#maybe consider why that is. and maybe leave kids less than 15 years old the fuck out of it you fucking dipshit

[rodolfoparras]

I don't know what to do about my situation... I'm so confused and I have so many mixed feelings, I don't know how to TW this but if you can help me or give tips on how to get out of this then please do :((

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I'm with this one person, (dating) but the thing is it was always an on and off relationship, starting when I was in like 12-13 ish?? But they were like 15-16?? And like they kept breaking up with me cause they kept losing feelings. And before that our relationship with each other was also confusing cause we grew up with eachother as cousins?? My dad had a gf (they are now broken up) but they were never married and (one of) her sister (s) had kids the I met them (they are the oldest of siblings) when i was 7 and they were 9-10 years old and when I was about 11-12...they were my first kiss....and like nothing extreme has happened within these years...just a few touching and photo sharing. (Mainly me sending photos, I wasn't pressured and all consensual)

I'm 18 and they are 21, but when I was 16 and they were 19 we started our relationship again (talking), and I don't know what to do, they are so much older than me and I want to date this other guy but I don't want to cheat on them but yes the relationship is legal. They never did anything to make me uncomfortable, I just don't know what to do it's so complicated

Does this count as grooming?? I don't know if it is but since I'm 18 now I don't know if it does or if it was when I was younger :(( I'm sorry for venting but it's causing me so much stress and I feel so confused and don't know what to do

Premising this by saying I’m just a dude on the internet writing smut but if there’s anything I can give some advice on it’s this bc I’ve seen similar things in real life

First of all it’s weird that a 15 / 16 year old kid found interest in a 12/13 year old and sure while it’s” just “3 years, at age 15/16, I started my very first year of high school I was eligible to practice drive different type of vehicles I could work summer jobs that were offered to hs students of that age, I believe I even was eligible those debit cards kids can use from age 16?-18

At age 12 I couldn’t even go into a store and buy myself an energy drink, at age 12 I hadn’t even entered puberty properly iykyk

It’s “just” 3 years but you’re at such different stages of life

Would you at your 18 years of age, date a 15 year old?

Now you’re like Alec it’s different we grew up together …so it’s less weird because you grew up together or is it considered something they used to their advantage? And while everything felt consensual does not mean that it was consensual an 11 year old cannot consent even if it’s to something simple as being kissed on the lips

Not only that but throughout the years you’ve had a tumultuous relationship bc they keep losing feelings

To me it’s like they know you’ll always be there, they use that to their advantage to do whatever they feel like doing and when that thing fizzes out they go back to you again

The issue here though isn’t the new guy and how you can be with him. Instead it’s to identify why you’re staying in your current relationship and how to be able to provide that factor for yourself

For example if you’re with this person to feel less lonely maybe you should figure out how to be on your own and not feel alone

If you think you wouldn’t have a shot with anyone else but this person maybe u should see how you could better the image you have of yourself

Because the truth is a new partner won’t break you out of old patterns this guy might as well be as bad as your current partner or he might up and leave your life all of a sudden, and for you to not go back to your old partner again you have to figure out how to feel happy without either of them

And sure while you might say I’m 18 now I’m sure my partner will figure their shit out in a year or two or I’ll figure my shit out eventually yeah sure but you’re giving your time to someone who doesn’t value it

Everyone in life is looking out for their own asses as we say in the Balkans doesn’t matter if it’s ur sibling or friend everyone will look after themselves you have to realize for each hour of each day week month year you’re putting up with this person, you’re sacrificing time effort etc that you’ll never get back, to someone who doesn’t value it all

[everybodyhatesangelina]

static

clearly, I love Edward Munson, so here's my attempt at writing a fic (yippee)

haven't written in ages, used to write ff about BTS in like 2017 maybe, excuse me if I'm rusty. I don't know how Tumblr works, so sorry if this looks weird or anything, I'm trying my best, for this fic I was clearly inspired by Effie and Freddie from skins,, that's why the protagonist name if Effie, I'm too lazy to change it and this is just a test :)

trigger warning:

no drug usage (apart from weed) is explicitly depicted, but drugs are talked about and people on drugs are described, I tried my best on writing realistic things considering I do not remember much from that time of my life.

if these topics are triggering for you, please don't read

also, don't do anything that happens in this fic

enjoy this mess while it's still online

«shit, is your cousin back in school?», Mike asked, the rest of the kids sitting at the table turning around, eyes locking on someone. Eddie was suddenly interested.

«yup, she's not sick anymore.», Henderson replied, short and cold, Eddie found it weird.

«but... she looks worse than before.», Will said, a confused look on his face.

«your cousin comes to school here?», Eddie finally asked, scanning the cafeteria with his eyes, trying to find a girl who looked like Dustin, assuming they were even a little bit similar.

«yup, she missed the first three months cause she was in the hospital.», he's not even looking at Eddie, eyes set on his food, a little pout in his lips.

«being in rehab isn't being sick, Henderson, get your story straight.», that's Jason, being mean as always, his friends snickering with him.

Dustin just rolls his eyes, but Jason doesn't like the lack of reply.

«I really don't know what I expected, obviously little freak Henderson had a little freak cousin, didn't she almost die? fuck, maybe you guys shouldn't have saved her, one freak less in this school.», Eddie doesn't really know how they're laughing about this and he opens his mouth to talk, try and defend Henderson, but a loud smack leaves him startled.

Jason groans as he falls to the ground, after being smacked in the face with a tray from a girl now standing over him.

she looks pretty normal, brown hair braided, a pair of grey sweatpants and a big black sweater, but Eddie can see the anger on her face, he's almost scared by it even if it's not directed at him.

«maybe, next time, don't act all cool while making fun of a 15 year old, dumbass. and no, I didn't 'almost' die, I died for a few seconds. I came back from hell, I would be shitting my pants if I was you.», the whole cafeteria is silent, everyone holding their breath as they watch the scene unfold.

before turning around, she bends down, looking straight in his eyes and Eddie almost laugh, Jason has never looked so scared as he holds his bloody nose. she gives him a little smile, innocent almost, then spits on his face and gets back up, coming closer to Dustin. her eyes soften when she sees him and she ruffles his hair, giving a little wave to the other kids, going back to the entrance.

before she leaves, she turns around, everyone's eyes on her.

«by the way, I'm Effy!»,she does a little bow before going out and Eddie thinks he might be in love.

«shit, that's you cousin?», Gareth asks and Dustin gives a little smile and as he goes back to his food, Jason's shitty friends dragging him to the infirmary.

Eddie is surprised, next day, when he obviously comes in the cafeteria a bit late, after a deal, to find Henderson's cousin sitting at their table.

she looks better today, a pair of large jeans and a long sleeved shirt, when Eddie squints he's surprised to see it's a Metallica shirt.

could she be any more perfect?

when he sits down at his place, her eyes are on him, studying him, and Eddie almost feels out of breath.

«is it okay if she sits here? I told her that maybe you didn't want her to, but she never listens to me.», Henderson's voice distracts him from those icy eyes.

«I don't think anyone would have the courage to say anything to her, we're all scared to get our nose broken.», Gareth says, Jeffrey snorting and the girl rolling her eyes, but she's smiling a little.

then she's looking back at Eddie, offering him her hand.

«I'm Effy, Dustin always talks about you.», she says, it's simple, but Eddie feels his heart beating faster.

«Eddie.», he replies, taking her hand, and it's soft, really soft. her nails are painted black, some are chipped.

she gives him a little smile and let go, going back to her lunch.

it's only a can of cola, a straw stuck in it.

the kids are talking about something, Halloween, but he's not really listening, his eyes set on the girl.

she doesn't really speak, just listens, nodding sometimes and rolling her eyes fondly at Dustin's dumb jokes.

when the bell rings, she simply gets up and leave, waving to them.

he obviously skips math's class, getting high in the woods behind school is much funnier than solving equations or whatever the fuck they're doing now.

he's surprised, tho, when he gets to his spot and finds the girl that's making his heart beat so fast sitting at the table, a cigarette in her hand as she scribbles on a book.

she's wearing a sweater now, really big and cozy, and when she notices Eddie she startles a bit, bringing a hand to her heart.

«sorry, didn't mean to scare you.», he says with a little smile, sitting in front of her and she shakes her head.

«I didn't think anyone came here apart from me.», she's talking slowly, her eyes on Eddie's.

«I've been coming here for years, it's my spot.», he shrugs, opening his lunchbox to take out a joint, bringing it to his lips and lighting it up, «you don't look like the type of girl who skips class..», he adds then, making her snort.

«science is too boring and I'm way too high to care.», she shrugs and he raises an eyebrow.

«Henderson said you're clean.», she snorts again, lifting her eyes from the book to look at him again, a little smile on her lips.

it looks pretty, her lips curled up a little, but it's almost like she's making fun of him.

«cause that's what Henderson knows and I hope you're not going to rat me out.», and Eddie slowly shakes his head, taking a few hits, tilting his head to the side a bit.

«but aren't you scared? about overdosing again and shit..», Eddie knows he's probably starting a conversation he has no rights to start, but he's so curios about that girl.

she seems surprised at that question, rubbing her lips togheter.

«I'm not doing... pills, just weed, sometimes.», her eyes are back on the book now, a little grimace on her face.

he doesn't know if she's lying, doesn't know enough about her to guess, but she seems genuine, just annoyed by his question.

«well, that's good, isn't it? pills aren't nice.», he murmurs, licking his upper lip, nervous, and the girl snorts again.

«you literally sell drugs to minors», touchè.

she looks up at him, reading his face, trying to see if maybe she offended him, but as soon as their eyes lock they both smile.

they spend the rest of the hour togheter, not talking much, but it's comfortable, Eddie sharing his joints with her, her eyes lighting up everytime his hand stretch towards her.

they walk back together to the school, Eddie holding up the branches so she doesn't have to bend down to pass.

he then walks her to class, it's a bit awkward when they get there, looking at each other shyly.

«well, guess I have to go now..», he shrugs and she nods, playing with the pen in her hands.

she waves at him as he walks away, backwards, making her giggle when he slams against a teacher he didn't see.

he apologizes, a grin on his face, and when he turn back around she has disappeared.

lunch gets sweeter and sweeter everyday, the girl getting more comfortable and speaking more with everyone, she starts sitting right next to Eddie, speaking with Gareth about a book they're both reading, sometimes she'll speak to Eddie too, about music very often.

they share a lot of interests, especially music, they almost listen to the same bands and have read the same books.

then, one day, Henderson sits at the table with a big smile on his face.

«sooo, Halloween, my mom is going at her sister's, sooo... free house! we could watch scary films and play DnD!», he's really proud of it, everyone cheering happily.

«will you be there?», Eddie murmurs in the girls ear and she looks at him surprised, but then nods, a smile on her face.

«I'm the babysitter.», she replies, taking a sip of her usual cola, Eddie snorting.

he counts the seconds, getting jiggier everyday, so impatient.

then Halloween comes, it pours in the morning, and almost everyone gets to school soaked.

Eddie is a bit pissed, his hair dripping water as he walks through the halls.

then he sees her, standing at her locker and he feels a little smile grow on his lips.

she looks prettier then ever, ripped thighs and a pair of chunky black boots, wearing a black sweater long enough to be a dress.

her hair are wet too, a bit ruffled and she's looking in a mirror, trying to adjust her black eyeshadow that's dripping a bit on her cheeks.

«shit, I know I look pretty, but isn't crying a bit dramatic, sweetheart?», he says, resting his hip on the locker next to hers.

the girl snort and she doesn't even need to look up to recognize, reaching into her locker to get a towel, throwing it on his face.

«you look like a wet dog.», he snorts at that, but thanks her softly, using it to dry his hair.

«sooo, I was thinking that... maybe, we could skip first hour and go smoke in the bathroom..?», he asks, almost shyly, as he rubs on his hair to get them dry.

she sighs and turns towards him, pushing his hands away and drying his hair softly, her eyes on his.

Eddie feels his heart in his throat, cheeks getting warm.

«you have beautiful curls, girls shed sweet and tears to get them like this and you're ruining your natural ones? come on, even Dustin knows how to dry his hair.», she rolls her eyes a bit and then takes away the towel, taking out a brush and standing on her tiptoes to adjust his bangs.

Eddie doesn't even reply, the world 'beautiful' ringing in his head, as he bites his lower lip.

then she's throwing the brush in her locker too, closing it and looking back at him.

«the bathroom in the gym is gonna be empty, let's go.»

that's how they end up sitting on the ground, passing a joint, as Eddie tells her about the time he shaved his head, smiling everytime she giggles and slaps his shoulder.

«so, you're telling me that you, Edward Munson, the person with the nicest hair in Hawkins, spent half of his life with a shaved head?», she asks and she has laughed so hard there's tears in her eyes, Eddie doesn't even think when he takes her soft cheeks in his hand, using his thumb to swipe under he eyes, catching the tear that's falling.

«shh, if Harrington hears you, he's gonna flip his shit.», and she's laughing again, leaning against his hand.

«Steve? you know Steve?», she asks and she seems surprised, even if she's still giggling, taking a few hit of the joints.

«yeah, Henderson's like... obsessed with him, he worships that dude.», and now Effy's smiling fondly, the way she always does when someone's talking about Dustin.

«Dustin worships you too, when I was in the hospital he would come in everyday just to speak about you and how wonderful you are.», Eddie is surprised by that, but he feels his lips twitch a bit.

then she's taking her head away from his hands, Eddie letting it fall on his lap, the girl passing him the joints.

«what film have you guys chosen for tonight?», she asks, and they're back at it, Eddie listing the film as she groans, rolling her eyes.

«if the kids can't sleep cause they get too scared, I'm beating you up.», she says, pointing her fingers at his chest and Eddie acts scared, dramatically as always, raising his hands and widening his eyes.

«nooo, please, don't kill me!», he shouts and the girl giggles, fake shooting him with her fingers, Eddie groaning as he falls back, her laugh getting louder.

they smoke some more, then they're leaving, talking in the hallways, all giggly because of the weed.

as always, he walks her to her class, opening the door for her and bowing, making her giggle again.

he knows people are watching, he knows people are talking, but he doesn't care at all, and it looks like Effy doesn't care either as she waves at him, a smile on her face as she sits down.

the teacher is one Eddie has too and she starts one of her speech about how Eddie should get to class instead of flirting with other students or else he won't graduate, for the third time and he simply grins and says sorry, getting out of there.

he doesn't really know what to expect when he gets to Dustin's house, Effy isn't as 'affectionate' with him when the others are there, but he's surprised when the girl opens the door and smiles at him, throwing her arms around his neck.

he obviously doesn't push her away, holding the pack of beer with one hand, using the other to put around her waist and hold her.

«hey, sweetheart. brought beers.», he says, feeling a bit lightheaded, she smells really good, like weed and women's parfume.

«mmm, love beer!», she let go of him, taking them from his hand and going back in the house.

it's warm inside and Eddie closes the door behind him, following her inside.

she looks pretty even at home, her hair braided again, no makeup.

«you're early, Dustin isn't even home yet. do you... wanna keep me company while I get ready?», she asks, tilting her head to the side and Eddie knows something is a bit off, her hand twitching every now and then. he nods anyway, maybe it's the cold.

her room is different than what he expected, the walls a pastel purple, a few posters here and there, a few stuffed animals on her bed.

there's a big mirror on the wall, some pictures of her and Dustin, some with the other kids stuck on it.

she sits on the bed and Eddie does the same, still looking around.

under the mirror, there's a big desk, some books on it and some makeup, it's a bit messy.

«d'you like it? Dustin helped me paint.», she says, her back resting on the pillows, it's a bit slurry and her eyes seems unfocused as she looks around too, grinning when they're back on Eddie's.

he nods softly, studying her face, as he licks his lips.

«are you high?», he asks, and she seems surprised, but it's just for a few seconds as she goes back to grinning, her eyes half closed, sniffling a bit.

«yup, smoked with the windows open, I think I'm catching a cold.», she's up again, like she's running from Eddie, sitting at her desk and clearing her throat.

he doesn't move, just rests his back on the wall, his eyes stuck on her. he's not exactly sure she's lying, maybe she's just really high, but he still feels weird about it, like she's hiding something.

«are you dressing up for Halloween?», she doesn't reply, looking at herself in the mirror, putting on eyeshadow.

there's a few minutes of silence and then he's getting up, getting closer to her and she startles and drops her brush when he taps her shoulder, turning her head to look at him with wide eyes.

«what the fuck?», she asks, and it's soft, a bit slurred again, a grimace on her face.

«I asked if you're dressing up for Halloween.», he repeats and now he knows, he knows she didn't just smoke. her eyes soften and she sniffles again, turning back to the mirror.

«yup, I'm dressing up as myself. are you dressing up?», Eddie has grown up around addicts, and no matter how hard they try to hide it, there are a few signs that clearly tell if someone's using or not.

Effy has them all, constantly sniffling, her hands trembly, she's not focused and she clearly knows Eddie's onto something cause she's avoiding his eyes.

he grabs a chair and swings it around, sitting right next to her, one elbow on the desk, his cheek resting on his hand.

«yeah, I'm dressing up as myself too. I thought you were dressing up as Henderson's cousin who said she was clean while in reality she was not clean at all.», and he's not angry, just worried, cause now he cares about her and he feels like maybe he would die if she got hurt, again.

she freezes a bit, just a few seconds, then goes back to doing her makeup, silent for a few seconds.

«just cause I'm smoking weed here and there doesn't mean I'm back to pills, I thought we already talked about this.», her voice is low and Eddie knows he's right cause she's getting defensive, her body tensed up, lips tight in a line.

«I'm not talking about weed and you know it, sweetheart.», she curls her nose a bit, shaking her head.

she turns her head and Eddie maybe feels bad a bit, cause they're cold, the same way she looked at Jason when she smashed his nose.

«no, actually, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. and, even if I knew, I don't think it's any of your business.», she's getting angry and Eddie sighs, resting against the back of the chair, looking up at the ceiling.

«I don't want to be friends with someone that's trying to kill themselves everyday.», his eyes are back on hers, and it's soft, really, but she scoffs, a little grimace on her face.

«well, better fuck off then.», and Eddie would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised, his eyes wide.

and he knows she's not lying, her eyes colder than ever.

«are you serious, Eff? I'm just trying to help and, what, you prefer doing drugs than having friends?», and now he's angry, not at her, just... they haven't been friends for much, that's true, but the thought of losing her kills him already.

«I can do drugs and have friends, I've been doing it for months, no? you're the one giving me an ultimatum.», and she's smiling, her lips curled in that smile and Eddie now knows what it means now and what it meant back then, it's like she's telling him she's a lost cause, that there's nothing left to do, but he knows it's not true, he knows Effy, she's kind and she likes Black Sabbaths and The Talking Heads, she would go to war for Dustin, she likes cats and she hates everyone but Eddie and Hellfire, he knows that.

he refuses to let her believe she's not worth the try.

«I'm not giving you an ultimatum, but do you realize how crushed Dustin would be if he found out? how crushed I would be, for fucks sake!», and he's yelling now, his hands in the hair.

she flinches a bit, but then she's resting against the chair, her eyes soft again.

when her fingers slip under his shirt and rest on his hips, he feels his breath hitch.

«I'm fine, Eds, just cause I fucked up a few months ago and almost died, doesn't mean it'll happen again. it's Halloween, doing some ket on Halloween never killed anyone.», her voice is low and when Eddie looks in her eyes he feels his anger melts away, bringing his hand down to grab hers, sitting back down, their faces close.

«Eff, when you do drugs, it's not like when other people do drugs...»,he's almost whispering, his eyes wide, lips tight.

she sighs as she opens a drawer, searching for something in it, letting then a baggie fall on the table. Eddie could recognize it from a mile away.

«take it, then, I'll stop, really.», his heart starts beating again, a smile growing on his lips.

«really?», he asks, hopeful and she nods, smiling, letting go of his hands as she looks in the mirror again.

«now let me get ready in peace, dumbass.», they spend the rest of the hour in comfortable silence, the baggie sitting in Eddie's pocket.

and he's happy, really, cause she seemed genuine and Eddie trusts her, he knows she'd never do anything to hurt her cousin, maybe even him.

when Dustin and the other kids get home, Eddie and Effy are sprawled on the couch, watching TV, sharing a joint.

her legs are on Eddie's thighs and she's giggling loudly at every dumb thing that gets said on TV.

the the others get there too, even Steve and Robin are invited, and it's fun, really.

Effy doesn't drink, and Eddie is happy about that, making sure to kiss her temple as a reward, the girl rolls her eyes in reply, but he knows she's smiling.

the films are scary, well, not really, full of clichés and fake screams, but it's pretty gorey and the kids seem scared, even Steve is trying to hide his face behind his hands by the end of the first one.

by the end of the fourth and last film, Steve has already left with Robin, too scared to sit through it.

they stay togheter a bit, the rest of hellfire then going home.

Effy sits on the counter as Eddie searches through the fridge for something to eat, the kids voices in the background as they adjust their sleeping bags.

«are you sleeping over?», she asks, swinging her legs and Eddie shrugs, looking at her over his shoulder.

«can I sleep in your bed?», he's grinning like the fox he is and she rolls her eyes, poking him in the thigh with her feet.

«only if you shower.», she shows him her tongue and he scoffs, closing the fridge as he gets between her legs, wrapping his hand around both of her wrists, holding them over her head as he tickles her side with her free hand.

«I'll make you piss yourself so you have to shower too.», she snorts, squirming in his hold, fake gagging at his words.

«you're... you're fucking disgusting, let go, I'm scared of what you've done with these hands!»

he lets go only when he sees tears in her eyes, as she's laughing too hard, resting his hands on her thighs, both of them taking their breath and looking in each other's eyes.

he's surprised by himself when he bends closer, their lips touching, and he almost jumps back, but her hand is on his cheek as she presses her lips harder against his.

it's a sweet kiss, just their lips moving against the other, nothing like the dirty and bruising kisses Eddie's used to, but this one makes his stomach warms faster.

they break it off only to breathe, their foreheads resting against each other's.

«was it... okay?», Eddie asks and she giggles, nodding, leaving another little kiss on his lips. Eddie doesn't think he could ever get enough.

they went on a few dates after that, it was pretty private.

they kept bantering during lunch, skipping classes to smoke and make out, holding hands under the table and being them, but they still choose to try it out before making it public.

and it worked, really, Eddie thought it sounded dumb when he heard couples talking about themselves like piece of a puzzle that just fit togheter, but the more time he was spending with Effy, the more he started thinking about them like that.

and then, they made it official, starting by Dustin.

he wasn't exactly happy, but not sad about it.

he got used to it quickly, almost feeling weird whenever the couple wasn't togheter.

and it is good, still, a few months later, Eddie spent Christmas at their house and then Effy spent new year's eve at Eddie's.

school had started again, that meant they could see each other every day again.

when Eddie gets to school and doesn't see Effy waiting for him at her locker, he's a bit weirded out.

maybe she's late? but Effy's never late, maybe she came to school early to study or do homeworks, she does it often.

but then he finds Dustin in the halls and Dustin tells him that Effy didn't come to school, she was sick.

and the day after, she's still not at school.

it goes on for a week, Eddie has called home multiple times but either no one replied or Dustin did, saying Effy was asleep.

and Eddie isn't sad or angry, obviously, just... worried?

that's why he's so happy when he sees her in the hall, the week after, and she looks pretty like always, wearing one of her skirt and weird lacey thighs she loves, a purplish sweater on the top.

he's not so happy when she turns around and gets in class, without even waiting for him to say hi.

okay, weird, but maybe she was late? it's fine, they'll catch up in the cafeteria.

only, Effy doesn't show up, even if Eddie waits for her the whole time.

he tries to wait for her outside her class, but she's not there and when he asks one of her classmates, she just shrugs and mumble something about her just running off as soon as the bell rang.

now it's getting weirder.

he tries to ask Dustin, the day after, when he misses her again in the hall, but the kid simply shrugs his shoulder.

«she looked normal, this morning, but she's not talking much. maybe she's sick again.»

and then two days of avoiding becomes a week and a half and Eddie's getting tired.

he tried calling, no luck, tried sneaking through her window, locked shut, he tried catching her everywhere she could possibly be, but it was almost like the girl was a ghost.

and Eddie didn't understand, maybe he had done something wrong, that made him sad, but still, why would she just avoid him like that? he was starting to get pissed.

he didn't really like parties, but Gareth was one of his best friends and he obviously could not miss his party.

he was just going to drink a beer, stay one hour max, and then leave.

he was still pissed about the girl, he had stressed Dustin the whole week, but the kid just kept insisting that she didn't talk, barely ate and almost never came out of her room.

maybe the party would lift his spirit a bit.

there aren't many people at the party, maybe 50? he knows most of them, they're nice.

he gets his beer, rests his back against the wall and just waits, waving at the people he recognize.

his eyes widens tho when he sees the girl he has been looking for weeks now stumbling out of the bathroom.

he doesn't even thinks when he goes straight to her, the girl startling when he's suddenly in front of her, cornering her against the wall.

and, when she looks up at him, Eddie knows, his stomach churns and he already knows.

«where the fuck have you been, Effy? it's been, fuck, it's been three weeks! where the fuck have you been?», and he knows he's yelling, and he also knows no one but her is going to hear because of the music.

she flinches and he does feel a bit bad, but then she's raising her chin and scoffing at him.

«what the fuck do you want?», and Eddie knows, he knows by how she's slurring her words, by her blown pupils, her trembling lip. he knows.

«fuck, you're doing drugs again? really? you fucking promised, Eff..», and he's angry, yes, but he also feels extremely sad and guilty, cause he didn't check earlier, cause he didn't try more, and now she's already too deep in.

«oh, Munson, stop it with the drug thing already!», and now she's yelling too, trying to go past him, but Eddie just can't let her, as puts his hands on her cheek, trying to get her to look him in the eyes.

«don't touch me, don't touch my hair!», she hisses, pushing him away as strongly as she can, her eyes wide, a grimace on her face.

Eddie isn't really himself when he pushes her against the wall, starting to go through her pockets until he finds the baggie he was looking for, the girl squirming and trying to get away from him.

Eddie does indeed find a baggie, holding it up in the air, away from her.

«really, Eff? you're gonna ruin everything we built togheter in this months for what? a few seconds of fake happiness? for something that... fuck, that's gonna kill you in a few weeks, maybe even days?», and he's angry, really angry, but the girl doesn't seem to care, her eyes set on what's in his hands.

«give it to me.», and it's soft, but Eddie shakes his head, pushing her away.

«you can still get help, it's okay, it's gonna go back to before, please... I can help you, Eff, I love you..», he tries again, tears forming in his eyes, but she shakes her head.

«I'm asking nicely, give it to me.», and Eddie knows she's angry, her eyes cold as she looks into his.

he shakes his head again, a tear rolling down his cheek, and her eyes do soften for a few seconds, something like remorse flashing on her face, but it's gone in a few seconds.

he doesn't expect the slap, his lips falling open in shock, as she pulls down his arm and takes the baggie, ducking down to run away, Eddie just standing there.

he doesn't say hi to anyone as he gets out of the house, straight to his car.

he doesn't go to school for a week, gets up from the bed only to eat, sometimes.

it feels bad and he feels guilty, cause he knew something was up, knew by how weird she was acting during holidays and he should have pressed more, should have broken the window, he should have helped her.

then the guilt becomes anger cause, why the fuck would he have to help her? she choose this, she choose to start using again, why is it all on Eddie when she ruined every fucking thing?

then it's just sadness, cause he knows deep down it's not her fault, he knows she's sick and he just misses her, misses how happy she was, misses holding her.

when he goes back to school, he's still sad and he copes by getting extremely high before getting in class.

he sleeps through all of them, doesn't even speak at lunch break, then sleeps through his other classes and then goes home.

and everyone knows, at least in the group, and Dustin has been telling him everyday how sorry he is, how desperately he's trying to get her help.

and Eddie sees her, sometimes in the hall, but he knows it's not really her.

she lost weight, only wears baggy clothes now and Eddie knows she's guilty, cause she keeps her head down everytime he passes by and cause she wears almost everyday the sweater he left at her house months ago.

and then her and Dustin stop coming to school for a week, Mike talking about Dustin saying that Effy fucked up again.

and Eddie knows, he skips his next classes and cried in his van cause he's scared, scared that she fucked up too much and that she didn't make it, sad because he still feels guilty. cause he knows that if, in the last month he kept seeing her in the halls, he tried to get her help, she would have said yes.

he doesn't sleep that night and he's restless until Henderson comes to school again, and he looks tired, really tired.

but he doesn't talk, he keeps his head down, and he looks like the shell of the cheerful guy he once was.

«aww, Henderson, did you freak cousin overdose again? poor family, did she die this time? should we attend the funeral?», Jason is going at it again, his friends laughing with him and somebody tries to tell him to shut up, mind his business, but Jason simply flips them off.

Eddie knows he's talking just because he feels so bad about his life has to shit on other's, that's why he doesn't say anything, keeping his head down as he eats.

«cat got your tongue, dumbass? or, wait, did you become a junkie too? cotton mouth doesn't let you speak?», and he's laughing, again, Eddie feels his blood boiling, «well, it's a shame she's a crackhead, tho, I would have fucked her anyway. maybe leave her a twenty, you know? for her daily dose.»

and Eddie doesn't really remember much from that, just knows he got up and started punching, and when he opened his eyes again, Gareth was dragging him outside the cafeteria.

«fucking hell, I thought you said you would stop getting into fights?», he's hissing, letting Eddie falls on his ass, in the bathroom, his back against the wall.

only then Eddie notices he's losing blood from his nose and maybe his lips, cause they hurt, his cheeks too.

and he doesn't know why, but he starts laughing.

he laughs so hard his face hurts and Gareth is looking at him a bit nervously, a little laugh falling from his lips, but when Eddie's laugh starts becoming sobs, Gareth kneels down.

and he holds him as Eddie sobs, and the they talk, they talk for hours, Eddie tells him everything he hasn't been telling him this past month and Gareth listens, as he cleans his wounds.

«she's alive, you know, she's just... in rehab, Dustin says he doesn't know when she's gonna come out.», he lets out a breath, feeling better about it.

«you really fucked him up, you know? I don't think he's gonna show his face around for a while.», they're both laughing, Eddie wincing at the pain, but that just makes him laugh harder.

Eddie writes to Effy every weeks, then he gives the letters to Dustin, that gives them to Effy.

and he knows she reads them, even if she can't write back, cause sometimes Dustin will bring him something she made in art and craft, just for him.

and he's keeping everything, he wears all the bracelets she made him proudly, almost 20, he keeps the blanket she knitted for him on the bed, the figurines she made with clay (some monsters from DnD, one of both of them, a cat), but what he treasures the most is a photo Dustin gave him of her.

she looks so much better, her eyes bright as she smiles, sitting in the grass, holding a flower in her hand.

he keeps it in his wallet, looks at it everyday.

he graduates, not with the best grades, but good enough to pass, and he's happy, Wayne standing in the crowd for him, clapping louder than everyone else, him and the rest of hellfire cheering and hugging him when he steps down.

and he's happy as he celebrates later, at the hideout, getting absolutely wasted.

he's even happier when he opens his wallet and sees her picture, smiling back at her.

he misses her, obviously, but he can wait, he loves her enough to wait.

he still writes to her, every week, it's been a month since he graduated.

he's taking it sweet, spending his days smoking, practicing with his band and reading books.

today he's not doing much, Wayne is at works and he doesn't have any plan, sprawled on the couch, smoking as he plans the next campaign for DnD.

when he hears a knock on the door, he's surprised, he isn't expecting anyone.

maybe it's Gareth, he sometimes shows up unexpected, so he gets up to open the door, ready to make some joke to his friend.

when he opens the door, tho, he feels his heart drop in his stomach.

Effy is standing there, and she looks prettier than ever, her hair now reaches her ass and she's smiling at him, cheeks full and a bit blushed for the heat.

Eddie doesn't even think about it twice when he practically jumps on her, wrapping her in his arms, lifting her from the ground.

she's giggling and hugging him back, caressing his hair, but her laugh stops when she realizes he's crying, his face hidden in her neck.

«Eds?», she asks, and Eddie sniffles, holding her tight.

«I'm sorry, I'm just... I'm just happy, really... I've missed you so much..», and then she's holding his face, drying his tears with her thumbs.

and then they're kissing, Eddie's lips salty because of the tears.

her legs wrap around his waist and he's stumbling back, closing the door.

by the time they're on the bed, the kiss is already getting heated, little whimpers falling from her lips as her fingers tangle in his hair.

slowly, their breathing getting heavier, until their grip on each other gets bruising, still kissing and gasping against each other.

«fuck, I've missed you so much, I've been waiting for months...», he murmurs against her lips and he knows she's smiling, kissing his nose and then his cheeks, his forehead and then again his lips.

«I'm so sorry I fucked everything up, I'm so sorry I didn't get help before and I'm so sorry I made you go through those awful things, I'm so sorry..», she keeps whispering against his lips and Eddie feels like crying again, knows she's crying as she holds him tight.

«it's okay, I'm sorry I couldn't help you when you needed it most.», but she was shaking her head, kissing his lips a few times.

the kissed and kissed, holding each other and speaking about everything that happened while they were away from each other.

Eddie tells her about his graduation, showed her photos and she cried, happy tears as they held each other.

Effy talks about rehab, the friends she made, the things she learned and Eddie listened as he run his fingers through his hair.

they eat dinner togheter, not leaving each other's side for even a second.

when Wayne comes home, he's surprised to see Effy, but so, so happy, as he holds her, he'd be lying if he said he didn't cry a little.

and if it was good before, now it's heavenly,

[dzpenumbra]

3/25/23

It got late. Today was good. Yoga was a bit outside of my comfort zone, which was good in its own way. I ended up getting out of the shower with... what felt like "not enough time" to get to the skatepark, buy a board and ride a bit. Which is silly, honestly. This is like the third time that's happened. It was 5:30, the skatepark closes at 8. I'm not even kidding. And it's like... 10 minutes away, maybe 15.

It's easy to be frustrated with myself. I'm nervous. It just comes out as "I don't have enough time" or "it sounds complicated" or "I don't really need to go". I'm nervous about not knowing how the car sharing service thing works and fucking it up somehow. I'm nervous about making a good first impression. I'm nervous just in general leaving the apartment building for the first time in almost a week. I'm kinda tired of not saying it out loud, tired of being embarrassed about it.

I get nervous about shit, I get anxious about shit. Just like everyone else. More so than most in some regards, less so than most in others. It's part of being human. And I'm working really hard on like... letting myself have those feelings. As a fully-grown adult male. It's okay for a grown adult to be nervous meeting new people when they've been in extreme isolation for like... 4 years. It's okay for me to be nervous about walking into a police station and asking them where they don't want me skating. It's okay for me to be nervous about streaming. And... I'm a bit afraid that like... denying and downplaying those feelings... ends up inflating them. Because if you deny those "silly" feelings, they don't go away... you just end up with some "mysterious force" that's creating a barrier for you, and it gets stronger and stronger the more it's left unchecked.

So... I decided to look myself in the mirror and go "what am I nervous about?" And the big focus was on... the community car thing. So I went onto the website and did a refresher on how it works. It's pretty simple, actually. And that helped calm me down a lot. I didn't go. But it helped me reduce a barrier, and that helped a lot. So next time I have my sleep schedule lined up with their open hours, I can just hop in that truck and head over. One less barrier between me and meeting new people, and getting fun exercise.

Instead of going, I decided to listen to Baroness's Gold & Grey album and got more work done on my hoodie. The back piece is pretty close to done. I still have to figure out what to do with the outer ring, and I need to touch up some little final touches, and I might add a bit more shading... But it's pretty close. At least... the back piece is. As promised, here's the piece so far:

I'm happy with it.

I spent some time trying to figure out how to get Cubase to work with OBS, which was like chugging 2 bottles of Nyquil and trying to stay awake all night. I swear to fucking god. I do not know why this shit is so hard for me to focus on or learn, it's just... one of those few things in the world that just... saps the life out of me. Like... I can listen to some old guy ramble for 2 hours about geology, I can absorb a lecture on evolutionary biology, I can paint all those tedious details up above for hours on end, I can do nothing but run back and forth between two locations in minecraft for hours, I can do a lot of shit others consider boring. But... so far... my Achilles Heel of education is like... math stuff... and a lot of computer stuff. Which is ironic, because last winter I tried really hard to learn basic coding... and I did learn a bit. But... this is just... so hard for me to grasp. Like... my guitar and mic send signals to my Focusrite box, which goes through USB to my computer. Then the signal goes to... Cubase? Who picks it up exclusively and sends it into whatever fun plugins I pop on there, then it's sent out through the Focusrite into my headphones as a monitor. Then OBS comes in and says "I wanna listen too", so I set it to listen to the desktop audio, which is picking up the audio that's going into the Focusrite, and my headphones... all of the audio except... Cubase. Yep. I can listen to a video on YouTube, it picks up the video, I can hear and see it. I can pick up the raw guitar signal from the Focusrite, though I don't want it. But I cannot pick up the audio output from Cubase. And I've done it before in the past, I just... don't remember how. And it's just really fucking frustrating. And I constantly have had audio problems like this my entire goddamn life. It's never "plug + play" with any fucking music-making endeavor. I swear, half the time I've spent trying to make music with my brother in the past was like... trying to figure out latency issues, or patching, or routing, or figuring out something or another. Ugh.

So I said fuck it and scrapped the idea for now. I did 5 more runs in the desire path project. I mapped what is now a total of 20 runs, and plenty more to come. I was debating streaming that. But... honestly? I just kinda didn't want to. I kinda wanted to zone out and watch someone else's stream instead, until they started running 6-ad blocks every half hour or so and were paranoid about needing to censor the word "whorehouse" while playing a fictional character in an RP environment set in 1899. And that just kinda... I just can't really do it anymore with this "getting personally offended" while simultaneously claiming to be "playing a character" bullshit. Like... I shit you not, this poor woman got banned from the server for... brace for it... using the "wrong pronouns"... WHILE ROLEPLAYING A CHARACTER FROM 1899. And I just... I... I just... I feel like every entertainment pioneer from my adolescence who was brave enough to face the corporate and government censors and say "no, we're going to make the joke, we're going to share our humor and our stories". All of their work was for nothing. And we're just going back to fucking Psycho, where it was like... super controversial that they had a flushing toilet on a movie screen. It's regression, it's censorship. Beyond that, it's literally forced RP. It's literally forcing someone's roleplay, forcing your humor values, forcing your comfort zone on people around you. How about if you don't like a joke or find it distasteful? Just walk away. Just go RP with someone else. If you don't want to show the word "fuck" on your stream, if it pops up in a letter or something, just close it and move to the next scene, like... for fuck's sake this is part of the goddamn job. But the admins on this server... side with the ones reporting, apparently? ... And it has been a growing problem? Which really sucks. It's not like they're throwing together lynch mobs to go after black people, which was a very real thing that could very well be roleplayed and turned into a historically accurate storyline if done very delicately and tastefully - in fact, they have a side plotline of that in the game itself, I remember it vividly. I am yet to see a single authentic Asian character, and there was a huge influx of asians immigrating to the west at that point in history, and a lot of animosity, which would make for a really powerful underdog character, imo. It's just like... they want historical accuracy and immersion... and modern political correctness and censorship... and those two do not mesh.

See how fucking stressed this makes me? Because I really wanted to join the server! It looked really immersive and like a good way to both improve my acting abilities and meet new people. But good lord, not anymore I don't. Not if I have to be looking over my shoulder for a 3 day ban every time I say "fuck" to the wrong person. But if I blast them in the face with a shotgun, that's totally fine. ... I hate this timeline. So much. I miss the old internet.

So yeah... after I got a bit burnt out on the repetition of Minecraft, and the stress of watching the stream... I set OBS to record locally and started playing Valheim for the first time. Pretty much a blind playthrough. So... that was the bulk of my night. It's fun. I was thinking I might be able to make a sorta... Mr. Moon-style RP movie out of it, but... I'm not sure. We'll see how it plays out.

And that was pretty much my day. And now it's 5AM, so I gotta go to bed or else I'm definitely not making the skatepark tomorrow. Peace!

[tommyspeakycap]

Can I request some chilly fluff? Anything really, just some cute sweet chilly fluff with a little bit of angst maybe?

of course! here's an idea that's been swimming around my brain all day lol

helping hand

ben isn't coping with his newest responsibility and his best friend comes to save the day once again

It's honestly less about the news than it is about the fact that you didn’t here it from him. Texts have gone mostly unanswered since you read that online article you first believed was false, only for it to be confirmed by him. You offered a congratulations despite the pain it brought to you to hear that you had completely lost your chance.

You had probably called him about a million times, each time ringing out and some even being hung up after merely a few rings.

At first, you worried that something had happened. Then you managed to wrangle the news out of Mason that everything was well, you let yourself have those days of utter heartbreak that he had found a girl, started to settle down and then completely cut you out of the picture. This was the first time in all of your 23 years that you hadn't been able to speak to him about things that were going on. He seemed to have completely fogotten about you and you couldn't bring yourself to think of a reason why.

She never really did like you, his girlfriend. You could only imagine it had something to do with the fact that Ben was incredibly close with you. A lot of girls had been unhappy with the fact that while dating Ben, they were subject to teasing that everyone was surprised he was dating when they had thought he was so clearly in love with you. You understand that, it would be irritating but nothing had ever happened between you and Ben that might suggest you would ever get together. People just love a rumour.

What had really hit you, however was seeing her from the Instagram you followed. She didn't even appear to be in London, never mind with him and that made no sense by the timeline you had managed to figure out.

That's how you found yourself standing at his door with what felt like a million bags and a feeling of hurt you had never actually had before. You cornered Mason, refusing to leave until he told you what the hell was going on and when he did, you were gone like a flash with a broken heart to seek out the man who needed you now more than he ever did.

Your heart shatters even more when you step into his house, pushing it open and pulling out the key he gave you a few months ago as you head carefully to the kitchen. You can hear him trying to talk, his voice strained and croaky as he attempts to speak over the sound of the screaming baby girl.

"Come on sweetheart," he begs, "Please take your bottle, I promise you're just tired."

His house is messier than you've ever seen it with gifts unopened, blankets and bottles, baby toys and clothes strewn around everywhere you could see.

You're quick and quiet to get to work clearing the place up, clean clothes being folded and sat in his clean laundry hamper while sorting the dirty things and shoving them into the washing machine by colour before tidying away all the blankets into the baby boxes he had set up in his front room. The infant upstairs screams the entire time you whiz around, throwing an entire bin bag worth of rubbish out of his kitchen before restocking all the shelves and his empty fridge with food for him and milk powder for the little girl. The pizza you shoved in the oven the second you arrived was finished after 15 minutes, so you plated that and left it on the kitchen island before you decided to make you presence known to him.

"Need a helping hand?"

His head whips around rapidly, instinctively tucking his daughter closer into his chest before he recognised your voice and turned his face back away from you. "You shouldn't be here, (y/n)." He mumbles, bouncing his legs to try and get that screeching to stop before he starts crying again himself.

How had everything ended up so messy? He found a girl that he thought he loved, he had his best friends and he had you. She got pregnant and he was ecstatic until she told him she wasn't interested in having a baby. It was too late to do anything about it, so she gave birth to that baby and legally signed over parental rights wholly and fully to a destroyed Ben. You, of course, had to find this out half from the tabloids and half from Mason. Ben was absolutely affronted. He was mortified. How had he gotten himself in this position?

You were the first and only person he wanted to tell. He was desperate to seek out your arms and have an absolute sob to you so you could help him fix this like you do with everything else, but he couldn't bring himself to face you. He cut you off slowly and carefully without even noticing himself because she had coaxed him into it. She played him like a fiddle, let him grow her platform and fund her lifestyle until she had everything she wanted from him and left him with something that was supposed to be theirs to love forever.

As if things couldn't get worse, from the moment he found out she was having a baby he had realised he didn't want kids or a life with anyone but you and now here he is, with a baby that has no mother and he had lost you. How could he just go back crying to you now after all the hurt he had caused you? What kind of person does that? He made this mess and it was his to clean up.

"Mason told me what happened. You can fight me all you want, Ben but I'm not going to go anywhere so you may as well just let me help." You say firmly, not inviting a single space for him to actually contest your words. His shoulder deflate even further than they already are as he finally turns to meet your eyes.

There's bags and dark circles beneath his with greasy, messy hair and a shirt he probably hadn't changed in longer than he should.

"I'm sorry." He croaks, clamping down on his lip with his teeth so he doesn't immediately burst out crying at the sight of you standing there in his house. God, he's missed you so much he couldn't even begin to put it into words and his emotions are so messed up from the lack of sleep that he'll cry at just about anything right now. "It's forgotten about. We don't have to talk about it, I'm here to help."

The weight that lifts off of Ben's shoulder is the kind of immense relief that only really you can bring to him, honestly. There are few people that he has ever met that can ease him like you can and knowing he doesn't have to explain this whole situation really is something he's so thankful for.

"This is Lilly," he says weakly, nodding his head down at her whining. You smile immediately and without thought, stepping forward to get a closer look at the small baby, only two weeks old and already giving her dad a run for his money. "Hello Lilly," you coo softly, raising your hand to stroke her cheek with your finger in the most gentle manner he's ever seen. "Can I? I feel like I've missed out on two weeks worth of aunt (y/n) cuddles."

He tries not to think much into the fact you refer to yourself as her aunt because if he lets enough thought onto it, he'll find himself breaking his heart over you all over again. Ben nods, passing her into your arms carefully.

"I'll feed her, I made some pizza for you so you should go eat." You hold our your hand to take the bottle from him, but he frowns. "I-" Ben stutters, "I don't want to just lump you with her, plus she's upset so I shouldn't leave her y'know? It's not fair on-"

"Go and eat Ben, and have a shower while you're at it. We'll be fine in here, I've babysat a million times before." You shrug, taking the bottle from him as you step further into the nursery instead of standing in the doorway cradling the still whimpering little girl in her pink onesie. "But I-"

"Go."

"I should-"

"Ben go, now."

Ben sighs in defeat and turns on his heel, the rumbling of his stomach finally giving him away as he realises just how hungry and smelly he actually is. No wonder the infant was crying in his hold.

He trudges downstairs, hearing the sounds of those winging dying down as he does, half expecting to walk into the messy swamp he had left when he went upstairs earlier this morning, only to see the whole bottom floor of the house was basically as spotless as it had been the day he moved in, bar the baby variety adjustments he had made to welcome the new arrival.

He makes a mental note to thank you more and do some grovelling and apologising later on. He knows he has to do it and he knows he'll explain in more detail what really happened probably later today, but for now he will scoff that pizza down his throat faster than he has ever consumed a meal in all of his life before raining the cupboards that he discovered you had stocked. He is reminded with every step he takes around his house that this is you, again, here holding him up when the world around him feels like its completely crumbled.

This is what you do, you keep him together, fix him up after the heartbreaks and breakups preparing him for the next girl who's pieces you'll have to pick up when they hurt him. This time he doesn't want another girl, he wants you. This time, the one time that he would be miles too late. He's got a baby now that he needs to focus on and he can't imagine that you're going to want an instant family even if you could really see past the fact he had ghosted you for nearly five straight months from the moment he found out his girlfriend was pregnant. He can't forgive himself, so how on earth would you?

If he would ask, you would tell him you already had. Seeing how hurt he was, how genuinely sorry things had ended dup like this with everyone in his life he was was enough for you. It was enough to cause you actual physical pain. You never could hold a grudge considering the situation he had ended up in.

Ben had never ever once in his life being more thankful for his shower. He’s also pretty sure he fell asleep against the wall with the heat of the shower steam loosening his muscles and the fatigue of barely an hours sleep catching up to him. He towel dries off his hair, letting the towel hang around his neck as he rubs it against his head while he pads along the soft carpet of his hallway from the bedroom to his beautifully done pink nursery where he hears no crying, at all.

But he does here soft talking.

“Giving your daddy a hard time eh, pretty girl.” You hum softly, slowly swaying from side to side. She lays in your arms, looking up at you and stealing every bit of your heart with her daddies eyes. “He deserves it a little, you know. Just ‘cause he done me out of some adorable baby cuddles y’know?” Ben can hear the teasing smile on your lips as he leans against the doorframe out of your sight, keeping quiet so as not to be detected. “But he’s a good man, sweet girl. One of the best, actually. And i know he’s already such a good daddy to you, he loves you so so much. Do you know that, eh?” You say quietly. Ben catches the sight of you swaying that amazed little baby who coos up at you, reaching for your finger to hold. “Mhm, and i love you too. You have no idea how loved you are.” That’s one thing Ben can agree on.

“And you might not know it now because you’re little, but i do know one thing for absolute certain; I’m always gonna be here for you, and for your daddy even if he’s as stubborn about it as they come. You’ve got to help me out though, eh sweet girl? Be good to that daddy of yours. Yeah, sleepy baby? Mhm, my sweet girl.” The way you hum, bouncing her carefully and swaying in just the right way for her to fall asleep in your arms. Ben watches you for only a minute more, softly singing a little lullaby to her that makes Ben’s heart swell to ache so much that he has to take a small little video before he heads off downstairs with one last look.

When you finally greet him downstairs with a tight hug that he sinks into immediately, resting his cheek on your shoulder as your hands massage your fingers through his freshly cleaned hairs as his arms hug around your waist. “I’ve missed you.” He admits, words muffled by your sweatshirt. The feeling of your fingers at the nape of his neck makes him hum in content and sink into you peacefully just like his baby daughter did not half an hour ago. You’re just perfect for them both in every way and there is not one bone in his body that doesn’t wish he had started his family with you.

But with that realisation comes one more; that he will not settle until he has given everything he has, tried with every morsel of him to earn your forgiveness. He might not of started his family with you, but he is damn determined to make you part of it.

[notmrskennedy]

Bites and Bullet Holes

(Spencer Reid x Female leaning but sorta GN! Reader)

Summary: Spencer, during college, was bitten by a dog. Working a case involving dogs brings back old memories and friends...

W/C: 3,384

Warnings: Dog bites, bullet holes, bad writing? 

A/N: Guess what I found y’all? I haven’t edited it one single bit but I hope it goes over well anyway. When I was working at the kennel I kept having anxiety over one of my kids getting into a fight so I made this. Be a little extra gentle with this one. 

---

As he leaned over the victim, he made the mistake of thinking about you. Spencer thought he’d gotten over it. The whole randomly thinking about you thing—the thing that’s happened too many times before. He’d chalked it up to you being best friends 15 years ago. Told himself that it’s normal to miss your friends from college. 

But over a dead body? This was new. 

Though he supposes the dead girl could’ve looked like you in another timeline. There’s facial structure similarities—at least to you 15 years ago at 19. She’s been strangled with her dog’s leash and there’s some unspoken quality about her that just…jerks him into nostalgia over you. 

(You are probably the one that got away, but if he’s being honest, you live in DC. He could go see you right now if he wanted to.)

Morgan leans over Spencer and points at the dog leash. “It had to be someone she knew if the dog went off with our un-sub.”

Spencer nods, fidgeting with the 15 year old scars on the inside of his wrist. Whether or not Morgan noticed, he thankfully doesn’t press. Spencer is having enough trouble stamping down that knee-jerk reaction to think about you, let alone if Derek thinks to point out the magical, ‘hey weren’t you bitten by a dog?’

Spencer doesn’t remember the incidence well enough to comment. He wonders if you do. 

“We’ll have to check shelters for the dog,” Spencer remarks. “3.3 million dogs enter shelters every year in the US.” 

Morgan nods, pulls off a glove, pulls out his phone. Spencer looks around the park. Behind the police tape are plenty of people walking their dogs. The sorts of breeds that you’ve gushed about 15 years ago. His brain knew too much about dobermans, shepherds, mallinois—he could even hear that pretty little gasp you had when you’d point out a particularly well trained monster of a pet. 

Spencer wonders if you ever did anything with your finance degree, if you even ended up finishing college at all. You’d come close to dropping out over calculus—he hadn’t been around long enough to help you through the even harder stuff. This wasn’t the first time he’d wanted Garcia to look you up, but it was the first time he’d considered it. 

“Music to my ears, mama,” Morgan laughs into the phone and Spencer tunes back in. 

“I’ll get that puppy BOLO out,” Garcia chirps back. Spencer can imagine her wringing a fluffy pencils through her fingers. “We’re going to find this doggie and make sure that psycho didn’t get him too.”

Spencer smiles despite himself. Penelope would’ve liked you. 

#

JJ sets coffee down in front of his stack of files. She smiles, gracefully sits down next to him. Spencer tries his best to ignore her insistence. Tries to ignore the ever prominent eye contact screaming ‘We’re going to talk about something uncomfortable!’ 

“So, Spence,” she says, pausing for his attention with a sip of her own coffee. He looks up for half a glance before going back to the files. He doesn’t know why, but he’s sure there’s something in this stack of work the first victim had brought home with her. They all knew the un-sub, he had to be somewhere. 

“Spencer,” she says more insistently. He makes the mistake of looking up, of letting her place a hand on his. She gently turns the wrist over and pointedly glances towards the teeth marks. “Are you doing okay?”

He opens his mouth, but decides some things are better kept to himself. He thinks about saying that no, he wasn’t alright, that being plagued by thoughts of the first-love-of-his-life is haunting him more than the dog fight. 

That he can see your face in each of these victims. In their dogs. In the places they died. 

Dogs didn’t like him. They never did. The dog bite wasn’t the big deal out of the altercation. 

JJ won’t understand, so he offers her a truthful smile and says, “I’m okay. Seriously. More than 4.5 million people are bitten by dogs each year. I’m not special.”

JJ nods. Spencer goes back to his files. He forgets to hide his lovesick agony. JJ forgets not to notice. 

#

It’s 4AM and he knows he’s remembering it wrong. That the dog hadn’t been that big. That the teeth hadn’t really gotten him that bad. The bright red devil eyes and thousand yards of slobber were more than grossly incorrect. 

He sits up in bed and forces himself to remember the parts that were real. How real you had been. Before and after. 

Your car had broken down as you were leaving for work—already late—and you’d begged him for a ride. Promised calculus homework on your boss’s couch and only having to let the dogs out. No shit. No bleaching crates. No nothing. Just you, him, and some calculus homework. 

He’d caved. Now, running his hands over his eyes, he laughs at how obvious he had to have been. A skinny little 19 year old pimple of a boy majorly crushing on the first person to pick him out of a crowd and decide they’d be friends. The first friend who’d forced him to a tailgate at a football game. The only person he’d do absolutely anything for. 

And it was just like you promised. Your cute little nose wrinkle. Your horribly frustrated glares. Your over dramatic ‘I’m dropping out!’s every fifteen minutes. And it’d been great until you both heard a thunderous snap of a wooden fence and the wildest, most murderous howling he’d ever heard. 

You’d both bolted for the door, scrambling to get through the gates into the back. There’d been a moment of calm. Another beat. Another. And…you both had stumbled around the corner to find the next door neighbour’s dog, broken chain, trying to kill one of the kennel’s dogs. 

There had been no moment’s hesitation on Spencer’s part. He’d stupidly rushed forward, lodged his hand between the neighbour’s mutt and the sweetest dog he’d ever met. He’d yanked her free from the mutt’s jaws, only to find his own wrist dragging along the teeth. 

(He realised later that he’d always had a propensity to run head first into danger. No calculations needed.)

There’d been two beats for the dog to process it’s chew toy was in Spencer’s arms. To process that Spencer made a better victim. That Spencer’s throat and limbs were softer and easier to tear. Thankfully, he’d scrambled back enough that when the dog launched, it didn’t catch flesh. It chomped on air. Less than three inches from him. 

Fangs. Tightened lips. Black gums. Slobber. 

The mutt could be equated to Stephen King’s The Sun Dog. Always hesitant to process his trauma, it’s the one book—gifted by you during a Halloween birthday for him—that sits untouched on his bookshelves. There’s too much of you in the inscription in the cover. Too much of that horrible mutt in the pages. 

The next part of the night blurred in his memories. In his near perfect memory, it blurred. Trauma, right? 

You’d screamed. You were in front of him. You had the dog’s chain in your hands. He was running. The dog was heavy in his arms. His arm stung. You were screaming. He should’ve gone back. 

Five god-awful minutes later, you’d come into the house. Limping. Clutching onto your arm. You’d taken one look at Spencer running his wrist under the tap and forgotten about your own injuries. Despite the blood dripping off your arm. Or the quiet yelp every time you stretched. You’d barely taken ‘I’m fine, you’re the one bleeding’ as a reason to not bandage him up first. 

The only thing that calmed down the dream every time he had it was the memory of holding your hand while you got stitches. How your face pinched with the pain. How you’d said, ‘next time, it’s your turn to take the bullet.’ How he’d smiled and promised. 

Spencer watches the clock tick by and decides it’s too late to go back to sleep. Hotch’ll be up in an hour. No need to delay his start. Women were dying. Women you would’ve been friends with.

#

“Okay, crime-fighters, I found our connection,” Garcia chirps over the speaker phone. “All of our victims attended very specialised dog training courses at a facility just outside of DC. The owner said they’d send in one of their trainers to talk to you. Should be there anytime now.”

“What kind of specialised training?” Emily asks. Spencer feels like he should be contributing, should be processing any of this, but his head is pounding. He doesn’t have a hangover, but god does it feel like it. 

Garcia hums as she types. “It’s a military facility. Awww, they’ve got puppy pictures on their website!”

“Garcia—“

“Right, right. It’s a top notch facility and oh! A bunch of the FBI dogs graduate from there. I wonder if they get little caps and gowns and—“

“Hey, baby girl, the trainer’s here. We gotta run,” Morgan interrupts, though he’s all smiles to stare at whomever is plaguing his interest. 

There’s another squeal of please get puppy pictures before the call cuts and Spencer finally has the self preservation to look. And god does he look. 

15 years has made no difference on your skin and he can’t believe he’s not staring at you from across a lecture hall. The only indication you’ve changed is the nervous smile you’ve plastered on and the dog at your side. Every fun fact about german shepherds instantly crosses his mind and he can’t help but drop his jaw a little further. 

It sinks to the floor when you spot him and wave. You wave. At him. In front of coworkers. 

He’s out of his seat before he can stop himself. That easy smile reserved for movie nights falls back into place on your lips. Twinkles in your eyes. 15 years haven’t passed. Maybe he needs to check for pimples again. 

“Y/n,” he croaks and the same time his name leaves your lips. The dog at your side stands and you correct the gesture with a harsh word in what he’s sure is German. 

“FBI, huh?” Your eyes trail over every inch of him, crossing your arms in a relaxed, familiar kind of way. “I expected more math, Mr. I Like Derivatives.”

“The shepherd there doesn’t look like finance either, y/n,” he teases back like no time has passed. Like he doesn’t immediately feel incredibly guilty for ditching you for the academy. 

“Oh come on,” you huff, “you really think that I was cut out for an office job? I lasted six months.”

And before he can warn you, even think about warning you about the team that’s slowly creeping up behind him, they are all suddenly there. Very keen on knowing the ins and outs of how you know Dr. Spencer Reid. 

“Reid, you gonna introduce us?” Morgan smirks, clapping a painful hand on Spencer’s shoulder. You busy yourself with petting the dog at your hip, looking everywhere but Morgan’s insistent gaze. 

“Guys, this is my friend y/n from college.” 

JJ raises an eyebrow at the lack of explanation, but plows ahead with introductions. Takes charge of guiding you to an interview room. Gets through the entire interview without once asking about your relationship with him. 

Morgan watches Spencer rubbing the scars and makes the leap. “You okay, kid?” 

Spencer breaks from staring at your face as you talk about getting your start in Germany—Germany—and swallows. This was fine. It’s okay to tell his friend—his brother—about the story he’s never really talked about. 

“I stupidly put myself in the middle of a dog fight,” Spencer grits out, flexing and un-flexing his fingers. Every scar burns and he can’t help but stare at your smile again. “Y/n saved my life. She choked out the dog, Morgan, before he got a hold of me. Left the hospital with 12 stitches.”

“Oh,” was his all too helpful response. They both turned back to the interview. How everything jovial about your entire countenance shifted once JJ started mentioning the victims. 

“Look, Agent Jareau,” you say, leaning dangerously far away from the conversation, “They are—they were really smart women with some dangerous dogs. I don’t know—I just—there’s a lot of sickos out there.”

Every profiler within a 20 mile radius can hear the change in tone, can hear the fear. Spencer knows a lot can change in 15 years, but he thought for sure you’d never become a serial killer. He doesn’t know if it’s all his years in the bureau or if he’s still too attached to you, but you don’t seem like the killer. Not like JJ seems to think so. Sure, you’re terrified, but the dog you have is nosing your arm. Giving you big ole puppy eyes. Spencer doesn’t think a serial killer can pour that much into a relationship with an animal. 

“What do you mean?” JJ clocks the movement and switches to a maternal type of body language, tone. “Is there something going on?”

Your hand pauses on the dog’s head, and it noses your hand into action. “I, uh, just got a weird letter two weeks ago. It wasn’t—it was just weird. Off-putting.”

“Right before the first victim,” Spencer mutters. Weird letters indicated stalking. Victims with you as a central point meant stalking. Stalking meant you were probably next. Oh, god, you were next. 

JJ stretched a hand across the table and took yours. “You’ll get through this. You’ll get through this, y/n.”

#

Spencer didn’t know what to do with his hands. It was so much worse than normal. Should he stand? But what should he do with his hands because crossing them seemed too defensive? Or should he just sit down? But where? And was that rude?

Instead, he just took the cup of tea you offered and followed you like a lost puppy. Granted, it was your house and he was definitely lost. He also felt vaguely at home—there were a decent amount of bookshelves by his standards and even more mismatched furniture than he had. The house was well cared for and when you sat him down on your couch, you swept away a stack of training manuals, all sporting worn covers. 

Was it wrong to feel like he was settling onto your old apartment couch for movie nights?

You puff out a breath of air and lean your head dramatically into the back of the couch. “So, since you’re my FBI escort, is it wrong to ask if you still like cheesy 90s movies?”

He shakes his head. Grins. “You still have Legally Blonde?”

You just giggle as you head for a stack of movies. You strike up some conversation as you rummage and he knows he’s hooked all over again. It’s going to take weeks to get over you again. It’d taken months the last time, and he feels slightly less attached this time. But did he really think it would take more than a simple question about the latest thing he’s read? He wishes he knew you better, just as well as you seem to still know him. 

Though by the end of the movie, you’ve both returned to your college days. Practically curled into each other’s side. You still have horrible commentary about the movie, peppered in with Spencer’s annoying movie trivia. If it was anyone else, he figures, he would’ve been kicked out long ago. 

You still distinctly smell of vanilla, flailing the scent around as you move closer and further and closer again. You wear enthusiasm with your whole body and if you aren’t turning rapidly between facing Spencer and the movie, how could you possibly begin to explain correctly? 

Your shoulder keeps a constant pressure against his, your knees half over his thigh. There’s too many instances of hollering and laughing that you grab onto his knee to steady yourself. If this hadn’t been a protective detail, he might’ve lost his mind. 

Thank god for focus. Work. Work. Work. Not your hands on his knee. Definitely not your smile as you declare your affection for scented resume stationary. Totally not how hot it’s getting under your too affectionate gaze. 

“Spence, I really missed this,” you whisper, nudging your shoulder with his. “I know it’s weird to be thrown together after 15 years, but I—I missed you.”

“I—“ missed you too; fell in love with you in college; think I love you now. 

But there’s no time for heartfelt declarations when someone’s incessantly banging on the door. Spencer’s got half a mind to get the door for you, holster his gun, focus on keeping you safe. The banging doesn’t soften as he calls out that he’s on his way. If anything it gets worse. 

And it should’ve been the first red flag of the night. 

Spencer opens the door and thinks very loudly, “why the fuck do I always run headfirst into danger?” 

Their un-sub, a buzzcut that looks more Army that not, shakes a pistol at Spencer and demands to be let inside. There’s only so many ways to defuse the situation, so he back ups, tucks you behind him. Their un-sub winds a little tighter, shaking like one of those monkeys with cymbals. 

“McLaggen?” you whimper behind Spencer and the Army man fires a shot into the floor. You grip tighter onto Spencer’s shirt, digging in your fingers dangerously close to his skin. 

The buzzcut is red, boiling over with rage, words bubbling out of his throat. “Y/n, I just can’t stand to see you with them. You never notice me. You’re always working, so I thought I’d get your attention. Cut the competition. I just—you mean so much to me, y/n. You mean too much.”

Spencer is sure he won’t remember this day accurately as he pushes you just a little further behind him. He’s about to do something so incredibly stupid. Dear lord, why the fuck is he like this? And he lunges. 

The gun’s trapped in both of their hands. There’s one more bullet fired—at the ground he’s sure. There’s a squeak of fear. Just enough of a distraction. One more ounce of weight thrown around. One more lasting punch. McLaggen lands on the floor. The gun skitters away. McLaggen groans as he’s handcuffed.

You gasp and he realises immediately that he’s bleeding. That he’s on the floor. That there is a bullet lodged in his thigh. Again. 

One string of swears later, you’re on the phone with 911. Yes, he’s shot. Yes, there’s another in handcuffs. No, I’m not a whore, send the damn ambulance.  

You take his hand as he lays there, much like he did in the hospital 15 years ago. Unlike then, you’ve got tears pricking at your eyes. You’re sniffling like a school girl, and he’s not sure if you’ve said that aloud. 

“Spencer!” You wipe a stray tear. Squeeze his hand too tightly. “Why the hell, you freakin’ moron, did you take a bullet for me?”

He laughs, bubbling up out of his chest before he can stop it. You are too pretty to be this upset at his laughter. You are too lovely to be worried about him. To still be worried, like nothing has changed one bit. 

Every inch of him is trembling. Blood loss and bullets are bitches.

“Y/n,” he wheezes through dry lungs and more leg pain than he remembers there being, “I promised.”

You blink your eyes. What the hell are you talking about, Spencer Reid, you absolute idiot?

“I promised I’d take the next bullet. In the hospital.” He grins, groans as he moves to drag you into a hug. “I’m a man of my word, y/n, and I promise that if I keep the leg, we’re going out. Properly.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” you grumble into his ear and squeeze his neck tighter. If the paramedics don’t bother to pull you off, who’s to say you won’t stay like that forever? Attached to the loveable, danger prone idiot, who traded dog bites for bullet holes?

[caffeinated-cryptid]

ashes, ashes.

10.8k | AO3 link | tags/tws: intrulogical, serial killer/deity of death au, lots of death (murder, mentions of a previous suicide attempt, and brief descriptions of animal death), injury, violence, swearing, morally grey characters, crime.

““You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” Logan blurted out with a start, eyes wide and looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“Mamma always told me I was special.” Remus replied with a woozy grin, leaving back against the cool bricks of the alleyway. Seeing things that weren’t there was a new level of fucked-up for his brain, but hopefully that was just a side effect of hitting his head and not something he’d have to take pills for later. Either way, at least this spectre was pretty to look at. Trauma had its benefits.

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” Logan asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.””

(aka: remus chases death like it's his favourite pastime, since it means he gets to see logan again. understandably, logan has some objections to this.)

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

Case 1: the man in the alley.

The first time Remus and Logan met, it was more or less a complete accident.

As a part-time warehouse operative slash freelance artist, Remus had a lot of free time between jobs, and one of the things he enjoyed doing most while waiting for his next gig to come around was spray-painting obscene images into the side of alleys. 

His latest project was a 7-foot tall purple unicorn with generous proportions. Pretty tasteful by his standards, all things considered.

If nothing else, the piece of work would give passers-by a topic of conversation, and that was always something Remus aimed to inspire with his art. These topics, however, often happened to be the ‘why’ variety. Most commonly, the old classic (and his personal favourite): ‘why are you like this?’.

Regrettably, the evening passed pretty quickly with no curious pedestrians passing by his alley and starting up such a conversation. By the time Remus finished, it was past midnight and by now the only people around were the regular nightlife-- primarily the local college kids who had recently come home and were enjoying their break from classes, and adults like himself who were trying to chase away their loneliness with some other kind of high.

...Woo, and that’s enough depressing thoughts for tonight. Remus declared to himself. After all, he had a new piece to admire! Stepping back, he spent a moment taking in the completed artwork by the light of his phone’s torch before deciding it was as perfect as it could get. He’d come back later and get a picture during the daytime to show off to his friends, so for now he begun preparing to leave by packing his paint cans into his backpack.

It was when he had collected the last can of magenta from the ground that he felt something grab the back of his coat hood. Remus had no time to process the fact that someone had snuck into the alleyway before he was shoved against the same wall he'd painted his mural on, coming face-to-face with a hooded man waving a rather pathetic-looking pocket knife at him.

“Give me your money. Now.” The man demanded.

Remus blinked in delayed surprise. Usually he was the one being the creep in the alleyway. He had never expected to come across an actual creep. Heck, this situation felt like it was pulled straight out of an old PSA with how stereotypical it was.

“What?” He blurted out unthinkingly, because of that exact train of thought. 

“You heard me! I want you to get your wallet and hand over everything you’ve got.”

What an unfortunate victim this man has chosen.

“You think I have any money to my name? I’m practically the starving artist every parent warns their kid about becoming.” Remus said with a huff of amusement.

“Don’t try to bullshit me!” The hand clutching the front of his coat tugged him forward before violently slamming him back against the bricks. The back of Remus’ head ricochetted off them roughly with the sudden movement, and the small grin he had been wearing quickly faded with flash of pain and the realization he may actually be in trouble.

“I saw the paint you’ve got in your bag,” The man continued over his dawning concern. “Somebody who’s broke wouldn’t have all that.”

Remus’ thoughts halted for a second. His bag…! He knew the paint can he was holding onto for dear life wouldn’t do much in the way of self-defense given that it was practically empty, but a whole bag of them? Hitting this guy with that much weight would make him think twice about trying to stab him, at least.

“Okay, okay. You got me, I’m rich as hell. Just let me get it, alright? My wallet's in there.”

The man gave him a skeptical look, but stepped back slightly, continuing to hold the weapon in his direction. “I know how to throw knives. Try to run and you’ll have a hole in your back quicker than an onset stroke.”

Yikes, and Remus thought he was bad at metaphors. He didn’t even need Virgil here to tell him that that made no sense. Still, he grinned placatingly. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye: I won’t run.”

Finally, bad-metaphor guy let down his guard and allowed Remus to side-step around him. He walked a few paces towards where he dropped his backpack in his initial shock, putting the magenta spray in before he picked it up by the straps. True to his word, he didn't run; instead he swung around on his heel, slamming the full force of his hardback sketchbooks and cans of spray paint into the face of the hooded man.

He instantly dropped his knife, falling backwards and clutching his nose as blood erupted from it. Under the low-lighting of the street lamp, Remus was transfixed for a second, feeling like he was in one of those gritty r-rated movies he watched with his babysitter as a kid. The moment was ruined when he realized that 1) the man was approaching again very quickly, and 2) he couldn’t get the momentum quick enough to swing his bag around and hit him a second time.

Before he knew it, Remus had accidentally let go of the makeshift weapon when he was tackled to the ground, wind completely knocked out of him as the two of them collided against cobblestone moistened with rain.

“You fucking bastard.” The guy hissed furiously. His voice was nasally now that his nose was crooked and broken-looking, and Remus almost wanted to poke fun of him for it until he felt two hands wrap around his throat and start to choke him. “‘Could’ve just made things easy, but now you’re gonna die with all the other trash.”

Why? Remus wanted to ask. Over the 7 dollars and 15 cents he had?

But as he tried to tear away the vice grip on his neck, he couldn’t find the voice to talk back, even though the seriousness of the situation was hitting him like a freight train. Maybe it was his own fault for escalating things instead of playing along. Go figure, he had overestimated his own abilities after years being the off-putting one; the person others thought they had to watch over their shoulder for. Either that, or maybe it was the fact that his wallet carried more sentimental value with it than monetary. It was small and made of orange ducktape, but it carried so many things that Remus wanted to protect; a photo of his family, one of Virgil's guitar picks, the ticket to the last Tenacious D he went to, and of course, the receipt for his first condom purchase.

His mind flashed to his friends and family, and he wondered how they’d feel about this; him dying because of some dumb robber in a dumb alleyway because he was painting his dumb artwork. That was hardly the kind of death one could look back on and regard with pride (Hell if it wasn't funny to imagine how everyone will react to the news, though). But as he focused on the face above him, he realized with some panic that the grip wasn’t loosening, even as he could feel his lungs burn and a near-soothing feeling telling him to just let go.

As a final act of desperation to save himself from becoming a wholly embarrassing funeral eulogy instead of having a rockstar’s death in his 40s like he always imagined for himself, he patted the ground frantically, looking for a loose rock or something to stop this with. That’s when he felt it; the slightly warm plastic handle of the knife the guy had been holding. Remus’ heart pounded as he realized what he needed to do, and he barely even considered the repercussions of the action before he was plunging the knife into the side of the guy’s neck.

Finally, the grip around his throat loosened as the guy gasped, his expression flickering back and forth between anger and shock. Remus ripped the knife away, inhaling air greedily when the sudden action caused the man to loosen his grip and move off of him, trying to cover the stab wound with his hands and failing.

Remus quickly scrambled back and pulled himself up the wall, watching and waiting for the guy to fall still. He did, after what felt like a few minutes, and Remus didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. He’d just killed a man. It was self-defence, but still… even the morbid thoughts he had over the years couldn't have prepared him for what it would have actually felt like to go through with any of it.

In that moment of pause, his injuries caught up with him as both his head and neck begun to ache. He was so disoriented that he barely even noticed the third person standing in the alley until they spoke up.

“Well. I didn’t see that coming.”

Remus snapped his head towards the source of the voice, and immediately regretted it when the hasty motion made him dizzy. The only reason he didn’t immediately jump into fight mode was because of the unusually casual way the voice had spoken. Beyond that, the figure he saw standing a short distance away didn’t really… look like a regular person. Beyond the odd formal clothing that had no discernable modern style to it and the shock of white hair that could only be achieved with hella bleach, his skin was a cool grey like a cadaver and he had a ghostly appearance to him; transparent and misty around the edges.

Definitely not the sort of thing Remus expected to see, but he was always one to accommodate the unexpected. 

“...You and me both. My only goal for today was to draw unicorn porn.” Remus replied lightly, once he decided it wouldn't hurt to entertain whatever was currently happening.

The figure turned, startling at the sight of Remus staring directly at him.

“You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” He blurted out with wide eyes, looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“Mamma always told me I was special.” Remus replied with a woozy grin, leaving back against the cool bricks of the alleyway. Seeing things that weren’t there was a new level of fucked-up for his brain, but hopefully that was just a side effect of hitting his head and not something he’d have to take pills for later. Either way, at least this spectre was pretty to look at. Trauma had its benefits.

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” The man (deity???) asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.”

"I can't believe my own brain is kinkshaming me." Remus whined, slipping down slightly as the worn-down soles of his boots lost their grip on the concrete for a second. 

Death frowned, until a metaphorical lightbulb lit over his head. "Ah- you think you're hallucinating. Well, that's not an unfair assumption. Keep believing it, by all means."

"That doesn't sound like something a hallucination would say." Remus pointed out.

"Well then, I'll gladly prove my non-existence by disappearing." Death said as he took a step towards the body.

"Wait!" Remus called before he could figure out why. The ghostly figure stopped, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Remus’ composure slipped as his eyes darted between the body and Death. "I...I need to know that this is real. That I'm not making this up. This feels like something I'd dream, but…" 

His hand clenched around the knife, feeling the squelch of blood and the tremor of his hand. Despite the mixed signals he was currently getting on the state of his sanity, it felt solid and real, and Remus wasn’t sure what to make of that.

"Fuck. Please tell me! Am I being as messed up as usual or did I really just kill someone?"

Death’s eyes softened. "You did. This is real." 

"Well shit. Okay…" Remus looked back at the body with a deep resignation. He wondered if he should do something about that. Probably not; that would look even more incriminating.

"...If it makes you feel better, he has hurt people in situations like this before, and completely unnecessarily; his only motive was to achieve a rush.” 

That did make Remus feel better, actually. 

"Good. I’m glad I killed a piece of shit and not someone down on their luck." Remus sighed, eyeing the spectral figure. "Speaking of, if this is real, then I guess that means you are too right?"

Any sympathy on Death's place quickly faded as he was caught out. "Erm-"

"It's cool." Remus leaned his head back again. "Talking to a cute ghost man? Sounds like a typical Thursday night for me."

Actually, this was the furthest thing from a typical Thursday night for Remus, but he didn’t want to admit that to the cute ghost man and risk looking uncool.

"You shouldn't get acquainted with it. Seeing me is hardly a good thing." Death replied, though his cheeks were distinctly a darker grey. 

"Aww- don't sell yourself short. I love your work!" Remus waved away vaguely. He always had a strange relationship with death in a way that others didn’t; always the first to laugh at a funeral or smile instead of grieve. That was probably why he felt so comfortable right now. “Besides, we’ll all be food for the dirt and worms eventually, anyway. Why get uncomfortable with it?"

Death met his eyes again, seeming slightly more firm. “Perish those thoughts, it's hardly your time yet."

Remus pouted. "It's still inevitable, though. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy I didn’t die today and got to meet you instead, but what’s so bad about something that’s going to happen either way?”

“I’m starting to think I was right by judging your attitude as a red flag.” Death muttered.

“But I'm right aren't I?” Remus prodded.

“Indeed.” Death begrudgingly conceded. “And do you know just how inevitable it is? Approximately 2 people die per second; 106 per minute. There have been 6435 events of armed conflict in the past year alone, and over 690 million people who are undernourished as we speak. Beyond that, there are even more people losing their lives to case-by-case natural events and incidents. So if you’d be so kind, do not be so eager to create more work for me.”

Remus absorbed that information, tilting his head. “Despite all that, you’re still here?”

“...I am.” Death agreed after a heavy pause, in the same manner most would admit their own defeat. “I’ll admit, I’m not used to… talking so much. It’s an unusual feeling, but it’s been pleasant, I suppose.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus laughed. “That’s gotta be saying something.”

Death rolled his eyes. “My name is Logan, not Death.” 

“Huh. I’m Remus.” Remus replied, a little baffled. He didn’t expect a deity to have such a normal name.

“Remus ‘Tsukio’ Kaneshiro, I already know of you. We’ve met before.”

Remus’ bafflement only grew. “We have? I think I’d remember meeting someone like you.”

“You wouldn't; you were unconscious. It was after you overdosed on cold medicine. Thankfully your parents got you to the hospital on time before I could do my job, but I remember it being a close call.” Logan looked at him knowingly.

“...Oh.” Remus laughed nervously. He definitely remembered that. Finding out you could overdose on a lot of common household items was pretty dangerous for him to learn as a teenager, and he’d never forget how furious his entire family was with him for being so reckless. He never knew how to tell them that it wasn’t quite the accident they assumed it to be (needless to say, his adolescent years were pretty shitty to him, being the outsider in this town in more ways than one). Thankfully, the taste of cold medicine had become too repulsive for him to try anything like that again.

“...I am glad you’re alright. It’s always unfortunate when a life ends too soon.”

“Well…thanks. This has been pretty trippy, so I’m glad I met you too, Logan.”

Logan hummed and looked towards the end on the alleyway. “By the way, you should think about leaving soon. There’s a group of people approaching us.”

Shit, Remus had almost forgotten that he had just committed a crime. Given how awful this scene looked, there was a big chance he’d get thrown into jail for this if he got caught. But at the same time, he was almost hesitant to leave behind the spectre that had enchanted his heart within a few minutes, even if his mind was still trying to catch up with the overload of information.

“Why would you help me?” He asked quickly and somewhat suspiciously.

Just as Logan finished his business with the body, he looked at him over his shoulder with an almost sly expression. “You seem interesting, Remus. I’d hate for you to lose your life over someone so unworthy of one.”

And with that, Logan disappeared like a cloud of fog. Remus stood there transfixed, until he remembered Logan’s warnings and snatched up his bag, shoving the knife into his pocket and dashing into the night.

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

Case 2: the man who couldn't leave well enough alone.

The next time Remus and Logan met, it was slightly less of an accident, but fuck if the guy didn’t deserve it.

When Remus got home after the night he first saw Logan, he was more grateful than ever that he lived in such a run-down part of town. There were barely any security cameras to look out for, let alone people who were willing to be out during the early hours of the morning. 

He was able to slip into his apartment complex unseen, avoiding his early-bird roommate long enough to wash away his crimes in the shower.

After that, he fell into his bed, completely unable to process everything that had just happened. So instead he fell asleep and left the deep thinking to his future self.

As expected, he needed plenty of time to collect his thoughts. First of all, he knew he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing because after weeks and months of taking it as easy as possible, he hadn’t seen anything else as strange as a personification of death named Logan. Logan...what kind of name even was that? It felt like the name of a teacher, not something that should be as grim and macabre as Remus himself. 

But that was the other thing; Remus couldn’t get the thought of Logan out of his head. He was like the angel who had come down to bless him in a moment of weakness, saving him from further misfortune. He knew he had little to no chance of seeing their deity again, but that didn’t stop him from plaguing his mind constantly. 

Remus figured the best chance he’d probably get at seeing Logan again was to become involved with death once more. His mind immediately jumped to animals, the easiest targets; he pictured slipping into a farm late at night and slitting the throat of one of the sheep, going to a pet store and buying a hamster for the night before ‘accidentally’ leaving it in a box to suffocate, picking up a stray from the street and snapping its neck quickly. But just as soon as those thoughts came to him, he waved them away with a grimace. He wouldn’t be able to go through with any of that, even for Logan.

People had always talked about him like he was a serial killer in training. They would keep a wary eye when he picked up sharp objects and ask his brother if Remus had ever hurt one of their pets as kids, as if because he had unconventional ideas, he was a complete sadist towards the innocent. (And yes, perhaps he did have thoughts of that nature too, but they’d always fill him with sickness because he fucking loved the pet dogs they had as kids, damn it). In any case, he knew that going through with those ideas would only be proving those people right, that he was a dangerous individual who’d murder an innocent creature just for someone his brain maybe made up.

...Perhaps he was losing his mind after all. What was he doing, plotting out the best way to see Death? If anyone else could hear his thoughts, they’d think him half-mad or suicidal. It seemed like the best thing so do was to try to push this out of his mind, so eventually, that's what he did. He wasn’t so good at that usually; his mouth ran a mile a minute and the people who knew him would often say that his brain-mouth filter was non-existent. But this felt like something he’d like to keep for himself, especially when news of the murder made it onto the local news, presumed to be the outcome of ‘gang activity’ simply because the victim was successful and had a loving family and what else could explain this?

He decided to not think about making plans anymore, and he only thought about Logan when his mind was otherwise unoccupied. It stayed that way until the very next week when he found out about the situation with his roommate’s ex.

Remus didn’t have many people in the world who were willing to put up with him, but the one’s that did, he cherished dearly. So when Nadia, the woman he’d describe as belonging among the Valkyries (if only she could get past her deal of not wanting to hurt a fly), came to him looking uncharacteristically shaken and upset, Remus felt something in him snap.

She told Remus about how her ex-boyfriend was following her to her workplace and making threats on her life. He’d even begun showing up outside their apartment late at night in an attempt at intimidation, and that detail alone pissed him off considering he’d been too in his head to even notice.

“All because I decided I deserved better.” Nadia told him tearily. She was so strong usually, both physically and emotionally, so seeing her so close to crying felt like a punch to the gut. “I just want for him to be gone… But James would probably kill me before I could even file a restraining order.”

“What if he was gone?” Remus blurted out. “Hypothetically.”

Nadia blinked at him, wiping a stray tear. “Honestly? I think the world would be a better place. But that’s never going to happen.”

Remus nodded. “Right. Of course. Do you still have his number, by any chance?”

--

Remus’ plan was simple: Nadia would call her ex and ask him to come over to ‘reconcile’, and when he did, Remus would confront him. Scare him enough to stay away for good. He was pretty great at being intimidating when he wanted to that the both of them assumed it would work out.

Well, James came as planned. Their apartment complex had one massive security flaw in that anyone could get in without keys or permission, so the only clue Remus got that James was coming was the sound of footsteps bouncing off the walls of the stairwell. Remus stood upright and waited, until he saw the top of James’ head slowly ascending up the stairs, pausing on the second-top step.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” James scoffed disbelievingly as Remus moved in front of him. “Did Nadia seriously send out the guard dog? What? Suddenly too afraid to talk for herself?”

Remus considered barking at him in response, but considering how James was way above the common creep in terms of persistence, he crossed his arms instead and glared steadily.

“Hell yeah she did. You should know why, given how much of a low-life asshole you’ve been acting all week. When are you going to give up the big guy act, huh? Curley called and he wants his complex back.”

James, in all of his 5-foot-no-thoughts glory, only squinted as the insult went over his head.

“...I knew I never fuckin’ liked you. Don’t get involved in our relationship, you little freak.” James tried to pass him, and Remus quickly blocked him, taking out the knife he’d stolen months ago.

“Take another step and this is going in your goddamn eye.” Remus raised his voice, confident that most of their neighbours were already out at work. “You’re not going near Nadia ever again, do you hear me?”

“Or what?! What’ll you do, Kaneshiro? Stab me? Put the toothpick away and step aside, for god’s sake. This is embarrassing, even for you.”

The two of them stood in a standstill, staring each other down as the echo from James’ exclamation faded out.

“...Fine.” Remus said finally. He slipped the knife back into his pocket, and James smirked smugly until Remus grabbed the front of his shirt instead. “It’ll be more fun to do this, anyway.”

With that he shoved James backwards, who quickly lost his footing and fell down the long and narrow flight of stairs. He tumbled for few moments, hitting each step, until he landed on the ground floor with a distant thump.

Remus stared after him, preparing for James to get up and start making a scene like he always did when he didn’t get his way. He didn’t.

Frowning, Remus descended the stairs, and as he drew closer to the slumped-over body, he noticed the puddle of blood around James’ head and the odd way he’d landed.

“Damn.” Remus commented under his breath. “Nadia’s going to kill me.”

He heard a sigh somewhere ahead of him, and fearing someone had walked in on his compromising position, Remus quickly glanced up, excuse at the ready.

“It was an accident-!” He exclaimed, before he realized it was Logan standing there, looking between James and Remus with a pinched expression.

“I know you pushed him, Remus. That’s not exactly what the law would define as an ‘accident’.”

For a second, Remus was starstruck (and opting to ignore the consequences of his actions). “You remember me.”

“Of course I do. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, though.”

That almost sounded like an accusation, so Remus held his hands up defensively. “Hey, in my defence he was just asking to die. The dude's a dick!”

Logan sighed. “Regardless, you shouldn't go around killing people. Sooner or later you’ll get caught.”

“Well, I’m 1 for 1 so far! But if you’d rather me not get in trouble… Have any tips on how to cover this?” Remus joked, winking.

Logan frowned at him before he truly considered it, looking around at the scene thoughtfully. “...Double check to make sure you left no evidence. Move quickly, before anybody stumbles across the scene. And if you have time, plant something which will make this look more like an accident-- for instance, a spill on the stairs.”

Remus’ eyes widened. “I wasn’t expecting actual tips. Holy shit- okay.”

He went over to check the body, feeling his cheeks heat up. He absolutely should not be getting flustered over advice on how to cover up a murder, yet here he was.

“I feel like you shouldn’t be encouraging this.” Remus said jokingly as he smoothed out the creases on the front of James’ shirt. “Didn’t you say something about having more work to do? Who knows, you might be giving me a new hobby.”

Remus laughed. Logan didn’t. When he glanced up, the deity was frowning.

“Perhaps not. Forget what I said; I shouldn’t be interfering in matters like this. I shouldn’t even be appearing to you now.”

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s the matter? I thought you liked talking.” Remus hastily stood upright, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I- regardless of my personal feelings, I have a job to do. I can’t allow myself to become so partial over one human.” Logan replied, rubbing at the crease between his eyebrows.

“Why? What’s the worst that could happen?!” Remus argued.

“You could cheat death, for starters.”

“You already know how I feel about that.” Remus whined. “I’ll off myself when the time comes, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Don’t-” Logan exclaimed, before he reigned himself back in. “Just. No. You’re supposed to go naturally. Neither you or I should interfere with that.” 

Remus frowned. He wasn’t so sure he liked the thought of such a boring death. If anything, he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. Otherwise, he’d be just another body no one would remember-- like loverboy over there.

“That means no more meetings like this.” Logan continued on.

“But what if I want to see you again?” Remus muttered. He looked across the room to Logan and found him wearing a similar downtrodden expression, until it grew serious.

“You’ll just have to deal with that, because we were never supposed to meet in the first place. I have a duty to fulfil and you have a life to live. Our paths are as parallel as can be.”

“This is bullshit, Logan.” Remus said, but he didn’t argue any further. Not when Logan walked around him to complete his business. Not when he prepared to leave, either.

“Don’t do this again.” Logan said finally, giving him a stern glare. “I mean it.”

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

Case 3: the woman in the streets.

The next time Remus and Logan met, Logan was starting to think Remus was making a habit of this after all.

In Remus’ defence, he totally wasn’t.

Logan’s parting words just wouldn’t leave his head. It was even worse than last time; the knowledge that he could kill anyone and get to see Logan again plagued him, and he found himself pulling away from his family and friends after the questioning from the police was over and done with.

They were all worried for him, but especially Nadia who knew exactly what he did and assumed it was because of the guilt that he was becoming uncharacteristically withdrawn. Although she was shocked at how things had escalated, she tried to apologize multiple times for letting Remus confront James, which he would always blow off. It wasn’t killing James that had gotten to him, not at all; in fact he was glad that prick was out of their hair. Rather, he grappled with the idea of never seeing Logan again, one of the few people who truly saw the worst sides of him and accepted them nonetheless.

He didn’t deal with it well. 

The night of their next meeting, Remus was out drinking alone. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but he didn’t want to justify why he wanted to get absolutely wasted to his friends, so being sad and lonely for one night it was. 

He had stumbled out of the bar late at night, beginning his unsteady trek home since he had accidentally spent too much money and couldn’t afford an uber to drive him back. Stepping onto the street a couple blocks from his apartment, everything was quiet until the person ahead of him crossed the road, just as a car sped around the corner and knocked them over with an awful crunch.

Remus stood in shock. He looked after the swerving car to get the licence plate, but it was already too late and they had hit the gas upon noticing him. Swearing, he stumbled over to the person left in the road. 

“Shit- Are you alright? Of course not, you need an ambulance.” He was struggling to unlock his phone when he noticed how still the person-- a frail old woman-- was. It didn’t even look like she was taking breaths, though it was hard to tell through his swimming vision and the thick coat she was wearing.

With unsteady fingers, Remus pressed against the pulsepoint on her neck, and felt the moment her heartbeat stopped.

“Oh…”

And then he turned on his heel and threw up.

Death wasn’t supposed to bother him like this. He had always been proud of his ability to frighten others with his dismissive attitude towards life’s eventualities. But this was different. He had just watched the murder of a complete stranger right before his eyes, and there wasn't even anything he could do. What the fuck?

He didn’t even feel better when the person he’d been longing to see all night appeared right in front of him, arms crossed and ready to give a lecture.

“Again, Remus?! What did I tell you?! No more murder!” Logan threw his hands up at the sight of Remus next to the body, that was until he noticed the cause of death and Remus’ sickly appearance,

“I-I didn’t do anything this time, I swear. Logan I promised myself I wouldn’t.” He picked himself out of the gutter he had been puking into, trying to look at the deity, just so he could feel some sense of reassurance. “I thought I’d never see you again. ‘Thought I was okay with that, but I’m not. I missed you.”

Logan only stared at Remus when he began crying. He was a sappy emotional drunk when he got through the fun tipsy phase, sue him.

“...I apologize for yelling at you.” Logan said, awkwardly hovering his hand over Remus’ shoulder until it shuddered with a sob and accidentally brushed against him. Remus jolted at the cool touch, as did Logan, who quickly retreated his hand, eyes darting around worriedly.

“‘Always thought you’d be like mist.” Remus slurred, awestruck enough to forget his sadness. He reached forward to prod at Logan, who furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully.

“I… Yes, that’s definitely strange.” Logan cleared his throat and straightened up. “In any case, you need to get off the street, report this incident, and go home. Being around so much death isn’t good for your mental health.”

“Maybe.” Remus sighed. “I quite like hanging around you, though.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re drunk. You’re going to feel a lot worse about seeing me in the morning, I promise.”

“I never feel bad about seeing you.” Remus said, picking up his phone from where he’d dropped it. “I only feel bad that it’ll be a long time before I get the chance to see you again.”

“...I don’t get it.” Logan replied softly after a heavy pause. “You shouldn’t want to see me at all. I’m a bad omen. You’d only ever get to meet me in times of tragedy.”

“‘Bad omen’... And I thought Emo was dramatic.” Remus chuckled weakly. “You’re not so bad, Lo. You guide people to the end. You care for them even when you have so many people to watch over. You’re opinionated and you’re easily curious when things don’t go to plan. You don’t mind when I’m weird and you’re fun to talk to. I like you.”

Logan blinked rapidly with surprise, clutching his chest. “I wish we could be having this conversation away from the recently deceased. But... I suppose I feel the same way. I still don’t know how or why you can see me, but our conversations haven’t been unpleasant.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus said, smiling softly to himself. “...You’re right though. I should probably phone this in. I just wish I could remember the licence plate… Something like XQ... ugh.”

“XQR 460.” Logan supplied helpfully. 

“That’s it!” Remus cheered, sloppily kissing Logan on the cheek. “Thanks babe!”

Logan floundered for a second as Remus begun calling an ambulance, struggling to regain composure. “I hope we don’t meet like this again soon. Three times over the span of a year is already too much.”

“I don’t know.” Remus looked at Logan slyly. “I’ve always had pretty bad luck.”

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

Case 4: the bad doctor.

The next time Remus and Logan meet, it’s completely coincidental and under less stressful circumstances for once.

Well, still stressful. Just for different reasons. 

Roman was in the hospital because of some dumb motorcycle crash he got into, which near-gave Remus a heart attack when he heard about because he may often ask for death these days, but not like this. Never like this.

Anyway, he was more or less alive in the end. Just a broken leg and a lot of scrapes and bruises since he always refused to wear the proper protective clothing when he went riding (due to it ‘not fitting his aesthetic', apparently. Remus assumed it was pussy talk for ‘I don’t look badass enough to pull off leather’).

Remus had stopped by to visit, bringing some of the fancy name-brand crackers Roman liked since he kept complaining about how stale and awful the hospital’s ones were, and to say hello to Virgil while xe was on shift. The three of them even managed to sit down while Virgil was on break and catch up, too. Roman and Virgil seemed glad Remus was doing a bit better after his downward spiral a couple of weeks ago, even if they didn’t mention it.

After a few hours spent catching up and teasing one another, he decided to leave Roman to get some rest. His plans for that evening were to take a load off and perhaps call for some takeout with Nadia. Honest to God, he didn’t plan on looking for any trouble.

But still, trouble found him when he noticed Logan walking the halls of the hospital, following a doctor to the elevator.

Remus double-taked. Though he shouldn’t really be surprised to see Logan here in a place with so much death, it was still odd witnessing the cloaked figure walk around normal people, none of them noticing his presence. 

Remus quickly jogged over. "Logan!" He hissed under his breath.

The deity startled (startled!) before turning to him, just like the doctor he was following. 

"Do you need something?" The doctor said, raising an eyebrow.

"Uhhhh, nope! Just… getting into the elevator." Remus replied, stepping in and standing next to Logan.

"Why must you have such awful timing?" Logan sighed stressfully as the elevator doors slid shut. Remus looked at him, unable to verbally reply with the doctor standing right next to them. Fortunately, his unspoken request to elaborate was picked up on.

"This doctor is going down go the morgue. I was here to see a patient that died under his care, and I noticed how death seemed to latch onto him. I got curious."

Sounds like a bad doctor, if even a deity of death was interested in him. Heh, that probably said a lot about Remus too. 

Logan elaborated for Remus’ misinterpreting amused expression. "Remus, he murders patients purposefully. You should not have gotten on this elevator."

...Oh. Remus looked past Logan to the doctor, who had noticed his glances.

"...Hm, aren't you supposed to be in your room? Broken leg, road burn, lacerations?" He questioned, eyes flicking down to where he assumed Remus must be injured.

"Nope! You’re thinking of my twin. I came to visit him today." Remus responded as chipper as he could manage, suddenly a lot more unnerved knowing that this apparently dangerous doctor knew about his brother.

"Ah! I see. I did wonder how you managed to grow a full moustache in a day." The man chuckled. "Twins… quite fascinating."

Uh oh spaghetti-os. "Yeah… people say we're like two unrelated people, we’re so different." Remus laughed dismissively. It didn't seem to bother the doctor. 

"Interesting… Say, a partner of mine is conducting a study on the differences in the individual psychologies of monozygotic twins. I'm sure it would please her to get more data, if you'd be interested in participating. There would be monetary compensation for your time, of course." 

"This is such an unethical form of recruitment. What kind of professional are you?" Logan argued in frustration. Remus almost burst into laughter on the spot from the bizarreness of the situation, but he somehow managed to turn it into an agreeable grin instead. 

"Sounds good, doc." Remus said. 

"What-?!" Logan exclaimed. Remus spared him a glance, hoping it would let him know he knew what he was doing. Logan didn't look placated in the slightest.

"Excellent! I'll pass the details onto your brother and we can arrange a meeting sometime this week.”

At that moment, the elevator stopped to let a few other people on. Remus took the opportunity to head out before they could reach the basement floor. 

“See you later!” He called to both the Doctor and Logan.

“REMUS!”

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

Case 4.5: the dead doctor.

The next time they meet, Remus fully expects it.

Roman asks him over text why he volunteered them for a study, and Remus makes some vague excuse like ‘sexy doctor’. Thankfully, he bought it.

Before the date sent to them by the doctor, Remus decided to do his own research first. To do so, he contacted Virgil and asked for details on the man. 

After copious amount of friendly jabs (like 'oooh Remus, I didn’t know tall, straight, and boring was your type'), Virgil told him his name and not much else, given that xe wasn't exactly close with the older staff member. That was fine; Remus used the information to find online profiles, where he found contact details and photos, where he found business accounts, where he found history.

After pulling a few more strings from people that owed him one, he managed to gain access to the vital records from the hospital. It didn’t take long to discover that Logan was right, there had been a spike in deaths since the doctor, a mister 'Stacey’, had begun working there. It was a mystery how no one had noticed the pattern honestly. Weren't doctors supposed to get their licences taken away after a certain number of incidents? As he begun looking through the files more closely however, he realized that the deaths were often chalked up to accidents; small things that could have been due to anything, from mistakes during operations, to the patients overdosing on their prescribed medication, to incidents days after they’ve been discharged.

As Remus closed his laptop, he begun feeling very glad he had impulsively accepted Stacey’s offer. 

--

The meeting ended up being scheduled for Friday evening, and by the time it rolled around, Remus was fully prepared and waiting outside of the agreed location. He dialled Roman’s number, looking out to the empty parking lot and familiarizing himself with the location.

After a few rings, Roman picked up, sounding slightly agitated. “Yes, Captain Dookey?”

Remus snickered at the old nickname-- it was practically a relic from when they played pirates as children. Perhaps Roman was feeling sentimental after his accident.

“Aye aye first mate. You should know that I’m not gonna make it to the study. I already called Dr. Stacy to let him know we’re cancelling for today, so you can stay home.”

“Really Remus? I just got ready.”

“Yeah well, you’re supposed to be resting anyway. Unless you want to drop a visit by yourself that is, but Virgil told me he’s straight, soooo...”

He heard a retching sound on the other end of the line.

“No thanks.” A sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess.”

“Bye, ugly.”

“Later, Rat Bastard.”

“Rats are cute, that’s not an insult. Byeee~.” Remus quickly hung up, his grin quickly fading as he took in the apartment complex. 

It didn’t look like the sort of space that would house an office, but Stacey didn’t look like the type to break the Hippocratic oath either, so perhaps the world wasn’t as straight-forward as it seemed.

Slipping his phone away, Remus buzzed the number he’d been given, and it wasn’t long before the good doctor himself came down to answer the door personally.

“Remus.” Stacey almost looked surprised to see him. “Is your brother not coming?”

“Oh, no.” Remus waved a hand. “I just got off the phone with him and he told me he’s running late. He said to get started without him.”

He received a charming smile. “That works just fine. Come on in.”

Stacey led him up the stairs to his apartment, and the whole time Remus felt the weight of the kitchen knife in his pocket. When they got to the ‘office’ (which was really just a living room with minimal furnishing), he offered him a drink.

“No thanks, I’m good.” Remus said, looking around. “...Seems pretty empty in here for an office.”

“Ah… Yes, unfortunately my colleague is having renovations done in her usual space, so we’ll have to collect our data here. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

A fair enough explanation on the surface, and one his brother would probably accept if he was here, but Remus wasn’t nearly as trusting as Roman was. Nor was he as ignorant to the true purpose of this meeting.

“I see… That makes sense. Or at least it would, if I didn’t already know all about your dirty little secrets.”

Stacey glanced up from where he’d been looking for a pen. “...Pardon?”

Remus smiled back; a grin with all teeth. “You have quite a few skeletons in your closet, doc. Even for a fine medical professional like yourself.”

The doctor very carefully didn’t react to that. "My apologies, do you have the right person? To the best of my knowledge we've only spoken once." 

"Yeah." Remus agreed. "And once is all it took. I found out about all those little accidents that follow you, doctor. Weird how many times your patients pass away from nicked veins and potassium chloride overdoses, hm?"

The only outward response Stacey gave was the clenching of his fists. Subtle, but Remus noticed it. "Be careful Mr. Kaneshiro, because that sounds an awfully lot like a baseless accusation. People sue for that, you know." 

"I don't doubt it. But you already know it's not so baseless, don't you? You know exactly what I’m talking about, which is why you invited us here to a shady apartment late at night, no colleague in sight."

"Remus what the hell do you think you're doing?!" A familiar voice chimed from behind him.

Remus startled out of his focus, whipping his head around. "Logan?" 

"Don't look at me, you ignoramus-! You met a serial killer alone after I told you to stay away?!"

"He knows my brother, I couldn't just-!"

Remus looked back at the doctor was closer now, looking down at him pitifully. "I see now. The talking to air, the erratic behaviour, the pushing your delusions onto others… you mustn't be well. It's alright, Mr. Kaneshiro, I could easily refer you to a mental health facility who will take care of you."

"Remus, you have to get out! Now!" 

"I know!" He wasn’t a complete idiot, damn it! But he needed to get Stacey to confess or-

"Ah, perfect! If you wait here, I’ll go and make a call." 

Remus stepped backwards, hand going to the knife in his pocket. He needed Stacey to confess, but if he didn’t-

Unfortunately, Stacey noticed his movement and quickly grabbed his left wrist, putting way too much pressure in his grip than was necessary. 

"Ah-ah. I told you to stay put, didn't I? Come now, don't be difficult. I'm only trying to get you the help you need."

If he didnt-

"Let go of him!" Logan demanded to the man who couldn't hear him. 

Stacey froze, feeling the cool touch of Death on his arm as Logan tried to pull him away, and at that moment Remus pulled his knife out and stabbed him in the chest; slipping the blade right between the ribs. 

Red pooled around the knife, staining his crisp white shirt vividly. Stacey stared at the knife, and dug his nails into Remus’ wrist. 

"Fucker." Remus yelped with pain, pulling the weapon back out. 

Finally, Stacey let go and stumbled back, hitting the wall and sliding down to the floor. His expression didn't recover from the shock from when Logan touched him; he didn't even try to apply pressure to the wound as he bled out. He just sat there until the light left his eyes, and the only sound left in the room was Remus’ laboured breathing.

"I… shouldn't have done that." Logan muttered, eyeing the limp body. 

"Done what? I'm the one that killed him. That was my backup plan all along." Remus replied numbly, looking at the scene he had caused. 

"I gave him the touch of Death, it's- it's an omen. I'm not supposed to use it ever."

"Gee, I'm flattered. I promise murder was always on my brain though." Remus said as he took the tape recorder out of his pocket. No need for this anymore. He wanted to get a clip of Stacey saying something incriminating so that he could defame him and ruin his reputation, but well, him not being able to benefit from a reputation at all was the next best thing.

Logan watched him, taking in the claw marks across his wrist. "...Right. He scratched you, so remember to clean under his nails." 

Despite everything, Remus smiled softly at the advice. "Aww, you really care about me, don't you?"

"I- no. Absolutely not. That’s absurd" Remus snickered as Logan flushed an adorable shade of paynes grey, which he hid by going to deal with the corrupt doctor’s soul. 

"...Why did you show up, by the way? There isn't anyone dead in this apartment is there?" Remus realized belatedly, looking around the empty space. 

"Ah… No. Admittedly, I've been keeping a closer eye on this town than I really should, and after what happened the other day, I figured I needed to be here when I noticed you two meeting… I probably shouldn’t have.” Logan conceded.

"Well, at least you can't say this wasn't a business visit." Remus giggled to himself, wiping the blood from his knife with a tissue. Maybe he was a little giddy from the endorphins of confronting a prolific serial killer, or perhaps it was the confirmation that Logan cared for him, but either way he felt really good right now, like he could take on the world.

Logan looked at him and sighed. "I should've known you'd be trouble. No more killing, Remus. This has to be the last time."

"Of course, pinky promise~."

"...I can see you crossing your fingers behind your back, you brat."

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

Case 5: the one who tried to get away.

The next time they met, Remus broke his pinky promise. No surprises there.

It was hardly even a promise to begin with, but for some reason Logan expected him to stick to it. Quite foolish, if you ask Remus, given that he now had a total of three murders under his belt, and stopping there almost felt like giving up. 

Of course, he had to lay low after Stacey however. The hospital was holding a memorial for his death and Remus later found out that it was ruled a break in. (Made sense, since Remus took a few of his fancy cleaning products on the way out, as a treat to himself.)

It was a shame Stacey was being remembered so honourably, but he couldn't really do anything about that. At least he wasn't out in the world hurting more people. 

But unfortunately for Remus, the ruling of Stacey’s murder didn’t stop the incident from trickling into his normal life, as Virgil and Roman seemed to grow suspicious of him. Virgil didn't bring up the topic to him directly, but xe begun acting sketchy when the two of them hung out (Though that could easily be wariness after having one of xyr co-workers be killed). Oppositely, Roman brought the topic up at the first chance possible.

"Dr. Stacey was murdered the night we were supposed to meet him." Roman commented the next day they were able to have lunch together, arms crossed confrontationally. "Funny that."

"Yeah. Sounds like we had some pretty good luck, if you ask me." Remus grinned.

"Wha- why are you smiling?! A man died!" His twin hissed at him. Under his breath, as to not alert the other tables.

Remus’ grin faded. "Listen Ro-bro, I didn't want to tell you this but our good doctor wasn't as kind as you think he is. I called you off that night to help you. Trust me. It’s better off that neither of us went through with that ‘study’."

Roman leaned back, looking unconvinced. "What were you doing instead, Remus?"

"...Huh?"

"You heard me. Where were you? What's your alibi?"

"You're not accusing your own flesh and blood of murder, are you?" Remus sipped his drink casually; ice coffee with as many pumps of peppermint syrup as the barista would allow. 

"Just answer the question." Siiigh, what a tightass. How did they come out the same womb? 

"I was meeting an old friend, for your information. Logan." Remus smiled to himself at the inside joke.

"Logan? You've never mentioned a Logan before." Roman raised his eyebrows.

Remus leaned back in his chair with a shrug, opting to look out the window instead. By doing so he missed the flash of complicated emotions that crossed his twin’s face at the dismissive gesture.

"I don't tell you everything about my life, brother dearest."

"Clearly…"

--

A week or two passed since his conversation with Roman, and during that time Remus didn't get to see Logan again once. That wasn't such a terrible thing, most people would assume, to not run into a deity of death, but Remus was so bored! He wanted to see his favourite death pal again, but no opportunities arose to do that, and nothing was striking his murder-fancy.

That was until the day he saw a familiar licence plate parked outside a shop.

Remus froze in his tracks, remembering the night he last saw that car.

A woman crossing the street, a body too still, a car speeding away with no remorse-

Remus had given the licence number to the police, but clearly they hadn't done anything about it. Or perhaps they'd tried and the asshole bought them off. 

He growled at the idea, startling a passer-by who was crossing around him.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long before he found out who his ire belonged to. A familiar face left the shops and begun walking towards the car; Anton, a guy who had been a year above him back in high school. Remus’ memory of the man was vague; primarily made up of snapshots of cruelty and entitlement towards those around him.

He looked exactly the same, with his annoyingly polished appearance and ugly overpriced clothes. So he was right about the police being paid off, then. Typical.

He'd just have to do something about this himself. 

--

“I suppose there’s no point in trying to convince you to stop this, is there?”

“I mean.” Remus begun, looking down at the body he had just finished suffocating and rubbing at his bruised arms. There was more of a struggle than tv had led him to believe. “I kinda had to do this one. What? Was I supposed to connect the dots on a murder and not stalk and kill the guy who got away unpunished?”

“Most people would say yes.” Logan groaned, in the sort of tone that said he already knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“We’re not like most people though, are we?” Remus grinned, fluttering his eyelashes.

“You’re most certainly not. I’m barely a person.” Logan replied with finality.

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

Case 6: the one who pushed their luck.

And then shortly after; 

“Come on man, don’t do this.” The masked person pleaded, hanging onto the fire-escape for dear life. Literally.

Remus raised an eyebrow, making a show of contemplating the request. “Hmm, I don’t know. You did try to pull a gun on me.”

“It wasn’t loaded, jackass!” 

Remus tutted and held his foot over the person’s clammy hands. They shook violently at the unspoken threat. “And now you’re gonna wake up the whole neighbourhood too? No consideration!”

His joking tone must have angered them, because they began struggling to hoist themself back up again, red in the face with strain. “I swear, when I get up  there-”

Promptly losing his interest in hearing the rest of that threat, Remus stood on their fingers, causing them to let go of the fire-escape and plummet to the street below with a strangled yell.

“Whoopsie daisy.”

He leaned over the banister, whistling innocently as a familiar presence appeared next to him. Logan joined him in peering down at the body, eyebrow raised.

“At least this one was merely an accident?” He guessed by the cause of death, a twinge of hope in his voice.

“Nah, they’ve tried breaking in at least 3 times this year. It was getting annoying.”

As Logan scolded him for his recklessness, Remus decided not to comment on it when their topic of conversation turned back towards the casual banter they usually shared. The two of them stood on the fire escape until the sun was on the edge of the horizon and Remus had to dash back to his apartment to avoid being seen by the early-commuters.

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

Case 8: the innocent.

And then: 

Remus curiously nudged the raccoon with the tip of his boot. He’d just stumbled upon it and it still looked fresh; given that he was standing by a busy road, it was no wonder what had happened.

He was making a mental note to come back and collect the bones at a later date, when Logan appeared in-front of him in a blink, looking completely unsurprised this time around.

Remus on the other hand startled before regaining his bearings and shooting the deity a smile. “Our paths are looking less parallel by the day huh, Psychopomp-ous?”

Logan raised his eyebrows appreciatively at the word play. “It appears so. It’s quite the pleasant surprise to find you not getting into trouble for once.”

“There’s always tomorrow.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows back. “That said, I really didn’t expect to see you. I was wondering for a while if you dealt with this kind of thing too, y’know.”

Logan looked down, seeming to really notice the raccoon for the first time. He nodded after a beat. ”She had a life too. My brother brought her into the world, and so I must escort her out.” 

”Yeah? Anything of note happen?” Remus asked, eyebrows raised with genuine curiosity. He’d file away the latter half of Logan’s statement for later prodding.

”...She had a family. They stayed together under the porch of an old couple.”

“Ah, to be a racoon living under a porch.” Remus lamented dreamily. “I’m glad she got to live such a rich and fulfilling life before becoming road kill. I’m truly jealous.”

“In the wild, your lifespan would most likely be around 2–3 years as a raccoon.” Logan pointed out, attempting to contradict his idealistic tone.

“Exactly. The life.”

That earned a pinched expression from Logan that made Remus titter.

“Just messing with you, prim reaper~. Now, do you have any idea how long it’s going to take for her to decompose? I have a new piece of decor to make.”

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

Case 11: the matchbox.

Remus watched from afar as the house on Psyche Avenue burned. It was bright and brilliant, so of course the firefighters were already on the scene, trying to calm the fire and save the occupant inside. 

They’d be much too late; the trafficker was already unconscious and likely burning to death, along with any evidence Remus might have left behind. It was the perfect crime.

Satisfied with today’s work, he took a drag of a cigarette, delighted when Logan appeared beside him instead of with the dirtbag who deserved to burn forever (and since it was a mystery whether he'd end up with such a fate, it only seemed fitting for Remus to play god and speed up the process.)

“Those kill, you know.” Logan said in greeting.

“That makes two of us.” Remus grinned sharply, even when Logan rolled his eyes and pinched out the end of his cigarette.

For the second time in a month, the two of them overlooked the sky together, illuminated by the amber blazes of the fire. It almost felt like a date.

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

Case 13: the one with bad luck.

He was back in the alley that had imprinted itself so clearly in his memory, knife buried in the chest of a would-be assailant. Remus was boredly watching the blood seep between the bricks when Logan finally appeared to deal with the body.

“You’re late!” Remus complained with a whine. “This guy’s practically cold already.”

“Apologies. There was a flash flood across the country, and it took more of my focus to handle than I would've liked."

Remus hummed. He thought he heard something about that on the news. Mother nature could be cruel indeed. Perhaps even worse than Remus himself. 

“Anyone nearby?” He checked.

“Not in a half-mile radius, no. However, the police may be on their way.” 

“Plenty of time, then.” Remus said as he pulled Logan down to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

It had been months since that first drunk sloppy kiss happened, and less time since it had become a regular greeting. Remus would never get tired of the feeling of cold skin against his lips. It was like kissing marble-- if marble had a sassy mouth and a sexy amount of knowledge.

Logan pulled back first, smudging away the trail of blood running from Remus' nostril. “Did you have any trouble?”

“Nah, you should see the other guy.”

That earned a laugh-- a quiet chime that made Remus’ heart flutter. “I see them. Good job, you’re getting rather skilled at that.”

“Why, thank you~.” Remus preened under the praise. “It only took a couple tries, but I think I finally got the technique down pat.”

“Hmm. Speaking of 'Pat', my brother doesn’t seem to like this much. He’s not unappreciative of your choices in target, although he appears to be rather disapproving on the amount of times I've been called to your side."

Logan didn't talk about his brother much: the deity of life. From what little Remus had learned from his prying and Logan’s own complaints, he seemed like a bit of a killjoy. He blew a raspberry in response.

"Tell Patton to stop making so many criminals and maybe I'll consider it." 

The corner of Logan's lips quirked up. "I don't think I will, as humorous as I'm sure that would be. It doesn't quite work like that."

Remus shrugged, watching as Logan looked off to the side.

"...It seems I’m needed elsewhere."

”You can’t stay? We barely got to talk.” Remus said with a pout.

“Unfortunately so.” Logan turned to the body; what he should have been there for. It wasn’t long before his focus was back on Remus, though. “That said... It’s a busy night. Perhaps we’ll meet again sooner than expected.”

Remus’ frown tipped back into a smile as he watched Logan vanish. He then turned on his heel and retrieved his knife before walking off into the night. If he was going to make good on Logan’s expectations, he better get to work.

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

Case 0: the one who death followed.

It soon became an established pattern; Remus would come across someone shady, and he’d put together a detailed- or straight-forward- plot on how to get rid of them. By now his city must have noticed the string of deaths, but with such a random means and very little evidence, Remus was free to continue as he pleased.

In a sense, he was untouchable with Logan by his side, pointing out anything he left behind and giving warning for any potential witnesses. Especially when he gave up on persuading Remus away from this path. It's not like the moral argument could be made anymore; the city had seen a drastic decrease in crime once Remus had taken out a lot of big players (even if there was an air of fear that lingered in the back of everyone's minds, wondering if they'd be next up on the chopping block).

All in all, it was enough to make Remus cocky; perhaps even enough so to lead to his downfall. But how was he ever going to give up now? All his life he’d been hoping for some sort of excitement to fulfil him, and he finally found it in a surprise meeting with a deity of death. Death had gone from a distant longing to something familiar and welcome; something he could use to right wrongs and feel a sense of purpose with.

And as long as he was able to exchange a life for one more meeting with his beloved partner in crime, he would do his best to stay ahead of the game. 

(No matter who was out there, trying to stop the two of them.)

-------------- 

Writing taglist: @just-perhaps @sashootkahoot @anxious-l0ser @illogical-immunity @overlad-of-the-snakes @varthandi @whisperinginthevoid @and-this-sword @creamiiteaa-xx

Deityfucker au taglist: @arodynamic-enby @its-the-usda-certified-trashman @overlad-of-the-snakes @aromanticwhore @haha-phrog @hetalianhufflepuff @emeryyleaf @winter-wandering @gaylotusthatexists @8bituin

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

Teddy Bear Anon has purposed yet another interesting addition to the Immune AU which gives me plot ideas! In particular, a scene that would really help give past Dream a strong push into his character arc. 

I like to image that immune!Dream’s character arc starts with the death of immune!Puffy. Sure, maybe he’s not sad yet, but he feels something for the woman who declared herself his pseudo mother. It’s what helps to crack the shell enough for the rest of the immune gang to start weedling their way into his heart. Immune!Dream after spending enough time watching the group he, starts to realize that yeah, connections to other people isn’t a weakness. It really is a strength. It’s something that takes time for him to come to terms with because Techno seems like a testament to the fact connections are a weakness. He was unbeatable until his horse got kidnapped. His only connection, his only weakness. But then there’s Tommy who seems to represent the complete opposite. 

Where Dream represents strength from caring too little, Tommy represents strength from caring far too much. Now I’m a sucker for bamf Tommy, and I like to personally imagine that maybe the Immunes hold out for a year or two before they cave and try to make the portal. So Tommy has what really boils down to a two year training arc on top of already being a child veteran (I like to canonize SMP Earth as well because personal preference and it gives me even more room to make Tommy suffer. SMP Earth being canon? God, so much fucking trauma considering how the others treated him, a 15 year old child, like an adult.) Anyway Dream slowly realizes connections with one another are what kept the remaining Immunes alive, and he tries to force his younger self to understand that. Tries, but doesn’t really get far. Up until what everyone else calls The Fight.

Tommy’s always just kind of screwed around in fights as long as there’s only a threat to him. We know he has a tendency to throw if MCC is any indicator. But then they time travel and maybe they spend some time in the past trying to get the situation sorted and the past’s Dream maybe just kinda does something to Tubbo. Doesn’t even have to be big, it just needs to clock as a threat to Immune!Tommy who’s already lost his Tubbo and refuses to let his younger self go through that. So Tommy goes completely ape shit on the younger Dream. Sure, it’s only been two years for this Tommy. He’s probably, like, 18 or 19 at most. Still a child as far as a lot of people are concerned. He shouldn’t be stronger than Dream or Technoblade, and in the few cross group sparing sessions they’ve had he isn’t. He’s stronger than his younger self but no where near these two demi gods of combat. But then Dream suddenly registers as a threat to Tubbo in Immune!Tommy’s eyes and he makes the mistake of mocking Tommy while he’s at it. He knows that immune!Tommy lost his Tubbo and maybe the past Dream is lashing out slightly or trying to get some kind of foothold in Tommy’s psyche. He isn’t doing anything near what immune!Dream has done, but it’s enough to piss Tommy off. So immune!Tommy challenges Dream to a fight and Dream immediately realizes the mistake he’s made when Tommy starts to destroy him. 

Say even Techno’s there for some reason or another and he realizes what’s going down so he tries to calm Tommy down, joining the fight just as Dream is loosing it. The situation quickly turns into the first time Techno’s ever gotten his ass thoroughly kicked by Tommy, leaving everyone spectating baffled (Tommy’s younger self partly included). They’re certain this kid is going on some rampage and none of them can stop him but the moment Dream and Techno are both taken care of (wounded, not killed, the older Tommy is always careful about that. He even throws a splash healing on them with some indifferent kind of disgust that hides the fact he does still care to some extent even hurting as he is.) Tommy immediately just switches focus to outright doting on Tubbo, ignoring any muttered Clingyinnits in favor of ensuring Tubbo is fine. Tubbo is completely find and just as confused, but the point stands and neither Tommy ends up leaving Tubbo’s side for the rest of the day. The younger Tommy, after all, is the only one the older Tommy’s told the full story to regarding the future (even when he couldn’t trust his own family he was always able to trust himself with the secrets that mattered, so he prepares his younger self in case the worst comes to pass.)

The older Dream, immune!Dream, he doesn’t get involved. He sit on the side lines and just kinda laughs, the sound drowned out by Sapnap’s loud encouragements and Sam’s half hearted attempts to get Tommy to stop (he could have stopped Tommy immediately if he’d stepped in. Sam is after all the only person on earth Tommy listens to without hesitation, but Sam lets it happen and pretends he tried.) 

Immune!Dream just kinda smirks at his younger self later that night and mentions something about attachments really making you weak. After all, it’s not like the only time Tommy takes a battle seriously is when someone he cares about is in danger. It’s not like Tommy would turn the world into a seared ball for Tubbo, and Tubbo would do the same in return. It’s not like they’ve watched the people they care about temporarily rebuke the Crimson just to give the Immunes those precious extra seconds needed to survive in a fight. Attachments, they’re just a weakness.

The younger Dream doesn’t know how to respond to that. It’s the first time he thinks about his older self maybe being right.

Before I go I wanna leave you with two more ideas for the Immune AU

First up, Wilbur is eight years older than Tommy give or take. Wilbur had Fundy when he was around 16 and Tommy was around 8. Tommy was the best damn uncle he could be and for a while Tommy and Fundy were really stupidly close. They were both apart of the raised by Wilbur club and Wilbur was trying his damn best. Fundy aged/matured (physically and mentally) faster than a regular person for a while. They believed it was because he was a fox hybrid and Wilbur was ready to lose Fundy too soon. When Fundy was equivalent to 18 in human years though his aging process suddenly slowed to a crawl and his tail split into two, at which point the group realized he was actually a kitsune and it was just those first 8 years that passed by quickly (and Wilbur had a lot of questions for the now missing Sally who he’d thought was a salmon hybrid, genuinely, but became exceedingly less sure.) His family knows he’s a kitsune, but Fundy hid it from most of the rest of the server. A good thing considering later events. 

Fundy was part of the Immune group for a while and I like to imagine that he and Tommy had a falling out during the Pogtopia era but after the egg started to take over they started bonding again and acting like, well, family. Unfortunately when it came time for them to activate the portal, Fundy ended up getting separated from the group and getting caught. The eggpire didn’t actually know Fundy was fully immune or a kitsune so he just kinda pretended to get infected, using his illusions to make his fur look crimson. I personally like the idea that Fundy at some point managed to get back to the time machine and being a little code wizard manages to get the thing working and yeets himself in. He shows up a little late but after fixing his appearance manages to catch up with the rest of the group.

Fundy is underrated. Tommy being a good uncle is underrated. Sam would absolutely adopt the traumatized fox baby in Eret’s honor. What’s not to love?

The last concept I wanna bring up that I really like is hybrid Tommy. Tanuki would be good since it’s another reason for the Sam Nook bit. Maybe Sam specifically picked Sam Nook since Tom Nook was Tommy’s favorite character on the grounds he was the only representation Tommy had ever gotten and it made the kiddo happy. However, I also personally really like phoenix Tommy and it would make an interesting plot point. Tommy accidentally losing his third life at some point and realizing he’s an immortal creature of fire would have led to him taking a protector role for his new family. He can’t die, but he can burn anything around him, why not send him out to get supplies when the worst the eggpire could do would be capture him. Even then he just literally cannot hear the egg. Which could lead to both some interesting comedic moments and some really good angst if Sam agonizes over his desire to protect Tommy and let him be a child suddenly being at odds with the fact Tommy is literally the best person for the job so to speak. Not to mention Sapnap, who I headcanon as a Blaze hybrid, would be even more attached the moment he found a new fire proof friend to burn forests with him. Regardless of which hybrid type he is, I could see him hiding it from everyone except for Fundy when he was a child and only ever admitting it later to the other Immunes once they become a found family.

Personally I like the idea of Tommy being part tanuki hybrid and part phoenix hybrid, but is that too mary sue? Is it just a little bit too cheesy to have him be both? I will never not try to incorporate phoenix Tommy into my fics but also tanuki Tommy would be such a mood for this au.

Like image Tommy just builds a den that’s in reality a vault/panic room a la Techno and he hides it under Church Prime since that is The Safe Spot in Tommy’s mind.

~Snapdragon & Firefly

[sillyrabbit81]

The Pull

Summary: Alternative Universe. Vampire Henry. Henry, Crown Prince of the Vampires is avoiding his responsibilities because of his mother's fate. When Henry finds his mate, the circumstances are eerily similar to his mother's. Rather than risking his mate's life, Henry chooses to run, but can he run from his fate?

Pairing: Henry x OFC

Word Count: approx 2.4k

Warnings: mention of death, mention of abortion (although it didn't happen), and swearing

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 3

Chapter Two

Rowena POV

"David, I can't wear this!" I complained on the phone. I held up the dress again. "It's just too much, too revealing."

It was a simple white silk floor-length skirt, but the top of the dress was two long vertical pieces of silk, barely wide enough to cover my breasts, which crossed at the back before wrapping around my waist and tied in a bow on my lower back. There was no way I could wear a bra. It would only take a slight wrong move, and there would be an embarrassing nipple slip.

"Yes, you can," my brother said. "Lawrence had it made for you to wear as a gift. He wants to meet you and make a good impression." Lawrence was David's partner, they had been together for over a year, but I was yet to met him. Lawrence and David seemed to travel together an awful lot, so it had been challenging to find time for us to get together.

"Have you seen it?" I asked.

"Of course," David replied. I was surprised. David was my older brother and had always been a little protective of me, especially since our parents died when I was 15 and he was 20. Maybe he had finally let that go considering I was now 26.

"You know I'd never wear something like that. It's gorgeous, but it's too revealing for me."

"Rowena, it's Halloween. It's an excuse for excess." I rolled my eyes. For David, being a day that ended in 'y' was an excuse for excess.

"Why does your boyfriend want to see me in this?" It just seemed over the top for a party. I gathered that Lawrence was wealthy, but still, it's just a Halloween party.

"Because he wants you to fit in. Honestly, you'll stick out less wearing that than anything else. Besides, no one knows you there, and you'll have a mask. Just pretend you're someone else."

I grumbled. "What time did Lawrence say the stylist was coming?"

Although I couldn't see him, I could hear David's victorious smile through the phone. "At six pm. The driver will be there at eight."

"That seems late, David," I said. "I won't arrive until nearly nine."

"I know, but that is Lawrence's style."

"Promise you won't leave me alone." I wasn't afraid of being alone at parties usually but by the sounds of this one, the dress and the fact that I was having my hair and makeup done professionally made it feel like a big deal.

"Lawrence and I will take good care of you," David promised.

I said my goodbyes and hung up the phone.

Feeling only a little more confident after the phone call, I jumped in the shower, washed my hair, and shaved my legs for the first time in weeks. I put on a robe and slippers and went up to the main house to see Charlie since I had half an hour to kill before the stylist arrived.

Charlie was staying there tonight with Alice while I went out. He had his own room and often slept there now that he was getting older and wanted space from me. Charlie and I mostly ate our meals up at the house and just kept basics in our two-bedroom flat above the old stables.

Charlie and Alice were sitting together at the dining table, playing with a random assortment of lego pieces. "Hey, Mum. I made this for you." Charlie handed me a flower made from the blocks. He was such a sweetheart of a boy.

"Awww, thanks, Babybear. I love it." I kissed the top of his head and sat with them.

"I thought you had to get ready for tonight," Alice asked.

"I have an hour," I replied.

"You're still going, aren't you?" Alice asked. She seemed more eager for me to go than I was. Alice was Charlie's paternal grandmother. Charlie's dad, Alex, had been my boyfriend when I was 17. Despite being on the pill, I fell pregnant, and Alex tried to pressure me into an abortion and refused to be a part of his life. Alice had been horrified by the way Alex had treated me. In an unexpected turn of events, she had stepped in to help raise Charlie. Charlie rarely saw Alex, but Alice saw that we both wanted nothing. The woman was a saint.

"Yeah," I said reluctantly.

"It'll be good for you," Alice said, squeezing my hand.

"I know." I sighed.

"Charlie, go get Nanny a glass of water, please. My throat is feeling dry," Alice said. She had something to say to me outside of Charlie's ears. Being a kind and helpful kid, Charlie immediately got up and went to get her one. He made me so proud.

As soon as he left the room, Alice said, "Rowena, don't feel guilty getting out there again."

"How can you say that?" I asked. I had tried dating a few times over the years. It always ended disastrously. Always my fault too. I had developed severe commitment issues.

"Charlie is my grandson, and I want his mother to be happy. Not lonely and depressed. It would be best if you had a life beyond Charlie. I've been telling you that for years."

Charlie came back with a book, and Alice read to him. As mothers often are, I was struck by how handsome my little boy was. His blonde sun-bleached hair and deep brown eyes were framed by a face that had lost nearly all of its childhood fat. At nine years old, he was almost as tall as me already, and he would probably take after his father in that regard. In fact, his eyes were the only thing that came from my side of the family as they were the same colour as David's and my Dad's. Charlie looked so much like his father, sometimes it hurts to look at him.

Kissing him again, on the cheek this time, I said goodbye to Charlie, told him to be a good boy for Nanny and went back to our flat above the garage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I arrived at Lawrence's house not long after the sun had set. House was probably too humble a word to describe it. It was a borderline castle. I had thought Alice's family was wealthy, but this was another level. It was like something out of the Great Gatsby.

The car drove around the circular driveway and pulled up near the front door. A valet opened the car door, and he escorted me into the house, where he told my name to a butler who asked me to follow him.

Looking around the room, I was grateful to David for insisting I wear the dress. Everybody was dressed like it was a Hollywood awards show, and I mean everybody. Not to mention they all looked like actors or models. I had never in my life been around so many beautiful people. And I don't mean just beautiful because they were thin. There were people of all shapes and sizes, but everyone moved with grace and ethereal ease. They seemed so other.

This was crazy. Who the hell was my brother mixed up with? This whole night must have cost a fortune. Beyond a fortune! All for a Halloween party?

I was led from room to room, the house full of beautiful creatures. More than that, the house was decorated in a way that would put Versailles to shame. The decadence of the furnishings was lush and rich. Every piece seemed to be a precious antique but shone like it was brand new. Gold leaf decorated the cornices, and priceless framed artworks, tapestries and mirrors filled every wall. Even the wooden floor was an intricate parquetry design that appears to have taken years to lay.

At first, I thought I imagined it, but I noticed that everybody stared at me as I moved through each room. I felt heat rush to my cheeks. Did I look so different from everyone else? I supposed I did, but the eyes following me made me thankful for the mask.

After what seemed like hours but couldn't have been, I was taken to a large hall and presented. Yes, presented. What the fuck?

My escort stopped outside the room and spoke to a man standing just inside the door. The man rapped his cane on the floor three times and thundered, "Rowena, sister of David, Inamorato of Duke Lawrence." An eerie silence fell as every face turned to me. Some even bowed their heads. What on earth was going on?

"Rowena!" David was at my side, clutching my hands to his chest. "I've missed you so." He leaned over and kissed both my cheeks. Everybody in the room seemed to return to normal, and sounds of chatter resumed. David was wearing a mask and wore an elegant dark grey suit. He looked so different. David has always been handsome, but he looked so unlike his usual self, and I couldn't pinpoint the difference. I didn't even have the words to describe the change. I know it had been months since we had seen each other, but it wasn't that he had lost weight or gained muscle. What I could see of his face was inconsistent with my memories of him. Then I saw his eyes.

"David, what the..." David cut me off and embraced me. His smell was mouth-watering, and I wondered what cologne he was wearing. He had never smelt like that before.

"Come, meet Lawrence!" David exclaimed, gripping my hand tightly. Maybe he had put on muscle because he was stronger than I remembered.

David lead me further into the room. I followed, but my head was spinning. Why did everything look so beautiful but feel so... unreal?

"Lawrence, my love, this is Rowena," David said.

The man who sat before me took my breath away. I had no word to describe him other than impressive. He wasn't tall or large, but he seemed to take up all the space in the room as if by looking at him, your eyes couldn't see anything else. His skin was like a midnight sky lit up by the moon, which seemed to reflect the light as it was so smooth, flawless and radiant. His hair bounced with large curls, and although it was dark too, it seemed to shine with its own light.

As Lawrence stood, his movements were so polished they almost had a serpentine grace. His white lace mask framed his eyes, black with a red rim around the pupil, just like David's. Lawrence came towards me, and I was captivated, struck immobile by the force of his presence. Then all of a sudden, the fear left me as though it was never there. I sucked in air, not realising I hadn't taken a breath since I laid eyes on him.

Lawrence grasped my hands to his chest, just like my brother had. "Oh David, she is lovely, isn't she?" He lifted my hands to his lips and kissed both of them before lifting my arms wide and inspecting me. "She does look luscious in this dress. I do have excellent taste, do I not?"

I looked to David, who was beaming proudly like he had passed a test by bringing me here and meeting Lawrence's approval. Stunned, I looked again at David's smile. Something was wrong with it.

Lawrence was still talking, "You were right that she would be a hard one to crack. She seems to see many things others don't. Including you, by the way." David laughed at Lawrence's observation.

I tried to speak, to ask again what was going on, but nothing came out. I kept trying to breathe but I felt suffocated. The more I tried, the less air seemed to come in.

David grabbed my shoulders and caught my gaze. His voice was solid and musical, and the force of his words almost made me fall. "Rowena, it's alright. You can breathe." And all at once, I could.

"This dress is too tight." I managed to say.

"Nonsense," Lawrence said dismissively, "it's perfect. He is going to love it."

"He?" I questioned.

Lawrence sighed and glanced at David. They looked at each other for a few moments, then David took me by the arm and led me to a cluster of sofas. "Come, sister, sit with me and let's catch up."

Even the way he spoke seemed to change. It can't have been that long since I'd seen him. I thought back and realised I hadn't seen him in about two years. We occasionally spoke on the phone, but years had passed since I had physically seen him.

Lawrence left us mingled around the room, which I saw now was a ballroom. Some people danced, some drank wine, and others socialised. Something was wrong with all of it, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

David started to talk to me, asked me about little Charlie. I went to get my phone to show him some pictures and realised I must have left my bag in the limo. Before I could tell David that, he said, "never mind, the driver works for Lawrence. He has it. You can get it before you leave."

How did he know where I had left my phone? This was too much. "David, what's going on? There's something wrong here. This place is... off."

I suddenly felt bewildered, like I couldn't concentrate on anything. I felt a curious pull towards the back of the hall. I stood and looked back and started to walk towards the doors. It was like I was trapped in a gravitational pull towards... something. Without warning, a spontaneous feeling of arousal hit me, and my body was on fire. I let out an audible moan. I felt a desperate call come from between my legs to ease the rapidly growing craving. And not just by anyone, by Him. Wait, who was Him?

David held my arm and tried to lead me back, but I wouldn't allow it. I struggled for him to let me go. David was about to say something when another announcement was made, "The Crown Prince, Henry, Son of Alfred, King of all Sanguisuge."

I looked first to David to question what on earth that meant when I caught sight of the Prince.

It's Him.

I felt like I was falling, plummeting to the ground. The floor rushed to meet me, and my vision went dark.

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 3

@henryobsessed

[katnissmellarkkk]

Alrightttt, I’m on a roll so we’re going onto chappy five 🥳🥳🥳😎😎

I know the movies made the Capitol — re: basically only Effie and maybe Caesar — have those ridiculous made up accents but .... I actually feel like the description of the Capitol accent in the book is supposed to be like the Kardashians or Paris Hilton’s voice. 🤷🏼‍♀️

“Why do these people speak in such a high pitch? Why do their jaws barely open when they talk? Why do the ends of their sentences go up as if they're asking a question? Odd vowels, clipped words, and always a hiss on the letter s. no wonder it's impossible not to mimic them.” Like this is a pretty good description of how Kim Kardashian and her sisters talk. And Suzzy C did say she was inspired by the juxtaposition between war news footage and ridiculous reality television shows so... I think my theory of the Capitol all talking like they’re on the Real Housewives of LA is pretty valid.

Just imagine Paris Hilton as Effie and Nicole Richie as one of her preps

Lolololol this whole section of waxing is reminding me to go get my legs waxed 😭😭😭 straight up calling me out here, Suzanne

I like how Katniss says her stylist “apparently has no interest in seeing her until the prep team has addressed obvious problems.” Like you can tell from her narration she was expecting to feel the same was about Cinna that she does about Effie and her prep team.

The “gritty loam that takes off dirt and three layers of skin” is probably just a strong exfoliator 😭😭😭 my girl knows nothing about quality skincare 🤧🤧 someone build a Panem Sephora

She mentioned them waxing her underarms.... girl, did you have hairy armpits before this? Idk why this revelation is new to me

“Grease her down!” Just sounds wrong 😅😅😅😅 I need to stop being annoying omg I’m like a twelve year old

Hmm it’s funny to me that Katniss refers to Octavia as plump. You’d think in a place like the Capitol body image and weight would be very important. Unless it’s like back in the old, old days when being overweight was a sign of wealth. Which would make more sense so this was an unnecessary thought process curtesy of Samantha

Katniss faking a smile and thanking her prep team shows she does know how to play the game and fake it better than she says.

So ... okay, hear me out, I’m not trying to get over the top or make this into something it’s not but ... the whole stylists / Cinna coming into the room and staring at her naked is a little weird. Especially considering Cinna isn’t Lenny Kravitz who’s like a bit older than her but actually like a twenty-something year old dude.

But okay, here’s the thing I was getting at ... Cinna’s one of the best people in this series and you can’t deny that. Even if you find him boring, he’s still one of Katniss’ closest people. Also he’s probably gay. But like ... what about the other stylists? I don’t wanna be that person who makes everything more than it is, but like, this scene just sounds like a perfect opportunity for some Capitol creep to assault a teenager idk I’m probably making a mountain out of a molehill just ignore Samantha okay.

That’s nice that he complimented her mama though 🥰🥰🥰

So Katniss calls District Twelve the least desirable district but ... doesn’t District Eleven suck too? Like she also later says District Twelve is the smallest and the poorest but doesn’t she also say Rue is worse off than her and Prim? Make up your mind, Suz.

Cinna claims he asked for District Twelve but did he really get an option? 😅 If it’s his first year and Katniss claims the newbies get them anyway 🤷🏼‍♀️ Samantha is once again, reading too much into this.

Awww, Katniss is thinking about how long it would take for her to assemble this fancy meal at home 🤧🤧🤧 it would take her days and the Capitol just has the necessary resources at their disposal and they just takes it for granted. And yes, I’m aware this is supposed to be calling all us readers out who take so much for granted I know. We’re the Capitol.

“How would I spend the hours I now commit to combing the woods for sustenance if it were so easy to come by?” It’s honestly so sad but so vital to her character that Katniss has zero hobbies or real free time. Her life is about surviving. She doesn’t get to live or enjoy very much of her time. She dedicates everything to keeping Prim — and her mother — alive, sacrificing everything a teenage girl should be doing. Sacrificing even the things the other girls in her world get to do. She mentions the merchant girls and the Seam girls who are more experienced romantically and sexually and socially than her. Because she doesn’t get to be a kid or innocent or even happy, in order to focus on her and her family’s survival. And the things she does enjoy, like spending time with Gale or dancing with Prim (mentioned in Mockingjay) she downplays in case they’re taken away, because nothing good is secure in her eyes. 🥺🥺🥺

Okay but what did Katniss’ facial expression give away that Cinna knew exactly what she was thinking? Or is she just less emotionless than she and Haymitch both claim? Ironically I think they’re the only people who call her emotionless which can easily be chalked up to their self-hate and terrible self-esteems.

Katniss is so afraid they’re gonna make her be naked for the parade 😭. Honestly though they’re children that’s so creepy that they’re even allowed to make 15/16/17 year olds be naked in a parade. I mean I know they kill kids every year but isn’t there like child pornography laws in Panem? 😭

“You’re not afraid of fire, are you, Katniss?” Is so foreshadowing 😭😂😅😎 Caesar Flickerman’s voice “Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire!”

Honestly though Cinna is smart to make Katniss recognizable in the arena by leaving her with simple makeup. I know and the sky is blue we all know this already beating the dead horses until the farmer comes home.

“It crosses my mind that Cinna's calm and normal demeanor masks a complete madman.” It’s true though 😅😅😅😭😭 he was always a rebel. I actually think he may have asked for District Twelve after Katniss volunteered, because he saw the potential in her. Poor Peeta. Baby, I’m rooting you for even if no one else is.

Also I always found it a bit .... curious? That Peeta had a female stylist and Katniss had a male one? Not just because of the required nudity, you’d just think men would do better as a boy’s stylist and a woman would make a better girl’s stylist. So yes, my whole Cinna was interested in District Twelve because Katniss seemed like a good symbol for a rebellion idea seems very plausible.

I know I know I know I read wayyy too much into this stuff sometimes a cigarette 🚬 is just a cigarette 🚬

Katniss being relieved when Peeta shows up 😭😭😭 because even if she won’t admit it and even if she won’t let herself trust him, she still sees him unconsciously and completely against her will as a comfort because they’re in this thing together in a way, even if they’re supposed to try and kill each other

And honestly, it’s such a like... relatable feeling? To feel alone and nervous and uptight and then someone who you recognize — even if you maybe aren’t even friends with but you at least know — shows up and you just instantly feel less alone. I’m totally looking at this through shipper goggles and I’m not even ashamed you all knew who’s blogging you were reading ight? 😂🤣🤷🏼‍♀️

“He should know about fire, being a baker's son and all.” And he’s gonna learn a lot more about it when he falls in love — for real, falls in love, not a childhood infatuation — with the girl on fire. 🥰🥰🥰

But also, I love this particular line on a reread because it totally is an indicator towards their future. Like Peeta knows about fire, he’s experienced with how to handle it, and later on, he becomes the only person who truly comes to understand Katniss, who represents fire, in a way that no one else could ever imagine.

Hmmm, Katniss’ point of view here, talking about how Portia and Peeta’s team seem all giddy and air-headed and it’s only Cinna who seems reserved makes me rethink my previous imaginings of Peeta’s stylist. Maybe she’s just a Capitolite idiot and nothing like Cinna. And my baby got a raw deal here then too. Good thing Haymitch loves him more. Just kidding 😅😅😅

But also I wanna know why Cinna is hesitant to accept congratulations for his and Portia’s idea? Wasn’t he at least lowkey excited about it when he pitched it a page ago?

Their horses are coal black 🐴 😅. I like that they went the whole nine yards with the theme. Nothing but the best for the kids on Death Row.

Aww Katniss asking Peeta what he thinks about being set on fire is so sweet and pure for some reason. I just find their commodore here cute ok

“I'll rip off your cape if you'll rip off mine” this is literally their first friend type of interaction and it’s so pure y’all leave me be I’m emotional for them

🙃 Also lowkey reminds me of “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Everyone look away ok I’m sorry

Peeta’s shady/annoyed Haymitch comment and Katniss’ joke at his expense 🤣🤣😂🤣😂😂🥲🥲☺️🥲🥲 they’re bonding it’s so presh

“And suddenly we're both laughing.” I hope they laugh a lot together post-canon 🥲🥲🥲. If they can make the other laugh during their terrible circumstances, then they can make the other laugh anywhere. 🤧 Except in Thirteen because he’s hijacked and she’s certifiable and they’re both so used and abused and 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Okay I have to say, Suzanne Collins really builds up a lot for certain events and then just like grazes over the actual action of said event? Like she builds towards the tribute parade but then kind of rushes through off the actual event itself? It’s a common theme in her writing. And I don’t like it at all ngl.

Oh wait she doesn’t actually rush the parade events the paragraph before just looked like she was about to I jumped the gun 🤣😂🤭 but what I said is still completely true for many events in these books sorry not sorry

I’m definitely reading too much into it but the fact that District One — the favorite of the Capitol — gets snow white horses and District Twelve gets coal black horsies kind of ... seems to imply something .... 🤭

Cinna just lets out a sigh of relief “it worked” like ... way to fill your tributes with hope, dude. “Yeah, you’re totally safe, don’t be scared-OH THANK GOD THAT WORKED I wasn’t actually sure you wouldn’t blow up.” But actually this answers my previous inquiry about why he seemed hesitant I guess he wasn’t even sure this wouldn’t burn them up that’s nice 🤭🙃

It’s a literal trial by fire *cue drum hit* 🥁 aww, I just cracked myself up 😭

“Then he gently tucks a hand under my chin. "Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you!" This is caught halfway between being very Capitol-y and very father-brotherly and idk which way to take it but it’s kind of cute 🤭

“For the first time, I look at him and realize that ablaze with the fake flames, he is dazzling.” This is such a significant line because Katniss isn’t saying Peeta is technically good looking (like when Haymitch said they were decently attractive) or someone else thinks he’s good looking (i.e Gale, her mother and lowkey Finnick) but she’s saying she herself thinks he’s attractive. Girl, your crush is showing.

"I think he said for us to hold hands," says Peeta.” I’m sure Cinna actually did say that but this just seems like a very good opportunity for Peeta to hold the hand of the girl he has a massive crush on. 😭😭😭

Okay Cinna gave a thumbs up so he actually was saying that but can you imagine Peeta’s excitement right now?

I mean, yeahhhh, there’s the certain death looming over him too but like live in the moment, babe. 🥰😘🤗👌🏻

I like that Katniss says the crowd is at first like 😳😳😳 before they start cheering like they’re thinking “what are these backwoods, hillbilly kids doing this year?”

“At first, I'm frozen, but then I catch sight of us on a large television screen and am floored by how breathtaking we look. In the deepening twilight, the firelight illuminates our faces” okay they both have to be pretty naturally attractive people objectively, because you illuminate my face without much makeup and no one is gonna be cheering.

“Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you! I hear Cinna's voice in my head. I lift my chin a bit higher, put on my most winning smile, and wave with my free hand.” I wonder what the true difference is for Katniss between Cinna and Effie saying this to her? Maybe it’s that Effie is just outright mean to her sometimes whereas Cinna shows her nothing but kindness from the start and expresses sympathy and understanding? It’s probably that he’s already earning her trust versus Effie who’s just cruel I’m not over her comments on the train ok

“I'm glad now I have Peeta to clutch for balance, he is so steady, solid as a rock.” Right from the start, Katniss refers to Peeta as solid and steady. Idk, I feel like this is something that the movies really misses along the way. Katniss wasn’t always strong or confident at all and Peeta, at least publicly, exuded those qualities pretty well. Samantha’s complaining again ™️ 💁🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

Also this is just outright foreshadowing how Peeta will eventually become her rock. Or that he will be soon painted a rock ... pick and choose which way you wanna go with this. 🤷🏼‍♀️💁🏼‍♀️😅🤣

“As I gain confidence, I actually blow a few kisses to the crowd.” Okay, see I feel like Peeta really gives Katniss confidence in herself. If he’d been there in District Thirteen and they’d done propos together, she probably would have been a thousand times better.

But also this makes me think Katniss actually has it in her to be a charismatic, confident, alluring celebrity. She just chooses not to. 🤗🤗🤗

But this also reminds me of “She has no idea the effect she can have” okay imma move on and stop focusing on every little detail

I say that every chapter 🤧😅

“The pounding music, the cheers, the admiration work their way into my blood, and I can't suppress my excitement.” Say whatever you want, Katniss is still such a girl underneath it all. She gets excited over people liking her and cheering her on. And I know it’s because it increases her chances of getting sponsors but still

Honestly Peeta trying to showcase Katniss and let her take the spotlight is so selfless and indicative of his ultimate plan to help her win but also ... I can see how Katniss would believe it’s too good to be true and he’s messing with her. That he’s just playing the game to earn her trust, get her guard down and manipulate her later.

See, Peeta is actually framed at the start like the typical, standard YA love interest turned villain. In majority of YA books, at this point the boy is kind and sweet and helpful to the girl until she trusts him completely and then he turns on her and uses everything she gave him to destroy her. But the difference is, Katniss refuses to truly trust him and she is guessing his game incorrectly at every step. And then it’s revealed that it was never a game and he truly isn’t messing with her and everything he’s done that’s seem too good to be true and not even remotely plausible has actually been genuine and heartfelt and that, my friends, is why Peeta is above all other YA love interests. Because Everlark is actually the foil to many of the cliches. That was a long speech over some incoherent thoughts I’m so sorry if you suffered through that.

“It's not until we enter the City Circle that I realize I must have completely stopped the circulation in Peeta's hand. That's how tightly I've been holding it.” Awww he is her rock 😭🤧🥺

"No, don't let go of me," he says. The firelight flickers off his blue eyes. "Please. I might fall out of this thing." Okay this part is so cute and so blatantly setting Peeta up as her main love interest omg 😅 this isn’t the least bit subtle or disguised. But first off, the fact that Katniss is also Peeta’s stability here too 😭😭😭 and second of all, she takes time to notice his blue eyes against the firelight? She was attracted to him from the very start, y’all. That’s indisputable. 👌🏻😎🤧

“It's not really fair to present us as a team and then lock us into the arena to kill each other.” I agree with you, baby, it’s not fair at all. But you two take care of that situation nicely. Or not. Y’all do start a dang war. 🤭🤭🙃🙃

It’s rather ... ironic that it’s District Twelve’s chariot of them all that is pulled up and stopped directly in front of President Snow’s mansion. I know it’s a book, certain details like this are definitively contrived, I know get over it. 🤦🏼‍♀️💁🏼‍♀️

So uh. Snow is a small thin man? Why do I suddenly imagine Danny Devito as Snow 😅😅😅😅🤣🤣🤣🤣 y’all know he’d kill the role

“The darker it becomes, the more difficult it is to take your eyes off our flickering.” Okay, this is such a great line and it’s so significant to the rest of the series? The fact that Katniss — and Peeta, let’s not forget our boy — became symbols of the revolution. Like this line is deep if you think about it. The worse things in Panem got, the more the civilians looked towards Katniss and Peeta for hope 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥰🥰🥰🥰

Omg now after Songbirds and Snakes, we know the national anthem. I’m sorry, babies, that you have to endure that I’ll get you out of there 🙉🙉🙉

I feel like in part, the Capitol camera crew — Cressida, Pollux .... Pollux’s brother... is that you here???? — put so much attention on District Twelve because it would create some resentment and competition between them and the careers 🤭🤗

“I notice a lot of the other tributes are shooting us dirty looks, which confirms what I've suspected, we've literally outshone them all.” Insert Gretchen Wieners “I can’t help that I’m popular!” 😅😅😅😅😅

“I realize I'm still glued to Peeta and force my stiff fingers to open. We both massage our hands.” — they were hanging on so tight 😭😭😭😭

“Thanks for keeping hold of me.” He’s so sweet ☺️☺️☺️ I love him even if he’s kind of an idiot sometimes but so is Katniss so let’s not point fingers

“I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you. [...] And then he gives me a smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness” Omg I know Katniss views this as him trying to manipulate her but the fact that he’s actually just admitting the way he’s felt for years is so 😭😭😭😭 if only you’d spit it out sooner, Bready

“he gives me a smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me.” She literally has a crush on her fellow tribute and her first line of defense is to decide he out to get her for making her feel this way 🤣😭🙃

“The more likable he is, the more deadly he is.” The more my crush grows, the more deadly he becomes. I know I’m reading this with shipper goggles but guess what? I’m unashamed. 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️ who feels guilty for reading this book with an Everlark bias not this girl right here 🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️

“I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right on his bruise.” Okay first off, she says cheek here but according to a chapter ago, she claimed the mark was on his jaw... so in other words, she’s incredibly short. If a medium height guy has a bruise on his jaw and she has to stand on her tip toe to reach it... well... hashtag LittleKatniss

And second off.... can you even imagine how Peeta must feel. He genuinely complimented her here, the girl he has had a crush on forever, and she responds by kissing his cheek. He was probably really happy at this moment. And also this probably played further into his buying into her false display in the arena. That here we have her clutching his hand, smiling and laughing with him and kissing his cheek. Idk what I was trying to say necessarily but I made myself sad wow way to go me 🥺🥺🥺🥺🤧🤧🤧

Anyways! Those are my very over the top and too detailed thoughts! Hope you enjoyed if you read this! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳😎😎😎😎😎😎😎🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

[unsettledink]

Made For It

Exchange fic for the 2020 Marvel Holidays Secret Santa, hosted by @iloveyou3thousand

My recip was livvibee - Fingers crossed this works for you! I took your ‘anything goes’ and... went with it. Hopefully in a direction that you’re okay with!

Made For It

Word Count: 8100

Summary: Tony has never had the patience to deal with alphas. Too bad that his son just presented as one. But there's no way Tony is ever going to let Peter know how upsetting that is; his kid is still mostly perfect.

It is too bad, right?

(ABO, peter’s 15, also is tony’s bio child, heats/ruts, knotting, dirty talk, referencing mpreg, very dead dove, please heed the warnings)

Link to AO3 at the end

*

Tony has never had the patience to deal with alphas.

Honestly, he just can’t stand them. Always acting like they know best, don’t worry your pretty little omega head about it. Pushing their way into everything, trying to take over and dismiss Tony as unessential for anything of actual importance. 

Fuck them. Just because Tony’s an omega doesn’t mean he can just be handled like that, doesn’t mean he’s going to put up with it. Being an omega doesn’t mean he wants to be under someone’s thumb like that, and is sure as hell doesn’t mean he needs an alpha. 

There isn’t an alpha out there that actually knows what’s best for him.

Even for Peter— sure, he’d needed an alpha’s sperm for his kid, but he had the resources to go for artificial insemination. The take rate for male omegas is awful, but Tony’s never relied on luck. He has JARVIS. 

Is it strange to have his AI pick out the best possible candidate for Tony’s baby? Maybe. Is it invasive for JARVIS to consider any alpha, whether or not they’ve actually donated? Probably, but the winner had been more than happy enough to provide a sample once Tony had thrown enough money at him, and Tony hadn’t even had to meet him. Had even been willing to sign away all their rights as a mate and a parent for a little extra. 

Does it result in Tony taking on the very first try? Absolutely, and that makes it worth every single penny. Because he gets Peter out of it, gets his wonder, perfect kid. Smart and sweet and stubborn (you take after me so much, Tony’s started telling him when they fight, and it generally makes them both grin). Tony couldn’t ask for a better kid in any way, and he loves Peter more than anything in the world.

And then Peter turns fifteen; presents a few months later, earlier than most of his yearmates. 

As an alpha. 

The first Tony knows of it is when he comes home and smelled… something off. Something viscerally wrong, disgusting. Something that only got worse when he went into the living room and found Peter hunched over on the couch, a little ball of misery. 

“Peter?” Tony says. He’s still supposed to be in school and Tony doesn’t think he got a call about Peter being sent home. “What’s wrong?”

Peter looks up, red eyed, upset. “I’m sorry,” he says,  offering up a piece of paper. “I— it happened at school and the nurse ran the test and it’s— I’m—”

Tony doesn’t need him to say it; he knows what the red header on the test results means. Knows what that smell is now, knows why he feels on edge in his own home. Peter’s an alpha. Peter’s—

Peter’s shaking. “Dad,” he says, “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to! I don’t want to be an alpha! I’m sorry!” He bursts into tears and fuck, it doesn’t matter how awful Peter smells now, Tony can’t just let his baby cry all alone like that.

“Oh kiddo, no,” Tony says, kneeling inf ront of Peter and grabbing his hands. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“But you hate alphas!” Peter wails. “You hate them so much and now I’m one and— I’m sorry, please Dad, I’m so sorry.”

Fuck, fuck. “I don’t hate you, sweetheart. I could never hate you.” He tugs Peter closer, Peter clinging, sobbing against his shoulder. “It’s not your fault, I know that. I know you didn’t want this, but… it’ll be okay in the end, I promise. You’re going to be okay.”

*

It’s rough at first. 

After Peter gets through the first stage of his presentation, his scent settles. Grows, into that thick, bitter, sweet scent that clings to the back of Tony’s tongue. It’s awful, and Tony can’t escape it; it’s everywhere in the house, and all over Peter, over everything he touches. 

Peter can’t help it. He knows this, and he’s not going to make his son take blockers just because Tony has a— a thing about alphas. He’ll get used to it. He’d told Peter it wasn’t his fault and it’d be okay, and he’s going to do his damndest to make Peter believe it. 

He’s never going to let Peter know how unpleasant it’s become to even be in the same room as him, much less it next to him, or to hug him and kiss his forehead and treat him just like Tony always has, because Peter is taking this badly. He’s distressingly fragile about this, and Tony’s worried. It’s his own fault, with the way he’s talked about alphas all of Peter’s life, but he’d never thought— well, it doesn’t matter now. He’s just got to try and fix some of the damage he’s done. 

It’s not Peter’s fault he’s not quite so perfect anymore.

So, it’s rough at first, but slowly, things ease. Slowly, Peter’s first rush of scent dies down, mellowing into something not quite as awful. Starts to take the influence of Tony’s, softening a little, becoming more familiar. Not nearly as comfortable to be around as he used to be, but still something Tony finds easier to tolerate.

Slowly, Peter becomes more comfortable with his secondary gender, and Tony— Tony works hard not to think of Peter like that. To not apply those stereotypes—are they, Tony wonders, if they’ve been born out every time he’s dealt with an alpha—to Peter. He loves Peter, and he’s never going to stop loving Peter, no matter he’s become. 

And then Tony has a heat.

Tony doesn’t even think about it; it’s never been a problem before. When Peter was younger, Tony would send him for a long weekend at Uncle Rhodey’s and grit his teeth and suffer through it. Sometimes he broke, when the heat aids weren’t enough and he was so desperate he couldn’t stand it. Would hire a heat companion, the lowest rated alpha they could find, one willing to shut up and take orders.

The need quiets as he gets older, thank god, and it got to the point where he could nearly ignore them. Could just spend a few hours knotting himself once Peter had gone to bed and keep going the rest of the time. Maybe a little more irritable, a little tired, a little achy, but just fine, and Peter knew by then you just be a little more forgiving for those few days. A little kinder, even. 

Had actually been really good about it the last few years. Been cute, actually; had put on Tony’s favorite shows, had tried to cook things Tony especially liked (or order things he did, when the cooking failed spectacularly a few times. He definitely got that from Tony.), had practically bullied him into using the jacuzzi when Tony complained too much once about hurting all over and getting old. Had just… attempted to pamper him a little bit, adorably.

Tony won’t lie; he’s never let an alpha do that for him. He hadn’t wanted to give them ideas. But it’s always been fine for Peter to do it, and it’s been a little comforting. Peter’s just a good kid. 

But this time— 

This time, his heat hits him harder than usual, all the aches and pains and itchy, burning want that he’d thought he’d mostly left behind. This time, when Peter came home from school, Tony knew without seeing him, hearing him. He knew, because the second Peter walked in—

He didn’t smell terrible anymore. 

Fuck, he smelled good, so good, insansely good. The best thing Tony’s ever smelled, and that base part of his brain wants to just bask in it, cover himself in it. Tony freezes in the doorway of the kitchen; he doesn’t even remember getting here. 

He stares at Peter and Peter stares right back, eyes wide and darkening, his scent rising in response to a heat. 

Tony swallows, hard. “Peter,” he says. “I think you should go spend a couple days at Ned’s. Or Rhodey’s, or— or even Nat. Just. Not here.” 

Peter blinks at him, slowly. “I don’t have to,” he says. 

Yes, yes he does. “I want you to,” Tony says, and he knows it’s going to hurt Peter; there it is, that little flinch. Anything he can do to get Peter out of the house is going to be worth it, though, because this— this is not supposed to happen. His body is not supposed to recognize his fucking son as a good potential mate.

“Are you sure?” Peter asks, stepping forward, and Tony shudders, his scent deepening, spreading. Suffocating. 

“Please,” Tony croaks, and Peter nods. Practically flees, and Tony has the horrible realization that Peter might have felt something of the same. 

It’s not a good heat. 

*

Things get a little awkward. 

They avoid talking about it, completely, but… well. Tony isn’t going to stop having heats, after all. And Peter— Peter is stubborn. So stubborn, like Tony doesn’t know where he got it from, like Tony hasn’t encouraged it. 

Peter loves him and hates to see him hurting. So the next time, when Tony tells him to go— Peter squares his shoulders and says no. 

“Last time,” Peter says, “I came home and you’d barely eaten. You slept for almost the whole day after and you looked awful and you smelled—” he stumbles to a halt, blushes. “You smelled wrong,” he says after a deep breath. “Like you were sick. It— it scared me, Dad. I don’t want to leave you alone like that.”

“I don’t have to be alone,” Tony says. “I can— I can hire a companion.”

Peter frowns, staring down at the floor. Crosses his arms. “You’d hate that,” he says, very small. 

Yeah, Tony would. Has, in the past. It’s better than the alternative though. 

“Please,” Peter says. 

“I just don’t know if it’s a good idea, kiddo,” is the most he can manage without— without saying something heading into dangerous ground.

“It’s not a problem for most people,” Peter mutters, and Tony doesn’t want to be the one to point out that apparently, they aren’t most people. 

He caves. 

It’s an even rougher heat. Oh sure, this time he doesn’t spend the entire time curled up in bed, frantically fucking himself with the largest knot he has and still feeling empty and desperate and abandoned, barely dragging himself to eat or clean up a few times, feeling sick, feverish, the whole time. And Peter’s downright annoying about attempting to take care of him, bringing him food and pestering him about not hiding away the whole time and making Tony take care of himself some more, even if it’s mostly to avoid the shame of Peter seeing him like this. 

But it’s torture, having Peter in the house. It’s torture, having what his brain seems to think is the perfect mate right there and not available, not doing anything. Having to tell himself over and over, in the worst of his heat when he can barely think straight anyway, that he can’t have this alpha. He can’t have Peter. Can’t have his son, fuck.

This is one of the many, many reasons Tony hates alphas. Because they do this bullshit to him, fuck with his head and make him want things, make it so hard to control himself. Make him consider things he never would. 

He wouldn’t. 

This is why he hates alphas, Tony thinks, the heat after that, Peter insisting that it had been fine last time so he’s staying again. This is why, he repeats in his head, making himself wait until Peter’s gone to bed before he fucks himself with his newest aid, larger than all the others, with all the bells and whistles to make it seem like a real alpha’s knot. 

This is fucking why, he tells himself as he comes again and again and again, clenching around it and muffling everything coming out of his mouth in the pillow; because they make him do this, want this. Makes it so easy, so good, to imagine Peter fucking him, knotting him, filling him up and biting him, god, fuck. Makes him moan Peter into his bedding; whisper, hopeless, desperate, please, Peter please, need you.

Because they make him not himself. 

But he’s not going to stop having heats, so he has to— has to just find a way to deal with this, a way that leaves him able to still look Peter in the eye after his heat’s passed. They’re not going to stop.

Worse, so much worse, Peter starts having ruts.

The first one— the first one, Tony hadn’t even smelled. The first one had been an almost instant slide from normal—Peter a little testy and distracted but normal—to full rut, Peter’s scent sharpening, deepening, flooding over Tony strong enough to make his knees go weak, send him sagging against the counter. Peter’s staring at him when Tony looks over, a little glazed, heavy and intent like Tony is some sort of prey, and it’s horrifying to see that expression on his kid’s face. 

Tony freezes, not wanting to set Peter off in any way, and Peter closes his eyes. Inhales, long and deep, scenting Tony, Jesus Christ. 

Opens his eyes, and there’s a flicker, a moment where he seems to realize what is happening, what he’s doing. Freezes too, and then—

Runs. 

He’s gone before Tony has a chance to move, a chance to even call after him, slamming out of the house without taking a single thing with him. Tony sits, shakily, and has a little breakdown. 

He doesn’t know how they’re going to manage this now. What the hell they’re going to do. Fuck, what Peter’s going to feel, when his rut is over.

Rhodey calls a few hours later, just to let him know Peter’s with him, safe and incredibly upset. “He won’t tell me anything,” Rhodey says as Tony clutches his phone, “but… well, he’s in rut, Tony. It’s probably his first, right?” Tony manages a noise that sounds like affirmation. “Right. I’m sure that’s it; they say it’s rough the first time. He can stay until it’s over. He’ll be fine; don’t worry, Tones.”

Too late. 

If he thought things were awkward after his heats, they’re so much more fucking awkward when Peter comes back two days later, rut scent gone. His normal scent nearly scrubbed as well, buried beneath heavily scented soap and— Tony sniffs, carefully, once Peter’s turned his back. His scent is so muted, metallic tinged, just off— he took a blocker. He took a fucking blocker so his scent wouldn’t bother Tony as much.

Tony’s heart nearly breaks. “Peter,” he says. “Baby. Come here a minute.”

Peter’s wary when he walks over, ashamed. Stops, a little too far away. “No,” Tony says, and opens his arms. “Come here.”

“Are you sure?” Peter says, so quiet, and Tony’s heart does break, completely. 

“Oh, kiddo,” he says. “Yes, yes, I’m sure,” and he clings to Peter just as tightly as Peter clings to him. It feels like he hasn’t properly hugged Peter in months.

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers. “I’m so sorry, Dad, I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why but I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Tony tells him. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. We’re going to be okay.” He ducks his head, brushing his mouth right over Peter’s scent point. “I don’t want you to take scent blockers,” he says. “They’re not good for you, and you’re not— you don’t need to, Peter. I’m going to be fine without them.”

“I don’t want it to bother you,” Peter says, and Tony shakes his head.

“It doesn’t. It won’t,” he promises. “You’re more important to me than any of that.”

*

He doesn’t know how he gets through his next couple of heats. 

Peter stays, and stays, and Tony gets used to his scent there, during them. He starts thinking—

You’re not supposed to be ashamed of anything you think during heat, whatever it is, however wrong it is. Everyone knows it turns omegas into someone they aren’t normally, that those things don’t count as real wants. Still, Tony doesn’t think h should ever admit that what he’s started thinking about during his last few heats isn’t just Peter, inside him and under him and filling him up. 

It’s Peter, how Peter— Peter wouldn’t be one of those alphas, would he. Peter’s stubborn and a little pushy sometimes, but he’d never try to take over, never think he’s better than Tony. Never try to push him, manipulate him into doing something he didn’t want. Wouldn’t try to mate him or breed him without Tony’s permission, and would never use him like a mindless fucktoy, a stupid little omega slut. 

No; Peter would be such a soft alpha, so willing and careful with Tony, so easy to control, to direct. So good at taking direction. 

Peter would be—could be—the perfect alpha for Tony. He’d barely need any training to be exactly what Tony wants; after all, he already loves Tony. He already wants Tony. It’s like this is what he was born to be. 

It’s awful, but Tony’s still thinking it during his heats. Is still thinking it outside of his heats, day to day, watching Peter and seeing all the ways in which Peter would be perfect. He already smells like Tony. He already knows exactly what Tony likes. Knows how difficult Tony can be and isn’t bothered by it. And he’s gorgeous, he’s so fucking gorgeous, so tempting. 

He thinks Peter’s watching him a little too.

There’s something wrong about contact between them now. There shouldn’t be, but when they’re curled up together, watching TV; when Peter slides up behind him and hugs him; when Tony leans against his side when he corrects Peter’s work— those touches are off, are too much, too charged. Heavy with a kind of intent that does not belong there. 

Peter doesn’t leave during his next rut. Just stays in his bedroom most of the time, and Tony’s on edge the whole first day despite himself. When Peter emerges every now and then, he follows every move Tony makes, unmistakably hungry. 

Tony should feel hunted, should feel angry and horrified the way he had been the first time Peter looked at him like that. 

Oh, he doesn’t. Stares back at Peter on the second day, challenging. What, that stare says. You want something? Gonna do something about it?

Peter ducks back into his room and hides, but his scent is thicker, coating the inside of Tony’s lungs. He’s not handling this as well as Tony’s managed his heats with Peter in the house. 

Not nearly as good at keeping quiet when he moans Tony’s name either.

The last day— the last day, Tony wakes up and feels sore, heavy. Lies there and thinks, sluggishly, a little too hot, that he really wants to curl up and waste the day on some TV marathon. Really wants to— 

Fuck, he thinks a second later. Oh, fuck; this is… not great.

Peter’s in the hall when Tony comes out of his bedroom. Close, like he was lurking, drawn in by the scent of Tony’s heat, and the scent of Peter, of Peter still in rut, hits Tony so hard he shudders. God, he wants.

“Dad,” Peter says, his voice low, rough. “Dad, this—”

“I know,” Tony says, cutting him off. “I’ll just— I’ll visit Natasha for a few days.”

“No,” and Peter walks—fucking stalks—toward him. Backs him up against the wall, his hands on either side of Tony, trapping him. Tony feels frozen. “I don’t want you to go.”

“That’s just your rut talking,” Tony says. “That’s all.”

Peter shakes his head, slow. “No,” he says. “I’ve heard you, Dad. I know what you want when you’re in heat. I could give it to you.”

Tony swallows, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He should be afraid, he thinks, distantly. He should be worried about what this alpha might do, might try and take, now that he’s got Tony nearly pinned, but— he doesn’t fear Peter. Never will. There’s just… heat, a sharp screaming hunger riding up in him.

“I’ve heard you too, kiddo,” Tony says.

“Dad,” Peter moans, swaying closer, nearly touching him. “Dad, please, please, I want— I know you don’t want an alpha, I know, but I’d be so good. I’d be so, so good for you, I promise.”

It’s too much, too much, and Tony has held out too long. Has stopped being able to beat himself up enough for the things he’s been thinking, for what he wants. “I know,” he says. “I know you’d be so good. Fuck, Peter; you’d be perfect, wouldn’t you. You’d be every last thing I’ve ever wanted in an alpha.”

Peter closes his eyes, letting out a long, shuddering breath. “Let me,” he says, his voice so rough they’re barely words. 

Tony doesn’t even bother to think. “Yes.”

He gets a growl from Peter for that, gets Peter pressing closer and kissing him, his hands all over Tony. Tony hooks his hand around the back of Peter’s neck and pulls him in, holds him there and kisses him deeper, again and again and again. 

“Peter,” he says once Peter’s pulled back a little. “Not here, kiddo. I’m not up for getting knotted anywhere but bed anymore.” Peter moans; yeah, he thought that might catch his attention. He’s still like all alphas in some ways. 

“Why did I even bother getting dressed,” Tony mutters, walking Peter back into his bedroom, shoving him toward the bed. 

Peter’s still watching him, so intently, but a tiny little smile creeps onto his face anyway. “So I could undress you?” he says, and fuck, he’s going to be cute about this. Of course he is; it’s Peter. 

He kisses Peter, hands up under his shirt. “Better get on with it then,” Tony says.

Oh, he’s seen Peter naked plenty of times, across all ages, and he’s sure Peter’s seen him naked a few times too. But this is completely different; this time, they’re looking. This time, they’re touching, and it’s so good, it’s everything Tony’s been wanting for months now, the contact he needs to settle his heat a little. 

They fumble their way onto the bed, tangled up on their sides, Tony’s hand sliding down to Peter’s cock as they kiss, and he loves the way Peter’s breath catches. Peter’s hand curls over Tony’s side, spreads across the curve of his ass, and then hesitates. He presses his fingers down and slips them a little lower, a little closer to Tony’s hole.

“Dad,” Peter says, “can— can I, uh. Before I—” He cuts off with a groan, and it’s adorable. “Oh my god, I’m going to be terrible at this.”

Tony nips at Peter’s lip, at the edge of his chin, teasing. Playful. “You’re going to be perfect,” he says. “And yes. Whatever it is, yes.”

“Fuck,” Peter whispers, and then he’s rubbing his fingers along the cleft of Tony’s ass, right over his hole, spreading around the slick that’s already leakingout. Presses one in slowly, watching Tony, and sure, Tony doesn’t need it but it still feels good to finally have some part of Peter in him. He’s still early enough in his heat that he can let Peter have this without immediately needing more. 

He scrapes his teeth over Peter’s neck, getting a shiver from Peter. “Gonna open me up for your knot?” Tony says, and Peter whimpers. “Come on, kiddo, you can get more than that in there.”

Peter listens, pushing a second finger in so easily, and Tony loves how quick Peter is to obey; how easily, thoughtlessly he does. He’s not going to really challenge Tony in any of this. Is more likely than not going to let him take the lead—ask him to, even—just like he does anytime he runs into something new. He always brings those things to Tony, like he’s certain dad will know what to do. 

His slick is running down Peter’s wrist by the time he’s given in and gone for three, Tony grinding back onto them, his hand slow on Peter’s cock, mouth slow against Peter’s. So sue him if he’s a little distracted. 

“I’m going to need more than that,” Tony says. Pushes Peter over and straddles him, and the way Peter stares up at him is fucking addictive. The way Peter moans when Tony rubs his ass over Peter’s cock, when Tony slides down onto it, is even better.

“Oh fuck,” Peter breathes out. “Dad, you feel so good I can’t even believe it.”

“Feel pretty good yourself, alpha,” and Peter’s fingers dig into his thighs, hard. “You like that, huh?” Peter bites his lip. “Like having an omega all to yourself?”

“Yes,” Peter whispers, and Tony— he was so sure Peter would be good for him, but—

“Do you feel it?” he asks, quieter. “There in the back of your head, looking at me and seeing an omega?” Peter’s breath catches, and Tony settles down on him, grinding slowly. 

“Does it make you want things?” Tony murmurs. “Make you want to just… get me under you, get me pinned and fuck me, make me beg for you knot? Make you want to get your mouth on me, make me bleed and bond me and break me in? Is that what you want, alpha?”

He hopes not, but he has to know before he ends up caught, has to know if the mistake he’s making is just that Peter is his son. Just, he thinks, fuck, just. 

Peter’s staring at him, his hands painfully tight and that dazed, heavy look gone. “No,” Peter whispers. “Dad— no, I don’t. I don’t want— am I going to? Is that what— is that all I can do?” his voice rising, anxious. 

“Oh baby, no,” Tony says, leaning down and kissing him. “Of course not.” Peter’s hands ease on him, and he draws in a shaking breath.

“Good,” he says. “I want— I want other things, not that. I just— I didn’t know, I’ve never—”

“I know,” Tony says. “Aren’t you lucky, getting me for all these firsts.” He raises his ass, starting to ride Peter slow, far slower than he really wants to. “So what do you want, sweetheart?”

Peter shakes his head, without words as twitches under Tony. It’s like getting Peter’s cock in him sets Tony off, brings all that want, that need from his heat back front and center, taking over his brain. “How about this,” Tony says. “This is what you want,” as he fucks down onto Peter, clenches around him. “You want that, want to feel me so tight all around your knot, don’t you,” and Peter groans, his hips jerking up, meeting Tony. “Want to feel me keeping you there, stuck with me.” 

He gets a hand on his cock and Peter’s eyes snap to it, his mouth gaping open as he stares. “You want to be caught by me; you know it’s true,” Tony says. “Want to know I wanted you when I’ve never looked at another alpha.”

“Oh god,” Peter says, “yes, yes, you can catch me, Dad,” and it should sound like the cheesy line it is, like an alpha teasing, pretending they’d hold true to it when they’d been caught good and hard.

It doesn’t. 

Tony’s suddenly desperate for Peter’s knot, the need for it sinking into him and spreading; he presses his hands against Peter’s chest and starts riding him fast and hard, just like he’s wanted to for months. “God, Peter,” he says. “Want you in me, want you to knot me up good.”

“Dad,” Peter whines, “you can’t say that, fuck.”

“No?” Tony says. “I think I can say whatever I want and you’ll love it. And what I want is for you to fill me up, lock so tight not a single drop of come could get past. Come on, kid; show me you can be as good as you promised.”

Peter’s gasping, flushed bright red and thrusting up into Tony frantically. “Gonna,” he manages, and he’s got that glazed, heavy lidded look again, sinking deeper into rut, into the mindless animal hunger of it. 

“Look at you,” Tony says. “Is that all it takes, huh? Telling you how much I want you swelling inside me, stretching me out? All you need to turn into this needy rutting beast?” Peter moans, his fingers leaving bruises on Tony, fucking him hard. “You’re such a slut for an omega hole, aren’t you,” and it’s fucking perfect; he can feel the first swell against his ass, the barest bump of a knot starting.

“Tell me, baby,” Tony asks, “is it better that we’re who we are?”Peter’s staring up at him, hanging on Tony’s every word; Tony leans closer, wants to be sure Peter can hear him over the loud, messy sounds of them fucking. “Do you like it more, knowing you’re going to knot your dad? Gonna come in your dad, breed him?” and he doesn’t need Peter to say anything, not with the way his knot is growing, still sliding in and out of Tony but there’s a little force to it now. 

“I mean, who could possibly know you better,” Tony says. “Or is it more than that, hmm? Do you like knowing that you came from me? Came out of me right where you’re about to come in me?”

Peter jerks so hard, his knot really getting with it now, barely slipping out of him on the next stroke. “Dad,” he gasps. 

“You were always meant for this,” Tony tells him, starting to pant himself. “Meant from the start to be so desperate for me, so needy, just begging for an omega to fuck, to milk you dry,” and it hurts when Peter tries to pull out that time, his knot hitting the point where they’re already stuck together; Peter could come like this—Tony could let him—but it’s not good enough, would just be a waste to have a loose knotting.

“I didn’t even know it,” Tony says, “but I made you to be so fucking filthy, so perverted. I picked the best donor for you, wanted you to be the best you possible could, but you’re even better.” It almost catches, Peter humping against him the limited amount he can, whining pitifully; Tony leans down, pulling on the knot a little, till his face is right over Peter’s. “You need this,” he says, Peter nodding immediately. “Need to be caught so badly, baby. You’re going to wind up being one of those alphas they talk about, that just can’t get enough, can’t ever get enough of being in an omega. It’s going to be so easy to make you knot me again and again, as many times as I want.” 

He laughs suddenly, nearly dizzy with the possibilities that just opened in his mind. Kisses Peter hard, biting his lip. “Think you’ll knock me up?” Tony whispers, pulling back just enough to see Peter’s eyes, wide and dark, shocked. Wanting. “Gonna give me a grandkid to spoil rotten?”

The sound Peter makes at that is incoherent, but the way his knot sinks further into Tony says enough. “Like the thought of that, do you?” Tony says. “Guess we’ll have to keep trying till it works.”

He feels it catch, feels it swell inside him, fucking huge, god. Peter’s got the most perfect alpha cock, the best Tony’s ever had. “That’s it,” he gasps, “fuck, that’s it, kid. Just like that, oh god, you’ve got such a good knot, so hard, ugh!” Feels it twitch as Peter starts to come, as Peter jerks under him, sinking even deeper, settling in and shooting off in Tony. Some distant part of Tony nearly hums with satisfaction. It’s a tight lock, a good breeding; Peter’s going to seed him easily like this. 

That shouldn’t be appealing at all, but it really fucking is, Tony’s cock throbbing in his hand; a few more strokes, another little thought about Peter’s pup, their pup, the best of all possible choices, growing in him, and he’s coming, clenching down hard around Peter’s knot. 

When he sinks down, ass pulling wonderfully at Peter’s knot, Peter wraps his arms around him. Kisses him, slow, messy, pretty fucking out of it, but to be fair, so is Tony. He closes his eyes, shoving his nose into Peter’s neck, mouth over his scent point. Licks at it and Peter moans, turning his own face into the same spot on Tony's neck, breathing hot and humid against it, and Tony wouldn’t say no if Peter bit down right now. 

He won’t because that’s just… not how Peter is, but Tony wouldn’t say no.

Tony squirms on Peter's knot every now and then, unable to help it, needing to remind himself how good it feels, how tight it’s settled. Peter moans every time, clinging tighter. 

“Still okay?” Tony says softly, and Peter tilts his head back, looking at him.

“Yeah,” Peter says, a little slurred, but it looks like he’s hitting a lull in his rut. “I needed you so much, Dad. Wanted you so much. The way you smelled—  I was losing my mind. How could I even look at anyone else when you were there?”

He’s tracing his fingers over Tony's back, slow, mindless circles. “I know you don’t want an alpha,” he says, quieter. “I won’t be all like, super alpha though, I promise.” 

“You’re not an alpha,” Tony tells him. “You’re my alpha.” 

“Fuck,” Peter murmurs, shivering. “Please— I can be your alpha. I can. I will.”

“You will,” Tony says, meaning it, making that commitment without a second thought. “You’re a dream come true, Peter. Perfect, so perfect for me, like no one else ever could be. You’re already mine, already made from me.” 

Peter moans, pressing his face harder into Tony's shoulder. 

They stay like that, drifting a little; it’s a hell of a catch, Peter’s knot not shifting in him even a bit, not shrinking at all. Tony wonders how long it’ll stay. If it’ll be this tight every time. 

He hopes so. Of course his son would do this well too.

It lasts and lasts, and— and Tony’s slipping back into heat, Peter’s knot still just as caught in him as before. God, this is going to be a wild heat. 

“You said,” Tony starts, Peter stirring slightly, “said you’d heard me.” He drags his nails down Peter’s side, slowly, just feeling how he presses up into it. “So were you making sure I heard you? Doing it on purpose?”

“Um,” Peter says. “I— maybe. A little. I mean, I— I didn’t want you to know? I felt so bad about it. But I still… really wanted you to know. Really wanted you to—”

“Wanted me to what?” Tony says, propping himself up a little so he can look at Peter. It might be nearly torture for Peter, but Tony can still get off like this, listening to Peter’s dirty little fantasies. Can still come all over Peter and all around his knot. “What were you thinking when you jacked off and came calling my name?”

“Ohmigod, Dad,” Peter mutters. 

Tony snorts. “Little late to be embarrassed, kiddo.” Twists, clenching at the same time, and Peter groans as his knot gets all that movement. “I wanna hear; entertain me, baby.”

Peter wrinkles his nose, but his arms stay tight around Tony. “I— I was thinking about you—” He takes a deep breath, turning until his face is tucked against Tony’s neck. “Was thinking about you fucking me,” he says, just a little muffled, and that was not quite what Tony was expecting. 

“Yeah?” he says. 

“Yeah,” Peter mumbles. “You— you’d tell me I hadn’t earned the right to knot you yet. That I’d have to work at it, show you how good I could be.”

“Fuck, Peter,” Tony says, squeezing his cock. “How were you supposed to show me that, hmm?”

Peter seems to realize what Tony’s doing then, tucking his head in more and looking down. Reaches down a second later, his fingers brushing over Tony’s, over his cock. “All kinds of ways,” Peter says, wrapping his hand around Tony’s, pressing their fingers between each other’s, slowly stroking Tony’s, using their hands together. “Anything I could think of, Dad. Letting you fuck me anywhere you wanted, any way; blowing you, or sometimes you’d just fuck my face and come all over it,” and Tony groans, hips jerking into their hands and pulling at Peter’s knot in the samemovement. 

“I’d think— I’d think about you tying me up on the bed, to it, telling me alphas couldn’t be trusted,” Peter says, hand moving faster, tighter. “Telling me you’d help me learn, that maybe if I did well enough, you’d ride me like that, still tied up, after you came in me.”

“Jesus,” and it feels so good, this dual sensation, Peter all over him, in him. “You’ve got a filthy mind, baby.” He nips the underside of Peter’s chin, licks it, just barely, and he doesn’t know if Peter will even understand what that means. “I like it, Tony says. “After all, I know where you got it from.” 

Peter huffs out this strangled laugh, his hand tightening around Tony’s cock. Moves faster as he starts talking again, Tony thrusting into it, closer by the moment. “You wouldn’t let me knot you even then,” Peter says. “You’d pull off as soon as I was almost there and make me come like that, play with my knot after until I felt like I was going to cry or pass out or something,” and he probably would. An alpha’s knot is so sensitive, not meant for anything but the warm, soft inside of an omega. 

Tony shudders. “Next time,” he tells Peter, “next time, sweetheart. When—oh, fuck—when I’m not in heat, when I can give you the full attention you should get.” He pants, rocking against Peter, clenching tight around him. “I’ll make you knot like that when I’m not in heat, because you haven't earned that yet, have you. God, I can’t fucking wait, wanna see what you’ve got in me.” 

He’s close, so close, Peter breathing heavy against his neck. “I should— Peter, baby, please.”

“Should what,” Peter whispers.

“Should get you like that,” Tony says, his eyes closing, right on the edge. “Get your knot popped and then compare you to some of my aids. See what you’re closest too and fuck you with that one.”

“Fuck,” Peter says, shaky. “I— I know I’m bigger than most, you’d have to— I don’t know if I could take one that big,” and Tony’s coming, squirming on Peter’s cock and twitching in Peter’s hand. 

Peter’s knot might have gone down a bit, he thinks as he lies on Peter, his brain most static and white noise. Just a few things, circling round and round— wait.

“Bigger than most?” Tony says. “How would you know, huh? You haven’t even seen the size of what I get in me.” 

It’s cute how Peter blushes, avoiding his gaze like he can pretend Tony isn’t there while he’s literally stuck on Peter’s cock. “Uh, I—” He squeezes his eyes shut, the rest coming out in a rush of words. “I snuck in once and found them and maybe played with them a little and that’s how I know.”

“You— you little perv,” Tony says, but it’s delighted. “Shit, Peter. That’s— I wanna say I can’t believe it, but boy can I. So what, you borrowed them for a bit? Or did you get off in my room and do your little comparison there?”

“Ahhh,” Peter moans, so embarrassed, but he brought this on himself. “It— it was when you went off to that conference overnight.” 

“So it was in my bed.”

“Maybe,” Peter says. “But, uh. Yeah. I did that, so I do know that I’m bigger than all of them except the new one, so—”

“Wait,” Tony cuts in. “Wait wait wait. New one? New one? Peter Benjamin Stark, that was not a one time experiment, was it.” Peter’s got his face hidden, an arm thrown over it like that’s any actual protection. “How else would you know that any of them are new, hmmm? Unless you just happened to see what was there before I got it and after.”

He pushes at Peter’s arm until he can see one eye; waits. Peter opens it, eventually, squinting at him. “You sneaky slut,” Tony says. “You went back for more, didn’t you. How many times?” 

Peter shakes his head, his face flaming red. “Too many,” he mumbles. 

Tony opens his mouth, about to demand more details, when Peter’s knot slips. He shudders, feeling it get smaller by the second, sliding out of him and leaving him feeling empty. “Ugh,” he groans, and clings to Peter a little, Peter gasping sharply. 

Oh, he feels gross, god. A hot shower sounds amazing, but that would require standing, and walking, and just in general moving and all of that sounds awful. He sighs against Peter’s collarbone. “So which one was your favorite?”

“What?”

He nips Peter, lightly, but Peter still jumps. “Which heat aid?” he says. “I know you probably tried them all.” 

“They— uh, I— it’s—” It’s almost painful to listen to like this; Tony takes pity on him.

“I just wanted to find out which one I should use, when I get you knotted on one while you’re still caught in me. That’s all, baby,” Tony says. Grins. “But I can just pick one, if that’s easier.” Peter makes a helpless little sound. “How about the one that expands?” Tony asks. “Or— what about the one with a tube; I could fill it up and make it squirt in you. Could lick it back out of you after, even. What do you think?”

“Daaaaad,” Peter whines. “You— I can’t— oh god, whatever you want, please.”

Tony laughs at him. “You really are a slut for this,” he says, tilting his head up and kissing Peter. “Love you, kiddo.” 

“I’d like any of it,” Peter says. “Anything you wanted from me. Anything at all; I love you too, Dad, so much.”

“I know,” Tony says. God, he knows. This— if Peter hadn’t loved him, maybe he might have been able to hold out longer. 

If Peter hadn’t loved him, this would have gone so much worse. He sure as hell wouldn’t be kissing Peter right now, warm and soft. Wouldn’t be nipping at Peter’s scent point, teasing, pestering him until Peter huffs and squirms away. Wouldn’t have Peter following when Tony rolls off him, flops over again onto his stomach, face buried in his arms. Stretches a little, and Peter’s hands are on him, stroking down his side, over his head. Peter’s mouth is on him, trailing kisses across his shoulders, lingering for a moment at Tony’s scent point, darting out his tongue to taste it. 

Peter’s hand wanders lower, practically groping at Tony’s ass. Not that Tony can blame him for being tempted, but there’s something— he’s not sure it’s entirely sane, the wave of humor that hits him at the thought of it. Maybe just a little hysterical, he decides, and he’s going to blame that completely on his heat. It’s always made him overreact. 

“Dad?”

“Mmm?”

“Can— would it be okay—”

“Peter,” Tony says. “I told you. Yes. Whatever it is, yes. Carte blanche, kiddo.” 

Peter huffs. Mutters to himself, something Tony can’t quite make out, and then, at the end, “Fine.”

Fine what, Tony wonders. Peter’s hands are on his ass, spread across each cheek and pulling him open as Peter shifts on the bed, settling between Tony’s legs; maybe that was it, maybe Peter wanted to look. 

Or not, oh, god, Tony jerking as Peter licks up the cleft of his ass, stopping right before Tony’s hole. Pulls back and licks another line up, a little to the side of that, and it takes Tony entirely too long to realize Peter’s licking up the come that’s dripped down Tony’s ass. Can he be blamed, really, for being a little distracted by the wet, soft heat of his son’s tongue there, of all places?

“Fuck,” Tony gasps. “What the hell, baby, what—”

Peter pulls back, his breath hot against Tony’s skin when he answers. “I was going to ask,” Peter says, just a little sharp. “But noooo—”

“I’m not regretting that,” Tony says. “Just— Jesus, kid!” as Peter presses his mouth against Tony’s hole, licking at it. 

He doesn’t bother with words after that. It’s easier, better, to focus on the feel of Peter’s tongue against his skin, all along his rim and inside, firm and soft and wetter by the second as Tony starts slicking up again; he doesn’t know if Peter’s going to be able to keep up with it. 

So much better to dig his head and his knees into the bed and push up into Peter’s touch, into his mouth. Peter lets him, waits until Tony’s settled in and then keeps him there, his arms hooked around Tony’s thighs, hands on his ass. Buries his face as deep as he can and laps at Tony, eager and fucking hungry. Tony can feel every touch, every breath, every moan Peter makes, and he’s getting pretty noisy himself. “God, Peter,” Tony manages at one point, “where the hell did you learn this?”

Peter barely pulls back enough to answer. “Didn’t,” he says. “I just— wanted to.” Dives back in and Tony groans. 

“You’re filthy, that’s what you are,” Tony tells him. “Fucking nasty, baby. Of course you’re a natural at this, you— oh fuck, right there, kiddo, right— yeah, keep it up.” He’s not sure if he can come from this—hell, if he can even come again so soon—but he’s going to try. 

“It’s— it’s just ingrained in you, isn’t it,” Tony says. “Down to your bones, buried so deep, that you’re a slut,” and Peter moans into Tony’s skin. “Such a slut, such a good fucking slut, hungry for slick; you’re a disgrace of an alpha, you know that?” 

That gets him a huff, and then a hand on his cock. Tony almost tells him no, almost insists on testing this, but it feels so good and he just wants to come. He’s past caring how, just— “Come on kid,” Tony gasps, “come on, show me what you can do.” 

Peter keeps licking after Tony’s come, lighter, softer, but still going even when Tony starts squirming, too sensitive and worn out. “Peter,” he whines. “Baby, ugh, stoppit. I know you’re a slut for slick but enough.” 

There’s one more broad, long swipe of Peter’s tongue and then he’s pulling back. “It’s not my fault you taste good,” Peter says, and Tony laughs. 

Turns a little to look over his shoulder at Peter and doesn’t regret it; Peter’s face is red, his lips even redder, wetness smeared all over his mouth and chin and cheeks. Spit or slick or come, it doesn’t matter. “You think it tastes good because it tastes like you?” he asks, idly, watching Peter lick his lips.

“What,” Peter says, staring down at Tony’s sill spread open ass. “Because it’s my come I’m eating out of you?”

Tony snorts and Peter gives him a confused look. “No, dumbass,” Tony says, Peter scowling, “because you’re half me. More than half, technically.” 

Peter rolls his eyes, actually rolls his eyes, god. “Or maybe you just taste good, Dad,” he says, wiping the back of his hand over his chin.

“Well, come on,” Tony says. Crooks his finger at Peter when he frowns. “Let me have a taste, then.” 

Peter’s mouth drops open, and then he’s crawling up over Tony, making things difficult as Tony tries to turn over at the same time. Kisses him, pressing his tongue into Tony’s mouth, and honestly, Tony doesn’t care what any of it tastes like. Just wants this, Peter’s lips on his. 

“You know,” Peter says when he pulls away. “You’re kind of a slut too, Dad,” and the laugh slips out of Tony before he even thinks about it. 

“Guess it just runs in our genes,” he tells Peter.

“Yeah,” Peter says, nuzzling up to him. “I guess I had to get it from somewhere.” 

“Guess you did,” Tony says, and— maybe no one will ever understand, but this was the right choice. Peter was the right choice, was the alpha he’s been holding out for all this time. 

Of course he’d ended up carrying the perfect alpha for himself. This was always meant to be. 

“Love you, baby,” Tony tells him, soft, almost a whisper against Peter’s skin. 

“Love you, Dad,” Peter whispers back, and that’s what really matters, isn’t it.

*

AO3

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Forever

I Don’t Like Bullies

Intro: Emmy encounters someone from her past, and is left shaken after they threaten her. Steve and Bucky decided to pay them a little visit…

Warnings: Some violence, a slightly dark Steve and Bucky…some bad language. SMUT (NSFW, No UNDER 18s!!!)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Disclaimer:  This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Forever Masterlist // Main Masterlist

** If you haven’t read SSB in it’s entirety, this contains MAJOR spoilers**

August 2024

“Again!” Jamie giggled, splashing his way over to Steve who laughed and waited for Jamie to reach him.

“Ok ,one…two…three…” hooking his hands under Jamie’s armpits he gently launched him into the air and the 4 year old laughed hysterically before he hit the water with a splash in the deeper end of the pool before emerging, from the surface.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack…” Katie sighed from where she was sat on the steps to the pool, submerged to her shoulders. Rori was suspended in the little inflatable baby support, her legs kicking out behind her as Katie gently pushed her away then pulled her back, the baby smiling and thrashing with her arms.

“He’s fine ain’t you son?” Steve asked as Jamie doggie paddled over to him, grinning.

“It’s like flying Momma!”

“Hmmm.” she said, as Jamie jumped on his dad’s back and he pulled at Steve’s neck. Steve, playing along threw himself backwards taking them both under the surface before he stood up, shaking his head like a dog as Jamie’s laugh hit his ears.

“You’re getting strong pal.” he said, turning his head over his shoulder so he could look at Jamie. Jamie grinned.

“How’s my little water baby doing?” Steve asked as he carried Jamie on his back to where his wife and daughter were, Jamie scrabbling out of the pool and heading to the lounger for a drink.

“She’s fine.” Katie smiled, as Steve turned his attention to Aurora, a huge grin on his face as she looked at him and beamed, waving her legs and arms as fast as she could.

“Look at you princess!” he said as Katie pulled her back towards them. He dropped down so his shoulders were under the water and Rori was at eye level. “Think she’s enjoying it.”

Katie smiled as the two of them watched the baby for a moment before Katie looked up at Jamie who was sat now with Lucky between his legs, gently talking to the dog. “Do you know what time it is?”

Steve glanced at his watch “Almost 4.”

“I should really think about starting dinner.”

“Leave it….” he said, turning to her, pressing his lips to hers. “Come on, when was the last time we got an afternoon like this?”

She smiled, “Feels like a while that’s for sure…”

“So…we can chuck a frozen pizza in for Jamie and we can get a take-out…” he said, moving so he was behind her, his arms curling around her waist, pulling her back so she was perched on his bent legs, his chin resting on her shoulder “Eat by the pool…” he placed a kiss to the crook of her neck, “And then later when he’s in bed and she’s settled we can hit the hot-tub…” another kiss “maybe a bottle of wine…”

“You feeling amorous Soldier?” Katie grinned, tipping her head round to face him.

“Always when you’re concerned…” he winked, his lips again meeting hers, only this time the kiss slightly deeper until they broke apart after a loud splash, followed by a smaller splash drew their attention.

Jamie had launched himself back into the pool, followed by Lucky who had clearly decided he too needed to get in the action.

They stayed in the water for another 15 minutes or so until Rori started to get a bit grouchy, and Katie took her out, wrapping them both in a towel and sitting in the quiet for a while to feed her. Steve and Jamie followed her out a little while later, both drying themselves off before Steve took Jamie inside to get him a juice box and throw his pizza in the oven. Jamie then insisted he wouldn’t make it until his pizza was done as he as starving, so Steve got him quick snack of breadsticks and hummus and sent him back out onto the garden where he made his way over to the side of the pool, flopping down on the lounger next to his Momma.

Deciding that a snack was actually a pretty good idea really, Steve grabbed a few things from the fridge, namely olives, more breadsticks, dips, cheeses and was about to carry it down to the pool area when the security system sounded to tell him that Emmy had come home.

“It’s ok…you’re ok…” his ears picked up Brooke’s voice from the hall and instantly he frowned as he heard Emmy’s deep breathing too. He strode into the hallway just in time to see Emmy slide down to the floor, her back pressed to the door as she tugged her knees to her chest.

“Emmy?” Steve asked, quickly dropping down in front of her. “Hey…look at me…”

She looked up and he gently reached out, his hand smoothing back her hair “Use your numbers ok, like we used too, remember?”

She gripped his hand tight and her eyes screwed shut as she desperately tried to regulate her breathing and Steve, not once taking his eyes off his daughter issued Brooke with an instruction to go and get Katie. Less than 2 minutes later she was also on her knees next to Emmy having left Brooke to watch the younger two and it was a minute or so later before the 16 year old began to breathe normally, her eyes slowly blinking as they returned to their usual size instead of being blown wide open.

“You ok?” Katie asked gently, looking at Emmy. She nodded.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t…” Steve looked at her as she fell into his arms, pressing her face against his bare chest as he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her head “Don’t every apologise for that, we told you.” The amount of panic attacks their daughter had had when she first came to live with them meant they’d been fairly used to them, but she hadn’t had one in a VERY long time, not since the events of the Final battle with Thanos had hit her and she’d broken down about losing her Uncle Tony, Auntie Nat and then how close she had to losing her parents. Emmy was a strong, independent teenager who for the most part simply got on with things, letting a lot of stuff that would bother other people wash right over her head. But clearly something had triggered her today.

“You need a drink sweetheart?” Katie asked and Emmy nodded.

“Ok. Think you can stand?” Steve asked.

“You’re not carrying me.” Emmy looked at Steve and he raised an eyebrow.

“You used to love me doing that.” Steve quipped and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah at the Parties at the Kids home.” she grumbled “I’m not 7 anymore.”

“Never too old for your Pa to carry you.” Steve teased, standing up and offering him her hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet, and despite her protestations at her age she kept her fingers tightly wound around his as they headed to the kitchen.

“Emmy!” Jamie shot off his seat and threw himself at his older sister. She smiled and bent to give him a hug.

“Hey Jay…” she smiled, “You been swimming?”

“Daddy was throwing me.” he grinned. “I bet he could do it for you too.”

“Sure he could” Emmy smiled as she shakily took a seat, glancing at Rori who was in Brooke’s arms, her little hands tangling in the girl’s long, red hair.

“Jamie, why don’t you go in the den for a moment, watch some TV.” Katie looked at him, adjusting the crochet slip she had thrown on over her bathing suit “Momma and Daddy need to talk to Emmy for a second.”

“But I don’t wanna.” he frowned.

“Hey, why don’t you show me your legos?” Brooke said quickly. Steve could see the cogs in his son’s head whirring as he considered this for a second before he nodded.

“Ok.”

“Thanks Brooke.” Katie said to her as she handed Rori back over.

“No problem Mrs R.” she said, allowing Jamie to tug her by the hand out of the room.

Once they were gone Katie adjusted Rori in her arms so that her head was tucked against her shoulder, mouth resting on her collar bone and Steve took a seat next to Emmy after pouring her a glass of water.

“Wanna tell us what happened Em?” he asked gently.

“We’d just been in The Hub.” she said, “You know the Computer shop because Brooke needed a new charger for her tablet.” Emmy swallowed and took a sip of her drink “We were walking down towards the bus stop so we could head home and we’d just passed that bar on the corner, you know the Irish Pub place?”

“Mc Mahons, yeah we know it…” Steve nodded

“And then he came out.”

“Who?” Katie asked, her eyes not leaving her daughter.

“Him…my old foster father. The one that used to hit me.”

Steve took a deep breath and breathed out through his nose “Did he hurt you?”

“No, not really…he erm, he didn’t recognise me at first and I kept walking but Brook had stopped and when she shouted my name he realised it was me and he grabbed my arm and…”

“Ok…ok…” Katie said gently, as Steve gently laid a hand on their daughter’s shoulder.

“Did he do anything else?” he asked. Emmy shook her head.

“He just started shouting stuff, saying he knew that I’d landed on my feet and that I was nothing but a worthless brat and that he would come and pay you a visit one day, tell you all about what I used to do and how bad I was and then you’d throw me out and…”

“Em, he’s an ass hole.” Katie said gently “You were never a bad kid. You’d been treated appallingly, what that man did do you…” she shook her head “It was cruel and abusive and…”

Steve’s hand fell to Katie’s knee under the table as she looked away, blinking back the tears.

“Emmy, me and your mom love you.” Steve looked at her, “We love all you kids more than anything, and nothing this dick says or does will change the way we feel. You know that right?” “I know, I just didn’t like seeing him that’s all.” she said gently “I just had all these flashbacks to the basement he locked me in and the belt…”

She swallowed and looked down. Steve looked at Katie, the jaw in his nerve twitching with anger as he took a deep breath and ran his hand up Emmy’s back.

“Well I hope he makes good on his promise and does pay us a visit.” he said his eyes flashing “I’d be very happy to exchange a few words with him, maybe a few fists too.”

Emmy smiled softly as Katie shook her head.

“Pretty sure your Uncle Buck would have a something to say too. And between you and me, his Murder Strut is frightening.” “Murder Strut?” Emmy looked up, the corners of her mouth twitching. Katie nodded.

“Trust me, I saw it a few times. Scared the shit out of me.”

“Woah, you saying I’m not scary?” Steve scoffed, folding his arms.

“Bucky’s a Rottweiler, you’re more of an angry retriever.” Katie shrugged and at that point Emmy laughed, which was exactly what her parents had been hoping to achieve. Steve flashed a wink at his wife before he turned back to Emmy.

“You know he won’t ever hurt you again, not now you’re with us.”

“I know. I love you guys.” she smiled and Steve dropped a kiss to her cheek. She looked up, wiped her eyes and then glanced at her mom. “Can Brooke stay tonight?”

“Course she can, I’ll call Jen”

“It’s ok she can message…”

“I’ll call her.” Katie said firmly, “Brooke was there today so Jen has a right to know what happened. Don’t worry, she won’t be mad at you.” “Kay…” Emmy nodded “What’s for dinner?”

“Your dad threw a pizza in for Jamie, we’re gonna get take out and hang by the pool.” Katie said.

“Anything you fancy?” Steve asked.

“Can we try the Greek place?”

“Sure.” Steve nodded “Hey, do they do Shwarma?”

“Gyros.” Katie said, “Same thing almost.”

“I’m in.” Steve said.

“I’m gonna go watch TV for a bit, that ok?”

“Course.” Katie smiled.

Emmy stood up and moved behind her dad, hugging him from behind, her arms round his shoulders. He tilted his head so she could kiss his cheek before she moved to do the same to her mom, giving Rori a peck.

“Love you both.” she smiled at them, before she left the room.

As soon as she was gone Steve stood up, his calm demeanour ebbing away as Katie looked up at him, shaking her head.

“I wanna kill him Steve.”

“You and me both doll.” he paced.

“Think we should call the police?” Katie asked, gently rocking Rori to and fro as she had started to grumble.

Steve contemplated what she had said before he paused, folded his arms and looked at the door, then back to Katie “I got a better idea.”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“You know I do”

“Then leave it with me.” he said simply

“Steve…” she stated, instantly understanding what he was implying “You can’t.” “Why not?”

“Well, for starters we have no idea where he lives.”

Steve snorted “Sweetheart, you’re forgetting who we know.”

“Oh, no…you can’t drag Sam into this.” Katie shook her head “Ross is being an asshole with him as it is without you giving him ammo by getting Sammy into trouble.”

“I’m not” Steve smiled, raising his eyebrow “I’m gonna drag Bucky into it instead.“

****** Bucky sat at the bar, baseball cap tugged down over his eyes. He’d been reliably informed his target drank in this run-down back dive every Wednesday and Thursday evening. He liked the happy hour, apparently.

Aint gonna be happy for much longer, buddy.

Despite the fact that he was trying to live a normal life now (ok, maybe helping Sam out every now and then) when Steve had asked him to help him with this particular mission he’d immediately said yes. Not simply because Steve was his best friend, but because it involved Emmy. As far as Buck was concerned, the Rogers kids might as well be his own in that respect because he’d give his life to protect any of them.

And then there was Brooke. Bucky had been dating Brooke’s mom, Jennifer now for a few weeks after they’d hit it off at Steve’s birthday party. It was great, slow moving but that’s what he wanted, and when he’d heard that her daughter had been caught up in all this business as well, it was another reason for him to slip back into his old assassin mode.

Only this time his instructions were clear. Apprehend alive.

At first when Steve had told him this he had been about to tease him, wind him up, surely after all these years the Captain had finally found that trigger to flip him over to the dark side, but then he had seen something stir in his best pal’s eyes. He’d told him then about an incident in a HYDRA base, where he had killed on of Katie’s captors and Bucky knew, it was there alright, and he had a feeling he was going to see it whenever they caught this punk.

He ordered another drink, his eyes re-reading the paper he’d brought with him for the 15th time. To most people stake-out work like this would get them bored, antsy, but not Bucky. He’d waited much longer before and he knew that if you got like that you lost concentration which made things 100 times harder in the long run. His eyes scanned back to the entrance to the bar, flicking back round the pub, and he observed the people to make sure he hadn’t missed the man sneaking in, even though he knew that was basically impossible. Satisfied he hadn’t, he took the drink off the bar tender, paid him (another rule of spy work- never set up tabs, you run without paying and your face is recognised all over the damned scene). He took a sip of his beer before he heard the door open and he looked round, fighting the smirk on his face as finally his target walked in and straight to the bar to Bucky’s right.

The man ordered his drink, a straight black label whiskey and when it was served he paid with a bunch of crumpled ones and picked the glass up, heading to a table.

Bucky had to hand it to the guy, in the half an hour he spent in the bar he knocked back a good 5 helpings of scotch before he stood up, and rather unsteadily made his way to the door. Giving him enough time to get out of the door, Bucky then rose and followed him. He tailed him into another bar, then another, before after the 3rd the man headed home.

Bucky watched him unlock the door to the rundown apartment block, before he staggered inside. Quick as a flash Bucky shot over the road, sticking his foot in the door to stop it from shutting. Slipping inside he pressed himself up against the dark wall, just to the side of the post boxes, as the man turned around. After a second or so Bucky heard him heading up the stairs. He walked to the bottom of the steps, and keeping his footsteps light he headed after him and emerged onto the second landing, peering round the wall to watch as the man stopped outside a door, pulling out his keys.

Bucky waited until the door was closed before he headed back down to the ground floor, pulling out his phone.

“I got him.”

***** Steve climbed out of his car, looking up at the ramshackle building before he crossed the road. Bucky was waiting for him and opened the door to the apartment block from the inside.

“What you come dressed as?” Bucky arched an eyebrow, scanning Steve up and down. He was dressed in a pair of black jeans, a dark navy t-shirt and black boots, with a cap pulled down over his face.

“You.” Steve said simply, and Bucky snorted.

“He’s on the Second floor.” he said simply “Number 202. Still think you should just let me shoot him.”

“No.” Steve said “We’re not killing him…”

Bucky rolled his eyes “Why?”

“Because I want him as scared as he made Emmy.” Steve said simply. “He can spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder.”

Bucky shrugged, “Your call…”

Steve headed to the stairs and started to climb them, stopping as he heard his foot crunch on something.

“Nice place…” he mumbled as he looked down to see he had stood on a cockroach.

“Don’t be a snob Stevie…”  Bucky looked at him, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“Even my place in the 40s wasn’t this grim.” he turned to look at his friend before he continued up the flight of steps.

“It wasn’t the ritz either.” Bucky shrugged as they emerged onto the landing. They stopped outside the door and Steve took a breath before he looked at Bucky.

“Looks like we need a key….” he quipped. Bucky gave a smirk, before he drew his left hand back and punched straight through the door, grabbing the handle and turning it to undo the lock from the inside. He threw it open and strode inside, Steve casting a look around before he followed and pulled the door shut behind them. Hearing the noise the man flew out of the kitchen, a knife in his hand, stopping dead when he saw Bucky.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded.

Bucky simply raised his eyebrows.

“Look, if Mario sent you…I told him, he’ll get his money…”

“I don’t know any Mario…” Bucky shook his head, “Well, not unless you count the one that rides on the karts in that game my nephew enjoys kicking my ass at. Now put the knife down Jack before someone gets hurt.”

“How do you know my name?” Jack asked, his eyes not once leaving Bucky, missing the Captain who was stood in the darkness of the room behind him. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I don’t want anything…” Bucky said, shrugging, “But he does…”

At that point Steve stepped forwards, drawing up besides his friend, getting a good look at the man in front of him. He was quite tall, but lanky, with a pointed noise and sharp features, reminding Steve of an overgrown rat.  Which fitted him perfectly, out and out vermin. Jack frowned and squinted slightly as he looked straight at Steve, suddenly paling even further. Whilst Steve looked a lot different from the once blue-eyed All American hero the world recognised him to be, there was no mistaking who he was, especially to the man in question. Steve stood stock still, his hands falling to the buckle which was round the waist of his black jeans, his chest flexing under his navy t-shirt as he glared at the man.

“Woah…look…I don’t want any trouble…” Jack began to press.

“You should have thought about that before you touched and threatened my daughter.” Steve’s voice was icy.

Jack’s hand clenched around the knife and Bucky rolled his eyes, before he whipped off the glove on his left hand, holding it up, the metal glinting in the dim light of the lamp that stood in the corner of the grubby apartment.

“This can do far more damage than that blade can.” he said simply, looking at his hand before he turned to Jack “Go ahead, I’ll even give you one free swing. But it better be fast.”

Steve expected the man to drop the knife, but instead he lunged forwards. Bucky sighed, and almost lazily dodged to the right before he knocked the knife out of the man’s hand with a single swipe and gripped him around the neck with his hand, slamming him hard into the wall.

“That was really fucking stupid.” he said, tightening his fingers around the man’s windpipe, lifting him off the floor. The man grabbed at Bucky’s arm, desperately trying to prise his fingers from around his neck.

“Buck…” Steve said, and Bucky let go, Jack slumping to the floor. Steve reached down, grabbed his shirt and hauled him to his feet slamming him against the wall.

“Now…” Steve said, his hands tightening. “I don’t like bullies. And that’s what you are. I know exactly what you did to Emmy, all the times you beat her, hurt her, whipped her with a belt until her back split and bled. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t rip you in half right now.”

“Captain America…nah…you wouldn’t…” Jack stuttered, shaking his head “You’re a good guy…”

“Well, here’s the thing.” Bucky said, picking up the knife that Jack had dropped, leaning on the wall, lazily twirling the blade in his hand. “He’s not Captain America anymore. Just some guy whose daughter you threatened.”

“Which makes me a hundred times more dangerous…” Steve said.

“And I, well, I just don’t give a shit.” Bucky shrugged “Killed a lot of people one way or another…what’s one more piece of shit like you gonna mean?”

Jack looked at Steve, shaking his head “No, you wouldn’t…”

“I snapped the neck of the man who raped my wife.” Steve said, his gaze not once leaving the man’s in front of him “Trust me, you have no idea what I would do to keep my family safe.”

He paused for a second, letting it sink in as Jack swallowed.

“But I’m a fair man.” Steve said, letting go of Jack who dropped a few inches before he pulled himself back up full height. Steve smoothed down the man’s dirty t-shirt before he smiled at him. “So I’m gonna give you a chance to play ball. You got 48 hours to leave New York.” “By that we mean the state.” Bucky clarified.

“And if I ever get a sniff that you’re back in town…” Steve continued.

“And trust us, we’ll know…” Bucky mused, still looking at the knife before he grinned at Jack “We got friends in high places, eyes and ears everywhere…” “….then you’ll lose more than your teeth.” Steve concluded, matter of factly.

“My teeth? What do-“

CRACK.

Steve cut him off with a sharp jab straight into his mouth and Jack dropped to the floor howling in pain as the blood poured from between his fingers which clamped over the lower part of his face.

“Got the message?” Steve asked, standing over him as Jack rolled around, screaming. He mumbled something, his head nodding furiously.

“Can I shoot him now?” Bucky asked.

“No.” Steve shook his head.

“Just once in the knee?”

“No.” Steve snorted “Come on…let’s get out of here, the amount of noise he’s making someone’s bound to hear. He turned to go, and then heard another loud scream. Spinning around he saw that Jack’s hand was now pinned to the floor by the knife Bucky had been holding.

“What?” Bucky asked, shrugging as Steve shot him a look “You said I couldn’t shoot him, didn’t say anything about stabbing him.”

***** The two friends sat at a bar, not far from Steve’s house, each with a beer in hand.

“So, run that by me again…” Bucky said.

“I told Katie I was meeting you for a drink.” Steve shrugged, nodding at the bottle “Technically now I’m not lying.”

“You’re a punk.” Bucky snorted.

“She’ll know full well where I’ve been.” Steve shrugged “She ain’t stupid…”

“Good luck to you pal.” Bucky said, taking a drink “She’s scary when she’s angry.”

Steve snorted “Nah, she won’t be mad…she knew full well I was planning on giving him a warning so…”

“Then why not just tell her?” “Because she’d worry.” Steve said simply.

“Think he’ll heed it?” Bucky asked after a little pause and Steve pondered the question for a moment before he nodded.

“Like I said he’s a bully.” he took a swig of his beer before he looked at Bucky “You know as well as I do that the minute someone bigger stands up to them they back off.”

“Gotta hand it to you pal…” Bucky said, sitting back “You come a long way since you were defending yourself with a trash can lid behind the movie theatre down town…”

“So everyone says.” Steve shrugged “Still don’t feel any different.”

“Remember when Howard’s flying car was the strangest thing we had ever seen?” Bucky sighed “I almost miss those days.” “Would you go back?” Steve asked, “Given the chance?”

Bucky took a deep breath and wrinkled his nose “Nah, I’m too different…too much has happened you know. I don’t think I’d settle. Plus this would probably attract a little more attention than it does now.” he said, flexing his left hand.

Steve smiled “I know what you mean. If you’d asked me when I first came round…I’d have jumped at the chance but after Katie…” he took another drink before he let out a soft huff. “I crossed oceans of time to find her.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Dracula…romantic.” he said and Steve let out a laugh.

“Speaking of romantic…” Steve looked at his friend “How’s it going with Jen?”

“Ok.”

“Just ok?”

“I’m taking it slow.” Bucky shrugged “We’ve been on a few dates and…yeah I like her Steve and she likes me so…”

“Well if you ever want any advice on modern day dating…”

“The day I ask you for dating advice is the day I quit.” Bucky snorted

“I did ok.” Steve grinned “Well, more than ok actually. I lucked out.”

“No, you got what you deserved.” Bucky shook his head “A woman that loves you for who you are, not what you are.” Steve felt his cheeks flush a little as he shrugged “Not quite sure what I did to deserve her but…”

“You’re a good man.” Bucky said “You always were and always have been. A pain in my ass like, but…” he drained his beer and shook his head “Anyway, enough sentimental crap. You want another?”

Steve contemplated that before he shrugged “Sure, why not?”

One more turned into 5 more, and it was a good 2 hours later and approaching midnight when the men left. It wasn’t the first time they’d been out for drinks since being re-united, but to Steve it was the first time that it felt like the old days. They’d talked about so many memories, he’d laughed until he had cried as they both recalled some of their antics, and he felt completely at peace when he walked into the hallway of his house.

Removing his cap he ran a hand through his hair before he hung it on the coat rack on the wall. Then he dropped his keys into that infernal golden pineapple bowl that Katie had bought him all those years ago and headed into the lounge where Katie was sat in her pyjamas, Rori clutched to her breast as she fed.

“Hey…” he smiled, crossing the floor and dropping a kiss to her lips before he turned his attention to his daughter, his finger gently running along her hardworking cheek.

“You have a good time?” she asked, giving a little yawn.

“Yeah.” Steve nodded. “It was nice. When did she wake up?”

“About half an hour ago.” Katie shrugged “With a bit of luck she’ll go down again soon and sleep for a couple of hours.”

“I’ll do the next feed.” Steve said “You can get some rest.”

“Ok.” Katie agreed, yawning again and as she did so Rori mimicked her, her eyes which were now carrying a slight greenish hue fluttering. Steve gestured for Katie to hand her over, and she did so as Steve held her up over her shoulder, hands that had hours ago been so violent were now ever so gentle, rubbing his daughter’s back to wind her as Katie adjusted her top.  They sat there in silence for a little while before Katie finally spoke.

“So how badly did you hurt him?”

“What?”

“Jack?” She turned her head to Steve who looked at her “I know full well what you were up to.”

“I knew you would.” Steve huffed a laugh “And not too badly. Knocked a few of his teeth out…oh, and Bucky nailed his hand to the floor with a knife. He won’t be bothering Emmy again, or any of us for that matter.”

Katie looked at him for a moment before Rori gave a light burp and Steve gently turned his face, pressing his lips to the baby’s head.

“Here…” Katie said, and Steve handed her over “I’ll go put her down.”

She gathered the baby in her arms before she dropped a kiss to Steve’s mouth “Don’t be too long…”

He arched an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Well, you know what you getting all dark and protective does to me…” she grinned, looking down at Rori “That’s what made her in the first place.”

Steve’s eyes darkened at the memory of that particular day in the HYDRA base which he was recalling for the second time in the space of a few hours, albeit for very different reasons. “How could I forget?”

Standing up she walked to the door, Steve watching her go, before she shot him a coy look over her shoulder his pants became a lot tighter than they should have been. He gave a soft groan, before his head fell back against the cushion of the sofa. After a moment or two he stood up and turned off the lights, before heading up the stairs after his wife.

He stood in the doorway, watching as she placed Rori in the crib at the end of the bed before he strode over to her, his hands falling to her waist as he spun her round, his lips crashing to hers. She took the kiss eagerly, her tongue sliding against his as he backed her towards the bed, her hands fumbling with his belt as they went. Neither were wasting any time, and after a quick wrestle with their clothing they both collapsed onto the bed, Steve caging his wife underneath him with his arms and legs.

Their eyes locked for a second before he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her again, slow and hard, both his hands cupping her face, thumbs gently skating her cheeks as she let out a soft groan and he felt his cock twitch. His lips not once leaving hers his right hand gently slid down to her thigh, and his fingers gently gave her hip a squeeze causing her to sigh into his mouth again. Using his hand he hooked her leg round his waist, and ground his erection against her spot causing her to moan as she pulled away from the kiss, her head laying further back against the pillow, her eyes fluttering shut as his mouth dropped, swirling softly around her pebbled nipples, carefully lavishing affection on them in turn, and in moments she was quivering to his touch, her breathing ragged.

“Look at me…” he said, voice low, almost a growl and her eyes sprang open obediently, those sparkling emeralds glinting in the dim light as he held her gaze as he pushed into her, her breath catching in her throat. He stilled for a moment, enjoying her warmth as it gripped him before he moved his hips back, thrusting into her again. His pace was hard, deep and he continually dragged in and out of her, dropping his head to kiss and lick and suck all along her collar bone, knowing full well he would leave marks there for the morning but neither of them cared as their moans grew louder as his thrusts grew more desperate.

"Fuck.” he groaned, both hands now on her hips as he continued his movements and Katie’s hands moved to brace herself against the headboard, her body moving with every slam he made into her. One hand moved to the back of her head and he used it to make her look up, her eyes locking onto his as he felt her body start to quiver.

“I love you…” he said, his pace not slowing in the slightest.

“Love you too Soldier…” her words stuttered as he thrust up hard, stilling slightly, grinding up against her, as she writhed underneath him, a desperate, filthy noise escaping her mouth as her back arched and her hands flew to his back, nails scratching at his skin. God he loved the feel of her doing that, the stinging pain mixed with the pleasure was a heady mix and he took in a sharp breath, dropping his mouth to capture hers as she moaned again, this moan broken as she bucked upwards and clutched at him desperately.

“Stevie…” she moaned and her walls tightened on him as she came, her entire body trembling underneath him and he pulled back so he could watch her, lips swollen from his desperate kisses, cheeks flushed, eyelids fluttering against her cheeks. He continued his pace, her eyes opening moments late to lock onto his as the spring that had been coiled so tightly suddenly released and he spilled himself insider her with a low, rough grunt of her name and he tipped forwards, his hips slowing to a stop as he buried his face in her neck.

The pair of them lay still, the only sounds in the bedroom now were the deep, ragged drawings of breath. Katie gently ran her hands through his hair, as she always did, Steve’s body on top of hers rising and falling through the movements of her deep breathing.  Eventually he raised his head gently and pressed their foreheads together, his nose sliding up and down hers. She smiled at him, and pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss before he rolled over onto his back, and she snuggled into him, her head on his chest. He reached for her left hand which was laying flat against his abs and raised it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, just underneath where her wedding band sat.

“I love you, I love you all so much.” he said gently. She raised her head to look at him, smiling as she kissed him softly.

“I know, I love you. We all do.”

She was asleep before him, Steve lay awake for a little while longer contemplating everything that had gone down that evening. He’d crossed that line again, the darkness that had awoken all those years ago had bubbled inside of him and he wasn’t going to lie, it had been satisfying, and despite what he had said to Bucky, he would have happily killed the snivelling bastard with his bare hands and not even blinked twice about doing so. But something had stopped him short this time, and he knew now what it was.

His kids.

Back then they hadn’t been in the picture, and he wanted to be able to look them in the eye and tell them right from wrong without feeling like a hypocrite. Steve Rogers was a good man, a loyal husband, doting father, and he wanted to be worthy of the love that surrounded him on a daily basis.

He looked down at his sleeping wife before he shifted slightly, dropping a kiss to her head before he closed his eyes and fell into a trouble free sleep.

[chilly-me-softly]

Every Little Thing's Gonna Be Alright • Chapter 22

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21

Evelyn had woken up more than a few times recently with Jack's gaze on her like that morning, but compared to the other times, there was no trace of melancholy in Jack's gaze for her imminent departure, which he disguised with his smile.

She felt good. And it wasn't because Cece had slept through most of the night in her comfy cot that Jack had bragged about quite a bit that morning. She didn't know why either, she just knew she felt at peace and wanted things to continue that way for as long as possible.

Jack had gone off to train again while she had occupied the day chatting with Deb first and her mother later. And then when Jack had returned, they had enjoyed a few moments together. Jack had placed Cece on his chest while lying comfortably on the couch and had even sent a few pictures to Ben knowing how much he missed not having his niece around. Needless to say they'd bickered for a few minutes and she'd just laughed, observing their friendship which she'd rarely had the opportunity to see anyway.

"How are you?"

"What do you mean? I'm right here in front of you, you can see me" Evelyn looked up confused at the question, chuckling as she set the dry dishes in the shelf.

"Yeah but we haven't talked about it yet. Face to face I mean" she sighs, she knew it would happen sooner or later. They'd mentioned the matter when it had happened but she'd always waved it off with very elusive answers, knowing that with Jack she wouldn't be able to hide anymore.

"And I let it go during this time because there was already little time to spend with you. But we can talk about it now if you want"

"It's just that I don't care" she can clearly feel Jack move at her statement, her not turning around yet.

"Yes you do, worrying is part of you"

"That's okay. I don't want to constantly pour my worries on you. I don't want to be a burden anymore"

"Come with me" Jack caresses her shoulders before leaving a kiss on them and then offering her a hand which she stares at almost studying it for a moment before accepting it and letting herself be carried by him.

"Jack" she starts but without the need to add anything else, passing Jack also takes the carrier with Cece continuing to walk as if nothing happened. Stupidly she smiles but without losing focus on where they are going. And eventually she finds herself in his indoor pool.

Evelyn tries to resist by increasing her grip on Jack's hand but he doesn't seem to notice, going to place the carrier away from the water but still within sight. He then turns to her smiling and leaving a kiss on her lips.

"Let's do this, voice your concerns one last time. Like a confessional. Then we'll let the water take them away"

"You'll empty the pool?"

"Not the point" he leaves a peck on her nose sketching a smile.

"Hmm so I have to go in there?"

"I think that's the whole point" she switches her gaze from his waiting face and that stretch of water, swallowing hard. "What is it?"

"I um... I don't, you know... I can't swim"

"Unbelievable" he chuckles at first, "But wait I'm sure Ben is more than capable"

"In fact I said I couldn't swim. Not a word about my brother"

"May I ask why?"

"I don't know... Our parents took me for lessons just as they did with him, but all I remember is three year old me attached to my father's leg with my eyes swollen with tears. I knew even then that my dad was the softer one and that he wouldn't let me do it" a small giggle escapes her lips as she shakes her head at the memory of that day, of her first and last swimming lesson.

"Ben's tried over the years too but it's come to nothing and... so now I'm just staying as far away as possible, that's all"

"So this has started way back" at her raised eyebrow, he continued "The fact that you can't really let you go"

"I don't know..." she huffs running a hand through her hair, "maybe what-what are you doing?" Evelyn forgets everything going through her mind at the exact moment Jack takes off his shirt in such a fluid gesture leaving it a few steps away from where he is.

"It's just the two of us here. Do you trust me?"

"Jack" she groans bringing her hands up to cover her face and throwing a look at her little girl wishing she would go to her aid at that very moment. Only she couldn't be any quieter with her little fingers in her mouth.

"Well if you want a kiss... come and get it" and he's in the water now, arms crossed on the edge as he looks at her quietly in anticipation while she feels her legs go mushy but heavy at the same time.

"I might as well do it this way, dry and safe" so he looks at her challenging her as he slowly moves away from the edge coming more and more towards the middle, letting go and just floating on that surface.

"Oh I'm definitely not coming there" the words come out of her mouth before she can stop them making him laugh.

"You just want to see me take my clothes off, admit it"

"Maybe" Jack states seriously but after the wink he can't take it and gives in to the laughter again.

"You know what, water actually scares me. When I'm here it's like it makes me vulnerable, exposed, like my thoughts have a free pass to attack me. And I won't hide the fact that more than a few times I've sat exactly where you are staring at the water with the fear that going in would force me to deal with things I wasn't ready to face"

"Why do you keep going in then?"

"Because it made me think about good things too and those are always worth it" staring into his eyes after that she already knows she's lost it. In a burst of courage she takes off her shirt and a shiver runs down her spine. She looks at Jack slightly embarrassed as he slowly walks to the edge of the pool.

"If my daughter becomes an orphan I swear-"

"That won't happen" he reassures her following her every step, helping her slowly into the water and resting his hands firmly at her waist, "We're not going any further than this, your back will always touch the edge" he whispers to her continuing to smile reassuringly as she entwines her hands around his neck.

"I want my kiss" she moans making him chuckle before he slowly cancels out that little distance between them.

"Hmm I need to stop listening to you. You're always pushing me to do things..."

"Too bad you like me" he murmurs into her lips. Sometimes we simply need someone to push us to try new things, to push our limits, to always go a little beyond the comfort zone. We need someone who challenges us to improve ourselves and discover new things and change our minds about others.

"Yeah you're right" their lips meet again, and surely the cold felt just before has disappeared completely replaced by heat. Heat coming from their bodies and the situation, from involuntary touches and their hearts beating fast. One of Jack's hands goes up higher as Evelyn's legs go to wrap around his waist pulling him even closer to her. And then Cece starts to cry and a sigh escapes both of their lips.

"You've got to be kidding me" she murmurs rolling her eyes as Jack chuckles resting his chin in the crack of her neck, leaving a kiss there.

"What, you like water now?"

"I wish she would have cried before I came in, helping her mum"

"Oh no no, I said to her earlier please be good, your mum needs to take herself less seriously"

"Since you two are getting along so well, I'll just leave her here with you when I leave" she sticks her tongue out at him before getting him to help her out of the pool and after quickly drying themselves off they both walk over to Cece to soothe her crying. They go back into the house to change her nappy and feed her again, Jack watches as Evelyn gently rocks the little one to sleep and watches as she carefully places her in her cot and always stays to make sure she sleeps peacefully for at least ten minutes before walking away.

"I'd be happy if you'd both stay you know" he murmurs to her before leaving a kiss on her temple and ajaring the door to the room. And she finds herself back in that room in the middle of the night, having woken up and checked that everyone was still asleep. She sits at the edge of that pool with her legs to her chest, looking at the water which is partially lit by a small window right on top of one wall.

She can feel what Jack had described to her only a few hours before, the calmness of that place that forces her to reflect and to bring to the surface some things that are in a remote corner of her brain. And she thinks about the future, starts to consider some options, to imagine her likely life to see if she could make it. And when she goes back to bed, with Jack immediately holding her close, she thinks it would be worth it after all.

----

I have a question for you guys. Since I've never carried on a story with so many chapters, could you please let me know if it still makes sense or is it time for me to, I don't know, start working on an ending?

Tag: @alexajanecollins @emwritesfootball @rosie7703

Chapter 23

[e-vasong]

What's the five-doesn’t-get-stuck-in-the-future-but-things-turn-out-the-same AU like??

:D I waited until I’d watched season 2 to answer this because I wanted to see if it gave me more ideas (which it did...but I’ll put those in another post if people want so I don’t have to spoiler tag this one).  This AU was brainstormed with @smallerthanzer0​ a while back, and they deserve extra credit because they are the one who listened to me going “lmfao what if Five didn’t get stuck in the future and decided to try and get rid of their dad” and said: wait. eva.  THIS COULD BE GOOD.  

so basically.  in this verse:

 Five does not time travel at age 13 and leave his family behind. he considers it, just as in canon, but something stops him.  Outside interference, maybe, or just a niggling voice in his head that cautions him that the risk isn’t worth it.

What Five does do is snoop.  And what he finds is a journal in their father's study with damning notes on Vanya.

He confronts their father about it.  Reginald doesn’t take the challenge to his authority well.

Five is tired and hurting and at some point he realizes: their dad is never going to stop.  And then he thinks: but I could make him.

So Five starts making a plan.

A plan that, should it come to fruition, would knock the Apocalypse off-course entirely.  The Commission, already interested in Five for his abilities, decides that Five needs to be removed from the equation. 

 Notes start arriving for Five in strange places.  Telling him things no one could possibly know, making promises no one could possibly keep.  Warning of the end of all things.  

Five is no fool.  He crumples them up and throws them in the trash.

Then Ben dies on a mission

They’re 15, going on 16, and something goes wrong.  A mission gets all fucked up.  They think things are over, and then a gun goes off.  Ben’s body jerks.  There’s a spray of blood.  He stumbles, and then the beast comes tearing out.

 Run, Ben begs, and his siblings do, because there’s nothing else for them to do.  Not unless they want to die too.

 But Five can’t.  He promised.  He promised that he’d protect them.   And if he leaves Ben here…that means he’s already failed.  Blood is pouring from the bullet wound in Ben’s shoulder, dribbling down the corner of Ben’s mouth.  He’s hovering in the air, limp and unconscious.

Someone, Klaus maybe, makes a sickened noise and lunges for Ben.  But Luther stops him, catches him around the waist and bodily carries him out.

 Go, Five says, as his siblings make it to the door.  Allison is the last one out.  

Come on, come on, Five, she says, holding a hand out to him.  There’s tears trickling down her face, but she’s trying so hard to keep it together, and Five hates to break her heart any more.  He smiles at her.  

Sorry sis, he says, and slams the door in her face.

Ben’s tentacles are still violently attacking anything within reach; the only reason why Five is still in one piece is because Ben is unconscious and without Ben, the tentacles don’t seem to have eyes or any idea what to aim for.

 But it’s too late.  Five’s been doing this long enough to know when someone is fatally injured.

 But Five has one last trick to try.  And if it doesn’t work…well then.  At least he died giving it his best shot.

 Are you watching? He snarls at the ceiling.  Are you watching?  This is me saying yes.  The deal.  I’ll take your fucking deal, god damn it.

 His world goes hazy, and he doesn’t register the pinprick of pain until the drug is already rushing through his system.

 Huh, he thinks, and then passes out.

From outside, all that’s distinguishable is the sound of Ben’s body tearing itself apart.  Five yells, something inaudible, words swallowed by the din.  There’s a flash of light.  And all is quiet.  

 Ben's body disappears along with Five’s and no one knows what happened to them, except for the fact that they must certainly be dead.

OK I’m putting the rest under a read more because this is long and I don’t want to be rude lmfao.

The Commission wants Five to kill people, just like in canon.  And Ben is...well, the Commission works with time and reality.  They have uses for a boy who can open portals between dimensions, though none of them are very pleasant. 

 In return...Ben gets to live, and at the end of it all the Commission will let them retire with time, money, and the resources to do whatever they want to Reginald Hargreeves.  

(Neither of them buys that, of course.  They're both too valuable.  Five is habitually suspicious, and they both have their doubts about where that mystery bullet that hit Ben came from.  And of course, though Ben and Five don't know it yet, the Commission is killing two birds with one stone with this trick, because taking both of them out of the picture is key for making sure the scheduled apocalypse happens).

So Five kills people for the Commission; Ben becomes a test subject

And things are different, and in many ways they are the same

Five and the Commission are using each other—Five to save Ben and his siblings.  The Commission want to use Five’s powers, and they want to keep him from knocking the Apocalypse off track 

Five has to go hard and fast in this verse: he’s young, the Commission has less patience for his mistakes, and his coworkers are gunning for him because it is embarrassing to be out done by a 16-year old.  There’s no room for weakness or error.

He only ever allows himself moments of softness with Ben, because Ben…Ben needs it.  And isn’t that why Five is doing this?  Isn’t it why he does everything? To be what his siblings need and more?

Hazel hears about this new test subject they got in the labs.  sibling to the new recruit.  powers like they never saw before.  and Hazel meets Five, and...doesn't like the kid, really, but a kid is a kid and that already sits poorly with Hazel.  

But he has got to get a look at what they're cooking up in the labs, so he drops by the medical wing at one point.

And there's this kid laying in a hospital bed.  bandages wrapped around his chest--not as scrawny as Five, but somehow he just seems smaller. Warm eyes, a bright, real smile--so different from his brother already.  And so they get to talking

And Hazel talks to Ben, and Ben is...fuck, he's such a good kid.  And Five must be too, because Ben is always reading some book or another that he says Five snuck in for him. (Please don't tell, Ben says, wide-eyed.  Hazel crosses his heart, and starts bringing books by the dozen.  They trust him much more than they do Five, and they don't mind that Ben is reading, really.  They just worry that Five is scheming.)   

And at first, Hazel tries to convince himself that he's not going to do anything stupid (though--some part of him knows from day one that if Ben asked, really really asked for his help...Hazel would say yes).  But it gets harder.  The surgeries get more invasive, Five gets more desperate, Ben's skin gets sallower and his smiles get weaker.

Hazel spends a bunch of his free time in the medical wing, keeping Ben company when Five can't.  Reading to him, discussing theoretical physics with him.  Until one day he overhears something he shouldn't--plans for Ben.  Idk what.  Maybe they aren't fatal, maybe they're just painful.  Maybe it's the same as normal, but hearing about this child talked about like a science experiment to pull apart and discard is just too much.  And the next time Hazel and Five brush shoulders in the hall, Hazel grabs Five by the wrist.  Makes a big show of seeming mad.

And Five is watching him with cold, dangerous eyes. He's barely resisting the urge to break Hazel's arm and Hazel knows it.  But something must hold him back; Hazel hopes that Five knows that Hazel isn't faking caring about Ben.  That Hazel wouldn't just attack Five in the middle of a hallway.  He must, because he snaps back a couple times, leans into the banter with witty retorts rather than violence.  And then after all that posturing and threatening, Hazel says: "So I know you think you're hot shit around here, but you listen here.  If you ever talk that way to me again I'll...well," and then he leans down, whispers in Five's ear: "the Handler is going to be out of her office in two hours.  Get the key.  East hallway.  There's a collection of spare briefcases, last room on the left."

 And then he keeps walking.  Ben and Five are gone by that night, and the Commission launches a search mission right away.

They aim for October 1, 2008—the day their siblings are supposed to turn 19, which is the age Ben and Five are now.  They fuck up.  Five is distracted, maybe a patrol bursts through the door and opens fire.

They arrive on October 1, 2018, on their siblings’ 29th birthday.  The briefcase is smoking and sparking, a dozen bullets buried in the side of it.  It’s useless.  Five throws it in the trash.

The family is scattered and ten years older than they planned for.  Reginald Hargreeves is still alive.  The Commission is coming for Five and Ben.  The Apocalypse is looming.

Things are so very different than in canon, but in many ways they’re exactly the same.

Five and Ben take off on a quest to reunite their separated siblings.  Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, and Vanya now have two traumatized adolescent brothers to take care of.  It does wonders for group cohesion.

And there’s so much more, but this is ridiculously long already lmfao so I’ll leave off here unless people ask for more deets.  I just have a lot of feelings about this AU.

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 15

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 15

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The book was incredibly interesting. It was written in some dialect of Mandarin. Many things were also covered in The Grimoire but several stories told there were previously completely unknown. It seemed like it was written after the other book and while the first was entirely encyclopedical, this one contained detailed stories from several time periods. What got Ladybug’s attention was that many of them were diary excerpts. 

One of the most important elements was a story about the seventeenth-century villain, Lord of Butterflies, who came to the colonial city of Gotham and tried to take control of the settlement. He was a master of deception and almost succeeded. Ladybug and Black Cat of that time never appeared. Another story told about their involvement in the Thirty Years’ War in continental Europe, where they were hunting the Snake and Bee Miraculous users that tried to manipulate the conflict. Luckily for Gotham, a witch hunter named Malleus opposed him and used jars with symbols engraved on the walls to keep the butterflies locked away so they could not wreak havoc again. The book told of the power struggle until finally, after the burning of Raphael Dent, a longtime friend of Malleus, the attacks stopped. Most people thought that the problem was over, but from the looks of it, the author of that book tried to imply that Lord of Butterflies just bid his time, waiting for the opportunity to strike again. 

Ladybug read the story twice, trying to figure out the fate of all the corrupted Butterflies or the jars, but she got nothing. Maybe if they figured out what symbols kept the akumas in, she could experiment with warding the butterflies away. It could be a breakthrough!

While she was browsing the book, Black Cat eyed the teens. “Shouldn’t you people scramble for classes?”

“Nope!” The little one, Maps, grinned. “The new school policy. In case of a supervillain attack on campus, the rest of the classes that day are canceled to avoid additional stress to students. It’s nice they care about our mental health.” 

“Yeah… Dude,” Colton looked at Black Cat, “any chance you can tell me what tech your staff uses?”

“Tt. It’s magic.” 

“No, seriously, I suppose it could be an organic metal of some sort, but it’s able to perfectly support your weight at the same time.” 

“Magic.” The vigilante-turned-hero growled.

“Come on! Don’t do it to me, man! Pom won’t let me live it down!”

“I told you magic was real!” The teen was glaring at him with a smirk on her face.

“Tt. Don’t play with magic or you’ll get burnt.” He scoffed. 

“Don’t be a grumpy cat!” Ladybug called from over the book. “Silverlock… Why does it sound so familiar…”

“Did you say Silverlock?” One of the teens peaked. “I’m Olive Silverlock.”

“Bellatrix Silverlock was the only akuma from that period mentioned here by name… I wonder why… Ugh! I can’t decipher that part. It’s too old and damaged.” The heroine groaned. “Cat! We should move back to the base.” She pulled a pair of glasses from her yo-yo and put them on. “Tikki! Kaalki! Merge!” 

As soon as the light of transformation died, a portal consumed both superheroes and the book, leaving the teens alone in the dark library.

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Sabine paced around the manor in the foul mood she was in ever since she sent the kids on their way after initiation and returned home for some long-deserved rest. Half-way home, she received a phone-call from Chloé saying that Marinette was crying in the bathroom with her over another girl that threatened her. The only thing that stopped Sabine from turning around and possibly crashing the car through the front gates was her daughter begging her not to.

She admired that her little girl tried to resolve the problems herself and she didn’t want to come off as overbearing and intruding. It wouldn’t stop her from preparing for if it seemed too much for her sunshine. She made a mistake with Lila. This time, she would be ready. But first, she needed tools. 

“Tom! Where is my suit?!” She called out to her husband, who was happily baking in the kitchen. He finally managed to kick Alfred out and get control. Sabine laughed when the butler, passing her, revealed that he let him win. 

“I think Bruce wanted to put it in the vault, together with the bag!” The large man answered with a merry tone. 

“Thank you, honey! I think I’ll be going out for a while!” 

“Be safe!”

Finally having a direction, she stormed toward the vault. It was hidden under the stairs, where one had to first enter a secret passage, only to then open a door in the wall.

When she opened the doors and looked inside, her first instinct was to immediately go into a battle stance.

It looked like a tornado passed through the room, which was supposed to be neatly ordered. All the documents were scattered, two priceless artifacts got destroyed and every drawer was pulled out. Inside the wall opposite to the doors, someone made a giant hole. The concrete was shattered and the metal reinforcement cage was pulled apart. 

Warily, Sabine approached the hole. Once she got closer, she could take a better look at the reinforcement. What got her attention was the way it was bent. Someone grabbed it and ripped it apart. The hole itself also revealed a small rectangular area that was used to hide something. A secret buried so deeply it was frozen inside a wall of a hidden vault inside a hidden corridor in one of the best-guarded buildings in Gotham.

“Oh for crying out loud! I just wanted my suit…” She threw her hands up. 

---------

More or less at the same time, Tim had a lazy day at the cave. He didn’t need to return to Wayne Enterprises for at least another week. He tried to solve a cold case, using the updated list of secret powers Sabine provided him. He and Bruce were both worried about how much had escaped them. Neither considered Luxembourg Secret Service to be capable of ordering a hit on a hitman that was after their Duke. And hire Lady Shiva nonetheless. 

He just got himself a new cup of coffee when suddenly, a portal appeared in the middle of the cave and dropped two superheroes and a book on a podium. The Cat landed on his feet while Ladybug fell on her rear with a soft thud. Startled, Tim dropped his mug and the coffee spilled all around him.

“Could you not!?” He shouted, a bit embarrassed that they got a drop on him so easily. 

“Tt. Shut up replacement.” Cat growled. He and Marinette dropped their transformations and she proceeded to feed Tikki with some cookies while he reluctantly pulled a small, isolated box from his pocket and gave Plagg a bit of cheese. 

“We’ve got plenty of new material after the last akuma attack. I’ve sent you a picture of a woman using the Peacock Miraculous and we’ve got an essential book.” She walked over to the bat computer. “It appears that they used the distraction the akuma caused to infiltrate the place.”

“I’m not sure, Angel.” Damian was busy with the other screen, trying to attach the tablet to it. The deciphering system managed to unlock it already and while he waited for the system to scan for any traps, he browsed the photos. “From the look of it, she only got two or three pages before we ambushed her. She must’ve arrived shortly before us or couldn’t find it for a long time. I would hazard a guess that she didn’t know about it.”

“But… That would mean she was at school when… but how would she… No! The only other person that heard about the book was Erica.”

“Maybe not. She could’ve been there trying to get some information on us.”

“But how did she get there before us?”

“Tt. It’s not like the Detective Club was in any hurry.” He huffed. 

“Um… That’s all great and all, but what the bat are you talking about?” Tim asked, trying to get between the married couple. 

“We had an akuma attack at school. Damian earned detention for calling Hammerhead old while out of the suit. After we dealt with the akuma we learned about this book,” she pointed at the podium. “We went to check it and found the new Peacock trying to photograph as much as she could. We stole her tablet and kicked her backside.” Marinette beamed. 

Their discussion was interrupted when Sabine stormed inside the cave. “I need security feed from the Gala. Someone trashed the Wayne Vault and stole some box!” She shouted at Tim. “Oh! Hi Sweetie. Go change out of the uniform and we will get tea in a minute.” She smiled at her daughter. Except it was not as genuine as her usual smile. It felt much more forced. 

“Maman. I would love to, but maybe let’s deal with the break-in first?”

“We must wait for Bruce to get back anyway. He took Cass to the ballet class today. My turn will be on Thursday.” 

She pulled the video feed from the camera that overlooked the entrance to the corridor that led to the Vault. She put it on double speed and watched various guests hang around and talk. They usually had a glass of champagne. Suddenly, Marinette lunged and pressed the pause button.

“Him!” She pointed to a younger man with jet black hair and a white mask that covered the upper part of his face. His hair was neatly combed back with no small amount of hair gel, enough that it shined in the camera. 

“He doesn’t stand out really…” Tim scanned the image. 

“The bracelet!” She seethed. “I can’t believe that bastard still carries the bracelet.”

“Tt. I can cut it off next time I see him.” Damian offered before muttering “Together with the arm.” Luckily for him, Marinette had more pressing matters than stopping his murderous instincts.

“So Agreste somehow got inside during the Gala. It’s maybe an hour before the akuma attack.” They continued to watch as he chatted with people nearby. Finally, when they left, he slipped inside the secret passage. They switched to the camera inside, only for it to then be destroyed by a cane. The one inside the vault was a bit farther away, so before it was destroyed they got a good look at the boy. 

The male figure had a dark purple suit with the signature butterfly brooch pinned to the top of the shirt. His chest was protected by two black flaps that looked a bit like the moth wings. In his black gloves, he held a cane topped with a purple orb. The face was covered by a simple domino mask that did nothing to hide the mane of blonde hair on top of his head.

“At least we know that he inherited his father’s lack of taste. At least his mask isn’t…” Marinette stopped herself when Damian poked her side and pointed toward the glass cabinet inside which the first Red Robin uniform was. Its mask was pretty close to what Gabriel wore. “Oh… Nevermind.”

Tim was clearly unamused. 

“This is still important. We’ve got a first look at his transformation. We can set cameras to, in addition to akuma tracing, scan for him personally.”

“I don’t think it would do much good. The image wasn’t the best.”

“But how did he avoid the scanners?” 

“Alfred was busy, tracking a suspicious blonde with bi-colored eyes. She was supposed to have messed too close to the kitchen for his liking.” Tim explained.

“I remember her. She said something to me. ‘You’re far from victory yet’. I considered it suspicious, but in the whirlwind of the following events, the meeting slipped my mind.”

“You! The great Damian Wayne forgot a crucial detail!?” Tim laughed. “This is gold! I need to mark the date on my calendar!”

“Tt. And I need a set of matches.” The youngest Wayne growled. 

“So we’ve got another suspect on the list?” 

“It’s getting complicated. First the vault, then the book… Hawkmoth was narrow-minded in his goals. Create akumas, have them hunt Ladybug and Chat Noir, take the Miraculous.” Marinette collapsed on the nearby chair. “Adrien is… he’s more organized. He’s got a plan. He’s not after the Miraculous. Or rather not directly. There is something else he’s trying to find. I’m just not sure what…”

“The history of Gotham is filled with so many mysteries that we wouldn’t even have any idea where to begin.” Tim wasn’t helpful. At all.

“We know they stole something from Wayne Vault and used the akuma as a distraction to carry it away. Then, they attacked the school. What could be at Gotham Academy that they had a personal interest in?”

“The book?”

“I don’t think they knew about it. The attack on the Academy could’ve been to test our abilities.” 

Tikki and Plagg floated to the group. “Gotham is a dark place.” Ladybug Kwami started. “There are so many things in this city…”

“What about the Bat miraculous, cookie?” Plagg asked. “I mean where else would it be but Gotham?”

“Bat… Miraculous…” Time starred at the two mini-gods. “You’re joking, right?”

“No. Balla is the Kwami of clarity.” Tikki nodded. “The Bat Miraculous gives the wearer supernatural perception and near-precognition.”

“What?” Marinette asked, not sure what the word was supposed to mean.

“They can see the immediate future.” Her mother clarified for her. 

“Is it possible they are after the Bat…” she tried to imagine what jewelry would be associated with bats. Tikki came to help. 

“It’s the belt buckle.”

“Tt. Bat Buckle?” Damian raised an eyebrow. “Whoever made the Miraculous had a great sense of humor.” 

“Okay. But we still need to figure out their next step…”

“Sweetie? Maybe you focus on school and let me deal with this?” Sabine asked after a moment. 

“But… I’m the Guardian.”

“And you’re also a teenager.” Her mother countered. “I’m not trying to replace you or keep you on the sidelines. I am your mom though. Teenage years are supposed to be the best in your life. You should be dating, spending time with friends. Exploring the world. Nowhere on that list is fighting against a mad terrorist.” 

“But… but… I can’t just sit back while you fight!” 

“You can still fight. And help.” Sabine tried again. “I just don’t want you to devote all your time to this. You can leave the investigation to me, Bruce and Tim and enjoy the time with friends; Or design; Or take Damian on dates.” 

“Tt. It’s my duty to take her on dates.”

“Dream on, grumpy cat.” Marinette booped his nose and giggled at the face he made.

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Masterlist // Next

[benevolentbirdgal]

A guide to 13 Jewish holidays / Jewish Writing Advice

Depending on how you want to count, there are theoretically 47 Jewish holidays, assuming you count all minor, major, and modern celebrations, both minor and major fasts, special shabbats, and each Rosh Chodesh (new month) individually. Since that post would be A) neverending, B) probably not useful in its entirety here, and C) really not applicable to most Jews you meet or write, I’m going to tell you about 13 celebrations (12 holidays plus the category of Rosh Chodesh and the category of special Shabbats), which will be plenty long enough. Maybe I’ll write a super-niche passionate post about the minor fasts or modern holidays later, but today is not that day. 

Usual disclaimers: I’m one me. The Jewish community is 14 million and super diverse. These are broad strokes and local tradition may vary. I operate from an American context and communal gathering/food sharing practices come from the Before Times (in some cases, the long before now times). 

I’m going to go in the order of the Jewish calendar, instead of likelihood of celebration, and note the most popular ones as I go. Three general notes as well: I will be using the most common transliteration/translation of the Hebrew names, Jewish holidays (and days in general) start at sunset and operate on a separate calendar that fluctuates relative to the secular Gregorian calendar. The Hebrew dates are listed with the months they generally fall in on the Gregorian calendar. Holidays marked with an * will likely merit their own list at some point. 

Additionally, how long many holidays last also varies depending on location. For some holidays (NOT fasts), diaspora (outside Israel) Jews celebrate an extra day for Jewish-diaspora-is-complicated-story-for-another-time reasons. I will note these holidays. 

*Rosh HaShanah (Tishrei 1, September-October): Jewish new year (well, one of four, but for the purposes of our discussion today, the Jewish new year). 1a. Typically celebrated by synagogue attendance, consumption of foods that are sweet and/or round (or have heads, like fish heads). Longer services than normal Saturday morning services but not by much, even when combined with regular Shabbat services. Big time to gather with families for a large meal. 1b. Lots of blowing of shofars at specific times, shofars, which are cleaned and sometimes painted ceremonial ram’s horns (we’re operating on 1200 B.C.E. tech here). Some of us are very good at blowing the shofar. Some of us are assuredly not.  1c. One of the most common holidays to celebrate, part of the “High Holidays.” If your character is remotely observant or has a very Jewish family, they celebrate this holiday.  1d. One day in Israel, two in the diaspora. 

Yom Kippur (Tishrei 10, September-October): The second holiday in the “High Holidays.” Yom Kippur is ten days after Rosh HaShanah, known as the “Days of Awe” (or the “Days of Repentance”). The Days of Awe, outside of orthodoxy and people who do prayers every day, aren’t really celebrated outside of asking people for forgiveness and tashlich (throwing away sins by yeeting small pieces of bread or other small foodstuffs into a pond). 2a. Yom Kippur is a 25 hour fast. Fasting on Yom Kippur means the following: No food. No water. Medication is typically okay (and most denominations are 100% okay with food/water necessary to accompany medication). No sex. This is usually extended to no sexual contact in general. No wearing of leather. You’ll see a lot of sneakers on Yom Kippur. No perfumes or lotions. Bathing/washing. This one is the one most people ditch. 2b. Jewish “adults” who are not health-impaired are expected to fast. Pregnant women, sick people, and the elderly explicitly get a choice and most of the former two do not fast. Lots of old folks do and have very strong opinions about it (I fast, but have gotten second-hand awkward watching a healthy 23-year-old explain why they aren’t doing so to an 89 year old survivor who is). There are young/healthy/not pregnant people who choose not to fast, but this is generally frowned upon. 2c. One day holiday regardless of location. Starts at beginning of sunset one day and ends at complete darkness (ideally with three stars in the sky) the next. Fasts are typically broken as a group over a large meal.  2d. It’s very likely that your Jewish character “celebrates” Yom Kippur and whether they fast or not is likely a point of contention with their family. 2e. There are a bunch of different services and they are usually heinously long.  2f. Shofars are also super important here.  2g. Wearing white is traditional in many communities.  2h. Napping is a popular way to pass the time, especially among less traditionally observant Jews.

*Sukkot (Tishrei 15-22, September-October): The Festival of Booths, basically the Jewish Harvest Festival.  3a. Fairly common to celebrate but not as much as the High Holidays, Passover, or Hannukah.  3b. Celebrated by building a Sukkah, which is an at-least-three-sided TEMPORARY structure with a natural roof (corn, leaves, bamboo) that you can see the stars through. People will eat and sleep in the Sukkah, and go “Sukkah hopping” to visit other families’ Sukkahs.  3c. In addition to regular guests, there is kabbalah and traditional mysticism that the a different guest from Jewish history will join you in the Sukkah each night, known as the Ushpizin. The Ushpizin  Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Aaron, Joseph and David) are all male, and in the 20th century some Jews began the custom of honoring Ushpizot (female guests as well, adding Sarah, Miriam, Deborah, Hannah, Abigail, Hulda, and Esther (although some obscure lists of Ushpizot date back to the 15th century). 3d. Your Jewish character may not have a Sukkah. Their temple will have a communal one.  3e. It is customary to shake a lulav and etrog, also known as the four species. Three leaves and a citrus from specific plants are held together and shook in all six directions after the recitation of a prayer. I like to call this shake-the-plant, but it actually has a ton of different spiritual meanings traditionally ascribed to it. There is also a processional in synagogue with the lulav and etrog. 

Shmeni Atzeret (Tishrei 22, September-October): In Israel, the one day after Sukkot and in the diaspora the last day of Sukkot and the day after. There are some extra prayers and it marks a seasonal shift in prayers pertaining to rain. Unless your character is particularly religious/observant, they aren’t going to do anything extra. This holiday’s functions were mostly relevant during the Temple Periods in ancient Israel. 

*Simchat Torah (Tishrei 23, September-October): Simchat Torah celebrates the restarting of the Torah-reading cycle and overlaps with the second day of Shmeni Atzeret where there is a second day. Unlike in some other faiths where the congregation or leader generally chooses the text of the day, Jewish congregations are bound by the Parsha (portion) of the week for formal services/readings (as opposed to other forms of study). The 54 parshas are read over the course of the Jewish year, and the resetting of that cycle is Simchat Torah. In synagogues during services readings from from Torahs, which are large, heavy, physical scrolls. This is relevant during Simchat Torah particularly.  5a. Two days in the diaspora, one day in Israel. Intermediate level popularity.  5b. Seven hakafot (professionals) are performed by dancing around the synagogue while members alternate carrying the Torah. This is considered an honor. Simchat Torah is usually the only day all the Torahs are brought out (or at least the ones that are in good enough shape to be carried). Dancing is mixed outside of orthodoxy and separated within orthodoxy. Only Jewish adults are permitted to carry the Torah. Outside of orthodoxy this includes both men and women. Within some orthodox congregations, women-only circles will also include Torahs in their dancing.  5c. There are also smaller not-Torah-but-still-Holy scrolls and Torah-shaped-stuffies that children will sometimes carry and dance with.  5d. After the dancing, the final parsha is read aloud. This is the only time we read Torah at night (from the physical object Torah - we read books of the Torah in other forms at any hour). The scroll is then rolled back all the way to the first reading. Reading the first or last reading is a great honor. 

*Hanukkah (Kislev 25 - Tevet 2, November-December): Hannukah celebrates the victory of the Maccabees over the political and cultural oppression of the ancient Greeks in the 160s B.C.E. After the victory of the priestly-class-turned-warrior-bros over their oppressors, the Maccabees found the Temple seriously wrecked, both on a physical and spiritual level. They wanted to rededicate the temple, but only found one itty-bitty little jar of oil for the Menorah (seven-branched candelabra in the Temple), enough for one day. They figured it was better than nothing, and immediately sent out for more oil, which took eight days. That was the miracle of the lights, and where the Hanukiyah (eight-branched variant of the Menorah) comes from since the oil for one day lasted eight.  6a. Hanukkah is an immensely popular eight day festival. 6b. Religiously, Hanukkah actually isn’t super important. Religiously-significant practices for the holiday are lighting a Hannukiyah, telling the story of Hanukkah, and eating greasy foods.  6c. There are approximately a shabillion ways to spell Hanukkah, it’s not just  you. There are actually only two acceptable (really only one 100%) Hebrew spellings but transliteration is a bitch sometimes.  6d. Although not “Jewish Christmas” gifts on Hanukkah are a thing because of the proximity to Christmas. Hanukkah gifts as they now are are really a 1950s-forward thing because Jewish kids were starting to have Christian friends en-masse who were getting Christmas gifts at the same time a lot of the U.S. was experiencing an economic boom. Purim is actually the traditional gifting holiday.  6e. Related: Hanukkah parties are very popular, but much more cultural than religious.  6f. Dreidels have a weird AF history and their dubious origins (and half-dozen possible theories) truly merit their own post. In the U.S. they are played with chocolate coins or other not-money, elsewhere children frequently use their local equivalent of pennies instead. 

Tu Bishvat (Shevat 15, February-March): The Jewish new year/birthday of the trees. Functions like a Jewish Earth day - planting trees is popular. Fresh fruits are consumed in celebration of what trees give us. Some more religious families also do a ceremonial meal, a Tu Bishvat seder, but most Jews don’t. 

*Purim (Adar 14, February-March): Purim, an immensely popular holiday celebrates the survival of the Jews during the first exile period in the ancient kingdom of Persia. The text celebrates the strength of our community and the chutzpah of a Jewish woman, and is usually celebrated in practice like Jewish Halloween.  8a. The story really merits its own post, but the short of it is because shenanigans, antisemites, and booze-hound kings a Jewish lady named Hadassah became queen (hiding her Jewish identity and taking the Esther to do so), the king’s head advisor Haman wanted to kill-the-Jews-tm, Esther was able to prevent it by convincing the king that the Jews should be able to fight back, the Jews did so and won, Haman was executed, and Esther’s cousin/bestie Mordechai became the new advisor. [really, the full story is Hollywood-level drama, another post to come.] 8b.  Communities gather together to do communal readings of the book of Esther (in Hebrew or the lingua franca), it’s only about 10 chapters and takes an hour or two. The megillah is read once in the night and once in the day. Technically there are several megillahs for different books/holidays, but Jews are usually referring to Megalilat Esther (the book of Esther) when they say the megillah, definitely so on Purim. 8c. Costumes are donned by adults and children alike, both inspired by the story and otherwise. This is in honor of the hiddenness in the story (with both Esther and some other stuff we don’t have time for today). Synagogues often hold costume contests as a small break between chapters.  8d. Readings get ROWDY. It’s customary to boo and make noise using little noisemakers when Haman’s name is said aloud, as with the names of his also Jew-hating sons (which are traditionally said in one breath). There are also certain lines of the megillah read out loud together.  8e. It is a mizvah to give gifts (typically of food) to friends as well as to charity on Purim (two separate mitzvahs).  8f. It’s also a mitzvah to have a big special meal.  8g. It’s a common misconception that it’s a mitzvah to get so lit on Purim you can’t tell the difference between Haman the wicked and Mordechai the blessed. It’s not a Mitzvah, but there is some commentary in the Talmud saying that, so while not a commandment, “get lit to honor the party king goy who vouched for us and also because Jewish history requires drinking sometimes” is a historically-rooted take. Consequently, it’s very popular to drink a lot on Purim.  8h. Purim is, for all of the above, immensely popular with both children and adults despite being dark AF.  8i. Purim is the last holiday in the Torah itself (Hannukah is after).  8j. Purim is a one-day holiday unless you’re in a walled city (long story). 

*Passover (Nissan 15-22, March-April): Arguably the most important holiday, theologically. Passover celebrates the Exodus from Egypt.  9a. Families gather for Seders on the first night (Israel) and second night (Diaspora). The holiday is 7/8 days long and one of the most common to celebrate. In normal years it’s common for families to travel to have large gatherings together.  9b. In addition to regular kosher laws, “chametz” (basically leavened bread and bread-like things and most foods that bring joy). There are five grains that can make chametz, wheat, rye, barley, oats, and spelt.  Some communities historically forbade other foods that could be mistaken for chametz, like the Ashkenazi forbiddance of kitanyot (legumes, rice, corn, certain seeds), although that was revoked/voted on to be not an official custom by nonorthodox denominations in the late 20th and early 21st centuries.  9c. Seders are ceremonial meals with 15 steps, including the actual meal itself. The quickest Seders run maybe an hour plus the meal. The longest can run upwards of 6-8, depending on the denomination, family, and customs. It almost goes without saying that there’s a lot of food and wine involved.  9d. In addition to be prohibited for consumption, Chametz cannot be possessed or consumed on Passover, so Jews clean out their houses of Chametz, and temporarily sell it to a gentile friend or family member for the duration of the holiday.  9e. Passover-specific hanger is very real, especially after the post-Seder food-coma wears off. Especially if you already have dietary restrictions and can’t just do a meat-fast.  9f. During the Seder, the story of Passover is gradually told from Moses to the plagues to the Exodus itself. It is a fairly interactive telling/ceremony and the specific rituals to different parts of the Seder merit their own post.  9g. Synagogues also hold Seders, but at-home ones are very common. Whose home to go to for the Seder is often a very political choice. 

Lag BaOmer (Iyyar 18 for Ashkenazi, Iyyar 19 for Sephardi, May): The counting of the Omer is from the second day of Passover to Shavout. Passover is the leave from Egypt, Shavout is the getting of the Torah, the Omer is the in-between time. There are a bunch of restrictions during the Omer for long-story reasons, but  haircuts, shaving, listening to instrumental music, weddings, parties, and dinners with dancing are forbidden during the Omer. Lag BaOmer, the 33rd day of this count, is the exception. 10a. Consequently, for Jews who are abstaining from the aforementioned things, Lag BaOmer is popular to do those things.  10b. Many Jewish schools and synagogues will have counting activities for kids and prizes if they can count all the way to Shavuot on their sticker chart or equivalent.  10c. One day regardless of location.   10d. Bonfires are a super popular activity, usually accompanied by feasts. 10e. Not as popular as some others. 

Shavout (Sivan 6, May-June): Shavout celebrates the day Moses came down with the Torah and when the ancient Israelites in the desert formally chose to enter their covenant with God at Mount Sinai. It was also celebrated as an additional harvest festival in ancient times.  11a. Two days in the diaspora, one day in Israel. 11b. The “dairy holiday” because the Jews didn’t have any kosher meat and had just received the laws, including kosher.  12c. The book of Ruth is read on Shavout. There are several possible explanations, but the most popular is that she choose to be Jewish, just as the Jews did at Sinai.  12d. Torah studying all-nighters are traditional.  12e. Not as popular as some other holidays. 

Rosh Chodesh (varies, 1st of every Hebrew month): There are 12 Hebrew months, except for leap years which have a second Adar. The first day of each month is known as Rosh Chodesh. It is unlikely your Jewish character does anything for it, unless they’re very religious, work at a synagogue, happen to be at shul anyways for another reason, or go to a Jewish school. If any of those are true, their prayers will have extra prayers (especially on Shabbat or another holiday).  12a. Rosh Chodeshes are traditionally women’s time/a moment set aside to honor women. 

Special Shabbats (varies): There are eight special Shabbats scattered around the year right before or after a big holiday. Services are longer and special prayers are added, but unless your character goes to shul or is in another circumstance where they pray consistently, they likely won’t know/care/notice. 

Some of these topics are also totally their own posts, but this is a general overview of the most important/common holidays and already super long!

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep 4: But His Name Backwards is Nomolos????

World is still kind of a mess, so lets go back to Yugioh, during an arc that is so incredibly tame that no one has died. Not even a little bit. No one has risked the destruction of the ecosystem with Pegasus’ historical fanart drawn on digital playing card. No angry gods have done really anything. They’re all on break.

Except for Pharaoh, but Pharaoh isn’t that angry anymore ever since the Orichalcos thing. He mostly just talks about card matches I couldn’t care less about because it’s Grandpa and Joey.

hey you know what bro just noticed that I haven’t noticed over these past 4 seasons--Look at Yugi and Yami’s hair.

Yugi’s hair has 3 extra floppy down bangs by his eyes. I just always assumed those were the same number as Pharaoh’s bangs--but turns out no, those are Pharoah’s streaks but flopped down.

Which means when he de-charges, his hair just flops over directly into his eyes.

And now I have an urge to animate something for the first time in years (spoiler: I do not have the time to animate this.) because WHY would they never animate this hair flop for us??? The POTENTIAL.

Grandpa spends most of the time saying “Joseph, can you guess what card I’m holding???” and Joey is like “Why would I tell you that? I’m trying to play a game? Would you stop explaining the rules? it’s getting kind of weird.” and I got a little bit of an insight into what the homelife of Yugi Muto must have been like growing up with a Grandpa who is just always talking about cards.

It does explain why Yugi plays so freakin slow, though.

(read more under the cut)

This is clearly just a visual gag but also maybe this is also how the Doctor just gets around?

Speaking of visual gags and getting around, it’s our two most inconsequential minibosses, refusing to leave the series.

Y’all let me know last time that we are in fact, still in America, and I guess this is proof of it, because there’s no other way they could have walked here. I mean Yugioh is real bad at geography but they seem to have a good grasp of a big ass ocean existing betwixt Japan and the US.

Not sure where they got those rad Hobbit outfits, though. If this is their new look, I’ll accept it.

(Yes, this is a new font. Again, I’m trying out stuff to try and make it accessible. I will figure this out before the season is over)

Honestly, I didn’t think Rex and Weevil could get much worse than being dead. Thought that maybe waking up in a hospital bed after joining the Big Bad would be enough of a wake up call to the direction their life is heading.

But, considering that this arc has no real villain so far other than a guy who likes the color purple and bathing in milk...maybe that’s fine. It’s not a BAD thing to play cards, necessarily. This doesn’t make them bad people...it’s what you do with those cards.

Like destroying a Caltrain with it, for instance.

Unless of course, the amount of energy it takes to do a card hologram is the same amount as an NFT, in which case I guess that would make them bad no matter who you play against. But we live in a universe with Noah in it, who probably had enough energy pumped into that orb to fuel like 15 Americas. Fossil fuels seem to be just fine in this universe.

In fact I don’t think it’s ever come up? Surprisingly, Seto Kaiba has never had to deal with an eco terrorist, unless you counted Raphael. That is hella rare for a 90′s early 00′s show. I feel like they were contractually obligated to have at least one fossil fuel episode.

Well, good for the Yugioh universe, who managed to solve the energy crisis off screen. Good for them.

PS Hawkins said this and afterward was like “I just want you kids to appreciate what you’re seeing here today.” and it’s like damn Hawkins. Condescend much? This old guy is like King of Throwing Shade While Appearing to be Helpful.

Anyway, the gimmick of Solomon Muto is that he plays a bunch of history cards. Arthur Hawkins was super excited about it, but I feel like the other kids were like “We straight up have never heard of any of these old ass cards for a reason.”

Bro has informed that this card also sucks ass IRL, and like...I’m not surprised.

(grandpa’s font has also changed to something he’s actually wearing, and to something that is way more legible.)

To think that during the time Grandpa spent trying to get this dragon working, he could have been researching the damn God Cards and helping Pharaoh figure out his past history. Youknow...that history stuff that he devotes his entire life to studying.

Course, maybe Grandpa was smart enough to know NOT do that. I feel like Grandpa putting the brakes on revealing Pharaoh’s history is reason enough to just not open that Pandora’s box, but that will be another arc, I guess. This one we’re just showing some ancient dragon merch to sell toys to kids IRL. Gotta have your episodes to remind you that Yugioh is in fact toys.

Also, Hawkins proceeded to point out to Yugi in a way without literally saying it, that Yugi doesn’t go home often enough to distract his Grandpa with cards.

Which Hawkins followed up by throwing shade at Joey Wheeler for the rest of the match, since he was the only one here who stans Grandpa. You can see who Rebecca gets it from, is what I’m saying.

Joey reveals his only motivation to be here--which should be to get a plane ticket. Like their only reason to be in this tournament is already done?

But his other motivation is silly.

uh huh.

Tristan really did lay this specific dunk in the show. He is being given a plane ticket to do nothing. Wow, Tristan.

At least Joey’s motivation isn’t based on fixing some girl. For once Joey is just doing this for himself and not for a relationship that will never happen for at least several years, or to be a Father for his oblivious Sister. Thank you, show. Course I say that, and there could be another Mai arc right around the corner.

Anyway, there really isn’t much else to say about this arc other than Joey has finally bested his mentor in a card game. Still can’t best Yugi or Pharaoh or Seto or hell, probably even Tea or Mokuba if they ever pulled out cards again...

...but he bested Grandpa, who got polished off by being beaten up by several thug-like holograms.

Not sure why he fell over other than...something in the holograms must be real in this universe. There’s no other reason this would happen!

(honestly I can’t handle Grandpa’s face. It looks. SO BAD. There’s something  offsetting about it that I really do not like, and I think it’s the eyes and the tiny nose and the very skeletal bone structure--I don't like it)

Like every person here is convinced that Yugi’s grandpa is one step away from keeling over and it’s low key hilarious to me. The man has died and been resurrected. You think Pegasus did that bad of a job??? Grandpa Muto will likely outlive all of you.

This show really can’t lift Joey without taking two more punches to get him back down. Like the show keeps telling me that Joey is a complete idiot, and he kind of is, but I want to point out that he is a talented idiot who was second in most of the tourney’s he’s been in and he should have killed Marik straight up if he wasn’t like struck by lightning first.

Yes, he got distracted and raced after Mai last season so he prematurely died, but that was clearly just a phase because I don’t see Mai here.

Yes, in the actual show, they each said “ohhhh” and it’s like...the brain damage on these kids. We need to get them back to school.

I think there’s like 30+ other characters introduced but the only ones I know are Rex, Weevil, Leon, and...the girl who hugged Yugi once? I don’t remember her name. But they’re probably next. I feel like this is a bit of a slower arc, but hey, if anything it’s easier for me to cap.

anyway, if you just got here, this is a link to read these in Chrono Order!

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

I’ll have you know I wrote this whole thing thinking Nomolos is a Fleet Foxes song and it hellllllllla got stuck in my head, but it turns out the word I was thinking of is Mykonos.