#spoilers i guess but the ending? oh he cuts his mothers stomach and FINGERS HER JESUS CHRIST SIDE WOUND

[monstraduplicia]

just watched ma mere and that was without a doubt the strangest movie i have ever seen. louis garrel was beautiful and a pathetic mess but at what cost

[jungshookz]

teeny tidbits: emma comes home past curfew & y/n's not happy about it

➺ genre; kindergartenteacher!taehyungiverse!! honk honk humour!! sixteen year old emma reminds y/n of herself and she doesn't know if that's a bad thing or a good thing

➺ wordcount; 1.5k

➺ p.s. this takes place far faR off into the future!! i just thought it'd be nice to see emma as a spunky teenager :'))

(unfortunately i wasn’t able to track down the original maker of this gif but this is where i sourced it from! all credits go to the original creator of course :-))

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

the sound of the front door rattling at four in the morning would usually be something that would terrify pretty much anybody, but for you-

"oh, come on!"

it's really just another day in the life.

"em's home," taehyung reaches over slowly to pat your stomach and wake you up (as if you haven't been up waiting for the past four hours), his voice laced with sleep as he rolls to the side, "i'll go open the-"

"nope." you reach over to turn the lamp on before flicking the covers off and stepping out of bed, adjusting the strap of your tank top before pointing a finger at taehyung, "you're not opening anything."

"okay, well-" taehyung pauses before propping himself up a little to frown at you, "wait, what?"

"you know, i cannot believe her-" you snap, pulling your hair up into a bun as you hurry over to the window, "it's like she likes to be grounded! i told her she could go out with her friends as long as she came back before curfew, but no-"

"well, it's not that late, is it?" taehyung tosses the pillow he's hugging to his chest aside before turning to look at the clock sitting on his bedside table, "it's only- oh. it's 4:18."

you unlock the latch on the window before digging your fingers underneath it and pulling it up with a snap, watching as emma rushes out from the front porch at the sudden noise

"why, good morning, miss kim!" you call out, leaning down against the edge of the open window with a bright smile, "now i can rest well knowing you weren't murdered tonight."

"the door's broken or something!" emma strategically ignores your snarky comment, placing a hand on her hip before sticking her hand up in the air to flash you her keys with a jingle, "my keys aren't working!"

"oh, your keys are fine, sweetheart." you let out a sigh before scrunching your nose, "i triple-locked the doors. better to be safe than to be sorry, right?"

"okay, well-" emma pauses, scratching the back of her neck before gesturing towards the door, "are you gonna open the door for me or what? i really have to pee-"

"you could always take a squat and pee in the bushes." you point out, emma's jaw dropping slightly before she lets out a scoff

"are you serious? i'm not taking a piss in the bushes-"

"well, i guess you should've thought of that before coming home four hours past curfew!" your tone changes as soon as you get to the point and even from here you're able to make out the slight twitch of panic that runs through emma's body

"don't be ridiculous, i'm not four hours past curfew-" emma grumbles, turning to pull her phone out of her purse and glancing at it before pausing for a second and then looking back up at you, "i'm... four hours and twenty minutes past curfew. so take that!"

"you know, i was just being nice and i rounded down, but if you wanna say you were four hours and twenty minutes late, we can definitely say you were four hours and twenty minutes late-"

"mom!" emma whines, stomping her foot down on the ground as she shoves her phone back into her (your!!) purse hastily, "you can't just- are you seriously not going to let me into the house?! you're gonna make me sleep out on the front porch?! i can't- what if the coyotes get me?! if the coyotes get me, you're gonna regret this decision so bad-"

"the only thing that's going to attack you in this neighbourhood are the little girl scouts who won't leave you alone until you buy, like, ten boxes of cookies from them-"

"i'm sixteen, mother!" emma cuts you off with another whine and you can't help but roll your eyes at the sight of your daughter throwing a tantrum on the front lawn, "i'm grown! i should be allowed to go out with my friends and come home whenever i want!"

you thought you were 'grown' at sixteen too

(spoiler alert: that was not the case at all.)

obviously you love your daughter more than anything in the world but you hate that she inherited one of the traits that you're not fond too of: your stubbornness

and look, of course you know that she's getting older and that she should be allowed to go and have (safe) fun with her friends but this isn't the first time she's broken the rules and knowing her, it certainly won't be the last time

and it doesn't help that taehyung always gets to play good cop and you have to be the bad one!!!

like last time when the two of you caught emma climbing into the house through one of the windows and she ended up getting stuck - instead of reprimanding her for coming home late again, taehyung just laughed and immediately went over to help her out

sure, the sight of your daughter flailing around trapped in a small window was hilarious, but someone had to be the serious one in the situation (1) she lied to you about just having a chill night with her friends because you're pretty sure a chill night doesn't involve body glitter and the faint smell of vodka on her breath! 2) she climbed up the side of the house like a maniac and could've gotten seriously injured????) and of course the responsibility to do that fell onto your lap

taehyung's also just not very good at disciplining which is why you usually gently push him aside and take the lead and it looks like it's time for you to turn on your i'm not mad, i'm just very disappointed in you act once again

"you're going to wake your brother up if you keep screaming like that, and you know how fussy he gets when he doesn't get a good night's sleep-"

"he's the world's sleepiest baby, i could blow up fireworks in his room and he'd be fine- dad!" emma's eyes immediately light up when a sleepy taehyung suddenly pops up next to you and you raise a brow when he nudges you aside gently, "oh my god, thank god- mom's literally being insane right now, you have to let me in-"

"what time did you say you'd be home?" taehyung interrupts, "because i think we agreed on midnight when i dropped you off at hope's apartment..."

"i-" emma presses her lips together before letting out a little scoff and rolling her eyes, "okay, yes, we- i said i would be home by midnight, yes." she sighs before suddenly perking up again, "it's not my fault, though! no one goes home before midnight, it's so lame- hope's dad lets her stay out as long as she texts-"

"ah, texts! let's talk about that! didn't you say you'd text us to let us know where you were if you weren't home by midnight?" taehyung points out, crossing his arms over his chest before reaching up to stroke at his chin to feign deep thought, "because my phone hasn't gone off all night... has yours, darling?" he hums, turning to glance at you

"nope!" you chime in with a helpless little shrug and you nearly crack a smile when you see emma reach up to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration, "my phone has been dead silent. no texts. not even an emoji!"

"you hear that, emma? not even an emoji." taehyung tsks, shaking his head in disappointment, "you know what this means, don't you?"

"i'm grounded for two weeks, i know-"

"two weeks?? oh, you're grounded for a month." taehyung pauses for a second before looking down at her again, "and! and you have to change all of your brother's diapers the whole time you're grounded. also, i just want to let you know that he had sweet potatoes for dinner and you know how gassy he gets after a helping of sweet potatoes-"

"a month?!" emma roars and your eye twitches at how high her voice goes, "you can't ground me for a month, lucas is throwing this huge party next weekend and i have to be there! are you kidding m-"

taehyung slides the window back down before emma gets to say anything else and he turns to face you with a grin before opening his arms slightly, "well?? what did you think??"

"i think... that was probably one of the sexiest things you've ever done for me." you laugh lightly, happily giving him a quick kiss when he leans in for one

"duly noted." taehyung beams before letting out a quick sigh and then turning on his heels to head to the door, "okay, i'm going to go let our daughter into the house now because i don't think my hydrangeas are going to survive being peed on-"

🎙️give emma some diaper changing tips (talk to my characters/send in a message!)

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!)

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles! mini series!)

🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits like this one!)

[demigodlunar]

Scars - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Woman Up Levesque

Hazel looked down into the recent pages of her sketchbook, filled with drawings of gems and pictures of her mother’s face that she had drawn.

This day was the seventh anniversary of her mother’s death, and Hazel holed herself in her room every single year on this day, drawing her heart out until Nico came and sought her out to mourn together.

Pouring feelings she couldn’t share with anyone but Nico into the pages. A light knock at Hazel’s door startled her out of her reverie, and she let out a small noise she hoped sounded like ‘come in’.

Nico stepped into her room with red-bloodshot eyes and sat next to her on the bed. She felt bad for her brother… well, her half-brother. They had different mothers, but Nico was as brotherly as any brother was.

Nevertheless, she felt bad for him.

This was the same day that he had lost his real sister, Bianca, to the same people who killed Hazel’s mother.

Then, she felt angry. At herself.

She never came to comfort him on these days as he did for her. How could she be so selfish?

Nico pulled her into a hug, and Hazel was about to apologize for being so inconsiderate when the flashback hit.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hazel, baby.” Marie Levesque whispered with an anxious expression on her face and a maniac look in her eyes, “Your father will be here soon. When he comes, go with him.”

9-year-old Hazel quivered in her stance, but nodded and tried to calm her beating heart. Then, her mother hugged Hazel to her chest and stood up. She straightened her back and walked into a room, where the door closed behind her.

Not five minutes after Marie went in, Hazel heard a gunshot and a cut-off scream. Suppressing a shriek, Hazel went to the door and pressed her ears to the thin wall, hoping and praying her mother was safe.

“... kill the girl as well.” a commanding woman’s voice demanded on the other side of the wall.

This time, Hazel couldn’t suppress a scream, and the room fell quiet. Suddenly, a hand fell on her shoulder and she would have screamed again if the other hand hadn’t been covering her mouth.

She turned her head around to face her captor, shaking so hard she felt she might never stop. Her gold eyes met ones of pitch black.

Hazel had only seen that pair of eyes once in her life, when she was just an infant. Her father, Hades Di Angelo.

Hades put a finger to his lips and motioned behind him, silently asking her to follow him quickly. She complied quickly, following him into a dark alley. They had just rounded the corner out of sight when Hazel heard the door to the room bang open and what seemed like hundreds of footsteps pounded afterward.

Her father pulled her arm to follow him, and he led her to a sleek, black limo. There was no way her mother would- would have been able to afford that.

Hazel was no idiot, she knew exactly what had happened to her mother, but her thoughts were too muddled for her to properly grieve at the moment.

As they approached the car, both of them heard two voices that were trying to be quiet but completely failing.

“... shut up, Nico!”

“You shut up, Bianca, you're such a fun spoiler!”

“Oh yeah, well you’re a-”

Hades interrupted them, “What in Zeus’s name are you doing here? I told you two to stay at home!”

Two figures emerged from behind the car and Hazel’s heart almost jumped out of her ribcage. But these people weren’t dangerous, no, they were just two kids. The younger looking one was a boy, with black hair and chocolate brown eyes, olive skin, and a chipped tooth when he smiled at Hazel.

“Hi! I’m Nico!” was all he had to say to have Hazel cowering behind Hades, while the other, older girl elbowed him.

“Nico, that’s not nice! She’s scared, can’t you see? Father, why is she scared, and why are you here, and why do you look so scared?”

Hades had started shaking too, and opened his mouth to speak when they heard voices in the distance.

“There, I see somebody!”

Hazel’s eyes widened, and Hades' voice took on an urgent tone, “Kids, all of you. Get into the car. Get- get in! Go!”

In the dark, Hazel could see Nico and the other girl- Bianca- rushing to the car with them. The misty night air was cool against Hazel’s fiery red cheeks, hot from the impending danger.

She could see Hades get into the front seat of the limo, and she and Nico filed into the left side of the long car. They could leave, but there was something, no, someone missing. Hazel could feel her heart beating out of her chest, as she turned her head to the right window of the car, and could see Bianca struggling to open the side door.

What happened next was something that none of them could ever forget.

Hazel heard a loud gunshot and looked in horror as she watched Bianca’s body arc backward and a splatter of blood landed on the window. Hazel turned away, feeling the contents of her stomach trying to rise, and swallowed hard.

The car was silent for a second before they all heard yells, and Hades stepped on the gas, propelling the limo forward. When they got to Hazel’s new home, they all filed out silently.

The days that came afterward were full of heartbreak, and some sort of recovery.

Bianca’s funeral was held the next week, and though Nico warmed up to Hazel, he and Hazel would never be the same again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hazel opened her eyes, blurry with water, and saw Nico shaking her shoulders. She focused her vision on him and he visibly sighed in relief.

Pulling his arms away from her shoulders, Nico closed his eyes and murmured, “You had another flashback.”

Hazel groaned and sat back. She was sure that her flashbacks had ended last year, that she had been done with them. But as long as she remembered what happened that night, Hazel would never get over the flashbacks.

Nico clicked his tongue a couple of times just to break the silence, and Hazel cracked a smile. He smiled back, and a quiet pinging noise aroused from his pocket.

Nico drew his phone out of his pocket and squinted at the screen. After a couple of seconds, he spoke again.

“Jason is coming over. Thalia can’t make it, so I guess it's just the three of us,” he said, pursing his lips, and showing Hazel the screen.

Every year on this day, the two of them would mope, at least until their cousins came to drag them out of the dumps. And they would spend the rest of the day binging shows and movies and eating junk food. The fact that they still remembered brought a smile onto Hazel’s face.

They heard the doorbell ring from the other room. Neither Hades nor Persephone were home, so Nico and Hazel were home alone.

“Well, I guess Sparky is here.” Nico said with a grin, and he jumped off the bed and yelled: “COMING!”

Hazel got up too and followed Nico into the main room of the apartment. He was already at the front door, but when he swung it open, it wasn’t Jason standing there.

“Hey,” said someone who Hazel thought she would never see again.

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

-Blossom ;)

[artificialqueens]

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 43 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: Click here for previous chapters here on AQ or here if you’d rather read on AO3. xoxo!

And thank you again to our wonderful betas: @saiphl, @sillylittlecandycane

Chapter Summary: It’s finally the night of senior prom!! It starts out great...but will it end in disaster? (Spoiler alert: yes)

Chapter 43: I Just Wanna Dance

There were a million things Courtney loved about being in the The Scarlet Pimpernel--finally getting a chance to play a lead role in a musical, the songs themselves, the beautiful costumes they’d borrowed from a nearby university’s theatre company, the warm encouragement from Mrs. Maguire, watching her friends and castmates shine, when her dad surprised her by showing up for one of the weekend shows with a bouquet of pink roses…

But her favorite thing of all was being onstage with Adore. It was the first time they’d had multiple scenes together since playing Annie and Miss Hannigan in 5th grade, and for Courtney, it made the experience a million times better.

Closing night was bittersweet. In some ways, Courtney wished that it would never end. But she was excited for prom and graduation, their Mexico road trip and their first apartment. So even though it was a little bit sad, she didn’t cling to it. Instead, she focused on the excitement she felt about everything to come, and really tried to live in the moment, committing every single second to memory.

In the garden scene with Adore, she noticed the little wisps of hair around her face that were lit up by the bright stage lights, the way her hazel eyes gleamed, and when she leaned toward her, it was the closest they’d ever come to actually kissing in this scene. All Courtney wanted was to surrender, to just close her eyes, let their lips touch, but she fought it, finally pushing Adore away like she was supposed to at the last possible second, heart pounding, feeling a bit light-headed while she watched her sing. Really listening to the lyrics for what felt like the first time.

“Marguerite, don't forget I know who you are. We were cut from the same surly star, like two jewels in the sky, sharing fire. Where's the girl, so alive and still aching for more? We had dreams that were worth dying for. We were caught in the eye of a storm! Come again!”

Adore grabbed her hands, spinning her in a circle, and a lump formed in Courtney’s throat.

“Let the girl in your heart tumble free. Bring your renegade heart home to me. In the dark of the morning, I'll warm you, I'll rouse you . . .”

As they slowly stopped turning in a circle, Courtney swallowed hard, the dizziness getting to her, stomach in knots, and it was if Adore could sense it. She pulled her in by the waist, singing the last verse softly, directly to her. And something happened for the first time that Courtney couldn’t explain--a single tear began to slip down her cheek.

“Where's the girl? Is she gazing at me with surprise? Do I still see that blaze in her eyes? Am I dreaming or is she beside me . . . now . . .?”

The music slowly faded out, and Courtney knew that Adore was waiting for her next line, her eyes soft and expectant. She knew that she had to get it out; this was the script, and she couldn’t change it no matter how much she wanted to. So she mustered up all of her strength, squaring her shoulders and speaking, firmly and hoarsely.

“No. Get out.”

Adore’s eyes went cold as she turned and left the stage, and for a second Courtney really did think that she was going to fall, to faint or throw up or something else entirely unexpected. She knew she only had about three seconds before Willam and Gia entered, so she quickly swiped the tear from her cheek and took a deep breath, pushing down the terrible feeling that something had broken inside of her, something she wouldn’t ever be able to fix.

-

“Hey…”

Courtney whirled around as Adore touched her shoulder, a startled look on her face that softened when she saw Adore.

“Oh, hi.”

“Are you alright?” Adore asked. She’d noticed the tears while they were onstage, and had a feeling that it was more than just acting.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s...I guess just that this is the last time we’re gonna be doing the show. Kinda silly.” She wiped her eyes, looking a bit embarrassed.

Adore smiled softly, pulling her in for a hug. “Nah, I know how you feel.”

Courtney squeezed her back tightly. “Thanks, Dory. I love you.”

“Me too, babe.”

-

“You girls are just so gorgeous and grown-up,” Bonnie said, sniffling a little as she snapped photo after photo.

It was finally the night of their senior prom, and as a treat, Bonnie and Karen had gotten together and treated the girls to a little spa day: mani pedis - the fancy kind with paraffin wax and massages and rhinestone embellishments, lunch at their favorite café, and professional hair styling. Courtney had gone for a glamorous updo studded with tiny red roses, Adore for a half-up style with criss-crossing fishtail braids, and Tati for smooth finger-waves that made her look like an old-time movie star. Afterwards, they’d all headed back to Adore’s house to do their makeup and get dressed.

To Adore’s relief, Courtney hadn’t brought up her weird objections to Tati being her date, and she was friendly as can be to Tati just like usual, gossiping about their classmates, giggling, having a grand old time.

Adore was very pleased with the outfit she’d ended up with: an amazing thrift store find, a short, square-necked black lace dress, very bruja, and she’d paired it with studded black boots, fishnets, and the leather choker that Courtney’d gotten her for her birthday last year. Tati looked amazing as always, her skin-tight hot pink minidress really pushing the dress code limits, but the color so fun that she’d probably be fine.

And then there was Courtney. Adore was surprised when she’d chosen it, the sleek white two-piece so unlike her: no sparkly embellishments or flouncy girliness--just a simple, spaghetti-strapped, open-backed top and long slitted skirt that made her early summer tan glow. When she first put it on, Adore had to look away for a moment, so as not to get choked up about how beautiful she was. Then of course, she completed the look with sparkly silver star accessories, red stones in her necklace matching the roses in her hair. Before they’d headed downstairs for photos, Adore gestured to her charm bracelet, the rose-gold obviously not fitting the color theme of her ensemble.

“That doesn’t really match,” she noted, and Courtney bit her lip, meeting Adore’s eyes with a look that made her insides twist.

“I don’t care.”

Now, in Courtney’s backyard, they posed for the dozens of pictures that Karen and Bonnie insisted on. First all the girls separately, then together, then Adore and Tati, who were still posing when Roy finally rounded the corner in his white tux. The second Adore caught sight of his red pocket square she burst out laughing, unable to help herself.

“Thanks, Delano, exactly the reaction I was hoping for,” he said.

“No, it’s cause your pocket square is...Courtney, I fucking knew that you’d do that shit again!” Adore laughed, and Courtney just shrugged, accepting first a kiss on the cheek and then the wrist corsage with the requested red roses.

“I never denied it!” Courtney said. She reached out and adjusted Roy’s lapels, grinning. “I think he looks perfect.”

“Thank you, babe, and you’re beautiful,” Roy said, before ruining the moment by turning and blowing a raspberry in Adore’s direction.

“That’s mature.”

“Adore, please pull it together for two more shots!” Bonnie interrupted, and Adore put her arm back around Tati’s waist.

Courtney and Roy were next, followed by group shots, and then Karen insisted on a couple with Courtney and Adore.

Adore swallowed, letting Courtney take her hand and lean a head on her shoulder, feeling slightly awkward.

“It’s kind of funny, don’t you think?” Courtney asked, between shots.

“What?”

Courtney gestured to their outfits. “Black and white.”

“Oh yeah. Very fitting, huh?” Adore said.

Courtney gazed up at her, a starry-eyed smile on her face, and Adore could feel herself melting right back to the place she’d insisted she’d never go again as the camera flashed.

“Mom! I wasn’t ready!”

“It was cute!” Karen defended herself.

“Do you think we should call Pearl and ask when-”

“Limo has arrived, bitcheeeeeees!” screeched a voice, and everyone turned to see Willam at the gate, along with Trinity, Pearl, Fame and Violet, who all came bounding in, dressed to the nines.

Courtney squealed happily, clapping her hands. After about ten or twenty more pictures of the whole group, Bonnie and Karen finally dismissed them, letting them pile into the limo, laughing and screaming happily, music blasting.

Adore was the last one to go, turning to give her mother one last little wave, pretending not to notice the tears shining in her eyes as she called, “Bye Ma! Don’t wait up!”

-

The hotel ballroom where their prom was held was the fanciest place Adore had ever been. After looking up at the huge crystal chandelier over the dance floor, Adore turned to Tati with a look of confusion and asked, “Oh my god...is our school bougie?”

Tati laughed, pulling her onto the dance floor with the rest of their group. The DJ was surprisingly good, and they twirled and laughed, dancing for hours before Tati finally admitted that her feet were killing her and she needed a break.

“Ugh, same,” said Pearl.

“This is why you wusses should have worn more comfortable shoes,” Adore proclaimed, modeling her combat boots as they trooped over to grab some punch and sit down.

“Not everyone can pull that off, dear,” Tati told her.

“Or you can just do what Trinity did,” Pearl said, gesturing to her prom date, platform sandals kicked off to the side of the dance floor, her bright yellow dress hiked up with her hands as she, Courtney and Willam shook it to Shakira’s ‘Hips Don’t Lie,’ Roy awkwardly joining in with decidedly less enthusiasm than the others.

“Still think my solution’s better,” said Adore, settling down at the table with a glass of sugary punch.

They relaxed for a few minutes, chatting and giggling, before they were joined by first Violet, then Fame, then Bob, who came bounding over with April to hype up the afterparty.

“You guys are going, right? It’s gonna be amazing!” he exclaimed, and Violet shook her head in disbelief.

“You really think a school-sanctioned afterparty will be that much fun?” she asked.

“I’m telling you! Everyone says it’s the best part of the night.”

“Really? I would think the best part of the night is how sexy your girlfriend looks,” said Pearl, sending a wink in April’s direction, making her giggle and preen.

“Okay, yes, she does, but also...after the afterparty, there’s a pancake breakfast. So, come on...”

“Robert! Hello young man! Lookin’ slick!” Roy called, walking over to give Bob a hug and slap on the back. He looked a bit sweaty and disheveled, and it made Adore chuckle.

“Courtney’s giving you a real workout, huh?” she teased.

“That girl wouldn’t leave a dance floor if you paid her,” Roy answered with a sigh, dragging a chair over from a nearby table to sit heavily. “Luckily, Willam and Trinity have much higher endurance than me, so-”

“Guess again!” Trinity exclaimed, as she flopped into Pearl’s lap. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Aww, you guys all abandoned the blue-eyed devils,” Bob said, gesturing to Courtney and Willam on the dance floor, making April crack up.

“They’re fine,” Roy said, leaning back in the chair, eyes closing.

Adore looked over at the dance floor, watching them while everyone chatted. When the song ended, to her surprise, Courtney made her way over to the group too.

“Whoa, maybe she’s actually tired! Did someone slip you some Benadryl, Court?”

Turned out, she was only there to ask Adore to come back onto the dance floor.

“Will you come dance with me?” she cajoled, reaching out her hand, a soft and hopeful look in her eyes.

“Uh…” Adore knew this was a bad idea. As much as she tried not to, told herself not to, she’d already spent too much of the evening with one eye on Courtney with Roy, fixated on the way they laughed and flirted and touched each other--it was like regressing two years, and she just wasn’t in the right headspace to confront her feelings.

“Please?” Courtney touched Adore’s lace-covered wrist, adding with a twinkle, “I’ll be your best friend...”

Adore had to chuckle at that, standing up with a resigned sigh. “Good one, bitch.”

Courtney beamed at her, leading her to the dance floor. Of course, it was some slow, schmaltzy pop ballad. And of course, Courtney’s arms immediately went around her neck, pulling her close. Head resting on her shoulder.

Adore didn’t know where to put her hands. Courtney’s skimpy top left so much of her back exposed, she could feel herself panicking before finally letting them settle on her hips. Even then, it was impossible to avoid her waist, her thumbs grazing the soft bare skin a few times before she tried tucking them into her palms.

“I love you, Dory,” Courtney murmured, and Adore gulped.

“Love you too.”

Adore tried to get her heart to settle, tried to stop the churning in her stomach, the song dragging on for what felt like an eternity while she sweated and held back her tears. When it finally ended, she broke away immediately, mumbling about how she needed a cigarette, and bolted from the dance floor.

-

Courtney watched Adore go, misty-eyed, wondering why she always ran away just when it felt like they were getting closer, and couldn’t help the dejected feeling inside, stomach twisting with regret.

“Punch?”

Courtney turned around to see Roy, holding out a cup of red punch for her. Of course he was. He was always there: dependent, steadfast, the one person in her life that she could always count on. The guilt Courtney felt would be crushing if she didn’t love him so much.

She slid her arms around his waist, pulling him close, asking, “How did I end up with the best boyfriend in the world?”

Roy sighed, setting the cup on a nearby table and wrapping her into a hug, resting his chin on top of her head.

“Just lucky, I guess.” After a few moments, he ventured softly, “Do you wanna dance some more?”

“Yes,” Courtney said, arms tightening around him even more. “Yes, I really fucking do.”

-

“There you are…” Tati said, when she finally found Adore in the hotel courtyard, sitting against a stucco wall, smoking a cigarette. “You alright?”

She settled in beside her, maneuvering the best she could so as not to let her dress ride up around her hips. This didn’t feel like a conversation where it would be productive to have her underwear showing.

“Just fucking peachy.” Adore took a long drag.

“Yeah. Listen, I-”

“I really don’t want any advice right now,” Adore said, and Tati immediately closed her mouth.

“Ooookay,” she breathed, realizing that now wasn’t the right time to say what she had to say.

“Sorry. It’s just, my head is all-”

“Nah, I get it.” Tati patted her fishnet-covered thigh.

“Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, Adore’s head leaning back on the wall, Tati watching the smoke curling up into the midnight sky.

“Can I ask you a question, though?”

“I guess.” Adore’s voice was tired and hoarse, so Tati tried to phrase it as gently and tactfully as possible.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen? If you, like, told her?”

Adore took a long drag of her cigarette, pondering the answer before saying, “I could die. I could literally die.”

“Alright.” Tati said, stretching her legs out in front of her. She wasn’t inclined to push it, adding a simple, “Just seems like something to think about.”

After a few more moments of tense silence, Adore sniffled, and Tati realized that she was crying.

“I should get out of here,” she said, stabbing the cigarette out on the pavement, using her lacy sleeve to wipe her eyes.

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No. It’s prom. Stay and have fun,” Adore said, and Tati was overcome with sympathy, wished there was something she could do to make her feel better--or at least, enough better to have a carefree and fun night like they all deserved. It had started out so well, and Tati still wasn’t sure where it’d gone wrong.

“Adore, come on, you can-”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Tati said, staying on the ground while Adore got up, resigned to just let her have her feelings, realizing that there really was nothing she could do in that moment.

-

“Yeah, I know! There’s just something off about his face!” Violet laughed, following Trinity out of the bathroom, still talking about an idiot jock who’d tried to feel her up on the dance floor.

“I think it would be an okay face if he wasn't such a jerk,�� Trinity said.

“Okay face is probably the best he can hope for,” Violet agreed. “But don’t you think he-”

Violet stopped short, abdomen twisting when she spotted Fame, in the same location they’d left her outside the restrooms, looking beautiful as ever in her full, floor-length gown covered in a large-scale blue flower print. Only she wasn’t alone. There was a blonde girl chatting with her...a blonde girl in a short, sparkly pink dress who was acting awfully familiar, a hand on Fame’s bare upper arm, flashing a bright white smile.

“Who the hell are you?” Violet asked, and the girl turned to her, blinking her brown eyes slowly.

“Excuse me?”

“I said-” Violet began, but Fame jumped in.

“You know what? We should talk later,” she told the girl, mouthing ‘sorry’ in an annoyingly obvious way, clearly not caring that Violet could see her. Or maybe doing it specifically for Violet’s benefit. Violet’s nails dug into her palms at the thought.

“Alright. Later then. Can’t wait to hang out again,” the girl said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Fame’s cheek before sauntering away with a victorious smirk.

“Who the fuck was that?” Violet asked, and Fame turned to her with crossed arms and a crosser expression.

“Hey, I think I hear...something...uh…” Trinity stammered out, backing away so as not to get caught up in the drama, calling out to an imaginary person, “What? Oh, you need-okay, coming!”

She turned and ran back towards the ballroom, leaving Fame and Violet alone.

“Well?” Violet asked, her tone still hostile, but how else was she supposed to be right now?

Fame let out a long sigh, asking, “Why are you so difficult?” She began to walk away, but Violet reached for her, fingers closing around her wrist and tugging her back.

“Fame. Who was that?”

“She’s just a girl I know from working at the bakery,” Fame said, eyes closing as if the conversation was too exhausting for words. “She graduated last year, but I guess she’s here with a friend, so-”

“No. I mean, why were you flirting with her? I thought tonight was about us.”

“Vi…” Fame finally looked into her eyes, blue eyes a bit sad, shaking her head. “Why do you always have to do this?”

“Do what?” Violet could feel herself growing more and more agitated, more and more uneasy, the ground shifting beneath her.

“Talk about us, like that. You’re my best friend. You know how much I love you. But not...not like that.”

Violet didn’t like where this conversation was going, not one bit. She bit back her anger, her impatience, her jealousy, and made her voice as soft and calm as possible.

“But you agreed to be my date. You came here with me-”

“As friends.”

“I don’t get it!” Violet exploded. “You finally broke up with Patrick, officially, and-”

“This is not about Patrick!” Fame exclaimed, exasperation all over her face. “It never was. I guess it was easy to use him as an excuse, but...I just don’t think of you that way.”

Bitterness swirled in Violet’s chest, and before she could stop herself, she spit out, “But you think of that random slut that way?” She gestured angrly in the direction of the blonde, the girl who it seemed had single-handedly managed to ruin her night. “And what did she mean by ‘again’?”

“I...we kind of...hooked up last year,” Fame admitted. “When Patrick and I were on a break, after-”

“You hooked up with a girl and you didn’t tell me? What the fuck?” Violet said, anger and confusion combining, the whole thing like hands wrapped around her throat, making her eyes water and her chest constrict.

“Well, I wasn’t sure how you’d react. I guess I was wrong, since you’re being so understanding.”

“Fuck you,” Violet spat out, turning and walking away.

“Violet, wait!”

Violet stopped walking, but she didn’t turn. She couldn’t bear to look at Fame’s face right now, not when tears were burning in her eyes, threatening to spill over any second.

“Look, I’m sorry! Okay? I guess I just...I didn’t want to say anything that would risk hurting you. Because I don’t want to lose you as a friend. I do love you-”

At that, Violet whirled back around, those angry tears streaking hotly down her cheeks.

“No you don’t,” she said. “You never have. God, I’m so stupid.”

“Vi-”

“Enjoy your prom,” she choked out, before breaking away and rushing towards the lobby. She had no idea where she was going, but she knew that she couldn’t go back into that ballroom, with those people. Not like this.

-

Adore trudged slowly through the parking lot, wondering where she should even go. This part of town was mostly new--lots of pointless high-end stores, yuppie restaurants, hipster bars.

“Hey! Where the fuck are you going?” demanded a voice, and Adore smiled to herself, turning around to find Violet, face streaked in tears, stomping from the hotel angrily.

Adore chuckled sadly. “You look like I feel.”

“Well you look like shit,” Violet countered.

“Okay, so I guess I look like I feel too.”

“God fucking damn it, why can’t we just have one night where we’re like, normal teenagers?” Violet exclaimed, face turned upwards, and Adore shook her head.

“I dunno.”

“Where were you going, anyway?”

“I honestly don’t know. Just...anywhere but here.”

“Same.” Violet took her hand. “I think there’s a diner a few blocks away that’ll be open. Come on.”

[wall-maria-fritz]

The Wingman (Erwin Smith x Marie)

Chapter 6: The Scout

Reposting this because I am officially overhauling my @levi-lives blog, in lieu of this one because SOMEONE Tumblr won't let my posts show up from there anymore! grrrr.

@levi-lives blog is still up tho, if you would like still see my original posts

THE WINGMAN MASTERLIST

A/N: FINALLY! So remember when I said this chapter was only going to be 5k words? WELL BEEYATCH IT’S 6.5K WORDS HAPPY UPDATE, HAVE A NICE DAY. In retrospect, it seems like I can only seem to write when I’m heartbroken and depressed, haha *sweats nervously at my 27 remaining chapters* But hopefully this thick boi of a chapter would be worth the wait! I’m just a little swamped these days, thanks to Ms. Rona’s world tour so updates are pretty sparse. But don’t you worry child, bc I still plan on finishing this baby. Music Inspo: Dream Sweet in Sea Major by Miracle Musical Crime by Private Island Do It All the Time by I DON’T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME The Boys Are Too Refined by The Hush Sound The Other Lover by Little Dragon

The Wingman Playlist

Chapter 6: The Scout

Krolva District, Wall Rose

Spring, 825

“Mama, why can’t I go to school with Papa and Derek yet?”

Erwin whined in his little voice. His chubby little legs were swinging and bouncing up and against his bum from where he was sprawled out on his mother’s Persian carpet, with his favorite picture book of The Secret Garden opened in front of him—Erwin has always been an avid reader. And he loved The Secret Garden best of all.

Agatha Smith looked up from her paperwork. As Krolva District’s council chairperson, she’s been busy reading through district reports all morning. For the most part, her son has been quietly reading his book like the good boy he is. But Agatha knew her son, and it was only a matter of time before her little genius started asking her the curiosities which—how Erwin would say—‘bugged his mind.’

“Because you’re still little, darling. You’re just three years old!” Agatha smiled brightly at her baby, hoping it would help convince Erwin why he can’t go join his father and brother yet. Although, Agatha tried to ignore the twinge of sadness in her stomach at the thought of her son growing up.

She was perfectly fine with her baby staying home, and keeping her company; safe in her home office for the rest of forever.

Erwin meanwhile, as much as he enjoyed reading and coloring in his mother’s pretty office—with all the big books, the many vases full of  flowers, and the ever-present smell of strawberry tea—still wanted to go on the adventures Derek would  tell him about whenever his brother comes back home in the afternoon.

School just sounded so fun to Erwin! He wanted to play with kids like him, and read more books!

Erwin puffed up his cheeks, ‘It wasn’t fair. How come Derek gets to go, all because he’s older?’

“But I thought you said I was a big boy already!”

Agatha tried to hide her smile at Erwin’s quick retort. Her son has always been a clever boy.

“Well, you need to get just one more year bigger,” the boy’s mother says, as she held up one finger.

Erwin pouted. His cheeks were starting to grow red; the boy was going to cry.

“ookay, ookay,” Agatha immediately stood to scoop up her son the moment she saw him rubbing at  his blue eyes. She repositioned him at her hip, and peeked into the little boy’s clear blue eyes.

Her husband’s eyes.

Tiny drops of tears were already rolling down Erwin’s chubby, red cheeks. Like tiny little diamonds.

Agatha cooed, “I’m sorry you can’t go with Papa and Derek yet, but don’t you like staying with mama at home?” Agatha’s cobalt eyes peeked into Erwin’s. Erwin nodded, still swiping his small fists at his tears.

“How about Mama makes you your favorite strawberry pie, huh? Would that make you feel better?”

Erwin’s teary eyes looked up at his mother, “You’ll make me lots?”

His mother only ever gave him one slice since she’s very particular about making sure her boys are eating healthy.

And anyways, as a working mom, having two sugar-rushed boys isn’t going to help her productivity. Nor does she want them to be spoiled.

It’s a  different story for Erwin’s father, though. Jonathan was really a child himself, and saw no problem in giving his sons a few extra slices of pies.

As long as his wife never finds out, of course.

Agatha pauses at the request. Lots of slices meant lots more strawberries to pick. She glanced back at her pile of paperwork, and all the district proposals waiting for her approval to peruse. Agatha knew she simply did not have the extra time to pick strawberries.

“Well, then why don’t you go ask Sibyl to accompany you to pick yourself the juiciest, sweetest strawberries we have, yeah? Don’t you want to pick the best ones, Erwin?”

Erwin immediately perked up, “Yes, please Mama! I want to pick the strawberries!”

And just like, Erwin’s little legs ran him out the room and to his nanny for an hour of chores.

Not only did she calm her son down, that was also one task off her planner. Agatha patted herself. ‘Nice save, Mrs. Smith.’

~

When Jonathan and Derek arrived home that afternoon, Jonathan immediately sought out his wife, who was at the patio overlooking the garden. She was busy setting up tea and freshly baked pie slices for her two other boys, while a little Erwin was already happily scooping up the last of his strawberry pie.

Jonathan kissed the top of his wife’s sandy blonde head, and patted his younger son’s golden one.

“Someone’s been chowing down!” Jonathan’s laughter seemed to boom to Erwin’s ears. “Wow! Seems like Mama’s been spoiling you today, huh?” Jonathan’s clear blue eyes crinkled tenderly as he watched Erwin drop a big strawberry into his tiny rosebud mouth

“PIES!!!”

Derek immediately ran and seated himself down the moment he saw the treats. He excitedly took a teaspoon, started scooping himself big portions of strawberry pie.

“Hey young man, kiss mama first,” Jonathan chides his eldest. Agatha bends down, and soon enough Derek gives his mother a kiss on the cheek. Though, the kid was didn’t even look away from the treats.

Jonathan was about to say more, but his wife just patted his chest sweetly, and mouthed, ‘it’s fine.’ The parents watched their kids eat, while gently reminding them to slow down and make space for dinner.

In the middle of tea time, with his mouth full of strawberries, Derek exclaims, “You won’t belieeeeve what Papa taught us today, Erwin!”

Erwin looked to his brother in wonder, “Tell me, tell me!” Erwin caught his mother’s disapproving look.

“…please?”

Before Derek could gulped down what he was chewing, Jonathan already cut in. “Aww, don’t tell spoilers, Derek.”

“Spoilers?” two pairs of little clear and cobalt blue eyes looked to their father.

“It means, let your brother find out our lesson himself once he’s your age,” Jonathan says as he gives Derek a little tickle. Derek giggled happily.

“Awwwwww,” Erwin whined, knowing he’d have to wait a while, seeing as Derek was already six.

“But I wanna know, Papa,” he pouted.

“Want to,” Agatha corrected.

“I want to know, Papa.”

“Alright, alright,” Jonathan gave in. He couldn’t really resist his sons. “How about I tell you the Legend of King Arthur and The Excalibur tonight. Does that sound good?”

The boys cheered, already babbling how that was their favorite story, and how excited they were for bedtime. Another tactic Jonathan picked up from his clever wife to get the boys into bed.

“As long as,” Agatha cautioned within the din of giggles, “You smarty-pants go to bed on time.”

Agatha had an eyebrow quirked up, as she turned to give her husband a stern look as well. As if saying, ‘You better make sure, Jonathan.’

All three, effectively charming their mom, were already giving her puppy dog eyes. Jonathan proceeded to solemnly cross his heart, and so did the boys.

~

For Erwin, his father was not only the smartest person he’s ever met, he was also the most fun. His dad was so fun, that even his stressed out mother would laugh whenever he’s around.

And every night, Jonathan made sure to read to his kids. Animatedly telling them stories of far off lands and great dragons for kings and princes to slay.

Every night, passing on to his sons the yearning to dream beyond. To look beyond. To look around their realities with a curious, ever-critical eye.

And it was something the brothers picked up well, as the two grew up locking themselves in their home library, getting lost in volume after volume. Their fair heads joined together as they poured into a book on the carpeted floor.

Even after what ultimately happened, Derek stayed firm and true; Erwin’s best friend and brother till the very end. The two swore to defend their father’s legacy. Dedicated their hearts to finding out the truth because really,

They were still the little children listening to their father’s stories in wonderment.

~~~

Whispers and shuffling snap Erwin out of his ruminations.

Already at the Corps’ Archives Office with his father’s research journal hidden beneath several notebooks and volumes of military discourse (and perhaps a love letter for a certain bright eyed woman), Erwin hesitated at turning the doorknob.

Was some other cadet using the office today? Erwin was sure he read Derek’s schedule correctly before burning the letter. Then Erwin had his answer;

“Oh Derek, please!”

Considering his brother’s uhh… reputation, it wasn’t difficult to guess what exactly was happening on the other side of that door.

Erwin shook his head, ‘That letter wasn’t kidding. He’s got a girl alright.’

And with a smirk, he then swings open the door—

Adeline Müller jumps off of her lover in a panic. It was clear by the disheveled locks of her platinum blonde hair, as well as her smushed cherry lip gloss that the two have been busy.

“E-Erwin!” she exclaims, trying to smooth down her now-crinkled nurse’s uniform as gracefully as she can despite the situation.

Adeline’s doe-like purple eyes flitted between her lover and his brother’s knowing look.

Erwin smiled courteously at the lady, “Good morning, Nurse Adeline.”

“Hi.” Adeline gulps, as her small hand flies to hide the creeping blush at her neck.

Erwin then looks pointedly at his brother, a smug look on his face.

“Derek.”

Derek puffed out an exasperated breath.

“Brother.” Derek grits out as his eyes turn to slits. “Punctual as always.”

Erwin gestured offhandedly, a picture of nonchalance, “You called for me.” His polite but teasing smile comes back, and turns to Adeline, who has now managed to put her little nurse cap to rights on her head. “I hope my brother’s been a good patient, seeing as you’ve been busy helping him feel better, miss.”

Derek puffs out his chest at that, his Scouting Legion uniform making his already imposing height look even more domineering. He pulls a profusely blushing Adeline to his side, proudly beaming out, and “Oh I’ve been an excellent patient, Erwin. Little Nurse Adeline here has been tending to my Titan bone—“

“Shut up!” came the woman’s cry after giving her lover a good smack to the arm. She tried to look as menacing as she can in the face of all the cajoling, but see…

…she was just too cute, and the fierce eyes just really weren’t working.

Adeline Müller was already a remarkably petite woman. And at that very moment, not only did she feel miniscule, she also wished the ground would swallow her up in embarrassment.

Well, Adeline supposes, at least it was just Erwin. Any other cadet, and news would have reached her father and…

Adeline shivered, ‘Who knows what he would do to her Derek?’ Nonetheless, she knew what Erwin was here for, and she was more than willing to leave.

Derek started chuckling, and leaned down to tenderly kiss the top of her head. Suddenly, all was forgotten, and Adeline was once again gazing dotingly up at her lover. Derek then whispers ‘conspiratorially’ at his brother, “Legion perks.” Then winks at Adeline.

Adeline rolls her big purple eyes, while Erwin just gave a slow, sarcastic nod, his mouth forming an—

‘Ah.’

Before the most infuriating brothers in the Three Walls decided to tease her again, Adeline hastily darts over to Derek to give him a peck, saying that the Head Nurse will be looking for her at the Infirmary soon, which Derek returns with whispering in the poor girl’s ear, before kissing her hand.

Whatever it was, had Adeline blooming red, her eyes growing to saucers. She swats at Derek again, before flying out the door, she pauses;

“Bye, Erwin. And please tell Mike that Mrs. Kissling is onto him and Greta!”

Then the tiny blonde all but runs out the office.

Erwin sighs inwardly, ‘Even the fucking nurses Mike?!’

“Yes, ma’am!” Erwin hollers back. His face turns serious as he faces his brother,

“Müller’s going to castrate you.”

“Hah! I can outrun Corpse Cock on foot, and he still won’t catch me even if the old bastard used 3DMG!”

“She’s engaged.  To Alexei Lobov, no less.”

“And? I’m pretty much as good as dead with what I do. What’s some butterball nobleman gonna do to scare me?”

Derek swept back the same golden blonde hair as Erwin’s, while his cobalt blue eyes twinkled.

“Besides, I’m not going to go around fighting Titans to have Corpse Cock and some pig getting in the way of me and my girl,” came Derek’s obnoxious reply with his equally obnoxious grin.

Derek Smith was a man with what their mother calls ‘an award-winning smile.’  This was only accentuated by his Smith-good looks, his ever-present stubble, and perfect teeth.

Erwin snorted sarcastically, “Nice to see the Titans haven’t scared the jackass out of you yet, Derek.”

Although Erwin’s brother can be a smart-mouthed git, hearing his familiar Wall Rose twang alone was enough to bring back the nostalgia of home. Soon enough, both men were shaking their heads and chuckling fondly, knowing full well that no other man within the three walls could understand the other, as much as each other.

And within that familiar bubble of a moment, the Smith brothers finally move to give each other a firm hug.

~

Derek Smith’s thick eyebrows (it’s genetic, unfortunately) crinkled in concentration, as he was hunched over trying to discern the messy scrawl of his father’s handwriting. Derek rubbed at his stubble, a frown marking his lips, “Sweet Sina Dad, it’s like you don’t want anyone to ever read your work.”

“Speak for yourself,” Erwin retorts, a hand over his jaw, as one hand held Derek’s report up to the light, slowly realizing that the sun wasn’t making his brother’s writing any more legible. “It’s like reading code, Derek. You write your reports to Shadis like this?” Erwin turns to his brother with an incredulous look, lightly chucking the paper atop the mahogany desk.

“Hey, they asked for a researcher, not a clerk,” Derek retorts, throwing a hand up.

It was almost like a ritual for the Smith brothers to pour over the leather journals of Jonathan Smith whenever they have their intelligence meetings. It was a nice way to revisit and review whatever their father theorized in conjunction to what new information they’ve got.

The journals’ old leather smell also reminded them of their father, and that was always a comfort—like an intangible slice of their childhood.

Derek straightens up and breathes out, “Alright, give me that Erwin, I’ll just fucking tell you like the baby you are.” He swipes the report from the desk. “Sheesh, I’m like mom reading you The Secret Garden again,” the older brother mutters.

Erwin made face. “At least I don’t write like a cryptid, asswipe.”

“iM eRwIn AnD I nEeD mY BiG BroThEr tO rEaD tO mE.”

“I’m going to break your face.

“Try.”

“You sure? Because I just might, and we both know mom’s going to take my side.”

The two brothers stared each other down. Seething cobalt blue meeting challenging cool blue ones. It was an undeniable fact—Erwin was their mom’s favorite, her baby.

Derek nodded slowly in understanding; his jaw locked, arms crossed over his chest.

“Okay Erwin, low blow. But I’ll give you that.”  Derek, still locking eyes with his brother, started shuffling the papers, and flipping to the page he needs.

Erwin just gave a smug quirk of his eyebrows.

Derek cleared his throat. “Shadis managed to scrounge up enough funding to finance an expedition next month.”

“About time.”

“Tell me about it. It’s not much, but clearly enough for Shadis to make a gamble. It seems like this one’s highly classified– a job for just us Intelligence, because we’ll be attempting to set up base outside the Walls.”

That certainly interested Erwin. It was no secret that Commander Shadis’ lobby for continued (much less increased) funding for the Scouting Legion is an ongoing uphill battle. The House of Lords is simply too uninterested in patronizing a losing war, when there are people without food, homes, and healthcare to prioritize…or so they say.

And so this sudden decision to undertake such an ambitious mission when the Legion can’t even seem to return with less than a fifty-percent mortality rate, and with barely enough funding to boot, would only mean one thing;

“There have been developments to the situation. Shadis is no gambling man, he wouldn’t risk his best and brightest on a whim,” says Erwin, his eyes so wide and so clear, they almost had a sparkle to them.

Derek had a similar expression on his face, but paired with an impish grin. “Exactly. And Ilse Langar and I have been ordered by the horse’s mouth to ‘record any suspected anomalies within titan territory.’ ”

Erwin’s jaw nearly dropped. “You’re looking for something.”

“But we don’t know what that is,” Derek replied.

Erwin, ever the curious one, took a step closer to his brother, almost like a child begging his parents for the surprise. “But you’ve got an idea, don’t you?”

Derek’s cheeky grin flashed back on, “…Maybe.”

Erwin rolled his eyes. He then hastily gestures for his brother to take a seat, as he took one himself, all too eager to hear the conspiracy.

“Beginning of last year, I have a source from the Garrison tell me rumors of dear old Shadis finding a man wandering from outside the Walls,” Derek began. “Apparently, he seemed like he knew nothing of our society. Like he was a foreigner. I reported this to Shadis during a meeting, and guess what? The man was almost uninterested. Far too eager to shrug the rumors off as bullshit. And now a year later, he’s kick starting a highly-sensitive mission to set up research bases outside the Walls?”

Derek leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. “You won’t get any smoke without a fire. These rumors came from somewhere. That possibility alone is worth investigating. And if it were true?” The scout tightened his hold on his arms, his biceps flexing. “It would be an astonishing turn of events.”

Erwin had his hands cupping his jaw. A thumb caressing his chin in deep thought, as his eyebrows furrowed together. His clear blue eyes were bright and sharply focused on a random point in the room, as the many kegs in his mind started turning.

A man wondering from outside the Walls. Clueless of their societal structure.

“You think the commander is hiding something?”

Derek breathed out, releasing his arms. “I think the commander knows something. Shadis’ heart is true; he wouldn’t keep information like this from his officers if it meant serving humanity’s best interests.”

And to that end, Erwin agreed. He would do the same if only to get to the truth. Surely, a man lying to pursue his true intentions is not unheard of. In fact, the Smith brothers are doing just that—committing treason for the purpose of realizing their father’s dream. Almost as if he was reading his brother’s mind, Derek clear his throat and declares, “We’ll know the truth soon enough. I’ll make sure of it. I’m leaving in two weeks, and I’ll be on the lookout for any leads while I’m stationed at base. I’ll rendezvous with you once I’m back.”

At that, Erwin turns to Derek immediately.  “How long are you staying there?”

Derek pursed his lips. “Indefinitely.”

A pregnant pause overcame the brothers. Indefinitely, or until the base gets overrun by Titans.

And as if Derek was reading his brother’s mind, he shrugged, “Occupational hazard.”

The younger brother nodded in understanding. Erwin knew. “What am I going to tell mom?”

Erwin did not dare let any emotion pass over his face as he watched his older brother’s shoulders droop just that little bit. While Erwin may be their mother’s favorite, but Derek was the more emotional of the two—much like his father. Derek Smith, brilliant as his mind may be, still operated with his heart in consideration. And choosing to potentially let their mother grieve over a son was a truly heavy burden to bear. More so with the memories of their mother weeping inconsolably for days after she lost the love of her life, playing at the back of his head.

Erwin was probably too young for their mother’s grief to have an impression on him; especially since their mother particularly protected Erwin from ever seeing her in hysterics because of the guilt poor little Erwin was nursing. But Derek? Derek witnessed his mother at the lowest point of her life—sobbing alone in her marriage bed, her dead husband’s coat wrapped around her, her nose buried in their father’s pillow.

And their mother—like Erwin—was not a woman who would easily let herself go to emotions. So seeing her in that state was its own kind of trauma for Derek

Derek stood up, already getting misty eyed at the memories whirring in his head. He starts fussing over organizing and straightening all the books, journals, and papers scattered across the table. “The usual, Erwin. ‘Derek is off at another mission. He’ll visit as soon as he can.’ ” His voice was pert.

“And Adeline?”

Derek stopped. He faced Erwin, his mouth a thin line. His cobalt eyes serious and intense.

“Make sure Adeline gets my Wings.” The Scout’s finger absent-mindedly caressed the proud Wing of Freedom at his chest. “That’s all a man like me can give her.”

Wings are all a man like me can ever give an angel like her, Derek muses in his thoughts.

While Erwin doesn’t completely approve of Derek’s attachment to Adeline, without hesitation, he clamped his brother’s shoulder in a tight grip. As if saying, ‘You have my word, brother.’

Derek breathed out a small sigh of relief, also giving a firm pat at Erwin’s hand on his shoulder. Derek turned back to the books and papers he was aligning and tidying up earlier, telling Erwin about how he probably won’t be around for their father’s death anniversary because of his rigorous training in the upcoming weeks for the mission.

“…Although I’ll make sure to visit mom at Wall Rose before I leave, don’t worry—“

An envelope slips out of one of the journals Derek was straightening. Immediately, Erwin reaches out, almost lunging at Derek, “Don’t touch that–!”

But it was too late.

Derek had already pulled the letter out of reach. Already opened the still unsealed flap, and flicked open what is obviously a love letter. Derek wordlessly held a hand out, effectively keeping Erwin a distance away. Derek’s body was turned away from Erwin, as he read what his little brother wrote:

My Darling Marie,

How do you do it?

I would like to think that I am a strong man. I’m a soldier trained in combat. And Sina knows, I can kick a grown man to his knees. Perhaps even slay a whole Titan.

But you, my lovely, you weaken me so.

You soften my heart so much that, while most men my age dream of glory and fortune, I only dream of a dance with you.

To hold your delicate hand and kiss it, to hold you close to my chest so I could gaze into your eyes; eyes so bright, they put the very stars to shame!

So? How do you do it, sweet Marie?

What power do you wield over me that I can’t—nor want—to shake off?

Forever Yours,

Nile

Erwin watched in horror as his older brother’s face went from curious, to intrigued, to absolutely gleeful.

Slowly and comically, Derek lifted his head to look at is brother; A funny look on his face.

Erwin prayed to the Goddesses he wasn’t blushing.

Oh, but Erwin was blushing.

“Who’s Marie?”

Erwin snatches the letter away, not looking Derek in the eye.

“No one.”

“No one?”

Derek was still grinning cheekily though, as if he just learned a most salacious secret. Erwin sighed. “Nile’s courting her.”

Derek’s not buying it. “Yeah? Then why’s his love letters for her with you?”

“Because.” Erwin snapped, already itching to change the subject. “The bastard promised me Ragako in exchange for wooing her with love letters for him.”

Derek quirked a thick eyebrow, clearly seeing through his younger brother’s bullshit. Sometimes Derek forgets that Erwin was still a young man– still clammy over the thought of falling in love with a woman; over wanting a woman for more than what she can offer with her clothes off.

“No man is going to waste his time writing the kinds of words you wrote for a woman he isn’t interested in.”

Erwin had heard enough. He slips Marie’s letter back into one of his father’s leather-bound journals, and quipped back, “Just like how you entertain that woman’s affections as if you can’t die in the next week? As if she isn’t promised to another man? It’s selfish, Derek.”

And although it was never said, Erwin’s frigidity and the muscle jumping from his tightened jaw told Derek exactly what the younger Smith thought—the whole affair would compromise their goal. Their father’s goal.

Derek must remain focused, or else…

And the very thought of any man, even his own brother, gatekeeping his rarest of earthly joys away, infuriated Derek.

How dare he?

How dare anyone?

Not very many people towered over Erwin Smith, but Derek Smith was one of them. And at that very moment, the Scout is perfectly fine with reminding his foolish brother of the fact.

“I’m not about to deprive myself of love and happiness just because I’m a Scout, Erwin. I’m a man. Not a martyr. That woman? That woman keeps me alive. That woman keeps me fighting. Keeps me sane.”

The two men were like a pair of lions prowling each other.

Derek continued, still seething, “With that woman, I’m just Derek. Not Sergeant Smith, not even Derek Smith. Just Derek. Derek and Adeline.”

Much like a mirror image of his own passion and intensity, Erwin took a stand against the unwavering glint in his older brother’s eye. Erwin has seen that very expression on his own face. An expression which said that absolutely nothing could change his mind.

Still, Erwin gambled.

“What about hurting her? You can’t give this poor woman any assurance nor security, Derek! Or is that an occupational hazard too?”

“That’s life.”

~

Derek had just swung up on his steed, ready to gallop out of the Training Corps compound, and back to report in Scouting Legion HQ. Meanwhile, Erwin wordlessly pulled and tugged on Derek’s straps to ensure his brother’s saddle was secure.

It was then that Adeline rushed out from the servants’ steps and into the stables to give her lover a jug of water, as well as the bread and cheese she packed. The two men have been holed up in the Archives Office the entire afternoon, as evidenced by the orange streaks of the already setting sun. The trip back wasn’t very long, but it was just Adeline’s nature to ensure that Derek had more than enough food to fuel him along the way. ‘Besides,’ Adeline thinks, ‘A man that large must need as much food as he can.’

Next to Derek’s great steed, Adeline looked terribly miniscule. Like the afternoon winds could blow her away any moment. Still, after accepting her packed knapsack, Derek reached a large hand down to cup his beloved’s cheek, the purple of her eyes especially accentuated by the fading sun.

‘She really is a sight to behold,’ Derek thinks. He was quiet for a moment, just letting his thumb caress her soft cheek. Drinking her all in, memorizing every detail, as if he would never see her beauty again.

“Take care of yourself, mignonette,” Derek says tenderly.

Adeline smiled in amusement. “Says you.” She kisses the inside of Derek’s palm, and beams up at him, “Come back to me, my love.”

Derek winked. “Always.”

Derek straightened up and pulled on his horse’s reins to settle the beast, then looked down to his brother’s still morose face. He motions to the letter hidden in the journals held by Erwin, and says in goodbye,

“Allow yourself to be happy, brother.”

Then off Derek Smith rode. Dust, dirt, and gravel trailing his horse’s hooves.

The Wings of Freedom fluttering proudly against his back.

~

Erwin and Adeline took a moment to stand by and watch the Scout ride away.

That is, when Adeline’s soft voice broke the silence, “Love doesn’t make him any less of a soldier, Erwin.”

Erwin looked to the small blonde with the delicate curls beside him.

Adeline looked back, purple eyes firm and genuine. “Nor does it make him any less of a son.”

She paused. Doe-like eyes fluttering down for a moment.

“And it’s the same for you.”

It was then that Adeline was struck by how much Erwin resembled her lover. They had the same fire within the depths of their blue eyes. The same brilliant mind beneath their heads of blonde hair. The same imposing build and stature…

The same pride and dignity in their stance.

And yet, the two were so much more different.

Derek was full of tenderness, warmth and joie de vivre, while Erwin… seemed very far away. Like he could never look around him. Just straight ahead. Eyes fixed to the horizon.

But it was that fixation, Adeline knew, which would keep this man alive.

“I’m ending my engagement. I’m choosing your brother, Erwin.” The petite blonde swallowed back a lump in her throat. “No father, nor nobleman can change the course of true love, and—“

Adeline bit her lip. “He’s just so reckless!” she grits out in frustration.

“So please. Convince him to stay, Erwin. Here. With me.” The girl blinked back tears, as she gazed back to the minimizing form of her beloved. “I want to keep him alive. Keep him fighting.”

Keep him alive. Keep him fighting

‘That woman keeps me alive. That woman keeps me fighting.’

It was almost cute to Erwin how the two lovers just repeated each other’s thoughts and words, albeit unknowingly. And so Erwin thought it only fair to repeat to this girl– this woman– who would clearly give up anything for his brother, Derek’s very sentiments.

Erwin reached an arm to wrap around Adeline’s shoulder, and patted her saying, “You’re already keeping him alive and fighting, Adeline”

Eyes still gazing out, the glint of the setting afternoon sun against Derek’s fair head was the last of what Adeline glimpsed of her bold lover.

~

Business was thriving at the Territory that Friday night. Its usual evening assortment of clientele filling up the place with the stench of booze and cigarettes, with guffaws of laughter. All the more made merry by fiddlers the establishment hired to strike up a jig for the patrons. And so besides the usual hullaballoo of the place, drunk men were also prancing around now.

Marie meanwhile, was left breathless. The barmaid grinned merrily as Nile pulled her back up to his chest from their dip. Nile seemed to have the full intention of monopolizing Marie tonight, seeing as they have been dancing and jigging around the bar’s makeshift dancefloor—a cleared floor space, really—since Marie clocked out for her break. Nile promptly bought her a drink, and asked her (albeit drunkenly, seeing as he wouldn’t be able to do so otherwise) for a dance.

Marie was caught up in a fantasy—one where she was a duchess in a glittering ballroom in Mitras, spinning around in a silk dress in the arms of a prince, dancing like they were made of starlight. Like this dingy little bar in the middle of Wall Maria was holy ground.

Although, Marie would never dare admit just who exactly she envisioned to be her prince. Marie rolled her eyes at the thought, ‘she really should just enjoy the dance, and this funny man tossing her around.’

“I’m afraid my dance card’s full, soldier,” Marie teased flirtatiously. Her cheeks were already glowing red, eyes twinkling in mirth from the exertion.

Nile didn’t dare take his hands off Marie’s waist, and most certainly never let his eyes glance away from the ginger’s lovely visage. He grinned delightfully, and pulled the girl even closer, “That so? I reckon you can still squeeze me in for the last twenty minutes of your break, yeah?”

Nile was absolutely over the moon. When Marie started laughing– a tad bit tipsy herself—Nile didn’t even let her finish replying, he heard the lilt of a new dance starting, and immediately twirled the smiling girl towards him. Marie gave a high girlish squeal, and let the soldier sweep her away.

~

Perched by the bar, sat a man whose broad shoulders hunched beneath the influence of whiskey in his system. He took a drag of his cigarette, almost grunting out the smoke, as his blue eyes followed his best friend and the barmaid twirling around the dancefloor. Erwin’s thick eyebrows drew together, grimacing, ‘the bastard actually got her to dance.’

It was certainly rare, but tonight, Erwin is apprehensive. The letter seemed to burn a hole right through his jacket pocket, reminding Erwin of his brother’s final words to him.

Allow yourself to be happy, brother.

So Erwin continued to watch. Knowing full well that this newfound interest Marie had on Nile was thanks to his letters.

His words.

Also knowing full well that he could continue to write this lovely, shining girl in proxy for his friend or…

He could stop. He could stop, and perhaps… this lovely, shining girl could…

Allow yourself to be happy, brother.

Nile gave Marie another dramatic dip, one that had the ginger girl giggling. Nile almost looked silly with glee, as he brought the girl up. And in a moment of what must be drunken ecstasy, Nile kissed Marie’s hand.

Erwin threw back what was left of his whiskey at the sight.

‘Fuck it.’

~

Erwin took one last inhale before putting out his smoke at a nearby ashtray where Marie was already busy wiping down.

Marie felt the blonde man’s presence before she saw him. Could smell the sandalwood before Erwin leaned over into her space. Marie rolled her hazel eyes, although a tiny smile danced around her lips.

Marie refused to look back at this annoying man trying to distract her from work.

“Yeees?”

Erwin playfully presented Marie the letter in between his index and middle fingers, his blue eyes actively looking directly into Marie’s, trying to catch her full attention. Purposefully crowding her, wanting to drown her in all that is him.

“You seemed like you enjoyed your dance.”

Marie finally faced Erwin, a hand moving to rest at her slender waist. She tilted her chin up, trying her best to look as imposing as she can before this tree of man. But not before she registers—definitely not for the first time—just how infuriatingly handsome Erwin Smith is.

“Why? Did you want to join in?”

Marie felt her heart do a little leap and jig at the sight of Erwin’s perfectly cut face falling just that little bit.

Erwin snorted, “With Nile? No thank you, he’s all yours.”

Marie made a show of delicately plucking the letter from between Erwin’s fingertips. She pursed her lips as she read the scrawl at the back of the envelope: For my Marie.

She peeked back up at Erwin. “Hmmm. Seems to me you’re just trying to hide your two left feet.”

“Excuse me?” Erwin cocked an eyebrow, already smiling openly. Marie notes how straight his teeth are.

“I’m an excellent dancer, thank you very much.”

Marie abandons her washcloth, and went up on her tiptoes, getting into Erwin’s face. Something sly and mischievous played around her features.

Erwin could pick up on the alcohol in her breath when she whispered;

“Prove it.”

Glass bottles jingled in their shelves.

The man had brought his large hands down to rest at the liquor shelf behind Marie; effectively caging the girl in his arms.

Marie felt like a rabbit before a wolf. Cornered. Helpless. Frozen.

Felt her heart beating a rapid cadence. Felt her eyes darting between Erwin’s thin, chapped lips, to his hooded blue eyes—darker and deeper beneath the lowlight.

But above all, Marie felt herself wondering if this breathtaking creature would taste like whiskey and cigarettes—like a brooding phantom she could only ever glimpse in dark nights amongst candlelight.

Or perhaps he’d still taste like strawberries? Like sweetness and zest and freedom and hope.

Erwin gently tucked a ginger curl behind Marie’s ear. He caressed her freckled cheek.

Marie was already dizzy from the smell of nicotine off his fingers… or was it something else that was making her dizzy?

Rough pads of fingers pressed against the plumpness of Marie’s lips.

“Then…”

The woman took a deep inhale.

“…Can I have this dance.”

It wasn’t a question. Not when he sounded like that. Like, sin.

In a panic, Marie squeezed her eyes shut; “You’re drunk.”

Erwin blinked. And like a magic spell broken, Erwin releases his hold on the liquor shelf.

Marie’s eyes shot open, as she looked up at a chuckling Erwin. He was already smoothing back the few strands of golden hair that fell onto his eyes.

“I guess I am.”

‘Huh.’ Marie thinks, ‘This odd, odd man. He’s got a knack for immediately switching emotions, alright.’

Erwin must have noticed Marie’s strange look, and jabbed light-heartedly, “You better start working again before Nile notices you ‘aren’t busy’ anymore.”

Nile! Oh god, Marie almost forgot about him! He could’ve seen… whatever that was between her and Erwin.

Marie hastily went back to her washcloth, and started wiping down more glasses. She looked around for any sign of Nile, and found him still drunkenly gloating to Mike about his romp with her.

Although from the looks of it, the man is about a tankard away from completely passing out.

Erwin was already casually lighting another cigarette when,

“Are you a pigeon, Erwin?”

Erwin nearly fucking burned himself from his lighter. He spluttered at the bizarre question.

“Err…no?”

“Then why do you have to keep passing Nile’s letters to me? He’s right there!”

The two looked on to watch Nile finally succumb to sleep. Mike awkwardly patted his already passed-out friend.

Erwin snickered, “I’m afraid that’s why my oaf of a friend calls me his ‘wingman’.”

“Ha!” Marie chuckled out.

~

Marie read her letter immediately after the last of the bar patrons left—which happened to be Erwin. He insisted on keeping her company to ‘keep the wolves away.’ As if he hadn’t just tried cornering her a half hour ago. It was nice though, the conversation was lovely while she was closing up.

And so, when she lay awake in her bed that night, smiling to herself, fingertips on her lips. She wasn’t thinking of Nile when the words of the letter echoed in her head.

A/N:I know. Derek’s an absolute d r e a m b o a t, and I love him too.

Mignonette,’ from my understanding is “delicate” or “darling” in French. I heard that was Prince William’s pet name for Princess Charlotte, and I thought it was adorable.

On Erwin’s family, a discord friend of mine actually gave me the idea that Erwin possibly got his leadership skills and his you-think-this-is-your-idea-but-it-was-all-part-of-erwin’s-fail-safe-plan charm, from his mother. Besides, who doesn’t love a powerful working mom? And the rest went from there! It also made sense to me that a man as curious and as daring as Erwin’s dad would also be a child at heart.

As usual, any questions and feedback are very much welcome!

I also have an AO3!

[justformyself2]

P.S I Love You (p3)

Hi guys, how are you doing? I hope the quarentine life is treating you well, let’s be brave, save lifes and read some fanfics while we at it, right? Welcome to part three. I hope you all enjoy ♥

The Rom-Com Writing Challenge is brought to you by my dear creative friend @lullabieswrappedinlies​. As the title says, this is inspired by - the great at making me cry hard movie- ‘P.S. I Love You.’ if you haven’t seen it, go see it before you read this

BEFORE YOU JUMP IN BE ADVISED:

.This series contains spoilers from the movie P.S. I LOVE YOU.

. Pairing: Reader x John Krasinski.

. (Y/M/N) stands for ‘your mother’s name’

. Parts in italic means memories.

.It contains strong language.

.It contains angst and grieve.

. IF you want you can read this along with the amazing soundtrack from the movie CLICK HERE

NEW HERE? CLICK FOR PART TWO

.gif found by google search.

 JOHN'S POV.

Gerry pats my back as if he just told me I had to work an extra shift, but he is not (Y/M/N), and I can't react casually.

"John?"

He calls, devoid of ceremonies as if we already had this routine, and makes an invitation move for me to join him on the varnished red table, and I do, for the main reason of making him rewind the words.

I walk the walk and take a chair in front of him.

"Can you please repeat what you said?"

I go back to the kitchen, leaving her with the TV for a while. She asked for water, and somehow I can't find cups and can't stop walking in circles around this suffocating kitchen, murmuring the phrase 'Gerry was wrong, he was wrong.' under my breath like a lunatic.

"Are you okay?" 

I turn around, and she is leaning against the wall.

"Yeah, yes, yes."

I try to breathe between the repetitions, feeling like I've lost some of the control over myself, and I wasn't myself with her walking around this apartment, haunting me as Gerry did, what caused the expected concerned look on her face for a moment.

"Okay, triple confirmation."

I could feel the hotness in my hands, and with that, the unrequested wetness starting to form.

"I don't function very well in the heat."

She giggles and stupid weather talk saves me for now.

"I will get you the water. I just need to find the cups." I turn around spotting, the earlier invisible cups on the dish rack above the sink. "Right there."

I go to them, with the feeling of stupidity over my shoulders.

"John, can I ask you something?"

                                                                            (Y/N) POV.

He turns the cups up, placing them on the counter slowly, and nods at you before opening the small beige fridge under the dark wooden cabinets. He inclines the torso and grabs a glass jar that seemed too recently filled and not cold enough.

"You and Gerry got pretty close when he was...You know." You breathe in and continue. "Do you know anything about these letters?"

John is pouring the water in the cups, and besides that, he doesn't move a muscle.

"No, I really don't."

Putting the water jar back into the fridge, he then takes a bag of ice out. It makes a cracking sound against the sink, he rips the bag with the help of a knife, looking impatient.

"It is okay if you do. It is not Mark, that's for sure."

You laugh, but he is still quiet while putting the ice cubes on both cups. 

The most unusual feeling hits your core, hard, there was no way to miss it, and it is easily discernible.

John hands you the cup with a condescending smile. Your fingers touch slightly; the cold glass refreshes your palm.

"You know. I love Gerry. I'll always will. He was romantic, charming, but awful at poetry. I mean, he had this band back in Ireland, but his friend, Shawn, was to one who wrote all the songs. Writing about his feelings wasn't his thing, I have all the birthday and anniversaries cards to prove it."

You laugh to yourself and watch John start to gulp the water aggressively as you continue the thought.

"I know he told not to get stressed about how the letters were coming, but yesterday I was reading the letters before bed. I realized only some of them have PS: I love you on it, and only some of them have words I know Gerry wouldn't use, ever."

He finishes the liquid in less than a minute, using the back of his hand to wipe his lips while avoiding eye contact, which only made you annoyed.

"John." You called, his eyes shift for a second towards you, blinking twice.

"You can call me crazy, but did you wrote some of the letters?"

                                       JOHN’S POV.

"Listen. I know this is full of good intentions, but someday the letters will stop coming, and when they do, what will she do?"

Gerry reclines on the seat, and for a moment, I let myself get fooled by the idea of putting his mind on the right track.

"I know, but I'm only doing this because I have a reason to take a leap of faith here."

I sigh. My hands were unquiet. I untangle my hair back, feeling an enormous amount of overwhelming frustration.

"And what is that reason?"

"You."

Complete quietness resides between us, although I wanted to say some words back at him, mimicking the same lack of ceremony with which he approaches everything.

"Tell me you're joking."

Gerry smiles, but not at me.

"Good afternoon, guys. What can I get you?"

A John C. Reilly look-alike appears with a notepad on my right.

"Two beers, please." Is Gerry's order.

"I'm not drinking in the middle of the day, dude." I protest, and his eyes roll back.

"I'll have them. If there is a God, he knows how much I need it." 

"So, only two beers?" John C. Reilly asks. Gerry's eyes brighten up and squint towards him.

" You look like someone." The waiter heavy sighs and I breathe out, avoiding eye contact with both of them. It is when I noticed through the large windows heavy dark clouds spreading in the sky.

"I will get your order now."

He rushes out, and Gerry laughs, pointing his thumb at the poor man, who was probably disgracing both of us right now.

"I swear to god, can't get his name straight right now." He starts to snap his fingers towards me, like asking for a plus one on his guessing game, and for a moment, I envy how fast he could get adrift from things, that are just not only things but people, (y/n).

"Gerry, can we talk? Actually, talk about this, not get drunk, not get distracted. I know this is hard-."

"You don't, you really don't, unless you are on this seat; You just want to be nice about it, and that is okay. You are the good guy, and you do good things, but sorry if I need a couple of beers to get forward with it. This is not me taking out on the fact that I'm dying. I just need to drink."

He inclines over the table, spreading his hands under his chest. For some odd reason, my mind traces back to the day when (Y/N) appeared at the bar, hyperventilating, throwing the umbrella on the ground, with desperation written all over her face. 

It was raining heavily that day, and the news couldn't stop reporting about the flood on the subways stations. I turned the TV off immediately when she burst through the door, falling into (Y/M/N) arms like a child and sobbed aggressively while we tried to figure out what to do. That was the day I knew about Gerry's fate.

"Look. I know what I'm doing sounds in a way, bad for her, but what I'm counting on you to be there because I know-.'' He stops, closing his eyes for a second, suddenly I feel heavy, and still can't anticipate what could be coming from him.

"I know you and her, had a thing before we meet-."

"Oh no, no, no, no-." I cut him straight, wanting to leave, even with the dark clouds threatening to get me on the way, above.

"Shut up, okay, be a grown-up about it and let me finish."

He breaths out.

"I need your help with the letters because you are good at writing and being a poet or whatever you did in college. (Y/N) loves this stuff, and I want the letters to be special, and I want you to be involved in the process, help her to recover. When I'm gone, she is going to need... good people around her, who... loves her."

"Gerry, please."

He ignores me.

"It is going to be her choice in the end, okay? but I only trust you because if you love her enough to see her every day with me and not interfere, then you love her enough to do this. I know I'm twisting the knife, I'm sorry, but she will need you. Of course, she has her mom, who I don't know if it is happy or sad that I'm going to die, and her friends, who will eventually move on, while she is going to feel left behind, she will need someone new, but also someone who knows her, who was always there."

My stomach tosses and turns, and I don't want to trust my senses.

"I thought a long time about this. I can't be selfish; I literally don't have the time. I want (Y/N) to be happy; just see this as a blessing because I rather be you than anyone else, and I have a motive, believe me. Just promise me you will take care of her. Come on! are you denying a dying man his last wish?"

[write-havoc]

Of Sons and Daughters Ch. 9

Summary: Arthur is tasked by Dutch to watch over a young woman who had just lost the last member of her family she had left. That young woman just so happens to be the daughter that Dutch told no one else about.

This is a non canon AU with no major spoilers

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, PG 13 smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist in my bio

Arthur and Emmeline ride the whole rest of the day, only stopping a handful of times to relieve themselves and get a bite to eat. They are mostly silent the whole way, except for when Emmeline points out that they’ve double backed for the second time.

“Just in case someone’s following us,” Arthur explains.

Arthur’s meandering trail makes the ride all the longer. It isn’t until well after the sun sets that they finally start to ride into a little town.

“Stay close to me,” Arthur comments back to Emmeline. “The people here ain’t exactly trustworthy.”

She looks around at the dilapidated buildings, half sunk boats docked beside ruined docks, and drunks stumbling around the street openly. “What is this place?”

“Van Horne,” Arthur answers. “There’s a hotel just down the road. We’re gonna get a room and stay a couple days.”

“Here?”

“Law don’t come around here much, so it’s the best place for us to lay low.”

After they hitch their horses and pay for the room, Arthur leads Emmeline upstairs. Once they’re inside their room, Emmeline looks around with an uncertain look on her face. The room is well worn, the wood on the walls and floors are cracked and gray and the sparse furniture looks like it may break at any second. “We’re staying here ?” she asks again.

He lets out a sigh. “I know, Emma. This ain’t exactly the best accommodations, but it’s better than wherever them Pinkertons woulda took us to.” He brushes off the bed then pushes his hand into the mattress to test it. “Ain’t bad. Go ahead and take the bed. Get some rest. I’ll stay up and keep watch.” He turns his back to her to turn down the thin blanket, hoping she’ll take his suggestion.

“Arthur.”

He doesn’t turn back. “What?”

“Was all that true?”

He stops what he’s doing and turns to face her. “You need some rest.” He gestures to the bed, still trying to delay this conversation.

“You promised you’d tell me,” she pleads quietly.

He scratches at the back of his neck before he starts. “I did, didn’t I?” He sits down on the edge of the bed and looks up to her. “It’s true,” he admits as he takes off his hat and sets it on the nightstand.

Emmeline moves to sit down next to him and takes a moment for that to sink in. “Dutch? The man that took you in? He’s my father?”

“Yes,” Arthur answers simply.

“So my mother...” she gets choked up, “stepped out on my father-“ she stops herself, “ Joseph ,” she corrects.

“No.” Arthur lets out a breath. “I weren’t there for all this, but Dutch told me what happened all them years ago. He...” he thinks of how to say it, “ visited your mama every few months after they met. One time when he saw her, she was pregnant with you. I guess Joseph stepped up before Dutch even knew she was with child. Joseph agreed to marry your mother and raise you as his own. All three ‘a them agreed that would be best, that you never know Dutch was your real father. He agreed to stay away.”

She blinks a few times trying to come to terms with all of this. “So they lied to me. My whole life.”

He lets out a sigh. “You gotta understand, it was for your own good. They didn’t want you around the outlaw life. Your mama was so scared of you getting hurt because of the way Dutch lives. But when she knew she was gonna pass, I guess she was more afraid of you being alone in the end, that you wouldn’t be able to take care of yourself. That’s why she wrote Dutch and asked him to look after you.”

“But you looked after me.”

“Dutch... He still didn’t want you to get too close to us. That’s why he sent me. And that’s why he didn’t want me to tell you about him.”

“Oh.” Emmeline isn’t quite sure how to take that.

“But he, uh,” Arthur continues hesitantly, “he knows that we... He read your letter. And he weren’t too happy with me about... what happened. He forbade me from seein’ you again.”

“What?” she bites back. “Is that why you never came back to me?”

“Well...” He scratches the back of his neck in nervousness as he casts his gaze down. “I agreed with him,” he admits. “I didn’t mean to...” he searches for the right word, “have those kinda feelings for you. And then it happened and I was scared cuz...” He lets out a breath. “Cuz I don’t know if I can be the kinda man you deserve. So I thought it would be best if I just left. I thought you’d just forget about me and go on with your life.” When he finally looks up to her, he’s surprised to see her slightly angry expression.

“So I don’t get a say?”

“Well-“

She doesn’t give him the chance to finish that thought. “So you and a man I’ve never met know what’s best for me better than I do?” she asks, anger leaching more into her voice. “You have no idea how lonely I was after you left. I thought I did something wrong. I thought you hated me,” she explains.

Arthur casts his head down, understanding why she’s feeling the way she is. Not to mention that Hosea had expressly told him that it would be a mistake to just run away without talking it over with her first. It turns out, he was right.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he says genuinely. “I’m a fool.” He looks over to her with a serious expression. “But the way I live is dangerous. I know I shoulda told you all this sooner when we got close, but I really just wanted you safe. And now...” His eyes trail over her stomach automatically without him thinking about it.

She follows his gaze and sets her hand on her still flat belly. “Are you angry with me?”

His eyes flick up to hers. “Angry? For what?”

“For falling pregnant?”

“Of course not, Emma. I ain’t mad atcha. It’s just as much my doing as it it yours. More so, probably.”

“So you’re happy about it?”

He pauses, unsure of what to say. “I don’t know,” he finally answers truthfully. “Ain’t thought about children in years.” He looks away. “I was engaged once, when I was younger. I thought we’d have kids one day. Looked forward to it, actually. But she broke it off in the end.” He lets out a sigh. “I know she loved me. Parts of me, anyways. But it was those parts of me she didn’t love that kept her from marrying me. After that, I knew that no woman would love me. Not all of me.” He lets out a heavy breath. “No woman should love me, the way I am. The things I’ve done...” he trails off.

“That’s not true,” Emmeline replies quietly. “Everyone can be loved.”

“I ain’t so sure. Some people just ain’t meant to have good things happen to them.”

It breaks her heart to see just how deep seeded Arthur’s hatred for himself is. It’s pretty evident that she’s not going to change his mind about himself overnight, but she’s willing to take the time to try. That is, if he wants her in his life in the future.

“What do you want to do?” she finally asks.

He just gives her a puzzled look.

“I-I can go back home, call on one of those midwives and go it alone-“

“No.” He cuts her off automatically. “I ain’t gonna make you do this by yourself.” He places his hand on hers, hoping that she’s okay with the contact. “I’m gonna be there for you. No matter what.”

Relief washes over her. The thought of having a child with no support had been weighing heavily on her since she left the doctor’s office. She hadn’t known what Arthur’s true feelings would be, so she thought it quite possible that he would want to cut her off completely. Thankfully, that’s not the case.

“Will you live with me back home?” she asks naively.

“We can’t go back there, Emma. Yet, anyway. Those Pinkertons know who you are, so you ain’t safe. We’re gonna stay here for a few days then head to my camp and tell Dutch about all this. Then... we’ll see what we can do.”

“Oh. Okay.” She feels a sense of apprehension at the thought of meeting the man that she’s only just found out is her father. She’s heard some things about him from Arthur, but she’s still going to be meeting a complete stranger.

“We should keep it between us about... what the doctor said, though,” he suggests. “Just... for now.”

She nods. “Yeah. I suppose that’s what we should do.”

He pauses before he asks, “Are you happy?”

“I...” she starts. “I always wanted children, but I never thought seriously about it since I never had any suitors or nothing. But I guess I am getting older...”

He lets out a little chuckle. “You ain’t old.”

“My mom was only twenty when she had me, so I’m a year older than she was.” She tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “I’m a little afraid, I guess. But... I don’t regret it,” she replies genuinely. “Do you regret it?” she asks softly, afraid of the answer.

He thinks a moment. “Nah,” he finally says. “I don’t regret this happenin’. But I guess I’m afraid, too.” He can feel his eyes start to well up a little as he finally allows the emotions to come up to the surface. “There’s a kid back at camp, just four years old, born into the gang. Good kid. We all love him, take care of him the best we can... but we all know that ain’t no way for a kid to live. Always on the road, away from other kids. I think he’s lonely.” He looks away to shake his head. “I’d never wanna raise a kid like that. But I don’t know how to live any other life than the one I am. How could I leave everyone I’ve ever known? And I ain’t never had an honest job in my life. How am I gonna provide for you and a little one if I don’t steal or grift?”

She gently swipes her fingers under his cheek, ridding it of a tear that had fallen. “We will figure it out. And I have all the faith in the world that you are capable enough to use your talents to make money in an honest way.”

Her genuine words ease some of the fears inside him. He places his hand on her face and gently brings her forward to kiss her cheek. “I did miss you,” he whispers without pulling back.

Her lips curl into a soft smile. “I missed you, too.”

He gently caresses her cheek with his thumb as he leans back to look at her. “You should get some sleep.” He stands from the bed then kneels down in front of her to take off her shoes.

With her shoes tossed aside, she pulls her legs up under the blanket. “What about you?”

“I’m gonna stay up for a bit.” He tucks her in and kisses her forehead. “Goodnight, Emma.” He blows out the candles lighting the room and moves to sit on the floor beside Emmeline with his back pressed up against the bed frame facing the door. Once her breathing evens out, signaling that she’s asleep, he unholsters his pistol and sets it in his lap, ready in case someone comes to the door.

They don’t leave the room the next day (except for Arthur to check on the horses, which he does as quickly as possible). Fortunately, Arthur has enough provisions in his satchel for the both of them not to go hungry, though Emmeline finds that the salted meat turns her stomach. The canned fruit she’s luckily able to eat just fine. After the sun goes down, Arthur gets into position on the floor with Emmeline in the bed just like the night before. She finds that her concern for Arthur is causing her to have trouble getting to sleep.

After a few minutes, she speaks up. “You need to sleep, Arthur.”

“I’m fine,” he replies, his gravely voice betraying him and conveying just how tired he is.

“If we’re gonna leave in the morning, you need your sleep. You need to rest.”

“I’m alright,” he insists, but Emmeline isn’t buying it.

She hops out of the bed and goes over to the dresser on the front wall. When she starts to push it towards the door, Arthur jumps up and walks over to her.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.” He pulls her back gently so she’ll stop. “What are you doing?”

“I know you’re worried about someone coming in, but you need to sleep. Instead of you watching the door all night, we can barricade it so you can actually rest.”

He lets out a sigh, knowing that she’s right. He certainly is tired and the ride to the camp outside of Rhodes isn’t a short one from here.

Letting out a huff, he concedes. “Alright.” He pushes the dresser the rest of the way to block the door then moves to lay on the floor.

“Take the bed,” Emmeline suggests.

“No. You sleep on the bed. I’m fine on the floor.”

“We can share,” she provides easily.

He looks up at her. “You sure? You gonna be comfortable with me in the bed, too? It ain’t very big.”

“That bed’s not comfortable as it is,” she answers with a laugh. “You might make it a little better.”

He chuckles back. “Alright then. If that’s what you want.” He didn’t want to impose on her by thinking that she’d be okay sharing a bed with him. Even though they have shared a bed before, he would never want to assume she’d want to without her specifically telling him she did. As far as he thinks, most women wouldn’t want to be so close to him, which is, of course, not true.

As they finally lay down together, Emmeline cuddles right up to Arthur immediately, laying her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arm around his chest. The ease with which she relaxes next to him has it clicking in his head that she truly does care for him. As he allows that to sink in, he relaxes as well. He wraps his own arm around her back, putting his hand in her waist and savoring the feeling of her close to him.

“You comfortable?” he asks just to make sure.

“Yeah,” she answers easily and cuddles into him more, reveling in the comfort he provides her.

Before the sun even fully rises the next day, they’re on the road. Arthur makes sure to use the less travelled trails in case Milton or any other Pinkertons are still around looking for them. When they finally ride up to the camp at Clemens Point, it’s late afternoon.

“Who’s there?” Charles, on guard duty,  calls out from the trees at the edge of camp as soon as he hears the approaching horses.

“It’s Arthur,” he answers. “And Emma.” He slows to a stop as Charles walks out to greet him. “Will you watch over her for a minute?” Arthur asks, gesturing back to Emmeline.

She starts to dismount as soon as Miss Sparrow is stopped, the long rides both from today and before taking a toll on her legs and back.

“Yeah. Everything okay?” Charles asks Arthur as he helps Emmeline down automatically.

Arthur completely ignores the question. “Micah here?”

“He left this morning. Hasn’t been back.”

That’s good news to Arthur.

“Just stay out here with her,” he commands to Charles with a meaningful look.

Charles just gives him a nod in reply.

Arthur continues to follow the trail through the trees until he gets to the clearing of the camp. He hitches Sparrow at the closest hitch and feeds her a carrot before he moves from the spot. As he walks further into camp, he sees Dutch and Hosea talking with each other just outside of Dutch’s tent.

“Arthur!” Dutch calls out jovially once he sees his approach. “I was about ready to send Charles to see after you.”

“We three need to talk,” Arthur says to the two men, only pausing his motion slightly before walking out toward the lake shore. He makes sure to look around camp, noting who is around and more importantly, who isn’t.

“What’s this about?” Hosea asks as he follows the younger man, Dutch falling into step, too, behind him.

Arthur doesn’t say another word until they get far enough away from camp that he’s sure no one else can hear. “I talked with the Pinkertons,” he blurts out as he turns back to the older men.

Dutch gives him a confused look. “What do you mean you talked with them?”

“Agents Milton and Ross. They was outside Emmeline’s waiting for her,” he answers.

Dutch whips his head to Hosea, then back to glare at Arthur at the mention of his secret daughter.

Hosea lets out a huff. “I’ve known about her for years, Dutch. You really think I wouldn’t have figured out where you was headed off to all those times when you left money for her and the red haired farm girl?”

“You knew all these years? Why didn’t you say anything?” Dutch asks.

“I was waiting for you come clean,” Hosea asks.

“That don’t matter now.” Arthur gets them back to the matter at hand. “They knew about Emmeline, Dutch. They knew she was your daughter.”

Dutch’s eyes go wide with worry as that sinks in. “Where is she?”

“Outside. With Charles.”

Dutch narrows his eyes on Arthur. “What were you doing at Emmeline’s?”

Hosea jumps in before Arthur can answer. “Start at the beginning, son.”

Arthur lets out a sigh. “I ran into Emma in Valentine and she got upset,” he starts, then skips the part at the doctor’s office. “I escorted her home and when we rode up, two Pinkertons were there waiting for her. They was gonna take her to get you to go after her so they could arrest you.”

Dutch scratches at his chin. “How did they know about her?”

“They didn’t say,” Arthur says. “But I think it’s obvious.”

“What’s that?” Hosea asks.

“Someone here had to’ve overheard us talkin’ about her.” Arthur holds his arms out then drops them. “And we all know of someone that’s always eavesdropping on what he ain’t supposed to.”

“Micah,” Hosea provides easily.

“We don’t know we even got a mole here,” Dutch says, unwilling to accept what Arthur is saying. “I know you’ve never liked Micah, but we can’t go accusing him of something this serious.”

Arthur can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Why can’t you see it, Dutch? The way he treats us all. All the shit that’s happened since he’s been here. The ferry job-“

Dutch doesn’t let him finish. “You weren’t there!” he booms. “You don’t know what happened!”

“I know that all our money was safe until you asked me to go get it!” Arthur bites back. “Then suddenly two dumbasses are smart enough to find it. Almost like someone knew where it was and told them to go get it before I could!”

Hosea steps between the two men before it gets any more heated. “Alright now.” He holds his hands up to them. “We’ll keep our eyes on Micah. If he’s innocent, no harm no foul. If he’s a rat, we’ll put him down accordingly.”

Arthur lets out a heavy breath. “I don’t trust him.”

Hosea gives him a pointed look. “We can’t go executing him unless we’re sure .”

Arthur picks up on what he’s implying. The only way to convince Dutch is to catch Micah red handed.

“Hosea is right,” Dutch comments, completely missing Hosea’s subtext. “Micah’s one of us until he isn’t.” He gives Arthur a pointed look. “And if he is informing on us, why haven’t the Pinkertons come here yet?” he adds, not believing the man could be that disloyal. “Surely they’d know we’re here if they’ve been talking with him.”

Arthur just stares at Dutch for a moment. “Well the Pinkertons are onto us, regardless. As soon as they saw me, they asked me to get you out in the open. They said they’d spare everyone else if I did. I think they’re just tryin’ to make it easy on themselves.”

“What’d you tell them?” Dutch asks.

“That I haven’t seen you in months.”

Dutch steps forward to pat Arthur’s shoulder. “Good, good.” He takes his hand back to smooth his fingers over his mustache. “Emmeline... she knows then?”

Arthur nods. “She knows everything. Who we are. Who you are.”

Dutch nods and flicks his eyes to Hosea for a moment before putting them back on Arthur. “Guess it’s time we meet. Bring her out here.”

Arthur walks out through the camp and to the trees to fetch Emmeline. As he walks her back through their living space, everyone’s eyes are on the newcomer following behind Arthur curious as to who she is and why she’s here. No one says anything, though.

Once Arthur leads Emmeline to the water’s edge where Dutch and Hosea are standing, she recognizes the dark haired man.

“I saw you once. In Valentine,” she mentions to Dutch.

He walks over to her with a soft smile on his face and places his hand on her cheek. “I’m not surprised you’re a clever girl.” He lets out a sigh as he looks her over more closely. “You look so much like your mother. I cared deeply for her. She was a good woman.”

“She was,” Emmeline responds sadly at her memory. “Arthur told me about you. That you’re my father. And that my parents lied to me about it.”

Dutch lets out a sigh. “I expect that was quite a shock to you. But know that it was all for your own good.”

“Like forbidding Arthur to see me,” she bites back quickly.

Hosea can’t hold back his laugh.“This girl is sharp. I like her already.”

Dutch lets out a strained chuckle. “Yes. That was for your own good, too. I love Arthur like a son, but I didn’t want you involved in our way of life. I knew if the two of you continued to see each other, it would be impossible to keep you separate from us.”

“I may not be worldly, Mr. Van Der Linde,” she replies, “but I can make my own decisions about who I want to be with. And I don’t appreciate being lied to.”

Dutch flicks his eyes to Arthur, but the younger man averts his gaze. “I am sorry Emmeline. I just wanted to keep you safe.” Dutch takes a step forward and slowly wraps his arms around her in a somewhat awkward hug. “I am so glad you’re here, though.” After he pulls back, he leaves a kiss on the top of her head. “You can never know how much I’ve wished to actually meet you.”

As Dutch moves away from her, Hosea steps forward with his hand outstretched. “I’m Hosea. I hope Arthur has spoken well of me.”

Emmeline gives him a warm smile as she shakes his hand. “He’s told me that the two of you took him off the streets and raised him as your own.”

“That is true,” Hosea confirms.

Dutch jumps back in. “For now, I want to keep your parentage quiet, alright?” he says to her.

She nods. “Okay.” Now she has two secrets to keep from everyone. She hopes she can pull it off.

“It’ll cut down on all the questions,” Dutch adds. “And it might lead us to how exactly the Pinkertons knew about you. That is, if we find someone that knows when they shouldn’t know.”

Arthur doesn’t say anything, though he’s still sure Micah is the rat.

Dutch walks over to Arthur and lays his hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to keep her safe, you hear?” he commands in a way that leaves no questions to be asked. “She stays with you at all times.”

“I was gonna suggest the same thing,” Arthur comments, already on board with that. There is no way he’ll et anything happen to Emmeline. Especially now.

“We introduce her as Arthur’s woman,” Dutch says to everyone. “We’ll try to stick with the truth as much as we can. We say her mother knew Hosea and I years ago and wrote me to help her out after she died. We sent Arthur to see her and the two got sweet on each other. He decided to bring her here. We don’t mention she’s my kin. We don’t mention the Pinkertons know that.” He looks to Arthur again. “Alright?”

“Yeah,” Arthur agrees.

“Yes,” Hosea says, too and Emmeline nods.

“Good.” Dutch stands up straight and squares his shoulders as he straightens his jacket. “Lets go tell the gang we have a new member.” He puts on his most charming smile and starts to head back into camp. “Everyone! Gather around. We have some news!”

[reciprocityfic]

a slight return home, chapter 3

Title: A Slight Return Home Fandom: The Walking Dead Pairing: Rick x Michonne Rating: T Summary: Rick’s death shakes Michonne’s world to its core. With her daughter and her remaining family, she tries to navigate her changed life, and all the struggles and surprises that come with it.  Canon-compliant, for now.  Spoilers up to 9x06.

Author’s Note: Hi! Long time, no see. Sorry it's taken me weeks and weeks to update. But I hope you enjoy this chapter I finally have for you.

This chapter covers a large span of time, just an FYI.  And while writing, I listened to the song Holding a Heart by Toby Lightman, which is where the title comes from.

I almost just ended the whole story here, to be honest. But I do have more of this to tell, so lucky for you guys (or not lucky, depending how you feel about it, lmao) there are a handful of chapters left. I hope to have the next ones out much sooner than I had this one out!

On a side note, I just made a fandom Twitter account a few days ago. Follow me (@lizjenningss) if you want to!  All I do is cry over Richonne.

Thank you for reading, and hope to see you soon!

xoxo, Rebekah

read chapter one on tumblr, archive of our own or ff.net read chapter two on tumblr, archive of our own or ff.net read chapter three on archive of our own or ff.net

i’m holding a heart here in my hand

"Hey."

It's raining today. But the canopy of tree leaves above her reduces the precipitation to a modest, misting drizzle. It doesn't bother her.

"I'm here. I guess you already knew that, though. You're here, too. I...I know you are."

She takes a shaky breath, digs her fingers into the damp earth below her.

"I'm sorry I haven't been here since I showed you the picture. I was trying - I, I thought that I had to...move on, or something. Not forget you. I'll never do that. I never want to do that. But I guess I thought that I needed - that I had to...I…"

She laughs, once, and drops her head to her chest.

"I don't really know what I thought."

A silence captures her tongue. As if she's waiting for him to answer her. For him to make sense of the jumbled mess in her head. To help her, as he always did.

The rain pit-patters on the leaves above, the river flows in front of her, and she waits.

But no help comes.

"I missed you. I miss you, always. Constantly. I keep thinking that one day I'm going to wake up, and it's not going to hurt as much. That it'll alleviate itself, even just the tiniest bit. It doesn't, though. It's just as bad as the first day. It's like I'm watching that damn explosion on loop."

She tilts her head to the side, and lets out a quick breath.

"You know what, though? I don't mind it. And I don't want it to go away. I know it feels like I can't breathe, sometimes, but it's proof. Proof that you were real, and you were here. Proof that I love you. And if pain is what I get to have, in place of you, then so be it. I'd rather have something left of you, than nothing."

A roll of thunder rings out. She looks at her horse over her shoulder, the animal shifting back and forth restlessly. It's going to storm. She needs to head back soon.

She turns back around, and reaches into her pack.

"I brought you something."

She holds the little black-and-white photo in front of her. She can't help the smile that begins to turn up her lips.

"Our little shadow isn't just a shadow anymore."

She traces the shape of the baby over the shiny, smooth paper.

"They don't look quite human yet. More like a little alien. Just as beautiful as ever, of course."

She stares at the photo a moment longer, before getting up and walking to the base of the tree where she left the last ultrasound picture. There, she finds it, dirty and weathered. She knows no one has touched it since she placed it there.

It doesn't matter. She doesn't care. It's his, and this new one is, too. She printed them for him, brought them to him, and they're his.

So she places it down over the old photograph, and anchors it down with a stone.

Another peal of thunder sounds. She hears her horse whinny loudly.

She walks back towards the river, and stops where she'd been crouching a moment ago.

"I have to go now, but I'll be back sooner this time. I promise."

She closes her eyes, and wraps her arms around herself.

"Goodbye, Rick."

She stays in place for another minute, then secures her pack and katana around her, and goes to leave. She pets her horse's nose in slow strokes to soothe her, and then mounts the animal. Before she prompts the horse to move, she turns her head back towards the river, and the clearing.

"I love you. I love you so much."

***

"There's a baby in there."

She feels a tiny finger pressing into her abdomen, and looks away from where she's chopping up apples to find Judith pointing at her belly, her eyes full of a mix that's equal-parts wonder and confusion. The little girl's fascination with her ever-growing stomach has been endlessly amusing, and Michonne smiles gently at her, nodding her head in affirmation.

"Yes, there is a baby in there."

"Will Baby come out soon?"

"Let's hope not."

"Why?" Judith asks, a whining impatience clear in her voice. Ever since the pregnancy, and what it would mean for their tiny family, had been explained to her, Judith had made it very clear that she wanted to meet her new brother or sister now, and being made to wait all those weeks and months was an absolutely preposterous concept.

"Because," Michonne begins, for an innumerable time, "Baby's not done growing yet. They need to stay in there and get big and healthy before they come out to see us."

Judith humphs in disappointment, her little hands curling into fists. She sighs heavily - with a drama that only a four-year-old can properly convey - and climbs up on one of the stools by the kitchen island. For a few minutes, the only sound is Michonne's knife hitting the cutting board over and over as she continues cutting up fruit, Judith watching and stealing a slice of apple every so often.

"Momma?" she asks finally.

"Yes, little bird?"

"Will Baby have a daddy?"

Her hand holding the knife slips as the question hits her. She cuts her finger, but she hardly notices as she falls into some sort of emotionless stupor brought on by the little girl's inquiry, the feelings it stirs inside her mingling together and overloading her heart until it seems to her that she's off alone somewhere, wrapped up in a thick, gray, lonely fog.

"Momma, you're bleedin'."

Judith's next words startle her from her trance, and she jumps infinitesimally before looking down and finding a sizeable spot of blood marring the light-brown wood of the cutting board. She mumbles a quiet shit under her breath before jogging over to the sink and grabbing a towel as she turns on the water and rinses her finger.

An irrational part of her wants to be mad at Judith for asking such a question. For anyone even thinking that, somehow, their new addition would be fatherless, that she would allow her child to grow up without the knowledge and awareness of the incomparable, amazing man who helped make them, who wanted them and dreamed them up in his head and loved the mere possibility of them more than words can say. That she wouldn't tell stories of his valor and his leadership and his sacrifice, and of his heart and his warmth and his soul. Stories of the man that saved them in every possible way, over and over again, before they even existed.

But Judith isn't anyone. Judith is a child - her child - who lost her father. Who lost one of the fundamental pillars of her world.

And it's as she turns the water off, and wraps the towel around her injured finger, that she realizes she's never asked Judith an important question.

She feels a tug at her pantleg. When she looks down, she meets Judith's wide, worried eyes staring up at her.

"You okay, Momma?"

"Yeah, baby," Michonne breathes. "Yeah, I just...cut my finger. But I'm fine."

She takes a breath and closes her eyes to try and clear her head, before crouching down so that she's eye-level with her daughter. Judith still looks concerned, and Michonne takes her little hands in her larger, uninjured one.

"Judy," she starts quietly. "You know that you still have a daddy, right?"

Judith doesn't answer right away. Instead, she cuts her eyes to the floor, and the frown on her face deepens as she thinks.

"My daddy got hurt real bad and couldn't live anymore, so he had to leave Momma and me and go with Carl and my first mommy."

A shaky breath moves through the little girl's lungs after she's done reciting her own version of the words Michonne's had to speak to her over and over again since Rick's death. When she looks up at her mother again, her eyes are full of tears, and Michonne's heart breaks.

She reaches out, and cups Judith's cheek.

"Oh, my little bird."

She stands and throws the towel in the sink, checking to make sure her finger has stopped bleeding, before picking the girl up, carrying her into the living room as Judith burrows her head in the crook of her neck. She sits them down on the couch and cradles Judith to her chest, pressing her cheek to the top of her head and smoothing her hair.

"Baby, you still have a daddy," she whispers.

"But he's not here," Judith counters firmly, and Michonne can feel tears begin to soak into her skin.

"Well. He's not here on the couch. He's not here when we eat dinner, and he's not here at bedtime. But he's still here. With us."

Judith sits up, and roughly wipes at her eyes before looking at her with a helpless expression.

"I can't see him. I can't hear him. Where is he?" she pleads.

"He's still inside us," Michonne tells her, her own tears beginning to cloud her vision. "Just like Carl is, remember? We love Daddy. We still love him so, so much, right?"

Judith nods vigorously.

"Right," Michonne affirms. "So as long as we love him, he's here with us. He's just in our hearts, instead of right next to us. He lives in there."

She covers the little girl's chest with her hand, lets her fingers rest right over her beating heart.

"And as long as he's in there - as long as we love him - he'll always be with us. Always. No one can ever take him away from you. No one. Not ever."

Judith brings her hand up, and rests it over Michonne's.

"So you still have Daddy," Michonne assures her. "And Momma still has Daddy, too. And when Baby comes, they'll have Daddy."

"But Baby's never gonna meet Daddy."

"No. You're right - Baby won't know Daddy. So you and me, we have to tell them about Daddy. Just like me and Daddy tell you about Carl, we have to tell Baby about Daddy. We'll tell him who he was, and what he looked like. What he sounded like. What he liked, and what he didn't like. All his favorite things. All the stuff he used to do, and all the stuff he used to say."

"The stories he used to read me!" Judith chimes in, her frown slowly giving way to a small smile. "And how his hugs were so warm. And how he was so good at hide and seek, and how he always gave you so many kisses. And how he snored when he was sleeping. And, oh, I'll paint Baby a picture of Daddy, too!"

"See? Baby will have lots of ways to know Daddy. And then Daddy will live in Baby's heart, too."

Judith grins, and then lays back down onto Michonne's chest. The two sit there quietly for a few minutes, Michonne still playing with the little girl's long, golden hair.

"I miss Daddy," Judith says eventually. "But I'm happy he's still here. I'm happy he's in our hearts."

One tear manages to escape the corner of Michonne's eye before she closes her lids.

"Yeah," she murmurs, squeezing her daughter closer as a bittersweet smile turns up her lips. "I'm glad he's in our hearts, too."

***

"They started kicking."

She sits on the bank of the river, her legs crossed in front of her. It's sunny this time. An unusually warm autumn afternoon that hearkens back to the days of late summer. The rays shine down between the trees, through the gaps between branches where leaves have already begun to fall, and warm the bare skin of her shoulders.

"It doesn't really feel like kicking. It's more like...fluttering. I remember it being more like kicking with Andre. This one is more like butterflies. Or popping. Like popcorn."

She runs her hand over her rounded stomach. It's becoming harder to hide now, even with all the baggy shirts she's come to wearing. She can feel the people of Alexandria whispering behind her back as she walks down the street.

"Judith loves it. She was finally able to feel it about a week ago, and she freaked, Rick. I can still see her face - her eyes were so wide, and her mouth was in a little 'o'. It was adorable. And now, she's obsessed. In the evenings, we sit on the couch and she lays there with her head in my lap and just waits for them to move."

She smiles fondly.

"She's gonna be such a good big sister. She already kisses my stomach every morning and every night, and tells me that she's saying 'good morning' and 'goodnight'. She tells me how much she loves them all the time. And at night, when we're there on the couch, she's started telling them stories. Some are the ones we've told her before. Some are ones she just makes up. Most of them are about you."

She bites her lip, as tears begin to well up in her eyes.

"I've started telling them about you, too. I mean, I don't even know how well they can hear me yet. I don't remember from Andre, and I've been meaning to ask Siddiq. But I figure it can't be too early for them to start to hear about you. It would never be too early. Because, God, Rick, I just want them to know you. Everything about you. Who you were. And I want them to love you, Rick. As much as Judith does. As much as I do. So even if it's just muffled sounds to them, at least those sounds are about you."

She closes her eyes as she speaks. Pictures his face and tries to imagine he's there in front of her.

"And I know this is stupid, Rick, but when I talk about you, I swear to you that they always seem to move around more. It's like they know who it is I'm talking about, or something. Like I said, I know that's silly. It's impossible. And it's probably just wishful thinking. Me putting unrelated things together and making something out of nothing. But that's what it feels like."

She takes a shaky breath, and opens up her eyes. She goes to speak again, but stops when she feels a popping sensation over and over again in her belly.

Like popcorn.

And she almost laughs.

"See what I mean? They're kicking for you."

And they keep kicking. One corner of her mouth turns up.

"They're kicking just for their Daddy."

She rests her hand on her stomach, over their baby. The movement inside her doesn't stop, and she lets herself smile.

***

She never formally announces her pregnancy to the residents of Alexandria. She just stops trying to hide it; she wears whatever she wants, tells the few who know for sure that they don't have to keep it a secret anymore, and starts answering any questions about it as honestly and openly as she can manage.

She worries at first that the news will only increase and prolong the meandering sympathy so many still harbor for her. That the polite smiles and whispered words of generic comfort that plagued her would never end, as she went from widow to widow with child.

And while her concern is proven to be valid with some, with most she's pleasantly surprised. Interactions seem to change from being about death to being about new life. They go from focusing on the past to focusing on the imminent future.

Most people stop talking to her about Rick, and start talking to her about their baby. And for that, she is glad. For now, at least, she'd rather remember Rick only with the people who knew him best - who understood him and respected him in the way he deserved.

She finds herself sitting next to Aaron one quiet afternoon, at the playground in Alexandria, the two of them looking on as Judith and Gracie play. The lightest dusting of snow had fallen the night before - the first snow of the season - and the girls are attempting to build a snowman. There's not nearly enough accumulation, and their efforts are resulting in a tiny, abstract sculpture mostly made of grass and dirt, but Judith and Gracie are having fun anyways, and that's what matters.

She and Aaron have been mostly quiet, other than exchanging pleasantries upon meeting and an offhand comment here and there about the construction project going on in front of them.

"You've really popped this past week or so," Aaron tells her.

She sighs playfully, and looks down at her stomach, sticking out through the opening in her unzipped coat, covered up with the biggest, warmest sweater she could find in all of the ASZ. It's true; she feels like her stomach has at least doubled in size in the last few days.

"Judith keeps making fun of me for waddling around. She's always saying, 'You walk so funny, Momma! Why are you walkin' so funny?'"

The two adults chuckle together.

"She's excited for the baby, I assume? I mean, whenever her and Gracie play together, afterwards, all Gracie talks about is Judith's baby, Judith's baby."

"Oh, so she's taking all the credit for my hard work now?" Michonne asks skeptically, and Aaron laughs. "That little stinker. But yes. Excited is an understatement. I told her we only had a couple more months to go the other day, and I kid you not, she literally fell out of her chair, she was so thrilled."

"Only a couple more months? Really?"

"I'm thirty-two weeks. Eight weeks left. Siddiq wants to send me to Hilltop for one more ultrasound before the weather gets bad, just to make sure everything's okay one more time."

"Can you even ride a horse right now?"

"Definitely not. I will be riding in a cart. We have one more big trade to make with them before winter, so I'm just tagging along with the group."

Aaron hums, and the two go back to watching Judith and Gracie. They're quiet for a few minutes, and then Aaron speaks.

"And how are you?"

She sighs slowly, and her heartbeat speeds up.

"I don't know," she admits.

She knows he's not just asking the question on a surface level - if she has any heartburn today, or an upset stomach, if she woke up on the right or wrong side of the bed this morning, if her week has been eventful, what she's planning on doing for the rest of the day. He's asking about something deeper.

He's asking about Rick.

Aaron is one of the people she allows herself to reminisce with. She feels a certain kinship with him - with his loss of Eric, and his parenting of Gracie. She thinks it's why she allows herself to be so honest with him. And he takes advantage of that, to her benefit. He checks up on her in a way that, incredibly, doesn't irritate her, or make her feel like a child. And he is always straight with her, in kind.

So she allows herself to continue.

"It's like I'm stuck," she whispers. "Just stuck in this nightmare full of pain and longing, and missing him. And I keep thinking that one day I'm going to wake up and it's going to feel better. Even the littlest bit. Not because I love him any less, or miss him any less. But just because...time. 'Time heals all wounds,' and all that sort of stuff. Everyday, though, I wake up, and it hurts just as much as it did the day before. More, sometimes. And I find myself sitting there every once in a while, wondering if it's ever going to stop. Or if the rest of my life is just gonna...be like this.

"And then this," she continues, motioning to her stomach. "I don't even...I don't even know what to say. I mean, I love them, and I want them, more than anything. But it was supposed to be ours. This whole experience was supposed to be between him and me. When we decided we wanted to try for a baby, there wasn't a single part of me that ever imagined I'd end up in this position alone. Even in the world we live in, I never even considered it. It just wasn't...fathomable to me, I guess. But here I am. And now, every time I get excited about something, I just end up thinking about how he won't be here to experience it. How he'll never get to hold them. He won't get to see their first steps, or hear their first words. He'll never get to rock them to sleep. He'll never get to hear them call him Daddy."

"It's like you're constantly pulled in two different directions," Aaron interjects.

She nods, wiping at the wetness that's gathered in her eyes.

"Yeah. And sometimes I'm not quite sad, but I'm never fully happy. I never get to experience anything fully, because grief is always clouding it. But at the same time, I feel guilty for wanting to feel better, because then I feel like I'm pushing the memory of him away."

"Rick would want you to be happy," Aaron tells her immediately, urgency clear in his voice. "Even if being happy meant you forgot him altogether - which, I promise you, you never will - he would want that for you."

"The rational part of me knows that," Michonne assures him, "but I can't stop myself from feeling like I'm betraying him."

She stops, and takes a breath. The baby shifts inside her. She laces her fingers together, and then rests them on the roundest part of her belly.

"So I guess, a large part of me doesn't know what I'm doing. Doesn't know what I'm going to do," she confesses quietly. Hesitantly. She doesn't like admitting to being not in control, but if she's being truthful, she hasn't had anything together since that bridge blew up in front of her.

A silence falls over the two of them. Judith drops a handful of snow on top of Gracie's head, and the two girls' giggles fill their ears.

"There are no easy answers," Aaron muses.

Michonne glances at him out of the corner of her eye. He's slouched over, elbows on his knees, chin resting in his hands.

He says, "I wish there were, and I wish I had them for you. But there aren't. Though, I will tell you that it does get better. Maybe hearing that doesn't really help anything, or maybe it's not what you want to hear right now. But it gets better. It's slow, admittedly. So slow that you might not even realize it's happening. Then, one day you'll be lying in bed, about to fall asleep, and it'll dawn on you that you didn't cry today. Or maybe even all week. Or you'll think of something Judith told you, and you'll remember that it made you laugh. I mean, really laugh. It's things like that. Stuff that you wouldn't have been able to do a month ago. And don't get me wrong, you'll still have bad moments, and awful days. That's just the nature of losing the person you love most in the world. Like with me - there are some mornings when I wake up and I miss Eric so much that it feels like I can't breathe. But that's when you have to hold onto those little things."

"I won't forget him?" she breathes.

"You won't forget him."

"Promise me, Aaron," she says sternly, turning in her seat and reaching out, taking his face between her hands and staring directly into his eyes.

Aaron brings his hands up to rest over hers.

"I promise, Michonne," he vows. "You won't forget him. Your heart won't let you."

She's reminded of what she told Judith, all those weeks ago.

And as long as he's in there - as long as we love him - he'll always be with us. Always. No one can ever take him away from you. No one. Not ever.

"And the baby," Aaron begins, letting her hands go as they begin to fall from his face. "I know it seems overwhelming right now. When I adopted Gracie, right after Eric died, a large part of me thought I was insane. But she's been the best thing that ever could've happened to me. And I know when this little one comes along, it'll be the same way for you. Every time they laugh, or smile, or, hell, look at you, you'll feel a little piece of your soul being stitched back together.

"And just think," he tells her, his lips lifting into a half smile, "they're a piece of Rick. A living, breathing piece of him that you'll get to hold in your arms every day. Tangible, physical proof of your love, and all that you meant to each other."

She stares down at her stomach, running her hand over it, and a tear falls from her eye.

"Momma!" Judith yells then, and Michonne looks up in time to see the four-year-old barreling towards her, an excited smile on her face. She crashes into her legs, hugging them, and then crawls up on the bench, settling herself between Michonne and Aaron. Gracie comes behind her, and crawls into her father's lap.

"Do you like our snowman, Momma?"

She lifts her eyes to look at the girls' creation. As predicted, he's more brown than white, with only one arm and no nose, standing lopsided, with Gracie's purple scarf thrown over his head haphazardly, and one of Judith's pink gloves stuck precariously on the end of his stick-arm.

And through her tears, Michonne laughs.

She really laughs. And then she wraps her arm around her daughter's waist, and pulls her into her side.

"Yeah, Judy," she murmurs. "I love it."

***

"It's snowing today."

The riverbank is covered with a thin blanket of white, the water covered sporadically with chunks of ice. She stands today instead of sits, bundled in her fluffy winter coat. She can't manage to zip it over her belly anymore, even if she wanted to.

She glances quickly over her shoulder. The group she traveled to The Hilltop with is just at the edge of her vision, talking among themselves. Thankfully, none of them are very close to her or her family, and none of them realize the significance of where they are. Or of the alternate route she directed them on to get them here.

"I can't stay long this time. I'm not alone. I can't ride a horse at this point, so I can't come by myself. So I'm with a group, on our way back from Hilltop. I told them I had to pee, so I have to be quick. But I had to see you. I had to."

She reaches into her pack.

"Enid gave me my last ultrasound today."

She pulls out her final photo for him.

"Our they is a he, Rick. We're having a boy."

She can't say it without getting tears in her eyes. They fall down her cheeks, sting her skin as the cold catches them.

She stares at the picture, at their little baby boy. Her third son. His second.

"I'm gonna name him after you."

She smiles as she thinks of it.

"Rick Grimes, Jr.. Rick, Jr.. Is that cheesy? I don't care. We both know that you were always a little cheesy."

She turns slowly, and walks toward their tree. With some effort, she manages to kneel down. She brushes away the snow with her hand, until she finds the other two photos. She places a kiss onto the shiny surface of the new one she holds, and then lays it down on top of the last one. Before she anchors it with the rock, she traces her thumb over his head, and his tiny feet.

"I think we'll call him RJ."

[skeletonwoman]

Cotton Eye Thor (Thor)

this was a req!! Yay!!

Request:  I absolutely loved “Your Face” and was wondering if you could write another Thor imagine taking place right after Ragnarok where the reader and Thor are reunited for the first time since Thor loses his father, his eye, etc. and he breaks down and the reader comforts him. Super super fluffy please ❤️ (If it fits, could the reader be Tony’s daughter? But if it would just be irrelevant you can leave that out, whatever you think is best). Thanks

i hope you like it! it took days  to complete

HELLA RAGNAROK SPOILERS EVERYBODY. HELLA. ;)

“It was a ski trip,” you snarl, barely holding back your rage. “It wasn’t a f*cking declaration.”

Tony laughs, completely ignoring your words as he regales Pepper with your best moments from the weekend.

You’re so stupid. A few PhD’s and suddenly you think you can handle a delusional Stark?

“Seriously Tony,” you growl and he sighs, shooting Pepper a look before he turns toward you. You can see the small curve to her mouth, as if it’s all so adorable.

“Daughter-”

“Nope.”

“I’m having a conversation, what do you need?”

He says it so calmly. As if it’s no big deal.

You’re so stupid. No ski trip is worth this. Well… This one you just went on was fan-f*cking-tastic.

“I need you to stop calling me your daughter. Someones going to hear it and think it’s genuinely true.” You try to give him a serious look, that this is a serious issue and he smirks.

“Shall I list the evidence,” he begins, his Jarvis imitating voice out in full force. Asshole. “Your genius brain? Obviously from me. You have my mothers eyes. You’re a tiny ball of rage, just like I used to be- but I covered it with sarcasm rather than your outright hostility.” He grimaces and your teeth clench. “You’re easily the right age. And Fate somehow dropped you into my arms when you needed me most. The only thing we haven’t done is a DNA test because you’re afraid it’ll be positive and you’ll be my daughter and I’m afraid it’ll be negative and you’ll truly push me away.”

He grins widely and your anger melts away.

You want to say something, to ease him but there’s nothing you can say.

Pepper moves half a step closer, her palms smoothing over his shoulders and he subtly leans into her touch. Under her hands, his entire being softens and you sigh with relief.

Turning, you come face to face with your most favourite person in the entire universe. Of all the galaxies and stars and planets and peoples. This is your favourite.

And he looks like shit.

But even shit, he’s still yours. And you’re his- despite how much being his sucks. 

“My love!” Thor booms playfully and you throw yourself into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist. “I have missed you!”

“Okay, that’s my kid, bro,” Tony grumbles and you scoff, your eyes glued to your best friends face as you stroke your fingers through his hair.

“I’ve missed you too,” you hum, and he beams at you. Tony makes another grumbly sound and you roll your eyes- brightening Thors smile.

“Where’ve you been, anyway?” Tony asks and you frown slightly, shifting slightly. Thor releases you slowly, your body dragging down his a touch more than necessary.

You note that Tony makes an indignant noise about this as well.

“Out, about.” He waves a vague hand, still holding you tight to his body with the other. He catches your gaze, “would you like to go watch Greys Anatomy? Where I have been, I have not kept up.”

You frown slightly, your gaze darting about his face before you swallow.

“Of course, there’s been two new seasons since I last saw you, gorgeous. You’ll never guess what’s gone down.”

He smirks knowingly before hefting you with a firemans lift over his shoulder. Your surprised squeak bursts into a laugh and you smack his ass hard.

“You have to ask!” You shout, smacking him again and he moans exaggeratedly.

“Harder! Yeah, baby!”

“I hate both of you,” Tony snarls and Pepper laughs softly. Your view of them disappears around a corner and Thors shoulders suddenly soften under your stomach.

“Thor?”

“Not yet,” he murmurs and you smooth your palms over his back reassuringly.

“Is this where we left off?” You ask, glancing from the screen to Thors face. He nods, tension around his eyes and you crawl up the bed. Collapsing against his side, you gently palm his cheek and smooth your thumb against his temple. “How’d this happen?”

His head tilts into your palm and his remaining eye falls closed.

“I…” He exhales a heavy breath and presses a kiss to your wrist. “I had a vision when we first met Wanda, when she… Gave those dark visions to everyone, I saw something. After that I went-” He shakes his head. “Erik Selvig tracked down a location for me and I induced another vision, that confirmed my fears. That Asgard would fall under the curse of Ragnarok.”

Your mouth falls open and you stare at his still closed eye.

“Did… Was…”

“I followed the clues to Surtur, the creature that was foretold to ruin Asgard and I defeated him. Took his helmet-crown-thing. I returned to Asgard on his warning and… Loki lives.”

You gasp audibly this time, and his lips twitch with the beginnings of a smile. His gaze catches yours and you raise your eyebrows.

“Yes. He had sent my father to Midgard, imprisoned him in an old persons home and worn my fathers guise and ruled in his stead. After I made him reveal himself we went in search of father. Met a Mr Strange. He was… A ridiculous little man.”

You giggle, your thumb running over his temple again. You’re familiar with Strange.

“Father gave us a vague message that his lifeforce was holding back a monstrous sister we had never met and that he lied about history. Then he died. And our sister arrived. Her name’s Hela and she’s the worst. She pushed us out of the Bifrost while trying to murder us and we ended up on a trash planet, Sakaar. I was enslaved into a fighting ring, my brother slept with the leader of the planet- he’ll never admit it. I found the Hulk, and a Valkyrie, the last of her kind- turns out my sister exterminated the lot of them. We escaped to Asgard, rescued the people, set off Surtur and he destroyed the planet while my sister- whos life force was tied to the planet, fought and died.” He coughs, blinking hard as if just noticing the tear tracks burning down his temples. “My brother lived, Banner lived, Heimdall lived. I don’t… know why I am so emotional.”

His arms encircle you, cuddling you against his chest while he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

“I missed you, more than I thought I would. Every time I went to sleep I wondered whether you were asleep too, whether you missed me, how soon it would be until I could come back to you.” He presses a dry kiss to your neck. “After it all happened, I had- I have a planet of men and women to find homes for. We have settled them on an island here but I don’t think this is forever, there is too many people on your planet already.”

“You’re going to find them a new planet? An second Asgard?” You tilt away from him to catch his eye and he mumbles an agreement. “And you’ll…”

“When I find it, I’ll have to remain there, as king.” His palm smooths up your back and into your hair. “I’ll also…” He clears his throat and his gaze darts from your face to the show playing in the background then back to you. “I will need a queen, to start a family- assure my peoples futures but-”

Are- can he hear your heart? You can hear it. Surely he can hear it. Hear it stopping, breaking, going too fast, cracking. Something. Somethings wrong. He’s still talking when you sit up, pushing back out of his grip.

The change is instantaneous, from nervous to panicked. Worried to fearful.

“Y/N,” he blurts and you hold up a palm.

He needs a broodmare. A pedigree bitch. Whatever animal breeding metaphor that comes to mind.

“I need-”

“I need you,” he cuts in, his hand cupping your jaw as he sits up. “I need you with me, because I can’t be a king, be anything for anyone if I’m not with you.”

“You just said-”

“That I need a wife and family, but I want you. And you can give me- be those things for me. Right? If you wanted- me, if you wanted me.” He expels a hard sigh, relief evident and you find yourself smiling. Somehow.

He wants you.

Despite everything, he wants you, wants you.

You’ve never kissed him.

He’s practically proposed and you’ve never even kissed him.

Your fingers bury themselves in his hair as you tug him to you, your lips finding his in a rushed kiss. For a moment, it’s messy and awkward and your heartrate spikes. You’re going to marry this- then it softens. And his hands are sliding around your waist while his tongue strokes into your mouth. And you’re on your knees, braced over his lap while his hands smooth over your ass- then squeeze.

A giggle pulls you apart and you can’t help beaming when your gazes clash. His grin is too smug but you can’t help but feel it too.

“I love you and I want you to be my queen. Will you consent to marrying me? Now or in the future?” He pauses for half a second- no time for you to answer. “Preferably sooner, we are in a lull that I am sure will not last. Should anything happen I want you to be cared for, you are my heart and my people must know it.”

“Tony would look after me- not that that matters right now, but Tony would look after me.”

He frowns, nodding but keeping his lips sealed. After another moment of silence it hits you.

“Oh! Yes, yes! I will, I’ll- Yeah, lets get married and do all the things that come with it. Queen, whatnot.”

To see the look on his face after you agree, you’d suffer a hundred royal positions. A thousand. Anything to have that moment forever.

Actually…

“FRIDAY! Do you have playback in the rooms?”

“On one minute loops, Miss.” Comes the automated voice and you sigh happily.

“I want a record of this last minute. I want the minute before I asked you about playbacks.”

“Yes, Miss. It has been sent to your tablet as an AVI.”

Scrambling off your new fiances lap, you snatch your tablet from beside the bed and crawl back up beside him. On screen, you can see his face clearly where your back is to the camera. Your position brings warmth to your cheeks, though it might have something to do with the soft kisses he’s placing on your neck. Your on screen self nods and… There.

“I love you, by the way. I love you too,” you say, dropping the tablet behind you and climbing back aboard him. “I love you and want to marry you. And Friday, I want this few seconds as a clip too.”

“Yes, Miss.”

I didn’t edit it in my excitement to finally post and be done etc so i guess just f*cking kill me if it’s riddled with mistakes (they often are- it’s like my thing at this point)

[edream93]

prompt idea - something during harry's childhood or the hook siblings childhood if you wanna include harriet and cj. idk if you want specific prompts or not so just incase hmm.. maybe captain hook teaching harry (or all of the hook kids) to play the organ/piano/whatevs??

Hey anon! So…this may me a little bit of cheating…I say cheating because when I received this ask, I was actually working on a scene from Harry’s childhood for “We’ll Light the Fuse”. Not sure if it’ll actually make it to the next update but it doesn’t have an spoilers so…why not? I’ll also try to do the piano/organ thing too later. Don’t worry, though, you don’t need to have read WLTF to understand this.

But for now, hope you enjoy this product of coincidence? 

(Note: My headcannon for now is Harriet is two years older than Harry and CJ is three years younger.)

–

Once upon a time… there were three siblings that could only depend on each other. One night, the eldest sibling left, wanting to start her own life on the other side of the Isle after years of looking after and protecting her younger siblings…

“Hey! Enough of those tears, Cali! They’re not gonna change Ettie’s mind!” a ten year old Harry Hook yelled throwing a somewhat clean rag at his crying younger sister. His gesture, though he meant well, only seemed to make the seven year old cry even more. He faced palmed.

And Uma calls me dramatic, he thought. The fact he knew the tears probably weren’t real and merely an old trick Harriet had taught her when CJ was still too small to be anything other than a distraction didn’t help him be any more sympathetic either.

Harriet had left in the dead of the night, collecting all of the few personal objects she had along with the red jacket that she had outfitted from one of their father’s old coats… Harry had suspected she would desert them for the past month now. She already had a ship, one of their father’s better ones given a month earlier when she had turned twelve, and her crew was easy to come by since most of their father’s crew all had children of their own who they had grown up with.

Good riddance! Harry thought bitterly, ignoring how much his sister leaving had felt like betrayal. He may only be ten, but he knew getting too close with anyone, even family was a risk. Blood wasn’t always thicker on the Isle after all. His strenuous relationship with a father who most of the time couldn’t bare to look at him was a prime example.

So he ignored how he would miss Harriet’s cackle of a laugh when he did something that really helped carve an impression into the minds of those of the Isle that he was a pirate not to be messed with. He ignored how he would miss their daily spars where woven in between sarcastic remarks and insulting names, there would actual be tidbits on not to get himself killed, much more helpful than his father’s suggestion slurred suggestion to just run himself with a sword. (The frequency that Hook made that comment and ones similar had started to wear off…that is until the old Captain actually tried to force his suggestion onto the boy himself.)

“You’re gonna leave me just like sissy did!” the young blonde cried throwing the rag right back back at him, anchoring him back to the present.

Harry refrained his desire to just shove her off the boat and into the murky water below but a voice that sounded too much like his older sister reminded him that all too familiar sneer of hers that if “precious Calista Jane” went overboard their father would have his neck. And Harry quite liked his neck.

“Stop that cryin’ right now! Ye hear me?” he growled, trying to repress himself from turning into a useless heaving ball, curled up on the deck of the ship, struggling to breathe and waiting for the world to stop spinning like he did when he first found Harriet gone.

He took a deep breath, causing CJ to look at him with wide teary brown eyes. For a moment, the young boy thought that one of his sisters was finally listening to him, that was until CJ stomped on his foot with as much force as she could (which was a lot for a seven year old) before kicking his shin.

“Holy crocodile! Ye little goblin!” Harry howled falling to the ground and clutching his lower leg.

“No!” CJ cried, stomping her foot, though this time thankfully nowhere near his own. “You can’t leave! You can’t! You can’t!”

“Oh shut up you idiot! I’m not going no where!” the boy rolled his eyes, flopping back on the deck of the ship. There was only a few of his father’s crew above deck at the moment, many of them somewhere else, roaming the island, or sleeping off whatever questionable moonshine they managed to get their hands on. He was bored. He idly wondered what Uma was doing and if she was stuck working her mother’s shop again.

“Promise?” CJ prodded, hovering over him, blonde hair knotted in a poor attempt at mimicking the braid that Harriet always struggled with taming into submission. Her bottom lip was trembling and the only tell that this wasn’t completely an act was the way the younger child bit the inside of her cheek. When Calista Jane was pulling a con she bit her bottom lip.

Oh Davy Jones, he thought sitting up. He was never really good when CJ got like this, when she looked at him expectantly as if he could actually keep a damn promise on this pitiful rock that they called home. He wasn’t stupid. He hadn’t made a name yet like Harriet. Still known to too many as just one of Harriet Hook’s bratty little siblings. But maybe…one day, with a certain sea witch, he would be so feared on the Isle that he could make a promise to his sibling without his stomach twisting at the uncertainty of being able to keep such a promise.

“Yeah, yeah. I promise,” he said pushing her away none too gently as he got up to his feet. “We’ll even go on a grand adventure one day,” he muttered, sarcasm heavy in his voice but CJ didn’t seem to hear it as her eyes grew wide, any remaining traces of her crying now long gone and she let out a squeal before running off to another part of the ship yelling “ADVENTURE!” and needing to go find that Freddie brat loudly.

Harry rolled his eyes again, glancing at the dock where a familiar turquoise figure caught his eye waiting impatiently for him, a mischievous smirk instantly fading away his concerns for the time being.

He ran down the ship’s board, his usual mischievous smile on his face until he caught sight of an unpleasant head of purple hair waiting next to Uma.   

“Mal,” he ground out. Before turning to Uma. “Why’d ye bring her here?” he hissed.

“Yeah, I thought we were going to have some real fun, Uma.,” Mal sighed, sounding almost bored as she barely gave the boy a glance. “Didn’t know we were gonna spend the day with this charity case.”

“Ye wanna say that a bit louder, pixie?” Harry fumed through clenched teeth, taking a step closer to her.

Uma pushed her way between the two. “Both of you, chill!” she growled before tugging Harry off to the side. “What’s up with you? I thought you’d be up for causing a little bit of mayhem,” she said, glancing back at Mal before in a lower voice saying, “I heard about Harriet and…ya know, thought it would cheer you up.”

(Davy Jones.That weird stomach fluttering thing always seemed to happen at the most inconvenient of times, he thought, taking in her rare look of concern.) 

“I do like causing mayhem but with ye, lass. But not with that purple tadpole. I just don’t see why ye would even want to hang out with her. She’s got no real substance! Everyone knows she’s just her mother’s clone. And not even a good one.”  

Uma rolled her eyes. This wasn’t the first time Harry had made his feelings about her friend from the other side of the Isle clear.

“Look Harry,” she growled irritatedly, poking him in the chest. “Mal and I have each other’s back. We’re gonna rule this island and then we’re going to take over Auradon together and shove all those sugary sweet royal brats off their thrones. Now, I can do that with or without you, Hook, but if you’re with me then you need to shut your clam about Mal. She and I are partners.”

Harry knocked her hand away from him, ignoring the part of him that wanted to ask weren’t they partners. 

“This is n’t going to end well, Uma. I can feel it. Mal. Is. Bad. News,” he said putting emphasis on the last few words. “And not in the way ya wanna mess with.”

Rolling her eyes, Uma turned around, speaking over her shoulder, “You’re too paranoid, Hook. Mal and I have a plan. Like I said, you’re either with us or against us. When you come to your senses, Mal and I will be the docks by one of your old man’s other ships,” she said before starting to walk back towards where the purple half-fae was smirking triumphantly at him.

(Damn pixie.)

The young boy bit his lip, holding back a curse as he watched them both disappear around a turn, hearing a faint conversation of needing to find something slippery and smelly for their next prank. His stomach twisted with a sense of foreboding that something irreversible was going to occur soon…

A few hours later, he would realize that he hated being right…and once again, he hated how he felt powerless in protecting what was his.

—

Yep, I bet you can guess when this took place… So I was going to cut it off right after Harry sees Uma but…then my fingers slipped across the keyboard…repeatedly…and…well, yeah…

Hope you enjoyed, anon! And I’ll try the piano thing at some point too.