#the official announcement when it’s not 8 in the morning

[railingsofsorrow]

hiii could i request a cute lil fic of the origin of spencer’s purple scarf? maybe reader is in the bau too and they’re secretly dating and maybe for their one month she gives him the purple scarf cuz she notices turtle necks bother him so she opted to get something that warms him up, is his favorite color, and reminds him of her if there’s ever a change they’re apart ….

he loves it ofc and starts wearing it to work and the team realizes it’s his thing now to wear the scarf if he’s cold and the reader feels all happy cuz he likes it but maybe during a tough case reader gets hurt protecting the team and in the hospital he’s like fidgeting with the scarf and morgan asks what’s up and he’s like “y/n gave me this scarf she said it would remind me of her if we’re ever apart but i don’t ever want to be away from her” AND IT ENDSS IN FLUFF PLS TJANK UUUU

maybe a cute lil recovery scene where the reader is cold and he gives her the scarf to wrap around her neck mwahhahaha and some team comments mwahahhhaha

Purple Scarf

[spencer reid x reader]

A/N: can I just say how in love with this request I was when I saw it my heart BURST. hope I granted your wishes anon <3

summary: in which yours and spencer's secret relationship is not as secret as you thought it was.

pairing: s.reid x f!reader

w.c: 3.5K

warnings/content: allusions to sexual content (you blink and you miss it); cm usual violence and confrontation; mentions of blood, hospitals and injuries; angst; teasing; fluff fluff fluff.

navi

masterpost

[requested]

•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°. *࿐

September 8 of 2007.

Day 30.

It's officially a month that you and Spencer are dating. More specifically 720,000 hours, 43,200 minutes and 2,592,000 seconds — Yes, he counted. It's not that surprising, his brain never stops.

“Did you finish Dandelion Wine last night again?”

Unless it's your voice. That angelic sound slipping out from your throat that resembled the A Major key in a piano; a warm blanket draping over him that soothed his mind to a less frantic place.

The way your lips curl in a smile tells him you're not phased by his nod of affirmation. Leaning on his desk with your hip, you place down his mug in front of him, coffee vapor fluttering out.

“I'm not surprised.”

His grin is hidden by sipping on the hot liquid. “Why would you be?”

“Right.”

Spencer wanted to kiss you. He'd be bashful and red at the mere thought of it a few months ago, a complete mess if your gaze so much as crossed. But he's known you for two years now, you've been friends since you entered the BAU, and he's been in love with you for half of that time. He's allowed to think that in a work environment. He's just not allowed to do it.

He's very inclined to break the rules when he feels cold fingers running through the nape of his neck. Spencer's instinctive reaction is to shrink his shoulders but he quickly relaxes.

“Don't know how you can even think about cutting it,” you say, pulling softly at his strands.

He gave you a look. “It's too long.”

“So?” you shrug. “It's pretty,” you traced her thumb across his jaw, halting on his cheek. “You're pretty.”

He doesn't know how to react to compliments first thing in the morning. Scratch that, he doesn't know how to react to compliments at all.

“You're prettier.”

“That's not possible.”

And he's about to shut you up with a kiss because frantically? How could you disagree with him on this. But you retract your hands and pull some space between you. His hurt expression isn't present for long until he notices where your gaze falls.

Derek is talking to someone behind the glass doors, his hand wavering over the entrance announcing that the conversation is ending.

Your relationship being a secret was a mutual decision. None of you wanted the attention or the teasing that would eventually come from your friends — not that that didn't occurred before. Less alone the issues with the Fraternization Policy, they'd rather leave that to the fine line in Morgan and Garcia's work calls.

“Don't cut it.” She nudges his arm. “How am I supposed to pull it?”

Spencer choked on his coffee, inciting a chuckle out of you as you rubbed his back gently. He blinked up at you in shock.

“What?”

“Great scarf. Love the color.”

He officially hates you. Yes.

Except that he doesn't. Not even a little bit.

Your menacing smile is the last thing he sees before you walk off to Penelope's office. Of course you love it, you gave it to him as one month anniversary gift that morning, while he had given you a book you've been mentioning for a while and a necklace with your birthstone in the pendant.

“I know turtlenecks bother you but I know you get cold easily so I thought you'd like it.” Spencer hadn't given you a reaction. From the moment he opened your gift box, he sat emotionless on the sofa, staring at it as his fingers stroked the soft fabric.

It was a handknit purple scarf. Spencer couldn't believe it. You made it yourself. He vaguely remembers you always knitting something in the jet when a case was over, he thought you had adopted a new hobby, not that you were doing this for him.

And in his favorite color.

He felt like crying upon seeing the S.W.R on one of the extremities. His initials.

“You didn't like it.”

His head snapped up and he's met with your uneasy gaze. He hadn't said anything.

Spencer crossed the room in a sprint and crashes your lips to his, you respond with a ooof! in surprise but quickly kisses him back just as fervently.

“I love it.” He says after you split apart. “It's the best gift I've ever gotten.” He keeps peppering your face with kisses which makes giggles to erupt out of you. “Thank you, thank you, sweetheart.”

“It's for you to remember me when we're apart.” Her cheeks flushed pink. “That was cheesy but I knitted it that so I get to be cheesy.”

Spencer fiddled with the soft fabric of his scarf, loosening it slightly. It was suddenly too warm.

He blames you for it.

The two of you were supposed to spend the rest of the day in a Contemporary Art Museum after your paperwork was done. You weren't called in for a case, so it was a last minute decision because of your hectic schedule.

“Why are you all flushed?” He turns to Derek with widened eyes.

“What?”

Derek narrowed him down suspiciously. Hotch interrupts them by calling them in for the conference room. Spencer inwardly groans but he takes it to slip away from Derek's pestering.

“Oh, that's beautiful.” JJ points at your neck as you meet in the roundtable. “Where did you get it?” Your fingers brushed against the necklace mindlessly, the edge of your lips quirking up slightly.

“It's a gift.”

JJ silently studied your features as you say down beside one another, waiting for Garcia to present the new case. That fond gaze, the sparkle in your eyes and the way your body demeanor instantly relaxed was the indication she needed to understand what you weren't saying.

“Oh,” her grin widened and she leans closer. “Who's the lucky someone?”

Your eyes lowered to your lap and you tried to pretend you were interested in your shoes. She could see you getting flustered and that made her shook her head in disbelief. JJ has never seen you that shy or even blushing. That was new.

Spencer walked in with Derek and Emily on his trail. They started discussing the case when Rossi arrived. You didn't spend ten minutes in the room before Hotch announced wheels up in thirty.

“Did you know that poor sleeping habits can interfere in your sleep quality? A study showed that daily coffee consumption and using the cellphone in bed are two of the largest factors associated with poor sleep quality. Besides stress, anxiety, depression, sleep apnea, and chronic health conditions.”

Spencer rambles on before you can settle down in one of the seats, covering a yawn with your hand.

“I'm glad you know too much caffeine is bad for your health, baby. Maybe you should follow your own advice.” You heard his snicker as he sits down with a smug smile. You chose the window seat, Emily takes your side and Derek sits across from you. Rossi and Hotch are in the seats beside yours while JJ takes the couch.

The air shifts. You feel it. It's sudden, out of nowhere and you can't figure out the reason. All eyes are set on you which makes you shift uncomfortably, sleepiness vanishing.

“What?”

“Baby?” Derek lifts a brow questioningly and you cast him a confused look. But Spencer buried his face in the file and all is clear.

“You have petnames now?” Emily teases, nudging your feet with her shoe. “That's sickening.”

“That's cute!” Penelope yells from the computer scream.

You clear your throat in a foolish attempt for cover your embarrassment. You called him baby in front of the whole team? Nice. Very nice. You stupid idiot.

“It's manner of speaking,” You shrug, grabbing the crime scene photo haphazardly.

Emily quips back a comment and Derek follows her on it. Fortunately, Hotch begins to detail what everyone else will do as they land. JJ and Reid are going to the morgue to analyse Victmology, Rossi and Emily are going to the police station and that leaves you Hotch to the crime scenes.

It took a while for you to grasp the UnSub's intentions. You spent the entire afternoon with the wrong profile to then figure out he was hunting people that had a certain face shape and visible scars. Nothing related to gender, contrary to what you believed.

When you found him, he had a knife to a woman's neck, the last victim that had disappeared two days ago. Apparently you got there exactly on time because he kept his victims for two days to bury them alive in the last one.

But he didn't want to let her go, despite the ensuing confrontation. Either he surrendered or he died, there was no in between. You wouldn't let him hurt anybody else.

“Let her go.”

Aaron's assertive tone reverberated through the warehouse. The SWAT team was blocking every exit possible, at least twenty firearms aimed at him but he still wouldn't budge.

“Can't do that,” the UnSub lowered the knife closer to the victim's neck. He seemed too calm for someone that cornered. No. You could see the slight shake in his hand that he was trying to cover. “You get back from where you came from or I'll slash her throat.”

“You won't do that.”

For some reason, you thought it was Emily speaking, attempting to get into his head. Until Derek hissed for you to stay back and you realized the voice belonged to you.

“You can get out of this, just let her go and surrender. No harm has to be done.”

“Right. So that I can spend the rest of my life tossed up behind bars? I don't think so, Agent.”

The smugness in his tone was betrayed by the twitch in his left eye and that's when you knew you were almost there.

“We can make a deal. One that'll be comfortable for you,” you promised, stowing your weapon in your holster as your eyes kept locked on his. You didn't want to find out what would happen if you even breath the wrong way. “There's twenty people with you in their line of fire. Only one way out. Let her go, we'll figure this out.” You finally reached a position close enough to the victim but not at all safe for you. You were right at his aim if he wanted to shoot you, his gun right behind the woman's head.

“Only one way out?” He scoffed, cocking the weapon to the side.

Emily said his name in a warning. Everyone yelling for him to drop the weapon. He didn't.

You should've known better.

Your ears rang with Spencer calling out your name before you were thrown on the floor roughly without a single warning. The feeling of dread crippling in your chest when you felt something wet between your fingers.

“Hey, hey,” Derek forced you to look at him. “You okay?”

You blinked down at your arm, the bullet grazed the skin, it barely touched you. A breath of relief escaped you and he shook his head in disbelief.

“You're insane,” he uttered, hugging you to which you let out a groan. Your shoulder hurt, you couldn't move it.

At least it wasn't a bullet. Derek had pushed you away on time.

•°. *࿐

The thing you hated the most about hospitals was the fluorescent lights. Your eyes were sensitive to light which was the reason you used sunglasses anywhere you went — reading glasses as well, but you didn't bother with those. No matter how many times Spencer would list the permanent harm done to your sight every time he saw you squinting at a book.

You were stubborn. To say the least.

He thought it was cute, for the most part. You listened to him although you liked to do things you own way. Okay, he respected that. Spencer loves every part of you, from the scrunch of your nose when you laughed to the rare times you'd forget the wet towel on the bed.

Sometimes, however, he wants to crawl out of his skin. How could you let your guard down in front of a madman that was ready to lose it all? Why couldn't you just stay back like Derek had asked and waited patiently on how it would play out?

But no, you wouldn't do that. You were as stubborn as a mule. And that's how you got shot in the arm and dislocated a shoulder.

“It grazed her forearm, Spence.” JJ explained for the tenth time. “She just needed some stitches.”

“But it wasn't just the grazed arm, though was it? There's also the dislocated shoulder and the almost concussion she gained as she fell on the floor.”

JJ sighed and turned to him. “You're concerned, but she's fine. It wasn't exactly wise what she did,” she said with a wince. “But it's done and thankfully didn't evolved to anything serious.”

“She reminds me of you.”

Both heads snapped around to see Derek approaching with his coffee. He pointed the plastic spoon he was stirring the coffee with directly at Spencer's face.

“What does that mean?” Spencer pulls away from the threatening spoon, the pitch of his voice raising.

Derek looks at JJ with a pointed look, she seems to understand and chuckles, nodding shortly.

Oh, they're communicating through telepathy now?

“You're both reckless.” Derek pats his shoulder, mentioning for something behind him. Just as Spencer is about to retort, he sees you through the transparent doors of your room, chuckling at something the doctor said. “See? She's awake.”

Spencer can't tell how long he stood there, staring at you until JJ nudged him.

“I've never seen you wearing scarves. Is that new?” She eyes the purple fabric around his neck with a little smile. His fingers brush against it absentmindedly.

“Uh, yeah. It's a gift. She gave it to me.” JJ blinks up at him in surprise, she was not expecting Spencer to just blurt it out like that. “... said it was something to remember her when we're apart.” His lips spread into a soft grin. He didn't even notice he was speaking out loud. “As if I can ever forget her.”

“Go see your girl, pretty boy. Stop staring.” Derek walked back towards them, pushing Spencer towards your room with a slight shove. Safe to say he hadn't heard anything Spencer said.

At first, JJ tries not to demonstrate her excitement too much. She thought that when Penelope told her they were seeing each other out of work it was a big fantasy created in her head. Everyone knew they had feelings for one another but nobody would dare think they were already past the friends phase. Oh, but JJ was so wrong. That fondness in Spencer was something new. A good something. And she couldn't be happier for the two of you.

“Hi,” you beam at the sight of your boyfriend entering the room.

“Hi.” Spencer kisses the top of your head and wraps an arm around your back as to not touch your injured arm. “How do you feel?”

“Ready to enter the jet and sleep the two hours we have until we land in Quantico.”

He cracks a smile, shaking his head. “You're unbelievable.”

You let out a half laugh, when your eyes met you saw a pinch of concern between his brows as he scanned you over.

“Spencer, I'm fine.”

“Can you maybe try and be more careful next time?” He says. “Don't lower your weapon while being on the aim of a serial killer?”

You hummed softly, adjusting the collar of his shirt behind the vest he was wearing. “Okay. Can you promise to do the same then? Cause you're just as reckless as me.”

He gaped at you. “I am not—”

“Spencer.”

He clips his mouth shut, blinking. “Fine? Okay. Yeah, fine.” He breathes out. “Just don't scare me like that again, please?” He pointedly says, brushing a stray strand behind your ear.

Your line of work was tough, especially if someone you deeply cared about was in the field with you. You couldn't just disconnect work and personal life in these kind of situations, as hard as you tried. Your heart leaped in your chest every time anyone from the team so much as got a minimum scratch. They're your family through and through.

And Spencer... Spencer was the love of your life. No doubt in that.

That's why it wasn't worth it to dwell on what happened in the field but focus on the after. Night outs to a bar, karaoke night, dinner at Rossi's — he makes a killer pasta — or, in this case, an Art Museum date with your boyfriend. Those moments made everything worth it.

The air shifts again. You study the room as you sit beside Spencer, trying to find any hints from what it might have caused that feeling. But everyone is paying attention to their own things and things seems normal. Or your profile skills are clouded by your exhaustion.

Something fuzzy wraps around your neck and the smell of amber and cinnamon took you to a familiar place.

“You forgot to bring a coat,” he said, tucking your hair behind your ears gently, adjusting the scarf on you. “It looks good on you too.” He shrugs, lips curling in a pout.

Can you blame yourself for wanting to kiss him so badly?

You don't do it, aware you were under profilers’ watchful eyes. Spencer lifted the arm of the seat so you could rest your head on his shoulder as he read — one time you revealed you liked the sound of page turning as he read and he made sure you always could rest against him. You might have missed the collective cooing around the jet as soon as you fell asleep but Spencer didn't and he tried to hide the tinge of red in his cheeks behind the book.

“Pay up.” Derek ordered with his hand outstreched to Emily, who promptly slapped it.

“You don't know how long.”

“My bet was that they were already seeing each other.”

“That's not fair,” Rossi chipped in. “We didn't established a period of time.”

Derek shrugs, “Not my problem. I won either way.”

“Penelope said the same thing.”

“Well, then babygirl and I won—”

“We still need a time.” Emily said thoughtfully, giving Derek his money with a huff. “This is extortion, Morgan.”

He chuckled, waving the twenty dollar bill in front of her. JJ rolled her eyes at the childishness. At the end, Derek had earned sixty bucks between grumblings of unfairness.

“When do you think?” Hotch broke the conversation, eyes not even lifting from his reports. Emily asked him what he was talking about. “I'd say that it became official in about a month.” He hadn't participated in the bet, but he could share a thing or two on the topic. God knows how long you you two have been pinning over each other.

Rossi narrowed his eyes at him, suspiciously, “You know something we don't, Aaron?”

“Just mere assumptions.”

It didn't take long for another bet to ensue. When the jet landed, each one stretched their limbs and prepared to go home, before anyone could move towards the exit, however, Spencer broke the silence.

“Hotch is right.” He said, grabbing both of your go-bags and following you out of the door.

“Did he just?” Emily froze half way standing up.

“That little shit.”

He didn't hold back the chuckle as a faint argument started.

“What are you laughing at?” You glance at him at the corner of your eye. He brushes you off, pulling you at his side by wrapping a hand around your waist. “Are you aware they can see us or...?” You queried, confused at his actions.

Spencer shrugs, kissing your temple. “They know.”

You bury your nose in the scarf and lean into his side, not even daring to ask what he means by that and neither do you look back at your friends. You'd rather face the teasing in the morning anyway.

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 8

[chap seven] | [all chapters here] | [chap nine]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: I am NOT in control of myself when I write, this chapter took on a mind of it's own. I didn't plan for it to go this way, but boy do I love the drama that unfolded anyway. I hope you all suffer just as much as I did lmao~~

wc: 4.9k

Chapter Eight

Instead of your usual midmorning trek to fourth period with Eddie, the two of you - and the rest of the student body - were making your way to the gymnasium for another redundant pep assembly come Monday morning.

Even before you became disenchanted with the superficiality of the popular crowd, you detested assemblies. You actually preferred being in class over being crammed into the gym with a bunch of sweaty teenagers all halfheartedly cheering for the next upcoming sports game or student council election. Even when you were considered an It Girl, even when you were dating Duncan, you still found the whole school spirit thing to be total bullshit. You never cared for the false excitement and encouragement; it was a waste of your time.

This particular pep assembly was thrown together to officially announce the homecoming theme for this year. Why that task required a whole hour of time was beyond you. If past years were anything to go by, then the actual announcements would be wrapped up within fifteen minutes and the remaining time would be wasted on cheerleading routines and jazz band performances.

After ditching the student council some three weeks ago, you cared even less about all this shit than you did before - what interest did you have in celebrating the reveal of some stupid theme inspired by pop music or cheesy dance movies? You’d already decided you sure as shit wouldn’t be attending the school dance, so why was it obligatory for the entire school to attend this assembly in the first place? The heavy-handed force upon students to participate in school activities was something you had never understood, even when you yourself were a part of those groups that lived and breathed school spirit.

As you entered the gymnasium, you stole a glance at Eddie, who appeared just as disinterested as you as his eyes darted around to take in the awaiting student council and their eager smiles. His arm was resting lazily over your shoulder, which you were finally becoming accustomed to, to the point that you would nearly forget it was there sometimes. Hell, you were almost beginning to enjoy having Eddie’s arm there, not that you’d tell him that or even spend a minute wondering why that was.

“I still think we have time to run out of here before anyone notices.” You suggest, drawing a fake look of reprimand from Eddie; he grinned at both your blatant detachment and at your eagerness to skip school for the second time within a week.

“And miss out on everyone acting so impressed by whatever dumb idea they have now? Not a chance.” He teased while guiding you towards the far end of the bleachers. As a pouty scowl crossed your face, Eddie helped you up the steps to take seats just a few rows from the front.

While you impatiently waited for this damn assembly to finally start, Eddie’s friends slowly filtered into the gymnasium as well, each approaching you two with the same apprehension they’d had when they first met you. These guys were still clearly intimidated by you, and you still hadn’t taken the time to open up to them. As Jeff awkwardly shuffled onto the bench in front of you, your knees brushed against his back thanks to just how cramped the bleachers already were; you pulled back from the contact, twisting your body as best you could so that your knees could rest against the side of Eddie’s thigh instead. You didn’t catch the way he smirked to himself about it, content to see that you were shying away from contact with him less and less than you had before.

As the last of the stragglers entered, a trio of freshmen walked towards your group, clearly going for the last few seats in front of you; just as you were nearly prepared to tell them to buzz off and sit elsewhere, Eddie cherrily greeted them with clear recognition. You looked between the boys’ faces with critical puzzlement before turning to Eddie expectantly.

“Don’t tell me you’re friends with freshmen.” You said as if it was a dirty word. Upon seeing the way your brow curved with judgment, Eddie gave you a look of warning, as if silently asking you to please not scare these kids; when you glanced at their faces again, you figured it was too late for that.

The boys awkwardly squeezed into the bleachers, looking back over their shoulders so they could converse with the rest of the losers club that you were now a pseudo-member of. One of the boys accidentally met your watchful gaze, causing him to trip over his words as he quickly wrenched his eyes away. You couldn’t help the slight upturn of your lips - you knew you were always intimidating, but you still found amusement in how people reacted to you.

Your eyes narrowed in realization as you continued to stare at the boy, who clearly was trying to engage in conversation as if he couldn’t tell you were watching him, “You’re Nancy’s brother, aren’t you?”

The whole group looked at you, the freshman in particular seeming wary to speak to you considering your straightforward and cold aura, “You know Nancy?”

You tilted your head at the way he asked the question, which seemed to make him a little more nervous, so you taunted, “Why do you sound so surprised?”

As the Wheeler kid looked as if he were searching for the right response, Eddie gave you a little nudge, to which you gave him a faux look of innocence. The two of you stared at each other for a moment longer before Eddie returned his attention to the younger boys he was clearly attempting to befriend.

“Don’t let her scare you,” he started in a lighthearted tone, similar to the one he’d used with Gareth the week prior. He leaned down towards the group conspiratorially with a funny grin, feigning a dramatic whisper, “fear only makes her stronger.”

The group laughed a little, Eddie seeming to put them at ease; you jabbed your elbow into his ribcage as he straightened back up, sharing an amused look with you. At the same time, the cheerleaders started on some generic, peppy routine out on the basketball court, drawing the crowd’s attention as they shook their pom-poms and called out school chants. As you assessed the cheerleading squad with dispassion, you unconsciously relaxed into Eddie’s side just a little; over your shoulder, Eddie grinned to himself.

Once the cheerleaders wrapped up their set and students began to clap eagerly, the class president, Duncan - the vice president - and a couple more members of the council took to the court. You couldn’t help but sneer as you watched Duncan smile widely, clapping the class president on the shoulder as the crowd began to quiet down. The president - a good friend of Duncan’s named Trent - made a show of hushing everyone, as if whatever he had to say was of the most dire significance.

As you watched them, you found yourself wondering how you had the patience to put up with all of this in the past. Did you ever actually enjoy the false comradery, the sense of importance, the trivial joys of a school dance? Or were you just blindly going along with all of it in order to continue fitting in, to continue maintaining those flimsy friendships?

“Good morning Hawkins High!” Trent started into the microphone in his hand, rousing the crowd for another few moments as Duncan spoke into the second mic.

“We can’t thank you enough for your excitement so far!” You rolled your eyes with pursed lips, sharing a judgmental look with Eddie that caused you both to smile, “Now, I know everyone’s been eagerly awaiting this year’s homecoming, but we’ve got some more exciting news to go over before we announce the theme.”

Eddie tipped his head so that he could talk in your ear, ensuring that you could hear him clearly over Trent and Duncan’s speech, “This was the guy you dated for half a year?’

His taunting led to another jab of your elbow, causing him to cough out in surprise while pulling back to give you an exaggerated wounded look. He leaned back in to continue.

“He’s so… vapid.”

You mirrored Eddie, turning your own head so you could speak in his ear, “Honestly, I think I tuned out at least 80% of his bullshit.”

You could feel his small laugh against your ear, “That’s generous of you.”

“My patience hadn’t entirely run out at that point.” You responded while trying to eye Eddie in your periphery, feeling his hair tickle your cheek, “I guess I was good at pretending.”

“You still are, princess.” Eddie pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, as if to emphasize his point. You were still pretending, after all, just in a different way than before. In the midst of this conversation, how could you have momentarily forgotten that this whole thing with Eddie was a sham?

Righting yourself quickly, you smirked, hoping that Eddie hadn’t detected that singular moment of hesitation and confusion that you suppressed, “Well, you’re much more fun to pretend with.”

You turned your attention to the student council for a brief second as Trent was finally rambling on about the homecoming theme for the year - Footloose, of all things. You could still feel Eddie’s eyes trained on you, and in that moment you weren’t exactly fond of him staring; it caused you to squirm a little in your seat as you feigned total ignorance of his watchful gaze studying you.

“So I am fun?” Eddie teased, drawing your attention back to him, “Careful there, princess, you’re starting to reveal that you aren’t so bad under that icy exterior.”

Despite the roll of your eyes, you grinned at Eddie’s remark, playfully nudging him.

Out on the basketball court, Duncan took over from Trent, and you caught him saying it was time to announce the nominations for homecoming king and queen; the only reason you even spared him another glance was because he listed himself and Amelia, of all people, as the first couple on the docket. Since when were they a couple? That felt like an intentional jab at you, but on the other hand, you figured they didn’t care enough to insult you in this way. Right?

Returning your attention to Eddie, you raised a playful brow, ignoring Duncan’s voice as he droned on, “Don’t start telling people I’m nice, Munson, you’ll ruin my reputation.”

He dipped his head with a devilish, scheming look, “Isn’t that my job? To ruin your reputation?”

As you opened your mouth to give him some smart reply, you suddenly heard yours and Eddie’s names leaving Duncan’s mouth, a confused hush falling over the crowd as only a scatter of people halfheartedly clapped. Your stomach dropped as your eyes widened in realization, Eddie’s expression a mirror of yours. You both slowly looked towards Duncan, meeting his eyes from across the gym; he stared back with a histrionic, false smile, obviously playing innocent for the crowd. But you knew him well enough to recognize the mean, challenging glint in his eyes.

Your eyes slowly scanned the cluster of students on the gym floor - Amelia was now standing with Duncan (and giving you a blatantly supercilious look), Jason Carver stood with his long-time girlfriend Chrissy Cunningham, and star student Todd Stephens was arm-in-arm with Veronica Schneider. You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest as realization set in, prompting a look of frustration and dread to befall your face.

Duncan brought the microphone back up to his lips, putting on an all too innocent voice as he held your eyes, “Well, are you two lovebirds going to join us? Come on, don’t leave everyone hanging.”

Duncan put you and Eddie on the ballot for homecoming king and queen.

Anxiety twisted at your gut as you grew hot with anger, your harsh eyes unblinking as you stared Duncan down; and he just looked back with that stupid grin of his. You were never one to feel self-conscious, to feel embarrassed, but in that moment, you recognized just how quickly you’d fallen from grace. Humiliation was not a feeling you’d known before, but in this moment you suddenly felt as if you were drowning in.

And you knew that’s exactly what Duncan wanted.

God, you wanted to give him a piece of your fucking mind. You wanted to march right up to him, jab him in the chest with your manicured finger, and make him wish he hadn’t dared challenge you in front of the entire school. And yet, you were frozen in place, trapped in this imbalanced staring contest with Duncan as he continued to play at innocence.

Beside you, you felt Eddie tense up, his arm having fallen from your shoulder at some point, perhaps in total disbelief. But you couldn’t bring yourself to even look at him, to try to gauge what exactly was going through his head - you were too busy staring at Duncan as if your eyes could possibly cause him harm. Your hands formed into fists of rage, your jaw clenching as you were about ready to just to your feet and decimate Duncan with your words.

But as he’d proven himself to be good at time and time again, Eddie beat you to the punch, raising a hand to his mouth in order to project his words, “You know we’d beat all of you!”

You whipped your gaze to Eddie abruptly, surprise causing some of the tension in your face to mellow out. From this close, you could see the apprehension in Eddie’s eyes, the worry hidden there, but to the rest of the school you were certain he looked as if he was entirely too relaxed and composed about this whole confrontation.

Eddie briefly glanced at you, but quickly returned his gaze to Duncan challenging, “The rest of you wouldn’t stand a chance against us!”

A wave of laughter passed through the crowd of students, but you weren't certain if they were laughing with Eddie or at him. Duncan shared a look with the rest of the homecoming court, smiling mockingly at each of them before returning his attention to the two of you; you wondered if he was truly as confident as he looked.

“You think so?” Duncan called back with contempt, daring Eddie to continue. Without realizing what you were doing, you pressed your hand atop Eddie’s knee as if it were a warning, silently asking him not to egg Duncan on. Despite your impulsive desire to jump to your feet and attack Duncan yourself, you couldn’t picture any possible way for this whole melodrama to turn in your favor.

“I’d bet on it!” Eddie challenged again, managing a rather convincing bold smile. Your chest twisted again, your cheeks growing warm with both rage and edginess.

Duncan made a cocky face, finally looking away from you and Eddie to address the crowd as if this was all just a part of the show, as if you and Eddie had played your part and he was now done with you, “Well, we’ll leave it up to all of you! Voting begins today, so come find the student council during lunch hours to place your votes!”

The crowd seemed to lull back into ease as Duncan and Trent continued onto the next phase of information, acting like the past few minutes hadn’t put even the slightest of dents in the assembly festivities. As excitement began to build back up in the crowd, you sat in a daze, still trying to process this entire fucking thing.

Your hand still rested atop Eddie’s knee, and you must have unconsciously squeezed your fingers a little too roughly into his skin, because you heard Eddie hiss beside you. He grabbed your wrist to remove your hand, drawing your eyes to his; you stared at each other with blatant confusion and upset, and it was muddling your brain, making it impossible to think straight.

“Hey--” Eddie started, but you abruptly wrenched your wrist out of his hand and shot to your feet, shoving past all of Eddie’s friends as you stumbled the most straight path accessible down the bleachers. Although the student council continued to speak exuberantly to the crowd, you could feel the intense stares of so many of your peers following you as you quickly stormed out of a set of double doors.

You marched away from the gymnasium with a vexed shine in your eyes, your face red hot with frustration. You couldn’t believe what Duncan just pulled on you, still couldn’t quite come to terms with how shitty that whole thing was - was the entire student council in on this, too? Did they all share a collective laugh when Duncan suggested this disrespectful prank? Had Janet even attempted to say anything in defense of you?

God, you nearly shouted with rage. You thought walking away from your tormentor would help you calm down, but in some stroke of cruelty being alone with your thoughts only made them worse. The fact that someone you once considered a friend - someone you once dated - would make a joke of you in front of everyone was easily one of the more painful things you had to endure.

With an exacerbated sigh, you stopped your incessant marching, considering this whole fucking situation with gritted teeth - in some twisted way, you had gotten what you wanted. After all, it was you who wanted to become some kind of social pariah, you who wanted to be cast out by everyone you thought you knew.

It sure as shit wasn’t supposed to happen like this though. It’s not as if you were exactly thinking ahead when you decided to become completely detached from everyone, but you had never considered that you’d be treated callously. No, like a fool you had hoped that all the popular kids would simply ignore you and pretend that you had never even existed, moving on with their lives as if they’d never even met you. Evidently, your former friends were far more cruel than you’d given them credit for.

Trying to pull yourself together, you leaned against the nearest wall, massaging your temple with your fingertips while breathing deeply. You were the ice princess, the chick who always got away with being cold and bitchy and rude, but you realized in this moment that your reign was most certainly over. Despite your penchant for opinionated crassness, you had never truly been the type to flare with anger as you had today; but of course it would be Duncan to cause this surge of outrage within you.

And you were stupid enough to let him see just how upset you’d gotten.

You knew you had to get it together, to shove down all this distress and instead put on your usual brave face for the world to see. Next time you saw Duncan, you had to read as calm, cold, and only mildly annoyed - you couldn’t hold onto all this wild-eyed agitation.

As you closed your eyes and rested your head back against the wall, you heard someone approaching, prompting you to sigh through your nose as if that would calm you down. You glanced in the direction of the first steps, your gaze falling on Eddie. Of course, it was Eddie - did you really think it could’ve been anyone else?

His entire being practically radiated concern, his eyes shining with unease, his fist clenched around the strap to your book bag that you abandoned when you ran out. As if approaching a skittish animal, Eddie came to lean against the wall with you, the pair of you standing together in contemplative, frustrated silence.

You could feel your upset rising again, unaccustomed to having a companion at your side in moments of anger. You always loathed the idea of being comforted, of having someone there telling you to relax, telling you that everything would be okay. And perhaps you were simply assuming, but you hoped Eddie wouldn’t try to calm you down - you needed to just let yourself be pissed for a while.

“I can’t believe he fucking did that.” You finally said, voice laced with malice. You shook your head in disbelief, staring at the opposite wall, “He’s even shittier than I thought.”

Eddie hummed in agreement, but said nothing, as if he didn’t know the right words to offer you right now. Good, you’d rather he didn’t say anything right now.

Another beat of silence fell between you two. You watched the wall clock with laser focus as you tried to compose yourself, following the second hand as it ticked rhythmically - you had about ten minutes to get your shit together before everyone filtered out of the gym. You couldn’t let any of them see how pathetic you felt.

After one more tense minute, you felt Eddie’s fingers reach for your own, brushing against your knuckles as if hesitant to grab your hand, unsure of what kind of response he’d get. You flinched away while looking down between you, meeting Eddie’s eyes a moment later; he was clearly trying not to show any kind of hurt at your small rejection.

He pressed his lips together as he briefly considered his words, “Come on, I need a cigarette.”

His fingers skimmed past yours again as if to gauge your reaction; you neither pulled away nor reached for him, so with a look of acceptance on his face, Eddie pushed himself off the wall. A mean part of you wanted to shoot Eddie a nasty look as you began to follow him - in your own selfish way, you found yourself wanting to put some of the blame on him, wanting to act like he was part of the problem. But you refrained from reacting poorly, allowing Eddie to guide you out the doors and around the side of the gym, en route to the football field.

Following just a couple steps behind Eddie, the two of you finally reached the bleachers, ducking under them to hide out from any potential prying eyes. As you rested against one of the posts, Eddie dug out a cigarette and lighter, putting a bit of distance between the two of you as he walked deeper under the bleachers. You crossed your arms tightly in front of you while biting the inside of your cheek with annoyance; you watched closely as Eddie inhaled a deep breath of smoke, his eyes looking anywhere but you.

Unintentionally, Eddie’s lack of eye contact fueled your own upset, and suddenly you found yourself annoyed that he couldn’t even seem to look at you. Instead, he stared off in thought, slowly blowing smoke out between his lips. Wordlessly, he held the cigarette out towards you; any other time, you would have taken it from him without a second thought, but this time, you gave Eddie the cold shoulder, turning your attention away.

He dropped his arm limply back at his side, and you could feel his eyes on you for a moment. With a heavy sigh, Eddie brought the cigarette back to his lips; you wondered if the sigh was thanks to you or this entire situation.

“Don’t let him get to you.” His tone seemed a little unsure, scratchy thanks to the smoke coating his throat. You met eyes, Eddie’s stare conveying his own frustrations while yours was mean. To add fuel to the fire, you twisted your face into a snarky look.

“I think it’s a little late for that, Munson.” You said in a clipped tone as you raised your chin defiantly, catching the brief flash of upset that crossed Eddie’s face at your attitude; clearly, he hadn’t expected you to turn it on him all of a sudden. Admittedly, you hadn’t expected it either, but it leapt out of you without any control.

Eddie took a defensive step towards you, his gaze firm as he took another drag from the cigarette; he seemed at conflict with himself as he responded in as level a tone as he could, “Then get it together and don’t take it out on me.”

As you stared back at him with your characteristic coldness, you could feel all your emotional walls building back up - just as you feared, Eddie was trying to get you to relax, and you were too upset to care if you retaliated with an attitude. Right now, you wanted to be mean just for the sake of it, to push him so he’d stop trying to comfort you. You didn’t need him to pretend to care - this was a fake relationship, you reminded yourself, but that didn’t mean Eddie also had to fake niceties when shit got hard.

Eddie gave you a look of warning, as if somehow he could read your mind, as if he could tell that you were trying to block him out. And you nearly made a face as if to mock his concern, but you managed to refrain, pressing your lips firmly together.

“I already made myself look stupid in front of the entire fucking school, I can’t act like that didn’t happen.” You whined, abruptly spinning on your heel to begin pacing once again, that stupid habit of yours that did nothing to calm you down, “I’m a fucking joke.”

You couldn’t stand the look that crossed Eddie’s face, although you weren’t sure what exactly it meant - there was something akin to pity in his eyes that you didn’t like, “You’re not.”

His response was simple yet stern, and you threw him another snide look a moment before he turned his gaze away yet again. Were you beginning to piss him off? To upset him? That cynical part of you hoped so.

Eddie breathed deeply for another couple of moments as he collected his thoughts, his voice a touch smaller than it was a moment ago, “This is high school, princess - you can’t take everything so seriously.”

Frustration started to well in your chest as you glared at his profile, at his dumb little frown, the way he fussed with the cigarette between his fingers, the slight slump of his shoulders, “Well, I do. All I wanted was for them to forget about me, but instead they’ve decided to make me some kind of a target for their immature bullshit!”

“Welcome to the club!” Eddie rounded on you, abruptly matching your antagonistic tone; his eyes were dark, if not a little wild, and you were nearly taken aback, but instead your glare only deepened. You’d never seen Eddie look angry before, and the rational side of you that was buried extra deep right now decided that you never wanted that anger to be directed at you again.

Edd took a moment to think, laughing without even a trace of humor before he inhaled another deep breath of smoke, his eyes narrowing a little as he continued, “What the hell did you expect? Did you really think you could start hanging around a freak like me and get off scot-free? I know you’re not that naive, so don’t act like you didn’t see it coming.”

You gaped at Eddie’s bluntness, completely unprepared for this show of temper. For only a split second, you could feel yourself getting overwhelmed, but just like every other feeling you had, you shoved that down with a scowl. You two stared harshly at one another, the moment stretching out uncomfortably between you. Eventually, you shook your head with a scoff, turning your back to Eddie.

“Of all the things I could’ve done, I can’t believe I thought coming to you for help was the best option.” You started, speaking coldly through your teeth, “I was stupid to ask you for shit, and you were stupider for agreeing to it.”

The silence that fell over you was thick enough to cut with a knife, the static tension in the air nearly painful. If you weren’t so upset, you may have considered how dramatic and mean you were being, you may have considered that you didn’t have to treat Eddie as if he was the problem; but you were too angry to care.

From behind you, Eddie huffed out a deep, disappointed sigh; you heard the toe of his shoe twist on the gravel as he put out the cigarette he’d clung to like a lifeline. Your posture grew even more taut, arms crossing more aggressively and jaw clenching so hard that you were grinding your teeth.

Eddie began to take slow steps towards you, walking around so that you were forced to face each other again; he hovered mere inches from you, ensuring that you could see his upset with total clarity. His gaze was perturbed and severe, mouth twisted into a frown, shoulders rigid with indignation. He silently held out your long forgotten book bag, barely giving you time to reach for it before he carelessly dropped it into your hand; your grip was virtually nonexistent, and the bag hit the ground with a sad thud.

It was so clear that Eddie wanted to say something, but he held back his words, a calculating and thoughtful look on his face. You stared rigidly at one another, your expression cold and cruel, his hurt and despondent, the both of you waiting for the other to act first.

Finally, Eddie shook his head smally as he looked down at the ground, walking away from you without another word or glance back.

.

.

taglist (if you'd like to be added, pls let me know): @a-queen-blr @avalon-wolf @costellation-hunter @daisy-munson

@daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @eddiernunson

@em0220 @frogtape @fromasgardandback @fckyeahlames @kthomps914

@lotrefcp @love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00 @mewchiili @miaajaade

@munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive @sav12321 @sheneedsrocknroll92

@steeldaisies @stormgrl19

[moonbaby26]

Title: Two Conditions

(Chapter 8 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader, Aokiji/Kuzan x Reader (referenced), Smoker x Reader (referenced)

Chapter Warnings: language, controlling/possessive relationship, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex referenced (female receiving), Doffy considering baby trapping reader, Doffy referencing attraction to reader even when she was still a teen (nothing happened)

Chapter Synopsis: It’s now day two of your three day agreement to stay with Doflamingo. You’re still surviving, even enjoying it at times. But whether that is for better or worse remains to be seen as he’s keen on coercing your full commitment to him as soon as possible.

Chapters: 1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  8, 9

——————————

—————————— 

It was clear that you were far more familiar with sharing a bed than Doflamingo was for as deeply as you now slept. Either this or you were just that exhausted from enduring him so many more times throughout the night.

Even his cock was finally feeling a bit sore from so much grinding, lube or not. But he never would have told you that, just watching you sleeping against him still in what was probably now two or three in the morning.

He’d only allowed you out of the bed long enough earlier to eat dinner with him as well as to use the attached master bath to clean up, and occasionally relieve your bladder from the beer you’d had in town and all the wine which came alone with him after.  

Dinner had been a quick one out on the balcony, you and he both indulging in a mushroom risotto with scallops. More of that traditional Scyllian fare prepared from the kitchen and personal chefs below. Though those servants would have long gone home by now.

Even as expensive as this place had been to purchase, it was still far smaller than what he was used to. Which also meant that it stayed less crowded inside. Really, not much more than the two of you left except for some useless guards perhaps still patrolling this late at night.

But you had seemed to approve when first seeing the villa. Because of course, what difference did you know? The majority of your quiet hours were likely only had laying in a marine bunk not much bigger than a coffin, having to hear all your other crew moving and breathing around you in the ships you traveled on. 

Like an ant in the dirt with all the others.

But he couldn’t stop watching you all the same, so vulnerable beside him. This fascination with you in particular only seeming to worsen exponentially each time that he had you alone.

And he already had thrown down the gauntlet with Tsuru, announcing his intentions to keep pursuing you despite her strong misgivings. So he’d have to be prepared for those consequences soon.

She had promised to air everything she knew about him in an attempt to drive you off. All in the name of protecting you of course. And goddamn that woman did know almost all of it. And even what she had no proof for, she likely still heavily suspected.

But him racing against that clock to capture you fully before she could sabotage him only made things that much more interesting really.

It was obvious that you and Tsuru had yet to connect again since she’d first found out. But the moment she was back on the scene, it’d be a full out battle of wills for your fate he was sure.

And this was the primary reason everything had to be rushed along.

Though, courting you at this speed did agree with his natural impatience too of course. He’d waited long enough to have these chances with you after all.

Whether you accepted it yet or not, he had wanted this from very first sight. And he absolutely would have fucked you senseless in the North Blue too if things had worked out better then. Teenage body or not for you at that time in your life. 

Sometimes he still suspected that you and Tsuru had even added a few years onto your official marine record to make you legal for recruitment back then. She’d kept you hidden aboard her ship as a little chore girl well before training you up to let you out into the field with villains like him he was sure.

Because she had learned the hard way not to leave the wrong child behind again hadn’t she? 

Doflamingo smirked to himself at those old thoughts, just burying that scarred left side of his face back against you now.

He was going to have to tell you that part of his story eventually. Because she would if he didn’t. The one about the rage filled little boy whose eye and life your insufferable race had tried to steal as they rose up against him. 

The bottomless violence of humankind only contrasted in the one older woman he’d met soon after that offered him a brief respite which nearly made him change it all. 

He had begged Tsuru not to leave him there. That boy had cried out for a mother’s warmth one last time and been so fatefully denied.

Too young to recruit then she’d said, and with biological family still alive that she wouldn’t remove him from.

Oh how Doflamingo had wondered how many nights she had lain awake ruing that mistake ever since. Especially when her peer Sengoku had found an even younger Rosinante soon after and done for that traitor what she wouldn’t for him. Of course Doflamingo had never learned about Sengoku’s direct involvement until long after his brother’s death.

But now, so much like his bird namesake which sometimes hid their head beneath their wings as they slept, Doflamingo had long since made a habit of burying that blind side of his face and those mistakes of the past within the nearest comfort whenever available.

And tonight, instead of just another cold empty bed and overstuffed pillows alone, that actually meant the safety of the nape of your neck as he breathed in your scent and warmth.

Everything he did still had its own purpose though. Even as entirely uncomfortable as it’d been to let you see him laid bare this soon, he knew he was correct to have made this choice.

Because it was already so obvious in the way you’d touched his face and spoken to him so sincerely after…you were already forgetting how easily that switch within him could still flip.

If he used tenderness as a tool to get his way, it didn’t erase anything else that he was still so capable of. This beast would still bite you, even as an injured one now experiencing your rare kindness.

Especially an an injured one actually when faced with your weakness of affection. 

Because no amount of kisses, soft touches, or pretty words could make his pain any less real. Or dampen his inner fear of ever experiencing that level of helplessness again that he had once been dealt from your kind. 

If you did sleep beside him enough nights to find out, you’d discover him sweating and thrashing in his sleep eventually. Reliving the ropes cutting into his wrists, the fire at his feet, and the smoke in his lungs as he’d screamed at those vermin. Screamed and threatened to destroy everything and everyone even as their arrows finally hit their mark.

He’d made good on some of those promises too in recent years. But it would never be enough. That rage could never be fully quenched, his suffering from it never lessened. 

That pain could only be paused perhaps, or briefly redirected. In the instances where he was receiving something that he also wanted so thoroughly.

He wanted to hold you. He wanted to fuck you. He wanted to fight you. And he wanted to keep you.

His mind had run endless with plans and strategies to do this very thing for so long now. But he absolutely had to seal the deal soon to make this permanent. 

Because the only thing he was certain of when it came to these conflicting emotions was that no one else could be allowed to truly claim you again.

As his long body shifted once more, nestling even further against you at every meeting point that he could, his hand still tightened slightly on your lower abdomen.

That was one option he was still considering.

He hadn’t forgotten the crazy things you’d made him say in Sabaody. He’d been so angry with you that day. Likening you to nothing better than livestock for him to shame, abuse, and even impregnate however he’d see fit. 

It was still very much a cheat too if he chose to use that. Because as highly as he regarded his own twisted, mother and son like relationship with Tsuru, it also made him not see a chain in this world stronger than that between mothers and their spawn.

No matter what you said or eventually promised him now, he knew you may still try to fly away from him one day. But if there was a child…then no matter where or how far you may wish to run, you would always return right back to any nest he’d made for you. You would do so without hesitation if your chick was the one within his grasp instead. If it was crying out in fear for your protection.

And the immorality of such ideas was not even a concept worth considering. Because of course he could do whatever he wished with his own future blood, or with you, his own desired mate.

It was just the logistics of achieving such a thing. 

When his servants had searched your bag earlier, he could have had them throw out those stupid birth control pills of yours then and there.

But you’d just get more as soon as you were back on any marine ship. He knew that. So the fight that would have been with you hadn’t been worth the annoyance to him right now.

Not for such a low chance of making a difference in just three days time anyway. 

But he was definitely keeping an eye on that potential. If it really came down to it, he knew other chemicals existed. Things that nullified those pills which could easily be slipped into drinks for instance. 

Caesar alone had a treasure trove of old Germa 66 data that’d been stolen. Forced fertility was hardly a complicated affair in all the greater horrors Vinsmoke Judge had committed to his own bloodline.

The reminder to Doflamingo that he had no blood family, outside of the more distant ones that he’d gladly kill if they ever set foot beyond their gilded gates in Mariejois, was a bittersweet one though.

If you really could give him that family back one day, he would absolutely use both you and that child to help with the void those last executions had still left him with. It would be something to finally have the Heart seat filled again too of course like he’d considered before. Doflamingo had lost his heart in more ways than one back then. 

———————————

“Doffy.” You said quietly, just this surreal scene something your mind was still trying to accept as you felt his breath warm and soft against your neck in the new light of day.

Well, the dim light of day. The curtains were not pulled shut. But the sky was overcast, gloomy almost.

The perfect morning to never move at all really.

With a sleeping monster coiled all around you, like you were some shiny pebble he’d never let go of again.

But this pebble needed to pee.

Quite badly, with a smaller bladder than him, and all that wine still filtering into it. Something expensive and vintage you couldn’t even properly pronounce, but it’d been that or nothing as thirsty as you’d been last night. As sweaty as you’d been as you’d climbed that pirate as if you’d never see a man again.

Over and over, but somehow you’d still survived him.

If there had been blood again, it’d only been specks. Mostly under his fingernails or yours. And he’d liked it every time. Every claw mark, every bruise and bite. He’d wanted to give as much as receive.

But he was about to receive something worse if he didn’t release you soon.

“I need to pee.” You said a little more insistently. Trying to slide out from between his arms, and those even longer legs wrapped so tightly around you.

But you felt his face press into you even harder. Even that short blond hair now messy, mussed against your skin.

His calves slid against you, warm and tight as a new sound finally greeted your ear.

“….and if I say no?”

His voice was dark, but so thick with sleep still. There was a large hand running down your side again.

“Then I piss on your skinny bird legs.” You threatened.

He made an indistinguishable sound at that, but you felt his lips upturn against your spine.

“Filthy animal.” And now that same hand had moved to enclose on your wrist.

He’d been like this some last night too anytime you’d needed to leave the bed. But he’d been much easier to fight when worn down from all the fucking.

This was now a Doflamingo with a few hours of sleep back in him.

But you still didn’t have the time, deciding to take that challenge. Pulling up your legs so quickly that he couldn’t catch them with his own.

You put the soles of your feet against that hard abdomen of his next as you pushed for all you were worth. Only the strength of one of his hands now pitted against the force of both of your legs. 

He cursed at the pain that made for him, and when he twisted his body, your foot nearly slipped down between his legs. Not intentionally on your part, but you and he both realized how close you’d come to annihilating him right in the balls this early in the morning.

He released you immediately too then. And you hadn’t been ready for that, crashing right off the bed with most of the blankets as you’d still been trying to pull away from him. 

Yet you jumped right back up, though with the bedsheet cascading off of your hip as you thought he might be coming after you to continue the struggle.

But he was only staring at you. Still laying there on the bed where your fall had fully uncovered him. Like some kind of nude adonis in annoyed repose. 

You straightened up at the sight, nude as well and trying not to feel that flush of heat within you all over again.

And he said nothing, but you felt his gaze on you all the way until you’d made it into the bathroom and closed the door for privacy.

But then that was actually worse. Again, just like the night before, not being able to see him meant he could be moving anywhere, doing anything. The same way that snakes and spiders didn’t bother you as long as you could see them. But it was an entirely different matter once they disappeared.

You were trying to listen for any footfalls even as you flushed the toilet and briefly washed your hands over the sink.

But there was nothing and you had opened the door again soon enough.

You saw he had indeed moved, but only to pull the blanket back off of the floor and onto his body. Only his shoulders and head were exposed now. He had the left side of his face buried against the mattress as well in the absence of you. His right eye still watching you, but through a half lidded gaze.

Still that tired then? Poor thing, you thought sardonically.

Yet this was also your chance to get something else done as you tried not to make a big show of grabbing one of the now empty wine glasses off of the dresser. The drinking had started on the balcony with dinner last night, and then moved back inside as he’d herded you into the bed and beneath him once more all those hours ago.

You were absolutely still sore too as you kneeled down by your duffel bag. You unzipped it quietly, just enough to slide your hand in and pop one of your birth control pills out of the foil packet buried within your clothes.

In one smooth movement, you’d slipped the pill into your mouth and stood again. Just walking back to the bathroom to fill the wine glass with enough water from the sink to wash the pill down as you’d swallowed.

“You really are a fucking animal.” His voice cut through rather loudly right as you’d tilted your head back.

You about spit the water out at the sudden gruff voice, glaring back at him through the open bathroom door for startling you.

But the pill did make it down your throat as you’d walked back out.

“What’s your problem? Go back to sleep, pirate!” You fussed, heart rate up now as that’d been so unexpected in the otherwise silence of the dimly lit room.

You left the wine glass back on the dresser as you approached the bed again however.

And that crimson red iris of his right eye was locked in on you, even as he opened the blanket and quickly pulled you back against him once you were close enough.

His grip was stronger than minutes before, painful this time as you felt his cock, already half hard again against your back.

But he didn’t use it right now, just growling a little in your ear. “The problem is that we don’t drink from bathroom sinks, you little savage. If you want water, you ring the help to bring you some. Ice water filtered into a pitcher, not bathroom water from the same room that we shit in…got it?”

And then he was forcing you to turn around again, to face him in the bed before he tightened the blanket back around you both.

Your eyebrows were lowered, knowing he was actually serious but not at all understanding why this was suddenly such a trigger. Why was he so goddamned weird? He’d literally licked his own cum off of your face last night. But drinking from the sink was taboo?

“Yes, Doffy.” You muttered anyway. Intuitive enough to realize that that was also what he wanted to hear.

But he huffed a little regardless. His eye still on yours as he answered. “Watch the bratty tone. I’ll housebreak you yet, little cur.”

And even with the dark clouds outside, enough sunlight was filtering in to start to lose your focus by watching his face again.

He really did have expressive eyes when they weren’t hidden. 

So even as much of an asshole as he was already being to you just minutes after waking, you did find yourself touching his face again soon enough.

And him allowing it as well despite that previous condescending talk while he turned his head so that both his eyes could be seen now. His cheek was against your hand as he still watched you.

“What now, love?” He asked abruptly then. 

Just like that his tone was different again with your touch. But it felt intentional too. You weren’t as naive as he may think.

Like it was still all a game somehow. From cold to warm, then sweet back to sour again, dangling the lure in front of you, then pulling it away again to try and make you drop your guard.

But he was willing to keep it going even if you weren’t falling for this constant switching back and forth fully yet. 

“No, I can’t see out of my left eye if that’s what you’re pondering.” He actually offered without being asked though while you’d watched each other. “Nothing there but shadow and flares of light that bring on the worst migraines anyway. But that left eye was always sensitive to light. Even from birth.”

Well, then he was suited to being some kind of venomous creature living under a rock after all wasn’t he? But he was clearly trying for your sympathy again too.

And he did scowl a little then, that cloudy eye narrowing in tandem with the other. You still weren’t taking the bait to empathize with him as easily as last night he likely realized. Your hormones and desire for him more under control now….mostly.

“But this is obviously a secret you’re now obligated to keep as well, love.” He warned instead. “Being a half blind warlord doesn’t pack quite as much of a threat now does it?”

“I’d bet it just makes you that much meaner actually.” You quipped in return.

His scowl upturned a bit there, a smirk beginning as he didn’t entirely disagree. “Sometimes.”

And really, you would have been fine to leave each other alone from there. An armistice to just lay in Doflamingo’s arms as a lazy morning like you hadn’t had from anyone in much too long. 

With Kuzan the last time…and you supposed it really had to be the last time now, he’d been too drunk. Rolling away from you even hours before it was already time to be back up and in uniform.

And with Smoker, even before the breakup he’d been away from you for months. Your last physical time together, actually having been only a quickie in the bathroom of a damned bar. Just a port town both your ships had been in at the same time. 

Hardly romantic as you’d been bitching at him not to get ashes in your hair as he’d hiked up your skirt from behind and still not put out those fucking cigars regardless. Thrusting into you just long enough for him to cum, and then he’d been done.

No talk of missing you. No lingering kiss or hold at all. Just a man who’d been alone on a boat for too long and needed something to put it in.

You really should have realized his waning interest in you sooner. You and Smoker hadn’t been much more than friends with benefits by the end, had you? And apparently even that had been too much for him to maintain.

It still pissed you off really. How quickly Smoker had just turned and cut you out when you’d thought it had been more than just sex.

“The fuck are you thinking about now?” Doflamingo interrupted as your eyes flitted back to him in surprise.

Had you been showing that past regret on your face? Hell.

And the pirate was indeed watching you with full judgement.

“It’s just been a while since I’ve gotten to stay with anyone. I don’t know.” You certainly tried to stay non specific there. You couldn’t think of any quicker way to violence than to confess to Donquixote Doflamingo of thinking of another man while in his bed beside him.

But thankfully, he didn’t press this time. Seemingly a bit more interested in the handful of your ass that he was then cupping.

“Well you didn’t slit my throat in my sleep. So I suppose I’ll let you stay again tonight…” He taunted a little, but still sounding somewhat lazy as you remained in his grip.

“Because I’m a sailor, not an assassin.” You replied though, a bit offended at that insinuation before you could even help it.

And he did grin again then. “Oh, I’m well aware. Tsuru’s little protege. You two and your pitiful ethics. But…that predictable nature of yours makes this rare privilege possible for you. You think I’d let a fellow pirate curl up to me like this?” 

And there was a look in his eye then that absolutely said he was referring to someone specifically as his words kept on. “My peers may know how to fuck well enough, but we’d kill each other sooner than touch again after the copulating was done. Too much ego between us to make it even one night without murderous intent rearing up.”

“Hate fucking you mean?” You asked, and you didn’t know why you were encouraging him. He’d talk about these crazy things and you’d just start to answer sometimes. 

“Exactly! All lust, no trust.” And he did seem amused, both at your response and his own little rhyme there. 

“But tell me, marine.” And now those wandering fingers were roaming your inner thighs as his eye looked more curious. “What would you really call this instead? You and I?”

And your nervousness was back. His focus so fully on you then. 

“I don’t know.” You said honestly.

“Let’s think about that then.” He said, and you were seeing more of his teeth. That smile that never resembled anything close to friendly.

“Did you like it when I walked you around in public yesterday?” He asked next. “…when I called you my woman in front of those scurrying mice at the store?”

And his voice was dropping too. His fingers gripping you harder in tandem.

“It made you wet didn’t it?” He breathed through that cruel smile. “Because you want so badly to belong to someone.”

Which, that tone only made you think that he must finally be awake enough to start feeling amorous all over again. But those devilish eyes were still thinking, considering deeper things once more.

“I liked the way it felt too.” He said abruptly. “I’ve been thinking of what it’d be like to have you to come back to each night…”

Your lips couldn’t help but part a little again at that when his thumb ran across them. Yet he kept talking, kept suggesting.

“You’re already a captain after all. I’ve no doubt that the rank of commodore will soon follow. And you’ll have your own ship and crew by then, won’t you darling?”

His face had moved in closer to you again then, lips ghosting along your jawline. Hungry little bites made along it, urging you to tilt your head back as he finished his thought. “You do realize that that ship will have to have Dressrosa as its home port, don’t you? I don’t think I’ll be able to accept anything less now…” 

Of course you made a sound somewhere between disbelief and disagreement at those new words. But he didn’t care. His tongue was running wet across your pulse point before he bit down abruptly.

And the palm of your hand was against his cheek just as fast to push him off.

You felt his resulting laugh more than you heard it before he did pull back. Yet only enough for him to outright lick your still open palm.

Which earned another look of equal surprise and bewilderment from you as you tried to wipe that spit back away immediately onto the bedding. 

“And how the hell would that work?” You did ask irritably though, still clearly flustered by his new ideas. “There’s no marine base in Dressrosa. A home port is where the crew members’ families live. Where we stay between assignments and resupply, and-”

“Yes, it’d be the perfect country for raising a family, wouldn’t it?” His voice was so smooth again at that, unnerving almost as it caught you a little further off guard.

He was stroking you idly again too, down your side and over your hip. “Your subordinates would be kissing your feet to get to live in the comparative paradise of Dressrosan casitas instead of those utilitarian marine barracks they’d find everywhere else.” 

“It takes a lot of crew to fully man one of our ships.” You didn’t know why your body was trying to tense again at this subject. Or why you were trying to fight illogical emotions with logical words at all. “That’s not an amount of housing that can just pop up overnight.”

“I’m their fucking king…we’ll designate whatever space I say to. And it’d all be free obviously. Your miserly accountants at HQ could never say no to that.”

“Nothing is free.” You quickly replied. 

And Doflamingo did smile again there. Like a magician conceding that his current audience was more cynical than most. You were still seeing some truth even behind the attractive show.

“Well…you’d be the real payment of course.” He murmured, beginning to look a bit more hungry again.

“Funny.” You tried to deflect. 

“I’m serious.” He contended. And you could feel his hips shift, a rather hard something now poking against your stomach yet again.

“You actually want me to live in Dressrosa?” It felt like a last ditch effort to try snd show him how insane those words really could sound when strung together. 

“Oh no, love. That alone wouldn’t be enough.” And he’d moved again so that long cock of his was now sliding back and forth against your abdomen.

And you looked at him in some confusion. All the while seeing that lust begin to bud all over again in his handsome face.

“Your crew would live in Dressrosa. But you would live in my palace. In my bed. Just like this.”

And he flung the blankets back with those words, before he’d rolled the two of you so that you were fully beneath him once more.

You could see how flushed with blood that throbbing cock already was then, an enlarged vein running beneath it as he’d pulled that lube bottle back into his hand via string.

“Every morning while your ship was in port, woman. This could be us.” He promised even as he was then stroking that lube back over his shaft and the broad head of it. “You could set sail and go ruin as many other pirates as you’d wish…crush my competitors. And then come home, back to me at the end of each voyage. Back to your king.” 

You heard that resealed lube bottle clank against the nightstand as he hadn’t even had the patience to set it back down. Him just tossing it before he grabbed you behind the knees and spread your legs while lifting them up simultaneously.

Your ankles were in the air and then pressed against his torso before he shoved that wet cock back inside of you.

It was always painful. And always amazing too as you saw him smile down at your pitiful expression. Just a woman hopelessly conquered, aroused, and desperate all at once for this ruthless man.

You didn’t care about a future that had yet to be. Whatever schemes and plans he had for you…there was no point of being afraid of what wasn’t yet here.

This stretching and heat and need were what was real. Just blooming all over again and pushing everything else from your mind as you finally found the way to beg.

“Fuck me, Doffy….please.” You whined when he’d yet to begin thrusting at all after that first penetration.

He’d been too busy watching you writhe as you’d stretched for him once more.

And the growl that came from him in return to your plea was nothing short of hedonistic. “Of course. Of fucking course, love. Open up and take me…on two conditions.”

You tried to focus, but even as those damnable eyes of his bid you to heed him, his thumb was now pressing over your clit simultaneously. He rubbed it so perfectly as he tightened that metaphorical snare all at once.

Every prior word, every prior action…he’d been waiting for you to succumb like this.

“I’ll be yours, woman. I’ll even let you come and go from my country. Let you continue with that ‘ambitious justice’ that you’ve so claimed.” The sneer on his face at your particular notion of justice made clear how arbitrary and futile he found the term however.

He did begin to slowly thrust his cock in and out of you too then, dragging it almost to extend each and every tease to all those heated nerve endings inside. “But no one else may have your body this way…not without my full consent. No one.”

His finger was still massaging your clit incessantly with each new word, but not letting your own hips buck up into him as they so badly wanted to. He only pinned you even harder into the mattress, almost impatient for you to comply as he gave the final rule. 

“And you will always return home to me.” There was no smile then. This was absolutely all or none. “Your only true home will be wherever I am.” 

And for the very first time, you may have preferred the red glasses to have been back on his face to cover him. Because that look in his eyes was abruptly unforgiving. But…especially in the wounded left eye actually.

He’d admitted that eye had always been abnormal and sensitive from birth. Even from before whatever incident had later blinded it.

But only in the daylight, and only with it focused on you that dangerously could you now see that larger iris’ outline in full. Its original deep red hazed over to almost a pink beneath the white scar tissue.

And something inside that blinded eye was fully primal. Mad. It was separate of the rest of him in a way you couldn’t explain in that moment. You were afraid of it.

“Doffy…” You tried to call him back to you.

“Swear to me.” He hissed just as quickly though. That pressure from his hand on your clit becoming painful.

He was absolutely hurting you now. Your body caught under his weight as well as he stayed buried as deeply inside of you as he could go. The head of him was pressed hard against your cervix yet again.

You were cornered and you knew it. And even as frightening as that could suddenly be, it didn’t kill your desire for him. 

He was absolutely a monster. 

But he was still the only thing you kept thinking about. The only one you kept needing. You’d keep coming back to him anyway, as stupid as you were, wouldn’t you? Because everyone else kept throwing you away when you’d tried to do better. 

You’d tried to fall in love with marines, and felt like a ship smashed against the rocks both times. Wouldn’t it be insane of you to just keep chasing that same honorable kind of man like Kuzan or Smoker, only to find that you weren’t an honorable enough woman for either of them to ever keep?

“Then what would I be to you?” You pleaded within the pain. Your clit stinging, your cervix aching. “Just your mistress? Your concubine?” Your eyes were starting to sting too. Were you no better than your own brothel working mother in the end? The most you’d ever have in lieu of actual love was just the sexual fixations of a dangerous man?

Yet he spoke these new words into existence and everything else went silent. 

“You would be my wife.”

You weren’t breathing, the bed wasn’t creaking. Every muscle on you both was frozen. Just his unnatural eyes staring into yours.

“You can’t mean that.” Your brain felt utterly useless now. Any words just reflex, completely helpless and defeated really.

“Waiting any longer is only for the indecisive. Once I know what I want…why would I leave it for anyone else to take?” And the tone had changed yet again. His thumb was now moving only in gentle circles on your clit once more.

You spread your legs a little more in reflex. Your goddamned body so confused.

“Say yes.” He insisted still though, even as he started to pump his hips again. 

All the pain in you was being covered up again by the pleasure he now allowed.

You had no choice. You knew you’d be absolutely mauled if you denied him now. Even with every haki trick you had, you may not even make it out alive from this room, as passionate as he clearly was on having your submission.

So you nodded, feeling like you’d just ceded a piece of your own soul to the being above you. “I accept.”

“No. Swear to me instead.” Those same words came again in immediate reply. But this time was different. There was that very faintest hint of anxiety in the Heavenly Demon’s voice. Like a fisherman seeing the catch of his life teetering on that edge of either fully entering or escaping the net.

“I swear, Doflamingo. I’ll have no one else, and I’ll return to you after every voyage. I’ll even be your wife if I can still remain a marine.”

And were you crazy for still trying to add your own stipulation at the end there?

Yes, of course you were. But you’d seen the way he was hanging on your every word then. Your heart had still had that touch of bravery left to rise at the final moment.

And it worked. You saw his smile instantly reform. But it seemed involuntary, disbelieving almost, and entirely nervous on his face. “You can still be both. I have pull higher than even Sengoku…they can’t terminate you. Can’t demote you. You can be the first royal of modern times still in active service…”

And he was starting to laugh too. He didn’t know what to do with himself as it really began to sink in.

“My queen…” he purred, his hips picking up the pace as the bed started creaking once more. “A warrior queen of the sea at that…fuck, it’s going to be so goddamned fun.”

And he was grinding your g-spot for all he was worth soon enough. Having you moaning for him as he reveled in this sudden and wholly unexpected victory.

You couldn’t think about it much more though. Not as your toes curled and your back arched beneath the now gleeful devil. 

It was utterly insane. Him, you, all of it. There was just nothing else that could be done in this moment to save either of you.

———————————

The rest of the daylight hours had been a haze of more fucking, more alcohol, more just being together frankly. Lazing around that beautiful villa together with no one to disturb you. You’d never seen Doflamingo in such a good mood.

At some point you finally had gotten into the shower together though. Which had resulted in more games in the hot steam. You’d gotten pinned against that lovely tile mosaic in the bathroom as he’d actually gotten on his knees to eat you out. Like a starving man who’d never have or want anything else.

It was a hell of a day.

But by the time the sun had set again, you felt like he was missing the attention of everyone else too. He wanted to show you off and parade the both of you to the envy of the other elites.

He wanted to go to the carnival ball.

And what were you supposed to do but entertain him? He had been almost kind to you ever since your agreement this morning. You knew it couldn’t last. Something was bound to set him off again.

But until then, you could do your best to enjoy this rather affectionate warlord that he was currently being.

So you went with him. In the dress he chose for you, in the shoes he chose for you. Your arm around his as you’d gone back out onto the gaslit streets together.

The carnival masks were back on as well. His red one, and your black one. He was in a different suit tonight though. A red one with a black under vest and shirt.

It reminded you even more of the one he’d used to favor in the North Blue. But it was a bit more modern cut, a slightly different shade. 

And still you caught yourself staring at him at times. The way he carried himself, the way he smirked at you as he always had to stay in some form of physical contact with you.

He was right in the way you loved the attention. But was he right to say that you did wish to belong to someone? 

It looked like you were going to find out. Unless he got tired of you before he went through with this whole Dressrosa as your home port plan.

Gods, you still had no idea what to really think, or how any of it could even work. So you kept trying to live in the moment at least as you’d ended up in the biggest ballroom you’d ever seen.

Royalty and nobility were all around while musicians in tuxedos played more songs Doflamingo knew and you did not.

“Who taught you how to dance anyway?” You had finally asked him as he lead you in another slow spin. Him somehow keeping time to the music even better than all the other couples you were trying to imitate around you.

You weren’t as clumsy as you’d been in the street the day before at least. But it was still far from intuitive to you, though you were trying.

“My mother taught me.” He answered, no real hesitation either that time.

But the way his mouth was downturned slightly, you were quite certain that woman was also no longer alive. Though you supposed rarely would anyone with a loving family feel a need to set out on a life of crime anyway. 

You certainly hadn’t had a real maternal figure until you’d met Tsuru. Your own mother had been far too young, and just trying to survive herself. There’d been no room for you really.

“She sounds interesting. Swan owner, dancer…” You dared to continue that topic though. Hoping maybe his good mood was still enough to allow you to pry into him a little more.

After all you’d promised him this morning, that seemed more than fair to know a bit more about the man you’d just tied yourself to.

But then again, this particular man was hardly known for his fairness.

Yet with your hand tightly in his as the violins continued, he did reply. With more than expected actually. “No. She wasn’t interesting at all really. Quiet. Submissive. Wholly fragile and quickly gone…” But the somber tone in his voice still belied more regret than just those plain words. “Like taking a rose from a greenhouse and expecting it to survive in the mud outside with the weeds. Of course she couldn’t do it. She passed away when I was eight.”

Saying sorry would be too pointless. You hated useless platitudes like that. So you wouldn’t do it yourself.

“Was that still in the North Blue then? Is that your home sea?” You asked carefully instead. It should have been a harmless, neutral question really.

But you saw Doflamingo’s chest move as he took in a larger breath.

“I know you’ll figure it out eventually…and yet, we’re having a nice night aren’t we? It’s been an excellent day actually. Is this really what you want to know right now, love?”

And of course you couldn’t understand the change from such a simple question as the opaque lenses in that carnival mask were then looking down from above you.

When the current song ended, he’d led you back away from the dance floor as well.

There were small circular tables all over with flowing table cloths. Wait staff moved effortlessly between them, taking food and drink orders from whoever may wave them down.

“Let’s get something to eat and perhaps we can talk a bit more.” He said as his hand moved against the small of your back, guiding you to a table of his choice.

He still wasn’t angry, just guarded.

But you’d already seen his real face now. And you knew what kind of cutthroat pirate he’d been and still was. What else of his past could be that important to him?

And you did let him do the ordering as soon as a waiter had indeed rushed up. Doflamingo was always going to take charge regardless you were finding. Picking your clothes, picking your food too…

You didn’t care right now, though you should have. It was just more control of course. Even as much as you’d already given him of yourself today.

But food was food in this moment. You’d barely eaten today with all the other in bed activities. So you just idly surveyed the room while the waiter explained the current entrees and the chef’s recommended wine pairings to your warlord date. 

It was an old habit of yours maybe. Situational awareness and an idea of who was where, where the exits were, plus the general mood and threat level at any given time when working with a crowd.

Yet here was just a lot of fluff and self serving people putting on displays for one another really. You’d even clocked the father and sons you’d first escorted to this island. They hadn’t recognized you of course. How could they have when they’d never even looked you in the face when on Momonga’s ship? You hadn’t been worth it to them.

The youngest son had spilled wine on his date somehow. She was having a fit, and the father was stepping in with heaps of apologies. She must have been even richer than them then. The fact that there were hierarchies within hierarchies for these people just made it seem all the dumber. 

Such a waste of energy. And you were about to give up watching any of them, bored in their manufactured drama and flamboyance before something else caught your attention.

A group of people were moving against the general grain of everyone else. Stiff and organized, something you recognized immediately as tactical. Two in front, two in back, and one on each side.

You stretched to see better, past the socialites and their petty conversations. 

That group was moving someone in the center of their formation. A young girl actually, certainly no more than ten or so. Her blue ponytail was swishing side to side, even with her body so tense. Her shoulders were hunched defensively as she was being pushed forward with one of the men’s hands clamped down onto her shoulder from behind.

You could see the silent tears in wet streaks down that girl’s face. That terror in her eyes that you’d seen so many times before. You knew exactly the kind of thing that must be happening, even if no one else did as you immediately stood.

——————————

Doflamingo had just been committing to the    fiorentina steak dish and a polenta entree as well for the two of you to sample together when he’d seen you stand.

Belatedly noticed because you’d been on his left. But that spoke of his already increasing trust in you really, letting you guard his blind side even subconsciously. How he’d often keep his officers to his left whenever seated.

Yet that didn’t mean he expected you to actually do anything from that position. He tried to grab your wrist as you’d moved forward. Seeing that tenseness in your body immediately and not understanding it a bit before you’d dodged his touch easily.

The waiter was just as confused and in the way really as Doflamingo stood fully as well. He moved his fingers, ready to stop you if he had to.

“Where the hell are you-“ He started to demand you to explain.

“No time. Stay. I’ll be back.” You said so quickly though. So different and commanding. Before one slightly softer note of, “I promise. I’ll be back.”

And you didn’t even look at him before you’d disappeared, almost in a run then into the crowd. Him left standing at the table, inexplicably hesitating.

You’d told him to do something and he’d actually listened.

He was as dumbfounded as the waiter who now excused themselves just to say they were going to put his order in.

But they didn’t get far.

No one did before the first gunshots rang out.

———————————

    T⨂  BE 

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

[amarriageoftrueminds]

How long did Steve actually know Peggy?

(with pictures!)

[ post with just the images here ]

Short Answer: 

626 days total / 20 months, 15 days, and only spoke on 8 separate days.

Long Answer:

Steve got his last 4F / first 1A on 14th of June, 1943.

When Steve arrived at Camp Lehigh, Peggy introduced herself and the SSR.

Directly afterwards, Col. Phillips introduced himself and explained that they would be there for a week only before choosing someone to be given serum:

If they had any common sense, they would’ve said Steve was at Basic Training for a while before being drafted into Project Rebirth.

This being Marvel, however... 

[ full meta under cut ] 

What If...?, Marvel’s Instagram, and Marvel Studios' The Marvel Cinematic Universe: An Official Timeline book gave the ‘official’ date of Steve’s serum as June 22, 1943.

.

This means: 

Steve was enlisted June 14th 1943,

shipped out to Camp Lehigh June 15th 1943,

was there for just a week (til June 21st 1943),

Had a conversation with Erskine about why he was chosen on evening of June 21st.

and was back in Brooklyn and receiving serum on June 22nd 1943.

Poor lad barely had any time to pack and unpack! 😲

Sidenote:

The first date shown in the movie is March 1942:

When Red Skull acquired the Tesseract. 

This implies (but does not conclusively prove) that Dr Erskine must have been captured by the Allies before March 1942, because: 

when he has his conversation with Steve, he merely said Red Skull believed “that there is a great power hidden in the earth, left here by the gods.” IE. he wasn’t aware that Red Skull had successfully seized that power (the Tesseract).

Stark is flummoxed by Tesseract-related tech when he sees it, which he  surely wouldn’t be if Erskine had known about Red Skull having the Tesseract because Erskine could’ve just told him.

.

Anyway, back to the present and Steve was already in the local newspapers by Wednesday, 23rd June 1943:

Anyway, he and Peggy only spoke for 1-2 days during that time: June 22nd, the day he received serum, and (what was probably) June 23rd, the day after.

.

IMO it seems like it’s just the day after because: 

everyone who was at the blown-up Brooklyn base is there 👆 (wherever ‘there’ is) as if no time has passed at all...

...but we know that time must have passed, because Senator Brandt shows Steve a paper dated the 23rd [see above.] 👆 So enough time has passed for the newspapers to hear about Steve, for a journalist to write about it, print it, and for the Senator to get a hold of a copy. 

Enough time has passed for the SSR to get the saboteur’s Hydra sub out of the water at the Brooklyn Navy Yard in order for Howard Stark to be flummoxed by it, as he is in this scene. (And he is still in the pit with it; he hasn’t had long enough to look at it already. Ergo, not much time has passed.) 

You could say that it’s a later date, and Brandt just happens to have a newspaper from the 23rd. Except...

...Phillips mentions having talked to the president that morning... which makes more sense as something he would do immediately after the whole Hydra-saboteur bomb kerfuffle, not later. That’s not a phone call he could put off for days. That’s a call you make straight away. 

Although that doesn’t automatically mean that that-morning’s phone call is the first or only phone call Phillips has made to the President, since the Hydra-saboteur-kerfuffle, meaning this could be a date later than June 23rd. 

But the fact that:

everyone who was at the bomb site is still there,

Howard is still in the pit looking at the Hydra sub and admitting he’s clueless about it, as if that is new information he’s announcing,

they’re taking Steve’s blood, also not something to delay on,

and Brandt is asking basic questions about Hydra. If more than a day had passed, he would already know the answers to these questions, even if he had been distracted by the Press.

Suggesting it is very soon after. 

The lack of delay in Phillips’s actions also supports this idea. Earlier on in the movie he moaned to Erskine about having had to talk to senators multiple times before he could get the ball rolling on Project Rebirth. But now he’s cheerful and decisive. Which to me suggests he’s had one decisive phone call with the President, where they exchanged all the information they needed, and that’s it. (He doesn’t say “I spoke to the President again this morning,” for example.) 

Brandt asks Phillips what he’s going to do about Hydra. Phillips smirks and answers that the SSR is being re-tasked to go after them. As if he anticipated the question and got the President to sign off on that just prior; close enough to this moment that Phillips is only acting on those orders just now. 

"This morning" implies that this scene is taking place later on in the day of June 23rd 1943; after the morning, so that Phillips isn’t saying he called the president just now, for example. 

There’s strong sunlight coming in from the window behind Steve 👆, so I’d say we can place this scene at afternoon, June 23rd.

And we can infer that it isn’t evening yet, because Phillips refers to flying out “tonight,” as if if the night of June 23rd has not yet arrived.

.

(Another maddening possibility: it’s all happening on the same day, a day that Phillips just happened to have spoken to the President on the phone in the morning already, but either the prop makers got the date wrong on the newspaper or the official Marvel instagram got the date of Steve’s serum wrong. 🤦‍♀️)

.

So, timeline: 

June 22nd, 1943: serum, bomb/saboteur, Erskine’s death.

(possibly but not definitively) June 23rd, 1943: morning, newspapers reporting on Steve are printed (Senator Brandt sees them), the Hydra sub is shipped to dry dock for Howard to look at, and the President tells Phillips via the phone that the SSR is being retasked “as of today.” 

afternoon, Steve has his blood drawn, Phillips relays the President’s orders to him, Brandt, Peggy and Stark. Steve objects. Brandt recruits Steve for the USO. 

night, Phillips, Peggy and Howard fly out. 

.

Unless it’s all the same day, in which case the events go:

June 22nd or 23rd: 

morning, Phillips talks to the President who officially re-tasks the SSR, Steve gets serum, blown up, Erskine killed.

afternoon, the Hydra sub put in dry dock for Howard to examine, newspapers rushed out an edition about Steve, Brandt recruited Steve for the USO using said paper.

night, Peggy, Phillips and Howard flew out to London.

.

So Peggy was flown out to London that night, being (probably but not conclusively) the night of either June 22nd or June 23rd, 1943.

.

And then Steve was on tour with the USO for 4 months (from July 1943).

Probably starting mid/late July / early August, to give them enough time to find 20+ chorus girls, create and fit costumes, build sets, book venues, choreograph and plan a show, and do some rehearsals... though apparently not enough for Steve to have learned his lines. 🤦‍♀️ 

During this period, as the USO shows grow ever more elaborate (up to 40 showgirls, bigger sets, a fake Hitler, a military band, and harley davidson motorcycles) Steve also films multiple propaganda reels, signs autographs, takes photos with the public (and Senator Brandt), appears in his own comics, sneaks into the cinema to watch himself on screen, and travels to Buffalo, Milwaukee, Philadelphia, Chicago, and New York! 😵

Senator Brandt’s smooth patter in recruiting Steve for the USO, how he acts during it, and the fact that there was a cameraman there to take photos of Steve just before he got serum, to me suggests that Brandt was planning to do this USO show with whoever the serum worked on. 

So it’s possible a lot of the show logistics and planning were already underway before Steve was even chosen for serum. That would mean the USO show kicked off much sooner after Steve got serum (which might account for why he’s so nervous on stage...)

And it would explain how they were able to cram so much activity into four short months.

.

Meanwhile, in October 1943, in Azzano, Italy...

And then Steve goes to Italy, five miles from the front

on the 3rd of November, 1943:

We can see that Steve and Peggy were not in contact in between these times / while he was on USO Tour, because: 

no reference to any such contact is ever shown or implied (and Kevin Feige said Steve was sleeping with someone else while on tour).

Steve looks surprised to see her when she shows up. He hasn’t invited her to come -- which he could, by letter -- and asks her what she’s doing there. 

She’s cagey about why she’s there/what she’s been up to; so she’s not someone who even can carry on a correspondence, given the classified nature of her work. 

If they had somehow been corresponding anyway, she would already have told Steve by now that she can’t talk about her being there/why. So he wouldn’t need to ask.

As well as Steve not knowing basic things about her, she also still doesn’t know basic things about Steve, that a casual correspondent of four months would know by now [see below].

.

We know the rescue of the 107 was on the night of November 3rd, 1943. 

Because Phillips cites that date when he’s typing up Steve’s official KIA letter:

The sequence before Steve’s rescue of the 107 also implies that Bucky et al were only captured very recently at Azzano, because:

the rest of the 107 are still there (haven’t been deployed elsewhere),

wounded are still being brought in, 

Col. Phillips is still engaged in writing up condolence letters about the lost soldiers when Steve barges into his tent.

(Why is the head of the SSR in Italy, writing condolence letters about the 107 when he specifically said he and his agents were flying out to London, where his HQ is? Here’s a clue from wikipedia: “Alsos personnel followed close behind the front lines in Italy, France, and Germany, occasionally crossing into enemy-held territory to secure valuable resources before they could be destroyed or scientists escape or fall into rival hands.”

However, those personnel would not include the head honcho (Phillips), the entire Army’s number one weapons contractor (Stark), or a desk jockey whose opinion is neither sought nor valued (Peggy). 

And the rest of the movie shows them back in London (and therefore not featuring in field footage of the Commandos), while Steve & Co. destroy Hydra weapons factories (not sweep them for intell.) 

And they stay in London, until the entire army hits a very important base at the very end of the movie. And even then, Stark isn’t shown attending!

So maybe he was just in Italy for the chorus girls...? 🤷‍♀️

.

Steve and the Howlies had to have to covered 35 miles as the crow flies (30 miles behind enemy lines + 5 miles to the Army base), with wounded soldiers, and through what Phillips describes as “some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe” which was also mountainous. They would’ve had to seek a flat route to get the jeeps through. And this with no resources -- like food, medicine, specialised clothing, etc. 

Covering 5 miles a day under those extremely difficult and dangerous circumstances, it takes them a week to get back to Camp. 

(Sidenote, I looked up a modern estimate of hikers on the Swiss Alps, and it said they’d traverse a 105 mile trail over 7-10 days. Viz. potentially 10.5 miles a day!)

Making the day of Steve’s return 👆 at least, November 10th, 1943.

Marvel Studios' The Marvel Cinematic Universe: An Official Timeline confirms this:

.

Afterwards, it seems they went straight to London. 

(No contact with Peggy in transit is shown or implied).

.

Sidenote: although no other locations and no other interaction is shown in November, between the 107 returning and Steve being in London, it seems as if some time has passed. 

And once again, we can tell that because of Senator Brandt and newspapers.

There has been enough time for more than one newspaper (The Daily Mail, and Stars and Stripes), to publish stories about Steve. 👆

For Senator Brandt to announce that he’ll be giving Steve a medal for valour, and for that news to have travelled back to the UK.

And, at the very least, enough time has elapsed since the 10th of November for the Senator to believe that Steve could feasibly travel back to America in time to receive his medal in person. 

(Which he declines to do. LOLOL.)

So, say: 

11th: newspapers report (Steve & Co travelling back to London). 

12th: news reaches America / Brandt decides / announces the medal.

13th: Brandt expecting Steve to fly from Europe to America (which would’ve taken over 17 hours, then.) Doesn’t necessarily have to be the very next day, but based on past behaviour Brandt expects action to be taken the very same day as the press reporting on Steve! So...

14th: for the actual medal ceremony? (so that Steve isn’t travelling for 17 hours and then immediately appearing in public) Which seems like it’s happening simultaneously with Steve being in London; I don’t think he’d delay on relating his intell about Hydra.

(And that last day would also account for how the news has travelled back to the UK from the US in order to appear in The Daily Mail.)

We know that this day Steve is in London is supposed to be the day he’s receiving his medal, in person, because of this CATFA deleted scene: 

So IMO we’re looking at this date being 14th November, 1943 at a very strict minimum. 

NB: All this pre-supposes that it takes 4 days to move the Howlies from the Continent back to London, which it feasibly might if they had Stark and his plane, still in Italy. Stark’s deleted-scene surprise at seeing Steve in London suggests either he was not the pilot / his was not the plane responsible for flying Steve to London, or that he was / his was the plane but he expected Steve to move straight on back to the US. We know the SSR had at least one plane in the US Army base in Italy, because someone was flying multiple reconnaissance flights, trying to spot the 107 -- the last of which returned Nov 10th.

.

In London, Steve and Peggy are shown talking on 2 separate days, total:

1) In the London HQ, relaying the intell about Hydra weapons-parts factories, gathered from the Krausberg weapons-parts factory and from Bucky, when Steve tells Phillips he has got his own team together. 

And in the pub, on the evening of that same night, when Steve goes to Assemble the Howling Commandos for the first time. 

(I’m saying it’s the same night as that day^ because no time passing between these conversations is implied or stated, not via montage or any other means. It’s a straight cut, and Steve is wearing the same clothes. Also: assembling his team is not something Steve could delay on, after already telling his CO he  had one. In fact it’s kinda nuts Steve didn’t think to do this before telling Phillips he had a team already. What would he have done if they’d said no?? 😂)

2) in the London HQ, the morning of the day after (8am) when Peggy shoots at him.

(Won’t dignify either of those scenes with triggery screencaps!)

.

So Steve and the Howlies are officially a team from let’s say 14th November, 1943. 

(We know there must’ve been a bit of a time delay before the Howlies were deployed, to give Stark time to build Steve the version of the Cap suit he requested as well as supplying him with those Harley Davidsons WLA ‘Liberators.’ That Cap suit is the only thing Steve is shown fighting Hydra in, thereafter, meaning the Howlies did in fact wait until it was ready before deploying (they didn’t, for example, send Steve out in something else at first and then  get the suit shipped out later on. That isn’t shown.) 

Since Bucky was the one who suggested him keeping ‘the outfit’ I’ll bet he had some input on that suit. 🤔

So depending on how long you think that would take, could be the Howlies weren’t out on the Continent kickin’ ass ‘til December ‘43 or January '44. 

But despite this delay, no contact with Peggy is shown or implied in the interim.)

.

For the next 15 months & 15 days there is also no direct contact shown between Steve and Peggy, while Steve is on the continent and she is in London.

.

At first glance it looks like we can deduce roughly the dates of when Bucky died and Steve returned to London.

Because after capturing him Phillips tells Zola he sent a telegram about him*

*a prop which is not shown directly on screen

...a prop dated (the morning of) February 3rd, 1945: 

Soon followed by a tight 24-hour turnaround for the Howlies to go and attack the Valkyrie base in Austria, which we know from this 👇  piece of dialogue between Col. Phillips and Gabe Jones: 

But.

We don’t know: 

1) that the date on the telegram is accurate. This prop is not directly shown in the movie. And, in the scene, Phillips hints at this telegram being intercepted by Hydra and this being bad news for Zola (because it says he is working for SSR. The Foreshadowing is INSANE!)

So Phillips might have lied on that telegram -- backdated it to make it look to Schmidt like Zola had betrayed him and been working for the SSR since before the Howlies ‘captured’ him. Making the day of his interrogation... later than the Feb 3rd on the telegram.

2) that Zola Therefore told Phillips ‘you have 24 hours’ on February 3rd.  Since the telegram date could be false. 

Even if it wasn’t, Zola could’ve said this to Phillips on a subsequent day. He could’ve just told Phillips when the date Red Skull was planning to do something was, and not necessarily 24 hours before that date.

Meaning we can’t tell by the telegram what date the HQ briefing about the Valkyrie mission, and therefore what date the Valkyrie mission. 

However, Agents of Shield 2.01: Shadows...

and Marvel Studios' The Marvel Cinematic Universe: An Official Timeline tie in book, put Steve’s only possible death date as: 

Thursday, the 1st of March, 1945. 

(AOS’s Morita and Dum-dum capture Werner Reinhardt on 2nd of March, 1945, and Reinhardt remarks that Red Skull is dead. 

Given that Steve ‘died’ on the same day in March, and it’s already known about by the 2nd, that leaves the 1st of March as physically the only March date, before that point, at which the Valkyrie mission could possibly have taken place.)

.

And we know (from CATWS canon) that Steve’s death was reported (as a disappearance) on 

Monday, 5th March, 1945: 

So I think we can definitively state that MCU intends for Steve to have ‘died’ on Thursday, 1st March, 1945. 😥

.

And the KGB opened a file on Bucky on Friday the 23rd of March, 1945.

.

It is not categorically stated that the mission where Bucky ‘died’ happened immediately before these late-February scenes in London.👆 

He could, theoretically, have died in late 1944, as his exhibit in the Smithsonian in CATWS claims:

However, that exhibit makes multiple other errors... 

(Such as: listing two different dates of birth on the same display, saying Bucky enlisted shortly after Pearl Harbour (nothing in CATFA shows this and his dog-tag number suggests he was drafted), saying he shipped out to Italy and was captured ‘that fall’ of 1942, when that year was definitely shown as 1943, and the Marvel Timeline tie-in book also shows Azzano as happening in October ‘43, etc.) 

...So I think we can safely rule this out 👆 as a prop-maker’s mistake! 

Plus, Steve’s grief in the pub feels very raw, very immediate, which to me suggest a very-recent bereavement, not something he’s had a couple weeks or months to weep over already. Steve’s a pretty stoic guy. So we know Bucky ‘died’ near to March 1st/end of February 1945. 

The only canon suggestion of time passing between Bucky’s ‘death’ and the pub scene is Steve having already had a chance to get back to London and write a report about it, in order to mention said report to Peggy and feasibly expect her to have read it. 

If we follow the previous observations / logic in this meta, then Steve reports things ASAP and actions are expected to be taken ASAP.  

As a soldier with a CO to answer to, that report about Bucky/Zola is not something Steve could delay on delivering. If Steve drinking in the pub is afternoon/evening, say this was the day he delivered his report (probably in the morning). 

Well that’s enough time to reasonably expect Peggy to have read the report, and for Steve to be drinking after delivering it, but still be neatly groomed in his immaculate on-duty uniform, having just gone off-duty (not, eg. dressed down as if this is another, later day, a day off). 

On the surface of it, it looks like we can’t say for certain that Steve’s drinking day is the day before Phillips interrogates Zola. Even if it’s framed as if the stoicism he exhibits at the end of that sequence is the signal that he is now galvanised to act ASAP, ie. the very next day, with one scene leading to / causing another...

Bucky’s ‘death’ date might have been any number of days before.  

Except: Zola is a hugely valuable acquisition. 

I don’t think Steve et al would’ve captured and brought Zola back to London, at extraordinary personal cost, only for Phillips to waste days before interrogating Zola. 

I think Phillips would’ve been in to interrogate Zola immediately. 

That to me is the closest to ‘proof’ that Steve is back in London, delivering his report and then drinking in the pub, either on or as close to the day of Zola’s interrogation as physically possible. 

(IMO this can’t all be happening on the same day. I don’t think Steve is the kind of guy to deliver a report in the morning, go off and try to get shit-faced while still on duty / in uniform, and then go back to HQ after drinking for a mission-briefing.  Not under normal circumstances, let alone when the mission (to avenge Bucky! and stop Red Skull!) is so important!  Steve appears to know already that he can’t get drunk... but that doesn’t stop him from trying. I don’t think he’d do that if he knew he was expected back to plan the very-important Bucky-Avenging Mission on the same day. CATFA writers may disagree and say this all happened on the same day, but that idea’s kinda wild to me!)

So when was that interrogation date? 

I think we can deduce that it also must’ve been as-close-as-possible to the Valkyrie mission briefing date. 

The fact that Gabe is asking how long they have means that that intell was fresh information to the Howlies on the HQ mission briefing date (which was 28th of February = 24 hours before 1st March.) 

Now, if Phillips knew about 1st March being significant in advance of 28th February:

it would be incredibly stupid of him to not tell anyone until only 24 hours before.

he would’ve told the Howlies already / Gabe wouldn’t need to ask.

But if Zola only revealed the date of the Valkyrie Mission Day very close to the mission briefing date... that would explain why Phillips didn’t mention it sooner. Another point: A lot of what Phillips says in the mission briefing sounds like a summary and continuation of what we see Zola telling him in the interrogation scene. As if there has been no further interrogation / no more intell to relate since that interrogation, a point in favour of it being the only time he has interrogated Zola (meaning it must be happening on 27th of February).

As in: Phillips went into see Zola as soon as they got him (27th of February) and Zola told him the Valkyrie mission was happening March 1st, and that was their only interaction.

This interrogation scene comes before Steve is shown drinking, alone. (Implying Steve is drinking in the later pm, since it’s ‘dinner’ time for Zola, just before.)

Assuming Phillips’ telegram about Zola is false (which is neater, and it being a lie is mentioned in the scene, and although we have the prop the prop is not directly shown on-screen in the movie).

Sunday, 25th February. Bucky probably 'died?’

Monday, 26th February. Howlies flying back to London, with Zola?? And since Phillips wouldn’t wait days to deal with Zola:

Tuesday, 27th of February. Morning, Steve delivers his report.  Phillips reads the report, and sends a falsely-dated telegram about Zola to Washington via SHAEF HQ. Dinner time, Phillips interrogates Zola, tells him about the telegram, and Zola tells him about 1st March / Valkyrie Day. Steve goes drinking, alone.

Wednesday, 28th February 1945, Valkyrie Mission briefing.

Thursday, 1st March 1945, Valkyrie Mission day.

NB: This pre-supposes that it only takes a day to move from the Continent back to London, which it would if they had a plane like Stark’s ready to pick them up any time. 

They well might, given how important it is to get Zola back to London, and get the Howlies out to take down the Valkyrie base.

If they didn’t have such a plane, of course, it would take them longer. However, nothing in the movie (such as, eg. a travel-montage) does show it taking longer. It seems to imply a very short turnaround.

.

Sidenote: 

Steve never does anything Peggy says or does, always does the exact opposite -- which is the moral, heroic, selfless thing -- and also never asks what she thinks he should do. (They also try to create the illusion of Steve following Peggy’s orders, in the denouement, by having her irrelevantly interrupt to remind Steve to do what he was already doing anyway.*)

This is a symptom of poor / misogynist writing, whereby Token ‘Strong Female Character’ Love Interest is relegated to a Sexy Lamp with post-it note stuck to it* + behaving like a generic male bully in a female skin + idiot hetero-norms in writing that make any straight couple automatic foils, who must bicker miserably and be on the opposite sides of every argument in order to generate ‘Chemistry.’ 🙄 

Ergo, Steve never does what Peggy says, because as his foil what she says it always the opposite of what he says. Making what she says, defacto, the [unethical, cowardly, self-serving, tactically unsound] thing to Steve’s [moral, heroic, selfless, also tactically correct] thing.

. (disclaimer: any other aspects of Peggy being unpleasant must be put down to Atwell’s performance choices.) .

Her show erroneously claims that Steve relied heavily upon her for “courage, strategy, and moral guidance." 

Passing over the insulting and demonstrably-untrue suggestion that Steve needed external courage or ethical guidance...

(Metas on why this is untrue, and would actually make the plot impossible if it were true! HERE, HERE, and HERE .👈)

...If what Peggy is saying were true, this would mean Steve is somehow relying upon a person whom he doesn’t even speak to for 467 of the 473 days when strategic input was even relevant to his life. So he must have been clueless the vast majority of his life. 🤦‍♀️

The numbers don’t lie. Steve physically cannot have been relying upon Peggy for anything when they weren’t even in contact. That’s quite literally not physically possible. 🤷‍♀️

This simultaneously puts the lie to the idea of Peggy following the Howlies around Europe to collate intell in the places they hit.

A) because the Howlies aren’t shown sweeping these factories for information. They’re shown reducing them to fiery rubble, which you don’t do if you’re looking for documents. They’re not looking for documents; they’re looking for Zola.

B) even if the Howlies weren’t destroying the factories and were sweeping them for ABC (atomic, biological, chemical) Peggy isn’t the kind of specialist who would even know what to look for.  

She’s an intelligence liaison, not a scientist. Not even a linguist. That’s not her area of expertise at all.

Whereas the Howlies themselves by contrast are surprisingly well-qualified. They’ve worked in a Hydra weapons factory, so they know what’s important. Gabe is a fluent German-speaker. Frenchie knows ordinance. Morita looks like a radio expert / is shown operating captured Hydra tech more than once. Bucky as a sniper can do distance recon. And Steve has a photographic memory. 

So they really don’t need an eighth wheel telling them how to recognise or blow up Hydra factories (how would she even know?) 

That’s already their forte. 

C) even if Peggy was a technical expert somehow better qualified than them (which she isn’t), her opinion is repeatedly denigrated by Phillips who says she was a chancey (ie. ill-qualified) hire. 

He wouldn’t send someone to judge important documents who is ill-qualified to do so and whose opinion doesn’t carry any weight with him. He comes with an inch of firing her in this movie for this very reason. 

D) The only time she’s shown taking part in a mission, it’s actually more of a full blown Army Operation, where even the old man Phillips goes along in person. This is an unusual occurrence, i.e. not something she normally does.

AOS ineptly tries to retcon that she was with the Howlies more often.

(The Agent Carter show undermines this intent, because Dum-Dum is discombobulated by Peggy’s presence on a mission and doesn’t know how to act around her. 

This is showing that it’s not a familiar sensation for him, which it would be if she was an honorary Howlie. Ergo, even when they think they’re showing she was a Howlie, they’re actually showing she wasn’t. 

And this is why she didn’t join Steve on the mission to rescue the 107 -- that’s just not her job.)

But just like I can’t claim that Howard Stark fought alongside the Howlies in person throughout the war, if that is not what is shown, they cannot claim that Peggy did so either. 

Because that is not shown. 

*As mentioned: in the middle of the denouement, when Peggy asks Steve if he was about to do X important thing, and he goes ‘right!’ and carries on...

And later, her interrupting at a crucial point to make it about herself (to make Steve kiss her the same way Lorraine sexually assaulted him earlier on) and then telling him to carry on... 

Peggy telling him to do it is both the classic conditioning behaviour of someone who wants to control another person (by creating a mental association between their commands and the victim’s actions) and/or the behaviour of someone with a delusion of importance. 

They are ineptly trying to create the appearance of Steve doing what Peggy says, because she says so. But Steve is doing what he was already going to do anyway, before she spoke.

Her input is not a deciding factor in what Steve does, nor on the plot. Her net moral/strategic impact on Steve is still zero; and she’s still replaceable with a Sexy Lamp.

So that aforementioned claim that Steve relied on her, listened to her, would do what she says, etc. is false.

And they can’t claim he listened to her at any other point, because that is not shown; they weren’t in contact.

.

Conclusion...

Steve and Peggy knew OF each other for 626 days 

or 20 months & 15 days.

(From mid-June 1943 to the beginning of March, 1945.)

They spoke on 2 days max in June, 1943 (the 22nd and probably 23rd, the day of his serum and day after) despite being in the same place for a week prior and sharing a prior car ride!

They spoke on 4 days max in November 1943.

3rd day-- Nov 3rd, in Italy, pre-107 rescue,  4th day-- Nov 10th, in Italy, post-107 rescue,  5th day-- Nov 14th(?) In London, the day Steve relayed Hydra intell and told Col. Phillips he was assembling his own team, while Brandt was expecting him to be in America receiving his medal for valour; probably the same day the Howlies were founded. 6th day-- Nov 15th(?) 8am, in London, when Peggy shot him.

They spoke on 2 days in February & March, 1945: 

7th day-- in the pub in London (Tuesday, 27th February?) 8th day-- the day of the Valkyrie raid (Thursday, 1st March.)

(While they are shown in the same place on another intervening day, February 28th, when they are both at London HQ during planning for the Valkyrie Mission, and it’s possible or even plausible that they did interact at that point... they are not actually shown speaking to each other on that day.) 

Totalling: a maximum of 8 days.

(could be as low as 6.)

.

And 6 months later, Peggy, Stark and Phillips founded SHIELD and had already recruited Zola into it in order for it to be front page news by 

Tuesday, 14th August, 1945:

(Thus putting the lie to the ridiculous idea that they didn’t know they’d recruited Nazis or what they were up to, btw. 👆)

.

So of the 20 months & 15 days total they knew of each other, Steve and Peggy were only shown being in the same place and in contact during (but not for the entirety of) 4 months -- Jun and Nov ‘43, and Feb and March ‘45. 

For 19 months & 15 days of the 20 months & 15 days they knew of each other, they were not even in the same place: 

4 months while Steve was on one side of the Atlantic, during the late June-October USO Tour, she was in Europe. 

And 15 months & 15 days / 473 days when he was on the continent doing Hydra weapons-parts factory raids (from probably mid-Nov 1943 - Mar 1945) and she was in London. 

And this is deliberate by the film-makers, to depict theirs as a thwarted relationship-that-never-was, a Casablanca style ‘we never dated’ situation. Not a romance, but what could’ve been a romance, had circumstances been different. Them not being together is literally the point. 

.

They show zero direct or indirect contact between the two during those 15 months & 15 days, and multiple things imply that there was none. 

For example: 

She doesn’t know that Steve has a friend in the 107 (which a correspondent would). 

Steve is surprised to see her (a correspondent wouldn’t be). 

Steve tells her about what he’s been up to, as if it’ll be new information to her. (It wouldn’t be, to a correspondent.) Sidenote: as per She Hulk, Bruce Banner is under the impression Steve slept with some woman during this time. SIGH.

Despite Agent Carter show’s attempts to retcon her history with Bucky’s  stolen valour / war record (nonsensically, since he is a soldier and she’s supposed to be a spy), the film and script are clear that she isn’t in Europe with the Howlies. 

She complains about having every door shut in her face, professionally, and Phillips says she was only at a desk job because he “took a chance with” hiring her. Ergo she’s complaining about not being in the field. 

Steve wouldn’t be carrying a photo of someone he sees in person for work all the time. The compass is physical evidence that she wasn’t there.  Sidenote: Steve wouldn’t be dating anyone Period, since he specifically said he didn’t want to do that. And Peggy also said she wouldn’t date until after the war is over. But anyway!

And, logically, if she's supposed to be a spy she also wouldn’t have her face broadcast in cinemas, making any cover she had useless, as Steve would know. But anyway!  It just highlights how they’re not really doing their jobs of writing her as a spy properly.

Steve wouldn’t need to take a photo out of a paper or SSR personnel file (which is what it looks like) if he saw Peggy regularly in person for work, or if they had been corresponding by letter, because she could’ve given him a proper photo personally. 

(This simultaneously rules out the possibility that she went out with the Howlies, and then went back to London; because if she had, she still could’ve given Steve a proper photo of herself, either via letter or in person.)

Likewise, Peggy wouldn’t need to steal a photo of Steve out of a personnel file if they had been in regular contact, either in person or by letter. (Because he could’ve given her a proper photo if they had been in contact.)

Steve and the Howlies are shown in direct contact with... each other, easily implying a long-standing relationship without having to go to a lot of film-making effort, via montage... but she is not. 

Whereas she is shown in the montage, but not being in direct contact. If the film-makers had wanted to show direct contact between them during this montage, they very easily could have. But they didn’t. If she had been there with the Howlies, and it was the film-makers intention to imply that, she would be in the footage with the Howlies, not sitting in a cinema in London watching footage of a mere photo of herself in the newsreels. Whatever your headcanon, you cannot retcon/change what canon is; the canon is that she wasn’t there in person. 

By February 1945 she still isn’t on first-name terms with Bucky, Steve’s second in command. That would be odd, if she was there in person.

As mentioned earlier, in her own show Dum-dum Dugan is disquieted by Peggy’s presence and reacts to her being in the field with the men as if it’s a fresh, disorientating experience for him, and he doesn’t know how to act. If she had actually been in the field with the Howlies in WWII, this could not be the case. He couldn’t be disorientated by something he was already used to. 

Steve’s time in London in WWII was so minimal that when he goes drinking to grieve Bucky, he goes drinking in the Whip & Fiddle even though it’s in ruins. That pub is chosen for its emotionally significant connection to Bucky... but if Bucky (Steve & the Howlies) had been in London a lot, they could’ve gone to other places, too, and there would be no reason to attach any particular significance to that one pub. But Steve does. And no other footage of the Howlies in London is shown. Ergo, the Howlies were in London for such a short period that the pool of places Steve could be is so small there’s only one (1) option. The alternative is that they were in London for ages and drinking in loads of places (and they never showed it for some reason) and that Peggy had to go around loads of pubs until she found the one Steve was in. But that would be daft. 

We are never shown the Howlies returning to that pub or London at all until after Steve is also ‘dead’ (ie. no proof of them going there multiple times. They easily could have shown that, in montage, if the Howlies had been back in London. But they didn’t.) They treat it as a special, 'one-off Solemn Event’ type of place. Not a regular haunt. 

And Steve is still surprised to see Peggy there, meaning he doesn’t think she knows him well enough to guess where he would go / that he didn’t tell her he was going there (possibly one of the Howlies did). So the reason she finds him can’t be because they interacted prior. 

She still has to ask Steve whether he respected “your friend” Bucky (when even Col. Phillips knows to refer to Bucky as Steve’s oldest friend, by this point). 

Steve tells her he can’t get drunk and has to ask whether she knows that already or not. This is yet another example of something a close confidante or correspondent of 15+ months would know, and that Steve wouldn’t ask because he would know/assume she already knew, if they had been in continuing contact.  (It’s unlikely that Steve himself didn’t know, before this moment. Soldiers who founded their unit in a pub? haven’t done any drinking for 15 months and 15 days? Not likely!) 

CEvans’s acting lends an air of despair and futility to the scene, too -- Steve trying to drink away his sorrows, even though he knows it won’t work. Had his tone been different, it would’ve connoted something else, eg. ‘hey, I’ve just found this new thing about my metabolism, did you know?’

Not being able to get drunk is canonically the very kind of thing Steve would complain about to her (and canonically also the very kind of thing she would tell him more about). If Steve was in contact with Peggy then he would’ve complained about it before, eg. via letter, too. But he didn’t, because he doesn’t know whether or not she knows. So they weren’t in contact.

The Howlies are only shown being in Phillips’s War Rooms / in the bunker in London once.  But Peggy is shown being there through the war.  If the Howlies (including Steve) were there on a regular basis, the film makers could’ve shown that in the montage. Instead the Howlies were shown on the Continent. viz. they never went back to London, and Peggy never went out to the Continent, until the very last mission.

.

It is shown that the updated intelligence of what Steve and the Howlies are accomplishing in Europe during 1944 is being relayed back to HQ in London, because Peggy and other personnel are shown taking Hydra base flags off their maps, as Steve and the Howlies take them out. 

(As a consequence of Steve et al taking them out, it’s implied.)

However... it is not shown that Steve directly relayed that information to Peggy or that it’s Peggy’s job to gather that intell from them directly.

Peggy herself says that Phillips is in charge of devising strategy, not herself, and Steve soon disregards any strategy suggestions she makes anyway -- in fact, he gives her orders, not the other way around.

So if Steve was telling anyone what the Howlies are up to in Europe, it would be his superior officer Phillips. 

Not an agent like Peggy, of no military rank. 

(This is supported by the scene where Steve, having returned from rescuing the 107, goes straight to Phillips to report his successful mission. Not to Peggy, who is right there.) 

Plus, the Howlie shown handling communications isn’t Steve... 

...it’s Morita. 👆 (And guess who interrupts him and shoves him out of his seat?) 

So while the Howlies were in contact during the 15 months & 15 days of Howling Commando Hydra weapons-factory raids:

it would’ve been very difficult / limited / all shop talk. 

it must’ve been so insignificant that we don’t hear what was said, or see who said it, in the film.

(Given that they insist on showing us every possible plot-irrelevant* sexy lamp heterosexual interaction, the fact that they don’t show Steve talking to Peggy on the radio all year is the biggest proof that it didn’t happen. IMO we would’ve seen it.)

so either it’s considered grunt work and would’ve been done by eg. Morita(?) to a similarly lower-ranked person at HQ (maybe even Lorraine!), who at best would’ve relayed it to Peggy who then relayed it to Phillips. But that’s still no contact between Steve and Peggy.

or it’s so important that only someone as important as Steve would report it directly to someone as important (viz. Phillips) as Steve does when coming back from rescuing the 107 (still wasn’t significant enough to be seen in the film.)

While I can see Peggy kicking a lower-ranked person off their chair, to butt in on the call, if Steve was on the line -- as she later does to Morita -- the fact that we didn’t see that happen. Again, basic writing rules apply: if it isn’t shown it didn’t happen. 

there were only six prospective Hydra weapons factories mentioned as targets for Steve and the Howlies, so only six more occasions when they even might’ve officially interacted from the Continent: 

Roughly: 

And while there are more Hydra bases indicated as existing on the maps/via flags removed from the maps... 

...None of these 👆 are explicitly linked to Steve and the Howlies, there’s no indication that the existence of these was discovered or relayed (or that they specifically were destroyed) by Steve and Co. 

And it’s made out to be a Big Deal that they find out where the Seventh base is, (the base Bucky told Steve they were shipping weapons parts to). Because that’s where Red Skull is. 

In total the Howlies would’ve had 9 missions during this time:

6 Hydra factories

1 mission to capture Zola

1 mission in winter to save 1000 men  (if the Smithsonian footage is true)

1 mission on D-Day (if the Smithsonian footage is true)

the Valkyrie mission would be the 10th mission.

.

T I M E L I N E :

1943

JUNE: Mon 14th, Bucky gets his orders, Steve gets a 4F, visits the Stark Expo, meets Erskine, enlists and gets a 1A. Tues 15th, Bucky ships out, Steve arrives at Camp Lehigh. Mon 21st, Steve is chosen for serum. He and Erskine discuss it in the evening. Tues 22nd, Steve receives serum, Erskine is killed, Steve stops the Hydra saboteur, and is photographed by a NYE journalist. Wed 23rd morning, Phillips speaks to the President and the SSR is immediately re-tasked,  Steve appears on the front page of The New York Examiner, the Hydra sub is moved to dry dock. afternoon, Steve has his blood drawn, Stark examines the Hydra sub, Phillips relays the President’s orders, Brandt recruits Steve into the USO when he objects to Phillips's orders. night, Phillips, Stark, and Peggy, fly out to London.

.

JULY-OCT: Steve in the USO, travelling across America.

OCT/NOV: Bucky and the Howlies are captured by Hydra at Azzano.

.

NOVEMBER: 3rd, afternoon, Steve does USO show in Italy, 5 miles behind enemy lines. evening, Steve rescues 107.

10th, Steve returns to base with 400 soldiers of the 107, having safely travelled 35 miles including 30 miles of mountainous heavily fortified enemy terrain, with wounded in tow.

? 11th-14th, Steve's rescue is reported in Stars and Stripes, Senator Brandt decides to give him a medal for valour, news gets back to UK and appears in The Daily Mail. Brandt expects Steve to come back to the US to receive his medal in person. Steve declines. 

? 14th, London, HQ, Steve relays Hydra intell to Phillips and Peggy, night, Steve recruits Bucky & the Howlies, takes Bucky's input on the suit.

? 15th, London, HQ, 8am, Steve gets sexually assaulted, Steve gets physically assaulted (Peggy shoots at him), Steve picks the shield, Steve relays Cap uniform ideas to Stark. .

1944

Howlies deployed in Europe for 15 months and 15 days, taking out 6 Hydra weapons factories shown in Italy, Greece, France, Czechslovakia. and Poland. 

(The original CATFA script also mentions factories in Belgium and Russia, but these aren’t referenced in the canon movie. 

Avengers 1 deleted scene shows Steve taking part in the planning of D-Day, which would’ve put him and the Howlies in France, from 6 June 1944 - August. Probably means they would’ve had to be back in England in the run up to D-Day, to take part in rehearsals. 

If the Smithsonian mention of a winter blockade-breaking mission also happened, that might be part of the Battle of the Bulge, so that would be Dec-Jan ‘44-45. In total it would be 9 missions, and the Valkyrie mission makes 10.)

.

1945

FEBRUARY: (possible) Sun 25th, Bucky ‘KIA.’  (possible) Mon 26th, Howlies & Zola travelling back to London.

(possible) Tues 27th, London am, Steve writes/delivers a report about Bucky. Phillips (reads Steve’s report? knows about Bucky) sends a misleading telegram about Zola, back-dated February 3rd, to Washington via SHAEF. pm, Phillips interrogates Zola and finds out 1st March is Valkyrie Day. Steve goes drinking to grieve Bucky.

Wed 28th, London, HQ, Valkyrie Mission briefing.

MARCH:  Thurs 1st, Atlantic. Steve and Red Skull 'KIA.' Last contact with Peggy. Fri 2nd, Moria and Dum-dum capture Werner Reinhardt. Mon 5th, Steve reported "disappeared" in newspaper. Fri 23rd, KGB opens file on Bucky.

APRIL: Surviving Howlies are mopping up remaining Hydra personnel in Europe? MAY. Tues 8th, V-E Day. London. The Howlies reunite at the Whip & Fiddle, for the first time since they were founded there, to drink a toast in remembrance of Steve.

AUGUST: Tues 14th, Stark, Phillips and Carter have founded SHIELD and recruited Zola and more, which is reported on front page news.

.

the number of individual occasions he spoke to her would be: 13

pre serum (22nd June, 1943)

post serum (23rd June, 1943)

pre rescue (day; 3rd November, 1943)

during rescue (night; 3rd November, 1943) 

post rescue (10th November, 1943) 

at HQ (day; 14th? November 1943)

in the pub (night; 14th? November 1943) 

at HQ (morning; 15th? November 1943)

at HQ (morning; 15th? November 1943)

in the pub (night; 27th? February, 1945)

pre Valkyrie (1st March, 1945)

pre Valkyrie (1st March, 1945)

during Valkyrie (1st March, 1945).

.

TL;DR: They knew of each other for 626 days total, (from 15th June 1943 - 1st March 1945), aka: 20 months 14 days; 19 months & 15 days of which they weren’t in the same place, and only spoke on 13 occasions over 8 separate days.

.

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

So, according to the hostage release deal, for Hamas to get an extension of the break in fighting, it would have to pass to Israel a list of at least 10 hostages it would release on that day until 7 in the morning at the latest, or by that point, the deal would be considered over and the IDF would resume fighting. Yesterday's list was passed to Israel at 6:40 in the morning, and was problematic (more on this later in the post), but Israel accepted the list, and the break continued. This morning, Hamas didn't pass a list (at least not one that sticks to the deal, naming at least 10 living women and kids), and on top of that, it fired rockets at Israeli civilians again, at 5:45 in the morning, over an hour before the break would be over. This is a part of what we mean when we tell you that Hamas has broken every ceasefire ever.

Regarding the terrorist attack in Jerusalem yesterday, the 24 years old woman who was murdered, Livia Dikman, was an only daughter, and pregnant with her first child. I want you to understand that there are entire families that Hamas has erased in the past, on Oct 7, and continues to do so since that massacre, too. A 38 years old man called Yuval Doron Kastelman died of his wounds, raising the number of civilians murdered in this terrorist attack to 4, 5 if you count the unborn baby (and I personally don't see a reason not to. That's another life that was taken). Hamas has officially taken responsibility for this attack. Reminder, that this was while the break in fighting was still on. This is another part of why we point out that Hamas has broken every ceasefire ever.

This is Yuval:

I mentioned there was an issue with the list passed by Hamas to Israel yesterday. The number of hostages on it was 8. The day before, Hamas released 12 people, 2 of which were elderly women with a Russian citizenship, that Hamas said it was releasing outside of the hostage deal, as a tribute to Putin, thanking him for his support of Hamas. They insisted that these two Israelis be released separately, that they be released to Russian representatives, not to Israeli ones (making the arrival of these two elderly women to an Israeli hospital longer), and the Kremlin released an announcement thanking Hamas for the gesture... a day later, suddenly Hamas said that these two actually do count as a part of the deal, meaning that Israel must release convicted terrorists in exchange for these two women's freedom, and because the day before Hamas let 12 hostages go instead of 10, they claimed that on the following day it was enough that they released just 8. This is after they originally were only offering 5 living hostages and 3 bodies, a list that Israel rejected, and insisted on getting living hostages, or the deal would be considered broken, and the fighting would resume. After Hamas switched to 8 living hostages at the last minute, Israel relented on the two women, counted them as a part of the deal, and released 6 convicted terrorists for them. But according to one journalist, the deal specifically said that Hamas would only get one additional day without fighting if it released at least 10 hostages on that day. So whether as a tribute to Putin or not, the list of 8 hostages was another violation of the deal, which Israel was willing to "swallow" in order to get those 8 hostages released.

The IDF has published a map to help Gazans evacuate the area designated for fighting. Reports say many are already following it.

There was an explosion in Yemen the other day, reportedly someone attacked a warehouse with weapons, belonging to the Houthis, the same Iran-funded terrorist organization that has declared war on Israel alongside Hamas, and has been firing at the southern Israeli city of Eilat, and attacking Israeli ships (or ships claimed to be Israeli).

This is Mia Shem as seen in a vid released by Hamas, where she was made to say that she was getting good medical treatment:

Mia's hand was badly injured when she was attacked and kidnapped by Hamas. She was in need of an operation. After her release, she recounted that the man who operated her arm was a vet. Because I guess to Hamas, Jews are animals? Like several other hostages, she will need further medical treatment, in the hope that the damage caused by Hamas can be reversed, or at least minimized.

These are 17 years old Or Yaakov, and his brother Yagil, who was 12 years old at the time of his kidnapping (he turned 13 in captivity).

Yesterday, their uncle revealed that Hamas terrorists drugged these boys every time they were moved from one location to another, and that they were also physically branded. Before being placed on the motorcycle used to move them between locations, their legs were shoved up against the scorching metal of the exhaust pipe, causing a burn that would help them be identified in case they escaped. If you're Jewish, there's a good chance that at this point, you're thinking about how the Nazis branded Jews with the number tattoos.

This is 17 years old Mia Leimberg.

Anti-Israel activists used her image, being freed from Hamas captivity with her dog, to claim that this shows how well the Israeli hostages were treated. It turns out that during her abduction, Mia wouldn't let go of her dog, after she had seen other dogs being shot by Hamas. The dog stayed so quiet and motionless in Mia's arms, that the terrorists thought it was a doll. When they discovered the truth in Gaza, they wanted to take the dog away from her, but Mia wouldn't let them. The terrorists made it clear they were not going to waste food on a dog, so for over 50 days in captivity, Mia shared the little food she got from Hamas with her dog, and they both had to survive on what wasn't enough food for one human. This image isn't a testament to Hamas' humanity. It's a testament to Mia's.

This is 29 years old Shani Goren.

She was released yesterday. Earlier, 12 years old Eitan Yahalomi was freed, and he mentioned that, when he wasn't kept in isolation, he was with Shani, who chose to pass on some of the small food portion she got with him. And yes, it reminded me of countless testimonies from the Holocaust, of people recounting how even at the worst of times, they shared food with each other, in accordance with humane Jewish values, helping each other survive rather than focusing on just their own survival.

Israeli police has opened an investigative case for each released hostage, with their testimonies, and evidence regarding them, as a part of building the legal case against Hamas, for war crimes and crimes against humanity.

I wanna address the attempt to create a false equivalence between Hamas' brutality towards the Israeli hostages, and how Israel treats Palestinian prisoners. For the record, Israel CAN'T physically abuse its prisoners, as was claimed, because they're constantly supervised. Unlike the Israeli hostages, Palestinian prisoners in Israeli jails regularly get visits from the International Red Cross, from their lawyers, from family members, from social workers, from public defenders, if they're teenagers, then from juvenile court judges, too. There's a whole system put in place to make sure their rights are preserved. And of course, they can always sue Israel for wrongdoing.

But specifically, what happened the other day is that one of the released convicted terrorists couldn't just thank his luck that he got to walk away without serving the full sentence for his crimes, he decided to vilify Israel by claiming both his hands were broken while he was still in prison (middle pic).

He gave countless interviews with both his hands bandaged. Trouble for him is that there's footage of him on the day of his release, not only without bandages and looking fine, he's actually using his hands quite freely.

But in the visuals of him leaving Ofer prison and being transferred to a Red Cross vehicle, Nazzal is seen using one his hands to hold onto the railing as he boarded the van. He is also seen placing his hand in his pocket.

Before Hamas broke and ended the hostage deal, its leader in Gaza, the man considered the mastermind behind the massacre, Yahya Sinwar, gave his first statement since Oct 7. He said clearly that the massacre was just a dress rehearsal. If you want Israel to stop the war without Hamas' complete and total surrender, while that terrorist organization can still make good on its threats, that is what you are consenting to.

Since the release of the hostages, and probably at least partly based on info provided by them, several of the kidnapped hostages have been declared murdered. Among them is Aviv, the husband of my colleague Liat, who was herself released just the other day.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 The blockaded and besieged Palestinian population of the Gaza Strip exemplify their resilience by continuing to perform Eid prayers amidst the immense levels of destruction and devestation evident all around them in the Jabalia Refugee Camp, in the northern Gaza Strip on Sunday, the beginning of the Islamic holiday Eid Al-Adha. 📈 The current death toll in Gaza now exceeds 37'337 Palestinians killed, while another 85'299 others have been wounded since Oct. 7th ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

WAR OF EXTERMINATION DAY 254: ZIONIST ARMY ANNOUNCES TEMPORARY TRUCE IN RAFAH, BEN GVIR SLAMS DECISION, PRIME MINISTER'S OFFICE IMMEDIATELY DENIES CHANGE IN POLICY, HAMAS POLITICAL LEADER SAYS RESISTANCE RESPONSE TO CEASEFIRE PROPOSAL CONSISTENT WITH BIDEN SPEECH, 8 ZIONIST SOLDIERS KILLED IN RAFAH, ISRAELI GENOCIDE CONTINUES ENDLESSLY

On 254th day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 3 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 41 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 102 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands, of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or who's bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

This leaves the official death toll vastly undercounted as Gaza's healthcare officials are unable to accurately tally those killed and maimed in this genocide, which must be kept in mind when considering the scale of the mass murder.

The Israeli occupation forces (IOF) announced today, Sunday, June 16th, a temporary truce in the Rafah Governate, south of Gaza, to allow humanitarian aid to pass to the starving population of the southern Gaza Strip.

In a statement, the occupation army announced that "in order to increase the scope of humanitarian aid entering Gaza and following further discussions on the subject with the UN and international organizations, there will be a local and tactical pause in military activity for humanitarian purposes from 08:00 to 19:00 daily until further notice."

The response from far-right Zionist extremist Israeli political figures was swift and uncompromising in its condemnations, with Minister Ben Gvir leading the criticisms by telling the Hebrew media that "Whoever decided on a 'tactical truce' for the purpose of a humanitarian transition, especially when the best of our soldiers are falling in battle, is a villain and a fool that should not be allowed to continue in his position."

In response to the criticism, the Zionist army clarified that "there is no cessation of hostilities in the southern Gaza Strip, there is no change in the introduction of goods."

"The IDF makes it clear that there is no cessation of hostilities in the southern Gaza Strip, and the fighting in Rafah continues. Also, there is no change in the entry of goods into the Gaza Strip. The axis carrying the goods will be open during the day in coordination with international organizations, for the transportation of humanitarian aid only," the occupation army said in its statement.

Meanwhile, political sources speaking under anonymity said "the move was not approved with the Prime Minister (Benjamin Netanyahu) and the Minister of Defense (Yoav Gallant), at the moment, the decision is not approved."

"Currently this decision is not approved and is not being carried out," the sources added.

Another political official, speaking with the occupation media said, "when the Prime Minister heard the reports in the morning about a humanitarian break for 11 hours a day, he contacted his military secretary and made it clear that this was unacceptable to him."

Senior officials with the Israeli occupation army said the move was intended to help the Zionist entity in preperation for the decision of the International Court of Justice at The Hague, in the Netherlands, where a lawsuit by South Africa has seen the court order the Israeli entity to end all operations in the Rafah Governate, allow the entry of humanitarian aid into Gaza, and cease any operations which could cause the physical destruction of the Palestinian population in "whole or in part."

"This is not an end to the fighting or a cessation of it, but rather a transfer of goods," the army said, adding that "this kind of decision does not need to go through a political level, but approval from a general is enough."

At the same time, Zionist army officials admit: "The conduct surrounding the release of the announcement was wrong and we had to pass it through a political level - but the decision does not require the approval of a political level."

It remains unclear whether such a truce will actually be implemented, or whether humanitarian aid will be allowed to pass through the Rafah and Karm Abu Salem border crossings, south of the Rafah Governate.

For the time being, the Israeli entity continues its closure of the two southern Gaza border crossing, blocking the entry of humanitarian aid convoys and preventing thousands of severely sick and wounded Palestinians from seeking medical treatment overseas.

The Israeli occupation forces took control over the Rafah and Karm Abu Salem border crossings on May 7th, beginning with the Israeli ground invasion of the Rafah Governate, closing the crossings to life-saving humanitarian aid transfers ever since as famine spreads throughout Gaza.

On Friday, medical personnel from Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital in Deir al-Balah, in the central Gaza Strip, announced the death of a young Palestinian child as a result of malnutrition and dehydration, bringing the total number of deaths as a result of starvation and dehydration to 40 since October 7th.

The Deputy Director of the United Nations' World Food Programme, Carl Skaw, stated that food supplies to southern Gaza are at risk, and that the displaced Palestinian population in the enclave are facing a public health crisis.

"We had increased the size of stocks before the operation in Rafah so that we could feed people, but the stocks began to run out, and we no longer have the same ability to reach individuals," Skaw said previously.

The desperate conditions and lack of food stocks have also begun to effect the enclave's hospitals, which have already exhausted most of their medical supplies, along with fuel for generators, following 9 months of Zionist military activities in the Gaza Strip as it continues its genocidal war.

In a recent warning, the United Nations Children's Fund (UNICEF) said that roughly 3'000 children in Gaza are suffering from malnutrition, and are at risk of death, due to the continued blockade of humanitarian relief.

"Horrific images from Gaza show children dying in front of their families due to continuing shortages of food and nutrition supplies and the destruction of health care services,” UNICEF Regional Director for the Middle East and North Africa, Adele Khader, said in a statement.

“With hospitals destroyed, treatment halted, and supplies scarce, we are preparing for more children’s suffering and deaths," Khader added.

According to the United Nations World Food Programme (WFP), 9 out of 10 children in the Gaza Strip suffer from acute food poverty.

In a post to the social media platform X, the WFP said recently “the hostilities and restrictions imposed on aid have led to the collapse of food and health systems.”

Similarly, data published by the Ministry of Health in Gaza details how the Health sector in the enclave has collapsed, with what remains serving no more than 15% of the wounded and sick.

The date set makes it clear the health system in Gaza has become unable to serve those suffering from chronic diseases or epidemics caused by overcrowding in shelters, health centers and hastily erected camps, in addition to the destruction of Gaza's sewage system.

In other news on Sunday, the head of the Hamas Politboro, Ismail Haniyeh, gave a speech in which he stated that “Our [Hamas's] response to the ceasefire proposal is consistent with the foundations contained in Biden’s speech and the Security Council resolution.”

“Hamas and all the resistance factions showed great seriousness and great flexibility in order to reach an agreement that would spare the blood of our people and stop the aggression, and our response to the ceasefire proposal is consistent with the foundations stated in Biden’s speech and the Security Council resolution, and the occupation continues its attempts to circumvent and deceive with the aim of obtaining prisoners and resuming [its] 'War of extermination,'" Haniyeh stated.

Haniyeh went on to point out that "Another holiday has passed for Palestine [Eid al-Adha], and Gaza is struggling against the occupying invaders on all fronts. We are in the midst of a historical epic in which we defend our land, our identity, and our sanctity."

Continuing his speech, Haniyeh said, “Our people are living under a stifling siege and the most extreme types of suffering, from displacement to displacement and from bombing to bombing. Gaza is struggling for the rest of the world, and this year’s Eid comes in light of the enormous sacrifices."

"Our people are living in a journey of suffering that history has never known before. This Today is a blessed day with crowds of worshipers on the ruins of mosques in Gaza and in Al-Aqsa Mosque, despite the oppression and barriers," Haniyeh added.

"My first message is directed to the people of Gaza, who are facing aggression and fighting the battle steadfastly. We are certain of victory, liberation and empowerment, and that the occupation that is committing genocide has failed to achieve its goals," Haniyeh continued, adding that "The occupation will see from our people nothing but steadfastness, steadfastness, resistance, and more rootedness and belonging."

"My people in the Gaza Strip have offered and are still offering everything precious and valuable and they bear all kinds of pain with steadfastness and patience, and we are certain of God’s promise to us of victory, liberation and empowerment," he went on, stating that "The occupation, which is committing brutal genocide, has failed to achieve any of its declared goals."

"The Al-Aqsa flood was a historic battle with evidence and results that cannot be comprehended. We see the helplessness of the enemy leaders. Despite all the enemy's attempts to destroy the capabilities of the resistance, the heroic operations are still continuing with courage, especially in Rafah yesterday," Haniyeh stated.

"We say to the Islamic Resistance Brigades in Iraq that you confirm that our enemy is one and that our nation is one," Haniyeh said, praising "the declared position of all parties supporting and allied with Palestine."

Haniyeh continued by saying, "The occupation has intensified the war of extermination that it is leading against our people in Gaza, the West Bank and Jerusalem," going on to add that "The occupation continues its bombing, killing and destruction, especially in patient Gaza, and our people in Gaza are facing famine just as they are facing the bombs of the occupation."

"The nation must play its role in this eternal battle. It is time for our nation to develop its support and escalate its confrontation with the occupation."

Haniyeh concluded by emphasizing that "Everyone must move to force the occupation to open all crossings and bring in all the needs of our people immediately and urgently, and everyone must move to force the enemy to open the Rafah crossing."

“We are on a date with freedom for our prisoners soon, God willing," Haniyeh finished.

In other news, earlier this weekend, the Palestinian resistance ambushed a number of soldiers resting in an Israeli armored personnel carrier somewhere in the Rafah Governate, firing an armor-piercing shell into the vehicle, detonating the carrier and killing the Zionist soldiers inside.

In an article published by the New York Times, the Times quoted Israeli soldiers as saying that the explosion in the armored personnel carrier made it difficult to identify the soldiers killed inside.

The sources told the times that there was now widespread discontent among Zionist soldiers against the Israeli political leadership after the soldiers were ambushed and killed.

According to Israeli military officials, the Palestinian resistance ambushed an armored personnel carrier containing 8 Zionist soldiers and officers in the Rafah axis, in the southern Gaza Strip.

The Resistance forces fired an armor-piercing missile into the vehicle, after which, the vehicle immediately exploded and burned, killing the 8 soldiers and incinerating their bodies along with the vehicle.

Meanwhile, the bombing, shelling, drone and missile strikes of the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) continued unabated over the weekend, killing and wounding scores of Palestinian civilians in the Gaza Strip on the first day of Eid al-Adhar, a major Islamic holiday.

South of Gaza, Israeli gunboats continued bombarding civilian homes with artillery shells along the coast of Rafah, while Zionist soldiers burned a number of residential homes in the vicinity of the Al-Awda roundabout in central Rafah, and also bombed several homes in the Tal al-Sultan neighborhood, west of Rafah.

At the same time, local paramedic crews announced the recovery of 11 decomposing bodies who'd died in the Israeli bombardment in various areas of the city.

The Zionist occupation army also destroyed a civilian house in the Al-Fokhari neighborhood, east of Khan Yunis, without any casualties reported in the strike.

Elsewhere in the Palestinian enclave, the occupation army continued bombarding areas south of Gaza City, killing a Palestinian civilian east of the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood.

Heavy fire by the occupation army also continued targeting the Sheikh Ajlin neighborhood, west of Gaza City, while Zionist warplanes bombed a civilian residence in the Al-Shati (Beach) Refugee Camp, west of the city.

Meanwhile, in the central Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces resumed detonations of residential homes in the village of Al-Mughraqa, north of the Nuseirat Camp, while intense artillery shelling also targeted the village.

In another horrific war crime, the Zionist army bombed two homes in the Bureij Camp, killing a number of Palestinians and wounding many others.

According to local reporting, occupation fighter jets bombed a residential home belonging to the Al-Khatib family, in the Bureij Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, killing at least 5 civilians, including an infant, and wounding a number of others.

In continuation of the occupation's war of genocide, Zionist warplanes also bombed a civilian residence belonging to the Al-Najjar family, also located within the Bureij Camp, killing two more Palestinian civilians and injuring several others.

Gaza's media office also announced that the Israeli war machine continued its detonations and bombings of a number of civilian homes and residential buildings in the town of Al-Mughraqa, north of the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip.

Similarly, a civilian was murdered in an Israeli airstrike that targeted the Al-Mawasi area, north of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip.

Additionally, Zionist fighter jets bombed a gathering of civilians in the Al-Shujaiya neighborhood, east of Gaza City, resulting in the death of one civilian and injuring several others.

Previously, on Saturday evening, the Israeli occupation army used gunboats to fire artillery shells, while Zionist tanks and other armored vehicles also shelled, areas of the Tal al-Hawa and Sheikh Ajlin neighborhoods, south and southwest of Gaza City, while simultaneously, Israeli fighter jets flew sorties at low-altitude over the air space of Gaza City.

Additionally, on Saturday, Zionist aircraft bombed various areas of Gaza City with high intensity, in addition to violent bombardments of the city of Rafah.

According to local sources, a number of civilians casualties were recorded after occupation warplanes bombed a house in the Tal al-Sultan neighborhood, west of the city of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip.

Local reporting also stated that Israeli air forces launched violent raids targeting a residential home west of the Shuhada al-Shati Square, in the center of the Al-Shati Refugee Camp (Beach Camp), west of Gaza City.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing war of extermination in the Gaza Strip, the endlessly rising death toll now exceeds 37'337 Palestinians killed, including at least 10'000 women and over 15'000 children, while another 85'299 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

June 16th, 2024.

#source1

#source2

#source3

#source4

#source5

#source6

#source7

#source8

#source9

#source10

#videosource

#graphicsource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

[blue--ingenue]

"Evasive Maneuvers" - Part 8

Summary: You've been in love with Sebastian since the moment you knocked him on his arse on your first day. Entering your sixth year, you finally begin working up the courage to confess your feelings when he suddenly becomes the best Beater Hogwarts has seen in decades - and subsequently becomes the school's most eligible bachelor.

Author's Notes: back at it with part 8 after an extended hiatus! i'm so sorry for the angsty cliffhanger, my loves. college has been taking up most of my time, but i promise this isn't the last chapter! see you at the next one :)))

Sebastian Sallow had never considered himself undesirable, but ever since his daring rescue and subsequent placement on the Championship team his popularity skyrocketed. Several of the girls in his year had begun giggling each time they passed him in the halls between classes, and a few of them even trailed him class to class, blushing like mad. He seemed to have caught the eye of every witch, and nearly every wizard, in the castle. Every witch, that is, except the one he so desperately longed to speak to. To add insult to injury, his beloved Gryffindor was seldom seen without Garreth Weasley by her side. Garreth, who had been chosen as the Championship team’s second Beater. 

When Professor Howin announced the official roster after dinner last week Sebastian was hardly surprised. Everything was going to Hell in a handbasket, and he would’ve been more shocked if she’d chosen anyone other than that smug git. He hadn’t spoken to his Gryffindor since last week. It might take time, but surely she had to understand that he was wrong for her. Even if he’d wanted to apologize to her, what would he even say? He couldn’t - wouldn’t - place her in harm’s way ever again. Despite his every effort to make amends for his actions in fifth year, there was always a voice whispering to him in the dark recesses of his mind. It mimicked her screams and promised that she would never be safe so long as he was by her side. In time Ominis, Anne, and his beloved Gryffindor had all forgiven him. But he could never forgive himself. 

He was growing restless in her absence, throwing himself into his studies and pushing himself to exhaustion at every practice. He found work to be the best distraction, but even his fellow team members could sense he was nearing a breaking point. 

He found himself searching for her in every corridor hoping to get her alone so that he could begin to fix things. Perhaps he could convince her that they weren’t right for each other. He could sever the thread connecting their hearts and cauterize the wound with the guilt that tormented him each night. They could remain friends, just friends, and nothing more. Sebastian told himself that it would be enough. If he could survive just having her in his life, even if it meant never having her in his arms. And every day, just before he saw her laughing with Garreth, he could almost make himself believe it. 

---

The worst thing about nightmares wasn’t the horrors that waited, but the inescapability of it all. For all his books and cleverness, logic was useless against the throes of his own terrified mind. A good night’s sleep was a pipe dream. After nearly an hour of tossing and turning Sebastian gave up on trying to rest and slipped away to the common room. 

The cavernous hall was as empty as he expected it to be in the dead hours of early morning. The fires burned demurely in the hearths and the gentle padding of his slippers against stone was the only sound to echo back to him. He stood in the center of the main atrium facing the windows and took a deep breath. As a little boy Sebastian had hated feeling small, like he was at the mercy of everyone and everything bigger than him. 

But now as he gazed up at the great vaulted ceilings he was reminded of how freeing it felt to let go. A year before his parents’ accident they’d taken a family trip to London. His most vivid memory was of the grand cathedrals they’d visited. The stone arches sloped around intricate stained glass windows reached proudly for the heavens at least a hundred feet above him. The gentle timbre of a practicing choir and the sun caressing his cheek had lulled him into a sense of peace reminiscent of falling asleep in his mother’s arms. He’d give anything to feel that small and safe and protected again. 

Ever since he’d lost his parents Sebastian had been determined to keep those he cared about safe at any cost. If he had to choose between his happiness or theirs, he’d relinquish his own without question. If he was doing the right thing to keep his Gryffindor safe, then why did it cause him such agony?

The unfairness of it all seeped into his very bones and settled like lead. Sebastian wondered if the universe decided ahead of time which souls were marked to suffer. If he had been faster the night his parents collapsed in their laboratory, perhaps his family would still be together. If he’d been just a bit smarter in fifth year, perhaps he could have found a cure for his sister before resorting to torturing his best friend. 

He vaguely registered the book slip from his weak grasp. It was the starting thud of the spine hitting marble that roused him from his thoughts. As he bent to retrieve the tome he heard a soft sigh from one of the couches by the fire. He wasn’t alone. Curiosity got the better of him and drew him toward the sleeping figure. 

His breath hitched as he recognized the girl asleep among the velvet cushions. A faraway voice reminded him of Ominis’ passing remarks from breakfast. She and Ominis were working together on a class project by the end of the week and they would be working in the common room for a few hours. But it didn’t matter. None of it did. She was curled up on her side, hair sloped gently around her shoulders in the softest halo he’d ever seen. Her chest rose and fell and with every breath Sebastian felt himself pulled impossibly closer. He was near enough to notice the tiny shiver that sent a tremble through her frame. He realized she must be cold. 

On instinct he slipped out of his robe and laid it over her. She didn’t stir when the makeshift blanket settled around her, and he didn’t want her to. Inexplicably the anxiety had drained from him. He would have given anything for her to just look at him. Weeks without her company had made him desperate. But seeing her sleeping peacefully, knowing that she was safe from harm and poachers and all else for at least one night, was enough for him.

He allowed himself to stare shamelessly, selfishly, for a moment more before quietly making his way back to his room. As he crawled beneath the covers he idly wondered if her ancient magic was what had calmed him so. It was the last thought to cross his mind before he fell into the gently arms of oblivion, free from nightmares for the first time in ages. 

.

.

.

.

.

Taglist:@snickette, @findingtruenorth23, @plooloo, @paganicher, @smilesworldsposts, @snoozebun, @crazyllamasurfer, @pixie-dustss, @margottheviking, @lollife1617, @milk-barrs-blog, @somethingiswrongwithme, @bleh-stupid, @stay-gray, @mrsbrookesallow, @lostgirl-28, @kateisnotheree, @doigettokeepyou, @dreamqueenkala, @uwuitzerimpact, @neoqueen306, @ghostly-haunted, @exhorto, @riceballsandanime, @theperson-nextdoor, @lb-littlebear, @bambis-butterfly, @lovely12521 , @riceballsandanime, @kamikokii, @pausolvia27

[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - ch 17

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 9.1k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Honestly, not many warnings here. Mostly fluff and some sexy flirting and blood drinking/talk of biting. Summary: On the night of the Samhain ball, your long-anticipated return home is marked with tears, hugs, and a very important announcement. Notes: Next week's epilogue will be the official end of this story, my darlings, and I am so grateful for every single one of you who has come along for the ride!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Ch 16

"Miss Allison, I promise you that everything is under control." Mrs. Taylor has watched Allison work her very hardest to finish the plans on the Samhain ball, and she has done wonderfully. Far more wonderfully than Allison herself would ever take credit for. Now, though, it is up to Mrs. Taylor and the rest of the staff to get the buffet tables and innumerable chairs set. "Please go and get dressed. We will take care of everything from here. It is going to be a wonderful night."

“Are you sure?” She bites her lip and wracks her brain, running through the mental checklist that has been swirling through her mind and double then tripled several times.

"This is not, as you like to say, my first rodeo." The elder vampire chuckles at the expression and motions toward the stairs. "There is plenty of time. Take a shower or even a bath. Relax yourself. Get dressed. It is time to enjoy your night."

“Do you think we ordered enough blood and donors?” She asks worriedly. Vampires from all over are descending on the estate and some do not drink from blood bags, so concessions had to be made.

“Mr. Finchley counted through the bags this morning and Renee is meeting each of the donors as they arrive.” Mostly students from the neighboring college, the set of a dozen voluntary donors for the night have signed contracts for financial compensation that they are permitted to back out of at any time if they should decide — and they will also be provided with enormous care packages made by the Taylors regardless of how long they stay or how many guests partake of their blood. Mrs. Taylor has baked and cooked enough in advance for each of them to essentially have a week’s worth of free food and Mr. Taylor went through enormous trouble to find them all manner of health and self-care items as well as other goodies. “Mr. Taylor had offered to speak to everyone but Renee thought the young ladies who signed up might be less intimidated if she was the one to greet them.”

“That would be best. I can also meet with them. Explain how it is for a human.” She offers with a slight blush. Last night she and Eddie had indulged in that particular activity after the conversation they had and she loved it.

Mrs. Taylor smiles at Allison’s blush, not calling attention to it but certainly noting the happiness in the young woman. Things appear to be going quite well. “I’m sure they would be comforted to hear from you.”

“Then I will meet with them when they are ready.” Allison decides with a smile. “Please have someone inform me when that is?”

“They have been asked to arrive by nine o’clock tonight.” The mantle clock beside them reads just after seven, meaning there truly is plenty of time. “The Master is taking it upon himself to greet any trick or treaters we might have tonight, so do not feel you need to rush in readying yourself.”

“He loves children, doesn’t he?” Allison asks, tilting her head and smiling at the thought of the elder vampire greeting kids and cooing over their costumes.

“He does.” Mrs. Taylor nods. The same expression of soft admiration paints both their features and the housekeeper clasps her hands a moment later. “Would you like a tea tray for your room? Or any help getting ready?”

“Some tea would be lovely.” She admits before she thinks about something else. “Is— has Dolly’s room been prepared for her return?” She asks softly, as if asking about it might jinx things.

An enigmatic smile from Mrs. Taylor is not the reassurance she is looking for, but the vampiric housekeeper has plenty of her own secrets as well. “All is prepared for. Truly, there is nothing for you to worry about. You should try to enjoy yourself tonight, miss.”

“Were you nervous when you were human?” Allison asks in wonder. “Or have you always been so self-assured?”

“Oh goodness no.” That actually illicits a small laugh from her and Mrs. Taylor shakes her head. “It took a good century or so to find my calm, dear girl. Before that I was as nervous as a spring bride in the morning. I simply learned to…what is your phrase? Fake it ‘til I make it. Eventually it just sank in.”

“Good to know.” She’s more assured than some, but this is her first big event and she feels like she needs to prove herself worthy to Eddie’s sire.

“Everything will be just as you wished it to be.” Mrs. Taylor promises. “Now go on. I will bring your tea up myself.”

“Thank you.” Allison flashes her a grateful smile before turning around and doing as she says.

The artfully made Alice in Wonderland and Mad Hatter costumes that Eddie found for them are hanging in his closet and Eddie himself is sitting on the bed with a copy of the party itinerary in his lap when she walks in. "Hey baby." Almost instantly, he's at her side with his arms around her. "Did Mrs. Taylor banish you from the ballroom to get ready?"

“She did.” Allison huffs out a laugh and shakes her head. “I was told that she has it completely under control. But I want this to be perfect.”

“It will be.” He squeezes her tight and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “If I suggest we take a shower will that actually relax you a little? Everything is going to be great, baby.”

“It depends.” Allison admits with a grin. “Will you…feed off me again?” She asks quietly, amazed at how much of a rush of endorphins it can be.

Eddie’s chuckle is deep, tinged with equal parts amusement and desire. “I will. Because I can smell how badly you want me to.”

Biting her lip, she grins and bats her eyelashes at him. “You don’t seem to mind it.” She reminds him, finding it intoxicating when it fires him up. He loses control for a split second when he starts to drink.

With his hands on her hips, Eddie whirls Allison around and starts walking her toward the shower with urgency. “Alright. Let’s go. Very important shower to take.”

Her laugh is one of delight and she’s ecstatic that one day, she won’t have to secretly worry about growing old and leaving Eddie. She’ll be right there with him. “Baby?” He hums and she giggles. “Can we still do this once I’m changed?”

“Shower together?” He huffs at her playfully because he knows that isn’t what she meant. “I mean we can, but vampires don’t sweat so we don’t need to wash as much.”

She snorts and rolls her eyes before she turns around to start undressing. “You know what I meant.”

“We can,” he stresses the second word and tugs off his t-shirt. “But the thing that’s weird about it is that if you drink my blood and I’m the one who turned you…it doesn’t quite taste right. It’s like an evolutionary red flag, or something like that. To prevent vampires from consuming their kin. So if you want to keep doing this, and you want it to taste good and give adrenaline and all that? I would recommend that we ask someone else to change you.”

“Would you mind?” She asks quietly. Changing a person into a vampire is also quite intimate and she doesn’t want to upset him.

“I would prefer you chose someone you know well, if it isn’t going to be me.” He can understand her choice is entirely her own, but to make another vampire is a deeply intimate and meaningful relationship. It’s why so many refer to those they have sired as their children.

“I was thinking about asking your sire.” Allison admits. “Since he approves of me.”

“Hmmm.” Eddie kisses her cheek this time, pretending to consider something he already knows is a good idea. “Are you sure you want Max for a big brother?” He teases.

She snorts and shrugs. “He will be either way.” She admits, knowing that Eddie will always be around Max. Plus she kind of likes the other vampire for his treatment of you.

“I guess that’s true.” Eddie grins, though, and helps Allison out of her last few items of clothes after turning on the hot water for them. “To be honest, I thought you might pick Mrs. Taylor, but I have no doubt if we ask him about it later, he will say yes.”

“I hope to have more of a sisterly relationship with Mrs. Taylor.” Allison admits. “Although if your sire thinks it’s a good idea, I would be fine with that.”

“I doubt dear old dad will object to siring you. But be prepared for him to make a very big deal about it.” Eddie rolls his eyes fondly. “Dramatic son of a bitch.”

“You’re dramatic in your own way.” She teases, sliding her hands up his cool chest and grinning at him.

“I’ve been well trained, I guess.” He huffs, but pulls her into the shower with him. “I’m glad you seem to like it.”

“Oh I do.” She promises, standing on her tip toes to kiss him. “I absolutely do.”

******

"This place looks incredible!" Tracy squeals, throwing her arms around Allison almost the second she's inside the house. "Holy shit, holy shit everything is amazing. And what is that smell? Are you burning incense in the house or something?"

“The food.” There’s probably some incense burning as well, but all the human food is fragrant. “You look incredible!”

"Oh, this old thing?" Tracy giggles as she twirls around in her Clueless costume and poses like a model. She and Candance and one of the other women from the coven decided to come as Cher, Tai, and Dionne tonight. "As if, right?"

“No, you look amazing, I don’t think there will be a pair of eyes that don’t stop on you and admire.” Allison gushes, grinning at the other woman. “And you’ll be dancing all night.”

"I can't believe how good the house looks and how good you look!" She jumps forward to squeeze Allison tightly again. "Everything is perfect."

“Yes it is.” Since the shower and getting dressed, she’s calmed down. It’s too late to change anything and what will be, will be. She’s left it in Mrs. Taylor’s capable hands.

Tracy bites her lip as Candace comes up beside her. “Any sign of…?”

Allison sighs, chewing on her lip worriedly and glancing around. “Not yet. But knowing Max, he will make it as dramatic as possible and arrive at midnight like some reverse pumpkin fable.” She snorts, hiding her own nerves behind the facade of humor.

“Oh god, you’re right,” Candace snorts. She reaches to hug Allison tightly and shakes her head in some sort of fond exasperation. “And he’ll have figured out how to cue Phantom of the Opera entrance music or something.”

“That would actually have been a wonderful idea!” Allison gasps. “Next year. Next year’s theme is decided.”

“All of Broadway, or specifically Phantom?” Tracy giggles at the idea, already on board.

“Phantom.” Allison knows you would love the idea. “We could honestly have a Broadway themed ball every year.”

“Different time periods, different Broadway shows, different literary influences…” Candace sighs dreamily. “My vote is for a Jane Austen ball.”

“Ohhhh that would be wonderful.” Allison sighs as well, enchanted by the idea. “It would be a very proper ball.”

“What would be?” Eddie, who had been at the front door making sure the signs for parking and entry were clear enough and in the right places, now comes up behind his girlfriend and slips one arm around her waist.

“Hi.” She beams at Eddie and sighs at the idea of him in a Regency era suit. “A Jane Austen ball.”

“Ooo, you would love that.” He coos softly and presses a kiss to her cheek. “Mr. Finchley is out front to help with parking and direct people who haven’t been here before. The first cars were pulling in when I came inside. I thought you ladies would like to know.”

“Oh, it’s time.” Allison panics for a split second but Eddie’s hand on her waist steadies her. “Then I guess you and I should stand in and greet the guests.”

“And we will man the donation table.” Tracy grabs Candace’s hand. One of the main points of the night is still to collect for charity, and every party goer is supposed to be bringing in a canned or boxed food item for the local food bank. Between the food drive and proceeds from ticket sales going to nearest women’s shelter, the night should end up being a rousing success on all fronts as long as everyone has a good time.

“Thank you.” Allison throws them grateful smiles, happy that she has such a good coven to help her.

“Come on, love,” Eddie encourages her. There is a broad, proud smile on his face and he kisses her other cheek this time. “We have guests to greet.”

“Yes we do.” In your absence, Allison wants to be the best hostess so the reputation of the party grows. This could be a success for years to come.

The first half hour or so of arrivals is a trickle. Coven members, the teachers and students from the dance studio that you and Max had gone to. Some of the museum docents from the local preservation society have arrived as a group in full costume. A few folks from the charities benefiting from tonight’s collections also arrive in their festive Halloween costumes, and a smattering of students from the nearby college as well. It’s over an hour into the night when a sleek, black sports car with tinted windows that Allison doesn’t recognize, pulls up under the porte-cochere and Mr. Taylor looks particularly amused — or even smug? — when he opens the door.

“Allison!” Though you haven’t aged a day to the naked eye, the way you hold yourself is different now. Over a hundred years changes a person, and the trauma that had once governed all of your actions has melted away to be left far in the past. But a straighter spine and surer shoulders are not what matters now. Not as you haul yourself out of the car in the beautifully elaborate gown that you wore to the first Samhain ball you ever attended — the one thrown by your abuela in 1885 when you decided to stay in the past. You and Max had thought it was a symbolic choice to wear the same clothes tonight.

Eddie’s eyes widen when Max pops out of the driver’s side and zips around to immediately take your hand, smirking slightly at the surprise and delight of the people gathered who recognize them. “I told you we haven’t missed the dancing.” He muses to you as he guides you towards the receiving party. “Edward, you look magnificent and that is saying something considering the gorgeous creature next to you.”

“What in the hell?” Eddie’s eyes widen at the deeply obvious change in Max’s demeanor and he can’t help a deep, amused laugh at how giddily you and Allison are greeting each other as he steps forward to either shake Max’s hand or give the bastard a hug. He can’t really figure out which. “Well, goddamn. You—you really did stay, didn’t you?”

Max takes the other vampire’s hand in a firm shake and drags him forward for a hug. “We couldn’t leave.” He admits shamelessly. “That time, the people, it was exactly what we both needed.” He pulls back and grins at Eddie. “But it’s damn good to see you. We missed you both.”

“We missed you, too.” As nervous as they were, and as worried as they were, it’s extremely obvious that whatever had happened, it was a positive decision. “But where the hell did you come from? And how did you leave in the first place? And when were you? We have so many questions.”

“We’ll explain it all.” Max promises. “Dolly has a lot of information to share with the coven. Including Mrs. Astor’s grimoire.”

“I’ve missed you so much.” You cling to Allison happily, drowning in your long-missed friend’s affection, before pulling back to look at her. “You look so happy, honey. That’s so good, and I’m so, so glad to see it.”

Max smirks slightly, sending Eddie a knowing look. “Eddie, you finally made your move.” He hums in approval. “Good, relationship bliss looks good on you both.”

“Come inside,” Eddie insists, practically dragging Max with him and Allison wraps her arm around yours to do the same. “We want to hear everything.”

“Of course you do.” Max is teasing, but if the situations were reversed, he would be hounding Eddie for the details. “First, how long have we been gone? Dates have kind of blurred.”

“About three weeks.” Allison tells him, still clinging to your hand. She’s still reassuring herself that you’re both real. “How long has it been for you guys, though?”

He glances at you and grins before he looks back at Allison and Eddie. “You tell them.” You urge with an indulgent smile since Max has been so excited about this.

“Only a few years.” Max insists. “One hundred and one.”

“So…you went to 1922?” Allison asks, confused because that doesn’t seem to track with what they found in their research.

“Not quite,” you admit, knowing the whole situation probably seems very complicated. “We went to 1885, and came back from 1986. A few weeks before Max was set to be born. You really don’t want to hop around in your own lifetime if you can manage it.”

“So you can move around through time?” Eddie asks, mouth hanging open as every one of his theories is being explained.

“It was by accident the first time.” The admission is a little sheepish, but you look very proud just a second later. “I’m actually quite good at it now.”

“What happened?” Allison demands. “We were thinking something happened to you when your grandfather told us.”

“Unfortunately for him, my ex decided to surprise us on our date.” It’s been a century and the hurt is gone. Not even a sting remains. Derek is no more than a blip in your past and there are now very long stretches of entire decades where you even forget he ever existed. “I tried to keep him away from us with a protection spell but my spellbinding made it go haywire, and instead of protecting Max and myself from Derek, I protected all three of us from that moment in time. It sent us back to the exact same moment, but in 1885.”

“I knew you had to be spellbound!” Allison gasps. “How did you— did you see your mother?” She asks.

"My mother has been my closest friend for a hundred years." It was difficult, moving in and out of each other's lives at times, but with both of you being functionally immortal for that time you both understood that sometimes there was no choice but to be apart. "She even called me the day she met my dad." It was a phone call you had been waiting for, unfortunately. Knowing what would ensue in the coming years, you and Max had taken it as a cue to get out of the country for the remainder of your time in your own past.

“I’m so glad you got more time with her.” Allison glances at Eddie nervously, aware that your grandfather’s announcement tonight might devastate you.

"Then why do you look as though you had lost my favourite sweater?" You reach for her with both hands and squeeze her shoulders gently. "What's wrong, Ali? The place looks amazing, you look happy, and we're finally home again. It should be a night to celebrate."

“It is.” She promises, shaking off the feeling and sending you a smile. “Your grandfather will be happy to see you.” She promises.

"He should be expecting us." Out of anyone in literally all of time, your grandfather has always been the one person most informed about when and where you will be, your plans, and anything else you could conceivably need. He's been a wonderful father figure to Max and a doting grandfather to you, as well as an invaluable resource.

“He is.” Allison assures you. “In fact, he was the one to tell us you would be back tonight.” She admits with a rueful grin. “Guess we shouldn’t have doubted him.”

"He's the last person we spoke to before we left 1986," you admit, but you also shrug. After hanging up with your grandfather, you'd definitely spent the next few hours enjoying a nice dinner and fucking all over your empty house. Max's absurd '80s power suits had ended up to be just a little bit of a turn on for you. You're just not quite sure how that happened.

Max smirks, reaching up and caressing the back of your neck as you are obviously thinking about the same thing he is. “That was a lucky year.” He teases softly.

"Very lucky." Your own smirk meets his and for one happy moment you forget anyone else exists, just sharing an amused glance with your soulmate. It may be more than a hundred years later, but you still fall a little more in love with him every day.

He arches a brow and licks his lips. “No one would miss us for a few minutes, would they?” He asks, even though he knows he can’t sneak you away for a quickie.

Allison snorts in amusement, shaking her head at Max seemingly not changing at all in his core, despite the changes in his manners on the surface. "It's your house, guys," she reminds you both.

“No.” Max shakes his head and smiles at your friend. “My wife has waited way too long to see you again to sneak her off.” He admits with a chuckle. “And I’ve been told if I mess up her hair before our first dance, there’s hell to pay.”

"It'll be Gladys Vanderbilt's debutante ball all over again," you tease. The fond roll of your eyes is nothing but love after so many years together. "Although..." Looking up at him, you flash him a sly smile. Hearing him call you his wife still hasn't gotten old. "It's been what...fifty years now, since the last time we had a wedding? We might be due for another one."

“You’re married.” Eddie is the one who practically squeals it. He has known Max to be staunchly against being tied down, but that was before you. “How many times have you gotten married?”

"Um..." The look you and Max share is vague confusion, as between the two of you, you try to count out the different weddings you have celebrated over the decades. "1885...1923...1946...1967...and the last one was 1980. So five times. And I guess that's not quite fifty years ago. More than forty, though."

“Oh my god.” Allison whispers, glancing between you and Max in amazement. “Five weddings? Max you are just….” She shakes her head and throws her arms around him while looking over her shoulder at Eddie. “You have a standard now.”

“Sorry Eddie,” you tease, enjoying the easy lightness of being with your friends again. The urge to just continuously hug them and not let go is very real. “Although it is fun. And parties these days are so much more casual than they once were. That makes it a bit easier. Or at least less forbidding to plan.”

“I want to experience that.” Eddie admits, reaching out taking Allison’s hand. “We have decided that Allison will become immortal soon.” He announces after she gives him a soft smile of encouragement.

“Oh, honey!” Your eyes flit between both of them before you bundle them both up in a hug with a beaming smile. “There is so much life to live. You’re going to love it.”

“I can’t take Eddie’s blood like you can with Max.” Allison doesn’t mind that, not really. All that matters is that Eddie wants her. “And Eddie doesn’t want to…outlive me.”

“I think it’s an oversight on the universe’s part that you aren’t soulmates.” The connection they have is so strong and their love so sure, you would have just assumed it if you hadn’t been around when they started dating. “It’s wonderful to hear that you’ll be able to be together.” Glancing over your shoulder, you smile at your own partner. Your other half throughout all of history. “Forever is quite fun, I have to admit.”

“You don’t look a day older.” Allison smirks as she takes in the changes you have brought back from the past. Self-assurance looks amazing and you seemingly glow. No longer the scared woman she had met in a farmer’s market, you are almost intimidating, and your entire aura radiates powerful magic.

“That’s a combination of Max’s blood and Audrey Hepburn’s face cream.” You smirk conspiratorially. “I’ll guard that potion with my life, since you won’t be needing it once you’ve been changed.”

“Interesting.” Her brow wings up at the mention of the famous actress, realizing you must have met her at some point. “Hepburn was a witch?”

“Particularly good with charms and potions. And she was fun. You never hear about her being fun, but she was great.” Beside you, Max has one arm around your waist and he hums proudly. “Max was a movie producer after the Second World War.”

“Really?!” The squeal is loud and enthusiastic and all heads snap towards the group. “Oh— that’s— I can’t believe we didn’t find you.”

“We were using different names at that point.” It had been essential to learn how to craft and re-craft new identities. Luckily, your grandparents had been fountains of information. “And Max only produced, so it’s not as though we were in anything.”

“Still.” She shakes her head and giggles. “The stories you can tell. What else have you two done?”

"I'll tell you everything starting tonight," you promise her, as the four of you step deeper into the house. It's good to be back at Chateau-sur-Mer again. To you and Max it has been just a few years since the last time you were here, but that's long enough to miss it. "But tomorrow you should come over to our house for dinner."

“Your house?” Her eyes widen and Allison frowns in confusion. “Dolly— th-this is your home. Cookie willed it to you, remember?”

"I know." And it is good to be back, but you rub Allison's arm affectionately. "But to avoid complications with my family through history...Max and I built another house here in Newport."

“When?” “Where?” Allison and Eddie ask at the same time with identical sounds of bewilderment.

They've reached a place where they have the same voice sometimes and it makes you smile softly. "You know that little gothic house on the beach that has basically been abandoned for the last couple of decades but somehow never decays? Seacliff Castle?" Beside you, Max smiles proudly. "It was finished in 1888. Max and Yayo designed it with the architect who built this place."

“You are kidding me!” Allison’s screech can raise the dead and she looks like a kid who was just told she was going to Disney and getting a puppy. “I have always wanted to tour that house, but no one knows who owns it. But it was you all along?”

"Come over tomorrow and we'll show you the whole place," you promise her, giggling happily at the absolute glee in her reaction. "But tonight? I want to see what you've done with the ball. I know it's going to be amazing."

“I have been so nervous.” She admits quietly. “But I think we have everything. Including donors for those who don’t eat bagged blood.”

“Mrs. Taylor and Yayo would never let you have anything less than a perfect night.”

“Do I hear my name being taken in vain?” From a nearby dark corner, your grandfather emerges into the low, atmospheric lighting of the great hall.

Max chuckles as he hears his sire’s voice. “Always.” He shakes his head. “Dramatic like always,” he jokes, having told you that your grandfather would make a dramatic entrance.

“I have learned that there are some things which are expected of me,” he jokes pleasantly. “Your journey was not difficult, then?”

“No.” Max reaches out and shakes his sire’s hand warmly and pulls the elder vampire in for a hug. “Cookie did not stake you for keeping our true relationship a secret, I see.” He jokes, even though everyone already knew that.

“She was…not happy.” He clears his throat distinctly remembering that particular fight with his soulmate. Cookie had been furious to find out that her beloved granddaughter and the witch she had been so fond of for a hundred years were one and the same.

“Hopefully she understood eventually why we had to keep it from her, and from Annie.” The contact with your mother had lessened over the years but she had never demanded that they choose sides, something Max had been grateful for – for your sake.

“She did understand.” He is sure of that, considering how very much it had been discussed. “But she regretted not being able to dote on you both as her grandchildren.”

“She did dote on us though.” Max protests and shakes his head. “She treated us like we were family and she loved Dolly like another daughter.”

“She did.” His sire nods, knowing it is the absolute truth. He sighs though, with a theatrical shrug of his shoulders. “But you know Cookie. My darling girl loved titles.”

“She was a special lady.” Max has a fonder appreciation for the older woman, even more so with the knowledge she had known who he was when he first arrived and still had kept her word to her husband to not say anything.

“She was remarkable.” Your grandmother may not have been perfect — in fact she was decidedly less than sometimes — but that was what made her so incredibly special to you. She had never demanded that perfection from you or Max that she tended to expect from Annie. Perhaps it was for the best that she didn’t know how you were at the time? You’ll never quite know.

“Yes, she was.” For a brief second, amongst those he is closest to, your grandfather’s grief shines on his face. Missing the other half of his soul as vividly as the day she had passed in his arms.

“I’m sorry, Yayo.” The only one of the four younger beings whose instinct is to reach out, you bundle your grandfather up in a hug. “I miss her, too. Her and Mom.”

He accepts the hug, squeezing you harder than he would have before you started taking Max’s blood. “Thank you, muñeca.” He hums softly, not missing the way that Eddie and Allison shift slightly. “I will be reunited with them soon.”

“You never know when the people we love can come back to us,” you hum, but the look on your grandfather’s face makes you hesitate. “But…somehow I don’t think you’re talking about that…?”

“Because you are bright.” Yayo praises softly, cupping your cheek and smiling at you mysteriously. “It has always been my plan to join my soulmate in her afterlife.” He admits. “Since she decided to end her mortality. I have only extended my time in this existence to make sure you were well settled, my darling muñeca.”

“Oh…” You don’t cry much anymore, but tears well up behind your eyes instantly. Saying goodbye to the last of your family is not something you had prepared for tonight. “I—but—the family?” He has so many more responsibilities than just your immediate family, you can only imagine that he was preparing for this for a very long time. Or else made a lot of decisions very quickly.

“Is your family now.” He reminds you softly. “Although I have decided to name my successor tonight.” He smiles proudly and hopes that you will not be too upset at him.

“This night is much more important than I thought, then.” Stepping back from him, you settle against Max’s side and try for a smile. Your grandfather is doing what will make him happiest and you have to respect that, even if it is rather a big shock.

“You will understand.” He promises, smiling at the group and then motioning towards the ballroom. “Let the evening begin.”

******

The evening, as Yayo so elegantly termed in, is incredible. With the party starting so late and the buffet being available to guests all night long, it seems that the ebb and flow of partygoers is constant. Music plays, people dance, and the lingering masses of vampires throughout the house are generally met with curiosity from the humans who find them fascinating — though they don’t quite know why. Those who are attending as donors are spoiled immensely and some have been given guest rooms for the night, but for the most part they seem to be an altogether dreamy sort of drunk to the unaware humans present. It is not until Yayo disseminates word to his extended family of brooding immortals to meet in the morning room that any sort of tension cracks the enjoyment of the night.

Max holds your hand, aware that you are upset, and he wishes he had some insight into this talk. As close as he had become to the older vampire, he hadn’t had a clue he was planning on giving up his immortality. “It will be alright.” He assures you softly, squeezing your hand.

“I know.” You squeeze his hand tenderly and lean into his side, long ago having learned how to be close even while wearing large gowns. You just wish you had had more notice. Time to prepare. “He just has to be dramatic as hell about all of this. Calling a family meeting in the middle of a ball? Very Yayo.”

“He likes to make a scene.” Max snorts, lifting a brow when the servers bring around glasses of blood and champagne for the guests. The one who stops in front of you, hands you a specific glass. “It’s white grape juice, madam.”

The barest sniff of sweet juice proves she is telling the truth, and you smile gratefully. Even after a hundred years? Alcohol holds no appeal for you whatsoever. “Thank you,” you acknowledge with a smile. “My husband prefers something a little richer, if you don’t mind.”

“Mr. Phillips.” Another glass is handed to him and he sniffs it politely.

“Hmmmm AB negative.” He smirks. “Someone put some thought into planning this.”

"Allison said she left blood menus to Mrs. Taylor." There is no mistaking that your friend took the responsibility of planning tonight seriously, and divvying tasks out to the appropriate people when delegation benefited the situation.

“Then I will have to thank her.” Max takes and sip and hums in approval. “But later.”

"Has he started yet?" Eddie and Allison slip into the room beside the two of you, already having said hello to the extended vampiric family earlier in the night.

“Not yet.” Max eyes the elder vampire. “I think he was waiting for something.”

"It's always something," you hum, sharing a grin with Allison as the same passing waitress who served you and Max returns to offer Eddie and Allison drinks before exiting the room. When she goes, she shuts the morning room door behind her.

“I would like to thank everyone for traveling to attend tonight.” Yayo’s voice never seems to raise in volume but it booms around all of you clearly. “Not only is this a worthy cause to humans dear to my heart, but it is also a special night for our future.” There is a smattering of polite applause and you lean into Max's side even while Allison does the same with Eddie beside you.

“All the vampires here, I have personally sired.” He reveals with a pleased smirk on his face. Considering there are no fewer than two dozen vampires in the room, a small murmur ripples through the younger of that number. The elder vampires chuckle with the knowledge. “And tonight…” He holds up his own glass of blood. “One of you will replace me as the elder vampire. Leader and mentor to the future.” He announces. “I have decided to join my soulmate in the afterlife.”

The limited, mannered responses are gone in an instant, replaced by an audible gasp and murmured exclamation as the members of your extended — very extended — family all look around the room to see if anyone knew this announcement was coming. Eyes fall on you more than anyone else, wondering if your grandfather will take his biological family into account in this decision.

“I know that a lot of people have wondered who would take my place. And at one point in time, I had imagined my grandson-in-law, Max Phillips, to lead our pack.” He turns his head and acknowledges him with a smile. “However, there is another that I have in mind, since Max will be busy with juggling a new role.”

New role? You look to Max with confusion, but it's clear from the furrow in his brow that he has no idea what your grandfather is talking about either. If anything, his expression is more akin to crestfallen than anything else. He's fallen short of whatever expectation his sire had of him...

“Years ago, I made a mistake.” Yayo admits to the men and women he considers his children. “My Annie, my daughter with my soulmate; I felt she was destined to leave the coven of witches and her soulmate Emmanuel would be the perfect vampire mate. I ended up losing my daughter and never got to properly apologize for placing so much emphasis on the wrong things.” He pauses for a second. “I want my granddaughter and her husband to focus on the most important role of all. They will be becoming parents.”

Enthusiastic is the word for the applause this time, though the reaction from you and Max — the people being announced — is pure shock. "H—how?" How could he possibly know that? Especially before you do?

Your grandfather chuckles, seeing the confusion and bewilderment on your face. “Your smell, my dear muñeca.” He explains with an enigmatic smile. “I have had the pleasure of smelling a vampiric pregnancy before. That is why your soulmate had not been aware either. There is a sweeter note to your blood.”

Honestly, you might be more embarrassed about having it announced in front of so many people if you weren't so flabbergasted by the news. With your jaw practically on the ground and your eyes watering, your free hand goes to your stomach while your other squeezes Max's so tightly you would be afraid of hurting him if he weren't a vampire. You're so shocked that you didn't even notice Allison take the glass from your hand or the proud uncle expression on Eddie's face.

“I want my family to focus on being there, being the best parents they can be.” He admits selfishly with a small shrug. “Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?” He jokes. “Max however, will be vital to the next leader. His own wisdom far greater than my own, and I feel that he will make Edward Perez the best leader vampires have ever had.”

Eddie's gasp is even more audible than your own when he hears his sire say his name. For that matter, it's been almost ten years since he used his mortal surname, and hearing it spoken so proudly is a kind of gratification that he can't quite express. While it's true that his sire — the entire room's sire — had given him more than ample guidance over the decades, Eddie hadn't ever considered himself anything too special. Not until he had started giving him more responsibilities in the last few years. Not until Allison had come along with her staunch and unyielding belief in him. Now it seems like all of that is coming to a head, and he steps forward hesitantly to stand up beside his sire.

“Eddie has been the best vampire that I could have imagined.” Yayo admits. “And Max— he has held a special place in my heart from the very beginning. I know that with Eddie in charge and Max advising him, our numbers will grow and your bonds strengthen.”

If there is any doubt or dissention from the other vampires of the clan, not a word of it is spoken in their sire's presence. Instead Eddie accepts a few nods and a whistle or two from his extended family and looks back at Allison to flash her a smile before putting his hand out to his sire. "I will do everything I possibly can to live up to this responsibility, and the faith that you've placed in me."

Max smiles, still a little shocked that he had not known you were pregnant. Leaning close and inhaling your scent to recognize the sweet, floral undertones to your blood for what it is. He had just imagined it was because modern food was processed with more sugar than in the past.

“I can’t be that far along, can I?” You whisper to him under the commotion of vampires now moving forward to shake Eddie’s hand or meet Allison for the first time. Many of them had not bothered to meet the younger vampire’s partner earlier in the night but they are making the effort now. “I mean…” you look up at your soulmate with disbelieving tears in your eyes, beaming an enormous smile at him. “I haven’t even missed my period yet.”

“No.” Max can’t help but lean closer to smell you again, addicted to the idea that you are carrying his child. If his own tears are concealed by your neck, that’s just a coincidence. “Your smell hasn’t been sweeter for long. Only a few days.”

“It’s sweeter?” Somehow that is just about the cutest thing you’ve ever heard — that pregnancy can and does make your scent sweeter instead of anything else — and the water behind your eyes presses at them again.

“It is.” Max hums softly, smiling at the newfound knowledge. Committing this smell to memory. “We will have to make sure you stay healthy, my love.”

"It's a damn good thing that I mined abuela for information about carrying a half-vampire baby while I still had the chance." The hand you have on your stomach curls in, conscious of the corset under your dress but knowing that there isn't anything but a tiny little bundle of cells in there right now. "Holy shit...pregnant..."

“I can’t believe it.” It’s not like you’ve been trying but you also have gone over one hundred years without protection. Max had quietly assumed children weren’t to be and had never mentioned it so he wouldn’t worry you. The relief that he can give you a child is one that would make him cry, and he will later on when it’s sunk in.

"I just sort of assumed..." you murmur, leaning into his side and burying your face at his shoulder. In this room you can be quiet as a whisper and everyone will still hear you, but they have enough respect to pretend otherwise. "After so long...I figured it was just...not in the cards."

“It just wasn’t our time yet.” He murmurs softly, smiling at the thought that you are carrying his little baby biter. “Do you want some of my blood or should we find a vintage you like for when the baby demands more than you normally take?”

"Abuela said she ended up drinking a glass of blood at almost every meal in her second trimester." Of course the word trimester hadn't been used in that conversation, but you had made copious detailed notes for yourself after any conversation in which vampire pregnancy or children rearing was mentioned. "I guess I'm going to have to figure out how to drink it when it isn't from you. Maybe mixed with hot cocoa? Or even decaf coffee."

He chuckles. “Actually, you might like it in tomato juice.” He suggests. “Keep you from thinking about it too much.”

"That's not a bad idea." The hand you have in his tightens reflexively, keeping him close and savoring these first few moments of realization. "We'll try a little bit of everything. It's going to be a very interesting nine months, considering I'm only the second woman in the world to carry a vampire's baby."

“I mean technically….” Max grins. “You’re a quarter vampire yourself. A little more than that every night.” He winks at you salaciously.

A momentary snort of amusement breaks a little bit of the bubble of worry that was starting to form in your mind, and you nudge him with your shoulder. "A hundred years later and you can still never resist joking about that."

“Babe, if I ever stop joking about that, you just go ahead to push that stake through my heart.” He jokes, knowing that you would never think about something like that.

"It'll never happen," you laugh, knowing as well as he does that some things will just never change.

“I know.” He bites his lip and grins at you. “So we haven’t had a wedding in this time.” He ventures. “What do you think about a shotgun wedding?”

"Oo, we've never had one of those before." An elopement, a grand party, a trip to City Hall, a backyard barbecue, and a small town bash — all of those you've done. But a shotgun wedding would be a new one for the two of you. "I think it's perfect."

“Now…we have to find out who’s holding the shotguns.” He jokes, pulling you close and pressing his lips to yours. “Do you want to wait until the belly is huge or before?”

"We may not get a chance to have me showing off a baby bump in a wedding dress ever again. I think we have to take advantage of it." He can obviously feel the way your heartbeat has risen, smell the way your adrenaline is singing, but that tender bump of his heart when he kisses you makes it all a perfect symphony.

“Completely agree.” Max nods seriously. “The wedding should be themed. Obviously.”

"Baby themed or cowboy themed?" You ask, laughing but slightly afraid to hear the answer.

“Oh no.” He snorts and sends you a grin. “Hillbilly, shot gun wedding.” He tells you, enjoying the idea immensely even if you would never agree.

Both of you snort, knowing it isn't the kind of thing that you'll ever do, but that joking about it is it's own kind of fun. "Water guns as favours for every guest and a Beverly Hillbillies impersonator to marry us?"

He chuckles and nods. “Something like that.” He jokes before he looks at you seriously. “I do want us to be married officially before the baby is born. In our true timeline.”

"I have no problem with that." Somehow you have a feeling this will be the wedding that matters most to him, whereas the one nearest and dearest to your heart was the one in 1885 where you were surrounded by your family and new friends. Setting both hands on his chest, you lean in to kiss him again and smile softly. "We'll make this one perfect for you, love."

Max knows that after one hundred years of family with your mother and grandparents, he should not have familial hang ups, but he does. “I don’t care about perfect.” He promises. “I just want to do right by you and our child.” He admits. “To be everything my father said I would never be. A good husband, a good father. A good man.”

"Those are the things you are, Max." It never hurts to remind him once in a while. You know that. But you also know that sometimes he has to prove it to himself more than anyone else. "And I'm very proud to be your soulmate."

“I never want that to change.” The Max of before might not have said that in front of a room full of vampires, but he doesn’t care. If they know nothing else about Max Phillips, they should know that he is devoted to his soulmate.

It takes a little while for the hubbub to calm down, but when it does, Eddie squeezes his arm gently around Allison's shoulder on one side of him and looks to his sire and shakes his head in near disbelief. "This is...it's a surprise. I have to admit."

“You don’t think you deserve it?” Max asks, clapping his vampiric brother on the shoulder and even though he’s disappointed for himself, he’s proud for Eddie. He understands why Yayo didn’t name him as the next head of the clan. He would be too distracted by your pregnancy and Eddie is levelheaded where Max is not.

"We're the two youngest, and you're soulmates with his granddaughter," Eddie reminds Max, turning to clap his brother on the shoulder. "You can't blame me for expecting the choice to go in another direction."

“Nah, you deserve it.” Max tells him honestly. “You’re the better vampire and you know it.” He smirks. “Now we just need to get you to act like it.”

"Good thing you're home, then." He laughs, grinning even as he shakes Max's hand with a force that would break a mortal's bones. "We'll catch up with you in a second," he intones, glancing back at you and Allison hugging a few feet away. "I need to talk to our Father about something."

“Of course.” Max flashes him a grin and a wink. “I’m going to go flirt with my wife and your girlfriend.” He teases before moving back to your side protectively.

"Actually..." Allison slips away from your side to take Eddie's outstretched hand. "I'm...part of this conversation. But when we get back out there, I'm stealing you for a dance. Okay, twinkle toes?"

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise furiously but he nods and wraps his hand around your waist. “Hope you’re ready to glide around the floor. I’ve had over one hundred years of practice with Dolly.”

"That's exactly why I'm stealing you," she teases, giving you both a small wave before turning back into Eddie's side to broach the topic of her own siring with the vampire who just stepped down as head of his long-lived clan.

“I wonder if everything is alright.” Max frowns slightly as he looks at the retreating pair and then back at you. “How are you doing, my love?” He asks, cupping your cheek.

"Wonderfully." The glass of grape juice is still sitting nearby and you pick it up, wanting the small comfort of a drink in hand. "In fact, I think when we go home in the morning, we should celebrate."

“How should we celebrate?” Max asks with a grin, even though he’s got some idea.

"Hmmm..." you tease, pretending to think very hard about it even though you already know the answer. "I was thinking...by the same way that we made the little nugget in the first place."

“You mean you want to have sex on the balcony overlooking the ocean and waving to the boats as they pass by?” Max grins as he licks his lips.

"I'm so glad we decided to have a house by the water," you groan softly, humming at the memory of just a few days ago — it was still 1986 but you were back at Seacliff, getting ready to travel back to your own true timeline. "Excellent idea. Extremely good."

“I know.” He grins at you. The house has been a lovely refuge for the two of you. It had given you the separation you needed from mother and grandmother so you didn’t spill the secret.

"So Eddie's head of the vampiric family, huh?" Wrapping your hand around Max's arm, the two of you drift back toward the ballroom at a leisurely pace. "And you'll be his right-hand. That's a hell of a lot of responsibility while we're growing our own family."

“I think that’s why your grandfather didn’t want me to take over.” Max admits. “Although, don’t tell Eddie I said this, he’s a better fit for the job.”

"You're a good pair." You admit that you had balked a little at the time, but when Max had wanted to go check on Eddie's human parents in the few years before he was born, the late 70s and early 80s had actually ended up being a blast. Eddie's little hometown in Northern California was comfortable and fun, and you’d lived a very basic suburban life for a few years. Max had barely stifled tears the day your neighbors had brought little newborn Eddie home from the hospital.

“We’ll see.” Max doesn’t argue but his hand slides down to your stomach proudly. “I’ll honestly be more focused on you and the little biter.” He has already filed the paperwork to ‘inherit’ the money he has made over the past generations. Restraining himself and not taking advantage of his insider knowledge too badly.

“That’s what you’re going with calling the baby, huh?” You raise an eyebrow at him but still end up smiling. You’ve wanted this for so long, it almost doesn’t matter what he calls them.

“I can call them a little pup.” He teases, his chest puffed out proudly. “That’s what baby bats are called.”

“That’s actually kind of cute.” The smile on your face widens again and your hand rests over his on your stomach. “Which is appropriate, since you’ve always been my Cutie.”

His shy grin is always something that makes him look younger and despite the years, he still is bashful about the way he had become a bat to spend more time with you. “Need to find a bat mobile for the crib.” He jokes, “or I’ll just change and flap around to entertain them.”

“It will end up being both.” At the edge of the ballroom, you beam at him proudly and hold out your other hand. “First dance as expectant parents?”

“Always.” Max takes your hand and kisses the back of it. You had mentioned how much you loved the gesture when you had first watched Titanic when you were younger and while back in the 1800s it was extremely appropriate. Now he knows that two hundred years from now, he will still kiss the back of your hand to watch the burst of delight in your eyes. “Waltz with me. Today and every day, my love.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

VW: @haileymorelikestupid, @miraclesabound @nastiasnow @vabeachazn @oberynslady @grogusmum @kittenlittle24 @8-900 @survivingandenduring @ktmadden86 @inept-the-magnificent @missladym1981 @sweetnsaltyclussy @survivingandenduring

My Masterlist!

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Anna Spoerre at Missouri Independent:

A campaign to enshrine abortion rights in Missouri’s constitution said Friday that it collected more than 380,000 signatures in just three months, more than twice the likely total needed to qualify for this year’s statewide ballot.  The coalition, called Missourians for Constitutional Freedom, is hoping to put on the November ballot a measure that would legalize abortion up to the point of fetal viability. Since June 2022, nearly every abortion has been illegal in the state with the exception of medical emergencies. 

In order to put a citizen-led constitutional amendment before voters, the campaign had to collect signatures from 8% of voters in six of Missouri’s eight congressional districts. That total equates to more than 171,000 signatures.  The campaign on Friday morning announced they officially turned in 380,159 signatures to the Missouri Secretary of State’s office. A breakdown of how many signatures came from each district, which will ultimately determine if they met the threshold needed to qualify, was not provided. But the coalition said they collected signatures from each of Missouri’s counties and congressional districts. “Hundreds of thousands of Missourians are now having conversations about abortion and reproductive freedom; some are sharing their own abortion stories for the very first time; and all are ready to do whatever it takes to win at the ballot box this year,” Mallory Schwarz, executive director of Abortion Action Missouri and spokesperson for Missourians for Constitutional Freedom, said in a statement. “Together, we are going to end Missouri’s abortion ban.”  

The effort kicked off 90 days ago, requiring a massive undertaking to reach the May 5 signature deadline. The coalition is led by Abortion Action Missouri, the ACLU of Missouri and Planned Parenthood affiliates in Kansas City and St. Louis. [...] Around the same time the abortion campaign was announced, a separate coalition organized to oppose them. That group, called Missouri Stands with Women, spent the past few months leading a “decline to sign” campaign, urging people not to sign the initiative petition. So far, they’ve been vastly out-fundraised by Missourians for Constitutional Freedom. “Out-of-state Big Abortion supporters think the fight is over,” Stephanie Bell, with Missouri Stands With Women, said in a statement Friday. “They could not be more wrong when it comes to standing up for life in Missouri.”

With more than 380,000 signatures across the state of Missouri submitted, despite harassment from anti-abortion extremists with their "decline to sign" intimidation campaign, the pro-abortion rights Missourians for Constitutional Freedom group is highly confident that their ballot measure will qualify for the November ballot.

[taiturner]

This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the Annual Purge sanctioned by the U.S. Government. Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 a.m. when The Purge concludes. Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and America, a nation reborn. May God be with you all.

TJ MIKELOGAN'S HALLOWEEN 2023 EVENT Day 8, horror franchise: THE PURGE

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Early 2021 Timeline

There was an anon who asked for the timeline of royal happenings in the March/April 2021 timeframe. I forgot to grab the ask when I saw it before it got buried under newer asks (I'll spare you all another gripe about how useless the inbox can be).

Quick little disclaimer first: this isn't *everything* that happened and it doesn't cover all of the media coverage that was taking place during this time.

(What I started doing was tracking royal events so that when I do research the PR timelines, I have a frame of reference for the kind of stories but not a whole lot of links. So that's the background to this.)

Without further ado...

January 2021: Pretty quiet month as far as royal events go. (Most of my newsfeeds and social media is dominated by the events of January 6th so it's very possible things happened that slipped right past me because of that. (This is not an invitation to discuss January 6th.)

February 2021

2/16/21: Prince Philip enters King Edward VII's hospital for an infection.

2/18/21: CDAN says William took Princess Latifa's (Dubai/UAE) virgnity and it's causing diplomatic problems for the UK and Dubai. (I believe CDAN published the blind because of this BBC story about the princess's kidnapping and detention.)

2/19/21: Buckingham Palace confirms the Sussexes won't return as working members of the royal family, that Harry will give up his miltiary titles, and that they're both relinquishing royal patronages.

2/20/21: Charles visits Philip at the hospital. He's papped leaving, looking very emotional and upset. Media and the public realizes this could be the start of the end.

2/26/21: Harry appears on The Late Late Show with James Corden. Cringe all around.

March 2021

3/1/21: Prince Philip is transferred to St. Bartholomew's hospital for continued care and treatment of a heart condition.*

3/3/21: Philip has a heart operation.

3/5/21: Philip transfers back to King Edward VII's hospital.*

*For one of these movements, there are photographs showing that hospital staff are using sheets to block media's access/view of Philip being transferred into an ambulance (I don't remember which one). It fuels further speculation that this may be the end for Philip.

3/7/21: Oprah's interview with Meghan and Harry is broadcast in the U.S.

3/8/21: Piers Morgan flips out over the Oprah interview. The royal family attends the Commonwealth Day service at Westminster Abbey. Oprah releases four new clips of the Sussex interview to CBS This Morning that were cut from the original broadcast. Meghan lodges formal complaints about Piers to Ofcom. The Oprah interview is broadcast in the UK.

3/9/21: Piers quits or gets fired. (No one's really sure of the official story.) Buckingham Palace issues the "recollections may vary" statement.

3/10/21: Piers doubles down on his comments made about Meghan following the Oprah interview on social media.

3/11/21: Kate makes the BRF's first official appearance since the Oprah interview is broadcast in the UK. William unexpectedly joins her and issues the first in-person statement: "We're very much not a racist family."

3/16/21: Philip is discharged from hospital and returns to Windsor Castle. Harry and Meghan leak to Gayle King about the status of their relationship with the BRF post-Oprah interview.

April 2021

4/9/21: Prince Philip dies.

4/10/21: Edward and Sophie are the first royals to be publicly seen, spotted driving through Windsor. Sophie makes brief remarks to reporters standing near the road as they drive past.

4/11/21: Details of Philip's funeral are announced. Harry starts complaining about not being able to wear his military uniform. Andrew and Edward attend a Sunday service in Windsor at the Royal Chapel of All Saints and both make comments to the media.

4/12/21: William releases a statement on Philip's passing via KP social media, including a new-to-us photograph of Philip and George by Kate. Harry also releases a statement about Philip's passing via Archewell, receiving immediate criticism that a) he posted too quickly after William; b) used the for-his-personal-profit Archewell charity to do it; and c) pretended to be the Captain General of the Royal Marines (which he gave up two months earlier) by quoting their motto. Meghan announces that she will not attend the funeral to avoid being in the "center of attention." Harry papped traveling to London for the funeral; in accordance with the government's COVID policy, Harry has to isolate and quarantine for 5 days and "test to release" on the fifth day to attend Philip's funeral.

4/13/21: More details of Philip's funeral announced, including mask-wearing and social distancing protocols, the guest list, and the order of the procession.

4/15/21: Buckingham Palace announces that no one will wear military uniforms to Philip's funeral. It's covered as "the decision was made to spare embarrassing Harry."

4/16/21: Huw Edwards sends spicy messages to a younger coworker. The Wessexes (Edward, Sophie, and Louise) do a walkabout at Windsor Castle to view flowers and tributes left for Philip - it's the only royal walkabout, probably for COVID protocols.

4/17/21: Philip's funeral. Meghan issues PR taking credit for the flowers and card on top of his casket.

4/25/21: CDAN publishes that Meghan was hitting on Serena's husband at the 2019 US Open and he told Serena, who confronted Meghan and they had a big falling out.

[shesmyboot]

Baby Severide - Chapter 7: Change of Plans

*Gif belongs to its rightful owner, it is not mine*

Pairing: Kelly Severide x reader

Summary: After only a few days home as new parents, an unexpected timeline adjustment is made

Words: 1641

Warnings: mentions of scars, parental tension

Read on Ao3 here

Notes: This is the second last chapter of Baby Severide! Also, we’re super close to 250 here on tumblr, so if you enjoy my work, consider leaving a reblog or follow! As always, a reblog of any chapter earns a tag in chapter posted after that! Enjoy!

Join my taglist here

Tags: @district447 @mrspeacem1nusone @tringeorge @storiesofsvu @cfdhouse51 @skullcupcakes @whatismypurpos @carnationworld @youraveragedorkysimp @treehouse-mouse @witchywinchester99 @keabbs @marvelcharactersxreader @pensfan5871

——

9:37AM. It was Thursday morning, only a few days after Alexis was born. You rolled over in the king size bed to find Kelly wasn’t beside you. Looking beside you, you could see Alexis wasn’t in her bassinet either.

Still sore from surgery, you slowly put your slippers on and went to the living room to find the rest of your family. Kelly was laying on the couch, shirtless, with Alexis on his chest and a blanket covering them while watching SportsCenter. Reaching down, you rubbed his shoulder to get his attention.

“How long you been here?” You asked, sitting beside him on the couch.

“Less than an hour I think. I didn’t want to wake you, I know you’re exhausted, so I fed her a bottle and we’ve been watching highlights of the Blackhawks game,” he replied with a smile.

“Your mom texted me last night.”

“Oh yeah? What did she say?”

“Said you texted her about the baby. She wants to visit when we’re ready. She can come today if that works for you.”

He nodded.

“Can you grab my phone?” He asked, “the new lieutenant officially starts today and Cruz was gonna text me about who they got.”

You wandered back into the bedroom and found his phone still charging on his nightstand. Looking at the notifications on his screen, there was a text from Boden.

Fixing your eyes on the screen of his phone, Boden had texted “call me.”

“No text from Cruz, just Boden,” you announced.

“What’d he say?” 

“Call me.”

“That can’t be good.”

“Probably not. Want me to take Alexis so you can call him?”

Kelly pulled back the blanket and began to laugh. Once you saw what he had done, you started to laugh too.

“You wrapped the baby?” You chuckled, looking at the Moby Wrap you received from your baby shower wrapped around him and Alexis.

“Hands free,” he laughed.

“Coffee?”

“Sure.”

As you wandered to the kitchen, you saw Kelly mute the tv and call Boden, all while Alexis was sleeping on his chest.

A few moments later, you came back to the couch with two coffees in hand. Alexis had started to fuss as Kelly hung up the phone.

“What did Boden want?” You asked, handing him one of the fresh coffees from your hands.

“New lieutenant didn’t show up for work today,” he replied.

“Who did they get in for you?” 

“Connor Maxwell, used to be an engine lieutenant before he got his squad certs.”

“Do they know what happened?” 

“Boden says the guy overslept, but he doesn’t buy it. They’re gonna let him stay for the shift and cut him loose if it doesn’t go well.”

As Kelly told you about this squad lieutenant, he got a look of desperation in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“I’m a little worried about my men.”

“Why, baby?”

“I’ve never been taken a furlough this long in a very long time.”

“Are you scared they’re gonna like this new lieutenant more than you?” You laughed, rubbing his shoulder.

“I just don’t want my company to go to hell while I’m gone,” he chuckled, kissing your forehead.

“How much time did you take off? 

“I told Boden 8 weeks.”

“Is there a way you can go back early?”

“I guess I could, but I want to be here for you and our baby.”

Alexis began to fuss, still wrapped with her dad.

“I’ll take her, babe. She’s probably hungry.”

Kelly unwrapped Alexis and handed her to you. You raised your shirt, exposing yourself in order to feed your baby.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine here, if you want to go back early, Kelly,” you told him.

“I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed or like I want to work more than be home with our brand new baby.”

“I’ve got 8 months of leave. You would’ve had to leave me home with Alexis by myself when you’re on shift regardless.”

“I know, I know, I just hoped she’d be a little older first.”

“It’s like 3 days a week max, I’m sure we’ll be okay if you want to go back early,” you smiled, adjusting your head’s position to leaning on his shoulder, “I know you love your job and I know you love us, but we’ll be okay if this is what you want.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, wrapping his arm around you.

“Kelly, would I ever lie to you?”

“I guess I have my answer then.”

“You should call Boden and tell him there’s been a change of plans,” you gestured to his phone on the side table.

He grabbed his phone and you finished feeding Alexis. Kelly put his phone on speaker phone as you burped Alexis.

“Kelly, how’s the father life treating you?” Boden asked him as he picked up. You could hear his smile through the phone.

“Ah, Chief it couldn’t be better,” Kelly grinned, “do you have a minute?”

“Sure, what’s on your mind?” 

“I was thinking about coming back to work a little earlier than what I originally planned.”

“When were you thinking?”

“Next shift, if you’ll let me.”

“Can’t stay away too long, huh?”

“What can I say? It’s in my blood,” Kelly chuckled.

“Actually though Kelly, is your wife okay with this? You sure you don’t want to take some time with your baby?”

“We’ve talked it over, it was kinda her idea actually.”

“I know he’s missing it, I’ll be okay if he goes back,” you piped up.

“Well, I still haven’t filled your spot for next shift. You’re welcome to it if you want it.”

“Thanks, Chief. I’ll be there.”

Kelly hung up the phone and turned to look at you.

“You’re really sure?” He asked, leaning in to give you a kiss.

“Yes, Kelly, I’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll even bring her over to the firehouse when you’re on shift,” you replied, “you don’t have to be worried.” 

“I love you, thank you for being everything I wanted in life.”

You leaned over and hugged him with one arm, Alexis dozing in the other.

“Can you take her so I can have a quick shower? I still feel like hospital.”

“Of course baby, do what you need.”

You handed over Alexis to her father and just the sight of the two of them together melted your heart.

“Oh babe, question for you,” Kelly asked as you were headed to grab your house coat, “do we have more bottles? Or should I clean a couple for later?”

“Uh,” you were wracking your brain, trying to figure out where your nesting brain put them, “I think they’re in the drawer by the fridge, but honestly I don’t remember.”

Changing out of your clothes and into your bathrobe, you couldn’t help but notice the horizontal scar on your stomach. It was still a little painful when your hand brushed it, but the pain didn’t matter because you had your baby. The perfect baby, with the perfect husband. You didn’t need anything else.

Turning on the water and getting in the shower, Kelly knocked on the bathroom door.

“I hate to interrupt you,” he chuckled, “but there’s someone here who you’re going to want to see.”

“Can it wait until after my shower? I’ll be quick, I promise. Ask if they can wait?” You asked, shampoo already lathered in your hair.

“Yeah, we’ll be out here.”

Kelly closed the door behind him and the thought of who could be here for you raced through your mind as you quickly finished your shower. After finishing up and drying off, you threw your hair up in a messy bun and put on your sweats to go see your visitor.

“Babe, I made some breakfast for the four of us,” Kelly told you, setting the table.

“Who’s here? And where’s Alexis?” You asked.

“Hi, sweetie,” a familiar voice beamed.

“Mom, what are you doing here?” You asked.

“I came to apologize,” she said, “I’m so sorry for what I said.”

Without saying a word, you walked over to your mom and gave her the tightest hug of your life. A couple tears filled your eyes.

“You want to meet your granddaughter?” You asked, motioning to Kelly to remove Alexis from the wrap.

“Yeah, I’d love you,” she smiled.

Handing over your daughter to your own mother was such a special experience for both of you.

“Kelly can you take a picture?” You asked.

“Oh, honey, I just got off a plane, I look awful.”

“Mom, you look great. I want to remember this.”

Kelly grabbed his phone from the counter and took a picture of the three of you together.

“I also came for another reason,” she admitted, sitting down at the table, “Kelly and I were talking while you were finishing your shower. He told me he’s going back to work earlier than expected. I already called back home and I’ve made arrangements to stay with you for a week or two.”

“Mom, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes I did, my daughter had my first granddaughter. I need to be here with you.”

“I’ll be fine on my own while Kelly is on shift, you don’t need to help me.”

“Well, then I’ll explore Chicago. I’ve never had the chance to do some sightseeing here.”

You nodded and brought Alexis’ motorized baby swing closer to the table. 

“Set her in the swing while we eat, you can hold her after,” you offered.

Your mom set Alexis in the swing and it bangan to slowly swing side to side.

“So Kelly, when are you back to work?” your mom asked.

“Tomorrow morning,” he said, grabbing some more bacon from the counter.

“That’s quick,” she replied.

“Yeah, only missed two shifts, but I know my girls will be okay for 24 hours without me.”

[drewsbuzzcut]

blurb of like Dallas doing a day in the life of a married 20 year old still in college

“Good morning,” Dallas yawns, holding her phone up at an angle to catch her untamed, morning hair. Rolling over, she captures Nick who is nestled into her side. His face moves to the crook of her neck and his limbs are thrown over her body.

“He’s such a sleepy baby,” she giggles, carding her fingers through his hair. She abruptly stops when he stirs.

“Who are you talking to?” He mumbles, face moving and burrowing into her chest.

“TikTok,” at Dallas’ words, Nick looks up at the camera to see her recording. He eventually decides he doesn’t care and falls right back to sleep

“Today is a busy day, so unfortunately I have to get up!”

Dallas forces herself out of bed and her husband’s arms. She gets so fluttery on the inside when she remembers that they’re officially married.

She sets up her phone on the bathroom counter while she brushes her teeth and does her skincare.

“So today we have no classes, thank god! I literally cannot fathom having to go to an 8 am. Pro tip: don’t sign up for morning classes because they’ll kick your ass,” she informs while rubbing her moisturizer into her face.

“Anyways back to the agenda, I have to go to a ton of fabric stores, because I just know I won’t find all of what I’m looking for at a singular location. I have an appointment to get my last name changed to Moldenhauer, and then I have to go to the store and buy different necessities. Oh, I also have a pilates class and a test to take, so today should be busy to say the least,” Dallas lists off the different things on her agenda.

She quickly goes into her makeup routine, showing off her favorite products that she uses everyday.

“Wait!” Nick blurts out, scurrying into the restroom with only his underwear on. She’ll have to blur it out later. He hugs her from behind, his arms wrapping around her neck and requests a kiss before she puts on lip gloss.

“I’m going with you, so just let me get ready. I’ll be like 10 minutes,” he says against her lips, a hand coming up to caress her cheek.

Dallas nods her head and kisses him again.

“I love you, husband.” Her cheeks grow red and her eyes turn into hearts.

“I love you, wife.” She wants to jump around and scream; she loves him so much.

-

“We’re here at one of my favorite thrift stores. I usually buy left over fabrics or pieces of clothing that I can incorporate into a different piece. Right now I have over half of my list, which is actually so relieving,” Dallas talks fast while giving an overview of the different things in her basket.

She continues to walk around until she finds Nick looking through a pile of old umich merch.

“Baby, look at this jacket. You’d look so hot in it, especially if you’re wearing your leather pants and those little kitten heels,” Nick announces the outfit he’s picturing in his head.

He holds up the vintage looking, windbreaker with a smirky smile. He drops his eye in a wink and the girl has to stop recording, so she can kiss her husband.

“You’re so hot,” she mutters into his mouth. Her fingers card through his hair, and she has a hard time not pulling him into the restroom at the back of the store.

“Back to our regularly scheduled program, Nick is almost a better thrifter than I am. He, not only found two of the fabrics I was looking for, but some statement pieces for some game day fits. He learned from the best,” she whispers into the mic of her phone as she records Nick showing off what he found. He’s so proud of himself and it’s the cutest thing ever.

“I think I deserve a kiss for all my hard work,” Nick hums and pulls his wife into his chest.

They share a sweet kiss that’s interrupted by their giggling and wide smiles. They do a little kiss for the camera and Dallas knows she’s so insanely lucky to have him by her side.

-

Dallas pulls Nick away from the camera, getting him to spin her around. She burns red with the way his eyes focus on her and the way she twirls around. She truly feels like the only girl in the world when she’s with Nick.

Dallas strikes a pose and Nick falls in line without even being told. They show off their outfits and do a little dance together.

“I think everyone should leave a compliment, telling her how beautiful and sexy and hot she is. But she’s mine!” Nick jokes. Well, Dallas thinks it’s a joke, but knowing him, he’d probably get jealous of the comments.

“No one leave comments about my husband, because he’s mine and no one else can look at him,” Dallas counters Nick’s words, giving her man a glimpse of her very well hidden jealousy. Even if it’s a joke, she wants him to know that she can also match his possessiveness. Not that he minds.

Nick flashes a smirk at the camera and cops a squeeze of her ass, making her gasp and turn her backside away from the camera.

“You all did not see that,” she says through a laugh.

Her hockey player doesn’t care, though, so he slaps her ass and kisses on her neck until she’s squirming.

-

“I’m so excited! I have been looking forward to this all day. We’re here at our local courthouse to file paperwork to change my last name. It’s the reason why I’m wearing slacks and a button up; i have to look professional. Since I’m only 20, I’ve received a lot of hate for being married already.”

“It’s bull. She should not be getting any hate for being in love. People who have something bad to say are just jealous,” Nick chimes in, putting an appreciative smile on his wife’s face.

She finds herself smiling a lot since meeting him and since marrying him.

The camera pans to the doors of the courthouse and their intertwined hands. Her pearl ring and floral engraved band shine in the sun.

“Hi, June Blankenburg. I’m here to file the required paperwork to change my last name.”

Now Nick’s holding the camera, flipping it back and forth between Dallas and his excited reaction.

“I can’t believe the love of my life is changing her last name to mine. I can’t believe I get to be married to her for the rest of my life,” he whispers, camera pointed at his wife as she hands over her paperwork.

“Soon I’ll officially be June Dallas Moldenhauer on every legal document! I’m so excited,” Dallas cheers, holding up her ring finger as she skips over to Nick.

They share one last kiss before she stops recording for the moment.

-

“Hi, beautiful people in my phone. You might be noticing that it’s later in the day as the sky is dark. I just got out of my pilates class, hence the sweat. I couldn’t vlog because I had to hurry and eat before my test, and then my test ran longer than expected so I had to rush to my workout class. I’m on my way to the sophomore house for dinner. It’s actually one of our last dinners before the school year ends, so that’s kind of sad,” Dallas rants breathlessly, phone capturing her sweaty face and messy updo.

“D!” Multiple hockey boys cheer in unison upon seeing her walk up the driveway.

Baby duke is on the grill and the others are just hanging around.

“Hello, Mrs. Moldenhauer,” Nick grins, pulling her into a hug.

The boy holds onto her camera, so it can film them kissing once again.

“Get a room!” Rutger yells, but comes up to the couple to bring them into a group hug.

“Everyone say hi to Rutger, he’s our son,” Dallas jokes which earns her a playful eye roll from the boy.

Dallas moves away from him, dragging Nick with her inside the house. She takes a look around the surprisingly clean area and the boys who are lounging around.

“Wow! It’s so sparkly in here,” she teases, getting sarcastic laughs in response.

“We knew Mrs. Moldenhauer was coming over and that she’d have our heads if it wasn’t clean,” Luca muses.

“Awww. You all love me,” she gives Luca a tight hug.

“Say hi to the vlog,” she turns the camera to his face.

“Help me, she’s holding me hostage,” Luca screams, making her push him away with a full belly laugh.

She moves with Nick to any empty spot on the couch. She easily falls into his lap with his chin resting on her shoulder.

“It’s time to say bye. I hope you all enjoyed seeing what a day in my life looks like. It’s definitely chaotic, but it’s also comforting. I need to eat and spend time with my family. Bye, have a good night!” Dallas says and blows air kisses to those watching her behind their screens.

a/n: This is a little longer than a blurb, but enjoy!!!

[zeemczed]

Announcing... EL GOONISH SHIVE FLASHFIC WEEK 2024!

YE GADS, CAN IT BE? It's that time of year again!

For those not in the know, every year (sometime between September and October - this year it'll run from September 1 through September 8) we issue a challenge to everyone in the fandom to write a zero-editing quickly-written fanfic every day for a week. Each year there's an optional theme; this year it's EXTREMELY VAGUE PROMPTS!

How vague? Well, here's the list. If you're going with the theme, each prompt should be used in the fic somewheres, be it at the start, the end, or somewhere in the middle but sparking the idea of the rest of the fic around it (somehow!).

"I never thought I'd be sick of this."

"No, seriously, za?!"

"Your mom said to call her when we got there."

“Well. Didn’t expect that.”

“I’m sorry, it does what?”

“Don’t worry, I know where all of the bodies are buried.”

"So, I figured out how my new spell works. Kinda."

"What smells like pancakes in here?"

“Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, and I have no idea what that is.”

"We've been lost for the last hour!"

“You did safety test this, right? Right???”

"It's morally, ethically, AND structurally questionable."

“Well, if you’d told me when I woke up this morning that I’d end my day shaving off this much fur…”

"Pants always feel weird with a tail."

“Wait. That body part is not normally that shape, is it?”

“You Keep Using That Word, I Do Not Think It Means What You Think It Means”

"That isn't inherently romantic, is it?"

“No, really, I know what I’m doing. Now don’t flinch.”

FAQ

Q: What is a flashfic?

A: A short fanfic with no minimum word count that's written in a single sitting with no editing.

Q: What do I do when I'm done?

A: POST THAT STUFF. You can put it on Archive Of Our Own, Fanfiction dot net (if you must), your own website, or just toss it up here or on the Discord!

Q: Is there a collection I should post it to on AO3?

A: Not officially, but please tag it "EGS Flashfic Week 2024" if you post there!

Q: Do I have to use the theme?

A: I'm not your parent, you do you.

Q: Are crossovers okay?

A: See above answer.

Q: Can I add more extremely vague prompts?

A: Sure, comment `em down below.

Q: Do you have a really good bread recipe to share?

A: Not relevant! But yeah the Peasant's Bread recipe on the King Arthur Flour site is basically foolproof. Love that stuff.

Q: What about fan art?

A: If you do fan art every day during flashfic week I will find out where you live, fly out there, and give you the BIGGEST freaking hug. Or, well, probably not, but know that I'll be thinking about doing that.

[1d1195]

Screens II

Read the first part here: Screens

Another thank you to my 🪁-anon. Without you and your kind request, this story would not exist. I hope you enjoy this part as much as possible. Thank you to the following anon's for their support, I don't have names or emoji's for you but here are the kind messages I've received patiently waiting for a part 2: one and only Screens fan, #1 Screens fan, and this one that sobbed while trying to finish reading it. I did not mean to exclude anyone, I typed Screens into my blog's search bar to gather this information.

Finally, this anon provided a good chunk of the inspiration.

I hope you all enjoy it. I wrote it in a sense in a series of flashbacks and you will see this ◊ to indicate the difference in flashback scenes vs. my standard * to indicate a bit of time has passed.

"Okay on with it, lady. You talk to much." --Everyone reading this (probably).

Harry wasn’t so distracted by how pretty she looked with hair and paint falling across her pretty skin and over her beautiful face that he missed her saying the word ‘if.’ A hopeful sign that she believed in a miracle even if she was too scared to say so herself on any given day. Part of him also noted and hated the idea of her finding an apartment without him; even after a mere nine months of being in absolute love with her. He wished he had asked her to move in right then.

December | Holiday Break | 8:30 AM

Harry was extremely mindful of announcing his presence around her because he hated how jumpy she got when anyone else spooked her because she didn’t always see them coming around the corner or something. He especially did so in the quiet of the morning or the stillness of the evening. “Angel?” He called into his apartment. It was chilly on their first day of holiday break from work. Harry wanted her to stay the whole week with him. She couldn’t deny she didn’t want the same thing. He ventured into the winter air and returned with hot coffee, foam on top just as she liked.

They’d been together, officially, for a little over a year. But having known her a bit for the better part of a decade, it was easier than he ever thought to be in a relationship with her and he wished that he had thought of it long before last November. “Mm,” she hummed barely loud enough for him to hear as he approached his bedroom. “M’sleeping,” she mumbled against the pillow as he made his way across the room.

He chuckled quietly and set the coffees on his nightstand before slipping back under the covers with her. She rolled herself on top of him, legs on either side of his hips and her face pressed against the front of his shoulder. She was scrunched against him like a little ball. “Don’t move.”

He wouldn’t have if someone tried to force him to move. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the side of her head. “Coffee’ll get cold,” he mumbled, rubbing his fingers against the back of her head. She sighed but said nothing. “C’mon, kitten. Y’told me t’not let y’sleep late,” he cooed and kissed her again.

“I lied,” she murmured. He chuckled. “M’too heavy, that’s it, isn’t it? Want me off you?” He rolled his eyes and squeezed her tight against him.

“No, y’silly thing.” She lifted her head up and hovered above him for a moment. She didn’t speak but she lightly drew her finger over his features. He watched as her eyes squinted, sliding over the trail of her finger in silence. She did this at least once a week. Usually when they saw one another on the weekends because they had more time than their Thursday night ritual. “What are y’doing?” He asked her.

Her cheeks reddened and she shook her head. She didn’t say and Harry let it drop. He always let it drop when he asked. Part of him thought nothing of it, surely it was for a portrait—a painting or a drawing she was working on. She had seen her do it with a rose, tracing the thorns carefully; or the arm of a park bench, admiring how it looked in the afternoon light.

Nonetheless, he enjoyed the way her fingers felt on his skin. It was one of the many things she taught him: using his sense of touch so much more.

Carefully he tightened his grip on her as he rolled the pair of them onto their sides to face one another. He brought his hand to her face and gently brushed his thumb across her lips and then traced his finger over her brow line, over the bridge of her nose, before settling his hand firmly against her cheek. “When’s your appointment?” He asked.

She sighed and shook her head. “Noon,” she mumbled. He gave her body a gentle squeeze as he held her.

“It’ll be alright, kitten.”

“I can’t teach if I can’t see,” she reminded him. “I’m sitting right in front of you, and I can hardly see you,” she whispered quietly.

He frowned and reached behind her for her glasses on the other little table beside his bed. He slid them into place, mindful to not catch her ear or pull too hard against her hair. He smiled at her. It made her stomach flip because Harry was by far the most beautiful person she had ever met. “I love your glasses,” he whispered. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I look like a librarian.”

“The sexiest librarian ’ve ever laid eyes on,” he promised and ignored her snort. “Not only do they help y’see, but they help me see. S’like they magnify your eyes. Swear I can see everything you’re hiding in that beautiful brain of yours,” he murmured and pressed a kiss to her forehead, right between the rim of the glasses hovering over her eyes.

“They look like coke bottles.”

He shook his head. “I think you’re gorgeous,” he promised and pulled them down slightly and pressed a kiss to each of her eyelids. Silently he hoped and prayed to whatever god was out there that her appointment would give her good news and make the ache in her mind and heart lessen just a bit. He didn’t care if she needed glasses by any means or if her eyesight got worse. None of that mattered to him at all. He just wanted her to be a little happier than she was before.

*

Over the past year, he had seen so many stages of her grief. He saw the anger she felt when she missed a step and dropped her food outside the restaurant causing a mess all over her shoes and the entry way. It made her eyes water as she asked the hostess if she could have some towels to clean it up so no one would slip on their way out. Harry helped her clean it up and even placed the quickest to go order ever made so she could have extra for lunch the following day and promised her it was no big deal that she spilled.

 He watched her sadness as she couldn’t see things in plain sight—like the ever-hiding remote always evading her vision. Or when she accidentally put cinnamon in her pasta dish because she swore it was paprika.

The pain that puckered her eyebrows together all because her glasses and the screens at work bothered her so much.

Harry begged her so plainly to ask him for help. He had the phone pressed to his ear as he laid his head back against the sofa. Her voice made his stomach knot in the best way—she made him weak in the knees and the only thing he regretted about dating her was not doing it sooner. “I’ll bother you,” she whispered into the phone.

“Kitten, of course not.”

“If you’re hanging out with friends, and you need to come get me because it’s raining at night...and I can’t drive myself home?”

“Then I’ll say, ‘sorry lads, m’princess needs me.’ If they have a problem with that, s’on them,” he said simply with a shrug.

She released a quiet giggle despite how much she didn’t want to. “You’re much nicer to me than anyone I’ve ever known.”

◊

But she wasn’t always so down about it. Sometimes she had a really good sense of humor about it. Harry didn’t love it all that much though. It hurt him to hear her joke about something he knew in his heart hurt her quite a bit. But he was glad she could be in good spirits about it.

“Listen,” she said almost a month after their first kiss. “You’d be surprised how often someone says, ‘what are you blind?’ You’re just going to have to roll with it. It’s okay. I’ve heard it a lot and I say it to myself sometimes. I’ve been working on new comebacks but so far ‘legally, no; spiritually yes,’ is my favorite.”

Harry felt a wave of awkwardness wash over him, but she just continued to smile this gorgeous, bright smile that he had no choice but to let her make her joke.

And if he did say ‘What are you, blind?’ a few days later, well... at least she had warned him.

◊

Harry read to her sometimes. It made her feel like a little kid, but he didn’t dwell on it. He acted as if it was completely normal for a boyfriend to read out loud like a kindergarten teacher to his girlfriend. She snuggled up to him in his lap and glanced at the pages every so often as he held the book in front of them. She had to be careful though because Harry’s voice was so soothing and even though she loved to hear him talk, there had been many chapters she missed because he accidentally put her to sleep with his melodic voice.

◊

Sleeping together in the quiet parts of the night were some of his favorite times. Whether something more intimate happened between them or not. Night was when he felt most attuned to her. Harry couldn’t see any more than she could. Touching her, feeling the goosebumps he left in the wake of his fingertips against her skin made him much more aware of how touch could bring him to his knees for her. He also paid close attention to her near silent, soft whines of pleasure or how her laugh seemed so much brighter in the dark.

But listening to her speak at night might have been one of his most favorite things. “Why did y’leave me after that party?” He whispered. It bothered him a bit when they first started dating.

Her face was pressed to his chest, her finger moving over his face as it always did, this time focusing on the shape of his jaw, outlining the scruffy remnants of hair growth since he last shaved. “Why would you want to be with the near-blind girl?” She shrugged.

It took him no time at all to answer. “Cause she’s perfect.” She smiled and pressed a kiss almost touching the cross necklace that dangled between the sparrows on his chest.

She never asked him again if it mattered to him if she’d go totally blind. Not since she asked after their first kiss last November. He said it all right then at that moment. She believed him so easily because no, she hadn’t ever thought about it. There wasn’t a time when she thought that maybe she wouldn’t go blind. So, for Harry to believe it was possible was more than enough.

◊

Harry worried about her a lot more than most people did a lot of the time. More than her family who were so used to her poor sight it didn’t even phase them when she handed them the wrong cups or passed along the wrong items because they weren’t clear enough about where they were. More than strangers who would roll their eyes at her when she bumped into them on public transport.

But mostly herself because while she had been living with bad eyes for so long, it took Harry some getting used to the ins and outs of the harder things she had to do. One day they painted two canvases together, spinning them back and forth between them for five minutes creating fun little landscapes that didn’t make any sense. “Would y’ever want a seeing eye dog?” He asked. Harry was a terrible painter, but he’d do anything to spend time with her doing her favorite things. “Bet we could get you a really cute pup,” he smiled.

She smirked so cutely, and she wiped her hand across her forehead to get a piece of hair out of her eyes. In doing so, she painted a stripe of pink paint across her forehead, making his heart feel so jumpy with love for her. “Maybe if I went totally blind,” she shrugged. “Would need to find an apartment that allows a cute dog too,” she reminded him. As if a seeing-eye dog wasn’t an exception to most places.

Harry wasn’t so distracted by how pretty she looked with hair and paint falling across her pretty skin and over her beautiful face that he missed her saying the word ‘if.’ A hopeful sign that she believed in a miracle even if she was too scared to say so herself on any given day. Part of him also noted and hated the idea of her finding an apartment without him; even after a mere nine months of being in absolute love with her. He wished he had asked her to move in right then.

◊

Loving one another didn’t come without some hardships either.

Once more she found herself bumping into someone. Harry had gone ahead to the car to get to her door and naturally the moment he left her side she was nearly falling flat on her bum. However, the person bumping into her was quick, caught her around the waist before she hit the ground. “Oh, easy love. You alright?”

“I’m so sorry,” she said quickly.

“Hardly your fault, love. Don’t be sorry,” he smirked. “S’easy to fall for me,” he winked at her.

She gaped in surprise. Harry wasn’t surprised in the slightest because she was by far the most adorable person on the planet let alone that street. “Excuse me,” Harry said flatly. Harry eyed the arm around her waist that didn’t belong to her or himself, and the man turned his attention to Harry.

“Oh, of course you’re taken...Someone as beautiful as you would have to be,” he released his grip from her. “Sorry, mate,” he said to Harry and then winked at the beautiful girl.

Harry grabbed her hand and marched quickly toward his car without so much as another glance in his direction. “Harry,” she whined as he tugged her. He wasn’t rough, exactly. She didn’t think it was possible for him to be rough with her even when he was grumpy. Her mind flashed to that very first day when he looked at her with so much annoyance for getting food all over his clothes and then separating him from his friends.

Harry often got so protective of her that it came across as overbearing and every so often, he couldn’t help but feel jealous when someone else helped her. She had done so much on her own for so long the idea that she didn’t need him or worse, needed someone else made him so utterly sad that he had a hard time expressing how upset it made him. “M’sorry,” he whispered.

“Sorry? Why?”

“Jus’...I get so sad when other people help you,” he frowned. She turned toward him in her seat. “Not because I don’t want them t’help you. But because...I jus’ like helping you. Makes me think y’don’t really need me,” he mumbled. “I know I wasn’t always...so outwardly nice t’you. Think I was a bit of a dick,” he said quietly. “Think it would make a lot of sense if y’found...someone that swept y’off your feet right away.”

She reached out and cupped the side of his face and leaned forward to kiss him on the lips briefly. “I need you, always. More than that...I want you,” she said softly. Harry felt like a lovesick teenager at her words. Wanting him really was so much better than needing him. Because she didn’t. She was wonderfully independent and had done so much on her own for so long, she really didn’t need him. But wanting him around? Harry loved her so much he wondered how he ever could have been without her. “So much it feels like I need you.”

He leaned forward to steal another kiss and she smiled, her glasses bumping his forehead a bit. “I love you,” he promised.

She smiled. “Would you like to know when I fell in love with you?” She asked.

He blinked at her response. “Well, sure,” he nodded.

“When you held my hand at the party and walked me to your room...it was like...I don’t know, I felt like a princess,” she told him. “You totally saved me. I had no plan. No escape. I just didn’t want to bother anyone.”

He smiled at the memory. “I loved sleeping with you,” he winked. She pushed him gently and shook her head. “No really, y’looked so cute in m’clothes. Wanted you t’stay in my bed forever.”

“I bet you did,” she mumbled.

“Ha-ha,” he rolled his eyes. “Never would have thought your cute mind would constantly sit in a gutter, kitten. Yes, of course I wanted that,” he grumbled making her laugh. “Really I jus’ wanted you.”

“You want me too?” She wrinkled her nose making her eyes crinkle at the corners and Harry turned fully to hold her face between his hands. He leaned in to brush his lips over hers like he did the first time he kissed her. She gave the same little whine she did. It went right through his heart.

“What gave it away?” He mumbled against her lips.

◊

“What if it’s hereditary?” She whispered in the dark.

Harry turned to face her even though he couldn’t see anything in the darkened room. He could feel her breath and the anxiety in her voice was so palpable he could feel her voice. “Then...who better to help them than you?”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t wish this on the people that made fun of me,” she mumbled. “I can’t imagine a child like me,” she admitted quietly. “It was so hard.”

Harry frowned and inched closer to her. His nose bumped into hers, he brought his hand up to her cheek. What he said next, he meant whether he was part of the future or not. With everything in him, it was one of the truest things he ever told her. “I can’t think of a luckier child than one like you, m’love.”

◊

It wasn’t always about her eyes. There were pictures they took and vacations they enjoyed. He loved her family and how they made him feel like he was part of her holiday traditions. Gemma and his mum adored her and asked about her more than they asked about Harry.

She had the best jokes from books she read. Her art was beautiful and taking walks through the park with her were some of his favorite dates he’d ever been on.

It was five months in when he told her he loved her for the first time. “You are the most beautiful woman I know,” he said. She smiled at him with the lightest touch of pink painting her cheeks. She made him stop and proceeded to lie in the middle of the sidewalk to capture a picture of the sky between the branches of a tree on the unseasonably warm April day. Harry took his own picture of her doing just that. “See?” He asked, showing her the picture he took.

She looked at the picture momentarily and then back at him. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Of course, kitten,” he rolled his eyes. “Inside and out; the kindness and warmth you have inside you is probably jus’ a fraction of the beauty y’display outwardly for someone like me that falls in love with you every time y’smile,” he grabbed her hand continued walking down the street enjoying the spring air. She was quiet for the length of the road and when they stopped to wait for the light to change at the crosswalk, she looked up at him at her side.

“You’re in love with me?” She asked.

He blinked in surprise, feeling a bit tongue tied. He chuckled awkwardly as he glanced at her. “Uh...sorry... I should have waited...said that in the privacy of your apartment...or mine, or something. Not in the middle of a busy street.”

She smiled and shook her head at him. “I love you, too.”

The light changed and back again, but neither of them noticed because he was too busy kissing her while the crowd moved around them.

◊

Sometimes she got so angry and frustrated with herself that she would accidentally take it out on Harry. Like the time she didn’t see how close her fingers were to the knife and nicked herself good. Not enough to need stitches or even a trip to the minute clinic, but enough to make Harry ooh and ahh over her. “Angel,” he murmured after she ripped her hand away from him.

“Stop,” she sniffed. She wasn’t in pain—at least not from her little wound she inflicted upon herself. “Just stop.”

He frowned and pressed his lips together trying not to overwhelm her with his worry. In those moments, he stood waiting patiently. Eventually she would say sorry, and he would shake his head. “You don’t have t’apologize t’me ever, m’love...not ‘bout this.”

He knew this was hard for her. Every time she hurt herself or dropped something, it was a reminder that her eyes weren’t working the way they were supposed to. The last thing he wanted was her spiraling and worrying about what would come next.

But he wanted her to know that whatever it was, he would be right beside her. Seeing for her even if she couldn’t.

*

December | Holiday Break | Lunch time

She never let Harry go into her appointments with her. However, he made sure he was the first one to meet her at the door right outside the office because her eyes were almost always dilated. It amplified how difficult it was for her to see where she was going. After nearly bumping into someone as she exited, she apologized awkwardly. Almost instantly, Harry was there looping her arm through his elbow. “Hey beautiful,” he said kissing the top of her head. He didn’t say anything else. Didn’t ask about the appointment. He knew better. She would say something if needed.

He opened her car door, helping her into the seat and placed sunglasses over her eyes to protect her widened pupils. He kissed the space where her forehead met her hairline and closed her safely in the car. Once inside the car himself, he drove off, planning to get her more coffee because she hated these appointments and Harry wanted to treat her for being brave even when she didn’t want to be. She leaned against the window and didn’t speak. Harry placed a hand on her leg, and she wrapped her fingers around his. He gave her a squeeze and continued driving silently.

“They have a new... cutting edge surgery they want me to try,” she whispered to the window.

He squeezed her hand again, glanced long enough to see her contemplative reflection in the glass. “How d’you feel about that?” He asked.

“Nervous.”

He smiled weakly. He wished he could look at her, but he knew talking about it was easier when he wasn’t looking at her—even if she couldn’t fully see him. Harry ordered at the drive through and then continued driving to a little spot by a lake. It was still so chilly outside—even at the warmest part of the day. There was steam coming off the water from the warmth of the sun beating off it. She took a picture of it on her phone and Harry knew the look of concentration on her face was trying to figure out how to recreate the steam in a painting.

They were sitting on the hood of his car. It was still warm from the engine and Harry had a blanket laid over their laps. She leaned back against the windshield holding the coffee cup upright to keep her hands warm. Harry turned to his side to look at her. He brought his hand to push her hair away from her forehead and he traced along her hairline. “Do y’want surgery?”

She sighed. “I wanna be able to see.”

He smiled gently and gave her cheek a kiss. “Will it...get worse? If y’try it?”

She shook her head. “No more than the risk of a regular surgery. It won’t be perfect. I’d still need glasses. I’ll still have trouble seeing. But...I won’t go blind. It’ll either stop it from getting worse or it won’t work,” she shrugged.

“Sounds like you have nothing t’lose then, angel,” he murmured.

She was quiet for a second. “I trace your face so much because I worry, I’ll never see it again,” she whispered. Harry was speechless...all those times he asked her what she was doing... He never thought that was her reason. “I want it to be muscle memory,” she explained. “So... if my eyes...if I can’t see anymore...I hope I can sculpt it from memory,” she whispered.

That beautiful word ‘if’ made his heart so full of love for her.

But, by far that was the most...genuine thing anyone had ever said to him. “God, I wish I dated you so much earlier,” he mumbled and leaned down to kiss her as deeply as he could manage while the cold December air cooled her coffee down once more while he gently traced his tongue along her lower lip.

Her cheeks turned this beautiful shade of red that Harry loved so much. The sunglasses over her eyes hid so much from him. He meant every word earlier. He loved her glasses so much, if only allowing him to see deeper into her soul. “If...it works though...” she whispered after a minute of kissing. He didn’t say anything because he sensed there was more, and she swallowed hard. “I’m scared I won’t be me...I feel like my whole life has been put on hold because of my eyes. I don’t know if I know how to live without... thinking about them.”

“Then we’ll learn t’live without thinking ‘bout them,” he shrugged reaching for a piece of her hair and stroking it like a paint brush across her face. “You’re more than your eyes, kitten.”

Her heart felt so warm at his words. Harry always made the well-being of her eyes an effort for the two of them. It wasn’t a battle she faced alone. Harry was there the whole time encouraging her, helping her, keeping a literal eye on things for her when she couldn’t. It didn’t bother him when she cried about not seeing something. When she bumped into walls or doors, he never said anything other than to make sure she was alright. If she dropped something and made a mess, he simply helped her clean it up. Harry was her personal chauffeur, and he didn’t care at all.

“To be fair m’love, I would be driving y’around anyway because you’re a lady and I adore you and m’mum taught me t’hold car doors open for the women I adore. And I’d rather drive and keep y’safe... plus you’re a terrible driver even when y’can see. S’a danger to you, me, and everyone else on the road.”

“We wouldn’t...” she whispered quietly and shook her head, looking away from him.

“Wouldn’t what, m’love?” He murmured looking at her with a frown on his lips. Worry etched between his eyes.

“We wouldn’t...be in love...if it weren’t for the fact I can’t see,” she reminded him and turned to look back at his expectant face waiting for her to complete her thought. “I wouldn’t have spilled food on you. You wouldn’t have sat up front and asked if I couldn’t see. There wouldn’t have been writing notes for me or making sure I was okay at that party or at the pub...”

“Kitten, I learned t’read Braille for you. I don’t care if y’can see or not. I would do anything for you. I may have fallen for you because you couldn’t see but I don’t stay because of it. I stay because I adore you.”

“What?” She whispered breathlessly. She sat up fully while Harry stayed lying flat against the windshield. “You learned...you did what?”

He shrugged. “M’probably not very good at it. But I don’t know...thought if it came down to it, if it got worse and you were sad...I’d want t’help.”

Harry saw the tear slip down her cheek past her sunglasses. “Harry Styles,” she practically sighed. “You are...I don’t know...”

“The love of your life, maybe?” He smiled cutely and reached up to rub the tear from her cheek.

For the second time in her life, she had so much hope swelling in her heart. Harry, the cause of it once more. “And hopefully every life I’ve ever have and ever will live.”

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @tiredinwinter

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice, pt. 8 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: This is quite possibly the worst idea she's ever had.

words: 3.9 k

warning: mob-typical violence, bang bang shoot shoot, whump. hurt/comfort. descriptions of medical emergencies, hospitals. drug use. coersion. kidnapping. gore. blood. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships.

this is a darker, messier version of TASM Peter.

18+. you’re responsible for your own content consumption. but that being said, if you don't know anyone who ever stayed out past midnight for a Harry Potter release party, then maybe you should wait to read this.

Back to Part 7.

Part 8

Honey had been lost in thought all morning. Her stomach felt like it was twisted into a pretzel. Anxiety gripped her. And she hadn’t even been in Peter’s presence for the last two hours. 

Instead, she carefully loaded the dishwasher, playing Tetris to try to fit the items in just right. She hated when things were packed unevenly. She almost lost a job as a grocery bagger because of it. Everything had a place, and it felt so relieving to find where they fit. 

This had been her third attempt at loading the dishwasher. She should start it soon. Then she could get to work on taking apart and cleaning the espresso machine. Although she was fairly certain that she’d been the only one that had ever used it.

She felt her muscles lock up as Peter entered the kitchen from the side door. This time, he wasn’t alone. Eddie Brock, or one-way cupcake guy as she referred to him, followed him in. The men looked tense. 

Peter looked like he was sweating, which was odd given the chilly temperature outside. His hair had lost it’s form and was more of a wild mess, having been ravaged by fretting fingers. He tugged at the knot of his tie, shifting around like his shirt was too itchy. Honey instinctively attempted to avoid his gaze, but it was unnecessary. It was as if he refused to look at her.

“Somethin’ came up,” he announced to the whole kitchen. She glanced around just to make sure his only audience was her and the kitchen appliances. 

He slapped his long fingers across his mouth, scratching his beard. “I, uh, I-I gotta go into the city for a bit,” he explained, only making eye contact briefly. “Take care of some stuff.”

She dug a thumb into her palm, nodding wordlessly. 

Her heart raced faster at the thought of what he’d take care of, and whether or not it involved assassinating an elected official. She also considered how strange it was to receive information about his schedule. He was checking in with her, telling her he’d be gone. How oddly domestic. 

“Um, look, Eddie’s gonna stick around, make sure you’re okay,” he explained. The other man’s head snapped up, shooting a stunned glance at Peter. Clearly, it was news to Eddie.

“You serious?” Eddie groaned. “I’m a babysitter now?”

Peter glared at him, and the other man dropped the attitude. “I’ll send Miles’ along tonight,” the boss countered. “I’m sure you can hold out ‘til then, yeah?”

He gulped hard. Peter’s eyes were burning through him. “Right.”

Honey stood quietly, watching the interaction between the two men. She thought about speaking up, arguing that she didn’t need a babysitter. But after everything, she just wanted to be as far away from Peter and his ‘business’ as possible.

As if he could hear her thinking too loudly, Peter turned to her next. He leveled his gaze towards her, eyes dark as night. “You good?” he asked. She nodded quickly, squirming under his sight. He stared right into her soul. “Good,” he said softly, after a pause. He hesitated, focused on her with a tense, suspicious look. 

“Be good,” he added. 

His voice was soft, but the comment was dangerous. It was a warning. It loomed over them with a threatening presence, like a swirling, funnel poking out of a midsummer wall cloud. She bit her lower lip as he turned on his heel and rushed out, his commandment cast down like a god.

Then he was gone. Out of sight. But both of them felt a chill in his wake, as if his gaze was truly omniscient.

Hours passed. If there was one thing Honey was not great with, it was too much time. Too much time allowed her to think. It allowed her to stew. Obsess over the same thoughts, dragging them through her brain until the edges were sharp enough to slice. 

She rested on her back on the couch, staring up at a book in her hands. Good Bones by Maggie Smith. She had read it before. Most of it. Almost made it through to the end. Typical. 

She was forced to delegate herself to short stories and poems. Long novels were too difficult to follow. She’d get too caught up in the details and end up reading the same page over and over. It made English class her least favorite subject, which confounded her mother since supposedly she spoke English.

She thought about Maggie Smith and how Professor McGonagall really was the unsung hero of the Harry Potter books, which she hadn’t read. Not that this Maggie Smith was the same. She knew that. Or she thought so. Probably.

And that was it. She’d lost her place again. Sighing heavily, she slapped the book closed. 

Sitting up, she peered over from her position on the sofa to see Eddie rummaging through the refrigerator.

“Whatcha lookin’ for?” she called.

“Somethin’ to eat,” he grumbled. “Guy’s probably a millionaire, doesn’t he have anything besides Lunchables in his fridge?” 

“There’s some stuff for a salad—”

“I don’t need a salad,” Eddie grumbled to himself. “I need food. Meat. Wings. Like... 49 wings. Or churros, maybe.” She raised a brow at this. Eddie pulled open the freezer door, no doubt spotting the pint of ice cream. “Victory!” he cheered beneath his breath, withholding an elated fist-pump. He pulled open the carton, grabbed a spoon, and dug in like a man starved. Skipped the bowl and ate straight out of the tub.

Curious and bored, she wandered over to the kitchen and sat across from him at the bar. The sounds he made while he ate reverberated in the kitchen. It was disgusting, to be honest. 

He could feel her eyes on him. Judging. “You wan’some?” he stared back at her, annoyed, ice cream dripping from his mouth.

“No,” Honey replied, wiping the offending look off her face. “I’m... I’m good.” It also bothered her that he was eating directly from the carton. It bothered her that he expected her to want to share. That would be like licking the same spoon. He was already halfway finished with the carton, however, so it was likely there wouldn’t be anything left to argue over.

“So...” Her voice trailed off, pleasantly trying to fill the silence. “How long have you been in crime?”

He stopped mid-bite. “You’re, uh... new here, aren’cha?”

She blushed. Always an outsider. It shouldn’t have bothered her that she didn’t fit in, but it did. “Is it that obvious?” she responded, somewhat offended. “How d’you know? I could be a mobster. A mob-lady.”

“Okay, first of all, nobody says that,” he scoffed with a smirk, good-natured about his teasing. He dropped the spoon in the empty carton, leaving it on the counter. She eyed it. Expectantly. And also, conversely impressed. 

“Don’t you get brain-freeze?”

“Gotta big appetite,” he answered idly. Belched. “Pardon.” 

She watched the beefy man wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. She studied him curiously, just as she did at the party. He was the hardest to figure out. He’d kept to himself mostly. Talked to himself, too, she noted.

Eddie stepped up to the counter, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out a tiny glass vial filled with some kind of oregano, opening the jar and sniffing it. He reached into the other pocket, retrieving a small packet of beige paper squares. 

It occurred to her suddenly that what was in the jar was probably not oregano. 

Curiously, she watched him pack the delicate cannabis flower into a round metal tin. He twisted the lid, causing it to spill out into a fine, green powder. Meticulously, he tapped the pulverized plant into one of the wrapping papers, lining it up perfectly.

He’d peek up at her every once in a while, biting back mild irritation that she was watching him hawkishly, like they were at a Hibachi restaurant. Once he was finished wrapping and sealing the joint, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a lighter. Lit up. Inhaled deeply. Blew out a pillar of smoke, body and mind relaxing.

She ogled, eyes wide. That would explain his insatiable appetite, she thought.

“You want a hit?” Eddie offered, taking the joint from his lips and reaching it out to her.

“Oh,” she blinked owlishly, staring at the burning bud. “No. No, I don’t do drugs. I-I mean, I haven’t done drugs.”

He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Well, good job just sayin’ no, Nancy Reagan.” She blushed, biting her lip. Eddie course-corrected, softer, “What I meant is ‘do you want to try it now?’”

Eyes like saucers, she stared at the joint like it was a giant, twisting roller coaster she was about to board. “I shouldn’t,” she answered shyly.

Eddie shrugged, putting the joint back in between his lips. “Okay.”

Stuttering, she added, “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer! It’s just… sometimes, I get—like my brain is moving really fast and I think—if I… y’know— what if I wig out, like I start seeing things, and start ranting and raving about being abducted by aliens?”

“Were you abducted by aliens?” He said it seriously, with a full measure of concern.

She blinked. “Not that I am aware...?”

“You’d know.” He took a long drag. “So you’re sayin’ you get anxious? Worried about it makin’ you more anxious, or paranoid. That all depends on the strain. In my experience, it has the opposite effect. Helps me relax.”

“How does that work?”

“My anxiety, or the strain?”

“Both…?”

“Different strains produce different effects. Depends on the strain and your brain chemistry.”

“I didn’t know there were different strains. Like different types—is it like an organic versus not organic thing? With pesticides and stuff? Is that bad? Do you use pesticides, or are you all-natural? I mean, not you, but your weed… um, farmer. Is that more expensive if it’s organic? Like… farm-to-table?”

Eddie let out a long billow of smoke. Red eyes taking stock of her. Reading. Pondering. “I’m also a nervous eater,” he answered.

She nodded, mouth forming an O in response.

They gazed at one another for several seconds, before she added, asking “What’s your take on those Danish butter cookies they sell in those round metal tins?”

He took another puff. “The ones that look like rings taste the best.”

Her eyes lit up, filled with renewed fervor. “Right?! I know! Everyone says I’m crazy and says they all taste the same.”

“Bullshit.”

“Exactly! Thank you!” she heaved a huge sigh of relief, which was utterly inappropriate for the situation to anyone outside of her own head. 

“The rings are my fourth favorite cookie type. Maybe my third.” 

Her head tilted. “What’s your favorite?” 

He blew out another pillar of smoke. “Peanut butter.”

Her eyes darted over to the pantry door across the kitchen. She’d taken full stock of the contents the morning she made breakfast. The tiny smile on her face faltered for a just moment, her wheels spinning.

There it was. Her way out.

Her eyes drifted back to Eddie, as he enjoyed another drag. She licked her lips, and tried to steady her voice. 

“I can make some?” she replied, with a glimmer of hope in her voice.

Eddie froze. His eyes wide.

Peter was out of control. He couldn’t even remember how he got there. It was like teleportation. He blinked and was somewhere else.

Chest heaving, sweat beading at his brow, he only had a vague idea of where he was. A warehouse near the East River. He could smell it. He had less of an understanding of what he was doing there. 

It wasn’t until he saw the looks on the faces of Miguel, Noir, and Hobie did he begin to suspect that something very bad had transpired.

“Christ, Pete…” he heard Miguel mutter beneath his breath.

Peter followed his line of sight to see a broken, barely-breathing body at his feet. Broken in the sense that it was no longer shaped like a human. Instead it was a crimson-coated mass, a wheezing, sloppily-folded lump of bloody clothes. 

Blood was everywhere. Soaked the concrete. Coated the inside of Peter’s nostrils. Splattered across his black leather shoes. His breath hitched at the sight. Gaze trailing to his sticky hands, clutching a twisted tire iron. Warm viscera dripped from the end.

He shuddered, finding it hard to breathe. Like he was drowning. Like blood coated his throat and lungs. Tiny droplets ran down his face like raindrops on a window pane. 

An inhuman groan left the pile of broken man at his feet. Not inhuman in the sense that he’d been born an animal, but in the sense that anything resembling a human had been beaten out of him. He was no longer person-shaped. His being alive was a cruelty at this point. Every ragged breath was a curse.

Peter stepped back away from the destroyed body, tearing onyx eyes from the sight. Seeing the way his men stared back at him— horrified— monster— psycho— parasite— maniac— infection— was equally sickening. He pried each of his fingers away from the bent iron, uncurling the twisted metal from his grip.

“Put ‘em out of his misery,” Peter ordered coldly, swallowing back bile as he stepped away from the body. 

Dazed, he drifted towards the entrance of the shipping terminal as if awakening from a dream. His legs were made of concrete. His head throbbed. Needles pierced his eyes. His stomach twisted and gurgled, and similarly drowned by nausea. 

A single gunshot rang out from behind him and echoed off the metal siding of the surrounding containers. The noise made him wince, the sound causing physical pain that was like taking a cheese grater to his brain. He hissed in agony, and at the same time he relished in it. Wanted more of it. Needed it.

“Boss,” a breathless voice called out to him, stirring him from his haze. He looked over to see Felicia standing next to him, a pensive look on her face. How did he get outside? When did it get dark?

“Just get off the phone with Miles,” she said. 

He tilted his head curiously. Whatever dread in her eyes wasn’t directed at him or his actions, and that surprised him as much as it terrified him.

“It’s your girl,” she grimly informed him. “She’s in an ambulance.”

Just like that. 

Cut to black.

This was not a good plan. Not the worst plan Honey had ever come up with (there was that time she tried cutting her own bangs right before the Eighth Grade Graduation Dance), but it was certainly near the bottom. Impulsive, haphazard, and not well-thought out in the least, it was also fairly on brand.

Those were the things she thought as she was being wheeled into the emergency room of Indian Head Mountain Medical Center. Through red, bleary eyes, she caught a glimpse of a sign with the hospital logo and letters spelling ‘Woodstock, NY’ underneath it. That answered one question. Sort of, since she was unaware of how much time had passed in the ambulance.

It had taken about 30 minutes to locate and assemble the ingredients into plump, doughy, peanut buttery balls. She enlisted Eddie’s help to roll the dough, and showed him how to use a fork to make hash marks. He was both delighted and mesmerized by the action. Soothed, even.

His eyes were bulging with excitement as she explained that they were ready to go into the oven. (In reality, she would’ve let them chill in the refrigerator for about 2 hours and it secretly burned her up inside to rush the process and do a halfass job.) Any more waiting, however, and she was afraid she’d lose her nerve.

When Eddie took the first bite of one of her delicious peanut butter cookies, his eyes rolled up in his head with delight. Soon a big, dopey grin widened his face. He savored and swallowed each bite, drifting into a little slice of heaven. Seeing reactions to her treats had always been a rare highlight of working in the service industry. She loved it.

They were good cookies, she noted, her only complaint being she wished she’d had added more nutmeg. 

About 4 minutes after taking the first bite, her lips began to tingle. 

Within 20 minutes she was a heaving, coughing, snot-covered, teary-eyed mess on the floor, slipping into anaphylactic shock.

Eddie handled it well—

whattheshit are you shittin me are you playin stopplayinrightnow sweartogod is this a joke did fuckinjohnnystorm put you up to this fuuccck i am way too high toofuckinhigh for this shit ohmygoddontyoudieonme don’t you fuckin die he’llfuckinkillme are you playing tellmenow holyshitfuck

—as far as she could tell. Up until she started losing consciousness.

Once the epinephrine kicked in, she quickly lamented an unforeseen flaw in her plan. She hadn’t anticipated the amount of time it would take the swelling in her face to wear down.

“You’re almost there, honey, just stay with us,” a nurse reassured her, glancing down over the edge of the gurney railing to look her in her bloodshot eyes. 

What’s with the nicknames? she wanted to ask. 

Instead, she informed the nurse of her real name, and her current address, and her health insurance provider, who her emergency contact was, her blood type, and the small detail about being kidnapped by a mob boss.

She divulged all of that information, despite her tongue being the size of a soda can. 

As such, it sounded more like, “adf meklp mef nii viin kehhaaaf nigh euh maa yahah gung an aire gaa hilla maaahuhh—”

“Just relax,” the nurse replied sweetly, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Try to save your breath, okay?”

Okay. 

This wasn’t working. She was running out of time.

It took roughly 25 minutes for the additional antihistamine booster to kick in. Her vision had cleared and her breathing had returned to normal. Within the first 30 seconds of being left alone, she rose from the hospital bed, quietly switched off her machines, unhooked her IVs, and slipped away. 

Four minutes later, in a different wing outside of the emergency room, she spotted a group of nurses exiting what appeared to be a break room. The rows of lockers inside confirmed her suspicion. She pulled open each unlocked locker door. On the tenth try, she found a gym bag.

Seven minutes later, she jogged through a back door of the hospital, wearing a pair of men’s joggers that were 10 inches too long for her legs, and an equally oversized NYU hoodie. The real treasures were the cell phone and wallet she was now in possession of. 

She was bursting with energy, and it wasn’t just from steroids. 

The act of escaping a safe house, then escaping an emergency room, then stealing a stranger’s possessions, made her feel not as bad as she would’ve imagined. If she was being honest with herself, she felt pretty good. Better than good. Somewhat invincible. There was a humming buzz beneath her skin, blood rushing and pumping through her body. A flush in her cheeks that hadn’t ever been there before. Her heart fluttered like a hummingbird.

It probably wasn’t the epinephrine either.

“911, what is your emergency?” a female dispatcher said through the line. Twenty minutes and a mile and a half later, she was at a payphone near a bus station.

What’s the emergency? she thought. What is the emergency? 

What a loaded question.

A cute boy she had been flirting with at work turned out to be a murderous, mafia ringleader, and had kidnapped her, held her prisoner in his luxury mountain retreat in the Catskills, and had recently divulged to her his plot to kill the Mayor of New York City.

Yes, she needed help, alright. She needed UNICEF. The Red Cross. The Salvation Army. The U.S. Army. Every army, all of them, right now. Send everyone.

“Ma’am, I need you to slow down. Just tell me where you are,” the voice on the other end replied.

Oh, shit. She said all that aloud?

She shuddered, finding it hard to breathe. Like she was drowning. She had only a vague understanding of where she was. Her brain and mouth were moving out of sync. 

Eyes darting around, frenzied, expecting to find Peter standing behind her. 

Not Peter, perhaps, but some roughneck caricature of a goon wearing a long overcoat and a fedora. Or a caricature of Peter wearing a long overcoat and a fedora. Would it be the monster, or her friend? Would he be Prince Charming or Scarface? 

More terrifying, what if he was actually someone worse?

She paused, considering with worry. “No, listen to me! You need to get to 1630 Revello Drive, Apartment 2B, in-in Long Island City. Please!”

“Can you tell me your name?” the voice asked. She stopped her lips before any more words could come out. 

The ghosts of Peter’s story haunted her mind, sending shivers down her spine. Without another word, she hung up the phone, staring at it like it had cursed her. 

Peter was... troubled. Without a doubt. Emotionally dysfunctional, possibly. Batshit crazy, for sure. But was he wrong to be paranoid? 

More terrifying, what if he was actually right?

A disheartening dread settled into her bones. Her limbs felt heavy, like they were made of concrete. 

She needed to get home. Fast.

Four hours and 45 minutes later, after two buses, three trains, and the setting of the winter sun, she was standing across the street from the apartment building at 1630 Revello. She shivered in the freezing air, but not from the temperature. The quiet outside was nothing in comparison to the cacophony inside her mind. 

She hated coming to this street.

The windows on the southern corner of the second story had its blinds closed tight. Warm light illuminated them from behind. She chewed her lip anxiously, trying to simultaneously talk herself into moving forward and running in the opposite direction. 

The thought of the horrible fate suffered by Nasrin and Leyla compelled her to move forward. She inhaled sharply, trying to calm her racing pulse, and exhaled slowly. Took a step forward into the street. And another, and another, and another. Each one building confidence that she didn’t have before. Each one a reminder of where she had been and how far she had come.

Forward. Always forward. 

Forward. 

Until the tires of a black Chevy Tahoe screeched to a stop an arm’s length in front of her, nearly hitting her. Stunned by almost having been run over by an SUV—pay attention to what you’re doing, stupid girl — her feet rooted to the ground. Indignation quickly took over, as she glowered at the vehicle furiously. 

“Watch where you’re goin’!” she barked with a tone she wasn’t used to hearing coming from herself. Her chest puffed up, and she felt like she’d grown half a foot in stature. 

The driver of the vehicle, a dark-skinned man in his 30s, with his curly hair styled neatly into a short fro, simply glared at her through the window. She shot daggers at him with her stare. The newfound boldness she possessed suggested she should drag him out of the vehicle and give him a piece of her mind. 

Until the rear door opened.

The man that emerged rendered her motionless. Rendered her useless. Helpless. Heart pounding. Muscles locking in place. Throat seizing up. Anaphylaxis all over again. 

She couldn’t run. She couldn’t scream. The monster she fought so hard to escape had found her.

“Heya, sweetheart,” her husband sneered, tone dripping with malice. “Long time, no see.”

Continue to Part 9

a/n this one is a shortie, but a goodie. or is it? you tell me. what do you think? just a heads up, the next few chapters are going to deal with some heavy stuff. make sure you read the warnings! love you all, and thank you thank you thank you for your amazing notes!

reblog to be tagged! (since there are over 100 of you its hard to keep track). if i missed you, let me know!