#hawk really only gets away with doing things like busting into the peace talks because he is the protagonist of a hit sitcom

[raywritesthings]

I think the best indication for me of why Hawkeye and BJ are too dissimilar to have become friends in any other situation besides both being assigned to the same MASH unit is that, when Hawkeye is upset about their situation as draftee doctors miles from home, he typically rails against the system that put them there and/or anyone that supports that system; when BJ’s upset about the same thing, he tends to just lash out at Hawkeye who is entirely blameless and often just attempting to offer him comfort.

Which makes sense. Hawkeye is a much safer target than the American military-industrial complex. But it also shows the stark difference between how they process emotions, problem-solve, and their values.

[cades-outsider]

Eli/Hawk X Reader

Warnings? Seven minutes in Heaven, language, and hawk being hawk

I’m only a fool for You

  You had fallen, and you had fallen hard. You couldn't help it, Eli was such a sweet, caring, and handsome boy, and one he loved someone he devoted his heart to them.

  You always thought of his lip as a battle scar and it showed how strong he was. You would always help him when people were picking on him or doing mean things to him and Demetri.

  Demetri thought you were a complete fool for getting in the middle of it. But none the less he liked you even more for it, platonically of course.

  He was to in love with Yasmin to even think nor look at another girl. You always had your eyes on Eli and Eli only. Demetri knew, he might've been clueless sometimes but he seen the small glances you played, or how you would run your finger over Eli's lip and tell him he was beautiful.

  Even the one time you kissed just above his lip to show him that you loved everything about him. Oh and who can forget the time Kyler and his friends bullied both Eli and Demetri in the library that day.

  Kyler holding Eli's chin roughly saying "what girl would ever kiss this" with a disgust look on his face. You quickly stepped up and said 'Me' then you proceeded to slap Kylers hand away from Eli and placed your lips on his lovingly.

  To say Eli was head over hills for you was an understatement, he was IN love love with you. Ever since the first day you came up to him in 5k he knew that he was in love with you.

Of course he was to young to know what love was like, but he felt something and as time grew he realized that he was in love with the Y/n L/n and he couldn’t be happier.

Though he felt like you deserved someone who could protect you and stand up for you, so once Cobra Kai came out he took the opportunity and joined.

That was two months ago and in the time Eli had no longer became the sweet, shy, and innocent little boy. Oh no, he was.... turning out to be his worst enemy.... a bully.

Today was like any other day, you worked up the courage as you walked over to Eli who was laughing with his new 'friends' the sight broke your heart, remember how he would laugh with you.

Draining all the courage you had down the sink you finally came face to face with Eli, or now as he calls it Hawk.

"Eli?" You say softly catching his attention as he stops laughing and turns around towards you.

"What?" He asks rudely.

"We need to talk" you say holding your head up high, confidence you didn’t know you had now sparking.

"We are" Hawk says bluntly as his friends began to laugh behind him.

"Fine but just know I tried" you say harshly as you turn and walked away, walking to your first class of the day.

As Hawks friends began to laugh, Eli’s head falls down as he can feel and hear his heart crushing. But he replaces it with a confident smile before turning back around with his friends. Trying to push his feelings and thoughts of you away.

Man he’s such a fool for you.

Your feelings were crushed yeah, but we're you going to let yourself suffer by crying over a boy? No you were not.

  You needed to get your mind off of things, so instead of driving to the strip mall you decided to walk. Plugging in your earbuds and listening to one of your favorite songs of all time you start walking down the side walk in no rush seeing as the day was very beautiful and you wanted to take in the fresh air.

  The walk really felt like it was what you needed, it was soothing plus the music helped get Eli off your mind a lot more.

  Finally coming up to the famous well only grocery store there is around here you noticed a red Mohawk, knowing that famous hairstyle anywhere.

  You curse yourself finally having him out of your head, but of course he'd have to be in the one place you were hoping to get peace alone.

  You walk with a not-so-much pep in your step, more of a dragging your feet alone the pavement. Yeah that sounds about right.

  "Look who it is Miss. Desperate" Hawk says as him and his friends bust out laughing.

  That was the final straw for you, you had tried for months to get him to talk to you alone so you could finally confess but if he wanted to play that game then so be it.

  "You know what Eli? I am so sick and tired of your bullsh*t!" You yell causing both Hawk's friends and himself to go quiet.

  "I spent the last TWO months trying to talk to you, trying to tell you the thing I've been wanting to say since pre-school! But with this new facade it'll never happen" you scoff as you turn around, walking as fast as you could.

Finally making it back home you run upstairs to your room and slam the door out of frustration 'who does he think he is?!'

As if on cue you get a call from Moon "hello?" You say trying to calm yourself down.

"Y/n babe hey!" She yells excitedly.

"I’m having a party over at my place tonight at 8 be there pleaseeee" Moon begs.

You sigh "alright Moon I’ll be there" you say knowing she wouldn’t back down until you said yes.

You were going to look your best tonight, knowing Moon she would most likely invite everyone and say "come on guys we all should just get alone" as she always does, trying to uplift people.

You grab your favorite tight black dress and some red heels, doing everything in the bathroom making sure not to miss anything.

Sighing happily at your appearance you grab your purse and make your way out. Less than ten minutes later and you pulled up in Moon’s drive way to see literally the whole school in her backyard.

Getting out of your car you find yourself getting stumbled into a circle by other drunk kids. It was seven minutes in heaven, wait. When did you even get inside?

Whatever. Deciding to play you sit down completing the circle, as Hawk who didn’t even notice you were here yet spun the bottle.

'Please don’t land on me' you repeated over nearly 100 times as everyone kept there eyes glued to the body. Low and behold the bottle landed on you.

Hawk's eyes travel up to you, excitement spreads through his eyes as he soon shuts it down not wanting others to witness.

You groan as you both get up and some random guy leads you into a small spaced closet before closing and locking the door setting a timer for seven minutes.

The first two minutes you both spent in awkward silence, soon giving up Hawk breaks "look Y/n I’m sorry for treating you the way I have" he says looking down guiltily.

"I never meant to hurt you or push you away.... I just wanted to impress you" Eli mumbles the last part.

"Eli.... what part of bullying people would impress me?" You question really wanting to know.

"It wasn’t meant to go this way.... why didn’t I just admit I was in love with you? Oh I know why. Because I was scared!" He yells, soon gasping as he realized he just spilled his secret.

You place a hand on his cheek "Eli.... I’m in love with you to" you say gently not wanting to alarm him.

"R-really?" He asks as his voice cracks.

"Really" you say nodding as you lean in just above his lips and kiss his scar.

"I love all of you" You smile softly as his cheeks redden, your Eli finally coming back.

"You missed" He says cheekily as he wastes no time in pressing his lips against yours closing the gap.

The kiss was slow, sweet, and genuine you knew Eli meant it through every little movement, until you both pull away "I’m only a fool for you"

_______________________________________________

Thank you @peachymelon69 for requesting I hope you enjoyed!

[herohotline]

We’ve Ran Into Eachother So Many Times But You Don’t Even Know My Name

Keigo Takami x Reader

A/N: I finally finished this :,/ It came out a lot longer than i intended HHGNGh

Word Count: 4,000+

Warnings: Mentions of suicidal attempt- but that’s it, it’s a very fluffy story and that’s not the plot!

You liked a lot of things in life. You liked cats, desserts, and plants; music, dancing, and even though you hated heights, you loved airplanes. Tall buildings and their impending doom are one of the things that you just don’t agree with. 

You’ve tried to quell this fear many times, and you’ve found ways around it. Every so often your friends convince you to ride the more scary roller coasters, you sit up on your apartment balcony and sit there with your music and plants as you stare down below- but you can only stomach a few seconds before you’re looking away in a fit of anxiety. You’ve even gone to therapy about it because you know that your fear of heights is linked to trauma. 

You were barely a teenager when you had tried to off yourself. You were well past that phase, of course, but teen angst and the desire to end it all got the best of your young mind as you jumped off one of the tallest buildings you had access to. Thankfully, you survived, but the injuries hurt like hell and it left you with scars. 

And a long-lasting fear that just won’t go away. 

You suppose it's alright to have this fear- it just meant you were better. You want to be alive, and your fear was proof. But you were past that depressing teenage phase and you wanted to move on completely. It just wasn’t fair to be held back like this in your opinion. 

Villains, though? You weren’t scared of villains. Well, you were reasonably scared- as you wanted to live, and they could possibly end that- but you weren’t scared scared. That’s why when there was a sudden villain attack in the mall, busting the ceiling open and trapping civilians and yourself under the damage, you weren’t scared. You kept a level head and you began counting heads. 

The area you were stuck under was fairly accessible. Everyone was still standing, though some had fallen over in shock, but everyone was mostly fine. The entrance had been blocked off and some pillars broke through the small shop, but that was it. You prayed that no one was stuck under the damage somewhere else. 

“There’s seven of us here,” you talk to the group, gathering the things you dropped off the floor. “We should stick together and hide in one place until the heroes get here.”

No one disagrees with you. They follow you like lost sheep as you all pile behind the cash register counter and huddle. After that, it’s a waiting game, silent beside the sound of scared breathes and quiet weeping so that the villains don’t find you. 

The one who has it worse is the little girl. She’s the one crying, of course, and the woman who is assumingly her mother surrounds the child in her arms as she coos in her ear. The crying makes you uncomfortable, to be honest, so you remember the chocolate bar in your bag and hand it to her with a tense smile. The mother looks at you thankfully while it distracts the child from crying.

It truly doesn’t take the heroes a long time to find their way in the mall and cuff the villains before sending them off in police cars. That’s when damage control and civilian rescue starts- it startles all of you when the wall blocking the entrance is busted through, but bright red wings quell the fear. 

It’s Hawks. 

“Anyone need a ride?” He asks and you quickly stand along with the other civilians. You gently lead the mother and child his way and he grins, immediately conversing with the little girl and making her giggle before he picks them both up and flies off. Other heroes begin to make their way inside with blankets and medical gear, slowly leading all of you outside the building where it’s safe and the ambulance is waiting. 

As you make your way outside, you watch as Hawks lands from his flight, two other civilians in his hold as he drops them off and then immediately sets off again, his ruby-red wings basically shining as he speeds away. You admire his tenacity and strength- how many people had he gotten out in the time of you walking from the shop to outside? 

Watching him fly back again with more people than last time, you quietly thank whatever God exists that you didn’t get hurt in the wreck. You might be able to handle a broken leg or arm- but to fly in the air? Even if it was the only chance of surviving… you don’t think you’d be able to stomach it.

You leave the mall as alone and unscathed as you came.

---

The next time you see Hawks, it’s not in a life or death situation. But you still don’t talk to him- it’s really just a chance sighting at most. He had simply walked into the noodle house you frequent, picked up his order, and left with a flap of his wings, taking off into the night sky.

A part of you wonders what that’s like. To always be in the air- you suppose it’s not scary for him. But even the thought of having extra appendages seems difficult and you wonder how he learned to fly.

Was it the same as birds? Did his mother push him off a ledge one day and hope for the best? You sure hope not. 

“Hey, Amakuza,” you address the cook who you were on decent terms with due to your consistent presence in his shop. “What’d the big guy order?” 

Amakuza shrugs. “Your favorite, actually. Extra spicy.” He seems uninterested.

You suppose it’s not that interesting- it’s just food. But now you know that the pro-hero Hawks has good taste, though you’re unsure why you even wanted that information in the first place.

---

Your third encounter with Hawks is the one you hate the most- the one you’re most ashamed of. 

He was just doing the right thing. There was construction on your way to work- apparently, they were working on the road. This didn’t concern you as you didn’t own a car, so you kept walking a safe distance away. But someone’s quirk somehow went haywire, and the drilling was loud and harsh before the road broke entirely and pieces were sent flying everywhere. The fear didn’t even register yet as it happened so fast- you were aware there was a stray slab of concrete headed your way, but before it even hit you, you were sent flying in the air.

That’s when the fear came to you, so strongly it knocked the air out of your lungs.

“That was close!” The man holding you- the man you rescued you- whistles low and casual as he keeps you up in the air. 

“Let me down,” you say as soon as you can find your words. Body shaking like a leaf, you desperately grab onto his clothes- you actually look down and you can’t believe he flew you up so high. “Let me- let me down. Let me down!” 

You’re so frightened that you don’t even realize you’re crying. Snot runs down your nose and tears spread across your cheeks and drip off your chin. 

“Hey- are you alright? Did you get hit?”

“Let me down!” You scream, and then you start struggling against him. You’ll punch, kick, cry- you’ll do whatever you need to do to get back on the ground. “Let me down! Let me down!” 

Your vision blurs with red, and suddenly you’re sitting on the broken concrete with red wings surrounding you and a blonde man looking concerned as he hovers over you. Breathing comes out short and hurried, your body still shaking so hard that it feels like you’re vibrating. The man with red wings- Hawks, you’d later realize once your head was put together- continues to hover and talk to you. You can hear the words, but they don’t process at all. He’s probably saying the things they always do- breathe, you’re okay, breathe. 

Your heart feels like it’s ready to burst out of your chest as you scramble to your feet, putting a good amount of distance between you and the man who saved you. “Stay- stay away from me,” you demand as you look at him, your face scared and distraught. You continue to back away from him as if he were a threat. “Stay away from me!” And then you turn your back to him, fear driving your movements as you quickly leave the scene and scurry off to work. 

People eye you the entire way. They either saw what happened or saw that you were crying in public which is already eye-catching enough, but you ignored them even as you entered your work building. Only when you locked yourself in a private bathroom did you find peace. 

And you felt fucking awful, so you suppose it wasn’t peace that you found. Instead, it was a heavy, guilty heart as you were forced to go on with your day and work in a crowded office until you could retreat home, tail between your legs. 

You just wish you could tell the hero that you didn’t mean it. 

---

How do you tell someone you have absolutely no access to that you’re sorry? 

Apparently, you go to his agency building and just hope for the best. That’s the conclusion you came to, anyway, as you walk there the next morning- being extra cautious around construction this time- with a pot in your hands.

Walking inside the building alone was anxiety-inducing. Slowly making your way to the front desk was worse. And then you had to explain yourself to the receptionist who eyed you and your plant with- assumingly- heavy judgment. 

“I… um, I wanted to drop this off. For… Hawks.” You place the potted aloe vera plant down on the receptionist’s desk gently. You don’t even know if you can do this, technically, but you might as well try. 

“A plant?” The woman asks. 

“Yes. It’s an apology gift.” Your fingers drum on the desk. “Do you think you’d be able to make sure it gets to him?” 

The woman looks unsure as she reaches forward, picking up the pot and eyeing it. She gives you a guilty look as she sets it beside her. “I’ll try. But Hawks can be rather flighty… I can’t assure you he’ll get it, or even take care of it.”

“That’s okay, I figured that. If he ever gets it… just let him know it’s from someone who is very sorry. Thank you in advance,” you bow respectfully at the receptionist before quickly leaving the building. You feel guilty for leaving her with your apology- but it’s too soon to come face-to-face with someone you yelled at. The entire walk back home you just hope that the poor plant lasts at least two months before he inevitably kills it- either because he never got it, or because he hates you. 

An aloe vera plant is admittedly easy to take care of. You only water it once every three weeks or so, and it doesn’t need much sunlight. You picked it out from your collection of plants specifically because you thought it was best for someone like Hawks. Minimal care was required, it was nice and green, and if he really took care of it he could make use of its soothing gel. 

You also took its meaning into mind. An aloe vera is a healing plant- as a gift, it means a wish for good health, beauty, and protection. You figure after your childish tantrum, you could at least hope he lives a healthy life. 

But as you sit at home, you think it’s silly that you even bothered. Hawks probably doesn’t even want it- and the meaning of it would be lost on him. You could have at least left a card attached, but you were too chicken shit to do it. 

At least you tried. 

---

Ever since your last encounter with Hawks, you’ve tried harder to kick your fear in the teeth. Nearly every evening, you go up the fire escape of your building until you’re on the roof and staring at the world below. You force yourself to last at least five minutes or more before you run away. It’s easier to manage once the sun has left and the moon shines instead- in the darkness, it’s harder to see what you’re so afraid of. 

It’s still there, but it’s better. 

Fitting that on one of those nights you head to the top of your building is when you meet the number one hero again. 

It’s a chance meeting, just like the rest. You think maybe he’s on patrol when you see him fly by- or maybe he was getting dinner, but he notices you somehow and lands on your building. 

There’s a considerable amount of distance between you. 

“What’s someone like you doing up here so late?” He grins- he always does. The one time you saw him without a smile was when he was trying to help you. 

“Trying to overcome my fears,” you tell him honestly because he deserves at least that much. “I’m… sorry about before. I shouldn’t have lashed out on you.”

He waves his hand in dismissal, walking a bit closer to you. “Ah, it’s fine. You were scared- that’s what people do when they’re scared.”

“Still,” you frown, “I was harsh on you. I mean it when I’m sorry. I don’t like that I lost control of myself like that.” 

“That’s fair,” Hawks agrees and puts his hands behind his back, the smile still coy on his face. “But you’re already forgiven. I enjoyed the plant.”

Oh. Your eyes widen in surprise, “really?” You ask. 

“It wasn’t exactly hard figuring out who it was from. No one ever apologizes to me.”

“Is that because you never do anything wrong, or you’re surrounded by stubborn people?” 

Hawks just hums in reply, standing next to you now as he looks up at the sky. His large wings twitch subconsciously and your eyes are drawn to them- they’re a beautiful skeptical so you’re sure he gets stared at all the time. “If you have somewhere to plant it…” You disrupt the silence softly, your feet shuffling. “The aloe vera will fully grow, and you can use its gel. It’s not really much, but it’s good to keep the skin young and for sunburns.” 

The hero eyes you curiously, his smirk making you a little nervous before he looks back to the sky. “You’re a lot calmer than when we first met.” 

“That’s not the first time we met,” you argue and his eyebrows lift up in surprise. 

“It wasn’t?”

“No. You saved me and a few others from when the downtown mall got intruded by villains… And you also came by my favorite ramen shop, but you left as quickly as you came. So last time wasn’t the first, but the third,” you shrug, “if you want to be technical about it.” 

“I’m not sure I enjoy technicalities,” Hawks laughs. “They’re too confusing to be caught up with.” 

“That’s fair,” you nod. 

The air is a little awkward- at least, it is for you- now that you both have nothing to talk about. You’re glad you got to apologize to him, but now you realize you know nothing about him. It’s late enough that you should probably go to bed anyway, so rather hastily you tell him that you’re going. He looks surprised as you climb down the fire escape but he says nothing other than ‘see you later’ before flying off. You halt mid-step down the ladder as you can’t help but watch- but soon he’s out of sight. 

It’s amazing how fast he is. But it’s time for bed so you let out a shaky sigh as you continue your way down to the patio of your apartment. 

---

The fifth time you meet Hawks, he’s the one who comes to you. You’re relaxing on your patio with a book in your hands and a stray cat that likes to hang out laying in the sunbeams when Hawks comes bustling through rather suddenly. You gasp in shock and the cat quickly scrambles away, and several of your potted plants fall off the patio. 

“Hawks!” You cry, already hovering over the fence as you watch your plants fall to the concrete. A potted plant falling from such a height is already dangerous- what if it hit somebody? 

But also, they were expensive and you cared about your plants very much, so you couldn’t help but sit still in shock as you watch them fall to their death. Perhaps Hawks realized the urgency in your voice- maybe he cared, because before they do, Hawks shoots down and grabs all three of the pots before they hit anyone or break on the ground. 

“Sorry about that!” He apologizes as he makes his way back on your patio, a lot less rushed as he carefully holds the plants. You quickly pick them up and set them back down in their respective spots, inspecting the leaves for any damage. “You have quite the collection, huh?” Hawks looks around your tiny patio, stepping carefully around your ‘collection’. You absentmindedly hum, still looking at the Coleus’ leaves. A few of the stems had come off, but it’s mostly fine. 

“It’s even worse inside,” you tell him. Hawks whistles as he looks through the glass doors and into your apartment. 

“No kidding!” 

“So, what are you doing here? Would you like to destroy more of my plants?” You wouldn’t lie- you’re a little peeved that they all almost died. At least he was fast enough to pick them up, but still. 

Hawks makes a weird sound from his throat as he winces, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his head. “I really didn’t mean to. I actually came to ask about the aloe vera.” 

You purse your lips, sitting back down on your lawnchair you placed out on the patio when you first moved in. “It’s fine. What would you like to know?” 

Why didn’t he just look it up? You can’t help but wonder. 

“When should I water it?” 

“Every three weeks.” 

“How much sun does it need?”

“Six to eight hours. Place it next to a window or in a backyard.” 

“Does it need… vitamins?” 

“Hawks, why are you asking me these things?” You interrupt his little quiz with a sigh. The stray cat from before finally comes back, eyeing the hero cautiously before laying down next to your feet. You pet it on the head softly with a frown. “You didn’t need to come all the way here for some basic plant care questions. What do you really want?” 

Hawks clicks his tongue. “You caught me,” he says. “I really wanted to get to know you, that’s all.” 

“Get to know me or get to know why I’m afraid of heights?” 

He shrugs, that all too familiar smile coming back on his face. He finally sits down on the only other chair available, his wings spreading behind him before folding up. “Well, I wouldn’t complain if it was brought up.” 

“Are you always known for being so crude?” You raise an eyebrow at him. So far, you’re not exactly impressed with his behavior. From a distance Hawks is charming, but right in front of you? Sure, he’s handsome, but he’s a bit blunt. A lot blunt. 

“I am the man who’s a bit too fast, didn’t you know?” Hawks leans back in his seat, crossing his legs and lacing his fingers together atop his knee. “So- why are you afraid of heights?” 

You roll your eyes. “Last I checked, I didn’t sign up for a therapy session. Don’t you have anything better to do?” 

“I do not.” He says simply, and you don’t believe him. 

“What about- I don’t know- the hundreds of villains out there?” The stray cat eventually hops on your lap, making himself comfortable while keeping a keen eye on the hero in front of you. He probably doesn’t like him- and you’re pretty sure you feel the same way. 

“They’ll be taken care of. Right now I’d like to relax- I want to relax most of the time. Indulge me.” 

You don’t see any real reason why you should, but Hawks is proving to be a persistent insect, so you sigh and give in. “I jumped off a building as a teenager. Now I associate heights with death. It’s like a trigger.” If he’s going to be blunt, you might as well do the same. You pet the cat’s back to soothe your agitated nerves and give him a look. “I’m mostly fine now. But you caught me by surprise that one time, which is why I reacted the way I did. Are you satisfied?” 

He nods. “What’s your name?” He asks rather suddenly- and that’s when you realize that yeah, he doesn’t even know your name. 

You slowly give it to him. You’re uncertain why he’d want it- but it gives you a feeling that it’s a sign he won’t be leaving you alone any time soon. 

“Call me Takami. I’m sick of the hero name, anyway,” The now-named Takami inspects some of your potted plants that surround him. “Would you like to fly with me?” 

His question makes you laugh in surprise. “Why?” You ask him. You could ask him this question a thousand times, really. 

Why is he here? Why is he interested? Why does he care? 

“Would you believe me if I told you I wanted to help?” Takami smiles again, his eyes gleaming beneath his visor. 

“Why would you want to?” You’ve had enough. Picking up the cat, you gently place him down on the patio floor before sitting upright, elbows on your thighs as you stare the hero down. “I’m serious. I told you my thing, now tell me yours. Why do you bother?” 

He leans forward as well and your bare toes touch the front of his boots. “I like your personality,” Takami starts, “and I’m being selfish with you. I’d like to have someone to talk to outside of the hero stuff. So I figure if I’m being selfish-“ he reaches forward and suddenly pinches your cheek, making you jolt back with an angry look. The hero grins. “I might as well help you out while I do it. And maybe I can learn more about plants or farming or whatever, too.” 

You stare at him silently as you rub your sore cheek. “It’s not farming,” you grumble under your breath. Your shoulders sag in defeat as you finally break away from Takami’s gaze and your eyes fall to the floor. It’s quiet for another moment before you sigh, lips pursed. “Fine. But I’m gonna get dressed first- I don’t want my eyes to fall out from wind pressure.” 

Takami hops up from his seat, his expression somehow even brighter than before with his hands on his hips. “Great! I’ll wait here.” 

You groan in acknowledgment as you open your glass door and step inside your apartment- but you only make it a short distance before you come back outside. Without warning Takami, you throw a book in his direction and he easily catches it, his eyebrows raised. 

“It’s a plant dictionary. I’m only gonna let you do this if you can tell me the name of three plants on my patio.” You think that’s fair enough. “You up for that?” 

He's already grinning, flipping the book open. “Fuck yeah,” he says. You laugh under your breath and finally go to your room to get dressed. It’s amazing how his charm comes back full force as he stands on your patio, eagerly looking up and down from your book and muttering under his breath. 

You hum. Takami is handsome, and apparently, he’s lonely, too. You suppose his offer is a mutually beneficial one- so you quickly get bundled up and find some cheap swimming goggles you bought forever ago. Honestly, you could also use a friend.

When you come back out onto the patio, Takami bursts out laughing at just the sight of you. You ignore him and put your hands on your hips, feeling confident. “Alright, I’m ready.”

“You’re not,” Takami giggles and snorts, placing the book on a miniature table. “You’ll get way too hot. Lose the snow boots, first of all. Some sneakers will be fine.”

“What if they fly off?!” 

“I’m not- I’m taking you in the air, I’m not flying you full speed!” He exclaims and your shoulders sag.

“Oh. Right.” 

He laughs hysterically again as you take off your boots and snow hat, along with several hoodies and sweaters. As you take off your very-many layers and toss them inside the house, you ask, “what about the plants?” 

“Right,” he says, his knuckles tapping on the book he just read confidently. “There’s a Coleus, a spider plant... And a succulent,” he points at each plant as he speaks. The succulent was probably the easiest one, so you feel like that one shouldn’t count, but you keep quiet. 

“Good job, you’ve won. Am I ready to go?” You think you’re finally suitable for flying- down to a single hoodie with a jacket over it, a pair of jeans and some sneakers laced up as tight as you could get them. 

Takami grins, giving you the ‘ok’ sign with his hand. “Perfect,” he says. He gives you exactly 0 seconds to prepare before he picks you up, his speed suddenly showing as you’re suddenly being carried- his hands under your knees and wrapped around your back. “Okay, you ready?” He steps on top of your little fence surrounding the patio, looking down at you. 

You bite your lip, looking down below. He shakes you in his arms- “hey, look at me.” You do so, nervously biting your lip even harder. “Are you ready?” Takami asks again, voice a little softer. 

With a big breath, you exhale and try to relax. “Yeah,” you tell him. “I’m ready.” 

[laceymorganwrites]

Sweet nothings

Word Count: 1,391

Pairing: Hawks x reader

Warnings: swearing, death SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 265 (and I made it more angsty hehe)

Song: Sweet Nothings - Neck Deep

Take me back to the ocean, Feel warm sand beneath your feet,

Hawks remembered your first date as clearly as he knew how to use his quirk. He was so nervous about asking you out, he never imagined that you would say yes. And when you did, he couldn´t contain his smile, he even got rude comments from his colleagues about it. But he didn´t care, not after he finally mustered up the courage to ask you, his best friend, out. You´ve known each other since childhood and Hawks was more than glad to have you in his life, he was grateful to you that you never treated him different than before after he rose up the hero ranks. You stayed bright and loyal to him, not illuminated by his seeming greatness. You weren´t scared to bring him down to earth after his ego was shot up. And he loved you for that and many other things. Emotion -- escaping from reality,

It was hard to find a date with your busy schedules, but you somehow managed it, with lots of help from the intern at Hawk´s agency who volunteered to do the paperwork that night. Hawks took you out to a beach to watch the sunset and bathe a bit, it was so peaceful, nobody was there at this hour and you two could spend time undisturbed. You were relieved when he asked you out, you feared you were the only one stupid enough to fall for their best friend. But it was inevitable, you had no choice, not with someone like him. And he thought the same, which was why he kept taking you out on dates to great places you´ve never been before. However you were more in awe of him than in any of them. If I could only begin to explain All my flaws, all my fears

Though Hawks might seem oddly confident and laid back, you knew him better, you knew that all of that was only to cover up his insecurities. It was tough to get him to open up to you, but it was worth it. You always watched out for him, watched out that he wouldn´t do anything too reckless, that he took care of himself. He owed you big time for that and he would do his best to pay you back, even though he knew that was impossible. You were always there for him, soothed him when he cried, when everything was too much, you were always there. And he was working when you needed him. All my stupid mistakes,

And fuck did he hate it, he wanted to be with you every second of the day, but instead he had to spend them in his office doing paperwork or on duty, he didn´t even know what was worse anymore. If he would count all of the dates he missed or ran late, all the anniversaries and birthdays and holidays he had to call off because some stupid villain decided to wreak havoc and all of the other heroes were fucking selfish, he´d sink into the ground in shame. Could you still see past all the things I hide away

The worst thing was that he still had secrets, so many secrets… he wished he could share them with you, but he´d be dead before even finishing the thought. Hawks always had to tell you he was fighting villains whenever he was away and lying to you hurt even more than the truth, which was that he was forced to work alongside them. Every time he walked into the hideout all he wanted to do was to punch every single of those idiots to a pulp. Spending his time with those fuckers rather than with you, it tore him apart. And my poor choice of words? But you were smiling anyway

When he was home however, he tried to make up all of the lost time as best as he could. He got you your favorite snacks and even went out of his way to cook for you, most times he got you your favorite takeout though since he came home late most of the time. Whenever he was home he preferred to stay in with you to show you his utter affection in cuddles and movie nights, and because he was exhausted too. But you didn´t mind. You could only imagine how hard his work was. “(Y/N), you really are the fried to my chicken” he sighed contently, wiggling his eyebrows at you. His dumb flirts were something you would never get tired of. You started chuckling, shaking your head, smiling. “Because you´re hot, you know?” he explained, grinning at you widely and putting his arm around you. Wake me up in the morning Slept till late afternoon

Hawks always dreamed of waking up next to you and now that you finally made it official, all of his dreams came true. At least that´s what he thought. Instead he needed to work at night, making him go home when you already were up and at work. It made him sleep when you arrived. And he had to leave when you went to bed. My dreams are dark and twisted

With all the shit going on at work, he never really had the chance to relax and calm down. He took all of the bloody, gruesome images with him to sleep where they would haunt him. Hawks never got restless sleep anymore. Just nightmares from the things he has seen. But tonight I'm dreaming of you,

And when he woke up, started in the middle of the night, he saw you. His rigorous heartbeat calmed down immediately when he saw your sleeping form, it was like you made all the bad things go away and he was so grateful for that. Usually he´d lightly kiss your forehead and then go back to sleep but sometimes you woke up from his nightmares too. In those times you´d stay up together and cuddle. Snuck in through your window

Keigo did his best to keep the relationship to you a secret from the public eye. He couldn´t bear the sight of you being kidnapped or killed by villains who could use you against him. That´s why he had to be extra careful ever since his new mission, the infiltration began. Broken glass cut my skin Bled close to death with you all night

Of course you noticed how exhausted he was, but you decided not to push it and don´t ask him about it, you didn´t want to force him talking about work that so clearly took its toll on him. But I still don't regret a thing I have a habit of pushing my luck

Right in this moment Hawks regretted everything he has done up to this point. He regretted ever taking this fucking mission. He regretted making friends in the league. He regretted choosing the wrong moment to reveal his true nature, like he did just now. But most of all he regretted not telling you he loved you more times, he regretted putting this shitty job over you. If I just play this cool it might pay off for once

Maybe he had a chance, Hawks thought. But he doubted it. He failed to kill Twice resulting in him having a mental breakdown. Great job, hero. He thought bitterly. And not only that, he could barely deal with that. Once Dabi busted through the door though, it was all over… As we lay intertwined you broke silence with talk asking "Baby, do you think of me?" "Baby, do you think of me?" Yeah all the time, like every night When Endeavor showed up at your apartment saying his condolences, you thought it was a joke. But once you realized the harsh truth, you lashed out on the number one hero, saying that it was his job to protect your boyfriend and that he failed, not only as a hero but also as a human being. You yelled and cried and then yelled again until your throat was numb and all you could do was sink to the floor in disbelief. It wasn´t fair, none of this was…   The look in your eye You hung on every line When I poured my heart out But you took it every time

[littlestarofthewest]

Title: Meeting Miss Morgan | Word Count: 4717 | Rating (for entire fic): 18+!!!

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female OC | Chapter: 06 of 08 |  Link to Masterlist

Ever since Mrs. Henderson's little announcement, life changes a lot for Julie and Arthur. Julie spends most nights at Arthur's cabin, and they're almost always together except for the times Arthur leaves to run some errands for Mr. Henderson. They even head to a few of the places Julie so desperately wanted to draw. Julie always wants Arthur to sketch them as well, but he spends most of the time sitting there and watching her.

In the mornings, they're no longer the first ones up. It's hard to get out of bed when you'd rather cuddle up to the person you love. Arthur has never said so to Julie, but he knows he's completely gone for her. At times, he feels like his heart might explode when she's just smiling at him.

Once in a while, Arthur still feels guilty for not telling Julie about his past, but he left the gang to start fresh, and he's doing his best to keep that promise. Out of habit, he still brings his guns when riding out farther away from the farm, but he's never had to use them and doesn't plan on doing so if he can help it.

This morning begins in the spirit of a new life. Julie's still asleep next to Arthur, so he gives her a careful kiss on the forehead before getting out of bed. He dresses as quietly as possible and heads outside, breathing in the fresh morning air. His mind is at peace, knowing that all he has to do today is some mundane farm work.

Arthur's about to head back inside to make coffee and wake up Julie when he spots Mrs. Henderson coming his way. There's purpose in her stride, reminding him painfully of Ms. Grimshaw.

"Mr. Morgan," she says from a few paces away, "would you mind coming with me? There's a visitor for you at the house."

Arthur's heart drops, and he has the urge to head into the cabin and get his guns. "A visitor? For me?"

"Believe me, we were as surprised as you are. He says his name is John Marston and that you were friends."

If Arthur was honest with himself, he feared that this day might come, the past catching up with him. He figured that maybe some dedicated Pinkerton's might find his trail or even bounty hunters. That it's someone he'd actually like to see makes it even worse.

"I'm coming," Arthur says, following Mrs. Henderson back to the house. 

All the way, his mind is racing. It's not like he moved millions of miles away, but he still wonders how John tracked him down. Besides, he would have guessed that the gang moved on by now.

Coming closer to the house, the picture in front of him becomes unreal. There's John, in his familiar clothes and hat, guns around his hips. He's like a ghost from the past, shimmering next to Mr. Henderson, who watches him like a hawk. As they approach, John actually smiles. 

"Arthur," he says, stepping up to him, and Arthur can't help but draw him into a hug.

"John, it's good to see you."

Their friendly greeting seems to set Mr. Henderson at ease. "We'll be inside," he says, ushering Mrs. Henderson to the door.

"Thank you," Arthur says after he let go of John. 

They watch the two of them head inside before John turns to Arthur. "They seem like nice people."

"They are," Arthur says, wishing that he could tell John about them.

He'd give everything to sit down with John and let him know how peaceful life can be. He wants to talk about Julie, his work with the horses, and how he draws so much more than before. It's not so easy, though. John's not here for that.

"How did you find me?" Arthur asks instead.

John shrugs. "I know you."

Arthur has to admit it's a valid answer. He'd have a good chance of finding John if things were the other way around.

"And why did you find me?"

"I really wanted to leave you alone," John says, guilt tainting his voice, "but things got bad. It's Dutch. He's completely off the rails, trusting Micah more than anybody else. Without Hosea-"

John doesn't finish the sentence. They lost Hosea a while back during a job, and Arthur knew that it would impact Dutch. They've been good together, but apart, it was only a matter of time until things turned sour.

"And what do you want me to do about it?"

"You're just missing, Arthur," John says with a sigh. "You might call me that, but I ain't an idiot. The girls are afraid. They don't trust me enough to believe that things are going to be okay. Sadie and Charles think about leaving, Trelawny's in the wind, and Micah brought in two other guys whose throats I would cut the first chance I get. We need you. You're the only one Dutch might still listen to."

With every word, a familiar darkness eats its way into Arthur's soul. He hoped so much that it could stay away, but that's not how life works, not for people like him. There's some invisible justice at work, and he's done too much evil to deserve anything good, no matter how long and far he runs.

"What's his plan?" Arthur asks, not really wanting to know. There's always some grand scheme at play with Dutch. A fairytale that he's so good at telling all of them that he believes it himself.

"Bank heist," John says, his doubts about that plan right there in his voice. "One big thing that gives us enough money to leave, get on a boat to some island, and disappear."

It sounds like a dream, it always does, but Arthur heard it too many times. He left because all he could see were nightmares.

"Arthur?" a soft voice says behind him, and in his mind, Arthur falls into that dark pit that opened up inside of him. It's all over now.

"Jules," he says, and she steps up, taking her place right next to him, her arm brushing against his. The comfort the touch usually brings is replaced by pain now. "This is John, an old friend."

Julie's eyes grow big, and she needs a moment to recover before she smiles at John. Arthur can't blame her. He's never had it in him to mention John in front of her.

"It's so nice to meet you," Julie says, "I'm sure you have a lot to catch up on."

"Likewise," John says, getting as close to a smile as he can before his eyes wander to Arthur.

Maybe Arthur doesn't give the boy enough credit. He can tell from John's gaze that he understands quite well who Julie might be. Still, that doesn't change what he's asking of him. 

"Give me an hour," Arthur says.

John nods and taps his hat at Julie before walking back to his horse. Julie turns to Arthur. "What are you up to?"

It's such an innocent question, as if Arthur would just spend a little time with an old friend and then be back for dinner. The darkness is consuming more and more of him, and Arthur just hopes he won't taint Julie when he takes her hand. "Let's go back to the cabin."

Julie follows Arthur, but he can feel that she's uneasy now. He would do anything to go back to just minutes ago. He could have woken her up and spend a little more time in bliss before reality caught up to him. 

They sit down on the steps leading up to the porch, and Arthur suddenly remembers Colm O'Driscoll. The few times Arthur landed himself in jail, he always had people to bust him out. He's never been close to actually fearing the noose, but now he thinks that this is what it must feel like. The sudden realization that in a few seconds, they pull that lever, and your life is over. Arthur has to pull it himself.

"John's not just an old friend," Arthur says, holding Julie's hand still in his. He's desperate to keep that connection as long as possible. "He's part of the gang I ran with for almost all my life."

"A gang?" Julie asks, disbelief in her voice. "Like outlaws?"

"Very much like outlaws," Arthur says, shame consuming him as pictures run through his mind. 

Poor people working hard on their farms, struggling to survive as he came in to take away the little they had. Frightened townspeople, passengers on trains, and chanceless coach drivers trying to protect their freight. So many people and Arthur has been the source of their misery. 

He doesn't deserve to hide that from Julie. She needs to know just how worthless and horrible he is. A feral animal, with not a single piece of goodness or humanity in his body. He wants her to see that it's his fault, that he tricked her into believing that he's worth something.

"I don't have these guns for protection," Arthur says. "I threatened people, stole from them, hurt them, and killed them."

"Arthur," Julie gasps, her voice so full of disbelief that it pains Arthur to even sit this close to her. He lets go off her hand. He's never been worthy of being close to someone so pure, let alone touch her.

"I'm sorry," Arthur says. Although it doesn't do much, he at least believes it.

Julie looks out over the farm, taking a deep breath. "You're going back with your friend?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Arthur swallows a lump in his throat, thinking about all the people he left behind. "John has a family, a wife, and a son. There are girls at the camp that are like sisters to me. I abandoned them at the worst possible time. Our leader, he… They need my help."

Julie nods along to his words, and Arthur wishes he would have had her strength at those turning points in his life where he would have needed it the most. He's always been weak, making the easy decisions. 

"You're not coming back, are you?" Julie says, her voice wavering for the first time.

Arthur shakes his head. "All of this is like a dream. It's not for me."

Tears are welling up in Julie's eyes, but she quickly wipes them away. "You knew. That's why you acted so strange after the kiss. You knew that this could happen."

"I feared it might," Arthur admits. "I never meant to hurt you. It's another mistake I made, and somebody else has to pay for."

Julie presses her lips together, looking out over the farm as she holds back more tears. Arthur doesn't know what else to say. There's no excuse for what he did other than him being selfish. He heads inside, his surroundings out of focus as if he's in a dream. He packs his clothes, leaving the new shirt he bought behind. It belongs to another life.

With his gun belt around his hips, Arthur walks back outside. Julie is standing a few feet away from the cabin, staring into the distance. The picture seers itself into Arthur's brain, a constant reminder of yet another failure in his life. He walks over to her, not yet ready to leave.

When Arthur approaches, Julie turns around and throws her arms around his neck. The touch makes his heart shatter in a million pieces. He cups her face in his hand, doing his best to wipe away her tears before kissing her. It's another selfish act, but Arthur can't help it. This is the last thing he steals from her.

They touch their foreheads together, just holding on to each other until Arthur can't take it anymore. "I'm so so sorry, darling," he says before letting go of Julie.

He turns around and walks away, doing his hardest not to look back. If he did, he wouldn't be able to leave.

--------

Arthur is sure that the Hendersons' opinion of him changed quickly as he told them that he was leaving. Still, Mr. Henderson insisted that Arthur took one of the horses. On his way out, Arthur left money for it on a small table near the door.

Then he headed into the stables. After saying goodbye to Jasper, Arthur rode out, his eyes falling onto the barn. He knew he should have felt something, but there was only emptiness inside of him. Arthur joined John at the gates that lead into the farm, the fence he built standing strong on either side. It's going to be a constant reminder of him intruding into the lives of decent people until it finally rots away like the thing that used to be his soul.

"Arthur!" 

Dutch's voice snaps like a whip, bringing Arthur back to the present. They're in St. Denise, right in front of the bank, getting ready for their last big score. It turned out that John was wrong. Nothing that Arthur said could convince Dutch not to do this. Now, all that's left to do for him is to jump into the fray with the other men.

"Dutch?" Arthur asks, trying not to sound as uninterested as he feels.

"Are you with us?"

Arthur checks the faces of the other men. Charles doesn't like the plan either, Lenny and Sean might have their opinions but still trust enough in the others to follow their lead, Bill and Javier seem ready to go, and Arthur doesn't care to even look at Micah. John makes a face as if he wants to turn around and walk away right this second, an excellent example of how Arthur feels himself. Something just doesn't seem right. 

They rode in as quietly as possible, but Arthur still felt as if the eyes of every lawman in the city were on them. This is going to be the thing that sets them free or dooms them all. Arthur doesn't want to take the chance, but it's not like he's got anything to lose. If this is the noose coming his way, then so be it. He doesn't deserve it any other way.

"Of course I'm with you," Arthur says, and Dutch nods.

"Let's go, gentlemen."

They storm the bank, quickly taking control over the rooms and ushering all the customers in one corner. Dutch gets the manager to open up the first safe when there's some commotion outside.

"We got company!" Bill shouts, and Arthur presses himself against one of the walls next to a window at the front.

"Police?" Dutch asks, waving his gun to keep the bank manager busy.

Arthur takes a quick look, and his heart sinks. "Pinkertons," he growls. 

There's no way they just happened to be in the city. Arthur doesn't know how, but they must have gotten wind of their plan. It could be that they found the camp and waited for a good opportunity to catch them red-handed. 

Arthur looks over to John, the same thought clearly on his face. What if they got Jack and Abigail? "We need to get out of here!" he shouts, more at Arthur than anybody else.

"You got some dynamite on you?" Arthur asks Bill. The guy is crazy enough to bring some along on any occasion. 

Bill throws it over to him, and Arthur crouches down to get out of sight and make his way through the room. Dutch must understand what he's planning on doing. He cocks his gun and aims at one of the windows. "Keep 'em busy, boys!"

The windows in the front burst as the shooting starts and a few surprised Pinkerton's fall to the ground before they get their bearings and return the fire. Arthur preps one of the outer walls with the dynamite, hoping against hope that they might be able to get away from there. Getting as far away as possible, Arthur shoots the dynamite, and with a booming crash, it rips a hole in the wall.

Arthur takes a peek outside, spotting a ladder. "I'll give you cover from the roof," he shouts before climbing it.

From here, he manages to take out a few Pinkertons who've been firing from the building on the opposite side. Then he tries his best to clean the street. Lenny and Sean make their way up to him, joining in. Under their cover, the others follow as well.

Dutch waves them over to the other side of the roof. "Let's go, we have to get away from here!"

Arthur is about to follow him when his eyes wander over the small group of men. "Where's John?"

"Got shot," Bill grunts, about to pass Arthur to get over to Dutch, but Arthur grabs him.

"Is he dead?" 

Bill shrugs his shoulders, wringing his arm free, and Dutch is the first one to jump to the next roof, waving them over. "Come on, Arthur. You can't help him."

Arthur doesn't think for a second. He heads down the ladder, and Charles goes back to his spot on the roof. "I'll cover you!" he shouts.

The inside of the bank is a mess, bullets still flying. There are shards of glass everywhere, and a layer of dust hangs in the air from the explosion. Arthur coughs, barely able to see anything. 

"John?" he shouts.

"Here," comes a muffled grunt.

Arthur follows the voice and finds John leaning behind one of the counters, gun still at the ready. Blood is soaking one of his pant legs. 

"How bad?" Arthur asks, prompting John to shrug his shoulders.

"Don't think I can walk."

Arthur doubts that if John has trouble being on his feet, he'll be able to climb a ladder, but there's no way in hell he'll just leave him here. Arthur takes off his bandana and wraps it tightly around John's leg to slow down the bleeding. Then he grabs John under his arms to get him up. Together, they manage to get outside.

Arthur points to the ladder. "Think you can get up there?"

"I can try," John grunts, determination on his face.

He doesn't get far, though. A bullet hits the wall next to his face, and Arthur pulls him aside. Charles takes out the shooter before leaning over the rim of the roof. "There's more coming, I can't keep them away for long."

Arthur takes a step to the ladder and gets under fire immediately. The Pinkertons won't give them a chance to get away like this.

"We'll find another way!" he shouts up to Charles, who doesn't look happy at all.

"I'll go with you!"

"No," Arthur objects. He doesn't want to have more blood on his hands. "Give us cover a bit longer and then get out of there. Make sure Dutch takes care of the others."

Charles nods, his expression is grim. "Take care."

Arthur pulls John along the alley, trying to remember the streets. There's got to be another way out of there. The sounds behind them become muffled as they put more distance between themselves and the Pinkertons. Then they turn a corner, and Arthur stops dead in his tracks, John's weight almost pushing him over. 

Three Pinkertons are heading their way. They stop just as abruptly, their eyes growing big as they spot the two outlaws.

"Just walk away," Arthur says, trying to sound calm rather than threatening. "Nobody needs to get hurt."

Two of the Pinkertons share a look, but one reaches for his gun. He drops to the ground a second later, John's gun still pointed at him while Arthur aims his gun at the other two. "Offer still stands."

The two of them back away slowly, too scared to turn their backs on them. As soon as they disappear into a side alley, Arthur and John cross the street, heading for the stables. If they want to get out of there, they'll need horses.

They come close, but either the two men ratted them out or others heard the shot. The street in front of them holds a few police officers who check the side alleys. Arthur lets go of John, who leans heavily against a crate on the sidewalk, then creeps up on one of the officers. He manages to take him out, but two others come back from the alley, immediately attacking Arthur.

He has to take a few hits before he can land one himself, struggling to keep sight of both men. They try to surround him, lowering his chances while also taking away John's opportunity to shoot without hitting Arthur. Finally, one of them grabs Arthur from behind, holding his arms back while the other one hits him in the stomach. Arthur loses all air and might have caved, but then a shot hits close to one of the officers.

The two policemen get worried enough to check for the shooter, giving Arthur a chance to fill his lungs. With a grunt, he lifts his feet up, kicking the man in front of him at full force, pushing himself and the other man back. The second they're far enough apart, John shoots one of them while Arthur lands on the other. They both need a second to recover, but then Arthur turns around, knocking the man out.

Taking a few more deep breaths, Arthur looks up, but before he can access the situation, a foot is already kicking his side, making him roll over. Two Pinkertons are looking down on him, grinning like they just won a prize. 

 "Now we've got you," one of them says, hitting Arthur square in the face.

Arthur coughs, tasting blood on his lips. Still, he smiles at the two men. "Sure, but he's also got you."

Two shots echo through the street, blood spraying Arthur on the ground. He wants nothing more than just rest there, but they still have a long way to go. Arthur forces himself to get up and quickly hurries over to John.

"Nice shooting," Arthur says, and John looks him over.

"You look like shit."

Arthur laughs but immediately has to cough again. There's a good chance he's got a broken rib. "Let's get the hell outta here."

At least their luck turns at the stables. There's only one young stable boy who's so afraid that they don't even have to take him out. He just hands over the rains and helps Arthur to get John up on the horse. They head outside and make their way along the street. It stays quiet until they're almost out of the city. Policemen and Pinkertons alike line the street, covering the exit. 

They could turn around but Arthur doubts that it'll look any different around the city. "I'll ride, you shoot," he says.

John growls behind him. "See you on the other side, Morgan."

---------

Arthur has no idea how they made it through. His whole body is aching, and he feels like he's bleeding everywhere. It's hard to tell which blood is his, though. Abigail screamed when she saw Arthur and John coming her way. 

The Pinkertons did find the camp, but with Sadie shooting up the place, Abigail assumes that most of the gang got away. Sadie took the girls, but Abigail and Jack stayed behind in a hidden cave, a rendezvous place she and John agreed upon if shit went south. 

"So, what now? Should we look for Dutch and the others?" John asks while Abigail tries to put a makeshift bandaid on his leg.

Arthur never thought he'd say this, but right now, he couldn't care less about Dutch. He was ready to leave John behind, and who knows who else he would have sacrificed. 

"Forget about Dutch," he says, "I just hope the others get away."

Both John and Abigail stare at him. "What about loyalty?" John asks.

"Be loyal to what matters," Arthur says, looking over to Jack.

"Then what do we do?" Abigail asks. "We have nowhere to go, and John needs a doctor. You both do."

Arthur's heart hurts at the thought, but he can't think of another place than Henderson's farm. On his own, he would have found another way. With Jack and Abigail, they can't risk anything, and Arthur's not sure how much more John can take.

"I know a place," Arthur says before helping John up. "We'll go back to the farm."

"You think they'll help us?" John asks, doubt in his voice.

Arthur thinks of the last time he saw Julie. "God, I hope so."

---------

The second the door of the farmhouse opens, Mr. and Mrs. Henderson are all over them, sending a farmhand to fetch the doctor for John. Mrs. Henderson gets fresh clothes for Abigail and Jack and makes something to eat while they change. Mr. Henderson prepares a room for John and tries to get him comfortable while Arthur's sitting in a chair, trying not to fall asleep. He's somewhere far away when he hears a familiar voice.

"I heard a noise. What's going-?" Julie interrupts herself, and when Arthur looks up, she's standing in the doorframe, staring at him out of wide eyes.

"We have some guests who need a little help," Mr. Henderson says, pushing a pillow behind John's back to make him more comfortable.

Arthur can't take his eyes away from Julie. Seeing her again breaks him in a way he's never felt before. He wants to apologize for coming back, explaining himself, and running as far away as possible. He's just too goddamn tired for any of it.

Julie walks over to him and takes his hands, pulling him up. "Come on."

She leads him to her room and forces him to sit on the bed. Arthur wants to protest, but he has no fight left in him. Julie takes off his boots before getting him out of his shirt and jeans. "I'll be right back," she says, her voice soothing and warm.

All Arthur can do is sit and breathe, and Julie comes back with a bowl of hot water and a small bag. She starts with his face, wiping away blood and dirt before washing him all over. Arthur's too exhausted to feel guilty, relishing in every touch. When he's somewhat clean, Julie uses the small bag's contents to take care of Arthur's wounds, the sharp stench of alcohol wafting through the room.

When she's done, Julie runs a hand over Arthur's hair. He feels like melting, shame, and affection fighting a war inside of him. If he had a wish, it would be to fall asleep in her arms and just stay there for weeks.

"What happened?" Julie asks.

Arthur takes a deep breath. "The gang is done. It's over."

 A while back, he was sure that the Van der Linde gang's end would be sad news to him, but now he feels relieved. Arthur just hopes that the former members can find a better way in the world now.

Julie carefully pushes him back by his shoulder to get him to lie down before doing the same next to him, her hand resting on his chest. "Sleep," she says.

"Thank you," Arthur manages to say, then sleep takes him in a warm embrace.

------

"I hope you planned on saying goodbye," Julie says behind Arthur.

He turns around, baffled that there's not the least bit of anger in her. "I did. I'm sorry that I came back at all. I just thought John and his family could use help, and this seemed like the best place."

"They seem like decent people, just like you," Julie says. "So why can't you stay?"

"I would want you back," Arthur admits, his voice barely audible.

"And?"

The thought that Julie might take him back eats away at Arthur. Happiness seems just a few steps away, but he learned his lesson. Arthur gets on his horse.

"I don't deserve you," he says. "I don't deserve any of this."

"What if I say you do?" Julie asks, her voice desperate now.

Arthur shakes his head. "You're too kind, Jules. This place needs someone like you. Nobody needs me."

Julie looks like she might object, but Arthur doesn't give her a chance. He taps his hat at her, riding on. He's done all he could. Now it's time to let go.

[wellmeaningshutin]

Short Story #1: Storm.

Written: 12/15/2016

Thunder and lighting crashed over the city, rain pelted down endlessly, floods appeared in the lower levels of the city, but most didn’t bat an eye due to the large homeless population, which could now possibly be solved, wind came in large gusts, sometimes snatching up children or knocking cars off of the highway, sending them down into the deep waters of the flood, the moving blood in the veins of the storm. Darkness covered the city, it wasn’t long before black outs occurred, electricity staying in the plants where it was dry, toasty, and safe, commuting with the other volts, that wanted to take shelter from the storm, by powering on and off lights in the facility, some sort of manic morse code that convinced the plant workers that a meltdown was occurring, sending them panicked into the rain, unable to yell over the rain and thunder, and after a while being unsure if anyone was around to hear them, the streets just dark and empty, as if they were in the ruins of some fallen society, lost, wet and cold. An opportunistic man selling umbrellas in the street is caught by an updraft and carried away into the sky, his partner only pays attention for a second and continues to hawk his wares, these hazards, and the sudden disappearance of his friend, allowed him to bump up the price of each umbrella to $35, for the risk. People all over congregated to bars to find company in the dark, sneaking booze of the shelves, overcrowding the places, if the staff had anything to say they’d be tossed out into the storm, the needs of the people outweighing the few, the aggressive and self-centered logic of the drunks had taken over in these areas, and until the storm would pass it had become the new law. In the dark people could start a new, everyone looked equally wet and disheveled, all wore tattered coats, battered by the storm, many met in hotel lobbies, hospitals, churches, and various other landmarks to socialize in the dark, sharing fabricated experiences from when there was no storm, from when the city was peaceful and kind, all working together in that lie to create some fictionalized account of the city, not wanting to call anyone out on their lies because then they could too be equally called out, in several different buildings homeless men would claim to be mayors, business men, lawyers, but the ones who had come up from the underground, the city finally becoming dark and wet, a paradise for them, had only very esoteric ideas of what life was like in the city above their own so they claimed themselves as kings, gladiators, and, for some reason being the most common claim, televangelists. The actual people of wealth and power in the city stood at the top of their sky scrapers, above the clouds, and were trying to figure out what happened to their power, their phones didn’t work, so they’d stand up there and look down at the clouds, wondering if class warfare had already begun, wondering if they should trust their servants, usually they’d be holding a glass of liquor while they did this. A meteorologist looked out his window at home, contemplating his ineptitude, wondering if he should really hold his title if this king of storms, this usurper of good weather, had appeared without him being able to prophecies it, he told those poor people of the city that it would be a nice day, and he had failed them.

A tourist from across the country had just driven into town, surprised by the storms and the blackout, riding along the highway looking down at the abyss below, barely being able to make out dark, moving water down there. She then began to notice that there had been no other cars on the highway for quite some time, and as she considered turning back, seeing the effects of what she first thought was just a mild storm, her car began to be pushed by the wind, she tried to fight it and  turned her wheel against it, and her car went rolling down into the water. Or at least thats what she was imagining when she was suspended in the air, eyes closed, arms over her head to just protect it, and then a crash. Other than a nosebleed and a scrape on her left arm, tearing her favorite, coat she was fine. She looked at her surroundings and noticed the water was flowing below her, her head lights illuminating the raging water. She opened her car door, looked down, and noticed that she landed on top of a submerged bus. She thought that both cars should be crushed and she should be dead, then she started to question if she was. She would have never of guessed that this was what the afterlife would be like. She waited for a messenger of some sort, like an angel, or maybe a mermaid, since if this was the afterlife then clearly all major religions were wrong, since they failed to predict this, which lead her to be open to other forms of divinity. It was a dull wait. She ended up picking up her tour guide for the town and began leafing through it, no information on a storm, but it seemed like they had a flourishing sculpting community, that was neat. She only came to this city because she wanted to visit every city in the state, she let out a short laugh, she thought this was a safe way to be adventurous, but it still ended up killing her.

“Hey, you!” a voice called from the darkness. She rolled down her window and saw a silhouette of what she assumed was a man, because of the voice. “You gotta clear outta here, we need to get deeper into the city, the plants gonna blow!”

“What?”

“Yeah, whole things melting down, we have to get out of here!” This puzzled her. If she was dead then how could she die again, unless there were different levels of the after life, maybe what she thought was the real life, the realm of the living, was really just another after life, from her dying many times previously before. She wondered if narrowly avoiding death was a sign of dying, since when you really died it killed you, but the after life wants to be quiet and unnoticed, so when you enter it it only seems as if you avoided the danger, but really “Hello? You comin’ or what? We’re here on borrowed time.”

She grabbed a warm jacket, a cap to protect her hair, and stepped out of her car onto the bus, which caused her car to fall backwards and splash into the water, headlights shining straight up in the air. She didn’t even know it was balancing. She looked up at the guy on the roof and he started lowering down a latter, she grabbed the bottom and placed it on the top of the bus, then climbed onto the roof while the man muttered “Easy… Easy…” like she was going to be reckless in a situation like this. When she was close to the roof he grabbed her helped her up, it was still to dark to see any defining features on the man. “You okay? That was quite a fall off the overpass, you good to walk?” he said, concerned, she just quietly nodded and he jerked his thumb towards the heart of the city, “We have to move further in to higher ground. The whole city raises up as you go further in so we’ll be safer from flooding the further up we go. Oh shit, where are my manners? My names…” he thought sheepishly for a second, trying to recall names of men he idolized, shit he would call himself as a kid, pretending to be a hero, “The names Biggs. You from around here?” He began to lead her across the rooftops, slowly, trying to find stable footing on the slippery debris covered roof, trying to hold balance with the wind, it was already a lot of effort to talk loud enough to be heard.

“Nah, I’m from out of town, just drove in not too long ago.” A building next to them was struck by thunder, sending a loud crash, physical and audible, vibrations working overtime, that shook the roof and almost caused her to slip, but Biggs grabbed her to steady her. It was easier in general for him since he was wearing work boots. “Thanks. I, uh…” she looked around the city around her, she saw a billboard fall into the street and move with the current until it got caught by the cars stationed in the water. “Um…”

“Don’t mention it.” He wasn’t paying too much attention to her, he was staring across the street, trying to figure out how to get across the flood to the next set of roofs they had to reach. The billboard seemed promising but he wasn’t sure if it was stable, he didn’t really know much about billboards.

“Its not that its, uh,” then she realized the problem at hand, having to holster the inevitable question for later, “Do you know what you’re doing? Is this safe?”

The question echoed his own thoughts, but those were problems for the old him, the version of himself that lived in a different city, with normal weather, and worked at his 5 to 9, uneventful job at the plant. “Yeah yeah, I know this city like the back of my hand, I’m actually a union leader around here,” he nodded to himself, satisfied, “if it weren’t for me none of this area would’ve been build nohow. Like the back of my hand this city.” She didn’t really have any choice so she believed him. “Now lets get to safety.” He motioned her to a nearby fire escape and they began to slowly climb town towards the flood, to the billboard wedged nearby.

The climb down was a slow process, they had to clutch onto the railings and move cautiously as to not slip, the rain lashed their faces. During this monotonous journey down the escape she remembered the question on her mind earlier, “Hey, uh, Biggs right?”

“Thats right, Malone ‘Buster’ Biggs, they put tha buster in there cause of the way I busted up the guys on top, made this here a union city, busted up corruption. That’s me.”

“Oh.. Well, uh, am I dead?” Biggs stopped making his way down the stairs to get a good look at her, but he had trouble really even seeing her face, which made him feel dumb but he didn’t know how to react to the question so he just doubled down on the staring and squinted his eyes, a useless gesture. “Its just that I… I don’t know it made sense to me earlier, that I’m dead, I mean after the crash..” He kept staring “It just seems like it would be reasonable, you know? For all I know this could be the afterlife, the river styx maybe, I don’t know, and here you are to guide me, it just seems like, like-” he kept staring and she sheepishly quieted down, embarrassed now that she had said the idea out loud, it had been a long drive.

“Huh”, thats all he could say, almost inaudible to the tourist. The idea started to mess with his head the more he thought about it, so he started to keep moving. “Well if you’re dead now I’m sure as shit not going to let you die twice.” He was embarrassed by the reply so tried to work down the stairs but more quickly, he figured if he stayed silent she wouldn’t figure out that he was just some schmuck from the plant who lived a little ways from where they currently were, he needed the silence to keep the illusion alive for the both of them.

His response calmed her down a little bit, and she took the silence as confirmation of the after life. All the reasons she went on this trip, the debt, her abortion, her parents disapproval, her crippling loneliness, all of those reasons, those worries, bad memories, were pushed out of her mind. She was dead now and didn’t have to worry about any of that again.

[the-mamas-project]

The MAMAS Project - Michaela

There is an intense wisdom that arises out of loss. From the harsh perspective that life is fleeting and fragile. From experiencing loss of innocence. Out of this, emerges a more intuitive being, this is Michaela.

When I head out to meet her, I am nervous, almost self-conscious, on edge that I will say the wrong thing. I know her story and that she lost her first born to a genetic disease called SMA, but what I don’t know, is how to say the right thing at the right time when we talk about this. So naturally, I start rambling when I first meet her. I quickly come to see that among many things, Michaela is graceful and calm. She takes my bombardment in stride, because that is what you learn to do, when you are acutely aware that you have little control over so many things in life, big and small.

Michaela has been married to the first man she loved, for eight years, and is a mother of three, one earth side, one heaven side, and one currently in her womb.

“I have birthed and mothered two children, Florence and Theodore. It’s difficult to swallow this truth, but the reality is, I birthed and cared for my first child for three years and two months, and then I had to labour once again to let her go. After her birth, she was placed on my chest, warm and sticky with vernix. And she died against my chest too, cool and still, in my arms, heart to heart. My three-year- old daughter Florence, died on a warm spring day on May 9th, 2015. These words are a part of my story, but they have yet to become a part of me. A mother simply cannot let go of her child. A thick cord will always bind her to me, to her flesh and blood. Mine just so happens to be tethered to Heaven. I love my family with a desperation that one only comes to know after losing a child. I also have learned to hold all that I love loosely. The unthinkable can happen to anyone.”

As a child, Michaela’s deepest desire was to be the mother of a little girl, she pictured herself having a few little girls around her, and so when she and her husband found out they were pregnant with a girl, it felt too good to be true.

Despite a difficult pregnancy, Michaela had a beautiful water birth. With the normal anxieties of a new mom, she started her new life and watched with pride and adoration as her baby girl Florence grew and flourished into a doe-eyed, gentle baby.

But when Florence was around two and a half months old, Michaela’s mama instinct was on alert.

“I noticed she was quite weak in her lower extremities. My whole world stood still. Was something wrong? Every day I would get up to master the art of breastfeeding and learn my new normal as a mother of a newborn. And every day I would shove aside the deep, dark root of fear that was taking hold. My gut churned with knowing and I sought out wisdom from those around me. Does your baby do this? Is this normal? We pursued help from a pediatrician and a neurologist, and at the end of the road to diagnosis. We were told Florence Marigold, our four month old darling, had a fatal disease called Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA).”

SMA is a disease that affects all the muscles in the body, leading to weakness, respiratory distress, scoliosis, or heart failure. It is similar to ALS in adults, but is diagnosed in infancy or toddlerhood. Florence had Type 1 SMA, the most severe form and the prognosis according to textbooks, suggested she would not live past the age of one or two.

While most parents at this stage of parenthood are relishing the new stages and growth their babies are making each day, they were facing the all too real fear that their baby was suffering a terminal illness, a pain they could not alleviate.

“We often felt really out of control on our journey with Florence. We had to watch her like a hawk. Every hospital visit was deeply disturbing to her. I hated to see her so terrified and in pain. Caregiving is incredibly taxing, but I loved every moment I got to spend with her. Mothers and fathers of medically fragile children are expected to do so much more for their children. We had a mini hospital set up in our home. We often had to save her life, as she lay motionless on the couch. We called 9-11 and rushed to the ICU. We had to wait outside the room as she was intubated in a life or death moment. Would I ever see her again? Why wouldn’t they let me be with her? I was frantic like a wild animal.”

In the midst of all the panic, unknown and fear, Michaela was trying to parent and mother like anyone, trying to make the best decisions for her child. Only while the average parent was trying to choose which sleep training method is the right one, she was trying to choose the right medical course of action for her suffering child.

“And then, one day it hit me. I am her mother. I make the choices, along with her daddy. If I don’t understand something, I will ask. The hospital is a wonderful place to heal, but it doesn’t always do so. I suddenly realized, I was often motivated by fear. I did not want to lose her, but I saw how much ground SMA was gaining. I felt a shift inside of me, a very reluctant letting go. As I uncurled my fists, a weight fell off of me. I am her mother, but I am not a superhero. I will love her fiercely, but I will outlive her. How do I give her the most meaningful life without causing more trauma and pain? 

The fear of death was intense, but as I talked about it with Canuck Place Children’s Hospice, I began to relax and understand the complexities of our situation. This was not all on me, or my husband. I could not save her life forever. Her disease was progressing, but I was not failing as her mama. I began to realize that I had put so much pressure on myself to fix her and heal her.”

Michaela realized that she was gifted with the choice of how she wanted Florence to live.

Quality over quantity? More invasive or palliative care?

“For us, we chose to intervene when necessary and to reevaluate every few months. She would need breathing assistance, a feeding tube, a saturation monitor, and a pediatric wheelchair, to name a few. But mostly, she needed love and we were desperate to give it to her.”

After her third birthday, Michaela started to have a gut feeling that something was changing.

“The air felt thick with it. I felt like she wouldn’t see her fourth birthday. I felt this and yet we continued living. In my last blog post written eight days before she died, I wrote this: I have a peace that surpasses my understanding…am I experiencing this peace because she’s going to die and I’m somehow being prepared to walk through the valley of shadows and sad things? Is this the calm before the storm?”

Michaela says she “was cushioned by denial, which saved my sanity”. But she also learned to accept that we are all on the continuum of death. Some actively, others not.

“What do most elderly folks say when they see a mother with her child? It goes by so fast! Remember every moment! I learned this lesson very early on in my motherhood journey, and it has changed my life. We don’t know what tomorrow brings. Perhaps it will be another normal, mundane day. Even so, it’s a gift. Perhaps tragedy will strike; even so, that day is a gift. What a gift. What joy. Motherhood messed me up and made me whole.”

Each day is a gift. We’ve all heard it, but until you have lost something that you can’t get back, it’s hard to know if we really know how to access that feeling and live life with that zeal and desperation to hold on to every moment.

“Nothing can ever take away the joy Florence brought us. Her birth will not be shadowed by her death. Her smiles and giggles and sweet baby talk will always make my heart swell. I knew her for three euphoric years. I am still her mother. But I’m not. She will always be a part of me, but she is no longer mine. I won’t see her grow up. I don’t ever get to brush her curls away from her ears again or kiss her thin lips. But this is why my faith is an integral part of my being. The promise of heaven lets me rest, for I have an unshakeable knowing that I will see her again, and I will mother her again.”

In the midst of their journey with Florence, Michaela’s second child Theodore was born on their bed at home.

“He was our great leap of faith. When we found out he was healthy, I felt overwhelmed by joy. We would see him grow up! We will see him walk! I will dance with him at his wedding, beaming and weeping.”

While Theodore is her second child, in many ways they are experiencing parenthood for the first time.

“Theodore is my little dreamboat. He makes our entire family so happy. He’s like a balm over our wounds. He’s our second child, but we have experienced almost all of our milestone firsts with him. In a year, he will outlive his older sister. I can’t even imagine what that will feel like.”

 The pain of the loss of Florence is acute, and while she has found peace over the last year, a part of Michaela died with Florence.

“I don’t expect to be fixed and I certainly don’t expect those around me to fix me. Everyone says, I cannot imagine losing my child…and I agree. It is utterly impossible to think of! And yet when it happens, society has a way of rushing us forward. Death is so final; we don’t know how to live in the midst of it. We often want sanitized versions, wrapped up after twelve months. We certainly don’t know what to do with a mother who still grieves the loss of her child thirty-five years down the road. Child loss is like an amputation, and there is no prosthetic limb that will fill the gaping. Our Western world has a funny way of wanting to make things neat and tidy. We don’t like living with pain– it seems wrong, somehow, like a busted up version of what life is supposed to be. We have yet to value vulnerability and brokenness over happiness and success. We don’t like messy stories without pretty endings. But more often than not, most of us have a messy story and many of us don’t have a bow-topped ending.”

Florence taught Michaela that life is intensely precious and rich. When your time is truly numbered, the little things truly do melt away. You learn to hang on to the moments of love and truth.

“She was this delicate morsel that I wanted to inhale, piece by piece. We knew our time was limited with her. We knew her disease would take her life. And yet we lived. Everyday wasn’t a party, but everyday was full of love.”

*Note: Since the writing of this piece, he first ever treatment for SMA has been approved by the FDA, which means very soon in Canada, newly diagnosed parents will have an option to treat SMA instead of palliative or interventional care. Michaela was both thrilled and saddened to learn this: 

“It is a very wonderful thing but I know many in the community that are now grieving another part of their SMA story (us included). It was just too late for us and our child.”

Written + Photographed by Jena + Sarah {The MAMAS Project} *Exception: Above photo of Florence, taken by Michaela.