#and then i got to think on the fly about how to work with that

[pitlanepeach]

The Long Way Home I Chapter Four

Oscar Piastri x Harper Grace (OFC)

Summary — When Harper, a kind girl with a guarded heart, meets rising karting star Oscar Piastri at their English boarding school, sparks fly.

It only takes one silly moment of teenaged love for their lives to change forever.

Warnings — Teenage love, growing up together, falling in love, teen pregnancy, no explicit scenes when the characters are underaged (obviously??), strong language, manipulative parents, past death of a parent, dyscalculia, hardly any angst, slice-of-life basically!

Notes — So, for reference, this fic is going to be "split-up" into sections of about 10 chapters per "era" of Oscar and Harper's lives. This is the Boarding School era. (YAY CONGRATS ON THE WIN OSCAR)

Wattpad Link | Series Masterlist

They sat cross-legged on the floor of Oscar's bedroom, backs pressed to the bed frame, the pregnancy test box torn open between them like the evidence of a crime. It felt different this time. Heavier. Too real. The plastic wrapper crackled in Harper's shaking hands, slick with sweat.

Oscar kept looking at her, barely blinking. His knees touched hers. His thumb made nervous little circles on his jeans, over and over like if he stopped, something bad might happen. His hoodie sleeves were shoved up to his elbows — the arms she'd seen tense when he hauled his kart frame or when he wrapped them around her in the middle of the night, after nightmares.

"You sure you wanna do this right now?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"We have to," she said. Her throat was tight. "We need to know how pregnant I am, right?"

He shrugged a bit and then nodded. 

She got up and disappeared into the en suite, the test clutched like a weapon. The door clicked shut.

Oscar sat perfectly still.

One minute.

Two.

She came out without looking at him and sat back down slowly. Placed the test between them.

A blinking hourglass stared back.

The room went dead quiet. No words, no breathing, just the faint hum of Oscar’s laptop still open behind them, some paused video of a race breakdown he didn’t care about anymore. They didn’t look at it.

They stared at the test like it was a bomb.

The blinking stopped.

The screen cleared.

Then the words appeared.

Pregnant | 3+ weeks

Harper made a noise — something between a gasp and a laugh and a sob — and sucked in a breath like she’d been drowning.

Oscar just stared. Eyes wide. Mouth slightly open. That little crease between his brows deepened and didn’t go away.

She spoke first, barely audible. “That’s... okay. So that’s more than a month. Before Christmas.”

He nodded slowly, numb. "Before it snowed, probably. I think that's how it works but...”

She turned her head toward him, her face pale, mouth trembling. “What the hell do we do now? I mean, we — we used protection. Every time. We were so careful.”

But she already knew.

Oscar looked like he’d been punched. He picked up the test with shaking fingers, held it too close, like maybe it would say something different. “Not… shit. No. Not every time.” He swallowed. “That one time. In the woods. When — when it was raining.”

She made a strangled sound and curled in on herself, pulling her knees up and hiding her face. “Oh my god. Oh my god. We’re so stupid. We’re so fucking stupid.”

He set the test down like it might burn him.

And then they just… sat there. Hearts pounding in the quiet. Sam was still down in the common room, watching the football, thankfully. They weren’t gonna be interrupted. Not yet.

Harper finally whispered, so soft he barely heard her. “What do we do now?”

Oscar wiped his palms on his thighs, blinking fast. “I think— I think we have to tell someone. My dad. My mum. Or— I don’t know. Mark? Someone older. Someone who knows what to do. Because I don’t. I have no clue what the hell we’re supposed to do.”

She nodded slowly, but her head kept bobbing like she couldn’t make it stop.

“Yeah. Okay. Yeah.” Her voice cracked. “I don’t either.”

She slumped against him, and he caught her, arms stiff at first like he was scared to touch her. Then he pulled her tighter, and she let herself melt into him, like if she stayed still enough, she could disappear.

“My mum’s going to kill me,” she whispered into his chest. “The only reason she even let me come back to Haileybury was because the school in Switzerland didn’t appreciate my disastrous STEM grades. But now... now she’s definitely going to send me away. Some girls’ home or something. She won’t even look at me. And you—” her voice cracked, “you won’t even see me again.” 

Oscar froze — then let out this breathy, shaky half-laugh that wasn’t really a laugh. “No. No, she won’t.”

“She might,” she said, voice cracking. “She would. You don’t know her.”

“I won’t let her.” His voice was firm this time. Small but certain. “You’re not gonna be alone in this, okay? I swear.”

She didn’t answer.

But she didn’t pull away.

And for now, that was enough.

—

They hadn’t planned to tell him first — Mark.

But something about the little meeting room — the scribbled race calendars on the whiteboard, the faint stink of oil and track mud on Oscar’s boots — made it feel like the moment was already happening. 

Like they were mid-crash and couldn’t steer out of it.

Mark was talking logistics — camp dates, tuning sessions, Belgium travel — when he paused. His eyes flicked toward Harper, quiet in the corner.

She was usually mouthy. Annoying. Always poking at him with weird questions about tire compounds just to watch him groan.

Now she was silent. Her hands twitched on her pleated school skirt. Her face was way too pale.

Mark’s brow furrowed. “Everything alright, kid?”

Oscar hesitated.

Then Harper said, in this too-small voice, “We need to tell you something.”

Mark blinked.

Oscar turned to face him properly, his spine going straight like that would help, like he could fake being older than fifteen and three-quarters. “Harper’s pregnant.”

The silence hit like a gut punch. Not shock — Mark didn’t do shock — but something worse. Like the air got sucked out of the room and nothing had been put back yet.

Mark leaned back, slowly, eyes jumping between the two of them. “Right.” He rubbed his face, then let his hand fall. “How far along?”

"Three-plus weeks," Harper answered, quoting the test. She still didn't know exactly what that meant. Why couldn't the test just tell her exactly how pregnant she was? It was weird. "We took the test last week. I missed my period over Christmas. And, uh — I guess." She glanced at Oscar. "We don't know what to do." She admitted. 

 Mark nodded. He didn't yell. He didn't flinch. He just looked... gutted for them. 

 "Are you alright?" He asked Harper, his tone more serious than either of them had ever heard. "Have you talked to a doctor yet?"

She bit her lip and looked down at her lap with a shrug. 

Oscar answered for her. “No. We haven’t talked to a doctor yet. That’s what we do next then, yeah?”

Mark nodded slower this time. “Alright. I won’t sugarcoat it. You’ve both fucked up. Big time. This is a huge deal.”

Harper looked down fast, blinking too hard, eyes glassy.

“I’ll help however I can.” He said, but there was something tense on his face. 

Oscar’s voice was small. “We know we've messed up, okay? We know.”

“You’ve got to tell your parents. Both of you. You especially, Oscar. Do you have any idea how pissed they'll be if they find out I've kept this from them?”

Oscar winced. 

“We will,” Harper whispered. “Just not today. Not yet. I’m... I’m really scared of telling my mum.”

Mark leaned forward, resting on his elbows. “Okay. Shit. I guess I'm glad that you at-least told me, then.”

Oscar exhaled. 

Harper’s leg bounced like it had a motor of its own.

—

Harper ducked into the bathroom, saying something about needing a second. 

The office door swung behind her.

Oscar fidgeted with the edge of a packet of race notes, fingers trembling.

Mark hadn’t moved. The silence had turned tight. Awkward.

Then Mark stood. Crossed the room. Closed the door fully with a soft click. When he turned back, his arms were folded and his face was hard.

“Oscar,” he said. Quiet. Sharp. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Oscar looked up slowly. “I obviously wasn’t.”

“No. You weren’t,” Mark said, voice still low but like it had claws now. “You’re fifteen. You’ve got the most important season of your life ahead of you. And meanwhile, you’re—”

“I know—”

“No, you don’t know,” Mark snapped. “You think this won’t affect your career? You think that this is just going to be all fun and dandy? This isn’t a movie, Oscar. This changes everything.”

Oscar’s jaw clenched. “It doesn’t change the fact that I can win races. That I want to be a world champion.”

“It changes how people see you,” Mark shot back, stepping in. “Sponsors. Teams. The press. You think the Red Bulljunior team is going to like this? You think Ferrari will look at you and not just see a teen dad?”

Oscar’s fists curled in his lap. “So what — I’m supposed to pretend it’s not happening? Tell her to— to get rid of it? Abandon her? Is that what you’re saying?”

Mark’s voice cut through him like a blade. “No. Don’t twist my words. I didn’t say walk away. I didn’t say abandon her. I’m saying wake the hell up. Because you’re not just going to be able to be a kart driver anymore. You’re a fifteen-year-old kid who’s about to be a dad.”

Oscar stared at the floor. His chest felt like it was full of wet concrete.

“I’m not leaving her to deal with this alone,” he said eventually. “I promised her that I'd stick by her, yeah?”

Mark paused, then sighed through his nose. “I know you’re not the kind of kid who'd do that. You’ve got a spine. But having a spine isn’t the same as knowing what you’re about to walk into.”

Oscar’s throat burned. “I love her.”

“I know,” Mark said, softer now. “And that’s why I’m so scared for you.”

Silence fell again.

“I’ll do both,” Oscar said. Quiet but solid. “If she keeps the baby. I’ll be present. And I’ll race. I’ll win.”

Mark just looked at him for a long time, eyes tired. “Then you’d better grow up fast, mate,” he said at last. “Because the second that test turned positive, you stopped being a kid.”

—

They sat on the floor again. Same spot as before — backs against Oscar’s bed frame, knees almost touching — but the silence was heavier now. Denser. Like the space between them was filled with invisible debris.

Outside, the sky was grey and close, clouds sagging low over the school grounds. It felt like the world was holding its breath — pressing down, waiting for them to crack.

Harper had one of Oscar’s karting hoodies on, her fingers buried deep in the sleeves. She stared at the wall like it might give her an answer if she waited long enough.

“So we have to tell one of our parents,” she murmured eventually.

Oscar looked over at her, then nodded. Slow, like the movement itself required effort. “Yeah.”

She didn’t look up. Just pulled her knees tighter to her chest and pressed her forehead to them. “I can’t tell my mum. Not yet.”

He didn’t push. He knew exactly what that meant — not just because of who her mother was, but because of what Harper became around her. Smaller. Quieter. Like she was always bracing for something that hadn’t happened yet. Like she lived half-flinched.

“I don’t even know what I want to do yet,” she whispered. “How can I tell her when I don’t even know what’s happening in my own head?”

Oscar’s voice was soft. “Okay. Fine. We don’t tell her.”

Her head lifted, eyes flicking to his in surprise. “Yeah?”

“I mean, you’ll have to eventually,” he added, a bit cautiously. “But I get it. I know why you don’t want to.”

She blinked slowly. “Right.”

He shrugged, staring down at his hands like they might tell him something. “So... I was thinking maybe I should tell my dad.”

Harper’s brows rose. “Really?”

Oscar nodded. “He’s solid. He won’t freak out. I think he already knows something’s off — I haven’t been calling as much.”

“Are you scared?”

There was a pause. A beat too long.

“Yeah,” he said. Quiet and real.

She reached out and squeezed his hand. Her fingers were cold. “I love you.”

“I know.”

Harper leaned into him, cheek resting against his shoulder. She didn’t say anything else for a moment, just breathed and listened to his heartbeat where her ear met his chest.

“We don’t have to do everything today,” she said eventually. “We only told Mark earlier.”

“No,” Oscar agreed. “I know. But I want to. I think I should.” He paused, then added with more urgency, “We have no idea what we’re doing, Harper. What if something’s wrong and we don’t know it? I don’t even know what kind of — like — appointments we need to make. Or what questions to ask. I tried Google, but it’s all medical and scary and confusing.”

Harper shut her eyes. “You’re right,” she admitted, her voice thread-thin. “You’re right. Okay. Call him. Tell him.”

—

Oscar paced the length of the empty common room, his phone clutched tight in one hand, thumb hovering over the contact that just read Dad.

Harper sat curled on the couch, arms wrapped around a pillow like it was a shield. She was trying not to watch him too hard, but her eyes kept tracking him. Every step. Every pause.

“I hope he doesn’t get mad,” she said softly. “Just... be honest with him.”

Oscar nodded, jaw tight.

Then he hit call.

It rang twice.

Then — “Hey, mate.”

Oscar froze for half a second. Swallowed. “Hey, Dad. You busy?”

Chris’ voice came through the speaker, a little fuzzy with bad signal. “Bit of admin, nothing urgent. You alright?”

Oscar moved to the window, staring out across the rain-dark courtyard. “Um. Yeah. Kind of.”

A beat.

“You don’t sound alright.”

Oscar let out a breath, almost a laugh, but it cracked on the way out. “No, I’m... I need to tell you something. It’s — it’s a lot.”

There was silence on the line. Not confused. Just quiet. Just waiting.

Oscar inhaled, then forced the words out. “Harper’s pregnant.”

They hung there. Exposed. Like he’d cut something open.

He stared at the window so long that the reflection blurred.

The line stayed quiet.

One second. Two. Three.

Then Chris said, calmly, “I’m assuming the baby is yours?”

“Yeah,” Oscar said.

“Okay.”

Oscar blinked. “That’s it?”

“No. But that’s what I’ve got for now.”

Oscar turned from the window. Harper was sitting up straighter now, the pillow hugged tighter to her chest, chewing the inside of her lip.

Chris spoke again. “Is she alright?”

“She’s... scared. We both are.”

“You sure you’re alright, mate?”

“I think so.” It came out thin. Not very convincing.

There was another pause. Then Chris’ voice came firmer. “Right, then. I’m coming to England.”

Oscar’s head snapped up. “Wait, what?”

“I’ll book a flight tonight. Be there in a few days.”

A breath.

“This isn’t something you two need to be sorting out alone. You’re just kids. Bloody teenagers — and this is a hell of a thing for you to be dealing with on your own.”

Oscar closed his eyes. His chest stuttered. “Dad, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” Chris said. “Because I’m your dad. And you’re my son. And because this, Osc, this difficult, rotten-part? This is when it's my job to show up, okay?”

Oscar pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead. “Alright.” His voice broke. “Okay.”

“You make sure you’re looking after that girl, yeah?” Chris added, voice softer now. “I'll tell your mum; try my best to keep her calm, but expect a phone call, alright?”

Oscar turned to look at Harper.

She met his eyes, wide and searching.

“Okay. Thanks, Dad,” Oscar said, voice barely audible.

“I’ll call you when I land.”

The call ended.

Oscar let the phone drop to his side. He stood still, breath uneven.

Harper rose slowly and walked across the room to him.

“Well?” She asked, lip bitten red with anxiety.

“He’s coming,” Oscar said.

She exhaled — and then, for the first time all day, she smiled. Small. Tired. But real.

“Thank god,” she whispered, eyes wet and hands trembling slightly. “Was he mad?”

Oscar pulled her into a hug. “No,” he said into her hair. “Not mad. Just... disappointed.”

She winced. “That’s worse sometimes.”

“I know.”

He tightened his arms around her. 

—

Jane lay sprawled on her back across Harper’s bed, legs dangling off the side, face still half-covered by yesterday’s makeup. Somewhere beneath the duvet, her phone buzzed—ignored.

Harper sat curled in her desk chair, knees tucked to her chest, chewing the inside of her cheek.

She’d been quiet too long.

Jane cracked one eye open.

“Okay,” she said slowly, sitting up. “What’s going on? You’ve been suspiciously unfun for the past few days.”

Harper exhaled like her lungs were collapsing. “Promise you won’t freak out?”

Jane narrowed her eyes. “That depends. Is this about a secret sibling? Did someone die? Are you getting expelled?”

Harper stayed silent.

Jane’s face shifted. “Wait. Is this about Oscar?”

A nod.

“Is he okay?”

Another nod.

“You okay?”

A smaller, less convincing nod.

Then Harper looked at her. Eyes too bright. Lips pressed tight.

“You remember the other day? When I freaked out about my period?”

Jane nodded, slowly.

Harper gave a wry smile. “Yeah. Well — I’m pregnant.”

Jane stared. Blinked once. Twice.

Then she said, “No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

A beat of silence.

Then Jane blurted, “What the actual fuck, Harper!”

And just like that, Harper laughed — wet, shaky, half-hysterical — and started crying at the same time.

Jane flew off the bed and dropped to her knees in front of her. “No, no, don’t cry—I didn’t mean it like that, I just—you?! I always thought if someone here got knocked up, it’d be someone named ‘Isobelle’ or ‘Jazmyne’ with a ‘y’.”

Harper choked on another laugh.

Jane grabbed her hands. “You’re like… the good one.”

“I was trying to be.”

Jane groaned, dramatically thudding her forehead against Harper’s knee. “You are literally the boarding school teen pregnancy stereotype. I feel like I’m in a Netflix original series.”

“Shut up,” Harper muttered, smiling through tears.

“I’m serious. You. The broody Aussie boy sneaking into the girls’ dorm. The secret makeout sessions on the astroturf. It was all leading here.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me,” Jane corrected, standing and wrapping her arms around her from behind. “And I love you. And we’re going to get through this. Even if I have to punch your mum in the face. Because I just know she’s going to be a cunt about it.”

Harper leaned back into her best friend and finally let herself breathe.

“Oscar’s dad—Chris—he knows. He was... I don't know. Calm. He’s flying to England tonight.”

Jane nodded. “Good. That’s good.”

“I don’t want to tell my mum.” She whispered. 

Jane kissed the top of her head. “Yeah. We’ll save that one for when we’ve got riot shields and a legal team.”

They stood in the quiet, Harper’s hands finally still.

And even though nothing was fixed, she still had Jane.

—

The next morning, Oscar was waiting outside the girls’ dorm before breakfast. Hands in his blazer pockets, hair still damp like he’d barely slept.

Harper blinked at him. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” he said. “But I’m here.”

She didn’t argue. Just fell into step beside him, shoulder brushing his.

—

He walked her to every class.

Even the ones they didn’t share. Even the ones on the far side of campus, through ankle-deep slush and biting wind. He waited outside Chemistry like a silent sentinel, tie askew, eyes down.

“You didn’t have to wait,” she said quietly as they left.

“I wanted to.”

—

At lunch, they sat side by side instead of across from each other. Oscar barely touched his food, but his hand rested on Harper’s knee under the table—steady, warm.

Jane raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

Sam joked, “Why are you so clingy today, man?”

Oscar shrugged. “Dunno.”

—

In English, they shared earbuds while working on essays. Some soft indie track played low enough not to distract—just enough to fill the spaces between thoughts.

Harper rested her fingers on his wrist. He let her trace the rope bracelet on his arm without question.

—

Between classes, they didn’t say much.

Oscar carried both their books.

Harper tugged at his blazer sleeve while they waited for the bell.

They didn’t kiss. Didn’t hold hands.

But every part of them seemed magnetised; shoulders brushing, pinkies bumping.

—

After last period, she looked at him and said, “You really don’t have to keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“This. Following me around.”

He gave a small, crooked smile. “I don’t really know what else I’m supposed to do.”

And that was the truth—neither of them did.

But for now, being near her was the only thing that made sense.

So he walked her to the girls dorms.

Waited until she stepped inside.

And only then did he let himself walk away.

—

Dinner was loud—trays clattering, voices echoing, and the sharp, mysterious scent of the school’s chicken surprise wafting from the kitchens.

Harper sat between Jane and Oscar at their usual spot at the end of the table. Across from them: Matt, Sam, and Alfie, already halfway through their meals, locked in an argument about whether a pigeon could realistically steal a car.

“You guys are morons,” Jane muttered.

“I’m just saying,” Sam insisted, “pigeons in London are jacked. They’ve got gangs. Wing muscles.”

Oscar grinned. “If I see a pigeon with biceps, I’ll give you a heads up to lock your car, yeah?”

Harper smiled faintly. Not fully tuned in, but grateful for the noise. For the normal.

She picked at her food. Not much appetite—just toast earlier, a few crackers at lunch—but now, surrounded by banter and noise, it was easier to eat a little.

Matt was telling a dramatic story about nearly being run over by a golf cart when Alfie leaned across the table and stage-whispered, “Harpy-girl. You’re unusually quiet. Finally realised you're dating the wrong guy?” He wiggled his dark eyebrows at her. 

Oscar rolled his eyes and gave him a mighty kick under the table. “Shut up, Alfie.”

Harper played along, if only to wind-up her usual steady-headed boyfriend. “Yeah. You know...it’s been a lot to work through.”

The table cracked up.

“Babe,” Oscar said, frowning at her. 

“Well,” she continued, “your hair when you first got here was a choice.”

Jane leaned in. “The mullet was honestly the most traumatic part of the year.”

“It was a phase,” Oscar muttered, grinning.

Harper let herself laugh. 

Oscar glanced at her sideways, smile quiet.

Later, after trays were cleared and the boys snuck off to raid the staff kitchen, Harper lingered at the table.

Oscar stayed too, their knees touching under the bench.

She looked at him. “Thanks for today.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “I’m always going to show up for you. I swear.”

Her eyes shimmered. But she nodded.

And he didn’t press.

Because sometimes, just sitting in the noise with your person was enough to keep the hard parts quiet.

For now.

—

They were leaving French when they saw him.

At first, Harper didn’t recognise him; tall, neat jacket, hands in his pockets, standing under the old oak near the science block like he didn’t quite belong.

But Oscar stopped cold beside her.

And Harper looked again.

Chris.

Her stomach flipped.

Oscar said nothing. Just started walking toward him, slow and sure, Harper tight beside him.

Chris looked up. His expression was unreadable—not angry, not cold. Just… quiet. His eyes moved between them.

“Hi, Dad,” Oscar said.

Chris gave a small smile. “Hey, mate.”

Harper shifted. Arms folded across her chest. Chris looked at her properly now, and something in his face softened.

She managed a tight, polite, “Hi, Mr. Piastri.”

Chris nodded. Looked at them both again.

Then said, “Right,” and pulled them into a hug.

Oscar was taller now, but Chris still held him like he was eight years old. Harper stood stiff for a moment, stunned—until Chris gently tugged her in too.

And then it was warm. Solid. Real. Arms around both of them. Tight, but not crushing.

No words. Just the kind of silence that grounded you.

Harper’s shoulders dropped. She hadn’t even realised how high they’d been. Her cheek pressed to Chris’s shoulder, and behind his back, she felt Oscar’s fingers brush hers.

Chris finally stepped back.

“You two must be scared shitless." 

Oscar gave a crooked, breathy laugh. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Chris nodded once, his eyes crinkling. “Right. Let me call your mum, tell her you're okay and that I'm here. Then we'll find somewhere to talk." He told them, and then wandered a few steps away. 

For a second, they stood under the oak, wind tugging at Harper’s hair, the cold nipping at Oscar’s ears.

He reached for her hand, threading their fingers together without looking down. “You okay?” He asked softly.

Harper swallowed. “Not really.”

Oscar nodded like he understood completely. “Me neither.” A beat. Then, still not looking at her, he said, “But we’re going to be okay.”

She glanced sideways. “You don’t know that.”

“I don’t,” he admitted. “But I think... if we stick together, and we let my dad handle the hard parts...”

Harper let out a breath. Not a laugh, not quite a sigh—something quieter, heavier.

He turned toward her then, gently squeezing her hand. “I don’t know what's supposed to happen now. But I’m not, like, going anywhere. Yeah? I promise.”

Her eyes flicked up to his, and for a second, she looked like she might cry again—but she didn’t. She just nodded.

Then, from a few metres away, Chris called out, “Alright, you two—come on. Let’s get somewhere warm before I freeze my arse off.”

Oscar gave her hand one more squeeze before they let go.

They started walking together across the frost-hardened grass.

NEXT CHAPTER

[cute-little-fly]

I just can’t express how good this post is.

I wish the fans of this show that understand it could have money for each person that misunderstand these details, we would have so much money lmao.

This line right here:

“And I did it for what?? These stupid foolish fantasies”

I hate that people think of that line that Stolas regretted to save Blitzø…. NO!!!! Noooo! What he regrets is seeing his relationship with Blitzø with so much delusion because essentially that was what caused everything!!! (After this I will calm down xD)

That being said… I feel that currently people don’t allow themselves to dream that much because usually… in reality most of dreams don’t come true.

Fantasies where those dreams come true feel bad for people now because they think: “well that wasn’t my case, and it’s super unrealistic that happens to 5% of the cases so… this sucks.”

I think currently as a society we are incredibly dissapointed, and this is why nihilistic or “realistic” narratives are better liked by some people.

So… for me it’s not THAT surprising that people react like this to Stolas arc. However… I love it because ultimately that Blitzø is a weirdo too is what allows this to be possible.

Blitzø is the one that goes for Stolas and says to him: I am your knight, because NOW I want to give that to you.

But what he truly wants to communicate to him thought that is: I want to make you feel loved and that you matter.

I recently made an essay about a Defense of Stolitz by a deranged fan and I touch this point.

Stolitz is not meant to be an exemplary or normal relationship! It’s an exception.

It’s almost a cautionary tale of what you shouldn’t do if you want to have a good relationship with someone, even if ultimately it worked for them because it was so unlikely but… the weirdest people of each of their kinds got together by destiny or chance. Whatever you want to see it.

This next part I wrote it was things I have seen people saying or things I assume people would try to refute. It’s like a Q&A with my mind so I wrote it as such xD.

Q: But fly… they are rewarded because they are together in Sinsmas…

A: No they are not rewarded for those mistakes!!!! Because all of this situation and their mistakes has brought so much suffering to each of them.

They are rewarded with having each other because they keep pushing though with each other, no matter how much mistakes they do they are open to continue and to forgive.

Q: But fly… isn’t that also bad? I mean sometimes some people just don’t work and need to split up.

A: This is why Blitzø and Verosika exist!! In the same series!!! They are two people that could have done things better but also… aren’t compatible or meant for each other either. At least how I see them… they are both too similar and they would constantly yell at each other and such.

Stolas and Stella too. Some people it’s not meant to each other, but is pushed by force. In their case.

The series clearly shows a lot of cases: some people belong but their mistakes separate them, some people don’t belong but get attracted to the other and end up badly, some people don’t belong together and are forced to by their environment, some apparently different or similar people belong together and are capable of communicate on the right circumstances, and despite differences make it work.

The series covers all these nuances with the different dynamics it presents.

Sometimes situations are messy AND still… with all of that, there is love and compatibility.

Everyone…. This is Stolitz.

there's an interesting moment in "sinsmas" that i think far too many people misunderstood.

it's this one.

Stolas is a sucker for romantic fantasies.

we know this from pretty early on. he referred to blitzo in fantastic romantic terms like "my knight in shining armor".

he crossed blitzo's boundaries again and again because he thought their relationship was more intimate than it actually was, and he was sure blitzo was on the same page.

and he's constantly shown consuming romantic media- romance novels, telenovelas and rom-coms.

and honestly? i was constantly surprised by how much the narrative didn't punish him for it. not to say he didn't experience heartbreak. not to say some illusions weren't shattered. but at no point was the narrative ever saying stolas was wrong for having those dreams.

no, not even in sinsmas. because you know what happens five minutes after stolas gets angry at himself for doing it all for a fantasy?

this.

blitzo, slaying a literal dragon with a literal sword to save stolas. it's a scene straight out of a fairytale. and just because subtlety is for losers they even call it out.

the narrative literally tells stolas, your fantasies weren't foolish. you were right to believe in them. they came true.

it's a reoccurring theme in a lot of hellaverse characters. because you know who else is a dreamer hanging on to impossibly grand fantasies?

this guy.

sure, they aren't romantic fantasies, but blitzo's business aspirations are not all that different in the level of grandness or delusion. the theme of blitzo aggrandizing himself as a boss and the success of his business have been present since the pilot. they've been hammered home several times, with him, much like stolas, steadfastly ignoring any bit of reality that doesn't settle with his fantasy.

will blitzo ever get to be the big boss of a circus business with clowns and horses? probably not. does blitzo make plenty of mistakes about the way he runs his business? of course, so many. does he have ridiculous notions about what being a boss means that he needs to unlearn? yes, definitely!

but despite everything, he pushes through. and slowly but surely, his business becomes more successful as time goes on.

charlie from "hazbin hotel" is actually another good example of that. she also has a ridiculous dream that no one believes in. she also has ridiculous notions inspired by that dream. and the narrative also rewards her for hanging on to it when no one else would believe in it but her.

the point that seems to repeat in those stories is that those fantasies are important. that the act of believing in them is important. it can inspire you. it can help you push through when the odds are stacked against you. it can provide you with the drive you need to achieve your goals.

if stolas hadn't clung on to his ridiculous romantic fantasies, he wouldn't have believed in what he and blitzo could (and did) eventually become. he wouldn't have persistently tried to reach blitzo for as long as he did, even after he realized blitzo views their relationship so differently from him. he wouldn't have jumped so readily at the chance of what they could be, and found the courage to break free from his miserable, abusive marriage. he wouldn't have let blitzo become his light, and he wouldn't have become blitzo's heart in turn.

and it's not that stolas' is completely blind to reality. he doesn't literally wants to live in a rom-com. it's actually spelled out for us in "apology tour".

stolas doesn't want to actually be chased in the rain every day, he just wants someone to show this level of care toward him, because no one ever has.

and he finally gets it. and i'm sorry to break this to you, if you're one of the people who seem to be chomping at the bits for the narrative to slap the dreams out of stolas until he gets over them, but he wouldn't have gotten all of this without his fantasies.

[itzpookiepooh]

hiii pookie hope you're doing well💖

something really funny happened to me rn😭 i was changing my tshirt and didn't close the curtains (thought it'd be a quick change) but i accidentally ended up flashing a WINDOW CLEANER😭😭😭😭 thankfully i was wearing a bra

anyways it got me thinking how the lads men would react if you end up flashing someone accidentlly and tell them

YOU WHAT?????? Omg…friend 😭😭😭😭

FLASH!

“You what?” Xavier asked blinking in disbelief. You didn’t say that. Of course you didn’t he’s hearing things.

“I flashed Charlie. I didn’t know—“ Xavier stood up abruptly making you pause as he walked to the window.

“What are you doing?” You ask a bit scared of your flurry of light.

“He won’t remember by tomorrow.” His voice cold and deep. You jump up grabbing his waist.

“Xavier wait!” It took you almost ten minutes to talk him off the edge. Poor Charlie was saved by your heroic act.

“So you flashed the neighbor?” He questions in confusion. You nod frantically.

“I was half sleep and thought I had my pajama shorts on.” You groan in embarrassment. The neighbor was polite enough to cover his eyes though!

“I’ll handle it Pips.” He caresses your head before you hear his gun cock.

“Caleb—“ He walks to the door with you hot on his heels.

“I just wanna talk to him.” He casually spoke as he opened the door. “Caleb relax—“

“I just wanna talk to him.” As he walks onto the lawn with the gun raised. You try to catch up with him.

“Caleb don’t.” You try to sound authoritative but it doesn’t work.

“I’m just gonna shoot him.” He calmly says aiming for his front door. Long story short the guy begs for Caleb’s forgiveness as you scold him for scaring the guy.

“It was an accident! I’ll have to be more careful next time.” You explain embarrassed. You didn’t know Rafayel had to change the curtains because they got paint of them.

“There won’t be a next time.” He says confident as he starts whispering in Lumerian. You quickly cover his mouth with a glare.

“No curses.” You say sternly making him roll his eyes. You walk away only for him to continue. You fly in the air to tackle him.

“I said no curses!”

Sylus does not play about you and you know it. As soon as you tell him he makes whoever it was disappear and with the snap of his fingers. You were shocked by his dramatic reaction.

“Was that necessary?” You snap at him. You just wanted to forget you embarrassed yourself.

“Yes because this’ll make him forget.” He shrugs before walking away.

“Where did he go?” You ask following behind the tall man.

“I’ll return him before sundown.” He pats your head making sure you don’t worry. We all know Sylus wasn’t going to bring him back by sundown.

Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He asks you to explain again how you got yourself into this situation. It wasn’t your fault the currents were open! They’re on a timer they open themselves! Zayne asks who saw you as you panicked.

“The neighborhood dog!” You cover your mouth as he stood there. He took a deep breath before he spoke, “The dog?”

“Yes! What if he’s traumatized?” You panic grabbing your hair. Zayne grabs your hands softly taking them out of your hair.

“My love. He’s a dog…he cannot speak.” You froze at his words. Your brain registers what he said.

“Oh.” You say before nodding. “Did you forget?” He asks genuinely concerned.

“Psh no!” You wave him off still thinking about it.

“You forgot.” He murmured standing up straight. Your jaw slacks as you stare at him. “I did not!”

As you can see I didn’t know how I wanted to display Zayne’s situation 🤫

[zo2mess]

Bliss In Vegas

Summary: The team landed a mission in Las Vegas, because what could possibly go wrong in the world’s most innocent city, right? Fast forward through a whirlwind of chaos, and somehow no one got hurt… but you woke up in bed with Adrian, nearly naked, and two ring pops on your fingers.

Warnings: 18+ Brief smut, hand stuff, spit stuff, alcohol consumption, crude language, I guess that’s it? (Morning breath! I’m so fucking sorry, it was all I could think about when I was writing this. Just ignore it exists for a while O_o)

Word count: 4.4k

Masterlist of my works

Note: Adrian in tighty whities with beer all over him made me incredibly feral and ready to finish this little thing I started a few months ago. Eh, it is something I guess? I just wanted to get over it.

And listen, I have never written about any of the other 11th Street Kids before, except for Adrian; apologies if any of them feel weird.

You know the saying? What happens in Vegas…

“Don’t stay in Vegas,” Harcourt sternly noted at the end of her little briefing of the next so-called mission. The fact that they still needed to take care of some stray swarms of butterflies even after terminating the cow was inconvenient, said mildly. “We do our job and go back, no random stops in any of the facilities.”

Those butterfly survivors would eventually die of starvation, but ARGUS was suspicious of large groupings of them in certain areas. They could be spending their last days together as a species, or maybe, just maybe, they’re trying to find a way to stay alive and find a new source of food, which was a dangerous idea.

One of those groups was flying free between casinos and strip clubs in Vegas, Nevada. Really troublesome area to be sending this team. It was practically screaming disaster.

“Why are they sending us? I thought we were done!” Leota protested, exchanging a questioning look with John who was in the same shock as her. Vegas was way out of hand and the last thing she wanted was to spend time away from her wife and furbabies.

“The official reason is that we are now experts on butterflies when it comes to terminating them-“

“The real reason is that we are seriously underpaid and we’re a cheap workforce” Economos interrupted Harcourt in a matter of seconds, saying the real reason for the little trip awaiting you.

Chris with Adrian, on the other hand, were doing their best not to let anyone know how excited they were. You could feel Adrian vibrating out of his skin next to you. No doubt he was already thinking how he and Peacemaker will stop crime, get wasted, and cruise some bitches. The real question was how they would break free from Harcourt's gaze and go astray. “Wait, you guys are getting paid?”

One way or another, this outing in Vegas was bound to be legendary.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

The whole mission felt like a dream, after shooting up butterflies it was already too late to be driving back home, so Harcourt allowed crashing at a hotel until morning. You would think everyone felt like you, exhausted after the long trip and crashing little alien bugs, but no.

Chris and Adrian were pretty much excited to be hitting the town, and a person would think Adrian would at least clean his boots that still had alien goo all over them after he cheerily stomped on butterflies all day.

It wasn’t just the casinos, bars, and strip clubs waiting to strip lost souls of all their money. On the lit-up alleys, lined up were hustlers with classic shell games, women imitating peacocks adorned with faux gold and feathers, shady watch sellers, and more or less inconspicuous pickpockets. And just like tigers in a zoo, it was best to simply watch them pacing impatiently in circles—but anyone who sticks their hand into the enclosure quickly loses it.

All these predators, performing various tricks to catch their prey, prove once and for all that human creativity and the desire for money know no bounds.

In the end, you could not just lie in your hotel bed when Las Vegas was right on the other side of your window, teasing and luring with colorful blinding lights and loud music playing from every corner, the better side of Vegas. Plus the second Adrian put on his puppy eyes and whiny begging tone you were a goner.

How could you say no?

And that was the beginning of the most memorable night you did not remember.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

When you stirred awake you felt too hot and cold at the same time, head pounding and the ringing in your ears didn’t make it easier to open your eyes. The strongest hangover you ever had was making itself known, though hangovers usually don’t make you feel you are being pushed into the mattress and making your hand sweaty?

No, no, that wasn’t sweat, was it?

The morning sun shining into the hotel room immediately blinded you when you tried to open your eyes, but you managed to at least get a look at what was causing at least half of your discomfort.

Adrian.

Nearly naked Adrian lying on top of you.

Adrian that was drooling all over your fingers as he sucked on the ring pop on your finger from his sleep.

What?

His frame completely enveloped your body, transferring his body heat to you and making you feel breathless. Adrian lounged in just his boxers and once you looked around your room you found piles of clothes all over the small cheap hotel room.

His jeans on the ground, glasses on the bedside table, His holey socks hanging from the edge of the bed with… your top and jeans? Then whose shirt were you wearing?

Adrian’s room was right next to you, why was he sleeping in your bed?

Too many questions, too little answers.

You tried to gently ease Adrian from your body and roll him to the side, but goddamn, was he heavy. You could try again and again and he just wouldn’t budge.

He groaned from his sleep because of your constant nagging but he didn’t move an inch, at least he stopped sucking on the lollipop, “Stop wiggling, I’m gonna get a boner”. Gods, how could his voice sound so raspy and whiny at the same time?

“Adrian! What are you doing here?” you slapped his shoulder in an attempt to wake him up, which finally worked, he lifted his head while he just barely opened his eyes, blinking away the blurriness of his vision. Those half-lidded green eyes and tousled hair did something for you, it was hard to admit it though.

“I would be sleeping if you weren’t slapping me and making my cock hard” He mumbled nonchalantly and settled back on your chest, nuzzling to your boobs like it was the most normal thing to do. “Your tits are amazing pillow, you know that?”

Another slap. Another yelp from Adrian.

Under different circumstances, you would have enjoyed cuddling with Adrian, it’s not like you were completely resistant to his charm, or whatever that illuminates him, which makes him so enamoring.

But not right now, not when you had no idea how you got to bed, how he got in your bed, why you were almost naked, when your head was pounding, and also…

Why did you both have ring pops on your fingers?

You didn’t notice it at first, but once you did, it made gears in your head turn really hard to put one and one together. You took his hand in yours, studying his blue raspberry ring pop and comparing it to your strawberry one, but other than the fact yours was way smaller and wet from Adrian’s constant sucking, nothing stood out.

And Adrian didn’t even notice something was on his finger until you lifted his hand. Unbothered king. He was getting on the rest of your nerves that remained after the wild night.

“Oh my god! Twinsies!” How was he so cheery in the morning? He must have drunk a similar amount of alcohol as you did, but it seems his body doesn’t believe in hangovers.

When you started pushing him from your body again, he finally rolled off onto his back with a loud huff. What a way to wake up, hangover in a Vegas hotel. The only thing missing was an Elvis impersonator singing under the balcony. ‘Thank you, thank you’ he would mumble with that deep voice as you would throw a few cents at him.

Adrian laid still extremely close to you, shoulders touching and all, and stared at the ceiling with a dumb smile on his face while you were panicking next to him. How did this happen?

“Do you remember anything?”

“Nope.”

“Aren’t you concerned?”

“Nope.”

“Do you think we fucked?”

“Nah, you would have felt it.”

“You mean with that thimble of yours?”

He just snorted, tilting his head to the side to laugh right in your face. You didn't even have the energy to question what was so amusing about his thimble dick. But for that moment of Adrian laughing at you for no apparent reason, it felt like a normal day. Like you were back at HQ, relaxing on one of the worn-out couches with Adrian in his armor beside you, chatting about something ridiculous while polishing his knives and rolling his head to look at you, trying not to smile.

However, it all vanished away when Adrian lifted and knelt on the bed and a bunch of casino chips started falling from his boxers. Chip after chip pooling around his thick thighs. And it looked like he was surprised in the same way you were.

The right question would probably be why he stored his wins in underwear, second, why he went to sleep with them, and the third one…

“How did you win so much?”

“My brother taught me how to count cards, it’s really easy once you get the hang of it. But that doesn’t matter right now, what matters is that I need to exchange these crotch doubloons for real money,” He collected his chips and started admiring them in the morning light shining directly at him. “I am gonna be so rich, dude.”

Those little coins with fluorescent details flooded the room with colorful reflections. Spots of blue, green, red and pink decorated the furniture as well as your skin. If your skin wasn’t already buzzing from Adrian’s touch, you would be able to imagine the light tickling you.

“Come on, we’re going to get even more drunk to celebrate me being a fucking millionaire,” Adrian’s face lit up, what a fucking sunshine, you wanted to punch him in the face when he grabbed the blanket shielding your lower body from his greedy eyes. The cold air in the room was relentless, enveloping your body and leaving goosebumps in its wake. You could not get a break with the dumbass.

“Goddamn, do you wear this pathetic excuse for panties under your suit?” Adrian let out a wolf whistle and stared right between your legs without any shame. “You should have told me that sooner!”

Your panties? What was wrong with them?

One blurry look down and you know exactly what was wrong. “Those are not my panties.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t have white lace panties.”

“Wait, wait,” Adrian leaned extremely close to your crotch, examining the red embroidery that decorated the hem of mystery underwear. “Here it says… Congratulations to the happy couple from Bliss wedding chapel.”

“Say what?” Your eyes nearly bulged out of their eye sockets. The embroidery was a sign of something horribly dooming. White panties from the wedding chapel really weren’t a good thing for someone who did not intend to get married. And oh, the horror of wearing something gifted from a drive-through wedding chapel.

“What,” Adrian replied to your shocked words with a confused look. It seemed like he did not realize what it meant. Either that or he didn’t care at all about being married to his colleague.

“Ade, are you even registering what that means?” It was like your heart dropped down to your stomach. Did it mean what you thought it did? Were you fucking married? In Vegas? And without remembering anything?

“Oh my god, are you my wife?” He lifted from between your legs, which was fucking painful thing to do when the thing he wanted the most was to be buried between them. His face weirdly lit up, unclear if with shock or happiness, “Am I your husband?”

“No, that must be some misunderstanding, right?” You jolted up, scrambling out of bed with a bunch of uncoordinated jerks of limbs. It was a miracle you hadn’t fallen right on your face. Damn those sweet juicy drinks that weaken your brain!

“We need to talk with others, they must know something, right?” You were more or less talking to yourself, babbling how it is impossible you got married with freaking Adrian Chase without remembering anything.

Adrian was still too absorbed in those chips on the bed and the ring pop on your fingers. One of his focuses meant he won money, the other that he was married, and the third, pretty, pretty thing in front of him was his wife. He completely ignored your panic, it was whatever.

He never was the kind to believe in fate, but goddamn, he must have done something really good to get all of this in one night.

“Ade, are you listening to me?” You almost touched those chips, fingers mere inches away, before you realized that Adrian had these shiny knick-knacks stashed away in his boxers the whole night. Your hand hovered above them, eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Adrian watched you with a dumb smile, “Are you afraid of my crotch doubloons?”

“I don’t want to touch something that was near your dick” As simple as that, did he think it was normal?

“So you’re afraid of my dick” His smile widened with every word, he had that stupid expression on his face you still couldn’t look through. You had wondered several times what was going through his mind at those moments when his face twisted maliciously.

“I’m not afraid of your dick, Adrian.”

“Then touch it.”

“Why would I be touching your dick?”

“To prove you’re not a coward.” That stupid face was literally asking to be punched, but would that help your case? He looked abnormally good when he was hurt. “Plus, if we are married, we should consummate the marriage, right?”

“We’re not in the Middle Ages, Ade, we’re not married and I’m too hungover anyways”

Adrian noted in his mind that you didn’t say no because you didn’t like him outright, you said you had a hangover. This could mean two things; That you didn’t like him and hid it behind a lame excuse of drinking too much yesterday, or that you were actually hangover but did like him.

That must be the case. At least he hoped.

All this time, he was hoping you might get the hint that he liked you. He tried to be discreet, sending small signs like he saw in movies and read on Wikihow.

Make eye contact, look down, hold, slowly look back, look away, soft smile, scratch your neck, lick your lips, make eye contact again, wink…

And all this time you thought he was cursing you across the room when he tried this in team debriefings.

Being discreet was so unlike him, but he hoped it might seem normal, not like his usual attempts at flirting. And that was the problem. Adrian Chase, a guy desperate to share his every thought, sending subtle signs? Who could have caught that? Not you, that’s for certain.

“I mean… What is a hangover anyway? It’s when alcohol levels in your body drop to zero after heavy drinking. And one way to remedy that is drinking more,” He knew way too much for his own good, though after multiple horrible hangovers, he needed to know what was happening to him.

“Maybe if you finally got laid you wouldn’t be so cranky all the time, it's like a hangover” He finished his speech with a look that screamed anything but innocent.

Your blood suddenly grew hot, how dare he say you don’t have any game? Your hand shot up between his legs, touching him just like he dared you.

You fell right into a trap.

Say what you want about Adrian, he was stupid but not dumb. He hunts down criminals, he must know a thing or two how to trap his victim, how to get what he wants. Right now, he got you right he wanted. On a hotel bed, dressed just in his shirt and wedding panties and your hand on his dick.

Lucky bastard.

And you… You were a lucky bastard in a way too.

You could fondle his cock any way you wanted. This image haunted your dreams more than once. And what fool would you be if you didn’t take that chance.

Though the surprised look on your face was not something you imagined, when you got a good feel of Adrian ‘Thimble’ Chase. He was already semi-hard, and it made you wonder what caused it. Was it when you were nudging him in his sleep? Or when his nose caught a whiff of you while reading your underwear testament?

Maybe you would have to spread the word that your now husband was Mr. Definitely not Thimble.

You began running your hand up and down over him, slowly but surely making him even harder than he was. Adrian managed to keep his wide and confident smile just for few seconds. One gentle squeeze on his base, one swipe of your thumb over his covered tip, and he was a goner. His sparkling eyes fluttered closed, and this time, when he licked his lips, it didn’t look like he was licking away sauce from pasta at Fennel Fields.

While his hips gently rutted further into your touch, his hands shot to your hips. Strangely, he was slick with his touches, before you even knew it, his fingers were running under the sides of your white lace panties, just oh so desperate to feel your soft skin without anything else in the way.

“Is my tongue still red?” Adrian asked before sticking his tongue out, baring the surface of his tongue colored in deep red. What a weird question to be asking when you’re getting your dick fondled, though at this point you shouldn’t be surprised.

“Still very much red, why are you asking now?”

Adrian just grinned and eyed you up like a predator. Something was stirring in his mind.

Before you could ask him for the meaning of his question again, he lifted his hand with the big ring pop on his finger and pushed it into your mouth.

The second flavor of blue raspberry burst on your tongue you couldn’t blame him for sucking on your ring pop all night and drooling on your fingers.

While you enjoyed the artificial taste coating your taste buds, Adrian stared at you with a slack jaw and soft whimpers falling from his mouth. “Fuck, I wish you were sucking me like that”

Suddenly, he pulled away his hand, making you whine at the loss of your lolly. It didn’t take long before you had something else to focus on with your mouth though.

He practically lunged at you with his lips, pressing them against yours and setting a pace too fast for your sluggish mind. Adrian’s tongue demanded entrance in your mouth and before you could even register what he wanted, he was pulling at your chin, opening up your mouth for his wandering tongue.

You desperately wanted to match his frenzied pace, it was all too much and yet so good.

Adrian didn’t lick around your mouth like you would have expected, no, quite the opposite. He flattened his tongue over yours, making sure surfaces painted in red and blue brushed against each other.

Oh, so that’s what he was doing…

He wanted to combine them. Red and blue create purple. It would be a beautiful symbol for your new, and very very strange, marriage. Purple can, among other things, symbolize mystery, exactly that clouded over last night. It was still a mystery how you two ended up together. Did it matter anyway?

In the end, he was licking into your mouth like a dog. Panting like one, too.

When he pulled away from the kiss, a string of spit connected your swollen lips. Stretching, stretching, and stretching until it broke and landed on both of your chins. As you were reaching to wipe it off Adrian latched his lips onto your chin with unseen eagerness. The main idea was to help you with the excessive saliva, though he only made it worse.

He trailed open-mouthed kisses from your chin, across jaw, over cheeks, and ended by your ear, “Should I prove I’m not afraid of your pussy?” He whispered before licking the shell of your ear. One of his hands trailed the ring pop over your arm, leaving a sticky trail, while the other began prying between your legs.

“Wow, look at that,” He dared to chuckle after he slipped his fingers under the crotch of your panties, feeling your heat for the first time. You believed Adrian would comment on how wet you were for him, for Vigilante. But no, of course not.

“Your pussy doesn’t have teeth like I thought it would!”

And at that moment you promised yourself you will kill him right after he makes you cum. Not sooner nor later. As a simple warning, you tightened your grip you had on him over the boxers that were, much to your surprise, already stained with precum.

Let’s see how happy Adrian will be when he realizes his wife is a praying mantis in disguise.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

You didn’t bite Adrian’s head off after all, he looked too cute after you made him finish in his underwear. That boyish grin, puffy lips wet with your cum after he licked his fingers off with proud bravado, lively eyes that shined almost the same way as his casino chips…

No, you might just keep him a bit longer.

At least he stopped with his nagging while you took a shower together and dressed in clean clothes. All this time, Adrian watched you like a lost puppy, begging for affection. Each time you gave him a chaste kiss, he stopped whining for a mere second.

While Adrian was hungry for more kisses, and undoubtedly something more, you were actually hungry for some food and coffee or green tea to get you going for the day. So you made your way to the hotel’s small dining room.

Adrian threw all his casino chips on the table between breakfast plates and mugs, they clinked against the ceramics almost too loudly for your poor pounding head.

Everyone’s eyes fell on shiny colorful chips, Leota put down her butter bread so she could reach for them, thankfully you grabbed her wrist right before she could get her fingers on the chip lying next to her plate “Don’t touch that.”

She shot you a questioning look but trusted your judgment. No need to tell her where these chips were, especially if they were in the middle of the table and too close to food.

“Did I get married to Adrian yesterday?” You asked without any humor in your voice, eyes flickering between every single one of those guilty faces of your colleagues. Adrian, though, did not care at all about this little investigation. He was too blissful with married life to even question it.

“It was one of the weirdest ceremonies I have ever seen,” Leota cracked first, “You didn’t even want me as your bridesmaid! You chose John!”

Your eyes landed on Economos, sipping his coffee to hide from you, “I did my duty well” was all he added.

Then you took a good look at others, Harcourt kept staring forward, digging her fork in some scrambled eggs. Chris, on the other hand, was already showing Adrian photos on his phone and Adrian was smiling widely, pointing out small details from your wedding and muttering how beautiful you looked, wearing cheap-looking veil you rented and holding a bottle of vodka instead of a wedding bouquet.

You joined him, and all that anger and confusion blurred for a brief moment. You looked happy in those photos. Laughing, chatting, eyes sparkling like they haven’t for a while. Every single photo was suddenly so precious.

Those were your lost memories.

And the way you were holding onto Adrian, so tightly and lovingly… All those small details didn’t escape either of you. Adrian nudged you with his elbow “We look good together”.

And you did. You really did.

Flushed, drunk, happy.

With the promise of the team explaining on the way home, you dropped your investigation of last night and settled to finally have some breakfast. Both you and Adrian get the leftovers in the form of yogurt. “Snoozers losers,” Chris added.

It was like you and Adrian had already synchronized, peeling the lid off, and licking some leftover yogurt at the same time. And in the meantime, everyone around the table could get a pretty good look at your purple tongues.

“See?! See that?” Chris called out way too loudly while pointing at you, “Did you stick your dick in her?”

You nearly choked on your own saliva at that question. Who even asks that? Especially during hotel breakfast? Some people from other tables turned around when they heard it, eager to know what the hell was going on.

But Adrian smiled, lifted his hand and wiggled his digits “Just my fingers.”

A symphony of disgusted noises came from your team, suddenly your yoghurt didn’t look as appealing as it should. But hey, maybe there will be a time when you won’t be able to eat yoghurt without thinking of Adrian and his-

“I made sure the guy marrying you didn’t have a license for it to be legitimate,” Harcourt finally spoke up, much to the dismay of the rest of the team.

“Which was a fucking mistake! You know how hilarious it would be if these two goons were married for real?” Chris chimed in with a booming laugh just from the idea of the night of the outing ending in one happy couple, drunk out of their minds.

Weight dropped from your shoulders upon hearing you weren’t married for real to Vigilante over there. It was like the air finally cleared, and you could take a deep breath of that crisp morning air. You caught Adrian doing the same, sighing in relief.

But if you were for real, it also stung a little. Somehow, while you made your way to breakfast earlier, you already started planning what to do next. Who will move to whom, when you should go and change your name on your ID to Chase, if you should get rid of your coffee machine so Adrian wouldn’t have too much disposal of caffeine…

While you were lost in your head, thinking whenever you were actually happy or sad the dumbass next to you wasn't your partner for real, Adrian simply leaned closer to you and whispered with that dopey smile, “It’s fine. Next time I’ll be marrying you, I want to remember it.”

[honeyncherry]

all good things ii - joe burrow

summary you thought you'd mastered the art of letting go, turns out you'd just gotten really good at looking the other way

content angst, fluff, idk what im talking about in half this

part one

"Why are you here?"

You don't look up from the glass you're drying when you ask it, but you can feel him settling onto the barstool across from you. Same spot as always—third from the left, close enough to the corner that he can see the door but far enough from the other customers that conversation stays private.

"For a drink," he says, and there's that familiar hint of amusement in his voice, like he knows you already know the answer but enjoys the routine anyway.

Without thinking, your hand finds the bourbon, muscle memory from months of the same dance. The bottle feels heavier tonight, or maybe it's just you. Maybe it's the report waiting on your laptop at home, or the way certain thoughts have been circling back when you least expect them.

“How was Denver?” you ask, sliding the glass his way.

He catches it without looking, thumb brushing along the rim before taking a sip. “Great. Got a good win.”

You lean in, resting your elbows on the bar, giving him your full attention now. "Yeah? How good are we talking?"

"Really good." He grins, the kind that reaches his eyes and makes him look younger than he is. "Like, career-defining good.”

You laugh before you can stop yourself, the pride bubbling up quicker than expected. “That’s incredible. I’m so happy for you.”

He drops his gaze a little, almost shy about it. Compliments still make him weird. But you can tell it means something—coming from you, maybe, or maybe just being heard out loud.

“Actually,” he says, reaching into his jacket, “I got you something. Well, two things.”

That makes you pause. He's holding out a small wrapped box, the kind that comes from hotel gift shops or airport stores. The paper is slightly wrinkled, like it spent the flight home pressed against other things in his carry-on.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know." He places it on the bar top between you and then grins. "But I saw it and thought of you. Plus, I have some news." There's something sweet about it, the casualness of the gesture with no hidden agenda. 

You peel the paper back carefully, and inside is a snow globe, tacky and perfect in the way only tourist gifts can be. Denver’s skyline is centered in the middle, suspended in that fake snow that never quite swirls right.

“It’s terrible,” you say, but you're already smiling.

"Absolutely hideous," he agrees, sipping his drink. "But you collect weird shit, so I figured you'd appreciate it.”

He’s right. Your apartment’s full of it—odd little trinkets that don’t belong anywhere but somehow belong with you. Salt shakers shaped like ducks. Postcards from places you’ve never been. That cracked ceramic owl from your grandma that you still won’t throw out. 

"Thank you," you say, setting the snow globe on the shelf behind you, next to the register where you can see it while you work. "Okay, so what's the news?"

"Remember that California project I mentioned? The sports coverage thing?" He's trying to play it cool, but you can see the excitement barely contained behind his eyes. "I got you the spot."

Your heart stops. "What?"

"I put in a word with the hiring manager. Told them about your work, how good you are with people." He leans forward slightly. "They want you to fly out next week. Production assistant role, technically, but it's exactly the kind of experience you need."

You stare at him, mouth slightly open. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. You're going to California." Quinn's fingers drum once against the bar, a nervous habit you've taken note of over months of Thursday nights. Sometimes Tuesdays too, when his schedule allows it. He'd started showing up around the time you stopped flinching every time you heard calls of a certain name, when you could make it through a shift without checking your phone for messages that never came.

That was just over a year ago now, right when everything felt like it was crumbling—when you'd left that hotel room and came home to an apartment that felt too quiet and a life that suddenly seemed smaller than it had before. You'd been serving drinks like you were underwater, going through the motions of existing without really living in any of it.

The first few times, Quinn was just another regular. Bourbon, two fingers, splash of water. He was the best tipping regular you’ve ever had and never lingered too long. But then one night you'd been particularly frustrated, slamming glasses a little too hard after another rejection email, and he'd asked if you were okay.

"Just job hunting," you'd said, the bitterness leaking through despite yourself.

"What kind of work?"

"Anything that uses a communications degree, apparently." You'd laughed, but it came out hollow. "Four years of college to be really good at serving drinks."

He'd been quiet for a moment, then: "My company's always looking for interns," he'd said, casual as anything. "Might be good experience."

That conversation lives in your mind now, growing roots in the spaces between doubt and possibility. Three months of showing up to offices that smelled like expensive coffee and ambition, of learning that your degree wasn't worthless after all, just misplaced. Quinn had opened a door you didn't even know existed, and now here he is, trying to push it wider.

"I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll pack a bag." He finishes his drink and leaves cash on the bar, always exact change plus fifty percent, never more or less, and stands to go. "They'll email you the details tomorrow."

He hesitates for a moment, like he wants to say something else, then seems to think better of it. Instead, he just nods and heads for the door.

"Thank you," you call after him. "Really. This means everything."

"You earned it," he calls back over his shoulder. "I just made sure the right people knew." 

When he's gone, you’re left with the rich smell of bourbon and the snow globe that glimmers under warm spotlights. Underneath it all lies the strange, fluttering feeling that comes with being cared about in small, uncomplicated ways.

───

The folder hits your hands like something dropped from a height, thick enough that the pages buckle under their own weight. Sarah's already talking, words streaming past in that efficient way people have when they've explained the same thing a dozen times before.

"So you'll be handling athlete transport today," she says, gesturing vaguely toward the folder while her attention drifts to her phone. "Everything's in there—pickup times, studio assignments, the usual."

You flip the cover open to pages of schedules and headshots, names printed in blocks that your eyes catch without really processing. Sarah keeps talking about the logistics and backup plans, but her voice becomes mumbled as you scan down the list.

Micah Parsons - 9:30 AM pickup, Studio A 

Lamar Jackson - 10:45 AM pickup, Outdoor Setup 

Cooper Kupp - 12:15 PM pickup, Studio A 

Tua Tagovailoa - 1:30 PM pickup, Studio B

Names that mean little to you, faces that melt together in professional headshots. You're half-listening, trying to make sense of time slots and meal breaks, when Sarah's voice sharpens.

"—and Quinn should be here any minute with an early arrival."

The sound of voices approaching makes you glance up from the folder. Quinn appears in the doorway, that easy smile already in place, talking to someone just behind him. You look back down automatically, eyes finding the next line on the schedule.

Joe Burrow - 3:00 PM pickup, Studio B

Your stomach drops like you've missed a step in the dark. The letters blur, then sharpen, then blur again. You blink hard, certain you've misread, but the name sits there like something burned into the page.

When you look up, he's standing three feet away.

And he's already looking directly at you.

The folder stays open in your hands, but the words might as well be written in a language you don't speak. Everything else in the room—Sarah's voice, the hum of equipment being tested, the distant sound of someone setting up lights—fades into white noise. There's just him, standing there in dark jeans and a jacket that probably costs more than your rent, looking exactly like he does in your memory of that morning in the hotel room, except somehow more solid. Real this time.

His expression doesn't change when your eyes meet his. No surprise, no recognition he'd let anyone else see. Just that steady, unreadable look that used to make you feel like he could see straight through you.

"Perfect timing," Quinn says, completely oblivious to the way everything seems to have tensed up around you. "This is our impromptu production assistant I was telling you about." He gestures toward you with the kind of enthusiasm that makes you want to disappear. "She'll be handling your schedule today, making sure you get where you need to be."

Quinn turns to you, still smiling. "Joe got here early—his flight landed ahead of schedule, so I figured we'd get him checked in now instead of making him come back later. Hope that's okay?"

You force yourself to close the folder, to stand up straighter, to remember that you have a job to do. That you're not the same person who used to fly across the country for crumbs of attention.

"Of course," you manage, extending your hand in what you hope looks like professionalism and not the careful choreography of someone trying not to fall apart. "Hi."

Joe's eyes flick down to your outstretched hand, then back to your face. For a second, you think he might not take it. That he'll let you stand there with your arm extended like an idiot while Quinn watches.

But then his hand closes around yours, warm and familiar in a way that makes your chest ache.

"Nice to meet you," he says, voice perfectly polite like you're a stranger. As if he's never traced the curves of your body with his tongue in the dark.

The handshake lasts exactly as long as it should and no longer, nothing that would make Quinn raise an eyebrow or Sarah look up from her phone. But his thumb brushes across your knuckles once before he lets go, so quickly you almost think you imagined it.

"She's fantastic," Quinn continues, either missing the tension entirely or choosing to ignore it. "Really knows her stuff. You're in good hands."

The irony of that statement sits heavy in the space between you and Joe. You've been in his hands before and you know exactly how that story ends.

"Alright," Sarah pops her head up suddenly from beside you. "Let's get you set up for hair and makeup first, then we'll run through the shot list." She's already guiding Joe toward the door with the kind of practiced authority that doesn't leave room for argument.

Joe follows, but his eyes find yours once more before he disappears into the hallway. The look lasts maybe two seconds, but it's long enough to remind you of every sleepless night you spent wondering if he thought about you at all.

"Ready for Micah?" Quinn asks, already checking his watch. "He should be set by now." You nod, grateful for something to focus on. Something that doesn't involve navigating the minefield of seeing Joe again.

Quinn studies your face for a moment, "you good?"

"I'm good," you say, forcing a smile that feels more convincing than it probably looks.

"Good. Because we had to shuffle things around. Lamar's flight got delayed, so we bumped Joe up to right after Micah." He pats your shoulder in that paternal way that makes you remember why you trust him. "You've got this, kid."

───

Micah Parsons turns out to be exactly the kind of interview subject that makes your job easy. Charismatic without being overwhelming, thoughtful in his answers, the kind of natural storyteller that probably makes every journalist he talks to feel like they're getting something special.

You escort him from hair and makeup to Studio A, making small talk about his off-season training while mentally taking in the way he carries himself—confident but approachable, the kind of details that might matter for the piece you're supposed to be writing.

Because that's the thing Quinn arranged that makes this more than just a production assistant gig. You're not just managing logistics; you're also shadowing the main journalists, taking notes that will help with a behind-the-scenes article to accompany the video content. It’s what manages to turn this little side gig into real experience that could actually matter for your future.

It had been Quinn's idea, pitched to his partners as a way to get more comprehensive coverage without stretching the budget. "She's sharp," he'd told them, according to what he'd shared with you later. "Give her the PA duties but let her gather material too. Two birds, one stone."

He'd stuck his neck out for you in a way that meant something. Which is why you're sitting in the back of Studio A with a notebook, jotting down observations about Micah's interview style and the way he deflects certain questions with humor while being surprisingly vulnerable about others. 

Quinn had been right—you were good at this. At reading people, at catching the moments between the soundbites that revealed who someone actually was.

Which is exactly why seeing Joe again feels like such a potential disaster.

By the time Micah wraps up, you've filled three pages with notes and feel like you're truly starting to understand the rhythm of this kind of work.

"Joe should be ready now," Quinn says, appearing at your elbow as you escort Micah to his next location. "Studio B."

Your stomach tightens, but you nod. This is your job. This is the opportunity Quinn fought for you to have and you can't let seeing Joe ruin it.

The walk to Joe's dressing room feels dreadful. Each step is like walking through quicksand, carrying you toward something you're not ready for but can't avoid. When you knock and push the door open, he's sitting in the chair by the small mirror, scrolling through his phone with careful focus.

"Ready?" you ask, the word coming out more clipped than you intended.

He looks up, nods once, and stands with no acknowledgment beyond basic professionalism.

The hallway to Studio B stretches ahead of you both, and the silence that follows is different from anything you've experienced today. Not comfortable like it had been with Micah, who'd filled the space with easy conversation. This quiet feels intentional. Measured like you're both working very hard not to disturb something that might break if handled wrong.

"Studio B," you say when you reach the door, gesturing unnecessarily.

"Thanks."

He disappears inside, and you take your position in the back corner. Notebook ready, pen poised. The same setup as for Micah's interview; professional and focused, gathering material for the article.

But something shifts the moment Joe starts talking. His voice carries that familiar cadence, the one that used to lull you to sleep during late-night phone calls when distance felt manageable. You find yourself leaning forward, pen moving across the page in ways that have nothing to do with journalism.

The little things catch your eye. The way he touches his jaw when considering an answer. How his shoulders settle when he's comfortable with a question. The pause before he responds to anything about pressure, weighing what's safe to share versus what's true.

You catch yourself, redirect your attention to actual content. This is work. Quinn's faith in you made everything tangible, you can't let this pull toward someone who used to matter ruin what you've been given.

But it's difficult to ignore the familiarity, the way certain moments remind you of hotel rooms and conversations that felt bigger than they were. 

This is likely the only time you'll see him again. A one-off encounter that doesn't have to mean anything beyond coincidence. You've made progress, moved forward. You can't let a single afternoon undo the work it took to get here.

When the interview wraps, you've filled two pages with notes—half meaningless observations about Joe rather than context about the content. You close the notebook as he thanks everyone with practiced grace, then finds you in the corner.

"All set?"

"All set."

The walk back is similar to the walk there in every way. By the time you reach his dressing room, you're almost convinced you can end this cleanly. You open the door and stand to the side.

"You're done for the day. Someone will coordinate transport when you're ready."

Joe settles back into the chair by the mirror, phone already in hand. You should leave now. You've completed your assignment, same as with Micah. But professional courtesy demands you ask. The same question you'd posed to Micah, the same standard you'll maintain.

"Is there anything else you need?"

Joe hums to himself then looks up, and for the first time all day, really looks at you. Not the careful glances he's been offering, but the kind of direct eye contact that used to make your heart race.

"Just curious," he says, voice level but edged with something sharper. "Are you supposed to say that, or am I just special?"

The question hits hard. You feel it in your stomach first, then spreading outward, a slow recognition that you're not getting out of this room without acknowledgment. 

Because that’s the thing: he was special.

In the way you still dream about his voice. His hands. 

In the way you never really got around to donating the shirt he left behind, even though it stopped smelling like him months ago.

In the way you still scan for his face on the screen when a game is on at work, even when you tell yourself you’re not supposed to.

Something shifts in your face, you can feel it happen. The twitch of your eyes, the press of your teeth into the inside of your cheek, just a second too long. Like your body is betraying the careful neutrality you’ve been maintaining all day. 

He catches it, of course he does.

"Just part of the job, Mr. Burrow." The formality tastes wrong in your mouth, but you need the distance it creates and the reminder of where you are, what this is supposed to be. 

You're already turning away before the words fully settle, hand reaching for the door handle like it might save you from whatever comes next. "Have a good rest of your day."

───

The wine tastes expensive in a way that makes you hyper-aware of everything. From the conversations flowing around you that you can't quite step into, to the way everyone else seems to belong here without thinking about it.

"Market yourself," Quinn had said earlier, straightening his tie in the mirror of his hotel room. "There are some serious people here tonight. Network. Make connections. This is how careers get built."

Easy for him to say. He moves through crowds like he was born into them, shaking hands and remembering names and making everything look effortless. You feel like you're wearing a sign that says imposter in flashing neon letters.

The venue is exactly what you'd expect from Quinn's company—all exposed brick and elegant lighting fixtures, floor to ceiling windows, the kind of casual that costs more than most people's rent. Servers weave between clusters of well-dressed people holding wine glasses that catch the light just right. 

You take a sip of wine and scan the room for someone who might seem approachable. Someone who won't immediately see through whatever facade you're trying to maintain. The conversation nearest to you is about market projections and quarterly reports, which makes your experience feel even more inadequate than usual.

"Why are you standing by yourself?"

The voice comes from beside you, close enough that you feel the words more than hear them. You don't have to look to know who it is, you've been hyperaware of his presence since the moment he walked in twenty minutes ago.

"I'm supposed to be marketing myself," you say, not turning toward him, voice dry with the kind of sarcasm that feels bitter. "Networking. Making connections."

There's a pause. You can feel him looking at you.

"Well, you shouldn't have any problem doing that looking like that."

Your fingers tighten around the stem of your wine glass. The comment slides under your skin in a way that makes you feel uneasy. It’s like you're back in some hotel room where his opinions about you mattered.

You turn to look at him and something in your expression must give you away because his face changes immediately.

"No, no, that's not—" He stops and runs a hand over the bottom half of his face, looking genuinely panicked. "That came out wrong. I just meant you look good. Like, really good. Not that—fuck. That was all wrong."

And despite everything, despite the way your jaw is still tight with irritation, you have to bite back something that feels dangerously close to a laugh. Because Joe Burrow, who takes hits from three-hundred-pound linemen without flinching, who never seems rattled by anything on or off the field, is standing here stammering like a teenager who just got caught red-handed.

You compose yourself, finding that professional tone again. "Okay. Well, thank you." You set your wine glass on the nearest table, already turning away. "Have a good night."

His hand catches your wrist before you can take a step, gentle but insistent enough to stop you. "Wait." You follow his gaze to a quieter corner near the windows, away from people. 

“Can we talk?”

Part of you wants to say no, to keep walking and maintain whatever distance you've managed to create. But a bigger part knows that if you don't do this now, you'll spend the rest of the night, maybe longer, wondering what he would have said.

"Okay," you say, and let him guide you toward the windows.

The space feels more intimate immediately, the noise of the party fading to background hum. Joe runs his hand through his hair, a nervous habit you remember, and looks out at the city lights for a moment before turning back to you.

“I was an asshole,” he says. The bluntness of it surprises you, how he doesn’t sugarcoat it or try to spin it. "This afternoon, I mean. And just now. I was just—I was doing what I always do, being defensive because seeing you here threw me off, and I didn't know how to handle it."

You wait for him to continue, watching the way he struggles with words that don't come as easily as the ones he uses for interviews.

“I was hurt,” he says, a little softer now. “When you left. Not just because you did. But how fast it felt. Like one second we were figuring things out and the next... you were just gone.”

There’s a long pause where neither of you says anything. You’re not sure what breaks you down first—his voice or the fact that it’s not angry in the way you last remember it. 

“I didn’t leave because of that night,” you say eventually. “If anything… I stayed because of it.”

Joe finally looks at you and your hands tighten around your arms.

“I meant what I said,” you continue, slower now. Like the words are heavy in your mouth. “I believed you. What you said. How it felt. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like that before.”

The words keep coming even though your mind is already starting to regret opening your mouth. You should stop. You should just stop.

“I think part of me was already bracing for the quiet,” you say. “For things to go back to normal the next day. I don’t know. It’s like… the moment was everything I wanted, but it didn’t feel safe.”

You see the flicker in his eyes. You almost backpedal, almost say never mind, but you’ve already gone too far.

“It's not that I didn’t trust you,” you continue. “I just didn’t trust that version of us to last. And I didn’t want to stay long enough to watch it fall apart again.”

Joe’s silent. You shift your weight, suddenly aware of how exposed you feel, how fast your heart is beating now that the words are out there.

“I didn’t stop feeling it,” you murmur, eyes darting toward the window. “That was the problem. I finally let myself feel all of it. And once I did, it felt like too much to carry alone.”

He exhales slowly, like your words knock the wind out of him.

“So it wasn’t just the night,” he says eventually. “It was everything before.”

You nod. “Yeah. It was the before. The buildup. The silence. The feeling like I was always one step ahead of you.”

There’s a pause. Then, almost like a reflex, you add, “I know you meant what you said. I really do.” He looks at you then, something raw behind his eyes. “But I think I’d spent so long waiting for you to mean something,” you say, voice tightening, “that when you finally did, I was already halfway through learning how to let go.”

“I get that,” he says. You nod, surprised by the relief you feel at being understood. "So you left because you had to," he says, not a question.

"Because I had to."

The silence that follows feels different from all the others today. Not loaded with tension or unspoken accusations, but something closer to understanding. Like you aren’t standing on opposite sides of it anymore.

Joe straightens up slightly, and something shifts in his expression, still serious but with a hint of something lighter around the edges.

"So," he says, extending his hand toward you with a small, almost shy smile. "Hi. I'm Joe."

The gesture is so unexpectedly dorky that you feel a laugh bubble up before you can stop it. "Are you serious right now?"

"Starting fresh," he says, hand still extended. "New note."

You look at his outstretched hand, then back at his face, and despite everything—despite the history and the hurt and the complicated mess of what you used to be—you find yourself smiling.

"This is ridiculous," you say, but you take his hand anyway. "Hi, Joe,” you introduce yourself in the same manner.

The handshake lasts longer than necessary this time, in comparison to the one you shared earlier. When you finally let go, your fingers feel warm where his touched them.

"Much better introduction than this afternoon," you say, and Joe laughs—a real one this time.

"Yeah, well, I was trying to play it cool earlier."

"How'd that work out for you?"

"Terribly," he admits, grinning. "Clearly not my strong suit when it comes to you."

"Well," you say, and there's something softer in your voice now, something that feels like a door opening instead of closing. "There's plenty of time to get better at it."

The words hang between you, simple but loaded with possibility. Not a promise or a plan, just an acknowledgment that time exists now where it didn't before. That this new beginning, this fresh start, doesn't have to be figured out tonight.

Joe's smile changes, becoming something quieter. "Yeah," he says. "I think there is."

In that moment you realize the difference between starting over and starting fresh. One erases everything that came before; the other builds something new on a foundation that was always there, just waiting for the right moment to matter again.

[miracleocean]

☞ GRUMPY NIGHT ______________

( i have vision of JAson has a bulk body )

☞ After the long night of hell, the door swing open frustratedly with Jason’s body standing intimately. You flinched when he threw himself on the couch with a loud groan.

☞ All he NEEDs is rest and quiet, yet you still nag him about how the day is while patching up his wounds. He annoyed the touch from you, the soft touch or soft voice like a fly. It’s annoying.

“Can you stfu?”

“Excuse me?”

“I need to rest alone”

“But I just want to help”

“Do you know word ‘alone’?”

You know, he said out of his tiredness. He doesn't mean to. You want to be an understanding partner, but it doesn't mean you don’t a feeling. You are hurt and upset at his unwanted attitude.

“Fine”

You close the aid kits and push to him angrily, storm out from the room. He’s laying there with finally peace. He let out a a heavy sigh that he doesn’t know he held it. There is nothing better than rest alone. Jason thinks so.

Because Jason is resting on our bedroom, and you are angry at him right now. The couch is not the best choice nor the worst. Except those blood stains he left. Strangely, your size fits on the couch comfortably. Maybe it’s not that bad you think with your heavy eyelids.

Your dream is wide.

There is dreamless sleep before a big ass red bear in front of you. You and the bear are standing in the boxing ring with bear hands. there is no fucking way you gonna alive before the heartbeat. It's crushing you into a breathless hug.

"Ah!"

You left out a squeaky voice from the weird nightmare. your forehead is sweating. you still feel breathless and hot from it. Before you looked down what the hell was on you.

"Jason?"

The big man who x3 of your size stays quiet, but you know he doesn't sleep yet. His hands rest on your waist, and his face bury in your neck. Pull you closer so you can hear his heartbeat.

It might look cute, but it's too crowded, too hot, and uncomfortable to be trapped under the 196 pounds, trust.

You called him a few times before he left a grumpy noise.

"What?"

"Can you get off? It's too hot."

"Put banket away then."

"You're on top of it."

"..."

"..."

"Can you get ou--"

"No."

Your face frowned at his words before anything got worse. He kissed on your forehead, which stunned you from unusual softness.

Moment of silence. Before you break it.

"What's wrong with you?"

He knows you asked about his action at night. Jason isn't sure if his words have enough weight to learn you. He wants to say he is sorry, that he didn't mean to, hiw much it is empty, he needs his spoon back. But he is man of his pride.

"The bed is cold." What an ass excuse.

"Put the banket on then."

Jason pulled his head up and frowned at you like a spoiled cat before you chuckled at the sight.

"Come back to bed."

"You said you want to rest alone."

"You know I didn't mean to. You act dramatic."

You grasp with your hand on your chest. "Excuse me?"

"Excuse you. Now come back to bed."

You pout all the way the red eyed man carries you back to the room. He tries to kiss your pout away, but it doesn't work.

"Need a snack?" You looked at him with death eyes. He left a defens heavy sigh. Jason knows exactly what he needs to do.

"I'm sorry." You raise an eyebrow. "The bed isn't cold without you and... and I can't sleep without my pillow. Okay?" You are looking out of the man anxiety before revealing a smile that is relieved in his chest. "Much better."

Jason lays you on the bed again now that he is hugging you without complaining.

"Goodnight, love."

"Goodnight, pup."

i have future plan about angst but i good at fluffy tho. maybe i will do Bruce(s) next maybe 3P? (i actually don't care LOL)

[allyeilishh]

i have a silly sappy request ☝🏻 it's a very specific scenario i've been thinking about lately but feel free to change what you feel like changing if you wanna lmao

something like billie and singer!reader and then billie is doing a pretty significant show (like either closing a tour or a one night only special show type of thing) and then she calls reader out to the stage to sing a song with her and then when they're done billie gets all giggly and mysterious and doesn't let reader get off stage yet and reader is like "👀 what's going on" and then billie gets all sappy and proposes on stage 🥹

and who knows maybe reader also has her own pair of engagement rings ready with her bc they're absolute fools hopelessly in love with each other

also finneas on stage too being the only one who knew they were both planning on doing it soon and having the laugh of his life

like very cutesy and fluffy and emotional also bc they both feel like they're at home on stage especially bc they both treat their fans like family but also bc their actual families are at that show too so they're very comfortable and happy up there 🥹 anyway just pure gay shit you know

anyway don't feel pressured to do it just thought of sending it to you 💖 thank you anyway wishing you the best 😚

ᥫ᭡ STAGE-POSAL ── .✦ B.E.

pairing: Billie Eilish x Fem!Singer!Reader

genre: pure fluff

synopsis: Billie was at her final show, putting her most into everything. And there was a surprise that only her and Finneas knew was going to happen. And maybe, you had a surprise of you own.

w/c: 2.3k

The crowd sang loudly, echoing throughout the entire stadium. They were all completely heartbroken and happy—a bittersweet moment. Billie was jumping around and running around the stage, doing her wonderful performance like she always did. The crowd almost as loud as her.

Her hair was flying around perfectly, some sticking to her forehead and even some on her jaw, beginning to dampen in sweat. Her jersey hung just right on her body, her baggy jorts looking perfect on her, going down past her knees. Everything about her was perfect. There was no other way to describe her.

You were standing backstage, looking in one of your hand-held mirrors, making sure everything looked perfect. Because tonight was special. It was Billie’s last show for the Hit Me Hard and Soft Tour, and you couldn’t have been any more proud of her girlfriend.

You knew how much Billie had put into this tour, working tirelessly on each show, a ball of energy. You had supported her the entire time, holding her hand whenever things got too much, when she needed to cry from the stress. You had always been there for her. And you were so proud of her for getting through it.

You knew how much the stress of a tour was—ending yours not too long ago. It was hard, stressful, and it put a lot of weight on your shoulders. And sometimes, having someone there to lean on and cry could be the best source of comfort you could have.

You began to hear the loud music begin to calm, lowering in volume, before finally cutting off, and the crowd had erupted with cheers. You could only watch from under the stage on the little tv as the camera pointed to Billie, sweaty and a little out of breath.

She was smiling with that goofy smile she always had on her face, like she had just won the lottery. Her hands were behind her back, looking up and around at the crowd. Her eyes were filled with admiration, looking at the crowd, cheering. Cheering for her, for what she did.

You could only smile like an absolute idiot—seeing her so happy made you happy. There was always something about her smile that was contagious—it could never go away once it appeared.

Eventually, you heard your name being called through the earpiece, Billie’s manager telling you and Finneas to start heading up onto the stage. You took a deep breath before starting to head to the steps. And within a few moments, you were up on stage, Finneas not straying too far behind.

And the second you were standing on the platform, cheers only got louder. But the only thing you could focus on was Billie. You quickly wrapped her in your arms, holding her close like she had been away for months.

Billie let out a little laugh, holding you back just as tightly. But slowly and reluctantly, she pulled away, taking in your form and outfit. You had a light blue, satin wrap over your shirt on, the hem tucked under your bra. You had light baggy jeans on, practically swallowing you whole. And you looked nothing less than perfect.

Billie wanted to stay like this forever, her hands resting gently on your hips, and staring at you like you were the Mona Lisa. But she knew she had to finish the show. So, she let out a little breath before pulling you over to the stools that had been set up.

Billie and Finneas sat next to each other, while you sat across from them, mic stands sitting in front of each of you. You adjusted yourself until you were comfortable, a gentle smile playing at your lips as you looked into the crowd, you gave small waves as Billie spoke.

Her voice instantly quieted the entire stadium, all of her fans listening to her voice intently. It was surprising, honestly—how quickly she could get an entire sold-out stadium quite so quickly. It was like she had magic powers.

You listened just as well, hearing her talk about who she was grateful for, and everyone who helped her support her through her journey of the tour. And then, she mentioned her mom and dad, who were up in the crowd, somewhere on the second floor, watching them. You could see Billie’s smile widening at the mention of her parents.

Eventually, Billie had stopped talking, and she began to start up the song. It was one of yours, but Billie was a huge feature on it. So you both just called it yours. You both began to sing the intro, holding onto the mic gently, making sure it caught every note and your voices. Finneas played the guitar, strumming every note perfectly.

As you two continued, your voices angelic and soft, you and Billie locked eyes. You both couldn’t take your eyes off each other. You two could still sing, could still move your bodies, but your eyes wouldn’t move from each other. It was like a trap. A trap neither of you wanted to get out of.

This was the moment you figured out the one thing you’ve been searching for—pure, undying love. It had been years since you two got together—just a few months after Billie turned 18. So just about 6 years you two have been through thick and thin, never once letting go of each other.

And you knew that this woman was the one. That you made the right choice, that this woman was the right one, and would forever stay that way.

Slowly, the song came to an end, and the crowd erupted into cheers and whistles all over again. You couldn’t help but chuckle from the praise, looking around at all the hundreds of thousands of people. It almost seemed unreal.

You never held your shows anything near something as big as this, so seeing so many people cheering for them was a little shocking to you. Like they had just heard the best news of their lives. The shock came first, then it would be the happiness and joy.

Your smile widened, before looking back at Billie. You could tell something was different. Her posture was just a bit straighter, her shoulders pulled back, and her leg was bouncing up and down on the stool’s footrest. Like she was getting ready for something.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, seeing her look a little anxious. You looked between Billie and Finneas, who were now pulled away from the mics and their earpieces out, talking quietly amongst each other. Like a secret being passed. Even in a room full of thousands of people.

You saw Billie bite her bottom lip, a nervous gesture that she normally did. You didn’t understand what was going on, but you didn’t say anything, sitting there like you were a lost puppy. Because you were. You were really lost, trying to figure out what was happening.

But eventually, Billie stood, and she took the mic off the stand, holding it up to her lips as she walked closer to you. And she looked straight at you, one hand behind her back. You could see little beads of sweat forming on her forehead, and not from earlier. These were new. And then, Billie began to speak.

"Baby, you know I love you. I have always loved you, and I forever will. I love you like the moon loves the Earth, like the ocean loves the sand, and like flowers love water. I couldn’t live without you, baby. I will forever and always need you by my side, so this is why I’m asking you this…”

And before you knew it, Billie was down on one knee in front of you, pulling her hand out from behind her back. It was a red velvet box, gently shining in the lights of the stadium. And when Billie opened it, you almost sobbed. You quickly got off the stool, walking closer to get a better look.

It was a beautiful gold ring, an oval diamond placed right in the middle. And around the band, it looked like there were little diamond leaves, like on a stem of a flower. It was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, and the exact ring you showed Billie before.

"Will you marry me?”

The crowd went silent, waiting for your answer. But you knew it from the moment she got down on one knee. Tears streamed down your face as you nodded, letting out a small, happy giggle.

"Yes! Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

Billie felt a wave of relief go over her body, a weight being lifted off her shoulders. She gently took your hand into hers, taking the ring out of the box and slipping it onto your ring finger. And it fitted perfectly on your finger.

You gently held Billie’s hand as you admired the ring, happy laughs and sobs mixing together. You gently pulled Billie up and into your arms, holding her tightly. The entire crowd was screaming and cheering for you two, but their voices faded as Billie held you. "I love you. I love you so much. I knew you’d say yes.”

She gently placed a kiss on your tear-streaked cheek, her own tears falling down. She couldn’t have been any happier than she was with you right now. She held you like you were her lifeline, her fingers tangling in your hair.

Finneas had watched from a few feet away, and was clapping and cheering along with the crowd. He knew that this was going to happen. He went ring shopping with Billie. But Billie wanted to keep it quiet, so he kept it quiet. He smiled as he watched his sister holding her now fiancé, happy for her.

But then, you slowly pulled away, letting out a small chuckle. The timing couldn’t have been any better. You wiped away the tears from your face, before gently letting go of Billie. You looked down at your feet, before reaching into your pocket, and pulling out a beautiful diamond ring.

You got down on one knee, holding up the ring. You had planned for tonight to propose to Billie, just not exactly like this. But this was even better than how you planned it. You had made sure the ring had stayed in your pocket, too scared to have a box hiding under the cloth due to the fact it would peek out.

The ring had a circular diamond in the middle, and little diamonds covering all around the band. You had made sure it was the exact one Billie pointed to when you two were out that one time, looking for jewelry. The exact ring Billie said she would love to have lying on her finger.

Billie gasped as she saw the ring, almost tripping over her own two feet. But the surprise quickly turned into happiness, tears falling down her face in complete and utter joy. She couldn’t help the sobs that left her throat. Gently taking your free hand into hers.

“Will you marry me?” You said softly, and before you could even process it, Billie had taken you back into her arms, a bone-crushing hug surrounding you. She was whispering little "yes"’s into your ear, like it was a secret only you two could know about. Even if you were on stage, surrounded by hundreds of thousands of people, even her parents and brother, just a few feet away, who were completely shocked by the revelation.

Billie shakily pulled away, tears falling down her face like a waterfall. Her hand lifted up shakily, and you gently pushed the ring onto her finger. A perfect size, yet again. Billie let out a soft chuckle, before quickly pulling you close again.

She gently took your chin into her fingers, before pulling you in for a deep, gentle, and sensual kiss. Your tears mixed in with your lips, desperate cries and sobs leaving both of you. You both couldn’t pull away, wanting to bask in the moment with each other. Like you were the only two people on the entire planet.

But eventually, oxygen was needed, and you two pulled away, a mess of tears and heavy breaths mingling between you two. You could hear Finneas laughing behind Billie, making the woman roll her eyes. She slowly stood up, but never once letting go of you. She held onto your hand tightly, not daring to let go.

She quickly picked the mic back up, before raising it to her lips, and happily speaking to the crowd. “My soon-to-be wife, fuckers!”

Everyone immediately cheered, whistled, completely happy for you two. Phones were still high up in the air, recording every moment that just happened. But it was okay. Neither of you cared that this would be public news by the morning, because all you two needed was each other.

Later that night, you and Billie were lying down together in the hotel room, everything packed and ready to go home. Her fingers were gently running through your hair, tackling each small knot with her fingers. Your head was gently pressed against her chest, listening to her steady heartbeat.

The adrenaline of the moment had still been running through your mind, taking in every little moment. But nothing mattered. Not in the pure silence of the hotel room, with your fiancé, who still had tears on her cheek. She loved you so much, she just couldn’t help them.

"You make me so happy, baby. I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together.” Billie said softly, kissing the top of your head, pulling you impossibly closer. “I’ll love you until I drop dead.”

You chuckled at her words, but you didn’t respond with something sassy, because you knew it was true. Billie never lied to you about her love. She would love you until her last heartbeat.

"I love you too, Billie.” ⋆. 𐙚 ̊

a/n: cutest thing I think I’ve ever written thank you anon !! 💗 also can you tell I suck at dialogue

My baby here you goooo @qreatest

[n0rmal-cat]

I love spider landlord's patheticness,, may we get a reader that crochet/knit and reciprocates their gifts @×@? Id like to see the goobers reaction

Spider yan x reader- love at first bite

[please let spider be freaky with you, beat them up]

Centipede wakes up from a long nap, he goes to get himself a drink and passes reader on his way.

“What’s with all the…that?” He points to the bundles of yarn reader has by their feet.

“I’m making a gift for the landlord” they continued to crochet

“Agh that guy? Don’t you like, hate them?” He pauses “…what are you making anyway?”

“It’s a sweater,” reader smiles as they hold up their hard work. It was a black sweater with a web design all over. “I even made a pocket that looks like it’s a ball of web, and then when you open it there’s a little fly in the inside” they open the pocket.

Centipede scrunched his face “I mean sure it’s fine…but um why have I never seen you make one of these? I mean it’s not like I expected you to make one for me or anything, it’s just with your fear and everything”

“Oh I mean I am still scared, but their nice to us and always give us things so I wanna give something back”

He rolls his eyes “yeah yeah whatever, hey maybe when your done that you can make socks for each of my feet”

“Um-“

“What are you really gonna say no? I mean that’s kinda rude don’t you think?” He leans over.

“Ok…I’ll make the socks”

“Great, great” reader shivers as he pats their head.

All reader had to do was wait until one of spider menu monthly visits, the knocking was always a a sure fire way to know.

Reader opened the door with butterflies in their stomach but a smile on their face.

“Reader? You don’t answer very often” they question

“No, but I have a reason this time” they looked down embarrassed.

“Well rent’s not due for another two weeks?” They said tilting their head and raising an eyebrow.

“N-no I mean this” reader pushes a sloppily wrapped gift, some of the tape still stuck to reader.

“A box?”

“Your supposed to open it”

“Oh!” They started to rip into it, their eyes widened at the sight of the gift.

“Who gave this to you?! Do they live here?”

“What? I made the sweater for you, no one gave it to me?”

They look down at it one more time “wait…so you made this…for me? Someone didn’t give it to you?”

Reader shakes their head “I though it would be a nice gift since your always making me stuff” they play with their fingers.

Spider stares at the sweater in awe, they then look back at reader. “Do you want to eat me alive?” They ask completely serious with a blush on their face.

“What?!” Reader screamed

“Well I could never eat you so I rather you eat me” they explained almost giddy

“Spider I think you’ve got the wrong impression-“

“You don’t have to eat all of me, I’d settle for a finger” they clasp reader hands together with their own, an eager smile on their face.

“Spider…” they give me a strong look “look I’m not going to do any of that, I know how much you like, well whatever it is you like, but I’m not going to do that”

Their face morphs into one of guilt “dammit dammit, I did it again didn’t I?”

Reader shrugs “a little, but think about it for a second”

They give reader a sad almost puppy like face

“If I ate you, then you wouldn’t be around anymore so who will make me all those things I love?”

“You’re right, what about biting me? That’s fine right, chew me up like a piece of meat?”

“Um…how about you just put it on for me right now?”

They grin as they slip it on over or we their head and shoulders, “h-how do I look”

Reader smiles “you look very pretty”

they looked down at themselves and thought for a moment “I have to go now reader, if I do not come for rent money you don’t have to pay it to me”

“Um, ok?” Spider let go of their hands and scurried off.

Reader watched him, “you realize by giving them that you basically ask them to date you right?” Centipede commented from inside.

“I what now?”

“You asked them to date them, that's why they asked about the eating thing they think your dating”

“But I didn’t mean to?!” Reader panics

“Well then it’s either you tell them or live with it” shrugged

“W-well can’t you talk to them for me?” Reader asked frenetically.

“I woulddddd but I like to see you panicking so maybe I’ll wait a bit” he smirks

“Centipede wait!”

Weeks later reader still hadn’t heard from spider at all.

“Well this is getting boring…haven’t seen that freak in almost a month, maybe they're avoiding you? No that’s not it” centipede thought out loud.

Reader shook in their spot, a sudden ring of the doorbell startled them both.

“Huh we’ll speak of the devil I guess” centipede gets up to open the door reader following behind.

As he opened the door, gifts started to fall, “what the hell?”

The stack was taller than them, everything was made of yarn. From flowers made completely out of yarn to a small doll version of spider.

“I’m confused?..” They looked around at everything.

“Hold on there’s a note” he picked up the neatly folded piece of paper “dear reader, you gave me something that I could only dream of, I looked up what humans like and came up with this”

Reader picks up a single rose “how sweet” they slime.

“They made a box of chocolate out of yarn, they could have just bought one why did they do that?” He opens it to reveal even the chocolate inside was yarn, he grumbles.

He looks over the hallway floor once again, “you know if you gave me the sweater I would have gotten you real shit”

“Huh?” Reader turns to him

“Nothing!”

[lheslie]

Mark Variants Vs Toph Reader

- Main Mark

He was surprised when he first met you because you were small and blind.

"How are you going to fight if-" he didn't want to continue so he wouldn't offend you.

"If I'm blind? Continue what you were saying." You retorted as you used earth bend to throw him off the ground.

Mark was shocked when he suddenly flew off the ground; he regained his posture in mid-air.

"Damn, Did a blind little girl scared ya?" Rex insulted, laughing as you earth bend him off the ground too

Rex and Mark were astonished at your fighting capabilities, as you could bend boulders bigger than yourself.

You, Mark, and Rex got along, teaming up in every battle, although sometimes Mark looks after you, worrying that your blindess would be a weakness in the middle of a fight.

"What are you worried about? I can literally see more than you both can, plus I react quicker than all of you." You smirked, scaring them off by making a posture that made them think you would make them fly away.

"Hah, pussies." You said as you walked off to get some food.

In the middle of a fight, you were not afraid of taking the lead, creating armor out of the metal from your surroundings.

One time you even soloed an entire army by putting them all to the ground.

"That's how you do it." You mocked, as you flaunt to Mark and Rex who hadn't even moved yet. Rex loved pissing you off a lot, so you also had fun burying him underneath the ground, making him beg for mercy, as Mark laughs at Rex's fate for the entire day unless Cecil gives you a mission.

"COME ON, I WAS JOKING, Y/N," Rex groaned from the ground as you were sitting on a couch drinking. "I'll accept your apologies when you take my chores the next time the base." You smirked menacingly. "Yes!!! I'll do whatever, just get me out of here." he whines for forgiveness as you earth bend him off the ground, and he plops on the floor; he breathes deeply and exhales, "FREEDOM." "Oh, boy, the more I stay here, the more I pity him." Monster girl's comments.

You, Mark, and Rex, train together, although in training, you bully them both a lot, throwing a lot of boulders at Mark and Splitting the ground on Rex's feet. "ARE YOU TRYING TO CRACK MY BALLS? JEEZ." Rex yells in frustration as he walks out from the training ground, leaving you and Mark on the training ground.

Mark loves your sassiness and confidence in your fighting style and skills, he loves seeing you use your earth-bending skills in new and different weverevery times, and he's most especially shocked when you can bend metals even though you are smaller than him, he also loves it when you told him you can see with your feet, and that's why you don't wear any shoes into battle.

"But what if there's glass on the road?" Mark asks, "What kind of dumb question even is that? I can earth bend it away from my toes; I can even see the ants that are trying to bite Rex's toes."

"THERE'S ANT ON WHAT?" Rex moves, and he falls from the couch and onto the ground. "Ha, I got ya." You laughed.

Mark tried flying you in the Air once, "Woah, this feels great, but make sure you don't make me fall, or you'll regret it." You threatened Mark.

Mark loved reading for you, describing certain comics like Sea Dog, and you just listened to him yap. "Okay! I get it. He's cool; get on to the new chapter. I'm going crazy if you keep repeating how cool he is." You complained.

Mark talks about Seance's dog, and his heart pumps in excitement talking to you about it, making him very happy.

- Omni Mark

"Hey, you!" You point in the wrong direction, "Fight someone your own size!" You yelled as Omni Mark let out a chuckle. "You're not even pointing in the right direction; what makes you think you can fight me?" He asks. "Get down from there and you'll see how." You replied as you earthbend a huge tower of earth to his face, making him fly away.

"I can hear you breathe, you know, hah, it works every time." You laughed as Omni Mark tried to regain his posture to attack you again, but you trapped him by pulling him to the ground and metal-bending a car onto his head, smashing it again and again.

"I didn't know there was a whack-a-mole here." You laughed insulting him.

- Target Mark

"You? against me? you're literally child-sized." He insults you from head to toe as you blast him off with a huge earth pillar onto his face. "You compensating something with your attitude there?" You mocked as you buried him deep down, and he dug himself out of the ground; you immediately started to throw boulders at him as you ran away to a place with buildings on it and made the buildings crash on him. Mark clenched his teeth again and punched through the buildings as you metal bend restraints to his arms. "Fight me." He said "What the fuck do you think I'm doing? playing with you?" You replied as you dropped a pile of cars on his head, and he still escaped. "Oh, boy, it seems like you're hard-headed; I guess that's why you fight without a brain." You insulted sticking your tongue out. "I'm going to slaughter you." He threatened. "You wish, I'm the greatest earthbender to exist."

- Viltrum Mark

You were running away from him because you knew that once he caught you, it was over for you. After all, he can rip you apart, but while you were running away from him, you made sure to throw cars in his face, but unfortunately, he kept passing through them. "You leave me no choice." You whispered as your metal bend to create an entire huge arm punching him. He flew away to space, as you sighed in relief. "Man that fucker was scary."

- Shiesty Mark

You were on the ground and you just arrived to Shiesty Mark destroying the ground creating lots of rubbles. "You know you're giving me the upper hand just by doing that." You spoke behind him as you created a prison surrounding him, making him locked in place, you then started to throw tiny rocks at his face. "I'll fucking kill you." He curses. "Do you really want people to see two little girls fighting out here?" You chuckled as he broke free, causing you to throw a car onto his face making him hit the pavement.

- Sinister Mark

He slowly chuckles as he chokes you, "You're blind; don't you know it's better for you to just retire and live in the countryside? You're just dead weight to the world, useless-" You cut him off by earth bending him to the wall. "I may be blind but I can see better than you." You said as you opened a huge rift, pushing him down to the core.

"Don't ever insult me like that, Even if I'm blind, I'm the best out there." You chuckled as you sat in exhaustion breathing slowly.

- Prisoner Mark

Prisoner Mark was angry after you placed him on the ground and treated him like a whack-a-mole machine by whacking him with a car onto his head. "Hey! it was just a joke!" You yelled running from him as you made buildings fall on him. "I'm going to bury you on the ground and whack you with a car too." He threatened. "I said I'm sorry," You whined as you continued running and making buildings fall on him; he was stuck on the rubble for a brief moment which gave you the time to escape by earth bending yourself to the ground by making tunnels. You closed the entrance, but Prisoner Mark tried to dig into the dirt trying to find you. "You're dead once I find you." He mumbles digging with his bare hands.

- Mohawk Mark

"Well, aren't you adorable?" Mohawk Mark chuckles as he looks at your small figure on the ground, "Why don't you come down here to see how cute I am." You yelled as he did descend from the sky which gave you the chance to throw boulders at him. "Awee little kid is trying to throw rocks at me?" He insulted, which made you clench your teeth by earth bending a huge wave of earth making him drown in it. " How's that for adorable." You laughed as he dug himself out spewing out the dirt that got caught in his mouth.

"You're going to regret that." He said. "Oh, really?" You retorted.

- No goggles Mark

"I have to admit, when I saw you I didn't think you could be this cool." He said as he took the impact of every blast of the boulder you threw onto him. "WOAH, this feels GREAT." He said as you tried throwing more boulders at his face with metal shards to injure him even more. "You're weird." You mumbled. "KEEP EM COMING." He yelled.

[sunnysunsins]

Hi confess, you want this point by point? (Puts on the brand new invented by local rwders "smug asshole" hat.) Okay, sweetie, let's dance.

Ren decided to become a huntsman after what happened to his family - "I saw the beast, we need a huntsman." - Li Ren. Phrasing is important - "A huntsman" - singular one. Making Ren believe that 1 huntsman would be able to take down Nuckelavee. That's his goalpost. When he finally got to kill it, it took all 4 of them - students - to take it down, reinforcing his idea that they're not ready. Every other major grimm they took on they also worked together and sometimes barely scraped by - not ready yet. And now, with everything going to shit in Atlas - they're still not ready. You know who is ready and is getting results in his eyes? Military. Order and structured commands didn't fail them yet, right? (In his eyes.) They're students, one would think adults with years of experience know what they're doing, right? (And then the entire show is about how that's bullshit, adults are also flying by the seat of their pants in this.) That's literally the whole reason why military propaganda works in real life - people want to believe those in charge know what they're doing and can lead the way on these big issues.

1.5. Some of you might be going "hey smug asshole(tm), you're reading way too into this, where is it in the show itself?" Literally in the show, if you look at it from the character's pov. Look at the situation through their experiences and personality, how they got brought up and what drives them. Which is kinda like my entire thing.

2. Blake and Yang telling Robyn about Amity - from the start they were iffy on keeping everything a secret. They see the positive picture - Robyn understanding and helping them, but don't see the negative side - her using this as blackmail for one (potential reasons why IW doesn't trust her, among "noboby can know bc Salem has eyes and ears everywhere" ones). Blake we are on the wavelength with, now Yang's reasoning - she was the most vocal about the lying thing from the start (as much as scenes budget was allowed to show us) - sauce: v7 ch 3. She went along with it for a while, then it wasn't working for her anymore, it didn't give the results she wanted. So now she goes along with the plan with more potential progress than sitting there and doing nothing. Which gives results, but not on silver platter - Robyn still doesn't fully trust them, but at least they offered. (which will be both helpful and hurtful later in the volume). They took a risk to try and help, so finally something good might happen, and then it backfired because IW is a paranoiac (for understandable reasons too, but we're not talking about that here)

3. The point that's been driven to the ground even in the show itself - Ruby lied because Ironwood is acting like a paranoid trigger-happy dictator. Which, guess what he became later, when he again started feeling like he's losing control of the situation? Oh right, exactly that. (again, for understandable reasons, that's another essay). Last time the team saw him (even Weiss when she was there!) he was a lot more stable and willing to cooperate. But now they see his recent actions, see what happened with Ozpin, with Leo, the whole atlesian vibe as a whole, and decide to wait it out and see how it plays out. They don't know who to trust anymore and how to approach them without making them go off the rails. ("We didn't want you to lose hope" - Oscar.) Remember how they reacted themselves when they learned the truth about Salem. (Hi Qrow, you still haven't apologized for punching Oscar btw. He felt that, we saw that in the episode) And that's them. They're not a military leader with a doomsday button. Kinda makes sense they won't really want to break the news before checking the waters.

4. Jaune is finally feeling like a proper huntsman, that's what he's thinking. Same for Weiss + she gets to finally reconnect with Winter and feel like she's her own person and not her father's proxy.

While the characters do suffer from lack of slow scenes exploring their inner thoughts (thanks to fight scenes taking all the budget) it's not non-existent like some think. You just have to watch the interactions and dialog, it's all in there.

Confession #835

[drxmxss]

Our Eternal Novel °❀.ೃ࿔*

LADS Xavier × Reader

Summary: A cozy bookstore, a love for classics, a small town, a secret and an eternal promise of forever...What could happen when Y/N meets a stranger at her local bookstore who is not who he seems?

Content Warnings: Vampire! Xavier x Human!Reader, 18+, mentions of murder, missing persons, blood, death, injury, stalking/obsessive tendencies, biting, smut (will have a separate and more descriptive warning when included in chapter), more warnings to be added as the story progresses, maybe some oocness (this is my first xavier fic bare with me) reader discretion advised

Additional Warnings: Fingering, kinda sorta dubcon if u squint, desperate Xavier & reader, it just gets a lil nasty here

a/n: Hii everyone I am so sorry for the delay! Here is chapter 4! The next update won’t be for a while but look forward to it! Thank you!! Enjoy! 💞

Chapter Four: Taste

That night, Xavier and you stayed in the living room talking. He answered every question about himself you had.

“So..how old are you really?” You began, Xavier gave you a small smile, which made you have to ignore the flutter it gave your heart.

“I was 24 when I woke up as this.” Xavier explained. “Unfortunately I don’t remember much of my life before that, but I’ve been traveling alone since then..for about 150 years.”

“Wow..doesn’t it ever get lonely? Traveling place to place?” You ask. Xavier stared at you for a moment, considering his answer.

“Yes and no. I’ve met others like me and..they aren’t the best company sometimes. Territorial or moral differences in who we should feed off of don’t mix well.” He answered, making you raise an eyebrow.

“Moral differences? What do you mean?”

“Some vampires just like to feed off whoever catches their eye, or some unlucky loner walking by. I think it’s cruel, so I try to only feed off bad guys.”

“So you’re an undead vigilante. Got it.” You chuckle, Xavier smiles softly again.

“Did you..feed off that guy earlier?” You ask him, stomach queasy. Xavier frowns, “No I didn’t actually, I didn’t want to make a mess and scare you more.”

“Oh, alright then..Do you have like special powers or something?” Xavier seems to hold back a laugh, “Nothing cool like telapathy or anything, I can run faster and I’m stronger than any human. My senses are heightened as well.”

“No telpathy? Or even flying. That’s disappointing.” You complain, making Xavier laugh honestly this time. His laughter makes you smile and join along, and you notice how comfortable you feel around him.

“What else would you want to know?” Xavier asks, leaning back into you couch.

“Do you like..burn in the sun? Or sparkle?”

Xavier smiles again, “No, not that I noticed at least but I sleep during the day anyway.”

You stare at him, bewildered. “But you only came to the store on gloomy days? The sun really has no effect on you?”

Xavier chuckles, “That was merely a coincidence. I sleep during the day most of the time, easier to feed at night and all. But I can always change up the schedule.”

You nod, “I think that’s all my questions for now.”

“You should sleep, it’s pretty late and I don’t want to make you too tired for work.” Xavier says, standing up.

“I don’t go in tomorrow, and..” You trail off, debating your words. “You can stay here, if you want.”

Xavier looks at you confused. You shrug, “You already told me you come here every night to watch me. I’m just giving you the offer.”

Xavier smiles, “I suppose that’s true. As long as your okay with it.” You smile back, “Of course, let me get you a blanket and pillow.

You quickly run to your closet to get the extra bedding, and come back to Xavier already laying down on the couch, eyes closed and fast aleep. A twinge of guilt tugs at your heart, he must have been exhausted, even for a vampire.

“Here you go.” You whisper, draping the blanket over him. “My bedroom door will be open if you need anything.”

Xavier doesn’t respond, and you decide its better to let him rest. You turn off the lights as you make your way to your room to prepare for bed, trying your best to ignore the swirl of emotions in your mind.

*

A heavy weight on your chest wakes you from your sleep, and you open your eyes to meet Xavier’s.

Except this time, they are pitch black and wild.

You struggle against him, his weight on top of you holding you down. “Xavier?” You mumble, “What are you-“

Suddenky, he turns his head to graze his teeth against your jugular, breathing heavily.

“I-I waited too long.” He whispers raggedly, making you shiver. He inhales deeply, “To feed..”

You struggle against him now, fear rushing through your veins.”Xavier get off of me-“

Suddenly he grabs both your hands and pins them above your head, making you gasp. His tight grip holds your arms high up, and he leans down to listen to your erratic heartbeat.

“Y/N..” He whispers, looking up at you “Please..help me..Let me..” He trails off, making his way to inhale the scent of your neck.

“Xavier wait, you’re not in the right frame of mind”

“Just a taste, I promise Y/N. I”ve heard it can make you feel good sometimes. Please Y/N” Xavier, dazed, whispers desperately. “It hurts..I’m so weak.”

Guilt suddenly washes over you, were you the reason he waited so long to feed? Were you the reason he was basically starving himself?

“O-okay.” You whisper, “Please don’t hurt me.”

Xavier pulls away slightlt, his black eyes stare into yours.

“I won’t hurt you, Y/N. I swear it’s gonna be over quick.” He says sternly, but releases his tight grip in yout hands to caress your cheek. His ice skin feels soothing to your hot cheeks.

Quickly, Xavier leans down, and you feel his breath against your jugular. You close your eyes tightly, body tensing as you feel his teeth graze you skin.

You feel his teeth bite down, and your arms wrap around him, clinging tightly. You let out a squeak, the pain in your neck almost making you scream.

You hear sickly sucking noises coming from Xavier as seering pain envelopes your neck from his bite, you struggle against him now, beginning to regret trusting his judgment in this state.

Suddenly, the pain begins to die down and your mind races.This made you think you were either dying or Xavier was finishing soon.

However, you quickly realize you were wrong.

The pain seems to turn into pleasure, a wave of tingling electricity washes over you. Terrified you grip onto Xavier tighter, gasping and unable to form words. Your mind turns to mush, only focusing on the sudden pleasure rushing through you.

“X-Xavier? P-please help me.” You barely manage to gasp out, the intense pleasure continues to wash over you in waves, making you fight back a moan. You still hear Xavier sucking the blood out of the wound on your neck, but it suddenly comes to a stop.

Xavier pulls away from your neck and leans back, you open your eyes to meet his still black and crazed ones. “Help you?” He mumbles, his mouth dripping with your blood. You shiver, the sight seems to only intensify your tingling.

Without thinking, you grab his hand and place it on top of your core, above your sleep shorts that were bound to be ruined.

“H-here.. It feels..Please” You beg, too incoherent to ask properly, Xaviers eyes stare into yours for a quick moment, before leaning down to kiss you.

Immediately you taste your own blood on his tongue, and a moan vibrates deep in his chest as he quickly shoves his hand into your panties. You gasp into the kiss, his fingers feeling icy but quickly warming up as he shoved two into your soaked cunt, fingering you at a brutal pace, his thumb rubbing your clit in tandem.

Xavier pulls away from your kiss, still deep in your core and smiles softly, “You are so beautiful like this.” He whispers, kissing your cheek before leaning down to continue his minstrations on your neck.

Feeling his teeth sink into you again is nowhere near painful, the intense pleasure of his fingers inside you and the effect of his bite making you crave more of him, moaning out his name without fear now. You would soon take the risk of death for the chance to feel this good again.

Too soon, you feel a knot form deep in your stomach, Xavier’s fingers still inside you.

“I’m close.” You whimper, tugging at Xavier’s shirt again. Xavier once again stops sucking the blood from your neck to whisper into your.

“Go ahead darling.” He said, “I’m finished now, just let go for me sweet girl.”

His pet names make your mind mush, as you feel the instense snap of your orgasm in your core, with Xavier’s fingering you through it. The waves of pleasure crash over you hard, making you almost scream out.

Finally, you feel your heartrate slow, and you close your eyes and succumb to darkness.

a/n: taglist! comment below to be added!

@onebatch--twobatch

[multiheadcanons]

MERCS AS DREAMS I’VE HAD, BUT THERE’S A SPECIAL VISITOR

scout: scout gets the recurring dream i was having a few years back where i would walk to the park near my childhood home. its a nice walk, kind of a long one, with steep hills. sometimes i couldn’t get up the hill. other times the hill was practically nonexistent. temperate, obscenely bright, it was always so hard to see. i just felt like a kid. and i never got to step foot on the grounds of the park. i always woke up before then.

soldier: soldier gets the recurring nightmare i used to have weekly as a kid, that has since morphed and changed to fit my current headspace. it is a race to the finish line that you complete by grabbing a key and going to the door you are assigned, that are constantly decreasing in size. and it is always a fight to the death. but i was never a fighter. i would hide between the bodies strewn across the roads i was walking, and there were these huge spider like robots that would skewer you on their spindly legs if they saw you. they looked like fucked up kebabs. the sight of bodies laid, one on top of the other, some were still gasping… but i would grit my teeth and head for my assigned door’s location, and hope that whoever was there already had a key to the door and was dead. i died many times in that dream. i’ve “completed” that dream a couple of times. it is the Worst Ending Imaginable.

pyro: pyro very specifically gets the first lucid dream i ever had. i was… Very Young. and i was running from freddy kruger, but it was an inverse of the trope where i was ZOOMING and freddy was like… moving through molasses, i have no idea. but i was running. and it got to a point that i had put so much space between us i stopped for a donut in a gas station, and while i was checking out i stopped and realized, and said out loud, “wait a minute… this is my brain! i can do whatever i want!” so i ran BACK to freddy kruger and said “HEY! you’re not gonna kill me, we’re gonna have a dance party!” and that’s exactly what we did. i was so proud of myself when i woke up.

demo: demo gets the best dream. this is almost a spinoff to the recurring dream i assigned to soldier in the sense that this was one of the “rooms” i would have to traverse. it started in a hall, with an egregiously small door, like alice in wonderland type small door, and i would have to figure out how to get through the door. on the other side of the door is a beautiful TO ME oasis. surrounded by mountains, with a pool of water that was crystal clear. it is always just me in this specific room unless i bring someone with me. i think the last person i brought was america from hetalia, when i first learned how to fly. i begged him to join me, he laughed and said he couldn’t. but he was happy i was having a good time.

heavy: heavy gets the week i exclusively dreamt about bears. it was a very odd week, i call it bear week. they were certainly nightmares. but the funny part is, i wasn’t dying to the bears? i was so hyperfocused on not dying to the bears that i was dying in other ways. one of them this woman had the ability to control bears and i died by a land mine. another one this like… bear cult kept trying to urge me to pet the bear and i died because they trampled me before i could even pet the bear. i still have no idea what those dreams were trying to tell me.

engineer: engineer gets the dream i had when i first started my trade! im so committed to my job, its not funny. when i was first learning, i would dream at night that i was at work. i was grooming dogs in my literal sleep. and my roommate kept trying to wake me up, and it was jostling the entire room. it got to the point i woke up and told them i was trying to work. they were fucking up my cuts. and i went right back to work. literally when you love what you do you never work a day in your life. i know he dreams about his machines sometimes. he hears them click and his mind is literally building the blueprints.

medic: i had a dream we went on a date. we were in a cheesecake factory, or something. it was dim, the music was good, we sat across from each other, and i was getting tipsy. we discussed many things. he looked so pretty. i was so nervous. he walked me to my car, and i was too shy to kiss him, and he laughed and hugged me. told me to try to have a good day that day, it was bound to be difficult. i remember waking up hoping i didn’t fuck that up. and that day did suck, but i was softlocked to my brain and fritz telling me to try to have a good day. sigh… that’s my man right there. put me in the dungeon with him, god, PLEASE. i wish i dreamt about him more. i hope i didn’t scare him off.

sniper: i dream more about sniper than i do any other merc. which is fine, just not the support guy i would think wanted to be in my brainspace? but he’s almost always there now, regardless of what im doing. he doesn’t normally do anything, he just follows me around and occasionally makes a quip about the situation. there was one time he told me my alarm was about to go off, and told me to have a good day at work. it was kind of sweet.

spy: spy gets a nightmare that still freaks me out. i was in a cafe of sorts, hanging out with people i didnt know, but we were making friendly conversation. and this person walked in, and literally just started shooting. i was lucky enough to get out, and had the wits about me to fly into the air as high as i can go, and fled elsewhere. as i caught my breath, in a different building, someone turned to me and charged out of nowhere. and i had to fight them off. just enough to get outside and fly into the air again. and the person couldnt follow, nor did they attempt to shoot me down. just pointed at me, and sent a message directly into my brain. “it doesnt matter where you go. it doesnt matter what you learn. it doesnt matter how you change or embolden yourself. i will follow you to the ends of the earth. and i will eradicate you from this reality. and when i accomplish it here, i will find you in another reality. and i will do it again. you cannot escape me.” and i woke up.

[thebisexualdogdad]

Dating Kafka Hibino - Kaiju no. 8 (GN!reader)

● you've been dating Kafka for five years, living together for three

● when he was working for monster sweeper Inc it was awful whenever he came home smelling like kaiju guts

● you would make him take multiple showers before he could eat dinner while you opened the window to air out your small apartment 

● “can I have dinner now?” 

● “nope you still reek go shower again” 

● he groans but not so sneakily grabs a bite of the food you cooked and runs back to the bathroom making you laugh

● one night you get a call that there was an incident and Kafka was in the hospital after being attacked by a kaiju 

● but when you get there he's nowhere to be found and the defense is flying in to fight a kaiju in the area 

● once you're told it's safe to leave the hospital you go back home to find Kafka asleep on the couch 

● “Kafka what the hell! You scared the crap out of me!” 

● “huh?” 

● “I got a call you were in the hospital and then you weren't there!”

● “oh yeah… I felt fine so I left” 

● you realize he's tense and sit down next to him, “are you okay?” 

● “well besides the whole getting attacked by a kaiju thing there's this new kid at work, Reno and he said they raised the age restriction on the defense force entrance exam… he wants me to take it with him…” 

● “wait really? you should do it.” 

● “you really think so?”

● “of course I do! Kafka the day I met you you told me how you dreamed about being on the defense force, you have to go for it.” 

● “but what if I fail again?” 

● “but what if you don't?” 

● the next couple of months Kafka seems different 

● not good different like he's excited yet overwhelmed about going out for his dream job, different like he's hiding something 

● you try to get him to open up but he always finds a way to change the subject 

● and anytime they bring up the kaiju no 8 on the news he immediately changes the channel 

● you even tried talking to Reno about it who you've become friends with and regularly have over to hang out

● “is Kafka doing okay at work? He's been acting a little odd lately even for him” 

● “oh yes Kafka is fine, nothing to worry about,” he just smiles awkwardly 

● you know how hard he has has been working to prepare for the exam so you decide to write it off as stress 

● much to your relief Kafka actually does pass the exam this time

● and you celebrate by ordering so much take out you both go into food comas 

● on his first day at the defense force you wake up to him pacing around the room 

● you get up and put your arms around his shoulders and pull him in for a kiss to help him relax, “Hey, you got this.” 

● Kafka still seems like there is something he isn't telling you but again you let it go, he'll tell you when he is ready 

● everyday Kafka comes home and tells you all he's learned at work 

● and also complains about his peers calling him ‘old man’ 

● “aw it's okay babe you're still very handsome for an old man” 

● “who are you calling old we're the same age!” 

● after a few weeks on the job they get the alert that a kaiju is attacking the neighborhood you live in and Kafka freaks out 

● “holy shit we gotta go save Y/N” 

● you're trying to evacuate when you come face to face with a kaiju 

● but suddenly another Kaiju, the Kaiju no 8 is saving you

● “baby are you okay?” 

● there's something so familiar about the creature standing in front of you

● “....Kafka?” 

[wtf-is-sleep-even]

I did a thing!!!!

---

Jedediah likes to keep to himself, more often than not, after a days work he'd rather be in his tent or some corner by himself than hangin' around the saloon or singing songs with all the others….well, that was until he became friends with a certain Roman general, he doesn't know why but more and more the cowboy finds himself not wanting to be on his lonesome anymore and instead hanging out with the general, at first he blamed it on interest, he was just so odd to him, I mean, look at him! But then it shifted to how nice it felt to be around him, he just made it a bit better in a way (even if sometimes he was still a stuck-up jerk). But he guesses that there's no need worrying over it, as long as he's having a good time. Which they are, in fact, they're having a great time right now! Jedediah is trying to show Octavius a card trick he learned while the general watches in amusement.

Jedediah tries to fiddle with the cards again, “hold on-” he says over and over, until he ends up handling it wrong and sends the cards flying everywhere, he groans, embarrassed, but stops in his tracks when the roman laughs, it makes his heart skip a beat because it isn't his laugh that he had when they fought, that blank, humorless laugh that was just an act more than anything but instead it was loud and clear and real, Octavius snorted and covered his mouth in a mix of embarrassment and trying to get himself to stop laughing but Jedediah looked at him with stars in his eyes. “I-im pffft, I'm sorry- heh- I don't mean to laugh at you” Jedediah smiled and shook his head “no need, it is kinda funny, honestly” he said without thinking, because all he could think right now was ‘i have got to hear that laugh again’

But the thing is that “that laugh” was pretty hard to come by, usually Octavius just gives an eye roll, sometimes with an amused smile, you could get a chuckle or smirk out of him once in a while but anything else you have to work for…well, unless you're Jedediah, the cowboy noticed this once his sister commented on it, how Octavius seemed happier around him, how he carried himself different around him, he was…softer, more carefree, more relaxed.

He didn't know why he made him like that, but like hell if he was going to give up that privilege.

And he didn't give it up, he fought for it, worked for it, the thing that had him on his side, smiling at the roman, on the roof of the museum just to look at the stars. Octavius laughed, throwing an arm over his eyes, Jedediah honestly forgot what they were laughing about in the first place. But when they settled down he looked at the roman that was smiling up at the heavens “I love it when you do that” he muttered, Octavius hummed and looked over

“What was that?” He asked, Jedediah blushed, wide eyed in surprise as he tilted his head down to hide under his hat “s’nothin’ I didn't say anything” Octavius chuckled, taking the cowboys hat “what- hey!” Octavius laughed as he place the hat on his own head and Jedediah stopped for just a moment because he knows this could break his friendship, but just look at him! “Hey, that's my hat” Octavius smiled “it is” he stated, smugly “y'know what they say about wearin' a cowpoke’s hat, right?”

“No, I don't believe I do, care to explain?” Jedediah leaned forward, smiling “well they say, if you wear their hat, you owe that cowboy a kiss” Octavius blushed “oh really?” Jedediah nodded “true as can be” so without warning, the roman tilted his head up and kissed the cowboy, pulling back with only a hint of worry in his eyes “y'know, scratch what I said about you laughin’, I love it then you do that” Octavius smiled, rolling his eyes, and if he chuckled into the next kiss, that's only for him and his cowboy to know.

Headcanon: Jed loves it when Octavius laughs

[shouldibeawakeprobablynot]

Marauders Era Characters In School

The Marauders:

James and Sirius were the kind of people who either got an O or failed, they were both absolute geniuses and had insane magical ability but they just had more important stuff they wanted to focus on than school. When it was a class based on magical ability like DADA, Transfiguration or Charms they were the kind of people who could pay minimal attention in class, rush their essays and wander into the exam having done about an hour of revision and still get an O. Classes like History of Magic or Divination they could easily have passed with flying colours if they wanted to they just really couldn't be arsed and since they required more knowledge as opposed to raw magical ability they tended to fail.

Remus was also incredibly clever he just has to put work in for it and consistently revise throughout the year (a concept that baffled James and Sirius "But Moony you always get an O anyway you don't need to revise!" "I get all Os because I revise!"). He was very bookish, got all Os and had a weird amount of knowledge for a teenager but that was through a mix of hard work and a natural affinity for learning.

This is potentially an unpopular opinion but I think Peter was also clever, he was just in a group of very exceptional people so what he achieved didn't look as impressive. I think he got mostly EEs with a couple Os and a couple As and with a little extra work he could have done better than that. He was a crammer and did most of his work the day before the exam (which worked for him), he knew that with a tad more work throughout the year he could've done better than he typically did but he was honestly happy with how he did anyway so decided he'd rather have fun instead.

I feel like Peter would just be yapping and come out with some kind of idea that James and Sirius would immediately latch onto and start building into insane prank, Remus would then have to work out how this could actually be achieved and James and Sirius would do whatever insane magic was required.

The Gryffindor Girls:

Lily was very similar to Remus, she was bright and paid attention so teachers loved her but she did have to work for the grades she got. Her and Remus had regular study sessions with Regulus and occasionally Peter when he had a test coming up. She genuinely enjoyed learning and she'd get all Os (anything below that felt like a failure to her and she was also driven in part by an intense need for academic validation).

Mary was pretty average in school, she had subjects she did well in and subjects she didn't and she put a fair amount of effort into studying but only really around exam time. She was very good with people and had good enough exam results that she could go into a number of different careers but she wasn't notable for academics.

Marlene tended to get things or not get things and was sort of just it, like Mary she had things she did well in and things she didn't but if she didn't just get something naturally it was very difficult for her to improve. Quidditch was a big priority for her and doing it professionally was her dream so she tended to neglect her school subjects (especially ones she didn't like) in favour of practicing. Teachers often accused her of not trying which was sometimes true and sometimes wasn't and she envied James and Sirius who could get away with slacking off when she couldn't.

The Slytherin Skittles

Regulus was similar to Remus and Lily, though he absolutely excelled in potions which came to him completely naturally, he continuously worked hard for all his other subjects throughout the year (partly due to parental pressure and an intense desire for academic validation) and like Lily and Remus got all Os though he always seemed more stressed about doing well than they did.

Barty was like James and Sirius if they actually tried, he did incredibly well with practically no effort whatsoever. He paid just enough attention in class and did just enough revision to do well and with how naturally clever he was that was practically nothing, which drove Regulus, who always worked hard and paid attention, up the wall.

Evan was that friend who failed practically everything, academics did not come at all naturally to him and he also really couldn't be bothered. He knew that his results were mostly his fault but he was still upset by them, especially since he came from a group of such clever people, though he tried very hard to seem nonchalant and unbothered.

Dorcas got mostly EEs and a couple Os, she paid attention in class and worked moderately hard throughout the year. Like Peter she knew that with extra work she could do a little better but most of the time she was happy to just let her natural intelligence carry her through.

Pandora's results were absolutely inexplicable, sometimes she passed, sometimes she failed, sometimes she got an O and sometimes she got a T. No one quite understood how she got what marks she got, even her, and it continuously stressed her out, she never knew how a test had gone until she was getting the results which was really hard for her. Due to this she had a lot of academic anxiety and regularly had panic attacks about tests, her friends all learned pretty quickly how to calm her down and support her through it.

[entityarts]

The Tour Logs: Harley’s POV: Exit + Epilogue

@rtv-puzzlevision-studios / @4thwallbreakerdraws2

Exit

This part of the story, while being the part where we finally earned our freedom is one that I can hardly recollect on. My initial plan to reach Puzzles and spray him with my final soda can was a success. It was only right after while fighting a couple of participants he freed himself from the wire and used it to fling me. Thankfully a rock that was hung on the ceiling of this realm had prevented me from flying out of bounds. Falling from that rock was the worst part. After that I was completely out and exhausted. I laid on the floor with closed eyes listening to the chaos ensue. I only opened my eyes for moments to witness most of the fight. I just needed this moment of rest to myself. I just needed to lay down. The moment I laid down was the moment I started to think to myself. “If only that latter was an invitation to Smash Bros, things would have been different. If I didn’t accept and just went on with my little time on Earth things would have been much better. I was an idiot for even coming here and letting my curiosity on Puzzles get the better of me” I said to myself internally. With the thoughts of doubt and regret that filled came hope. “It is not a huge loss on you. You got your answers about Puzzles’ through allies and the journey here. You even made friends. Friends that came to you at your lowest. The one’s that lifted you up when you couldn’t yourself. That friendship was paid forward. You gave that to Little Puzzles. This tour was not all in vain but an experience that helped you grow.” Said my voice of hope. My hope still had more to say. “This fight is still not over but you seem to be at an advantage. Puzzles can’t concentrate on attacking all one by one when all of them target him. So lift yourself up. Put in the effort to get him to fall. Do it. For your friends, for the fallen, for Mario.” With the thought of pulling a heroic action I lifted myself up. My strength was not the best but I’ll make it work. I look up to notice a few participants going onto Puzzles doing their part in taking him down. I join in too. Taking my grappling hook and shooting to towards his shoulder. I flew towards his shoulder and landed safely on his shoulder. I gave a few punches and a couple of antenna shocks leading him to fall to the floor. He spoke in a stern tone. He would allow us all to leave as long as we left Puzzlevision property here. Stepping down from the beast I glance over at Little Puzzles who seemed to be concerned with another participant. Giving me a a look back I slowly waved at him goodbye. He lifts up the shoes I gave him before. I shook my head letting him know he can keep it. It was Puzzlevision property anyways, right? Approaching the portal along with everyone I look back to it a final time and took a bow. I kept it long knowing this would be the last time I’d see it. I walked into the portal along with a few others and came back to the wretched studio. I could’ve gone to med bay and hopefully get some medical attention but why would I want to stay here more. I walked back to the outside world with myself, my dignity, and my grappling hook.

Epilogue

I wanted to go back to my ship and return home as soon as possible but while walking I hear chattering at the bay. The same one I went to before the tour started. There were some people chattering and laughing together while throwing a barbecue of some sort. Some people I recognized from asking them about Puzzles and some newer faces. One spotted me and cheered. Most of these people who knew me knew I was given the opportunity to attend the Puzzlevision tour. As soon as I arrived no “how are you?” Or “What’s with the scratches on your face?” It was all just questions surrounding how it was like to be in the presence of Puzzles. I didn’t hesitate to start explaining the horrors of what happened in there. After tiredly explaining I was given looks of confusion that then erupted into laughs. They dismissed my perspective and continued to blame my mind for making this up. I wasn’t. I knew I wasn’t making this up. They couldn’t make me deny it. I grumbled and remembered the Puzzlevision hairpin I had on. I took it off, looking at the cursed tv logo once more. I look up to the vast blue ocean. Getting up I chucked the hair pin as far as I could into the ocean. I was given shocked glances from everyone.

“Why’d you do that for?”

“It was ugly”

My response brought some distaste from the crowd. Immediately one gets up and tries to swim towards the hair pin. Others followed pushing and shoving each other to reach the stupid pin. I look towards them. With the massive splashing of the water that pin has definitely sinking to the bottom of the ocean by now. Glancing at the bag of coal they conveniently left for the barbecue, I took the bag to be able to fuel my ship as well as take some of the food these idiots left behind. The walk to my ship wasn’t so difficult. Sure I had lack of shoes and was running on like 2% of energy, but I made it nonetheless. I dumped the coal into the fuel tank and stuffed the rest inside the ship. Getting in I made sure everything was locked and secured. Changing out of that uniform was a relief. I got into my normal clothes and chipped in a voice command.

“Ship, put in directions for home.”

“Setting directions to home.”

Once that was set I flew for a bit making sure the fuel worked. After a few more moments I gave another voice command.

“Ship, activate autopilot.”

“Autopilot activated.”

I gave a sigh as I turn to my computer and began to write a signal to send off to my mom.

Dearest Mother,

I bring you great news that I’m returning home safely. My goal I wanted to achieve on Earth was abruptly terminated due to an event I was given the chance to attend. It made my trip here more shorter than I wanted but gave me a learning experience and memories I won’t forget. Most were special while others were more grim. I have learned the hard way that humans are naive beings. They find light and fly towards it with no concern whatsoever. If only you had seen what this event has done to me for I know your eyes would see the truth. I await to return to you.

With love,

Harley.

I sent off the signal hoping she gets it soon. Taking a bite from the food I stole I remember that thoughts of father seem to come up quite often in that tour. I’ve held a grudge against him for his 7 year absence from our family. I can remember vividly how 3 year old me was realizing that father wasn’t returning home anytime sooner. With this thought in mind I proceeded to send him a signal. It wouldn’t be a long one and he may not even answer but these thoughts needed to be let out.

Dear Father,

During your absence I have travelled to Earth with the hopes of competing in a fighting tournament. Plans changed and I was in a situation that could have been deadly. If it wasn’t for your wisdom that I was taught at such a young age I don’t believe I would have made it out. I only wish you came home briefly for me to share this story with you and mother. I don’t feel angry with you anymore. I wish to make amends with you on my arrival back home.

With Love from your Old Sport,

Harleen.

Sending that off I let out a soft yawn. I took my toothbrush and brushed my teeth to prepare to go to bed. I dimmed the lights to not blind me. Finally, I had closed my eyes. A wave of peace crashed softly towards me. I felt safe, I felt better, and soon I would be right at home.

AUGHH I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S REALLY OVER WAHHH!! 😭😭😭

Words can’t describe how immensely happy I am to be given this opportunity to participate

Thank you Ani for setting this up and thank you to everyone I got the chance to collaborate with

extra doodle muhahaha >:3

Welcome back RTV!Harley. You didn’t just dodge a bullet but dodged an entire nuke while you were gone.