#apparently i just wanted to write fluffy nonsense about how much he loves her

[mollymauk-teafleak]

1am

I have had. a hell of a time at work lately and wanted to write some fluffy icemav and hangster nonsense when I got home to shield the old brain. This is for the lovely @nb-fearne who is just the best and I love dearly

Please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3 if you enjoyed this!

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It's the early morning and Tom Kazansky's house hasn't been quiet in a long time. 

And he couldn't be more grateful.

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Tom used to hate the house being quiet. 

It had happened far too often for his liking, not so much in the early days when they had Bradley over every other weekend and then full time. Back then there would always be the sound of a baseball repeatedly thumping into the back wall or music playing loudly upstairs as he sang in the shower, the heavy footfalls of gangly teenage legs too big for the boy who wore them running up and down the stairs. 

But even then there were the gaps of silence, Maverick off on the other side of the world because he’d fucked up again, Tom staying at the base far too late because he needed to work twice as hard as anyone else, so the rumours about him would fade into the background behind the commendations and medals and career progression. 

There was the heavy silence that came after Carole passed. The silence where her laughter used to be, the gaps where she would have had a dirty joke or some soft wisdom. 

And then there was the crushing silence after Bradley left, the ringing silence that came in the wake of raised voices saying words they couldn’t take back. 

Too many times Tom would find himself standing in the kitchen, in the darkness because he’d come home so late and couldn’t even be bothered to turn on the light, Maverick off in Bosnia or Iraq, Bradley out of his reach entirely. He’d stand there and think sadly of the life he’d always wanted but knew he’d never be able to really have, though that didn’t stop the aching want. He’d think of his sister Sarah’s house or Slider’s, full of laughter and small, running feet and heartbeats in all the other rooms. He’d stand there and sigh and think how much he hated the house being quiet. 

Tom found it kind of funny now. 

The baby had started crying sometime around eleven and she was still going now it was one in the morning. The same wrenching, pleading cry, repetitive and shrill so it drilled right into the heart and stuck there painfully. Tom could sleep on an aircraft carrier where everything clanked and whirred and every slightest movement had an echo, he could sleep with fighter jets taking off a stone’s throw away, but he couldn’t sleep through this. 

Neither could Maverick apparently, his husband rolled over in bed for the fifth time in as many minutes, burying his face between Tom’s shoulder blades and groaning exaggeratedly. 

Tom couldn’t help a smile, “Can’t sleep?”

“Shut up…” Maverick mumbled, voice muffled by Tom’s back, “This is hell. I’m in hell.” 

“They’ll get the hang of it,” Tom murmured, though he had to wince as the crying soared up in pitch, “Eventually.”

“She’s so small, how can she make so much fucking noise?” 

“Well, how do you manage it, Mav?” Tom hummed, smirking sleepily and accepting the light kick to the shins under the covers. He shifted, moving so he could wrap an arm around his husband’s shoulders and press a lazy kiss to the top of his head, “Imagine what it’s like to be her. Everything’s brand new and terrifying, no wonder she cries.”

Mav sighed, relenting the way Tom knew he would, “Yeah…guess everything’s brand new and terrifying to her dads too, huh?”

Tom paused at that, stroking his thumb at the nape of Mav’s neck. It was getting longer since he’d retired, enough that Tom could properly tangle his fingers in it. 

Bradley and Jake, or some combination of the two, had been living with them for the better part of a year now and it had been everything Tom had missed. His grinning, laughing, long limbed kid back where he belonged but now grown into himself and content, even looking to start being a Top Gun instructor himself when his paternal leave was up, in an irony that made his uncles laugh. Jake Seresin too, at first painfully awkward and unsure, a young man who’d been given the one he loved and a life he’d always wanted but had been so scared it wouldn’t actually fit him. Too many times Tom had looked at the young pilot and seen a strange combination of Mav and himself, about twenty years back. 

But, like they had, Jake had softened. He’d stopped glancing around every time Tom and Mav kissed or held hands or leaned against each other as they watched TV, like he was terrified for their safety. He’d stopped stiffening when Tom walked in the room like he was stopping himself from saluting. It had finally sunk in that he was safe here, that he was welcome and wanted and loved. 

Then Bradley had come home and their daughter had arrived so, in the same twenty four hours, everything had pretty much fallen into chaos. 

Part of them being here was so Tom and Mav could help them. The larger part was because of the Californian real estate market, in fairness, but it was also so they could help them.

Tom nodded decisively and kissed Maverick’s forehead, mostly to distract him while he took possession of his arm back, “Be right back…”

Mav made a sleepy noise of protest as he burrowed into the warmth Tom left behind, “Hurry.”

Tom smiled as he pulled on an old USNA shirt and cast around for his glasses. Once he could see more than fuzzy blurs, he left Mav with a kiss to keep him company and headed down. He followed the noise to the kitchen, not just the baby cries now but two voices tight with exhaustion and frustration. 

“You’re supposed to test the temperature on the inside of your wrist-“ 

“I did, Bradshaw, I told you. But you also told me to pass it to you before she hit you in the face again.”

“I can’t give her formula that’s too hot, Jake-“

“I know that-“

Tom stepped in quickly, keeping his expression carefully neutral, like he was just bumping into them on the stairs, “Evening.”

The scene in front of him wasn’t surprising. Jake leaned against the counter, wearing a shirt that was definitely Bradley’s and a harried expression, his hair that had also been getting longer in his time away from Navy razors sticking up in tufts. Bradley’s curls were even worse, making him look like a nocturnal animal startled awake, standing there in nothing but a set of sweatpants, juggling a bottle of formula and a squirming, screaming newborn. 

“Shit,” Bradley cursed, bouncing her but almost dropping the bottle in the process, “Sorry, Uncle Tom.”

Ice shrugged as Jake moved to quickly take the bottle off him before it could fall, “I’m up and down all night anyhow…anything I can do to help?”

Jake sighed, testing the temperature again and pulling a doubtful face, “Not unless you speak whatever language she’s speaking, sir…”

Ice chuckled softly, deciding he could at least make the boys some coffee, moving to get some started, “Jake, it’s one in the morning and I’m in my goddamn shorts, when are you going to stop calling me sir? The Navy’s jurisdiction stops at our front porch.”

“I don’t think the Navy’s to blame for that, sir, you can blame growing up in Texas,” Jake gave a slightly coy smile before looking at Bradley helplessly, “I think it’s still too hot.”

Bradley winced as his daughter’s cries got louder, “Shit…”

“Here.”

Tom didn’t take no for an answer, deftly replacing the crying baby in Bradley’s arms with the mugs, “You get the coffee going, I’ll see what I can do with little miss…”

Bradley looked conflicted, a mix of relief and guilt on his face, “I…are you sure…”

Tom looked at them both, firm but understanding, “You two are running yourselves ragged. It’s okay to take five. Besides, I think I can help, I have a few tricks…”

Bradley opened his mouth, ready to keep arguing with his typical Bradshaw mulishness, but the words got lost somewhere along the way as, for the first time in who knew how long, the crying stopped. Tom had moved her onto her front, tucked up safe against his chest so his free hand could rub firm circles on her back, and finally, miraculously the wailing puttered out like an engine winding down. 

“Holy shit…” Jake blinked, stunned. 

“How,” Bradley just stood there with the mugs in his hands and his jaw on the floor, “Old man, what the fuck kind of magic is that?”

Tom snorted, “You’re lucky both of my hands are busy, Bradshaw. I told you, I have tricks.”

He smiled down at the little bundle in his arms as she squeaked and shifted. Poppy Carole Bradshaw. Her daddy’s mop of unruly curls, her papa’s sloping nose and, even at just a few months old, their stubbornness combined, God help them all. 

The world felt a hell of a lot brighter with her in it. 

“Go sit down,” Tom told Jake and Bradley gently, “Before you pass out.”

They did, collapsing onto the living room sofa like they’d both been through 9 Gs each. Tom finished off the coffee one handed, Poppy grumbling every time he stopped though he gave plenty of apologetic kisses to the top of her fluffy little head. Before too long, his boys were clutching warm mugs and his granddaughter was greedily feeding from a bottle that was finally the right temperature. 

“Seriously though,” Bradley cocked his head, sunk deep into the sofa with Jake resting on his shoulder, “How come you know all this stuff? Baby stuff?”

Tom looked at him wryly from his armchair, thumb stroking careful circles on the crown of Poppy’s head, “Ah. That would be a classic Uncle Tom story that sounds innocuous but ends up pretty miserable.”

Jake raised his eyebrows and mumbled sleepily, “There’s a lot of those…”

“Glad you’re already picking up on that,” Tom chuckled roughly, rocking Poppy gently, looking down at her so the words would come that little bit easier, “I used to look after my sister when she was as small as this. I mean…wasn’t like anyone else was going to do it and I couldn’t let her down. So I read every book in the library on looking after babies and got to work. Sarah was a stubborn little gremlin too, if it makes you feel any better.”

“So…you worked your ass off at school, got top grades, played star quarterback and raised your baby sister because your shitty parents weren’t going to do it?” Bradley’s gaze wasn’t pity but pride and Tom knew it would be so he glanced up to meet it.

“Not bad for a closeted gay Jewish kid with a Russian surname in the fifties, huh?” Tom chuckled roughly. 

Bradley laughed and Jake had that look on his face he often got around Tom and Maverick, a slightly bewildered delight, like he’d been going around speaking another language to everyone else and finally stumbled on someone who could understand him. It was achingly familiar. 

“No. Not bad at all, Admiral,” he smiled.

The boys were clearly falling asleep, even with their half drunk coffees, and Tom wasn’t about to stop them. He was perfectly content sitting in his armchair with his granddaughter finally dozing off in his arms, in almost the same instant as her dads. For a moment, he wanted arms big enough to hold all three of them. 

Tom wasn’t surprised when he heard soft footfalls creeping carefully down the stairs, trying to avoid the creaking floorboards and cursing softly at the ones he stumbled on, making all the more noise for that. He was grinning when Mav eventually poked his head around the door, hair fluffy from sleep and blinking owlishly. 

“Lucky for you, they’re completely passed out,” Tom murmured softly. 

Mav yawned, padding over to perch on the arm of Tom’s chair, something he’d done so often the leather was worn, “Knew you could do it.”

Tom shifted for him, letting him rest his cheek on the top of his head so they could admire their sleeping granddaughter, their pair of crashed out pilots. Their little family. 

“Hey,” Tom murmured softly, glancing up at his husband, saying it just because he could, because the others would have to wait until the morning but he could say it to Pete Mitchell now, “I love you.”

Maverick reached down to stroke Poppy’s curls and kissed his wingman’s silvered hair, “I love you too.”

Tom took a breath, leaning into his husband’s arms. 

He remembered when he used to hate the house being quiet. But he was learning. 

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 18 – CREATURE FIC

SERIES: Blood And Other Drugs by WilmaKins

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 185,725 Tags: Human/Vampire Relationship, Porn With Feelings, Hurt/Comfort

Reasons why I love it: This is THE Vampire Stony 'verse for me. I love everything Wilma writes, but this one in particular is one of my favorites. The way she describes Tony and Steve's thoughts and feelings when they're together in the most intimate ways is just incredible to me, and the whole backstory and lore is super well thought out. Definitely check it out, I promise you'll love it!

This series consists of:

Blood and Other Drugs

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 175,010 Tags: Vampire Bites, Blood Kink, Past Abuse

Summary: Tony Stark disappeared from public life twenty years ago. He exists as a name without a face, the anonymous director of the Avengers and the inventor of the worlds best tech - all done from the workshop that he never leaves. Or so they say. Steve isn't interested in the rumours. He doesn't care why Stark hid himself away. He *only* wants to meet with Stark so that he can get Bucky's arm fixed. Well, until he meets Tony Stark. Then maybe he cares...

Reasons why I love it: The way canon ties into this verse is super interesting to me. I love the world building, and the whole slow burn of Tony and Steve's relationship. And of course, all that sweet, sweet sexual tension is absolutely delicious. The fantastic smut is just the icing on the cake. I love this fic so much, and if you're into vampires at all, you should definitely check it out, because it's amazing!

Tell Me I'm Good...

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 6,601 Tags: Vampire Sex, Blood Play, Dom Tony

Summary: Steve Rogers has bad days like no one else has bad days. But then, Steve Rogers is bonded to a vampire... So, Steve Rogers deals with bad days like no one else can deal with bad days... Soft-Dom Vampire Tony Stark AU.

Reasons why I love it: Yeees, give me all the angsty porn with feelings! Tony is so SOFT with Steve, oh my god, I love it so much. Steve's desperation is perfect, and I absolutely love all the blood play, which is surprisingly fluffy and sweet. I adore this fic, and you should definitely check it out!

Wants and Needs

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 4,114 Tags: PWP, Super Soldier Serum, Consort Steve

Summary: It was another one of those side effects that Erskine had apparently theorised about but neglected to mention. It had been left to Peggy to explain, with her unique brand of no-nonsense compassion, that the serum enhanced all of Steve’s bodily processes… That, as she put it, he may well experience arousal more intensely than other men. Thank God he has Tony to help him through it...

Reasons why I love it: The super soldier serum giving Steve a bit of a hair trigger when it comes to arousal is one of my favorite things, and Wilma explores it perfectly here. Steve's control snapping is fucking beautiful, and I love how Tony is so ready to give Steve everything he ever wanted. Also, Bucky being the best bro ever is always amazing. This fic is the perfect ending (at least for now) to this series, and I hope you go and experience it for yourself!

[sequencefairy]

Sunshine; Oh My Love

UsaMamo. Fluff. And he will love her in a tame way, and he will love her wild. 

For @uglygreenjacket in the UsaMamo Valentine’s exchange run by @idesofnovember. I’m so sorry it’s late, I’m terrible, please forgive me. You asked for Mamoru’s POV, and I wrote you some fluff with a bittersweet tinge, because that is what I do. ~1300 words. 

[ AO3 ]

The park is quiet, and bathed in early morning sunlight. The fountain’s chatter is muted, birdsong softened, and Mamoru’s hands are warm on her shoulders. Usagi looks up, catches his blue eyes with hers, and smiles. This is absolutely a perfect start to the day. “Good morning, Mamo-chan,” she says.

Mamoru leans down. “Good morning Usako.” His lips are a barely there press. Usagi rocks back down onto flat feet, and Mamoru lets his hands slide off her shoulders, and down her arms, before taking her hand in his. They walk, slowly, hand-in-hand, towards the outskirts of the park, leaving the solitude for the bustle of the street.

“Where are we going?” Usagi asks, swinging their hands between them.

“It’s a surprise!” Mamoru laughs at Usagi’s put-upon pout, which only lasts a moment before she’s beaming again.

“Oh, Mamo-chan, you know how much I like surprises!”

Mamoru takes a left down the next block, and directs Usagi to his car. He loves this car, and he loves this girl in his car. She’s all legs and long blonde hair, and she always seems perfectly at ease in the passenger seat, watching the city slide by in the sunlight. Mamoru thinks that soon he will have to teach her how to drive it, and then he will be entirely ruined.

He manages to keep his eyes on the road, just barely.

Usagi leans forward to turn up the radio, and claps her hands with glee at the sugary pop that comes bouncing out of the speakers. Mamoru is unfamiliar with the group, but he makes a mental note of the time and the station, so that he can go back and pull up the playlist and learn the name of the song and the group. He lives for the way Usagi’s eyes widen in astounded pleasure when he does things like casually mention a song that he knows she likes.

They arrive at their destination as the last note of the song fades and Mamoru parks smoothly, and kills the engine. Usagi unwinds herself from the seat next to him and slides out to stand next to the car. She shades her eyes with her hand, and then brings the other up to her mouth to contain her squeal of joy.

In front of them, the sea glitters like diamonds. The wind off the sand carries the taste of salt, and Mamoru licks his lips, revelling in the way it covers his tongue. If he kisses her now, she will taste of it too. He reaches into the backseat, pulls out a bag and then closes his door and and walks around the hood of his car to join Usagi.

“You’ll need these,’ he says, and hands her the bag. Usagi does not contain her squeal this time, and reaches in with both hands to pull out the wide-brimmed hat and a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses. She drops the hat on her head, and slides the glasses onto her face before striking her Sailor Moon pose. The breeze flirts with the hem of her sundress, offering Mamoru the dizzying view of both more and less skin. Usagi sticks her tongue out at him as he is pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Mamoru is quick enough with his phone that he gets her laughing as she transitions back from Sailor Moon to Usagi. He’s lucky he thinks, that he gets to have both sides of her.

“Come on,” she says, slipping her flats off her feet so she can walk barefoot into the sand. She reaches back for his hand and Mamoru lets her guide him through the soft dunes at the edge of the parking lot and down onto the beach proper. Usagi drops his hand as they get close to the edge, and races for the surf. Mamoru hangs back, watching her dance forward and back, avoiding the crashing waves but getting her toes wet all the same.

Mamoru slips out of his own shoes and socks, before rolling up the cuffs of his pants. The sand is warm on his bare feet, and he closes his eyes and lifts his face up towards the sun. Over the constant rushing noise of the ocean, he can hear Usagi laughing. When he opens his eyes, she’s heading towards him, and he knows that behind the sunglasses her eyes have taken on a mischievous glint.

He puts up both hands, palms out. “Oh no, don’t you get any ideas!”

Usagi grins, and shrugs. “Ideas? Me?”

She reaches for him when she gets close enough, lifting her hand to the back of his neck, and then smoothing it along his jaw, drawing him down to her level as she does. He leans in, helpless to resist the pull, and finds that she does, indeed, taste of the sea. They stand at the edge of the surf, wrapped up in each other, for a long moment. Mamoru swears he can feel Usagi’s heart beating against his own.

He wonders, briefly, as she moves against him while he kisses her, if in a past-life, he was better able to articulate what she does to him, if he had pretty words to explain the feeling he gets under his ribs when she smiles at him, if he swept her off her feet in the way that she so deserves. He breaks the kiss to look down at her, and Usagi looks up at him, guileless and gorgeous, windswept and wonderful, and he wishes he could make her understand that she is everything, and that he would give up anything - his hands, his voice, his life, his very soul - to make her happy.

Some of what he is feeling must show on his face, and Usagi sighs, then reaches up to muss his hair. “You know I love you right, Mamo-chan?”

“I love you, too,” Mamoru answers, as if by rote, but it’s still as freeing as it was the first time. “So much,” he adds, for good measure, in case she doesn’t already know.

“You’re such a softie,” Usagi teases, but in that fond way that makes him feel like he’d like to be softer, for her. She smiles impishly, and then grabs his hand to pull him further down the beach to where a small market has been set up. Usagi charms every vendor they talk to, and Mamoru wonders when he’ll stop being floored by the way her smile makes even the surliest looking person smile with her.

They idle away the hours of the day, hiding from the sun at its zenith by having lunch at a beachside café and then finding a park on the other side of the road from the beach and dozing under a tree. Usagi sleeps on Mamoru’s chest, while he plays with her hair and thinks some more about how lucky he is.

Usagi wakes up hungry for ice cream, and so they begin the trek back to where he parked his car that morning, stopping for a cold treat, and then walking hand in hand along the edge of the surf. She leans against his shoulder, their fingers laced together, and Mamoru’s pants are wet to the knees, but he couldn’t be happier.

He gets this - the Usagi no one else gets, the one who splashes him when he pokes her in the side because she’s teasing him, the one who smiles up at him like she thinks he hung the stars, the one who sighs his name when they get back to the car and he backs her up against the passenger side door to kiss her with the ocean on her lips, one last time.

He gets this, and he gets the other side of her too - fearless and courageous, willing to lay down her life for her friends, and the world they call home, powerful and bathed in the glory of the moon’s blessing.

He decides, as she kisses him, her mouth hungry on his and her hands sneaking under his shirt to pull him closer to her, as if they are truly two halves becoming one, that he will hold on to this come hell or high water, come villains and foes and heartbreak and betrayal, come joy and laughter, because she is worth it.

[stuff-from-the-void-matron]

Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (10)

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(technoblade x fem!reader)

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(a/n: y’all seemed to like chapter 9 so here’s chapter 10! I know, I know. still no technoblade! BUT! he WILL be arriving soon~ very soon. >:3c but for now just enjoy the rest of the utter nonsense that’s the election. and remember! reblogs and comments REALLY make writing the next chapter possible. if y’all lose interest then so will I. so reblog and comment y’all! <3)

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There was an eerie silence hanging over everyone in attendance. Nobody quite knew what to say, or even how to react to this startling new information. Not a soul spoke as a few people on stage and in the audience shared confused glances, not even whispering their questions to each other lest they shatter the heavy stillness. At least that was the case before HBomb hopped up out of his chair and gave a loud and cheerful “WHOO! NEW PRESIDENT!” that successfully slam dunked everyone back into the moment at hand. 

Suddenly you were surrounded by noise as everyone started talking at once. 

Meanwhile you remained mostly unaware of it, well more like distantly aware of it.

You stared up at the stage, locked in place from how floored you still were.

What in the absolute hell was Wilbur talking about?? 

You can’t have won! Because you weren’t running! 

So there’s no way for you to WIN something you were never actively competing for! 

There had to be a mistake. Maybe this was just some more of their silly pranks and japes before they read off the real winner, which actually wasn’t that huge of a stretch for this SMP if you were being honest. Or at least that’s what you were telling yourself anyways. Vaguely you could hear voices talking all around you, but it seemed far away, so you weren’t really registering what was being said. You were mostly just staring blankly at the stage, not really seeing any of the people up there as you tried to process what just happened.

It took Tubbo grabbing your elbow and shaking it to snap you out of the almost trance like state you'd slipped into. You looked down and he actually looked excited, but you could also see shock in his expression as well. You looked behind you to the rest of the crowd and some were clapping and cheering while others stood silent, shocked like you if you had to hazard a guess. You looked back up at the stage when you heard Tommy calling you to come up with them. You were still sorta frozen but thankfully Tubbo nudged you forward, reminding you that you needed to move. Silently you made your way up to the podium, mouth feeling dry and stomach feeling like it was full of stones.

Now that you were zoned back in you could hear the arguing coming from the podium. You were sort of dreading coming face to face with Wilbur, already knowing how… not great he took Schlatt winning from the original timeline. And he apparently knew and was friends with the ram hybrid. So you couldn’t see him being happy you won.. But when you got to the stage where the others were you couldn’t focus on Wilbur because all at once your vision was overtaken by Tommy, who was babbling about how you won! And how the hell did you win?? You weren’t even running! And how he’s pretty down they lost but at least Quackity and George didn’t win! (that got a ‘fuck you!’ out of the Spanish speaking young man) You gave a weak chuckle and said you’re not sure how or why you won but it was crazy indeed. 

Quackity, Schlatt, and George were the most vocal about not thinking the results were fair. Though to be clear, Wilbur didn’t look thrilled either, but he was doing his best to look professional or put together you guessed. Or at least not blow up in front of literally everyone. You kept an eye on him while Tommy led you up to the mic and told you to give your first decree as president. But you sorta… didn’t want to be president. You hoped you wouldn’t upset anyone by not accepting the job. But you didn’t think you’d make a good leader. So you turned away from the mic, hoping nobody but the ones beside you on stage would hear when you asked if you had to accept the role. 

This caught all the mens’ attention and Wilbur was quick to give you an out, saying no you didn’t technically HAVE to accept the presidency. In fact if you weren’t ready or willing to fill the role then the runners up, aka him and Tommy, would happily do so for you. But then Quackity, Schlatt, and surprisingly Fundy said that wasn’t fair either since both Pog2020 and Schlatt/Swag2020 were tied with the amount of votes. And you had to admit, that didn’t seem fair. But Wilbur perked up and you’d swear in that moment he was the embodiment of the ‘lightbulb above head’ phrase. Then he grinned and turned to Fundy and Niki and asked to speak to them before urging them and Tommy off the stage, leaving you and Schlatt/Swag2020 on the stage alone.

Not wanting to leave everyone in the audience hanging, you gave a polite smile and assured them that the others just wanted to…. recount the votes! They weren’t sure Wilbur counted them right so they figured recounting with some other witnesses there would clear things up! The crowd shared confused glances but it was Tubbo who yelled out that that sounded sus as hell! And if he were you he’d think they were trying to cheat or something! You snorted a laugh but assured him it was alright and you didn’t think they’d be that ballsy~

-0-

Fundy and Niki followed behind Wilbur and Tommy, the latter of the two males just as confused about what Wilbur was up to as the pair behind him. But then they all gathered in the white house and Wilbur turned to the members of Coconut2020 and said he had a proposition for them! The brunet said that since it was clear that you weren’t really up to being president, his tone derisive like your refusal of the position was tantamount to spitting in his food, then if Fundy and Niki agreed to combine their votes with Swag2020 then Wilbur could be president again and things could go back to normal!

But the blonde woman and fox hybrid didn’t look convinced.. Niki said they’d just be giving them their votes so they could win, while they got nothing? Fundy frowned and asked what positions he and Niki would have in the Pog2020 cabinet if they joined their votes with theirs. Here is where Wilbur hesitated, unsure what positions he could give them. But then he smiled and said Niki would be the First Woman, since she was the first woman to join L’manberg! And Fundy would of course be everyone’s Little Champion! He couldn’t help but baby talk his son, he’d never been able to take Fundy seriously, not really anyways. What with his alert little triangle ears, furry face, soft little paw beans, and fluffy tail. He was just too cute for Wilbur to take him seriously. Even now. But it was this attitude that would be his downfall. Because it’s what caused Fundy to snap.

“No, Wilbur! This is serious! I’m not some baby for you to dress up and prance around! I’m a fucking adult! I have my own house, I pay taxes, I fought in a war for fucks sake!” the hybrid shouted, clearly upset.

Wilbur was shocked but tried to calm Fundy down, not fully realizing how mad his son was until the red haired male practically snarled, 

“I’m not going to sit here and hand over the votes Niki and I earned just so you can treat me like a child!”

Without another word he turned on his heel and stormed out of the white house, leaving three stunned people behind. Tommy looked up at Wilbur, opening and closing his mouth, wanting so badly to say something, maybe lighten the awkward mood but not knowing what or even if he should speak at all. Meanwhile Niki just sighed and gave Wilbur a soft disappointed look. She knew Wilbur loved his son, and that often translated to him babying the hybrid. But she’d warned him, as kindly as she could, that it seemed to upset Fundy that his own father wouldn’t treat him like anything but a kid. She’s not a parent herself, so she figures it must be hard for a parent to see their child as anything but a child, even after they’ve grown. 

But she can see Fundy’s side too. It must be massively frustrating to be looked upon like you’re just a kid. Especially since Wilbur doesn’t even treat Tommy, his own younger brother, as a child as much as he does Fundy. And she’d seen first hand how Wilbur’s attitude towards Fundy, whether or not the brunet intended for it to happen or not, did in fact influence how others treated the red furred hybrid. She’d seen Tommy, Tubbo, Eret, Sapnap, and even herself a couple times sort of not treat Fundy with the respect you’d show to a fellow adult. She tried her best to kick that habit, and her and Fundy’s friendship had really blossomed thanks to it, she thinks. But she believes Wilbur just pushed his son to his breaking point…

“He’s right, Wilbur. You can’t keep babying him. He’s a grown up now..” Niki said neutrally.

Then she let out a tired sounding breath of air and turned to follow after the fox hybrid, saying she would go check on him. But she also said Wilbur needed to talk to him later, man to man, and make things right. Said brunet looked rather flummoxed, not sure what the hell just happened. It was Tommy who broke the silence by giving an almost weak sounding ‘holy shit’. Wilbur turned his perplexed gaze to his brother and asked what the HELL that was all about! Said blond winced and gave a sigh while awkwardly scratching the back of his head, not thrilled with the weird turn this conversation took, but answered Wilbur,

“Ehh… looks like you and Fundy have some unresolved personal issues, bud..”

Wilbur barked that this wasn’t the time for Fundy to let some personal vendetta against him cloud his reasoning! They were in the middle of the do or die of the election! If they couldn’t get Fundy and Niki to agree to join their votes with theirs then they won’t win! And they’ll be in a tie with Schlatt and Quackity! Wilbur jerked his hands down, like he wanted to slam them against a table or something. But instead he just viciously scrubbed his fingers through his curly hair, feeling embittered with everyone around him. All he’d wanted was to lead HIS country! Like he rightfully should have been able to! All this election bollocks and now he was having to try and convince HIS OWN SON to help him stay president?! If it were him and Phil needed help he’d give it! Well he would if Phil were ever fucking around..

The sound of a crowd cheering caused the two to whip their heads towards the area where the stage was before they looked at each other. Not a word was spoken between them as they both took off in a run towards the stage, wondering what happened and what they were missing. They rounded the corner of the building to the left of the stage to see you smiling and waving daintily to the crowd. Not sure what they’d missed, Wilbur rushed up to Niki and asked what happened. Did you accept the presidency already?? 

Niki raised an eyebrow at her friend and nodded, saying you’d finally relented and accepted the role as president after she and Fundy came back from ‘recounting the votes’. Niki hummed and said she figured that you finally accepted the results after it was made clear that if you didn’t then everything would be stuck in a tie. But then Niki’s reflecting mood brightened and she said she really thought you’d do a good job as the new president. Even joking that you had to be better than Schlatt. 

Niki never voiced it out loud but she’d been worried Schlatt and Quackity would win. Schlatt was the biggest worry for her. To his credit, he was actually a really funny guy and she could see why Wilbur was friends with him, they just had a good chemistry and their senses of humor bounced off each other well. But… Schlatt could also be blatantly power hungry and hateful if not kept in check from the few times she’d met him or heard stories about him from Wilbur. Niki felt like giving him the amount of authority that came with being president would only end poorly. And Quackity was an alright guy in her opinion but he could be vindictive and petty too. She got the vibe that any amount of power given to him would instantly go to his head and turn him into a jerk.

But again, these were just her personal (and not spoken aloud) opinions…

She always hated being mean to people and saying hurtful things. So she kept her opinions to herself more often than not. Unless it was super important anyways. So instead of elaborating on Why she was so relieved that Schlatt and Quackity hadn’t won she instead flashed the two members of Pog2020 a smile and said it had been a fun race, and despite all the drama she really thinks Tommy’s friend will do a good job. Then with a keen raise of her eyebrows the blonde suggested with a cute smile,

“Oh, maybe you could be a member of Reader’s Cabinet! I’m sure she’ll be needing a vice president, secretary of defense, treasury, and other positions!”

Niki was honestly just trying to cheer up her friend, but the cheerful smile slipped off her face at the dark look that crossed Wilbur’s. She grew concerned when she saw how hard he was clenching his fists and gritting his teeth. His behavior over the last few weeks had been slowly worrying her, but this was starting to make her anxious. And when he started marching towards the stage she shot a panicked look to Tommy, who could do nothing but give her an equally worried and confused face before they both tried to hurry after their brown haired friend. But he got up onto the stage before either of them could grab his arm, and Niki was about to call after him but he reached your side, clearing his throat and alerting you to his presence. 

You looked down and saw him standing at attention next to you, hand outstretched for a handshake and a polite but serious smile on his face. You were surprised, thinking he was handling this with more grace than you’d expected, but a feeling deep in your gut was still on edge. You knew the destruction Wilbur Soot was all too willing and capable of doing in the selfish pursuit of keeping power over the country he made. The lives of his friends and family be damned. So while you really really wanted to hope that Wilbur will be better since you won over the other parties… you’re also highly skeptical that he will manage to keep his sanity. 

But instead of showing any of your reservations you instead simply smile and shake his hand, thanking him for congratulating your win and promising him you’ll do your best with the presidency and taking care of L’manberg. And if you noticed how his smile looked a little too angry at the edges then you didn’t say anything..

So instead of dealing with the mess that was Wilbur Soot you focused on the crowd and let go of Wilbur’s hand to stand at the sort of comically short podium and spoke out to the people you were now responsible for,

“Well, this all was certainly unexpected..”

Chuckles erupted from the crowd at that, making you feel a bit better about all of this. At least you weren’t the only one to see how wild all of this mess was.

“I’m actually really shocked! I wasn’t intending to run for president but I suppose life has other plans for me. But regardless, I’m honored you’ve all put your faith in me to lead you. I swear to do my absolute best for you and help L’manberg flourish.”

Applause from the crowd made you give a genuine smile. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad?

-0-

In the audience, watching this all unfold behind a mask and tapping his foot, stood the familiar looking figure in a green hood. Hanging around next to him was Sapnap in all his black and white dressed glory. And at some point George had gotten bored with the drama on stage and had left Quackity’s side (not that the duck hybrid had even noticed or cared) and wandered over to stand with his two friends. They watched Wilbur hand over the presidency to you and George made an off hand comment that Wilbur sure didn’t look pleased with losing, a smug laugh in his sleepy tone. Sapnap snickered but stared at you and elbowed his taller friend, asking in a curious tone while subtly gesturing to you,

“Speaking of, why didn’t you tell us you’d let someone new on the server, Dream?”

His friend glanced at him for a second longer than normal before replying with a tense tone to his voice that he hadn’t let her on. That caused both Sapnap and George to jerk their heads up to look at him in visible confusion. While George stammered through a series of ‘what’s’ and ‘wait hold on-’ Sapnap was loudly questioning what the hell he meant. The mask wearing player shushed them both before looking up to see if anyone had heard them or looked over at the twos’ loud exclamations. Thankfully nobody had. So he sighed and led them a bit further away from the crowd and explained that he’d not authorized any new members to the server. and it was true, he hadn’t. But both hybrids still looked confused and George asked, clearly puzzled,

“Well then how did she get on the server?? Nobody else can let people on, right, Dream?”

Sapnap nodded but stopped when their taller friend let out a flat hum before shaking his head ‘no’. That caught the shorter twos’ attention so he elaborated by asking them,

“Who on this server is known to have Creative Mode?”

The two blinked before it dawned on them and they looked even more shocked than before, only now it was coupled with anxiousness. Sapnap harshly whispered to the two, asking why the hell fucking GOD himself would actually let someone onto the server?? DreamXD never bothered with players and stuff, only being rumored to be seen by players if they broke server rules. George added on that this all sounded really weird. And an idea hit him and he couldn’t help but voice it. 

“You don’t think… she’s linked to DreamXD.. do you? Like working for him or something?” he asked a touch nervously.

The other two didn’t say anything, not really knowing what to say to that. Sapnap could only shrug while the tallest of their group remained silent, none of them having any answers to the string of questions they’d just let loose.

They would just have to wait and see it seemed.

-0-

@lady-bee-fechin @kacchasu @putridjoy @lunawritesstories @galaxypankitty3030 @paradigmax @zachariethememerie @killmewithafanfic @trinity-1002107 @hufflepuff-demigod @truthdaze @exorcisms-with-elmo @redbloodtea @heythereimhaylz @olyink @jackalopedoodles @nikkineeky @artsimatsu @hufflepuff-demigod @corpiet @beepa99 @anxiousnarwhale @bananaaddictmilkshake @realitycanbeajerk @lostandsouciant @thegeekisheere @sparkling-gayyy

[meganlpie]

Kiss Already

Based on this request from Wattpad:  Hey!! I saw your requests are open and I was wondering if I could request a professor snape x professor!reader please? Like they're best friends and spend time in each other's quarters all the time and all the teachers are like 'just kiss already' all the time to them individually. And then one night they're just vibing together in one of their quarters maybe drinking a bit (or not up to you) and he confesses his love for her and its all fluffy and they kiss and ahhhhh!! Thank you so much in advance and I totally get it if you don't want to write it xxxx

Here you lovelies are! Once again, familiar characters belong to J.K. Rowling. 

Warnings: Busy bodies! Fluff!

Pairings: Severus Snape x fem!reader

Severus was your very best friend. From the moment you began your position at Hogwarts, he was there, albeit reluctantly at first. While most people shied away from the "dungeon bat", you enjoyed spending time with him. You appreciated his no-nonsense attitude and the way he told it how he saw it. Did you wish he'd interact differently with his students? Sometimes, but otherwise, he was a wonderful person to be around. At least to you.

         Apparently he felt the same about you. The two of you were quite frequently found in each other's quarters, enjoying a cup of tea or a gaze of wizard's chess. Sometimes you would simply enjoy each other's company while reading or marking students' work. You grew close very quickly and the other professors noticed.

         "I don't understand why you don't confess your feelings already. It's quite obvious how you feel about one another," Pomona told you. You laughed lightly and shook your head. Severus hadn't shown up for breakfast yet, so Pomona and Irma decided to be busy bodies and comment on your and Severus' relationship again. "We are just friends, Pomona." Pomona hummed, but didn't press the issue, instead choosing to exchange a glance with the other professors. You continued eating, not knowing that Severus was having a similar conversation with a few other professors.

Severus' POV

         Severus tried not to sigh out loud as Filius continued to pressure him about his relationship with you. This was nothing unusual. It happened all the time since you and he began spending time together away from everyone else. "Truly, Severus, you should tell her how you feel. The tension between the two of you is stifling. Kiss and get on with it."

         Severus felt himself blushing for the first time in years. "Filius, what happens or doesn't between Y/N and myself is just that. Between us. My feelings for her are no one's business but my own." Albus and Filius exchanged a glance. "So you admit you have feelings for her." Severus' face grew even more warm. He didn't reply, but he knew one thing for certain. If the day continued this way, he was going to need a strong dose of Fire Whiskey when it was done.

         Later that night, Severus was getting ready to mark essays when he heard the door swing open. You and Dumbledore were the only ones with the password to his quarters, so he wasn't worried. He glanced over his shoulder to find you standing there with your own papers under your arm and a bottle of Fire Whiskey in your hand as if you'd read his mind.

         "Long day?" he asked with a chuckle. You joined in his laughter for a moment before replying, "Long week. Pomona and Irma are really on it this week." Severus rolled his eyes. Of course they were. You never told him what your conversations were about, only that they were bothering you about something. He knew the feeling, of course, but he was certain you weren't being bothered about the same thing.

         For a while, the two of you nursed your drinks and marked papers in pleasant, friendly conversation. Severus finished marking his papers first and took the opportunity to really study your face. He knew Albus and Filius were right. He did have feelings for you. They had absolutely blind-sided him, but they existed. But he said nothing because there was a part of him that feared your rejection.

         "Is there something on my face?" you asked, not looking up from the paper in front of you. "Hmm?" You laughed lightly and sat up. You stretched out, groaning lowly at something, probably your back popping a bit. "You've been staring for five minutes," you replied after you placed your hands in your lap. You finally let your gaze travel to Severus.

         "What's going on in that head of yours, Severus?" His brows came together. He wasn't sure how to answer you. Maybe it was Filius and Albus' words from that morning or perhaps it was the Fire Whiskey going to his head despite not having very much of it, but Severus desperately wanted to say something, anything, about his feelings. "Severus?" He met your eyes again. "What is it?"

         "I adore you," were the words that passed through his lips. You blinked for a second, clearly not understanding the sincerity of his words. Severus reached over and gently placed a hand on yours, something he did quite often, but this one felt different. "I adore you, Y/N. To the depths of my soul."

         Your bottom lip began quivering and Severus feared he'd made a mistake. "Severus," you whispered shakily, "I love you. I love you so much. I know I'm not as eloquent as you, but you have to know how deeply I feel for you." Severus swore he'd never felt such joy in his entire life before now. That is, until you pulled him into your arms, burying your face into his neck.

         He lost track of how long you held each other. Whispered words of love passed between you with ease. When you finally pulled apart, Severus felt himself shaking as he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead. He leaned back and was startled to find you staring at him in confusion. "What?" Your lips spread into a cheeky smile. "You missed," you replied, taking one finger and placing it on your lips. Severus rolled his eyes at you. "Silly woman," he muttered before kissing you like you wanted. Now, Severus was the happiest he'd ever been.

(a/n: I hope you like it!! I enjoyed writing it.)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard​ @brewsthespirit-blog​ @sirkekselord​ @aikibriarrose​ @lady-of-lies​ @esoltis280​ @stories-by-shanna-p​ @motleymoose​

[engie-ivy]

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

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

How do you feel about Sirius Black?

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

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

Remus sighs. “Is it always like this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I never asked for-”

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

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

“Remus,” Lily says in a dangerous tone.

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

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

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

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

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

Remus gives her a confused look, so Lily elaborates.

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

Remus just blinks at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s never been done,” Remus argues.

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

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

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

“I’ve never thought-”

“Well, think about it now!”

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

Lily waits patiently for Remus to finish daydreaming.

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

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

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

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

“Padfoot?”

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

“Wotcher, Moony.”

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

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

“It’s not your fault,” Remus says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And do you...”

“I do.”

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed.”

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

“No!”

Sirius blinks in confusion. Remus quickly tries to clarify.

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

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

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

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

[eyeofthedrgn]

A Heavy Battle Symphony - Chapter 4

New chapter! This chapter is slightly fluffy, still angsty, but much less than previous chapters.

Catch up here: Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

TW: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut

Word count: 1685

Chapter 4 - Forgotten

A little piece of paper with a picture drawn

Floats on down the street 'til the wind is gone

And the memory now is like the picture was then

When the paper's crumpled up it can't be perfect again

It was Monday, and he was healed enough that Maeve let him go to school. After a normal morning routine, Lorcan made sure he wore a hoodie that would do a decent job covering his neck. Hood up, hands in his hoodie pocket, head down, he headed to school.

He missed a lot of schoolwork. It was going to be a late night. Luckily, most of the teachers gave him until the end of the week to turn it in.

When P.E. came around, he went straight to the gym rather than the locker room. He found his teacher and handed him his doctor's note. Mr. Brullo sent Lorcan to the library to study. Lorcan was happy about that. He was able to catch up on some of his homework.

Lorcan's handwriting, luckily, wasn't hindered by his cast. Perrington at least broke his right arm, his non-dominant arm. That he was thankful for, if he could be thankful for anything that happened to him.

He was getting a headache from his pre-calc homework. Lorcan rubbed his face with his hand and sighed.

"Lorcan?"

Lorcan grunted and slowly turned to see Elide, who looked relieved to see him. That was interesting. "Oh, uh, hi."

"Aren't you supposed to be in gym?" Lorcan lifted his casted arm. Elide's eyes widened and her lips parted. "Oh." She swallowed. Fuck, here comes the pity. "How-" she closed her mouth. "How'd that happen? We thought you were sick." Why were they concerned?

He told the same story Maeve told the doctor. Something about getting in a fight and falling down stairs, and "you should see the other guy". She didn't seem to believe him, neither did the doctor.

"Can I sit with you?" Lorcan shrugged. She sat down and then proceeded to talk to him about what he missed in creative writing. He didn't realize her voice was so soothing.

"Has anyone signed your cast yet?" She was eyeing the black cast. "I have a silver Sharpie!" She pulled it out of her bag and held it up with a smile.

Lorcan huffed a small laugh. Not being able to say no to that smile, knowing he was going to get in trouble, well, what could really do to him anyway? So, Lorcan carefully pushed up his hoodie sleeve. She smiled brightly at him. He propped his head up on his hand, eyes closed and listened to her hum as she put ink to the black cast.

++++

It was hard to keep from asking Lorcan questions. Elide saw the handprint bruise on his neck, the exhaustion lining his body, and of course, the full arm cast. She thought about how his injuries were formed. Obviously, someone put their hands on him, but who?

She didn't know who he lived with besides his aunt. It was doubtful that a woman had done this sort of damage, but one never knows for sure.

As she put pen to plaster, she kept looking up at his face between strokes of ink. He had drifted off to sleep. His face was slack, a slight snore every time he breathed out. Lorcan looked so innocent like that and dare she say, gorgeous.

Having finished her artwork, she just watched him until the bell rang. She gently brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, delicately tucking it behind his ear. He didn't stir.

Elide wished there was something she could do to get him away from his more than shitty situation. Calling the police was probably out of the question, but that was really the only thing she could think of.

The bell rang.

---

He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he felt his textbook being pulled from under his elbow. "Oh, shit. Sorry," Lorcan furrowed his brow as he started cleaning up his stuff.

"You looked tired, I didn't want to wake you, but it is lunch time." Elide smiled, "and you have to look at your cast!" She seemed so excited about it.

Expecting some nonsense, he was pleasantly surprised to find a nice line drawing from his elbow to his wrist. It was a row of detailed trees with her name under it. Lorcan looked at it with awe. He looked back at Elide, "You did that?" Obviously, she did that. Don't be stupid, Lorcan, he thought to himself.

She giggled. He thought her laugh was adorable. "Obviously." Lorcan's cheeks flushed while he finished packing up before they walked together to lunch in a comfortable silence.

---

He followed Elide through the lunch line, the lunch lady gave him an extra serving. He was probably looking a little gaunt these days having barely eaten for the past week. Lorcan started towards the empty table in the corner.

Apparently, Elide wasn't having any of that as she pulled him to the group table before he could go be alone. Everyone seemed excited to see him. His name was shouted amongst several other greetings. Lorcan felt a tug in his chest as he looked around at the friendly faces. Why were they always trying to be nice to him? And then his eyes fell on the silver haired boy, he instantly forgot what he was thinking. He stared at the green eyed beauty a fraction longer than he should have as he sat down.

Elide introduced everyone. Aelin, Lysandra, Manon, Dorian, Chaol, Fenrys, Connall, Rowan - the silver haired boy - and then Vaughn, who was the last one to join the table.

He was sitting between Elide and Fenrys. Lorcan kept his head down while he ate, feeling very out of place. Everyone was chatting around him, over him, leaning around him. It was a lot. He wished he was alone at the table in the corner.

Rowan spoke up, "Can I sign your cast?" Lorcan jerked his head up. The sleeve of Lorcan's hoodie was still pushed up, he had forgotten to pull it back down which was unusual, but under the current circumstances, it made sense.

Lorcan's heart sped and he suddenly felt warmth spread up his neck. It drove him crazy how much his body reacted of its own accord around Rowan. He wished it would stop.

There was no reason to deny him when the punishment was coming now anyway since Elide's Sharpie touched the cast in the library, so he just shrugged and moved his arm towards the center of the table, towards Rowan.

"Elide, can I borrow your Sharpie?" She handed it over with a nod and went back to animatedly talking to the other girls about something.

Lorcan was careful not to press into the edge of the table, as he adjusted his arm. "I don't think mine will be as pretty as Elide's. Sorry in advance." Lorcan just shrugged a shoulder. He watched Rowan do his little doodle.

Then Rowan grabbed Lorcan's hand to carefully twist his arm to get to a different part of the cast easier causing electricity to shoot through his skin. His breath hitched. The soft fingers lingering on his skin, he never wanted the other boy's hand to move. Lorcan's eyes darted to Rowan's face to see if he noticed anything weird. All he saw was intense concentration, the way his tongue stuck out just a tad and his brows stitched together. Suddenly he was too warm, chest tight, heart pounding. Hellas below.

"There!" Rowan smiled at his silly nonsensical line doodle signed with his name. "All done." That smile did weird things to his stomach and the absence of those warm fingers made all the heat he had just been feeling disappear. A shiver ran down his spine.

Rowan capped the Sharpie and went to hand it back to Elide when Fenrys grabbed it.

"Can I?"

"Yeah." He was screwed anyway.

By the end of lunch, his cast was covered in names and doodles by his... Friends? They couldn't be friends, could they?

As he walked to his next class, he started panicking. His chest tightening for a whole other reason than being in close proximity to a certain boy. A tightness that was only reminiscent of growing anxiety. He shouldn't have let anyone sign it. What was he thinking?

Fuck.

++++

"Lorcan," Rowan breathed as he saw the dark haired boy basically being dragged by Elide to their table. Everyone perked up at that and welcomed him back.

Rowan saw his pained expression. Then, he saw the cast and the light purples, greens, and yellows on his neck that Lorcan was obviously trying to hide with the hood of his hoodie. It looked like a handprint. A fucking handprint. His gut roiled at the thought.

But then Lorcan looked at him, and oh boy, those eyes were going to be the end of him. They were an amazing onyx, almost like pools of night. His cheeks heated and he hoped no one noticed.

He finally got the courage to ask to sign his cast. And when Lorcan leaned over to get his arm closer to Rowan, he noted the stiffness and slight discomfort that flitted over his face. There was so much damage to Lorcan's body that they couldn't see. It made him unbearably sad thinking about it.

For the rest of lunch, while everyone signed Lorcan's cast, Rowan just sat there silently, observing the beautiful dark haired boy. He'd catch his eye every now and then give him a small smile, which was never returned. His eyes just quickly flitted away. Lorcan, he learned was very hard to read.

Rowan wished they could hang out, just the two of them. He wanted to get to know him and help him. And know what those lips felt like, tasted like. How it would feel to thread his fingers through his long dark hair that was usually in a messy bun. Or just to hold his hand. Fuck, he had it bad.

____

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you would like to be tagged.

@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire

[pfreadsandwrites]

Congrats on gaining 100 followers🎉🎉You deserve all of them and more! 🥳 I'm looking forward to everything you're planning to write in the future❤️ As for the prompts, would you please do #160 with Kakashi? Go wild with it 👁👁 Thank you and I wish the best for your blog❤️

100 follower celebration

Okay, here it is! I want to thank you specifically @madaras-housewife because you have been so amazing and supportive from the first fic I posted here and your encouragement has really helped this blog grow and made me write more. So thank you so much, and I’m sorry this took me forever to get out!! This was a bit of an unusual one so it took me a while to think about, and apologies if it’s not wild enough heh but I tried my best to develop it into something. But thank you for everything and I really hope you enjoy this :) I tried my best to go ‘out there’ and wild with it lol.  Also can I just say this mangacap is perfect for the last part of this one-shot lol. 

warnings/notes: third person, Kakashi pov, female civilian reader (she works at the hospital but plz don’t ask for details beyond that lol), pining Kakashi, kinda fluffy, then kinda sad, then kinda hopeful, marking this as 18+ since there is a paragraph that is brief NSFW mentions, in my mind this takes place between the time skip between part 1 and part 2 but it doesn’t really matter. Told in 4 small vignettes/parts essentially. 2.7k words.

taglist: @allthingskakashi @datblobbyfish @enchantedpendant @madaras-housewife @ibukiirisha @praisingkuroosbedhead @cinam00n @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored

160. “Do you think you could teach me that?”

i.

It’s a simple question.

Of course, it’s also a pointless question, one that Kakashi’s sure she’ll see through, one that he shouldn’t even think about asking.

Of course, he’s in the hospital again. Of course, she’s the one with the misfortune of tending to him again. Of course, he’s mesmerised while her hands dutifully wrap the tourniquet around his arm, like she’s cutting off the blood to his brain.

So, of course, he asks it without thinking.

The self-admonishment starts before the words finish leaving his mouth.

Do you think you could teach me that?

His cheeks heat up as the words catch up with him. They echo again and again, serving only to jeer at him further. What the hell is he thinking, making a request like that? A request that’s so nonsensical, so outlandish, so flimsily shrouding its true intent that she’d be justified in ridiculing him right there.

But it’s done now. Here he is, asking a bizarre favour of a civilian woman already doing him a favour.

Kakashi’d be content if the ground gives away underneath him, snatching him from this damn hospital bed. When he ponders the situation further, and he finds himself contemplating her reaction - no doubt a bewildered, adorable expression would grace her beautiful features (God, how much deeper could he get?) - he almost wants to slap himself. How did he go from the Copy Ninja, Konoha’s best jounin, to an awkward dork so swiftly and smoothly? Not only that, but she hadn’t even said anything yet. Kakashi wanted to die.

Fortunately, she only pauses. Unfortunately, her delicate fingers still against his skin, and the sensation flusters and soothes him simultaneously. But it’s only for a moment, before she diligently returns to the task at hand. Even if she’s surprised, or worse, amused, she knows to conceal it. Taking his question seriously in that earnest way that only she can. It should have eased his mind, but instead there’s only guilt at having perplexed her.

“…You want to learn this? Don’t you have enough on your plate?” She asks, bereft of judgement or ridicule.

He shouldn’t have expected any less, he knows that, and yet he still finds himself on the edge. On that precipice between anxiety and comfort, where he’s always standing around her. He can’t even formulate a response to her simple question. Yes - he probably did have enough to do. And yes, he wouldn’t have got this far without some knowledge of first aid and basic medical ninjutsu - and she probably knew that too.

“I could probably manage. It’s not a problem if you don’t have the time.” As typical as it is for him to answer a question without explaining himself further, he berates himself for it this time. Why had he made this so convoluted? And why does she let him?

“I could probably make time,” she retorts, though her voice remains gentle. “I just didn’t think there’d be anything useful you could learn from me, or that you didn’t already know.”

Nothing useful you could learn from me, or that you didn’t already know.

This time, her words echo in his mind. They’re just as kind and nudging as he thought they would be. But that didn’t mean they were any less ridiculous.

Apparently, there’s nothing he can learn from her. Nothing she can teach him.

Nothing he can learn from the woman who always smiles so brightly and indiscriminately at anyone who graced her that it renders them all equal - turning everyone from the grumpy old curmudgeon to the innocent newborn to cheerful, optimistic entities at her mercy. Nothing he can learn from her inability to use her mysterious power for anything but good, to see the value in everyone, in him, against all better judgement.

Nothing he can learn from her selflessness, and her weird knack for chiding herself for her momentary lapses in kindness, for things others don’t think twice about. Nothing he can learn from her patience and empathy in the most ridiculous situations, and her faltering in it when she draws the attention inwards.

Nothing he could learn from the woman who’s determination to revel in life, even as the opposite surrounded her, surrounded him, surrounded everyone in this cursed village, managed to bring even the heavy weight of death to its knees. Nothing he could learn from the woman who didn’t even seem fazed by it, as she tended to the hospital’s neonates with a giggle and a zest for life that he barely comprehends, much less hopes to emulate.

If - he surprises himself at his optimism, but he owes it to her - he’s incapable of learning nothing from all that, then there isn’t much hope for him at all. And if there’s one thing she inspires, if he can even pick one, it’s hope.

Kakashi eventually stops ruminating. And of course, she lets him. A wry smile forms on his lips. “I wouldn’t say that.”

She glances back at him expectantly. Curiously.

“I think there’s a lot you could teach me, you know.”

She’s already taught him without intending to, he remembers, when she doesn’t press him for an explanation. She only smiles that shy, powerful smile.

But they both know it’s acknowledgement. Of what he’s trying to say, of what he’s asking her in his awkward, haphazard way. Kind as she is, even if she shouldn’t be, she agrees.

***

ii.

And so, ever the one to keep her promise, she sets about teaching him. And Kakashi, ever the one to falter, but never one to abandon, keeps coming back. He’s a quick learner in more ways he thought.

She teaches him that finding something to smile about in the day is easier than it seems.

She teaches him to laugh when he drops by the hospital to see her and a very small patient points at his hair and berates him from escaping from the geriatric ward.

She teaches him allowance for his mistakes, and respite for his suffering.

She teaches him what a fool he’s been for denying himself an embrace all these years.

She teaches him that a kiss might be more eternal, more damning, more fate-consigning that it has any right to be.

She doesn’t have to teach him just how intoxicating, addictive it is to kiss her between the legs. She doesn’t have to teach him just where and how to move his tongue before she’s tugging at that wild silver hair of his. And when he moves in her, when she clutches onto him for dear life, whispering his name in that weak, but lingering whimper, when their breaths mingle together and she manages to exalt everything from him - his love, his strength, his seed - she doesn’t have to teach him that though the price of vulnerability is high, the reward is even higher.

She teaches him, when he dares ask what he sees in a man like her, that there’s an answer to that question that satisfies him.

She teaches him that whilst leaving for a mission used to be easy, it might one day become difficult - even for him, the one who has over a thousand under his belt, the one who only has that many because he wished one would kill him. She teaches him to admit that, too.

And when it does become difficult, just as she taught, he learns that a person waiting back home is much more motivating than a death wish could ever be.

She teaches him to forgive himself, as she begins to accompany him on his graveside visits. She teaches him that there’s a chance - a small chance, Kakashi admits, but a chance nonetheless - that there’s more for his life than living it as a penance to ghosts.

She teaches him that dreaming isn’t just for the young, the idealistic, the good. It’s for the hurt, tired veteran too.

She teaches him that hearing those three words aren’t as terrifying as he’d convinced himself all these years.

He learns, when he finally returns them, that he should have said it back long ago. Because it was all worth it just for that look on her face.

***

iii.

Their time together, dreamlike as it is, is always interrupted.

She’s used to it, calmly nodding in his direction at the summoning bird that’s taken to pecking at her window now too. He nods in kind, and with a quick kiss, he’s off on his next mission. She’s always accepting, always understanding, but the patient stare that bores into his back as he leaps off towards the gravestone (an eternal part of the farewell ritual) belies her anxiety.

Still, Kakashi does make it back. And he does again and again. Sometimes his returns are at the hospital - and that expression of hers, where she doesn’t know whether to chide him for his injury or cry that he’s still in one piece - fills him with equal parts guilt and encouragement.

She still never loses that smile, though. The smile that everyone knows.

He has to leave it behind again.

He makes it back. Without a scratch, for once, but figures he might surprise her at the hospital anyway. Strange. He used to be so good at avoiding this place, and now it’s the first place he comes to of his own accord. It’s just another way he’s lost against her, but he doesn’t begrudge it. Maybe he wants some praise for being more careful, but he won’t admit that outright. Maybe he’s getting worse and worse at waiting for that smile, too.

His optimism is never rewarded. He’s been through enough to remember that, but he’s still foolish enough to forget.

It feels different, today, walking through the corridors that she’s made so inexplicably light, so jovial. She easily leaves her mark without trying, to the awe of shinobi and civilians alike.

So when the atmosphere is dense, experience teaches him to dread it. He asks at the front desk, forgetting his tendency to hide all he can about his personal life. The woman stares up at him with wide eyes, hesitating before regaining her composure.

“(Name) isn’t working at the moment. She’s in room 175.”

She doesn’t say anything else, but it wouldn’t matter if she had. The familiar dread creeps up through his bones.

He’s prepared himself for the worst by the time he��s at her room, but it’s moot when he sees her lying there. She’s lost all her colour, she’s thinner - everything about her that’d remembered these few weeks had become so weak. Her vivacity, her will to endure, had even fooled him. But she was just as fragile as anyone else. Except for him. Why the fuck couldn’t he break, instead of someone else, instead of something that meant anything just this one fucking time?

He sits at her bedside, his calloused fingers touching her dainty ones. She’s only sleeping, at least. Purple and blue spread like constellations over her skin, bandages on her arms and cheeks - the kind of injuries he’d expect on a ninja. Of a ninja too. Thoughts upon thoughts flood his mind - how the hell did this happen? Who did this to her? If she’s not safe in the damn village that he fought to protect, where the hell could she be safe?

And, of course, the curse that he’s done so well to forget he has. Did this happen, somehow, because against all judgement, he had let himself become close to her? It makes sense that he’d only be able to fool himself to a point.

And, of course, as if to shush his self-loathing and anxiety, in that fucking selfless way she always did, that broke his heart even more - her fingers move against his.

She blinks her eyes open slowly and turns her gaze to him. She doesn’t have the energy to smile, but she tries to mimic it in the look in her eyes.

“I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

He clasps her hand tight - and lets go just as quickly when she winces. “What the hell happened, (Name)?”

She softens her gaze. “It’s funny that I’m the one that ended up like this, when you’re the one that went out on a mission.” Her tone is light, but somehow the hum of her voice brings gravity, whether she wants it to or not.

She won’t answer his question. As if she feels guilty that she’s putting him through something, which only hurts all the more. And Kakashi knows that insisting too strongly is too unfair, too cruel when she seems so tired, no matter how much his blood boils.

There was an attack, he figures that much, and he overhears more from a nurse. A drunk jounin who’d come across her on his way home.

It’s dealt with swiftly, with the speed and efficiency Kakashi prides himself on, but it isn’t enough. He can’t forgive himself, even if she does.

She recovers soon enough, but only to a point.

Her smile is gone. The openness she’d inspire in everyone around her, the joy she’d invite - it dwindles down to nothing. It’s all too much, too familiar, a sad story he’s seen up and close too many times.

Any smile she makes now is a facsimile, a ghost of anything she could have offered previously. But her kindness still forces her to attempt it, no matter how much it hurts, when Kakashi looks at her.

As impressive as her will is, it’s only finite. He berates himself as she breaks one night, and sobs into his chest.

But she doesn’t do it again.

She doesn’t seem to do much of anything anymore.

He has another mission.

***

iv.

Kakashi’s at the training grounds again. He’s here a lot these days. When there isn’t a mission, he’s got into the habit of putting his body through the wringer. It’s what he deserves, at the very least. Besides, he has a lot more free time than he used to. As the raindrops mix with his sweat, his lightning style blends just as seamlessly with the sky.

“Do you think you could teach me that?”

The voice is familiar. Gentle, just like it used to be. Shakier than it used to be, but there’s a faint hint of the quiet resolve he used to hear, that he was foolish enough to take for granted.

He pauses. The chakra he’d gathered in his hands dissipates, and he turns around. He’s no amateur, he knew he wasn’t alone. But he could tell his little observer wasn’t there to pose a threat, either. She watches him with her wide eyes, the wide eyes that historically and even now freeze him in place. She was never one to marvel at his ninjutsu before, only acquiescing or being impressed where appropriate, - and that’s not quite what she’s doing now, either.

“Well -,” she holds her right arm with her left. It’s a normal gesture. One that would have endeared him, but only makes his heart sink now. Suddenly it’s difficult to watch her doubt herself. “Not that exactly. I don’t even want to do that even if I could. But anything you can teach me. It doesn’t have to be a lot. I think I’d be fine with a little. It’d be enough to feel better. If you don’t have too much on your plate.”

He’s watching her now, studying that expression in her eyes. Where she’s determined and defiant, even in that modest way. He believes her - she doesn’t want to learn a lot. She doesn’t want to be too much like him. But she’s allowing herself to learn from him. She’s letting herself take, not just give.

“Alright. Tomorrow, then. But let’s get you home first. It’s late, raining…,” his voice trails off, brushing off the rain from his hair sheepishly. “And I could use a break.”

She begins to smile that shy, powerful smile again. It’s sincere, and her ability to infect others with it seems to have returned. “That’s fine by me. I hear you’ve been overdoing it lately."

Kakashi finds himself grinning back.

Do you think you could teach me that?

It’s a simple question.

[anotheronechicagobog]

Ethan Choi x reader I Love and Lies

written by @anotheronechicagobog​

A/N: Swearing, cheating, jealousy, mention of sex, pregnancy, depression

A/N 2:  Requested by @raveenasblog​ Sorry this took so long, I haven’t been super motivated to write long works for a while.

You sighed as you collapsed back into your chair, the force causing you to wheel backwards into your desk. “Ow, fuck.” You collected yourself before someone from the team saw, they’d never let you live it down. Just in time too, as Hailey burst through your door. “Y/L/N, we need you to run some financials and internet history on a suspect, David Johnson, male, 42, DOB 20th of September 1978.”

“Got it.”

“You okay? You seem down.”

“No, but it’s kind of personal. And not my personal, someone else’s personal. Long story.”

“Oh, well I hope it works out. And if you want to get your mind off it we can go out with Kim for deep dish.”

“Thanks.”

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After Crockett Marcel joined the staff at Gaffney medical centre you not only befriended him quickly, but you had also been trusted with a secret you couldn’t keep. April Sexton cheated on Ethan Choi with Crockett Marcel. Ethan was a tad older than you and a serious navy vet, so you didn’t have a lot to bond on at first. It was when you’d run into each other at your favourite Italian restaurant after you’d both been on god-awful blind dates that your friendship started to bloom. The restaurant had been packed and there wasn’t room for both of you to have a table to yourself. Even though you didn’t know each other well, it seemed like the best question. It became a tradition for you two to meet up after blind dates or setups and decompress. It helped deal with the fact that neither of you had friends good at match-making. 

When you’d caught April at that party your heart broke for one of your best friends. You didn’t know what to do. Ethan was in love with April, above all else, and he wanted to marry her. He’d asked for your and Maggie’s help with ring shopping. You knew that things were a little tense between them, but you’d always thought so highly of April, you never thought that she would do something like this. And to make things more difficult, you were under a bit of a time crunch. You had to tell him soon or he’d be upset that you’d kept it from him. And he had been deployed for two months with no contact. He was coming back in a couple of days and you weren’t sure how to break it to him. You knew that it would be best if April was the one who told him, but she’d told you outright days after it happened that Ethan didn’t need to know. But she was wrong and you knew it.

Ethan deserved to know that the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with and have children with ‘accidentally’ kissed someone else. It broke your heart but you had to tell him when he got back.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He’d been back for three days and still hadn’t seen you. Citing ‘April this’ and ‘April that’. And while you could understand one day, three was suspicious, and you knew that April was trying to keep him away from you. You were furious, how dare she cheat on him and then try to cover it up. 

You’d dropped by med later that day when you texted Ethan and he actually said yes. Apparently April had to work a double so he was free from her clutches. When you arrived at the entrance in your car to pick him up it was quite clear that she was trying to stop him, visibly panicking and grabbing onto him. 

“Ethan are you ready to go?”

“NO! He- He’s not going. He... Is going to work another shift. Or go home. Just... He is NOT going anywhere with you!”

“Why not, April?”

“Because... Because she... She’s in love with you!”

“What?”

“You think I’m what?”

“Yes! She told me at Crockett and Maggie’s party after you left! She said that she was going to try to come between us!”

“I did not say that. I saw April kissing the new doctor, Crockett Marcel, at the party he and Maggie threw. I tried talking to her about it, but she said that she and Marcel didn’t think you needed to know.”

“I can’t believe you Y/N.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard him Y/N.”

“I didn’t say any of that. I don’t love you, Ethan, not romantically at least, she is lying. I know that this is a she said, she said situation. We’ve been so close for so long, I wouldn’t do anything to cause you unnecessary hurt or drama. You have to know that.”

“She accepted my proposal, Y/N, and she’s been trying to warn me for days. I didn’t listen to her because we’ve been friends for so long, but you coming at her with an outright lie just proves she’s right. I can’t believe you would do this.”

“But I didn’t.”

“I don’t believe you. I... I am going to go home, and I think you should stay away from us Y/N.” He stepped beside April, slinging his arm around her waist and staring you down in that cold, navy, disapproving way. It physically hurt your heart and you could feel yourself gasping for breath. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You don’t really remember driving to your apartment, but you do remember Ethan not leaving April’s side until you were in your car and driving away. Your body shuddered and convulsed as you tried to muffle your own cries. Ethan had spent weeks searching for the perfect ring, smiled dreamily at the thought of having children with her. It ripped you to pieces that April threw it all away and that Ethan didn’t believe you. After all the years you’d been friends, all the time spent together, and he didn’t trust you. He didn’t hear the wavering and panic in April’s voice, the floundering in her normally collected sentences, and the visible queues that showed she was grasping at straws. 

Three heavy knocks later and Hailey was picking your door lock. You really need to give her a key.  “Y/N how are you? I heard what happened.”

“Seriously? Everyone knows already? I knew that everyone would hear about some variation of what happened, but it hasn’t even been an hour!... Does everyone know?”

“Yes. I heard about it from Mouch when he dropped some lunch off for Platt.”

“Oh my god... Do you believe me?” You must have looked so pathetic, like Bambi asking for his mother. “Yes. I know how much his friendship means to you. And I know that you aren’t in love with him.”

“I’ll take the deep dish pizza now if you don’t mind.”

“Kim’s bringing it. And red velvet cake.”

“You guys are the best.”

“We know, now where did you put the tequila you got from Mexico?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Molly’s had become your favourite pub since you first got the job of ‘thank the heavens that Ruzek doesn’t have to do tech stuff anymore’ in intelligence. The drinks were good, the food was good, and the staff was always friendly. Since your confrontation with Ethan and April, you’d avoided going. Any time you’d seen Sylvie and Emily at spin class they shot you awkward glances and actually asked you what you thought about the weather. While they’d stumbled through an explanation that they weren’t taking sides you just wished a hole would open up underneath you. You stuck close to Kim after that. Med as a whole was a mess of hatred and anger towards you. Apparently Doris had even gathered some nurses together to refuse to treat you if you ever came in. And they were always making snappy comments to the rest of the intelligence unit whenever they had to be there, and Jay got into a fight with Ethan. You’d apologized profusely to your team but they would hear none of it, they believed you.

It had been three months and you were feeling so lonely and depressed. You’d lost over half of your friends in one day, you were isolated and exhausted. You worked long hours and had no one to decompress with, Trudy was still setting you up on terrible blind dates, and while you’d been eating there by yourself since Ethan and April started dating, being alone and feeling alone were two different things. Now you were in a rut. Just floating through existence. And you didn’t hate it. You didn’t feel anything actually, and while it didn’t scare you, it did scare your remaining friends.

You would see a therapist, but because American medical coverage is so screwed up your insurance only approves doctors from MED unless it’s an emergency and MED isn’t the closest hospital. So despite the fact that all your co-workers were on edge worrying about your mental health and how it affects the rest of your well-being, they couldn’t pressure or push you into getting help because there were some doctors and nurses who had outright said they wouldn’t help you. No matter how scared they got or how tempting jumping off a building sounded to you. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Someone was banging at your door. At three in the morning. If this had happened four months ago you’d be grabbing your bat. Now, you were too tired to give a fuck. The knocking was staggered, in rhythm and noise level. So whoever was on the other side of that door was probably drunk out of their mind. You went a little out of your mind when you saw the man standing in front of you. The man you’d gone out of your way two avoid since his and Maggie’s party. Crockett Marcel. Red eyes, puffy cheeks, slurring nonsense and all.

“I-- M, *hic* sww. I srry. Sorry. Kigg.”

“Why don’t you come in?” You helped an incredibly inebriated Crockett Marcel to your couch. “I sy- swww-”

“Go to sleep doc, you need it.” You moved a garbage can next to the couch and put a blanket over him. One of your best ones, soft and fluffy. One tall glass of water and a couple of Tylenol were placed on the side table near his head before you went back to bed. This’ll be fun to talk about in the morning. 

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The morning arrived with the smell of drunken sweat in your living room. Your late-night visitor was on the precipice of waking up, rolling around and fidgeting, trying to get comfy. Though you suspected the hangover was hindering that. You sighed, deciding that you’d wake him up after you finished the pancakes. Sizzling butter and batter wafted into your nose as you carefully placed chocolate chips in the image of a smiley face, hoping that would at least stave off the awkwardness. Crockett kept swearing in French and moved to cover his eyes with a pillow. You laughed as you flipped the last pancakes onto one main plate. Walking over to your guest you pondered how to wake him up. Screaming in his ear? No, too cruel. Pulling away the pillow? Still too mean. Telling him you’ll eat all the pancakes if he doesn’t get up? Perfect. “Marcel, if you’re not up soon, I’m gonna eat all the pancakes I made. And you can’t get mad at me for it.” You sauntered away with a smile on your face, silently hoping that he wouldn’t wake up so you could have all those pancakes to yourself. Soft and buttery, slathered with Canadian maple syrup.

Unfortunately, that was all it took for him to get up. Groaning and moving sluggishly, he made his way to your kitchen island and sat on the other side of the corner. “Thank you. I’m sorry about last night, I just... I feel really bad.”

“About what in particular?”

“Kissing a woman who was already in a relationship, not saying anything about it to the rest of the hospital, causing you a lot of trouble, and... Falling in love with the woman who’s life I ruined.” You froze mid-chew. His troubled eyes were boring into you. “Me?” While your question was muffled by the combination of pancake, syrup, and butter it got across. “Yeah,” he chuckled and smiled softly at you before tensing, “don’t worry, I know you don’t love me. How could you after what I did? Plus you’re in love with Choi-”

“No I’m not. That’s just something April said to cover up what happened.”

“Do you really not see it or are you just denying it?”

“I’m not denying anything, Ethan is- was. Was one of my best friends. And I miss him.”

“Miss him how?”

“He has such a calming energy, like the eye in the storm. Yes, you know it’s gonna get crazy again, but you appreciate the peace it brings you. Even if it’s only for a few moments. He was always so serious, which I like cause I’m serious too. The only jokes he knows how to make are puns, everyone else hates them but I love them. Ethan... He makes me smile, my life hasn’t been the same since he left it. It’s... duller without him. My heart physically aches most times.”

The realization was sudden and terrifying.

“Oh my gods...”

“There it is.”

“I am in love with Ethan.”

“Finally.”

“I am a horrible person.”

“Wait, what? How do you figure that out?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The week following your revelation was hard. You felt terrible, despite Crockett’s assurances, you worried that you insisted on telling Ethan the truth because of your feelings. While your head knew that wasn’t true, that you were happy to see Ethan happy, your heart worried. You didn’t know what to think of yourself if you had subconsciously ruined your best friend’s relationship.

Intelligence had also caught a hard case. Cases involving kids rarely ended well and since this one involved a child trafficking ring and identifying all of the perpetrators and victims, your days had been filled with the screams and cries of abused, exploited and tortured children. You felt like your soul needed to be deep cleansed. You’d found all the children and identified two hundred and thirty-three children so far, another eighty-seven to go. Everyone, including Voight, had been much gentler around you. Normally he hated going down to your office because you’d decorated it with colour, things that make you happy, and just generally didn’t look like the office of the tech expert of Chicago’s most elite law enforcement team, but he’d been coming down to check on you and drag you upstairs for food and water. It had been a nice reminder that you weren’t completely alone, and that not all of the world was built with evil and fear. 

“Y/L/N, we got ‘em. And SVU ID’d the rest of the kids. Families have been called. You should go home, get some sleep. And the meticulous notes you keep qualify as a report, so you’re done. Don’t argue. And eat a vegetable.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “Yes, dad.”

“Don’t use that tone with me young lady.” A smirk briefly played on his lips. You laughed, grateful for the position he had in your life, and walked up to the bullpen with him. When you reached the top of the stairs you were greeted by chaos. And not the usual chaos. Jay looked like he wanted to punch a hole in a wall, Hailey was being held back by Adam and Kevin as she cursed and tried to claw at whatever was in front of her, Rojas and Kim were debating the pros and cons of using a police baton, Trudy was pinching her nose and looking like she was restraining herself from shooting everyone, and the SVU agents looked confused and a little afraid honestly. “What’s going on here?” Everyone parted like the red sea for their boss to reveal Ethan Choi. “You have got a lot of nerve to show up here.”

“I’m just here to talk to Y/N. To... Apologize.” You could tell by his sunken features, red eyes, and bloody knuckles that he knew. He knew that you told the truth. Pain danced around like a musical behind his eyes. No matter how empty he had left your life you never wanted him to feel the way he clearly did. However, you weren’t in any mood to deal with this. “Guys, let go of him, you’re scaring our guests. Ethan, can we talk tomorrow? It’s been a long day and I’m really tired.” You didn’t even wait for a response, just walked out from behind Voight and right past everyone, only stopping to say goodnight to Trudy on your way out.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning you woke up... Warm. It was the first time you’d felt something other than emptiness since the whole debacle began. Your apartment smelled good, like fried butter. You quirked your eyebrow, hearing sizzling coming from the direction of your kitchen. You doubted a criminal would break in just to cook breakfast and only three people had a key to your place. Hailey, Ethan, and Voight, given to them in that order. Hailey only really knew how to cook greek food, Voight never used it unless it was an emergency, and despite all that had gone between you two, Ethan never gave his copy back. Leaving your aluminum hello kitty baseball bat by your bed you make your way to the kitchen. Ethan stood in a Navy t-shirt and jeans in front of your stove. Three pans in front of him, one with scrambled eggs, hash browns, and pancakes. “Morning Ethan.” His head slowly turned to meet yours. “Good morning Y/N... Uh, it is tomorrow...”

“It is. What’s for breakfast?”

A slight smile picked up, some weight lifting off his shoulders. “My specialty. You up for it?”

“Always. Uh, Crockett told me. I’m sorry, I want you to know that I did believe you, I just-”

“‘Didn’t want to.”

“Yeah. I’m also sorry about the treatment you received from everyone, really. I told April not to involve anyone else, but she started screaming it from the rooftops the second she could. I know that there were people who didn’t want to take sides but they ended up doing so anyway. I’m sorry about that too. I’ve heard a lot, I know how isolated you became, so I know that it will be hard to forgive me. If there’s anything you want, anything I can do, please tell me. I’m sorry.”

“Did you make enough breakfast for both of us?”

“Of course.” Smiles were met with smiles as Ethan placed all of the hot food on serving plates.

“So now that you know, what’s happening with you and...”

“I broke up with April. I’ve known for a couple of weeks actually, I just... I tried to work it out with her, tried to move past it, but I couldn’t. It was too much, I was too betrayed. Not only did she cheat on me with a man who had just moved to this region of the country, she lied about it, and did everything she could to frame and torture you for what she did. I just woke up one day and I knew I was done. We’d been trying to have a baby but when I stopped focusing solely on having a baby I realized that I didn’t want that with her. She clearly doesn’t love me if she was able to do what she did, and not only would a baby not be able to fix our relationship, but it would be cruel to drag a child into that.”

“I never wanted to hurt you, Ethan, I just thought that you deserved to know, and I’m so sorry about the pain that this situation has dolled on you.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two months had passed and you were re-adjusting to having all of your friends back. From most you’d received an apology and a drink at Molly’s (that had not been a fun hangover), from Sylvie and Nat you had been given homemade cookies in lieu of alcohol, but for the most part laughter and a hug was more than enough. There were few though who didn’t apologize to you and glared at you with hate-filled eyes. You had expected April to be doing that, but most of the nurses were sticking to their guns with her. It didn’t matter that Crockett had come forward, or that she’d admitted it had happened and that she’d lied about you, or that you weren’t the only person who saw that kiss as it turned out, they held you responsible for April’s reputation taking a hit and Chexton’s break up. You had a hard time caring, though. April made a mistake and no matter how much she lied or tried to hide it, it still came out. It wasn’t your fault that she cheated on Ethan, or that she had actively made everything worse.

Ethan and you had been making up for lost time, going to the zoo and aquarium, binging Grand Tour on Amazon Prime, and eating at your favourite Italian restaurant. It felt good to get back into your rhythm, having an unofficial schedule to organize your time together. Today Ethan was waiting for you to pick him up from work so that you both could go see the new baby otter at the aquarium. You had pulled up in front of Gaffney and texted him saying that you were outside and waiting. Just after you’d clicked send there was a knock on the window beside you. You jumped, whipping your head around to see April staring at you with her arms crossed and her chest heaving. Steeling yourself, you exited your car. “Hi April.”

“Really? That’s all you can say? You ruined my life and all you can say is hi?”

“April, I’m sorry for how hard everything must be for you right now, but I didn’t ruin anything. That was all you.”

“If you had just left it alone everything would be fine!”

“April-”

“NO! If you hadn’t insisted on telling him I wouldn’t have worked so hard to make everyone hate you, everything would have been fine. But you just had to go and destroy everything!” April started to cry, tears flowing down her cheeks as she hiccuped and wrapped her arms around herself. You couldn’t bring yourself to be angry, your lives were always filled with drama and pain, and sometimes you felt like you lived in a procedural soap drama, so you couldn’t blame her for holding onto her happiness for dear life. You sighed and reached for her, “come here.”

The two of you stood like that for several minutes until Ethan approached you both with his eyebrows raised. “April.”

“Ethan! You have to know that I never wanted to hurt you, never wanted you to find out!”

“... That’s terrible, April. Look, I’m done. We’re done. Please, just let go.”

“No, I can’t! I love you!”

“No, you don’t. If you loved me you wouldn’t have kissed someone else, or lied about it, or tried to silence and then blame Y/N. What we had, it wasn’t love. We loved each other once, but not in a long time.”

“Ethan-”

“Y/N and I have plans, April.” April shoved you off of her and rocketed away from you violently, sprinting to the ED as fast as she can.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were on a date. Sort of. It had been a year and a few months, close to two years, since Ethan and April split and everyone knew the truth. Hailey, Kim, and Vanessa were constantly on you about dating, setting you up onblind dates, signing you up for dating apps, and introducing you to random guys they happen to meet who are single and cute. Ethan quietly asked why you didn’t just date someone to get them to stop. Crockett (who, much to Ethan’s dismay, you’d become good friends with) laughed and offered his services as your boyfriend with a wink. He meant it as a joke. It was a joke. But now, as you were standing by his side in a gown with his arm around your waist, you wondered if he actually was joking, or if he was flirting and you just didn’t pick up on it. When the fancy schmancy business guys left Crockett turned to you with a weary smile. “Thanks, again for coming with me. Goodwin would’ve had my head if I came alone.”

“Well, hey, like you said, this’ll get the girls off my back.”

“I have to admit, I did have an ulterior motive for asking you- don’t panic, I’m not going to profess my love for you or anything. I’ve moved on from you actually. The ulterior motive was to make Choi jealous.”

“What?”

“Look, you love him, and he loves you. I can see it, and so can everyone else. However, it has become apparent that neither of you plan to do anything about it. It has also become apparent that Ethan does not like it when I... do anything that involves you being near me honestly. Least of all that we’re actually friends. He gets jealous, very easily. I was hoping that you being my date for the evening would make him do something about it. Plus, you’re gorgeous and intelligent, the perfect companion for another dull gala.”

“Crockett, he doesn’t-”

“He does. Even April sees it.”

“Crockett-”

“Ah! Dr. Marcel, there you are. I have been looking for you, I want to discuss the hybrid OR project you’re working on with Dr. Rhodes.”

“Of course. This is my date for the evening, Y/N Y/L/N, she is a senior investigative digital analyst with the Chicago Police department.”

“A pleasure.” 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All in all, you’d had fun at the gala. The booze was free, so was the delicious food, and while you didn’t like dressing to the nines all the time, it was fun to do for one night. The gala had been held at one of the fancier, older, expensive hotels on the waterfront so you and Crockett snapped some amazing pictures. Ethan didn’t do a lot on social media, it just wasn’t his thing, but he texted you seconds from when the first photo was posted to tell you that you looked stunning. You were a bit disappointed, hoping that Crockett had been telling the truth when he said that Ethan loves you. You sighed and shook your head before exiting your office to grab a snack from the breakroom. You didn’t have a case so it had just been a paperwork day, Hailey held up her mug for you to grab as you walked past her desk to the breakroom. You grabbed a bag of chips for yourself and had just finished Hailey’s coffee when your phone rang. “Hello?”

“Hey girl, look I’d love to chat but this is a business call.”

“Oh?”

“Ethan and Crockett got into a screaming match outside of the ED, Ethan got so angry and went to storm off but he turned around and ran into a concrete pillar.”

“Oh my god.”

“He’s fine, got a few scrapes, but he seems really out of it, we don’t think he should be driving. You’re his emergency contact, can you come get him?”

“Yeah, I’ll just let Voight know, I’ll be there soon.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Maggie met your eyes and pointed to a room that had the curtains closed. You darted in, finding an annoyed looking Ethan lying on the bed with his arms crossed. There were a couple of light scrapes but no other visible injuries. You’d gotten him back to your apartment easily enough but he was completely silent. “Hey-”

“Do you love him?”

“What?”

“Do you love Crockett?”

“No! He’s a great friend but he’s not my type.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Where is all this coming from? And why did you get into an argument with Crockett?”

“I, I have been going out of my mind since I found out that you were going with Crockett to that fundraising gala. I can’t lose you! And especially not to him.”

“You’re not going to lose me, Ethan. Goodwin told him he had to bring a date and he knew that the girls were breathing down my neck. It wasn’t a big deal, okay? Ethan why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I love you. So much.” You didn’t respond with words, just latched your lips onto his. The rest of the night was filled with nudity, moans, groans, ecstacy, and whispers of love and promise.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two months later you were being dragged into the ED by a worried Ethan. Before started dating him you’d been friends with him long enough to know that just going along with whatever he needs to feel better is the best option.

“Nat, something’s wrong with Y/N.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s been throwing up at all times of day for the past week, can’t hold down food, and she fainted this morning.”

“Alright, let’s get you in a room. Maggie?”

“Treatment four.”

Once you were in bed and had blood drawn you took Ethan’s hand. “I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.”

“Worrying about you is my job as your boyfriend.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but I have news. Good news.”

You and Ethan looked at each other as you clasped your hands together and sat up straighter. “You’re pregnant. Eight weeks along by the looks of it. Congrats guys, you’re going to be parents.”

Ethan sprung up and started kissing you all over your face. You had never been this happy in your life. Suddenly he stopped. “Are you okay with this? Being pregnant? I don’t want you to feel pressured-” You grabbed his collar and pulled his face to yours. Kissing him deeply, and lovingly. “Ethan, I am so happy. I have always wanted to be a mother, and now I have the chance. With the man I love. This is the best day of my life.”

“Have I told you how much I love you today?”

“Yes, but I’d be overjoyed to hear it again. And again, for the rest of our lives.

[zappho]

Some Meta on Murdock and mental illness

Generally speakig, The A-Team is a dumbass, light-hearted comedy with action on the same level as youtube poop videos. Obviously there isn’t alot of depth to be found here. The show had tons of different writers, all with their own take on Murdock and none of them offer any clear info or a proper backstory for the character. It’s basically up to the audience to fill in the blanks and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do by overanalyzing the mess that is the show’s canon.

The question of whether Murdock is ‘‘‘really crazy or just faking’‘’ has been around for over 30 years, but I’m gonna argue that he’s both.

When Kelly visits Murdock in the psychiatric hospital and confronts him about why he’s living there in the first place he gets instantly uncomfortable.

He really didn’t want her to ask, it’s why he’s been avoiding her. Joking about how you’re hashtag crazy™ is easy; having to admit that you’ve been institutionalized for over 10 years because you have legitimate problems is much harder. (Sure, the VA also gives him a convenient cover from the military police, but if that was the only reason for him to stay he wouldn’t react to Kelly’s question in this way). “It’s a long story”, is all he says. There are clearly some painful memories here that he’d rather not delve into.

He’d have to explain how he got committed in the first place. We know that after the gang was arrested for war crimes in ‘71, Murdock was still serving as a pilot in ‘72. They never clarified when and how Murdock was sent home, but i’m guessing without his only friends around and it being, you know...war, his mental health eventually deteriorated until he received a medical discharge straight into the VA hospital.

After Murdock gets wrongly released in season 1, instead of his friends being worried about his supposed cover getting blown they just shrug it off and go ‘Oh well!’ (This could all be due to the show’s inconsistent writing, but you know)

No longer being an inpatient would finally allow Murdock to be employed as a pilot again (his #1 passion), and yet he seems really disheartened about the situation. Even though the hospital gives him no privacy, the staff barely respects him and he spends most of his time there by himself, he still prefers to stay.

For a character who’s allegedly cheery comic relief, he sure gets his feelings hurt alot, mainly when dealing with other people’s ableism towards him. B.A. and Face are obviously just palling around, just guys bein’ dudes, they don’t want to hurt Murdock for real, they probably don’t realize how sensitive Murdock is about the subject. Usually he plays along or shrugs it off, but sometimes he gets genuinely upset. In the first half of In Plane Sight he’s so fed up with it he tries to ‘‘act normal’‘ until #Woke #Queen Hannibal reassures him that they love him the way he is.

PTSD was barely starting to become a diagnosis when the show first aired, but I think it’s fair to say he suffers from it. The pilot episode states that he has anxiety, paranoia and memory loss, so that checks out.

With PTSD you don’t just have to deal with flashbacks and nightmares, but also intrusive thoughts, images and memories about your trauma. Murdock copes with it by getting hyperfixated on a new activity or pretending he’s someone else. This is were alot of people will go ‘‘haha wow look how wacky and insane he is! He’s talking to his sock 😂’‘. But Murdock knows it’s all made up nonsense, he just needs his mind to focus on something else. What’s important here is that he never lets his coping mechanisms distract him when he’s flying, first of all he’s already focused and also he doesn’t wanna crash (lol). There’s a believability to his actions that’s missing in the 2010 reboot.

In the episode where the gang helps out the vietnamese cook from the POW camp where they’ve been tortured, Murdock tries to distract himself with some golfballs. He soon starts projecting his trauma on them however.

I think this is the only time in the show where Hannibal tears up, so this scene is kinda significant. As the leader, he probably blames himself for getting his team captured and tortured, and seeing that Murdock is still so strongly affected by it gotta hurt. 

Compared to the rest of the gang, Murdock’s alot more fucked up over the war. There are subtle changes in his voice whenever he talks about it. In the ep about their old war buddy Ray, Face was reminiscing about how cool of a guy Ray was for borrowing him his helmet, Murdock’s memories meanwhile are much less upbeat. ‘My bird was the only one left in the sky’ he remembers while we see an image of a field filled with shot down helicopters. His experiences are bound to be different from the other three as a huey medevac pilot. Murdock did have one off-screen breakdown in the present timeline, after collecting every newspaper article about the upcoming execution of the team in Firing Line. Apparently it was bad enough that he had to be restrained. It’s been 10 years, so he’s recovering and getting better, but he’s still not all there yet.

Everyone knows Murdock’s just messing around when he’s being interrogated by the military about his connections to the team, but like what about when the military isn’t there; or NO ONE is. He often talks to himself or just puts weird shit in his mouth for no reason while nobody’s paying attention to him (eating leaves, paint, an entire raw egg, a frozen sandwich). Sometimes he’s just unhinged like that.

Another thing that’s brought up a few times in the show is his anxiety. Murdock’s often seen being generally tense, sweaty, uncomfortable or reflective in the background of a scene. (I have no idea if this was a deliberate acting choice but Dwight does have anxiety irl so who knows if that had anything to do with it, I mean who knowsssssss, i’m just observing)

He’s got a habit of fidgeting with his hands or touching his neck when he’s stressed out. Murdock also does it when he’s telling his psychiatrist Dr. Richter about his dreams “If you were me, wouldn’t you be terrified to put your head down?” he asks him.

Richter isn’t really paying attention though, because he’s so used to Murdock’s non-stop clownery, he can’t exactly tell when his patient decides to be honest about his feelings for once. He just replies ‘Well only if it was a bad dream’. Which really irritates Murdock because what other dreams besides bad would he have? So he derails the session by rambling some made up bullshit on purpose.

Richter knows that Murdock uses humor and fantasy to cope, but he’s obviously tired of Murdock’s cringe antics, he just wants to help him. But Murdock doesn’t like to open up and be confronted with his traumas again, he just wants to avoid talking about it all together. There are still parts of reality that Murdock’s not ready to deal with, or he wouldn’t always retreat into his fantasies.

Before he can continue messing around a helicopter passes by and Murdock freezes for a second. Richter assures him that the helicopter is real; Murdock nods and starts fidgeting with his hands again, seemingly in deep thought. We know from the season 4 finale that he hears the sound of rotor blades when he dissociates. He was definitely being sincere here.

After getting drugged by some military goons he has a few brief flashbacks (feat. cheesy 80′s neon filters): seeing the chopper fly away, getting stuck in a potted plant as if he was walking through the jungle, being surrounded by heavy smoke and sparks from the burning carpet).

Despite being the 2nd highest ranked team member, Murdock dislikes being in charge and gets severly distressed when anything goes wrong that he might even be slightly responsible for. Most notably is the episode where the owners of the diner get kidnapped after Murdock got knocked out by evil cowboys or hill billies or whatever they were. Instead of telling anyone what happened, he’s just lying on the floor, repeatedly calling himself a failure until the others show up.

Seems like Murdock gets startled more easily than the rest of the crew as well. We often see him flinch when guns go off; one time he literally wore fluffy ear muffs to a backalley shootout.

This short moment from Family Reunion always stood out to me. Face opens the van door a little too quickly and it takes Murdock so off-guard he has to take deep breaths to calm down.

Murdock sounds exhausted when he has to remind Face not to sneak up on him. Face also realizes he messed up, he just wanted to check up on Murdock and not trigger him on accident.

When it comes to portrayals of mental illness in fiction there’s obviously better representation out there than Murdock. But sometimes you just wanna see a mentally ill character have a good time instead of being miserable 24/7. And Murdock’s already got the worst behind him, he’s had therapy for years and friends who love him. I just think that’s refreshing to see, especially with a character who’s so kind and openly affectionate.

[stevesnailbat]

realizations | steve harrington

REQUESTS USED:

hi love!! could you write a fluffy steve harrington x reader that takes place during season 2? like maybe she stays behind with the kids and steve when the others go to get the mindflayer out of will and seeing steve protect the kids just makes the reader realize she’s in love w/ him. i’ll leave the rest of the plot up to you, don’t feel any pressure to write it if you’re too busy or not inspired! thanks! 🦋💕

hi! could you write steve x fem!reader where she is waiting for him come back from his date and realizes how much she likes him? pls and thank u

warnings: none really?

word count: 2.0K

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Nothing felt okay, but it wasn’t like she could change what was happening. The world felt like it was falling apart as she sped through Hawkins in the dead of night with four kids packed into Billy Hargrove’s Camaro with a very unconscious Steve Harrington in the backseat. Pure chaos had ensued a few hours before, but there had been no time for her to process what was happening until this moment. Her eyes flickered to the rearview mirror occasionally, checking on Dustin as he tended to Steve’s battered face as a sinking feeling settled in her stomach.

What was it that she was feeling? She couldn’t decipher her emotions in the moment, couldn’t understand what the nauseousness she felt every time she looked at Steve actually meant. But there was no time for that, so she distracted herself by staring at the road in front of her.

A few groans came from the backseat and Dustin began to whisper something that she couldn’t decipher from the front seat, but she knew that Steve was waking up. She looked to Lucas, who sat in the passenger seat, to seek some kind of ease, but was only met with the same worried expression that she held. As expected, the boy in the backseat began to panic soon after, voice filled with terror as realization hit him.

She couldn’t focus on what was happening in the backseat as Lucas began to shout nonsense directions her way, telling her to turn into a field instead of onto a road. Still, she did what he said, because she was sure he knew more about the situation than she did. There was a collective scream that echoed through the car as she pulled the sharp left, followed by whines of pain as she brought the car to a halting stop.

Soon enough, they were all piling out of the car and grabbing their things from the trunk of the car. She looked over to Steve, seeing the utterly confused and upset look on his face as she put a bandana over her mouth for protection.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Steve demanded, watching as Mike walked towards the hole that seemed to lead straight to hell. “What are you, deaf? Hello? We are not going down there right now. I made myself clear.”

She looked to Steve once more, noticing each of the kids purposefully ignoring his protests as he grew angrier. There wasn’t much she knew about the situation, but she knew that Steve was only trying to protect them from the demodogs that they had ran into earlier in the day.

“Hey, there’s no chance we’re going into that hole, all right? This ends right now!” he exclaimed once more, only getting a reaction out of Dustin.

“Steve, you’re upset, I get it. But the bottom line is, a party member requires assistance, and it is our duty to provide that assistance.” Dustin explained as Steve narrowed his eyes at the boy. “Now, I know you promised Nance that you would keep us safe. So, keep us safe.”

Begrudgingly, Steve followed them into the hole after pulling a bandana and goggles on. She watched as he dropped into the hole, following close behind him. She nearly tripped as she dropped down, but Steve caught her before she could fall to the vine-covered ground.

“Be careful, alright?” he said to her as he steadied her on her feet, voice muffled by the bandana around his face. “We don’t need you all beat up too, right?”

“Yeah, sorry.” she laughed bitterly, heart fluttering slightly as she could tell he was smiling under all of the protection.

They looked at each other for a fleeting moment, fear and wonder apparent in the air without saying a word. The kids were talking, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying over the sound of her own heartbeat. Sure, Steve had looked at her for longer than a second before, they were best friends for fucks sake. But, there was something hidden in the look that she couldn’t quite understand yet, and she knew she didn’t have the time to comprehend it. Before either of them could say anything to the other, Steve snapped his attention to the kids in front of them who were already navigating through the tunnel.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, hey, hey, hey. I don’t think so.” he called out, starting towards the front of the group as Mike questioned him. “Any of you little shits die down here, I’m getting the blame. Got it, dipshit? From here on out, I’m leading the way. Come on, let’s go.”

Minutes felt like hours as they trudged through the tunnels, a feeling of dread taking over while watching the kids struggle. The only thing she could seem to think of to distract herself was Steve and how he was leading them to this hub with damn near no fear, like he’d rather himself get hurt than any of the others. After a few minor complications, they reached what they were looking for, the hub. They drenched the area with gasoline, and Steve pulled his lighter from his pocket, flicking the top of it open. His eyes flickered to hers for a moment, full of fear as the flame started in his hands.

“I am in such deep shit.” he scoffed to her, throwing the lighter towards the gas-covered vines.

Steve pushed her and the kids in the other direction, trying to make it to the exit as quickly as possible. The rest of the time in the tunnels went by in an instant, her heart racing at a thousand miles a minute. When they got back to the hole, she nearly fell on top of Steve as she came up, but he caught her again.

“What’d I tell you about being careful?” Steve teased, an exhausted smile on his lips as he pulled his bandana off.

That day came and went slowly, but it was finally over, and that’s all she could ask for. Steve did everything in his power to protect her and the kids that day and she couldn’t get it out of her mind.

Weeks passed and things seemed to be getting back to normal. Her and Steve were back to being just best friends, not partners in fighting other-worldly monsters. They were back to telling each other everything, like the old times. But, something was different. Steve was still coping with losing Nancy during the whole mess, so he was a little more distant than before. She didn’t mind, though. She needed her own time do cope with the fact that life as she knew it had been changed forever. And, she needed her own time to deal with whatever she had felt that night when she saw Steve unconscious in the backseat of the Camaro.

“I think things are finally looking up again.” Steve said confidently to her over the phone one day.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” she asked with genuine curiosity, laughing to herself at Steve’s sudden optimism.

“I got a date for today, with Stacey Adams.” he said matter-of-factly, she could tell he was smiling through the phone, but her heart sunk as he spoke.

“Well that sounds—fun.” she said while cringing, trying to sound happy for him as she spoke. “We’re still having movie night tonight though, right? We always have movie nights on Sunday’s.”

“Of course! I planned it for during the day so I could still come over tonight.” he replied. “But, I gotta go get ready, alright? I’ll see you tonight at 7!”

Before she could respond, the line went dead with a dial tone. She let her hand fall slack, nearly dropping the phone as she did. Putting the phone up, she felt that sinking feeling settle into her stomach once more. The dull ache grew stronger as she moved to lie down on her back and stare at the ceiling.

It wasn’t until she heard Steve say that he was going out with someone else that she realized what she had been so worried about on that night when she saw her unconscious best friend in the backseat. She finally understood that she wanted to be something more than just a best friend to Steve Harrington, she wanted to be his. The sinking feeling in her stomach was heartache and love mixed together, for someone who had never shown any signs of either towards her.

The next five hours were spent by trying to fully comprehend her feelings and how she could tell him—or not tell him—about what was happening. She went back and forth between putting their friendship on the line by confessing everything to him and keeping it all bottled up for the rest of their lives.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a rapid knock on the front door that she recognized immediately, it was Steve. She put on a fake smile as she rushed to the front door, taking deep breaths to compose herself as she opened it. The look on Steve’s face was confusing to her, it wasn’t overly excited or overly upset.

“Hey, how was your date?” she blurted out, almost unable to stop her nosy thoughts as she let him in.

“It was okay.” he shrugged, shuffling into the living room with an unamused expression. “She was boring, all she wanted to do was gossip and I honestly couldn’t care less about any of the shit she was talking about.”

“Sounds like you’re never going to ask her out again, right?” she teased, hope creeping up in her as she spoke.

“Yeah, probably not.” he chuckled, plopping down on the couch. “I just—I don’t know what to expect from girls now, I guess? I have too high of standards, maybe.”

“Your standards are high after dating a girl who dumped you for the guy she told you not to worry about?” she implored, eyes narrowed as Steve rolled his eyes at her.

“No, not because of Nancy.” he sighed, voice wavering as he spoke, as if he was nervous about something.

“Then why do you think they’re so high?” she asked while searching through the TV stand cabinets for a movie, faced away from Steve to save herself from more heartbreak and unable to see him staring at her.

“Because the best person for me has been right in front of me forever, but I didn’t know how to tell her.” he said quickly, making her heart and the movie in her hands drop. “It took me going on a date with Stacey to realize that I’ve been right next to the right girl for me this whole time."

“Steve—“ she started, but couldn’t bring herself to finish as she processed what he had said.

“Yeah?” he said, almost regretting what he had said as she refused to look back at him. “Y’know, actually? Just—Just forget I said that, it was stupid.”

“No, it wasn’t stupid, Steve.” she said softly, finally daring to lock eyes with him; the look on his face was serious but more nervous than she had ever seen.

“You don’t think so?” he asked hopefully, watching as she walked towards the couch carefully.

“As long as you were talking about me, then yes. I don’t think it’s stupid.” she laughed, sitting down next to him. “I think I feel the same. Seeing you with those kids, putting your life on the line them so selflessly and seeing you protect us made me realize what I had been missing out on this whole time.”

“Well, in that case. I can finally do what I’ve been waiting to do all day.” he mumbled, inching his face dangerously close to hers.

There was only a small gap between them as she looked up at him, a smile on his lips as he looked at her lovingly. His lips were soft and the kiss was gentle, nothing like what she expected their first kiss to be like. It was almost calming, how sweet the kiss was. That sinking feeling that had settled in her stomach weeks before was finally all the way gone, she felt like she didn’t have anything to worry about anymore. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she wasn’t supposed to fall in love with her best friend, but it was okay. Everything felt alright now.

tags: @sourapplebaby @harringtown @charmed-asylum @lemonypink @daddystevee @jxnehxpper @a-magey @igotmadskills @heart-eye-harrington @queenofthehairharrington

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 3

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1       Part 2     Part 4     Part 5

Same day, later in the evening

“What are you doing, Pumpkin?” The Joker crawls next to you although he has an idea about why you look upset.

You’re on your tummy scribbling on a piece of paper and he can tell you are concentrating hard while working on the current project: writing down your name. Only got the first three letters then the rest went blank.

“I….I can’t think…” you intensely stare at the blue pen in between your fingers.

“Of course you can!” J reaches over so he can guide your arm since it’s clear you need help. “There you go… done. Now try to copy it bellow, alright?”

“Hm?”

“Try again Princess,” he taps on the sheet and watches Y/N struggling to imitate the word. “Well done!” The King of Gotham praises. “Wanna give it a shot with a few more simple words?”

“Mmmm…” you debate. “OK?...”

You analyze The Joker’s movements as he depicts four letter words, one of them getting your attention in particular.

“Love?” you smile, happy you deciphered the meaning.

“Yes, a basic…”

“Love?” you scoot over, more and more excited and it clicks for your boyfriend.

“It’s just an example for you to exercise and relearn how to write, understand? It doesn’t mean anything!”

You giggle and touch his nose with yours.

“Love!”

“No Pumpkin! I don’t love you, how did you get such atrocity from my note??!! It has no hidden meaning! I barely, from very afar, remotely, not even similar to love, sort of like you and that’s it!”

You snicker and quickly slide to grab the yellow teddy bear, whispering in its ear:

“Love.”

“Aren’t you listening Princess?? Don’t start fake rumors!!”

Still…Y/N lives on her own little planet and her damaged brain grasped a wonderful concept despite The Clown vehemently dismissing his actions.

“Serves me right for being supportive,” he grumbles and resorts to diversion, the best weapon against your new found logic.

“Wanna read to me?” he points at the pile of children’s books resting on the nightstand: they are the best to use in your present circumstance.

“… … Read?... ” you ask, confused.

“Here,” J picks a random publication and gives it to you.

Might as well fully take advantage.

“Spoil me!” he buries his cheeks in your cleavage, guiding your free hand towards his green locks.

You never figured out how he doesn’t suffocate with his face glued to your skin; sometimes he sleeps like that for hours. Must be a special talent.

“The … ummm… the…. The duck…” you read the first page and massage his scalp, frowning at the words you can’t make sense of. “Cross… … crossed?...”  

“Yeah,” The Joker’s mumbled voice agrees.

“… the… g-glass…” you stutter at the sentence.

“Grass,” J corrects you.

“Hm?...”

“Grass Pumpkin, not glass.”

“Ummm… grass…” you continue to read the best way you can and he rectifies your errors until no more sounds emerge: The King is softly purring, a clear indication he’s dreaming.

You toss the book on the floor, fed up with the difficult task of organizing your thoughts; pampering him is better. You slowly tilt his head backwards so you can kiss him: The Joker frowns in his daze and you pinch his butt, chuckling.

“What is it?” he opens one eye and you pull down on his boxers. “Princess, we had sex an hour ago. Do you think I run on batteries?” the complaint is fast to follow.

... … … Batteries?... …                         ��                  

You jump from the bed and stump to the closet, fumbling around for a couple of minutes before returning to a puzzled Clown.

You stretch the elastic of his underwear, dropping two batteries you snatched from the flashlight inside.

“How… how long do we w-wait?” you innocently ask.

The Joker bites his lip, attempting to contain himself yet he can’t: he bursts out laughing at your quirky solution while dragging you on top of him.

“You’re the funniest and smartest person I know, Pumpkin!” he cracks up, actually convinced he’s telling the truth. “Who’s my clever girl, huh?”

He’s talking about a girl again…What girl?...

Y/N peeks behind her and J reminds his baffled half:

“For God’s sake, Princess! I’m talking about you; you’re my girl! Can you get my phone?” he gestures at his mobile ringing by your pillow.

You give the cell to J, ignoring his conversation with Frost: you keep kissing him with the sole purpose of getting undivided affection.

“I guess Adam is here to pick up the cars you damaged,” he finally ends his chat. “Let’s go supervise the process. Don’t be disappointed, Pumpkin, we’ll have fun later. It’s your fault for destroying my collection!”

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

The Joker watches his crew sweeping the concrete in the garage: broken glass, pieces of metal and debris scattered on the pavement after his vehicles were hauled inside huge trucks in order to be transported to Adam’s workshop for repairs.

“Thanks a lot, Y/N!” he growls, frustrated.

“Y-you’re welcome,” you serenely reply without a care in the universe.

“You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me, Princess!” he huffs at your indifference.

“Love,” you confess to the fluffy toy squished in your embrace.

“I heard that and it’s an aberration! Why do you keep persisting with this nonsense?! I’m literally stating the opposite!” J admonishes but who’s listening to him?

Not Y/N.

“Nolan is texting me,” he changes subject. “He wants me to meet him at his warehouse to inspect the boxes of ammo for the deal. Will you accompany me?”

“Hm?”

“Car ride?” The King of Gotham simplifies his request.

“U-hum!” you nod, preparing to enter the purple Lamborghini which luckily wasn’t in the garage when you smashed J’s cars.

“Frost, if you see me parked up the street in the driving alley, don’t come investigate, got it? This woman’s been pestering me for extracurricular activities, might not make it inside the mansion.”

“Of course, sir!” Jonny finds it wise to consent to his boss’s rambling.

“Tell everyone: if the Lamborghini’s rockin’, don’t come knockin’!”

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

You’re sitting on J’s lap, completely blocking the arrangements happening at the table: you’re more preoccupied with your game than whatever it is they are negotiating about.

“What are you playing, Y/N?” Nolan curiously inquires because your thumbs are surely moving at a crazy speed on your cell’s screen.

“Hm?” you stop and gaze his way.

“What are you playing?” the man repeats.

“Mmmmm… Tetrixx Bricks.”

“What level are you on?” Nolan leans over, his eyes getting big at the revelation. “Holy shit, Y/N! How did you make it this far??! I’ve been striving to pass level 98 for a month!”

“She’s smart, that’s how!” your boyfriend sassily underlines.

“Do you think that you can help me?” the guy slides his phone in front of you.

“I’m sorry, is this a gaming party or a business matter?!” The Joker scoffs.

“Well, we’re pretty much done: we accepted the terms, we just have to move the merchandise in the morning.”

You are already matching the colorful blocks on Nolan’s game, his face ecstatic when the obnoxious song announces with great fanfare: “Level Up!”

“Holy cow!!!!” he shouts and you return his phone. “Thank you!”

“Hey Y/N,” one of the mobster’s henchmen dares to voice his demand. “Would you help me too? I’m stuck on level 76.”

“I’m dead on 105,” another goon mumbles under his breath, stepping in the line forming to your left.

J would normally cut off this useless waste of his precious time yet he can’t deny the gratification building up in his heart: heavens knows how it feels to be trapped inside your own mind and his girl has definitely battled unimaginable odds to be where she’s at right now.

Living with cognitive impairment is not easy, but she’s still here and it beats the alternative.

“Good job, Pumpkin!” The Clown boasts at the long string of cell phones parading through your fingers while you aid Nolan’s team leveling up on Tetrixx Bricks.

And somehow his hands are holding you tighter, not even bored with the random outcome of his meeting.

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

You escaped on the terrace for a break and J is discussing the last details with your host: tomorrow you have a routine checkup, thus he has to wrap it up soon.

“Out of my way, half-wit!” Derek aka Nolan’s oldest son pushes you. Would he have done it if you were the same individual from almost a year ago? Nope. Apparently he believes he’s entitled to take advantage of Y/N since she’s alone outside.

“Why did Mister Joker bring you anyway?” he lights up a cigarette, annoyed. “Stupid monosyllabic bitch!” he ogles your summer dress, swiftly lifting it. “Are you wearing diapers?” he chuckles as you walk backwards, trying to process what he’s throwing at you. “Come on, show me!” he approaches and carefully scouts the premises to ensure you two don’t have company.

Perhaps the neurons in your brain are overcharged for the moment; nevertheless, they warn of imminent altercation: the dude’s a total douchebag.

“Are you shy?” Derek grins. “C’mon, lemme see!! Oooohh…fuuuuck…” he bends over in pain when your knee unexpectedly kicks him in the crotch: you used all your strength and he drops down, curling up in a ball. “God…dammit!” Derek shrieks at the defense he didn’t anticipate.

“I…I’m not wearing diapers!” you stammer and because he landed on the edge of the pool you roll him in the water also.

The loud splash makes The Joker wave at you, glad he eventually found you: he’s been searching around the warehouse for the last 5 minutes.

“There you are! Quit playing around, Pumpkin; we have a swimming pool at home!”

You rush by his side eager to bail before the asshole pops up from the bottom of the pond.

“Sushi for dinner?” J suggests and Y/N is not the type of individual to reject one of her favorite dishes.

“I…I love sushi,” you smile elbowing him. “Love.”

“Don’t start with me again!” The King barks at your obvious hint.

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

“Are you eating the last piece?” he glares at your salmon roll.

“No,” you offer the treat to him. “You…you need it more,” Y/N verbalizes her concern regarding his well-being.

“Can’t disagree, Pumpkin. You exhausted me you naughty girl,” J pretends to be super tired. “What can I do? Princess wants, Princess gets,” he inhales, resigned.

You’re not focusing on his whining: frankly, your intellect has been challenged enough for today. You cuddle in his arms while he chews on his food and watch TV without paying attention to the movie.

“Don’t forget tomorrow morning you have your doctor’s appointment,” J mentions. “I have to stay and wait for the guns I purchased from Nolan; you’ll have to manage without me. I’ll send an escort, deal?”

“U-hum.”

“Don’t yawn, Pumpkin. I’m the one that should yawn,” The Joker scratches his thigh. “This move sucks,” he pouts and turns off the TV. “I have a better idea,” he chooses a kid’s book from the stack. “Read to me.”

You open the textbook and although your brain is overwhelmed, you still make an effort for his sake.

“Mmm… Rainy… sky… Skies?...”

“Yup,” he turns on his side and nuzzles in your hair.

“Float over…hmm… t-town…”, your voice echoes in the room, soothing a worn out Joker.

Strange he can’t properly rest unless you read to him: after all J barely, from very afar, remotely, not even similar to love, sort of likes you.

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[dhufflebee]

of t-shirts and hoodies (a Glee fanfiction)

One-shot Fandom: Glee Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jesse St. James/Rachel Berry Characters: Jesse St. James; Rachel Berry  Additional Tags: Fluff; Cuddles; Late Night Conversations; gratuitous references to the Michelin Man; discussions about clothes; couples' clichés; they're just very cute is all; Implied Sexual Content

Also read on:  AO3  |  ff.net Summary: Rachel and Jesse have a late-night conversation (and a winter morning surprise) about clothes and couples’ clichés.

Apparently these two are the only thing that can get me motivated enough to write as of lately.

Anyway, this is just a fluffy little slice of life (?) that I really couldn’t get out of my head. Rachel and Jesse are so cute; I miss them.

Still half asleep, Jesse heard a sound he didn’t recognize, and stirred under the duvet. His mind wanted to attribute the sound to the pleasant dream he’d been dreaming and couldn’t quite remember—yet the low, uneven sound wasn’t stopping. Jesse forced his eyes open and blinked a few times to regain some clarity of mind. His brain finally caught up with his ears and he recognized the noises in his bedroom: rummaging, feet shuffling, annoyed murmurs. Jesse started, alarmed by the presence of an intruder, and readied himself to jump off the bed to grab his baseball bat.

After a couple of seconds, though, the reality of the situation washed over him—It’s just Rachel. Jesse exhaled and shook his head, smiling. She’d moved into his apartment the previous month, but the novelty of living together still took Jesse by surprise every now and again.

Jesse finally emerged from under the covers in time to see Rachel put her pajamas back on, frowning like she’d received the worst news of her life. She then got back under the duvet by his side, and crossed her arms on her chest while staring at the ceiling. Jesse was frowning as well now, and he turned towards her: “Rach, what’s up?”

“I cannot believe you don’t own a single loose-fitting shirt!” she said, emphatically.

“What?!”

Rachel finally turned to look at him, eyes ablaze. “I said, I cannot believe you—”

“I heard what you said. What does it mean?” Jesse asked, bewildered.

Rachel huffed, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “Look at me. I had to put my pajamas back on,” she said, raising her eyebrows, clearly waiting for an answer from Jesse, who was at a loss for words. “My own PJs, Jesse! After sexy times!” she explained, petulantly.

Jesse burst out laughing. “Sexy times?”

Rachel scrunched her nose and stuck her tongue out at him, and Jesse shuffled under the covers until he reached her and enveloped her in a hug. She cuddled up to him and entangled her legs with his, humming comfortably. Jesse’s heart swelled with affection—How was I ever able to sleep before having Rachel here with me, God only knows.

“I still don’t get it, though. What’s with my shirts?” Jesse asked, stroking Rachel’s hair.

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

“It’s bothering you, so it clearly isn’t a trivial matter. Besides, I nearly took you for an intruder, and you know how effective I can be with that baseball bat.” He felt Rachel chuckle against his chest—surely one of the most pleasant sensations life could offer.

“It’s just—” Rachel began, shrugging a little. “You know that thing you always see in movies? where the woman is so settled into their life together or their home or whatever that she can just like, wear his clothes? Especially in the morning, when she wakes up after a night together.” Rachel shook her head and waved her hand, like she was trying to shoo an innocuous but persistent fly. “It’s silly, I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s actually kind of adorable,” Jesse said, before kissing the crown of her head softly. “Why all that fuss earlier, then? I do own clothes, you know,” he added with a smirk.

“I know you do,” Rachel exclaimed, with a smile and a playful swat on his chest. Then she frowned again, and Jesse had to resist the urge to smooth the line between her brows with his thumb. Instead, he caressed her cheek in that way he knew she liked. Rachel closed her eyes and hummed softly, and Jesse was afraid his heart would explode at any moment.

“I’ve always dreamed,” Rachel mused after a while, “that I would be able to just—take a look at my husband’s side of the closet and immediately find a loose, well-loved t-shirt to put on when I woke up, or even just a big hoodie during winter nights, you know?” A wistful smile was dancing on Rachel’s lips. Jesse (whose breath had hitched in pleasant surprise when she’d so casually said husband) looked intently at her face, and smiled in return.

“Only problem is,” Rachel said, quirking an eyebrow, “you don’t own any hoodies, and all your tops are tight cause you’re so lean and fit… Not that I’m complaining, mind you,” she added, a little breathlessly, while slowly tracing the muscles on Jesse’s abdomen with her fingers.

Jesse, for his part, was certain he’d lose any ability to understand what Rachel was saying, if she insisted on doing that—his brain was two seconds away from short-circuiting, and his skin burned under her touch. Jesse struggled to steady his breath and mentally begged Rachel to stop, because he wanted to listen to her and talk to her, and she was making it unfairly hard. (Then, when she stopped, he cursed himself for ever thinking that.)

Holding Rachel in his arms, feeling her that close to him, was intoxicating, but at least Jesse’s mind was clearing up. “I can go get some large t-shirts tomorrow, if you want,” he offered.

“Thanks, but that wouldn’t be the same,” Rachel answered shaking her head, her hair falling everywhere. She then caught a strand and started fiddling with it, almost anxiously. “The point is that the shirt should be yours, you know? Even better if it’s old and loose and soft—not the right size for my body, yet barely big enough to contain all my love.”

Rachel had spoken so quietly that Jesse wouldn’t have heard her if they hadn’t been that close. His heart swelled up, and once again he felt like he was on fire, only that time it was the steady, comforting warmth of affection spreading all through him—God, he loved her so much.

Jesse hugged Rachel tighter, the space between them almost nonexistent. She sneaked an arm around his waist and murmured: “That was so sappy”. She scrunched her nose against his chest, and he kissed the top of her head, a smile on his lips.

-----------------------------------------------

Rachel closed the door behind her and hung her coat and purse on the rack nearby. She was trying to be as quiet as possible, so not to spoil her surprise for Jesse—she’d come back home way earlier than usual, having left school before her lessons even ended just because she missed Jesse and wanted to see and hug him. Their respective schedules were a mess that month, what with her studying and him just starting rehearsals for his show, and they’d seen very little of each other. Late nights and snatchy Sundays and the rare, rushed lunch were not nearly enough.

She left her shoes near the door and padded towards the kitchen, were she could hear Jesse humming and handling plates in that noisy way of his. Rachel was glad Jesse was distracted, because that meant she could surprise him with a hug from behind—something she loved to do, and that he endearingly called ‘the sneaky koala’.

Rachel walked up to Jesse and put her arms around his waist; she felt his body tense under her touch, then relax after a couple of seconds. “Hey, Rach,” he said, a smile in his voice.

“Hi, baby,” Rachel answered, her voice muffled by Jesse’s hoodie. Wait, what? A hoodie? Rachel stepped back and stared at Jesse’s back with a puzzled expression. He was wearing a big hoodie over what appeared to be several oversized t-shirts—a rather warm outfit for a winter morning but one that was decidedly not Jesse’s style.

After a beat, Jesse turned around as well, his head tilted to the side. “What are you doing here, Rachel? Aren’t you supposed to be at school now?”

“What are you doing dressed like that, Jesse?” Rachel sputtered, gesturing wildly in his direction. “You look like the Michelin Man!”

Jesse chuckled, and Rachel could swear he was blushing a little, too. “You first,” he urged.

“I just wanted to surprise you is all,” she answered, her expression softening. “We’ve seen so little of each other lately, and I just really missed you.”

Jesse smiled and enveloped Rachel in a hug, resting his chin on her head. She sighed contentedly against the soft fabric of his hoodie. “This feels really weird, you with all these layers and stuff. What’s going on?”

“I’m just—” Jesse began, a note of uncertainty in his voice. “I’m trying to speedrun the process of making these clothes feel well-worn.”

“What?”

“I’ve been wearing all these shirts whenever I’ve been home alone in the past week,” he explains, the red on his cheeks deepening. “The plan was to just do it for a little while more, and then surprise you one morning when you opened my side of the closet.”

Rachel stared intently at Jesse, going almost weak at the knees at the fondness in his eyes. Her brain was trying to remember something, but the details were fuzzy except for the vague recollection of a late-night conversation about clothes. “You mean—”

“Yeah, so you can put on a big t-shirt of mine when you wake up,” Jesse said, bashfully.

The force of the memory slammed Rachel like an oncoming train. She couldn’t believe he’d taken her sleepy, nonsensical rambling that seriously. Her heart swelled up, and she felt she was about to burst at the seams with the intensity of her love for Jesse. She stood on tiptoes, put a hand on his neck and pulled him into a kiss. He smiled against her lips, before deepening the kiss and pressing himself flush against her.

Rachel broke the kiss apart after a while, happy that Jesse looked as flushed and out of breath as she was. She smiled and thanked him, resting a hand on his chest. “I can’t believe you’d do this for me… It was just a silly thing, really.”

Jesse tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, smiling softly. “Of course, Rachel. You know I’d do anything to make you happy.”

Rachel bit her lip. Missing Jesse made her heart ache on the daily, but at that moment she felt so grateful and in love that she feared her heart would explode nonetheless.

“Um, baby?” Rachel said, pulling playfully at the hem of his hoodie. “Do you think you need help getting out of these shirts?”

Jesse laughed out loud, tilting his head back. “I think I can manage!”

Rachel huffed in mock exasperation and wiggled her eyebrows at him.

“Oh, you meant it like that,” Jesse exclaimed, smirking. “Then I definitely need you to help me.”

“Good,” Rachel mused, before giving him a peck on the lips and tugging at his arm so that he’d follow her. “I wonder how it’s going to feel like, getting out of bed and finally wearing a t-shirt that belongs to the man I love.” She smiled at Jesse, who was beaming and looking at her so eagerly that she felt heat spread through her body.

Maybe I should make a habit of ditching school to come home in the morning.

[transcendence-au]

r!Pacifica tricks Dipper into running a booth at a TwinCon. He comes across an r!Mabel and an r!Henry who meet at his booth. (Also, brownie points if it’s a Mizcor booth)They both talk about how much they love Alcor and want to date him, and Dipper helps them realize that the traits they’re projecting onto ‘Alcor’ are actually traits they can find in each other. SO WOODZAR HAS BLOSSOMED IN THE PLACE OF MIZCOR

Mod F got really excited about this and ended up writing a thing! (Here it is on AO3 too)

===

Dipper looked toward the entrance of the convention center, at the large banner proudly proclaiming “WELCOME TO TWINCON 2896″, and slammed his head face-first onto the table.

Damn Aubrey. Damn her to the deepest pits of the Nightmare Realm for making him run a booth at TwinCon. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself get taken in by her evil tricks and wily ways; couldn’t believe he made a bet with her and lost. That was the last time he trusted Pacifica’s soul. And he totally meant it this time! Way more than the last eight times Aubrey had tricked him. He definitely wasn’t going to immediately go back to being friends with her. This was the last straw.

A loud creak announced the opening of the main con doors, and the room was quickly filled with a flurry of excitement. Dipper picked his head off the table with a sigh and prepared himself for a long day of peddling garbage. He considered how he must look – a sad demon sitting under a sign reading “MICOR MEMORABILIA” and surrounded by perverse figurines, body pillows, and graphic novels.

And then his curiosity got the better of him. He conjured a mirror in his hand and immediately noticed his top hat was askew, so he reached up to straighten it out. Perfect. He actually looked pretty good that day if he did say so himself. His hair was fluffy, his suit was pressed, his teeth looked sharp. Nice and presentable. He was so busy making faces in the mirror that he almost forgot he was at a convention, until -

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Ack!” Dipper yelped in surprise, his hat shooting high into the air. Despite this, he didn’t take his eyes off the mirror. “What do you want?”

“I hope I didn’t frighten you! You’ve got some lovely merch here. I was just wondering how much this comic would cost.”

“Check the price tag,” he responded gruffly.

“I- I tried, but it doesn’t look like there is one.”

Groaning, Dipper flicked his eyes away from his own beautiful reflection so he could see exactly what depraved nonsense the voice wanted to purchase, and -

Mizar smiled sweetly back at him.

The mirror shattered in his hand. Oh no. Oh no no no no no. This wasn’t happening. Why was she here? What was going on?

“I’ve heard about this series before,” he suddenly realized Mizar was saying, “but I never had the chance to check it out before. It’s a coffee shop AU, right? It’s so inspiring that fans can take the framework of Twin Souls and make even more beautiful stories based off of it.”

Dipper’s head was too filled with buzzing to really make much sense of what she was saying. All he could think about was how his sister’s soul was apparently a fan of the worst book series in the universe. It didn’t even seem like she was doing it as a gag like Mabel did – the girl in front of him was radiating nothing but enthusiasm and sincerity in her aura.

“Oh, I’ve read that!” another voice piped in. “It’s dope as fuck, although the first volume’s got a bit of a Woodzar focus. But if you can power through that, it’s high key Micor there on out.”

Okay okay okay. He could do something about this. Maybe he’d take Mizar aside and have a talk with her about why being a Twin Souls fan was a sin of the highest calibre. Dipper tore his eyes away from her for a moment to tell the newcomer to go away, but no sooner did he get a good look at them than he felt all the air kicked out of his imaginary lungs.

“Don’t get me wrong, man,” Henry’s soul continued, a sly look on her face. “Woodzar is a fine ship. There’s a lot of good Woodzar fic out there and I don’t fault anyone for writing it. But if we’re gonna be honest with ourselves, it’s pretty obvious that Alcor and Mizar belong together. Their romantic chemistry is off the goddamn charts. Remember when they finally kissed in the first novel? Oh, fuckin’ heart palpitations, man.”

The blood drained from Dipper’s face. What in the world was happening? Why were Mizar and Henry both Twinners? What was the universe punishing him for this time??

“I know, right?” Mizar replied with a giggle. “My name’s Minty, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

Henry’s soul grinned back. “Halley. Nice to meet you too. I knew coming to this con would be a good idea – it’s the perfect place to find like minded people.”

“What about you?” Minty asked, and it took Dipper a minute – so embroidered was he in querying his omniscience to see exactly what traumatizing thing had happened to Minty and Halley that made them turn out this way – to realize that she was talking to him.

“I, uh, I’m… not a… Micor is bad,” he said finally.

Halley frowned. “What, don’t you love Alcor too? You’re running a booth at TwinCon and your cosplay is on-point! That suit must’ve been expensive, and the wings look almost real!”

Puffs of steam shot out from Dipper’s ears and he flared his wings. “It’s not a cosplay, I just look like this! And I’ll have you know that I would’ve never in a million years gone to a TwinCon if my friend Aubrey hadn’t pretended to be really bad at hula hooping and then made a bet with me that she could beat me in a hula hoop contest and then absolutely kicked my ass into the stratosphere with her nutty good hooping! Graggh!” He slammed his forehead into the table again.

“Awwww,” Minty cooed. “Stage fright is the worst. I know I sure was nervous the first time I went to a con in full cosplay. That was awful nice of your friend to convince you to go anyway!”

Dipper’s head shot up and he stared slack-jawed at the two of them just as Halley nodded. “You’ve got this man, you know? Like I said, your outfit kicks ass. And hey, thanks for opening up to us. That can’t have been easy.”

“B- but I- you WHAT-” Dipper stammered.

Minty squeaked and clapped her hands together. “Yeah! I feel like I’ve made some great friends at this con already.”

“I’m- n- no you’re WILDLY mistaken- this isn’t-”

Both Halley and Minty turned their backs to the increasingly flustered demon and leaned against the stall, looking off into the rest of the hall with pensive expressions. “Friends are nice,” Halley murmured, “but what I wouldn’t give to meet Alcor at this convention. He’s everything I want in a partner. And then I wouldn’t be so lonely anymore.”

Minty put her hand on Halley’s shoulder. “I know what you mean! He’s so confident and protective. Loyal to a fault. If Alcor was here, I’d ask him on a date!”

“What makes you think Alcor wants to date any of you humans?” Dipper grumbled. “Or anyone at all?”

“Don’t be such a pessimist, man!” Halley responded. She patted Dipper on the back, surprising him into coughing out a little cloud of yellow sparkles. “Alcor is real and he’s out there. As long as there’s the smallest spark of hope that he might love me back, I’ll follow him to the ends of the Earth!”

Minty slapped her forehead, startling Dipper out of the silent terror written all over his face. “Oh, duh! He’s cosplaying as Alcor because he’s here to find his Miiiizar! That’s why he’s not interested in Alcor’s love! I connected the dots!”

“No, you haven’t connected anything!” Dipper tried to cut in, terror returning in full force because the situation was spiralling rapidly out of control, but Minty kept going.

“Ah, if only I was Mizar,” she trilled as Dipper watched her soul dance traitorously in her chest. “Then it’d only be a matter of time before Alcor came to ask me out. We’d go to the coffee shop he works at and someone would cover his shift. I’d get a hot chocolate; he, an iced latte.” She sat on the table, sending a set of Mizar action figures toppling over onto Dipper’s lap. “I’d tell him all about how art school’s going and he’d confide in me some dark secrets about how the 2801 moon landing was faked because giant aliens were playing golf with the planets and accidentally knocked the moon into a black hole. And then, finally, he’d give me a dainty kiss on the cheek, and I’d make a little squeaky noise, yknow, and he’d blush and ask me if it was alright for him to do that, and then I’d say I’d rather you kiss me on the lips instead. And then -”

“Okay, I think I’ve heard enough of your fanfiction!” Dipper shouted, cheeks going completely scarlet, claws making deep gashes in the table from how tightly he was gripping it. “I didn’t- I’ve never- No one needed to hear that, it’s- I feel lightheaded.”

“I know what you mean, man,” Halley spoke up, an obvious wobble to her tone. Dipper and Minty looked up to see her staring off into the distance, eyes red and puffy, hands crossed over her heart. “I’m feeling it too. That was so beautiful, Minty, you sure as hell have got a way with words. And yknow, I- I work in a coffee shop, actually. I’d totally take Alcor there. We’d talk and laugh – damn, he’s gotta just have the most heartwarming laugh in the world – and I’d straight up offer right there on the spot to be his Mizar. I wanna protect the world, but I also wanna protect him, I know he’s got a sensitive side, I just know it. I’d chew steel for him.”

No no no no. This had to stop. Mind racing, Dipper struggled to find something they’d said to latch onto. “Hey, uh, Minty!” he interrupted. “You like coffee shops, right? Halley… works in one! You should go there with her. Instead of being here.”

“That’s a great idea!” Minty squealed. “We should all meet up for coffee after the convention!”

“No!” Dipper blurted. “I meant, you two should go. Together. Without me.” All he got in return was blank stares. He ran his hand through his bangs nervously. “Listen, Minty, Alcor doesn’t work at a coffee shop, because no one in the country will hire him. His claws make awful screeching noises on the mugs, and also he’s a demon. But Halley does work at a coffee shop. Maybe… there’s something there?”

Minty and Halley traded glances. “I don’t understand,” the former finally said.

Dipper facepalmed. “Okay. How about… Halley, you want to protect Alcor. That’s ridiculous, he doesn’t need protecting, he has so much magic. But Minty goes to art school, she probably needs someone to, I dunno, support her during tight deadlines. That’s like… mental health protection.”

Minty shrugged. “I guess that sounds nice…”

“And, uh, Minty, you want someone who’s loyal, which sounds to me like what you really need is a dog, not a romantic partner, and I’m not- Alcor is not a dog. Also, again, he’s a demon, he’s only loyal to himself. But if you’re really set on getting that kind of loyalty and trust from a sentient creature, well, Halley’s offered to chew steel for love.”

“Hey man, don’t put words in my mouth, I said I’d chew steel for Alcor,” Halley countered, putting her hands on her hips and staring Dipper down. After a moment, though, she looked back at Minty, who had a starstruck look on her face, and drew back. “I- I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like you Minty. I just don’t want to be alone anymore. How can I trust someone other than Alcor not to get tired of me?”

“Kinda toxic, but also big mood,” Dipper muttered. “Trust isn’t something you can or even should have for people you don’t know. Not just for romance – in any kind of relationship, trust is something you build up through getting to know someone. I should know; there’ve been so many times when I made the mistake of trusting someone – say, not to snuggle body pillows with half naked pictures of me on them – without even knowing them, just because of my preconceived notions about who those people are. Relationships are always a risk, but they’re worth it when they work out. You’ll miss out if you’re too afraid to take that risk.”

He beamed at them, extremely proud of his little speech he’d managed to pull together. Minty and Halley stared back, mouths agape, probably blown away by his emotional maturity.

Then they launched themselves at each other and started furiously making out.

“Oh my stars!” Dipper yelled, recoiling from the mass of flailing limbs. “You literally just met each other! Go get a coffee or something first, holy shit!”

They broke apart, faces red but grinning. “Wow,” Minty breathed.

“Yeah. Wow,” Halley echoed. “Um, would you maybe want to walk around the convention with me? And maybe go get some coffee together afterward? I do work at a coffee shop nearby.”

Minty squealed again and grabbed Halley’s hands. “That sounds wonderful!”

“Yo, dude,” Halley said to Dipper, who was clutching his chest and hyperventilating. “Thanks for the advice. You’ve got some dope emotional maturity. Your friends are lucky to know you.”

Dipper, still trying to calm down, opened his mouth to make some words and only managed to emit a weak gurgle. He settled for giving them a nod.

The two of them started to walk away, but Minty paused and turned back. “Oh wait. We never got your name.”

“I’m Alcor the Dreambender,” Dipper grunted without a second’s pause. “Go away.”

Halley laughed. “Sure you are. You’re really committed to the character, I love it! Maybe we’ll see you around.”

Dipper gave them a strangled half-smile and waved them off, to which they finally made their departure. Finally alone, he collapsed onto the table out of exhaustion. He was relieved that he’d managed to turn Mabel and Henry’s souls away from being Micor shippers, but after a few minutes of lying there the reality of what he’d just done started to sink in.

“Oh stars, I just shipped my sister and her husband,” he moaned. “What is my life. Please, universe, let me get through the rest of the day without anything else happening. Please.”

Naturally, someone immediately started talking to him. “Yo, sleeping guy, wake up.”

“Whatever it is, please just use the credit card swiper and move on,” he responded.

“Dude, what swiper. Help me out.”

With a groan, Dipper picked his head up, and then he froze, his every hair standing on end like a terrified cat.

“This body pillow rocks,” Soos’s soul said, hugging one of the models that had both Alcor and Mizar on it, half naked and blushing. “You gotta hook me up.”

“Ohhhh, I have that pillow! You won’t regret it!” came another voice, and Dipper looked over to see Melody’s soul walking up to the table. “You’ve got good taste. Micor forever, am I right? Bro, there’s some really good smutfic I could recommend you if you’re interested.”

Dipper slid out of his chair and curled up into a ball under the table. “Damn you Aubrey,” he whispered. “I’ll fucking get you back for making me do this.”

(As it turned out, giving Aubrey a dream about being stuck at a convention where everyone was attracted to her did not adequately “get back” at her, and it was a full week before she stopped laughing about it.)

[blackaquokat]

The Song You Might Have Been (Chapter 4)

Link to Chapter 1 and Chapter 3 here!

A/N: TW for another attempted murder. Plus a fistfight. Because our leading characters are emotionally constipated morons.

---

Funnily enough, the next attempt for your life has nothing to do with your framed case. Which is both a good and bad thing.

Good because a paid assassin is more difficult to sniff out and is financially motivated to really ensure the job is done. Not to mention is more talented at getting away with murder.

Bad because at the moment you’re staring at Newman and three other lackies behind him. They have cornered you in the empty laundry room. Newman is brandishing a shiv sharpened from a toothbrush. You recognize two of his companions as criminals you prosecuted: one for murder and another for drug dealing.

“No one here to protect you now, huh, Eagle?” Newman sneers. “Which means we can cut you up however you want and no one will be any the wiser.”

You swing your arms back and forth casually before putting them behind your back. While you try to slyly get a grip on the large measuring cup of bleach on the table behind you, you speak up. “You’re really tempting fate here, aren’t you? Or are you telling me that Yancy gave you the all-clear to kill me after assigning me a bodyguard rotation?”

The Murderous inmate--Jerry Carson, you remember--pales three shades and turns on Newman. “Wait, hold on, this drip is still under Yancy’s protection? What the hell are you playing at, Newman? I don’t wanna be on Yancy’s shit list!”

Inmate-You-Don’t-Recognize nods frantically in agreement. “I only agreed to this because I was promised more cigarettes, but going against Yancy is suicide!”

(How are these guys so clueless? It’s not like it’s a secret that the gang has been joined to your hip for this long. Or is the rest of the prison under the impression that you’re just an unfortunate tag-along trying to kiss your way up the ladder?)

“Cowards, the lot of you!” Newman snaps. He turns back to you. “Not that I need help killing you. You’re just an attorney. What are you gonna do, throw the book at me?”

You let a sinister smile crawl across your face. “Maybe not the book.”

Newman’s eyes narrow into slits and he lunges for you--only to reel back screaming when you throw the bleach in his eyes.

You drop the cup and charge around him while he flails and furiously wipes at his face. To your surprise, none of the lackeys try to grab you as you escape.

On your way out of the room, you run smack into someone and start flailing when arms hold you in place.

“Whoa, whoa there, Eagle!” Once you hear Jimmy’s voice, you calm down and he releases you. “What’s your hurry?”

“They were about to be a pincushion.”

Jimmy turns to address, much to your surprise, the Drug Dealing inmate who had been suspiciously silent during the whole exchange. Declan Millard, you finally remember. 

“You the guy who let Bam-Bam know this was going down?”

Declan nods and winks at you. “Not that I have any fuzzy feelings for you, Eagle, but my lawyer informed me that you were pretty generous about my sentencing.”

“Considering I learned you discouraged dealing to the younger kids in the neighborhood you were in,” you respond automatically, more than a little stunned at this turn of events, “and that you gave up other dealers during the trial, it seemed like the fair thing to do.”

“Not many lawyers are fair, Eagle,” Declan reminds you. “I’d hate to deprive the world of the only one I know.”

“I see I missed the fun.” The three of you turn again and there’s Yancy, once again appearing out of nowhere. His arms are crossed, leaving his forearm tattoo in full view. He looks more lethal than you’ve ever seen him. 

“Not quite, boss.” Declan jerks a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the laundry room where they can all still hear Newman screaming and swearing. “The other two didn’t quite know what they were getting into, but Newman did.”

Yancy nods and cracks his knuckles. He puts a hand on your shoulder. “Why don’t youse go relax in your bunk for a bit? Jimmy and I can take care of this ourselves.”

“Just Newman,” you say, suddenly. “He’s the only one who tried to hurt me.”

“And he was paid for his efforts with a face full of bleach,” Declan reports in a gleeful tone. “It was an impressive sight.” He looks you up and down impressively. “You keep surprising me, Eagle.”

“Yes, yes, they’re very surprising,” Yancy repeats dismissively. “Clear out, Declan. Eagle, back to your cell, that’s an order.”

The look you give him at that statement is enough to have him offer only a somewhat apologetic grimace before entering the laundry room with Jimmy.

You’re halfway down the hall before you hear a loud scream that cuts off into a gurgle only moments later.

---

You go back to your cell, simply because you don’t have anything better to do besides work on another letter to send to the legislature, but when you get there, you almost think you’ve gotten horribly mixed up.

“Um…”

Your cell is completely redecorated. There’s a small white wire tea table with matching chairs and a vase with lovely yellow flowers. Your second set of prison clothes are hanging on various clotheslines. There’s a tiny nightstand with a lamp by your bed, which has new sheets, a comforter, and two more fluffy pillows. Toiletries, of all things, sit in a neat section on the back of and next to the toilet. There’s even an adorable little potted tree with white leaves (that one is probably fake). Someone even put a goddamn fur rug next to the bunk with a pair of slippers. Slippers, for God’s sake.

You’re still gaping at all of this contraband, which makes the cell seem almost decadent in its furnishings, when you hear a low laugh behind you and whirl around to see Heap-Ass deliver you a casual salute before leaving.

“Why the tree?” you blurt out first, because apparently that is the strangest thing in this room and not the goddamn fur rug and furry pillow.

“The boss loves trees,” Heap-Ass yells back.

“Thanks!” you hurry to say before he gets out of earshot. Reverently, you sit at the wire table, where your writing supplies and paper and even a brand new leather bound notebook awaits you, and get started on another letter.

What alternate dimension have I fallen into?

When Yancy returns, his hands suspiciously cleaner than they normally are, you ask him if the refurbishings were his doing. You’ve moved from the table to your bed, curled under the blankets, the lamp switched on, and have now moved onto writing notes in your notebook. It’ll be easier to keep lists of requests in this rather than whatever scraps of paper you can get your hands on.

He shrugs at your questioning look. “Consider it a sign of gratitude for the new books. And the poetry readings youse been doing every night.”

You shut the notebook. “And you go this far for just anyone who does you favors?”

“Only I didn’t ask youse for the books, did I, Eagle?” Yancy challenges. “Did that on your own. Because youse got more fight and more brains than any other goon in this place.”

“Yancy--”

“Listen here, Eagle, I ain’t takin’ any refusal for the gift, alright? Besides, I benefit from these furnishings too.”

“You love trees, yeah, I heard.” 

You want to trust that that’s all this is, you really do. You appreciate the little things that have gone a long way to make you more comfortable, but that’s the problem. You don’t want to get comfortable. If you get comfortable, then it will be that much harder to leave.

Something tells you that that might be exactly what Yancy was hoping for. Though God knows why he’s so desperate for you to stick around.

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that my last update with Damien involved breaking down more of Merrill Byron’s operation?”

Yancy flinches and avoids your question by hopping into the top bunk. Moments later, “What makes you think I care what your soon-to-be Mayor friend has to say?”

“Because if they manage to pin any of that operation to Byron, then my name gets cleared and I can leave.” 

You can’t see his face, but Yancy’s silences can be just as telling as the nonsense he spouts off. 

“Hey, Eagle!” shouts Bam-Bam from down the hall. “You gonna read tonight or what?”

You sigh and reach for the book compilation of Edna St. Vincent Millay poetry you borrowed for the evening. “Alright, keep your shirts on, guys. I’ll only be reading three tonight, don’t get comfortable.”

You’re looking forward to a night of sleep that won’t involve shivering. Turns out the mattress was replaced too, and you are equally looking forward to not feeling springs stab into your back and sides.

---

You never give up, really. 

But by the time Week Nine in Happy Trails Penitentiary begins, you start to feel discouraged.

Not that anyone else really gets why. You’ve been perfectly happy organizing the new books and teaching the first few inmate volunteers the Dewey Decimal System so that they can locate and sort the books easier. All those years of trying to pay your way through University as the local librarian are really paying off now. Not that it didn’t pay off before. 

“Is it really so bad here?” Jimmy asks you in the yard one day. He’s smuggled bread rolls for the entire gang (which does include you now, you guess). “I mean, I know the hooch wine doesn’t do much for you, but we can always sneak the whiskey out of the warden’s office! Or Heap-Ass can get you some bourbon from the outside.”

“I appreciate the offer, Jimmy.” You swallow a bite of your roll before continuing. “But honestly, I...I can’t stay.”

“Why not?” Tiny insists. She’s clutching the copy of the Velveteen Rabbit to her chest. “Who’s going to run the library if you leave?”

“I can train you guys before I leave, or I can come back after I get out and help you set the rest up.” You scootch closer to Tiny. You would like to put your arm around her, but the last time you attempted physical comfort with her, she held a fork-shiv to your throat. “Look, I’m not going to just forget about you guys, okay? I’ve never had this many friends in my life. I plan on setting up a volunteer system here so I can come by whenever the hell I want.”

Tiny’s tentative smile fades into wide-eyed concern, suddenly, when she looks over your shoulder.

“Oh, sure youse will.” 

You spin around in surprise and, sure enough, there’s Yancy. Seriously, you might need to put a bell around his neck. 

“You think youse the first person to come in, get released, and never come back?” Yancy challenges. He saunters up to you not unlike a predatory cat. “Why don’t youse just admit that we’re not good enough for you?”

“What, just because I don’t want to sit in here while what little reputation I have with the public gets dragged through the mud?!” You toss your roll behind you as you approach Yancy and listen to some of the gang hurry to catch and call dibs on it. “While a killer goes free and strikes again to clean up loose ends? While my mom sits home alone, worried about me? She already went through losing my dad and my brother, do you think--”

“I told youse on Day One, Eagle,” Yancy snaps, “the past ain’t to be trifled with. If youse’s mum supposedly ‘cares’ about you so much, why’s she not visited? Some loving ma you’ve got there--”

“Because I told her not to, you idiot!”

Yancy freezes mid-accusatory finger point. “Youse--what?”

You look around and get close enough for no one else but Yancy to hear you. The two of you are already drawing eyes to your positions. “Do you think I want my mom to see me like this? She knows I could die in here, I know I could still die in here, and I don’t want her last memory of me to be one where I’m covered in blood and bruises and cuts, she already had to see me like that when I was in high school.”

“Every story I hear about youse’s life on the outside depresses the hell out of me, but that’s besides the point.” The anger in his voice is barely contained. “How about we talk about the fact that youse plan to leave the family here behind? What, youse didn’t like the cell renovations we made after your Nightly Poetry Reading?”

“Yes, I love the comfortable mattress and fur rug and the lamp and the non-itchy, non-bloodstained blankets that keep me warm at night, but Yancy, I can’t stay. Even if we catch the guy who put a hit out on me, who’s to say I won’t get a shiv in the back by someone who doesn’t want their parole? You think I don’t hear you telling other inmates about that little tactic? You’re not quiet at all about it!”

“I was hoping you’d get the hint, Eagle! We don’t want you to go! Do youse really think I’d let anyone kill you?”

“I don’t know what to think of you, Yancy!” you finally shout back. 

As soon as the words leave your lips you realize just how true they are. This man has both rescued you and killed for you and called you ridiculous names and comforted you and plotted the deaths of inmates and guards in front of you and it honestly has turned you in circles because despite all of that, despite your moral compass, you really like this complicated mess of a man. 

But this is not the time to unpack this increasingly weird relationship you have with him. “Yancy, can you really look me in the eye and promise that I won’t get killed in here?”

Yancy’s mouth opens and closes several times before eventually he shoves you away from him, as if that’ll distract you from the hurt in his eyes. “I shoulda guessed that the Legal Eagle would get too high and mighty for us jailbirds!”

“Yancy--”

“Youse just like my dad! Standing there and judging me like youse think you know better, like youse so much better than me just because youse’s hands are clean?!” He puts his fists up. “Why don’t you get them dirty for once?”

Oh, this bastard. He’s going to make you do it, isn’t he? He’s really going to make you fight him. You put your arms on your hips. “Yancy, stop, you’re being ridiculous--”

He aims a punch at your face and you block it on instinct. You repeat his name but he just tries to hit you again, so that time you block his fist and manage to land a blow to his abdomen.

Fine. Let’s do this.

Yancy may be a rather talented inmate scrapper with a great right hook (you learn a moment later as your eye pulses in pain) but you’ve also boxed three times a week for half your life (because you needed some kind of extracurricular outlet to deal with the frustration of being a non-white academic overachiever) and have learned how to defend yourself pretty damn well.

By the time the fight gets anywhere, your eye is blackening and blood is running from your nose, while Yancy’s sporting several cuts on his face and a split lip. You manage to land several hits in a row before knocking Yancy back in a daze.

“Stand. Down,” you order in a growling tone. 

It’s the first and only time you have given anyone here a real command, and you are certainly in no mood for anyone to test the raging anger and frustration lashing underneath your skin just because this idiot that you can’t get out of your head doesn’t know how to talk about his issues like a healthy human being.

(The more rational part of your mind is willing to acknowledge that judging by the rumors about his childhood, there are reasons behind his inability to deal with people in a different capacity, but the rational part of your mind is currently tied up and locked in a trunk until further notice.)

Yancy stares back at you, blood dripping from his lip and staining his shirt. The fury is still brimming in his eyes, but you think you can catch a glimmer of reluctant respect and something else. Something...sad.

But you’re no longer in any mood to read into Yancy’s odd, conflicting behavior. It’s a miracle that none of the guards came to break the two of you apart. You have no intention of pushing your luck.

You push through the crowd that had gathered to watch this unprecedented event and leave the yard, praying that people think the tears running down your face are from your injuries.

---

Link to Chapter 5 here!

Thank you for reading! Please relbog/comment! If you want to be tagged/untagged for the rest of this series or this pairing, please leave a message in my inbox!

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[realactualfancontent]

Some domestic fluff.

“You’re going to break your hand if you keep on like that.” 

Aster and Griffin buy a punching bag.   

~~~~~~~

I’m writing a lot of pointless fluffy nonsense with these two because 

A.  It’s fun.  

And B.  I want to work on believable chemistry.  So have this nonsense.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

The punching bag had been a stroke of genius in Griffin’s opinion. Far from a conventional impulse purchase of course. But it gave him an outlet he sorely missed, a vent to the daily frustrations of his work.

He had not however been expecting Aster to take to it with such gusto. But then when did Aster ever do the expected.

The constant muffled thud and heavy panting from the living room was proving an insurmountable distraction tonight.

Griffin tapped his pencil irritably, trying to force concentration a little longer before finally conceding, and standing, replacing his dark spectacles to face the brighter light of the living room’s lamps.

Closing the door of the spare room turned study he leaned against the wall to observe her. It was a strangely endearing sight, Aster in oversized menswear pounding away at the heavy bag. He’d have kept watching but for one thing.

“You’re going to break your hand if you keep on like that.” He said finally.

Aster started visibly, and he managed not to chuckle at her distress. It was so rare to get the better of her like that.

She spun to face him, brushing strands of errant hair out of her face, only for it to fall into a slightly different position.

“Oh come on, what am I doing wrong this time.” She huffed, crossing her arms, as if her terrible form was somehow Griffin’s fault as opposed to her own inability to remember the basics.

Arguably teaching Aster to hit things more effectively was a grossly irresponsible thing to do. But arguably Griffin was a grossly irresponsible person, and as long as her left hook wasn’t aimed at him, he’d far rather she break someone else’s nose then her own thumb.

“Where to start?” He responded archly, “your footing is alright. But from the waist up, it’s an absolute disaster.”

Aster huffed again, blowing stray hair from her eyes. 

“Alright then, show me how it’s done.” Aster said, before stepping aside to give Griffin uninhibited access to the punching bag. He canted his head to the side as she did, something about the angle of his glasses gave the definite impression of amusement, Aster returned the implied expression with a faint smirk of her own.

“If you insist.” Griffin said, rolling his neck and shoulders before slipping into a fighting stance. Bobbing in place a couple of times and taking a quick glance to make sure Aster was watching.

In all honesty it had been years since he’d done this regularly.

Jab, cross. The impacts came in rapid succession, plainly visible even if Griffin’s hands were not, the first had the bag wobbling and the second sent it crashing to the ground with a colossal thud.

Aster let out a startled laugh, which pulled Griffin’s attention back to her entirely.

“Well done!” She enthused, adding a round of applause for show.

Griffin chuckled, grinning at the complement.

“I am impressive.”

“Very.” Aster agreed pointedly, “but I’m still not sure what I’m doing wrong. Maybe you should pick that up and take another shot. You know for educational purposes.” She continued giving him an impish smile.

Griffin sighed in an exaggeratedly put upon fashion and righted it with barely more effort than it had taken to knock it over. Looking down at her from over his tinted spectacles. 

“I’m beginning to suspect you just want to watch me hit things.”

Aster flushed a little and nodded. “Maybe.”

He rolled his eyes letting out a bemused scoff. “I can’t fathom why, it’s not much of a view.”

“It’s enough of one.” She shrugged, not feeling a need to explain herself beyond that.

It was his turn to flush, now keenly aware of how closely she was watching him even if he wasn’t precisely sure what she was watching as he settled back into position, raising his fists to guard his face and delivering another series of quick hits.

None quite so strong as to knock it to the ground again, just enough to rattle it violently, leaving it rocking back and forth wildly on it’s spring.

He should have been paying more attention to that. Instead of stealing glances at Aster, there was such a light in her eyes when she was entertained. Such a spark.

Hard to say what was louder, the boxing bag smashing against his face, or the string of curses Griffin let out in response. On Impulse he struck out sending the boxing bag crashing to the ground again.

Aster winced, although he could see her eyes crinkling as she tried not to laugh.

“IT’S NOT FUNNY!” He clutched his face and blinked away the invisible tears that were forming. Dammit all. This was what he got for trying to enjoy himself.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” She did at least sound apologetic, if still a little amused. “Are you alright?”

“Marvellous, I love taking a hundred some pounds to the face.” Griffin snapped, sniffing and rubbing his nose tenderly before pulling off his glasses to check them for damage.

“Nothing broken at least.” He grumbled. Well not the glasses. The jury was still out on his nose. Griffin winced again, feeling something damp on his face.

“I- Is that blood?” Aster was pointing at him, her face a mixture of confusion and concern.

Griffin checked dabbing the damp spot gingerly and observing the red liquid on his hand.

“Unfortunately, it becomes visible with oxygen.”

Aster was transfixed by it for a moment, before regaining her senses and hastily offering it to Griffin. “Here.”

“Thank you.” Griffin took it and wiped the blood away then retreated to the couch to pinch his nose and lean forward.

Aster settled herself on the other end leaving a comfortable space between them.

“I thought you were supposed to tilt your head back?”

“Maybe if you’re a vampire.” He responded with a scoff, noting Aster’s confusion.

“When you tilt your head back you end up swallowing blood.” He clarified.

“Oh.” Aster nodded, apparently following well enough. “You’re speaking from experience here aren’t you.”

“Unfortunately,” Griffin sighed, shifting uncomfortably. “This will be the fourth time I’ve broken my nose if I’m unlucky.”

Aster made a face. “Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s no matter really. Cosmetic damage isn’t something I have to worry about.”

“Well, not right now maybe,” Aster said, sliding a little closer and patting Griffin on the shoulder. “One day you’ll get it.”

The contact startled him, but he didn’t pull away or ask her to retreat to her edge of the couch. Aster’s faith was touching, he’d meant is as a joke when he spoke. But still bitterness and frustration had crept in. More and more he was resigning himself to being like this forever.

The fact that someone thought otherwise was encouraging.

“Soon.” He agreed, thinking it best to feign the same hopeful spirit.

Not that he wanted to dwell on the topic, Griffin looked down at Aster where she sat, still close to him.  “Do you still want to know what you’re doing wrong?” he asked.  

“If you’re still in the mood for lessons.  I thought the moment might have passed.”  

“Don’t be absurd, I’m always in the mood to correct people. Make a fist.”  

Aster let out a quiet chuckle and did as instructed.  Listening as Griffin listed the things she had done wrong and enjoying the strange sensation of his invisible hands on hers as he adjusted the placement of her fingers and thumb.