#or like. the ant that for one brief second understood what it is like to be a human

[cinnabeat]

anyways i was speaking to a friend the other day (yesterday????) and have come to the realization that the year before graduation curse has struck me again

[leftistanalysis]

Western marxism Ch 1.2

2) … and the [events] of October 1917 in the east

The first world war doesn’t provoke the same emotions in Asia as we saw in Europe, and not only because the battle grounds are thousands of miles apart. In the colonies and semi-colonies, the capitalist-colonist system had revealed it’s terrible load of oppression and violence long before august 1914. For china, the tragic even was clearly the opium wars. Between 1851 and 1864, in an attempt to neutralize the “British drug traffickers” and put an end to the opium trade, whose devastating effects were in plain view for the whole world,  the Taiping rebellion was developing, “the bloodiest civil war in world history, estimated to produce between 20 million and 30 million dead.” After powerfully contributing to provoking it, the west then moves to benefit from it, as it’s able to extend its control over a country that is torn and defenseless. What follows is a historic period in which “china is crucified” (since russia and Japan join the ranks of the western butchers). And the “western canons” and “the most terrible insurrections in history” are joined by “natural catastrophes” , against which a devastated country can’t muster the least resistance: “undoubtedly, the number of victims has never been so great in the history of the world.”

  Compared to this immense tragedy, the outbreak of the first world war is a small thing. Urged to intervene on the side of Great Britain, Sun Yat Sen, president of the republic that surged from the revolution of 1911 and the overthrow of the Manchu dynasty, “made clear to Lloyd George in a famous letter that the disputes between whites did not interest china”: the victory of this or that group would not change in the least the capitalist and colonist attitude of the west. On the other hand, the bolshevik rise to power made Sun Yat Sen feel the hope of the end of the tragedy begun by the opium wars, and this rose his enthusiasm. Not only does it promise to put an end to the war, but especially colonial slavery. 

This second aspect is the one that will lead the Chinese leader to take stock of a chapter of history whose conclusion can finally be glimpsed thanks to the October revolution: “the redskins of America have already Been exterminated”, and a similar fate looms over the rest of the colonies, including china. The situation is desperate; but suddenly one hundred and fifty million men of the slavic race have risen to oppose imperialism, capitalism, to combat inequality, and to defend humanity.” And just like that, “ a great hope for humanity is born which no one saw coming: the Russian revolution.” Naturally, imperialism responds in short order: “the world powers have attacked Lenin because they wish to destroy a prophet of humanity”, who will be hard pressed to reneg on his call for the liberation of people oppressed by colonial domination. It’s true that Sun Yat Sen is not a marxist or communist, but the foundation of the Chinese communist party of July 1st 1921 can only be understood through the “great hope” described by him with perhaps naive words, but because of that much more effective.

In light of all this, the characterization of the 20th century as a “brief century”, which according to Eric Hobsbawm begins with the traumatic experience of the first world war, suffers of eurocentrism. In the intervention of the delegates from indo-china in the Tours congress of the French socialist party, in December 26 1920, we find an ante litteram critique with a similar vision: 

“It’s been half a century since French capitalism arrived at indochina. We’ve been conquered at gunpoint in the name of capitalism; since then, not only have we been shamefully subjugated and exploited […] I find it impossible, in the few minutes that I have, to list all the atrocities committed by the bandits of capital in indochina. The prisons, much more numerous than the schools, are always open and terrifyingly overpopulated. Any native that is suspected of having socialist ideals is imprisoned and sometimes even condemned to death without trial. Here, the so called indochinese justice has two weights and two measures: the Annamites do not enjoy the same guarantees as the europeans and the europeanized.”

Having pronounced this terrible accusation, the Indochinese delegates, (which later would become famous throughout the world thanks to Ho Chi Minh) conclude: we see in the adherence to the third international the formal promise that the socialist party will finally give colonial problems the importance they deserve. Despite the cautious tone, far removed from all polemics, one points stands out with clarity: The turning point in world history is not august 1914, which sees a tragedy that has been unfolding in the colonies propagating in Europe as well, but October 1917, that is, the revolutions which arouse the hope of the end of that same tragedy also in the colonies. 

Already Lenin, obviously, highlighted the horror of colonialism: “the most liberal and radical politicians of a free great Britain became full fledged Gengis kan’s when it came to governing in India.” Before then, they had the lessons of Marx, denouncing liberal England for their treatment of Ireland (a colony located in Europe): a policy more despicable than that which tsarist and autocratic russia carried out over Poland; a policy so terroristic to the point that it was “unheard of in Europe” and can only be compared with the “Mongols”. As attested by ho chi Minhs call to his party comrades urging them not to lose sight of the colonial question, understandably, Marx’s lesson over the macroscopic exclusionary clauses of liberal freedom found more attentive ears in the east than in the west. This is a relevant difference, but it will undoubtedly not be the last. 

[quindolyn]

Midnight Walks || James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Word Count: 4363

Note: Dedicated to 🦎anon from @/randomoutsiders blog. Where I live it’s already 84℉ so this completely feasible but if you don’t live in hell and it's still cold and wintery outside just push it back a few months.

Warnings: Insecure reader, like 2 sexual comments because I’m filthy, talk of men being pigs and not keeping their hands to themselves, lots of fluff, modern muggle au, monkey bars, public nonsexual stripping,

Masterlist

Part 2

There were ants in your bones, there must’ve been. Either that or someone was trying to feather dust their way out of them. Your entire body itched with the urge to move, to run, to scream and jump in the middle of the street. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what drove this overwhelming desire, perhaps it was some sort of primal reason coded into your DNA, alternatively maybe it was the sitting at your computer all day. One could only attend so many online classes before they went insane, and a decent way into your second semester and still no sign of going back in person anytime before the next school year. You were like a purebred who desperately needed exercise. It would’ve been a simple enough fix if it wasn’t already 10:17, the sun having set four or so hours ago, even though you lived in a pretty nice area you didn’t feel comfortable going out. Men were disgusting, and going out this late alone meant risking life and limb because too many men thought it was okay to touch what wasn’t theirs. Fucking toddlers. So instead you were forced to open your windows in attempts to replicate the natural breeze and try to find another outlet for your energy. You tried. You really did. Jumping jacks, planks, the few yoga poses you could recall off the top of your head, dancing around your house to your favorite songs, but the music didn’t feel like it usually did, even it couldn’t soothe the itching in your bones. You were fucked, simply and truly. Too energetic without the proper outlet. After none of those things worked you sat down to attempt to get some of your weekend homework done, but somewhere between ionization energy and confidence intervals you found yourself picking at your nail polish instead of paying attention to your work. Groaning you threw your head down onto your desk, wincing as the pain from the impact spread through your skull. Closing your eyes you tried to imagine it, the cool night air in your face, blowing through your mangled tresses, the thud of your feet against the pavement of the sidewalk, the feeling of the grass at the park tickling your exposed skin as you stared up at the cloudy sky, looking for stars. You swore you could almost feel it all, almost pulled into bliss when you were yanked from your reprieve by the buzzing of your phone. Groaning, you pulled your head up, it wobbled on your neck, as though it was loose and needed to be tightened. Had you wanted to you couldn’t have stopped the smile that broke across your phone when you saw the notification on your lock screen, a text from James. Can I call you? Sure. You typed out waiting anxiously for your ringtone to blare through your room. Instead you were met with another brief buzz. One second, Sirius is being an idiot. Another smile, smaller than the last, bloomed across your face, Sirius was often an idiot. Picking up your phone you pressed it to your ear just in time to hear James greet you. “Hey baby.” Loving James was potentially one of the easiest things you’d ever done, if asked you would've said it would be easier to stop breathing before you stopped loving him. There was just so much to love and as his voice tickled your ear you remembered one of the things you so loved about him, the sound of his voice. With two simple words he was able to soothe you, if only a little bit. But still the ache to be outside lessened a little. “Hi Jamsie.” You crooned into the phone as you shut down your laptop coming to the conclusion you were going to get jack shit done tonight. You distantly heard Sirius in the background but couldn’t make out any words, “Pads says hi.” James conveyed. “Hi Siri!” You yelled into the phone, you waited until the bickering and laughing on their side of the phone quieted before continuing, “Whatcha callin’ about bub?” “Missed you is all, was wondering what you were doing?” “Nothing much, tried to get some homework done.” James chuckled knowing how distracted you could get if someone wasn’t there to help you stay on track, “How’d that go?” “Not well,” You grumbled, “S’not my fault either, can’t focus. I just need some fresh air, I need to go on a walk but I can’t.” Flinging your body onto your bed and landing on your back you pulled the phone from your ear, turning it onto speaker and setting it on your belly, liking the vibrations against your body as James spoke. It was almost like he was there with you. “I’m sorry darling,” James knew exactly what you were talking about. Unlike a lot of men he wasn’t afraid to broach topics like these, he would sit and kiss your head if some guy at the grocery store had been a prick and couldn't keep his eyes or his hands off of your ass, or if one of the boys in your class had made an objectifying comment. He’d listen to you lament and apologize, on behalf of all men, for the disgusting things you were forced to deal with. He had learned a lot since you started dating, he’d always been a feminist but before you hadn’t really understood what that meant. His mother and father always made sure he was aware of gender biases and he’d heard stories of women being assaulted, harassed, discriminated against and perhaps it made him a bad person but when it happened to you, when you told him about these things it was different, it was worse, he couldn’t control the rage that bubbled up inside of him. You were (Y/N) (L/N), you were his, you deserved to be treated like royalty. No one got to disrespect you. He felt the pang in his heart when he pictured you holed up in your house, like a caged animal, desperate to get out. “I know, and I love you.” You responded, knowing he hated how you had to be afraid and cautious all the time. “I love you too.” “What were you doing before you called?” You asked after a beat. “Watching a movie with mom and Sirius.” A twinge of guilt twisted in your stomach, “Oh, you should go back to them Jamsie, I don’t want to keep you from your family.” James stopped himself before he could tell you that they’d already finished the movie as an idea hit him like most of his ideas hit him, suddenly and fleetingly. Remus once compared them to a freight train. “Okay angel, talk to you later.” “Bye, Jamsie.” He hung up immediately as the last syllable left your lips causing a frown to tug downwards at those aforementioned lips. Sure, you felt a bit guilty that he’d bailed on his mom and Sirius for you but you couldn’t help feeling a little sad that he was so ready to get rid of you the second he had a chance. Feeling all too familiar insecurity simmer from under your sternum questions popped into your head one after another. Did he really want to be with you? Was this all because he just pitied you? Were you just a substitute for Lily? Did his heart still belong to her? What did he even see in you? You couldn’t help but feel like nothing compared to her, she’s Lily Evans. And you’re, well you’re just not. Time had slipped away from you, you hadn’t realised how much until you felt your phone buzz against your stomach and saw that almost 15 minutes had passed since James had hung up on you. You only briefly noted the time before your eyes flashed down to the banner displayed across your screen, another text. Look out your window. Lifting your torso, propping yourself up on your forearms and twisted your head to see James’ smiling face plastered against your window, a huge, beautiful grin, stretching across his face. You could feel a matching one fan out across your face as you skipped to the window, pulling it open relishing in the cool breeze that let itself into your room. “Hey there handsome.” You joked. “Hey beautiful.” “What are you doing outside my window?” You were befuddled, wasn’t he supposed to be watching some Quentin Tarantino or equally violent movies that he and Siri liked? “I was thinking we could go on a walk,” He explained unabashedly. “A walk?” You asked, a blush blossoming on your face, creeping its way down your neck. “You wanted to go on one, yeah?” “I love you.” Was all you said in response, he caught you as you threw yourself into his arms, the middle of your thighs biting into the sill of your window, but you didn’t care. How could you? All you could focus on was the way his arms wrapped around your body, pulling you close to him so he could bury his nose into your hair. “Love you too darling.” There was a part of you, an admittedly large part, that wanted to stay standing there forever but the cool evening air reminded you about how much you wanted that walk. Peeling yourself away from him you placed your chin on his pectoral, not considerably comfortable for either of you, but you were close to each other, and that’s all that mattered. “Come in.” “I was waiting for you to ask.” He winked, slinging one leg over the windowsill giving him room to maneuver his rather large body through the small opening, but James had experience fitting his body into tiny things (namely your cunt). “Are your parents home?” “No, everyone’s gone for the night.” “Why didn’t you tell me baby, I would’ve come over and kept you company.” You felt heat creep back up your neck to your face, embarrassed by the answer. Though your insecurities could swallow you whole when you were alone, they seemed trivial when James was actually there, staring down at you with so much love in his eyes. “Don’t want to be clingy.” The confession bringing even more heat to your cheeks. “Never, (Y/N), absolutely never. If anyone here is clingy it's me not you.” You corrected him, “You’re wonderful.” “So are you bub.” Reassuring you he brushed a piece of hair out of your face. “Now come on! Let’s get some shoes on you and we can go out.”

James was filling up an old water bottle he found in one of the cupboards in case either of you got thirsty when you entered the kitchen, shoes and socks in hand. Your boy smiled at you, twisting the cap of the water bottle on all of the way before setting it on the countertop and moving towards you. “Want me to put your shoes on for you?” “Yes please.” You nodded, grinning cheekily. His large hands found your waist, lifting you up and setting your bum onto the cool counter. Slipping the socks from your hand he knelt down to roll them over your feet, leaving a kiss on the inside of each of your ankles. “You wanna walk to anywhere in particular?” “The park?” You offered, handing him one of your tennis shoes which were a little beat up, but still a long way from needing to be replaced. “The one with the fountain?” “Do you know of any other parks within walking distance?” You snarked, swinging your legs, feeling the need to be outside return, faster and more powerful than before. “Guess not,” He grumbled, looking up at you with a playful smile so you would know he didn’t really take your sarcasm to heart. “Hey watch it!” He chuckled when you accidentally swung your leg a little too hard and knocked his left shoulder with your socked foot. “Sorry.” You apologized looking about as sorry as Sirius usually did when he was apologizing, which honestly wasn’t much. “There you go Cinderella.” He said, as he pat your thigh once he finished tying your laces, rising from his kneeling position. “You think you’re funny do you Potter?” “In fact I do (L/N).” He grinned, sliding you off the counter, onto your feet. “Shall we?” You offered your hand to him which he accepted like a true gentleman. “We shall.”

You were right, but then again, when were you ever wrong? Fresh air was exactly what you needed, the feeling of the wind in your hair, the twigs snapping beneath your weight, the solidness of the ground. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this alive. That was probably stupid but it was liberating to be out of your house, and on top of it it was nighttime too. You weren’t often able to be out this late because you usually didn’t have someone to go out with. You had almost forgotten how beautiful it was when there was no glass separating you from the moon and the stars. Despite the fact that his legs were far longer than yours James still had to speed walk to keep up with you. His heart swelled seeing you so happy and carefree as you strode unapologetically down the sidewalk. “Stop walking so fast.” He complained, finally matching your stride as he loosely looped his left arm around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible while still keeping the two of you moving forward. “Not my fault you’re a slowpoke.” You retaliated but nevertheless still resting your head on his broad shoulder. “It’s nice out isn’t it?” He pondered aloud. “It’s wonderful,” You agreed, closing your eyes and turning your face up towards the sky, trusting James to guide you safely down the sidewalk, “I’m sorry you had to ditch your mom and Siri to come be with me.” You apologized as another wave of guilt from earlier hit you. “I didn’t bubba, we’d already finished the movie when I called you.” “Really?” Your head perked up. “Mhm.” James hummed. “Why didn’t you tell me that?’ “Wanted to surprise you.” He explained and your heart soared, he really was indescribably sweet. “Well I was surprised.” “Good.” “What movie did you watch?” Wondering if your suspicions had been correct. “Forrest Gump.” He responded by popping his “p”. You laughed squeezing two of James’ fingers on the hand splayed across your stomach. “What?” “Nothin’, just thought you and Pads would’ve made your mom watch Reservoir Dogs or something.” “Come on, you know me and Padfoot (Y/N), nothin’ but a couple of softies the two of us.” “Yes, yes you are.” You responded completely seriously. “You were supposed to disagree, he whispered into your ear. “I cannot tell a lie.” “Hey!” He exclaimed in mock offense. “Come on I found the two fo you cuddling when I came over Wednesday, he was literally spooning you Jamsie. It was rather cute really.” James let you have the last word and the two of you were silent for a minute as you passed a house with a line of cars in front of it, stupid fucking people and their stupid fucking parties. You thought, thinking they’re more important than the rest of us, that it’s okay to throw a party during the middle of a pandemic. “There’s a pandemic going on people,” James muttered as you crossed in front of the driveway, as though he was reading your thoughts. You just nestled into him more. Once you cleared the super spreader house it was only a few feet before you turned the corner and your desired destination came into view causing a ginormous smile to practically crack your face in half. “Come on Jamie!” You giggled, grabbing his hand and pulling him down the street towards the park, not even looking both ways as you bolted across the street to the park. You’d always thought that parks and playgrounds and such looked a bit creepy after dark and while today was no exception you still didn’t think twice before bounding up the steps of the play structure. Laughing, you turned your face back up towards the sky as you reached down to slip your shoes and socks off, tossing them off the play structure onto the wood chips scattered across the ground. “You look beautiful up there.” You hadn’t noticed James approach you, but he was now standing at the foot of the play structure, looking up at you. “Come up here with me Jamie, please?” You pleaded, tugging on his arm. “How could I deny you anything?” “Simple,” You responded, “You can’t.” Pushing himself up onto the structure he tried to envelop you in his arms but you squirmed away, giggling. As you ran toward the slide at the opposite end of the playground he broke out into a run after you, purposefully keeping his strides short to give you the upper hand. Breaking out into a sprint as soon as your feet touched the ground you raced towards the open field, James hot on your heels. He chased you around the perimeter of the grassy clearing, the two of you yelling at each other and laughing until your lungs hurt when he finally caught you in his arms, trying to get you as close to him as possible. He loved the feeling of your body against his more than he loved life itself. Or even Sirius. “What should I do with you now that I’ve captured you?” He mused tauntingly, tightening his grip on you. “Well I know one thing you could do to me.” You murmured. “(Y/N) (M/N) (L/N), get your mind out of the gutter Miss,” “Make me.” You teased, wiggling in his grasp. “I know what’ll fix your attitude.” James declared, adjusting his so his arms were around your waist instead of one there and one wrapped around your shoulders. “And what’s that?” “A nice February swim!” He roared jovially, hefting you over his shoulder as he bounded towards the fountain located on the east side of the park. “Jamie!” You shrieked as you bounced against him, “Slow down.” “Sorry Princess,” He huffed once you reached the fountain, he carefully lifted you off his shoulder and sat you down on the ledge of the water feature as he kneeled before you, hands pressing against your thighs. “Come on baby, go swimming with me?” “Course.” You smiled as you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, throwing it somewhere over Jamie’s shoulder. You didn’t bother watching where it landed, too enraptured with the gorgeous boy on his knees in front of you. “You look gorgeous (Y/N).” He murmured, taking it the sight of your bare stomach and chest clad in a lacy lavender bra. “I let you see mine, now get your shirt off Potter!” You commanded impatiently, you loved James all the time, but you especially loved James shirtless. “Okay, okay woman, calm down, I'm moving.” He playfully chastised shrugging off his jacket which you just now realised was his varsity jacket, his last name emblazoned across the back of it. When he caught you staring at him he teasingly played with the hem of his shirt, rolling it in the tips of his fingers until you lightly kicked his bent knee. He then discarded his pants, throwing them and his shirt somewhere to his right, carefully laying his jacket on a bench a few feet away he was left only in his boxers and you took this time to appreciate how his skin shown in the moonlight, his darker complexion brilliant in the darkness of the park. “You wanna keep your shorts on? He lilted, moving towards where you sat on the bench encircling the fountain. You nodded in response, not wanting to be so vulnerable in such a public space. “Okay baby sounds good.” James leaned in towards you pressing his lips to yours before he scooped you into his arms before stepping into the fountain, even though it was warm ish outside the water of the fountain hadn’t had enough time to truly heat up because the water that lapped at his midcalf almost had him feeling bad for what he did next. Which was dropping you into the freezing cold water, keeping you upright by his hold on your shoulders before you were able to ground yourself on the floor of the fountain. With water sprouting up from the top and cascading down 4 smaller tiers reminiscent of bird baths, getting larger and larger in radius as they went down, cold water nipped at your skin. “Agh!” You shrieked, “It’s freezing!” “Calm down drama queen!” James snorted, “Little cold water never hurt anybody.” “Speak for yourself!” Screaming as James bent down to splash you with water you tried to run away resulting in you falling backwards onto your bum. “You okay baby?” James asked nervously bending down next to you, surveying your near naked body for any cuts or bruises. Your response came as you looped your arms around his neck and pulled him down, submerging the entirety of his body in the chilly water. He quickly pulled you down with him so that your head was submerged, your hair billowing out around you in the water. When you pulled back up to the surface your wet hair was plastered to your face. And though you were cold, wet, and maybe a little banged up your heart was aflame, this had been exactly what you needed, to run around like a little kid and lose yourself, if only for a little while. Glancing back down your jaw dropped, the light coming from the fountain walls made the shadows of the water reflect on James’ dark skin making him look even more beautiful, like something out of a book. He took your temporary lapse as an opportunity to flip you around so that he was on top of you, he thought you were always stunning but something about you beneath him made you shine like nothing else he’d ever seen. Taking good care to make sure your head didn’t bump against the fountain, and that your head was above water, he trailed kisses from your temple to your jaw. When he reached your chin the second freight train of the night hit him head on and he stuck out his tongue licking from the point of your chin, up your lips, the bridge of your nose, and up your forehead until he reached your hair line where he left one more gentle kiss. “James Potter!” You shrieked, a giggling mess, “What the hell?” He lifted himself off you so he could once again scoop you into his arms, “Come on my little water nymph, let’s get you dry, don’t need you getting sick on me.” “Think you should’ve thought about that before you dunked me into the fountain in nothing but my bra and shorts.” You retaliated to which he only rolled his eyes, before shaking his head like a wet dog. “I swear to God Potter, you’re a Golden Retriever.” “Hmh?” He asked, stepping out of the fountain. “Playful, loyal, energetic, smart.” You explained, planting a kiss on his nose. “Shaking off to dry like a fucking dog.” “You love me.” He grinned, like the thought was just now hitting him, like you hadn’t said it already multiple times that night. “That I do Potter.” You agreed as he set you down on the bench where he had laid his jacket, taking care to slip your arms into it one at a time he pulled it close to your body to keep you warm before coming up behind you, tipping your head back so he could wring the excess water out of it, taking this as an opportunity to kiss the hollow of your throat to which you hummed. Upon slipping on his previously discarded pants and shirt, an endeavor you watched very closely, not wanting to miss a second of how his muscles shifted underneath his smooth, taut skin, he sat down next to you. “It’s a beautiful night.” “That it is.” You agreed. The two of you sat there for a moment before James carefully stood up, “Where are you going Jamie? Too tired now, m’done playing.” “I know angel, come on, not gonna play, just get more comfortable.” He soothed, taking you by the hand and walking you over to a set of fairly new monkey bars. Picking you up from the bottom of your thighs he pushed you up and above his shoulders to sit on top of the monkey bars and you were reminded why it sometimes came in handy to be dating the captain of the football team. Swinging up next to you on the monkey bars he slid his arm around your shoulders, both of your legs meeting the edge of the cold metal at the bend of your knees, your bodies there down hanging off leaving the both of you on your backs staring up at the unusually starry night sky. “There’s Orion.” You lifted your arm to point out the constellation, “ Surprised we can see so many.” You marvelled. “It is rather pretty.” “‘Rather pretty’?” You gasped exasperated with the boy next to you, “It’s not just ‘rather pretty’, it's gorgeous!” You corrected with a huff, turning your visage back up towards the heavens. “Eh,” He shrugged, “I’ve seen better.” “I swear to God, James Fleamont Potter if you say ‘You’re prettier than any constellation’ I’m going to push you off these monkey bars.” A chuckle pushed its way past his lips as he brushed his lips along the part of your hair, “You know me too well don’t you (L/N).” “Yeah, I’ve got your number Mister.” James pulled out his phone to check the time, “Hey baby, it’s midnight.” He whispered in your ear, turning his phone screen so you could read the time. “Happy Saturday my darling boy.” “Happy Saturday Princess, let’s get you home.”

Note: I know in my initial ask on @/randomoutsiders you guys went home and more fluff ensued. Maybe a part two?

tagging: @randomoutsiders​ 

[stargaze-issei]

— "𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞" (𝐛. 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭; when your father, the head of the japanese mafia, was killed, your childhood friend swore to protect you till his death. now, you're the empress of the underground world, and he doesn't know what's harder, to keep you safe or manage to hide his feelings. what will he do when, for the first time, your life's at risk and he isn't anywhere near?

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞; mafia!au, angst.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; swearing, mentions of blood, guns, murder, kidnap, yk... mafia stuff.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 2.7k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; lemme know if u want a part two bc i felt like it was getting too long and i don't know if anyone will read it or like it 👉🏻👈🏻

"where the fuck are you?" bakugou's voice stroke over the phone, noticeably angry. he had told you several times to never go anywhere without him, which you mostly did, if it weren't for him being away a lot of times. nothing less was expected from your right hand, who handled every dirty job, and considering your line of work, it wasn't scarce. but you did had other bodyguards, just as trained as katsuki, willing to give their lifes for you, which was extremely better than having bakugou giving his life.

to his eyes, you were still the little girl from before. he saw you as a someone who needed protection. at first, you agreed. your father was murdered, someone managed to get through all his security and killed him, none of the guns he and his security team carried around could protect him, killing you would be like stealing a sweet from a baby. bakugou had always kept you safe, despite his agressive usual safe, he cared about you more than he cared for himself. so you stuck to his side, believing, hoping, he'd die for you. but that was a long time ago, now, you could defend yourself, and had raised a sense of loyalty in your people by your own. your father's empire was based in fear, yours? by admiration. you didn't see your people as working ants, but as important parts of a whole. still, anyone who was a threat to you, bakugou made sure to erase them forever.

"don't talk to me like that, i'm your boss" you could feel him losing his shit, a smile began to form in your face. even when everyone respected you, he was still the same.

"you can't boss anyone if you're fucking dead, you dumb shit" a laugh came out of your throat, he couldn't avoid smiling at the sound "wait, oh, okay, i know we're you are. stay there, i'll be in three" he hung up before you could reply.

you looked back, at one of your guards who was just putting away his phone. of course they told him. why couldn't you go get your own coffee? being in the office all day was tiring, to be five minutes outside was all you asked for. a few seconds after, they handed you your coffee, obviously, a guard had to try it first, in case that barista wanted to suddenly murder you. of course he didn't.

"who let her go outside without me knowing, huh?" a furious katsuki appeared through the door, making a scene in the place. you gave him a warning look. if there was something you hated, was that. everyone in the area knew who you were, but why make it any more obvious. those people were just living their usual lifes, and people tend to get nervous around you. "the car is waiting outside" he understood, but you knew he was going to scold you anyways.

you walked outside, smiling, and got into the car, followed by katsuki and one of his subordinates, the other one got in the front sit, next to the driver.

"save it, i'm n–"

"the fuck you are" he cut you "your safety is my responsibility, if i say you can't go out without me, then you fucking don't. specially not when there are people after your head" there was no denying he was right, but still, it upset you.

"there's always people after my head, bakugou".

two weeks ago, two men went into your office. they were in charge of some dealing territories, though small, important. most contraband had to pass those places, you controlled those police departments making everything easier to your truck drivers. they were beaten, cover in blood and barely standing.

"our men, all of them... they all..." only one of them could talk, the other being too shocked to even look at you. "kazuhito's men, it was them... they said we had to tell you, they're coming after you" you couldn't show any fear in front of your so called soldiers, and your template remained at ease. a shout was enough to get those men the help they needed, after holding their hands, you promised to go see them once they were checked by doctors. you called bakugou as soon as they left, he was the first who should know and help you decide what to do next.

the kazuhito family had always been rivals, enemies of the worst kind. everyone suspect they were behind your father's assassination, but with no proof, even you knew it would be the biggest mistake to charge against them, despite your personal desires.

"i already told the drivers they had to take rout b for a while, but we can't let them just keep what's our" you explained to katsuki once he arrived. "those drugs have to get in town by us, damnit". it was clear how frustrated you were, those assholes had mess with your and your father's hardwork.

"if we retaliate, a war will unchain. your father tried to avoid that for years"

"and see how he ended up" bakugou didn't know if it was the anger, or you talking. "we will lose everyone's respect if we don't do something, they killed dozens of our people, katsuki".

he was trying hard to stay objective in that situation, but it was near impossible. a war would put you in more danger than ever, your life was at stake, and bakugou wasn't sure if he was willing to risk it. growing up by your side, your father taking him in when his parents died, you were his only family. more than that, he loved you. the only reason he was able to do his job right, was the fear of losing you. your head was already valued in millions, how could he protect you in the middle of a conflict, that would end only with your death or the kazuhito's leader's death? your power was bigger than theirs by little, but they did something that reckless, which meant they thought they had out powered you. had they? or were they just bluffing? had they miscalculated?.

"we're taking action, wether you support me or not" you looked into each other's eyes, you knew him enough to understand his fear, just not the reason behind it. your voice softened "but i'd much rather do it with you by my side".

"you're the boss" he spoke, already regretting it "i'll schedule a meeting so the high charges let everyone else know, i'm staying at your place so we can trace a plan".

and there you were now, being reprimanded by bakugou. he was extremely tired, he decided to stay with you until things were calmer, which could be several months from then. getting up at six a.m, going to sleep past midnight, being always looking for possible threats, it had given him bags under his eyes.

"i'm sorry" you said once you were alone with him, it was only then that you could let your guard down "i'm making this harder for you".

"yeah, you are. but it's my job, after all" that came out wrong, he thought. it wasn't his job, it was his fucking life purpose. he wanted you to live a long, happy life, as hard as it seemed.

"i guess it is" deep down, his response disappointed you.

"hey, look at me" out of nowhere, his body was insanely close to yours, you felt his breath in your face as he lifted your chin with his finger "there's nothing i wouldn't do for you, got that, dumbass?"

for a brief moment, the taste of his lips was all you could think about. i bet they're soft. but as fast as it started, it was over, katsuki pulled away harshly, inventing an excuse to leave. he had flown too close to the sun, so close that it burned his skin.

a few more people went to see you that day, asking for diverse permissions, advice and stuff like that. since it had been slow, compared to other times, you decided to home early. a call to your team, and the car was already outside. bakugou left instructions for your departure, because he had things to do somewhere else, much to his displeasure. you were accompanied by your escorts to the doors of the building, that seemed like a normal office compound. there were waiting two other guards, making a total of six people protecting you. way to go, bakugou.

"how's your wife, ryota?" you asked the driver. of course, not everyone fitted in the same car, so you got into the second one, middle seat, between a built up woman and a big man. you tried to remember everyone's name, but it was difficult.

"she's good, ma'am, sends her regards" he smiled at you over the mirror.

"and the baby? he must be a month old, right?" at the memory of his child, his face lightened "you should take some days off, i bet your wife and son miss you"

"i have a duty with you, m–" a loud impact interrupted him, the front glass had exploded. the car had an abrupt movement back and forward, all you could see was blood, everywhere.

the woman next to you took her gun out, in order to protect you , you thought, completely wrong. before everyone could react to her act, she shot the guard in front of you.  you looked at your side, searching for someone alive, the same bullet that had killed ryota was in the guard's at your right forehead. besides you , the only other person was that woman. if she hadn't glasses on, that stare could've seen throughout your soul. then you remembered, katsuki made you bare with a knife under your sleeve. with a weird move, you felt its sharpness against your skin, it was there, but she read you like a book. before you could even pull it out, another shot stroke followed by a intense pain in you thight. the bitch had shot you. you blamed it on the adrenaline, because nothing hurt. what happened after was a couple of blurry images in your memory.

bakugou had called you more than a hundred times, you, the drivers, the guards, everyone in his fucking team, but no one knew anything. the cameras at your house never showed you arriving, your phone's location was off. he was out of his head, if he didn't hear from you in the next five minutes, someone's going to die. he rushed into his car, following your rout at a dangerous speed. 

both cars were full of bullet holes, and every guard he had hired was dead. there wasn't a place without blood. tears of pure rage came to his eyes, fuck, it was his fault. he started to look for you, but the whole world was spinning around him. where were you? where was your body? were you alive?, this couldn't be happening. he had left you unprotected, alone, and now you could be dead, because of his uselessness. his phone vibrated in his pocket.

"sir, we– we have– the kazuhito's are here" he left as fast as he came. they had touch you, they had taken you away from him, and he wasn't going to let them get away with it, even if he had to go against a whole army, whoever was behind it all was going to pay.

a man in a suit was sitting in the chair of your office, smoking a cigarette, as calm as a rock. katsuki was so close to rip his head of right there, that somebody had to hold him down. his own people updated him, saying that he had gone into the building alone, with no weapons of any kind, not even a cellphone.

"where the fuck is she?" he crashed his hand against the desk.

"ah, mr. bakugou, please take a se–"

"tell me where she is right now if you want to keep your head, fucking bastard" his hand had wondered to the tip of the gun in his belt, menacing to blow up at any second.

"you won't do that, mr., if i don't return to my people in one hour, she'll be so fucked up that not even you will recognize her" a laugh surge grom bakugou, a dark, cold laugh.

"i don't have to kill you, then" one of the man's hand rested in the desk, like asking for katsuki to rip it off his body. as you did, he also carried knifes under his shirt. in less than a second, one of them was buried into the man's hand. he screamed, both in shock and pain, giving your bodyguard a hatred look. "what do you want, shitface?"

"i-it's quite simple, actually" his face was white as paper, and even though he wanted to talk normally, his voice shivered "we want you to take over the y/l/n's business, under our command of course" he let out a sigh, trying to keep his composure and ignoring his bleeding hand "if you– if you agree, she will have to leave japan and never..."

bakugou won't agree to that. not now and not ever. to give away what you and your father built from scratch, and spent decades keeping safe, was like killing your child, and your father's memory. to send you away, alone, where he most likely won't see you again in years, was also off the table. it wasn't funny anymore. he started walking around the man's chair, picking up his sleeves. he checked the clock in the office, he had forty-five minutes with the man, meaning, forty-five minutes to make him talk. he ressourced to every fast interrogation method he knew. the people outside the door weren't surprised when they heard the man's screams, even wondering what had taken so long for the boss to start acting. katsuki was never a patient man. his senses were blocked, he couldn't hear anything but screams and begging, all his eyes could see was pain through all the man's body, his hands felt nothing but warm blood. but for the first time in a while, he wasn't enjoying it. he was doing it out of need, the need to save you. every minute that went by, was a minute were your life risked. he never felt so close to losing his sanity.

"outside the city! she's in one of our safe houses outside the city! i don't know which, please stop!" ten minutes before the timeline he finally gave up. your intelligence had all their safe houses, storages, garages, every location needed. not a second passed when one of yours men delivered a map with all the points marked. there were five in total.

"throw him outside in ten minutes" he shouted, walking to the armory "two teams, six people each, my fucking people, hear me? now, dammit! we're leaving in a minute, if i have to go by my fucking self, i'll do it"

when he was armed to the teeth, almost a dozen of people followed him outside. they were his most trusted men and women, being trained together, he knew they were as skilled as him, and they were all willing to put their life's at stake for you, their boss. in the car, bakugou barked the instructions. he had narrowed it down to two possible locations with all the information he had. if they had to kill every person in those places, then be it. he's going to get you back.

[infinitegalahad]

WIFE

Summary: You and Dick, after years of indefinite separation and depression, have finally reunited. Dick can’t wait to start a family with you. You love Dick, but you soon realize that you cannot bear him a son, a daughter, or a child.

Word Count: 10.9k (i’m being generous)

Warnings: Infertility, period typical sexism, Loneliness, based off of a mitski song what did you expect, here comes the angst train *sad choo choo*

Notes: Female reader. and title (literally) taken from Wife By Mitski, which I rec listening too for the extra painful experience. So I’m back from the dead...ish. I wanna apologize for going AWOL for two-three months, guess Iw anted to focus on other works and I feel like x readers are not my strong suit. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna write them! I can’t promise anything, but I am planning some stories. Not as long or as painful as this is, of course!

I’m not gonna lie, I cried while writing this. Not only because it’s Mitski, but infertility is something that hit’s close to home for me and my family. Was this story just me projecting my generational trauma into this fic? Never! Anyways, hopefully I won’t go AWOL again, atleast not for that long. It’s really hard to find the motivation to write, but I’ll do it. For you guys ;)

Taglist: @easy-company-tradition​ 

When Dick Winters had left for the war five years ago, he had made a promise to you the night before he was drafted. You were nineteen and naive, planned for college and he was twenty-seven, a post-graduate and Business Major. Your father was his professor and one of his best students. You would see Dick every Friday Night. As you would pick at the leftover peas on your plate, he would turn to look at your father to talk about something business-related. His eyes, you could never tell if they were a light shade of blue or green, would meet yours. It would be for a brief second. Those brief seconds would make you drop your fork and your cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

You had a small crush on Dick Winter’s.

It took you a few weeks to catch onto his eye color. They were a beautiful mixture of blue and green, reflecting a mint color. The taper candles would always lighten his eyes up. The reason you finally found out this eye color was because each dinner, you’d catch Dick staring at you. You were naturally oblivious to it, keeping your head down as your father talked a business deal. But whenever he mentioned Dick’s name, you would look up, see Dick’s dilated mint pupils looking right into your eyes before he swiftly turned his head to your father, acting like he was listening to every little word he was saying.

Dick had become a family friend. Instead of dinners once a week, he would come by your house more frequently in the summer months. The summer you had met Dick, there was a three-month-long heatwave. From what you understood, Dick had been doing an internship with your father along with extra studies, extracurriculars, and even more. It sounded like a lot for a young man. He was over three times a week, always in your father’s studies or the porch, drinking lemonade as he and your father discussed business. You’d sit on top of the porch, lazily slumped in a chair in your floral dirndl, reading And Both Were Young as you watched Dick Winters, in shorts and a tight white shirt with his strawberry blonde hair a little messy. Every time he spoke, your heart would skip a beat.

“Two jobs?” You cried, skipping ahead of him in your flats that you had slipped on in a rush, the heels hanging out of the back. “And an internship? How do you do it all?”

Dick looked down at your tiner figure, his lips curving into a subtle smile at your question. Whenever he smiled, his cheeks would wrinkle. It was a small detail you caught into about Dick that you adored. “I don’t go to parties a lot. Not worth the time that I’ve got. I work these jobs so I can get through school and support my family.”  

“That’s very admirable, Dick. Not a lot of guys my age would even consider that.” You remarked with a compliment. Dick walked beside you, hands behind your back with a straight back. His gaze lingered in you as he scanned your figure. Now that Dick was around more often, you always made sure to wear your best outfits. You wouldn’t have considered yourself very vain, but with Dick, something had changed. You started wearing the pretty pastel dresses your mother approved off, fine pearls, expensive cologne, and even the short rompers that your mother didn’t approve of. When wearing makeup, you felt like a woman more than a girl, which is what you wanted Dick to see you as.

“Thank you, y/n.” The strawberry blonde politely thanked with a curt nod. The two of you had a little routine now. While your mother would make dinner and your father would smoke a cigar in the back with the dogs, you’d take Dick into your backyard and down a little cobblestone trail to a hidden lake. You liked to go there to read to escape, and Dick needed a small break from working in the burning heat. So it was idle. “Do you have plans now that you’ve graduated?”

“Yes. I’m starting classes at Franklin and Marshall since they’ve allowed women. My mother prefers I stay home and learn how to be a lady instead of reading,” You explained with a sigh. The only woman in a class full for men. Times were changing, and nothing was going to stop you from working. “She cares more about her grandchildren then her daughter’s desires.”

“Well, it is your choice? Not your mother or father’s. As long as you were happy, then they should be happy for you. I think you’ll like it,” Dick kindly reassured, “You’re a very nice young lady, y/n. I’m sure you’ll do great things.”

The two of you arrived at the lake. The sun was setting over the sky as it shined on the lake. There was an orange and pink hue in the sky. Dick and you stood besides each other. The strawberry blonde shut his eyes and let out a long sigh, feeling a small breeze in the night. The air got colder in the nights, which felt like a refreshing treat after a long day of work and unbearable heat. The sun made his strawberry blonde hair and skin glow like he was some kind of god.

You admired Dick as he stood there, biting your lip and hands playing with the belt fabric on your skirt.

“Dick?” You managed to choke, your voice cracking.

He opened one eye and looked at you, worried. “Is everything okay, y/n?”

“Can you please kiss me?”

Dick looked bewildered. It took him a second to process the question. His expression was that of a high school student stumped on an equation in math class. He hadn’t been outside much, maybe the heat was getting to him. “I don’t think I heard that correctly.”

“Can you please kiss me?” You reiterated, biting your lip in vexation. “I haven’t met a man like you, Dick. None of the boys my mother is setting me up with are like. They aren’t as intelligent, hardworking, cordial. When I tell these boys I want to read and live my life, they put me down-call me insane and ill. But you don’t do those things. You just stand there and listen to me. I may not make sense since I am probably just some young immature girl who knows nothing about being a proper lady. You even give me kind words of advice. No other boy would do that. Only a man would do such a thing.” You vented, letting your words spill out like vomit.

Dick wasn’t reacting at all. At Least it wasn’t obvious. He turned his figure towards you, eyes glued as his lips puckered against each other’s. He seemed taken aback by your honesty since you were someone who was reserved, only speaking when necessary. That didn’t mean adding your opinion to one of your father’s at dinner. Dick wasn’t obvious to your “rebellious” nature. Your mother would always scold you for interrupting the men. Your father didn’t mind your info if, and so didn’t Dick. He was interested in your perspective, and would always ask for further intake since it was the gentlemen thing to do.

You looked at him and shook your head, turning to walk back. “Forget it,” You sighed as you walked past him, your shoulder brushing against his. Dick got a smell of your perfume, a lavender and vanilla, it was definitely expensive. He liked y/n’s armora, especially after a long day of being in a stuffy room full of whiskey and burning cigars. “You probably think I’m just a mad woman-“

Dick thought about his decision for a second. He had to think thinkly. When he made up his mind, he sped walk towards you. “Wait,” He called. He saw you turn around with your silky (y/h/c) (y/h/t) spring right behind you. He scrunched up a fist feeling a lump grow in his throat as he looked a few slow steps towards you.

“You’re not a mad woman. I think you’re wonderful to be around. I always enjoy our conversations and our midnight walks,” Dick commented. He was at a loss of words for the kiss. When you had asked, you sounded like you were begging, but hid it.

It took him a while to realize that the two’s of you had a fair amount in common. You both were soft spoken souls, friendly but quiet. You distanced yourself from large crowds and were usually confident in each other since you both had a trust. You know how eachother worked like nobody else did-a small, intimate detail that only the two of you would watch into.

“You’re also growing into a beautiful young woman each day. Being a lady doesn’t mean being all prim and proper, it means being mature, kind, and respectful to others. That’s what you are.” Dick was only a few steps away. You listened to every word he said, your hands restraining themselves from touching his chest. He could once again smell the cologne and see the moonlight shine on your eyes and hair-the gloss you wore sparkled as well.

“But I couldn’t kiss you. You’re father wouldn’t approve of it.”

You couldn’t hold yourself back. Your hands met his chest. You were so caught up in the heat of it that you didn’t realize that your hands rested on Dick’s Ivory collared shirt. Dick, however, didn’t protest at all.

You gently scrunched the fabric, “He’s not here. Just one. Before my mom tries to marry me off. Just one kiss and I won’t ask for anything else of you, Dick.”

Dick put his bigger hands onto yours as his thumb finessed the small part of your soft, [y/s/c] skin in between your index and thumb. “I…”

You gave him those eyes. They were begging. One kiss from a real man and you would be content.

Dick let out a defeated sigh, “...will. Just one. For you.”

So he did. In the moonlight, Dick Winters held you close and became your first kiss. Your lips were like a sweet treat. It felt miraculous after a long day of work. It was meant to be quick, but he was obsessed with your cushion lips and sweet lip gloss. His hands firmly rested on your lower back as his fingers scrunched with the material. It wasn’t his first kiss, but it was yours, so he made sure to be gentle with you, even though he struggled. The whiff of your perfume, your shirt showing off your abdomen, the silliness of your hair. It was hard just for it to be one kiss.

Dick walked to you, your arm slung in the hole of his elbow. The two of you didn’t speak any words once you arrived back for dinner. It was a typical dinner. Your mother always made Salmon, rice, and peas on Saturdays, which occurred to be Dick’s favourite meal. Your mother raved about boys who could “tame” you, your father spoke of a new business deal in the news, you picked at the leftover peas, and Dick looked at your father with his weary king eyes, attempting to look interested in the conversation.

What kept him away in the dinner as your bare ankle, brushing against his trousers. It was a little bit distracting. Thank god he was a good pretender. It felt so wrong to be doing this, yet so right. You were unlike a lot of women Dick had met. You always caught his attention, watching you each day as you grow into a young, educated woman.

To tame your foot, Dick wrapped his ankle around yours, tenderly holding it down until the meal was over. After dinner was over, Dick wished your family a goodnight.. He gave your mother who adored him a kiss on the cheek, your father a firm handshake,  and you apart on the shoulder. His fingers struggled on your bare shoulder for what seemed like forever, brushing against the edge of your neck.

And with that, Dick was gone into the night. You headed to bed and changed, not washing your lips. You had a smile on your face as you twisted and turned. It was a one time occurance, but it felt like your fantasy had come to life.

But before you knew it, it would all be over. Dick would be back on Tuesday, and the two of you would act like nothing had ever happened.

But what Dick and you didn’t know is that it wouldn't be the first time of hushed kisses, lingering fingers, and limbs grazing passionately against each other.

————

The US had entered the war overseas. Most of the boys in your class were putting a pause on their lives to go fight in Africa, The Pacific, or Europe. Anybody who was over the age of eighteen was required to draft, so town was a shit show of crying mothers, lanky boys who could possibly never come home, and military trucks. You wanted to apply to be a combat nurse, but you weren’t of the age requirement.

Dick was going to war.

Ever since the night at the lake, you and Dick kept a closted relationship. He still came over in the Summers. Some days you wouldn’t even see him. But the small moments you had together, whether that be watching the twinkling stars on your walk on the lake hand in hand or cuddled reading books on a rainy day in your isolated greenhouse porch, mattered so much. If you had a bad day, he'd sit there and listen. He wouldn’t judge or give any advice. You didn’t know if he understood your struggles, but it made you happy to know that someone would sit there and listen. For comfort, he would take the book out of your hands and bookmark it, slide off your dangling flats, and pull you into his chest.

Dick’s language of romance wasn’t grand or romantic. Although reticent, his tranquil actions were nothing but idyllic. It was the little things that counted, whether it was fresh perennial’s picked from the field or even a hug. Your relationship didn’t have to be based on gifts and what others thought of you. It was the little things that counted.

The night before he was drafted, Dick invited your family over to his farm. It was at the edge of town and down a long dirt road, leading to a little white house and large red barn. It was picturesque, a cornfield and trees for miles on end. There was no constant chatter, horns blaring, or pressure-it was just quiet.

When your parents and Dick’s parents were distracted in conversation, Dick requested to take a walk with you. As much as you enjoyed talking to the bubbly Anne, you needed a small escape. You followed Dick to the back of his tiny kitchen. Being the gentleman he was, he held the door open and let you walk ahead of him. The only noise that could be heard were the chirps of crickets and the wind gently blowing. You held a hand down on a dress your mother forced you to wear. It was a Jade summer frock, but Dick had complimented you. So it made the frock somewhat bearable.

The two of you walked in his backyard. You had no clue where he was leading you. You turned to Dick to ask. He didn’t respond with words. His fingers edged on your as you unruled your fingers, letting his hand sink into yours. His hands were worked, and you felt awful so you gently caressed the upper skin with your thumb.

“Where are we going?” You questioned as you looked left and right, clinging onto the shawl that hung from your shoulders.

Dick looked down at you. He had a subtle smile on his lips as he looked down at you. All of the anxiety he had felt about being drafted, work, and the war faded away when he looked at you. Dick didn’t need to kiss you to know that you loved him; he could tell from the gentle look of your stunning (y/e/c) eyes. He watched you look into the never ending field ahead of you, the wind blowing loose strands of your updo. You wore a little bit of makeup. It was always subtle. He knew you hated wearing makeup and did you want to do it to look “presentable”. Dick didn’t care what you looked like, whether it be in overalls or a dress, he was infatuated with you.

He should have known from day one that y/n, the mischievous daughter of his Economics professor, had been yearning for him. He attempted to get lost in the papers and speeches of your father in his regal office with the shades closed and the whiff of smoke, earth paper, and Whiskey. Even when he was trapped in the office, you were still on his mind with your elegant perfume and book in hand.

“Here.” He announced, overlooking the cornfield. The colossal, green plants waved in the wind, in front of a hazy smoky dull sunset. You didn’t respond and simply looked into the sunset, slowly watching the shining sun set into the ground. “The cornfields, they remind me of you.”

A smirk curved on your gloss lips as you squeezed his bigger, worked hand with your tinier one. “Is that so?”

“They're wild. No matter the season, they are always growing. They're not the easiest plant to manage, there...unruly.” Dick explained, still a gentle smile on his tringale face.

“Are you comparing me to a bunch of crops?” You teased as your head landed on his shoulder. “Not a lot of women find that very romantic.”

Dick leaned his head on top of yours as he, your thighs brushing against each other.

“I’m going to miss you a lot,” You broke the silence.

Dick didn’t move and had an eerie stoic expression. He tightened his grip on your hand before looking down to let out a soft sigh.

The sun didn’t shine anymore, the corn had stopped moving in the wind, and the stars didn’t sprinkle. You felt your stomach drop as goose bumps appeared on your exposed arms and legs. You froze and looked down at the grass, seeing your feet nestled right next to Dick’s.

The possibility that this could be the last time you saw Dick, held him, read with him, and kissed him haunted you. As a child, you had made it official that love was off the table. But when the giant gentle with red hair and mint eyes waltzed into your kitchen on that fateful night, your world had been turned upside down. Trying to be logical, you could live if Dick died. He was far too old to marry you, and most likely showed no interest. You could've been just a pretty face for him to silently hold before acting like you never shared tender moments in the moonlight. If he died, you would move on, marry someone your mother chose out for you, and start a mundane life of cooking, folding laundry, and having children.

But emotionally, if Dick didn’t come back to Lancaster, something would be missing from your life. Something important.

“I can’t promise anything. You know that, sweetheart.” Dick cautioned you, whispering into your hair. At Least he was being honest-better than sugar coating a sensitive subject. He tried to make you look at him, but you refused. You were being stubborn, pushing away the emotions and trying to think logically. But in all honesty, it was catching up to you know. Tears stung at your eyes as your mouth quivered.

“I know, you don’t have to tell me, ” You sniffled, “I’m not an idiot. I prefer it if you be straightforward with me.” Dick looked at you with his thin eyebrows knit together and narrowed eyes. After sharing such a kind moment, he most likely wouldn't wanna break news that would tear your heart to pieces.

You preferred if he’d just spit out the words and get it over with. Make it easier for both of you to handle.

He moved on his hands to your cheek to wipe the incoming tears, but you refused. You turned your head and swiped the tears with your shaky palm, red lipstick and mascara staining your skin.

You scoffed in frustration, “Just say you want me to break up with me. It’s for the better. I’ll go to school, you go to war. We act like nothing ever happened. For the greater good. It was fun while it lasted..But I...nevermind.” You looked down at the ground, refusing to look at Dick. One glance and the next thing you would know, tears would be streaming down your face as you ran into the night.

Dick turned and followed after you as your footsteps increased with a few mumbled sniffles. “That’s not what I wanted to say-”

A pained sob escaped your mouth as you walked forward, a red face with tears streaming down your cheek. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Please, for the better of us. It’s better to use your mind over your heart and not worry about some young, naive girl who had a crush on her father’s best student!”

“Y/n...”

You continued to walk forward and ignore Dick’s pleas, but your stomping slowed down.

“Y/n...”

Dick was creeping up behind your. Your speed walking slowly turned into slow, sluggish steps. Tears streamed down your face as your hands slung at your sides. Dick was now right behind you, watching you as you sniffled. You slowly turned your head to look at him with mascara running down your face.

“Oh, Sweetheart..” Dick softly sighed. Your whole body turned around as you fell into his arms, letting out a loud sob. Small sniffles turned into wails as you cried into his chest, staining the ivory collared shirt. He stroked your hair as he ran reassuring circles on your back. He wanted you to get all of those pestering emotions out. After a few minutes of sobbing and Dick comfortingly holding you close, he broke the silence.

“That’s not why I brought you here,” Dick cooed into your hair as he traced mindless figures into your lower back.

You looked up with your big (e/y/c) orbs, letting out a little sniffle. He had a soft smile on his face as he wiped a stray hair from your face, slowly tucking it behind your hair. “Then...why did you bring me here..?”

“This cornfield holds a special place in my heart. I come here a lot. It’s peaceful, but lonely.” Dick explained as he grabbed your hand, holding your tiny one in his own. He looked down at you, “After working with your father, I’d come home and run here. I’d stop midway to look at the wind and the way it moved the corn. It was so relaxing, so that’s why I brought you here.”

“To not feel lonely?”

“Yes. I felt alone, until I met you.” He admired, “I was surrounded by people, but I still felt alone. But when I spent time with you, I didn’t feel alone at all. It was a highlight to see you, even if it was sitting across from each other at a table or seeing you, laying on the porch. I looked at you and I got happy.”

“Dick, I…” You were speechless. His words wanted your heart, but his message baffled you. “Appreciate your kindness, but what do you mean?”

The gentle strawberry blonde held your hand. He didn’t hold it tight, but used both his hands to hold them up. He slowly backed up and lowered himself on one knee. From the books you had read, you knew what this way. Initiatively, you would’ve said no and ran away. But Dick had courted you with his gentle hold, reassuring words, and sheer presence.

“I couldn’t keep it any longer. I know there’s a chance that this will be the last time you see me for a while or at all. I said I couldn’t promise anything, but I..can’t hide it. I love you, y/n. I don’t care if you want to start school and make your own money, I don’t care if you wear pants, I don’t care what you do. I care about your happiness. I want you to live a long and happy life. You’re the most beautiful and intelligent woman I have ever met. I understand you’re young, and you can turn this down if it’s too much. Dick announced as he pulled a velvet box from the back of his pants, he opened the box to reveal a golden Celtic band. You put a hand on your mouth in joyous disabelif. “I want to be with you, but only if you want to be with me. You’d never be alone...Will you marry me, y/n?”

“Dick, this is…” You chuckled in disbelief. One minute you were crying, now you were laughing. Dick in one hand held a beautiful ring, and the other hand your delicate hand. “Wonderful. But my parents...they…”

“I talked to your father. He said pick out a white dress you want.” Dick replied. “You’re mother cried. I thought she was upset, but she was beyond happy. She told me she knew you had an eye on me since I started coming over for dinner. They approved...but if you don’t want this, I understand. I just couldn’t hold it in, even if I don’t come ba-“

“Yes, Yes, yes, yes, yes…” Your words started low, but then turned to loud cheers. You squealed, nodding enthusiastically. “I will, Dick. I’ll marry you. I don’t care. If something does happen, I'll be happy knowing that I’m yours. Even if you don’t…” the three lettered words struggled to come out your mouth. It was such a rough word. Unable to bring yourself to say it, you chose to leave your pessimistic side for something more optimistic. “I won’t be alone, even if you’re in Europe, The Pacific, wherever. I’ll just know you’re here, in my heart and dreams.”

It turned out that this whole dinner was a setup by your family and the Winters. It just had to be Anne Winters that she found about your relationship with Winters. Being sixteen and sassy, she casually shrugged it off and stated that “Dick was a horrible liar”. It should have been obvious with Dick’s favourite meal, the fact that you were placed right next to time, Anne’s teasing, and your mother pestering for you to look presentable. It all made sense now.

But there was one ball in the air-the ceremony. Dick would be leaving for Toccoa the next day, the afternoon. Your parents wanted a big ceremony for the morning. The Winters didn’t care-they just wanted the two of you to be happy considering that Dick was going to be away for a long time or forever.

You and Dick had to come to an agreement. You announced at the end of dessert that you would wait to be married until Dick came back from the war.

Obviously, this caused a bit of uproar. But with Dick leaving tomorrow, they chose not to make a big deal of it. As long as you and Dick were happy, your families could be nothing but be happy for you. Even if it was a short amount of time.

After the storm that settled, you and Dick had left his house. You hopped in his truck and drove to the local chapel Dick had attended with his family every Sunday. In the middle of the night, the two of you eloped. He made sure to pull over and pick out a group of Perennials, all kinds of your favorites. You even stuffed some into your messy updo which had turned into a half updo.

After your quiet ceremony, the two of you drove back to your estate. There, the two of you spent your first, and poetically final, night together in your childhood bedroom; making love, cuddling, and cherishing every moment you shared with each other.

The variety of perennials’s Dick had picked out were placed into a blue and white ginger jar. It was meant to be a memory of Dick. He wouldn’t be there psychically, but spiritually, he would be right there.

Dick was surprised to learn that you weren’t a virgin. He was raised a Mennonite, waiting for marriage. You, being a curious young woman, had experimented. It was once, and an unpleasant experience. Before, you had felt indifferent about sex. It was something that women were meant to desire. You were told to be a virgin and wait for a man to take control of you. Hating those words, you chose to do the opposite. Nobody knew of your little secret, besides Dick-your husband.

Dick was nothing like the boy you had lost your virginity to. Unlike that boy, he was a man. Not because he was masculine and tough, but because he treated you like his equal. He never treated you any differently from your father. Dick had morals and integrity, he was compassionate, quiet but polite, open-minded, and used his brain and heart. That was what you defined a real man as.

Dick treated you like you were made of glass. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect for you. He didn’t care about his feelings, he only cared about yours. He wanted to make sure that you were enjoying yourself. You aided him in some areas, but the two of you were on a ride after a rocky start. Dick always asked how you were doing, if you wanted him to stop, go slower, or if you needed to break. He left sloppy kisses all over your body and had his hands wrapped around you like a young child with a bear. Dick didn’t let go of you once.

That night, the two of you held each other close as you chatted for hours on end. That was what you had looked forward to, not the sex. Sex was still a big piece in your marriage, but it wasn’t the most important. You looked forward to the long and mindless conversations the two of you had. Dick held you in his warm arms, toned and muscles from the workout’s he did year round. He would hold you close to his body as the two of you discussed life after the war.

It didn’t matter what the future held. If Dick was gone for one year, ten years, or forever. What mattered was the two of you had each other in your little moment of peace before all hell would break loose.

You and Dick had chatted the whole night away. The next thing you knew, you would go from the bedroom to the train station. It was a moment you dreaded, but it had to be done. Dick once again had a stoic expression. He kissed his mother, your mother, and sister, shook his father's and your father’s hand, and gave you a long sweet kiss on the lips. Dick struggled to pull away, but he knew it was for the best. Before climbing onto the train, he promised to write to you at every opportunity he got and tell you about Europe, the war, and anything he desired to tell you.

The next thing you knew, you were alone again.

When you arrived home, you kicked off your shoes and walked up the stairs. Your mother asked if you were okay, to which you silently nodded your head. Your father had noticed your unusual silence. He had offered to take you shopping, thinking that money would make you happy. All you did was politely decline and retreat to your bedroom.

Your room was stuck in time. The sheets were all over the floor and Dick’s tall figure that had been imprinted on the left side of your bed. The dress your mother forced you to wear laid on the floor, along with your flats and pearls.

The sun shined through the curtains as you crawled onto the side where Dick had laid. You closed your eyes and sunk into his pillow, holding onto the disappearing scent of your husband.

On Top of the books, you had been reading were the perennials; lavender, daylilies, and stonecrops. You looked up from the pillow, your nose buried into the pillow and a blanket loosely covering your legs.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel that so alone anymore.

———

One year turned into two, two turned into three, and three turned into four. You kept the calendar’s from over the years in your room, neatly stored under your bed. You found it funny how time flew by. You could remember the first day of walking in your classroom and the day you walked off the podium with your diploma. The pretty perennials that Dick had given you from what seemed like a decade ago had died. They were withered and derived of the bright colors they once had, hanging on the side of the blue and white ginger jar. The perennials reminded you of yourself. Once you had been a fiery young girl, and now you were an exhausted graduate student who was bound to become a widow.

Around the time you had found work at Lancaster, BBC announced that the war was over in Europe. That should have phased you and made you jump up with glee, but in all reality, it didn’t. The optimistic side you once had was long gone, turning into a pessimistic bitterness. The war was over in Europe, but not in The Pacific. Dick still wouldn’t be coming home, and you learned to accept that.

Sure, he had sent you letters in the beginning. Lots of them. He would talk about his adventures in training, his dreadful drill sergeant, his friend who was a “one of those city folk”, and so many more things. He expressed his boyish pride in being a patriot for his country. His little letters used to make your day. But as the leaves fell from the trees and the years passed, his letters would slow down. The last one you had received in January, written in December. It was short and sweet. The letter rested  in your drawer. As the days passed on, a small part of you broke. You had been married for five years, yet you felt like you weren’t even married. No Dick kissing you, holding you in your arms, or comforting you in your darkest moments.

When the flowers had slowly withered, so did your hope.

But that all changed on a warm September day. Your mother had called you from your room, not specifying what was awaiting for you at the door. You grumbled and got up, taking off your glasses as you walked down the stairs, expecting to see another colleague trying to woo you.

You didn’t expect to see a tall man with a soft smile, strawberry hair, and a neat military uniform. Your husband-Dick Winters.

It was like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. You dropped everything, running right into his arms. You buried your face in his chest as he pulled you in close, his worked hands resting on your lower back and hair. He smelt amazing, and his uniform was soft. You missed his tender touch and soft words. It had been forever since you had seen him. In that moment, nothing mattered. No words needed to be spoken. In all honesty, you never wanted or needed pity from others. You just wanted someone-Dick-to be close. You thought of yourself as a coward, but all you wanted to feel was alright.

“Sweetheart, I missed you. I’m so sorry,” He apologized, stroking your embrace. His voice was stoic, as usual. It really was Dick. He was home and in your arms, at last.

“Don’t. Just stay. Please.” You softly cooed into his chest. No, you couldn’t let go now.

Dick let out a soft chuckle and stayed in the embrace. War was a strange beast. It stripped families of their children and caused mass discussion. Dick thought he wouldn’t come home and see his wife who had married the night before he was drafted. As the years had gone by, Dick began to regret his choice. What if he had left you a widow?

But that was the past. It was gone-nothing to waste tears on. In your extended embrace, the future didn’t matter, it wasn’t worth stressing. Dick and you lived in the present moment and made it beautiful.

-----------

Nothing had changed after Dick had come home. Life was still the same, except you weren’t as alone. Dick was still his stoic self. He was a doting husband. You expected him to struggle when he returned to civilian life. He wasn't used to homemade dinners and a bed much-the flashes of exploding limbs and artillery flashing through his eyes. Both you and Dick were independent. It wasn’t a bad thing. You could spend hours reading as he did a puzzle in another. On some days, the two of you would do activities together. You’d lay your head in his lap as he’d did his puzzle. On other days, Dick would be needier. Originally, he wasn’t vocal about it. It took you a while to catch onto it. He held your hand more in public, pulled you closer as you slept, and whenever he was in a mood-he’d come right to you and just give you a look. You knew the look all too well-and knew how to cure it. Dick would wrap his arms as you snuggled into his chest and talk about anything your minds came to. Sometimes you’d talk, but other times the two of you would close yours and fall asleep. Dick wouldn’t have any nightmares if held you close for comfort.

Without you, Dick didn’t know what he would do. How he could return to the simplicity of life.

Somehow, he returned. And every day he made sure to thank you for making him feel like a human and not a machine-whether that be through a gentle peck, a cuddle, or even a literal “thank you”. He loved you more than anything in the world.

----------

Shortly after Dick returned, the two of you moved out to New Jersey. His “city-boy” friend (his name was Lewis Nixon, but Dick called him Lew) had offered him a job at his parent’s nutrition company. So off the two of you drove from Lancaster to the suburbs of Haddonfield. Haddonfield and Lancester were virtually the same; small country bumpkin towns isolated from the big cities.

You and Dick had bought your first house (which was given by Nixon was a “late honeymoon gift). It was a small colonial house in a tiny suburb, pristine white with red doors. The decorations in the house were limited, a few photos of your and his family with elegant furniture gifted from your parents. It was a little big for your liking. It was a nice gift, but in Nixon’s words, it was for the “incoming armada of redheads”.

Babies. Children. Of your kin.

Dick had mentioned having children. When he was still adjusting, he’d hold you close as he talked about his plans for the future. Buy a farm in Pennsylvania, build his own business, and start a family of his own. He had told you that anywhere you would go, he would go. Anything you wanted, he wanted. He was about thirty two and you were close to turning twenty-five. It was expected at your age to have young children, but with no husband around and a job, it was difficult to settle down. You would gulp and smile, looking down as you held his hand.

Dick didn’t want to pressure you. He knew that were siginactiatly younger. Times were changing, you had a job and life of your own. He never wanted to interfere with it. When you would get insecure about not being the “ideal wife”, he’d reassure you that you were his wife and didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want. Dick wasn’t a man who put fear into others to get what he wanted. He was a patient and gentle soul.

You had tried a few times here and there. As much as you tried to enjoy something that was pleasurable, it was painful. You hid it from Dick, but Dick wasn’t an idiot. Dick wanted you to enjoy it. You could his mint eyes, hungry yet soft, as he laid on top of you, both of your hands restricted as you did the deed.

You weren’t making any noises, looking to the side. Something was wrong, you knew it. But you couldn’t break it to Dick. How would he react?

Dick catched onto his. He pulled himself together and pulled out. You looked at him and gave him a stubble style as he scooted closer to you, his breath heavy and gelled hair a mess.

“Hey,” You smiled awkwardly, clenching at the sheets.

Dick looked at you, a smile curving as his lips as his hand caressed your cheek. “How is my wife doing?”

It was a private nickname. He called you it after the war, especially when he was feeling vulnerable. Sometimes it was “my little wife”, which could be sweet or driven by lust. The little nickname made your heart skip a beat. You were proud to be his.

“Good. I’m tired,” You yawned as you held his hand close, playing with his big fingers.

Dick looked at your face as he admired your natural beauty, a pearly smile, your hair loose on the pillow, and your figure covered by a thin sheet. His hand moved from your cheek, your nape, and eventually your stomach. He drew slow, soft circles around your tummy.

“My little wife with our baby,” Dick remarked, his fingers dancing across your bare skin. Any girl would’ve fallen head over heels if a man had said that. You should have been happy, you wanted a family.

But how could you tell him?

There was a long silence between the two of you. All you did was look into his mint orbs, stroking his hair out of his face.

“I hope he, or she, looks like you. So they get their mother’s beauty.” Dick looked down at your stomach and planted a kiss.

You gulped, thinking of a response. A pretty white lie. “And there’s dad’s redhead and kindness. If you’re a little guy, I’ll tell you that it’s hard to find a man like your day.”

“And it’s hard to find a woman like your mother. She’s a firecracker,” Dick jabbed as he playfully ruffled his hair.

“Dick…” Your words were low as you held back a sob. You plastered a smile, it hurt to lie. “We don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl. I don’t even know if I have a baby there…”

“Well…” Dick laid his head on your stomach, gently finessing the skin under your breast. “If It was a girl, what would her name be?”

You hated the feeling-naming a baby that wasn’t in your stomach. Dick believed that you were pregnant, or at least he believed you were. In response, you bit your lips-looking like you were deep in thought.

“Margaret,” You announced, “Molly for short. After my grandmother, in her memory.”

Dick tilted his head up and nodded, “For your grandma,” He planted another kiss and rested his head once again, “A boy?”

“Lewis? You like that fellow a lot.”

Dick shook his head, “No. I can’t look at him and our child the same way.”

You let out a chuckle before shaking your head. An image of a little baby flashed between your eyes. Mint eyes, dimples, and soft red hair. You wished it would occur.

“I can’t think of a name. You?”

Dick was silent for a minute as he laid on your stomach, your fingers entangled in his locks.

“Thomas. His name could be Thomas,” Dick proposed.

“Why is that?” You questioned.

Dick let out a sigh before crawling up to you, pulling you into his arms,“He was a C.O, to replace Sobel. I didn’t know him for long since his plane was hit. He’s listed as missing in action...but,” He froze on the words, unable to say it. You looked up at him Dick, who looked to the side with guilt tugging at his heart. You planted a kiss on his chin.

“He was twenty-two years old, just married. He sent a letter out to his wife to tell her that he was coming home. She still believes he’s out there, lost in some forest, finding his way home..” Dick looked down at you. Just like Meehan, he had been freshly married, sending out a letter. While Dick had kept his short and sweet (he didn’t want to promise anything), Meehan was too big for his britches. He didn’t show his fear, confidence in the face of adversity.

“Okay, Thomas it is. I like that name” You expressed.

Dick saw your face glow up, and so did his. He smiled, nodding along. “Thomas and Margaret,” He looked at your stomach once more, running his hand across your flat stomach. “I like that too.”

You nuzzled into his chest as he planted little kisses on the nape of your neck, holding you close for warmth. The two of you remained there, the only noise being your breathing.

Pulling your head back, Dick moved his hands down to your lower back to pull you up, closer to his face. “Y/n?”

“Yes, Dick?” You looked into his mint eyes, the candle in the room glittering in his orbs.

Dick held your cheek as he admired your face, “I love you, my little wife.”

You looked down before looking at your husband, moving slowly up to his face.

“And I love you two, my big husband.”

Maybe time stopped when Dick’s lips had met yours, but the flutter only intensified. Your heart pounded in your chest as your knees went numb. You could only focus on how soft Dick felt against your mouth, how addictively he invaded all of your senses.

It wasn’t clear if you had dreamed this all, but the raw emotion in the way Dick’s fingers curled against yours. Dick kept his eyes open, sneaking a guilt peak every time you took a breath for air, just to make sure you weren’t a product of his imagination.

You weren’t sure if nature rooted for this moment, but it distracted you from everything. You just laid there with Dick, draped each other's arms as you sloppily kissed. Dick pulled you in once again, gently placing his lips onto yours until your knees had once again gone numb, overpowered by his. His other hand rested on your stomach as he murmured Margaret and Thomas, talking about how excellent of a mother you would be to your babies.

By the time you became aware of this, you froze, letting Dick kiss your body. You looked at the ceiling, hands in his hair as he decorated your skin.

It was like a car had run into you, throwing you down to the side-a rude awakening. As much as you denied it, it was creeping up on you.

There was no Thomas. There was no Magaret. There was never going to be a Thomas or Margaret.

Your stomach was flat, nothing moved. There was no life in your stomach ever. No matter how many times you tried, wished, prayed, there was only one conclusion.

There would never be a son or a daughter in your stomach-ever.

From that point on, life was slow. You woke up, gave Dick a kiss goodbye, worked from home, cooked dinner, read with Dick, fell asleep at an ungodly hour, and repeated the mundae routine everyday. With Dick being a general manager, he would work late hours. At some points, the only time you would see him is late at night when he’d crawl into bed giving you a kiss or early in the morning. Still, in his weary and stressed state, he’d always kiss your stomach every night and morning.

With your irregular cycles, constant negative tests, and pelvic pain becoming more evident in your marriage, you decided it was best to see your Doctor. As much as you didn’t want to know the possibility of what could be wrong, at least you would have an idea of what it was and how to make it better.

It turned out you couldn’t make your problem better. The doctor had a sympathetic look in your eyes as he listed off possibilities. You just sat there and looked at your stomach; your cold hands pressing against your stomach.

You were infertile.

There was never a Margaret growing in your stomach, nor was there a Thomas. There was nothing in your stomach.

How the hell were you going to tell your doting husband this?

---------

It was another Friday night in September. The leaves fell from the trees, the radio softly played in the back, it was peaceful in your little white house. Dick still hadn’t come home yet. You attempted to act like everything was normal as you put on a nice dress, pearls, and a fake pearly smile. It was all fine.

Nothing was fine.

You stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down into the haunting abyss. This feeling of dread and tightness became background noise as if it were traffic on an unseen road. There were times where you could handle it, and times where you could not. This was a day where you couldn’t handle it. Each day passed, and the more you repressed it-it hurt. It hurt even more than it was supposed to.

You were faced with a dead-end, a terrifying one, with thoughts of temptation and contemplation. You felt even lost in your own home and marriage, feeling helpless and scared. This wasn’t supposed to happen. In the partial society you lived in, a woman’s identity revolved around the ability to convenience. As a girl, you laughed it off, saying you’d do what you’d please. But you were no longer a fiery girl, but a broken and bitter woman. Bitter at the world for forcing the idea that women were baby machines. You, as you typically did, pushed it away.

Stuffed it into a closet, but it was now pouring out. All the baggage that you had repressed was right in front of you. You never felt like you belonged in the parthricaral society you lived in with their white picket fences and predictable lifestyles. That didn’t mean you didn’t want a family of your own. You had a husband, a job, a house, everything seemed perfect. But one thing was missing-a baby.

The older you had gotten, the more it affected you. Going to those parties for Dick’s job and seeing all the wives with their babies and fumbling toddlers. You didn’t feel anything towards them at first, but they eventually grew on you. Dick’s first few days home contained long conversations about what your lives would be after the way. You would chat with him for hours about it to distract from the nightmares that flooded his mind, holding his hand.

“A nice little farm near Lancaster, one or two kids, my own business, and the most important thing...you ” Dick would say, his words full of love. “My wonderful little wife, Margaret, Thomas, and me, on our farm. We’ll have each other.”

The kettle boiled in the water, the loud noise screeching in the kitchen. You dropped the knife and heard it clack onto the ground. All you did was stand there with wide eyes and shaky legs, looking down at the ground as your nails dug into the counter.

You couldn’t bear him children-you tried and tried and tried but to no avail. If you were not Dick’s, then what were you?

---------

Dick had taken off his trench coat, sliding his shoes off as he neatly put them right next to yours. He let out a sigh as he loosened his tie. Work had been stressful once again. All he could think about was seeing you and his growing little babies. Of course, he never told anybody. But knowing the thought was between you and him made it special-something so personal and beautiful. He couldn’t wait to see your face and hold you close, talking for hours on end. Anything you said or did made him head over heels, just like it had done to you five years ago. You had been distant and not your usual self, and Dick was worried. He knew of the insecurities you had, feeling like you never had fit into a certain mold.  

He had walked into the kitchen and instead of finding you, he found a dropped knife and kettle that was overflowing with boiling water. It looked like you had left in a hurry. He made sure to check all of the doors to see if you had left, in which you had no. In a calm manner, Dick cleaned up the kettle and put the knife back where it was. He wanted to help so you wouldn’t stress.

The pitter-patter of the shower coming from upstairs alerted Dick. He walked up the stairs and down the dark hallway, seeing the bathroom light creak from the bathroom. Creaking the door open, the all to familiar noise hit his ears. The bathroom was foggy as the shower ran. Looking down, Dick saw the water come to his feet, staining his wet socks. Your flats were spread on the ground along with your knit cardigan, soggy from the water. Inside of the shower was you, clothed with your makeup running, hugging your knees as you looked down.

Dick let out a soft sigh as he looked at you, his shoulder slouching down. It was paining him to see you in this state, “Oh honey..”

You didn’t move, only your eyes did. He walked towards you, into the shower. He wore a white suit and dress pants, which were now we're stuck to his skin. He put himself right next to you as the hot water warmed his cold skin. You adjusted yourself to lean on his wet shoulder. Dick said there as you leaned on him for comfort, listening to the white noise of the shower.

“I tried,” You mumbled as your fingers ran circles in his arm.

Dick looked down at you with his strawberry hair sticking to his forehead and drips of water rushing down his face. He frowned, tiping his head to the side.

“I tried and tried, time after time. I tried so hard and I…” You lamented, grasping onto Dick’s arm. It was hard to spit out the words. You had already said the first half of it, you needed to say more. “I just can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Do what?” Dick questioned, his fingers lifting your chin. Tears streamed down your cheeks, your mascara coming down along with it. His thumb wiped away the incoming hot tears. He was too kind to you. His mere presence reassured you. “Don’t cry, my little wife. Let me help you. Whatever it is, whatever you need, I-”

“I can’t have children. Not now, or ever.” The words came out your mouth. It felt like you were spitting fire. It felt strange like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. Even though it was gone, it still lingered. “I went to the doctor last week. I’m infertile, Dick.”

Dick just sat with a frown on his face. You couldn’t tell what was going through his head. His free arm had wrapped around your shoulder was slowly falling as he let go of your chin, making an “oh” noise.

You looked at him and let out a sob as your face fell into your hands. “I didn’t wanna tell you. I know you’ve wanted children, every man wants that for their wife. You want a son who looks like you, and a wife who can provide that for you. I can’t. I wanted it too, but I watched my dream break. I’m supposed to give you a baby like a normal wife should...” Through the sniffling and sobs, you refused to look at Dick. He seemed disappointed, but you could never tell what he was feeling. “If you want a wife who can give you a child, then, by all means, do so. I’m worthless.”

You could feel it. Your relationship was over. Maybe it was for the better. Dick could start his family, and you could work a job in Philadelphia. They did have an opening in Philadelphia. It was better to have nobody-so you couldn’t get hurt and hurt others around you.

“No,”

Slowly removing your hands from your face, you turned to Dick. You scooted back, not able to tell if he was upset at you. “No?”

“No. You’re not worthless, y/n.” Dick attested, “What would make you think such a thing?”

“We’ve always wanted a family down the line. You would kiss my stomach every night, talking to the...” You looked down at your flat stomach, your hand gently squeezing the skin. It broke your heart even more just feeling what Dick assumed was Margaret and Thomas. “Just didn’t want you to get mad at me. I know you're upset with me.”

“Don’t give me that malarkey,” He growled, crawled closer to you as he grabbed your cheeks with your foreheads nuzzling towards each other. You could feel the warmth on the top of your forehead, “I’m not upset. You didn’t have to hide this from me. I should’ve known, I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

Dick tenderly grabbed your shoulders and leaned you back on the white subway wall. He was gentle as he wiped the sticky hair from your face for a clearer view. He had a soft smile as he caressed your cheek with you leaning into it.

“But if I can’t give you children, what good use am I?”

“The reason I married you wasn’t that I wanted a family. At that moment, in that cornfield, I wanted you to be my wife. If I didn’t tell you, I don’t know if I would’ve died content with my life,” Dick complimented with a kiss to your wet hand. “You're not just a pawn used for children-my little wife. Just because you can’t have children doesn’t mean I won’t leave you. I wouldn’t even consider the thought. It’d be hard to find someone like you, y/n. Nobody as hardworking, beautiful, and fiery”

A chuckle escaped your lips, “Like a cornfield?”

“Like a cornfield,” He assured. “I don’t care about children, the past, the future, anything. I married you because I was in love with the beautiful, growing woman five years ago, and I still am. All I care about is my little wife, y/n-you. I love you.”

You nuzzled into his shoulder, “I..love you too, Dick.”

Silent communication was your and Dick’s form of romance. You didn’t need big gestures and materialistic gifts to feel comforted, sometimes you just needed someone right next to you, or in your arms. The silence was nice and the warmth was needed. Dick’s warmth felt like a little touch of heaven, warm, together, cozy. You wished that you could extend the night just so you could stay in his comforting embrace, relived in his hold. In his hold, you believed that there is nothing to fear, that there is all sunshine and love. Dick was the cure you needed, a lone star in an otherwise empty sky, he was the morningstar that you prayed wouldn’t disappear.

“I’ll make us dinner,” Dick said as he got up. “I’ll even run you a bath. Does that sound good, my little wife?”

Your fingers held the tip of his hands. Your (y/c/e)‘s met with his mint ones that shined in the pristine light. He gently helped you up with a hand resting on your waist.

Resting a hand on his chin, you looked down and shook your head. “I want to make dinner with you. I feel clean.”

“Are you sure?” Dick questioned, pulling you closer to his body. “I know you haven’t been sleeping.”

“Well I’m not tired. I haven’t felt like we’ve talked lately. You’ve been gone and I’ve been distant.” You confessed. The brutally honest was needed now. You tipped your head to look at Dick. “I wouldn’t mind a helping hand.”

“Fine, if you insist,” He placed his hand on your upper back and swept you off your fear. You let out a little chuckle as you snaked an arm around his shoulder for stability, “You said you needed a helping hand.”

Once you and Dick changed out of your wet clothes and into your matching silk robes (gifted by Lew, the man even had your initials engraved into the pocket), the two of you headed down to the kitchen to cook. The radio played in the back and the kettle silently brewed as you sautéed the chicken and Dick set the small table in the tiny dining space.

“Hey, y/n?”

“Yeah?” You looked behind you as you washed your hands of the greasy oils and spices.

“Did you grow up with dogs?”

You nodded as you dried your hands, “Two-a Westie and Cairn terrier. Your point?”

Dick came over the counter as he leaned on it with a smirk. It wasn’t condescending, but it looked like an idea had popped in his head. You loved it when he smirked or smiled; the dimples on his cheeks would show.

“I know you get lonely when I’m not around. Lew knows a lot of good breeders in the area. How do two dogs sound?”

You were lonely. Loneliness was a feeling you knew all too well. It haunted you as a child and adult. Except when you were a child, you thought it would disappear. But in truth, it did not.

“Two dogs sound nice, Dick,” You confessed. The kettle began to make a shrieking noise. Walking over, you grabbed two cups and poured hot water into them. The water from clear to a darkish brown. You let the bags settle for a few minutes before taking the two cups over and handing one to your strawberry blonde husband.

“There breed? Are we sure Lew won’t try and steal them?”

“Well, Lew wouldn’t steal them. He and Grace already have enough animals to take care of,” Dick put his two big hands around the mug. “Two terriers, a boy, and girl. Just like the ones you grew up with.”

“Ok,” You smiled, raising your eyebrows. “And their names?”

Dick took a sip of his tea before smacking his thin lips. “I was thinking of Margaret and Thomas. Do you like that?”

You finally knew the answer to why Dick was asking about getting dogs. Not that you were in protest. Dogs were like children-just easier to take care of.

“Yeah, I like that a lot.”

Dick put a hand over yours, giving it a reassuring squeezed. He smiled at you, and you smiled back.

Within the week, Lew had come over with the cutest puppies you had ever seen. He had also brought over all of the necessary supplies for two puppies, and even two sweaters with their names. One was a feisty and quiet Westie named Thomas and the other was a sweetheart with a sour side named Margaret. You and Dick loved them more than anything in the world. They were fed Filet Mignon from the table, slept in between you and Dick, and always for what they wanted. Even Dick gave into their puppy eyes whenever they got into trouble. The reason he wanted dogs in the first place was for his little wife; y/n-you. Not only did he want to make you feel a little less lonely in your little colonial house, but protected. Dick wasn’t always there to look out for you, even though he knew you could handle yourself just fine. Still, it was the thought that counted. Knowing that you would have two little balls of energy to keep you entertained made Dick content, and so did you.

Lewis Nixon was right all along. He never saw you and Dick having children. In his wise words, dogs were “far superior” than children. Dogs didn’t cry as much, they weren’t as needy, and they didn’t wake you up in the middle of the night. Mostly.

You would see the way the dogs would interact with Dick, and how Dick would interact with them. He’d treat them like children. From rocking Margaret in his arms to having long conversations with Thomas about why he shouldn’t bite you his mother while you peacefully sleep, it made your heart skip a beat, seeing Dick be so gentle with the two puppies.

Every night before you would head to bed, Dick would always remind you that his dream had finally come true; buying the little patch of land in Lancaster for the farm was within reach. He’d give you a kiss and pull you close as the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms.

You broke away from the terrifying cliff that you had looked down, heading towards your morning star, Dick, with hope that it wouldn’t disappear.

[bonmotx]

Your mother is a hateful soul.

This is something you know, completely and utterly. You were born of it. Your father was apathetic as your mother was intensely vengeful. Your birth was an experimental curiosity. 

A soul that smelled like bleach reached out to the infinite cosmos, unafraid simply because her life had no value to be lost.

(Part of you thought, ‘that must be sad for a human’. Part of you thought, ‘that is natural for an ant’.)

The matter of names and spirits were always interesting to her. Like her parents, she repeated scientific curiosity without thinking of the consequences.

So she held you. There was no weeping, or blood. Your birth was naught even a ripple in the cosmos.

You were, as some things are, born without a name. But soon enough, she gave it to you.

The Curiosity Rover upon Mars’ soil. You were something made out of space dust, in her eyes. So it was a fitting name. 

‘That’ll be who you are until you know about yourself. Once you know more about who you are, lemme know and we’ll change it together.’

Logically, you understood this was a false statement. It put the effect after the cause. It was a paltry attempt at tying a soul belatedly to something they weren’t, and making them that in the process. It wasn’t even like thought studies of cloning a genius and raise the cloned child to also be a genius.

But you didn’t have anything beyond space dust and fumes full of dandelion seeds, her warm embrace combined with the coldness of her logic that you were cut from.

You carry with you, of course, strands of things not quite the future. No, more like alternatives. You could never project yourself to see the full extent of this universe- you have no pieces here but the form you are in. Instead, put this way-

You remember your mother talking with you of the universe. Despite her hatred, she never showed it to you. Instead, in those early days when her freshly spilt blood was all you could taste in your mouth, when she noticed you often looked to the sky, she interpreted it as interest.

‘You can probably see further than me, right?’ You nodded. Of course you could. She was a human, for one. You could always see further than her, see more than her blind gaze ever could. 

Just not here. In other universes where you didn’t exist, the atoms and mycelium floating about the earth and through wormholes were left in space. It was only here it was anything like solid form. The nebula are green, from this angle. Scientific rationale filters through your mind, explaining it, yet even as your eyes shift to witness other wavelengths, they go back to this color.

You can see where they are, what they bare witness to, if you taste the blood of this world once more and cross-pollinate those pieces of yourself, attaching them to your own nerves, a different print from every universe.

Your mother, however, held your hand and pointed you to a particular star cluster. Pleiades. For a moment, you tried to figure out the significance, what information it held, but-

‘It’s pretty, huh?’

...pretty?

‘Yeah. That one, with the tiny one next to it, is named after Atlas. Do you like the glow of it?’

...did you? You didn’t know at the time. You didn’t understand the question. ‘Like the glow’? What nonsense was it? But you nodded along, wanting to hear what she clearly had to say.

‘My little sister, your aunt, always liked the stars too. She didn’t care about looking at them as much as wanting to reach them, though.’

...well, that was foolish. No single human could pierce the universal veil that bound them to earth. They would always eventually return. The day they could truly leave and never come back, the earth would try to kill them all.

Your mother laughed a bit, confusing you for a brief second, and her warm hand parted your hair. You didn’t understand the gesture at the time. But you kept watching, for where she would guide your index finger, and what star, resting upon your fingertip yet so far away, she would identify next.

It was only later you realized the oddity of it all. You knew all those stars- or, you could have known. Yet you waited and let her tell you.

The next day, you caught yourself staring at light- descending from ceilings, coalesced in lamps, the neon letters of a microwave- and didn’t understand why. It was baffling. Your mother had realized something you hadn’t, despite being cast from thing that should be wiser than her. Were you weak? Made improper as a joke?

You fixated upon it for a strung out yet blurring by week. It didn’t make sense. What were you seeking out? What did that human know that you didn’t?

(You were horribly newborn, then.)

Her mind was still what you came from. The night of the eighth day without answers your impatience unraveled like string. You would pry her brain apart. Surely she was stupid enough to let you.

But you entered her room, guided by hand, and the lights were shut off.

(You didn’t realize she was smiling.)

Green stars littered the ceiling with a quiet, familiar glow. It was... for some reason, you fixated on it. Plastic mixed with phosphorescent powder, cut into cartoon shapes of what a star was, made of sharp angles and five points. Zinc sulfide that now was spread across the ceiling. It made no sense. If your mother did this for herself, she would settle for little more than strontium aluminate doped with europium, something that pushed the limits of what humans could make glow in the dark by absorbing light-

You looked to her.

Her eyes, warm, green, smiled down at you. The half open door caught them in the light.

...ah.

So that was it. Those eyes, intelligent, made of cruel logic and unkind pathos, shone down so... brightly, at you. As if human eyes could emit their own glow without blinding them, your mother looked at you. You, the experiment made of thoughtless action, were given such light. A sprout under a lamp, the indecipherable human idiocy known as ‘kindness’ was extended out to you, and your intellect- no, your own idiocy- had not recognized it.

It was at that moment, truly, curious awe filled you. Not the probing and intense interest that would rip apart the envelope around the answers, but instead, something... brighter? Something glowing...?

No, it was like...

...you, who could see beyond the universe...

...were as fumbling and flailing and naively reaching a hand out to the stars as a human was, when shown her eyes.

...you wanted to understand it.

(On that day, though you would not yet define it, you learned ‘love’.)

[oncetheearl]

.Primary Colors

Grell Sutcliff

warnings: none, it's mildly fluffy prose

a/n: Written for @saturnberry. I hope you had a nice Valentine's Day. Because there were so many mentions of Grell in your posts I knew right off that's who I wanted to write for, though admittingly I feel like I don't have a good enough hold on Grell's personality (hence why I avoided a ship with another canon character.) This is technically Grell x Reader as it uses instances of second person; however, the gender of the reader is left open ended.

In a world where everyone is designated a color—an indicator of who they were to become as they grew older—you were born an unremarkable cluster of blues, not bright enough to add to the sky, too morbid for the painters to use.

It was as though everywhere you went, people outshone you. In school the other children were wondrous blends, and your shade felt understated, a waste of anyone's attention. Even the other blues were brighter than you: one girl you likened to the ocean, a sapphire crystal—so warm a shade it leaked into the atmosphere. In class you sat beside a yellow, a cheery snaggletooth boy with sincere eyes behind coke frames, a penchant for silly games, and a willingness to try anything. You knew the rainbow, a brown—tough as nails. She hardly flinched at an encounter with broken glass. A dark grey who only spoke to you once. Even a pink, who laughed with the purples. It came from his uncle, he told you one morning, picking dandelions from the field beside the schoolhouse.

You on the other hand, sat beneath a tree with roots ripped and picked weeds out the Earth, never at home enough in your own shade to cajole with the others. It'd all be different when you grew up, you considered. Adults weren't like this; they'd treat you better, teach you there was never anything wrong with your color—because surely, it couldn't have mattered in the real world.

Yet, when you grew, your sense of loss grew with you. 

The world was organized by color files in a dusty cabinet, by designation and molds that weren't intended for expansion. Bosses had those they preferred. Oranges made good leaders, they said, and greens could be consultants if they wanted. Trichromatics were sought after inclusions. But blues were in abundance, and therefore mere grunts, worker ants; those that populated the factories of London's lower regions.

Needless to say, you did not need to ask in order to know what designation the casualties were; some accident in a factory you heard. But you always waited for your carriage here and chose to do so regardless, even though the air agitated.

As you watched the road ahead, out came someone, bemoaning their line of work (an investigator, you wondered? who else would be in there?), glasses askew, near knocking you forward into the pavement before the fact you should move presented itself to you.

The speed in which you felt your chest constrict was maddeningly slow (surely an instant, but forever in your head based on the lump in your throat.) Away you had looked, heart an unruly child turning pans into drums. You prayed that no one could hear it sputtering beneath your coat, that the stranger in red couldn't sense your nerves. The stranger was definitely a red, just as their clothes would have said. You could tell by the mannerisms, those teeth, the flop of hair into the vision. The annoyance that the rain kept pouring and pouring as though the sky had a rip.

But then that stranger gave you a look, and said something, and for a brief moment you forgot to add air to your lungs, the necessity of breathing.

You can't recall what you were told... cliche of love at first sight, and all. It could have been mundane complaints about how the sky was drenching you both, or questioning of why you seemed incapable of looking upward, or where White Chapel was—but you know it had to have been something sweet like 'what's someone gorgeous doing out here looking so glum' or 'what a pretty coat, where can I get one?'

(If not, why were you so flustered, then?)

You would later put a name to this stranger, but for now it did not matter. Grell had been complaining about the storm, eyes upward, expression turned near startled when you extended a hand and professed lunch on the Eastside, my treat, too willing to say please.

Oh, God. What possessed you to, you wonder? You were not spontaneous, or the type to offer lunch to a stranger in the dark. Reds and blues did not go together—because neither understood the other. Though it wasn't such a mystery why, the rain reminds. Red was your favorite color. That jigsaw smile, the collision of a million things into one, twisted upward, and you knew, no longer had to wonder: you liked red, even if it belonged to another.

And Grell brought out the red in you. Made you so always willing to run, to say I'm hungry, let's have dinner. Promise we'll have candles or flowers or a band that plays Saint-Saëns in fantasia.

I'll make it loud and bold, I'll make it red—because you wear it so.

How about the pier? The symphony? A massage—I'll do the planning.

Your hair is quite long, can I comb through it with only the tips of my fingers?

One day you had stopped to ponder, why is it I love red, I wonder?

Why not orange, or blue, or the shade of wet feathers? Why something so loud and abrasive and untamed. Untethered. Why stand out when it's comfortable in the rafters? Why did you feel more red than you were? But maybe those feelings didn't matter.

Your grandmother was a blue, and so was your father. Your mother had developed it one noon as a girl, came down with it like fever. It ran in your blood, slept in your grandfather's genepool, was inherited in your skin, lived in the liversplotches on your cousin's lips. You were a blue, and that was not worth denying.

You liked your books, the ones with the spines wrinkled. You drunk tea in evenings without sound. Your dwelling had seen better. Your wall clock swing was musicality; oh how boring, you'd imagine Grell would think.

Your shade of blue was mute, tired. A housecat slithered under a creaking armoire. An old weeping oak. A desire to rest before time ran out. But for all the inherent blueness of you, Grell never complained: and that confused you. Not even where you lived; an old building on a simple street with cramped beige walls and floors unnaturally even. At least if they were lopsided you'd feel more unique.

(Luckily, Grell had only insulted your abode once, when a long strand of red had gotten caught in the spinning wheel next to your bed and yanked from the scalp. It was in jest—you hoped—though Grell had been incensed and seemed alarmingly serious about cutting the thing apart...)

Fixing makeup in the mirror, spraying you with scents, Grell spoke where you preferred to listen; 'try this' 'no this smells much better' 'a maiden must always be adorned in fanciful arrangements' 'roses are my favorite, you know?'

Oh, did you ever. And so was bright weather, pretty corsets, lace feathers, heels that made the calves go on forever. Every utterance, complaint, and silly trait was inscribed in a tongue known to no one in the valley of your heart. You were a blue after all, and blues were dutiful lovers. Had memories like harp strings taunt; sharp. And how could you ever forget anything about Grell when there was always more to learn.

But you wanted to share that brightness. You'd walk and consider, could I make red if I mixed others? If I took his orange, my blue, that woman's green, maybe a splash of pink for authenticity... would I have a said shade like yours, a color that says 'look at me, I'm worth beholding'?

Maybe the rafters aren't so pretty. Maybe I'd like them all to look at me even if there's no smiling. Be seen. Red stops everyone, always has them looking. But you cannot make red from anything other. You are born red. You are born yourself. You would never have that shade, ever.

Sometimes you both spoke of what it would be like to be reborn, who either of you imagined would be the other.

Grell would be a supernova; grand, the death of something and the birth of another, a force you can't stop. A contradiction, a paradox; the brute with the love of flowers. Grell was red to the core. Wore it as though it was summer. Red was fond. Red was sticking up for your lover. Red was passion, and great things, and goosebumps from too much laughter. A person who in death, found that bold was always inside them. The poet's encouragement to be yourself. Something strange: spring in the snow, a funeral full of smiles. Red and worthwhile.

Grell hoped you'd still be you, to your wonder, because no one knew Grell better. You smiled when you were told, and that's because you're blue, hun. No one would understand those little details, loves, see so well beneath the water. Only a blue would. Could. A blue keeps the order while maintaining the spontaneity of a boat ride at the shore.

It was because you were blue. Because you were you. And blue is a nice color, Grell told you. Imagine how boring it'd be if we were all red or violet or green.

'I'd be bored'

You laughed, because maybe there was a point. Maybe blue wasn't such a bad color to be, because balance is pretty, a necessary evil. Grell had a flair for losing boots in the gutter, sneaking out to join the ball, and you liked picking up Cinderella's lost shoes. You've got a lover who loves a kiss on the hand, and you, a romantic from reading at all hours. Together you'd make blends and yellows and greens and purples; the shade of sallows, the sandy crunch of the desert, capture the sunrise's caricature.

I love your red, you tell. And Grell thinks your blue is quite special. Because it's red and blue together that unlocks the rainbow.

[breakingsomething]

dark silence

@taikeero-lecoredier this one's for you! this got very, very long. 2.3k words, in fact. but i'm glad i finally got it written! please enjoy.

basic summary: chase's late night milk run goes horribly wrong.

trigger warnings: blood, descriptions of gore and injury

all chase wanted was a bottle of milk.

it was late at night, almost eight. chase hated to be that asshole that came into the store right at closing time, but he and the others were planning on making hot chocolate and watching the good place, and he wouldn't want for them to miss that. it was his fault, as henrik said, for using the last of the milk in his tea, so he'd been nominated to go get more. that made perfect sense. perfect sense that he'd have to walk down the dark, silent streets to the nearest convenience store to buy milk. it was his own fault, after all.

this was sad. why was he freaking out so much? he'd been down this exact route hundreds of times in his life. he could've made it there blindfolded. but for some reason, the combination of the cold darkness and the lack of people out was making his heart pound, his breaths quickening as he raced through an alleyway to get to the store quicker.

it was bright and slightly warmer inside, calming chase's nerves. he smiled at the shopkeeper as he paid and took his time putting his change away. no one else was in the store anyway. everything was unnerving quiet and empty.

back outside, clutching a bottle of milk in hand. the streetlights outside the store along the street had gone out.

chase stopped dead, taking shaky breaths, considering. he could, theoretically, call henrik and ask him to come get him. but he pushed that thought from his mind as soon as it arrived. what was he, five? he couldn't call henrik just because he was a bit scared of the dark. no, he corrected himself. he wasn't scared of the dark. just…creeped out, that was all. that was all.

he took a deep breath and started forwards.

with the streetlamps out, it was pitch black. he passed the carton from hand to hand, his fingers numb with cold and fear, shaking slightly. oh, how he wished he hadn't had that tea earlier. then it could be jackie or henrik who was down here. that thought made him feel slightly guilty, but he shook his head and pressed on.

something cracked behind him. he jumped, whirling round to face nothing but empty blackness behind him. fuck, fuck, but he was scared.

someone was following him. something was following him.

he started walking faster. he wished he had headphones to put in music and not hear the whispering, the crunching, the giggling, the footsteps, and fuck, now he was running, he was running and there was laughter roaring in his ears, and he was so close to home, or he should be, he should be, home was right through this alleyway -

and all the lights in the alley were bright, bright red.

three streetlamps along the right side of the wall, casting the wet floor in a wave of neon scarlet. the intense colour of it hurt chase's eyes, and hs squinted. at the end of the alley, he could see the block of flats, just across the street. fuck, he could see their living room window from here.

all he had to do was go through this red alley.

he couldn't bring himself to move. he couldn't catch his breath. his feet were bound to the floor beneath him.

take one step. the only other route is an extra ten minutes, and your brothers are waiting for you. stop being such a crybaby, don't make them wait, just go. just go.

he took a step, and instantly the alley was plunged into darkness.

all he could hear was his own trembling breaths.

there was a hand on his sleeve there was a hand on his neck there was a hand on his hat there was a hand in his hair there was -

a man, standing at the end of the suddenly illuminated alleyway.

chase just stared. it was all he could do.

the man looked… familiar. even just his silhouette. he was average height, average build, wearing a cap on his head. for some reason, chase's mind wasn't functioning, everything was going slowly and it took all his strength to take another step, further into the alley, in line with the first red streetlamp. from here, despite the black shadows casting his face, chase could see him smile.

"jack?" he blurted. it was the first name that came to mind, seeing that man. his smile disappeared.

"jack," the man at the end of the alley repeated. even his voice was jack's, but it was horrendously distorted, the tone dipping up and down in pitch. he said no more, just stood there, his body drifting in and out of focus.

chase took another step forwards. behind the man, chase could see the lights of the houses. the wind ruffled through his hair.

"who are you?" he shouted, his voice far braver and steadier than he felt. "what do you want from me?"

"who are you?" the man mimicked in the voice of a child, and a glitch ran through his body, so wrong against this real life setting. "what do you want from me?"

chase's boots splashed in the red puddles. he was in line with the second lamp now, and he felt tears of panic pricking his eyes. "can you leave me alone? please, please, i need to get h-home, i need to get away!"

by now, he understood. he knew what was happening. that didn't make him fear this any less. a jolt went through him as he realized that the hat the man was wearing was his own. chase's hair was hanging free in a loose bun, the scar on the side of his head showing for anyone to see.

this time, it was the man that stepped forwards, into the light.

he looked different from the last time chase had seen him. he had a yellow scarf wrapped round his bandaged neck. his bare arms were covered in scars, mostly in the areas where jack's tattoos were. his wildly curly hair was brown now, poking out from the sides of chase's grey and pink hat. when he smirked, a fang pointed out from his mouth.

"jinx!" anti crowed. he spread his arms out, grinning as his eyes turned a solid black. "ah, ah, what a long time it's been! last time i really spoke to you, jack's neck had never even seen a knife, haha!" he giggled maniacally, and chase noticed the huge kitchen knife in his hand. how hadn't he seen that already?

"aiden," chase said. his voice shook. "i don't - i don't understand."

the man's face darkened into a sneer. "don't ever fucking call me by that name if you want to keep your pathetic little tongue, jinx."

chase subtly patted his pockets, searching for anything that he could use against the glitch. all he had was the milk in his hand, a packet of cigarettes, and a lighter. what a fat lot of use that was.

anti took an exaggerated step forwards, lining himself up with the third lamp. they were so close to each other now, so close that chase could have counted the freckles covering his face and arms, could see the white scars tracing down his face from his eyes. they were new. chase didn't remember those.

"jinx, jinx," anti crooned softly. his hand touched chase's face, gently lifting his chin up. "oh, i have wanted to speak to you like this for so long now. even before i had your dear arzt in my possession." he tossed back his head and flickered his eyes, and when he lowered his head they were brown again. "ah, and the doctor was so fun! his screams were lovely, jinx, you should have heard them!" he laughed like he had been regaling a funny story rather than recounting tales of his brother's torture. "he called out your name so often. of course, he stopped when i put the tip of my blade on his tongue and pressed down with the promise of -"

chase whacked anti in the side with the bottle of milk.

he hadn't thought it through. anti doubled over for only a brief second, immediately straightening and lunging for chase. chase cried out as anti seized his wrist and slammed him into the wall, kicking his shins in to prevent him from rising again. before he could even try to move, anti's knife was - oh, oh. it was slicing through his sleeve across his arm like it was nothing. oh, fuck.

chase howled in agony, the wound instantly throbbing and spilling blood down his shirt. he clutched at it, sinking into himself in an effort to avoid being injured again. all the fight had instantly gone out of him.

"please, please," he whimpered. god, he was pathetic. anti had crouched down in front of him, and chase forced himself to look into his eyes, tears pouring from his own and stinging when they fell onto his arm. "god, fuck, no more."

anti was laughing loudly. "well fuck, jinx, i thought you could handle far more than that! only one little cut, not even a vein or anything! do you know what your brother had to go through in his time with me?" his hand gently brushed over chase's neck. "maybe you should ask him the next time you see him."

chase squeezed his eyes shut. breathe. breathe. "where are my children? louise, connor? please, please, aiden…" he cracked his eyelids open again, fresh tears spilling out. "please tell me they're ok."

for a moment anti was silent. then he frowned. "that's the wrong name to use if you want any answers out of me."

the fingers that were gracing his neck suddenly squeezed, instantly cutting off all of chase's air and causing him to gasp, clawing at the wall behind him in an attempt to pull himself up. anti just watched, amused, the knife in his other hand tapping playfully on chase's thighs.

"ba - stard -" chase spat, his chest heaving with need to get air, air, air. without warning, anti got to his feet, pulling chase up with him. he couldn't get his footing, and desperately grabbed anti's arms, wheezing. the red lights blurred as tears obscured his vision entirely

"ant - can't - breathe!" he spluttered. "can't -"

anti let go as suddenly as he'd grabbed him. chase collapsed to the wet floor, coughing and spluttering, but before he could even get his breath anti's knife was right against his throat. "fucking pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, your weak older brother could handle more than this! ah, maybe it's a good thing me and dapper have your kids, you're clearly no good for them, what kind of a fucked up role model are you? drinking, fighting in bars, are you some kind of wild animal?" he dug the blade into chase's skin, and he could feel small trails of blood seeping from it. "do you need to be tamed, jinx?"

and for some reason, there was only one thing that chase took from that whole furious spiel.

"who's dapper?"

anti's expression changed from smug satisfaction to shock to pure rage. "shit," he mumbled.

and then the knife was in chase's neck it was ripping through skin and the front of his body was wet with hot blood practically spouting from the wound and that wasn't all, that wasn't all, there were stabbing pains in his arm, slashing though him, he tried to scream and copper bubbled into his mouth and the world -

went black.

he woke in hospital.

"chase? hey, bro, you awake?"

his eyelids were too heavy to raise. he could feel his arm hairs standing on end from the cold already, a chill going through his aching body. and fuck, all the pain hit him at once. it burned, and he could feel each individual cut, each bruise. chase groaned loudly. even that movement alone caused his throat to scream with pain. god, everything hurt. he wanted to cry.

"chase!" it was jackie. fuck, it was jackie, reddish hair and dark blue eyes and big round glasses perched on his crooked nose. he leaned over chase, concern etched into his face. "shit, shit, i'm so glad you're ok, i thought you were going to - i thought -" he sobbed noisily, covering his face with his hands. "i'm going to kill that bastard!"

chase's throat burned. he raised his hand and softly touched the bandages on his neck. ah, now he remembered what anti had done.

"ja'ie," he tried, but his voice caught and he couldn't get the words out. "di'nt… ge' th' milk home..."

jackie blinked, then laughed, tears streaming down his face. "you're really worried about the milk? chase, we thought he'd killed you! there was so much - so much bl-blood, so much -" he sniffled, his chest shaking. "fuck."

chase leaned his head further into the pillows of the hospital bed. the walls were a pale blue, he could see now, and there was a lot of equipment - he couldn't think of any names. shit, had anti really cut his throat?

"you're lucky henrik got there quickly," jackie said, scrubbing at his face with his sleeve. "we went out looking when you didn't come back and we saw the red light from our window. fuck, we were so scared, chase." he ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a trembling breath. "chase, it was - it was… anti, right? not…"

chase nodded. not marvin, he communicated. not marvin.

jackie nodded, more tears threatening to fall. "ok," he murmured. "henrik is getting some food at the vendies, he'll be up soon. you'll be ok, we'll be ok. this is ok."

chase couldn't even muster the energy to respond. he just closed his eyes and listened to his friend break down, the light behind his eyes a dangerous red.

[kateyandthecloset]

NIGHTMARES . luke alvez. 1

Her fears included the possible, not the probable. | He wasn’t sure he wanted to be alone anymore.

Emily watched as David crossed the bullpen, scanning through the file on her desk once more; she more than aware that she couldn't risk asking him unless it was imperative to the case. While there were still elements of the case that she and the team could decipher on their own, she knew that inviting a pair of specialised eyes would be their best bet for solving the case quickly. There had to be significance to the smaller details, and having someone who could see those smaller details would be particularly helpful for the team. That was why she was going to ask him. That was her justification.

There had been a series of favours between old friends since Emily had been made the interim Unit Chief, many centring around the adaptation she was facing on returning to the Bureau from Interpol. Yet, none of those favours had been as heavy as the one she was ready to ask. There had been times when Hotch had asked him, she knew that, but that didn't make her feel any less like she was taking advantage of their friendship.

Whenever they had asked him before, David had been reluctant to call the woman. Emily knew that, but she also knew that when it had been proved necessary he had brought her in. Now, she had to ask him to invite her to liaise on yet another case, potentially putting her in danger. He hated putting her in danger, it went against his promise to protect her. That was why, despite the woman being perfectly happy to help them team, he hated to ask it of her.

Emily's expression as David walked through the door told the senior agent everything. She watched as his eyes travelled towards the casefile – which Emily had left open on the desk – and his gaze lingered on the crime scene photos for as long as he dared. These were the tell-tale signs that he was correct in his assumptions, they would require specific help for his case. He took the seat opposite her, reading the report that she had slid across the desk. It was minimal to say the least, and they would be at a disadvantage if they only had this to work from. He knew that he needed to call her, but there was also still an internal battle raging through his head.

"The dismemberment and ante-mortem torture could be a huge part of the M.O." Emily leaned forwards, pointing to the images of circular marks on the bones. "She may be our best shot Rossi, I wouldn't be asking you otherwise."

David closed the file, leaning back in the chair as he let a sigh leave his lips, "I know."

The Unit Chief nodded, knowing that the man wanted to tell her no and protect the woman he still saw as a young girl cowering in the corner of her room. Emily understood that, and she also understood where his caution was coming from. She may not have been a mother, but she knew what a parents instinct did to a person. It controlled every decision they made, and David had it not only with Joy but with Alethea as well.

That was part of the reason that Emily dreaded her next question, she knew that it could tear apart the relationship, "I was thinking that, maybe, she could be an asset to the team."

"No." David snapped without hesitation. "That isn't going to happen."

"Please don't dismiss it so quickly," Emily retorted, her head shaking slightly as she glanced to him. "She's a great agent and has all of the qualifications she needs. This team works well with her, it would be better than introducing them to yet another stranger."

"I promised I would keep her safe," David countered, having pulled his gaze from Emily. "Her joining the team isn't keeping that promise."

"She can look after herself, Dave." The woman declared, earning herself an accusing glare from him. She let out a sigh, nodding as she added, "Can we just get her in from this case and then discuss this further later?"

Nodding his head, David stood to leave the office and move to his own. He understood everything that Emily way saying to him, he just didn't want to hear it. Being as suborn as he was, he would always try to protect Alethea – even when she had told him it was completely unnecessary. That was why had hadn't wanted to agree with Emily as she suggested she join the team, not that he thought it wouldn't be beneficial to the team.

He had his hand on the door, ready to exit, but Emily had called him back, "Do you know why Alvez wouldn't be answering his phone?"

"I don't know," David stated, turning away before realising, "but, he still goes to ex-military meetings though, works as a support leader, and, given the date, there would have been one last night."

Emily looked confused for a moment, "Okay." She paused. "Let me know when you've made the call, and we can start the briefing."

He nodded, turning his back on the woman and making his way towards his own office. As he entered, he took his seat, smiling at the photo of him and the woman that he and Emily had been previously discussing. She was wearing her military uniform, she had just gotten back from her last tour and he had collected her from the airport. Her service had caused a rift in their relationship, but no matter what David thought he would always be proud of the woman.

In the next few seconds, he whispered an apology to the photo, knowing that if he were to apologise to her she would simply tell him not to bother. She didn't entirely understand how much he wanted to protect her, he hadn't been so until she contacted him to thank him after she had turned 16. He let out a breath, picking his phone and dialling the number he had such mixed feelings towards calling.

Series Taglist: (message to be added)

[ari-shipping-stuff]

Nuts and Volts Week

Day Two

Waltzing Together

———

aight, i'm back and actually surviving this whole ship week thing ^^ it's way more fun than i initially thought so definitely expect me doing stuff for every other ship week ever lmao

reminder: this is still set in the modern au bc i accidentally fell in love. they're hanging out in the basement office arthur dreamed of having

please enjoy ^^

———

Arthur eyed the shattered camera on the floor.

"I didn't think you meant that literally."

Tyrian turned away from his specimen tanks.

"Hmm? Oh. Right. That. Why would I have been kidding?" he grinned, laughing. "When I say I break something, I mean it!"

Arthur snorted quietly, nudging a pastel purple bean bag with his foot. The thing looked so out of place in the dreary iron walls of the basement. It was his first time being snuck in here, and his first time here in general. And he was not expecting pastel-colored bean bags all over the place.

Though now that he thought about it, putting bright-colored furniture in a dark room sounded exactly like one of the bizarre things Tyrian would do.

Arthur hesitantly sat on the bean bag.

Tyrian ducked his head into the shelves, looking between tanks to watch his little animals eat. There were frogs, snakes, various kinds of ants, and naturally, scorpions galore. There were others, but most of said 'others' were currently being eaten alive.

Once he reached the last column of tanks, he stuck his arm into one in the middle. Arthur almost panicked, then saw the big, black scorpion crawl up Tyrian's arm.

It briefly stopped crawling at his shoulder. What Arthur noticed first was it's lack of stinger.

But as Tyrian began walking back to Arthur, it started crawling all over. Tyrian didn't look fazed in the slightest.

Arthur recoiled, backing against the wall. Though he tried not to look disturbed, it clearly didn't work, judging by the look he was getting from Tyrian.

Tyrian bent down, somewhat bowing so his smug, grinning face was level with Arthur's. The scorpion was within arm's reach now. Arthur inched away ever so slightly.

Tyrian snorted.

"Say, Arty, do you mind holding onto Larry while I prep my speakers?"

Arthur gave him a look like, 'dude, wtf'.

"Pwetty Pwease?"

There was hesitance. But he relented. Arthur scowled, rolling his eyes.

"Fine.."

Tyrian hopped excitedly, allowing Larry to climb off him and into Arthur's lap. The scorpion crawled about briefly, then settled itself on Arthur's right knee.

It had to be the lap, hadn't it?

Arthur recoiled further. He glanced at Tyrian, who merely shrugged and raised his arms in response.

"Don't worry, buddy! He's house-trained!" Tyrian turned away, muttering quietly.

"Mostly.."

"What was that?"

"Nothing!"

Tyrian walked off to the speakers. He picked up his phone and began to work with the Bluetooth.

Meanwhile, Arthur was just about having the time of his life with Larry snoozing on his lap. Every tiny fidget was a bit more of the anxious breaths he was holding in his attempts of not moving. But when the scorpion raised its tail, he couldn't help but let out a miniature squeak.

He hoped Tyrian didn't hear that.

He was wrong, of course. Not that he needed to know. Tyrian himself found it adorable. He glanced back for a second, chuckling. It may have been brief and blurry because of his terrible eyesight, but he tried to visualize it properly.

Another glance.

He wanted the picture of Arthur and his scorpion burned into his brain. Literally or figuratively, though..? Eh. Didn't matter.

After indecisively scrolling around his tracks, he decided to leave it at shuffle.

Another glance.

Classical music filled the room. Tyrian clasped his hands together, humming along to the tune. He began to sway a bit as well. Though to Arthur, it mostly looked like he was swaying drunkenly and trying not to fall.

Tyrian tossed himself around for a bit, before swiping Larry from Arthur's lap. He held the scorpion in the air, twirling around with Tyrian.

"Allons danser, ma belle!" he grinned.

Larry pinched him in response.

Arthur rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

"If you're attempting to waltz, let me tell you, you're doing terribly."

Tyrian placed a hand on his heart, gasping loudly. He glared at Arthur, a pout forming on his lips.

"How dare you!"

Arthur raised a brow skeptically. His muteness annoyed Tyrian, who put Larry on his shoulder and his hands on his hips.

"Well? Can you do any better?"

"I know I can."

Tyrian smirked, gently bringing Larry back to his tank.

"Then prove it."

"Excuse me?"

Tyrian spun gracefully, stopping in front of Arthur, holding his hand out dramatically.

He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Dance with me."

Arthur blinked. But he sighed, taking Tyrian's hand.

He stood.

"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this."

"I can't either."

"Oh, shut up."

"Shutting up now."

The first song came to an end. So they simply stood there, waiting for the next to play.

Arthur sighed through his nose, his face growing warm. He decided to stare at his shoes in the meantime.

"I'm never going to live this down, am I?"

"Nope."

Arthur gingerly took Tyrian's other hand and put it on his shoulder. His own hand found his partner's waist.

The song started.

And so they danced.

Arthur had the dance memorized from childhood, so he didn't need much focus. And to his surprise, neither did Tyrian. They could only stare at each other. As if waiting for the other to initiate something.

Dip him.

The thought itself brought butterflies to Arthur's stomach. Did he really have to feel this now? For him? Of all the people he could've..

What other people?

Everyone else mocked him. Tyrian understood him. In his own zany way, he did. Since the day they met, Tyrian knew how Arthur felt about getting fired. Yet he didn't mock him. He respected what he wanted to do. He related to it even.

The momentum of the music heightened.

Dip him now!

And so he did.

Tyrian clearly wasn't expecting that. His chest tightened. Couldn't think properly. Just.. Woah.

A pause. Then—

".. Wanna go out some time?"

Arthur's blood rushed to his cheeks. Despite the music moving on, the question seemed to freeze time around them.

Tyrian wiggled his eyebrows, his expression blank. It brought a small smile to Arthur's face.

"Very well."

———

next part and (again) the rest of the week will be set in the very same au

this was very self-indulgent, and all of them are tbh bc i have, like no fuckin idea how to write these two properly i think

thanks for reading though, any little support i get from you all just makes me really happy ^^

comments especially

- ari

[i-guess-im-a-fanfic-writer-now]

A better life (Chapter 1, Avengers x reader)

Hey, so I’ve been working on something longer than my other fics. This is an Avengers x reader thing, and here the reader is stuck in a bad situation with their mother. Long story short, reader’s in a bad situation, accidentally befriends the Avengers, it’s fun hanging out with them, they start noticing signs that something’s wrong. Haven’t finished writing it yet, there’s gonna be a few chapters, but I will finish it, so don’t worry about this being an unfinished fic that is untouched for 5 years. Also, I have decided to completely ignore the Events of Infinity War, Endgame, and Far From Home. Those aren’t real movies. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am the god in this story. You can’t stop me. Edit: chapter 9 is available on the blog now

Trigger warnings for this chapter: emotional abuse, physical abuse (nothing too intense, bruises, arm grabbing), a lot of swearing, all caps, guilt tripping

Alright, let’s go! I hope you enjoy this also please give me feedback that would be really appreciated  Chapter 1:

“I just asked if I could -“

“Shut up, or else..”

You took a step backwards, away from your mother, just as she raised her hand. Half a second later, your arm was up in front of your face, blocking your mother’s arm from reaching you, and her features were full of anger and shock.

“How dare you do this to me?! I feed you!! I clothe you!!! You are so fucking disrespectful, I hate you!!!”

Your mother stared at you for a few moments that seemed like centuries, and then rapidly walked away from you, back into the living room to your siblings. You immediately went back to your room, stepping quietly on the wooden floor and silently closing the door behind you. You don’t even bother turning the light on, and you immediately slide down the wall, breathing hard from the adrenaline as a few tears escape your eyes. *I am so tired of this.* 

You hear angry yelling from the living room, and then your name is being shouted. You quickly wipe your tears and then find the glass of water on your table to put some on your eyes. Unless you want to be screamed at more, you had to make sure your mother wouldn’t find out you cried. You walked out of the room as quietly as you cane in and appeared in the doorway to the living room.

“How dare you do this?!!! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” She was pointing at a broken vase, and now you were just.. very confused. “Well, don’t just stand there!!! Answer me, you ungrateful bitch!!!”

“I didn’t do this, I -“

“SHUT UP!!! I get that you’re being a bitch, but breaking things?! Have you been fucking crying? You are so fucking stupid, I am NOTHING but good to you!!! Go to your fucking room. Now. I don’t want to see you.” Her voice suddenly went cold, and you kept your eyes trained on the floor as you almost ran back to your room.

The next day, when she came home and you had already made food for yourself, she started crying while making soup. You couldn’t care less, except for the brief flash of guilt you felt when she began crying. That was something she often did: first, hurt you, and then act like you were the one in the wrong. You’ve never heard her apologize to you about anything.

For the next week, your mother didn’t speak a word to you. You refused to be the one who breaks the silence first, because obviously, she didn’t need you, but you sure as hell didn’t need her help. A few days ago, you finally got yourself a summer job that kept you occupied from 8am to 3pm, and you were quite happy about it. When you were done, you hung out at a nearby café, messaging friends or meeting up with some, but most days, like today, you sat there alone.

You were doing research on Ophiocordyceps Unilateralis, the zombie fungus, when you realized you were so concentrated that you hadn’t noticed a man was standing beside you. Taking your headphones off, you looked up to see the face of the man: it was Tony Stark. What was he doing at this small café? Why was he standing there? You had many questions, but the biggest one was: *why in the absolute fuck is he staring at me?*

“Hey, sorry, is this seat taken?”, he asked, pointing to the empty one at your table.

Too shaken up to say anything, you shook your head. He smiled at you and sat down. You looked around and saw that most of the seats weren’t taken. 

“So you’re probably wondering why I sat here, of all places, right? I just saw what you’re reading and it seemed nice”, he says, still smiling, coffee in hand. “So what’s a kid like you doing researching a zombie fungus? Isn’t school out? It’s summer.”

“Oh, yeah.. I, uh, I actually really like biology, though I’ve never loved physics or chemistry. School’s out, I’m just.. I’m kinda doing this for fun”, you awkwardly manage to say, avoiding eye contact.

“Interesting. Actually, I might know someone who would probably talk to you about this for a while. He was going on about how insane insects are all morning. He likes talking about the multiverse theory, amongst other things. Wanna meet him? Pretty sure he’d be your age.”

“I, uh, sure, if I wouldn’t be bothering him.. I mean, he’s probably busy, though, and -“

“Kid, he’ll be thrilled if he gets another person to talk to about this, especially the zombie ants, and the spider one. Trust me. It’s okay. He’s at the Stark tower. Come on, take your stuff. I promise I’m not trying to be creepy. You just seem like someone he’d be friends with. He has, like, two friends. I’m worried about him.”

“It.. really kinda seems like you’re one step away from adopting him”, you say as you gather up your laptop and put everything in your backpack.

Tony looked a you with a “Maybe so” grin and you walked out together. He kept trying to keep the conversation going, but quickly understood that you’re trying really hard not to visibly panic and stopped asking questions. He started talking about a new thing he was currently working on.

The Stark tower was already really close, and he held the door open for you when you got there. You felt uneasy, letting someone do that for you, but you smiled and mumbled a weak “thanks” while looking at the floor. When you came in, you looked back to make sure that he was still walking with you, that it wasn’t a trick to let you get lost, that it wasn’t something you’ll be ridiculed for later. 

“So, kid, you ever been here before? Anyway, what’s your name?”

“I, uh, I haven’t, actually.. My name’s Y/N”, you reply, already getting used to Tony calling you “kid”. You were a teenager, after all, and for some reason, you didn’t mind it that much when he was the one who said it. You both walked into the lift, and he was already looking at the buttons.

“Hm, cool name. Right, fifteenth floor.. here we go. Hold on tight, Y/N.”

You tightly gripped the handle in the lift, and before you knew it, you were already on the right floor. Kind of dizzy, you went out of the lift.

“You alright there, Y/N?”, Tony asked with concern in his voice.

You nodded, and then looked up onto the floor with amazement. There were advanced models of computers, headphones, and any kind of electronic device you could find. Well, maybe not everything, but there was a lot, anyway.

“Holy shit.” The words got out of your mouth before you could think about it, and you were immediately scared. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Hey, it’s okay. I swear a lot. Just don’t do it around Steve. Rogers. Steve Rogers. Captain America. He’s going to go “language” at ya. It’s hilarious, but I’m pretty sure you don’t want a lecture from an old grandpa who looks like a thirty year old”, Tony said, chuckling.

“Hey! I heard that, you know”, a familiar voice yelled out through the room and you flinched without meaning to. You searched the room, only to see actual Captain America just walking up to you and Tony. *Holy fuck. What the fuck. What the absolute fuck.*

“Steeeeeeeeeve, you can’t say I’m wrong though”, Tony said.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Oh my god Steve you said fuck”, whispered Tony. “Peter! Peter, Steve said fuck! Peter I know you’re in here, come here, kid! I found a person who’s interested in the, what’s it called, the, you know, zombie fungus, the one you were going on about last week.”

Half a second later, a teenage guy practically ran up to you with a wide smile on his face. “Mister Captain, ah no, Mister America, wait, Mister Rogers, language! You remembered? Thank you, mister Stark! You didn’t have to do that though, I don’t know how I can -“

“Peter, just.. here, here you go, here’s the person”, Stark said, “I just want you to have more friends, okay? I was at the usual café and they were just researching the fungus. So I just brought them here.”

“Thank you!” He looked at Tony, whose smile warmed as he said: “Sure, kid.” Peter hugged him with a good amount of force and then put his fist in the air and whispered “Yess”.

You smiled at this sight.

“So, Peter, this is Y/N, and Y/N, well, this is Peter Parker”, Tony formally introduced you to each other.

Peter nodded at you excitedly, and you returned a smile, despite how tired you were already feeling.

“So, I heard mister Stark saw you researching the zombie fungus, ophio-“

“-cordyceps unilateralis, yeah! It’s fascinating! Sorry for interrupting, I didn’t mean to, I just -“

Peter’s eyes lit up as he continued your sentence. “Get really excited about things? Yeah, me too! It’s insane! I mean, that nature does all these things, and there’s different kinds of this virus that affects different insects!”

“Yeah! And when it’s the one involving the ants, it makes the ant go bite the underside of a leaf, and apparently it’s still unknown how it convinces the ant to do that! And it’s so awesome that it’s called the “death grip”, I mean, obviously it’s because the ant has no choice but to wait for death, but it’s a really cool expression!”

“I like you, you’re pretty cool, Y/N”, Peter finally said.

“Oh, uh, thank you..? You’re cool too”, you reply, feeling guilty, like you’ve fooled him into thinking you’re smart. You’ve always felt uneasy when someone complimented you.

“Nerds”, Tony whispered happily.

Steve shot him a look, and Tony immediately said that he needed to go do something. They both went into the lift and disappeared, leaving you with Peter. You checked your watch. 4:17pm. You’d need to be home by 6 if you didn’t want to get into any more trouble than usual.

“There’s a good coffee machine here, if you want”, Peter awkwardly said. You addressed him an awkward smile and shrugged. “Alright, uh, there’s, there’s video games here. Do you play?” You nodded and he immediately gestured for you to follow him as he walked towards a big tv surrounded with games.

He pointed to one of those lying on a small table beside the couch in front of the television. “This one’s one of my favourites, actually. You ever played it?”

“Nope. But I’m definitely willing to try. Is there a multiplayer option?”, you said, a bit more confident in yourself.

“Hell yeah! Shall we?”, he asked, and you took a controller for the game in response.

An hour and a half passed by as you and Peter played the video game, and you were having a lot of fun. You were actually smiling more often than you had in the past few months. At least, this time, this was a real smile.

You checked your watch, and it was now 5:49pm. *Shit*, you thought, “Hey, I’m really enjoying this, but I have to go”, you said, trying your best to hide the worry in your voice as you detached the controller from your wrist. You immediately took your backpack and turned back to Peter. “I could come back here tomorrow though, after work again. If you want me to. I, uh, I enjoyed hanging out. With you.”

“Sure! Good luck, I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

“Yeah.. Thank you”, you smiled, and then immediately ran towards the life, pushing the button and waiting as panic rose up in you. In a few seconds, you were in the lift, and soon after, you were sprinting out of the Stark Tower in your apartment’s direction.

You were already at the door by 5:59, and you took your keys out to unlock the door. As soon as you came in, you saw your mother, sitting on the couch in the living room, arms crossed, face angry, and staring straight at you. She got up and walked menacingly towards you. “Where the fuck were you?!” You lowered your gaze and stayed silent. “I asked you a question! I expect an answer!” She grabbed your forearm hard and refused to let go.

Your mind quickly searched for an easy lie to keep up, and came up with: “I was doing a bit of overtime because one of my coworkers had to leave early.”

Your mother let your arm go, scoffed, and walked away after standing there calling you names for a few minutes, inevitably now back to completely ignoring you. That was a relief, no matter how much it hurt.

You quietly went to your room and took out your phone and earphones, connecting them by Bluetooth and starting to play music. After a few minutes, you took the headphones off for a moment, just to make sure it wasn’t easy to hear the music for someone not currently wearing the headphones, because you knew your mother would be pissed at that.

A few hours later, after writing for a while and then reading almost a hundred pages of a book, you fell asleep. It didn’t even bother you that you forgot to have dinner at this point. You were too tired to be able to socialize, or even be in the same room, with your mother. Anyway, you needed sleep. You hadn’t been able to sleep properly in a long time, always waking up several times each hour or getting nightmares that left you sweaty or crying when you woke up. Some things in the nightmares woke you up suddenly. You never told your mother about it because you knew she wouldn’t care or would blame it on you being disrespectful or on your electronic devices.

[mellowgirl01]

🍷Sweet Wine🍷

masterlist

Wordcount: 5180

Characters:26054

People: Adam x Y/N x Eve

Made for: @ladyfluff

Request:No

Tag: @ladyfluff @may-bereblog @jaquellejohnson

Date:2/24/19

Summary: Back to the very start. Back to where we began. That’s where I wanna go so then I can relive seeing your face again. Yet what I never wanna relive was the end.

Warning: Physical violence, screaming cursing, forms of abuse. (While I do have these things in here I created this story for lady fluff and I have a well understanding that she doesn’t really like to focus so much on things like these. For reasons I will not say though because that is her private business. So while I do have these things in the story it will only be for a second and then it doesn't return. I hope that while I have put these things in the story, Everyone will like the way that it’s made. And or hope that the next chapter will be good for all of you)

A/N: This chapter is very long due to the fact that I wanted to really cover a lot about how the never aging lovers meet the lovely Y/N Might have 4 parts Might not but this is Part 1, I will update my master list for this so that no one gets confused. Hope you all enjoy.

Let us go back to the year of 1867

As most of the people would be busy out on the street and talking, conversating , minding their own business as life continues on. People on the fine streets on london decked in all of their finest attire moving fast and talking faster. There’s one girl that likes to take her time and look down at those busy people that move faster than ants. She couldn’t do this too often though.

“Y/N!!!!!”

Due to the fact that she had a mistress to please. Rather a lady of the new manner she had been assigned too when the lady married her man. Now there names are not important for now. They will be called Mr. And Mrs. Bloomington for now. Mrs.Bloom had been Y/N’s Lady in waiting ever since they were both small. She use to be so nice and kind until one day she just wasn’t any longer, and overtime she started to out her hands on Y/N as warnings. And so Y/N did everything to prevent this from happening and so far it never even once happened.

As she scurried throughout the house to her lady she passed Mr. Bloom’s office. He looked happy as his eyes scammed through out the letter that was before him. She always did stay far away from Mr.Bloom since she had first saw him. Well that is when He first saw her. She was but only 19 and same with Mrs.bloom. She didn’t like how he was such a ladies man. So she paid no mind to him and his one hit wonder charms that were sdo see through. She wondered if this only drew him to her more. Which she had absolutely no intentions on doing. She wasn’t glad either when Mrs.Blooming decided to marry him, but she was happy and most of all kept her away from him. So she was at ease.

Once at Mrs.Blooming’s room she stood by her side.

“Yes my lady?”

“Help me with my dress and hair. I look as though i’ve been through some type of tornado.”

“I don’t think that way my lady. I think you look beautiful.”

Y/N picked up a brush and started on her hair first.

“Well no shit Y/N you are supposed to think that way what does your opinion matter?”

Y/N quietly sighed as she braided her lady’s hair and wrapped it into a bun. Fixing her dress next she zipped her up when she was done. Mrs. Blooming looked at herself happily in the mirror. This gave Y/N a chance to look at herself. While a lady in waiting was supposed to be dressed like their lady with at least some form of beautiful dress, jewls and what not. Mrs. Blooming saw this as a distraction to her beauty and forbiddeN from wearing such clothing. So Y/N wore a maids outfit instead. No jewels, no nothing. Just plain and simple. She could barely keep the thing looking brand new with all the tasks that Mrs. Bloom gave her. Only giving her Three dresses that looked the same and nothing more. Y/N had to buy her own shoes and own gloves. Anything that needed to be cleaned in the house she would have to buy on her own. Y/N though never did mind Mrs. Bloom’s harsh treatments and what not. Fore she knew that her dear best friend..Only friend. Was just in there somewhere. Right?

Just then Mr. Bloom swung the door open and looked happily to his wife.

“My darling get your finest wear and coat and jewels on as soon as possible we are going to the Top! HahA!”

“What on Earth are you on about?”

“I mean that very soon we will be taking a trip to one of the finest man in London’s house ! Adam !”

“You mean The’ Adam and Eve? How in the bloody hell did you get them to invite us you don’t own any instruments. You’ve never even played.”

“I haven’t played yet I do know a very great friend of mine that is amazing at making the most beautiful violins and I was thinking on making a business selling them! We are to meet them today and discuss over things. While us men talk you women will have your own conversations and what not. I suggest that you do your best to be on your behavior dear. I will not and I repeat not have you embarrass me!”

Mr. Bloom’s voice boomed as he walked out of the room.

“So get dressed now while I go out and get us a carriage!.”

While Mrs. Bloom was both quite excited Y/N knew that her husband’s words stung her. She could tell that there were multiple questions all in her mind going on and on. Things like if she were pretty enough , slim enough, was she an embarrassment to her dearest? She knew because Mrs. Bloom would make a face at herself in the mirror whenever she started to unfairly critique on herself. Y/N never would understand what she saw in such a man like that. Yet she said nothing and helped her lady into a brand new dress and all. Once she was done with her she hurried to scramble up a good dress to look at least half decent. She only hear many wives tales on how great the famous pare were. How beautiful they both looked and how much of a gentleman Sir Adam was. Y/N was never one to really care too much on looks so when she heard that they were awfully nice she smirked at the thought of working for them instead of the Bloomings. Or at least if the Bloomings were more like them. Putting her hair into a bun and wrapping her hair into a frilly cloth bun she made sure that it was known that she was no more than a servant to the lady only. She didn’t like to dress like this when company came over but Knew the consequences if she didn’t. Not to mention that all she had were maids dresses she adapted with all her might.

The ride there seemed like forever as they got further and further away from there spot in london. The carriage ride seemed a little bumpy but after a few heinous hours later of the god forsaken bumpy road they finally all arrived there in once peace. Y/N and both her lady looked out at the tower of a house and both of their jaws went straight to the floor. Y/N understood that he was a musician of some sorts but never truly understood how great that he was. The house wasn’t ginormous but at the same time it wasn’t some small ordinary victorian home either. Outside of the house there was a maid and a butler. The sweet looking maiden had a bright smile on her face that could light up the world if she dared to. Her hair was ginger and she wore the same outfit at Y/N but looking closer as they all got out of the carige and saw that the dress had little black designs in the sleeves and the skirt. The butler on the other had just had a basic plain suit that clung to his body snug but not at the same time. Propper with a smile was the fellow and his hair was just a tab bit reseating. Yet it really wasn’t important. IF anything it kinda suited him and made him look marute.

“Welcome my good sir, my name is luther. I am the butler of the manner and will be helping you and your college today.. Sir Adam and your other friend are both  inside. Please follow me to his office.”

As Luther led the way this left Y/N and Mrs. Bloom to stand there in front of the small maiden.

As she held the sides of her dress she bowed into a curtsy.

“Good day MY lady and maiden. My name is sarah and I am here to bring you both to my wonderful Lady of the house Eve.”

Her voice was sweet as a kittens. If sweet had a picture in the dictionary she would win hands down Y/N was why she was their maid and why they kept her around.

While walking to wherever Sarah was taking the women Y/N felt so out of place as she looked all around her and saw such beautiful and neat decorations and colors all around. If the colors weren’t black white or dark chocolate, they would be black,gold, and white or red, gold and white. It all just looked absolutely beautiful. She especially couldn’t stop looking at the many beautiful chandeliers and candle glow. They all put out a soft and welcoming smell along with there warmth made the scene look so beautiful. Was Y/N in some sort of heaven for a brief moment? While Y/N thought that it was too perfect to be true Mrs.bloom didn't really like the house at all. She thought that it was all creepy dark and the smell was rather not strong enough. The faint sweet smell annoyed her to no end. She wondered maybe if her husband liked this or not. ‘Hopefully not’ She thought. She also looked around and saw that there were huge thick velvet curtains that painted each and every window.

“Why have so many windows and yet not open them? There beautiful and why cover them up with such thick curtains?”

“My Lady and sir both have sun allergies that can be very survivor. So we never open the curtains .”

Y/N took in this information while Mrs.Bloom rolled her eyes. Finally getting to the room sarah opens it up and the room seemed like a cozy library. The walls were a cream color with royal print of them or something. A few of the walls were covered from head to toe with books on bookshelf and a ladder that was set on top of or near the tall bookshelf. The fire roared lightly and made a shadow for the person sitting in front of it. Y/N turned her head to see the most beautiful woman that she had ever laid her eyes on. She thought that it was just some appreciation for the beautiful woman but that was until Eve made the choice to look straight to the people who were now walking into the room. Her face was sunken input as her hair fell and clung to her bare neck and collar bones. There was a braided bun in her hair and a couple of pears that clung to it as well. She put down her book that she was in and walked towards the tiny group.

“Good Evening Ladies. My name is Eve how did you do.”

“Splendid and full of joy now that I have meet you.”

“And I the same to you. And just might who you be sweet one?”

Eve looked down to Y/N. The action was just simple as breathing right?. Well why didn’t Eve feel that way about it? Cause when she looked to the maiden in the torn up dress she somehow forgot to breathe. Looking her slowly up and not missing a single area of cover and both uncovered skin. She was beautiful in her eyes and she barely even knew her name. So as she finally got to her lips that looked as soft as cotton candy, Y/N spoke her name and Eve looked to her bright eyes. She was jealous of how the light danced off of them. How it danced off on all of her beautiful skin. Had her heart just skipped a beat? What was this feeling and just why was she feeling this? The only time that she felt such a feeling was when she met Adam.’Impossible’ She thought. Snapping out of her head space as soon as sarrah called her name. Y/N though she was just seeing things when she noticed that Eve was not only sizing her up but then blushed.

“Ah! Do forgive me. My head seemed to be somewhere else at that moment. Please come in and sit. Sarrah, Please take Y/N here, and run her a bath. Make sure she gets new clothes. I hate to see her in those rags. Looks so uncomfortable really. And sweet things don’t need to be in such ruley clothing.”

Eve’s flirtation did not go unnoticed and it was Y/N’s turn to blush like a mad man.

“Yes my lady. Please walk with me.”

Sarrah took Y/N’s hand and lead her the very way to the bathroom. As she was about to take her to the maiden’s bathroom. She also didn’t see Eve’s fleurtations unnoticed. Sarah didn't mind the thought of something like like for some odd reason. She thought she had seen many stranger things with both Adam and Eve. But love was never one of them. So she led Y/N to the master bathroom and ran her some water.

“I don’t think that we will be staying that long Eve, your honestly too kind to us-.”

“Tell me, where in the world did you find a girl like that?”

“Ah.. well, her family worked for my family and if i am to be honest with you. They abandoned her and left her with heaps of debt. So she was sent to be my maid to pay off what they left behind. Honestly isn’t that disgusting?”

“Very, Why would someone ever leave someone so precious seeming?”

“Oh no, I mean her. She's lucky really that I took her in and my family didn't send her off somewhere. Thing didn’t even know how to read or write. But that’s no problem with girls like us. Born from riches.”

Mrs.Blooming smilled at Eve but Eve didn’t smile back.

“Yes..Well in change of words how is your husband’s business?”

“Oh I don’t get into those things. Women have no role in such a thing, I was even rather shocked that you had books in this manner that you read. I find it to be such a bore.”

Eve knew that this conversation would only lead her to a headache she couldn’t cure. This woman was beyond frustration her and she needed to get away somehow and some way yet nothing was coming to mind yet. Eve sighed but as she inhaled a gust of wind she smelled such an intoxicating smell. A smell that almost put her in a frenzy. Fangs and all were out as she let her mouth hand open as it salivated at the lustful essence. But who did it belong to?

“Eve? Are you alright? You sure do have long teeth.”

Eve shook her head and smiled at her when she calmed down enough.

“Ah yes I indeed am but um I think that I’m gonna get sarrah to fetch us some snacks to eat and drinks.”

Eve got up from her chair and walked over to the door slowly

“You don’t have any other maids in this huge manner?”

“No.”

With that Eve left the room and closed the door behind her. She felt as though the world had been lifted off her shoulders as she ceased to talk with Mrs.bloom any longer. The most important part was to find out just who had that sinful sent. She looked like she was out on the hunt as she walked around her manner getting closer and closer to the sent. As she did it made her swoon more and more. Making Eve’s movements sloppy. She forgot the last time that she had the last taste of wine. Yet this one was sweet and so soft. Not only did she taste wine but wine with blueberries? She felt her skin ignite as the heat of the bathroom was seeping out into the hall along with the Evanescence. Eve finally got to the master bathroom seeing that it was cracked. The beautiful thing about the house that the lovers always adored was the fact that no smell no sound could be heard from the sealed walls. If someone wanted to ease drop they would have to hope that the door was open. This was the best when they needed there most private moments to stay just that. Walking up to the door she peaked her eye through the slit of the door and there the sweet maiden was just washing up. Her body looked like a goddess in her counters as the steam rised from her skin and was sent all around the bathroom. Eve could stare at the scene all day long. The problem was that she was just rinsing off. Her hair was not wet so it wouldn’t take long before she were to get her clothes on.

Eve watched still as she dried her skin but looked around the bathroom for something.

“Oh no she left them outside!”

The maiden whispered to herself

Eve looked down and saw the clothes halfway under her dress. So when she panicked when Y/N turned her head. Quickly she clung to the side of the door as She felt it open and saw a cute hand reach out of the clothes. She had on a cover up so that her body would not be shown but she didn’t want anyone to even maybe see her so she only had the door cracked as she desperately reached for her clothes. Eve looked over and held back a giggle. Deciding to not be a coward anymore she came out from her hiding spot and handed IN her clothing.

“I can bet that these are yours sweet one?”

Y/N blushed hardcore and looked away as she slowly placed her hands on the clothes. To gently take them off of Eve’s

“Y-yes thank you, Lady Eve. Your too kind to me.”

Eve might have made the gravest mistake as she touched the top of  Y/N’s hand. The scent was enough to make her faint. Now that she felt how soft, smooth, and warm her skin was it almost made her moan out in pure pleasure. Why her? Why must she have these feelings for one mortal when she had Adam? Yet it couldn’t be just Eve who found the smell of the little mortal deadly. No. Eve knew her husband like no other. She just didn’t know if he was about to go off the edge like she was or not. Eve nodded to her new found crush and stood up. She tried to reach out to feel the touch of her face but sarrah called her name down the hall. Eve looked to the halls then back at Y/N. Her little one stood there just staring at Eve with eye she had never once witnessed. Her eyes held something within them but tried so hard to tell a story to Eve. Was she stunned, horrified, embarrassed? Whatever it was Eve didn’t have time to really indulge into her as she so desired to. Y/N had no clue as to what just happened. There she stood as Eve slipped away from her with a smile. She for some reason wanted to reach out for her and to pull her back. A complete stranger..and yet she seemed so simple. So easy to just fall into trust with. An open soul with so much love to share...Y/N snapped out of this trance and hypnotized state to quickly put on her clothes and rush to her Lady.

When she got her dress and shoes on she walked quietly through the manner looking more at how beautiful it all was. She spun all around in her dress taking in every art, sculpture and wood carving.  It saddened her though to think that this visit to heaven would come to such an end. She continued on her own little tour and came to a room where the door was only slightly cracked. She thought it was the room where they all were since it had the same door only to hear the most beautiful playing. Strumming from a violin. Peaking through she saw a very tall man who looked lean but not skinny. His hair was put back neatly into a low ponytail. He wore all black as he played a song so bittersweet she thought she might cry. As if the man knew her and strummed out her feelings in the mists of his playing. Once he stopped he looked at whoever was in the room with him.

“And you say that there are indeed others like these? That can be made like these?”

“Yes of course. Yet we would need help if you want such instruments to be in fact made.”

“I see..Well, I must think about this a bit more.”

“That’s the thing sir. We need the money now and think that with your kind of name with us that money will come in with eais.”

The  looked back at the people who were in the room offended

“Fast money? So that’s what this is all about?”

“Please Sir, Adam. You must understand that we mean no ill about this. My partner had hard time wording it correctly.”

Y/N held in a gasp. ‘That’s Adam?! He does for sure look amazing in all his attire. While Eve wore all white Adam wore all black as though they were always getting married. Y/N smiled at this thought and continued to stare at Adam. There’s that feeling again. The same feeling that she had for Eve was coiling up inside her for Adam. His whole stature showed that he meant business and didn’t quite well appreciate the man who Y/N took as Mr.Bloom’s friend’s words. Disgusted was more so the right word.

“No, I’m very certain that he said what he meant cause of not then he wouldn’t have stated such. I do not create, play, and show off my music for the pathetic fame or more money. I have quite enough of that to last me a lifetime if you have not seen gentlemen! I take it to grave offence when a man says to me that he would like to make me more money for something that should be enjoyed freely. Now if you are so desperate to make such a deal with me then you will wait for my choice further on the matter. Until then, I suggest that you leave me be.”

“We have something else though to talk with you about sir.”

Y/N could have stayed there forever as she overheard the men talk. Yet most of all she could watch him yell and assert his dominance over people like Mr. Bloom and his sleazy partner. Any friend that Mr. bloom had though made a bad taste in Y/N’s mouth. None of them were true good men just like Mrs. Bloom’s friends. All gossip and no bite. Hell even if they did bite they only would to the weaker ones.

Just then Y/N almost yelled when Adam looked straight to her. She covered her mouth and quickly ran to her Lady.

Getting to the right door she sighed and quickly opened the door to see the beautiful Eve again. Eve did a double take and gasped slightly. She was amazed by how beautiful Y/N looked even though she wore the same dress as Sarrah. Sarrah just smiled and took Y/N’s hand in hers. Eve saw this and got a little jealous. She was shocked by this since she only had a couple of words with Y/N and a very intoxicating encounter. Things only seemed to get stranger today. Mrs. Blooming was the only one unhappy. She looked disapproved at Y/N’s new look.

“What on earth are you smiling about? Being a servant?”

Y/N’s smile left her face and reality hit her over the head with a hard brick. She looked to the floor and apologized to Mrs. Blooming. Eve didn’t like this at all. Mrs. Blooming pointed to the large tray of food that was set on the couch by Sarah.

“If you so happy then why don’t you fetch us some tea for our food?”

“I don’t know this house though my lady.”

“Sarrah will show you the way Love. Sarrah?”

Eve gestured her hand towards Y/N and they both left for the second time. Mrs. Blooming just wanted Y/N out of her sight. ‘No attention should be put app on when someone is so low ranking as a maid. Ugh, disgusting thing that girl is.’

As the girls were talking with each other they found that they were both orphans left in the wind. While how they came to be said is different they still had fun bonding and just sharing experiences with one another. Yet sarrah had to ask. “If we have such a similar backstory then why in the world do you have a Lady like that? You got the worst of the worst.”

“Mrs. Blooming can be quite cruel..Yet she’s the only friend that I have ever had, We have a really deep history together that cannot be broken. She was well..in a way my first love. Only ! in a friendship way though. I loved her like we were siblings.”

“How do you feel about her now?”

Y/N paused for a bit.

“I know she’s abusive..Yet when I look into her eyes all that comes to me is just breath and be there for her. Just be there. Nothing else. Somewhere deep down I do think that she could change if she tried and got away from her husband. He’s part of the problem I think. If she were nicer things wouldn’t be so hard.”

“Alright but i have another question.”

“Yes?”

“What if you just stay here?”

Another dead silent moment comes about until like a  rock that goes through glass the silence was broken by a loud screaming. The girls both looked at each other and ran to the room where they left Eve and Mrs. Blooming. Ripping the door open and as soon as Y/N set down the tea set she saw a Mrs.Bloom jump onto her and started to attack her out of nowhere. Screaming and shouting at her Lady nothing would sacrifice she was relentless and kept on hitting her. Once she was on top of Y/N she would never let go, even when sarrah tried to pull her off.

“MADELINE PLEASE STOP!!!”

That. Her name was the only word that could make her snap back to reality and stand from above her. A loud slap filled the air once more yet it was not Y/N who had gotten hit. No, in fact it was Mrs. Blooming by her husband. She fell to the floor and looked up pissed at him. The whole ordeal was more than frightening for both of the girls. Sarrah was quick to help Y/N up and have her sit on one of the couches in the room. The fireplace made the scene look as though it was some sort of terrifying monster towing over Mrs. Bloomington, and a monster indeed he was.

“What did I tell you before we got in this household bitch?”

He snarled through his teeth even having some spit come out from his face

“SHE’S MINE! SHE’S NEVER GOING TO BE FOR SALE SHE’S MY FORM OF ENTERTAINMENT AND NO ONE CAN TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME! NOT YOU NOT THAT PATHETIC MAN OF THAT HIDEOUS CUNT NOONE!! I DESERVE THE GOOD LIFE ME! I’M THE BEAUTIFUL ONE!! THAT GIRL WAS MEANT FOR THE WHORE HOUSES!”

“Who, who are you talking about?”

Y/N rose from her feet. Mrs. Bloom turned to her. Her hair was all in dissoray from when she had attacked her. There was a mark on Y/N’s face and her lip was busted.

“What are you on about Madeline?”

“You. Are nothing. Your worth no more then a wore. I’m disgusted just looking at you!!”

“You don’t mean that.”

“OH MY GOD!  Your so fucking stupid of a girl. I have never liked you since the very day that we meet! I just wanted you around to entertain me and to see you be miserable! When will you lean that no one will ever love you! Your wound mother didn’t even want you!”

“AAAAAAHHHH!”

Y/N screamed and attacked Mrs. Blooming this time. The fight was more than chaotic. Mr. Bloom snatched her off of Mrs. Bloom to fling her to the ground and stomped on her spine as she tried to get up. Y/N had let the Bloomington's degrade, harm, and verbally abuse her from the beginning. If this was to be the end that they were to see each other she pulled tried her to sit up, enough so that when Mr. Bloom would would be wanting to stop again on her spine she rolled turned and crawled away from him. She looked bat to Mrs. Bloomington.

“You are a disgusting,evil,and cruel woman. If you did not feel a friendship between us, the love , whatever kind of fucked up respect you had for me wasn’t real. If you really did just have me for entertainment. Then leave. For GOOD MADELINE!! I hate you! I hope that your so happy when you find that the only person who really ever loved you is gone and will never come back! I quit!”

“No need, you'll stay here.. For good. Here.”

Eve thru the check book down at Mrs. Blooming and stepped over her not even giving an ounce of a glance at the evil couples. She simply went over to Y/N and held her cheek softly. Her cold fingers felt so nice on Y/N’s face. She leaned into her palm as Eve slowly turned around to now finally face the couples.

“Now get the fuck out of my house. You both reek of something awful .”

The last thing IN saw before passing out from all that was happening so fast. Everything that was all wrong. That day Y/N had lost a friend. A loved one. Now gone and no more. She was no longer her friend. She was just like her husband. More than a monster that belong in the bowels of hell. Before she fell into a sleep state she said goodbye to her old friend.

[decandantfics]

Just the Two of Us - Part 1

                                     Two, But One: Alone

"Oh, Al, you look stunning, pet." Ali Astall Donnelly glided into the room in a shimmering, floor length gown that made her husband's eyes roam her curves appreciatively before stepping forward and kissing her soundly on her lips. "Not so bad yourself, love – you look very handsome," Ali rejoined as she moved to stand in front of their bedroom mirror, putting the final touches on her makeup. Catching sight of her husband's reflection, Ali frowned. The smile had gone, and had instead been replaced by a look that could only be described as a cross between misery and an intense dread. "Dec, are you okay, love?" Ali questioned softly, only to immediately mentally slap herself for asking such a stupid question. Of course her husband wasn't okay – they would be leaving for the BAFTAs soon, hence her gown and his tuxedo, and it was normally a fun day out with the potential to end in celebration of hard work paying off.

But this was no normal day, and Ali was worried it wasn't really going to be fun, either. The past two months had taken an immeasurable toll on her husband – his mental health was in shreds, if she was honest, and there was a sense of bone-deep exhaustion weighing down his features most days – and today was going to be a hard one. It was the first awards do Dec had attended without Ant in 5 years, and only the second in their entire career; the last time had been a TRIC awards ceremony when Ant was ill and couldn't make it. That had been an odd enough experience for Dec, even though he had made light of it at the time. If she was honest, Ali was feeling quite trepidatious about how Dec would cope with everything today. Dec's depression had improved slightly since Ant had been released from hospital, but they still only saw each other very infrequently, as Ant was busy moving house and working hard to turn his life around. Ali knew the absence of his best friend from his life was extremely difficult to handle for Dec, who was so dependent on Ant for his own happiness. But Dec had been trying to carry on without Ant, and had more than succeeded in his solo endeavors on the professional front....Perhaps not so much on a personal level. She knew there were times when, no matter how hard she tried, she would never be an adequate substitute for Ant, and she accepted that. The relationship the two men shared was unlike any she had ever seen before, and she doubted she would ever come across a pair as loyal and devoted to each other as they were. So this was a massive step for Dec today, walking the red carpet at the BAFTAs without his beloved partner by his side. Ali knew Dec was extremely grateful to her for accompanying him today – in fact, he had admitted to her that he never would have even considered going if she hadn't wanted to come with him. But he felt obligated to go, since Takeaway and BGT were nominated in the Entertainment Programme category, and he believed he owed it to their teams to be there just in case one of the shows won. Not only that, but he felt a sense of responsibility to represent the Ant and Dec "brand," making sure everyone in the TV industry didn't forget who Ant and Dec were – and if there was one thing Dec was doing everything in his power to ensure, it was that no one forgot who his Ant was. So even though she knew Dec didn't actually want to go, here they were, getting ready to attend the 2018 BAFTAs.

Dec had looked down at the floor, studying his feet intently, as soon as Ali questioned his wellbeing. The truth was, he wasn't okay – was so far from being okay he couldn't even remember what being okay felt like anymore – but he knew he had to do this, he couldn't let the side down. After a brief battle with his conscience, Dec decided the only way to get through today was to lie, so he pasted a bright, fake smile on his face and answered he was fine, just thinking about things. He supposed distraction techniques might work to get Ali off his back – he knew she meant well, and he appreciated her concern, but sometimes she just made things worse – so complimented her dress again before placing a gentle kiss on the rounded bump of her abdomen where their child was growing. "Still can't believe I'm going to be a dad," he murmured, taking Ali's hand in his own as they heard the honk of a car horn outside, indicating their ride had arrived. Helping Ali down their front steps and into the car, Dec sighed resignedly as he climbed in beside her. This was going to be a long day.

The drive had been spent in silence, Dec staring vacantly out the window while fidgeting almost constantly, unable to keep still as the apprehension over what he would face today got the better of him. Ali had given up on trying to get his attention after the first 15 minutes, and had captured one of his restless hands in her own – trying to provide some small form of comfort – resigning herself to scrolling through her Facebook feed on her phone before quickly getting bored of that and answering some work emails instead. But now they had arrived at the red carpet, and Dec was wearing a slightly panicky expression as he smoothed down his tux and got ready to exit their vehicle. "Dec, I'm right here, love, look at me," Ali's soothing voice broke through the protective barriers Dec was frantically building around himself, making him turn and notice his wife again for the first time since they left their house. Ali smiled sadly at him as his eyes found hers and a frightened croak left his mouth, "What if we actually win something? What do I do?"

"Love, we already talked about this, remember? You can't not go on stage with the team, but just stay at the back – you don't have to do the speech if you don't want to." Awkwardly sliding across the seat towards her husband, Ali gave him a hug and pressed a kiss to his temple. "Go on, then, get out – I didn't glam myself up just to sit in the back of a car all afternoon!" Ali teased gently, giving Dec one last reassuring squeeze before nudging him towards the door. Taking a deep breath, Dec pulled himself together and tugged the door handle. As it slid open automatically, Dec forced a smile onto his face before holding out a hand to Ali to help her exit safely with dignity intact – he had never understood how she could walk with those mile-long stiletto heels on, and now with being pregnant, it was rather trickier for her to get around in them. Ali molded herself to Dec's side, clutching his hand tightly, as they sidled through the crowd together, following Ant and Dec's PR manager, Simon Jones, to the area swarming with photographers and reporters. She could feel the tremble in Dec's palm pressed against hers, the tension increasing in his body with each step closer towards what looked like his worst nightmare in his current state. They quickly decided Dec would get the solo photos out of the way first, so he stepped up in front of the photo backdrops bravely, face wearing his best fake smile, as questions were shouted at him from all sides.

"Where's Ant?"

"Isn't Ant with you?"

"No Ant today?"

The repeated questions were like stabs in Dec's heart and mind, but he clung desperately to that fake smile – just keep smiling, he reminded himself, as the walls closed in on him – trying for a cheery, "Just me!" It sounded rather choked, but he thought he'd pulled it off quite nicely. The nonchalant approach, that's what he'd try for. Just keep pretending everything was fine, and maybe it would be.

Who was he kidding? As the sea of cameras flashed, shouts ringing out from every direction as photographers tried to catch his attention, Dec could feel his smile slipping slightly, the emptiness inside him caused by the draught down his right side slowly swallowing him whole. Thankfully, Simon Jones was a good friend as well as a valued member of their team, and noticed things were all getting a bit much for Dec. Calling an end to the solo session, he motioned for Dec to come get Ali, knowing it would help to have someone standing alongside him, even if it wasn't the person he was obviously missing. Feeling the tension in his chest lessen a tiny bit, Dec accidentally let his mask slip for a moment as he moved back into his previous spot, this time with Ali by his side. Ali gave his hand a light squeeze, reminding him to lift his gaze from the ground and face the cameras, as the flashes and shouts began yet again. Finally, the photographers had had their fill, and a relieved Dec and Ali were allowed to move along, gradually making their way towards the venue.

This was the longest day ever, Dec thought to himself, seated on his wife's right as endless awards were handed out in celebration of the great and good of British television. According to the program, there were only two more awards to go before the Entertainment Programme was up. Nervous tension was yet again beginning to build, as his stomach did flips and his mouth went dry. It was bizarre, but he found himself hoping that neither of their shows won. If they didn't win, he could just keep sitting here, he reasoned with himself – and that meant no going up on stage where everyone could stare at him, watch his every move. But of course he felt guilty for thinking that – their teams worked incredibly hard and were more than deserving of a BAFTA accolade. Self-preservation instincts trumped the need for their teams to gain well-deserved recognition, however, and Dec could feel himself slumping down into his seat, the need to disappear from the room slowly suffocating him.

It had been one heck of a stressful day so far – trying to mingle with his peers had been hard work for Dec. For the most part, people were being lovely to him, but very few of them seemed to know how to act around him, as if afraid to say the wrong thing. Thank heavens for the baby on the way – that was the only reliable topic of conversation everyone could turn to, and that was basically all Dec had talked about the entire afternoon. And make no mistake about it, it was a topic Dec greatly enjoyed – it was his baby, after all – but an entire afternoon of answering the same repetitive questions over and over and over again was rather maddening. Both he and Ali had been more than relieved when it was finally time for the awards ceremony to begin – Dec because he was emotionally exhausted from having to act cheerful for so long, and Ali because her back ached and she really wanted to sit down. But now came the really hard part....Oh, Dec just wanted to slink under his seat and crawl unnoticed out of the room. He really didn't want to be here.

"The BAFTA for Entertainment Programme goes to...." Oh, please, please, please let it be one of the other two shows, not ours, Dec pleaded internally, his heart going into overdrive.

"...Britain's Got Talent!"

His heart sinking like an anchor dropped in the sea, Dec pasted what he hoped looked like an excited grin on his face as he forced himself to stand up with the rest of the cast and crew. Ali gave him an encouraging smile, and then he turned to the adjacent row of seats where Alesha Dixon, Amanda Holden, and the production team were seated. Alesha shot him a sympathetic look before hugging him tight. Dec turned around to wave at the SNT team, who looked a bit disappointed but grinned back anyway, before Dec found himself face to face with their lovely executive producer, Amelia Brown. After sharing a warm embrace, Amelia and the rest of the team started to head onto the stage, while Dec found himself still standing in the aisle awkwardly as everyone else filed past. Oh, goodness, what do I do now? Dec was frozen in limbo, paralyzed by his emotions. He was shaken from his torpor by one of the male members of the team pulling him in for a quick hug before motioning for him to go up the stairs. Even though his mind was screaming at him to run away, Dec forced his unwilling feet up onto the stage. However, after greeting the award presenters, Clare Balding and Mo Farah, Dec didn't know what to do with himself. He was lost, drifting in a sea of loneliness and pain. Memory after memory of being up on this stage with Ant flooded his mind, bringing a lump to his throat and a tightness to his chest that made it difficult to breathe.

Hide. That's what he needed to do. He couldn't let other people see him like this. Stepping behind the other taller members of the team – Dec had never been so thankful for being short – he tried to blend in, hoping no one would notice.

No such luck. Within 30 seconds, Amanda turned to giggle at him, finding it quite funny that he was hiding away, resulting in one of the men in front of him realizing Dec was obscured from view. The man stepped aside, leaving Dec exposed front and center, despite his desperate plea through the gritted teeth of a fake smile for continued cover – explaining that this would be televised and he really didn't want to be visible.

Oh, good. Amelia had finished her speech already – surely that meant they could leave the stage? Groaning internally, Dec watched in silent horror as the most senior member of the team stepped up to the podium and began a long, rambling speech. With nowhere to hide from the hundreds of pairs of eyes and several video cameras, Dec felt extremely vulnerable as emotions threatened to overwhelm him again. A member of the team who was close to the boys was now standing next to Dec, and began talking to him in hushed tones. Dec tried to pay attention to what he was saying, but found it difficult to focus, the pain in his chest sharpening as the acceptance speeches he and Ant had given on this very stage rang through his ears. The echo of Ant's voice in his mind and the feel of Ant's arm going around his shoulders in a side hug swamped his senses. Tears springing to his eyes, Dec's tongue poked out of his mouth unconsciously as he repeatedly licked his lips and worried at his lower lip with his teeth. He had to keep it together, he couldn't just lose it on stage like this. That's when he saw it: one of the cameras was focused on the group on stage, rather than on the man currently speaking. Turning to the friend beside him, Dec muttered a slightly annoyed, "Told you," while nodding towards the camera.

'Seriously, just wrap it up, man!' Dec's mind shouted at the man at the podium. He was desperate to get off stage, away from the prying eyes of everyone – it felt like everyone was staring at him, studying him, pitying him, and he just couldn't take it anymore. FINALLY! The man behind the podium signed off on his interminable speech, and the team began moving off stage, Dec hurrying alongside on rubbery legs.

Now came the photocall and the press room. Dec had discussed this with both nominated teams beforehand in case they happened to win the award, and had reluctantly agreed to attend the photocall, but vehemently refused to have anything to do with the press room interviews. He knew what every single question would be about, and there was absolutely no way he would ever be able to get through that without breaking down completely. Steeling himself, Dec plastered a grin onto his face as he formed a line with the rest of the team. Multitudinous photos and a few forced laughs later, Dec was finally set free from what he had privately deemed the official BAFTA torture chamber, and quickly vanished as the rest of the team headed over to the press room.

Rather than making his way back to Ali, who was still seated in the audience, Dec walked swiftly towards the men's room. He needed a few minutes of solitude, needed to pull himself together in order to get through the rest of the night. Relieved to have been able to sneak in without running into anyone he knew, Dec slunk into one of the empty stalls and locked the door securely behind him. Leaning back against the door, Dec let out a deep sigh. What had it come to, eh? Hiding in the restroom because he couldn't control his emotions. "Why, Ant, why?" Dec whispered despairingly, tears coming unbidden to his eyes and spilling over his lashes. Faster and faster they came, until Dec found himself shaking uncontrollably as he tried – and failed – to stem the flow of emotions. It just felt so wrong to be here without Ant, everything was wrong, nothing was right anymore, he just couldn't....

"Dec, is that you?" A concerned voice drifted through the room, dimly reaching Dec's ears over the harsh, rhythmic rattling of the restroom fans....Wait a minute, those weren't fans...that was his own ragged breathing. Dec tried to pull himself together, berating himself for having lost control in a public place where anyone could hear him. 'That could be a reporter out there,' Dec's frenzied mind chanted as he hurriedly grabbed a couple of pieces of toilet tissue and tried to clean up his face, his movements stilling as the voice rang out again, "Dec? I know that's you in there. Are you okay?" He knew that voice, it was someone he knew very well...Oh, Saul! As he finally recognized the voice to be that of Saul Fearnley, a producer on Saturday Night Takeaway and a good friend to both him and Ant, Dec relaxed. Saul was someone he knew he could trust, who wouldn't sell the story to the press or tease him about crying in the toilet. Saul was someone who would understand. Shakily unlocking the door, Dec peeked out, making sure the coast was clear before emerging from the stall. Saul wordlessly pulled him into a secure hug, and that nearly set Dec off again. "Ali was getting worried about you, mate, and obviously it's the gent's – she can't just come walking in here – so she sent me to check for you," Saul explained, watching Dec as he went over to the sink and tried to wash away the evidence of his tears.

"Was I gone that long?" Dec asked tremulously, voice wobbly and a bit croaky from all his crying. He had no idea how long he had been in that stall; it didn't feel that long, but if Ali had been getting worried, it must have been long enough. "Well, the BGT gang were in the press room for 10 minutes, and they got back about 20 minutes ago, so...." Saul's kind voice trailed off, unwilling to point out the obvious that Dec had – apparently – been crying in the gent's for over half an hour. Saul felt his heart clench in pity for the man in front of him, as Dec – having cleaned up his face as best he could – met his gaze with tortured, pain-filled eyes. "I just miss him so much, Saul," Dec whispered, tears glistening in his eyes, before brushing past the producer and exiting the room. Biting his lip as a lump formed in his own throat, Saul shook his head sadly, and followed Dec back to the crowded Royal Festival Hall auditorium.

Dec just sort of zoned out for the rest of the awards ceremony, clapping when Ali clapped, and forcing a smile when she smiled. He wanted nothing more than to just go home when the last award had been presented, but no, he had to go to the after party. The only way he was going to get through this was to drink – not a shameful amount, he knew better than to do that after what happened with Ant, but enough to make him not care about everyone's curious stares and the way some hushed conversations suddenly stopped whenever he got close to the people having them. Yes, he was going to get drunk. He knew Ali would look after him, make sure he stopped when he'd had enough. He just hoped the alcohol would help to numb the pain, stop him feeling a draft down his right side. He doubted it would, but it was worth a try anyway.

Needless to say, Ali had her hands full with Dec that night, managing to keep him from drinking too much – he was just a bit more than tipsy, really – and eventually convincing him to leave with the excuse that she was exhausted (she'd managed to keep her heels on all night – she was proud of herself!) and needed to go home and rest. Surprisingly enough, he had agreed readily, and nearly pulled her out the door in his haste to get to their car. She'd gotten the feeling he wasn't actually enjoying himself – was maybe just drinking in order to cope with having to socialize with his peers – but hadn't realized just how much he didn't want to be there. The car ride home was mostly silent, husband and wife lost in their own thoughts as Dec leaned into his wife's side, their hands intertwined. Not much was said once they reached home, either, each quietly changing into their nightclothes before turning in for the night (or early morning, as it was now). Thus, Ali was surprised when, after they shared a goodnight kiss, Dec's raw voice cut through the hush, "I'm sorry I disappeared on you, Al, it just all got on top of me. I had to get away for a bit. I didn't mean to worry you." Ali reopened her eyes to see Dec only a few inches from her face, eyes brimming with tears. "I know, love, I know," Ali reassured, unsurprised when she suddenly found herself with an armful of crying husband, his silent tears wetting her nightie. After a while, Dec cried himself to sleep, with Ali soon following him, but not until after she had shed a few tears herself over her husband's abject misery. Would things ever get better?

[michaelmyersmalewife]

LEVIATHAN | 12. A Call to Arms | MASTERLIST

words: 4k+

A/N: cant believe we’re only 3 chapters away from the end

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Jodie and the others weren't sure if Serizawa succeeded.

Not that that was their choice. If they had decided to stick around, the shock wave from the explosion would rip the sub apart. And it still might, as they raced back to the surface.

"Thirty thousand yards until we're outside the convergence zone." the commander said as they raced, or at least floated quickly, away from the underwater city and its fallen god.

She was a bundle of frayed emotions ready to burst, and she couldn't help but think of the worst. What if Serizawa hadn't done his job? There was just as big of a chance that he might've died before arming the bomb. Hell, the sub might've malfunctioned just like the drones and he was still back there, waiting. Jodie felt her stomach drop. What if there was something in there other than Godzilla, ready to devour anyone that entered?

They couldn't just go back and try again. They had more nukes but no more subs. If Serizawa failed, they were out of options.

But then, just as Jodie was beginning to feel as hopeless as ever, pure light shone through the abyss. She breathed a sigh of relief, but then the reality of what had happened hit her like the wave that was hurtling towards them too fast to register.

"Shock wave incoming -!" the commander shouted.

When it hit them, Gill reflexively grabbed Jodie's hand. She jumped a little, forgetting that they might very die in seconds. She gripped back, letting that familiar warm feeling wash over her.

In the next second it felt like a mountain had landed on her chest as the submarine was suddenly accelerated to speeds it was never meant to withstand. The hull groaned, shrieked, snapped - the metal walls tearing themselves apart from the force. The smell of something burning filled the air as the lights flickered wildly. And even at the rate they were travelling, they were still surrounded by pitch black water.

But in seconds a faint light appeared above them, growing brighter as they hurled toward the surface by the expanding explosion. They broke into the air, tossed up by a jet of water. Jodie's senses were fried, and for a minute she couldn't quite register what was going on around her. For a brief moment, she felt weightless.

And then the sub slammed down on the ocean's surface like a breaching whale, nearly throwing everyone off of their feet from the impact.

As the sub began to steady itself, Jodie took in a breath she hadn't known she was holding. The lights were still a bit jittery, but as a whole, everything seemed as intact as it could be. Glancing down, she realized she was still holding Gill's hand in a vice grip. They didn't let go.

"You okay?" she muttered.

Breathless and wide-eyed, Gill nodded, letting out a shaky laugh.

"Send a distress message to the Argo." the commander said.

_____

Climbing out onto the submarine's upper deck, rain thundered from the dark sky above.

Waves crashed against the sub below them, rocking it beneath Jodie's already unsteady feet. In every direction, all she could see were the restless waves extending to the horizon.

Behind her, one of the soldiers launched a rescue flare. It shot up, burning brightly but its glow was dimmed when it reached the low-hanging clouds. She doubted anyone would be able to see such a feeble light in the midst of Ghidorah's tempest.

Mark looked around them with binoculars, searching for anything that weren't waves. A ship, the Argo, a blue light..

"Anything?" Chen asked over the rain.

He shook his head. Jodie brushed back the damp hair that stuck to her face, the same spiraling thoughts coming back to her. What if the bomb hadn't cured Godzilla? He was in a weakened state, they could've easily killed him. But he had survived nuclear blasts before, right? But that was decades ago, with older weapons. Did Serizawa die for nothing?

As if to quell her mind, the ocean ahead of them began to boil and churn.

Not like the rogue waves that crashed into each other, or an odd crosscurrent, but an explosion of water that was building up, only slower. The sea was being pushed up from beneath by something big.

And then there was a light - not the warm yellow light from the cave or the explosion - an electric blue glow that shone through the waves.

Jagged scutes that could've only belonged to Godzilla emerged like a mountain range, crackling and dancing with energy. His head was the next to breach the surface, rising high above them as waterfalls of seawater fell from his body like curtains. As he continued to rise, tons of displaced water rocked their minuscule craft. Jodie grabbed for the railing as the sub shook.

With a whir, the light from the titan's back shot up his spine - his eyes glowing with his internal fire and shining through the cracks in his scales - as he turned his head toward the heavens. A tower of blue fire erupted from his jaws, stabbing into the dark clouds and igniting them from within. It seemed like an affirmation, a celebration of his sudden recovery - but also a challenge, as the clouds from Ghidorah's storm began to part just ever so slightly.

Maybe no one had seen their rescue flare, but they might've seen his.

Gill let out a winded chuckle as she stumbled back from the force of his ascension, a faint smile appearing on Jodie's face. But then his attention was focused elsewhere - directly at them. The titan's brows knit together, bending down toward them as if noticing their tiny forms for the first time. Jodie held her breath. They must've seemed like ants to him, but nothing in his gaze seemed outwardly threatening despite his intimidating presence. The lizard sniffed the air, sending out a humid puff of air over them.

The sub's commander reached for his sidearm.

"Nobody move!" Mark shouted.

As the titan leaned over them, Jodie became caught in his warm amber eyes, and for a second she swore that he stared back. Like he was trying to say something. And somewhere in the back of her mind she thought he did, or at least a feeling had passed between them. Something that struck deep in her heart.

Godzilla had every right to wipe them off the face of the earth. Not only had they nearly killed him, but they also likely destroyed what he considered his home. And yet, there wasn't that same malicious hostility she had seen in Ghidorah. Annoyance, maybe. But it felt more like a thank-you than anything.

Everything seemed to slow down, the world dropping from beneath her feet until all she could hear was her own breathing, her own heartbeat - and Godzilla's. She had always heard Serizawa, Chen, and Emma talk about the connection between humans and titans, how coexistence was possible between the two. And in that moment, she understood what they meant. What they really meant.

Out of the corner of her eye she also saw Mark staring up at him. She wasn't sure if he saw what she had, but for the first time since Colorado she didn't see hate in his eyes.

Then Godzilla broke their mutual gaze, leaving them all shaken and amazed, but almost with a sense of clarity. For some strange reason, she knew they were going to be okay.

The titan turned, looking down at them one last time before diving back into the sea, scutes slicing through the waves. As his tail splashed back down, Jodie snapped out of her daze.

"I know how to find them." Mark whispered, turning to Graham.

But before he could clarify, a sonic boom shattered the air. She looked up with dread, expecting to see Rodan or some other flying creature. Or worse: Ghidorah. But instead it was the Argo. It didn't look great - battered with smoke climbing from several places - but to Jodie she had never wanted to see anything more.

As they boarded the craft, Coleman was there to meet them.

He must've seen something in their faces, or maybe he had been counting and realized there was one missing among them. But then she realized Graham had still been clutching Serizawa's notebook in her hands. Those two had rarely been apart, 'two halves of a whole mind' they would always say. Coleman's face fell when everyone gathered on the bridge. Everyone except for Serizawa.

"Let's make him proud and not screw this up." Mark said.

"God, how did he, um -"

"By saving us." Chen said.

"So what's the latest, Sam?" Jodie asked, derailing the conversation when she began to feel a lump in her throat.

He let out a heavy sigh. "Where to start - uh, we think Emma activated the ORCA somewhere near Boston. That's why Ghidorah and Godzilla are headed that way now. But we haven't been able to pinpoint its location without the missing piece of the ORCA signal -"

"I've got the missing piece." Mark said, looking over the waveforms on the screen before him.

Everyone stared at him. Jodie tilted her head. She couldn't see anything different from before.

"It's Godzilla, right?" she said.

"But we already tried that." Coleman said, confused.

"It's not Godzilla," Mark replayed the ORCA's signal, pointing to a specific waveform that appeared on the screen in front of them. "It's us."

"What do you mean 'us'?" Foster asked.

"I'm not sure how but Emma combined Godzilla's bioacoustics with a human's to create the ORCA's signal." Mark continued.

"The titans must think it's another apex predator, it's brilliant." Graham said.

Stanton pulled out his flask from his vest, unscrewing its top. "Well, we are a bunch of horny, murderous carnivores."

"Yeah, it's real poetic. Now what?" Foster said.

"We track it, we find it, and we get my daughter back."

After taking a particularly long swig, Stanton gestured at a video feed of Ghidorah's storm. "Great, what about Moe, Larry, and Curly over here?"

"Godzilla will bring balance." Graham with a familiar firmness.

Stanton, already a little tipsy threw her a cheeky look. "Oh, I get it." he said. "A little of Serizawa's old 'let them fight' action. Used to love it when he'd say that."

"No." she said. "This time, we join the fight."

_____

As the Argo sped towards Boston, Jodie stared at the news feeds on the screens in the bridge.

She knew that Emma had turned on the ORCA, but they hadn't told her that it had effectively paralyzed most of the titans. Literally. In nearly every news coverage it all showed the same thing: confused titans Only three were known to still be active - Ghidorah, Rodan, and Mothra. And now Godzilla.

Maybe she changed her mind, she thought.

After all, she wasn't trying to kill everyone. It was just a reckless mistake. A mistake that cost hundreds of thousands of lives. And even then, Ghidorah and his pal Rodan were still active. Although the tides were turning, nowhere was safe with those two still around. Jodie didn't know how to feel.

At the very least, Godzilla was on their side. And Mothra, though, she had reportedly left shortly after they departed in the sub. According to their trackers, she was headed back to her home in China. But according to the twins, she was "covering her bases", whatever that meant. If she decided to make another appearance, it'd be an even match.

But as for the human side of the army, they didn't have much. Only a fraction of their fleet had escaped Ghidorah's wrath, but more aircraft made it out in time, and they were desperately trying to find places to refuel and rearm before rejoining the fight. Jodie could feel it was going to be a big one.

And now that Mark had cracked the ORCA's code, they were able to get a fix on its exact location, which was where they were headed now. With the remainder of their fighting force coming together, they dove headfirst toward a battle with a being wielding power beyond all understanding. But this time, they had a monster of their own leading the way.

_____

Madison was snacking mindlessly on a tasteless food-adjacent bar of something they had nabbed from the ship when it happened.

Something flashed across her eyes, or maybe it had all been in her head and she just thought she saw it, but regardless she had seen a bright light. Blinking it away without a second thought, she carried on. But seconds later she had felt an overwhelming pang of remorse, and shortly afterward, gratitude. For what? She found her eyes beginning to tear up but she rubbed it away, confused.

Looking around the room, no one else had seemed out of the ordinary. The Regulator was standing by the door, looking out for any possible intruders, and Elena was sitting in a corner of the room, far from the ORCA and the headpiece. The room suddenly felt a little stuffy.

No longer feeling hungry, Madison put the bar away, choosing instead to observe the evacuation.

"I'll keep an eye out for anything weird." she told Elena. The woman nodded.

Taking a pair of binoculars, she headed up the stairs to the roof of the booth. The sky had shifted from rolling gray clouds to a pale, sickly yellow on the horizon. Gusts of wind mussed her hair and spun stray leaves from the roof. The air felt damp even though it wasn't raining. Something about the entire atmosphere felt prickly. It was cool but now and then a warmer breeze passed through, and the smell of something burning came with it. He was coming, she could feel it. At the very least, the last of the helicopters had left the stadium. Boston had become a ghost town for as far as she could see. There was no one left wandering the streets, no headlights moved between buildings, no honking horns. The sirens had died down. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. But with the ORCA's song still blasting away, she knew the calm wouldn't last before the storm arrived.

Its sound was almost symphonic. It was simple, like a heartbeat. But it sounded different since the first time she heard it in action. Those weirdos had done something to it, something that her parents had never been able to figure out back when it was in its earliest development. She remembered how angry it had made Mothra back at the temple in China, and it had a similar effect on Ghidorah and Rodan. But with the other titans, it seemed to freeze them in their tracks, like their minds weren't capable of differentiating between the alpha frequencies produced by their king and the ORCA. Mothra...she seemed to be safe from Ghidorah's reach. But she hadn't heard from her in a while - at least, she was sure that voice had been her. She wondered if the pupa had already transformed. What did she look like now? With Ghidorah taking out every threat to his rule, she was sure to be in danger. Was she still okay?

She decided not to dwell on it, choosing instead to think of the bigger problem at hand. They had carried out their plan, and while it seemed to be working, this was as far as they thought ahead. Now they just had to play an agonizingly slow waiting game. Maybe she put too much faith in them, but hopefully Monarch would figure out what was going on. Maybe her father would be with them. If that were the case, she would stay here in Fenway. If Elena and the Regulator wanted to take cover, she'd let them. Madison wasn't straying from the ORCA's side if it meant a possible rescue.

But of course, the Controller might come after them instead. They could just as easily detect the signal as well, and though her mom had promised to buy them some time, she could only do so much. And he was probably pretty pissed off if he found out, which he undoubtedly would. If he caught them, she doubted he'd let them off easy. That was a pretty good reason to get lost.

So which was it to be?

After a few minutes of debating, her mind began to wander. That feeling from earlier still hung in the back of her mind. It felt really familiar. She didn't want to believe it, but she had to know. Shutting her eyes, Madison searched for a connection.

But like her previous tries, there was nothing.

Just an abyss through which she sloshed through black, shallow water. It was still scary, but with Elena not too far away, she felt just a little more at ease. She called out into the void.

Was that you? Please, say something - anything, she pleaded. I know you're not dead, you can't be.

Somewhere, off in the distance, there was a blue light, glowing and growing in intensity. She didn't have the chance to register where it was coming from before she was submerged in radiant blue.

She felt an odd sense of relief, until she was thrown off her feet, tumbling for a while before landing on something that felt...solid? Madison pressed her hands into the ground, fingers curling around something soft. Sand? Looking around, she found that she was no longer in that dark abyss, but on a beach bathed in a monochromatic blue. Waves crashed on its shore, the water coming up just past her ankle. She stood up.

The only sound she could hear was the ocean, her own breathing, the sound of sand crunching beneath her shoes.

But then she felt something behind her, a light. So she turned around. Just a few feet ahead of her was a wall of scaly flesh, and as her gaze went higher, she saw a leg. And that leg was attached to a torso, and with that torso was a pair of arms that bore claws at least three times her size. It was Godzilla.

His teeth glinted in the dim lighting of the mind-beach, but it wasn't the snarling smirks that Ghidorah usually wore. It was something more genuine, or at least as genuine as a reptilian could be.

You can't put a dent in me that easily.

Madison smiled.

Somehow, the titan seemed to notice her relief, and with a deep rumble that almost sounded like a bass-boosted purr, he bent down. He kept bending until his snout was mere feet away from her. It reminded her of that moment in China, with Mothra. Only she was more hesitant to reach out to him now.

She hated to admit it, but Godzilla intimidated her. His presence was all-encompassing. And it was hard not to feel microscopic around him. But looking into his eyes, there was a humbleness to him too, something tired and old. It reminded her of her father.

Slowly, Madison outstretched a hand.

Godzilla stared at her with a passive gaze as she grazed his scales. And with a puff of hot air from his nostrils, he stood back up. Everything was going to be okay.

But then something in the atmosphere changed, and Godzilla could sense it too. His scutes flashed in warning, looking nowhere and everywhere.

You gotta get outta here, kid

But what about you? Are you okay?

With a roar, Madison was expelled from the headspace before she could send another thought through. Like no time had passed at all, she found herself back on the roof. But something was different.

It began with a strange feeling, the prickling in the air becoming so intense it snapped her back to reality in seconds. Then she felt a pressure in her ears, like when you were cruising in an airplane. And shortly afterward, the wind picked up - the flags that swung on the rooftop flapping harder and harder. But in the blink of an eye they stopped - only to start wildly flapping in the opposite direction. She shivered.

In the distance, something was moving. It was hard to focus on at first, but then she realized it was the sky. The yellowed lens of the horizon was gone, replaced by rolling clouds so dark they were almost black. They poured in like fog, squeezing between buildings with increasing speed, engulfing them, brightened by coils of lightning. Thunder clapped all around her, and a strange deep thudding, like a bass-boosted cackle. Or like an animal sound made in the back of a really big throat.

If dad or the Controller were coming for her, they were all beaten out by Ghidorah.

Like an angel of death, dragging the heavens with him, the clouds began to close around the stadium from every direction. Heart banging in her chest, she wanted to move but found herself stuck in place.

"Madison!" a voice called from behind her.

It was Elena, holding the door open and waving for her to come back inside. She didn't think twice as she sprinted behind the door, helping her pull it closed against the increasing wind. The pressure in her ears increased, the floor beneath her feet pulsed, a plastic cup on one of the desks rattled and rolled to the floor. The booth's windows shook as the charcoal-colored fog filled the stadium. The lights flickered, and the ORCA's song bent into a weird warble.

Then she heard the beating of wings. Very large wings.

Madison backed away from the window, letting Elena guide her to the back of the room. She tried to see through the fog and behind the glass, but she couldn't focus on anything. Not that she needed to. He was there, she could feel it. His beating wings grew louder and louder until they weren't, softening until there was silence. She held her breath.

He didn't know where they were, but that didn't stop Ghidorah from slamming down into the arena. The ground cracked beneath the force of his landing, and the entire building shuddered, knocking them all off their feet. Madison lay on the ground, stunned, while Elena and the Regulator were attempting to prop themselves up with their arms. They all huddled under a table, staring out the window in silent fear.

Ghidorah looked agitated, heads whipping around, searching for something. The ORCA had done its trick, the sound from the speakers puzzling him. He thought he was hearing another top predator, possibly Godzilla or some unknown beast that was challenging his authority. And like any tyrant, he had come here to kill his competition and take back his throne. But there was no challenger to beat, just the stadium.

But that didn't stop him. His right head zeroed in on one of the speaker towers, hissing before ripping it from its mount. When the sound didn't stop, he moved to the next set of speakers, and then the next. All three heads worked in tandem, destroying the threat to his power.

Terror had frozen Madison in place. She couldn't think, all she could do was look at him. Elena wasn't any better. She was shaking, a single tear streaking down her face as it looked like she was holding in a scream. Madison could only imagine what Ghidorah was telling her now. She didn't envy her. Madison closed her eyes, trying to focus on anything other than the three-headed horror outside.

"We have to get out of here." Elena whispered.

"But he'll see us -" she whispered back.

Ghidorah's eyes passed over the booth for a brief moment, and Madison almost choked on her own breath.

"He'll know where we are anyway." Elena continued, brows knitting together. "I'm trying to block him out, but he's..he's too strong. I don't know if I can hold him back any longer."

Her comment was punctuated by another rumble, nearly sending them across the room. Breath heaving, Madison turned to the window, shooting the dragon a deadly glare before crawling across the floor just behind the Regulator. But as they began moving, she still heard the ORCA's hum from across the room. Now that the outside speakers were dead, the only source of the signal was a mere foot away from them.

"Wait," she said, reaching for the ORCA from under the table.

Her arms couldn't quite reach, but from beside her, a pair of hands extended forward, picking it up as quietly as possible. Crouching low, they tip-toed toward the exit only to turn around, feeling eyes behind them. Turning around felt like wading through water, but just as she expected, all three heads crowded up behind the window. Glaring at Elena before passing over Madison herself. The middle head's eyes squinted in an insidious leer. Gotcha.

"Oh shit."

Ghidorah reared back, an ear-splitting shriek erupting from his jaws as golden lightning flared through his teeth. They sprinted for the door, the Regulator ushering them through as the windows shattered behind them. Miraculously, it had missed them all, instead frying every piece of equipment within the room. Even then Madison could feel the prickle of electricity dance along her skin. But it didn't stop there - the lightning followed them as they ran, disintegrating what was left of the broadcasting booth as if it were nothing. As she ran, she felt the lightning's heat seep into her bones, it was almost painful, but there was no time to stop. She screamed, the sound barely audible over the cacophony.

They flew down the stairs, taking two or three at a time as Ghidorah ravaged the rest of the stadium, blasting it with his lightning, slashing it with his tails, ripping out chunks of it with his steel-toothed jaws. He was desperate to find them, his new top predators, titans clocking in at something equivalent to an ant. It would've been funny if they weren't about to die.

Then the stairs ahead of them disintegrated in another blaze of lightning, Elena nearly tripping forward had she not grabbed her arm and tugged her backward. They swerved into a row of seats, a spiked tail sweeping just behind them. Everything slowed as the stadium began to collapse in on itself. Madison found herself falling more than she ran the last several yards, tumbling out onto the field itself.

Elena was still grasping the ORCA in her arms, the Regulator helping Madison up from having scuffed her knee on a piece of rubble.

The stadium's exit was right there, less than a yard away. It would've been so easy to just sprint out of sight, duck into another building and hope for the best. But Ghidorah was there waiting for them, all three heads swiveling to focus on each of their three faces. The dragon's heads wore a sadistic grin, teeth glinting in the dim lighting. The malevolence she had seen in each of their eyes was still there, multiplied by a hundred. Only this time it was directed at them, and them alone.

Ghidorah trilled, but to Madison, all she heard was awful laughter.

[colubrina]

You asked, I shall deliver! 💚🐱 Ginny x Pansy, post-war solidarity in Diagon Alley

Ginny wasn’t expecting to get into it with anyone that day.   Not that it was an uncommon occurrence.   She’d learned to defend herself early.  Six older brothers, two of whom could take pranks to the edge of mean and then keep going, made sure she was no shrinking violet.  Self-preservation demanded she be assertive, not to mention quick on the draw with a wand.  And she’d taken her skills at defense and turned them into a wall she could put in front of her friends.  Reporters wanted to corner Harry.  Hell, they wanted to corner George and ask him how it felt to lose a twin.  They were vultures, and she could fight them off, so she did.  But on that cold Saturday in December, the kind of day when the air puffs out of you in clouds and hot cocoa is more welcome than beer, she’d only meant to pick up a few last minute things for the holiday.Butter.  A broom for Harry’s godchild.  A book to hide in when her mum started asking when they were getting married.  

The first two errands went off without a hitch.  It was in the bookstore that she ended up raising her voice.  Her voice, her fists, she would have raised her wand if Pansy hadn’t stopped her.

Ginny was standing in the novels, trying to decide between two, when she heard them.  “People like you should be in Azkaban,” the first voice said. Ginny peered around the corner expecting to see a crowd around the likes of Lucius Malfoy, who’d managed to prove yet again that enough money could buy innocence, or a reasonable facsimile thereof.

Coerced, her white arse.  That bastard had been in Voldemort’s pocket up to his nose hairs.But it wasn’t Lucius the crowd had surrounded.  Not even Draco.  It was a scared looking woman her age with dark hair and white skin and her back up against the wall.

“Told them to give Harry Potter over to that monster,” a second man said.   He spit on her, and the woman reached her hand up to wipe the saliva off her cheek.

Pansy Parkinson.  Ginny remembered that moment.  Remembered her screaming out in obvious terror to just give him Harry.  She’d hated her then.  Of course, she’d been in love with Harry then, or what passed for love when you were sixteen, and high on her own sense of nobility and daring.    Fred hadn’t died yet. She hadn’t learned what loss was.  Hadn’t learned the heroes all work, screaming in the night.

She understood Pansy’s terror a little better now.  She was more sympathetic now.

“Maybe we should give you over to some monster,” someone said.  “See how you like it.” 

Ginny set the books down with the sort of calm deliberation her brother’s new preceded utter havoc.  She pulled her wand.  She cast the first spell.  It was a children’s hex, made far nastier by George back when he’d been experimenting with spells and before he’d turned to charmed objects and candies.  Fire ants.  Some American thing.  He’d conjured one for her once, and she’d let the thing bite her thumb.  It had been educational.

She conjured dozens of them into the underpants of the men cornering Pansy Parkinson.  They wouldn’t last. Conjured animals never did. But in their brief existence, she expected they would be... educational.

A little bit of learning was a dangerous thing, or so Ginny had once heard, so she conjured a few more. Better to be thorough.

“Gentlemen,” she said, pushing her way through men suddenly far less interested in cornering a lone woman and wrapping an arm around Pansy.  “Is there a problem?”

She smiled with the low, dangerous smile of a woman who knew exactly why they were suffering, and they all fled.  Then she turned to Pansy.  “Ugh,” she said and pulled a pack of tissues out of her pocket. “What bastards.”

Pansy took the tissues and began to wipe at her face and hands. “You didn’t need to do that,” she muttered.  “I was handling it.”

“Of course, you were,” Ginny said.  She grinned as one of the men racing by outside the window caught her eye. “But it was fun.”

“Fun?” Pansy asked.  

“They’re just a bunch of arseholes,” Ginny said.  "If they’d actually seen Voldemort, they’d have pissed themselves.”

“You didn’t,” Pansy said. “You didn’t tell people to-”

Ginny shrugged as Pansy’s words trailed off.  “Tom Riddle and I were old friends, so to speak,” she said.  “I stopped being afraid of him when I was eleven.”

“What?”

Ginny studied the other woman, then came to a sudden, rash decision that her mother would hate.  “I could tell you over dinner?” she suggested.

So, they had dinner, and as it turned out, desert.  So to speak.

[sweetpea-cc]

☼ Sunshine ☼

Summary; After a terrible fight with your father, Sheriff Keller, you end up at the Whyte Wyrm and witness the initiation of a very attractive member.

Pairing; sweet pea x keller!reader

Warnings; brief mention of anxiety, mild language

Word Count: 2,470

Notes; I honestly wouldn’t have gotten anywhere w this without the help of @sweetpea-sweettea and @fafulous

The sky became dark and low with ominous black clouds, and the wind picked up, howling, crying, warning, baying like a wolf into the night. The first crack of lightning rent the air, and within seconds the rolling boom of the thunder reverberated overhead. Soon the rain fell, slow to start, splattering the sidewalks haphazardly. Then it fell as if from buckets, cascading like a waterfall from the heavens. It pounded on the roof as if it were demanding entrance.

You walked down the empty road in the pouring rain, hugging your body tightly in a desperate attempt to warm yourself against the harsh winds. You could barely see where you were going, but it didn't matter, you didn't have anywhere to go, not anymore. Thunder and lighting crash overhead, causing you to jump as you searched for shelter, the grating rain was pouring down on your skin, feeling as if someone was continuously pricking you with a sharp needle.

It felt like you had been walking for hours and your feet were beginning to hurt, you had to find shelter, and fast but at this point, you had become utterly lost because somehow in the mist of your crying and aimless wandering, you ended up in the middle of the Southside. It was dangerous to be on this side of the tracks, especially after nightfall, you never knew who or what could be lurking in the shadows. You continued to hug your body tightly, keeping your eyes on the ground as you felt the rain drench your clothes, headlights reflected against the street signs, capturing your attention as heard the squeal of tires stopping. You couldn't see through the pouring rain as someone jumped out of their truck and ran over to you.

"Y/N?" The voice called out but you only faintly heard it as another crack of thunder and lightning rolled across the dark September sky. A flash of lightning illuminated the entire Southside territory, and you were able to make out a familiar face.

"FP?"

"What are you doing out here?"

"My dad... we were fighting and he... he kicked me out." FP looked up at the sky, ruptures of lighting highlighting his facial features. Quickly, FP shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders lifting it enough to cover your head. He then helped you walk across the now flooded road and over to the passenger side of the truck.

"Come on, let's get you someplace warm." You don't say anything as you crawl into the truck, your body shaking violently from the rain. FP slammed the passenger door shut and ran around the car so fast; you weren't even positive he was standing near a few moments ago. The man was quick to crank the A/C, putting it on full blast to try warming your trembling body and you had never been so thankful for heat in your entire life. As terrible as your night had been going, it didn't stop you from mentally attacking yourself over the fact that you were soaking the inside of FP's truck, but as your anxiety would have it, you were too scared to speak up.

The drive was a quiet one except for the low sound of the radio playing 'Here I Go Again' by Whitesnake. You starred out the window, watching the rain droplets race to the bottom as the lyrics from the song filled your head.

"Here I go again. Goin' down the only road, I've ever known. Like a drifter, I was born to walk alone. An' I made up my mind; I ain't wasting no time."

FP drove until you saw a well know fluorescent neon light in the shape of a serpent light up everything before you. You were at the Whyte Wyrm, and the idea of ever being in the place baffled you, everyone on the Northside knew that this was the one place that you stayed away from, at all costs if possible. FP shut off the engine and ran around the truck again, opening up the passenger door for you, holding out his hand so you wouldn't lose your balance on the cobbled ground.

Gently, FP leads you through a large crowd; you held on to his jacket for dear life, it was like if you let it go, everything would fall apart. He stopped in front of the bar, where the bartender stood tall and proud with a small grin on his face, FP banged the palm of his hand down on the bar, grabbing the other man's attention.

"Hog Eye, I need you to keep an eye on her, okay?" Hog Eye's vision shifts from FP to you as he raises a curious eyebrow but merely nods, going back to cleaning a few glasses with the rag. FP turned back around and sat you on the stood, a thin smile on his face.

"You can stay here for the night, and I'll take you home in the morning."

"My dad doesn't want anything to do with me FP, he kicked me out of the house, told me he never wanted to see me again."

"Look, kid, I'm sure whatever happened between the two of you was a heat of the moment kind of thing. You need a chance to cool down and collect yourselves, alright?"

"I seriously doubt that; he sounded so sure this time."

"Parents and kids fight, it's a rite of passage so trust me, it's not as bad as you think it is." Your eyes hit the ground and began chewing on your bottom lip, nodding solemnly. FP pats your shoulder, offering you the kindest smile you had seen all night. You watched as he turned away and walked into the crowd, multiple hands landing on his back and the sound of cheers filling your ears.

"What's going on?" You ask Hog Eye, a perplexed expression written all over your face. Several members formed a circle around FP and someone who towered over him pretty well. Even in the dim lighting, you could see his strong jawline and messy raven-black hair.

"Initiation. The boy is gonna be a Serpent, assuming he passes the trials." Your mouth falls open slightly. At Riverdale, there were always rumors floating around about the Serpents, especially regarding the initiation process. Some say that the initiates were required to do extremely dangerous drug runs or beat up an innocent person.

Suddenly, loud cheers broke out, causing you to jump from shock but the surprise didn't end there. Without warning, you saw FP's hands go up to silence the room, which fell deathly quiet in seconds.

"What is the first law?!" He screamed out at the top of his lungs; his yell was like a booming bark, it made you jump like scared rabbits. The boy standing in front of him, however,  didn't flinch, didn't even miss a beat as he yelled out his response in return.

"No Serpent stands alone!"

You listened intently as the boy recited the laws correctly and when he spoke the last rule, your breathing stilled because as soon as the last word left his lips, every single person in the bar repeated the same sentence; "In unity, there is strength." It dawned on you that, despite the terrible reputation the Southside Serpents had, they were a tight-knit family, people who were willing to die and live and everything in between for each other. The silence fell over the Whyte Wyrm once again, FP stood tall and proud, his facial expression unreadable.

"You've passed the second trial, now let's move on to the third. Retrieve the knife." And on cue, the surrounding Serpents made room, creating an opening to reveal a glass cage that housed one very pissed off rattlesnake with a pocket knife embedded into the wood. You let out a shocked gasp, frantically turning towards Hog Eye, who appeared utterly unbothered.

"They're not going to make him grab the knife, are they?! Do you have an anti-venom?"

Your head twists back and forth, and your eyes go wide with fear, the rattlesnakes tail starting ringing as the boy edged closer and closer, your heart beating faster.

"It's alright, girly; he'll be fine."

"He could die!" You whisper-shout, afraid to interrupt the initiation process, especially in a room full of possibly violent Serpents. You grip the side of the bar so tightly that your knuckles turn white as you watch the boy reach into the glass cage, and the most perplexing thing yet was that he didn't look terrified, not for one minute. You held your breath as his hand circled the knife and gripped it tight and just as he was about to pull the knife out, the snake struck him in the small of his wrist, drawing a minuscule amount of blood.

Hog Eye must have noticed your horrified expression as he let out a low chuckle. "She had her venom glands removed, completely harmless." Your mouth falls open; it was baffling trying to comprehend what you just saw. It was like you understood what you saw, and you knew what happened and how, but you couldn't quite grasp it.

Everyone in the Whyte Wyrm let out a cheer and clapped the boy on his back, who smiled proudly in return, his head held high. It was quite a sight, truth be told, you had never witnessed anything like this before, and although you were scared, you couldn't help but be also intrigued. It was a hot minute before the boy made his way up to the bar where Hog Eye poured him a celebratory drink. With him standing right next to you, his height was intimidating in the sense that your practically an ant compared to him and so you just sat on the bar stool stealing sneaky side glances and watching every move he made.

Hog Eye had disappeared for a few moments and came back with bandage wrap and tossed it at him. Hog Eye then motioned to you, asking if you wanted anything to drink, to which you declined as you didn't want to cause any more trouble than you were worth. You chewed at your lips for a few seconds, debating whether or not to speak up but eventually, your curiosity got the best of you.

"Is your wrist okay?" The boy turned his head, and you watched as his eyes scanned you up and down, searching to see if they had seen you before. His eyes were a dark, smoldering brown but strangely, they complimented him perfectly. How weird was that? A person's eye color suiting them?

"Just peachy, Sunshine."

"Sunshine?" A quizzical look on your face but he readily nods towards the sun tattoo that rested between your thumb and index finger. A little smile fights its way to your face as you caress the symbol gently, not so fond memories making their way to the surface.

"Oh, right." A small, nervous laugh fell from your lips. "What's your name?"

"Sweet Pea." He didn't seem all that eager to continue a conversation with someone that he had only just met, not to mention, barely knew. Your sight sets on the infamous Serpent tattoo that Hog Eye had on his arm and look over to Sweet Pea, searching for his, but when you failed to find it, you spoke up again.

"I noticed that everyone has a Serpent tattoo, where's yours?"

"I'll be getting it after the final trial."

"Where at?"

Sweet Pea merely points to the side of his neck, and once again, your eyes go wide with surprise. You had only been sitting in the Whyte Wyrm for roughly two hours, and if it wasn't one thing that shocked you, it was another.

"I hope you can handle pain because I heard neck tattoos hurt like a bitch." He let out a low laugh, and you felt goosebumps form alongside your arm, something about the sound of his voice made you giddy, anticipating with excitement. For what seemed like hours, you and Sweet Pea talked about anything and nothing in general, sharing stupid laughs here and there. It was blissful, indeed.

Someone from somewhere in the bar yelled out Sweet Pea's name, capturing his immediate attention, Sweet Pea inclined his head in your direction before disappearing into the thick crowd of leather-clad members. FP had come to find you later on that night and lead you up to the office on the second floor where he let you sleep for the night, but sleep didn't come that effortlessly, no, your mind was still dancing over everything you had seen. The life, the music, the excitement and the bond that the Serpents seemed to share with each other and on top of that, you were thinking about Sweet Pea and the way he had shown zero fear whatsoever.

The next morning, you walked downstairs to find a few Serpents hanging around still. Deciding to wait for FP to wake up or show up from wherever he was, you sat down on the same bar stool you did last night when a bustle of laughter pulled your attention towards the door. It was Sweet Pea with a few of his friends pushing and shoving each other just for fun. Sweet Pea's eyes landed on you and a little smirk on his face, making you advert your gaze almost immediately. He walked up to the bar, resting an arm on it, his face squinting as if he were trying to recall you from last night.

"You're still here."

"That I am." The two fo you share a laugh when the sound of FP's heavy boots came trudging down the stairs, appearing half awake, yet half dead. He walked behind the bar, pulling out a glass bowl that was filled with various sets of car keys and trinkets, fishing through it until he pulled out his truck keys. You smiled at the sight; it was further proof that the Serpents did indeed take care of its own, no matter what the situation was. FP then looked up and gave you a quick smile.

"Alright, let's go." He said quietly, walking back around the bar and past Sweet Pea whose shoulder he patted while passing. You hopped off the stool and followed close behind after FP when Sweet Pea spoke out.

"I never got your name last night." You felt your cheeks heating up, it was pleasantly nerve-racking that he actually seemed interested in you and truth be told, meeting Sweet Pea? It was one of the good things that came from the turmoil getting kicked out of your house. However, you didn't answer his question until you were at the door and right before you walked out, you twirled on your heels, a playful smirk written all over your face.

"Sunshine."

Tag List; @glambyoko @fafulous