness gave him.

Logan knew how annoying Jack was for you, and how often that you’d turned him down or made it obvious you were not interested so he’s never thought he’d be grateful for Jack’s perseverance (if you could even call it that). And, weirdly, in this moment he’s never loved kissing you more.

Quiet, desperate whimpers arise from the couple and Jack finally takes the hint and moves away, occasionally looking back hoping that you’d follow him still.

“Babe your anger is turning me on so much right now, can we go?” Logan pulls away, whispering quickly before being drawn back into your taste. You break apart giggling and gently push his face away from yours before he reconnects his hand around your waist and walks with you to the car park.

During the car ride back, you calm down listening to the soft radio and hearing murmurs of Logan talk about your actual work friends.

“Y/N are you there sweetheart?” Logan’s inquiry brings you back. His hand on your thigh brings a redness to your face, you’ve missed his touch. How can someone be so hot by just driving with one hand?

“Yes sorry, I was just trying to get over Jack being a dick.” You roll your eyes at the memory. “I mean seriously who does he think he is? I’m gonna write an email and-“

You are cut off by Logan gently turning your face towards his. The car had been parked in front of your home for a while but you hadn’t noticed due to your ranting. “Baby, I know how much you love to write emails but let’s forget about him until January yeah? Tonight I just wanna be with you and hear only positive things please.” His eyes soften as you relax into his palm.

After a quick peck, the blonde rushes out of the car to open your door before holding your hand all the way into the house. Once inside he carefully drops to his knees to remove your shoes and puts your bag on the side before standing up again.

The silence is thick with tension as you stare at each other, only a mere metre away, waiting to see who breaks first.

You both give up as you violently embrace each other in a sloppy make out session. Walking backwards, you drag Logan by the tie into your bedroom and push him onto the bed.

Logan wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you in between his thighs. He looks up at you through his eyelashes “Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” You try to wiggle out of his grasp in a blushing mess but he pulls tighter. “Everyday I am grateful to wake up knowing I am yours.”

He slowly rises, kissing up your arms, across your collarbones and to your neck finding that one spot that makes you whine for him. His hands make quick work of undoing your dress and he lets it drop to your ankles. Logan’s eyes rake up and down your body in a surprisingly wholesome way. You have never felt more loved than now. Even being basically naked here makes you feel warm.

“Logan…Please” you try to say in a demanding tone but Logan doesn’t notice as this is all it takes for the blonde’s lips to be back on yours, it feels like he’s trying to slowly consume you and you are already so far gone you might let him.

You claw at his shirt trying to pull it up and unbutton it, until he eventually helps. Running your fingertips up and down his abs, Logan lets out a breathy whine as your nails catch every so often. He grabs your hands to stop you and gently lets them drop as he removes his tie, giving you a look.

Without a second thought, you’ve tied his wrists above him on the headboard and you are straddling him, mouths reconnecting with no intentions of breathing at all.

“Use me,” Logan whispers.

It startles you. He’s never acted like this before. Sure you’ve been on top before but he was still kind of in charge. “Fuck out your anger sweetheart.” He looks into your eyes with full trust, confidence and honesty.

A wave of confidence floods your system as you start to grind down lightly on his crotch. A light gasp comes from the man as he already forgets about the tie and tries to grab your hips. You ignore his struggle and nip at his neck like he did to you only a few moments ago. Marking him more and more as you move down his chest.

You carry on your trail nipping and marking, kissing and licking until you reach his belt. You haven’t stopped grinding against his lap until now, you reach for his face. This time, the kiss you share is filled with love and passion. As you pull away Logan tries to follow, not wanting to leave your orbit but you push him down. “I love you Logan.” You say.

You hastily reach for his belt before looking up to see an impatient look grow in his green eyes, not wanting to tease either of you for any longer you finally undo his trousers.

You were surprised that either of you lasted this long tonight due to how much Logan had teased you before leaving the house.

*Four Hours Earlier*

“Logan are you dressed?” You ask before walking out of your room trying to find the blonde man.

“Damn!” You hear the American whistle behind you as you spin to see him lounged out on the sofa. “Yeah I’m dressed, but I wish you weren’t” he winked at you as he got up and made his way towards you.

“Is it ok? I have time to change!” You start to panic as you overthink your outfit. “No Y/N” Logan lunges towards you with a worried look “I meant you look hot,” He cups your face with one hand and grabs your palm with the other. “You look more than hot but I’m not really smart enough to think of any more words. You’ve actually left me speechless!”

You laugh together, holding hands, looking into each others eyes. You want to stay here forever but you both know that this end of year ceremony is important for both your team and yourself as you have been selected to win an award and make a speech.

Logan sees the realisation set in but knows exactly what to do to take your mind off of it. With one hand around your waist and the other still holding yours, he starts to sway you and hum. Very badly.

You screw up your face as you try to work out the song he is attempting but it makes him laugh and the humming is lost to his chuckles. “Your speech is both on your phone and printed in your bag. I also have a spare in my pocket. Please breathe Y/N, I can’t have you passing out before we get there!” He places a kiss to your temple as he pulls the printed copy from his pocket, placing it back and patting it for safekeeping.

*Now*

You sit bare and start to move back and forth on his hard cock while Logan writhes and moans above you, wordlessly begging for you to put him out of his misery. Your nails trace his abdomen and thighs again in a soothing manner before you sit above him to run his tip from your clit downwards. You sink onto him slowly, quick breaths and moans leave the pair as you grab at his hips and the bed sheets. Anything to keep you steady.

“You feel so good, Logan” you look into his eyes, you can see the lust pouring out of the green irises. “Don’t stop Y/N, I’ll do anything- just don’t stop.”

You can feel him getting close. You cant take it anymore, and you can tell that if you wait any longer- Logan will snap the headboard. So you hastily reach up and remove the tie from his wrists. You go to stroke the red marks in an apologetic way but Logan is too fast. He grabs your face and pulls you in for a passionate kiss before running his hands across your body pulling shivers from you previously missing his absence.

He holds your waist as you place your hands on his face and shoulders, bracing yourself. He bucks up into you creating a consistent rhythm bringing you closer and closer to the high you’ve been chasing.

“Y/N, baby, I’m so close. Please.” He whines into your neck before biting down at you again to attempt to conceal the uncontrollable noises.

“Let me hear you, honey, you’re being so good for me” You gently pull the hairs at the nape of his neck.

A wet line of unshed tears lines his eyes as he is pulled back. Tears of both pleasure and frustration as he just wants to release into you.

“Come.” You whisper into the air, so quietly you don’t know if your boyfriend has heard. But his actions speak louder than words as his hold on you tightens and his strokes become harder.

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾༓･˚⁺‧͙

After a few moments of comforting silence, Logan moves you to lay on your back and he moves to hover over you. “Let me clean up the mess we made.” He says as he holds strong eye contact with you.

He lowers himself back down to your dripping pussy and gets to work. His tongue is pulling obscene noises from you as he slurps and strokes against your core, his nose occasionally bumping at your clit. Your hands reach for his hair and he knows you’re close once again.

His hand reaches up and two fingers are pushed into you, pumping as he continues to eat you out. Your breathing has quickend, your body is getting hotter and your ears are starting to ring as you get closer and closer to orgasming.

He desperately wants to taste you and his moans vibrate through you making you wetter at his begging.

With one final tug of his blonde strands, your back arches and you come with so much pleasure your vision only shows white.

Your eyes flutter shut from exhaustion and Logan slowly moves away and into the bathroom to retrieve a damp cloth to actually clean you. He pulls you in close under the covers of your bed and strokes your hair, whispering sweet nothings into your ears as you fall into deep sleep together.

My first F1 and smut wow

Requests are open as always and I will be making a list of who I write for being both drivers individually and different fandoms.

Please do not repost, reblogs are appreciated.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Blood Moon

Marc Spector/Moon Knight x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Mentions of murder, spouse death, child death, betrayal, blood, violence, guilt, depression, manhunt

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Yeah remember what I said about trying to finish this before Halloween? Yeah I'm a fucking liar don't ever take me for my word I am a monster.

This is where I decided to merge a tiny bit of lore from comics/MCU Moon Knight here in regards to his powers.

But anyways... Have this little tidbit into Marc's backstory! Marc and Randall are only about two years apart in age. So that means Marc is 36 at the time of this story. Forgive a few discrepancies here and there as I better establish a timeline.

Taglist: @badbishsblog

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Pt. 5

Living with Marc was certainly a hell of an experience. But, at the same time, you two were becoming a well-oiled machine. Barring the awkward slip-ups that had you two avoiding each other like the plague for hours, anyways.

It was nice, you found, to not be alone in your house anymore. You never realized it before, but you were always so... gray. Lifeless almost when you were alone. You didn't like to be left alone with your thoughts of yourself, of your inadequacies you'd never voice with anyone except your therapist.

But having Marc around eased that loneliness you actually hadn't realized you'd been feeling. Hell, it wasn't until he moved in and you got used to having another body in your house that you realized you were lonely in the first place.

Despite this, you'd realized that while yes, you had read his file and learned about his background, you'd yet to actually ask him about his past.

You haven't heard it directly from the horse's mouth, as it were.

But you decided not to broach the subject, yet. You still felt that it was too soon for that after your fight and make-up as a team to risk being at the throat of your new roommate.

Because, you realized, it was nice having one again. You hadn't had a roommate since you had been in foster care.

And you weren't ready to lose that just yet.

Marc had odd habits, to say the least. More often than not, you'd catch him actually sleeping in the basement on the old plush couch you kept down there, instead of his bedroom.

His bedroom was always kept immaculate, but the basement was his workspace and god, was it a mess.

Papers and tech strewn about, gear scattered on worktables as he took them apart to fix them or run maintenance; plus the cases containing your hero gear as well.

It looked like a college student crammed for their exam two hours before their finals almost every time you went down there...

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Tonight, you'd found Marc fast asleep, snoring softly as he sprawled out on the worn, suede couch, his body sinking into the ridiculously squishy cushions as he dreamt.

He had one arm draped over his face, one knee raised, and the other arm hanging off the edge of the cushions, a datapad clutched tightly in his hand.

It was almost cute.

You pulled out a quilt you nabbed at a yard sale, once and carefully draped it over him, as the basement could get rather chilly at times and poor Marc was passed out in nothing but his sweats and a t-shirt.

You put your hands on your hips and looked at the mess scattered on the surface of the coffee table in front of him, plus the few on the floor. A few SHIELD-issue tablets, and some paper files (yeesh, who even used those anymore?).

You chewed your bottom lip hesitantly, sparing the unconscious Marc a small glance before you felt a nagging in your gut. Curiosity was always one of your less... qualities at times.

How did that story about curiosity and the cat go, again?

Anyways...

You simply couldn't help yourself. What exactly was Marc always researching all the time?

You had to know. Even if it was just a tiny nugget of knowledge.

You sat in a squat next to Marc, looking at him as he breathed softly, showing no signs of stirring.

You slowly and as gently as possible, pulled the tablet in Marc's hand free of his calloused fingers, and stepped away from him to turn it on, so the light wouldn't stir him.

And you were glad you did, it almost blinded you when you hit the power button.

How the fuck did Marc see with shit this bright?

You had to fumble until you turned the brightness down, and let your eyes re-adjust.

The thing that immediately struck you was one line.

A name.

It made your blood chill, turning into icy sludge as it crawled through your veins; you felt your mouth go dry.

Randall Spector.

Age: 34

Race: Caucasian

Last known confirmed location: Paris, France.

The rest of the page had a list of crimes he was the main suspect of. Murder, theft, espionage, assassination...

You looked up, dumbfounded at Marc's sleeping body.

There was no way they could be related. It had to be common name, right?

You looked back down and scrolled to another page.

And your hopes that it was a common last name were dashed.

The picture of the man was this Randall, younger obviously, he looked to be in his early 20s in his Illinois ID.

But the resemblance to Marc was sickeningly uncanny. Randall had messy curly hair that was slicked back as best he could, and a charming smile that could no doubt put a heart attack at ease, his brown eyes glowing with humor in their depths as he grinned for the camera.

You swallowed hard at the lump in your throat and continued scrolling. The file contained grainy and blurry security footage of possible sightings over the years in various places across the globe.

The most shocking picture at the end, however... Was a picture of Marc with a group of people, Randall included.

They were, judging by the looks of it, in a desert of some kind. Randall hung on Marc, appearing to be laughing as the photo had been taken, meanwhile Marc stood, unusually clean-shaven and stoic, his arms crossed over his chest as he gave a small, ghost of a smile.

A young woman stood to Marc's left, holding onto his forearm as she smiled widely, her dark black, curly hair pulled back into a tight braid, her thick-rimmed glasses perched all the way up her nose.

Marc and that woman wore matching bands on their left ring fingers.

You brought your hand to your mouth in revulsion at the revelation, feeling your stomach roil in protest. It was either guilt, or horror because you knew... Marc had no family. You knew about his daughter being dead. But not her mother. Nothing about a brother.

You were in too deep now, and you just couldn't stop yourself.

You scrolled to a new page, detailing a small bit of information on that woman.

Erica Spector.

Age (deceased): 26

Race: Hispanic.

Cause of death: Vehicular Accident (Attributed to brake failure)

The picture of her ID broke your heart. She beamed at the camera, her slightly crooked teeth showing as she smiled proudly, a slight glare in her glasses as the flash hit the lenses.

The next photo, was her and Marc. At their wedding. She wore a gorgeous mermaid gown with a floral lace neckline, her sleeves ending in almost a bell-shape. Her hair hung down in gorgeous waves with violets pinned to the strands, framing her face and sun-kissed skin illuminated with highlighter as she smiled at the camera. Marc had been looking at the ground for whatever reason as they both stood at the altar, his arm around her waist and his hand adjusting the waistline of his dress pants.

But he was smiling. And it was such a gorgeous smile, teeth out, dimples in his cheeks and his eyes practically closed from how wide his lips were stretched.

The next photo broke your heart.

It appeared to be a maybe a year or so later (at most) after the photo of them in the desert.

Erica was pregnant, her belly sticking out far in the baby blue sundress she wore, holding up a cute pink onesie in her hands that simply read "Daddy's Princess" on the front in purple cursive font.

The photo after that one was of them in the hospital, Marc standing by the window of the hospital room, holding his newborn daughter in his arms, a soft, glowing smile on his face as her tiny fingers gripped his hand.

You felt your chest burn as you felt the gravity start to kick in, but you turned another page in the file.

Diatrice Spector

Age (deceased): 5

Race: Hispanic-Caucasian

Cause of death: Homicide (Found to be caused by gunshot wounds to the chest.)

You felt like your heart would give out at that word.

Homicide.

You assumed Marc lost his daughter in some horrible, tragic accident, like you'd lost your family.

But no. Three years ago, someone murdered his baby. And her babysitter.

The photos of the crime scene unfolded next, bloody boot prints everywhere, the babysitter's head partially caved in from a beating, and Diatrice--

"What the hell are you doing?!"

You jumped and almost dropped the tablet in your fright, spinning on your heels to see Marc staring at you from the couch, the quilt hastily tossed off of him.

You expected him to be angry, to look absolutely pissed at you.

Instead he looked... Terrified. Scared.

Heartbroken.

His gorgeous brown eyes were big, heavy dark circles hanging like curtains over his cheeks as he stared at you, mouth agape.

"I... I... I'm sorry, I... I didn't--" You stammer, swallowing hard, clutching the tablet against your chest.

"I was just..."

God, there was no excuse for this. You were curious. Curious and nosey, and you didn't have the guts to ask him anything about his past to his face yet, afraid for the repercussions that might cause; of the ripples it would trigger in the glass-like surface of the water of teamwork you two strove for.

Marc looks at you, your eyes locked in a tense, silent stare.

Then, he runs his hand through his air as he lets out a slow exhale, shoulders dropping.

He looks away and waves you over to sit next to him, and he scoots to the side.

The moment you sat down, you immediately thrust the tablet into his lap, your palms spreading over your knees as you bounced your feet.

"L-Look, I was just--"

"Stop." Marc sighed, setting the tablet on the coffee table. His voice was still heavy with sleep, that slightly gravelly tone you may or may not have fantasized about once or twice.

He looked at you, his lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke.

"How far did you get?"

Your nails dug into the fabric of your pajama pants as your legs bounced aimlessly, trying to alleviate the embarrassment, guilt, and shame of you snooping through his things.

"I..." You say, chewing the inside of your cheek.

God, you felt terrible.

Your body stopped cold when his heavy hand slid over your knee, stopping your movements in their place.

You felt his fingers squeeze you softly, before his palm rubbed the bones he could feel beneath your skin and muscle in a soothing gesture.

"I guess it's only fair I tell you about me, huh?" Marc sighed dejectedly, taking his hand off of you and wiping his face, as if that gesture alone could erase his fatigue.

"To answer the first few questions I know you have bouncing around in your head..." He added, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he stared at the paperwork and tablets on the table in front of you two.

"Yes. Randall is my brother. My little brother. And yes. I'm looking for him." Marc looked at you.

You were sitting patiently, your brows pinched and your expression pensive.

"Nobody would listen to me, but I know he caused the accident that killed Erica." You saw his throat bob hard as his expression darkened. "The investigation said she veered off the road due to bad conditions. But I'm not stupid. I looked into it myself, and bribed someone to let me look at the wreckage. The brake lines weren't torn during the crash, they were cut before the crash. Nobody would listen to me and I almost got arrested for interfering with an investigation. Yeah, right."

He snorted, a humorless and cold sound.

"They closed the case as an accident, wouldn't listen to me. Said I was "too hung up on the loss of my wife"." He made finger quotes. "So I investigated myself. God, fuck, I knew it was Randall... If they'd just listened to me... He..."

His voice broke up as he clenched his eyes shut.

"Diatrice wouldn't have been... I would still have her."

"Marc...." You say, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Why... why would Randall do this?"

He sighs deeply, a heavy sound coming from him like the air was just vacuumed out of his lungs.

"It... Fuck. Randall is the one who introduced me to Erica. I had just gotten out of the Marines. It just... They weren't a good fit for me, so I returned to Chicago. Home." Marc leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. "Randall had gotten a job in some security firm for archeological digs, which is where he met Erica. It was good money, he told me. They were friends. She just got her degree and was trying to get the spot on a dig site somewhere. We... hit it off fast. Within a year, we got married, Randall got me a job in his firm. A year after that, we went to Egypt with Erica on a dig."

"Your file said you got your powers on a dig in Egypt..." You say softly.

"Yeah. That same dig. It was a pain in the ass, we still don't know what exactly happened. I touched something, a statue, and... Poof. Powers." Marc lets out a slow hiss of air, his eyes closing, dark lashes touching his cheeks. "We finished the dig, everyone swore into secrecy. SHIELD found out about it anyways, and offered me a position. It's where I built my ankh and my tech."

"But... Peter said you got your powers from the ankh." You say, brows knit together in confusion.

"He's wrong. My file was put down incorrectly, but it's been fixed since I noticed the discrepancy after Peter mentioned that when he wanted my help during the Symbiote Invasion." Marc looked at you, his eyes tired and strained.

"But still. Something pissed Randall off. Randall and I weren't ever really friends, even as siblings. We tolerated each other. When I got those powers and he didn't? He just... he fucking snapped. After we returned from the dig, members of the team started turning up dead. Then, we found out we were expecting our first child. It turns out that Erica either got pregnant during the dig or shortly after."

You couldn't help but smile softly, your expression a bit pained. "During the dig? Marc..."

"Let's just say we were happy I wasn't dead after touching that statue." Marc said, closing his eyes with a nostalgic, yet sad smile.

"But anyways... with our baby on the way, we focused on that instead. When Diatrice was born, it was the happiest day of my life. She was a happy, bubbly little thing."

You sensed the shift from affectionate pride as he spoke about his daughter, to the grief you knew was coming as he spoke:

"Two years later, Erica had her "accident". Three years after that... Randall murdered Dee and Sandra. God. That poor girl. She was still so young. She tried so hard to keep him from hurting Dee."

He gritted his teeth and rested his arm over his face, most likely to hide the tears that wanted to roll free from the dam of his eyelids. Marc's voice was a weak tremble.

"After that, I started hunting, I moved my base of ops to the sewers. I went digging after he vanished. He became a hitman, a no-good killer for hire. Then I went to ground six months before the Symbiotes invaded. After that is when Peter found me, or well, I found him."

"And here we are, a year later..." You said softly.

"Yeah." He croaked out weakly.

You both sat in a long, pregnant silence. You weren't even sure how long it was, all you could hear was the sound of the water heater making noises now and again, and the buzzing fluorescent lights illuminating your basement.

"Marc?" You finally asked.

"Yeah?" He answered.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and lean back and over, until your head rested on Marc's shoulder.

You could feel him hold his breath and tense, and you waited until he breathed again to speak.

"...I'm sorry for snooping." You apologized.

"You were curious about me. It's not like I've been forthcoming about this shit." Marc sighed softly, his body softening slightly.

"But still. It was wrong." You say to him, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath.

The smokey, pine scent of his choice of cologne and body wash filled your nose, filtering around in your lungs as you take in the essence that is Marc Spector.

"Marc."

"Still here."

"Thank you... for telling me all of this." You whisper.

"It was about time I get it all out. I guess it just took the right battering ram to knock the door down."

You can't help but chuckle, and Marc joins in with you.

It was good to hear him laugh.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Pt. 6: Link

[renee-writer]

The Changeling Chapter 13

AO3

Wee Ian and his sister, Maggie, exam the newcomers with wide eyes. Maggie has never meet her uncle and Wee Ian was just her age the last time he saw him.

 

“You have grown so big and braw,” Jamie addresses his nephew, “and what a beauty you are, Maggie.”

 

“Uncle Jamie, who is the lass?”

 

“Wee Ian, this is my wife and your Auntie, Claire and our son William.”

 

She smiles at the children. “Hello.”

 

Both react the same way, moving away from her, their eyes wide. The lad finds his voice. “Why Uncle Jamie, she is a Sassanach!”

 

“Aye, but dinna fret. She is a good one. I swear it.” Murtagh is holding laughter back. It is good to know that the bairns are being raised as true Scots.

 

“Ian Murray, Margaret Murray, Claire is your auntie. You shall treat her with respect. Is that clear?” Jenny’s stern glance meets their eyes.

 

“Aye mam.”

 

“Aye mam.”

 

“I understand,” She hands William to his daddy so she can kneel to their level, “the English can be fearsome. I am not fully English. I was raised all over the world. My dear uncle, may his soul rest in peace, he was an archeologist, dug up the past,” the irony of this hits her and she almost burst into laughter. Wasn’t she raised perfect for this adventure she is on! “So even though my voice is English, I am a Scot, for I am married to one and a mam of one.”

 

“That be good.” Wee Ian nods to himself, “very good.”

 

Maggie toddles up and rests against her. She carefully touches her dark curls. Everyone holds their breaths.

 

“Maggie’s Auntie Claire.” She declares. Jamie watches, his eyes full of pride.

 

Later, after the children are tucked in bed, they sit down to talk about the pardon.

 

“Sae this Lord Abernathy is helping cover up Randall’s crimes?”

 

Jamie nods. He understands Ian’s feelings about the man. He has, after all, came close to assaulting Jenny. It was something they don’t discuss.

 

“Aye, it makes sense. There has to be someone high up to allow him to get away with his despicable acts.”

 

“Ned is hoping to persuade him to arrange a pardon for Jamie in exchange for keeping their secrets.” Claire explains farther.

 

Jenny is silent, to silent. Ian looks at her. “Jenny?”

 

“As much as I want Jamie to be pardoned, I loath that he will continue to get away with it.”

 

All nod in understanding.

 

“He won’t for long,” Claire’s declaration has all eyes on her, “there is to be an upraising, we will raise up against the British. Unfortunately, it won’t succeed but, at the last battle, Black Jack will be killed.”

 

“How do you know that? I ken knowing the future but one person out of it, knowing his fate?”

 

“I know, Ian, because before he dies, he will marry a lass named Mary Hawkins. From their union they will have a son. Years after, my first husband, Frank Randall, will be born.”

 

Total silence.

 

“You married one of them!” Jenny hisses.

 

“Frank was nothing like his ancestor. He was interested in the family history. In his research, he found the information about Black Jack.”

 

“Jenny Mon ghrá, remember this is two hundred years in the future. Claire then didn’t know. She can’t be blamed. Her knowledge may help Jamie be free and help us prepare for this coming upraising, eh?”

 

She smiles at him before turning back to her sister -in-law. “Forgive me Claire. I just loath him so much. The knowledge he isn’t long for this world is a comfort.”

 

“I understand and I can help prepare for what is to come.”

 

She explains the upraising and it’s aftermath.

 

“We should stay out then, remain loyalists?” Jamie questions.

 

“Yes. I would love it if we won and could break off their control it isn’t just now. To keep the family safe, we need to stay true to the British.”

 

“We will do as you bid.” Ian says. They discuss what to plant and when, hiding resources away from the conquers.

 

“I am afraid the whole clan way of life will end. The wearing of tartan will be forbidden, the speaking of Gaelic. It will return in our great- great- grandchildren’s lifetime.”

 

There is a solemnness in the air. Her words, though needing to be said, carry a heavy weight.

 

“Thank you Claire. We shall prepare as we can. We shall keep the Gaelic in our hearts. Our children will learn it even if they can only speak it in secret.”

 

“Ian is right,” Murtagh has been quiet, listening for most of their conversations, “the bloody English will never fully conquer us.”

 

“Amen!” Jamie cries.

[dodounchained]

A Way Out

^ Art by courtesy of @godwithwethands (´｡• ω •｡`) ♡ . Check out the original post here!

This is a crack fic of Cody (yes, we are calling him that) and Roy Miller. I can't help but think they will make a lovely and truly funny couple, with Cody being a loveable himbo and Roy a little devil, who constantly put themselves in pesky situations. I thank all the beautiful people on the discord that gives birth to this lovely AU couple, especially @godwithwethands who created such beautiful art, and BeccaWrites for beta reading this.

Also posted on AO3: (update: it’s now finished!)

(Part 1 of 2)

The Bronx, New York.

It’s already 2 am after midnight, but the bar is still filled with people, thanks to the young man with a ridiculous-looking mullet and a black beanie. His face is flushed red under the influence of alcohol and impassioned speech.

“I gotta say, he is probably 007, but working for the CIA! Y’all think those super spy shit ain’t real - until you see he smashes someone’s face with a muffin!”

“Cody, my man, that ain't possible - muffins are soft as hell! ” a voice of dissent comes from the crowd. 

Some of the people surrounding the men laugh teasingly. But that doesn't affect the enthusiasm of everyone listening to his story.

-

Cody sluggishly hopped off the transfer bus. His ankles were cuffed together, just like his wrists. He was tempted to ask if he could get a cig anywhere, but was intimidated by the stern looks of the prison guards, and decided against it

The walk was not particularly long but everyone was moving as slowly as possible, as if they could run away from the inevitable. All the newcomers were dressed in bright orange and were lined up one by one. The man in front was a small-built man in his 50s or 60s, and had curly black hair that reminded Cody of his pet terrier, Coal. He wondered if Coal was eating and sleeping alright. He’d be living with his sister Mandy during Cody’s stay in the prison. 

Although he was the black sheep of the family, no one expected him to be the first one to end up in jail. As the second youngest of 5 siblings, he was never the brave, decisive or outspoken one – unlike the rest of them. His mama would constantly worry whether he was being taken advantage of unknowingly, and had made his older sisters and brothers promise to look after him after she would pass away. But no one had foreseen that one of Cody’s childhood friends would coax him into robbing a bank.

- or to post on some dumb social media while at it.

Cody and Randall had been caught red-handed when the police arrived at the scene. Cody had confessed to the robbery without even asking for a phone call, but the lawyers working with the community had managed to plead for a lighter sentence after submitting his communication history with Randall - which proved that Randall had been the mastermind plotting this all along. After the court trial, his sister, Mandy, had sobbingly asked Cody why he’d done it. Cody had mumbled that he thought Randall had given him a toy gun. He’d tried to give Mandy a hug on the way out, but the courtroom marshal had harshly stopped him and escorted him to the transfer bus, which brought him here. 

The man in front of him sneezed, and it made Cody miss his puppy even more - Coal always made the cutest sneeze noise of all time. He looked to his left to see the prison yard behind chain-link fences. Its gray concrete floor reminded him of expired cans of fish. The inmates formed small groups, with some big, bad-looking guys hogging the gym equipment area. A few inmates were playing on the basketball court, but most sat in the bleachers.

He remembered what he learned from some TV series - it’s imperative to establish your dominance when you arrive at the yard.

He tried to practice his tough face on the way to the registry but it was soon broken when he was hosed down. The guard smirked at him when he shrieked like a girl. 

“I was caught off guard! The water is so damn cold!” He yelled at his fellow fully naked inmates in the row. None of them even batted an eye.

Tough crowd. Cody thought to himself, unembarrassed, as he put his uniform back on. He counted his blessings; the hairdresser was not present today, and wouldn’t rob him of his majestic mullet

-

Cody was assigned to the cell in Block A. He put his temporary belongings on the top bunk as the bottom bunk was already occupied by someone else. 

“How is, emm, my roommate like? Do I get to request a change if we … don't click? ”  

“Oh, you are gonna like him. ” the guard smirked, nice enough to give a response. 

Cody let out a sigh of relief while the guard continued, “Thank him for this prime location cell - the dude on the top bunker had testis torsion and had to be treated outside. ”

Cody winced and subconsciously covered his crotch with his hands. The guard laughed loudly before striding away from the cell. 

-

Thunderstorm clouds were forming in the sky over the prison yard. Cody blinked as he was aimlessly looking for a group to mingle with.

“Hey fellas,  how are we doing on this fine day?” He tried to approach a group of men sitting on the edge of the bench. The group went silent for a second, before one of them turned around to face him and frowned, the spider tattoo on his brow bone writhing menacingly. 

Cody immediately lost the rest of his pickup-a-gangster lines. He backed off just in time before one of them swung a fist at him. Disheartened, he found a place to sit at the outdoor table area. Its peeling plastic was stabbing his butt through the thin fabric of the prison garb.

“Someone’s gonna get it today.” A guy sitting a couple of meters away from him snickered.

Cody looked over, following the other’s gaze. 

Several hulking skinheads had formed a small circle on the basketball court. Between their burly muscles, Cody caught a glimpse of a smaller man surrounded by them.

You gotta establish your dominance first day in the yard. The strong male voice from the TV show popped back into his mind. He glanced around - the guards are not far away from the basketball court - and pulled himself out of the chair before running to rescue the cornered man.

“Hey, back off!”

A dozen pairs of eyes fell on him at once, and Cody's legs immediately felt like they had been injected with butter. As he got closer, he saw that the man in the middle was completely surrounded. He had a prominent nose bridge and gleaming blue-green eyes, with some faded old bruises on his lower lip. He could be between thirty-five to forty years old but still looked reckless and young, like a teenager. He slowly blinked at Cody, looking confused.

“I said, back off!” Cody regained his confidence and repeated in a louder, firmer voice, even though no one had moved yet

The smaller man walked out of the circle towards Cody. “Who are you? Why do you wanna meddle in my business?”

“What -? I thought you were being threatened by them?”

“Them?” The man glanced around the larger men around him - they looked like small mountains next to him, but none of them dared to meet his gaze. “Oh no, they were just being very agreeable towards my business proposal. ”

“Your proposal? What did you propose to them?”

“They will give me their ice cream portions on Friday. ”

“They have ICE-CREAM ON FRIDAY? Do they have pistachio soft serve?” Cody shouted in disbelief, having rekindled his faith in prison life. A few of the guards shot them concerned looks.

“No, no. Sadly. They have chocolate and vanilla. And coffee too - but I strongly recommend you to not try it. It's pretty gross.” He said, then made several tsk sounds with his lips while shaking his head in lament.

“Alright, thanks for the tip -” Cody almost forgot what he was talking about. “What do you offer them in exchange? ”

“Exchange? What is that? ” He grinned devilishly. One of the poor guys nearby groaned in dissatisfaction.

“You gotta give back something if you want to strike a deal!” Cody said, barely swallowing the second part of the sentence - that’s what my mama told me.

“Let’s see… they will receive my protection in exchange. ”

“Protection? From who?” Cody was eager to find out who is the kingpin among the inmates.

“From me! Obviously!”

“But -”

“Don’t you see - what’s your name?”

“Cody.” Cody extended his hand for a handshake.

“Cody!” The man shakes Cody’s hand enthusiastically, yanking hard enough on his hand to dislocate his shoulder. “Don't you see, Cody, I'm the guy!”

“You are the guy?”

“Yes! I’m the guy!”

“What guy? The ice cream guy?”

“Well, that’s one way to put it… I’m the guy for, you know, safety and inside trading.”

“Hmmm… ” Cody looked around hesitantly. One of the burly guys mouthed “do it” to him. 

“Okay, but I'm going for coffee flavor on Friday. I’m 100% interested in how nasty it tastes from what you just said.”

Looking like a deflated balloon, Roy let out a loud grunt of pain.

-

As fate would have it, the ice cream guy turned out to be his cellmate. They stood awkwardly at the door; it is only large enough for one to pass at a time.

“After you…?” Cody said hesitantly.

“Ha! And let you stab me in my back? Not today!” 

“Hey, how do I get a knife on my first day here?”

“Oh! You are one of the new fishes. How’d you make them  keep the mullet?”

“The barber was not available today. By the way - I didn't get your name?” 

“You can call me Roy. Roy Miller.” 

A loud siren went off, and the prison guard hurried them into the cell in annoyance. Both Cody and Roy took a step through the door simultaneously. Cody's hip crashed into the metal door, while Roy's shoulder jabbed him in the chest, possibly leaving a bruise for the next few days.

“Oops, sorry.” Roy seemed very well-adjusted with his lower center of gravity. They eventually maneuvered into the cell sideways, chest to chest.   

-

The lights went out at 11 pm sharp.

Roy went to the bed and closed his eyes immediately. Cody had been working on a letter to his family in the corner of the room while trying to not turn around to check if Roy was sneaking up on him. His former counterpart’s testis torsion was still haunting him when he climbed into his bunk.

“Cody? Are you still awake?” Roy said softly as the guard walked away from the cell, footsteps fading.

“Hmm?” Cody hummed.

“I really like that mullet of yours - do you wanna keep it?” 

“Yes… what do you mean?”

“I stole the shaver from the prison barber.”

“You shouldn’t steal stuff. You can end up in jail. Oh, wait - ”

Roy chuckled. 

“Anyways. As I told you, I'm the guy. And I needed tools to make it happen.”

“What guy? What’s gonna happen?” Cody knew he was slow, but he now realized his cellmate clearly had some issues too.

“The guy who makes things happen. I need to get out of here by next week. I can get you out of here if you work with me, too.” Roy lowered his voice into a quiet whisper, and Cody had to hold his breath just to be able to make out the words.

“Next week? Why can’t you just wait for your release?” Cody asked.

“Hard to say. Ex-wife getting married?” Roy replied, almost a question, as if he’d come up with it out of thin air just now. 

“Hmm, that does sound urgent. But I would like to stay out of trouble…” Cody accepted the reason. He tried to relax his body and sink into the bed, but the bunk bed was so hard that his back was hurting.

“How long did they give you?” Roy asked.

“15 years.”

“Do you have any families? Children, maybe?”

“No, but I have a border terrier. Her name is Coal, and she is the cutest thing ever. I can get you a photo next time my sister visits.”

“How old is Coal?”

“She is 4-and-half-months old now.”

“That’s precious. You know a medium-sized dog usually lives between 12 to 15 years right? You might not ever see her again.”

“No!” Cody interjected before Roy hushed him. 

“As a bonus, if you rat me out, they will find the shaver I stole and shave your head in no time.”

“... And testis torsion, too.” Cody muttered.

“What did you say? ”

“The guy who lived here with you - I heard you injured him? The guard told me that.”

“Cozy up to the guards, huh? Nice move. I can use a guy like you. ” Roy’s smiling face suddenly appeared at the side of Cody's bunk, scared the living crap out of him.

-

Roy shifted away the base of the sink carefully. There was a hole about a third of a man's height behind it, not quite sawn through. Cody was in charge of warning Roy from his position at the cell door when a patrolling guard would inevitably pass by. Roy had caught Cody dozing off a couple of times and had smacked him on the head with the flat side of the saw blade. 

It took them about 2 hours before Roy finished the job. 

“Are we going?”

“What? Now? No. That’s too rushed.” Roy frowned while looking up at Cody. His hair was sticking to his forehead with the sweat from exerting physical effort for a long time. 

Cody shrugged and gave up. The smaller man stood up and staggered as if he was going to fall. Cody caught Roy and helped him ease onto the bed.

“Freak, blood circulation gave up on me.” Roy cussed.

“Good effort tonight though.” Cody squeezed his shoulder before climbing up to his bed. He could hear their next-door neighbor snoring “What’s our plan next?”

“We gotta talk to Vincent - he’s the boss around here and the only one with access to smuggled cellphones. ”

“Are you gonna trade with him with all the ice creams you have? ”

“Nah, it doesn't work on him. Can you believe it? The man is a monster. I will talk you through the details tomorrow… ”

Cody fell asleep almost immediately as his adrenaline receded.

-

“So? What does the tunnel look like?” A man from the crowd asks eagerly.

“Hmm. It was dark, damp, and creepy -”

“Nonsense! I bet you were too afraid to even step in it! ” 

“Hey!” Cody refuted loudly, setting his empty beer mug on the table. The bartender swiftly serves him a new glass in hopes to keep the audience. “I can’t tell you that for free, or you’d use it next time when you get caught by the cops!”

The crowd laughs in agreement, egging him on to tell more of his story.

[oh-really-alicia]

that little montage in the collector where they basically just show all the bodies and gore again with this cute indie song playing over it,, that's an aesthetic

[k-s-morgan]

Hi! I've been in the Hannibal fandom for two years now. Rewatched the show many times and yet Will Graham still confuses me like no one else. Hannibal's design is complex but somewhat understandable after watching the show again again. But Will's design is like a loophole. He can empathise with the killers. That means he can understand them. If he can understand them then why does it feel good for him to kill them? How does it work for him exactly. Does he feel for the killers? If he felt for the killers then what about his violent tendencies towards them?

I've always thought that he is like a God. A God of the killers. The killers offer him their design and he takes sacrifice in return of understanding. But how does his psyche work exactly?

Hello! Oh yes, Will is a very confusing character - it’s his defining trait, and I think that’s because he lies to himself, to others, and to us as an audience. He wants one thing, wants to want another thing, does the third thing, and making sense of it is a complex process.

I think Will’s empathy is a big red herring. I agree with Freddie here: he understands killers because he’s one. He has an almost supernatural gift that helps him recreate the situations almost exactly as they happened. He understands what motivates killers, he might sympathize with them, but I think he might also envy them their freedom to be what they are. They are a reminder of what he is and what he can’t allow himself to have. But most importantly, they are a way for Will to find a compromise with himself and feel better about his true self. Killing bad people is an excuse to justify his darkness, but I don’t think it’s a part of his design per se. 

I agree with you that Will is like a God - he and Hannibal both are. That’s one of the things that separates them from others and elevates them above everyone else. Let’s make an overview of Will’s victims.

1) Hobbs. Hobbs was a monster and Will killed him. But it wasn’t about justice and righteousness, not according to him. Killing a person and feeling pleased that you saved someone versus liking the act of killing itself are drastically different things. Many police officers have to kill in their line of duty. Very few of them get off on the act of murder. Those who do are killers, and they are especially dangerous if they immediately try to follow it up with another murder. Will never once says he liked killing Hobbs because he made this world better. When asked, he says that he felt a sense of power. This is a motivation of many actual serial killers. If Will was just glad that he saved Abigail, he would know it's normal. He wouldn't have been almost on the verge of a break-down and haunted by Hobbs. So it’s not about helping others, it's about murder, even if the victim was a monster.

2) Stammets. Will had no reason to try to kill him (which he admits to doing). Based on his and Hannibal’s talk, he understands that he just wanted to feel what he felt after killing Hobbs, and this makes him panic. So again, no someone. He’s chasing the high of killing someone, and Stammets is the most appropriate victim. 

3) Ingram. On the surface, it looks like Will wanted to avenge Peter and himself by proxy, hence pulling the trigger on Ingram. However, after Hannibal manages to stop him, days later, Will complains about losing a chance to feel how he felt when killing Hobbs. Murder high is his main motivation again - everything else is background or an excuse, depending on your reading.    

4) Randall. Will threw away the gun on purpose to make the murder more intimate. This is not about justice and this is not about protecting himself because by doing this, he reduced his chances. Will also beat Randall up until he wasn't moving. There was no reason to snap his neck. Mutilation, cannibalism that followed, keeping his suit, admitting he enjoyed the murder and calling it his design - this is about murder and WIll’s love for it primarily. The design part is especially important: based on it, we can conclude that Will loves a performance just like Hannibal.  

4) Chiyoh and her prisoner who Will set up. Chiyoh was innocent and didn't deserve to die. Her prisoner might not have been guilty - in fact, Will was the one to suggest that, and yet Will still set him up. It was a game and he was an observer - he lied in waiting for Chiyoh’s scream. He then turned the body of a losing party into art. Very creepy and very like Hannibal.

5) Chilton. Will clearly explained his motivation: he wanted Chilton to pay just because he wanted to be famous and messed with Hannibal by writing his ridiculous book. Will showed no remorse and admitted he did it on purpose.

6) Police officers he set up to be killed by cooperating with Francis. The ones he stepped over without a second look. They were innocent and they were a collateral damage. Will is a cruel God who doesn’t bother with mere mortals as long as it fits his purpose. In this case, his purpose was freeing Hannibal. Everything else was still a blur in his mind. 

7) Francis. Enjoyed the murder, admired the blood, called the situation beautiful.

8) Bedelia. She's innocent in comparison to Will and his body count. If Will faced no repercussions and continued getting more and more people killed, she had every right to go free. But God doesn’t have to be fair, and Will proves it by targeting her. 

What does it all say about Will’s design and philosophy? Apart from Godlike attributes and indifference toward collateral damage, I think Will is led by his bloodlust - he just tends to control it and direct it at specific targets. 

Will might prefer to kill “bad people” in the first two seasons, but it’s the process of murder that excites him. So I see his righteous choices as a preference that helps him justify his dark nature partly, not the core reason for his violence. Hannibal seems to be moved by his interest in human nature and his hunter instinct, but Will, I think, is a truer killer because he actually feels drunk on murder. Unlike Hannibal, he looks downright euphoric when/after he kills Randall and Francis. In TWOTL, Hannibal is more focused on the fact that his dream came true and he and Will killed someone together, but Will seems primarily caught up in the murder after-shocks themselves. Hannibal thinks about Will, Will thinks about how beautiful blood looks under the moonlight.

So, post Fall, I believe that at first, Will will stick to killing bad people like murderers, but once some times passes, his need for justifications will fade. He’ll move on to rude people, only his rude will differ from Hannibal’s. Hannibal doesn’t differentiate between genders and ages, but I think Will will. He’s interested in a feeling of power, like he himself says, in a sense of dominance, so he’ll look forward to a fight. He won’t be interested in attacking a teenager like Cassie, for instance, because the power imbalance is too prominent. But as soon as someone more equal does something Will heavily dislikes, something that wakes his bloodlust (a personal insult, physical or verbal abuse toward other people/animals, etc.), he’ll attack. He’ll be careful - he knows how to avoid being caught, but it will still be unpredictable and passionate. Will is a storm to Hannibal’s calm.

Then there is unpredictability. Hannibal tends to plan everything methodically. The only times we see him being impulsive is in Europe, where he’s descending into self-destructive mode, so it’s not a norm for him. For Will, though? Will consists of unpredictability, and Hannibal is fascinated by it.I think Will is going to kill when an impulse strikes. For example, he might go shopping, without having any dark plans, and end up murdering someone because the circumstances pushed some unfortunate soul onto his path. Will might or might not display the body depending on his mood. Today he can be in an artistic mood, but tomorrow he’ll be in a violent and impatient one, wanting to destroy the body entirely and leaving a total mess behind.

How Will would prefer to kill? In my opinion, in an intimate way. It doesn’t mean he’ll be weaponless, but something like a knife would fit his tastes well. He’d be able to feel it plunge into his victim’s body, tearing through skin and muscles, etc. - personal and intimate. Akin to what he did with Francis - his feral half-snarl, the way he paused after stabbing him before opening him up - it was dark and mesmerizing. Will might get into strangling, too, because it takes a lot of time and it is even more intimate. It might end up being his favorite. So, I can see him using his hands or small weapons to fully sense what he’s doing to a victim. This is something that he has in common with Hannibal because from what we saw, Hannibal also enjoys more intimate and prolonged murders that give him a glimpse into a person’s pain and struggle for life.

[reh-ldjen]

MC and the Mavvar cleaning up the Beach house

I am in a cleaning phase around my apartment. Finally I am strong enough to go through my chaos of a home.

To be serious Randal's hous 100% really need a clean up

Sorry if there are any english grammar mistakes. English is not my native language.

-

Finally with enough discussion with the others you finally can clean up Randals house. After some time living with him, you had the real urge just to clean up a little.

Now there you all stand with empty trash bags. "Since you all hang here out that much. Practically living here. Now do something for staying here" To say the truth they are not happy to be bossed around but there are not angry enough to say anything because

1. Your arguments are good so some actually wants to clean up a little. It doesn't math their image, but that ok

2. Randal cannot go against you. So if Randal can go against it so his followers also won't.

"Now first pick up all the trash and we will see what we need to clean up after. Now hop move your asses" You opened your trash bag and start to put empty blood bags and other stuff into your bag.

While I peacefully putting the things away. Your hear somthing being thrown. Nick shouts" Nice one, Jack. Me next. " It seems like the guys made a game out of it. Trying to throw the trash into the bag from like few feets away. Well they still do their things so it's fine. But seeing them play is also makes you want to play. "Why not give it a try" you whispered to yourself.

You look around your room. An old magazine laying on the sofa table. So you took it and look at Randal, who is on the other side of the room. "Now or never." You took you changa and throw at the open bag and ....

It got in. You shouted out your victory getting everyone in the room to stare at you. You cough " that was nothing" being very proudful that you made it.

Everyone just laughs. "What's so funny?!!" Randal went up to you " Nothing you are just very adorable" "I am not adorable" "Yes, you are"

So the night went on cleaning up the house. The Mavvars had their fun with their made up games for cleaning.

[pokimoko]

OH DUDE YESSS I love behind the scenes looks at fics Ohh my god 👁👁 What are some of your favorite details/parallels/moments from in memory of that you would love to talk about? (And if they end up tying into other stories feel free to infodump ab that as well I am all ears)

Oh, I'm so glad you asked. *thumps book binder bursting with notes onto table* Get ready, this is gonna get long. Oh, and don't let this folder fool you, this is far from organised. For anyone else following me who hasn't read the story and would like to, warning, there are spoilers ahead:

Okay first of all, there's the 'sunny morning hello' / 'cloudy afternoon goodbye' parallel that you pointed out in your comment. Originally, I put more of a focus on the fact the sun was going down in the last part, because in 'The Ode to Remembrance' there's the line "at the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them", so I wanted to make a subtle reference to that. And also originally it actually started raining after Randall was gone, and Marc took the time to admire it rather than shy away from it; there was a little rainbow and everything.

But! But then my brain was like "why don't we have the story start with Marc meeting his brother, so that the story acts as a chart of Randall from beginning to end, and to give the reader some time with Randall before the cave so they're sad when we inevitably lose him" and welp, couldn't refuse that idea could I? I've always loved first and last lines being a reflection of each other, it scratches an itch in my brain. In the last scene, the sun's still on the process of going down, but I decided to have the clouds part and to have the sun shine of him to represent him making peace with his past, and to show he was allowing himself to move on from that rainy day. I am not immune to pathetic fallacy. (I'll admit, I listened to 'Más Allá Del Sol' a few times while writing the final scene. Thanks to episode 5, I now have a kneejerk reaction to get upset when I listen to it. And also, y'know, the sun motif.)

I personally am very in love with the height chart part. I was trying to think of an image for the header and that came to me with no warning or lead-up (I was in the middle of hugging my mum at the time and gosh, the fact I had to continue acting normal after getting hit with that idea was definitely something. And yes, I do think about my fics while doing normal things. The only problem is that it leads to conversations like this: "oh crap, I'm so sorry, I didn't hear a word of that, I kinda zoned out, I was thinking about Mayan gods" "...Why were you thinking about Mayan gods?" "Uh" *sweats nervously*).

But anyway! The height chart. They mark the passing of time, but they also act as a preservation of what has come before. And of course they're associated with childhood and growing up. Eventually you reach the point where you stop measuring, because you've grown as much as you ever will, and then it remains simply to act as a reminder. Marc's chart is like an old journal entry; you don't remember writing it, or even the context for it, but you know it's your words, written by someone you used to be. But Randall's chart is like an unfinished sentence, (or one that in its shortness tells you everything...'for sale: baby shoes, never worn'). His chart will never be finished, but the indents remain, a reminder of where his story came to a stop.

This is where the Peter Pan inspiration came in. I didn't take inspiration from the story itself, but rather its own inspiration. When J.M. Barrie was 6, his 13 year old brother David died, a day before his 14th birthday. His mother was distraught, having always favoured David, but she took comfort in the idea that he would remain a young boy forever, never growing any older. This concept stuck with Barrie, and he eventually went on to write a story about a boy who would never grow up. In a way, it was his way to cope with what had happened.

For Marc, Randall's youth is a haunting reminder. Marc will grow older, but his brother will always be the same. The distance between them grows with each passing year. As a teenager, there would have come a day that Marc realised his brother had been dead longer than he'd ever been alive. Then that Steven had been around longer. That he'd known Layla longer than he ever knew his brother. Times goes on, and Randall's life in comparison to his own grows smaller and smaller, until it is only a tiny portion, barely a blip. But the marks remain. The distance that time brings only makes it harder for Marc to reach out for who left them in the first place.

The name of the fic was another idea that hit me in the head like a dodgeball to the face (and trust me, I know what that feels like). The working title for a long time was 'to weigh the heart of an albatross', to allude to ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’. In the poem, the titular Mariner shoots down an albatross for really no reason and then, either as a coincidence or as a result of him killing the bird (it's a matter of interpretation), everything goes to shit. The rest of the crew blame him and he is forced to hang the dead albatross around his neck as punishment (and then the crew all die and the Mariner is cursed by Life-in-Death, and is forced to keep living on and suffer as the only survivor, surrounded by the crew's dead bodies, and, well, y'see the connections, yeah?), and I wanted to be like "but see, Marc is the Mariner AND the albatross. He is the guilty man and the one enforcing the guilty. He is burdened, and the burden itself." (The fact Marc was a Marine certainly helped with the idea.)

I also originally wanted the epigraph to be a line from the poem (one contender: 'And they all dead did lie: / And a thousand thousand slimy things / Lived on; and so did I.' Because, survivor’s guilt and all that, and the complete self-hatred in comparing yourself to a ‘slimy thing’. Which as you know in the story, Marc hates..) but none of them fit the way I wanted. I did manage to sneak a sly reference to the albatross with KHONSHU BEING A BIG FUCKING WHITE BIRD HANGING AROUND UNWANTED LIKE A WEIGHT AROUND HIS NECK ENFORCING THE GUILT EVEN FURTHER AND STIFLING JAKE’S FREEDOM. And like, the actual bird Marc sees at the end, flying high.

But then 'in memory of you' came to me, thanks to me thinking about obituaries and such, and since the story is about memory and loss, I thought it was more fitting. I then shortened it to 'in memory of', to make it more open, to have it allude to all the things Marc lost that day. His brother, his innocence, his family. He's living his life in memory of what came before. Around the time of the getting that new title, I also rediscovered the Hill House quote (from an episode aptly named 'Steven Sees a Ghost') and knew it was a perfect fit.

The scene where Marc and Layla are talking about the meaning of their names was in there simply because I found out Layla means "night" and I was like "they really went and called her 'night', huh, in a show called 'Moon Knight...well, I can't let them get away with that, everyone must know." But it is sweet when you think about it, that the Avatar of the Moon god fell in love in with someone named after the night sky. Afterall, the moon shines brightest at night...

Wait. Shit. Oh shit. If that concept shows up in a future fic of mine along with some 'She Walks in Beauty' references you know fucking why.

Anyway. This next detail is actually one I picked up when rewatching the Field of Reeds scene (so many times; I do not particularly enjoying novelising scenes but I knew it was important to explore that scene within the fic itself, as it's an important step towards Marc's self-forgiveness). The way that Taweret says that there is "no danger" there and Marc immediately asks about Steven. Because of course, "when danger is near" and all that. Marc doesn't associate Steven with danger, but rather his safety from it. And when you find safety in something, you keep it close, even when there is no danger near. Because safety is comfort, and comfort is peace. The Field could only offer absence from all things bad, rather than the presence of that which is good, and so of course Marc left. He was never going to find true peace there. He would rather deal with the good and the bad than nothing at all.

Another detail: the movie night choices, because I can't ever just pick a random movie or song and be fine with that, no, no, I have to pick one with meaning. Silly writer brain. Anyway, the movies! If you seen 'The Bridge to Terabithia', I think you'll know why I chose that one; the synopsis literally has '(the imaginary world) helps Jess to escape and cope with a tragedy.' And like...the tragedy itself. 🙃 It's been years since I first watched and I'm still not okay. And 'The Lion King'...well, *gestures at the scene where Simba finds his dad's dead body* *gestures at Scar blaming Simba* *gestures at the years Simba spends trying to escape his past*. Guilt is a very huge part of that movie. Not that Steven would've picked up on that. Just like in 'Absent Place', he does a lot of things subconsciously; using muscle memory he can't remember forming, crying over things he can't remember hurting him, seeing the ghost of a boy he doesn't recognise. There's a blindfold around his eyes, but he keeps swinging the bat anyway, trying to hit the piñata, not knowing where it is or even why he's doing it at all.

Speaking of Steven, I wanted to make his interactions with the ghost distinctly different, to highlight the impact that Marc's guilt has on how he perceives things. With Marc, Randall is very much the epitome of a ghost, lurking in corners and doing nothing but watching. Marc has come to the conclusion that the ghost shows up to remind him of his pain, rather than realising the ghost shows up because he's in pain. But with Steven, Randall acts more natural, almost like a very quiet but kind child. Steven doesn't try to push him away, and he doesn't see him as a source of guilt, but rather comfort and companionship, so Randall acts accordingly.

(I kinda explored the idea of ghosts being shaped by our perception of them once before in a Lucifer fic I wrote a few years back which has, uh, well, a lot of thematic similarities to 'in memory of'. Like, a lot. Grief, guilt, ghosts, hiding in a fantasy, the past lingering. So, yeah, I don't get new ideas, I just pull out my old ones and put new clothes on them.)

But eventually, with the help of Layla and Steven, Marc slowly but surely starts to see past the wall of guilt his mother forced him to build up, and to remember his brother for who he truly was. That's why, by the last scene, when Marc sees him, Randall is swinging his legs and staring up at the sky, acting more like the child he is. Because Marc no longer sees him as something to dread, like you would a ghost, or as a condemnation. He sees his little brother, he sees him crying, and he goes over to give him one last word of comfort: I'm okay. I'm going to be okay. You can go now. Thank you for keeping your promise too.

Jeez, wow, okay, I told you this would be long but I wasn't expecting it to be this long. If you've made it this far, great job. Why don't we tie this whole ramble up with the most behind-the-scene detail of all: the notes I wrote when the idea first came to me, on the 23rd of July. Back when I thought it was really was just going to be 10 scenes.

My notes are usually more...coherent, but it was late at night and I just needed to get the thoughts down. Still, it's fun to see what stayed and what evolved through the writing process, and obviously everything that got added in, because there was a lot that was added in. I salute you Past Me, for ever thinking this would be a short enough story to have roman numerals denoting each part.

Alright, that's definitely enough rambling. I hope you've enjoyed me dumping all my brain's contents onto you. It was fun verbalising some of my thought processes to you and having the chance to explain some of stuff that wasn’t really made explicit in the writing itself. Thank you for the ask! :D

[amessywritersmind]

Hurricane - Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd

A/N:  I’ve recently re-fallen in love with the beauty of the movie Dazed and Confused, and there’s like literally no work for it so I decided to write my own about one of my favorite characters! It’s a friends-lovers type thing sooooo.... Enjoy ;)

I exited my car and walked towards the school entrance with a little more pep in my step today. Around me, I could hear the chatter and excitement of the kids scattered across the parking lot, a few more days and school would be out. Soon, a lot of them would be seniors, including me. 

As I was walking, I saw Pickford’s bright yellow car pulling in, Pickford and Michelle inside. Thank the lord! I smiled as he sped into the parking lot, walking over to the car and leaning against the window. 

“Ahhhh, Pickford! Just the man I wanted to see on this fine morning!” I said dramatically, smiling at him. He rolled his eyes putting the car into park. 

“Hey Michelle!” I said to her as Pickford turned the car off, looking over to me. She smiled back, laughing at Kevin’s reaction to me. 

“What do ya want now (y/n)?” He said in fake annoyance. 

I nudged him gently, laughing. 

“Light me, I left my lighter at home.” I said, pulling a joint out of my pocket and placing it in between my lips, leaning closer so he could light the end. 

“M’Lady” He laughed dramatically, producing a lighter and sparking the end. 

“Thanks man, you’re the best” You said standing back up right and smiling gratefully, taking a few drags off the thing.

“Yeah yeah, you only want me for my weed and my lighters.” He fake pouted dramatically, earning another giggle from me and Michelle.

“You know you love me!” I exclaimed, reaching in the window and ruffling his hair, much to his annoyance.

“Anyways, I gotta go find some people, I’ll catch you guys later!” I called, backing away and going to find some other friends. 

I took a couple drags off the joint, making my way through the school gates and saying hi to people I knew along the way. Mid laugh (at something someone had said) I felt the joint being pulled out of my mouth. I turned quickly only to see one of my very best friends, Randall Floyd, or Pink as we all call him. I smiled at the sight of my joint hanging out of his mouth, a smirk on his lips. 

“And what do you think you’re doing Mister? I chuckled, crossing my arms and giving him a look. 

“Well, you know what they say (y/n), sharing is caring.” He said jokingly, taking a big hit off of it. 

“Heyyyy!” I exclaimed, laughing and reaching for it. 

“Don’t smoke it all! I barely got a few hits in.” I pouted as he pulled it from my reach. He laughed and threw his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in and passing the joint back to me. 

“Fine, I’ll give it back Mrs. Grouch” He said, earning a nudge in the side from me.

‘You’re lucky I love you” I grumbled out, looking at him. He laughed. keeping his arm around my shoulder and walking towards the doors to the school. 

“So I was wonderin’ if you’re free tonight? Maybe you can drop by mine later tonight? I’ve got some new records to listen to and a sixer just begging for us to drink it.’ Pink said, as if he’d really have to coax me into coming over. I laughed at his ‘puppy dog eyes’ all the same.

“What, no plans with the leech tonight?” I joked around, referring to his ever annoying girlfriend. 

“Nahh, needed a break for one night” He said dismissively, earning a laugh from me.

“Alright, It sounds like a plan! Be there at 6?” I confirmed, stopping as we heard someone call Pink’s name. He waved to them to hold on before finally removing his arm from my shoulders. 

“Sounds great! Can’t wait.” He confirmed with a smile, turning towards me and stealing the joint again, taking another hit before passing it back to me. 

“See you then.” I called to him as he walked backwards, shooting finger guns my way and nearly tripping on his own feet. I laughed at how dorky he really could be at times. 

I took the last drag before putting the joint out and walking into the building, nearly running straight into Slater.  

“Slater! My man! How’s it going?” I said to him, doing the funky little hand shake we made up a few years back. 

“Good, man! Hey! I got that stuff for you.” He said smiling like a maniac, pulling a little bag out of his pocket and handing it to me. 

“You are the best my dude!” I laughed out, putting the baggie into my bag.

“Anything for you! Hey man, I’ll check ya later!” He said, shooting me finger guns and walking away. I really was friends with a bunch of dorks.

I sighed, continuing my walk to first period, now all I had to do was survive the day.

Later that day 

The final bell rung out, everyone including me rushing to pack their stuff up and get out. As I was walking out of the building I saw Slater, Pickford, and Michelle  hanging out in the parking lot over by Pickford’s car and decided to go say hi real quick. 

“Only a few more days dudes, and then we’re seniors!’ I exclaimed as I walked up to the group. “Hey Michelle, can I bum a cig?” 

She handed me one and lighter. “Thanks.”

“It’s gonna be so weird man, we’re gonna be like so....old” Slater said slowly, laughing after he realized what he said. I laughed too. I handed the lighter back to Michelle and took a drag off the stick.

“All I know is, we’ll be the top of the food chain, and i’m gonna throw a fat party to celebrate!” Pickford laughed, lighting up a joint of his own. 

As I was about to reply, I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist, lifting me up slightly before setting me back down. I let out a little shout, startled, holding my cigarette out to avoid burning whoever the culprit was. 

“Floyd! I swear to god I’ll kill you!” I said knowing it could be no one else.

“Oooooo, she used your last name. You’re in trouble, man!” Slater called out, laughing as Pink placed me down again and moved to my side, throwing an arm over my shoulder, as he usually did.

“Awe, look at the two love birds who won’t admit they’re lovebirds!” Pickford said mockingly, faking a gag at the end. 

“Oh shove it Pickford” Pink said dismissively, waving off the comment.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want his toy to hear that.” I fake whispered to the group as they laughed along. I was referring to Simone and they all new it. They all new I couldn’t stand her, including Pink, and most of the group felt the same way.

“Alright alright, that’s enough of that.” Pink started, trying to keep the peace as always. 

“Look! It’s my favorite group of little stoners!” A voice called to the left, Donnie joining the small gathering, a chorus of ‘hey Don’s’ and ‘what’s up man’s’ emitting from the group. 

“Hey Don! How ya been? Haven’t seen you in a while.” I said as he reached the circle. 

“Still waiting on your call, baby.” He said winking and flicking his tongue at me. I heard Pink scoff at this from beside me, but I just laughed. Donnie was Donnie after all. 

“In your dreams man.” I replied smoothly. 

“Oh you know it sweatheart! Anyways, I’m here for you Slater. Where’s my drugs?” He called over to the stoner, who was currently passing a joint to Michelle. 

“Follow me, man.” He said with a guilty grin, him and Donnie walking away. 

“Well, as much as I love hanging out with you nerds, I gotta get goin.” I said, moving to walk towards my car. Pink hooked his fingers into the belt loops on the side of my jeans, pulling me back towards him. 

‘We still on for tonight?” He asked.

“Yes, sir!” I said feigning seriousness, fake saluting him. He laughed at this. 

“Alright then. I shall see you tonight.” He smiled, releasing his hold on the belt loops and backing up slightly.

“See you then. Later, guys!” I called over my shoulder and hopping in my car, the radio coming to life at full volume as the car roared to life. 

Today had been a fairly good day but who was I to lie, I was beyond exited for the night to come. I raced home and instantly started getting ready-showering and then getting dressed. I had a little more time to kill before I needed to head over to Pink’s so I took out the new goods from Slater and rolled a few more joints, placing 2 in the “Emergency” supply and packing the rest into my purse before slipping my shoes on and heading out. 

I eventually pulled up outside Pink’s house, only to see him and Slater talking out by Pink’s car. 

“Getting the party started without me, boys?” I smirked, making my way over to the little group.

“(y/n), man! It feels like it’s been forever since I saw you man.” Slater called, laughing almost nervously. Pink looked over at me as well, shooting me his award winning smile. 

“Slater, I literally saw you a few hours ago” I laughed, pulling him into a hug anyways. 

“My turn!” Pink exclaimed once I’d let go of Slater, holding his arms open wide with a little smile on his face. I rolled my eyes, laughing, but walking into his arms anyways, my heart skipping a beat momentarily. I just chose to ignore that bit. 

“So, what’re you doing here? Not that your company isn’t a pleasure, “ I started, looking at Slater. “but i thought it was just gonna be us tonight?” I finished, looking at Pink. 

“It is, he was just dropping off some supplies” Pink answered devilishly. 

“Yeah, don’t worry (y/n), I’m not here to steal your man time, man” He laughed out, beginning to step away.

“You wish Slater!” I said, blushing slightly. He just shook his head, beginning to walk away. The blush intensified even more when Pink put his arm around my waist, pulling me even closer. He was usually pretty touchy, but it seemed to be amped up even more tonight. 

“Thanks again, man. I’ll see you tomorrow at the Emporium?” Pink called as Slater was walking away. 

“For sure man! Have fun, but not too much fun, man!” He called back, making his way around the corner. 

Pink still hadn’t let go of me so I turned, putting a hand on his chest and laughing at his dopey facial expression. 

“Hmmmmm, seems like someone really did start the party without me” I laughed, pinching his cheek lightly, him swatting my hand away. 

“Ok maybe I smoked a tinyyyy bit, but there’s still plenty to go around” He said smirking and hooking his fingers into the front belt loops of my pants. I looked up at him, suddenly having an overwhelming urge to lean in. I snapped myself out of it though, if any of that was going to be happening tonight I’d have to be a lot more out of it than my current state.

“Well, why are we still out here then? The weed isn’t going to smoke itself!” I chuckled, breaking away from him and making my way into his house, directly to his room. 

I plopped onto his bed, leaning against the headboard as Pink followed me in, closing the door and lighting some incense to mask the smell. As soon as it was good and burning, I pulled out my freshly rolled stash, lighting it and taking a drag as Pink put one of the new records on the player.

Once it was settled, he turned towards me. 

“Hey now! Don’t be greedy” He laughed at me, launching himself on top of me on the bed, opening his mouth for me to place the joint in it. I complied with his wishes, sticking it in his mouth and leaning back with a smile on my face, his body still very much on top of mine. 

Eventually, he moved to a more comfortable position at my side. We listened to the records, back to back, giving our respective opinions on each of the albums, going through about 4 joints and 3 beers each. By the time the last song on the last of his new records rang out, we were fairly buzzed. 

“Well, that’s all of em. Now, what to do, what to do?” Pink stated, looking over to me with an idea in his eyes. 

“Have anything specific in mind?” I asked absentmindedly, more focused on the brightly colored poster on the wall. 

“I have an idea, yeah” He answered vaguely. I giggled lightly at his lack of explanation.

“Are you planning on sharing that idea with me or are you just gonna keep it locked up in that brain of yours?” I questioned teasingly, leaning forward to tap his temple lightly. He swatted my hand away with a laugh. 

“I’ll do better, I’ll show you!” He exclaimed, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the window. I was curious now.

Before I could question his intentions further, he slid the window open and climbed out on to the roof, turning back and reaching his hand in the window, motioning for me to follow. I grabbed his hand and climbed out as well. He began walking towards the middle of the roof, my hand still clasped tightly in his own.

He sat down finally, pulling my arm along with him. I sat down quietly, leaning against his shoulder lightly. For a few long moments, there was nothing but silence. Pink stared up at the sky, lost in thought. 

“Whatcha thinking about?” I asked quietly, poking his side gently. 

“I don’t love her.” He answered immediately. 

“What?” I replied, taken aback by the question. 

“Simone. I don’t love her, I never did. In fact, we’ve been split for months, but she refuses to let me go. I don’t love her because..... well, because I love someone else” He laughed out almost incredulously, like he couldn’t believe what he was saying. Something about that statement sent a ping straight to my heart. 

“Well then, that’s ok! I’m sure this girl likes you back. Who wouldn’t? Don’t worry yourself too-” before I could finish my sentence, his lips were on mine. They moved in sync briefly before he pulled away. 

“It’s you. You are the girl I’m talking about. I think I’ve always known it’s you, I just never realized it.” He let out with no hesitation. As I processed what he was saying to me, my heart was dancing in my chest. This was not how I planned for the night to go, not that I’m complaining at all.

“I don’t think there's any question that I feel the same then?” I asked in a daze, still shocked by the events that had just transpired. Pink chuckled at this, shaking his head and wrapping an arm around me, pulling me closer. 

“No, I don’t think so. Though, I think I should double check, just to make sure.” He stated, a goofy smile finding its way onto his face. At that, he leaned down once more, placing his lips on mine once again. 

[jeepers-coomets]

MONSTERS AT WORK THEORY TIME

So, I was rewatching Monsters At Work (for the ten billionth time), and I noticed something very interesting about Episode 3: “The Damaged Room”. It takes places when Snore’s parents enter the room to check on her after Tylor tripped, alerting them that there was some noise in the room. Because the door was deactivated, Tylor, Val, and Duncan had to hide in the room.

And Duncan curled himself up in a blanket and pretended to be Snore.

Now why is this interesting? Well, because when I first saw this episode, I was too busy laughing my butt off as well as losing my mind over the absurdity of what Duncan had done. Like, I couldn’t tell if this was the stupidest, or the smartest thing Duncan had done.

And now, I think it’s the smartest.

Because, when you think about it, had he not done that, the parents would’ve really started panicking about the whereabouts of their child. They would probably have started frantically looking around the room and realize that there were monsters present. And since the door is deactivated, there’s no way for the trio to have avoided that. They would’ve gotten caught and have still ended up with a dead door, or even worse, could’ve gotten seriously hurt.

Tylor is a Scaring major, and Val did go to MU for a year, so it makes sense that they know the basic protocol for dealing with situations where leaving the room isn’t an option. And though Tylor told everyone to hide, Duncan could have hidden somewhere really dumb. While risky, hiding in the baby’s crib was the smart move to make.

So what’s my theory? My theory is that Duncan didn’t just accidentally stumble on genius here that saved him and his colleagues, but that he thought about this intentionally. He knew that he was small enough to pass as a human child, that the parents would have freaked out way more if they came into the room to an empty crib, and that this would’ve at least bought them time until someone reactivated the door for them to escape. He knew that in that situation where leaving the room was not an option, hiding was the best bet. And he hid to blend into the environment.

So where did Duncan get this information from? My guess is from a Scarer. And yes, my guess is that he got it from Randall.

Now, if you’ve seen my other posts, I believe that Randall and Duncan are or were at some point friends. They are incredibly similar, yet we can all agree that Duncan is slightly more functional/approachable/goofy than Randall is. Which would perfectly contrast Randall’s more abrasive/lack-of-control/more hostile nature, by giving him someone who gets it, but is a little less extreme than Randall.

So, if they were friends, it makes sense that maybe at some point Duncan has been in a situation like in Episode 3 before/for the first time, or has thought about the possibility of being in that situation before (since he’s such a workaholic) and chose to ask someone who was experienced in the field for advice, since Randall also just so happened to be one of the top Scarers. And Randall is happy to not only tell him what you should do, but maybe even gives a bunch of examples or even personal anecdotes to help him because he knows that Duncan’s line of work will put him in that position one day, and as his friend, he wants to make sure he’s prepared and won’t get hurt.

Also, since we don’t know if/where Duncan went to college and what he majored in, I don’t think that he’d know this kind of information on his own.

It would also make that scene mean a lot more if it turns out Duncan and Randall were friends but aren’t anymore, yet Duncan still remembers advice from Randall from when they were and still follows it because he still wants to thinks that Randall can be trusted.

EDIT: Also, in the same episode, the way he just SNEAKS INTO THE ROOM WITHOUT BEING NOTICED UNTIL TYLOR AND VAL TURN AROUND BECAUSE A WALL BOARD FELL IN THAT DIRECTION. Not because Duncan gave himself away. That level of stealth just feels too on-point to be a natural talent. Especially since Pixar has proven that some character details aren’t just because i.e., Randall always squinting being because he needs glasses but doesn’t wear them, not because he’s an antagonist in the film and all bad guys have squinty eyes. And it’s been made pretty clear that Duncan is not a villain in this show.

[chaotic--pixie]

ch1.The Beginning (TommyxOC)*edited*

It was well past noon when the Shelby clan arrived at the home of Calvin Hayes. A businessman and new person of power in Birmingham. Arthur was the first one out of the car, jumping from the back seat. “Look at the size of this place” he whistled “Where’d ya say ya met this bloke Tommy”. The driver door opened as the man in question stepped out “I met ‘im at the races last month, said he ran a shipping business” came his reply as he flicked his cigarette away. “Which is why I’m havin’ a hard time understanding why we’re here, what use do we have for ships, only business we haves in Birmingham” Polly Grey asked as her youngest nephew helped her from the passenger seat. “That’s why it’s called expansion Pol” laughed the boy, “John’s right, ‘sides he could be of help to us with the inspector” Tommy said as he began to walk towards the large house.                                                                                                           The others followed behind him up the stairs and waited as he knocked. Seconds later and the door opened to reveal an older man with white hair around the sides of his head and a bald crown. He was dressed in a butler uniform and had an air of authority about him, “Good afternoon” he croaked “May I ask what business you have here”. “M’ names Thomas Shelby, and these are my brothers, we’re here to see Mr. Hayes, he’s expectin’ us'' Tommy answered in a polite but direct tone. “Of course, please come in, I shall go fetch him. '' The man replied as he stepped to the side, opening the door wider for them. As the Shelbys stepped into the foyer their heads moved in all directions taking in the room. It was beautiful, the floors were mahogany and the walls were painted a lovely pale blue. Expensive paintings and other oddities lined the walls and in front of them past a few doors there was a large staircase leading to the rest of the house, sure to be as grand as this part.                                                                                                                        In the time they were admiring the house the butler had gone down the hall and into a room on the right and returned with Mr. Hayes. “Ah Thomas, welcome lad” he exclaimed, walking towards the family. Calvin Hayes was an impressive man, standing over 6 feet tall he had a broad frame and a dark complexion. His brown hair had begun going gray a few years back and he had some wrinkles forming around his dark eyes. Yet despite being well into his 40s there was a youthfulness in the man that time hadn’t erased. “Ello Cal, thanks for havin’ us'.” Tommy said, stepping forward and shaking his hand “These are me brothers Arthur and John, and this is my aunt Polly” he pointed as he introduced each member. Calvin smiled at them and nodded “It’s nice to meet you all, please come into my office, we'll have a drink and talk business.”                 They all walked into the room he had come out of and took their seats. Tommy and Polly sat in the large armchairs while Arthur and John made themselves comfortable on the sofa. There was a fireplace on the back wall and bookcases on either side. Calvin walked in behind them and turned to the butler, “Randall makes us some drinks please” “Right away sir. Whisky?” the man asked. “Fine with us, I'll take a double!” Arthur smiled reclining on the sofa. The others agreed as Calvin took a seat behind his desk and Randall walked out of the room. “So then Thomas how’s the betting shop running?”  the older man asked, lighting a cigar. “Like a dream, got men in everyday placing bets for the week. And Monaghan Boy is all set to win in the next race.” Tommy grinned “Can I expect to see you there?” Calvin nodded “Oh yes, I never miss a chance to find new business. Speaking of, have you thought about my offer?” Polly cut in before Tommy could respond, “And what offer is that, if I may, Mr. Hayes? I’m afraid my nephew hasn’t filled us in yet about what this meeting is about'' she asked, cutting her eyes at Tommy. “Pol-” he began, Calvin interrupting him next “Of course Mrs. Shelby-” “It’s Grey” she corrected with a thin smile. “Apologies. When I met your nephew at the races last month we struck up a conversation about partnering up. You see, I own a shipping company and I’ve recently had some problems with robberies. And I’ve heard your nephews here are the men to go to when you have a problem the law can’t fix.” Calvin explained, Randall coming back with their drinks and handing them out. “Fucking right we are!” John laughed, taking a drink with Arthur. “I see, so you need muscle. And what would we be getting out of this partnership?” Polly asked, raising an eyebrow as Tommy rolled his eyes “Fucking money, what else?” “Yes,” Calvin agreed ”I intend to pay generously and if we work well together then it will be more than a one time deal. I plan on expanding my business into London and further and to do so I’ll need some help.” Polly took a sip of her drink and observed the man. She’d always been a good judge of character, having had the sight when she was younger. He seemed trustworthy enough, and a bodyguarding job was easy money.                         “Alright then, how much information do you have about the robberies?” she questioned. “Jesus Pol, we’ll ask the questions. This ain’t womens work.” Arthur chimed in, taking interest in the possibility of a good fight. “Hush you, I was the one running this business while you boys were off at war” she snapped, turning to glare at him. “And a fantastic job you’ve done, keeping it running couldn’t have been easy.” Calvin complimented, making Polly fluster under the praise. “To answer your question ma’am, not much. As I said, the law hasn't been of any help.” Tommy hummed, leaning back and lighting his own cigarette “So we’ll have to do our own digging to find out who’s behind it.” Arthur scoffed “Yeah and that's going to take some time”. “You’ll be paid for it, and I’ll supply any tools you need.” Calvin reassured them. Arthur opened his mouth to say something else but was cut off by the door loudly closing and footsteps rushing towards the room they were in. A blonde haired man ran by the door catching Calvins attention, “Oi! Ben come here!” He yelled. The man appeared in the doorway a sheepish look on his face “Afternoon Mr. Hayes, how are y-” “Cut the crap, where’s Danny?” Calvin asked in a serious tone. Ben faltered, his brown eyes darting around clearly looking for an excuse “um..Doing things..sir”. Calvin sighed, “I was afraid of that. Where’s Jesper?” “Trying to stop Danny from doing things” the boy replied. “Juna?” Cal asked raising his brow “Trying to stop Jesper from stopping Danny from doing things” came the reply. Calvin chuckled and shook his head, the Shelbys watching on in amusement. “And what are you doing here son?” Calvin asked, with laughter in his tone. Ben grinning bashfully “I’m supposed to stop you from helping Jesper stop Danny from doing things… I’ve also gotta pick up some shoes because-” “Danny lost one” The men said at the same time with a fond smile. “Alright lad carry on, just try to make sure my child is home for dinner” “Yes sir” replied the boy disappearing from the doorway up the stairs.                                                          Polly smiled at Hayes “Sons are quite the handful aren’t they.” “I suppose so” he laughed, “ I wouldn’t know though, I don't have any. Danny is my daughter, Danika.” Polly’s eyes widened slightly “Oh well those are much more difficult” she smiled into her drink. Calvin turned to her and nodded with a chuckled “Yes so I’ve discovered. It’s getting late if you all haven’t got plans you’re welcome to stay for dinner.” the older man offered politely.  Tommy looked at the others for their agreement and when he received it he turned to Calvin and nodded “Sounds great, thank you.” Hayes stood up from his chair and gestured for them to follow him from the room. They walked across the hall to a parlor, a lovely room again done in pale blue and white. Another fireplace along the wall and plenty of seating. A piano sat in the corner waiting for a player and a book rested on the side table, a piece of paper sticking from the top to mark the readers page. They seated themselves again and heard a thumping on the stairs. Moments later Ben appeared in the doorway again, “I’m off now, be bringin’ the crew home soon” he smiled, a brown bag thrown over his shoulder. Calvin nodded, “Be safe and hurry back, we have guests.” The boy bounded off out the door. The group sat there for a while discussing different topics, getting to know one another now that they would be working together. Mr. Hayes informs Randall about the extra places needed at the table. As the clock on the wall was about to strike 5 the front door opened again and loud laughter could be heard.  Calvin called out alerting them of their whereabouts and for them to join.                                                                                                                                      Footsteps sounded down the short hall and four people wandered into the room. The first was Ben slightly red faced from a fading blush. Behind him walked another man and women, clearly related judging by their looks. The man was tall and the woman came to his shoulder, they both had slim builts and dark skin. Their clothing and the jewels they wore told Polly they were gypsy, though she wasn’t sure which clan, and their eyes were like the silver they wore. Attention was soon turned to the last person to enter the room as she breezed in heading straight for the man of the house. “Father you didn’t tell me we’d be having company tonight, I would have prepared” she scolded in a playful manner. She was a beautiful girl, shorter than the others with long midnight hair flowing down her back in waves. Her eyes were perhaps her most striking feature, bright green as they peered up through thick lashes. Like someone had put emerald in their place. “Mmm well I would have but someone was in such a rush to get out the door this morning I never got the chance.” he chided back at her. She smiled up at him shyly and batted her eyes “I’m terribly sorry, I just had so much to do today you see.” Calvin regarded him daughter with a smile and hummed “Yes, later I’d like to hear more about these ‘things’ you were doing today, until then let me introduce you.” He turned to the room and gestured to each person. “Danny this is Thomas Shelby and his brothers Arthur and John, and this is their aunt Polly Grey.”  They each nodded in greeting, “It’s nice to meet you all, allow me to make my own introductions.” She waved at each of them “These are friends of mine they’ll be joining us tonight. This is Jesper oaks and his sister Juna, and you’ve briefly met Benji.” The boy groaned “It’s Ben now, we aren’t 12 anymore.” Randall came into the room letting them know dinner would be served soon and to come into the dinning area when they were ready. “If you all would excuse me for just a moment to freshen up, Juna and I will meet you in the dining room.” Danny excused the girls linking arms with Juna on the way out of the door and rushing upstairs. Faint giggles could be heard as they made it to the second floor. “Well then let's move this party to the next room shall we?” Calvin smiled at everyone leading them to the door under the second story landing that led to an impressive dining room. 

[anna-justice]

Now or Never - 4

Summary: It’s been 10 years since they were juniors and lot’s has changed, but other things have stayed exactly the same. (Sequel to Lost or Found)

... 4 - Replay ...

Hailey pushed her door shut behind her, throwing her bags on her kitchen counter. She put away all the food she bought, grabbing a pen and a notebook and taking a seat at her bar. Hailey was a planner, she always had been, but it had gotten worse as she had gotten older. So, when she felt like things were out of her control, she sat down and made a list of everything she could. Today, it was meal planning. 

She filled the whole page, listing each meal and all the ingredients that go with it, the cook time and how likely it was to end up as leftovers. Almost all of it were things that Hailey knew Jay loved, things that he hadn’t had in a long time. 

She was grasping, she knew she was, but she was living in an eternal limbo. She was exhausted, she hadn’t slept in days, but she couldn’t dare slow down. She couldn’t dare let everything catch up to her. Hailey was running from years worth of demons coming back for her, and if she took a chance to breathe, she’d have to face them. 

As she looked down at her finished list, she felt tears prickle her eyes. She dropped her head in her hands and pushed the pad and paper aside. She fought the urge to laugh, her boyfriend - the only man that she had ever loved and it seemed like she was ever going to love - was coming home, and she was making a meal plan. 

What else was she supposed to do though? If the last four years had seemed foreign, then she was living on a different planet now. She had no idea what the next few days, weeks, months, had in store for her and she was terrified. 

Her phone caught her eye on the counter, and she felt a small grin grace her face. She picked it up and dialed a familiar number. The line only rang once before they answered, “Hello?” 

“Hey,” Hailey said, sighing out. There was something about her Aunt’s voice that had always calmed her. 

“Hi sweetie, how are you?” 

Hailey took a deep breath, with everything going on, she hadn’t had a chance to tell anyone about Jay’s highly anticipated homecoming. “Really great actually.” She said, finally. A smile gracing her face once again. Jay was coming home, no matter how many times she told herself, it still didn’t feel real. 

It didn’t matter what they ate for dinner or what her apartment looked like, he was coming home to her, finally.

“Good, I’ve been thinking about you.” Her Aunt said.

“I have something to tell you.” Hailey drew out, barely able to contain her joyful laughter. 

“Okay?” 

Hailey squealed - an action reserved for her Aunt - and the words tumbled out of her mouth, “Jay’s unit was recovered, he’s being shipped home on Tuesday, Will and I are going to pick him up-”

“What?” Her Aunt asked, cutting her niece off. 

Tears started to pool in Hailey’s eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time in days, “He’s coming home.” 

“Oh my God,” Trudy said, her voice breaking. “Are you serious?” 

“Yes!” Hailey laughed, the sound followed by Trudy’s own. 

Trudy gasped, “Hailey, that’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you, both of you.” 

“Me too.” She was so happy, she didn’t think it was possible be this happy. There were things that rivaled it: the first time Jay told her he loved her at the dance when they were sixteen, the day he came home from his first deployment, the day they she graduated college, the day of Adam and Kim’s wedding. She had had so many happy moments, but none of them measured up to what she was feeling right now. “I just can’t wait to see him.” 

“Well I’d love to see him, and you too. So give me a call when you two are all settled in and we’ll make a plan.” Trudy and Randall have moved to Hilton Head Island a few years back after they both retired, Hailey saw them a few times a year. Including during the summer when all of them would drive down and stay with them for a week. 

The two woman talked for a while, catching up, making plans, circling back around to the idea of Jay coming home several times. A smile stayed on Hailey’s face the whole time, despite anything going on in her life, Trudy seemed to always know what to say. That never changed. 

Hailey barely had time to set her phone down before it started ringing again. This time it was Kim.  “Hello?” 

“Hailey.” 

Hailey stood from her stool. “Kim, what’s wrong?” 

“Hailey, I need you to come here like right now.” Hailey could hear her panic clearly, she was already grabbing her car keys and her purse. 

“Okay, I’m on my way.” She stalled at the door. “Kim, what is going on?” 

“Hailey...its Erin, she’s back.” 

…

“Why on earth didn’t you all tell me?” Hailey asked, standing in Kim and Adam’s kitchen. “Don’t you think I had a right to know this? Especially with everything going on right now.” She ran her fingers through her hair, leaning against the counter. 

After walking in and finding a crying Kim and a very stressed Adam, they showed Hailey the bathroom, Then spent the next 10 minutes explaining everything they had been keeping from her. 

Kim took a step forward, “We found out right before Will called us, Jay seemed ore important.” 

“Jay is more important! But this puts his life in danger, it puts all of our lives in danger.” Hailey said. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. We’re sorry.” Adam said, glancing between Hailey and his wife. “But more importantly, what are we going to do?” 

Hailey nodded, beginning to pace. “Well, we learned a long time ago that calling the police was a bad idea, but,” she gestured to herself, “I think we are covered in that department. We could call Beth Sanders back, tell her what happened.” 

“Hailey it says not to talk…” Adam says. 

“We aren’t teenagers anymore Adam!” Hailey snaps, she pauses, takes a moment to catch her breath. She wasn’t a yeller or a fighter. “I-I’m sorry, I just. I don’t know, there isn’t a correct answer. Obviously she isn’t out of prison yet, we would know right?”

“Right.” Kim said, nodding.

Hailey pinched her nose, “Then someone must be working for her. Or she’s blackmailing someone like before, like what she did to Kelly.”

“Or she escaped.” Adam said, causing both Hailey and Kim to gape at him. “Think about it, it might not be in the media yet, hell maybe no one even knows.” 

Kim rushed to the front door, making sure it was locked. It didn’t make that much of a different, but it gave her some peace of mind. Her hands were shaking, “Why would she appeal her case just to escape?”

“Maybe she just couldn’t take it anymore? She couldn’t wait for a parole hearing, so she escaped and decided missed her little playthings.” Adam said with disgust. 

Hailey stared at the counter, tracing the granite veins, running every possible idea through her head. “Or she found out about Jay.” She said, her head snapping up. “Think about it. She’s been there for 10 years. She’s earned good behavior or she’s figured out how to sneak things. She could have seen a newspaper or seen the news, decided that a parole hearing would take too long and broke out. She’s always been crazy about him, it’s what started it all in the first place.”

Adam stood there in shock, Kim scoffed, “Hailey I hate to say it, but I think you’re right.” 

“So he’s leaving a war zone and coming home to a new one,” Hailey, dropping her head in her hands on the counter. “Perfect.” 

Kim rounded the counter, placing a hand on Hailey’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay, we’ll get through it. We’ve done it before.” 

Hailey stands up, nodding, looking defeated. “I-how?” She asks, “We barely did the last time.”

“I honestly don’t know, but we will.” Kim looks to Adam for support. 

He just shrugs, “We have too.” 

“Yeah…” Hailey agrees, she squeezed the hand on her shoulder. “I gotta make some calls, can I use the guest room?” She asks. 

“Of course.” Kim says, giving her a quick, but necessary hug.

Hailey makes her way into the guest bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She checks the entire room for bugs, checking behind photos and under pillows, really anywhere they could be. Then, she closes the blinds and dials a familiar number. They answer after just one ring. “Hello?”

“Garrett, hey, I need your help.”

... 

An hour later, Hailey was sitting in her living room while Garrett paced around the room, a pained expression on his face. “So, you’re telling me that in high school, one of your best friends faked her own kidnapping and death, killed a random girl, blackmailed your classmate into breaking into yourself and choking you, locked you in a garage with a running car, shot Adam and then tried to kill you in basement, all because you stole her boyfriend?” He paused, turning to face her. 

“You forgot stalking us and threatening us for 3 months but yeah, pretty much.” She said shrugging. “And actually she did all that because I “stole her friends,” I didn’t steal her boyfriend until after she locked me in a garage.”

Garrett huffed, sitting down next to her. “Details.” He leaned back against the couch, running his hands over his eyes. “Hailey, I’m your partner, why didn’t you tell me any of this before now?” 

“I don’t know,” Hailey said, running the past year through her mind. It wasn’t a light or funny story for when their bored on a stakeout, and wasn’t exactly something she spewed when she was drunk, it just never came up. It was one of those things that you shove down and hope it disappears. “They aren’t exactly fond memories.” 

Garrett picked up his beer off the coffee table, taking a long drink. “Fair enough.” He looked over at his partner, her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail like usual, an old academy sweatshirt covering her. On the surface she looked like the old Hailey, but he could see the pieces of hair falling out and how swollen her eyes were. She wasn’t the normal Hailey. “Hailey, I-I’m sorry you had to go through that, especially that young. No one deserves that,” 

Hailey gave him a soft smile, nodding her head and dropping her gaze to her lap. She knew he meant well, but the look on his face was one of the main reasons that she never told anyone about her past. She was a big girl, she didn’t need anyones pity. “Thanks, that means a lot. But, I’ve come to terms with it all. I thought I had moved on, but, the bitch is back, and I need a plan.” She stood up, grabbing her laptop off the sofa table across the room. “Jay is coming home and Kim and Adam want a baby, and Kev and Vanessa want to get married, and dammit Erin is not going to ruin everything again.”

She sat back down on the couch next to him, and Garret smiled at her, he admired her more than anyone else in the world, even more now. “Then we’ll stop her.” He tried not to think about the way his chest tightened when she said Jay’s name, it wasn’t fair to either of them. She deserved to be happy, he just thought that eventually it would be him to make her just that, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to give up on that. 

“I have no idea how.” She logged in to her computer, completely unaware of the way her partner was looking at her. “First we need to find out if she’s actually still in prison.” Garrett scooted a little closer to her, so he could see the screen. 

Hailey looked frustrated as she typed aggressively, it wasn’t really getting them anywhere. “Hailey,” Garret said, grabbing her attention. “You are the strongest person I have ever met, if anyone can figure this out, it’s you.” He said, watching as her tough guy facade finally fell before him. “I’m lucky that I get to call you my partner.” 

She eyed him, his honestly and heartfelt-ness coming out of left-field. They usually never talked like this. But, she let it go. Chalking the comment up to the many lines they had already crossed during the evening, she was bound to feel a little strange. “Thanks, me too.” 

The rest of the evening was spent deep in thought, developing several different ways things could go wrong and how to fix them. Somehow they ended up sprawled out on her couch, Garrett sound  asleep and Hailey wide awake, eyes darting between him and the floor. She had finally let someone else in, and she had this horrid feeling that it would come back to bit her in the ass. It would come back for both of them. 

…

A/N: Holy crap, it has been SO LONG since I have updated this story. I’m so sorry you all, it’s been an absolutely crazy few months and I am happy to say that I have finally found the inspiration to write again. I’ve decided that I will update this story every Wednesday, so hopefully the accountability will keep me on track. Thank you so so much for reading. Have a great night <3

P.S. like always, comment to be added to the taglist!

@lissethsrojas @puckluck28 @fuckyeahkillianemma @ruzek-halstead @thebigapocalypsewolf @karihighman @anotheronechicagobog @snowwhite013 @tracysupton @angelsjedi @anniesardors @carissalizz @joy-meathiel @alkadri-layal @number2chicagopdfan @stephanie708

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Lost Boy

Sodapop Curtis x Reader

Words: 4305

Summary: 16 years of never belonging and you’ve finally had enough. You move in with your outcast sister in Tulsa and meet a group of boys who finally make you feel like you’re where you’re supposed to be. Inspired by the song Lost Boy by Ruth B.

Notes: Peter Pan is one of my all time favorite stories and I love this song. I thought it could bring a whimsical, yet still angsty feel to a Sodapop imagine so I hope you guys enjoy! 

Warnings: Mentions of abuse

Sodapop and more: HERE

-

There was a time, when I was alone

Nowhere to go and no place to call home

You always wanted to know what it was like to fly. To soar above the clouds, too far away to hear your parent’s screaming. Watching the world zoom by through the car window was the closest you’d ever felt to flying. You were free.

Pulling up to the little shack of a house, your sister, Beth, gave you a small smile.

“It's not much. You’ll be sleeping on the couch until we can clean out the attic.” She rambled. Beth rambled when she was nervous. “We were going to have you stay in the boys’ room, but Michael has a fever so he’s had to stay in bed-”

“Beth,” You gave her the biggest smile you could. You hadn’t smiled like that in a long time. “It’s perfect.” There was a loud racket coming from the house at the end of the block and three rowdy boys came bounding down the street. 

“Hey Mrs. Austin.” One greeted as you both got out of the car. Your sister waved and he grinned. You never knew a boy could have a smile as nice as he had. 

“Steve, my engine is making that sound again.” Beth said to one of the other boys. 

“I’ll look at it as soon as we get back.” He said and the three took off down the street again. The one with the nice smile looked back at you and for a second you thought he might have winked. 

“Who was that?” You asked, turning your attention back to your sister as she helped you unpack. You didn’t have much. Just some clothes and a couple books. 

“The one I was talking to is Steve Randal. He’s been helping me keep this piece of junk rolling.” Beth patted the hood of the car. “The others are two of the Curtis boys. They live with their big brother Darryl down the block.” She pointed to the house the boys had come out of. “Nice kids.”  

You watched them walk for a moment longer before taking your things inside. Your brother in law greeted you with a suffocating hug and one of your nephews wrapped around your leg. 

“John.” Beth laughed, prying him off of you. John was six-years-old and Michael was four. They were two of the sweetest and silliest boys you’d ever met. 

“Look at how big you’ve gotten,” You said, feeling a twinge of guilt. You hadn’t seen the boys since Michaels first birthday. You were lucky if your parents let you write Beth letters. 

Beth was your age when she got pregnant with John. Your parents kicked her out of the house and told her never to come back. Her and Jack got married and moved here, to Tulsa. Two years later, she had Michael. They were happy, which was more than you could say for your parents. But you’d never have to worry about them again. 

After you settled in a little, you decided to find a quiet place in the neighborhood to read. You’d lost count how many times you had read Peter Pan, but you never got tired of it. The idea of a place like Neverland got you through every fight, every tear filled night, and every cigar burn. 

You walked around for a while before you found a nice spot in the big empty lot. There were a couple of logs to lean on and a spot where a fire had been. With winter break coming to its end, the January air made you shiver. You didn’t mind. You were too happy to even notice. 

Just as you opened to the first page, you saw a figure approaching. He was hunched over with his hands shoved in his pockets. He didn’t even notice you until he reached where you were sitting. This must be his usual spot. 

“Hey, who are you?” He spat, though it was hard to be intimidated by his quivering voice. 

“My name is Y/N,” You said calmly, setting your book aside. “I just moved here.”

“Yeah, well you better beat it.” He ducked his head like he was trying to hide his face from you. “There are some real creeps around here at night and you don’t look like no greaser girl.” 

“I’m usually pretty good at handling myself.” You stood, not to scare him, but to show that you weren’t scared. “What’s your name?” 

“What’s it to you?”

“Well, if we’re going to be friends, I’d like to know your name.”

“Who said I wanted to be friends?” 

You sighed and tucked your book under your arm.

“Suit yourself.” You walked past him, bumping his shoulder as you went. 

“Wait.” He squeaked. You turned around. “What… what are you reading?” A little surprised, you lifted up the cover so he could see it.

“It’s my favorite. I’ve read it so many times, but I never get tired of it.” You beamed as he read of the gold lettering on the cover, worn from years of being very well loved. You could see his face now and you held back a gasp. His cheek was red and swollen and his lip was split. He caught you staring and quickly turned away. 

“Like I said, you better get out of here.” He huffed. Without thinking, you put a hand on his shoulder. 

“My dad hit me too.” You didn’t know how you knew, but you did. At first, he seemed angry and jerked his shoulder away. But his face softened and he looked at the ground. 

“My name’s Johnny.”

“Now was that so hard?” You playfully nudged his arm to try and ease the tension. He even smiled a little. 

“Johnny!” Another figure appeared across the lot, barreling towards you like a steam engine. You were worried that it might be his dad, but as he got closer, you saw how young he was. He looked Beth’s age, maybe younger. 

“Hey Darry.” Johnny greeted, his voice still quiet. 

“I thought that was you I saw slinkin 'over here.” the man crossed his arms disapprovingly. “The hell are you doin out here? You’re gonna freeze to death.” Darry saw the signs of violence on the boy’s face and sighed. “Come on home with me and I'll fix you something to eat.”

“Thanks Darry.” Johnny muttered. Darry’s stare landed on you. 

“Haven’t seen you before.”

“I just moved here today.” You meant to sound tougher, but your voice came out as a squeak. Man, he was scary. After giving you a once over and figuring you weren’t trouble, his hard stared turned a little more welcoming. 

“You must be Beth Austin’s kid sister.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“No need for that, now.” He chuckled. “You can call me Darry, same as everybody else. Your sister told me to watch out for you.”

“She did?” You knew Beth was protective, but she didn’t have to alert the neighborhood.

“Probably wants you to stay away from us greasers.” Johnny said and Darry tousled his hair. 

“You can come over for dinner too, if you want.” He offered. You would have declined, but your stomach started growling something awful. Darry motioned for you to follow him. 

“That’s Darry for you.” Johnny whispered with a small smirk. “He’s got a habit of takin’ in strays.” 

-

He came to me with the sweetest smile

Told me he wanted to talk for a while

It was kinda funny how well you fit in at a table full of boys. Darry was still fixing dinner and Johnny was talking to the youngest Curtis, Ponyboy. It only took a little convincing from Johnny for Ponyboy to get comfortable with you being there. 

“Damnit, where is that boy?” Darry exclaimed, throwing down a dish towel. 

“He probably got caught up talking to all those girls that come to see him.” Ponyboy said, sounding a little jealous. 

“Yeah, well if he wants dinner, he better get his butt back here.”

“Who are we waiting or?” You asked Johnny in a low voice. 

“Oh, they’re just goin’ on about Sodapop. He’s the middle one.”

“His name is Sodapop?” You wondered. You didn’t laugh like other girls sometimes did. You were actually curious. 

“Sure is. Our dad liked unique names.” Ponyboy beamed. “And Soda’s as unique as they come.”

“That’s one word for it.” Darry laughed, shaking his head. As if he heard his name, the middle Curtis burst through the front door, an excited grin lighting up his face.

“You shoulda seen her, Darry.” He howled. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“You say that about every girl.” His older brother scoffed. 

“Well this time, I mean it. And she’s just down the street!” Sodapop leaned against the fridge with a dreamy expression. Darry cleared his throat, jerking his head towards the dinner table. Ponyboy and Johnny were ready to burst from laughter. As soon as Sodapop’s eyes landed on you, he nearly fell over, his face turning a very cute shade of pink.

“You must be Sodapop.” You tried your best to hide the nervousness in your voice, not to mention the furious blush lighting up your face. You had never been called pretty before. Maybe he wasn’t talking about you. After all, he only saw you for a second. 

“Yes ma’am.” He straightened himself out and smiled. Lord, that smile. “You-uh-you’re the girl I saw with Mrs. Austin.” 

“What’re you calling her ‘ma’am’ for?” Johnny exclaimed. Ponyboy elbowed him in the side. “Ow! What? She’s just one of us!” You laughed at the two, but kept your eyes on Soda.

“That’s me alright. Beth’s my big sister. I’m gonna live with her now.” You said proudly. 

“Where are your folks?” The youngest boy wondered. 

“Ponyboy,” Darry scolded sharply. He knew that the story probably wasn’t a nice one. In this neighborhood, they never were. You didn’t seem upset by the younger boy’s question. 

“They’re still in Chicago. Be glad you’ll never have to meet them.” You shrugged, your gaze returning to Sodapop. His blue eyes were bright with curiosity. He sat down across from you and Darry put down a plate of sandwiches. 

It was the liveliest dinner you’d ever had. Darry and Ponyboy squabbled back and forth while Johnny scarfed down his sandwich. 

“Whatcha reading?” Sodapop asked, eyeing the book you had set on the table. 

“Oh, um, you’ll probably think it’s silly.” You quickly pulled the book into your lap. His lips fell into a pout. 

“I promise I won’t.” His voice was so sweet that you knew he wasn’t going to make fun of you. You slid the worn down and well loved book across to him. “Peter Pan?” He read. “I remember that Disney movie when we were kids. Never thought about reading the book.”

“That’s cause you don’t read.” Ponyboy snickered. There was a thud and Ponyboy cried out, rubbing his now sore shin. 

“Is it any good?” Soda asked. 

“Oh it’s my favorite.” You beamed. “I guess the idea of flying away to a place where you never have to grow up was a nice thought when I was with my parents and all their yelling.”

You felt the tone of the table change. Ponyboy and Johnny looked at each other, Darry clasped his hands together on the table and Soda gave you a sympathetic smile. The grim shift made you think of home. 

“Alright, enough with the long faces.” You exclaimed, leaning across to playfully shove Ponyboy’s shoulder. “That’s all over now.” You looked at each boy with the brightest smile they’d ever seen. Your gaze landed on Sodapop and his lips returned your grin. “This is Neverland.”

Smiles returned to the boys’ faces and Darry even chuckled. You and Soda just kept looking at each other. 

“You clearly haven’t been in Tulsa long enough.” A new voice sneered. Everybody looked at the boy standing in the doorway. He had a hard stare and a mean look about him, but you didn’t let that scare you. You’d seen meaner. 

“Anywhere is better than where I was before.” You replied calmly. The boy narrowed his eyes and looked you over. 

“Is there something you need, Dally?” Darry asked sternly. 

“Little bird told me there was a new girl in the neighborhood. Didn’t think she’d be slumming with us greasers already.” Dally kept his mean glare on you until Sodapop stood up. 

“Come on, Y/N. Why don’t I walk you home?”

“Soda must think you need protecting.” He smirked. “I think you look like you can handle a guy like me.”

“Cut it out, Dallas.” Darry’s voice was a warning now.

“It’s alright. I should be getting back anyway to help Beth get the boys in bed.” You pushed away from the table, thanking Darry for dinner and saying goodnight to everyone. Lastly, you turned to Dally as you and Soda passed him. “It was nice meeting you, Dallas.”

You could feel his stare burning into the back of your head as you stepped out into the cool night air. 

“Sorry about him.” Sodapop said, shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans as he walked. “Dally’s really not so bad. He’s just acting like that cause he don’t know you yet.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You shrugged. “I knew plenty of boys like that back in Chicago, only I didn’t have a tough guy like Darry or a sweet one like you to stand up to them, so Dallas is right.”

“About what?”

“I can handle guys like him.” You bumped his shoulder with yours and laughed. “I appreciate you walking with me, though. Beth would kill me if she thought I was out here by myself at night.”

“Has she always been protective like that?”

“I guess.” You thought for a moment. “When we were kids, she was always sticking up for me to our old man. She never let him lay a hand on me as long as she was around.” You found a pebble on the sidewalk and nudged it with your toe. “When she got pregnant, she didn't have a choice but leave. I think she just still sees me as that scrawny 10-year-old.” 

You walked together in silence for a moment. You stopped suddenly, looking up at the sky. Stars stared back down at you with their bright faces. You liked to think they were smiling. Soda was a few steps away before he noticed that you had stopped. 

“What’re you looking at?” He asked, walking back to join you. He tilted his head upward, trying to find whatever had caught your attention. 

“The sky’s a lot prettier out here.” You mused. “In Chicago, it’s all lights and smog. But here, you can really see the stars.” That feeling of flying was back, taking you up into the air just like the book. 

“You’re a different kinda girl, you know that?” Sodapop laughed. You spun around with your arms extended. 

“You have to be different to survive, Sodapop Curtis.” When you looked at him, he could have sworn that your eyes twinkled like the stars. 

-

I am a Lost Boy, from Neverland

Usually hanging out with Peter Pan

“They were not nearly so elegant as Peter, they could not help kicking a little, but their heads were bobbing against the ceiling and there is almost nothing so delicious as that.” You read in a clear voice so that all the boys could hear you. It was strangely nice out and the afternoon had turned into a kind of gathering at the park. You were sitting underneath the jungle gym with Johnny and Ponyboy sprawled out across from you. Sodapop and Steve had their knees hooked on the bars to see who could hang upside down the longest. 

“Do you think this counts as flying?” Soda grinned down at you. Even upside down, it was the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. 

“Only until you hit the ground.” Steve swung out his arm to try and knock him down, but Soda was quicker than that and Steve was the one that ended up in the dirt. Everybody laughed and Steve was only angry for a minute. 

“Let her keep going.” Johnny whined. He seemed less skittish than he had last night. Ponyboy waited until Steve wasn’t looking to nod eagerly in agreement. 

“Pony, don’t you have studying to do?” Soda climbed down and gave his brother a pleading look. It didn’t take long for Ponyboy to catch on. He made a face and got up, nudging Johnny to join him. 

“Don’t be too late, Soda else Darry’ll take it out on me.” He grumbled, thanking you for the story before taking off back to the house. Steve also came up with an excuse to ditch, leaving just you and Sodapop, who tried to look surprised.

“Is this how you pick up all your girls? Cornering them in parks?” You scoffed, putting your book back in your bag. Man, his face turned red. 

“I don’t know what- um- I’m not… no.” He stammered, kicking the toe of his boot into the dirt. You laughed. 

“Relax, Soda, I’m just teasin’ you.” You shoved him playfully and slung your bag over your shoulder. The wind picked up a little and you shivered. 

“Don’t you have a coat or something?” Soda asked, watching the goosebumps appear on your arms. You’d picked one of your short sleeve shirts since it was so nice, but now the weather seemed to remember what month it was. “Here.”

Soda wrapped an arm around your shoulders, rubbing your skin to help warm you up. His hands were softer than you thought they’d be with him working at the gas station and all. Being so close brought a pleasant pink color to your cheeks. Before you knew it, you were inching closer and closer until he kissed you. 

His lips were gentle and soft and perfect. You both forgot to breathe for a while, but that didn’t bother you. When you did finally pull away, you both had the biggest grins on your faces. 

“Maybe I should walk you home.” Soda said breathlessly. You nodded and, with a rush of courage you laced your fingers together as you walked. 

By the time you got home, you felt like you were floating. It wasn’t the same as flying. This wasn’t rushed or heart-pounding. It was quieter and sweet. You couldn’t help but give him another kiss goodnight. When he was walking back to his house, he seemed to have a skip in his step. 

You swung the front door open with a wide smile, giggling to yourself like a little kid. But that happy feeling washed away when you saw who Beth was sitting with. 

“Daddy?”

-

Run, run Lost Boy, they say to me

Away from all of reality

You ran until your lungs felt like they’d burst. All you heard were three terrifying words and you got out of there as fast as you could “Takin’ you home.” You were home. That bastard wasn’t taking you anywhere. 

You took the back way to the Curtis house, ducking your way through other people’s back yards so that your father wouldn’t be able to follow you. You were too afraid to go around front, so you found a low window and knocked on the glass. 

“Darry!” You whisper-shouted. “Soda, Pony, is anybody in there? Sodapop?”

The curtains were pulled aside and an irritated looking Darry peaked out at you. He lifted up the window pane all the way so he could lean out and get a better look at you. 

“The hell are you doing here, Y/N?” He asked. “Soda said he just dropped you off at home a few minutes ago.”

“I couldn’t go around front, Darry, he might see me.” You sniffed, wiping your nose on your sleeve. You must have been crying cause your face was all wet. “Could you help me in?”

He nodded and pulled you up by the arms. As you climbed in the window, Ponyboy appeared behind Darry with big eyes. You must have looked worse than you thought from climbing all those fences and cutting through yards. 

“What happened to you?” 

“Pony, go get her a glass of water. And where’s that other kid brother of mine?” Darry shouted before turning back to you. “Jeez, kiddo, you’re shaking like a leaf.”

“Yeah, Darry?” Soda popped his head into the room. His eyes went as wide as Pony’s had when he saw you. “Hey, Y/N, what’s the matter?” Darry grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him forward. 

“Sodapop Patrick Curtis, if you hurt his girl, I’m gonna-”

“It wasn’t Soda.” You blurted. You crossed your arms over your chest and stared down at the floor. “It’s my dad. He’s come to take me back to Chicago.” You jerked your chin up, trying to look tougher than you felt. “But I’m not gonna let him.” 

“I thought they let Beth bring you here.” Darry closed the window and grabbed you a blanket from the bed. It was then that you realized you must have climbed into Darry’s room. There was a pair of work boots on the floor and an old, beat-up football on the shelf. 

“They did.” You glowered. Soda gently wrapped the blanket around your shoulders. “Guess they missed having something to scream at besides each other.”

“Well you can just stay here til he goes away, right Darry?” Soda said, not losing his sunny optimism for a second. Before Darry could respond, a series of loud bangs came from the front door. 

“I know she’s in there you little punks!”

“Oh god, it’s him.” You hid yourself in Soda’s embrace and Darry went to answer the door. 

“Come out now you-” Your father’s shouting stopped abruptly. Darry, though half his age, towered over him. He didn’t look so confident anymore. “Where’s my girl.”

You held Soda tighter. Your old man must have really hurt you because Soda knew you were one tough girl. You stood up to Dallas. 

“You need to leave.” You could just see through to the living room since Darry’s bedroom door was slightly open. Darry was fully blocking your father’s view of the house.

“I’m not leaving without that little brat.” He snarled, his cockiness returning. “An’ if you don’t bring her out here, I’ll call the cops. That wouldn’t end too well for you, would it son?”

“I said leave.” Darry growled again, his muscles tensing. You knew what could happen if the cops came. So you broke away from Soda.  

“I’m right here, so you can leave these boys alone.” You snapped, stepping out before Darry or Soda could grab you. 

“Thought you could run around with these bums and I wouldn’t come for you?”

“How did you even know where to find me?”

“Those brats of Beth’s started hollarin’ as soon as I raised a hand at her.” He smiled cruelly. 

If you hadn’t been standing there, Darry would have slugged him. You just wanted to get this over with. 

“Are we going or not?” You frowned, defeated. 

“Y/N, you can’t go with him!” Soda cried, trying to reach for you, but you jerked away. Tears pricked at your eyes again. 

“I have to, Sodapop.” 

“I don’t think so.” A new, hard voice joined the scene. You looked over your dad’s shoulder and saw the rest of the boys circling the house; Two-Big, Steve, Johnny, Ponyboy, and Dallas. Dally was the one talking. “You know something, fellas? I don’t like old me. And I really don’t like old, stinkin’ drunk men hanging around my neighborhood. Especially one that yells in my buddy’s face.”

“I ain’t afraid of a bunch of rats from Oklahoma.” Your father spat, but you could tell he was a little shaken. Dally pulled out a blade. 

“How about a New York rat?” He hissed, getting real close to his face. Your dad’s eyes went wide, shifting from the blade to the circle of tough looking boys around him. Then he looked at you. 

“You ain’t worth the trouble.” He decided, carefully moving around Dally and walking into the night.

The whole group gathered around, hollering and cheering over their success. Soda pulled you into a tight hug and kissed you right there in front of everybody. One of them, probably Two-Bit, whistled. 

“Ponyboy, where the hell have you been?” Darry asked, ruffling his youngest brother’s hair. Pony just shrugged. 

“I saw that mean old guy standing out here, so I ran and got Johnny and then we got everybody else.”

You pulled away from Soda and glanced around at the other boys. 

“You all came here… for me?” You gasped, a different kind of tears now welling in your eyes. 

“As soon as I heard Soda’s girl was in trouble, I got the hell over here.” Two-Bit said and Steve nodded in agreement. You felt your heart swell. Soda’s girl. 

You looked at Dally. Without him, it might not have worked. He just shrugged coolly and lit a cigarette. 

“I had nothin’ better to do.” But you could tell that, underneath, it was more than that. Johnny gave you a small smile. 

“You’re one of us now.” 

“And we stick together.” Ponyboy added. And they were right. 

“Alright, I’d better call Beth and tell her everything is gonna be fine.” Darry announced. “You all get in here. I’m sure we’ve got more chocolate cake somewhere.” This was followed by more cheers and stampeding feet as the gang rushed inside. 

Sodapop gave you the biggest, bright smile yet, taking your hand and following the boys to the kitchen. 

Neverland is home, to Lost Boys like me

And Lost Boys like me are free.

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

[engie-ivy]

Receiving a love confession from Sirius Black is probably the dream of almost every student at Hogwarts. Remus just whishes Sirius would move on, but you should be careful what you wish for...

Don't worry, it's a short, fluffy Wolfstar get-together. Lily knows about Remus’ Furry Little Problem in this.

How do you feel about Sirius Black?

“I swear to Merlin, if Gina Simmons looks at me like that one more time, I’m gonna give her something to be mad about,” Lily grumbles, her eyes flaming with anger.

Gina Simmons, who had been glaring in their direction, quickly turns her head as Remus looks over his shoulder. She whispers something to Beth Walker and Davey Martens, who both glare at Lily and Remus as well.

Remus sighs. “Is it always like this?”

Lily’s expression softens. “It gets less,” she says. “But there’s this persistent group that just can’t get over it. This morning, I heard Rosemary Rowle call me ‘an entitled bitch who thinks she’s too good for James Potter’. Rosemary Rowle! The girl who can’t finish a sentence without mentioning her ‘daddy, who has such an important job at the Ministry’ calling me entitled!” The angry expression is back and she clenches her quill so hard Remus worries she’s gonna break the thing.

Remus frowns. “I overheard Randall Thorne ask Jules Flemming whether he reckoned I thought I could do better, and during Potions Kirsten Pembroke threw a vial of Armadillo bile over me!”

Lily winces. “I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you to stay away from Kirsten Pembroke if she has throwable substances within reach.”

“I just don’t understand what their problem is,” Remus mutters.

Lily smiles ruefully. “You’re now officially part of the club of people who have committed the atrocious crime of rejecting the school’s most popular and beloved students, Potter and Black. With you joining, our member count is now a total of two.”

“But that’s the thing! I rejected him,” Remus says. “Nothing’s changed. They can go on writing Mrs or Mr Black on their notebooks for all I care.”

“Oh Remus,” Lily sighs wistfully. “To be so naive. I’ve rejected Potter about fifteen times now, and they still won’t forgive me for him apparently choosing me over them. Of course, in my case it doesn’t help that Potter still refers to himself as the future Mr Evans,” Lily adds with a grimace.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Remus says, shaking his head. “They should be thankful I don’t return his feelings!”

“Well, first of all, you saying no to Black doesn’t chance the fact that he’s head over heels in love with you. Not immediately, at least. So he’s still just as unavailable to them. And more importantly, in their eyes you were given the greatest gift that can be bestowed upon a man or woman: a full-blown love confession by Sirius Black.” Lily rolls her eyes while speaking. “And the fact that you didn’t even appreciate it, just makes it worse.”

“I never asked for-”

“I know, Remus, I know. I’m just explaining how they see it. You and I are the horrible people who had the audacity to break their heartthrobs Potter and Black’s hearts.”

Remus groans. “I whish Sirius would see how ridiculous it is for him to be in love with someone like me.”

“Remus,” Lily says in a dangerous tone.

Remus ignores her. “I whish he’d just move on. I whish he’d date someone else, so they’ll have no reason to pester me anymore!”

Remus is writing his essay. Frantically. Or rather, furiously. Pressing hard on his quill while scribbling in angry, fast strokes, a pile of broken quills already forming next to his parchment.

“Did that essay murder your family?” Lily asks, as she sits down in front of Remus. “I honestly thought you’d be in a good mood.”

Remus looks up at her, a sulky expression on his face. “So you’ve heard?”

“Heard?” Lily asks. “I’ve orchestrated the whole thing!”

Remus gives her a confused look, so Lily elaborates.

“After our last conversation, I went up to Black and I just told him ‘oi, the whole school knows about your unrequited love for Remus, and some twats are giving him a really hard time about it, so if you could just take someone on a date to Hogsmeade this Saturday so they’ll stop pestering Remus, that’ll be great’. And he agreed!”

Remus just blinks at her.

Lily frowns. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Yes!” Remus says a little too quickly. “I just... don’t get why he’d ask Alyssa MacMillan. She’s rather dull, don’t you think?”

Lily shrugs. “She’s nice enough, but more importantly, she thinks Black is fit and would love to go out with him, but she’s got no real feelings for him and isn’t looking for a relationship, so she won’t mind just drawing people’s attention away from you, or draw his attention away from you, for that matter.”

“Right,” Remus says. “Guess I just didn’t think she’s his type, is all.”

“Who knows,” Lily smiles mischievously. “It could become some kind of Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers scenario, and they might fall in love for real! Then your problem is solved for good.”

Remus looks at her like she just told him puppies have gone extinct.

“Merlin, Remus. What is it? Is this some kind of ‘I don’t want him, but I don’t want anybody else to have him either’ thing? Because that’s really shitty!”

“No,” Remus says defensively. “No, that’s not it. I just think Sirius can do better than Alyssa MacMillan, but if that’s what he likes, than good for him.”

“Oh, for Godric’s sake, you’re jealous!”

“No, I’m not! Or at least, I don’t think I am. Am I?”

Lily folds her arms over her chest and stares at Remus intently. “Remus Lupin, do you have feelings for Sirius Black?”

“I... I don’t know,” Remus looks quite miserable. “I mean, I’ve never thought about it.”

“Never thought about it?” Lily exclaims. “How do you mean, never thought about it? Do you remember that evening when Black took you out on a moonlit walk by the Great Lake, and poured his heart out to you, saying how he’s been crazy in love with you since the beginning of fifth year, and asked if you wanted to go on a date with him, to which you answered no? That would’ve been the moment to think about it!”

“It’s just...” Remus anxiously runs a hand through his hair. “With my condition, romantic relationships simply are not an option. I always saw romance as one part of being a teenager I didn’t have to concern myself with. I guess I just started to automatically ignore all thoughts and feelings related to romantic relationships. When Sirius made that confession, I was shocked, and the only thing I could think was ‘no, he can’t, he shouldn’t. I don’t do romance. I have to put an end to this immediately’. I never considered my own feelings. I mean, why would I?”

“Well, that’s a load of crap,” Lily scolds.

Remus opens his mouth to protest, but Lily cuts off whatever he was going to say.

“Not that you thought all of that, I believe you did, but that you can’t have romantic relationships with your condition is nonsense.”

“It’s never been done,” Remus argues.

“If no one ever did anything that’s never been done, we’d still be living in caves,” Lily firmly replies.

Remus fiddles with the hem of his sweater. “You really think it’s possible?”

“I don’t think it’s possible, I know it’s possible. So now we have established that, how do you feel about Sirius Black?”

“I’ve never thought-”

“Well, think about it now!”

“I don’t know,” Remus says, staring at the table. “Of course I think he’s attractive, but that doesn’t mean anything except that I have eyes. I mean, who doesn’t think he’s attractive? With that hair and those eyes... And I have even more reason, sharing a dorm with him. I see him when he comes out of the shower wearing just a towel, sweet mother of Merlin...”

Lily waits patiently for Remus to finish daydreaming.

Remus shakes himself out of his daze. “And of course I like him as a person. I wouldn’t have been friends with him all these years if I didn’t like him as a person. And what’s not to like? He’s clever, funny and brave, but he also has this really sweet side, you know? A side he doesn’t show much, and I guess it makes me feel special that he does show it around me. He always makes me feel special. It’s kind of weird, actually. He makes me feel special, but at the same time he makes me feel like I can just be myself, and that’s enough. I feel comfortable around him, and I suppose I do prefer his company above anyone else’s. Even on those moments when I normally don’t want to see anyone, he’s the only one I prefer being with over being alone. And when he’s not around I often find myself thinking about him. Now that I think about, I think about him almost all the time...”

Remus trails of and looks at Lily with wide eyes. Lily just nods.

“Oh Merlin,” Remus groans, hiding his face in his hands.

“Remus, Remus, Remus,” Lily sighs. “You’re so lucky to have me as a friend. Here’s what you’re going to do...”

“Padfoot?”

Sirius whirls around, and grins at Remus. Remus can tell he’s trying to act like everything’s normal between them, but he can also tell that his grin is somewhat forced and there’s a hint of pain in his eyes.

“Wotcher, Moony.”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Remus says.

The grin fades from Sirius’ face, and he runs a hand through his hair. “Ah, yeah, Evans told me about those people that’ve been bothering you. I’m really sorry, Moony. If I had known...”

“It’s not your fault,” Remus says.

“I know you feel uncomfortable about my feelings for you.” There’s a sadness in Sirius’ voice. “I won’t mention it again. I never meant to make you uncomfortable. If I could change it, I would, but being in love with you has become such a big part of me, and it’s not something I can just stop. Turns out, you’re a very hard person to not be in love with.”

“I don’t want you to not be in love with me!” Remus says.

Sirius frowns. “You like having me hopelessly pine after you that much?” He looks slightly hurt.

“No,” Remus says quickly. “No, I just think I might have been... too hasty in rejecting you?”

“Moony,” Sirius sighs. “You have every right to reject me. You don’t have to try and force yourself into feeling something you don’t, just because you pity me, or some stupid twats think they can judge you.”

“I rejected you because I didn’t think you should be with...” Remus gestures vaguely at himself. “Well, with someone like me. It only occurred to me recently, very recently, that I never even considered whether I have feelings for you.”

“And do you...”

“I do.”

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed.”

Sirius lets out a nervous chuckle. “So do you want to-”

“No!”

Sirius blinks in confusion. Remus quickly tries to clarify.

“I mean, no, you already asked me last time, this time I want to ask you.”

Sirius mutters something under his breath about a bloody emotional roller-coaster. Remus continues.

“I already talked to Alyssa MacMillan, and she told me to ‘go get my man’, so since you’re now free this Saturday, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me, as in a date?”

Sirius’ face lights up in a smile so beautiful it makes Remus a little dizzy. “I’d absolutely love to!”

[kim-ruzek]

Messy, chaotic perfection

Summary: Family isn't just who is blood, but who is in your corner, who makes you feel loved and cared for, who is safe and who is home.

Season 8 au, goes off if Kim never miscarried, Burzek are together, and season eight still went somewhat how it did.

Warnings: mentions of canon events (shooting, foster situations).

Word Count: 3.5k

Read on AO3

Notes: This is a Feel Better fic for the amazing, incredible and so, so strong and brave Cíara (@fighterkimburgess ). Cíara I love you, you deserve the world, and you deserve to know that I (and all of us in this fandom) have your back and wish you all the best in your life ♥️

Life can be unpredictable, events that you never expect to happen can occur and feel like that was always meant to happen all along. This is a lesson Kim has learnt over and over throughout her life, but one she’s only finally beginning to fully understand it, that it’s always going to happen in ways you don’t expect.

Like today.

Today, when she woke up, Kim thought she’d have a tiring day at work with all the racists that Kevin, and by extension them since Kevin is their family, is having to deal with but that it would be relatively drama free and she and her boyfriend—which is a word, that no matter how juvenile it sounds, makes her feel all giggly inside at—would come home and have a nice relaxing evening with their daughter.

She didn’t expect Patrol to not show up when they called and she definitely did not expect Adam to get shot. But that is life, as Kim has kept learning recently.

“Careful, let me grab the door.” Kim quickly darts in front of a very impatient and unfussed Adam, moving so she can unlock and open their front door before he can. Adam sighs.

“Kim, I’m not an invalid.” He grumbles and she flashes him a glare before she opens up the door.

“Adam, you were shot.” She holds up her hand. “And no I don’t care if it’s was in the vest. You were shot and you were lying there and I thought you were dead. And now you’ve got a bruise on your chest and Will said that you have to take it easy—it could affect your lungs if you overwork yourself.”

Kim already knows that she’s probably going to spend the next few weeks seeing Adam lying there on the grass whenever she shuts her eyes. Just like she knows that Adam gets why she’s being so fussy, even if he’s being his typical bad patient self.

“I can still open doors. You know I like opening our door for you,” At that, Kim turns away from the door, facing Adam. She closes what little distance they had between them, resting her hands gently on his chest.

“I know, but you’re injured. Let me look after you. And—we’ve only just found our way back together again, I don’t want to loose you, and I don’t want our daughter to loose you.” Adam’s eyes soften and he gently kisses her forehead.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m just stubborn.”

If this had happened years ago, this probably would’ve ended up making an even bigger dent in their relationship, and god knows if they’d be able to communicate—and truly understand each other back then. But they’re not those young people now, they’ve grown and learnt so much, and are completely dedicated to making this work.

Especially because they’re parents.

“Hey, Ally!” Adam is immediately greeting their six month old as soon as they enter the flat, Kim not far behind, the two parents cooing over her instantly.

“Can you hold her?” Trudy gives Adam a wary eye, holding the child she, without hesitation, claimed as her granddaughter. Normally they’d have their nanny here, taking care of Ally, but given that Adam was shot and had to be looked over, Trudy had relieved their nanny instead, just in case they arrived home later than usual.

“You’re as bad as Kim, of course I can,” Adam grumbles again, mostly with good humour. Still, Trudy glances at Kim just to double check, who nods and then Trudy is helping to pass the girl to her father. Usually, Adam would scoop the girl out of her arms with ease, but—showing that he is taking Will seriously, or at least their daughter’s safety seriously—he had hesitated, waited for Trudy to help.

“You should sit down, I’ll get dinner on.” Kim tells him. She then looks at Trudy. “Are you staying or going home? You’re welcome, of course.”

“I’ll leave the three of you be. Randall has his shift in the morning.” Trudy kisses her granddaughter good-bye—leaning down to do so, Ally babbling in Adam’s arms on the sofa—and then it’s just the three of them.

If you had told her a year and a half ago that this would be her life, Kim would struggle to belief you. Adam and her felt like history, something that never had the timing it deserved and that they’d only be relegated to friends with benefits.

And being a Mom? That was so far out from the cards Kim was dealt, she didn’t think it would happen for quite a few years, and even then, it felt like a impossible and distant thought.

But she has both. A relationship with Adam that is strong and decent and a proper, communicating relationship and the beautiful daughter who made it possible.

At first, Adam and her were determined to be co parents only. More her than him, if she was honest, but he understood her side.

But then Kim hit her second trimester and with it her renewed sex drive and inability to keep her hands off him and platonic co parents got more and more unbelievable—especially as they moved in together.

The reasons why they decided to just be platonic still hung over their head, however, and so they had to have a serious conversation—several, in fact—about their relationship and what it would look like and be like. They both knew that with a child in the mix, they had to be committed and determined because their baby would be impacted.

Kim did have worries about it, about if they could keep communicating and not fall back on old habits, but by the time Ally came along, their relationship had only grown stronger. The new-born stage is a tough time for parents, and they had their moments, but that only brought them even more closer and Kim now no longer has any of those worries.

Domestic bliss is something she’s always wanted to have, alongside a fulfilling job, and there’s days Kim can’t quite believe that she’s found it.

Her life isn’t perfect, no life is. And there’s tensions at work, and with their best friend going through some horrific stuff, life doesn’t feel easy. But they have each other, and they have Ally, and Kim keeps feeling like she’s reached as close to perfection as she could have.

When she was younger, Kim imagined that having perfection would be calm, would be peaceful. And maybe for others it is, but it’s not for her. There’s always some madness in her life; she’s a cop, after all. And she’s learned to appreciate the short peaceful moments that she gets. But sometimes, sometimes life is just quiet.

It had been a few weeks of quiet that Kim had realised her life hadn’t had any madness in it. Her and Adam were just going about their routine, day in, day out, watching as Ally continued to grow and marvel them and she realised that.

And then she knew instantly that the madness was coming.

It came the next day.

Adam and her had just picked up their morning coffee from a coffee shop. It had been a while since they could, usually having to make do with the district coffee—having a baby means time is precious and money is dear—but they did this morning, the two of them in a good mood and having a ridiculous conversation about boats.

And then there was a lost six year old girl walking through the road.

Everything got a lot more busy after that, as they tracked down her family and worked out what had happened.

Being a Mom has definitely changed Kim, and she had to go into a corner—Adam joining her, wrapping his arms around her—and have a little cry in the locker room. All she could think about her daughter, her Ally, loosing her family like that and it activated the still distantly present hormones leftover from her pregnancy.

And it made her more determined to help the little girl, Makayla, especially when the girl had apparently bonded to her. Kim was told that she was the best person to talk to her, and even though she’s a mother, she had doubted her abilities. There’s a difference between her baby who’s just learning to talk and move about to a traumatized six year old but the doubts were misplaced, Kim managing to get that connection.

Makayla had wanted her to come to the safe house with her, which Kim did. Luckily Adam was by Trudy’s desk and he gave her nod, telling her that Ally and him will be okay. Still, Kim was glad that she’s already had a night away from her daughter so that she could go with Makayla, so that she didn’t have to let down this vulnerable girl who needed her just as much.

The safe house had turned out to not be so safe, and Kim’s mama bear instincts—as Adam has affectionately coined—kicked in and she instantly said she’ll be taking Makayla home, no questions.

Of course, she had glanced at Adam, silently checking with him. Adam had nodded again.

“Ally’s already with her grandparents so yes, Makayla will be staying with us.” Adam had immediately supported her, his voice just as firm and decided. Kim had already worked out Ally was with Trudy and Mouch, as he was there and they are their emergency babysitters but she felt so lucky to have a partner who was willing to not have the night with his daughter for what she wants.

Seeing Adam interact with Makayla that night had made Kim’s insides twist, and she wonders if they might end up accidentally conceiving a second baby soon with how his paternalism stirred feelings inside her.

It left her feeling sadder than Kim would’ve thought to say goodbye to Makayla after everything was sorted, an emptiness in her heart. The girl had made an impact on her and it felt wrong to end the story there.

That night, Kim had hugged Ally close to her, Adam arm wrapped around her as he cuddled up to them.

“I think I want another,” Kim had said, and Adam choked. She had laughed, then, careful not to wake the sleeping baby on her chest.

“Not now or anytime soon. One baby is enough at one time. But in the future. This—us—being a family, it feels right and as perfect as our family is, I want it to be bigger.” She had explained. She’d have been nervous, but this is Adam, possibly the only person she knows whole heartedly that she can be herself, no judgement.

“Darlin’, nothing would make me happier.” He had kissed her temple firmly then, lacing their hands together and Kim got that feeling of perfect domestic bliss again.

“I’d say let’s have another right now but, yeah, one baby is enough. Although we could practice?” He then joked and Kim rolled her eyes at him.

It isn’t that long after that they’re at social services and Kim spots that precious six year old who, if Kim is honest with herself, hadn’t left her thoughts since, every few days Kim wondering if she’s okay, if she’s settling and adjusting and if the cousin Cathy would need to call her.

“Kim!” Makayla immediately runs to her, hugging her and Kim’s heart twists and constricts, warming at the gesture but breaking that she’s here.

They’re in the middle of a turbulent case, a case that plagues Kim, but her mind is still spilt, focused on worrying about Makayla.

“Where were you?” Adam asks her when she gets back from Cathy’s. Kim knows that she should’ve told him before, that going off alone like this when in a relationship and a parent isn’t how she should be behaving but as the couple’s therapist they went to say said, sometimes Kim can have tunnel vision. It’s something she’s working on, but sometimes she reverts back, like when a six year old needs her.

“I went to see Makayla’s Cathy.” Kim then tells him, and she tells him all about it.

“What if I take her in?” The words fall out Kim’s mouth before she can really process them. It’s nothing she should say, not just for the reasons Makayla’s social worker lists. But because Kim isn’t an I anymore. She’s in a relationship and she’s a mother. This isn’t just her life, but she can’t get Makayla—or the bond they have—out of her head.

After the conversation with her social worker, Kim sees Kevin. She wonders if she should ask him about this, about his siblings and that decision, knowing that he’ll have value to add to the conversation, especially as a black man. But she stops herself, knowing that she’s getting that tunnel vision again, that she needs to discuss this with Adam before she spirals too fast.

“I want to foster Makayla.” It isn’t the most tactful conversation, or the best place for it. But Kim’s mind is in overdrive and all she can think about is how she could feel at six, feeling like only Nicole loved her, and about that precious girl, and her own daughter.

“Us. I want us to foster Makayla.” Kim quickly amends, because they’re a team. Everything they do, they do together. They’re entwined and interlinked and the only way to make the relationship successful is by accepting and respecting that.

It’s a long conversation. It’s really not the time or place but that’s something that just doesn’t matter as much as talking. Kim tells Adam all about why she does, and he talks about how he feels. That he gets it, that he would want to give her a home just as much but has she thought this through.

They work out if they want it to only be temporary, how they’ll do it with Ally, if they’re ready and if they’re only doing this because they’re adapting to being parents, parents who often felt unloved as a child.

And they grab Kevin, adding him to the discussion, getting his two cents.

And then they come to a decision—that they should take Makayla home and they’re jumping into action. Kim calling the social worker, Adam arranging for Ally to be at her grandparents for the night as they get Makayla settled.

Everything picks up after that, quiet days rarely a thing even more than before.

They get Makayla into school, sets up their home so it feels more like hers, they get her into therapy and family therapy. They introduce her to Kevin, knowing he will have to play an important role in their foster daughter’s life.

Makayla adores Ally from the first time they meet, treating her with such care and love and Ally immediately bonds to her. It fills Kim with such joy and affection, and makes her heart feel so, so soft.

Kim was worried that them having Ally already would make Makayla feel like an add on, but it has the opposite affect, making her feel more like part of the family—two weeks in, Makayla tells Kim that she always wanted a little sister, and Kim’s happy that she may not have been able to save Makayla’s family, but at least she could do something.

It’s not smooth sailing. It’s tough and it’s work. Nights were hell, Makayla waking up screaming and rousing Ally, but it gets better, especially after they get Makayla trouble dolls. It’s an adjustment, for sure, but it’s fulfilling.

For Adam too, who’s taken to calling Makayla his lil darlin’ and all three of them his girls. Kim already knew he is a great dad, but seeing him dress up and play with Makayla, and being so calm and loving through her trauma just reaffirms that over and over, making Kim feel so happy that she gave them another chance.

Makayla is family long before the adoption going through.

Mack is one of the first words Ally says, reaching for her sister as she did so. Kim—and Adam, as they discussed it later—will never forget the utterly joyful grin that had spread across Makayla’s face at that.

“Ally said my name!” Makayla had exclaimed to them happily, and proceeded to tell everyone she saw over the next week, her excitement and joy never waning.

Trudy and Mouch immediately accept Makayla as another grandchild and the rest of the family treats Makayla like she belongs. Kim never had any doubts, but it warmed her heart to see how much Makayla clearly loved and was taken by it—and how it made her feel so much more settled, knowing she’s gained so much family even after loosing so much.

Sylvie takes it upon herself to be her honorary godmother and Makayla quickly learns that Sylvie is one of the best to play princesses with. Stella comes with Sylvie one day and Makayla is immediately enamoured by her, and soon Stella decides Makayla needs two godmothers.

The Atwaters are an essential part of their family, as they help Makayla keep that connection to her black culture, helping to make sure her identity doesn’t get lost and that she doesn’t feel like she has to pick sides between her old and new life.

Makayla and Uncle Kev have a day every month, just them, doing whatever they want. It’s not even about doing anything relating to their shared skin tone, but just a routine to establish that Kevin is there for her.

Jordan takes to Makayla quickly, as well, finding her cute and endearing. He tells them that she reminds him of Vinessa at that age, and quickly starts calling her his little cousin—another thing that Kim knows helps makes her feel like part of the family.

Makayla loves her ‘big cousin', Jordan often teaching her age appropriate jokes and helping her play harmless pranks. He also teaches her some dance moves, and laughs with her when she tries to teach Adam them, who fails spectacularly.

Jordan loves Ally as well, having seen Kim as part of his family for years but Kim knows that they’ll never have the bond that Jordan and Makayla have, and it’s something that makes her feel warm and fuzzy inside—that Makayla with have things that’s just hers, that she won’t ever feel like she’s in her little sister’s shadow. It’s important, Kim thinks, and she’s glad of it. Makayla is no less her daughter than Ally and deserves to never feel like she is.

Makayla is family before she is legally, before she’s adopted into a family who barely has any blood in common anyway. But the day the adoption goes through is a joyous day for all of them.

“I love you.” Makayla has said it to them before, and more to Ally. But that day she says it and it’s louder than a shy whisper but firm and sure and Kim can’t help getting teary eyed as they hug her, assuring their daughter that they love her too, so much.

“Thank you for wanting to be my mom and dad.” Makayla says that night, so earnestly and Kim tears up again, Adam too. And nothing has ever felt so right. Kim knows she’ll never replace her mom, and she doesn’t want to, and she knows that Makayla might not ever call them mom and dad but they are and Makayla sees them as that and it feels so right.

“We’ve got two daughters.” Kim giggles against Adam’s chest that night, when everyone is asleep.

“That we do. And we got to skip the baby stage so we could get our two daughters straight away,” Adam replies, referencing their conversation from the night Makayla went home with Cathy. Kim laughs again, cuddling against her fiancé—as of a week ago.

Life is unpredictable. It’s messy and chaotic and full of madness, and Kim’s learnt and accepted that. And life is wonderful and amazing, and not despite of that, but because of that.

Two years ago, Kim would not see herself like this. In bed with Adam, her fiancé, their two daughters sleeping and feeling like she’s got the most perfect life. And it’s all because life is unpredictable.

Kim used to think that perfect meant calmness. And then she thought that can’t be her life, because she’s choose a mad and crazy life, a life not designed to be calm. But as she lies in bed that night, Adam cuddling her, Kim knows that’s wrong.

Life does mean calmness, but not because her life is quiet and calm, but because it’s messy and chaotic. It’s messy and chaotic and it’s hers. She has all what she ever wanted, fulfilled in all areas, and it doesn’t matter if it’s unpredictable because that’s the beauty of it.

There’s such a peace and calmness inside of her, an ease that has been brought on only by the messy, imperfection and unplanned events of her life—and that’s what makes everything feel perfect; perfect within the chaos.