#i still went in expecting nothing and it was still godawful

[loisfreakinglane]

what 2023 movies wound up disappointing you?

oh this is A SAD LIST. IT MAKES ME SAD. these are not my least favorite movies of the year, these are simply movies that i had some level of expectations for that let me down rip rip. not necessarily the worst films ever, just. a disappointment to me personally.

magic mike's last dance- i ADORE magic mike xxl, it is one of my most rewatched movies of all time, i loved it with everything in me. and i hated basically every last thing about this sequel. haaaaaated.

voleuses/wingwomen- i was so hype for this! the idea looked so fun! and while it wasn't THE WORST THING EVER i feel so sour about it. and uhhhh why @ that ending

perfect addiction- if this movie had just ended like......... 10 minutes earlier. i would have said i LOVED IT. but that last chunk brought down the whole mood hard.

ghosted- messy spy romance with a confused flop dude and a badass lady???????? with a fun array of cameos????????? why didn't this work for me?????????????

peter pan and wendy- i loved the peter pan casting! i loved the lost boys being an assortment of kids! and tiger lily being super involved! HATED EVERYTHING TO DO WITH HOOK AND THE FACT HE TOOK OVER THE WHOLE PLOT. AND HOW DID THIS MOVIE LOOK SO UGLY. give me wendy or peter pan 04 any day like lord

my fault- how did they make messy teen stepsibling romance so BORING

[fingertipsmp3]

That last post just reminded me of something honestly mind-boggling that that friend did

[animeomegas]

congrats on 4k!!!! im so excited to see what everyone sends in! could you do itachi with life drawing, (maybe nude portraits hehe) maybe childhood friends? i feel like the reunion would be awkward and kind of silly (especially if it’s nude portraits lmao) i suppose this is a non massacre au too

Thank you!! I love this request, thank you for sending it in <3

...

ITACHI + CHILDHOOD FRIENDS + NUDE MODEL LIFE DRAWING

It was exhilarating seeing Itachi again.

He had changed a lot since the days when you would explore the palace together, play games in the grounds and go swimming in the lake, but then again, you had changed just as much.

You had mourned your friendship once you both became old enough that issues of propriety started being raised and Itachi's parents decided that it wasn't proper for their omega heir to go galivanting off with an alpha by himself. Yes, you'd still seen him at parties for some godawful small talk and the occasional dance, but it just wasn't the same.

But now, him being here was bringing everything flooding back.

"Mother says she's set up something for us to do in the West Tower," you explained, dragging Itachi by the hand. "Do you remember where that is?"

"Of course," Itachi laughed, following you easily. You felt giddy, like you were naughty children sneaking out to play again.

Itachi had been polite and friendly, but undoubtedly cold when he'd first arrived at the palace as your fiancé, but you had slowly but surely worn him down until it felt like nothing had changed at all from those early days.

His smile was so bright and it was fuelling your own joy twofold.

The sounds of footsteps and laughing echoed around the halls as you went, several servants giving you both amused or exasperated looks that you ignored. Itachi was here! Back with you! You would at the very least be married to an old friend that you could love and trust, and that meant the world to you.

As the door to the West Tower came in view, Itachi moved forward and grabbed the handle before you, confident in his childhood memories that he was going to the right room. As you approached behind, you were vaguely curious as to what your mother had set up for you, but if it was with Itachi, you knew you'd enjoy it.

As you walked in, you first noticed the two easels that had been set up in the room. You weren't surprised because the West Tower had some beautiful windows that made the rooms perfect for painting, but in the centre of the room where you expected to see a vase of flowers or an artfully arranged spread of fruit, was a woman wearing a flimsy dressing gown.

You sighed internally; of course your mother would choose something like this. Despite her image as a serious queen and ruler, you knew she had a playful streak a mile wide and had probably thought it hilarious to put you and Itachi into this situation knowing how traditional and modest the Uchiha family were.

Seeing you enter, the woman smiled at you both, untying the dressing gown and, yep, there was nothing underneath.

"Good afternoon," she said, voice pleasant. She sat down on a chair and arranged her body into a clearly well-practiced position. "Please let me know if there are any changes to my position that you require."

With that, she fell silent. You chanced a glance over at Itachi and the damage was just as you thought. His pale skin had turned a bright red and his eyes were wider than you'd ever seen them. His gaze was fixated on the woman.

"Itachi?" you asked hesitantly, stifling your laughter. "Are you alright?"

Itachi jumped like a frightened rabbit, ripping his gaze away from the model and looking everywhere apart from at you.

"It's- I- I- didn't realise that, this, this, this sort of thing was- ah," he stumbled over his words, but you understood his meaning nonetheless. Nude model life drawing was the kind of thing considered inappropriate in his family, but yours had always been laissez-faire about such matters.

You couldn't keep the laughter at bay any longer and a snort escaped. Itachi turned to glare at you, but the effect was far less intimidating coming from someone who looked like a tomato.

"What's wrong, 'tachi?" you teased, leaning into his personal space. "You don't like life drawing?"

He pursed his lips together, well aware that you were teasing him.

"Let's sit down and get started," he said instead of answering you. He walked over to the farthest easel confidently, arranging his pencils and paints with ease, but when he glanced up at the model once more, you could see him falter. You felt a grin creep up on your face. You had a feeling that watching Itachi was going to be far more entertaining than the life drawing.

...

After about half an hour of almost silent sketching, you were making good progress on your drawing. Alphas weren't often encouraged to peruse art, especially royal ones like yourself, but your drawing accurately reflected the amount of work you'd put in growing up.

Itachi's though? You felt your chest shake in an effort to supress your amusement. He was fairly skilled from the looks of it, but rather than complete a rough sketch and then work on the details, he had hyper focused on sketching the woman's face.

Glancing over at his canvas, you could see that her body was still comprised of only a few lines while her face and hair were fully shaded. You had also noticed him sneaking not-so-subtle glances at the model before flushing pink and returning to his work. You didn't blame him for being curious after his obviously limited experience with the naked body growing up.

"Perhaps, I should ask the servants to prepare some smelling salts in advance," you said suddenly, breaking the silence. Itachi looked up at you, eyebrows furrowed. "If you are going to behave like this on our wedding night, you may very well faint."

Itachi blinked at you for a few moments, processing what you were implying, before his face returned to that glorious shade of red that you were going to have great fun coaxing out of him at every given opportunity.

"That's-" Itachi's eyes darted over to the model who was the picture of professionalism and obviously pretending not to be able to hear you. "Do not speak of such things!"

You laughed joyfully.

"You are right, dearest fiancé. Such things are much more fun to do than speak about."

Itachi didn't deign to give that a response, instead turning back to his drawing with fervour.

You giggled to yourself, but also turned back to your drawing. You could certainly say that this was the most fun you'd ever had life drawing, and you made a mental note to thank your mother when you next saw her.

Time passed quickly once you truly focused on your drawing, which was why it was so starting when something wet hit your cheek.

You sat up in surprise, hand automatically rising to your cheek and dabbing at the wetness. You brought your hand in front of your face and saw your fingers stained with red. Blood? You felt a flash of panic, but your mind quickly corrected you. No, not blood... paint.

Your eyes darted over to Itachi but he was completely focused on sketching, his face as innocent as possible. But the little paint brush, next to a small pot of red paint that sat beside him was hardly innocent.

"You little-" you said under your breath.

"Did you say something?" Itachi asked turning to you. He feigned surprise at the paint on your face. "Oh, you have a little paint on your cheek. Did you know?"

Itachi's eyes were dancing with mirth. He was getting payback for all the teasing. Your mind started running at a mile a minute, trying to come up with a way to turn this back on him.

If everyday was going to be as entertaining as this, you couldn't wait to get married.

[plusvanity]

"His one and only reason to proudly smile will always be Dead."

holy shit this gave me the CHILLS.

on one hand, it's clear that he's exploring Pelle's mental illness for the sake of building this edgy reputation for mayhem in the scene, all of his actions are moved by his selfish desire of creating something infamous and shocking. on the other hand, deep down you can see that he's still fond of Pelle in a way, in a very weird and toxic way - that's where the codependency you mentioned once is explicit. i guess, despite always being treated like an object, Pelle finds comfort in these little times Øystein validates him. after all, Øystein was once someone he deeply trusted and set a lot of expectations for.

i really like the way you write their relationship! the eighth chapter was my favorite for sure. people are slowly starting to notice that Varg sees Pelle as more than just a weird bandmate, including Øystein, and i'm curious to see how that will affect them in the future - would Euro start treating his bandmate a little better upon realizing his attention might be being stolen? i hope he doesn't, and Pelle realizes Euro's just a little shit and moves out of that godawful house (but that's probably not gonna happen). your art is amazing, I really enjoy reading Something Rotten 💕 keep up with the good work!

Boy, isn't it alwasy complicated with these guys? Ahaha.

Pelle tried his hardest to convince every cell in his brain that he hates Øystein to death but that's just impossible due to the fact that in the beginning Øystein was the only one who wanted to deal with his mental issues.

It should've been a friendship, right? With both of them having the same direction in music, endless inspiration and tones of creativity to shape Mayhem into what it became later on. And it was good at the start but as soon as Pelle's problems got out of control, Øystein not only that he easily gave up on trying but he went like 'Well, now you know what?...'

Øystein is not stupid. He's lazy for sure and insufferable at many points but he's good at playing the puppeteer's role. He did it with Pelle (building him up just to bring him down, creating the most favorable premises for Pelle to remain completely dependent on Øystein), surely he did it with Jørn (by obstructing him) and now he thinks he's gonna do that with Varg lol.

I don't see Euro genuinely starting to treat his bandmates better than he ever did before because (just as in communism) 'if you get people used to a shitty condition of existing long enough, they'll eventually resign with themselves and stop seeking something better' lol.

Pelle is stuck, that's for sure.. and Euro thinks he he's got all the jokers. He thinks that Varg's just some nerdy fanboy that's spreading false rumors and there's nothing underneath the surface.. but obviously that's not exactly true.

There's a lot of underlying meaning in this story's dialogue, but the most obvious line regarding Øystein's outcome is what Jørn told him before leaving. 'Keep talking shit and one time you might fucking regret it'.

Thank you very much for investing in this fic!! I love waffling about it 😭💞 your ask was soo cool to explore, it made my day!

Thank you!! 🖤

[dailycass-cain]

Knight Terrors: Nightwing #2 had Cass in it so of course I'm going to give my thoughts on the issue. Is it good? Is it bad? No matter what I'll talk about the Cass in extraordinary detail!

I'll start with the good.

As a series focusing on Nightwing and Scarecrow? It was good. Alright. I mean this isn't the first time we've seen Dick facing his nightmares (nor will it be the last), but the layer of Scarecrow being involved added something to this mini.

Daniele Di Nicuolo's art was amazing. Really made the two issues pop more. More so when it went into the whole "nightmare" vibe.

That's all the positives I can give.

The whole Batgirls section of this issue felt superfluous to the overall story with Dick. It didn't really add anything to the plot, and all the two did was free Barbara-- which is kind of a detriment to the character.

I mean you could've had Nightwing and Scarecrow fix her and she finds out the exit herself. There was "zero" need for the Batgirls in this story sadly. In that area, the whole female section to this mini just felt-- meh to me.

Ironically, once again Nightwing and the three Batgirls just don't mix well. The character overshadowed all three Batgirls back in the infamous Batgirls #7-8 arc.

The ideas are solid with each Batgirl facing their own nightmare. But that's the grand problem with this issue and the story in itself. We just never see it.

I went into the issue and this page above is like, "Okay, we're gonna get some context right? Akin to what's going on over in Action Comics and Superman tie-ins to this event? We're so getting a Cass/Steph story and-- oh that's it no more issue? WHAT WAS THE POINT?!" 😩

Going into the story I kept expecting more and got the rug pulled out from under me. Therein lies the rub. Dick, Jason, and Tim (Damian gets to be in the main story) got FULL exposure to their "Knightmares".

Batgirls? Well, tough luck here's a tiny nugget and um.. WE'RE DONE!

At the very least with Batgirls #7-8 I know the context of the two issues. I can understand why that story is a calamity as it entails everything so very wrong with Dick (he overshadows the actual leads) and Barbara (is squandered in reused bad subplot again for the 4th time).

If it wasn't for Spirit World #4 the week prior, and Birds of Prey #1 next month (September 5th and you should ALL buy it). I'd be more peeved at the waste of space Knight Terrors: Nightwing series gave Cass.

The ideas by Michael Conrad and Becky Cloonan are sound. The problem is-- we get NOTHING more. Just, "hey this happened. We're not even gonna explain why Cass looks way different now and is caked in blood."

Just enjoy this cool moment. That's it.

I don't blame the writers for this. They thought of the idea to put this in here and that's it. I blame DC heads for this. You clearly could've given us a Batgirls tie-in or small story to "fill that gap" from point A to B.

This felt like I was back in 2016-2020 where we'd get a "small bone" and that's it. Well, coming off Batgirls ongoing, Cass being in Spirit World and BoP. I can say I don't mind overlooking it almost.

Almost.

The problem is in regards to Stephanie Brown and Barbara Gordon two female characters who deserve better. Whatever comes from the godawful "Gotham War" event next month something bad just feels will come over Steph and Babs.

It already feels unneeded as Tec, BoP, and Batman & Robin feel like they're just going in this direction:

So if that's the case. Why can't we get one nugget in this damn event for Steph and Babs? Freaking Knight Terrors: Punchline #1-2 gave Babs a better nugget here and that was a goddamn nightmare construct.

I can go on and on. But DC you need to still treat female characters slightly better here. Ironically, yet again when it comes to your Batgirls.

This issue disappointed me. It made me slightly angry, but hey Spirit World is currently out there. Birds of Prey is out next month. As a fan of Cass, I'd be feasting and feasting good.

Do you want a better-written comic by this team? Batgirls #14 and anything after #7. I also LOVED the idea of Cass being scared of what she might become still. I wish we you know-- SAW IT TOO!

DC?

Treat your female characters better than this. This issue feels like a regression. If Stephanie gets "taken off the table" for a bit due to this godawful event beginning next month. This issue will just feel worse.

[hotforharrison]

Life has been kind of crazy in the worst possible way this month.

It feels like so much more than 3 weeks since the day I filed for divorce on July 1, which was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.

I meant every word of my vows on that Thursday afternoon in September 2010 when my marriage began. I thought we were going to be each other's person for the rest of our lives, not for that to slip through my fingers because I was careless with his heart, and I can't put into words how deeply I regret it.

I never expected his embrace to hurt the way it does now, and the worst part of it is that he's the only one here to hug. He was the biggest source of my comfort for so many years, and even if he was here to hold me right now, it wouldn't be the same. What we had is completely gone.

It still kill me that I don't remember the last time we had sex, the last time we shared the bed we slept in together every night, and I woke up to him like I did so many times over the years.

He told me that we could have sex again on a friends with benefits basis, but I don't want to. It would destroy me.

Anyway, the power has been back on for a full week now after 8 days without in the godawful Texas summer heat, with only a few brief interruptions, mostly tonight when we had a thunderstorm.

We've spent the last week and a half, starting before the power even came back on, getting quotes from contractors for repairs for the extensive damages. The hurricane damages to the house I live in are in the tens of thousands of dollars.

(The house was downgraded from what was my home before my marriage ended because it feels like I'm surrounded by the devastating loss and ghosts of him and the love and life we shared for so long. It's agonizing just being here a lot of the time.)

We're not sure what the homeowners' insurance is going to cover for the repairs, which is terrifying, and we need to figure out how to work with FEMA if the insurance isn't helpful.

I'm also worried the HOA we're in will start giving us problems if we can't get the repairs done very quickly.

This month has been such shit in so many ways.

I desperately need my weekly counseling sessions, and my counselor cancelled this week. I've had only one of my weekly appointments this month due to cancellations and the hurricane, which is taking its toll on me.

In more positive and hopeful news, I had an appointment last Thursday with my job counselor at the state run employment program I was accepted into.

They'll pay fully for my schooling, textbooks, and supplies to get a degree or certificate from a local community college and offer job placement services after graduation.

I need a job I can do remotely, and I originally intended to pursue a year long certificate program in medical billing and coding. However, all of the local programs required on campus courses and capstones, which I cannot do.

I looked into every single fully online degree or certificate program that the local community colleges offered that aren't any longer than two years (my ex-husband agreed to let me stay here rent free for a few years while I get myself sorted) and settled on an Associate degree program in mobile/web application development.

I applied for the program today.

I wanted something with a decent level of job security, and I don't think phones are going anywhere. There's the possibility of freelance work on the side as well.

Considering and pursuing a career in technology is nothing new to me.

I went to a public university for an information technology program for 2 years after I graduated from high school, followed by a technical school for computer network operations for a year.

I never ended up working in the industry because it was saturated at my time of graduation, and they wanted me to have experience for an entry level position, which I found endlessly ironic.

I was told more than once by potential employers that I should have done an internship before I graduated to gain experience, which would have been fantastic to know while I was still in school and not with the days ticking down until I had to start repaying my student loans.

I desperately hope that I can transfer some of the roughly 20 year old credits over from the university I went to to cover the general education portion of the degree and maybe trim off a semester. (While technology absolutely has changed since the 2000s, some things haven't changed, like an introductory English or history course.)

[louisegluckpdf]

👀👀 Do you not like Mike Flanagan’s work?

umm okay. my flanagan feelings are complicated. i do think his stuff is objectively bad. visually abhorrent (he always fucks with the color grading). the actors are always like. marvel-level madeup. everyone looks like a model in a stock image. the characters themselves always feel flat—even their flaws and tics feel calculated to represent a certain ~archetype~ rather than represent a fully fleshed-out person. the dialogue is godawful. too many monologues. someone has to teach that man to kill his darlings. i also think he relies almost entirely on poorly-executed jumpscares to qualify his work as "horror," but nothing i've seen by him has actually managed to cultivate an atmosphere of horror/dread. i often forget his stuff is supposed to be horror until a jumpscare (usually one of 5 in one episode) pops up.

that being said, i do think some of his stuff explores interesting themes. the interaction of grief and family dynamics in hill house was legitimately moving! faith and language and dogmatism and guilt drove a lot of midnight mass! the ideas driving these shows were genuinely fascinating imo, especially because they went beyond what you'd expect from your typical netflix horror (i have nothing good to say abt bly manor tho). these themes' exploration is usually clunky and heavy-handed, but it can still be entertaining and thought-provoking

all told, i don't understand why he's been given the creative freedom he has. i don't think he's a good director. i don't think he understands horror as a genre. i think he has good ideas but lacks the writing chops to create something with the sort of nuance and atmosphere i think good horror should have.

[kunosoura]

honestly after stewing on them for a while some of my favorite parts of wheel of time are parts that are inextricable from how it sucks as a whole. like yeah nynaeve was uncooperative and irrational for most of the early series and that’s in large part Jordan projecting his paranoid lifelong complex around women and domestic power into her character, but the result is someone who I love one because she’s an idiot who gets owned and two because it’s a very real picture of someone who went from having a ton of power to protect the ones she loved in their small world to someone who had basically none, watching as they slipped away from her protection while the world became larger and more dangerous for them all than they ever could have imagined. And in that loss of power, she becomes frustrated and terrified and she lashes out against Moiraine irrationally because Moiraine is the one who brought that change into their lives (even if in doing so she saved literally all of them) (also as I always say Moiraine’s shady nature and habit of withholding information earns every bit of mistrust she gets even when she’s literally doing the most benevolent possible thing she can).

or like Faile and Perrin’s relationship, which is informed by Jordan’s insanely twisted notions of how gender is communicated by culture and also his deep seeded belief that men and women can’t communicate with each other well because they’re basically different species. most of the early books they’re a fucking nightmare, she’s trying to bratty bottom her way into making him a masc dom that he’s never gonna be (And subsequently adjusting her expectations when she learns how much that conflicts with how he was raised), while he’s clueless about what she wants and getting the wrong information all the time because his weird magic sense of smell betrays her emotions to him and he sort of reads her mind without factoring in that she’s an adult who is capable of feeling something irrational and correcting it before she speaks and isn’t just lying to him about her feelings, not to mention the one big blowout in the ways between them that’s maybe perrin at his lowest where he fundamentally misunderstands what she wants. but like!!! despite all that, they manage to be my favorite relationship in the whole series, because from their godawful beginnings they grow a lot. Faile learns about the gender dynamics in the Two Rivers and tries to meet Perrin halfway, and he eventually meets her there, learning to have some fun with the weird dominance play dynamic she expects. Faile comforts Perrin when he learns his family died while he was away, and is the only one who recognizes how much pain he’s repressing, able to cut through that repression and get him to grieve in a healthy way (incidentally one of my favorite scenes in the whole series). They’re the only couple that learns to compromise, works on their relationship, and becomes a strong couple that can work together with each other. And that conclusions wouldn’t be half as satisfying if it didn’t start in Jordan’s weird misogynistic hangups about communications between men and women.

Like, these are character arcs where the misogyny - not just that which is consciously invoked but the baseline assumptions -  is still fundamental. And this is to say nothing of the many ways that the fundamental worldbuilding the series is built on requires an essentialist and noxious gender binary. The amazon series removing the immutable metaphysical gendered split in the one power would be good overall if the entire rest of the series wasn’t built on that!! How do you adapt that without setting off one of the many landmines it suggests? I don’t think I’d want to try, personally.

[rivilu]

The da4 leaks are the most conflicted I think I've ever felt about anything game related in my life. The ui? Godawful. Possible warden player character? I Might Actually Purchase Your Game. The combat is just what inq would have been if they didn't pretend to care about tactics and just went all out on the fast paced fighting, which is cool, but we've seen nothing of the level up/stat selection screen so I still have 0 trust that they will let us choose out own fucking attributes like in the first two. Like my lore expectations are in hell and going down every time an inquisition event is mentioned, the gameplay is the only thing keeping my attention atm and it's so 50/50 JUST-

[mylordshesacactus]

Hey, as someone who is kicking around a project concerning the character and the lack of content with her... Any advice on writing Luminara? Sense of humor, very good example of a *good* Jedi in being a person who cares but also upholding the code. Trying to get a strong basis because uh, let's just say that Luminara starts in a ringer because Empire custody because that's where the divergence point happens and trying to do the character justice while also just not in a good place for a bit.

Honestly, those two things are pretty much the cornerstone. She's a strategic genius and a damn good head for tactics, though not actually better than average as a fighter--not bad by any means, "average for a Jedi Master" is still fucking good, but not particularly gifted in that regard. Her technical skill is excellent but she's rigid in her form, mentally doesn't react well to sustained skirmishes, and she's consistently shown to get overwhelmed when her mobility is limited in any way. Her sense of humor also tends toward the "wry observation" variety rather than making outright jokes, though she's not above (very) gently pranking someone--look at her setting Barriss up to meet Ahsoka with NO preparation for what her and Anakin are like!

She's also very warm and, honestly, quite nonjudgmental. Just look how friendly she is with Anakin in the Second Geonosis arc ("I love your simple logic, Skywalker"), when you'd expect them to grate on each other like sandpaper. Things get a little bit testy at first, when she feels he's going to put Barriss in danger/force her onto the front lines in what we recently learned was her first field mission since the disastrous invasion in AOTC--but after that's resolved, they actually get along very well and have a deep mutual respect.

(There's a little moment in Legacy of Terror that I adore--after cutting Luminara down, she willingly clings to Anakin's arm to steady herself. He supports her weight, slips her lightsaber into her hand, and she nearly steps closer to him slightly as she draws it, until she's had a moment to take stock of the battlefield. He has immense respect for her, and she respects him right back.)

There's also a Legends story that I find extremely IC, about her setting Barriss up with a meditation exercise that she wasn't ready for--achieving levitation--and the instruction that Luminara wanted to know how many objects were on a ledge that Barriss couldn't see from her position sitting on the floor, but would be able to see if she levitated. Luminara was very clear that counting the objects was of utmost importance and nothing else mattered. When Barriss failed to levitate before Luminara returned, she very gently and with good humor guided her apprentice into realizing that levitation had never been the point--she just assumed it was, and then went into an anxiety spiral that prevented her from meditating when she failed.

All she had to do to count the objects on the ledge was stand up and look.

Obviously that anecdote isn't canon anymore--but it's clearly things like that (from the Medstar novels, which are....fine....and VERY MUCH NOT from the godawful Approaching Storm book, fuck that book, I hate that fucking book it's SO bad) that the TCW writers based Luminara's personality off of.

She tends to overthink her personal relationships--holding herself at too far a remove from the people she loves out of, ironically, fear of attachment. But she doesn't generally overthink kindness, offering it freely, and she's very protective of Barriss.

All of which you seem to have down pretty solidly tbh! But those are my thoughts.

[reyescarlos]

give me the future || a tarlos fic

summary: Carlos shares the good news of the potential next step in his career with TK; Carlos and TK host Andrea and Gabriel at their new home.

word count: 4.3k || read on ao3

So give me the future, it's golden and bright Catch a fever dream in the flash of the lights Now nothing is certain, and the song isn't done But new melodies rise up with the sun

Long nights aren’t at all uncommon in his line of work, but Carlos can admit––if only now in hindsight––that he’s pushed himself past his normal bounds.

It’d been worth still being awake when morning broke today. A few hours of lost sleep wasn’t much of a price to pay at all. It was time well spent that led him to a crucial break in the case. But as he takes the elevator up to his loft, Carlos feels the fatigue deep in his bones.

What he longs for now is a hot shower and a good night’s sleep. He rests his back against the elevator wall, his eyes closing for the brief trip up to his floor.

The adrenaline of finding Katie and getting her back to her parents is wearing off, but his mind still buzzes all the same, thinking once more about the look of sheer relief and gratitude in her parents’ eyes to see her again. He’d played a significant hand in reconnecting them, and now, Carlos can only hope they'll be on the road to healing from this traumatic ordeal.

His eyes flutter open once the elevator comes to a stop and dings as the doors open. The hall is silent, no doubt his neighbors have long since called it a night.

He fishes for his keys in his pocket and lets himself in quietly. He isn’t expecting to find the lights on or to see TK wide awake and smiling at him at this hour.

“Hey, babe,” TK calls out from the living room.

After going months on end coming home to an empty space, Carlos can barely put into words what it feels like to be greeted by TK, especially after such a harrowing day.

He toes off his shoes at the door and drops his bag down as well.

TK sits on the floor before the coffee table, the outline of a puzzle on the surface. TK’s has a few piles going with like-colored pieces.

Carlos settles in beside him, pressing a kiss to the cheek TK offers him, letting his nose skim across his skin for a moment before he pulls away.

“I’d ask how your night went, but the story was all over the news,” TK says, looking over at him.

Carlos shakes his head and busies himself with seeing what he can cobble together from the grouping closest to him.

“I feel like I’m living with a celebrity,” TK tacks on, no doubt picking up on how bashful this attention is making Carlos feel.

Carlos rolls his eyes and drags a puzzle piece over to him with his index finger. He holds it up and looks back at what TK has connected so far and spots where his piece fits.

“I was just doing my job.”

“You were doing the job of a detective and you did it so well that you saved a little girl. You went above and beyond. It’s incredible. APD is lucky to have you. They really should give you a raise for this.”

Carlos bites back on his lower lip and rolls a puzzle piece between his fingers.

“Funny you should say that, actually.”

TK looks up at him with a quizzical face, giving him his undivided attention.

Carlos relays his conversation with Detective Washington and how adamant she’d been in voicing her opinion on him taking this next step in his career. It’d been all Carlos could think about on the drive home and the more he talks, the more he’s dying to hear TK’s take on the matter.

“Could I really even do this? I mean, I’ve thought about it, sure, but never this seriously before. Now though…the idea’s got some legs to it.”

TK’s head lobs to the side as he scooches closer to him, their shoulders touching.

“I’m pretty sure you could take on the whole world if you wanted to. This isn’t even the first time your skills made one hell of a rescue. You saved my neck last year and Nancy’s and Tommy’s.”

As if Carlos could ever forget that godawful night. Far too much was at stake. He had to get that right.

“Look at what you did for this family. Because of you Katie is safe with her parents again. You’re brilliant, Carlos. Don’t go doubting yourself,” he says, reaching up a hand and gently massaging the nape of Carlos’ neck.

Carlos lets out a soft breath at the feel and relaxes a bit more under his boyfriend’s touch.

“But,” TK continues, a wide smile on his face, “if you feel yourself getting discouraged, just know that I believe in you enough for the both of us. There’s nothing you can’t do.”

Carlos smiles warmly at this, feeling a fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach. He wonders if he’ll ever fully get used to this. If one day he won’t get butterflies and just learn to casually accept words like these from TK’s lips. He certainly hopes not.

“My biggest cheerleader,” he muses.

“And don’t you forget it.”

TK searches his face and it melts Carlos’ heart to see the admiration brimming in his boyfriend’s gaze.

“I’m so proud of you, Carlos,” TK says, putting into words what his face so clearly tells him.

All the same, it’s nice to hear it explicitly.

Carlos buries his face in the crook of his neck and breathes him in. His lips brush his throat and Carlos can feel the uptick in TK’s pulse at that brief bit of contact. It feels good to be this close, to feel the thrum of his blood racing beneath his skin. Carlos sighs, runs his palms across the expanse of TK’s back.

He pulls away and gets back to helping TK with the puzzle, finding a piece that connects to another.

“I’ll be your study buddy for the test, if you’d like that,” TK volunteers as he resumes work on the puzzle, too. “We can get a nice reward system going and everything. Incentive, you know?”

Carlos lifts a brow and eyes him suspiciously.

“You may wind up being a distraction. I’d imagine that’s actually part of your intent here.”

TK does his best to look affronted, but fails miserably.

“I’m offended by that accusation, Detective Reyes. I promise, my intentions are purely noble.”

Carlos' heart skips a beat at the word detective with his last name hitched to it. He can definitely get used to that, though it feels woefully premature to say it now.

“You’re going to jinx it.”

“No, I’m speaking it into existence,” TK counters. “The universe will do its thing. After all, you were meant for this. It’s bound to happen on its own anyway. I’m just…giving it a little nudge.”

TK leans in and pecks his lips, but Carlos suddenly craves more. TK’s unfailing belief in his capabilities just does something to him. He places his hands on either side of TK’s face and kisses him deeply, pouring everything he can’t find the words for into it. TK is pliant as ever and settles back against the ground the moment Carlos starts to lean into him.

Their puzzle is abandoned for the night in favor of other recreational activities.

~*~*~

“What’s on the menu for tonight?” TK asks, coming into the kitchen where Carlos is working on meal prep.

Carlos had extended an offer to his parents to join them for dinner tonight. It’s been far too long since Carlos has hosted anyone and with this new job prospect on the horizon, it just feels like the perfect time for guests.

It feels significant to have his parents be the first people they entertain in their new home together.

He does his best to block out the nerves creeping in over sharing his most recent life update with his parents, more so his dad. He thinks back to last year and his father expressing his pride over him uncovering where TK and the paramedics were being held. But to make an actual career out of detective work is an entirely different beast. Would Gabriel find him suited for the job?

“Honey glazed salmon with a simple spinach rice and seared vegetables,” he answers. “And, before you ask, I am making some of that fresh bread you like.”

“Have I told you lately that I love you?”

“Yes, Rod Stewart, you said quite a few times last night actually, in several octaves.”

TK hip checks him, but laughs.

“You’re the worst. What can I help you with?” he offers, looking at all the ingredients spread out on the counter.

“I’ll put you on vegetable duty.”

TK salutes him before going to the sink to wash his hands. They work together perfectly in the kitchen, orbiting each other as they move around to grab the things they need. This is far more in line with what Carlos had in mind all those months ago when they both first fell in love with this loft.

Little moments like preparing a meal together, sharing space. Building blocks towards a happily ever after. It makes Carlos so happy he can’t help but to steal kisses here and there. TK gets in a few of his own as well.

Time seems to move differently with his boyfriend and before Carlos realizes it, everything is set for the night. He and TK carry the dishes over to the dining room table, filling water glasses and adjusting place settings just so.

Now that the time is drawing so near for his parents to arrive, Carlos can feel himself growing a bit antsy.

TK must pick up on it because he comes close to him and settles his hands on Carlos’ chest, smoothing his palms against his button down shirt. The gesture gets Carlos’ heart racing for a completely different reason now. It’s enough to quiet the static in his head.

“Thank you,” he says simply. But he knows TK understands just how much it encompasses.

TK kisses his forehead just as a knock sounds on the door.

TK lets his hands fall away and Carlos heads for the front of the loft to greet his parents. He takes one last deep breath before reaching for the doorknob.

When he opens the door, he is immediately blinded by the big smile on his mother’s face. She hands the portable cake carrier she’s holding over to his father. Carlos sees a quick flash of strawberries and is all too happy to see she’s made her strawberry meringue–– one of his favorites.

She throws her arms open wide and Carlos goes willingly, letting himself be wrapped up in a hug from his mother.

“Mi amor,” she sighs as he crouches down and secures his arms around her in return.

“Hi, Ma. How are you?”

Andrea pulls back to look at him, one hand cupping his cheek.

“Better now that I’m seeing you.”

Her thumb brushes against his face. But as she looks past his shoulder, she moves away, and her arms open once more.

Carlos looks over his shoulder and sees TK bounding towards her. Carlos smiles to himself at the sight of his mother fussing over TK, no doubt checking in to make sure he’s still feeling well.

He turns back and looks to his father who pulls him into a quick side hug.

“Dad. I’m glad you guys could come over.”

“Thank you both for having us. We’ve missed these dinners.”

Carlos agrees; it’s yet another thing he’s happy to have back in place now that he and TK are together again.

Carlos leads them over to the living room where TK and his mother are standing about and chatting.

“Dinner’s actually ready,” Carlos says as TK shakes Gabriel’s hand.

Carlos frees his dad from the cake and it’s starting to feel more like a game of hot potato.

TK extends a hand, gesturing Andrea towards the dining area as Carlos makes a beeline for the kitchen and drops off tonight’s dessert. It’s silly to be feeling nervous about telling his parents what is very clearly good news. He knows that, rationally, and yet all logic has apparently slipped out the front door the moment he let his parents in.

He grips the edge of the counter with both hands and rolls the small bit of tension out of his neck.

“Relax.”

Carlos startles at the sound of TK’s voice in the room with him. He smiles quickly,  but TK knows him too well to be fooled by it.

“They’re going to be thrilled. This is an amazing thing that’s about to happen for you, Carlos. Your folks are going to be beyond happy, not to mention proud.”

For as much as Carlos hates to think about it, he knows his anxiety has always been his biggest personal adversary. He can easily work himself into a frenzy if he allows himself to think too much on certain matters. It’s something he’s actively trying to work on and having TK there to help him keep his calm does wonders for his state of mind. TK just gets him, even without him having to state what he’s thinking plainly.

TK drapes his arms over Carlos’ shoulders and Carlos leans forward, letting his forehead rest lightly against his boyfriend’s. He closes his eyes and just stands there for a few seconds, letting TK’s presence anchor him.

He nods once and TK kisses him quickly.

“Come on, let's not keep your parents waiting.”

TK holds onto his arm as they head back into the dining room. They settle in at the table, TK to his left and his mother right across from him.

“Dinner looks good, as always,” she compliments, her eyes raking over the spread.

Carlos beams. It’s thanks to her that he got into cooking in the first place. Getting her stamp of approval never gets old.

They all fall into easy conversation as they fix their plates and start to eat. Andrea begins telling Carlos the latest happenings on the ranch as TK and Gabriel talk about baseball, playfully trash talking each other’s teams.

It’s still surreal to look at his life now, and see all the ways in which it is playing out as he’d once been almost too afraid to want, for fear of never actually having it.

But here he is now, seated at a family dinner with the love of his life folded effortlessly into the mix as if he’s always somehow been a fixture. Conversation is easy throughout the meal with the four of them.

“I have some news I’d like to share,” Carlos says loudly enough to get everyone’s attention.

He looks over at TK who is already smiling at him encouragingly.

The space is quiet enough for Carlos to hear his mother take in a breath. He quickly turns to her and shakes his head. Her eyes are wide and it’s obvious where her thoughts are now.

“No, Ma. We aren’t there just yet,” he says, his face warming a bit as he hears his words play back. It’s the second admission in as many days about how he views his relationship with TK.

He looks back at his boyfriend again and is eased by the soft smile on TK’s face, every bit as smitten as Carlos feels now.

Yet.

The inevitability of him and TK taking that step is clear as day to everyone in the room. There’s no need to worry he’s being presumptuous.

It’s a matter of when not if with them.

His mother jokingly makes a face and sets her now empty plate to the side, her hands clasping on the tabletop.

“Okay, what’s this big news then?”

Carlos sits up and wipes at his mouth with his napkin before setting it down on his plate.

“I think you’re overselling it here. I just said it was news. I never claimed it was monumental or anything.”

“Maybe, but it’s clearly very important if it’s got you two so excited,” Andrea says.

“It’s going to be history if you don’t let him get it out already, my love,” Gabriel chimes in.

Andrea scowls jokingly and kisses her husband’s cheek, draping an arm over his shoulder. Both his parents look at him expectedly and Carlos feels his heart rate ratchet up a few more notches.

Beside Carlos, TK takes his hand under the table and laces their fingers, brushing his thumb against the back.

It’s just what Carlos needs to shake off his nerves a bit.

“Detective Washington thinks I should sit for the detective’s exam,” he blurts out.

Both his parents' eyes widen, but smiles quickly paint his mother’s lips. Andrea places a hand over her heart, her smile somehow growing wider. It’s bright enough to make the sun jealous.

“Carlos, that’s wonderful! You’re going to do it, yes?”

“I think I will. I feel ready. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous though.”

Andrea waves him off. “You’re going to be amazing at this. I just know it.”

Carlos’ eyes drift over to his father who has an unreadable expression on his face.

“Good work, Carlitos,” is all he says with a slight dip of his head.

Carlos fiddles with his fork, curious to know what thoughts linger in his dad’s head now. But he can’t bring himself to ask for more just then.

Dinner wraps and TK helps Carlos stack plates, but he gently declines TK’s offer to bring them into the kitchen. Carlos wants a small reprieve, a few short minutes to himself.

“I’ve got it,” he says, kissing TK’s temple before taking the dishes to the kitchen.

There had been nothing to worry about. Dinner went perfectly, just as the logical part of his brain—and TK— had ensured him it would. But anxiety had a funny way of clouding his perception and now Carlos can’t stop dwelling on his father’s quiet praise, wondering if there’s more below the surface.

At the sink, he turns on the water and adds soap to let the dishes soak.

His father steps into the kitchen, tossing a smile his way. Carlos shuts off the tap and turns to face him.

“So, detective, huh?” Gabriel says, taking a beer from the fridge.

Carlos runs a quick hand through his hair, runs a quick hand through his hair, draws in a breath and nods. He hadn’t been expecting his father to touch the subject again.

“Has a nice ring to it,” Gabriel continues.

Carlos doesn’t say anything, just leans back on the counter, his hands gripping the edge.

“You didn’t say much at the table. I was wondering if you approved.”

He recalls his mother’s words to him at TK’s hospital bedside a few weeks back, her telling him just how proud they both were of the man he is.

Carlos feels nerves in the pit of stomach and he does his best to school his features. But he knows his anxious eyes must give him away as his father looks at him.

“I was thinking about that time you were ten,” Gabriel begins. Carlos isn’t sure where he’s going with this, but he silently follows.

“It was the only time your mother and I were ever called to your school. We thought they had the wrong Carlos Reyes. Surely our boy couldn’t have been sent to the principal’s office. You were sticking up for that Ramirez kid. Quiet as you were, you couldn’t sit back and watch the other boys picking on him. You didn’t throw a single punch, just used your words when it mattered most. Stepped in when you felt you needed to, even though it meant putting yourself at risk, too.”

Carlos smiles to himself. It hadn’t seemed like much at the time. It’d just felt like the right thing to do, but his father’s eyes shine with such fondness at the memory.

“You didn’t even know that boy, but it mattered enough to you to help. All you’ve ever wanted to do was protect others. Classmates, the animals on the ranch. You care so much. It’s beautiful, Carlitos.”

Gabriel sighs and takes a sip of his drink.

“Maybe I’m truly getting to be an old man, but sometimes I can’t wrap my head around just how much time has passed and just how much you’ve grown.”

Gabriel almost sounds as if he’s far away, so lost he apparently is in his thoughts as he continues to speak.

“You’re not a little kid anymore, but you’ll always be my boy. My son with the big heart who cares so deeply about the world around him that he’s made it his life’s work to protect his community.”

His father’s eyes are thoughtful as his gaze settles back on him. Carlos doesn’t move an inch, just holds his breath as his thoughts race.

He’s spent so long thinking these very same characteristics were a hindrance in his father’s eyes. For a time, he knows that to have been the case. But this last year and a half has been impactful on their relationship and allowing them to truly see each other.

“I think Austin will be all the better with you as a detective,” Gabriel says decidedly.

He says it with such finality as if his opinion is law. Carlos feels lucky to be surrounded by people with such unshakeable faith in him.

“Thank you.”

Gabriel nods and turns the bottle he’s holding over in his hand.

“I know I haven’t always supported you in the ways I should have, Carlos, and I regret that. But I want you to know I’m always in your corner.”

Carlos’ eyes widen. He isn’t used to this kind of candor from his father. It means a great deal to hear it.

“You’re a good cop. But more than that, mijo, you’re a good man. Above all else, that’s what I’m proudest of when it comes to you,” he says, tapping his index finger against the center of Carlos’ chest.

In the next room, his mother’s laugh rents the air. Carlos wonders what she and TK must be talking about to earn a laugh like that out of her, but it puts a smile on his face.

All the people he loves most in the world are here in this space now, talking and bonding and growing in the love and appreciation they have for each other. It’s all he could have ever asked for in this life.

In a word, Carlos feels blessed to have this.

Gabriel lowers his hand and takes a breath, clearly ready to switch gears. He’s never been too big on emotions which makes Carlos all the more appreciative that he’s been learning how to open up more. In many respects, Carlos is learning how to do that, too.

“How are you feeling about the exam itself?”

“A little nervous, but in a good way. It’s exciting and it really meant a lot that Detective Washington thought I should go for it. That she sees my potential. I just hope that if I pass, I’ll be able to continue to do good work. So many of you believe in me. I want to go out there and really make a difference.”

Gabriel’s head tips slightly to the side.

“When you pass. You’ve got strong instincts. You’re compassionate, you’re resourceful. Don’t doubt your greatness. Step into it.”

Carlos lets those words wash over him. It’s the ultimate stamp of approval.

“So, you soon may have a detective for a son.”

Gabriel scrunches up his face jokingly.

“Eh, it’s no Texas Ranger…,” he trails off, puffing up his chest before laughing.

Carlos rolls his eyes and laughs too, playfully nudging his dad’s arm before growing a bit serious.

“Really though, thank you, Dad. This means a lot to me. More than you know.”

Gabriel steps closer and gently cups the back of his neck.

“I’ll be sure to tell you more often so you don’t forget or doubt it, but I couldn’t be happier. This is only the beginning for you.”

Carlos smiles at this as his father searches his eyes before pulling him in for a hug. Carlos’ chin rests on his dad’s shoulder for a moment before they pull away.

It feels as if a weight has been taken off his chest; Carlos can truly breathe easier now.

He turns his head slightly at motion in the corner of his eye. TK slowly comes into the kitchen, clearly feeling as if his timing is poor. Carlos smiles softly to reassure him he isn’t interrupting.

“I’m sorry. Andrea asked me to bring the cake over.”

“She’s got an even bigger sweet tooth than me, despite what she thinks. But we do have reason to celebrate,” Gabriel says, giving Carlos’ shoulder a quick squeeze before picking up the cake from the center island.

Carlos watches him go, sees his mom clap her hands together and strike up a conversation with his father as he removes the lid.

“Everything okay?” TK asks, coming closer to him.

He watches his parents over TK’s shoulder from where he stands in front of him now.

His past. These two people who raised him up from the moment he came into this world.

Carlos focuses back on TK, his blue-green eyes searching his face, so eager to provide comfort and support should Carlos need it now.

His present.

He thinks of all that is yet to come. His future with these people he loves so dearly backing him up.

His life feels so rich.

“Honestly, things have never been better than they are right now.”

His father’s words echo in his mind. This truly is just the beginning. The road ahead is laid out for him, filled with many unknowns. Within that are boundless opportunities, all his for the taking. He need only be bold enough to claim it.

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 7

Chapter 1     Chapter 6

Marinette rubbed her head as though the action might actually have an effect on her throbbing headache.  It hadn’t any time she’d tried it in the last hour, but it gave her brain the illusion that she was doing something to help other than just waiting for the painkillers to kick in.  The action also gave her something to focus on other than the pounding hangover from not getting nearly drunk enough last night.  Because somehow despite the massive amounts she, Jason, and Roy had drunk last night, all of her problems still existed.  Utter bullshit, that.  And now she still had to deal with all her problems and felt like crap on top of it.  Double bullshit.

She adjusted her sunglasses again, fighting the urge to squint because squinting hurt.  Although honestly, she wasn’t sure which hurt more, the florescent lights, the sunlight beaming through the hotel windows, or squinting.  She was sure there was some way to settle the glasses on her face to block out all light, she just hadn’t been able to figure it out.  She now realized why people significantly smarter than her wore those godawful, ugly glasses that wrap around their head and cut out all sun.

She took a deep breath and braced herself for the full blast of a suspiciously sunny Gotham morning. Gotham has like three sunny days a year and one of them is today?  What the Hell did she do to Tikki to deserve the last few days?  She wandered out of the hotel still contemplating revenge. How does one get revenge against a god anyway?  How many ways can she destroy cookies?

She didn’t get more than a few steps before she sensed someone in front of her.  She weaved slightly to the left but quickly realized there was someone there too.  She weaved to the right and finally looked up when she realized there was someone there. There were people all around her, taking pictures of her, shoving phones in her face as they yelled questions at her.

She stumbled back a few steps and blinked at the group of reporters that had apparently been camping out in front of the hotel for her.  She quickly plastered on one of Adrien’s patented PR smiles and nodded to them. She tried to push through them, expecting them to move out of her way, as they did in Paris for Adrien.  But reporters in Gotham clearly did not show the same respect that Parisian reporters did because none of them moved out of her way.  

Her smile strained slightly as she looked to the one in front of her.  “Excuse me, please,” she requested in the most sickeningly sweet voice she could manage.

The reporter sent back an excited smile.  “Ms. Dupain Cheng, would you care to comment on your relationship with your family? Perhaps explain why Gotham hadn’t had the pleasure of your presence before?”

Marinette looked the reporter up and down.  She looked at the group surrounding her, noting how they had closed the circle to the point of touching her.  She’d been to raves with more personal space.  She moved to push through a small gap between reporters, but stopped when they quickly closed the gap.  Marinette gritted her teeth and widened her smile.  “There’s a reason we’ve chosen not to speak about this and that reason was NOT to discuss it in an exclusive with you at this exact moment.  Now if you will excuse me, I would very, very much like to get some coffee.  I’m sure you can understand the difficulty of starting a day without it.”

She gave them a conspiratorial smile, hoping if they felt like they were in on the joke they would let her through. Instead, her response emboldened the reporters, who started shouting out her name and more questions.

“Will you attend more Wayne functions now?”

Marinette didn’t even know which reporter shouted the question to address them if she wanted.  She huffed and decided to give up on pleasantries.  She was hung over.  She was hungry.  She wanted coffee.  “Why would people change a relationship that doesn’t involve you because you know about it?” she grunted as she tried to push through the cracks between people.  

The reporters closed ranks tighter around her, making it impossible for her to break through without injuring someone, which she was sure was the plan of at least a few of them.  Whether it was to get a more salacious story or to sue Bruce Wayne, she wasn’t sure.  Probably both.  She looked back to the hotel lobby hoping the concierge would see her predicament and help her, but he was determinedly ignoring the scene in front of the hotel.

She set her jaw and prepared herself to create a scene channeling her best imitation of an irate Chloe Bourgeoisie.  She’d deal with the fallout later.  Right now, she needed to get out of this situation before someone actually did push a little too hard and tiny gods decided to curse the city.  She opened her mouth to yell but instead heard someone else’s voice boom through the crowd.

“I think my sister told you to leave her the fuck alone.”

Marinette looked around to try to find the source of the voice but couldn’t see past the wall of reporters.  She didn’t have to wait long for him to push his way through the crowd like a wrecking ball, not worrying about injuring anyone as he shoved his way through.  Jason stopped in front of her with a smirk.  “She just says it in a much more polite way than I do.”  He held up a bag and a tray of coffee.  “I come bearing gifts so you don’t have to deal with this shit out there somewhere.”  

Marinette shot him a grateful smile and turned back toward the hotel.  “That sounds brilliant.  Thank you.”

Jason winked at her.  “I got you.”

They didn’t stop or even look at each other until the elevator doors closed behind them.  Marinette leaned against the wall and finally took a full breath.  She looked over to Jason with another grateful smile.  “Thank you. I wasn’t expecting that and I…” She looked down for a moment to collect her thoughts.  “I wasn’t prepared.  I’ll do better next time.”

Jason’s eyes softened.  The press was a lot for all of them to get used to.  None of them had taken naturally to it, especially Gotham’s press.  They at least had the advantage of starting young and knowing what to expect, not to mention since they were kids, the press didn’t have a lot of chances to get to them.  Marinette had just been thrown out there without a life preserver.  Bruce didn’t even send any guards.  “Don’t worry about it.  I thought you could use the save.”

Marinette laughed and narrowed her eyes at him.  “That was a socially acceptable version of a kidnapping.  I had no way of getting out of that without exposing that there is no relationship.”

“Should have just exposed it then,” he shrugged, not remotely nonplussed by her comment.  “I just thought you could use some sustenance after last night.”  He held up the bag for her as they exited the elevator and made their way to her room.  “I know you must be used to fancy French food so I got a variety of food from the best bakery in town.  And I didn’t know how you take your coffee or if you prefer tea so I got both and lots of sugar and creamer.”

Marinette giggled as she opened her door.  “You’re not wrong.  My parents owned a patisserie.  I grew up on the best baked goods in France.”

Jason blinked a few times at her before setting the drinks and food on the coffee table.  “That’s it, next family reunion is at your place.”

“Not so sure that’s going to be a thing,” she said quietly.  She reached for one of the croissants and ripped off a small piece, popping it in her mouth.  “Not really sure I count as family.  That’s kind of been made clear.”

“Yeah well, we didn’t know and we’d like to get to know you, if you’re okay with it,” he said biting off a chunk of cheese Danish. “Look, I’m not looking for family dinners and brunches and shit, I just… want to make sure you’re okay.”  He looked up at her earnestly for a moment before his eyes turned mischievous.  “Although if you grew up in a bakery, I might want all that at your parents’ place.”

“At least you’re asking.  That’s something anyway,” she grumbled as she took another small bite.  

“Speaking of family, where is model boy?”

Marinette puckered her lips in disapproval as she watched the crumbs fall from Jason’s mouth as he spoke.  She looked away before she snapped at him.  “He and Max went apartment hunting.”

“Without you?” Jason asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Neither of them were suffering from a raging hangover that took double the normal dosage of painkillers just to take the edge off of,” she said pointedly.

“Coffee,” Jason grunted, motioning toward the coffee. “Lots of coffee and food and water.” He pushed the bag toward her. “Not the bird bites you’ve been taking.”

She studied the croissant in front of her with a furrowed brow as though it had some kind of answers for her.  She nearly dropped it when she heard a knock on the door. She looked through the peephole and gasped, flinching back from the door.  Jason immediately jumped up and ran over to her.  “What is it?  Another reporter?”

“No,” Marinette rasped out, her eyes never leaving the door.  “Worse.” Her heart started racing and her breathing became labored.  She wasn’t ready for this.  She wasn’t ready to speak with him.  What was she supposed to say?  How was she supposed to speak with him?  She didn’t even know how she felt yet.  She hadn’t sorted through this all yet.  Tears threatened to fall from her eyes.  She wasn’t ready.  This was happening too fast.

She flinched visibly when he knocked again. He’d had time to prepare.  He’d had time to think this through.  He knew how he felt about this.  He’d had time to plan and prepare.  She had none of that and here he was on her doorstep.  He knew about her and she knew nothing about him. He was ready and she wasn’t given that chance.  

She was just expected to deal with it.  She was just expected to handle it.  She was just expected to accept it.  He’d created this entire situation and she was left to pick up the pieces and move on.  And now he was here.  He was on her figurative doorstep in person and now she had to deal with it, on his timetable, according to his preference, because yet again it all had to be done on his terms.  Her preferences didn’t matter.  Her feelings didn’t matter.  Her opinion didn’t matter.

“Want me to kick their ass out?” Jason offered already reaching for the handle.

Marinette shook her head and let out a calming breath. He thinks he can come in after twenty years gone and act like everything is fine and expect her to play nice, he has another thing coming.  He wanted a detached relationship?  She could do that.  She’d seen it enough growing up with Adrien and Chloe’s parents.  She knew how to play the game.

She shook her hands to get the tension out before finally reaching out to open the door.  “Mr. Wayne.  This is an unexpected pl… experience,” she stuttered.  She mentally grimaced.  She was showing weakness.  She needed to be strong.  She plastered on a clearly fake smile.  She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being weak.  She wouldn’t cry for him.  She hadn’t cried because of him in the twenty years he’d been absent, she wouldn’t do it now.

Bruce took a breath.  “Marinette…”  He froze for a second.  He hadn’t thought hard enough about this.  He knew what he wanted to say, what he wanted to tell her, but he hadn’t thought about how to tell her, how to lead into it.  “I was hoping to speak with you,” he rushed out, wincing internally at the sound of it.

“Well, that’s a first,” she scoffed before she could stop herself.  She slapped her hand over her mouth and mentally berated herself.  What was she doing?  She was supposed to be calm not cruel.  She was losing this game!

Jason grinned and propped his arms behind his head as he kicked out his legs, the very picture of relaxed.  “I like her.  I’m keeping her.”

Marinette shot him an appreciative smile but Bruce did a double take, frowning at the sight.  His mind raced as to what it meant that Jason was there.  Was it good?  It was good, wasn’t it?  She was getting close to one of her brothers already.  But that brother was Jason, and despite the fact that he loved Jason, he was well aware their relationship was still contentious at best.  Not exactly the best brother for her to get close to. And he was already encouraging her hostility against him.  Not that he didn’t deserve it, he knew he did, it was just that any of the other brothers would help mitigate that hostility.  Jason would fan it.  “Jason, what are you doing here?”

“Brought baked goods and coffee,” he answered casually, a smirk making its way onto his face.  “You?”

Bruce let out a heavy sigh through his nose and smoothed out his face.  Getting annoyed now would do nothing for his goal.  If Marinette was connecting to Jason, getting frustrated with him would just push her further away.  “As I mentioned, I was hoping I could speak with Marinette about the… situation.  I wanted…”

“‘The situation’,” Jason mocked shaking his head at Bruce.  God was he always this bad with his kids?  He thought it was just him.  “Way to sound sincere, B.”

Bruce’s lips pursed until they were no longer visible. He didn’t need Jason sabotaging him right now.  He was doing a good enough job of it on his own.  “I’d like to speak with Marinette on our own, please.  Why don’t you go home?”

Marinette’s eyes went wide and her chest clenched. She didn't want Jason to leave.  She wasn't ready for Jason to leave.  Once Jason left it was just her and him.  Just thinking about it suddenly she couldn't breathe.  Suddenly the air felt too thin and too heavy at the same time.  No.  She needed somebody else here.  

Jason shot a look over to Marinette, letting his eyes pass over Marinette like he hadn’t been noting her body language.  He let his eyes wander for a second before returning to Bruce with a tilt to his head.  “No.  I’m witnessing this, unless Pixie tells me to go home.”

Marinette could have kissed him… on the cheek. Because he was her br… it was complicated.  But she was beyond grateful he had spoken up for her.  She let out the breath she’d been holding and raised an eyebrow at him. “Pixie?”

“Small, violent,” Jason grinned at her.

Marinette laughed and playfully narrowed her eyes at him. “Fine, whatever, Goliath.”

Jason leaned back again.  “Oh, no, that one’s already taken.  By a dragon bat, no less.”

Marinette’s face scrunched in confusion.  She tried to search through her Americanisms for what a dragon bat could be.  It had to be a species of bat right?  Maybe? But then again it was American English so for all she knew it could be a flower.  “A what?”

“Jason!” Bruce admonished.  He was really not looking forward to trying to explain what a dragon bat was or how Damian came to be in possession of one.

Jason rose up enough to grab one of the croissants and shove half of it into his mouth before he spoke.  “I’ll introduce you sometime, or Damian will have to actually… which he won’t.  I’ll show you a picture, you seem like the kind of person who likes terrifying animals as long as they’re fuzzy.”

“I… fair,” Marinette conceded easily.

“If I can bring us back to the topic at hand,” Bruce interjected loudly, cutting off any more discussion of dragon bats.

“Family bonding, right?”  Jason cut him off with a pointed look.  “Isn’t that what we were doing?”

Bruce glared at Jason for a few seconds, which did nothing to wipe the smug smirk off his face.  Giving up on Jason, Bruce focused on Marinette.  “At the gala you mentioned you didn’t plan on being in town much longer, leaving today actually.  I was hoping I could convince you to stay a bit longer.”

Marinette examined him with a dour curiosity.  She cocked her head to the side.  “And why might that be?  You don’t need me here to make an announcement that we prefer to keep our relationship private, hence they didn’t know about me.”

Bruce let out a deep sigh.  That was fair.  It was a fair response.  Sabine had warned him she would be suspicious of him.  “This isn’t for the public,” he assured her.

“Isn’t it?”  She blinked a few times at him, her face blank.  “Are you sure?  It feels like it is.”  She turned to Jason.  “Doesn’t it feel like it is to you?”

“It does indeed,” Jason nodded in agreement, keeping eye contact with Bruce as he did.

“Jason…” he started threateningly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you relying on me to make fixing your fuck up easier for you?  Wrong kid.  You’re looking for Dick or Tim… actually I wouldn’t rely on Tim for help explaining why being an absentee father isn’t actually that bad.”

“Jason, I think it’s time for you to go home,” Bruce growled.

Marinette straightened up and moved between him and Jason.  She wasn’t going to let him bully Jason for standing up for her.  “I don’t think so.  So far he’s the only member of my family I like.”

“Ooh, you should totally give Cass and Steph and Duke a chance too,” Jason offered with a faked enthusiasm as though the confrontation with Bruce didn’t just happen.  He kept his eyes on Marinette but relished the increasingly frustrated scowl on Bruce’s face as they ignored him.

Marinette nodded.  “I’ll consider it.”

“Oh and Alfred… and I guess Tim too.  He’s a prick but he’s alright I guess,” Jason continued.

Marinette blinked at him.  It was like a never ending list of people.  An ongoing list of people he had taken in after walking away from her.  A long list of people he’d cared about and for without having to be pressured into it by the press.  A mile long list of people he wasn’t pretending to care about.  “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“We have a lot,” Jason corrected her.  They were in this together and he’d remind her of that as many times as she needed.  “Alfred isn’t a sibling though.  He’s like a grandfather.”

Marinette paused at that.  She hadn’t considered that.  Another grandfather figure.  Another grandfather that didn’t want anything to do with her.  Sure now Grand-père Roland loved her but for the first fifteen years, he’d known about her and didn’t care.  Maybe it was her.  It had to be her right?  Two grandparents, that isn’t coincidence.  That’s a pattern and the only commonality was her.  She pursed her lips together to focus on something other than the tears welling up behind her eyes.  “Sounds like the kind of person who definitely would have known about me.”

Jason’s eyes widened.  “I… don’t know the answer to that,” he answered slowly.

Marinette nodded, slowly going numb.  “So, what I’m getting from this so far is I have a another grandfather-type figure that knew about me and didn’t feel any kind of interest in me and a ton of people that my father decided were worthy of his love and affection when I wasn’t.  So it isn’t that my father didn’t want to be a father, just that he didn’t want to be my father.”

“That isn’t…” Jason started.  This was going down the wrong path.  He was trying to show her he had her back, not remind her about the pain.  But instead, now Marinette was getting hurt, remembering the pain.  She’d lost her sass and impertinence and now was moving toward hurt.  And she was blaming Alfred.  Alfred was one of the only good things about being a Wayne!

“Jason!  I think it’s time for you to go home.  Now!” Bruce roared.

Marinette contemplated Bruce coldly, numbness consuming her fears and insecurities and morphing into cold, analytic contemplation.  He was blaming Jason.  Her frustration wasn’t because of Jason or anything he said. Her pain wasn’t because of Jason, it was because of him, because of his decisions.  And instead of taking responsibility for it, he was blaming Jason.

Jason blinked a few times, no longer certain of his role in this interaction.  He looked back and forth between Marinette and Bruce, noting Marinette’s hardening features.  She was getting ready for a fight.  He could see it developing, but he wasn’t at all sure Bruce did.  He held up his hands in surrender and sat back down calmly. “I promised I wouldn’t leave unless Pixie asked me to.  I intend to keep my promise to her,” he said calmly.

Bruce glared at him again and faced back to Marinette, a fake smile plastered on.   “As I was saying.  I’d like a chance to get to know you, if you would let me.”

“And how many members of the press did you want to be there when you do?” she inquired sharply.

Bruce sighed and rubbed his forehead.  “That’s not fair.”

Marinette’s mouth dropped and she shook her head at him incredulously.  “Wow. Way to pull the rich, white guy entitlement card. ‘I know everything about this situation has been unbelievably unfair to you, but now I’m being inconvenienced in the mildest way possible and I don’t like it,’” she mocked. She rocked back on her heels and narrowed her eyes at him.  “Rest assured M. Wayne, I do not intend to speak out against you.  Your reputation will not be harmed by me.  Tell the press whatever you want.  I won’t contradict you.  You can relax.”

“Marinette…” he started, unsure of where to go. Everything she had said was so far from the truth, he didn’t know where to start.  Her view of the situation was so skewed, he didn’t know how to put it back on kilter.  His shoulders sagged in defeat.  “This has nothing to do with the press.  I had put plans in motion to get in contact with you before any of this started.  Mr. Fox will confirm that for you if you don’t trust me.  You seem like quite an impressive young lady and I would like to get to know you better, if you’ll give me the chance.”

His tone was contrite and quiet, but Marinette wasn’t done being upset yet.  She wasn’t ready to move on and let go of the anger.  “And if I wasn’t, you would continue to ignore me?  If I was a problem child, if I had social issues, if I couldn’t find a job, you’d continue to treat me like I never existed?  I’ve finally done enough to gain your attention. Oh thank you so much for letting me know.”

“That isn’t what I said,” Bruce rushed to assure her. “I meant to compliment you not say you had to earn my attention.”

Marinette pursed her lips and looked over to Jason. He was looking back at her with sympathetic, concerned eyes.  She let out a long sigh and looked away from them both.  “Look, I meant what I told the press earlier.  I had no intention of you seeing me at the gala.  I had no intention of anyone finding out about me. I didn’t even know there was anything to find out when I made the plan to come here.  And I have no expectation of anything about our relationship changing.”

Bruce perked up slightly, but focused on keeping his body language the same, so she wouldn’t see the difference.  That was an opening; expectation instead of intention. It wasn’t that she intended not to change it, it’s that she didn’t expect it.  “I do,” he assured her, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice, keeping it calm and even.  “I would like to change our relationship.  I would like the chance to explain and try to start to make it up to you.  If you would like to try.  

“If you’re open to it, I can extend your reservation until you are ready to move on, or if you would prefer, you are more than welcome to stay at the manor.  I would love to have you stay with us but I understand that may be overwhelming.  Or, WE has have some flats available, with multiple bedrooms.  You and your friends could stay there for a while.  Your friend is going to need a place to stay while he looks for an apartment, right?

“I’ll leave the choice to you.  Whether we pursue a relationship, if you stay, where you stay; they’re all your choice.  Here,” he handed her a paper with several numbers hand written on it. “These are my numbers; office, home office, cell phone, manor.  You can use any of them to contact me.”

Marinette took the paper impassively.  She squeezed her other hand in an effort to keep the tremble from being too obvious.  “Thank you, M. Wayne.  I will consider your words.”

Bruce nodded, letting the very formal use of his name wash away.  This was still progress.  This was still movement in the right direction, even if it wasn’t as much as he would want.  He knew it could take a long time.  He knew he wouldn’t be able to fix this today.  “Thank you, Marinette.  That’s all I can ask for.  And I’m sorry for ambushing you here.  I tried to call and text you all yesterday to set up a time to talk in person so you could prepare but it seems like your phone was off.”  

He let out a small breath seeing her eyes widen at his admission.  That had to be a good sign.  Maybe he actually said the right thing for once.  He nodded to her and left her to think, hoping Jason would urge her to call. He seemed to want a relationship with her as well.  Hopefully, he would realize this was the best way to get that.

Jason sighed and looked up at her as soon as the door closed behind Bruce.  “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not.  It’s… it’s a lot.  I think I want to be alone,” Marinette said absently staring at the numbers in her hand.

Jason nodded.  “It is.  I understand. If you want to talk, at all, about anything.  About where to drink in town, best burger, anything, give me a call.”  He gently took the paper Bruce had handed her out of hand, letting her decide if she gave it to him or not.  When she let go, he put his number on it as well.  “I only have one number, but now you have it.”

Marinette nodded at him.  “Thank you, Jason.”

Jason hesitated briefly.  “For what it’s worth, if you decide to stay you should take him up on the flat.  The hotel is stupid expensive and WE offers the flat to visiting collaborators all the time, so it’s not like it’s all that special… if you want to avoid being treated special.”

Marinette nodded at his words, barely taking them in as her mind tried to fight the numbing process.  Jason watched her tentatively.  “You look like a hugger,” he said uncertainly.  “Did you… do you want a, um, a hug?”  

Marinette looked over at him and blinked a few times, not sure how to take his words, partly because he seemed unsure of them himself, but partly because things were having a harder time permeating her brain right now.  Jason took her curious look as doubt.  “Oh come on. It’s fine.  I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.  Trust me.  I tell Dick to fuck off enough when he tries to hug me.  I have no problem saying no to hugs I don’t want.  I’m offering because I mean it.”

Marinette blinked a few more times but finally nodded vacantly.  Jason pulled her into a warm, comforting hug.  After a few moments he pulled away.  “It will all be okay.  No matter what you decide, it will all be okay.  And no matter what you decide, I’m here.  Nobody’s replacing you as my sister.  So get ready for some completely inappropriate Christmas presents this year.”

Marinette smiled absently at his joke, her eyes never meeting his.  “Thanks, Jason.”  She leaned against the door after she closed it behind him and slid down it, staring blankly at nothing.  The room felt colder than it was before, but she couldn’t manage to care enough to get up and get a blanket.  She thought there might have been ambient noise going on around her but none of it registered.  Nothing registered.  Not the numbing sensation that was rapidly overtaking her body from her fingers and toes up to her head until she stopped feeling anything.  Not even the point she was staring at.  She didn’t know how long she stared at the nothingness before black overtook her vision and she passed out.

Chapter 8

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[takenbyheartstrings]

Project Parker | peter parker.

part one: IN YOUR EYES || series masterlist

[ enemies! peter parker x fem!reader || warnings. fluff & swearing, sexual innuendo || wc.  ]

a/n. WELCOME TO MY NEW SERIES <3 i hope you enjoy reading this!!

YOU WERE SAT AT YOUR desk in class as MJ wrote in her notebook. She looked over at you, as you looked over at Peter Parker to which she was having a staring contest with as he walked through the door, he flashed her a smirk, “Y/n! Looking great today, I just love it when people embrace their flaws.” He chuckles before going to sit down, you hold your foot out as the boy trips, looking at you with a slight fire to his gaze.

You chuckled, “Oops,” You pouted your lips giving him a sorry look, but it wasn’t true. You didn’t like Peter and he didn’t like you. You don’t know when you started hating Peter. Maybe it was when he started being better than you at certain things. When you got bumped down to second in the class?

Your teacher coughs trying to get the classes gaze away from you and Peter, “Okay, we’re doing a science project!” She smiles cheerily, “Now, this is going to be different this time, I’m partnering you up,” The whole class groans angrily.

“Don’t expect me to be lenient either, okay,” Miss Grundle claps her hands together, “Uh first up we have Flash Thompson and Ned Leeds.” Ned looks like he could just about shit himself.

“Michelle Jones and Harrison Osborn.” Harry smiles and winks as Michelle rolls her eyes even if she has the slightest of crushes.

The teacher reads through the rest of the names and then you notice that everyone has paired up except for you and one other person your eyes meet Peter’s like they did at the beginning of the class. “NO!” You practically scream, “No! No! NO!”

“Miss Grundle!” MJ speaks up, “It’s really not a good idea, she hates him and he hates her. I don’t know if you’ve picked up on that.”

Peter smirks, “Am I really that repulsive?” he asks nobody in-particular, “But if it’s any consultation, Miss Grundle, I say ‘No! No! NO!’ too.” He mocks your voice.

You roll your eyes, and open your mouth but Miss Grundle interrupts, “No, no’s.” She hisses, “You guys are partners, this is your problem now.”

The two of you had to discuss the project, but you sat there drawing and he sat there staring at the clock waiting for the godawful task to be over. But you couldn’t wait out the awkward silence anymore. The two of you had to discuss something otherwise the you would fail.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you asked Peter suddenly.

His eyes went wide at your choice of words, “Woah! Okay, uh…” You chuckled at the way he was flustered.

“What? Can’t handle the word fuck?” You questioned him getting in close, whispering the word in his ear, “Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.” You spoke as his cheeks went a deep crimson red.

“No, no! I just-” The poor boy cuts himself off, “Let’s just focus on the project. Did you have any ideas?”

You blew a raspberry and you rolled your eyes, “No.”

He grins, his smile full of that sarcasm that you just loved, “Keep rolling your eyes and maybe, just maybe you’ll find a brain back there. I can’t make any promises though,”

You go to roll your eyes once more, but you catch yourself in the act, “Whatever,” You mumbled, “Maybe we could take something simple and put a twist on it. I mean, it is science, we can mix whatever we want and make an explosion.”

Peter looks at you thoughtfully, “I don’t think that’s how it-”

The bell cuts him off and as he goes to continue what he was going to say, so does your voice, “Look, Parker, we’ll go to the library after school,”

The boy sighs, hating himself for what he’s about to offer, “Why don’t you come over?” He asks you, “My place is closer than the library. That’s like a forty minute walk, fifteen minute drive. Mine’s only a five minute walk away.”

You stand up and made your way toward the door, stopping before you could exit, “If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like you’re trying to get me in bed.” And with that you finally left the room, leaving Peter to blush once more.

At the end of the day you met Peter by his locker, you got stares but you waved them off, he opened his locker and you were met with the sight of a little lego man, a whiteboard and a whole load of notebooks and like three backpacks. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything. You just observed. Peter finally shut his locker, and swung his backpack over his shoulder. He started walking and you took that as a signal to follow, your pink and white air max’s pressing onto the floor. The two of you didn’t speak on the way to his house, nor on the way up the stairs or as you walked into his room. It was odd seeing it. He had a bunk bed, you didn’t know what for since he was an only child.

Maybe for when Ned sleeps over? You thought to yourself.

He had multiple Star Wars posters on his walls and a desk covered in papers and notebooks and more backpacks were sat in next to it. How many backpacks does this kid have? What didn’t help you was the fact that they were all the same, same style, same colour. You didn’t speak on it though, if the kid collects backpacks, he collects backpacks.

Peter was sat on his desk chair and noticed you just standing there, doing nothing, but before he could say anything you took a seat on his plaid sheets. Looking around the room you made eye-contact with his things, his trinkets. His LEGO Star Wars figures. You had only ever talked to Peter in class so when you were in his room it made it seem all different and weird, you felt squirmy sitting in here. Like you couldn’t.

“So we should start on the project, right?” Peter questioned you.

“Uh,” Was the only thing that came out of your mouth. You looked over at the door and picked up your black and white backpack and stormed out of his apartment. You didn’t know what was happening you but you couldn’t sit in there anymore. You couldn’t deal with looking at Peters things, the things that make him more than someone you just made snarky and mean remarks to.

Peter followed you down the stairs, “Y/N WHERE ARE YOU GOING WE NEED TO DO THE PROJECT.” By the time he made it down the stairs he saw you sitting next to the stairs in front of his building. Your head in your knees.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, you didn’t know what to say to him and he didn’t know what to do. So he sat down next to you and put his hand on your shoulder, and he expected you to shrug it off - but you didn’t.

“I’m sorry.” You speak, and he looks sort of surprised, he never expected you to ever say it. The girl who had picked on him for so long even when he started picking on her back, “Look, I’ve just- I- I never,” You didn’t know how to speak, “I was always jealous of you. You get good grades, you’re cute, you always know what to say, have the right answers. You’re just perfect.”

“Did you just call me, cute?” Peter laughed, and you whacked him softly.

“Shut up,” You smiled softly.

He returned the soft grin, “I could say the same thing,” Your grin got slightly wider, as you looked down at your hands. “Let’s truce.” Peter speaks up.

“Really?” You questioned him, “Don’t you hate me?”

“Look, Y/N, you’ve never been anything but rude, or mean, or snarky. But, I never actually hated you.” Peter talks, “Everything you said about me, I could say about you - I think the reason we always hated each other was because of everything that we have in common, so let’s think about what we don’t have in common and go from there, maybe we can actually be friends.”

“Okay,” You smiled, “Let’s be friends.” You stood up, “So let’s think of this as our project first and then we can do the actual project. We’ve got weeks.”

“That’s probably cause the project is supposed to take weeks.” Peter retorts.

“Shut up, Parker!” You laughed.

When the two of you got back up to Peter’s room, you took a seat on his bed once more, all of a sudden it wasn’t scary anymore. It didn’t seem like the world was closing in around you as you looked around.

“So let’s start, clearly, your favourite movie is Star Wars - mine is Now You See Me, there’s something about hot magicians that turns me on. Does Leia do the same to you or?” You comment with a smirk.

Peter’s eyes go wide at your comment, “I- uh- I’m-”

“Relax, Parker, I’m kidding.” You lay back on his plaid sheets, smiling up at the ceiling.

You and Peter start brainstorming ideas of what you could do, building off of what you had said earlier, something simple with a twist on it. It seemed like a good plan, but simplicity is often the hardest thing to do. You sighed as you looked up at the wood planks of the bunk bed, you don’t catch it but your eyes start to close, until they do and you doze off, falling asleep. You hadn’t noticed it but night had fallen over New York, and then you woke up, Peter nowhere to be found. You were still in your clothes from the school day, but your hair was fucked up and there was mascara and lipgloss smudged on your face, a blanket was over you though, a blanket that wasn’t there earlier. However, your breath tasted foul.

You stood up feeling slightly lightheaded as you saw the texts from your mother on your phone from not too long ago, 10mins it read next to her name, so you clicked on the contact and called her.

“Hey mum, sorry I’ll be home soon I just fell asleep at MJ’s is all.” You explained, you didn’t want to tell your mum you were at a boy’s place. Especially Peter’s, after you talk your mouth off about how much you hated him.

Your mum lets out a sigh of relief, “Okay good, I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.” You can hear her smile through the phone.

You picked up your black and white backpack for the second time that evening, walking out the door to be met with a lady with large frames on her eyes, “Who are you?” She asks, “I knew Peter told me he had someone over, now I know why he wouldn’t tell me who.”

“My names Y/N,” You told her almost regretting it when her jaw dropped.

“OH MY GOD, no way, you’re the last person I expected to see here, Peter never shuts up about how much he hates you, honestly, I think he has a crush on you. I’m also his aunt May by the way,”

You laugh at her rambling, “Well, I’m the last person I’d expect to see here too, but Miss Grundle put us together for a project.” May nodded, “Speaking of Peter where is he? I wanna say bye before I leave.”

She tenses a little, but then relax’s, “He’s at the store buying us a chicken, because I can’t cook to save my life.” She smiles, “You’re welcome to stay.” She offers but you shake your head.

“My mum is expecting me home, so I’ve gotta go, but thank you.” You smile kindly.

“Well, maybe next time then,” She returns a smile.

“Yeah, next time.” You walk out of the apartment, closing the door behind you, you didn’t know why you felt so happy but you did.

You and Peter Parker were friends and you were happy about it.

[imtryingmybeskar]

Day Five of the Christmas Challenge.

Disclaimer: I don't drive, never have and know precisely nothing about cars.

18+ only, warnings for a brief mention of infertility, swearing and mentions of infidelity, drug addiction and PTSD. Little bit of angst and hurt. Pairing is Francisco "Catfish" Morales x F! Reader. Word count: 2890

Idk what happened here man, there's barely any snow.

First Snow

The urge to cry was almost overwhelming - face hot, throat tight and vision starting to blur as you sat in your useless, dead car at the side of the road. This wasn't the worst thing that had happened today, but it sure was the cherry on top. You pounded the steering wheel with your hand in sheer frustration, adding a spark of pain to the list of woes swirling in your mind. The reception out here was godawful and you desperately hoped that the roadside assistance company would be able to figure out where exactly you were from what you had told them over the phone. A big ask when you weren't even sure where exactly you were. The road you had ground to a halt on wasn't huge, nor was it very busy and you saw very few fellow motorists go by. You envied the ones you did see - imagining they were all going home to warmth and company and family for the Christmas period. Unlike yourself. It really didn't matter what time you got home this evening, there wouldn't be anyone waiting for you...

The self pitying thoughts were interrupted by a pickup truck pulling over in front of you. You frowned in suspicion. While you hoped that this would be the help you had called for, it seemed way too quick for them to have arrived...A finger of icy dread brushed over your heart as you realised just how vulnerable you were out here, and you opened the glove box to slip the pepper spray that was nestled in there into your pocket. Just in case. The driver of the truck turned off the ignition and stepped out of the cab. The road you were on was not particularly well lit, and so you couldn't see much more than the silhouette of a broad man, bundled up in a thick jacket and with a baseball cap shoved down over messy curls that stuck out from underneath it. His face wasn't revealed until he came toward the hood of your car, an easy, polite smile gracing his handsome features.

He held up a hand to you in greeting. "Hi," he called through the barrier of your window. "Uh...having car problems?" He must have taken note of your suspicious look because he added "I'm a mechanic. I just thought I could take a look if you're in trouble."

You hesitated before cracking the window the tiniest bit so he could hear you. "I'm okay, thank you. I've called for roadside assistance."

He held up his hands in acknowledgement. "Fair enough," he said. "But look, I don't like the thought of you out here alone. Do you mind if I wait with you until they arrive? I'll be in my truck. I don't expect you to talk to me or anything." He cracked a full grin this time, a grin that you noted made his face light up and caused a dimple to wink in his cheek. "My abuela would strike me down from the afterlife if I left someone in a vulnerable position without trying to help."

Still wary, but gradually warming to this man, you nodded. "Thanks. Might be nice to have someone looking out for me."

"Not a problem," he said cheerily. "If you need anything, you know where I'll be!" And with that he lifted his hand in goodbye and went to sit back in his truck.

If he genuinely had no ulterior motives, then this was the sweetest thing anyone had done for you in a very long time, you mused. That's a big "if" though, came the other voice in your head. The small, weak, snide, cynical, distrustful voice that hadn't been a part of your life until a year ago. Everyone always has another motive. No one is ever truly trustworthy, it said. You sighed deeply and tried to push the voice aside. It had changed you, that voice. You had used to be gregarious, happy, able to laugh and live freely. Able to trust easily...No, you didn't want to think about that. Not right now. Right now you wanted...you wanted...warmth. You shivered as your brain suddenly caught up with what your body was feeling. The temperature had definitely dropped, and there was no heat from your car. Although...

Rummaging in the bag that had been resting on the passenger seat, you brought out the remnants of your lunch, including your thermos which still had some tea in it and was still pretty warm. You glanced back up to where you could see the silhouette of the stranger who had taken on the role of guardian tonight. Perhaps it was time to try and put that horrible little voice to rest once and for all. After all, you still had the pepper spray if anything got out of hand.

The windows of the pick up truck were steamed up from the heat inside and you saw the figure of the man startle a little as you knocked on the driver's side. He rolled the window down a bit and the blast of hot air from within felt amazing to your chilled face.

"Uh hi," you said. "I just wanted to say that I appreciate you waiting with me and I have some hot...well warm tea and a little bit of cake to share if you want some?"

The man grinned at you. "That is very thoughtful," he replied. "And I am never one to refuse cake." You passed the foil wrapped bundle to him and began preparing to pour his tea into the cup attached to the thermos. "No need," he said as he stopped your actions by holding out his own cup. "A thermos is a necessity when you get call outs, especially in winter. You never know how long you're going to be outside." He accepted the tea that you poured for him and thanked you. As you made to move away again he called after you. "Hey! Uh...do you...I mean I assume your car is totally kaput. Do you want me to take a look to see if I can get it going enough for the heating to work at least?"

Your automatic reaction was to shut him down, refuse all help and withdraw from his presence, to make yourself small so he wouldn't notice you. You forced yourself to answer in the affirmative. After all, the breakdown people would be here soon. It would be nice to have warmth while you waited. He put the foil wrapped cake on his dashboard, gulped some of the tepid tea and gathered his tools before he came out to join you in the frigid air.

"Christ!" he hissed as the chill slapped him in the face. "Yeah we have to get this sorted. And if we can't, then I think we should take turns in my truck. You'll get ill if you sit in this for too long!"

A warmth suffused your chest and you felt tears start to well again. He was so thoughtful. He didn't make you feel weird or rude for mistrusting him, just tried to make you feel as comfortable as you could in his presence. You snuffled a little, and swiped your gloved finger over your cheek. He appeared not to notice - his head was down and he was already busy under the hood of your car - somehow having opened it without your assistance - and he was poking around by the light of a torch he had produced from his pocket. "Yeah, I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but this isn't looking good," he grunted from under the bonnet after a few minutes. I think you're gonna need a tow." He withdrew and shut the hood again, gesturing with his chin toward his truck. "Go on," he said gently. "Go sit. I'll keep an eye out for the recovery team."

"N-no," you managed to sputter out. "I-I don't want to leave you in the cold either-"

"Hey, its alright," he reassured you. "This is a weird situation and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. I'll be okay."

Taking your courage with both hands you replied, a little more abruptly than you had intended. "We can both sit. It's fine."

So you sat, you on the driver's side at his insistence. The warmth seeped beautifully into your chilled bones and muscles but it was still a while before you stopped shivering. You shared the cake and some small details about each other. You learned that his name was Francisco, but that everyone called him Frankie. That he used to be in the military and was currently enjoying working as a mechanic, though the work could be a little repetitive for his liking. That he lived not too far from you, and that he was on his way back from dropping off some Christmas presents for his small daughter who was living with her mother. His smile was a little bitter when he spoke of the situation, and you didn't want to press him on the issue. So you told him about yourself - the usual details - name, job, siblings and he seemed to perk up again. When he asked about your Christmas plans, he must have seen the way your face fell and he immediately apologised.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I know Christmas can be hard for some people. Forget I said anything."

You exhaled a deep breath. "It's okay. I just...I haven't spoken to many people about this."

"You don't have to-" he began.

"I know," you interrupted. "But I want to. I know I only just met you, but you've been so kind and...well weird as it sounds you've given me hope that there are still good people in the world. I feel like I need to start letting go of what happened if I can, and one way is by talking about it." You smiled at him. "So I guess its true that no good deed goes unpunished. You were kind to me and now you get to listen to me ramble on about the shit in my life."

He shifted in his seat, turning more fully toward you, his body language open and accepting. "You tell me yours, I'll tell you mine," he offered as he held out his hand. You hesitated briefly before shaking it, but when you did you noted that it was warm and calloused and engulfed yours almost fully. So you told him. About how Christmas had always been a time of joy and family and warmth for you. How you had always loved every part of it, from the lights to the ridiculous Christmas sweaters to the music to the food. Until last year when you had felt unwell at your Christmas work party and had come home early to find your fiancé in your bed and fucking the woman that you had chosen to be your maid of honour. At this, Frankie blew his cheeks out and released a slow and sympathetic breath.

"That wasn't even the worst of it," you all but whispered, looking through the windshield into the blackness of the night but not truly seeing what was in front of you. "He doubled down on it. Told me that I should have known something like this would happen. That I should take better care of myself if I wanted to keep a man. That my tits were too big and my ass was too small. That I should grow the fuck up and stop playing video games. That no one would ever want someone who couldn't have kids." At this Frankie made a low, angry noise in his chest and your attention turned back to him. "That last one wasn't the hurtful comment he thought it was. I can't have kids, but I never really wanted to give birth so that kind of works out. But he didn't know that so...yeah. It wasn't a great Christmas. I find it very difficult to trust people. For obvious reasons. And because I don't really trust myself anymore. If I could misjudge someone that badly..." You trailed off, shaking your head in amazement at your past stupidity.

Frankie held his hand out to you again and again you took it after a moment, holding it this time rather than shaking it. He looked you full in the face and into your eyes, their dark depths seeming to capture and captivate a part of you that you thought had died a year ago. "Never blame yourself for what happened," he said, forcefully. "That guy is an asshole and you had a lucky escape. You deserve someone who loves you for you, not for who they want you to be. I'm so sorry he ruined Christmas for you. That fucking sucks." He paused before seeming to come to a decision and ploughing on with his words. "I wish...I don't mean this to sound creepy but I wish I could fix it. Make Christmas something good for you again. But you know, not everything's as simple as an engine..." He trailed off, a little awkwardly.

"Its not creepy," you reassured him. "Its a sweet thought. But after today, I don't know if its fixable any more." At his quizzical eyebrow raised in silent question you sighed and forced yourself to press on. "They announced their engagement today," you said softly. "And...and its my birthday. Hence the-" You trailed off and gestured at the remnants of the cake. Frankie let out a noise of disbelief and compressed your hand within his much larger one in a supportive kind of way. "Don't tell me they didn't know. There are 364 other days they could have chosen. It just feels like it reopened all the old wounds. And I don't know why they seem to hate me so much. I shouldn't even care, I know. But it hurt, so apparently I do." Before he could react, you cleared your throat and sat up a little straighter. You weren't entirely sure why, but you thought that sympathy from this gorgeous stranger might just tip you over the edge, and you knew that once you began crying you would find it very difficult to stop. Instead, you moved the conversation swiftly on.

"So, come on. We shook on it. What shit has life thrown at you?" He told you. Unvarnished and straightforwardly he told you. About his coke addiction that had cost him his pilot's licence and the struggle he was facing to get it back. About the PTSD he had suffered from his time in Delta Force. About his ongoing divorce and of not living with his daughter anymore. His face was calm and relatively inexpressive throughout his recital of his litany of pain, and you wondered how many times he had spoken about it in therapeutic settings, and how much came from repression of his emotions.

"So yeah," he concluded. "Christmas isn't the best time for me right now either. This...uh...this is the first year I won't get to see her on Christmas morning and its just...its hard." You squeezed his hand, having not let it go whilst he was talking, and he squeezed back and gave a barking, slightly bitter laugh. "Is it weird that we've opened up to each other like this? I mean, I have friends who are ex-military and they get a lot of what I'm saying when I talk about this stuff. But I don't think I've ever met someone and blurted this out within an hour or two. I'll never get a second date now!" His smile was warm and cheeky and his eyes twinkled with good-natured teasing, making his face look a decade younger than he was.

"Hey, don't count yourself out just yet!" you shot back. Even though your tone was joking, there was an undercurrent of sincerity to it that you yourself hadn't entirely been expecting. Frankie certainly hadn't and his expression moved to pleasant surprise before he looked down at his lap, an almost shy smile now gracing his lips. "Sorry," you breathed, a heat of embarrassment creeping into your face. "I didn't...I mean, I wasn't-"

"It's okay," Frankie interjected, raising his gaze to you again. "It's...it's okay. I-" He broke off suddenly as his attention was taken by something beyond the truck. "Hey look," he said softly.

You followed his gaze to where a gentle dusting of fine snow had started to settle over everything you could see except for the warm bonnet of Frankie's truck. The flakes were getting visibly fatter the longer you watched them pass through the beams of his headlights. Snow wasn't going to make getting home any easier, but at this minute you didn't care. It was so beautiful. And the sight of it stirred another pleasant warmth in your chest. "You wanna go out in it?" you smiled at Frankie.

"Hell yeah," he grinned back.

Taglist - @thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16

You waited beside his truck watching the increasingly heavy snowfall swirl around you until your breakdown crew arrived. And while you stood in the cold and the dark and the icy wind, he held out his hand for yours again, and this time you surrendered to him without hesitation.

Day Six

[pascalpanic]

Fooled Around and Fell in Love (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

@carstwirs: hello lovie I dunno if u still taking but could u do "can u hold my hand" & "I like the way your hands fit in mine" with javier peña please very fluffy and kissy kissy

Inspo: Fooled Around and Fell In Love by Elvin Bishop

Summary: You and Javier, unsurprisingly, are friends with benefits. Javier has a bigger heart than he lets on.

W/C: 2.4K

Warnings: language, nondescript sexual content, lots of fluff and a dash of angst for flavor

A/N: hi!! This was also a combination of my song prompt for @din-damn-djarin’s celebration! I chose Fooled Around And Fell In Love as my song for it, and it fit perfectly with this request! I hope y’all like it bc soft Javi is my JAM!

Sneaking around was key with Javier Peña. The two of you were field agents during the hunt for Escobar; discretion was key in both your work and your love life.

Could you even call it a love life, you wondered? It was starting to feel more and more like love to you, but you and Javier only had each other during the off hours of work, the spare moments in the evidence room. Those were the only times that you could wrap your arms around him, that you could pull him to you by the belt and press your lips firmly to his.

Javier was strong and handsome, gorgeous brown eyes and thick biceps and tight shirts. You’d started fooling around with him late one night at the office, when the two of you were the last ones working. Steve was long gone, you were both frustrated with the paperwork, and Javier looked so goddamn good that you walked closer and stared into his eyes. He looked up at you and put out his cigarette, asked what you were looking at.

You knew his reputation. You knew what he did with women, and you wanted it for yourself. You responded that you were looking at that godawful mustache, I wonder how any girl lets you go down on her with that thing, and he pulled you down to him by the shirt and asked you if you wanted a trial. And you kissed him hard, with tongue and teeth and it led to you riding Javier right there in his office chair. It was so good that you kept going, sneaking around the office and his apartment and yours and anywhere you could get him.

The sex was fantastic, even better with the idea that it was forbidden and discreet and could never see the light of day. The nights you’d spend in Javier’s bed, on his couch, in his shower. Wherever he could get you, he’d take you, and you were more than willing to oblige.

After you ravaged each other, after you’d thoroughly marked the easier-covered patches of skin on each other’s bodies, after your lips were reddened and swollen and bruised, that was when the moments of truth came. Your head would rest on Javier’s chest while he’d stroke your hair, murmur sweet nothings to you. And they were truly that: nothings. Words that didn’t mean or promise shit when these excursions had to be confined to closed bedrooms and locked supply closets in the embassy.

No matter how secretive Javier could keep himself, Steve could always read through his screen. He knew the man like he knew his wife, maybe even better since he was a man like him. He could see each little cog turn and tick inside of his brain. He could notice the way his fingers would tap against his desk in a different rhythm when he was craving a cigarette from when he had to go piss from when he was anxious.

So even though you two had smirks on your faces as you went your separate ways, Javier sneaking from the evidence room three minutes before you would, Steve had always known. He’d noticed the way your legs were a little more wobbly than they were before in your heels, the way Javier was in a better mood for the rest of the day.

Steve had also noticed the moment where Javier had fallen in love. He’d returned to his desk with a smudge of your signature lipstick under his jaw that he’d missed. Steve didn’t comment. Javier’s smile looked smitten, not smug. His pen tapped a different rhythm against his desk. It was a new one, one Steve had yet to learn and file away. He learned it as the rhythm he’d tap out when he was in love.

You’d entered this situation with Javier with an understanding that this would be like anything else he’s ever done, that he’d continue this as a casual dalliance and that he’d move on soon. You were friends at work, and that came first and foremost. The sex would end eventually, and you’d both have to move on. Neither of you expected to fall for the other.

-

Javier is a creature of habit, despite the fact that he likes to think he’s unpredictable. He comes home from work at some godforsaken hour late at night, he drinks a glass of whiskey. If he has any energy, he calls up his latest plaything. If he doesn’t, he downs a second glass and passes out in his bed.

Tonight, Javier is in a melancholy mood. His glass of whiskey sinks him lower into this dark hole, and when you answer your ringing phone, he is not flirty or sexy or suggestive. “Hey, dulzura. Wanna come over?” He asks, his voice exhausted.

You frown a little. “What’s wrong?” You ask through the phone, wedging the receiver between your ear and your shoulder.

Javier sighs. “Nothing. Just… could use a little something to make it feel better. Or someone.”

A small smile forms on your face from his weak effort to be flirtatious. “I’ll come right over, Javi,” you inform him, and he has an equally small smile on his face.

A few minutes later, you knock on his door. Two stoic faces turn to smiles as you see each other. It isn’t typical of your relationship to be affectionate. You’re either fucking or you’re professionals at work. But Javier needs it, you rationalize, as you throw your arms around and hug him tight. Little does he know that it’s equally as much for you as it is for him. It takes him a second, but he wraps his arms around you too and pulls you to his chest. “Bad day?” You murmur and nuzzle your nose into his neck.

Javier sighs. “Yeah.”

You press a soft kiss to his skin and look up at him with a smile. You brush his dark hair back from his forehead as you look into his eyes. “What do you need, hm?” You ask in a quiet voice, tilting your head as you look at him.

He can’t say what he really wants, what he needs. He needs you to hold him for the rest of the night, to talk to him softly in your beautiful voice that soothes all of his nerves, to kiss his skin just like you did earlier but do it over and over, all over his body, not even in a sexual way. “You,” he mumbles just as quietly.

You chuckle a little. “I don’t think we should fuck tonight, Javi,” you admit, a hand on his chest.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says and shakes his head. You’re confused, and your brow furrows lightly in confusion in a way that looks so goddamn adorable that Javier wants to scream and shout. “Just… stay here with me?”

You nod, your eyes still confused but your heart softening. This is going to spell trouble, especially with your recent realization of how painfully in love with him you are. “Of course, Javi. Can… how about I make us dinner?” You offer.

He shakes his head. “We can make it together,” he says, leading you to the kitchen. He opens the fridge, which is embarrassingly bare. You go to a cupboard and pull out a box of pasta and a can of sauce. He sees it and smiles. “That’s perfect,” he nods, filling a pot with water and putting it on the stove.

All of your words are somewhat hushed and quiet, as if either of you is afraid to break the calm of the moment. The domesticity of it all. Javier turns on the burner on the stove and you find his cassette player, popping in the first tape you find. The smooth music starts playing and you dance around his kitchen, scooting up behind him and wrapping your arms around him. “Come dance with me,” you murmur and press a kiss into his shoulder blade.

“What has gotten into you?” He asks you teasingly but turns in your arms, wrapping an arm around you. He takes one of your hands in his, holding it out to the side and starting to dance with you.

You hum along to the song and shrug. “You need some love,” you tell him with a soft smile, and it cracks his hardened expression.

You rest your head on his chest and he relaxes, swaying you along. You’re both quiet for a moment. You wonder if you overstepped it with the word love, but he seems to enjoy it. “I like the way your hand fits in mine,” he murmurs to you and presses a kiss to your forehead.

The utter tenderness of the moment is unlike anything you and Javier have ever shared before. Things between you have always been rough and fast, about pleasure and not feelings. This is uncharted territory. You’re holding each other, slow dancing in his kitchen. His arms are warm and strong around you. “I like it too,” you tell him genuinely in a soft voice. The lyrics of the song ring out through the kitchen, and you can’t help but feel your throat go dry at the words.

I must have been through about a million girls

I'd love 'em then I'd leave 'em alone

I didn't care how much they cried, no sir

Their tears left me cold as a stone

But then I fooled around and fell in love

I fooled around and fell in love, yes I did

I fooled around and fell in love

Javier’s breath hitches. You can feel it, his chest fluttering beneath your head. His face is still pressed into your hair. “Can I admit something to you, dulzura?” He mumbles.

Your eyes are watering, and you bury your face in his neck. You pray that it’s the words you want to hear. You squeak out an ‘mhm’ into his skin.

“I think this song was meant for us. Because we’ve been fooling around… but I think I fell in love with you,” he chokes out nervously, stopping his feet and planting the two of you in the middle of the kitchen.

You lift your head and look at him, the tears beginning to fall from your eyes. “Javi,” you coo, your lower lip quivering.

His eyes go wide in fear. This is why he doesn’t show emotions, he tells himself, because it never fucking works, it always ends wrong. He gets his desperate heart broken and that’s why he hides it, locks it and swallows the key. “But if you don’t feel the same, I understand,” he says quietly. His lower lip sticks out slightly.

You laugh through the tears, looking at him with wet eyes. “Javi. I have thought the same about you for so long. I am so in love with you, and I was so worried you wouldn’t feel the same. I can’t believe, I just-“

He cuts you off by cupping your face in his hands and pressing your lips to his, sighing at the feeling. It’s everything you’ve wanted, warm and slow and everything about it is a release of tension. You’ve kissed him before, sure, but it’s been hot and sloppy and hurried, for the sole point of removing each other’s pants. This is because he wants to, because he wants you for you and not the warmth between your legs.

You break away, and Javier looks down at you. “Why are you crying?” He asks with a soft smile.

Looking up at him, there are tears on your face but not an ounce of sadness. “Because I love you so much. And I thought eventually you’d get tired of me and move on to another woman and I’d still have to be friends with you even though I’m so in love with you.”

Javier frowns softly. “Do you really think I would?”

You shrug. “I mean… it’s kind of your track record, Javi,” you say, and he nods.

“I suppose that’s somewhat true,” he admits. “But it’s you. How could I ever change my mind about someone like you?” He asks, and you answer his question by kissing him again, deeply.

It’s pure bliss, his warm hand on your face, the other around your waist and pulling you tighter against him. You break away and your eyes hold a question. “What now?” He asks sarcastically.

You giggle. “The water is boiling,” you tell him and nod your head toward the stove.

“Oh, shit,” he nods and breaks away from you, pouring the pasta in.

You sneak up behind him again and wrap your arms around him, kissing his neck. “Javi?”

“Is this a game show? Am I being interrogated?” He chuckles lovingly.

“Jesus, you just admitted you love me and now you’re being so mean to me,” you tease. “No. Does this mean… are we a thing? Can we be in public now?”

He thinks about it for a second and nods, stirring the water. “I think we should. And I think you should stay the night, so I can finally tell you how much I love you in bed.”

You giggle softly. “I’d like that.”

-

In the morning, you ride to work with Javier. You straighten your blazer as you get out of the car, smiling at him and pulling your purse over your shoulder.

He looks back at you and he can’t help but smile. “Dulzura?”

“Yes, Javi?”

He walks alongside you as you head into the building. “Can you hold my hand?” He asks, grinning ear to ear.

You beam and nod, taking his hand. He opens the door and the two of you walk in together, for the first time, holding hands. You draw stares as you walk to his desk, but you don’t care. Neither does he. Both of you walk with your head held high.

Finally you see Steve and he slowly claps as the two of you approach. “Ah, I see we’re finally public,” he nods and gestures to your hands with a cigarette between two fingers.

You look at Javier in confusion, and he looks back at you with the same eyes. “I’ve known about you two this whole time,” the blonde man laughs, kicking his legs up on the desk. “How does that song go? Fooled around and fell in love,” he sings, and you laugh as you look up at Javi.

“I guess that’s our song now,” he shrugs and looks down at you.

“I guess it is,” you nod, and Javier kisses you softly.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy

[princessbatears]

I'm a storyteller both by trade and by hobby, and I understand a lot about how effective television storytelling works, in particular. My background has given me a different perspective than most people with regards to the finale, particularly what happens between Din and Grogu. Normally, I don’t get involved in fandom discussions, but I was encouraged to share my take on this. Spoilers below the cut in case I miss some tags, lol.

When I watched the episode this morning, I wasn't prepared for what happened. Like many of us, I expected a terrible cliffhanger or a neat conclusion like we got in the last season. Instead, Din encouraged his son to become a Jedi, leaving himself (and the rest of us) more than a little devastated. It was brutal. But also brilliant. Din and Grogu's individual and family arcs in this season came to a close in a way more beautiful than I could have expected. At the beginning of the season, Din kept Grogu at his side and protected him, but he was determined to pass him off to a Jedi. In part, this was because he believed it was Grogu's own good, but also because he wasn't ready to accept his fatherhood. We see this in the episode with Ahsoka. Even though he didn't want to say goodbye, he was willing to thrust Grogu upon her. When Ahsoka refused, Din was genuinely relieved and finally admitted to himself that he loved him and wanted him to stay a part of his life. That was further confirmed by the lengths he went to in order to get him back from Gideon.

Meanwhile, Grogu's gone through his own arc. We learned from Ahsoka that he hid his powers out of fear. We also learned that he's very afraid of being separated from Din, who he sees as his family. It's completely understandable. He's young and been through a lot. But that fear also makes it harder for him to train, so Ahsoka rejects him. Grogu himself continues to be a little reluctant to use his powers, needing encouragement from Din (unless it's to steal cookies). When he's captured, he fights the best he can to get away, but that fighting doesn't end up doing him much good because he can't control himself. It's my impression that, by the end of the season, Grogu's realized that he needs to be able to master his powers, not just to protect himself, but to protect Din, too. He's finally ready to step into his strength and become all that he can be, which is why he decides to go with Luke.

Din did not want Grogu to go. Everything in his being screamed that. He even say to Luke, "He doesn't want to go with you." However, when Luke explains what's going on, Din realizes that he must put Grogu's needs before his own. It's in Grogu's best interest to be nurtured in the ways of the Force, as he's always suspected, but now letting Grogu looks different than it did before. It wasn't Din rejecting his love for his son or pushing the responsibility of him onto someone else. He even did several things differently from when he tried to give Grogu to Ahsoka. First, he promises they'll see each other again. Personally, I don't think this is the end of them being together, even though Din says Grogu belongs with Luke (also more on that soon). Second, Din tells him not to be afraid. He wants Grogu to become confident in himself and all he can be. Third, he takes off his helmet to show his boy his face and let him touch him. While this is a huge sacrifice on his part because others also see his face, it is proof to Grogu that they are family and that they will always be family. Fourth, Din sets Grogu down on the floor and lets him walk to Luke. This is vitally important. In the past, he's tried to physically hand him over. This time, he lets Grogu make his own decision once and for all. Grogu walks over to look and asks to be picked up, indicating he truly wants to be trained. Din recognized him as an autonomous being with his own will, and respected and encouraged that, like a good father does. Was it easy? Absolutely not, but it was the right thing to do.

I'm not sure what Season 3 will look like as far as Din and Grogu's relationship goes. Maybe Grogu won't feature as prominently, maybe there will be a time jump, maybe something will happen and Luke will bring him back? I have no idea. None of us do. However, what I do know is that heart of the show is the relationship between Din and Grogu. I believe Filoni and Favreau know this, as does Disney. Grogu has made Disney actually relevant again, he's made them an insane amount of money, and I don't think they're going to let that cash cow go any time soon. So, everybody, please don't despair. It's going to be okay! ❤️

I'd also like to take a moment to discuss Luke. My feelings on this have evolved as I'm processed the episode over the last few hours. Initially, I wasn't very happy. I felt like a lot of people do. Why does it always have to be Skywalkers? Why couldn't it be somebody—anybody—else? Why did that have to do that weird CGI thing with his face that wigs me out? (That, admittedly, I'm still not a fan of, lol.) But with some time, I've realized that Luke makes sense. There's the inescapable fact that Star Wars is about the Skywalkers. They're the central characters of this universe. If Movies 6-9 hadn't been as godawful as they were, I think many of us wouldn't resent this fact so much. We're jaded, understandably. However, I don't believe it's fair to judge The Mandalorian's choice to include him based on other creators screwing him up in a future timeline. So far, Favreau and Filoni have been nothing but respectful of the Star Wars universe and its characters, and I'm choosing to trust them with this. But that aside, Luke is likely the only Jedi in the whole galaxy who would take Grogu as an Apprentice. Ahsoka didn't want him, too scarred by her own experiences and traumas. She also comes with the baggage the Temple placed upon its students, which was, if you have any "dark" qualities, you're untrainable. Meanwhile, in the original trilogy, Luke learned how to become a Jedi even though his legacy was those "dark" qualities. He overcame his own anger and fear and started new Jedi traditions. He's the perfect person at this point in his life to teach Grogu how to master his powers. He is obviously aware of how important Grogu is to Din and he'll take good care of him until the family can be reunited.

Personally, I loved this finale, especially the last few minutes. They absolutely destroyed me on a human level, but excited me as a writer and storyteller. By shaking the show up like this, it keeps the audience on their toes and reminds us that anything can happen. Din and Grogu's relationship is why people are so invested and throwing this huge kink that creates a massive conflict that the audience is desperate to have resolved. Aside from one of them actually dying (which would have me throw the show in the garbage), very little else could create such a reaction, which is the whole point. I can't wait to see what the creatives throw at us next year! 😃