#Resistance Conversion Kit

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Star Wars: X-Wing (2nd Ed.) - Resistance Conversion Kit - Heroic by Mike Nash

[uhhhj13iguess]

peter parker x reader: roommates to lovers headcanons

tom!peter parker and fem!reader living together post high school (i really only used fem language in the last hc, the rest can be read however!)

masterlist

you and peter moving into an apartment together during college at mit and becoming a thousand times closer than you were before, if that's even possible

your apartment would constantly be scattered with notes and textbooks from your late night study sessions, the air often filled with laughter at 3am when you're both nearly delusional from the lack of sleep

peter would be in and out at odd hours for his nightly patrols, and you always keep the window in the living room unlocked for him so he didn't wake you up pounding on the window to be let in at the ass crack of dawn (not that you found out from experience or anything...)

while he would try not to wake you, you'd grown to be a light sleeper, knowing most nights he would need help patching himself up. he would beg you to go back to bed, but you wouldn't have it, grabbing the sewing kit and helping him clean up

as shy as he is, I think we forget all too often how SASSY this man is, and he would get comfortable enough with you to snap back

"peter, holy shit you're bleeding!" "oh, is that what the red stuff is? really?"

peter isn't the cleanest roommate, but you never seem to mind picking up after him, knowing he's quite literally too focused on saving the lives of others. it also gave you an excuse to steal a sweatshirt now and then while picking up

speaking of, the first time peter came home from patrol and found you asleep on the couch in his sweatshirt, he nearly combusted

that night changed a lot of things in peter, seeing you in his clothes bringing his childhood crush on you out at an insane rate he just couldn't seem to bury anymore

peter can't cook to save his life, having had aunt may to take care of him up until moving in with you. you, on the other hand, loved to cook, especially for him. he would come home from class to find the apartment filled with the most heavenly scents, and all his stress would just disappear

the two of you would have routine movie nights, decking the living room out with a homemade fort and every single pillow/blanket you two owned. more often than not, you let peter pick what to watch, not able to resist the look of pure joy on his face as he queued up yet another star wars movie

these movie nights led to feelings beginning to fester in you as well, as halfway through, peter would be dead asleep and curled up into your side. sometimes he would fall asleep with his head in your lap as you played with his soft curls, and you couldn't imagine being anywhere else. you knew how hard he worked for everyone all the time, and being able to see his face in such a state of peace made your heart flutter (especially whenever he groaned at your touch in his sleep)

after about six months of living together, the vibes are genuinely unreadable. the lines between friends and more are wildly blurry, but neither of you would know how to say something, too happy in the bliss you were creating to mess it up by admitting your feelings (because what if they aren't reciprated? both dumbasses asked themselves while wrapped in each others arms on the couch)

tony, who comes to the apartment one day looking for peter, only to then see you walk into the room mid-conversation and establish the entire relationship for you

"oh, is this the girlfriend, kid?" "oh she's not, i mean we're not, i don't like, she's just my... roommate--" "I'm just your roommate?" "no! i mean, of course not, i just, we haven't, i mean i didn't-" "seems like this is a conversation i don't want to be here for. give me a ring after you're done with the misses, mkay?"

[andy-15-07]

Hiii! Would you write a hurt! Kraven x reader fic like... he comes home seriously injured after a hunt and she patches him up?

Injuries and Care

pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x female!reader

word count:2549 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Aaron Taylor Johnson Masterlist

The day had been long and treacherous—one of those days when every instinct screamed danger, yet Sergei could not resist the call of the hunt. You’d spent the morning preparing a quiet afternoon together, unaware that the man you loved would soon return battered and bruised, both in body and spirit. When the sharp rap of the door startled you, your heart pounded with anxious anticipation. As you opened it, there he stood: Sergei Kravinoff, his dark eyes shadowed by pain, his usually immaculate attire splattered with blood and sweat. He leaned heavily against the frame, struggling to smile through clenched teeth.

“Sergei… what happened?” you managed, rushing to his side as concern immediately overwhelmed you.

His voice was low and gravelly. “I… I encountered more than I bargained for out in the wild today. There was a beast—a wild, furious creature that caught me off guard. I fought it, but… it overpowered me.” He hesitated, wincing as he tried to shift his weight. “I needed to bring it down, to prove my worth… for the thrill of the hunt… for you.”

You gently guided him inside, supporting him as he sank onto the old sofa near the entryway. “You scared me, Sergei. Your life is far too precious for any hunt. Come on, let me take care of you.” With trembling hands and a voice full of compassion, you helped him remove his jacket to reveal deep gashes along his arms and torso. His skin, marred by cuts and bruises, told the story of a battle he’d fought with every ounce of strength. One particularly jagged wound on his side seeped steadily, the dark red contrasting with his pale, sweat-slicked skin.

“Stay with me,” you murmured, retrieving the first aid kit from the shelf. “I’m not letting you face this pain alone.”

Sergei managed a wry smile despite his agony. “I’ve always prided myself on being self-sufficient… But sometimes, even the strongest warrior needs a refuge. Thank you, my love.”

You set to work, carefully cleaning each wound. As you dabbed antiseptic on his skin, he winced and murmured, “It hurts… but your touch—it makes it bearable.”

“Shh,” you soothed, wrapping a soft bandage around his arm. “I need you to stay still, Sergei. Every mark tells a story, but I’d rather see you healed than hunted down.”

He sighed, his eyes meeting yours with vulnerability rarely seen in the fierce hunter you adored. “I always believed that strength was measured by the scars you earned. Yet here I am, scarred in more ways than one.”

You paused, looking deep into his eyes. “Strength isn’t only about bearing scars—it’s about knowing when to lean on someone. Let me be your strength, Sergei. Let me help mend not just these wounds, but the parts of you that bleed unseen.”

He squeezed your hand, the grip both desperate and tender. “You have no idea how much I need you right now. I’ve spent my life chasing danger… and in the process, I forgot what it meant to feel safe.”

As you continued your careful ministrations, the room filled with soft conversation. The hum of the old house settling provided a backdrop to the honesty that flowed between you both.

“Tell me,” you asked gently as you bandaged his shoulder, “what went through your mind during the fight?”

Sergei closed his eyes for a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was so focused on the thrill—the raw, undeniable call of the chase—that I lost sight of everything else. And then, in a single moment, reality hit me: I wasn’t invincible. The pain… it reminded me of my mortality.”

You nodded, your eyes brimming with empathy. “I wish you’d never felt that fear, that pain. But maybe this is a chance—a moment to understand that no hunt is worth risking your life, or ours.”

He managed a soft chuckle despite the pain. “You always manage to ground me. Even now, as I lie here broken, I see that my fire doesn’t have to consume me. Perhaps it’s time to let someone else share the burden.”

The room grew quieter as you both settled into the gentle cadence of honesty. Outside, the light began to fade, and the only illumination came from the soft glow of a bedside lamp. You propped Sergei up with pillows and continued to check his wounds, your fingers light and deliberate. Every so often, his eyes would flutter open as if in a silent thank-you, his gaze lingering on yours with gratitude and something deeper—a silent promise of shared futures.

“Sergei, promise me something,” you said softly, brushing a stray hair from his forehead. “Promise me that from now on, you’ll let me worry for you. That you won’t face every danger alone. I love you too much to see you hurt.”

His eyes, usually so fierce and unyielding, softened as he replied, “I promise. I’ve always been a lone wolf, chasing shadows and thrills, but you… you’ve shown me that even a hunter can find solace in vulnerability. I’ll try to be more careful. For you. For us.”

The dialogue carried on into the night, as you recounted memories of earlier days—when the two of you first met, when you discovered each other’s hidden depths. “Do you remember our first adventure?” you asked one moment, a playful glint in your eye. “You were so determined to prove yourself, yet you ended up in a trap in the forest. I had to rescue you, didn’t I?”

Sergei chuckled, a sound that was both amused and self-deprecating. “How could I forget? I was stubborn enough to believe I could outsmart the wild, only to be humbled by it. And you… you saved me then, just as you’re saving me now.”

The memory made you both laugh—a genuine, hearty laugh that filled the small living room with warmth. “I still don’t understand how someone as fearless as you could be taken down by a trap,” you teased lightly. “Maybe you should have let me do the saving.”

He grinned, the faintest hint of mischief in his eyes. “I was saving my best charm for you, wasn’t I?”

Between laughter and quiet confessions, the night wore on. You meticulously applied salves and rewrapped bandages, interweaving care with conversation. “I want you to heal, Sergei—not just these wounds, but every part of you that aches from a life of constant danger,” you confided. “Your worth isn’t measured by the hunts you conquer, but by the love you share and the life we build together.”

He looked at you, his voice soft and sincere. “You’re right. I’ve spent so long trying to prove something to myself, to the world… but all I needed was you to show me that my true strength lies in the love we have. I’m tired of letting the thrill overshadow the quiet beauty of simply being alive.”

In the midst of that tender conversation, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes shone with a mixture of pride and regret—a reminder of all the battles he’d fought, both with wild beasts and his inner demons. “There’s a beauty in vulnerability, Sergei,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his knotted hand. “The scars we bear are not just marks of pain—they’re reminders that we have lived, loved, and survived.”

He exhaled slowly. “Perhaps my scars will one day be seen not as symbols of failure, but as testaments to a life lived fully. And with you by my side, I know I can face anything—even the parts of myself I’ve long denied.”

The conversation shifted seamlessly into future dreams and quiet hopes. “Once you’re well,” you proposed one evening as you both sat by a small window overlooking the garden, “why don’t we take a little vacation? Somewhere safe, where the only hunt is for sunsets and quiet moments. A place where we can truly be ourselves without the constant threat of danger.”

Sergei’s eyes lit up with cautious optimism. “That sounds… perfect. A retreat where I can relearn what it means to live without always chasing the next thrill. To just be… alive.”

There was a long pause, filled only by the sound of your synchronized heartbeats. “I want us to dream together,” you added. “Not just about adventures and battles, but about a future where every day is a gentle reminder of our love.”

He reached across, his fingers intertwining with yours. “I used to believe that my legacy would be built on conquests and trophies. But now I see that my true triumph is in the quiet moments—when I’m with you, when I can let down my guard and simply exist in your light.”

The nights blended into mornings, each sunrise a gentle reminder of a second chance. One early morning, as soft light filtered through the curtains, you found Sergei already awake, sitting by the window with a contemplative look. “Every sunrise feels like a promise,” he murmured. “A promise that even after the darkest night, there’s hope.”

You joined him, cradling warm cups of tea in your hands. “It’s the promise of a new beginning,” you said. “A reminder that no matter how harsh the world may be, love will always light our way.”

He smiled, eyes distant yet focused. “I spent so many years hunting the thrill, trying to fill a void. But now I understand that the real chase is for love, for meaning, for the moments we share that make life worth living.”

Later that day, in the quiet sanctuary of your small garden, Sergei’s tone shifted as he broached a subject that had weighed on him for some time. “Do you ever think that all these scars, all this pain, is just a mask? A way to hide from the possibility of being truly seen?” His voice wavered with vulnerability.

You took his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’ve seen you, Sergei—the man behind the hunter. The fierce warrior is only part of who you are. I see your heart, your doubts, and your dreams. And I love every piece of it. It’s okay to let the mask slip now and then.”

He drew a slow breath, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m learning that it’s not weakness to be vulnerable. It’s… it’s human. And with you, I feel safe enough to let that side of me show.”

The intimacy of that exchange created a cocoon around you both—a safe space where neither danger nor pride could intrude. “I’ll always be here,” you promised. “Not to fix you, but to walk beside you as you heal. Your journey is ours to share.”

Over the next few days, as Sergei continued to mend physically, you both began to explore deeper parts of yourselves. Mornings were spent in quiet reflection, with Sergei often gazing out at the horizon as if searching for something beyond the endless hunt. “I used to think the wild was all there was,” he confessed one morning, voice hushed. “But now, I wonder if there’s more—a life where the only chase is for dreams and shared moments.”

You smiled softly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Every day with you teaches me that love isn’t about perfection or conquest. It’s about acceptance, about the courage to face our own fears. And I promise, no matter how rough the path gets, I’ll be here to remind you of the beauty in healing.”

There were lighter moments too. One rainy afternoon found you both curled up on the sofa, a cozy blanket wrapped around you as you reminisced about past misadventures. “Remember that time you got lost in the woods during a sudden storm?” you teased, laughter dancing in your voice.

Sergei’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “How could I forget? I was so determined to prove I wasn’t afraid of nature’s wrath, only to end up drenched and shivering while you navigated us home using nothing but the stars.”

You laughed, the sound mingling with the soft patter of rain against the window. “I still say that night was one of the best adventures we’ve had. Not because of the danger, but because it brought us closer.”

He leaned in, his voice tender. “Every adventure, every challenge—good or bad—has led me to you. And that, above all else, is the greatest treasure I’ve ever found.”

As the weeks passed, the memory of that brutal hunt—and the wounds it left—became interwoven with a newfound understanding between you both. The scars were visible reminders of the dangers he’d faced, but they also symbolized the turning point in his life: the moment he realized that vulnerability and love were not weaknesses, but sources of true strength.

One cool evening, as twilight draped the room in gentle blue shadows, you sat beside Sergei on the worn couch, the soft glow of a bedside lamp illuminating his thoughtful expression. “Sergei,” you said softly, “I want you to know that your past doesn’t have to dictate your future. Every scar, every painful memory, is a reminder of how far you’ve come—and how much love has helped you through.”

He looked at you, his eyes reflecting a storm of emotions—regret, hope, and an unspoken promise. “You’ve given me more than you could ever imagine,” he whispered. “You’ve shown me that it’s okay to heal, to be vulnerable. I was once a man who measured worth in battles and scars, but now I see that my true legacy is the love we share.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Our love is our sanctuary,” you replied, voice thick with emotion. “No matter how fierce the storm outside, here we have a haven where both of us can be truly seen.”

In that moment, as the night deepened and the quiet hum of your home enveloped you both, you understood that every whispered conversation, every shared tear and laugh, had been a stepping stone toward a future built on trust, vulnerability, and undeniable love.

As sleep eventually claimed Sergei, you stayed awake a little longer, watching over him and reflecting on the promise of each new day. “Rest well, my love,” you murmured into the quiet dark. “Tomorrow, we’ll build on this healing, this connection, and together we’ll write a new chapter—a chapter not defined by the scars of the past, but by the strength we find in each other.”

And so, in the gentle silence of the early hours, as dawn tiptoed over the horizon, you made a silent vow: no matter what challenges awaited, you and Sergei would always find your way back to this sacred space of understanding and care. The wild may call to him, and danger may lurk in the shadows, but here—in this home, in this shared heartbeat—you had found the true prize of life: a love that healed, a love that endured.

Together, you faced the promise of a new beginning, where every scar was a story of survival, every tender word a step toward a future filled with hope. And as the first light of day embraced you both, you knew that this journey, as painful as it sometimes was, was the one worth living—side by side, heart to heart, forever intertwined in the gentle art of healing and love.

[clesired]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 | 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ! “can i request christmas headcanons about fred? with a reader who isn’t exactly the christmas type but how can you resist lovely christmas at the burrow?” thank you to the lovely anon who requested this <3

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ! how can you resist lovely christmas at the burrow?

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! no warnings, fluff, gn!reader, established relationship!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 !

🥥 partner!reader who doesn’t care for christmas because your family never made it a big deal

🥥 bf!fred who invites you to spend the holidays at the burrow because he’s convinced that one christmas with his family will change your mind

🥥 naturally, you’re assigned a room to sleep in when you arrive ( but everyone knows you’re gonna end up in fred’s room anyway )

🥥 you help the weasleys decorate the burrow and end up surprising both fred and yourself with how much you enjoy it

🥥 you get addicted to molly’s hot chocolate almost immediately after the first sip

🥥 ginny helps you brainstorm gift ideas for her family ( because merlin knows what fred and george have whipped up for them )

🥥 molly constantly catches fred trying to get you under the mistletoe

🥥 you somehow land yourself in a christmas trivia feud with charlie ( it ends in a draw )

🥥 every time fred catches you enjoying a christmas activity, he smirks at you all smug and mouths ‘i told you so’ ( to which you just roll your eyes )

🥥 you and ginny gossip in her room while you wait for molly and arthur to fall asleep so you can sneak into the twins’ room

🥥 you spend a good five minutes laughing at the twins when they come back inside from de-gnoming the garden looking like they’d just wrestled a hippogriff ( you take a picture too, of course )

🥥 when the weasleys go out to play quidditch in the orchard, you stay back to help molly with the cooking and the dishes

🥥 you try eggnog for the first time with arthur and end up drinking four cups…

🥥 you cuddle up with fred on the couch while you and the rest of the weasleys listen to celestina warbeck on christmas eve

🥥 when it’s time to open presents, your boyfriend’s family are all pleasantly surprised by the accuracy of your gifts ( thank you, ginny )

🥥 you gift ginny a basket of wizarding skin care and makeup products to experiment with

🥥 you get ron a gift box from honeydukes, filled with his favourites like chocolate frogs, bertie bott’s every-flavour beans, pepper imps, etc.

🥥 george gets a quidditch kit that you charmed to be gryffindor themed and a new striped jumper

🥥 percy receives a nameplate for his desk at the ministry

🥥 you give charlie a new backpack and a journal for his travels

🥥 you gift bill a book on interesting muggle artifacts…with a second copy in french ( wink, wink )

🥥 molly gets a new magical cookbook

🥥 arthur gets the latest edition of the guinness book of world records ( courtesy of a very fascinating conversation with hermione earlier that year )

🥥 fred gets the same jumper as george but in a different colour, a scrapbook you made filled with all the photos you’ve captured over your relationship, a box of his favorite candies, and a framed version of the photo of him and george post de-gnoming

🥥 you’re glad everyone likes your gifts right up until fred goes off and mouths that damn ‘i told you so’ yet again

🥥 but when you open one of your presents and see a knitted jumper with your initial on it, you’re finally ready to admit to yourself that maybe christmas isn’t so bad after all

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 !

𝐤𝐞𝐲 ! fred, you, other people

🐚 “who would dare put a mistletoe up at the burrow!?” “i just watched you conjure it, freddie.”

🐚 “fred weasley, if you don’t leave them alone this instant!” “mum, i swear the mistletoe put itself up!” ( no it didnt )

🐚 “new gift idea, let’s snog.”

🐚 “awfully good gifter for someone who hates christmas, love.” “don’t start, freddie.”

🐚 “who helped you with the gifts?” “i knew it couldn’t have been you!”

🐚 “why would you get this picture framed!?” “because it’s funny…duh!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 !

𝐤𝐞𝐲 ! you, fred, other people

🫧 “yeah, yeah, i know…you told me so.”

🫧 “gin, you mind helping me figure out what to get your family for christmas?” “of course! who else were you gonna go to? fred?”

🫧 “you totally cheated, charlie!” “did not!” “did too!” “rematch, same time next year.” “you’re on.”

🫧 “arthur, you must tell me where you get your eggnog from…”

🫧 “apologies if the jumper is a bit loose, dearie! i had to guess the size.” “it’s perfect, molly…thank you.”

🫧 “alright, i guess christmas isn’t that bad…” “i told you sooo.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! a bit past christmas, but at least its still december, right? i hope you lovelies enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

©clesired - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

xoxo,

mila! *: ･🐚༄🫧*ੈ✩

[niallerspayno]

About Last Night (Louis Tomlinson x reader) - Fic Request

Masterlist

Anonymous request: Hi!! I was wondering if you could do Louis Tomlinson x fem! Reader who is in the band, her and Louis always had a flirty relationship but always told people it was a joke until one night during one of their tours things get heated between them and they hook up, a few weeks later reader finds out she’s pregnant and doesn’t know how to tell Louis so she goes to her best friend Niall Horan for advice and Louis ends up over hearing them? Smut and fluff please!!

Tags: Louis x reader, friends to lovers, smut, pregnancy, fluff, angst

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

…

The arena hums softly with the buzz of amps and muffled conversations, but your focus is already on Louis, who stands near the drum kit, spinning a drumstick between his fingers with that familiar mischievous glint in his eye. This is how it’s always been with the two of you—partners in chaos, constantly toeing the line of what you can get away with, but never crossing it. The harmless flirting, the relentless teasing—it’s your thing.

“Don’t even think about it,” you call out, a grin tugging at your lips.

Louis turns to you, all innocence and dimples. “Think about what, love?”

“Oh, you know exactly what,” you say, stepping closer. “Put the stick down before you get us all in trouble.”

“Trouble?” he echoes, mock-offended. “I am the very definition of responsibility.”

“You’re the definition of a menace,” you retort, grabbing the other drumstick off the snare. You twirl it between your fingers and smirk at him. “If you’re going to cause chaos, at least make it entertaining.”

His eyes light up at your challenge. “I knew I could count on you, partner.”

Before anyone can stop you, Louis taps the microphone stand with his drumstick, and you follow suit, matching his rhythm with the snare drum. The resulting cacophony blares through the speakers, earning a collective groan from Liam and the sound crew.

“Really?!” Liam barks from center stage, throwing his hands up. “Do you two have to do this every time?”

“Yes,” you and Louis say in unison, both grinning like kids caught raiding the cookie jar.

“Unbelievable,” Liam mutters, shaking his head.

“Oh, lighten up, Payno,” Louis says, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “We’re just making things more fun.”

“Fun is subjective,” Liam replies, deadpan.

Louis doesn’t even acknowledge him, already pulling you toward the piano at the corner of the stage. “Come on, let’s give them a real show.”

You follow without hesitation, laughing as you plop down on the bench beside him. “Alright, Mozart, let’s hear it.”

“Watch and learn, darling,” he says, cracking his knuckles dramatically before slamming his fingers onto the keys.

The result is an aggressively off-key rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and you immediately burst into laughter, doubling over as he continues his “masterpiece.”

“Wow,” you say between giggles, clapping along. “Move over, Beethoven. Louis Tomlinson has arrived.”

“I know,” he says smugly, tossing you a wink. “Don’t be jealous of my talent.”

“Talent?” you tease, leaning closer. “This is more like a crime against music.”

“Oh, you wound me,” he says, clutching his chest in mock pain. “But I’ll forgive you because you look cute when you’re pretending to be unimpressed.”

You arch an eyebrow, leaning in just enough to close the space between you. “Who says I’m pretending?”

He falters for a split second, just enough for you to notice, before recovering with a smirk. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you reply, but the playful tone in your voice makes it clear you’re enjoying every second.

The moment lingers, his eyes locked on yours, the air between you buzzing with unspoken tension. But before anything can happen, Liam’s voice cuts through like a bucket of cold water.

“Enough!” he shouts. “Can we please get back to work?”

Louis groans dramatically, standing up and offering you a hand. “Fine, Payno. We’ll behave. For now.”

“Behaving’s overrated anyway,” you say, letting him pull you to your feet.

He grins, leaning in just enough to make your heart race. “Spoken like a true partner in crime.”

You smirk back, the flush creeping up your neck impossible to hide. “You couldn’t handle this partnership without me.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, before finally letting you go.

As you return to your spot on stage, his laughter still ringing in your ears, you can’t help but feel the familiar thrill that comes with being Louis’s partner in crime. This is just how it’s always been—safe, playful, and light. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

…

The club is alive with pulsing music, flashing lights, and the hum of conversation. The six of you—plus a few crew members—have commandeered a booth near the dance floor, a place to regroup between rounds of drinks and bursts of reckless fun. The night is supposed to be lighthearted, a rare break in the chaos of touring. But your attention keeps drifting toward the bar, where Louis leans casually against the counter, chatting up a pair of girls who can’t stop giggling at whatever he’s saying.

You take another sip of your drink, the sharp burn of tequila doing little to distract you. It shouldn’t bother you. This is Louis, after all—flirty, charming, and always ready to make someone’s night with a cheeky grin. It’s harmless. Always harmless. Just like it’s always been with you and him.

But tonight, it stings.

“You alright there, love?”

Niall’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn to find him sliding into the booth beside you, a fresh pint in hand. His blue eyes are sharper than they should be after three rounds, catching onto your mood immediately.

“Fine,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just enjoying the view.”

Niall snorts, following your gaze toward Louis. “Ah. Him.”

“Him what?” you ask, though your tone is defensive even to your own ears.

“You’re watching him like he owes you money,” Niall says, smirking, but his voice softens when he adds, “What’s going on?”

You hesitate, swirling your drink in your hand. Niall’s always been the one you confide in, the one who listens without judgment. But this—whatever this is—feels like dangerous territory.

“It’s nothing,” you lie.

“Sure it is,” he says, leaning closer. “Come on. You’re never this quiet.”

You glance at Louis again, just in time to see him lean in to whisper something in one of the girls’ ears. Your chest tightens, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“It’s stupid,” you say, setting your glass down with more force than necessary. “I just… I don’t get how he can be like that. Flirting with everyone, acting like it’s all a game.”

Niall raises an eyebrow. “That’s just Louis, though. You know that.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, staring at the condensation on your glass. “But sometimes I wonder if it’s ever not a game for him. If he ever actually means it.”

Niall doesn’t answer right away, his gaze steady and thoughtful. Finally, he says, “And what if he does? Would that change things?”

You laugh, though it’s bitter and hollow. “Not for him. He’d still be Louis, and I’d still be the idiot who gets worked up over it.”

“Hey,” Niall says gently, nudging your shoulder. “You’re not an idiot. You care about him. That’s not stupid.”

You look at him, startled by how easily he’s put words to something you’ve been trying to deny. “I didn’t say I care about him.”

“You didn’t have to.”

His voice is kind, but it hits you like a punch to the gut. You reach for your drink again, draining the rest of it in one go.

“Okay,” you say, standing up abruptly. “I need another one.”

“Hang on,” Niall says, grabbing your wrist before you can escape. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You’re already—”

“Drinking?” you interrupt, flashing him a wry smile. “Yeah, I know. That’s kind of the point.”

Niall lets you go, watching as you make your way to the bar. You don’t look at Louis as you order another round, but you can feel his presence—his laughter, his charm—like a static charge in the air.

When you return to the booth, Niall’s still waiting, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to tell him, you know,” he says quietly.

“Tell him what?”

“Whatever it is you’re feeling. If you’re not ready, that’s okay.”

You sit down, your drink clutched tightly in your hands. “What if I never am?”

Niall shrugs, his usual easygoing demeanor softening. “Then that’s okay, too. But just… don’t beat yourself up over it, alright? He’s an idiot, but he’d be even more of one not to see how great you are.”

You manage a small smile, but the ache in your chest doesn’t fade. Across the room, Louis throws his head back in laughter, and you drain your drink, trying not to think about what it would mean if Niall was right.

...

You’re halfway through your drink, the alcohol starting to make the room blur at the edges, when you feel someone slide into the booth beside you. It’s not Niall this time—he’s gone to the bar for another round.

“Having fun, partner?”

You don’t need to look to know it’s Louis. His voice, low and warm, cuts through the haze like a match striking in the dark.

“Loads,” you reply, your tone sharper than you intended. You focus on your glass, not him.

There’s a pause, and then he leans closer, so close you can feel the heat of him against your arm. “What’s got you in a mood, then?”

You scoff, finally turning to meet his gaze. “Why would I be in a mood?”

Louis’s brow furrows, and he studies you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “Dunno. That’s why I’m asking.”

You shrug, trying to brush him off. “It’s nothing. Go back to your fans.”

Realization dawns in his expression, and his lips curve into a small smirk. “Ah, so that’s what this is about.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” he says, his tone light but his eyes sharp. He tilts his head toward the bar, where the girls he’d been chatting with have moved on. “They’re just fans, love. Took a couple photos, had a laugh. That’s all.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say quickly, taking another sip of your drink.

“Clearly, it does,” he counters, his voice dipping lower.

You glance at him, and the teasing edge in his expression is gone, replaced by something quieter. More serious. It makes your stomach flip, and you hate how easily he gets under your skin.

“I just don’t get how you can do it,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Turn it on and off like it’s nothing.”

Louis stares at you for a moment, his blue eyes searching yours. Then he leans back slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You think it’s nothing?”

You don’t answer, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not. I just… I don’t know. It’s easier sometimes to keep it light, you know? Keeps people from expecting too much.”

Your chest tightens at his words, and you look away, focusing on the dance floor instead. It feels safer than looking at him when he’s being like this—honest and raw in a way that catches you off guard.

Louis follows your gaze, then nudges you with his shoulder. “Come on.”

“What?”

“Dance with me.”

You blink at him. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” he says, standing up and holding a hand out to you. “Unless you’re scared you can’t keep up.”

It’s a challenge, one you’d normally accept without hesitation. But tonight, there’s something heavier in the air between you, something that makes you hesitate.

“Louis…” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Just one dance, love. For old time’s sake.”

You sigh, finishing the last of your drink before placing your hand in his. His grip is warm and steady as he pulls you to your feet, leading you toward the dance floor.

The music is loud and fast, but Louis doesn’t seem to care. He spins you around dramatically, earning a laugh despite yourself, and when he pulls you close, his grin is infectious.

“There she is,” he says, his voice just loud enough for you to hear over the music. “I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” you reply, though you’re not sure it’s true.

“No?” he asks, leaning in until his lips are just inches from your ear. “Then what are you?”

The question lingers, hanging between you as the beat of the music thrums in your chest. You glance up at him, your breath catching at the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the only thing in the room that matters.

And then, as if drawn by some invisible force, your fingers tighten around his, and you let him pull you closer.

The music is deafening, the bass vibrating through your chest as Louis pulls you closer. The heat of the crowd presses in around you—sweaty bodies moving together in time with the pulsing beat—but all you can feel is him. His hand rests lightly on your waist, fingers brushing against the bare skin where your top has ridden up, and the touch sends a jolt of electricity through you.

You match his rhythm, your bodies swaying together as the lights flash and the room spins in a blur of color and sound. He leans down, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs something you can’t hear over the music. But it doesn’t matter, because the low rasp of his voice alone makes your pulse race.

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, then slide down to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your fingertips. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and intense, and for a moment, it’s as if the entire club has faded away.

He’s looking at you like he’s never seen you before, like he’s trying to memorize every detail. And you can’t look away.

“Louis,” you manage to say, but your voice is swallowed by the music.

He doesn’t answer, just pulls you even closer, his forehead resting lightly against yours. His hand tightens on your waist, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin, and it’s almost too much.

The air between you is charged, thick with something you can’t quite name but can’t ignore either. And when his lips brush against your temple—soft, almost tentative—it sends a shiver down your spine.

Your resolve snaps.

Without thinking, you grab his hand and tug him toward the edge of the dance floor, weaving through the crowd until you find a dark hallway leading toward the bathrooms.

“Here?” he asks, his voice rough and breathless as you pull him into the dimly lit space.

“Unless you’ve got a better idea,” you reply, your back pressing against the wall as he steps closer, crowding into your space.

He doesn’t hesitate. His hands are on your hips in an instant, his lips crashing against yours with a force that makes your head spin. It’s all heat and desperation, months of tension unraveling in a single, searing kiss.

You fist your hands in his shirt, pulling him closer, and he groans softly against your lips. The sound sends a thrill through you, and you arch into him, gasping when his mouth moves to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down your skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your throat, his voice low and strained.

But stopping is the last thing on your mind. “Don’t,” you whisper.

The noise of the club fades into a dull throb, your pulse pounding in your ears as Louis pulls you deeper into the hallway. His grip is unrelenting, his hand firm around your wrist as he guides you toward the dimly lit bathroom, the air thick with the sharp scent of alcohol and sweat. When you step inside, he doesn’t hesitate. He closes the door behind you with a soft thud, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s already pulling you toward him, his hands sliding to the curve of your waist.

"Fuck," he breathes, his voice low, gravelly, as he looks you over. His eyes darken with something primal, raw. "I need you."

The way he says it—like there’s no choice in the matter, like he’s been waiting for this—makes your stomach flutter with anticipation. Your heart races as he lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. His body presses flush against yours, the heat radiating off of him like a furnace.

You’re suddenly aware of everything—his breath against your skin, the brush of his chest against yours, the sensation of his hands sliding down to grip your thighs as he carries you toward one of the stalls. The door bangs against the wall as he kicks it open with a force that leaves you breathless. You barely register it, too caught up in the way he’s looking at you—so intensely, so urgently—that it’s like the entire world outside has ceased to exist.

Louis doesn’t give you a moment to breathe. He presses you back against the door, and the sharp click of the lock echoes in the small space. His hands move to the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly, deliberately, until the cool air hits your skin. The contrast of the cold on your warm body makes you gasp, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of him against you.

"God, you're perfect," he mutters under his breath, his eyes raking over you like he can’t quite believe you’re here. His mouth finds the curve of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that makes your pulse spike. He’s everywhere at once—his lips, his hands, his body—leaving no space between the two of you.

His lips trail lower, his breath hot as it brushes against your collarbone, and you can’t help but shiver, arching into him as his hands slip lower, tracing the curve of your waist and hips. “Louis,” you breathe, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“You want this,” he says, his voice rough with hunger as he presses his body into yours. His hands slide under your skirt, gripping your thighs, his thumbs brushing the inside of your legs. The sensation sends a shock of desire through you, and you tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer.

You’re both moving instinctively now—his body surging into yours, your hands tearing at his jeans, pushing them down just enough so you can feel the hard line of him pressing into you. You’re both breathless, desperate, as your bodies start moving together, finding a rhythm born from nothing but pure need.

The heat between you is overwhelming, suffocating. You can feel every inch of him against you, your bodies grinding together with a desperation that feels like it's been building for weeks, months even. His lips find yours again, more forcefully this time, his tongue slipping between your lips as your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his body.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans against your mouth, his hands moving to the zipper of your skirt, tugging it down, leaving you exposed to him in the dim light.

You gasp as the cold air hits your skin, but the shock of it only fuels the fire between you. You push him back slightly, giving yourself enough room to pull off your panties, tossing them carelessly to the side. His eyes darken at the sight, and he groans again, his hands trembling slightly as they slide down your body.

“God, you’re killing me,” he mutters as he presses his body into yours again, the door rattling against the force of it. His lips trail down your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, and you can’t help the moan that slips from your mouth.

“You want me?” he asks, his voice low, dangerous, as his hands slide between your bodies, his fingers brushing against you, making you gasp.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, I need you.”

And just like that, he’s pulling you closer, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he positions himself against you. The first thrust is slow, deliberate, but it doesn’t take long for the urgency to take over, for both of you to lose control.

Your bodies move together with a frantic rhythm, the pressure building, tightening, until you feel like you’re going to explode. The sensation is overwhelming, dizzying, and you cling to him, feeling his hands grip your skin like he’s afraid to let go. His breath comes in ragged gasps against your ear as he buries his face in your neck, his body pressing into yours with every thrust.

The world outside the stall is forgotten—there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing, the rhythm of your bodies, the urgent need to feel more.

When it happens, it’s all at once—the sharp pull of release, the sensation of your body shuddering as he groans your name, the feeling of him inside you. You lose yourself in him completely, and for a moment, the entire world falls away, leaving nothing but the raw, pulsing connection between the two of you.

For a long time, neither of you speaks. You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as you stand there, still tangled together in the small, dimly lit stall. The air is thick, heavy with the aftermath, and the sound of the club’s music feels distant now, like it belongs to someone else’s world.

Louis rests his forehead against yours, his hands still cradling your hips as if he’s afraid to let you go. His breathing slows, but his grip on you doesn’t loosen.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, his voice soft, the intensity from moments ago replaced with something else. Something almost tender.

You nod, your hands tracing the lines of his back, still feeling the echo of his touch. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I’m more than okay.”

And for a brief, fleeting moment, it feels like everything has shifted.

...

The morning light seeps through the curtains, casting pale slivers across the room, and you wake with a pounding headache that has everything to do with last night. As you sit up, stretching stiff muscles, your fingers graze your neck, and you freeze.

You already know what you’ll find. Your stomach flips as you rush to the mirror, pulling your hair away to reveal dark, circular marks. Hickeys. Louis’s hickeys.

Heat floods your face as the memories from last night rush back—his hands on your body, the rasp of his voice in your ear, the way he kissed you like he was starving for it. A shiver runs through you, not from regret, but from how damn good it all was.

Still, the marks are a problem. You grab your makeup bag and get to work, layering concealer and powder until they’re faint enough to be hidden by your hair. It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do. You can’t let the others see. You can’t let anyone see.

Your phone buzzes on the counter, pulling you from your thoughts. It’s a message from Louis: "You good?"

Your heart hammers as you type back: "We need to talk."

A few minutes later, you’re knocking on his door. When it swings open, Louis is there—hair tousled, barefoot, still half-asleep, but the way he looks at you makes it clear he knows why you’re here.

“Hey,” you say, stepping inside. Your voice feels thin, unsure, but you force yourself to keep going. “About last night...”

Louis closes the door behind you and leans against it, crossing his arms. “Yeah,” he says slowly, watching you with that sharp, unreadable gaze of his.

“I woke up with... these,” you continue, gesturing toward your neck. His eyes follow the motion, a smirk twitching at his lips as he realizes what you’re talking about.

“Didn’t think I went that hard,” he teases, but there’s something softer underneath his usual playfulness. “Sorry about that.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your fingers brushing over the covered marks. “It’s fine. I covered them up, but, Louis... no one can know about this. The others would never let us live it down.”

Louis straightens, the smirk slipping into something more serious. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s probably best if we keep it between us.”

The weight of that decision settles over the room, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, Louis lets out a low laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, for what it’s worth... it was a really fucking good time.”

Your breath catches, your heart flipping at the sincerity in his tone. A small, involuntary smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah,” you admit softly, meeting his gaze. “It really was.”

The tension in the room shifts—heavier, but warmer. There’s something unspoken between you, something lingering from last night, but you force yourself to push it aside.

“But it was... a one-time thing,” you say, your voice firmer now. “We were drunk, caught up in the moment. It doesn’t mean anything. Right?”

Louis hesitates, his jaw tightening ever so slightly before he nods. “Right,” he agrees, though his voice doesn’t carry the same conviction. “Just a one-time thing. We go back to normal. Friends. Bandmates. No weirdness.”

You nod, the words hanging heavy in the air. “Alright,” you say, standing and smoothing your shirt. “I’ll see you at soundcheck.”

Louis follows you to the door, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “Yeah,” he says softly. “See you there.”

You step out into the hallway, feeling the weight of everything unspoken between you. The memory of last night burns in your mind, and as much as you tell yourself it was a mistake, a small, stubborn part of you knows it wasn’t.

And as you walk away, you know the secret you’re both keeping won’t be the hardest part. The hardest part will be pretending that you don’t want more.

...

The hotel bathroom feels impossibly small, its tiled walls closing in on you as you stare down at the pregnancy test in your trembling hands. The instructions are simple, straightforward, but they feel like a foreign language as you reread them for the third time.

Niall is waiting just outside, sitting on the edge of your hotel bed. You hadn’t planned to involve him this much, but when you decided to sneak out and buy the test earlier, he’d been the one person you trusted enough to call. Now, as the reality of what you’re about to do looms over you, you’re beyond grateful he’s here.

“Everything okay in there?” Niall’s voice drifts through the door, steady and calm.

“Yeah,” you call back, though your voice wavers. “I’m doing it now.”

“Take your time,” he replies, his tone gentle.

You follow the instructions mechanically, your heart pounding louder with every step. When it’s done, you set the test on the counter, face down, and set the timer on your phone. For a moment, you just stand there, gripping the edge of the sink to steady yourself.

When the timer buzzes, you hesitate, your hand hovering over the test.

“You good?” Niall asks from the other side of the door, the concern in his voice unmistakable.

You take a deep breath and pick up the test. The result is instant.

Pregnant.

The air rushes out of your lungs, and you open the bathroom door without even thinking. Niall is on his feet in an instant, his eyes scanning your face.

“What does it say?” he asks, his voice soft but urgent.

You hold up the test, your hand shaking. “It’s positive,” you whisper. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, Niall just stares, processing the words. Then, he crosses the room in two quick steps and pulls you into a hug. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you.”

You cling to him, tears spilling over as the weight of the situation crashes down on you. After a moment, he pulls back, his hands resting on your shoulders as he studies your face.

“Do you… know who the father is?” he asks carefully.

You nod, wiping your eyes. “It’s Louis.”

Niall’s eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth falls open slightly. “Louis?”

You laugh, a short, incredulous sound that bubbles out of you before you can stop it. “Yeah. It was that night we all went out to the bar.”

Realization dawns in his eyes, and he stares at you like he’s trying to piece it together. “Wait—so… the bathroom stall?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Yes, the bathroom stall,” you say, your voice muffled.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, to your surprise, Niall starts to laugh—a low chuckle that quickly turns into full-on laughter. It’s contagious, and soon you’re laughing too, tears streaming down your face as the absurdity of it all sinks in.

“I can’t believe I’m having a baby that was conceived in a bathroom stall,” you manage to choke out, shaking your head.

Niall grins, his laughter fading into a warm smile. “Hey, at least you’ll have a good story for the kid someday.”

You snort, wiping your cheeks. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go over great.”

As the laughter subsides, Niall’s expression grows serious again. “You're going to have to tell Louis.”

You shake your head, the weight of that reality settling over you. “Not yet. I don’t even know how to tell him.”

Niall squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. “You don’t have to figure it out alone. I’m here, alright? Whatever you need.”

His support steadies you, and you nod, a small spark of determination flickering to life. “Thanks, Niall,” you say softly.

He smiles, giving your shoulder a final squeeze. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”

...

The hotel dining room buzzes with the usual morning energy: clinking cutlery, muted conversation, and the aroma of coffee filling the air. You sit with the boys, doing your best to seem normal as you pick at a piece of toast. The nausea has become a constant companion, and exhaustion drags at you more with each passing day.

“Still not feeling well?” Liam asks, glancing at your plate with a worried frown.

You force a smile. “It’s just a bug. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” Zayn points out, his tone sharper than Liam’s, though there’s concern in his dark eyes.

Harry leans back in his chair, studying you closely. “You need to see a doctor. You’re barely eating, and you look knackered.”

“Thanks, Harry,” you say dryly, hoping humor will deflect their growing concern.

Louis, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet throughout breakfast, lifts his coffee cup to his lips but says nothing. His eyes linger on you, though, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.

“I’ll be fine,” you insist again, grabbing your mug and taking a sip even though the coffee turns your stomach. “Just need some rest.”

The boys don’t look convinced, but they eventually let it drop as the conversation shifts to tour logistics. When breakfast wraps up, everyone begins dispersing to their rooms.

As you step into the hallway, Niall gently catches your arm. “Hey, can we talk for a sec?”

“Sure,” you say, letting him steer you toward a quieter section of the corridor.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Louis lingers just out of sight around the corner, pretending to check his phone.

Niall keeps his voice low as he speaks. “How are you holding up? Really.”

You glance around nervously, making sure no one is nearby. “I’m okay,” you lie, though your voice wavers. “Just... trying to figure things out.”

He frowns, clearly not buying it. “You’ve got to stop pushing yourself so hard. This isn’t just about you anymore.”

“I know,” you whisper, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s just... it’s a lot, Niall.”

“Have you thought more about telling Louis?”

The question hangs in the air, and your heart sinks. “I don’t even know where to start,” you admit. “How do I tell him that I’m pregnant and it’s his baby? That it happened in a bloody bathroom stall?”

Niall snorts, though his expression quickly turns serious again. “You’re going to have to tell him eventually. He deserves to know, and you deserve to have his support.”

“I know,” you say quietly. “I just… I’m scared, Niall. What if he freaks out? What if it changes everything between us?”

“He might freak out,” Niall says honestly. “But he’s Louis. He’ll step up. You’ve got to trust him—and yourself.”

Neither of you notice the shadow around the corner or the way Louis freezes in place, his breath catching as he processes what he just overheard.

“I’ll tell him,” you say finally, your voice shaky but resolute. “I just need to figure out how.”

Niall nods, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ve got your back.”

You manage a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Niall. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

As the two of you part ways, Louis remains rooted to his spot, his mind racing. He had only stopped to grab his jacket, not to eavesdrop—but now, he can’t unhear what’s just been revealed.

Pregnant. His baby.

The words loop in his mind, crashing over him in waves of shock and disbelief. He grips the wall for support, his heart pounding as he tries to process what this means—for you, for him, for everything.

...

The hotel suite is unusually quiet, the remnants of breakfast scattered across the coffee table as the boys lounge around. You’re absent, having slipped away earlier, and the rest of the group assumes you’re just taking some much-needed time to yourself.

Louis, however, can’t sit still. He paces the room, his jaw tight and his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. His thoughts are a jumbled mess, but one thing is clear: he needs answers.

Niall, sitting on the armrest of a couch, notices the tension radiating off Louis. “Mate, you alright?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

That’s all it takes for Louis to stop pacing and whirl around to face him. “No, Niall, I’m not alright,” he snaps, his voice sharp enough to make everyone else in the room sit up straighter.

“What’s going on?” Liam asks, frowning.

Louis ignores him, his blue eyes locked on Niall. “How long were you planning on keeping it from me?” he demands, his voice rising.

“Keeping what from you?” Niall replies carefully, though his face pales slightly.

“Don’t play dumb with me!” Louis shouts, taking a step closer. “I know. I heard you talking to her this morning.”

The room falls into stunned silence, and Zayn and Harry exchange wide-eyed looks.

“What are you talking about?” Harry finally asks, his tone laced with confusion.

Louis doesn’t even glance at him. His focus is still entirely on Niall. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she? And it’s mine.”

Niall’s mouth opens and closes a few times, but no sound comes out. The rest of the boys look utterly shell-shocked, their eyes darting between Louis and Niall.

“Is it true?” Liam asks, his voice quieter now, though no less serious.

Niall lets out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t my place to tell you, Louis,” he says, his voice firm despite the guilt flickering in his eyes. “She needed time to figure out how to say it herself.”

Louis’s laugh is bitter, almost disbelieving. “Time? You don’t think I deserved to know right away? That I deserved to hear it from her—or at least someone—before overhearing you whispering about it in a bloody hallway?”

“I was just trying to be there for her,” Niall says defensively, standing now to meet Louis’s glare. “She’s scared out of her mind, Louis. This isn’t easy for her.”

“You think this is easy for me?” Louis shoots back, his voice cracking slightly. “Finding out I’m going to be a dad like this?”

The words hang in the air, heavy and raw.

Zayn leans forward, his brow furrowed. “Wait. Are you saying Y/N’s pregnant, and it’s yours?”

“Yes,” Louis snaps, throwing his arms out in frustration. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Harry sits back, his jaw slack as he processes the revelation. “Bloody hell.”

“Look, I get that you’re upset,” Niall says, his tone softer now. “But she needed time to figure things out. I was just trying to support her until she was ready to talk to you.”

“She should’ve come to me,” Louis mutters, his anger ebbing slightly but still palpable. “I deserved to know.”

“And she knows that,” Niall replies. “But she’s been scared, Louis. She didn’t want to mess everything up. She didn’t know how you’d react.”

Louis takes a deep breath, his hands raking through his hair as he processes Niall’s words. “I don’t know how to react,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “This is... massive.”

“It is,” Liam says, speaking up for the first time since the confrontation started. “But it’s not something you have to figure out alone. We’re all here for both of you.”

Louis looks around the room, his frustration slowly giving way to uncertainty. “I need to talk to her,” he says finally, more to himself than anyone else.

“Then do that,” Niall says gently. “But give her some grace, mate. She’s dealing with a lot.”

Louis nods, his expression still tense but less combative. Without another word, he turns and walks out of the room, leaving the rest of the boys in stunned silence.

...

You’re standing at the sink in your hotel bathroom, clutching the edge of the counter to steady yourself as another wave of nausea passes. The fluorescent lights buzz faintly, adding to the headache pounding at your temples.

Splashing cold water on your face, you glance at your reflection, pale and drawn. You’d thought you could keep things under control, at least for a little while longer. But the toll on your body is becoming harder and harder to hide.

A knock at the bathroom door startles you. Before you can answer, Louis’s voice cuts through.

“Y/N, it’s me. Open up.”

Your stomach twists for an entirely different reason now. His tone is firm, no trace of his usual teasing lilt. You grab a towel to pat your face dry, stalling for time.

“I’m fine, Louis,” you call back, trying to sound normal.

“I’m not leaving,” he says, and you can hear the resolve in his voice. “We need to talk.”

With a resigned sigh, you open the door. Louis is standing there, arms crossed and a look of determination on his face. The blue of his eyes is intense, searching yours for answers you’re not ready to give.

“Can we do this later?” you ask weakly.

“No,” he says, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. “I know.”

Your breath catches. “You know what?”

“I know you’re pregnant,” he says, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “And I know it’s mine.”

The air feels sucked out of the room, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him.

“How—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I heard you and Niall talking this morning,” he admits. “I wasn’t eavesdropping—it just happened. And now I need to hear it from you. Is it true?”

You look down at your feet, your hands trembling. “Yes,” you whisper.

Louis exhales sharply, leaning back against the door as he runs a hand through his hair. “How long have you known?”

“About a week,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “I wasn’t sure at first, but I took a test. Niall’s the only one I told.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his voice cracking slightly. “Why did I have to find out like this?”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you sink onto the closed toilet lid. “I didn’t know how to, Louis,” you confess. “It’s not exactly an easy thing to bring up. And I didn’t know how you’d react. I was scared.”

“Scared of me?” he asks, his brows knitting together.

“No,” you say quickly. “Not of you. Just... of everything. What this means for us, for the band. I didn’t want to ruin everything.”

Louis crouches down in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. The unexpected tenderness in the gesture makes your chest tighten.

“You’re not ruining anything,” he says softly, his voice steadier now. “But you can’t shut me out of this. I deserve to know what’s going on, Y/N. This is my baby too.”

The weight of his words hits you, and you nod, wiping at your eyes. “I know. I’m sorry, Louis. I was just... trying to figure it all out.”

“Well, you don’t have to do it alone anymore,” he says, his hands squeezing your knees gently. “We’ll figure it out together.”

You look up at him, surprised by the conviction in his voice. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” he says, a small, reassuring smile tugging at his lips. “We might not have planned this, but it’s happening. And I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time in days, a flicker of hope sparks in your chest. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Louis stands, offering you his hand. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get out of this bathroom. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. And for the first time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you won’t have to face this alone.

Louis doesn’t let go of your hand as he leads you out of the bathroom, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed. He stays standing for a moment, running a hand through his hair as if trying to gather his thoughts. When he finally sits beside you, he turns to face you fully, his expression serious but gentle.

“I know this probably feels overwhelming,” he starts, his voice softer now. “But I need you to know something. I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. Not now, not ever.”

Tears prick your eyes again, and you bite your lip, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his words. “Louis, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupts firmly. “This isn’t about what I have to do. This is my baby, and you... you’re everything to me.”

Your breath catches, and you stare at him, unsure if you heard him correctly. “What do you mean?”

He exhales deeply, a small, nervous smile tugging at his lips. “I mean I’ve been in love with you for ages, Y/N. I’ve just been too much of a coward to say it.”

“Louis...”

He laughs softly, though there’s a trace of vulnerability in his eyes. “It’s true. I’ve hidden behind all the jokes and the flirting because I was terrified you didn’t feel the same. I thought if I said something, I’d ruin what we have. And then that night at the club happened, and I thought maybe... but you said it was a mistake, and I didn’t want to push.”

You shake your head, a tear slipping down your cheek. “It wasn’t a mistake,” you admit, your voice trembling. “I only said that because I was scared. Scared of ruining what we have, just like you were. But I’ve been in love with you too, Louis. For so long.”

His eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks utterly stunned. “You mean that?”

“Yes,” you whisper, reaching for his hand. “I mean it.”

He lets out a soft, incredulous laugh, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “All this time, we’ve been dancing around each other like idiots.”

You laugh too, though it’s choked with emotion. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

The two of you sit there for a moment, letting the weight of the truth settle between you. Then Louis’s grin turns mischievous, his blue eyes sparkling.

“Can you believe our kid’s going to have the most ridiculous conception story ever?” he says, his voice teasing.

You can’t help but laugh, the tension breaking slightly. “Conceived in a bathroom stall at a nightclub,” you say, shaking your head. “That’s not exactly the romantic story you tell at family gatherings.”

Louis chuckles, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “No, but it’s our story,” he says, his tone softening again. “And I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

The warmth in his gaze makes your heart swell, and before you can overthink it, you lean in. Louis meets you halfway, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s nothing like the heated, impulsive one from that night. This one is slow, deliberate, and full of everything you’ve both been holding back.

When you finally pull apart, he rests his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling your face. “I’m all in, Y/N,” he says quietly. “For you, for this baby. For everything.”

A tear slips down your cheek, but this time it’s one of relief, not fear. “Me too,” you whisper.

The two of you sit there in the quiet, holding each other as the enormity of the moment settles in. For the first time in weeks, you feel like everything might just be okay.

...

Part 2

[pluto-sims]

Big Foot, Little Grunge - A Dress for Kids

cas cc!! from me!!! i originally did some bigfoot pattern recolours for the og adult dress that came in the grunge kit, but the super incredible @sforzcc did some lovely child conversions and i just couldn't resist!

@maxismatchccworld @emilyccfinds @mmfinds @mmoutfitters

details and download under the cut >:)

Details

BGC dress for kids, tagged for both frames, custom thumbnail

Mesh by @sforzcc - thanks to their incredibly generous TOU, the mesh is included, but make sure to check out the rest of their grunge kit conversions here

Dress comes with 36 swatches from my Bigfoot Patterns

T-Shirt colour overlay with 34 swatches can be found in the gloves category

Bag colour overlay with 35 swatches can be found in the rings category

Disabled for random

Aaaaaand I think that's it? This was really fun to do, especially because i'm really fond of the bigfoot patterns so it was fun to use them again >:) massive thanks to sforzinda once again for the generous TOU!

If there's any issues, please lmk, and if not, I hope you enjoy!

Download: patreon (100% free for everyone, always)

[alexanderwales]

The Hour of Truth

The spell made people tell the truth.

It was expensive, but not so expensive it didn't find its use. The intelligence services spent enormous amounts of money on it, it was part of every serious interview, and the legal system relied on it.

This isn't a story about one of those. It's a story about Michael and Sarah, in their dining room with a ReadySpell, engaged to be married but without a date set. It was a gift they were giving to themselves, something that would reassure them, a chance to explore each other. Michael was cheery about the whole thing, but Sarah was decidedly less so.

She unrolled the parchment onto the table they'd assembled from a kit three months prior. She read the instructions on the card, which were dead simple, then placed her fingers on two corners of the parchment, with Michael doing the same. The complex lines in the center glowed, a circle burst into flames for half a second, and then it went still and dull.

"That's it then?" Michael asked. He withdrew his fingers. "That's the whole thing? I somehow thought it would be ... more."

"We're supposed to test it," she said, withdrawing her own fingers and picking up the card. "Say something false. There are test phrases."

"Two plus two is ... hrm. Four." He frowned. "I could feel a resistance. What an odd feeling."

"My head ... no, can't do it," Sarah said, reading the first part from the card. "It says, 'my head exploded today'. I can't finish the sentence."

"Well then," Michael said. He spread his hands, palms up. "Here we are."

"One hour," Sarah said with a nod. She placed the instruction card down and flipped the small hourglass that had come with the kit.

"Do you love me?" Michael asked.

"I do," Sarah replied. She said it solemnly. "Do you love me?"

"Of course," Michael replied. "Well, it would have been extremely embarrassing if we hadn't answered those correctly." He tapped his fingers on the table for a moment. "How many children do you want?"

"Two, or maybe three," said Sarah.

"I want two, but could go for a third," said Michael.

They had talked about it before. You didn't get engaged after four years of dating without having had those conversations at some point.

"It's interesting, isn't it?" asked Michael. "We know each other, but I suppose there's always at least a little doubt until you're under the spell. A difference between knowing and knowing."

"We only have an hour," said Sarah. "Rapid fire?"

"Sure," said Michael with a nod.

"Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?" asked Sarah.

"Yes," said Michael. "You?"

"Yes. Will you stay faithful to me?"

"Yes. You?"

"Yes. Do you have unresolved feelings for anyone?"

"No. You?"

"No." Sarah paused. "How often do you need to have sex?"

"Need?" asked Michael. "I'm not sure I even agree with that question. But I can answer want, which is what I've told you before, maybe two or three times a week."

"How often does it end up being that we have sex?" asked Sarah.

"Less than that," said Michael. He frowned at her. "Can you do that, ask questions you know the answer to? I suppose so."

"It's two point one times a week," said Sarah.

"How can you be that precise?" asked Michael.

"I've been tracking it," said Sarah. She folded her hands in front of her. "You know I like data. And I'll need to track it when we're trying for children."

"Is that the only reason you've been tracking it?" asked Michael. He had leaned back in his chair slightly.

"I was worried that it might come up," said Sarah with a slight sigh. "I was worried that we might get in an argument and you would say that we weren't having sex enough, and I wanted pre-emptive ammunition."

The spell did not actually compel her to say all that, but he could have poked and prodded and gotten around vague answers, so it was best to just tell him. She wasn't proud of it.

"How many times a week would be the right number for you?" asked Michael.

"Once a week," Sarah replied, which was what she'd told him before. "In an ideal world, I suppose."

"And you're saying that it's two?" asked Michael.

"Two point one," said Sarah.

"Is this ... a problem?" asked Michael. "I mean, it should be a compromise between us."

"It is a compromise," said Sarah. "And it's one that I'm fine with." She was coming off as defensive, she knew, but it was the truth, the spell still had plenty of time left.

It seemed to take him a moment to recognize that.

"You don't resent me?" asked Michael.

"No," said Sarah. She let a beat pass, to give him a chance to ask another question, then reached down to her purse and pulled out her notebook.

"Is that a notebook?" asked Michael.

"I had a few things prepared," said Sarah.

"Ah," said Michael. "Well, I'm an open book." He smiled at her.

Sarah looked down at the notebook. "Where were you last Thursday?"

"I ... need to think about that," said Michael. "I was working late, preparing for the pitch. I sent you a message, didn't I?"

"You did," said Sarah. "What happened after the pitch?"

"I came home," said Michael.

"Did you do anything else between finishing work and coming home?" she asked.

"No," he said.

She looked down at her notebook again. "Last June you went on a work trip, what did you do together?"

Michael looked at her for a moment. "We went out to dinner," he said, and anticipating the follow-up questions, he continued, "Afterward, on the second night we were there, the guys wanted to go to a strip club, and they did, but instead of doing that, I went back to my hotel room and sat there alone, because I knew you wouldn't understand that it's just ... a thing men do. But I didn't go to the strip club, I didn't see naked women, I just sat there watching a movie."

"Are you annoyed with me?" Sarah asked.

"Yes," Michael replied. "You don't trust me, and it's important, if we're getting married, for you to trust me."

"You cheated on me," Sarah said.

Michael pursed his lips. "Does it do us any good to have this conversation again with the spell active?"

"Probably, yes," Sarah said. "It would let me know you were honest."

Michael nodded. "It was one time. I had been drinking. There was something electric in the air, I don't know, this raw attraction that I had never felt, and I thought about you, and the thought seemed to just slide right off my brain. And then afterward, I felt so much guilt, like I had destroyed my entire life, and we'd only been dating for six months, so it felt like it was a sign, like I had revealed, too late, what you meant to me."

"When you went to bed with her, you thought that it was casual," Sarah said. "You thought that you would get away with it."

"Now hold on," Michael said, leaning forward slightly. "I was the one who told you. No one outed me, no one found anything out, it was my own conscience."

"A month late," said Sarah.

Michael nodded. "A month late. I wish that it had never happened. If it did have to happen, then I wish that I had told you right away. I was an asshole. But I've been faithful to you since then, I haven't done anything else, I ... I love you."

"Do you still think about her?" asked Sarah.

"Every now and then," said Michael. "Every month or two, she comes to mind. Mostly in a negative way."

"Mostly?" asked Sarah.

"Please," said Michael. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't think it's good that you keep dwelling on this, that you won't let this go." He looked down at the scroll, which had curled up slightly. "Is this why you wanted to do this?"

"Yes," said Sarah. "You said 'mostly', what does that mean? Mostly a negative way, which means that sometimes it's a positive way. Explain how."

Michael grit his teeth. "I am telling you, from the bottom of my heart, with a truth spell active, that it's not going to be good for either of us if we go down this path."

"I'm not marrying you unless you answer," Sarah said.

"That's the truth?" asked Michael. "I mean, you could have told me that before, you could have said that without the spell."

"You would have thought I was being manipulative," she replied.

"I think you're being manipulative now," Michael said. "You love me? You forgive me? You want to marry me?"

"Yes, yes, yes," said Sarah. "We're pulling out a rotten tooth, as I see it. I would have pulled it out on my own, if I could have, but I need you, and I need truth."

Michael took a breath. "I love you so much. You mean the world to me. I am so thankful to be marrying you, if that still happens." He took another breath. "The only thing I think, the only positive thought I have about her, is that she was more enthusiastic in bed. But I love you, Sarah, you are the only one I want to be with, it's not something that weighs on me, it's a consideration but it pales in comparison to everything else, you're smart, you're funny, you make me want to be a better man, these past four years I've become a better man."

"There have been times when you think to yourself that she was better in bed than I am?" asked Sarah. She had gone very still. She was swallowing the idea, in the same way that someone might swallow a caltrop.

"No," said Michael. "She wasn't 'better', she just ... wanted it in a way that you didn't. Don't. She was hungry for me in a way that you never are."

Sarah began to cry.

"I'm so sorry," said Michael. "But it doesn't mean anything to me, I told you that, it's an idle thought, it's got nothing to do with marriage, with partnership."

"I think I might be gay," said Sarah.

Michael stared at her. "What?" he asked. "What ... what does that mean?" He looked at the timer, which was still running down. "You said that once a week was what you'd prefer, did you mean with women?"

"No, I ..." she was sniffling, and went to her purse for a tissue, which she used to blot away her tears and wipe liquified snot from where it had gathered on her upper lip. "I enjoy having sex with you, I like the feeling of it. I do. That's true." She said it as though it was almost a revelation to hear it said under the truth spell, as though she wasn't certain that it would pass muster.

"Then what do you mean?" asked Michael. "Do you mean you might be ... bisexual?"

"I felt that heat for a woman," Sarah said. "For several women." She let out a breath. "I never did anything with them, I never even knew if it's what they would have wanted, but ... I don't know. It's confusing."

"But you still want to marry me," said Michael. "Even with that."

"I do," said Sarah. "I love you."

"I love you too," said Michael. He watched her face, as though he could read something there. He looked down at the timer. "Do you think this marriage is a good idea?"

"Yes," she replied. "Yes enough that I didn't have to add qualifications, I guess." She gave a nervous laugh. "Do you?"

"Yes," said Michael.

But as soon as he said it, he wasn't sure that it was true. Did the spell work like that? Could you say something that was untrue after you said it? There was a rising panic inside him, a feeling of being trapped with her that he'd never felt before, not before the affair or after.

"Let's set this aside," she said. "Let's be done with it. Okay?"

Michael nodded. He had wanted to say 'okay', but it wasn't.

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

OH since we were talking about the metarex arc. you know how i have that post about how it seems like idw might be leading up to a metarex adaptation. probably not but we can all hope right? anyway personally, since shadow doesn't have amnesia atm, we have three EXTREMELY fun options for the "assassinating cosmo" episode.

shadow does this shit without memory loss. it is in-character for him to pull the whole "ends justify the means" beat, and it makes him just softly telling cosmo to close her eyes* before attacking her way more of an oomph moment if he knows how she feels. but bringing that up: if he has memories of the ARK, him literally recreating his trauma but as the perpetrator and almost killing a child in front of another child who loves her might make him like. pause? idk for some reason i dont think he'd get to the point of actually almost killing her if he had memories at that point

@birdsareblooming suggested this first but surge and kit are right here as anti-sonics made in a lab with 0 memory of their past and a reason to not trust team sonic enough to stop and have a conversation with them. also conversations are not surge's style, murder is.

BUT. and here's the thing. the third option is the one that makes me the most excited. i really, REALLY like this idea and think it would be absolutely BONKERS if they went for it...

what if they had Silver try to kill Cosmo?

Firstly, we all know Silver can be just as ends-justify-the-means determined as Shadow. And while he has hesitations about killing Sonic in '06, he's ultimately planning to do it. And most importantly–

IDW seems to be building up him becoming a bit more. Let's say... decisive.

The most recent arc with Silver we got, he was kicked out of the Diamond Cutters because of his suspicions of Mimic... which turned out to be RIGHT. He was right about Mimic, but nobody listened to him. And as soon as Silver was gone, Mimic proceeded to join a squad that blew up Restoration HQ.

Let me repeat that. Nobody listened to Silver about a traitor being amongst them, and then that impostor nearly killed everyone in the resistance.

So not only has Silver just been through a situation that told him that "if you leave a traitor to their own devices, all of your friends will almost die and they (and you) will lose all of their hard work," the exact same incident has told him that "your friends will not believe you."

Silver finds out that there is a traitor on Team Sonic. And the first thing he's gonna think is, "They're not going to listen to me when I tell them." The second thing he's going to think is, "If they don't listen to me and let the traitor go, the traitor will kill them." And in a situation as deadly as the Metarex arc, he's not going to take that chance.

But the most intense part of this? Is that Silver's kind-of right, in the worst way possible. Because Sonic won't listen to him.

Sonic remembers '06. He remembers Silver being deceived into believing that he was the Iblis Trigger and then trying to kill him. He didn't know that Silver was hesitant about it– he just saw Silver try to murder him multiple times. He knows that despite how smart Silver is, he's prone to falling for these kind of tricks. And he knows that Silver is going to be a stubborn ass who won't listen to reason until it slaps him in the face.

And Silver doesn't remember '06. He doesn't remember that this has happened before. He only remembers that the last time he spotted an impostor, he was right and nobody listened.

So Silver goes to the ship. Tries to kill Cosmo. Sonic moves to stop him.

Sonic asks why he's doing this. Silver asks if he'll believe him if he tells him. Sonic can't answer that. Because he won't. And he can't tell Silver why.

There's layers to it. Layers. And now, I want to see Silver try to assassinate a child.

[wordsandrobots]

Yeah, no, for me at least, watching the Gundam Wing dub is definitely the way to get the most out of it. Having that extra mental cue to treat it as a theatrical performance really helps put me into the right mindset for appreciating it, to the point where things like Zechs cursing himself for not being able to strike down Noin, Une reigniting Treize's will to battle, and Treize revealing that he keeps an exact tally of the dead all hit like flipping freight trains.

Coupling that to having read Episode Zero means I finally have the tool-kit to really jibe with what the show is going for. And, I mean, come on. In context, more clearly understanding the philosophy behind his actions - Wu Fei's 'I didn't think I'd win'? That's an epic poem in a single line.

No wonder he's in such a bad state come Endless Waltz! Poor kid just cannot catch a break when it comes to building a solid world-view for himself. It's so very cathartic to see him backing up a crowd of unarmed protestors at the end of the movie (him AND Dorothy, let's not forget).

Once I knew to look, there's so many little details feeding the performative aspects of it, too. Treize and Zechs having conversations when they absolutely cannot hear the other side of the exchange. Dorothy's vamping. Duo entirely disregarding the fourth wall.

Is it a good engagement with the material reality of war and pacifism? Not particularly. But you don't necessarily need a high melodrama performance to be true to the reality of specific philosophies, as long as it remains emotionally grounded and compelling. And taken on its own terms?

Yeah. There's a damn good reason this show took a generation by storm.

Last time around, I complimented the Gundam Wing fandom on the show they'd hallucinated into existence. My sincere thanks to @tinyozlion for providing me the toolkit necessary to join them on the trip.

(Obligatory hot take: I like the TV version of Wing Zero much better than the Endless Waltz design. EW!Zero is just a bit too fey; TV!Zero has the beef necessary for it to be a believable engine of devastation.)

(Obligatory uncontroversial take: the mecha design for Gundam Wing is some of the best the franchise has ever produced, especially the OZ mobile suits. High Grade Aries when, Bandai?!)

That was a very fun way to spend my week. I am now going to go for a walk and resist the urge to splash out on a Real Grade Tallgeese because while I lack the space, it is extremely pretty and relatively inexpensive. For similar reasons, the upcoming Real Grade TV Wing Zero is going to be very dangerous to my wallet.

[lotusunique]

Cuts and Bruises

A.Aretas x BlackFem!Reader

Okay so I lost the comment that this was based off but they gave me the idea by basically saying “there’s something about a man bloodied and bruised looking at you like you’ve just hung the moon that does sum to me” and I loved it so here we are!

TW:Mild themes of SA! Mild themes of violence

Tonight was supposed to be fun. Tonight you were supposed to go out and hang with your best friends. But no. You were stuck working at this shitty bar you called a job.

You’d already had a terrible week as it was and now your dickweed of a boss had put you on the schedule. Not to mention this tight ass uniform was huggin all the wrong places.

“Get in and get out. Quick shift”,was all you managed to repeat to yourself through out your slow paced work shift. As you dried a shot glass you recognize a familiar face walk through the door.

The infamous Armando Aretas. He was a regular at this point. Often just coming in after he came from wherever he was. He seemed like the mysterious type so you chose never to pry unless you two were in deep conversation.

He walks over to the bar before opening his mouth, “I know, a jack and coke on the rocks. Lite”,you smirk over at him as he takes a seat. You quickly make his drink and head back over to him.

“I thought you weren’t gonna be here tonight”,he eyes you with a weird look. “Yea I wasn’t supposed to but here I am”,you grown. “Eventually I’m just gonna grow old and die here”,you shrug. “Well,let me know when that is, I’ll grow old with you in here. “, he gives a smile back.

The two of you casually chat until your coworker leans over to you, “can you help out at table 7, I’ve gotta hit the bathroom really quick”, she says before scurrying off to the bathroom.

“ I’ll be right back”, you advise Armando before turning to the table you have to tend to. You walk over to the table which happens to be a group of drunk men. Older maybe 40-50. Obviously they can’t hold their liquor as they’re highly roudy and the smell of beer is pouring off them.

“Hello, what can I get you today?”,You say in your customer service voice. “Shit are you on the menu?”,one of the men gives a deep laugh. You resist the urge to scrunch up your face, “our house specials are up on the board”, you point.

As you turn to show the specials, you feel a hard slap across your ass. You turn back to the men with so much shock across your face. You didn’t plan on loosing your job tonight but you knew you were about to.

The group of men sit around giggling as you put your server book onto the table near by and taking off your earrings. “Oh look, this bitch thinks someone’s scared of her.”,one of the men voices. Before you know it, your fist is flying clean across the man’s face. You prepare to take on all of them but when you look up, Armando’s beating the shit out of them all.

You didn’t know he’d been watching the whole situation unfold but you were happy he was. Within the next thirty seconds to a minute, the fight is broken up by nearby bar goers. The group of men scatter through the front door before you turn to Armando.

“C’mon let’s get you cleaned up”, you say before taking him to a storage space in the back of the bar. You nod over to a somewhat tall desk placed against the wall, “sit”. He gives you an “I don’t want to” look. “Sit.”,you say sternly, shooting him daggers with your eyes. “Yes Ma’am”,He smirks over at you, looking for the first aid kit you didn’t get the chance to see his sly expression.

“Found you!”,you say quietly excited to yourself. Armando gives you a weird glance. “You wanna judge me or you wanna get patched up”,You raise an eyebrow at him as you move towards him, standing in between his legs, meaning you tower him by a little. “You right you right. Patch me up Nurse Y/L/N.”,he smiles.

“Shut up”, you say pulling out an alcohol wipe to clean up a big cut right across his eyebrow, funny enough it’s right above his eyebrow slit. “I’m sorry. Does it hurt?”,you ask eyeing his response. “Not really. Just wanted to make you feel bad”,he looks up at you with a laugh. “You play too damn much”, You laugh, lightly shoving him.

“In a second I’m finna whoop your ass”, you laugh,still cleaning up the light bruises on his face. It was normal for the two of you to talk like this from time to time. Surprisingly one of your best friendships was with someone who just walked into your job one day. You loved that even when he was just in a fight, all bloodied and bruised he still was the finest man you’d ever seen in your natural born life.

“Shit I’m not opposed”,he smirks up at you. “Armando get out my face”,you laugh. “Thank you also.”, you say as you place a band aid on a cut directly on his forehead. “For what?”,he asks. “For beating up those Assholes”, you smile. “Hey I was just following your lead”, he laughs. “Where’d you learn to punch like that?”, he asks.

“My dad was a navy seal. Before he died he taught me everything he knew. So if you think about it, I’m kinda a killing machine. But I promise I use my powers for good”, you say as the two of you laugh.

“This is the most I’ve ever seen you smile in here”, you say noticing how pretty his teeth are. He really kinda is the full package somethings gotta be wrong.

“Wassup with you. I get a vibe but I don’t know the full story so I don’t know if the vibe I’m getting is right.”, you explain. “Well what’s the vibe you’re getting?”,he asks, intrigued.

“ Sometimes I think you’re feeling me then not so much. And it’s kinda like you’re this perfect package. Somethings gotta be off”,you shrug.

“You got a baby mama?”

“No”

“Multiple baby mamas?”

“No”

“Multiple babies”

“There are no babies involved”

“Okay… you a felon?”

*silence*

“Ahhh, ding ding.”

*silence*

“What’d you do? Im not judging I dated a con man once”, You shrug before he burst out laughing.

“That shit is not funny. He tried to steal my identity.”, you let out a laugh.

“Oh but to answer that wavering thought in your head”, Armando says before standing up. He pulls you into him before placing a kiss upon your lips. The kiss wasn’t hungry like you’d expected. It was soft and subtle. It made you wanna melt and you loved every second of it. “I want you. I just was giving you time to realize I was gon have you”, he brushes his thumb against your lips.

[egrets-not-regrets]

Imposter (1)

Someone finds the perfect opportunity to muscle in on Erriox's bond.

Author's Notes: Current Chapter >>> Next Chapter

**Dialogue spoken in Gothic language are bolded and italicized.**

Inspired by a conversation on Discord. This takes place earlier in Erriox's and Lenora's relationship, during the two months that Erriox is still trying to figure out logistics of Ancient Terra and is unsure whether to live with Lenora or not.

Thanks to @squishyowl for the dividers.

Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog , @bispecsual , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k , @ms--lobotomy , @legionsofthehungry

@gra93fruit-blog , @i-am-a-dragon34 , @felinisnoctis, @thevoidscreams, @yurihasurunbara

@cruelmeltryllis,

“Are you leaving again?” Lenora asked the Iron Warrior as he helped her clean up after dinner. 

Erriox wrung the towel he just washed and replied, “Yes. I will be going to the Steelix fortress base.” He technically didn’t need to tell her where he was going to be, but some nagging feeling made him feel obligated to tell her where he’s going. If only to ease his bonded’s mind. 

“When will you return?”

Erriox went quiet for a moment. He wasn’t sure how long this trip would take, between orientation, training, and the likelihood of being immediately thrown into work or missions. Uneasiness crept into his bones, Lenora and her home will be left alone for an unknown amount of time.

“I’m not sure.” he murmured, “I will be back as soon as I can.” He'll make it happen one way or another. Putting his gauntlets back on, Erriox then turned to Lenora and repeated, “I will return as soon as training is over.”

She smiled at him fondly. That big silly Iron Warrior, his determination to return was quite endearing. Erriox wasn’t the type to stay for long, unwilling to impose, and he always seemed to have something on his mind; but will stop by to visit from time to time. Well, even though he was bonded to her, Erriox had his own business to deal with and it’s not for her to pry. She’s sure he’ll return whenever he wishes, like he does normally. To be fair, it wasn’t a bad thing, Lenora thought. She enjoyed her privacy and freedom after all. She’s heard stories about how scarily codependent and suffocating bonded Astartes can be. 

Lenora accompanied him to the porch and gestured to him, “Kneel down for a moment. Please.”   

Erriox did as she requested, only to be taken aback when she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. He couldn’t stop the heat rushing to his face each time Lenora embraced him. Not that he didn’t appreciate it, but it felt strange as he didn’t need comforting nor did he do anything to warrant such a gesture. No baseline in his time would have willingly given such a gesture of affection, let alone initiate it. (Though there had been whispers of some of his brothers having illicit relationships with baselines.) After all, as Iron Warriors, they were a legion that people reviled rather than admired. 

Erriox leaned his head against hers, inhaling her scent. He could feel Lenora’s gentle sigh on his cheek.

She whispered, “Safe travels. And be careful, alright?”

“I will naturally be cautious, but why do you say ‘safe travels’? There Is no guarantee my journey would be without danger.” 

Lenora hummed, thinking about his question, then chuckled, “It is a human saying, similar to wishing someone luck or wishing someone to survive another day. I want to see you again, alive, and not at death’s door.” 

Warmth filled his chest. His bonded was so kind, he felt he wasn’t worthy, but he was lucky enough to have bonded to her, and treasured her words. Erriox nuzzled her. He replied, his voice steady and confident, “I will return to you.”

“I know. And you will always be welcome here.” she smiled as the Iron Warrior held her tighter.

They stayed together like this for some time. Lenora didn’t resist. She enjoyed giving hugs and considering how long Erriox held her, she knew he needed it. The Iron Warrior had talked about some of his experiences before appearing here on Earth. It broke her heart since it seemed his world and his time wasn’t very kind to him. So she hoped to make up for that during his stay here. Besides, everyone could use a kind word and a hug every now and then.

Eventually, after one last nuzzle, Erriox reluctantly let go and was about to stand up, “I have to leave.”

“Wait.”

Lenora held his face in her hands, brushing over his scarred temple, her expression soft and gentle. She pressed her lips between his brows, murmuring, “One for good luck.” before letting go. 

Erriox stood up, a small smile gracing his lips, “Remember to lock your door. I will return.” he said. 

Lenora laughed and waved, “I will. See you then!”

Content, the Iron Warrior put on his helmet and turned to leave, not knowing that they were being surveilled by a pair of calculating turquoise lenses. 

[potato-jem]

coming out of retirement as a tsc blog to dislodge the argument that 'jace would have been able to break the gracelet' and 'james herondale as a character is weaker than his ascendants and descendant counterparts'

my credentials include being less than four months from getting a bachelor's degree, with one of my majors being in english lit, and having read the first two books of the last hours series, alongside the side stories.

disclaimer: i am only directly quoting from ONE book, which is chain of iron, and everything else i am recalling from my memory. i'm doing this to prove a point.

when looking at this topic, one has to recognise the gracelet for what it is. it is an enchanted object, SPECIFICALLY designed to manipulate james, as his increased demon blood from his mother made him able to resist grace's ability to 'control the minds of men' (choi 208). despite grace suggesting that 'maybe it's because he's a shadowhunter. maybe they have more resistance to magic' (choi 255) during grace's 1899 flashback, the next grace flashback in 1899-1900 opens with the following statement - 'as it turned out, grace's power worked on shadowhunters. all male shadowhunters except for james' (choi 392). this then leads to tatianna producing the bracelet and giving it to grace, with the promise that 'the moment he lays his willing hand upon it, he will be lost, for it is so powerful that even to touch it is to be overcome by magic' (choi 394).

as tatianna and the reader have concluded through this evidence throughout these flashbacks, james is naturally able to resist grace's power through being his mother's son. now, let's look at two of our other herondale main characters.

first of all, we have kit. similar to james, kit has increased demonic blood due to being part faerie. we could assume he may even possess more demonic blood than james, because he is a descendent of the first heir. in addition to this, he would also have increased angel blood through his faerie lineage. when putting this into consideration, in the hypothetical situation of kit ever meeting with grace, he would be unaffected by her power.

naturally, as stated above, because the increased demon blood would influence a male shadowhunter to not be seduced by grace, we can assume that increased angel blood would have the same effect. this leads to our second herondale in discussion, which is jace. jace is known to have increased athletic and strategic abilities, due to his angel blood. because of this, we can assume that the angelic blood would be the reason jace would also not succumb to grace's power.

we cannot really include will in this discussion. not only does he not possess increased supernatural genetics or was ripped out of his dead mother's womb prematurely with angel blood being the only reason he survived, but he has had conversations with grace in canon and we know he would have been wrapped around grace's finger in an instant if he were in james' position, without the assistance of the bracelet. (there's also the fact that he got gaslit by a demon one time and believed it wholeheartedly for years, so he is not really a good example)

so if we look at the gracelet, and we think about the herondale men who are objectively similar to james through their bloodline, obviously the gracelet will work on them. it is designed by belial, one of the seven princes of hell, who would have taken lineage into consideration, knowing this was going to be worn by his own grandson.

jace is not as superhuman as you think he is. the moment that bracelet would be on his wrist, he would be trapped. additionally, as @bookishjules has mentioned, he believes 'to love is to suffer' - once he would learn that the gracelet is a trap, he would believe it is something he deserves or is willing to suffer through in order to keep grace. if anything, he would probably keep the gracelet on for longer than what james did.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

I was thinking about the Voice, and how much people outside of the Bene Gesserit actually know about how it works, and how much Chani understands about what's happening to her while she's being controlled by Jessica, and now we have fic. (pspsps more Paul x Chani here if you like this.)

Just imagine this is one of the times they come back to the sietch, some time before Paul drinks the Water of Life.

"What is the Voice?" she asks, trying to keep her tone casual.

They're sitting in her yali, both of them with their battle kit spread out on the floor around them, cleaning and repairing and restocking what's needed after weeks in the desert.

Usul has his own rooms, in a branch of the sietch near his mother, but there are always...hangers-on lingering outside, waiting to catch a glimpse of the Mahdi. Those people have learned by now that she won't hesitate to draw a knife on them if they come around here.

His gaze flicks up when she asks the question. But he doesn't ask where she heard about it, or why she's curious now.

"It's a Bene Gesserit skill," he says, eyes focused on the rip in his stillsuit he is mending. "A way to control people. Make them do what you want."

"So your mother can do it?"

"Yeah. She's a master at it."

"Is that what...all this is?" She gestures vaguely around her, to the corridors where increasing numbers of people keep wanting to bow to him.

"No." He gives a rueful smile. "That's just good old-fashioned propaganda. The Voice doesn't work on large groups of people. It's individual. Everyone has a specific pitch that reaches them."

He seems to know a lot about it. "Can you do it?" she asks.

For a moment he doesn't answer. Then he says, "Yes. Sometimes."

"Let's see it, then."

"What?" He looks up sharply this time.

"Go on, I'm curious," she says, leaning back on her hands. "Voice me."

"No." He has that little half-smile on his face, the one he gets when he's nervous or embarrassed about something.

"Why not?" she asks, because now that he's refused so flatly she is curious. He is usually so eager to share, to teach and learn. She's not sure why this is different.

"You'll hate it," he says, and now she has to make him do it, because she'll decide that for herself, thank you very much.

She goes straight for the argument she knows will convince him. "If it's a weapon, I should know how it works. Right?"

After a minute he sighs and says, "Yeah. All right."

He sets his stillsuit and the patch kit aside. Sits with his hands on his knees for a long moment, watching her with an unreadable expression. She holds his gaze, because she's used to other people finding him a little uncanny by now, but he's always seemed like just a person to her.

The longer she watches him, though, the more it feels like there's a charge building in the air around them, like the crackling feeling on the wind that tells you a sandstorm is coming before you can see it.

"I'm going to tell you to stand up," he says, his voice quiet and even.

"Okay. Can I resist?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "You can try." He exhales a long breath and lets his eyes drift closed.

She's ready to be indignant about that, but then he opens his eyes and says, "Stand."

His voice is hardly louder than a quiet conversation, but it reaches into her like a physical force. Her muscles simply move without her input. She is on her feet before the thought of resistance occurs to her.

The jarring feeling of foreign control is gone as instantly as it arose. She stares down at him, and the surge of sick horror in her gut must show on her face, because he winces.

"I told you," he says. He shifts uncomfortably, pulling his knees up to his chest, turning his face away.

Her heart is pounding, adrenaline flooding her bloodstream, like her body knows something hostile has been done to it. She forces herself to take deep, calming breaths. There is no danger here, just Usul sitting on the floor looking miserable next to her.

She makes herself sit back down, landing heavily on the low step up to the bed platform behind them.

"Have you been able to do that this whole time?"

"Kind of." He's still not looking at her. "It doesn't always work for me. It takes years of study to learn to use it the way my mother can, at any time on anyone."

She shivers at the thought.

"It was easier with you because I know you." His voice is low and guilty. "I knew the right pitch."

"How?"

He shrugs. "I can't really explain it, I just knew."

She realizes now that his hesitance hadn't been secrecy or false modesty, but fear.

She gets up off the ledge and moves over to sit down next to him, her shoulder bumping against his.

He turns toward her suddenly. "You know I would never...for real--"

"I know," she says. He's still searching her face urgently for reassurance. "I know that," she says again.

His hair has fallen in his face. She tucks an errant curl behind his ear. "I know you would never hurt me," she says. Even though, for the first time, she's convinced that he could.

[wherewritersgotodie-blog]

Workin’ Hands (pt. 1) (Kit Walker x reader)

Pt. 1, Pt. 1.5, Pt. 2

can you resist the town player asking you out on a date after finding you on a lonely street late at night?

warnings: player!kit. smoking. misogyny?

Massachusetts, 1962

“Got a light, gorgeous?” you hear a voice out from the darkness behind you. You jump, turning to face the source.

Kit Walker. Town playboy. Gorgeous, but a total rascal. A dog, you heard.

“Yes,” you nod, taking a lighter out from your small handbag.

You’re stuck on the side of the road, car broken down, the hood popped, not that you knew anything about how you’d even begin to fix it.

You flick the lighter and he raises his eyebrow, smirking. He leans into the fire, putting the end of his cigarette to it, breathing. “Thank you, miss.” He pauses, tilting his head to the side. “Car gone bust?” he says, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Yeah, and I don’t have the slightest clue how ta’ fix it,” you sigh, looking at it, tilting your head as well.

He walked to the car, leaving his cigarette in his mouth as he talks. “This is why women shouldn’t be driving,” he says, smiling.

“Oh, really? Only women’s cars break down?” you check him.

“No, but you haven’t got the mind to fix it up, I’m sure,” he affirms, leaning over the hood.

“Girls are every bit as capable as boys, it’s just that no one bothers to teach us,” you cross your arms, looking at him. He turns around, walking to you.

“Show me your hands,” he smiles.

“Why?” you ask him, turning your head to the side slightly.

“I’m checkin’ somethin’, sweetheart,” he smirks.

You put your hands out. He uses his hands to turn them over facing up, then looks at your palms.

“Honey, these ain’t workin’ hands,” he says, running his fingers over the inside of your hand. “Feel mine,” he presses the end of his fingers against yours, rubbing them back and forth, “They’re all calloused so I can work with my hands. But your hands… your hands are soft as a daisy,” he says, running the back of his fingers over your palm to emphasize his point. “They’re for girls’ things. Ain’t no offense meant, it’s just true.”

You stay silent, looking up at him. He’s satisfied by this. He walks back to the car, then sits in the drivers seat. He gets out, looks at you as he shuts the door, and says, “Aww, darling,” he speaks like you’re a child, “The second brake was on, sugar.”

You blush, feeling foolish for not noticing your car had been fine, you simply pushed a wrong button.

“Aw, it’s alright, sweetheart, you couldn’t’a known,” he says with a condescending tone.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Alright, well, thank you very much, sir,” you say, shaking his hand.

He shakes it firmly, then smiles, “Your hands are softer than most, I’d say.”

“Is that so?” you ask.

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods. “You’re a lovely thing, you know? You shouldn’t be out here alone so late at night.”

“Well, Gosh, I didn’t mean to, but I was working late and then,” you shake your head, “Well, you know the rest.”

He smiles, “I do.”

“Alright, well, have a good night,” you attempt to end the conversation again.

“I’m Kit. Kit Walker,” he says, stepping to the side so he was in line with your feet again.

“I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” you say.

“Hm. Lovely name for a lovely girl,” he smiles, throwing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. “(Y/L/N),” he reflects, “Oh, yeah, Mr. (Y/L/N), he comes into the shop sometimes.”

“Oh, my, please don’t tell my father you saw me out here,” you beg him, panicking.

“Woah, woah, I’m not tellin’ anybody anything,” he put his hands up. “Why, your dad strict or something?”

“Oh, very,” you respond.

“Oh yeah? How so?” he walks closer to you, crowding your space slightly.

“Well, I ain’t supposed to talk to boys, first of all,” you say quietly, looking away from him.

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, putting a toothpick from his pocket between his teeth. “So you can’t date?” he smirks.

“You’re not being very appropriate,” I respond.

“Hey! I’m not askin’ for any reason, I’m just wonderin’,” he smiles.

“No, I can’t date.”

“Well, that’s a shame, I would have asked you out,” he rolls the toothpick around with his tongue.

‘Just wonderin’.’ You shake your head. “I’ve heard things about you, Kit Walker,” you shake your head, almost scolding him.

“Like what, sugar?” he smirks.

“That you hang around lots of girls,” you retort.

“Well, I don’t date none of ‘em,” he says. “I’d take you out, I’d make you my girlfriend. Easy.”

“Right,” you say, walking to your car door.

He runs up behind you, cornering you against the car. “C’mon, you owe me! Just one date, then you never have to see me again,” he smiles.

“Alright, fine. One,” you say. “And it stays between you and me,” you nod once.

“You got it, sugar.”

They’re so easy.

[marchsfreakshow]

Sweet Treats and Gentlemen [Kit Walker]

Fluffy to all hells

Literally just Kit Walker taking you on a date because you're a cutie! :)

Third attempt at this idea! It's been an idea for ages now and it's never gone right, so I hope this one works.

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Nerves. Nerves building up. Pacing around your living room. Did you look nice enough? Was your hair done perfectly? Was everything ironed good enough? Oh lord...it was hazing your mind before the date even began, and the man hadn't even turned up on your doorstep yet. Your worries had made you sit on your couch motionless, blinking at nothing as you stared blankly. Lost in no thoughts at all as you awaited for the knock.

And two soft knocks brought you out of your thoughtless stares.

Soft heels clicked on the hardwood floor until you reached the front door. Picking up your bag, and taking a deep breath, you opened the front door. "Afternoon. Wow. You look.." Kit's voice was smooth, honey-like, immediately making you weak in the knees. He was breathless as he took in your outfit. "L-like an angel.." The man breathed out eventually, eliciting a soft chuckle from your lips. Music to his ears. Not even 5 minutes into a date and he was already making you laugh? That's always a positive.

"Thank you, Kit, that's very kind of you." Was your response, taking your first footsteps out of the house. He offered a hand which you gracefully took, heading out towards the road.

"Oh! Uh, completely forgot." Kit chuckled awkwardly, handing you the small bouquet in his hand, adorned with different shades of purples, whites and yellows. "Bought fresh today for ya." Why, it was the prettiest bouquet you had ever seen.

He placed them in your free hand, letting his fingers brush yours momentarily. "Kit, these are spectacular. Thank you.."

"It's nothing at all."

With a small smile and still intertwined fingers, the both of you started walking together. Despite getting to know each other and the fact you could hold a conversation decently well, you still felt as awkward and giddy as a schoolgirl. I mean, you were really on a date! Holding hands and a full bouquet in your other hand too! You resisted the urge to swoon and smile embarrassingly widely as Kit looked over at you occasionally.

You did eventually strike up a conversation as Kit took you around the town centre. Talking about the music you adored, how you came to be in this town... everything and nothing. And your love for pastries. Your attempts at baking sweet breads never turned out well, but nothing a well-written cookbook couldn't solve. Speaking of pastries. "Hey, c'mon, in here." Kit chuckled with a grin, pulling you into a bakery.

Letting yourself get pulled into the store, it was definitely more a café than anything. Small tables made for two, overall looking more cosy and romantic than anything. There was so much to consider getting. Pain au Chocolat, cinnamon buns, raisin buns eugh, chocolate chip cookies, yum yums, the loveliest looking cupcakes decorated with light buttercream and sugared flowers on top. Of course, there were a few fresh bread loaves on display too. It was overwhelming your nose with scents and there was so much to see. "Well? What should I get?" Kit asked softly as the queue quickly shortened. Oh, right. There was too much to pick from! You couldn't make a decision, leaving your mouth agape as you searched your brain for a decision. "Two cinnamon buns please."

"Of course." You blinked and looked up to the counter, seeing Kit already ordering and paying. He knew you well already and you hadn't even been on this date for long. "Here you are, sir."

"Thank you! You have a good day now." Kit smiled sweetly at the worker before he took you to sit down at one of the tables. You just had to take a moment to register what had just happened. Your date slid you one of the buns, and you placed the flowers on your lap so they weren't interfering too much. "You doin' okay? I'm not overwhelmin' you am I suga'?"

"no, no you're..." You trailed off as your head shot up to meet his eyes. They were staring hearts into you. Like he belonged in this little bakery you were sat in together. "You're perfect.." a smile and a sigh left you, watching him take a bite of the sweet treat he held in his hand. Pink and red painted his cheeks as you complimented him. Perfect? He was far from perfect. Flawed, like all humans were.

"P-perfect? Ah, you flatter me darl'.." Kit stuttered out between a bite of the cinnamon treat, licking his lips of the icing.

"It's true.." you sighed lovingly, resting your cheek on your hand, just admiring him wiping his lips with a small napkin. How could he not see how perfect and brilliant he was? Despite that, the baked goods were eaten as minimal words were spoken. Occasionally looking up at each other and giving small, juvenile giggles.

The hours passed.

The sun continued to shine.

Eventually, you were stood at your doorstep, running your fingers through the flowers. "You have a good night okay? I'm glad you had a nice time."

"Today was wonderful Kit. I appreciate everything you've given me today." Kit nodded and started to head off as you unlocked your door. "Hey, Kit.."

He turned back around and smiled up at you. "Hm?"

"Would...would you like to come in for a bit?" A quieter, nervous voice coming back to you. Obviously Kit agreed, stepping into the hallway once you placed the flowers in an empty vase. "I...I don't have much to do, but, I was hoping we could.."

You didn't finish your sentence before you immediately heard the radio starting to play. Ah, it seems Kit had the same idea you had. When he began to sing along cheesily, a giggle left you, just making you both smile. He gently held your hands, pulling you close and dancing you along. His fingers intertwined with yours and swift, light steps around your living room. Giddy smiles and giggles, soft sing-alongs. This man could've been the death of you as that smile of his melted you in his arms. "You're so sweet, Kit.."

"you're sweeter suga'. Havin' you in my arms is something I could get used to." He smirked a bit, softly wrapping his arms around your waist, letting your fingers rest on his shoulders.

Another little chuckle left you, and a brisk kiss fueled the fire that was your attraction to each other. Another one, and another. "..you, want to stay for dinner?"

"sounds like a plan darlin'."

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tags: @babygorewhore / @taintandviolent / @oceanblvd111 / @nahoyasboyfriend / @coentinim / @slutforgarlogan / @briaroftheroses @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re /. @evanpeterspeter / @feefymo / @fear-is-truth / @lacucarachapisser / @marchsfreak / @saintlucretia

[bokettochild]

Directors Commentary for something from chapter 2 of A Very Violet Valentine??

Or even just rambling about your favorites parts of it ⭐⭐⭐?

Oooh!

So, while it's not really there at ALL in the actual chapter, I had two or three drafts for this chapter, all starting on the premise that Legend, for the life of him, can't relax and/or have fun normally, and keeps stressing out about "the kids".

You know that trope we see sometimes in media where the mother and father try to get a date, but the mom is always worried that something will go wrong without her there to deal with it? Maybe it's not very well known, but I remember seeing an episode like that on Little House when I was, oh gosh a tiny thing! So, when I sat down to write this particular chapter, that just so happened to spring to my mind and the thought of Legend having so fully become lost to the "mom" role that he genuinely gets anxiety about not being there in case something happens, and Wars having to talk him down, was just so tricky to resist!

Problem was, writing it with this premise actually made it feel less like a stumbled into Violet Incident/break for the boys, and more like a constant stream of anxiety, regardless of which perspective I tried to go at it from.

In the end, I ended up cutting a whole conversation where Wars makes a bet with Legend over who'll get focused on "work stuff" first, and instead just had the vet fuss for the first bit before quickly rerouting it with someone recognizing the two of them. The reason I included this directly is because it's really not an Incident without Legend getting mistaken for someone's mom/wife, and, again, it made for a great chance to reroute from the whole mom-anxiety thing.

That said, had I included the Bet, it would have been a fic mostly consisting of the two boys both desperately trying to redirect each other away from work stuff, Legend dragging Wars away from anything with soldiers/Lana (who would have appeared just to get mopey about Wars being with another woman LOL) and Warriors trying to steer Legend in the opposite direction from the rest of the heroes' who are causing Incidents left, right, and center. The closest I got to this was actually the scene at the fountain where Wars tugs Legend in a direction claiming that he saw Laura. it's not obvious in this chapter, but when I (finally) write the last chapter, we will likely see that the other boys were close by and needing help and this was Wars saving legend's ass from getting involved (he would not have willingly subjected them to Laura and Linkle otherwise)

Having the sisters appear in the story was actually not planned at all, but I really enjoy writing about Wars' family, and also legend interacting with them because I love having the kids love him and the older girls REALLY love him *wink wink*. Mrs. Taylor (the real one) also definitely adores him, but you all know I love writing sweet maternal characters, especially around Legend (he's my favorite and I want to give him nice things, okay?)

Now, it never made it into a draft, but I feel like it would interest you all to know that, during the dancing scene, Warriors almost started singing a particular song you might know! I was planning the chapter out some weeks before writing and, out of nowhere, Ed Sheeran's Nancy Mulligan started playing on my phone (YouTube favored me for once), and the image of Warriors singing an altered version of the lyrics during the dance was so, so, SO hard to resist! Firstly, because I love the song, secondly, because the lyrics almost fit, and thirdly, because it would set up a major MISUNDERSTANDING!

See, the idea would have been that it's a popular folk song in Hebra that every singer slightly alters to include the names of an actual couple rather than "William Sheeran" and "Nancy Mulligan", and Warriors, trying to sell the act, would have included their fake names (or his real one and Legend's fake one). The main thing stopping me was the fact that 'Kit' doesn't have a maiden name, and also 'Kit' is too short and would have thrown off the cadence of the song, so it would have had to be lengthened to 'Kittridge' or some other longer name that 'Kit' could conceivably be short for.

Including it, without context to Castletown folk about the fact that Wars didn't make up the song himself, would have meant that the line "I asked her father, but her daddy said 'no; you can't marry my daughter'" would make people think that Kit's dad (Time) severely disapproves of Wars.

In the end though, the scene got away from me and the hangups about 'Kit's' name made me rethink it.

After a day of the boys having fun though, I wasn't sure how to draw it to a close, but while brainstorming, the idea that Wars and Legend close the day with some star-gazing got stuck in my head. Getting them to a place they could do that though was a bit tricky, but I took my time with it because the idea of Big Brother Wars carrying his little sisters back home to tuck them in was just too darling for me to resist!

Honestly, this was a copious amount of Warriors Lore/HCs in this one. I've had so many ideas and no place to put them, so I ended up dumping all of them in this series. (We almost got a story where Legend and Wars run into Wars' step-dad, except it got a bit too dark for my liking and really didn't suit the typical Violet Incident feel, so I scrapped it and used the softer bits in 'Violet's Familiar'. For this one though, I made a point to show Warriors getting slowly more and more comfortable and in his element, accent slipping in, hair being left messy, playing with his sisters, and letting Legend be around his family unsupervised, and all to show that he really does trust the vet a lot, not just with himself, but with his family as well.

(Honestly, if I ever do include the Wars Dies fic in any series, I'd almost say it would have to be this one LOL, I've laid so much groundwork' for it on accident T-T)

Now, the part about Legend being Wars' hero was entirely unplanned, but that conversation on the whole wasn't something I thought I'd write! I had been intending, for the last few updates, to finally address why Shadow is still being called 'Raven', and originally, it was Shadow himself that was going to point out, to Four, that he'd never had a name and just got called by his species like one might call their pet 'dog', 'cat', or otherwise, before then thanking Legend for giving him a real name, and Legend ending up letting on about how it's actually a family name and not just a random one, which would have given Shadow some warm fuzzies because now he's got a kind of family ties to someone! But, again, every fic I wrote with this included ended up getting clipped, scrapped, or otherwise abandoned *sigh*. Hence, I made legend finally say it here, although I still want Shadow and Four to find out the truth about it.

Running back to the dancing scene real quick; that was the scene that I built this whole chapter around. I knew, from the second I put them in kilts, that I wanted Legend and Wars to get to dance together and let loose and have fun. I am currently sketching the scene too! (I keep getting stuck on Warriors' hair though T-T)

The stargazing made for a good closer, I think. I originally intended for them to go star-gazing on a hill outside of town and then have to head back but the idea of them having this gloriously freeing day to feel like people, just for it to end with them having to don their roles as heroes' again, felt sort of depressive. I did tap into that feeling too, but I elected to have them stargaze from the highest point in the city instead and get to just continue to enjoy it until they, inevitably, fall asleep up there; not actually returned to their roles, but still back at the castle and safe/close to the rest.

There were a few other scrapped concepts for what their 'date' could entail, including but not limited to:

a trip to the theatre, since Wars knows Legend is a drama kid and would enjoy it

revisiting the diner from Violet's Mother, together

shopping around

Legend having to save Wars' ass from Lana and Cia, who are maintaining the magical protections over the city together (Cia returned to the side of good in one storyline of Wars' game, and I like the idea that she's on a sort of parole, with Lana as her handler) and who want to talk with him, only for Legend to say 'Absolutely Not!'

I ended up not doing most of them because the chapter was getting very long already, but I still fully intend on having Wars and Legend both have to protect each other from flirtatious individuals in future! Artemis has successfully managed to help Legend pass as Warriors' date for one event, and she likely will push to do it again now that she knows it's an option! (I'll admit, I've been dying to stuff Legend in a ball gown for ages now, so now Artemis is too LOL)

Anyways, thats it for this one! I could probably chatter more, but this is getting nearly as long as the fic itself now!

Hope you enjoyed the commentary! Thank you for asking for it!