#war stuff has gotten worse where i live and i need to make some savings meh

[rooftopdaigos]

[twjournals]

The Right Place

This is the third and final part of the trilogy. I can not thank you enough for the endless support. I did not expect to even turn this into a three-parter, but you asked and you shall receive. You guys are amazing!

So Wrong It's Right

What's Wrong is Right

Warning: dark!Peter Parker x reader, dub-con, all characters are of age, pregnancy, abuse, mild non-con touching, violence

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: You're an old troubled friend of May's. Your life consists of being a workaholic, a party animal, and bringing home the shittest of guys for a one-hit-wonder. Just when you get your life in order, you're knocked right back into your old habits. Peter has watched you suffer long enough. He can make it all better.

Taglist: @discoverwhattheworldhastooffer

Your world was in shambles and any move you made to try and fix it only seemed to make what was left crumble. You did not speak with anyone since you had found out you were pregnant, not even May. You did not know what you could even say to her or how you could explain what was going on. You knew she would find out sooner or later, but you had planned on later. You could not even stomach the thought of telling her. It would not be easy and you knew you would probably lose her friendship in the process.

You avoided Peter as much as you could. He always messaged to check up on you, but you would never reply. You were disappointed in yourself. If you had just been the biggest person and moved on, if you had not have gotten drunk, you would not be in this situation right now.

Peter never gave up on you. He had hoped you would come around. That you would understand why your life was going in the direction it was. You needed to get away from the toxicity you surrounded with, especially Chris. You were meant for bigger and better things. You were meant to be more than a housewife. You were to be a mother, a lover, a soulmate. You deserved the world and he wanted so bad to give you it plus more.

You continued to shut him out though. You did not answer his phone calls or his text messages no matter how many times he tried. He sat outside on your fire escape many nights, listening to you crying yourself to sleep. It broke his heart to see you in this situation, but he wishes you would look on the bright side of things. Maybe it was not the greatest timing to have a baby, but it didn't mean your lives were ruined. Sometimes what we want is not always what we need. Sometimes change is required for what we need in our life and you weren't necessarily open to it.

He honestly had tried to give you your space. He stuck to the rooftop above you where you could not see him when you would finally leave the house for work. You always looked so beautiful to him, even if he knew you had been crying all night. If you would just answer his messages, he would not have to go this far.

Peter watched you many mornings on your way to work. He followed your bus all the way to the place he prayed you would never go. He kneeled on top of the building, watching as you stared sadly at the front doors of the clinic. He wished you would turn around. To save him from having to web you down before you got in the building. You were picking at your sweater. No matter the number of times you found yourself standing outside the clinic, you never could bring yourself to even reach for the door.

You were at war with yourself. Peter could tell you fought against the changes, but your heart could not bring you to stop them from happening despite how unhappy you were. It always ended with a sigh and with you proceeding to walk the rest of the way to work. Peter seemed to hold his breath until you walked away.

Work was always a drag now. You had nothing to look forward to anymore but everything in the world to worry about. You stared at your phone as it lay against the computer screen. You rubbed your face tiredly.

You knew it was time to let go of your past. You sighed deeply, taking your phone in your hands and clicking on Chris's old messages. You began typing.

Are you able to come by later?

You noticed he read your message right away. You sat your phone down, still staring at the screen when he responded back.

Of course. Just tell me when, and I’ll be there.

You told him you would message him once you got home. You were sure what time you would get off when it came to your job. You wrote a company and spent the hours necessary to do what you needed to do.

By the time your workday had finally ended, you were having mixed feelings about inviting him over. Being pregnant did not help your feelings from being all over the place. Your thumbs hovered over the keypad on your screen. You were hesitant. Even if he had said he respected whatever you decided, you knew he could not entirely mean that. You quickly typed out that you were home and hit send before you could give yourself time to think almost about it. Maybe you should have thought about it a little longer.

Peter was stuck at school for one of his night classes. He dreaded his night classes now more than ever considering your condition. He had already skipping enough classes due to worrying so much about you. He could not afford to flunk out of school now after all the time and effort he had dedicated already. As much as he wanted to keep an eye on you, he tried to give you room to breathe, to think, and process.

You pushed his bags in the living room by the door, straightening your sweater to keep it off of your stomach. You were not big to others, but to you, you worried if people can tell. You did not want to chance it and certainly not with Chris. You wanted this to go as smoothly as possible.

Your heart almost leaped from your chest at the knock on your door. You slid the chain from the lock and pulled the door open to see his face light up as soon as he saw you.

"Hey there, beautiful."

"Hi." You leaned against the door slightly as you moved out of the way for him to enter.

"I'm so glad you're giving this a second-" He stepped into the apartment, noticing bags of his belongings to the side of him and he grew quiet. "You're not giving me a second chance." He pointed out and you frowned slightly, still standing by the door.

"I think it is what's best for the both of us." Your voice was quiet and calm, but in your mind, it was the hardest thing possible for you to say.

"Is it?" His voice seemed bitter and you looked down at your feet, nodding slowly. Even without looking at him, you could still feel his eyes on you. He turned to face you fully and you hesitated to make eye contact with him.

"It is. I still want the best for you."

"Do you not believe I can change? I don't understand. What can I do to change your mind?" He pressed.

"Please don't think I haven't given this a lot of thought. It consumes my mind to no end. I just need to focus on myself right now."

"Imagine that." It was silent in the room and you glanced at him, only to find him shaking his head with a snicker. "It's not what's best for the both of us. Not for me. This is what's best for you. Can't imagine how I even thought you could be anything but selfish."

"Chris, I just want to keep this civil."

"Good for you." He pulls the door from your grasp and slamming it shut, startling you. "That's all you've ever been, hm? You're gonna have to lose that mindset if you plan on marrying me."

"I don't-"

"You will." He corrected, moving so close you could feel his breath across your face. "I put too much time into this for you to walk away from me."

You swallowed hard. The man who stared back at you was far from familiar. You tried to step around him but he only pushed you back into your place between him and the wall.

"Goddamn it, just get your stuff and go!" You raised your voice and he slapped his hand hard across your cheek. It was strong enough to make you see stars in your eyes. You yelped at the impact and held your cheek as it stung in pain.

"You watch your fucking tone." He stared down at you. He had never hit you before in the years you had been together. He never raised a hand to you, but then again, he never raised one for you either.

You could not imagine how much worse this would get. You left sick to your stomach when he grabbed your chin, tilting your head upright to look at him, stroking his fingers across your stinging cheek as his eyes flickered over your face in thought.

"Truth to be told, I think it's you who needs to change. I put up with so much from you. You had me in the beginning. Thought I was getting this wild, sex-crazed wife, oh, the fun we use to have. The drunken nights." He stiffed a laugh as he let his free hand grab the end of your sweater. "You really had me fooled, didn't you sweetheart?"

You were scared to move. Scared that one wrong move and he would hit you again, maybe worse. You closed your eyes, hoping Peter would answer your prayers. You regretted how much you ever took advantage of his kindness. How long you acted like you never noticed. You had always noticed. You felt his hand push underneath your shirt, and his gaze grazed over your stomach.

You noticed the way his hand froze against the small curve of your rounded stomach and he instantly lifted your shirt to see the problem. Your vision was blurred from your tears as he stared at your stomach with wide eyes. You could tell he was getting pissed.

"Really looks like you've been focusing on yourself." He lets your sweater fall back down over your stomach. His grip was still firm on your jaw, giving you no choice but to look at him. "You have some nerve to leave me. I could bet money it's Parker's. It is, isn't it?"

You could not bring yourself to admit it, but you did not have to.

He shoved your face from his hand, causing you to hit your head hard against the wall as he let you go. "You fucking make me sick."

You tried to keep your sobs quiet, listening to his footsteps moving away from you, listening to him jerking his bags up. "Better it's his problem and not mine." He muttered before slamming the door shut behind him.

You pulled your knees to your chest as you sat up against the wall with a sob. You didn't realize how much you needed Peter until now. You were sure he would have been successful if Peter had not have stopped. You hugged your knees as you tried to catch your breath in an attempt to calm yourself down.

After a moment, you took a deep breath as you pushed yourself to your feet. You let out a whimper quiet, feeling mild cramps in your lower stomach. You frowned as you turned the lock to the door, pressing your forehead against it as you held your stomach from the pain. It only seemed to worsen the longer you stood there. You weren't sure what was going on, but you had a feeling whatever it was, it was not good. You stood like that hoping the cramps would ease, but they never did.

It was close to the end of class when Peter's phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out of his phone slightly to see who it was. He glanced up at the professor who had still proceeded with his lecture and Peter lowered his head to answer. He knew something had to be wrong if you were calling him after all this time of avoiding him.

"Y/n? Is everything okay?"

"I think something is wrong." You whimpered quietly and he raises an eyebrow slightly.

"What do you mean "wrong"? Is the baby okay?" He looked up at the teacher who was making eye contact with him now as he talked.

"I don't know." You answered honestly.

That was all it took to get Peter moving. He grabbed his books off of his desk and tossed them in his bag while he scrambled from the classroom.

"It hurts." You rubbed your lower stomach like you always did when you had cramps before. Cramps were normal, but with being pregnant, you could never be too sure what they really meant.

"I know, love. I'm so sorry. Hang tight. I'm on my way." He reassured you as he sprinted out of the building.

---

You lay back on the hospital bed, sighing as Peter ran his hand over your bump in gentle circles. For once, you let him. Your cramps had surprisingly lessened since Peter had shown up, but he did not want to take any chances. It was better to be safe than sorry. He was so worried about you and the baby.

Nurses had been in and out of the room, doing blood work, swabbing, anything necessary to get to the bottom of this. Peter was quiet as he sat on the side of the hospital bed, focused on the massage he was giving your stomach. This was the first time he had touched you since the night you found out you were pregnant.

You could not help back to smile slightly to yourself as his long gentle fingers worked over your skin. He must have sensed your stare because it was not long before his eyes glancing up to meet your stare.

He raised an eyebrow curiously. "Is this okay? I'm not making it worse, am I?"

You shook your head. "It's fine. I'm just watching."

He smiled at you while he continued his massage to your tummy. His eyes looked toward the door when a nurse came in, rolling some equipment over to the bedside.

"Miss. Y/l/n, your lab work should not be much longer. If you do not mind, I would like to do an ultrasound to check on the baby. Is that okay with you?"

You nodded and Peter took his hands back to let her work. She rolled over a chair, taking some gel and squirting some across your lower stomach. The nurse rolled the transducer over the gel and smearing it in as she applied some pleasure in search of a heartbeat. You watched her roam your stomach, biting your bottom lip. Your eyes widened slightly when the sound of the baby's beating heart filled the room. Once the nurse got a clear view, she turned the screen to show you and Peter what she was seeing.

You looked over at the monitor, your heart fluttered slightly at the first sight of your baby. That was your baby, even if it was only a little bean now. You could not stop the smile from forming on your lips. This little bean was life was growing inside of you. This brought a whole new light to your pregnancy. It was like a light had switched on. You did not know how to explain the overwhelming feeling. It felt more real after seeing him or her.

Peter was just as taken back as you. His grin never faded at the sight of your baby. It only made him 10x more eager to be a dad.

"Look at that. Already looks like me." Peter teased and you giggled, considering he or she was not much more than a heartbeat at the moment.

"I can definitely see it." You grinned as Peter rest his hand over yours, sliding his fingers between yours. He brought your hand to his lips before pressing a kiss to the back of it. You watched him kiss your hand and shivered slightly. You did not know what to think of everything at this point.

The nurse checked the baby's heartbeat before turning to the computer behind her and check your lab results with a quiet hum as she scrolled through your charts.

"Well, it seems like everything is just fine. Your baby is certainly healthy and has one of the strongest heartbeats I have ever heard." You looked over at Peter and he only grinned. You could thank Peter for that and all of his spidey senses.

"Your blood pressure was pretty high though and considering your history, your blood pressure has always been perfect. Have you been stressed out lately?" She looked back at you and you nodded slightly.

You were ashamed at how stressed you had let yourself get. "Well, I won't ask for details but if it is anything I can help you with, I would be happy to help. If not, I would stay to keep the stress to a minimum. Your baby does feel anything you feel, so some things can be too much and really take a toll on them." She explained. "Think of this as your baby reminding you to breathe."

You smiled, feeling Peter giving your hand a warm squeeze.

"If your blood pressure does continue to be high, we will see if we can do something to help." You nodded again as she made out some prints of your ultrasound and handing them to you. "If you don't have any questions, I'll let one of the other nurses know and they can keep your paperwork ready for you to go home." She took a paper towel and wiped your stomach clean before tossing it.

With that, she gathered up her equipment before rolling it out of the room with her. You pulled your sweater back down over your stomach.

"Hear that. Now do me a favor and leave all of the worrying up to me." He looked up at you as your eyes stayed glued to your ultrasound prints. His eyes flickered over your face, landing on the bruising mark on your cheek. He reached up, moving a piece of hair back of your face to get a better look. You flinched at the contact. Peter seemed taken back by your flinch.

"What happened? How'd you get that?" You kept your head down with a small frown.

"I invited Chris over to get his stuff. He thought I was taking him back. He didn't take it well." You explained and his eyes widened.

"He hit you?!" You reached Peter's hand as he started to jump up from the bed. "I'll kill him. I swear to you-"

"Peter, please. It's over with now." You assured him, tugging his hand to pull him back to the bed to sit down again. "He's not worth it."

Peter frowned, letting out a deep sigh before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. He did not want to stress you any more than you had already been. "I'm sorry he did that to you. I wish I could have been there."

"Honestly, I needed this. It made letting go of him a lot easier."

"Was that all he did?"

You grew quiet.

"Did he..."

"No, he didn't." You shook your head after he could finish his sentence. "He saw that I was pregnant and left."

Peter tried to keep his composure as his fist clenches out of your sight. He could not imagine how someone could lay a single finger on you with intentions to hurt you. He was quiet. He was trying to hold it together for your sake.

"He didn't say anything?"

You stayed quiet for a moment, rubbing your thumb across the print. "Just that he was glad it was your problem and not his." You shrugged your shoulders slightly. "Even though it's not a problem, I am glad it's you and not him. I can't imagine what it would be like to have a baby with someone that selfish."

His clenched fist loosened at your words and his eyes softened. He could not believe his ears. Were you really saying this?

His cheeks blushed a deep shade of red. "You mean that?"

You smiled at him with a nod. "I do. You're so selfless and care so much about what you can do for others. Even though I've been selfish, you still stuck by my side. I honestly couldn't ask for a better father for my baby."

His smile widened as he looked at you, resting his hand on your small bump. "Our baby."

You rested your hand on top of his with a smile, nodding your head. "Our baby." You agreed.

---

It was not long after that the nurse gave you the okay to leave. Peter had stopped to get you something to eat before he took you home. He wanted to make sure you had been fed. All of the little things like this had slowly pulled you closer Peter. You were not used to how observant and patient he was. As much as you knew how wrong your whole situation was, you could not help but to give in to it. Despite your age, Peter had treated you better than any other guy you had been with. Even better than the one you had been with for years. Peter was the blessing you never knew you needed. He was the blessing in disguise.

He held onto your hand, walking up the steps to your apartment and using the keys to unlock the door for you. He didn't expect you to let him stay. All he wanted was to make sure you were okay before he left you alone.

"Thank you for everything." You looked up at him as you both stood in front of your door.

He smiled down at you. "You don't have to thank me."

"You know I owe you."

He rolled his eyes playfully. "You don't owe me anything. You're having our baby. I consider that payment enough." He teases, his hands resting on your waist. He could not help but touch you. In every possible, he would if he could. Your cheeks blushed at his response, looking down but Peter let his finger hook underneath your chin to tilt your head back up. Your lips were barely an inch apart when the moment was quickly ruined.

"What the fuck is going on here?!" A familiar voice pulled you from your moment, making your heart sink to the pit of your stomach when the realization hit. You did not even have to look over to know it was May. Her face was red in anger when your eyes met hers. "You ignore me for weeks and when I come to check on you, you're smacking lips with my nephew?! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Your lips parted to say something, but no words came out. You did not where to begin with explaining yourself to her. You knew this was all wrong, but it was all too late.

"I thought you were hurt, but obviously, you're perfectly fine." She was fuming.

You never wanted her to find out this way. You wished you had more time to think about it and figure out a better way, but this was it. This was the moment of truth and you were terrified to lose your best friend. You felt tears forming in your eyes and Peter frowned.

"Aunt May, stop."

"Stop?! I'm not going to stop! You're not going to use my nephew so you can get over your worthless ex-boyfriend."

"Aunt May!"

You fought to hold back your tears until you could not anymore. You felt the tears running down your face. As much of a low blow that was, you felt you deserved to hear it. "Peter, i-it's okay." You struggled to form your words. You were hurt, embarrassed, ashamed.

"No, it's not." He shook his head, pointing a finger at May as she stood only a few feet distance from the two of you by her car. "You've gone too far."

"I don't understand how you think this is okay, Y/n." She shook her head, ashamed at you.

"I didn't expect for it to be like this. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." You confessed.

"Just like you never meant for all those one-night stands to happen huh? I trusted you!" She yelled, making you flinch. You hung your head in defeat, glancing at Peter with sad eyes before going inside. You could not stomach the rest of the conversation without sobbing. You tried to calm yourself once you were inside.

"That's enough!" Peter yelled suddenly. "I am capable of making my own decisions. I don't need you to decide what is best for me, Aunt May. I'm not here against my will and neither is she."

"She's supposed to be my friend." She didn't know what to make of this.

"You're supposed to be my Aunt! You knew how hard I crushed over her. For years you knew."

"I thought it was just a crush."

He moved closer to her in the parking lot. It was never just a crush. He was head over heels for you. "I love her. I've always loved her. You're can either respect it or accept it, because it's either way, she's pregnant and nothing is going to change that." He stood by her car.

Her mouth fell open in shock. She did not know what to think. Never in a million years would have thought this would happen, but then again never would have you.

"Pregnant?" Her voice was quiet.

He nodded. "I'm gonna be a dad, Aunt May." He pulled his copy of the prints out of his wallet and showing them to her.

She was at a loss for words. He was right. There was nothing she could do about that. May stared at the prints for a moment, trying to process everything in the short time it had all happened.

"Peter... I don't understand..."

"She almost had a miscarriage today because she's been stressing herself out over Chris. You're not going to take this away from me." He looks down at her, taking the prints back from her." He looked down at her as she stared back with a small frown. "Go home, Aunt May before we both do something we'll regret. You can come back when you're ready to apologize for this." He held the car door open for her and she hesitated before slowly getting in the car.

She knew she was in the wrong for how she had handled things, but Peter did not give her the chance to even risk making things worse. Peter felt deep in his heart despite everything she would come around. She would realize how happy you made him and she would accept it, but for now, she needed to leave.

Peter walked back to your front door, knocking on the door with a sigh. After a few moments, you moved from your spot on the couch to answer the door. You opened it slightly to see Peter and you glanced behind him at May's car pulling out of the parking lot.

"How are you?" He frowned when he saw your red watery eyes.

"I feel awful."

He sighed when you finally let go of the door and he stepped inside of the apartment. He let the door close behind him. His arms wrapped around your body instantly, pulling you against mine as he hugged you, resting his head against yours and kissing the top of it. "I'm so sorry. I know it's hard to believe now, but she'll come around. Just give her some time."

"She was going to find out sooner or later. I expected that reaction. I just wasn't prepared for it right now." You pointed out as your head rested against his chest, letting him hold onto you.

You closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat. You relaxed in his arms. Your eyes were burning from all the tears shed. Peter scooped your body up in his arms bridal style, carrying you down the hall to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, sliding into the bed with you as his arms naturally found their way around your waist. Your head fell to his chest as you got lost in your thoughts for a moment.

"I'm starting to think I can never make the right choices." You admitted, laughing slightly to yourself and Peter tilted your head up to look at him.

His lips pressed a kiss to your nose. "Sometimes, the wrong choices bring us to the right places." He assured you before leaning in to close the space between your lips and kissing your lips.

He was true to word. No matter how much you held yourself back, every wrong choice you had ever made in your life brought you to this moment with Peter. This opportunity with Peter to finally get your life right. It was your chance to allow yourself the happiness you knew you both deserved.

End Credits Scene

He was not sure how long he had been sitting with his wrists and ankles restrained to a chair in the middle of a dark room. Maybe hours. It even could have been days. He was not sure. His eyes blinked rapidly to adjust to the light that poured into the room when he finally heard a heavy door open.

"Oh good, you're awake." He was covered in sweat from fear and the heat of the closed-off room. He could make out bits of a red and blue suit. His eyes must have been playing tricks on him. When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, his eyes widened at the sight of Spiderman in front of him. He did not understand what was going on. Spiderman is supposed to save people.

His mouth was covered with solid webbing so he could not speak.

"I'm sure you're wondering why you're here." Peter moved closer to him as he spoke. He leaned down, ripping the webbing from Chris' mouth and making him cry out in pain from the grip it had on his skin. "You see Chris if there's one thing I hate, it's people who hurt the people I care about."

"W-What are you talking about? I haven't done anything."

"Don't play dumb." Peter gritted his teeth underneath his mask, backhanding Chris across the face before gripping his jaw. "You know exactly what you did, but that's okay because it won't happen again. You'll never touch Y/n again. I'll make sure of that."

Blood dripped from Chris's mouth from how hard Peter hit him. "I should fucking kill you for putting your hands on her." He smirked to himself when Chris starts squirming under his grip. "But I won't."

"I won't. I won't touch her again. I swear-"

"Oh, I know you won't." Peter let go of his jaw before backing up towards the door again.

"W-Where are you going? Aren't you going to let me go?" Chris started to panic as Peter pulled his mask off for Chris to see his face. He wanted this to be the last thing he saw if he died and the thing he would definitely remember if he lived.

"I didn't say I was going to let you go. I said I wasn't going to kill you." He smiled and Chris's mouth fell open slightly at the sight of Peter Parker standing before him. "I was thinking we could make a game out of this. I hear you like games. Let's see just how important you really are. I'm gonna leave you here and we're gonna see if your friends succeed with their search party if they even send one out. I can't imagine what they would care about scum like you for, but I guess we'll see. I give you about 48 hours before your body finishes you off itself. That should give you more than enough time to think about what I've said. That's if you do make it and I don't really have faith that's gonna happen, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. I expect you to get the hell out of New York. I promise to you if ever see you again, I'll kill you."

Chris swallowed hard as Peter stood in the doorway once more, the sun outlining his figure at the door. He was scared of the possibility of not being found. He was furious that a guy like Peter was capable of putting him in a situation like this.

"They'll find me and when they do, you're a dead man, Peter Parker." He pulled at the restraints on his arms with all of his might but he did not stand a chance against the webbing. Peter made it look so easy.

Peter grinned at Chris's promise. He loved the challenge. The possibility that even if someone did find him, he would have the pleasure of killing him himself. It amused Peter that Chris could even have the nerve to threaten him in the position he was in.

"Well, let the game begin." He gave a wave as he started to pull the door closed. Chris yelled to the top of his lungs until the heavy metal door ceased his screams.

[bonny-kookoo]

Ready Player 01 | JJK x Reader | 🔞❤️☁️

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: dystopia!AU, former Game developer!Jk, former pro gamer!JK, former IT specialist!Reader, former programmer!Reader, romance, Smut, slight cyberpunk elements

Warnings/tags: injustice, forcefully controlled public, violence (police/government officials against citizens), unfair powerplay, interrogation, tech talk, Jungkook be antisocial as FUCK but so is the reader lmao wbk, fear of physical contact (Haphephobia), past trauma and mentions of a bad childhood, insomnia, crime, smut because yes it’s me hello my content isn't kiddy-proof in the first place what yall want from me I'm not sure, but that’s waaY at the end ya know, friends to lovers, a slightly sassy AI but we love her, reader struggles with emotions, I mean same tbh, they're both so sweet tho I cant, not proofread because let me live

Summary: there’s a war going on; silent, but it’s there. Media has been strictly become controlled and regulated- to the point of making it illegal to own a TV or phone with internet access without a valid license. But there’s always some people that will try to break free from the controlling force.

"-a new age. This is a new year. And remember; we're doing this for the greater good. Until tomorrow." The news reporter stops talking after she somberly looks somewhere behind the camera that is pointed at her.

Your room is dark- the TV brightness on it's lowest setting so you can see what's going on- but outside, no one can see the light shining in your tiny apartment. Investing in blackout curtains had really paid off at the end of the day.

You don't want to get caught.

There's an announcement van driving past your window; the tiny slits in your curtains where the light from outside can creep its way inside brightening a bit as the headlights pass your windows. Something is spoken, and by now everyone knows the routine speech.

"Electricity will be shut down in five minutes. We advice to save all progress immediately- and we wish a good nights rest. Electricity will be shut down in five minutes..-" It repeats, over and over, counting down the minutes. You slowly move into your kitchen, opening one of the loose floor tiles to turn on your own emergency electricity system. With well practiced movements you close the tile again, moving the rug over it as you walk back into your living room, swiftly sliding the TV behind your wardrobe to make it disappear. As if on cue; there's a knock at your door.

The same as always. Routine. Two times, loud and clear. You don't even have to look through the peephole to know what awaits behind it.

"Yes?" You ask, rubbing your eyes as if you had been already asleep. The officer behind the door nods at you shortly, a mild smile on his face as he looks down at you.

"We didn't mean to wake you miss. Just routine, as usual." He says, peeking into your apartment to look for any electronics still running. It's pitch black however- so he simply nods, as his colleague notes something into his tablet. "We wish a good nights rest miss. Again, sorry for intruding." He apologizes, and you nod, closing the door.

Only when the street lights turn dark, do you move from your bed.

"Creator." The AI voice chimes up, her voice greeting you as as you lift the tile on the floor again- your phone connecting to the AI to show information you instantly decode and note down inside your head. "Player01 has just connected." The voice states, and you sit down on your cold kitchen flooring, smiling a little. "He has sent a message. Would you like me to play it?" The voice asks, and you take a deep breath.

"Yes." You say, and there's a small sound indicating the start of the voice message. A male voice is head.

"Hey, whats up?" He asks, and you can hear something in the background- maybe an empty can or something similar. "I uh.. I'm on my way. Should I bring anything? Ah wait, I know the answer to that.." He says, chuckling at the end of his sentence, and you can hear him zip up his jacket as he moves around. "Yeah uh.. just text or something, I'll bring stuff over. Can't have you starve." He ends, and the AI speaks up again.

"Would you like to repeat the message?" She asks, and you shake your head at her; a signal the artificial intelligence has come to detect quite well. "Should I archive it?" She questions again, and this time, you nod- something your invisible assistant can pick up due to motion sensoring.

"Send him a message." You say. "Tell him: I only need you. Get yourself here in one piece and I'm happy. And I'm very capable of taking care of myself." You state, and your phone shows a small loading message- indicating that the voice is doing as you said. It chimes up after a moment. "Thanks Kana." You say.

"No problem creator. Would you like for me to run through the databases now?" She asks, and you nod, a smile on your face. "Database search in progress. Estimated time: sixteen minutes and eighteen seconds." You huff out a breath as you look at the tiny display on your arm; tiny, yet powerful as it's your way of keeping Kana- your AI assistent- close at all times. Tonight, there would seem to be a lot to dig through.

They really added a lot of content these days.

It's not the door that makes you notice that there's a visitor after a while- He never uses it anyways for some reason. You're sitting on your kitchen floor with a small cup of tea in your hands- kept hot inside a slightly beaten-looking thermos can since you can't use to water boiler at night. Using anything other than Kana would cause a spike the police would be sure to notice; and you're not ready to get caught yet.

Not tonight.

It's a boy who, after a moment, opens the unclosed kitchen window to climb in; his combat boots getting a little snow and dirt from the outside into your apartment as his 80's looking jacket makes distinctive noises as it brushes against the sides of your window. His blonde hair has grown out a bit these days you notice- the roots clearly showing. It's a little wet and slightly curly from the moisture. It must be snowing outside- or maybe it had. You couldn't know for sure.

You never left your apartment.

He closes the window after slipping on the tiles inside a little, the plastic bags noisy as he almost drops them- sheepishly taking off his boots as he smiles at you. His socks are different from one another- but that's another thing so distinctive and just so.. him. He's his own person, always has been; it's what brought you two together, after all. You both stood out against the 'regular public' these days; with his brightly almost white-bleached hair he was like an albino in a sea of crows.

But you knew he didn't need that to stand out to you.

You can still remember the first few times the boy in front of you has visited you; the times where he had just dyed his hair to rebel out, or when he pierced your ears in exchange for you to do it to him as well. It was like you had made a blood pact in your kitchen that night- you had somehow gotten closer, formed a little more than just a simple companionship in order to riot against the law. He began growing close. Gave you a nickname. Began calling you his player 2. Began calling you his 'ace'. He had explained that he thought of it from memories of his gaming days; the two fighting teams always called red and blue, and one of his favorite weapons having that nickname- simply because it always 'saved his ass last minute'. He had rambled on about his last tournament after that, eyes sparkling and cheeks round from cold noodles.

You had become friends.

"hey." He says after sitting close across from you on the cold floor; the opened tile and Kana's core exposed to you two, the only source of light apart from your bracelet. The colorful LED's paint marks on his face and illuminate his features to you; but it does the same to you from his point of view. It's a familiar sight. "How are you?" He asks, almost shyly, but you know that's not what's bothering him.

"Hey Jungkook." You simply say with the hint of a smile, as you answer him. "Haven't slept well these days but, what's new I guess." You chuckle, and Jungkook smiles too- though a glimpse of concern is still shown your way. He knows however that forcing you to sleep won't do much good- your insomnia was too bad to really conquer it in a day or two just by taking naps.

And also; who was he to talk about solving personal issues.

"Have you seen the most recent reports?" You ask him, and the boy somberly shakes his head.

"I was unable to." He states. "They were patrolling close to my apartment complex because there had been someone reporting a Glitcher today." A 'glitcher'- a slang word now commonly used for people like Jungkook and you. People who went against the nightly routines, people who tried to trick the system by using electricity at night, owning media, consuming it, or dealing with it. It somehow became worse than underground drugs. "They pulled him out at around twelve or so- but they seemed too on edge the entire day, so I didn't risk it." He says, and you nod. Jungkook had always been a very good person when it came to calculating risk versus reward. He was good at reading people too- even though he didn't interact much, he got out of his apartment a lot more than you did. "Anything important?" He asks, and you shrug.

"There was a report that China and Japan were still on edge- with the chinese government arguing that they would soon start with 'more drastic measures to get things under proper control', whatever that means." You say, and Jungkooks brows furrow as he starts to pick on the skin of his jaw. "Let's just hope the flood doesn't throw us under the sea as well if it escalates I guess.." You say, and the boy across from you nods.

"Creator." Kana's voice chimes up, making Jungkook look up before remembering that the only source would be your bracelet, which you look at as well. "My scan of your body shows that you have not consumed a sufficient amount of calories today. I recommend a meal in the next five to eight minutes to avoid malnutrition." She says, and you groan. "I take this as a form of verbal communication. Running data search..." She says, as Jungkook looks at you; thoroughly amused by the teasing banter between the AI and his friend. "My data search concludes that you are annoyed, creator. I have only stated a fact however-" She continues, and Jungkook steps in.

"I've brought some leftovers from my dinner today we can eat." He says, pulling out some plastic containers as he moves to get proper cutlery out of your drawers. He makes sure to push them towards you, making sure to nod with a smile as you nod and thank him a little embarrassed. "It's nothing. You know I love you too much to let you starve!" He states with a grin, bunny teeth on full display as bitterness creeps up your throat- something you make sure to swallow down before beginning to eat.

Because the kind of love he's talking about right now, is not the kind of love you want him to feel for you.

"You forgot to give it a proper validation there-" He points out as you type away. "Otherwise it will just run instantly, and everything at once. That could crash older systems, and we know that V95 uses an older laptop, so we should take that into account." He says, and you nod, clicking back to the spot Jungkook is talking about.

This is what you're both good for.

Writing code for you had always been something you did with a passion- simply because you were good at it. Numbers and short phrases were something you could remember with ease; but you never had to think much about the visual aspect of programs in your department back when you were able to work for a simple programming company. You had simply always been tasked to program security systems and automatically updating firmware, or simple AI's for factory robots. Jungkook however had been all about the visuals; he had been programming games after all. That's why you two fit so well together in this scene. Whenever he would be in complete awe of the broad knowledge you had about official guidelines and security breaches, of staying undetected and unseen while still gaining as much as possible from every single line of code, he could always throw in his input to make sure the program you were both writing and updating for the glitch community was easy to use and simple enough so it could run smoothly on as many systems as possible. Be it phone, laptops, PC's- you two made it possible.

This program was connecting Glitchers all over the globe- and with yours and Jungkooks knowledge, you made it almost invisible. And even if it was somehow detected; there was no possible way to track down any of it's users.

The fact that you had to hide a simple program from the government made you sigh.

"Okay. Yeah I think that fixed the bug." He says, and looks at your arm- at Kana. "Oh, by the way, Kana?" he asks, and the chime gives him the cue to talk. "I heard you had a bug-fix too recently." He says, and the AI chimes again.

"I did, Player01." The AI answers. "The addition of code to my current program has proven to significantly increase my ability to observe and save more data." The female voice answers, and Jungkook grins. "You are happy, Player01." She states, and he nods.

"I am." He says.

"Why is that?" The AI asks, and Jungkook shrugs.

"I'm just happy you're doing well. Someone has to take care of ace when I'm not close by, yeah?" He states, and you try not to react to it. Jungkook is by now used to your more stoic expression; you're not too emotional and barely let things get under your skin. You've been hurt before, he knows this even if you never told him- he can see it in the way you hide inside the safety of your home, how you're so cold on the outside but still clinging onto him. Sometimes he wishes he could touch you; run his hand over your head to ruffle your hair like in those cheesy movies, hold your hand, or simply give you some reassurance in the form of a gentle hand on your back whenever you struggle.

But he's got his own demons, and they love clinging onto him just as much.

"V95 has connected to voice chat. Would you like to talk to him?" Kana states, ripping him out of his thoughts as he watches you nod.

"JK? Y/N?" A deep voice asks.

"We're here. Heard there was a raid close to you?" Jungkook asks, and he can see you grow a bit more serious at that. "Are you okay?" He adds, and V answers, although quite.. tired?

"I'm good. They got Jimin though." He states, and you sigh, running a hand through your hair as you stand up, frustrated. Jungkook knows you're trying to calm down by pacing. He doesn't mind. "They didn't officially arrest him, took him for 'questioning' though. We know what that's about." He states somberly, and Jungkook takes a deep breath.

"Jimin is a master manipulator V. He'll get himself out of it, I'm sure." Jungkook tries to reassure, but it doesn't gain him much than a hum from Taehyung on the other end of the line. "What about Sleeper?" He asks, and a chuckle is heard.

"He's been checking the videofeed from inside the past few nights. He said he's send some of the big bites to Ace though?" He says, and Jungkook looks over at your form.

"Yeah I've seen it." You simply say, though Jungkook grows uncomfortable with the way you're suddenly standing there. You're a little hunched, biting the skin on your thumb as you look at the tiles as if they suddenly began to move. He knows himself that things inside the 'rehabilitation centers' weren't all that nice to see- but you rarely ever displayed so much distress over it. "Let's just hope Jimin get's his ass out of this situation. We can't afford to loose him." You say, and V stays silent before he sighs.

"Yeah. I tell sleeper you've seen the stuff. Oh, and our prince charming has asked for a date with Ace. Again." Taehyung chuckles, and you groan- while Jungkook can't help but clench his jaw. Kim Seokjin was a very good asset to the team; with connections reaching deep inside the government and his position as a former lawyer- but he still hated his guts.

You didn't need to waste your time dating. You were totally capable of taking care of yourself, you had even said it personally! And for anything else Jungkook would provide for you. You didn't need anyone else than him.

He was totally not jealous of him.

"Can he not use our underground connections for that circus?" You say. "I don't even go grocery shopping, why would I want to go on a fucking date?" You mumble, sitting down next to Jungkook as you take a spoonful of rice. Jungkook feels a weird sense of satisfaction about the situation.

"Who knows." Taehyung says. "Alright, 10 Minute mark- I'll hear from you two soon. Take care." He says, and you both say your goodbyes before the line goes silent.

Although Jungkook hates physical contact, he likes keeping you close.

His heart is melting like chocolate as he notes the way your hand grips his jacket tightly as the two of you walk through town to get your license renewed- a way of holding onto him, and he somehow wishes it could be his hand. He knows yours would fit so perfectly in his, and yet he can't bring himself to do it.

His body is not cooperating.

He remembers vividly how his fear had developed; with his father and mother both being dramatically overworked and overwhelmed with having a kid at a young age, they had no idea how to make a child behave. Every second touch would bruise, every time he had been held would be force.

And at some point, he started to dislike physical touch completely.

It had just been like his growing interest in freelance climbing- the way he would walk and jump high over the heads of unsuspecting people, away from all judgemental gazes they'd throw his way for behaving the way he did. Only when the wind could hit him freely, only when he couldn't make out faces of anyone down below, only when he was high up- that was when he felt safe. The ground below had nothing of interest for him, no point in going down, as his apartment was located on the top floor of the complex. Jungkook never took the elevator, always the stairs.

He liked being reminded how high he lived.

And yet, there's one thing that pulls him down, brings his feet to the earth below, calls him like a siren song. It's you, hidden away from everyone's sight inside your tiny home, just as troubled and judged as himself.

He'd fallen in love with you the second you told him his name.

It had been a rainy night, his clothes drying on your heater as he was wrapped in two of your blankets; the smell of your fabric softener and something so typically you surrounding him like a mother's hug would a child. It had given him a feeling of comfort he had never quite experienced before, and it had also been the first time he had imagined what it would be like to hug you.

To have you close.

He had explained to you why he had freaked out when you reached for his arm to steady him when he almost fell inside your apartment through your window; had apologized and bowed his head in shame until you had simply shrugged.

"You don't have to justify yourself to anyone, Jungkookie." You had said. Jungkookie. "You're you. And I like you." You had said, not looking at him as you typed in some code to Kana's internal system.

His heart had warmed up at that.

And while you had accepted him, he had accepted you just as much. While at first caught off guard by your quiet and sometimes harsh way of treating him, he had also gotten to know just how gentle and delicately you treated the ones you loved. You were a loyal person, always going out of your way to be helpful, and silently basking in praise any time it was directed at you.

He loved that view. The way your cheeks would grow warm, how your eyes would sparkle; and he loved most of all, that he had been, according to Taehyung who was the second closest to you, the only one to see you smile.

You even laughed with him.

It filled him with pride to know that you were able to let go around him, even if it was just a little. It made him feel like he did something huge. It helped him sleep at night knowing that you were trusting him enough to let down your guard a little.

And it hurt him even worse knowing that he couldn't do the same thing for you.

He was a coward-

and you deserved a hero.

"Ace?" He asked, slipping through your window as he noticed the apartment silent and dark. Nothing greeted him. "..Ace?" He tried again, maybe you were asleep? But your apartment was quiet, empty, nothing spoke of your presence. Dishes were in the sink, a cup of water left untouched on the counter, and something inside of him churned painfully at the way this looked. He checked the kitchen tile, sliding it to the side like he's seen you do it countless of times.

It was dark.

Instead, he was greeted by a post it note. "Underneath the bed. Take care." Was all it read. He stood up, pushing your bed away from the wall noticing how your carpet had been torn a little. And as he lifted the cut flap of carpet, there was an envelope.

Your watch. A small in-ear piece, and your old IT-identification, folded.

A noise outside your hallway made his head snap up as he pushed the bed back into place, making an escape for it as he climbed outside the window, watch safely inside his jacket as he climbed back up on top of a building, before he examined it further, turning it on, after putting the earpiece in.

"Hello, Jungkook." Kana greeted him, and it felt weird to hear the AI say his name like that. "Creator has advised me to answer all questions you might have, and assist you from here on." She said, and Jungkook simply put the watch on, making his way to his own apartment.

"What happened?" He asked, his face serious as he walked.

"At around 6:12 O'clock, creator was taken into further questioning regarding illegal possession and knowledge of classified information and technological equipment. She had shown no resistance and complied with authorities. My observations however showed that she was taken with more force than necessary." Kana explained. Jungkook shook his head. "She had prepared for this instance during the night, approximately twenty-six minutes after you had left."

"She knew?!" He suddenly said, shutting his apartment door violently as he started to pace around, throwing his jacket on the couch. "Why didn't she contact me?"

"Analysis; your body shows signs of-" Kana started, but Jungkook interrupted.

"Shut up. Why didn't she tell me?" He asks again, and Kana seems to hesitate for a moment.

"Considering her close relationship to you, she probably wanted to not get you involved." She stated, and Jungkook sighed, sitting down on his couch as he gripped his hair. He should've stayed. Hell, it wasn't the first time he wanted to stay. He had dreamed of staying over, of fucking living with you for months to no end by now, but he was a coward. And this was his paycheck.

"Kana." He said lowly, and the small tune gave him the cue to talk. "Contact V95. Tell him it's urgent. We got an emergency." He says.

"I can't watch this." He says, jumping up and holding onto his head as to not punch his wall, unable to go through the videofeed of your interrogation room.

There's not much to see, but Jungkook knows that's simply because they haven't had the time to see to you yet. You and him knew best what really happened in these rooms, and he hated knowing that deep down they wouldn't go easy on you simply because you were a young woman. It didn't matter to them.

He'd seen teenagers way younger than you and him getting the rough treatment before- and elderly didn't get spared either.

The government bragged about having everything in order; yet they couldn't even control their own law enforcement it seemed. When he really thought back on his history lessons in school, not much had changed at all.

The world was still in utter chaos.

His palm shuts his laptop harshly- earning a tiny chime from the AI he’s already forgotten shares his home with him now. “I suggest that you practice care in treating your electronics to-“ he groans, successfully shutting it off at that. “Why are you frustrated?” It- she? Asks, and he sits down.

“I don’t know how to help her.” He admits in shame, thinking back to the footage of your hidden camera; the way they had pushed you to the ground, before grabbing you, leading you out of your apartment a few minutes away from him. “I don’t know what I should do.” He says.

There’s a bit of silence, until the AI speaks up again. “Do you have a romantic interest in my creator?” She asks, and his head snaps up at that.

“What the fuck? Why would you ask me this?!” He barks, unsure where to look since he can only hear the voice.

“I have observed both my creator and your behaviors; you seem to have a very deep rooted interest in each others well-being and opinions. This is commonly found in partnerships. I was only asking you to confirm if my assumption is correct.”

He’s silent for a moment, until he speaks again, watching the announcement van pass his window; voices dull and unintelligible though the walls and windows. “It’s no use anyways. Who wants someone they can’t even shake hands with?” He sighs, looking into his lap again. He hates that he’s like this; that even though he very much loves and adores you, there’s no magic moment that makes him forget- even though he craves the contact, he can’t do it. Every time he’s close to you, he knows that he could simply hug you; or let you rest your head on his shoulder, like in romantic movies. He wants to hold your hand, wipe your tears- but his body won’t cooperate. He can’t do it.

Not even with you.

“Creator seems very comfortable with you.” The AI states. “I have been asked to archive all text messages and phone calls of you two recently. When I asked for a reason, she claimed she would need it someday- I was unsure what she meant.” Jungkook furrows his brow, raising his head again. “Sometimes, when creator is deeply upset, she has the habit of playing some of the recordings of you singing, or reminding her to take care. My research has shown that it slows down her heartbeat to a more normal level and also improves her insomnia.” Jungkooks eyes widen at that.

Does that mean.. that you like him back?

"Kana, fuck- cut the feed." He says, agitated.

"Are you sure?" She asks, and he sighs, before yelling his frustration out, sitting down to take a deep breath. He slowly shook his head no. He couldn't let all your hard work go to waste like this.

He couldn't stay a coward.

"Jungkook, it appears to be that the creator is being let go." Kana suddenly chimes up, and Jungkook rushes to his pc setup to see for himself. And she's right- your arm is being held tightly, and something is being said to you, but your hands are no longer chained to the chair- you're free.

What just happened?

Jungkook sometimes really hates himself for being the way he is.

There's no sugarcoating it that you need comfort now more than ever, even though you don't openly show it to him. He can see it in the way you're still biting your nails, he can see it in your eyes which never stay on one point for too long. And he can definitely see it in the bruises on your upper arm, and the cut on your lower lip where you had bitten in anger and frustration. He wants to comfort you, he knows you'd let him- and yet he can't move any closer than where he is right now; only the length of his palm of space between you two. And yet it's like his joints are locked into place. He can't touch you.

What if he hurts you?

And it dawns on him right then and there while he watches you drink your can of overly sweet soda while typing your code like second nature, that he's not scared of you hurting him. He's scared of doing to you, what's been done to him. Because deep down he is aware that his parents never had bad intentions, never hated him or wanted him to suffer; they were simply unsure and not at all confident in how to really care for a child. They had been caught off guard and gotten overwhelmed by the sudden shift in their situation that they never truly knew what to do. And nowadays he felt like he was simply heading down the same road.

He was starting to feel like he was becoming just like them.

"Hm?" You ask him, ripping him out of his thoughts as he looks at you, your eyes wide and worried as you put down your almost empty can of soda. "What is it?" You ask him, and he wants to scream. He wants to throw a fit like a child at the way you seem to worry for him every time you should worry for yourself. He's a coward, he's useless, he's everything you don't need nor deserve in his eyes, and yet you always look at him like he's the main character of your favorite movie.

If he was, he was sure he'd be merely a sidekick- because you deserved to be the focus of every story told in his eyes. And if you weren't included in the tale, he knew he didn't want to ever know about it.

He swallows, before he manages to make his hand move, finger pointing at your arm where a green-ish bruise already formed. "Does it hurt?" He asks, and he's not even sure if he's asking you about the bruise, of if he's asking something else. He doesn't know what he's saying, doesn't even know if he's asking you or himself.

"No." You answer, and he looks at you, searching for any hint of a lie in your eyes. But he only sees that slight smile, lips turned a little, almost unnoticeable. But its there, he can see it, and he wants to print it into his mind to never forget it. You were so observant, knew him so well, that he was almost certain you knew of his inner fight and what he really meant with his blurted out question. "Are you okay?" You ask him, and he swallows again, eyes stinging with unshed tears as his body grows rigid like an unoiled machine, only moving with as much force as he can manage to come up with. His breathing is heavy as his eyes can't leave the spot on your arm, and your watch him with wide eyes as his shaking hand slowly reaches out.

He doesn't know what he expects to really happen.

Maybe like those electric shocks you get when someone had rubbed their socks on a carpet before touching someone else. Maybe he had expected to recoil instantly. Maybe he had expected nothing- but he was suddenly in a rush the moment his fingertip touched your warm skin, delicate, soft, everything his rough hands weren't.

And you were still as prey in front of a wolf.

But the wolf in this scenario was holding his breath while his tears finally fell. He wants to speak, but he can't, he doesn't know how to ask for something when he doesn't even know if he wants it.

But suddenly he moves again, his palm now resting fully against your upper arm, shaking, as it moves over the length of it, softly, as he imprints the way your soft skin feels. "Jungkook.." You whisper out, and he suddenly snaps, leans forward, his legs on either side of your body as he snakes his arms around you from behind, pulling you close to his chest. You can feel him shake as he holds you, his cheek resting against your back and you don't care about his tears staining your shirt as he suddenly cries openly and possibly for the first time since he was a mere child.

He's unsure, overwhelmed, because you're so warm, you smell so nice, you're so soft, and he can't let go, doesn't want to let go. He whines out as you turn a bit as he thinks you're moving away but you're simply placing your legs over his as you sit in his lap, hugging him back as you make sure to give him a gentle squeeze.

He calms down after a long while of simply existing. Of breathing you in, of feeling you. "You're right." He whispers into your neck, and you can't help but shiver, leaning into his hug.

"It doesn't hurt at all."

"You know, I get why you come up here." You comment, as Jungkook makes sure to hold your hand tightly in his, your feet dangling off the edge of the building you're sitting on top of. "It's nice." You say.

He's not listening that well though.

All he can really do is watch your face, illuminated by the neon lights of the city, hair swaying in the wind as you look down below. He doesn't quite know what you two really are, doesn't know how long it will take him to really come out of his shell and give you the love you deserve, but he's trying. He's fighting, he's left his cowardly self behind.

He want's to change.

And not just for you alone, because while he hates seeing you hurt, he knows what you two are doing- what all of you are doing- is for the greater good.

Jungkook hates your ideas sometimes.

Simply because he knows they will work, but also end up with you getting into danger at the end of it. And just like now, all he can do really is hope that you make it out as he keeps a watchful eye on your movements from above, giving you directions via Kana as you sometimes trip and stumble a little.

You're not a very active person; running wasn't really your thing.

Fuck, you were basically a hermit, the most you walked around was from your bedroom into the kitchen!

But then again, sacrifices had to be made somewhere. And Jungkook really admired you; because every time he thought that you had reached your limit, you would face it head first and break through it.

"Ace, try and somehow get to higher ground. They're caging you in from all sides." He urgently tells you as he watches police chase you down the roads, pushing citizens aside to not loose sight of you.

The plan had been simple. Gain all the attention so Taehyung could infect one of the police station's servers with a new worm, giving you all a better and easier access to any data and communication of the area. Jungkook couldn't play the bate well enough; and you had been on their radar already, making you the best option to gain their interest quickly enough.

Although Jungkook hated that part.

"Come on, ah fuck it." He grits out, jumping down to grab a ladder, making his way to a nearby area he could pull you up. There was no way you could reach any of the fire ladders yourself, and by now, things were getting too hot for him to risk anything. "Here!" He barks out, not thinking twice about grabbing your hand and helping you upwards, trying not to worry too much about your heavy breathing. And then there's it.

A pop, loud, followed by another, and another, and another. You're suddenly falling, scraping your knees on the ground below as he can't catch you, too startled by the fact that they had actually decided to shoot to react quick enough. "Fuck!" He says, eyes wide and pupils blown as he looks at you.

"Jungkook, why the fuck aren't you running?!" You yell at him, a scratch on the top of your left cheek as you push his leg away from you- the only thing you can reach. "Go!" You bark again, and he growls out something, before he manages to pull you onto his back, adrenaline not letting his brain process what he's doing.

He can't just leave you.

"Taehyung, get out, Ace has been shot. Whatever was uploaded has to be enough." He says via the in-ear piece, doesn't wait for a response. He still gets it.

"Fuck, what?! Okay okay, I'm out" He says, and Jungkook can only catch a glimpse of the older man leaving the building via the backside entrance. He's only concerned with getting you somewhere safe.

"Urgh." You groan, slowly sitting up on Jungkooks couch. "I mean, I know paintball hurts, but rubber bullets? Jesus.." You complain, while Jungkook looks at you with a dark expression. "What?" You ask him, and he huffs.

"You sound like you haven't almost been killed yesterday." He grimly says, and you shrug. "Stop. I'm serious." He tells you, and you let yourself fall back down onto his couch.

"Whatever. At least we killed their communication." You say, closing your eyes. "Must've at least pissed them off." You say.

"Kana." Jungkook suddenly says, waiting for the familiar sound to tell him she's active. "Shut down for now." He says, and you sit up, hissing instantly at the sudden movement.

"Hey- ah fuck!" You say, as you watch on your bracelet how Kana complies; shutting down. "Why would you do that?" You say in an offended matter, before you grow quiet, watching him go onto his knees in front of you, as he lets his head rest on top of your lap.

"I just want.. you to myself. Just.." He mumbles, and you slowly bring your hand to his hair. "Just for a moment." He says, and you sigh. Jungkook had been under a lot of stress recently, you no doubt being the main cause of most of it recently. So you simply let him be, as he closed his eyes. "Y/N?" He asks suddenly, and you answer him. "I love you." He says, and your body stops moving.

What?

"It's okay if you don't." He says, not moving from his spot, and neither opening his eyes. "I mean it. I only want you to know." He explains further. "Because I.. couldn't fucking live with myself if something happened to you, and I've never told you." He admits, and you can't help but stare at him. Jungkook looked down on himself so much that it was sometimes frustrating to see; simply because you saw him as such an amazing human being with countless talents and beautiful flaws.

You knew you couldn't muster up the strength to actually answer him; not so spontaneously. You weren't that expressive, you couldn't communicate as freely and colorful as he could. All your words seemed black and white to you, mixing into grey and mundane sentences while his words seemed to bloom into the most amazing paintings. He had a way of charming those around him- and he didn't even know.

You slowly leaned down instead, moving his hair to the side as you placed a feather-light kiss to the top of his cheek, close to his eye.

You hoped he would somehow understand you.

And as he moved again, looking at you with eyes that sparkled brighter than any city's skyline ever could, you knew he did.

He'd always understand you, no matter how you communicated with him.

You didn't need words to understand each other.

The shy kiss you two shared, bathed in the purple glow of the neon lights outside his window, spoke enough.

"You should try and sleep." Jungkook tells you, taking away your can of soda as you whine at him. "No buts. Come on, I'll finish this for you." He says, and you let him take over the keyboard of your laptop. It's something you really only let him get away with- anyone else would've probably lost a finger or two trying to touch your work.

You don't trust anyone but him at this point.

"I know that Kana snitched." You comment, as you lean your back against his shoulder. He chuckles. "Can't believe my own creation goes behind my back like that." You mumble, and Jungkook has a light tune to his voice as he speaks.

"Well, it's a good thing though." He tells you. "I worry about you." He says.

"Ugh come on, you know that's not the part I meant." You laugh, and he grins.

"Oh, you mean the part where you listen to my crappy ass singing to help you sleep?" He tells you with a teasing undertone. "No wonder you got insomnia trying to find rest to that." He chuckles, and you playfully hit his thigh.

"Shut up, your voice is nice." You say, and he's glad your eyes are closed, and you can't see him blush.

Somehow, moments like these re-energized him again. Because it proved to him that there was still a piece of that innocent and untainted you inside that thick shell you had put up to protect yourself. And considering that you let him see you like that made his pride grow taller than any of the skyscrapers of his city.

Maybe one day the two of you will have a future together that won't be so difficult and unfair like your current one was. Maybe one day, you both will have changed enough to teach the next generation about what you've overcome.

But then again; living in the moment seemed to fit a lot better in his eyes, as he watched you sleep soundly against his shoulder.

Yeah, this moment was more than enough for now.

The world won't change over night- you both know that. All of you know that. But small things were starting to make a difference here and there; for example, the letter you held towards Jungkook as his eyes widened.

"..and we have officially decided that we no longer want to participate in the case against the defendant. The result of this agreement is that all charges against Y/N L/N have been dismissed and are no longer being investigated." He reads out loud, almost whispering as if saying it too loud could make it a lie. "They let you go?" He asks, and you nod, the small bandaid on your cheek making you look even cuter in his eyes as you shrug.

"Jimin had reached out too. They've let him go home as well." You say. and Jungkook huffs out in disbelief.

After infecting the police station with the worm you had all worked on, you had scared the entire country enough to take a step back from the overall aggressive tone. It wasn't much- but it meant that they knew you were there. You existed, and you were not bowing down.

You were still untamed.

Jungkook smiled brightly as he put the letter down to the side, reaching out to you to pull you onto his lap. He simply holds you for a moment, his lips kissing the skin of your shoulder as if in a trance. "I love you." He tells you, and you smile, squeezing him a bit in your arms. "I really do." He assures you, and you nod.

You don't answer him, and he doesn't seem to mind as he leans back from you, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he grins, hands holding your face so delicately as he places a kiss onto your lips, making you close your eyes as he breaks away from you, letting you rest your head against his shoulder.

He's still not letting anyone very physically close other than you; he's still scared of going out and around like everyone else. You're still rather hiding inside his apartment- both of your apartment now- and you still have trouble sleeping.

But Jungkook keeps the nightmares away.

And you make him brave in exchange.

It's really weird to hear the sound of a radio nowadays.

Things are still far from normal- but recently, citizens had been given radios to listen to public broadcast again. It only played crappy music with some rare good tracks here and there, but it was better than nothing.

Jungkook couldn't help but think that your breathless voice was far more entertaining than any music station he can remember from his youth.

While he hates touching other people, even friends and family, he can't help but feel a rush whenever he touches you.

His hands can't stop on one specific spot, can't seem to stay still even for a moment as his lips nip and suck at the flesh of your neck and shoulder, marking what's his, visualizing that you really belong to him. He bears the same mark on his collarbone from last night, and he should have been satisfied, but even an early morning couldn't keep him away from you.

The rain hit the window harshly, but he didn't notice at all. All his eyes could see was your form underneath him, skin glowing as he moves above you, euphoria filling his veins as he can't look away from where you're connected, where his cock disappears inside of you over and over and over again.

"I love you." He breathes out as he comes undone, holding you close, resting his head against your shoulder, as you hold onto his arms, a smile, a genuine and big smile thrown his way as he can't help but smile along.

"I love you too, Jungkook." You say, and he chuckles.

The radio in the background still playing, as you lay in each others' arms.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. Please stop reposting my content on AO3 thinking I won't find it. I'm literally everywhere you clowns.

To everyone else: Thank you for reading this mess- I really apologize for the messy storyline, but I just wanted to put this out before the entire thing escaped me again and I would end up struggling to find my way back into it (cough cough flashback to mean lmao). I promise to somewhat post more regularly. Thank you for your kind words and for sticking with me!

[stellocchia]

This is part 2 of the comprehensive analysis of c!Tommy and c!Dream’s relationship during the Exile Arc

Part 1

So, initially I was thinking of making only one post with only the important quotes from this streams but... yeah, not saying what I think about stuff is not in my blood. So now I’m stuck with this and I’m determined to finish it!

Once again, it’s all about the characters from here on out and I will be mentioning serious themes of abuse and gaslighting, so keep that in mind.

We’re starting this one off with the second proper exile stream: Tommy Is Getting So Much Worse in Exile...

Mushroom Henry is introduced at the beginning of this vod. Initially Tommy doesn’t like him, believing him to be a poor replacement of the real Henry. He then goes towards Tnret and finds it compromised as Lazarbeam had planted some tnt under it the day before during a visit with Vikstar and Technoblade (now, how much of that visit was canon? No one knows! But the tnt part definitely was). Also to be noted that Tommy already stopped fighting back against mobs, which is already rather worrying. 

Anyway, this is the stream where Tommy makes an enderchest with Fundy and Ranboo, so I will only write down some of the most notable quotes, and keep it rather brief. It is to be noted that Tommy’s depression at this point had already gotten worse as in the Nether time and time again he avoids doing the haybell mlg instead taking the full fall damage, he defends himself less and he’s already expressing feelings of loneliness. Also, he is now on the first stage of the exile skin set.

“Because if we can’t stay motivated then- then we won’t have anything to do (...) we’re gonna work out how to Keep Doing Things and not... sit around crying” (he has the need to keep busy to stave off loneliness)

“Now everyone, if you should know, we’re gonna go bach and reclaim everything at some point and kill Dream” (talking to chat)

“Music! It’s like a person but they’re not here!” (about Chirp)

“This is like, you know when you fall over? Or you know- or you know when one of your pets die? At school? And then all of a sudden you’re at school and you’re upset and all the people who are usually assholes to you start being nice all of a sudden. This is that!” 

This was quite interesting, so I want to talk about it briefly: but this is Tommy’s general mentality. He sees anyone trying to help him or giving him things as just pity from people who don’t actually care nor necessarily even like him. Basically, he feels betrayed and alone and doesn’t actually think that any of this people could possibly care. This however doesn’t seem like a mentality that’s born from exile (since he’s had it since the very beginning of exile) and we don’t actually know where it generated from. Though it could possibly be from the fact that he always had to be very independent since he had to fight in quite a few wars and even take the leading position in the Pogtopia times.

Other note: this is when Ranboo starts leaving letters for Tommy (You can find Tommy and Ranboo's mail exchanges here). At the beginning the chest they used to exchange them was situated on the Nether side of the original portal, which was a ruined portal a bit further away from Tommy’s camp. Also Tommy dies in lava (not canonically) a ton of times in this one and Fundy every times gives him some of his stuff to pretend like nothing got burned (which was kinda adorable).

“Fundy why didn’t you come with me when I got exiled? I was meaning to ask you. ‘Cause no-one came with me” “No-one came with you because it was- *sigh* Tommy I don’t know! It was- it was a shock to all of us” “You could have came with- yeah, but you just let me go. You just let go on me Fundy” “And- and just leave L’Manburg to Tubbo himself? Like all alone?” “No he would have had like literally everyone else on this server” “Like who?” (I just found this exchange interesting)

“I don’t think you’ll like it but Dream is uh, kind of proud of Tubbo. He- he’s actually acknowledging L’Manburg as a new country now” (and this is what the other side of the manipulation looked like from the outside)

“Wait wait! I could talk to the narrator! Then I’d finally have a friend!” (proceeds to start talking to the narrator)

“No no no. No no no Ranboo. Stop- stop complaining. Stop being weird Ranboo. You should be honoured to have a friend that’s close enough that he shoots you” “I don’t think that’s a ‘friend’, I think that’s just an assassin” (Ranboo with the common sense)

“This is where I used to live and then Dream tore it down” “Why did Dream tear it down?” “*sigh* I don’t know”

"Look guys: this is the song of a female astronaut named Clara” (about Chirp)

The vod ends with Tommy and Ghostbur’s attempt at saving Lazarbeam from lava and Ghostbur gifting Tommy the “Your Tubbo” compass.

Moving on: Tommy Is So Lonely in Exile with Dream

This is actually the first stream where Tommy starts off drowning (and he actually dies, yet again, non canonically). Also Puffy gifts him some blue wool, 3 diamonds and his own Christmas tree, specifying that it’s not out of pity so he actually accepts the present. 

“We’ve got some things to do. I’m still feeling um... I’m not feeling I AM very very very alone. Just- just so- just lonely all of the time... which isn’t, you know? Isn’t okay. I don’t know why I was at the bottom of the ocean just holding a bone”

Now, a bit to unpack here. In real time by now it had been 3-4 days technically, but in rp it has been specified already multiple times that it had been quite a few days since Tommy got exiled and we don’t really have any reason to believe that he received any more visits then what we’ve seen. Which probably increased his loneliness. Also we don’t have an actual explaination for him waking up drowning, my best guess for it is a mix of him being suicidal and general depression making it hard to get any proper rest (which we know was the case for him since he did mention at one point that he “didn’t sleep anymore”) which could have caused him to start sleepwalking since both “not getting enough sleep” and “stress and anxiety” are listed as causes of it. Now the actual subconcious reason as to why he was going in the sea and letting himself drown is unknown but, again, he was suicidal while in exile.

Also “How to Sex 2″ got burned by Ghostbur, not volountarily of course, he just had it on him when he died in lava. 

“I’m too lonely to be angry now, alright? We got to appreciate all the friends that we can get” (about Lazarbeam bringing him a present)

“The compass is nice though! We’ve got a compass that always will point to Tubbo... not that- not that he’d care” (beginning of the doubts about his old friends)

“Tubbo has one too? [referring to the compass] Oh he’ll just- if he’s got one he’s just using it for show... he’s- I’ve accepted that he’s the president now and I’m just- I’m just that guy he had to exile to show how powerful he was” (again, doubts)

Also Tommy makes his first path to Logstedshire in this stream. He also takes a liking to Mushroom Henry here after figuring out he could produce mushroom soup, meaning he actually had a sustainable source of food instead of having to relay mostly on handouts. 

“Guys we need some more coal” *Dream joins the game* “...ooooooh no please don’t come and visit me. Please please please” (I’m leaving this here, I believe this reaction speaks for itself)

“Hey! I’m- I’m above right now by the pretty Christmas tree that there is here” “Why are you here?” “I’m visiting you!” “Last time you said that you ruined me” “I- How did I ruin you?” “*sigh* Hi Dream!” “Hello~” “What have you- what” “Where are you at?” “I’m just com- why are you here? Every time you’ve been here you’ve done something destructive” “I- I what- I haven’t done anything destructive... everything’s been fine! I haven’t destroyed anything”

At the time there were a lot of people who were hesitant at calling Dream’s manipulation “gaslighting”, as that is a precise type of manipulation, but this right here? This is an example of gaslighting. Dream destroyed everything Tommy had every time he visited him and they both know this, still what Dream is trying to do here is convince Tommy that that never happened to keep up his friendly facade. Just because he isn’t saying directly “you can’t trust what you remember” doesn’t mean that that’s not exactly what he is implying. To reiterate this point they meet up right after and Dream, once again, blows up Tommy’s armour and diamond sword: 

“Hello~ take your armour off” “Why should I take my armour off?” “Um, drop it down here” “No, no! I worked really hard to get this. No!” “Okay... you can get it again!” “No! See this is what I told you about, that you’re destructive to me” “Tommy I’m not destructive... but, listen, you gotta drop it” (...) “No, no! I’m a rebellious teenager. I don’t listen to green punks” *Dream hits Tommy with an axe* “*screams* Okay okay okay okay okay”

Again, Dream hitting Tommy in this case is portrayed as physical abuse. And then Dream goes back to acting as if nothing ever happened, going on to talk about his day, telling Tommy that he knows about the 2 compasses and telling him that Tubbo went over while Tommy wasn’t there and that he is free to visit Tommy, he just hasn’t done it yet (all of this are actually true, but the implication that Tubbo didn’t want to see Tommy obviously isn’t). 

“Dream, I think I’ve realized why no-one’s came to see me” “Why’s that?” “It’s because- it’s because there is not an easy way to get to me and I’m gonna make an easy way to get to me today” “I mean, if you boat here, it took me 2 minutes” “No no-one wants to use the boat, it’s too far- it’s too far for people” “Oh you know what Tommy? I’ll do you a favour”

This is when Dream moves Tommy’s portal. Now, one thing that I want to point out is that Dream had already intercepted Ranboo’s and Tommy’s first mail book (we know this because in Ranboo’s message at the beginning of this stream he said that the first one disappeared) so he probably knew that Ranboo was using the secrecy of the further away portal to communicate with Tommy undetected. Of course Dream can’t have that, though he probably didn’t account for Ranboo not giving up that easily.

“Well it’s very awkward considering you exiled me and- and have banished me from being around all of my friends and now are trying to side with me it’s kinda-” “Tommy what’d you mean from all your friends? I’m your friend!” “Yeah... yeah you are” “I am your friend Tommy~” “Yeah I- Yeeeeeah, Dream” (just to clarify: Tommy is not agreeing with Dream here, he is being sarcastic. Also Dream starts harping a bit more on this point from here on out)

“Oh I just witnessed another suicide...” (second time this happens, the first was in the last vod, and he stays staring at the lava for a moment)

Tommy once again trying to push Dream into lava (again similarly to how he did in the first proper exile stream) and Dream just goes along with it (mostly just to flex about how that can’t actually kill him). I consider this couple of times as the first times Tommy started lashing out in exile. 

“Health and safety is important Dream! *staring at lava* Is it though?” “Yes, yes it’s important Tommy. It’s not your time to die”

“And then you’re coming over here giving me shit and also burning my shit. You’re just- you’re just a monster” “I didn’t burn any of your shit” “You blew it up! You exploded it! Man you’re ruining my life...” “I blew it up, I didn’t burn it though” (because that makes all the difference of course...)

“Hey man I could jump and you’d be able to do nothing about it and I’d- I’d be done-zo” “I- I ask you please not to” “Okay” “I need you alive and well”

Now I found this interesting when first watching as well, but Dream really did spell it out for us that he actually needed Tommy, huh? Like, in retrospect, what Dream then intended to do in the Season 2 Finale seemed kind of obvious. Also after that They have a discussion about the enderchest, but Tommy gets to keep it. Also Ranboo appears at the portal, though Dream doesn’t manage to see who it is and Ranboo manages to escape before he sees (thanks in part to Tommy distracting Dream). Now I want to point out that, even if outwardly people had the permission to visit Tommy, the fact that everyone was so scared about Dream finding out about it talks volume about how clear that was. Also this is when Dream gives Tommy the general direction of Technoblade’s cabin.

“Look at us go... hey why don’t you just un-exile me, you know? You know?” “*laughs* Well I think that I- I- I think that maybe there is a possibility at least in the- in the future that you could- you could- you know? Get a visitor’s pass...” (notice that he only confirmed a possibility for a visitor’s pass, not for actually going back, Dream literally never meant for Tommy to go back permanently)

Lazarbeam arrives to visit Tommy at this point to gift him Far and a fire resistence potion.

“See I told you! It was because I didn’t have a bridge that nobody was coming to visit me Dream! It wasn’t because it was me” “Yeah it must be...”

“Hey Dream come and listen to this man! [talking about Far]” “I-I’m-” “Hey, promise you won’t- If I get a new disc you wouldn’t mind would you?” “No I wouldn’t” “Okay, come and listen. I trust you now, now we’ve bonded” (Is this the second time Tommy invites Dream to listen to a disc with him?)

At this point Dream pressures Lazarbeam to mug Tommy with him and the whole scene is just pretty weird, but it boils down to Dream blowing Tommy’s armour up (again), while also hitting him a bit more when he doesn’t immediately comply (basically making this humiliating and making Tommy understand that he is not any safer with someone else there). Though Tommy does end up lashing out and killing Lazarbeam (not canonically) and Dream destroys his enderchest in retaliation. After that Tommy does become more submissive, not wanting to get killed. Now I want to point out that that same day Dream had agreed that Tommy could keep his enderchest without any conditions to it, but, of course, Dream’s rules are constantly changing. Dream does leave after that for a bit.

“I put your enderchest back by the way Tommy” “Really?” “Yeah. I just wanted to prevent you from putting his armour in there so... that’s why I broke it” “Thank you! Thank you” “You’re welcome” 

Wanna know why this is bullshit? Tommy didn’t even try to go towards the enderchest when he had Lazarbeam’s armour and immediately gave it up at Dream’s request. This is just Dream giving Tommy a “reward” for being compliant after punishing him. Also pointing out the fact that Tommy felt compelled to thank Dream even if Dream was the one who caused the issue he just fixed in the first place. Also Connor arrives as well.

“Yeah you can’t move into my home Connor” “Well I mean, of course he can because it’s not your home because you’re not going back” “What do you mean I’m not going back?” “Well as I said maybe potentially you could get a visitors pass” (reiterating a point from the start)

“Tubbo- Tubbo said that! Tubbo said it [the server] looked so much better since Tommy left. And I was like ‘wait what?’ and he’s like: ‘yeah it could be a coincidence though but I don’t think so'” (you manipulative green bastard)

“I don’t know if you know this but I’ve been constructing a- a uh- a prison and it is ginormous so...” (I did not remember Dream mentioning the prison this early on)

Anyway, the stream ends with Dream stripping for primes and since I need it, I decided that that’s canon.

[wevegottogetaway]

El Patrón

I’m so excited to finally be posting this piece. I’ve been working on it for the past few days and it’s been consuming my mind. If you like angst, smut, art student Harry, and great plot twists, this story is for you, so buckle up, cause you’ve got 13700 and then some waiting for you! And on that note, I don’t thing I have many words left in my brain... so, hope you enjoy xx

TW: smut, fool language

After her first day back to classes, Y/n is not surprised to see Harry Styles’ lanky frame standing behind the bar of Bottom’s Up. She hoped that he would bugger off to work some place else but alas, all her summer prayers were unanswered. For yet another semester, she would have to endure bartending by his sides, trying with all her might not to jab a corkscrew at his throat every time he opened his gob. Granted, she could have switched jobs herself, but the pay is too good to turn down and the bar sits literally right around the corner from her place; a match made in heaven if you ask her. Besides, she’s been mastering the art of tuning out the insufferable green-eyed prick for two years now, so what’s one more? Of course, knowing it is likely to be the last - having just kicked off the final year of her psychology major - makes the news easier to stomach. And with any luck, the fool did some sort of soul-searching over the break and came back a changed man.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her delightful presence again. Knew you couldn’t stand to live without me, y/l/n." Harry greets her with a smirk as he looks up from his phone. 

Well, some much for change, but luck has never been on y/n’s side anyway; she knew it was wishful thinking to entertain the idea of a pleasant or even tolerable Harry. "Shut it, Styles. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit," she quips back and goes straight to the employee’s locker room to dispose of her stuff and swap her top for one bearing the bar’s logo. Once done, she takes a brief look in the tattered mirror still hanging by the door to readjust her ponytail, before joining her co-worker behind the counter. The bar is rather quiet for now, clock having not chimes 6pm yet, but y/n expects the place to be soon crawling with students drinking the classes’ return off their mind. 

The next few minutes are spent in unexpected peaceful silence, y/n prepping for the upcoming rush while Harry idly sits by, not lifting a single finger to help her out. Admittedly, he’s completed all his pre-shift duties during the last hour, but y/n doesn’t think it warrants the smug look painted on his face as he watches her battle a jar of olives with an old opener and  a concentrated frown. So peaceful silence was a bit of a stretch, maybe.

Then to make matters worse he decides to taunt her, "I see you’ve grown zero muscle strength over the break. Too busy vegetating on the beach?" 

The surge of anger triggered by the provocation is enough impetus for her to crack the can open, but it doesn’t stop her from turning to face him, "I see you’ve grown zero neuron in that thick head of yours. Too busy making people miserable instead?" she counters with flaring nostrils and a look of disdain hardening her features.

"Ah, still got a feisty mouth on you. ‘Was worried you might turn soft on us." Harry sasses back, but y/n doesn’t bother telling him off this time. No matter how strong her comeback, he’ll just brush it off with that smile of his that irritates her to no end. That’s the thing with Harry, the bastard has the thickest skin of all, he’s downright unattainable. And believe it or not, bad-mouthing doesn’t come naturally to y/n, he just seems to draw it out of her, perhaps as the trigger of some kind of survival instinct. Time and time again she’s tried to come up with a quip that would leave him speechless, tail between his legs, but he always has a wittier reply to throw back at her. For so long they’ve been playing this debilitating game of ping pong and she has yet to claim a point to his countless wins. 

It’d been the case since their first meeting on that dreadful Friday two years ago. Y/n was about to embark on her second year at uni and decided to get a job so she could afford her own place instead of the dreary dorms she’d gotten used to. Bottom’s Up had seemed to be the perfect choice, a 2 minutes walk from the sweet little apartment she’d just visited a few days prior. She’d been excited for her first shift that night, air still warm from the Indian summer sun drawing a plethora of eager students to come enjoy their last day of freedom. Her happy jitters had quickly dissolved once she’d made her way in the staff-only area located behind the bar though. There, she’d walked in on a very frustrated Harry vociferating at a lost-looking colleague, "how many times do you have to fuck up before doing your bloody job, Steve? Stop sitting on your lazy ass, or I swear I’ll-" 

She’d come to this Steve guy’s defense then, furious at the tall curly hair jerk for bullying his way around, "stop it, you asshole. You can’t talk to people like trash, who do you think you are?" Granted, she didn’t know it at the time, but the lost look on Steve's face was in fact pretty standard for the amount of weed in his system; nor did she know that the lad could actually win the Olympics of lazy asses hands down, should such a discipline be appended. It was too late to call off the hostilities though. War had been declared, and aside maybe from that one time he had graciously accepted to cover for her when she’d had a trip to Brighton planned for one of her classes, no truce had ever been reached. Besides, she’s sure it was more so because he was low on cash rather than to fulfill the hidden desire to help her out for once in his life.

Now, as she finishes wiping her work surface with a wet cloth, y/n wishes more than ever to be teleported in a parallel universe where she doesn’t have to work with the bane of her existence, much less see his annoyingly handsome face four times a week. (Also, exams would only be optional in this alternate reality of hers, but that’s another fantasy for another day.) Mainly, she’s just glad she doesn’t see him around campus ever, the art building standing all the way across from the psychology department. At least she’s Harry-free the moment she steps out of the bar; she’d probably have a nervous breakdown if she had to put up with his antics outside of work.

                                                       ***

A month in the new semester, the novelty of it all has finally worn off to make way for routines to settle in. Y/n’s weeks now consist in a well-practiced cycle of sleep, study, eat, work and occasionally go out with her best friend Mia. Her shifts at Bottom’s Up still prove to be challenging because of the company she’s forced to keep but things seem to have calmed down at the bar too. Students are now less inclined to party the week away, mainly indulging during the second half of the week, but more importantly, Harry appears to be less of a smug bastard and more of a sulky sod. For some reason, the lad has been stuck in a sullen mood, constant frown wrinkling his forehead. He has reverted to distant one-word answers as though he is saving a dictionary worth of words for whatever conundrum is going on in his brain. Y/n doesn’t mind though, and almost welcomes the transition if it means less digs taken at her expense.

Now y/n finds herself on her way to the campus library for a much needed paper-writing cramming session (the assignment is due the following day and she barely has two thirds of the work completed). After a quick stop by the coffee shop down the block, she finally strides in the lobby of the library, ready to dive nose first into the riveting matters of cognitive psychology. She’s already so focused mulling over concepts’ definition in her mind, that it takes her a minute to realize something is going on.

It’s nothing major really, no big fire rushing around the premises or fist-fight breaking the crowd into a frenzy. No, just everyone seemingly hushing and gasping, bewildered expressions etched upon their faces as they keep pointing towards the nearby study room. Truthfully, y/n might have been completely oblivious to it, it she weren’t a psychology major; but reading people’s feelings and interactions is kind of her thing, so she does notice the bubbly energy infiltrating the usually quiet space. What could possibly have them so intrigued, she wonders as more students come out of the room with the same looks of wonder.

Her confusion is finally quelled when she steps into the study room in question and her eyes fall on what has everyone so engaged. On the wall to her right, between two sets of shelves brimming with decades-old books, hangs a life size canvas of audacious shapes and bold colors. Not one seems to have been left out, the painting seemingly transporting the viewer in a psychedelic albeit appealing trance. It’s full of contrasts, an embodiment of serenity and boldness at the same time, and y/n can’t stop ogling the masterpiece for the life of her. The amount of passion is so obviously overwhelming, yet she can feel all of the artist’s emotions underneath each of the brushstrokes.  

After another minute of wondrous observation, her thoughts are interrupted by a foreign voice. "El Patrón? I wonder who that could be," the stranger wonders aloud, and her eyes immediately drift off to the bottom right of the painting to catch the small but unmistakable signature: black cursive letter spelling the two words withholding the real artist’s identity. The mystery only adds up to the appeal of the work and y/n already feels a bubbling feeling in the pit of her stomach at the idea of ever finding out what beautiful soul is responsible for such mind-bending work. She hopes this won’t be last she sees of it. 

                                                       ***

It’s Friday night and unfortunately for y/n, she’s stuck at work with her least favorite person in the world. It’s all the more unfortunate that Harry seems to be back to his usual annoying self, his thoughts finally free from whatever trouble had plagued them, and eager to fall back into nuisance mode. Less unfortunate for y/n and much to Harry’s discontent, Mia decided to stop by and keep her company. Though she feels slightly sorry for her having the act as her buffer for the night, y/n figures she’s more than making up for it with every free cocktail she keeps sliding towards her friend. Their conversation is scattered at best since patrons keep interrupting them for a fresh pint of ale, but as the night slowly dies down they manage to talk longer than 20 seconds.

The manager of the bar has long clocked off and gone home, as per usual on Friday nights, leaving both her and Harry the pleasure to indulge in a few drinks of their own. They don’t do it every week and always keep it low-key of course; Mia’s tonight presence mostly accounting for y/n’s partaking while Harry just likes a nice glass of tequila when the week-end comes around and there’s nobody to tell him off about it. One thing they never do though, is drink together, like two friends celebrating yet another week they survived at uni. Come to think of it, the only thing they do share is a job position and their never-ending bickering. Cheers to that, y/n takes another sip of her gin martini in sarcasm. 

She’s brought back to reality by Mia as the tipsy brunette lets out a loud gasp before she inquires in a slightly high-pitched voice, "y/n! totally forgot to tell you, went by the library today and you’ll never guess what was there!" 

"Oh my god, you saw the painting too, didn’t you" y/n answers, excited at the idea of discussing the whole thing with her best friend. Truth be told, the majestic work of art hasn’t left her mind since she’d first seen it a few days before. 

"Yes" Mia squeals in confirmation, "I mean, it’s kinda impossible to miss. I wonder how they got it there without anyone seeing."

Y/n has wondered the same thing and she came to one conclusion, "they probably sneaked in last Sunday after the library closed, it’s the only time the building is empty," Mia humming in agreement. The campus library is opened 24/7 all days except on Sundays, so realistically speaking it is the only window of time that would allow for such an experiment. Whether said experiment required an actual break-in or was conducted in full legality remains a mystery but that is just bygones in y/n’s eyes. She’s much to mesmerized by the work to give a damn about how it got there in the first place. 

"Oi y/l/n! What are you two fawning over this time" Harry chirps in the conversation, uninvited as always, and y/n hates how condescending he just sounded.

"Not that you could ever understand something with substance, if your lack thereof is any indication, but it’s none of your damn business," y/n spats out dismissively but Mia’s Margarita-induced brain seems to have forgotten all about their concerted hatred for piss-taking bartenders.

"Harry, you’re an art major aren’t you? D’you know who’s behind that beautiful painting at the library?" 

Y/n tilts her head back in a sigh at her friend’s behavior before turning to watch the puzzled look on Harry’s face. He seems to silently gauge the both of them; for what, y/n doesn’t know, and then his whole expression switched to a blasé look. He shrugs in disinterest, "who cares? ’s just one more Banksy wannabe who’s trying at it too hard ‘f you ask me." 

Y/n takes it as a personal offense, her admiration for the painting outweighing any instinct she has of avoiding the brazen man taking a sip of his tequila on rocks across from her, "of course you’d say something like that. You’re just jealous you’ll never compete with his talent."

Harry raises a brow at her accusation, "and how would you know since you’ve never seen any of my work?" 

It’s a valid point, but not enough to rebut her. "Doesn’t take a genius to know a shallow mind like yours could never create something as deep and transcending. That would require actual emotions from you Harry and we both know the only emotion you’re capable of spreading is irritation." 

For once she’s confident she’s gonna have the last word, but in true Harry fashion he just gives her a bored look as if to say ‘is that all?’ towel thrown over his shoulder, "right, and here I thought talking to people like trash was a bad thing. You should really take a page out of your own book, y/n, wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re as big of a jerk as I am." Then he turns back to face the room full of customers, and tends to one disheveled looking guy slurring out an order. 

Y/n barely registers the friendly "alright Joe, but ’s the last one," Harry rasps out to the guy, her ears are still ringing from the last words he’d said to her. More specifically, the little truth they held despite how much he deserved the backlash, and y/n absolutely loathes the way her throat seems to be closing in on itself. She’s afraid she’s turning like him, bitter words at the ready and always trying to outdo his own taunting spiels. Before anxiety can settle in her bones though, she swallows back the knot tightening in her airways and goes back to serving customers and conversing with her friend.

                                                        ***

The next time it happens, she expects it even less. A couple weeks have passed since her gruesome interaction with Harry at the bar, and along with her doubts, all thoughts about art have seemed to vanish from her busy mind. She’s had a few tests occupying all her free time and now that they’ve been done and over with, all she can think about is calling Mia up to plan their next night out; she needs a few drinks that she didn’t make for once. 

She’s about to take her phone out of her pocket to send her best friend a text, when she enters the lecture hall of her Monday experimental method and research design class. The déjà-vu feeling that creeps up her spine stops her from completing the action, and y/n frowns at how her fellow students seem to be all entranced in deep conversation, exchanging baffled looks with one another. Even the sleeping kid that sits at the back seems to be more alert than during their last fire evacuation procedure test. 

It’s then y/n turns around to see what is hanging at the front of the room, covering the large board. This time, the colors were carefully handpicked by the artists, flashes of pink and yellow dancing along to a frenzied rhythm of salsa as their union creates powerful jets of oranges across the canvas. It vaguely reminds her of the pendant she wears on a daily basis, rose gold laurels wrapped around a delicate sunflower, an orange topaz incrusted in its center. The painting is of abstract nature much like the last one, but the movements of the brush still bring her mind back to the jewel presently nestled between her collarbones. How odd.

The piece is slightly smaller than the last but no less impressive, catching the attention of even the least artistic eye. The sensibility of the artist is so distinct, intentions clearer and more in touch than most people with their own. For a second, y/n thinks she’s glad the pieces have only been ones of unadulterated happiness and colorful bliss so far, because god knows how heart-wrenching the outcome would be if all this uncorrupted honesty was used to fill canvas with pain.

As the professor enters the room, everybody settles back on their seat, and wait for the chap’s reaction. "Well, that sure is something. It seems we have a bit of a mystery painter on our hands, don’t we; and a talented one at that," y/n’s professor smiles at the class as he pulls a computer out of his satchel and places it at top of the front desk. His words make her look back at the artwork, this time settling on the small signature reading El Patrón on its corner. And it’s all it takes for Y/n’s obsession with the anonymous artist to be back in full force.

                                                       ***

That night she can’t stop raving about the painting as she starts closing the bar after a long and tiresome shift. She’s got a shoulder pressing her phone to her ear, Mia on the line, while she absentmindedly sweeps the floor. Normally the exertion of the job would have her stifling yawns and her bones aching but tonight her voice is perky as ever as she recollects the pinnacle of her day, "you shoulda been there Mia, it was gorgeous. And same as last time, like you’d be minding your business, doing your thing and then boom, it’s there. Damn, this guy is a genius."

As she comes back around the counter, Harry makes sure she notices the roll of his eyes. He’s been wiping and tidying the bar space after making sure everything is stocked up for the next day, all the while listening to her drone about El Patrón and his stroke of genius, praise after praise falling from her lips. She completely brushes off the patronizing gesture and that’s perhaps what irritates him the most. She’s barely acknowledging him or his stunts with all her attention placed on the mystery painter and well, Harry quite likes riling her up. Doesn’t do it out of spite, but merely because he likes the way it ignites a fire in her that he’s seldom seen in people. But now, all her fire is directed elsewhere and he doesn’t know what to think of it.

                                                         ***

Over the next month, the rumors around El Patrón spread like wildfire as more and more of his works are found scattered around campus. Much to y/n’s delight, she always seems to fall upon them as though they’ve been placed specifically on her path. It didn’t start as obvious though; the first following pieces hung in common areas around campus such as the lunch hall or the student center but as time went by they tended to follow her whereabouts somehow. Y/n knows she’s probably fabulating but when she’d stumble across two absolutely stunning pieces in the lobby of her gym and at the entrance of the psychology building, she couldn’t help but feel deeply attached to them. And the possibility that this mystery artist might have the same attachment to her, only fuels her obsession further, sending her reeling with all but one nerve-wracking question: who is this guy?

And it’s not like she’s the only one pondering over their identity either. Hell, the genius has literally everyone on campus under their spell, trying to uncover the enigma of the year. Everyone seems to be determined to find clues, easter eggs hidden within the paintings that could lead them closer to the truth. El Patrón has effectively turned the whole uni into a large-scale game of Cluedo, people speculating left and right and swapping theories about who it can or cannot be, what year they are probably in, or whether they have an accomplice. Nobody has ever executed such a tour de force in the history of campus, and it has everyone one edge, y/n included, desperate to be in the loop.

The fact that each painting is more beautiful than the last and always seems to connect with her in personal ways doesn’t help her daydreaming either. Take the one she found at the gym for example, for a few second she’d sworn she was looking at a familiar piece of the English South Coast, dark hues of blue fighting dots of white, reminiscent of the way foam always seems to top even the most raging waves as they crash along shores. She’d only had to close her eyes to feel the wind blowing her hair in a thousand directions and the sand engulfing her feet, making its way between her toes and every crevice of her skin. She was still in the middle of her gym when she reopened them though, her sport bag straddling her shoulder as she kept gaping at the painting in adoration.

Her suspicious keeps nagging at her head, the desire to unveil the identity of her beloved artist getting stronger by the day. The feeling is almost unbearable when she spots yet another work of his across from Bottom’s Up. The coincidences keep piling up and the more she mulls it over, the more she’s convinced this mystery guy is talking to her. Damn, is it possible to have a crush on someone because of their work? After months of this cryptic scavenger hunt, she’d dying to know if all her theories are right and the fact that she has no way to find out, is positively killer her.

That’s why when she stumbles across a flyer for a midterm exhibition gala hosted by the art department as she waits in line at her favorite coffee shop, she doesn’t think twice before jotting down all the info. In a week time, most of the uni’s art students would be gathered up in one place to present their term’s work. The chances are too high for y/n to pass up the opportunity, her guts telling her he’ll be there. It makes sense doesn’t it? Surely, this El Patrón ought to be an art student if not a teacher. How else would they have access to all the campus amenities most of the paintings were found in? 

As she goes to pick up her coffee from the counter, y/n walks with a newfound spring in her steps; she really can’t wait for this gala to happen.

                                                       ***

Y/n stands at the entrance of the art building, a black floor-length long-sleeves open-back dress hugging her curves in all the right places. Her heart speeds up at the nervous jitters crawling underneath her skin, and the million question swarming her frantic mind. What if he actually doesn’t know her and doesn’t give a damn about her thoughts on his work? What if it’s actually a woman and she’s been hiding a man’s pen-name to consolidate her deceit? Is she about to make the biggest fool out of herself by coming to this exhibition? She doesn’t know anyone here, nor has she ever been to this kind of event before but she’s decided this guessing game has run its course. Maybe this all thing has nothing to do with her and that’s okay. All she really wants is to have a chance to tell this exquisite mind how remarkable their work is; the rest be damned.

Y/n slowly makes her way inside, and after a quick stop at the coat room to dispose of the unnecessary garment, she is finally greeted by a room full of dressed-up people roaming  and chatting around, champagne flutes in hands. How cliche, she thinks with humor, before picking up a glass of the bubbly beverage. It’ll help sooth the nerves, she reasons as she starts walking around the place to observe each of the displays. Despite not having had a glimpse of her number-one painter yet, she finds herself having a good time. Most of the work offered to her is engaging in one way or another; some pieces quite provocative is their depiction, others straight out pushing the limits of 2D, with structures coming out of the canvas as though they were about to grip at the viewer. 

Turning at a corner, she comes across his art before she sees him, having almost forgotten art was supposedly his thing too, and she realizes she actually knew someone here apart from the mysterious painter. She takes a brief look at his tall frame, the baby blue suit over his crisp white shirt fitting him perfectly. A black tie is completing the look, and it makes y/n waver for a second. She’s never seen him dressed in anything other than jeans and the bar’s t-shirt every employee is supposed to wear on call. Granted, even that he can make work better than anyone else she can think of, but that suit is something else altogether. 

Her eyes shifts back to his work, not wanting to waste too much time on his appearance; she is here on a mission after all. She can’t deny his painting is good as much as she wants too. It’s made of a perfectly executed optic illusion that has her pause for longer than she intended to. The colors are picked wisely only adding to the entrancing design, tempting the viewer to reach out to the painting to convince themselves that this is fact a pretty subterfuge and no reality; the frontier between both worlds much too hard to distinguish. Just like for the rest of the exhibition, a single plaque hangs underneath the canvas, introducing the title of the piece above the name of its artist: Fine Line by Harry Styles. Damn, the bastard had to be talented…

"Is it as depthless as you thought it would be?" A hoarse voice interrupts her inner thoughts. She knows it’s his at the first word and already she regrets ever thinking positive things about him.

"Funny, I would have shared a compliment but you just had to go and open your stupid mouth," she bites back as she fully turns around to face him. She can feel is eyes shamelessly scanning her body, sending her nerves on overdrive. She wants this exchange to be as curt as possible, she’s got important matters to tend to.

"Here for you mysterious bloke, I presume?" he inquires in a taunting voice.

"What’s it to you, anyway?" y/n dodges the question with another, hoping it’ll steer the conversation toward its end.

She’s answered by rosy pouting lips, a hand on his heart in faux vexation, "ouch, was just hopin’ you’d come to see me, and now you’ve just crushed my dreams, love."

The pet-name is not lost on her and Y/n has had enough. In own gulp she downs the rest of her champagne and forces the glass to his chest for him to hold as she makes her way past him, "just leave me alone and go be a pain in someone else’s ass, Harry." She doesn’t wait to see if he’s following her as she marches across the room in long and purposeful strides. 

Something in the corner of her eyes catches her attention right then. Halting abruptly, almost making someone walk right into her, she turns her head to the side and that’s when she finally sees it. A whole part of the wall has been dedicated to his work, a shrine of his most outstanding pieces randomly hung against the white surface. Y/n recognizes each and every one of them, but then her eyes take in the extra work added for the exhibition: next to each of the pieces are displayed a bunch of photos capturing the students’ expressions as they first discovered the paintings. Dozens of faces lighting up in amazement, widening eyes and finger pointing at the unexpected intrusions; some show confusion and puzzlement while others simply behold laughter and animated conversation.

In the center of the wall, a video is projected. It’s a compilation of those same moments but this time captured on tape. The sound was removed, but as y/n takes in the faces of her fellow students she can almost hear the sound of their laughters; she’d been there for most of it after all. She thinks the idea is amazing, El Patrón has managed to make the viewer a permanent part of the art. The paintings are marvelous of course, full of emotions and passion, but the mysterious artist has gone one step further by also displaying how those emotions had reflected back on the audience. It is an ode to art, to the power of sharing, and proves art is limitless; not owned by museums, not bound between walls and certainly not restricted for trained-eyes only. Because art isn’t all about beauty, it speaks for the need for sharing that human have but often forget, and this is a perfect reminder of it.

The next tape playing has her eyes doubling over the video, a small gasp escaping her lips as she takes in her own figure. It was taken the day she found the painting at the gym and unlike all the other videos she’s alone. No group of students by her side elbowing her in disbelief, or sharing a puzzle look with her. Just her doe eyes gleaming at the painting, lips slightly parted in pure wonder, as she studies every inch of the canvas. And the feeling that this might mean just as much to him as it does to her comes back crashing on her. She’s not paranoid; this artist his using her as some kind of inspiration, she’s sure of it. Random cannot be this accurate, it would defy any laws of statistics. 

After the slideshow finally moves on to the next video, y/n looks around in the hopes of finding the man that has wormed his way into her heart. She’s imagined it a thousand times over during the past week. A young man would be discretely standing on the side, watching the evening pan out and waiting for her to find his work. Then they would make eye contact and he’d make his way over to greet her and share more of his beautiful mind with her. That’s the happily ever after she’s hoped for since that first painting in the library, but alas everyone around her seems to be engrossed in conversation about this and that. 

"I thought he would be there too," the unexpected voice makes her jump. She recognizes the student from that first day, she’d also be intrigued by the mysterious man.

"I know, all of his work is here, he has to somewhere around," y/n tries to convince herself. She hasn’t given up yet, she won’t let herself unless she goes home tonight empty-handed. Only after that will she stop searching, she promises herself. If he doesn’t show up tonight, then that’s because he doesn’t want to be found.

The girl next to her has the same disappointed tone when she explains, "you’d think so, but I’ve been asking everyone around and nobody has a clue still."

Before y/n can come up with her own rationalizations, someone starts speaking in a microphone, asking for everyone’s attention. It’s a man in his early fifties making a speech about the whole reason behind the exhibition so y/n pegs him as the head of the art department. "Thank you all for coming tonight, it is always a pleasure to see so many of you supporting our young talents. As you may know, tonight’s exhibition signs off our students’ final work for the semester, and will also see one of them receive a one-time collaboration with a renown art gallery in the city. Now, before the judges finish deliberating, let me tell you a bit about the topic of this exhibition which, by the way, serves as the main criteria for this contest. Our artists were asked to work around audience engagement and crowd reaction. The task was to produce art that would prompt an active response from the viewer and go beyond a passive experience. I hope this info helps this event take all its sense, I’ll let you all meander for a couple more minutes before we announce the winner. Thank you for your presence." 

Since she has a couple more of minutes, y/n decides to take advantage of the fresh insight she was just given about the artwork and goes around the exhibition one more time. The whole thing does take on a new meaning, now that she knows what was going one in the students’ mind as they first got their assignment. But what has her in awe really, is El Patrón’s coup de maître in all of this, because unlike any other applicant here tonight, he’s had the strongest reactions from the public for months now and had even documented it. So really, in a way he’s already won, no bias to blame. The amount of work and planning behind such a tour de force surely has exceeded everyone’s expectations and secured the number-one position for the still-to-be-revealed artist. In the pocket, as they say.

"Alright everyone, without further ado we are going to announce the lucky talent selected by the judges tonight," the head of department speaks up again. "On behalf of the whole department, I would like to salute each and every one of the students that presented their work tonight. Skills are certainly not scarce among you all, and as always it gives me great pleasure to see you all grow into yourselves alongside your craft. As you know, there can only be one of you coming up to this stage tonight and I must say, this semester has proved to be full of surprises. Never in my 26 years working here have I ever seen something of the sort, so ladies, gentleman, I have no idea who is about to join me now, but please give a warm round of applause for El Patrón!" 

The room explodes in loud cheers as people clap their hands in honor of the mysterious artist. Y/n probably the loudest amongst them all, is still craning her neck in every possible directions trying to catch sight of anyone moving towards the stage. The standing ovation quickly fades into silence as everyone realizes nobody is coming to claim their prize. The usual hushing following any of El Patrón’s stunts is once again spreading across the room to match people’s incredulity at the situation. It was one thing to keep their identity a secret, as it was clearly a crucial condition for the plan to work, but now that it is all over and done, prize ready for the taking, it doesn’t make much sense.

"Mister El Patrón? I think you more than deserve to drop your mask and receive your prize," the host reiterates in hopes that the much awaited artist comes out of his lair, but he’s met with the same result. Perhaps he’s not here after all, or perhaps y/n was right to think he might not want to be found, but regardless a strong feeling of disappointment takes over a body. He won’t be coming, she knows. No matter how many times the host calls for him, he won’t be coming. 

She lets out a long sign in frustration then, she really thought tonight was the tonight. But now that the evening is coming to its end, tears pearl at the corner of her eyes and she just wants to go home and forget all about El Patrón. Aren’t artists supposed to be dark and twisted anyway? Maybe she just dodges a bullet, she tries to make herself feel better, but no amount of sarcasm can save her from the painful pinch at her heart. As she comes to term with the fact she won’t get any more answers by staying (and possible ever), she decides it’s her cue to go. 

On her way to the exit, her eyes fall upon Harry’s slightly hunched figure. He seems deep in his thoughts, eyes fixed towards the floor though he’s not looking at anything in particular. For some unknown reason, y/n is not irked by his presence like she usually is. He’s just lost a great career opportunity so his preoccupied disposition is understandable. Feeling as though she needs to end the night on a different note - whether positive is yet to be determined - she approaches him slowly as not to startle him. "Your painting is really good. I’m sorry you didn’t win, but you should still be proud," she softly tells him to cheer him up. At least, one of them might get to go home in higher spirits. 

He looks up at her then, curls bouncing on top of his head, as he aligns his two glistening emeralds to her own gems. He seems quite surprised to hear her voice, probably rightfully so since he can count on one hand (scratch that, one finger) the number of times she’s actively sought him out for conversation. She can tell he’s debating whether to say something or not, as they keep their eyes locked. It’s probably the longest and only civil exchange they’ve ever had, and somehow it manages to soothe some of her sorrows. 

Y/n likes this reflective side of him, she realizes. Not that she wishes him any torments (at least not tonight) but his quietness makes him look vulnerable in that beautifully human way for once. That’s twice he’s proven her wrong about the assumptions she had on him, tonight: first his talent, now his character; she doesn’t know what to make of it. Silently, she accepts the timid smile and light nod he offers her in gratitude, before making her way to out at last.

                                                       ***

Two days after the night of the exhibition, y/n still has a hard time to let her grievance go. Her mood has yet to upgrade from crappy at best, and the fact that all the artwork has been removed from their previous spots is not helping much. Of course she knew they had been put down for the big night, but her heart still missed a beat when she went to the gym only to find the walls of the lobby bare of any craft that would liven up their otherwise dull and colorless structure. Just like her state of mind, she’d joked. And y/n is not one to throw pity parties, especially to herself; but then again, she’d never fallen under the charms of a faceless virtuoso because his art brought to life parts of her that she’d believed otherwise dormant, only to be metaphorically stood up at the end of the process. So really, what does she know anymore?

Now that she’s back at work, she revels in the constant effort she has to provide. The ever-growing list of task to complete gives her mind reprieve and focus, but she still hasn’t budged from her unusually distant and withdrawn self. Even harry’s own standoffishness hasn’t caught her attention; a week ago, his awkward demeanor would have flashed red flags all over her radar. An unfiltered narcissistic prick he could be, but y/n has never known him to be anything even resembling reserve; apart maybe from that one fate-less night not even 72 hours ago when she found him on the outskirts of the attention even though she knew full well that he is more of center kind of guy.

As they’re about to start closing, the awkwardness becomes more palpable by the second. They’ve skirted around it during the whole shift, the steady solicitation of customers enough to ignore the growing tension; but as the last of the patrons finally make their way out of the bar, an eery silence settles in their wake, making them both want to crawl out of their skin. Even the heavy-served drinks they’ve indulged in, despite the absence of their respective motives, hasn’t help assuage the strain between them. Instead, they start their usual routine in overrated silence, y/n in charge of the floor while he tends to the bar. Then before long, Harry bursts the uncomfortable bubble they’ve locked themselves in, voice void of its usual teasing tone, "so, what’s got you so grumpy?" he inquires.

"Please don’t start, Harry. I really can’t be bothered tonight," y/n sighs in response, failing to recognize the note of concern in his question and thinking she wouldn’t survive another bickering session. It hasn’t been the lad’s intention though, so her false accusation has his thick skin itching against his will. To be honest, Harry’s never taken much offense from any of their past squabbles no matter how hard she’d come at him, but this one he can’t brush off. Not when for once, he’s trying to be decent, dropping the attitude he knows rubs her the wrong way and she responds by telling him to get lost.

"Fuck sake, I wasn’t tryin’ to start anythin’" he berates her for lashing out unjustifiably, "you need to take a chill pill." The hostile reaction as her pausing mid-swipe in the middle of the room. He was always so unbothered by everything she said, she hasn’t expected him to be so hard on the defensive (or even know what a defensive is in the first place). 

Still, she doesn’t appreciate the same chastising tactic he’s used on her countless times, especially because given his serious temper, she knows he means it for real now. "Oh I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t know what sympathy actually sounds like coming from your mouth," she quips back in sarcasm. 

The response makes him livid, "you tell me I’m a jerk every chance you got, but you sure know how to be a bitch, y/n" he spats before finishing wiping the counter. As his hand reaches the end of the surface, he finds his half-empty glass of tequila, most of the ice completely melted through the amber liquor by now. He takes one long sip in a vain attempt to calm his nerves but the alcohol merely tingles the back of his palate and warms its way down his stomach. His mind is still burden with frustrations he doesn’t know how to alleviate; the end of term, the exhibition, his career’s future, and y/n’s stubborn nature all wreaking havoc in his tired brain.

"Shut the fuck up, Harry. I didn’t ask for your attention," y/n retorts, trying not to expose how bruised her heart is. While he’d mocked her plenty during the past two years, he’d never resorted to calling her names, unlike her; so the insult does more damage than she’s willing to admit, even coming from Harry. And to think she’d thought of him as a half decent being not three days ago…

"Right, I forgot only anonymous bastards are worthy enough of your attention," he replies before checking the shelves behind the bar to make sure they’re stocked enough for the next shift. "And even when they turn out to be cowards, you still choose them over the people that are actually around you. You need to open your eyes and wake up, it’s pathetic."

Y/n has almost finished cleaning her area but at this point, she’s ready to call it quits and run as fast as she can, away from him. "Go fuck yourself, you don’t know anything you’re talking about," she manages to croak past her swelling throat and quivering lips. The man in front of her is breaking her heart even though he’s never had it in his calloused hands, and y/n doesn’t know why. 

"Fuck this, ’m done," he quite literally throws in the towel, leaving it in a bowl on the counter before making his way back to his drink. In a swift movement, he grabs the bottle of tequila to pour himself a new one. "You keep blindly mopin’ about your precious painter, I don’t care, you’re probably right anyway," he says before chugging the bitter spirit in one go and slamming the bottle of tequila down on the counter in a loud bang that has y/n jump in fear. "I don’t anything about bloody anything," is all Harry says as he locks eyes with hers, before making his out of the bar, not bothering to put the bottle back to its rightful place.

Y/n is still trembling from the exchange, and it takes her a hot minute before she can finish what she was doing. As she resumes wiping the floor with shaky hands, she tries to even her breath out. Why had he been so hurtful? What could have possibly impelled him to utter such malicious words? The questions are still reeling in her mind as she twists water out of the mop  for the last time. Once the floor is spotless and all the tables are no longer sticky with spilled alcohol, chairs stacked up onto them upside-down, she makes her way back behind the bar, checking that Harry didn’t leave any of his duties unattended before his theatrical exit. She spots the bottle of tequila sitting lonely on the counter but just as she goes to reach for it, she freezes. 

It’s a cold shower pouring over her body all at once then, dots finally connected as her eyes read over the label of the fat bottle she’s seen him take out of the stack countless times before. Everything that happened for the last few months falls into place and suddenly there is no mystery left to be solved. ‘You’re probably right, I don’t know anything about bloody anything’ Harry’s final words keep playing on a maddening loop in her head. 

Y/n takes in the small bee design printed under what is unmistakably the last piece of the puzzle she’s been craving to complete: one word that has her stomach churning in a myriad of emotions she can’t possibly untangle. Anger, relief, surprise, fear, curiosity, warmth and more, are all rushing through her in one colossal wave, because printed on that bottle in black capital letters is the brand of Harry’s favorite drink: Patrón.

                                                       ***

The next day, y/n navigates through her classes purely on autopilot mode. She doesn’t quite remember picking the floral blouse nor the light-shade pair of jeans she’s wearing, and barely recalls the brief conversation she had with an old lady during her bus commute to campus. One thing she sure as hell hasn’t paid one iota of attention to, is the behavioral psychology class she’s just got out of. Two hours she spent pacing up and down every twist and turn of her mind only to come out more lost than she’d started. Add to that the fact she’s running on 4 hours of sleep, she’s quite simply a recipe for disaster. Fortunately for y/n, she isn’t due at work tonight, having called sick this morning, because sleep-deprivation aside, she still has no idea how she’s supposed to face Harry.

The revelation of the night prior is still something she has trouble wrapping her mind around, as it goes against every constructed opinion she’s made about her life. Harry is Patrón, she’s pretty sure. Harry, the allegedly conceited asshole she’s been bickering with since their first minute spent together, is the mind-blowing painter that had taken residence in y/n’s heart since the first time she set eyes on his art. The two characters have yet to fully merge into one in her mind, despite the fact it makes perfect sense to her. 

The Brighton painting, the one inspiring her necklace, it was all true. And with that revelation comes two intimidating truths y/n is kind of scared to delve into: one, all this time she’s been right to think she is the muse behind this all scheme; two, if Harry is the mystery painter, that makes her Harry’s muse more specifically. And that’s the part of the equation she struggles the most with, because up until last night she was pretty positive that the twat despised her (the night in itself being prime evidence of that) but now she doesn’t know what to think.

It’s like there are two versions of Harry battling in her brain, splitting her heart in halves; the one that made her miserable at work for years and made her cry last night, and the one she’d gotten a glimpse of at the night of the exhibition. The one that hid a fully blossomed bouquet of emotions behind teasing banter to protect a diamond-rough talent that had the power to touch just about anyone’s sensibility. The one that had her wrapped around his finger in awe with that beautiful mind of his. The question is, can she or will she see this Harry the next time she’s facing him or will all their bad-blood history come crashing down on her instead? Y/n doesn’t think she’s ever fit more the definition of having mixed feelings about something.

On her way home, she makes sure she doesn’t fall asleep against the bus window, despite yawning every thirty-seconds. It feels like the trip is taking forever, she almost lets out a cry of relief when the automated voice finally announces her upcoming stop. Once she’s thanked the driver and stepped out of the bus, she’s met with a gust of brisk air, instantly blowing her hair all over her face. She draws the lapels of her coat tighter around her shivering body and starts making her way towards her apartment building. 

It doesn’t take her long to complete the walking distance to her place and tread her way up the stairs, but the sight greeting her in the hallway of her floor almost sends her down on her ass. Because right across from her door, is Harry hanging yet another one of his chefs-d’oeuvre. He’s dressed casually in his usual jeans and t-shirt ensemble, with a thick grey hoodie covering his broad upper-half in a feeble attempt to combat to cold weather raging outside. As he reaches in the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a sharpie - no doubt to apply his trademark signature - the movements of her feet on the laminated floor catch his attention. Spinning around in a jolt of surprise, he realizes too late that he’s been caught red-handed. There was no going back this time, but he doesn’t necessarily see it as a bad thing.

There is a short moment where they are both just standing in front of each other a few feet apart, as their eyes bounce back in silent conversation, before y/n softly breaths out, "so it is you." The weight of her words has him swallow in nervousness, "of course it’s me," he replies in a gentle tone. A smile pulls at his lips when he realizes she’s not running for the hills or bursting out in a furious rant. 

"I just…how? why? I mean, you gotta help me understand Harry, cause I’m pretty fucking lost over here," she blurts out with wide doe-eyes begging him for answers. Her obvious jitters earn her a soft chuckle., and for a hot minute all he can bring himself to do is study her snuggled figure and the way she keeps fiddling with her keys. It’s so endearing to him, if they were at his place, he would have offered to make some tea. The thought has him hesitantly looking at the door across from them, "can we maybe talk inside?" he inquires, beckoning his head towards her place. "I know I haven’t given you much reasons to let me in, but I promise I’ll explain everythin’," he feels the need to convince her, " after that, you can kick me out if you still want."

The last bit has her smile timidly, "yeah, let’s go inside. I wanna hear what you have to say," y/n admits as she steps to the door and unlocks it. She’s intrigued by how gentle and well-mannered the man following her to the living room seems to be, light years away from the rowdy lad she’s come to know. 

For a second, y/n is worries about the state she’s left the apartment before she rushed to classes this morning, but her apprehensions quickly go away once she takes in the sight of her rather tidied living space. A velvety throw blanket is covering the couch in a makeshift comforter from the way she spent the night on the couch, and apart from a few class notes scattered across the coffee table, everything seems to be where it’s supposed to be. 

They both discard their top layers on the armchair adjacent to the couch, Harry slipping his hoodie off above his head in one swift gesture, while y/n simply lets the sleeves of her coat slide down her arms. He brushes his hair back into submission with one swoop of his hand, before sitting down on the couch and directing his attention back at her. She decides to leave some distance between them, taking the other end of the sofa and the move desperately makes him wonder what thoughts are running through her head. The only way to uncover them  however, is if he starts talking first; and so he does.

"So uhm," he starts clumsily, clearing his throat, "remember the first day we met, you walked in on me telling some stoner guy off," he watches closely as y/n nods. "It was our first ever conversation and we fought through the whole thing. I was pretty pissed when it happened, not gonna lie, but once I got home and slept it off, I thought it was really cool how you’d stand up for that random guy." The admission has her eyebrows raising but he keeps going, "and okay maybe, just maybe, I found it a lil hot, the way you tried to put me back in my place." 

He stops to make sure he hasn’t offended her, "tried to?" she challenges instead, Harry laughing at her objection. 

"Right, maybe you did. My poin’ is, no-one really calls me out on my bullshit, so it was kinda refreshing that you did. But then the next day, you were still mad at me, an’ we bickered that time too. It felt like you’d already made up your mind about me. So in a way, all I had left was doin’ this thing where I push your buttons and rile you up. Know it doesn’t make sense, but it was the only way you’d interact with me so I kept doin’ it, because being jerk-Harry was better than having nothin’." 

He pauses for a minute and waits as y/n swallows all the information. All this time he’s been teasing her just to have some sort of connection, no matter how perverse, while she thought he just hated her guts. When she shares this thought with him, he shakes his head with a smile, "never hated you. If I ‘ad, I wouldn’t have bothered talking t’you."

Suddenly, her chest feels lighter, as though all this months of anguish had evaporated from her mind, now that she knew their rocky relationship was the result of miscommunication, "sound logic, Styles," she replies in good humor. Then she remembers the El Patrón’s fiasco so she urges him to go on.

"My final. Right. Well as you know, we were given the assignment at the beginning of the semester, and I came up with the idea of creating this alter ego that would plant his work around campus. I thought by taking people’s by surprise I was guaranteed strong genuine reactions. People are always more opened when they don’t expect it. Like if I had just brought my paintings on the night of the exhibition, the same people wouldn’t have reacted that way, probably because they’d know they’d be observed so they would have adjusted their behavior accordingly." They both know he’s getting slightly off trail, but watching y/n so enthralled with his words makes it hard for him to stop. Fact is, for month she’s dreamed of meeting and picking at the brain of this mysterious painter, and now that he’s sitting on her couch, walking her through his thought process, she finally feels like she is. 

"Anyway," he resumes the storytelling, "I started with that painting in the library and it worked so perfectly, I knew if I followed the plan I would have somethin’ really good. But then you just had to go on an’ rave about the paintings without knowing they were mine, and it was killin’ me inside. Because I knew if there was a real chance I could change your mind about me, I’d do anythin’. But no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you. Couldn’t jeopardize my final… so I tried to tell you through the art. I started painting stuff that made me think of you and placed the pieces in locations I knew you’d pass through. It was the only way I could tell you."

Harry’s confession had Y/n’s heart beating so hard in her chest, she can almost feel it thumping through her ears. Her next question is on the edge of her lips, but she takes her time tracing each of Harry’s graceful features until his eyes catch hers, "tell me what, Harry?" she asks barely above a whisper. 

His response comes in three bashful steps: first his lips curve into a shy grin that has him look down with rosy cheeks; then his hand inches its way along the soft fabric of the couch to gently hold her fingers, thumb grazing over her knuckles; and as he looks up from their joined hands to connect their gaze once more, he finally spells it, loud and clear, "tell you that I like you, y/n." 

The sentiment sends her own emotions reeling in a tornado of passion. This is it, this is what she’s been half-knowingly wishing for, and now that she knows the truth in full, she’s ready to embrace it. Her eyes twinkle in bliss, a growing smile illuminating her face as she squeezes his hand in a silent invitation to slide closer to her. Harry is much happy to oblige, and once he’s sitting directly next to her, knees grazing her own, he cups her face with one of his bear-paw hands. A few strands of hair are caught in the cuddling gesture, but none of them care. Harry just keeps smiling at her, waiting for her next move, and his beam grows two sizes wide when she mirrors his affection. "I like this side of you," she whispers fondly, as her thumb draws slow circles across the skin of his cheeks.

Harry closes his eyes at her words, "this is the real me, I promise," he reassures in an almost pleading tone, vulnerability seeping through. And y/n feels like she’s lying down on cloud nine really, because dropping his fortress of pretentiousness is all she’s ever want from him. With a hushed ‘okay’, she finally brings her mouth to taste the rose-tinted flesh of his. It starts off chaste and slow, lips dovetailed in perfect symbioses like they are made to cohabit, but quickly the kiss heats up to a full on make out session. "Show me, then", y/n mutters out when they part for a breather.

Harry slowly nods his head, before helping her straddle his lap and y/n immediately brings both her hands to his neck once she settles her hips against his. The friction already had them deeply inhale, trying not to work themselves up too fast, but Harry doesn’t think he’ll have much self-control when it comes to y/n. Already he can feel his cock fattening up inside his brief, the tingling sensation making him roll his hips up into hers. Their lips are back in a sensual duel, tongues tentatively taking their turn to lick their way inside the other’s mouth. Every now and then, he teases her bottom lip with a graze of his teeth, and the move as her tugging the root of his hair at the back of his head every single time without a fail.

He loves discovering all the quirks and tells of her body, thinks he could spend hours on hand learning every single one of her curves and memorizing each of her special spots. The smell of her fragrance infiltrates his nostrils as he dips his head to her neck to plant open-month kisses along her skin. Head angled towards the ceiling to make room for his ministrations, y/n can’t do much but let her hands scout any expanse of skin accessible to her. She starts at his shoulder, squeezing the flesh to feel out the strong muscle laying underneath, before making her way down his tone arms, then to his hands currently holding onto to her waist. She gives them an affectionate pinch at the same time she presses down onto him with a deep moan, and Harry retaliates with a buck of his own. 

As he starts kissing down the exposed skin of her cleavage, y/n finally drops her head to place a tender kiss to his hairline. One of her hand is back at his neck, holding him firmly to her chest as he licks at the valley of her breasts down her sternum. The other worms its way underneath his shirt from the neckline, nails grazing down his back in soft enough pressure not to leave any marks.

Harry’s descent is obstructed by the soft material of her blouse, so he takes the garment off of her in one swoop, and places his hands back on her newly exposed body, rubbing up and own the skin. As his mouth goes back to the supple flesh of her breasts, y/n increases the pace of her hips grinding on his cock. The sensations seem to be not enough and too much at the same time for her; the heavy material still covering their most sensitive parts in the way of her pleasure, while Harry’s work has her going into overdrive under his velveteen mouth and calloused fingers. She starts kissing her way up from his shoulder to the edge of his jaw, and Harry revels in the sound of her moans tickling his ear. 

Done with the excess of fabric between them two, y/n grips at the top of his shirt and pulls it upwards, leaving him shirtless. "Fuck, I didn’t know you have so many tattoos," she babbles against his lips, while her hands smooth over the ink. 

"Plenty you don’t know about me, love," Harry chirps as he bask in the praise and the feeling of her skin of his. 

He then circles one arm around her waist to bring them chest to chest, and the contact has y/n once again intensify the friction between their crotches. "Wanna find out," she murmurs against his neck while she grinds on his clothed member, "Harry, please take me to bed."

He jolts at the quick bite she delivers to his neck, the impish gesture her way of saying ‘now’ but before she can make her way out of his lap to bring him to her room, he presses her back down with both hands on her waist. "Nuh uh, y’not goin’ anywhere. Want you to come once, b’fore I take you to bed, pet," he says, smoothing his hands over her ass to guide her rocking motions. The term of endearment sounds so innocent yet dirty all at once, it sends a chill down her spine. Nobody had called her that before.

"Can’t," she shakes her head, "can’t feel you through the jeans."  

"Alright then, stand up," he calmly asserts and she doesn’t hesitate to comply, standing in between his spread legs, in her flimsy bra and jeans. "Take ‘em off then, ’s what you want no?" he sends her a tantalizing look and bites at his lips as he watches her peel the pants off her legs. He can’t help the light squeeze he gives himself through his own jeans, as y/n stands in front of him awaiting his next instructions. "Come sit on my thigh now, think should be enough to make this pretty pussy tingle in all the right places, no?" 

Y/n’s insides are already twisting in a knot as she settles back on his lap and lets the rough material of his jeans against the softness of her cotton panties spread a prickling sensation through her pelvis area. Quickly, she resumes undulating her hips, gripping back at Harry’s neck to pull him in a languid kiss, pleasure vibrating against their lips. It is not long before her pace picks up, and her eyes shut at the intensity of her bliss. "That’s it, pet. Already makin’ a mess of me. You’re doin’ so well," he coaxes her with his words. 

As promised, y/n feels the lips of her sensitivity start to throb at her impending release, the sensation making her clamp her thighs tighter around his meaty limb. As her knee now presses against his bulge, Harry cries his sudden pleasure out in her mouth, and that’s all it takes for her to let her orgasm consume her. She unravels on top of him, one of her hands shooting to cup at her pussy in an attempt to quell the overwhelming throb. Harry draws soothing caresses down her back as he look at the sticky mess she’s left in her panties, damp patch matching the one tainting the material of his jeans. "All ruined, just as they should be," he smirks at the sight before giving her a sweet kiss. 

Flushed skin and blown pupils, she slowly regains her breath, "take off your pants and take me to bed now?" she requests.

"You’re quite demanding for someone who’s just gotten off," he keeps taunting her. After all, winding her up has always been one of his favorite thing to do, and dare he say in the past two years, he’s gotten quite good at pushing her buttons. Now he’s got new ones to figure out and play with, the thoughts has him pulsing in his jeans. 

Y/n doesn’t relent in her advances, she’s never been one to bow at his mockery, "thought you like how bossy I could be. Something about the way I put you in your place, if my memory serves right." 

"Anytime, anywhere, you’re the boss of me, love. But this," he cups at her cunt, adding pressure on her clit, "this is mine to have. Understood?" 

Y/n’s about to combust from all the desire firing up every one of her nerve-endings. His words might be the strongest aphrodisiac she’s ever experienced, she can’t wait to see what more tricks in has up his sleeves. "Now get up and show me the way to your room, pet," he softly commands before leaving a peck on her cheek. 

They both get up from the couch, and y/n guides them both down the hallway to her room, her hand wrapped in his tightly. Once they’re standing by the bed, Harry is surprised to face a patient y/n, biting her lips and awaiting his next directive. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life, "undress me, love" he murmurs against her skin after kissing her forehead. 

His jeans are quickly discarded but before his boxer briefs follow suit, y/n can’t help but tease him in reprisal, "looks like I’m not the only one who made a mess in their panties." 

He lets out a boisterous laugh while she smears open mouth kisses along his stretching jaw, "mmm, I’d rather make a mess somewhere else," his innuendo causing her to gasp while he works the strap of her bra.  Once she’s gotten rid of his last piece of clothing, his cock springs up, free of it’s confines, dollop of pre-come already pearling at his tip, and sticking to the skin of his stomach. 

With a gentle grip at her hair, he has y/n’s head tilted backward, to let his mouth make its way towards her already pebbled nipples. Since she can’t look down, y/n blindly reaches out to wrap her hand around Harry’s thick shaft and starts massaging him in languid strokes. "Your hand feels so fuckin’ good around me, pet, I wanna fuck you so badly," he hisses around her nipple, before kissing his way back up to her lips. 

He starts backing her towards the bed in small steps, but she brings a hand to his chest at the feeling of the edge of the mattress brushing against the back of her knee, "wait, wait, wanna taste you first," she insists and Harry doesn’t think he could ever say no to that face, no matter how much he wants to just sink home inside of her in this moment. 

"Fuck, you’re killin’ me, love," he pinches at her waist and lays his forehead against hers, "you want my cock in your pretty mouth, before I drive it home in your cunt, is that it?" She nods, eyes turning into two lustful fireballs. "Okay, love, but y’ can’t keep it on your tongue fo’ too long, cause I really need to fuck you, alright?"

Y/n hastens to lower herself when he bids her "right then, on your knees and open wide fo’ me," and her brows furrow in confusion as she watches him stray from her spot. Picking up a plush cushion from her bed, he places it on the ground for her to knee upon, "there love, want you to be comfortable," he runs his fingers through her hair, and her heart grows three sizes bigger at how tender he can be in amidst his filthy ways. 

Sensually, y/n brings her lips around the crown of his cock, her tongue teasing its way across the salty skin. Once she’s licked up all the previous mess, she starts working her way down his cock, hand stroking at the base. After bopping up and down a few time, she removes her month from his swelling cock, and lets a string of spit fall down onto its head and make its way to his balls. "S’right, pet. Get me wet," Harry rasps in appreciation. Now that she’s got him properly slicked, she goes back to pumping his hardening cock and takes him into her warm inviting mouth, determined to have him all the way inside. She feels her throat expands to accommodate his thickness, and the pressure makes Harry tighten his hold in her hair, "fuck, that’s it, love. Take me good." 

Muscles already tensing up in preparation for his climax, when y/n’s hand finds his full and swollen balls to roll them together like dice, he is quick to calm her zeal, "Christ pet, you gotta stop before I can’t help myself," but his tone hardens when she defies his demand, "come on now, s’enough." 

Once she pulls off, the sight of her flushed face and puffy lips induces an animalistic groan to come out from his chest, as he thumbs through the wetness coating her chin. Taking the hand resting on his hip to guide her up, he captures her lips in a searing kiss, the taste of his arousal blending in their mouths. 

His hands come down to knead at the flash of her ass, before he scoops her up and on the bed with a quick flex of his biceps. "Harry, please," she whines in impatience, hands gripping at his sides to pull him down against her. His rock hard cock slides against her clothed pussy, pins and needles cruising along their skin and only fueling their eagerness. 

"Need me in your belly, pet?" Harry keeps working her up, as he slides her soiled panties down her legs, "need me to fuck you so good, you forget I was ever a jerk?" 

She’s putty in his hold, legs wrapping around his waist to feel the pressure of his member on her bare lips , "yes, yes, I wan’ it," she pleads.

Harry would love to tease her further, have her writhing and proper begging underneath him, but at this point it would be self-torture to even consider. Instead he pumps at his shaft to give himself some relief, their sex so close his knuckles graze at her clit every time his fist comes at the top. "You ready?" Harry utters softly while spreading and skimming her cleft with the head of his cock. It has y/n gripping at his hair, a series of delirious ‘yes’ tumbling form her mouth, so he doesn’t wait a second more to push his tip past her threshold and begins his descent in her warmth. "Fuck, t’feels so good. So wet, and tight, and warm," he thinks out loud once he’s stuffer her full, balls pressing against her ass.

Y/n whimpers against his lips, urging him to start moving to quell the building pressure coiling in her belly. A slow roll of his hips finally gives her reprieve causing her to moan in gratitude. She’s already so close, it baffles her how this man could have her coming apart at the seams without doing much. His thrusts starts gaining zeal then, betraying his own yearning to take the final leap. "So tight, love. Can feel you squeezin’ me, are you close already? Is my girl gonna cum fo’ me again?" he grunts in her ear while he pounds into her dripping cunt. Y/n doesn’t offer a response, too caught up in a daze of bliss, but her clenching muscles is all the answer he needs to start nudging his thumb at her clit. A several flicks across the sensitive bud later, her orgasm is pulsing through every bone and fiber of her body, walls hugging Harry’s cock so tight, it has to pause his hammering. 

Waiting for her to catch her breath, he peppers delicate kisses along her cheek, "was that good, love? Think you can give me another, uhm?" he asks when she’s regained some of her senses. The pressure at his groin is growing more and more the longer his cock remains unmoving entombed within her vice, and the luscious agony must be written all over his face, "yes, Harry, wanna be good for you" y/n cups his jaw tenderly. 

He nods at her approval, "good girl," delivers a sweet earnest kiss to her pouty lips as he pulls out and spins her around to lay on her stomach. His hand brushes the hair off her skin so he can sew a string of kisses at her shoulder blades and neck. Painfully red, his cock is propped between her buttcheeks, "can I take you like that?" he punctuates his inquiry by rolling his hips backward, tip lingering at her soaked entrance. Y/n clutches the sheets firmly, as she murmurs a faint ‘please’, back arching at the thrills consuming her mind. 

Harry plunges in her wet core in one smooth swing, hand digging at her hip to keep her steady as the other one interlaces with hers to lay on the mattress above her head. Unforgiving lunges have y/n cinch around him, face buried in the sheets and muffling salacious wails of pleasure, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to steer from his end for much longer. He slows his cadence to steady and firm strokes, slipping a hand around her waist to polish her swell. 

A million tremors spark off the onset of Y/n’s climax as she shudders in a firework of ecstasy. Harry  doesn’t relent until he’s worked her through completion and can no longer stop the coil in his loins from snapping. His release fills her in several spurts of wet warmth before he flops down next to her, positively fucked out.

They both lay unmoving in comfortable bliss for a few minutes, before y/n plops her head on his chest and an arm around his torso, her leg sneaking in between his. "Well, here goes two years of sexual tension," Harry says jokingly, fingers drawing abstracts design on the skin of her back. It might just be his favorite canvas to paint on from now, he muses before chastising himself at the onslaught of filthy thoughts tagging along. A playful slap on his abdomen takes his mind out of the gutter, "don’t ruin the moment," y/n says in fake admonition before placing a tender kiss on the spot she just abused. 

"M’sorry, love. M’just really chuffed to be in your bed finally," the last word reminding her that while she’s struggled to come to term with her feelings for him, ransacking her mind for a possible change of heart, he’d only seen her in but one light. The revelation still has her floored and giddy, "can I ask you something?" she asks as there was still one question pacing back and forth the pathways of her mind. Harry hums in acquiescence, "anythin’ love, by brain is yours."  

She feels his hand cradling her skull followed by a small peck to her forehead, and she smiles at the gesture, "why did you stay away that night at the exhibition when you got the prize? Why not coming forward?" It’s been bugging her brain since it happened. Although she didn’t have much insight on anything at the time, most of the pieces of the puzzle fell in place after the big reveal; but this, she still can’t make sense of.

Harry lets out a long breath, organizing his thoughts, "two reasons," he starts off tiredly. "One, I kinda like having this secret business going on, and like, as long as nobody knows, I am in control of how and when it happens, you know? And the moment I let go of that, I can’t go back." He searches her face for any hint of confusion but she’s just patiently listening. "Two, when we bumped into each other at the gala, I got convinced you’d never see me differently regardless of how good a painter I was; and that had become a big part of who El Patrón was." 

It’s the first time she hears his alter ego’s name from his mouth and with how flowingly natural it sounded coming out of his lips, y/n suspects that it’d been a conscious decision on his part. She recalls their interaction that night, the way they fell in their usual ways of ping-ponging vindictive words until one of them has enough and leaves the premises (usually y/n). A lump starts forming in her throat at the recollection of all the other fights they’ve had and how they’d all been pointless wastes of time and energy, now that she knows she is meant to be in his arms. She wishes things could have been different but the warmth of his body around her overweighs her regrets. They’re here now, looking bright toward the future, and it’s all that matters.

"I’ll keep your secret if you want, be the Lilly to your Hannah Montana," she tells him lightly before they both laugh at the silly reference. 

Happiness and glee has Harry tightening his hold around her shoulder, "nah, I don’t wanna play double-agents anymore. I wanna be the guy who gets the girl." He dips his head to catch her lips between his own, reveling in their newfound intimacy. Turning her face against his chest, Y/n impresses her bashful smile on his swallow-tattooed skin, before she lays a trail of pecks tickling the area underneath his armpits, "well, you got me now."

➪ Masterlist

[whatdamiwatched]

Max & Helen - From the Beginning...

In preparation for the sharpwin ship sailing next week, I went and rewatched season 1 to really contextualise the way their relationship has developed, and I have to say it was quite eye opening.

The Introduction

We are introduced to Georgia in the first scene with Max via his phone screen, there’s a photo of her as his background photo. Their first conversation on screen happens when he calls her in the middle of this day just after he speaks to Helen for the first time

Max- Just calling to say hi

Georgia- Really?

Max- isn’t that what people do?

Georgia- people, yes. You…not so much.

Max- I’m trying, I’m going to change, I’m going to win you back

Georgia- well you have 12 weeks.

It isn’t until later that we find out fully that this marriage is failing and being held together by guilt and a difficult pregnancy, which makes it even worse that Max’s attempt at “trying” was calling her in the middle of the day to say nothing compelling.

Enter Helen- confident, smart, an asset to the hospital and the only doctor Max personally seeks out on his first day- to insist that she immediately cut down on travel or get fired. While the other doctors are stats and figures to him when he starts at New Amsterdam, Helen is Dr Helen. Already their relationship is being established as different from his relationship with the other doctors. In a throat biopsy, he’s distracted by her on tv- so distracted in fact, that he’s pushed to give her another ultimatum even though the first one hasn’t expired.

Max’s ultimatum was significant for Helen because for the first time since she had been running and hiding from the pain in her life, someone saw her and cared enough to make her stop. Even though it was a medical director she just met, and it was because of work, it was grounding for her for someone to see her and need her in that way.

Her choosing to come back was significant, not just because of Max, but because it was the catalyst for facing the emotional baggage she had been trying to escape.

So here we are- Max in the hospital where his sister died and donated her organs, trying to find closure and Helen- weighed down by emotional baggage that she’s ready to face.

Tell Me One True Thing

Georgia and Max meet in the hospital where he works- her energy is light and energetic; their connection is fun and their first date is in the hospital cafeteria. From that scene, their banter is fun and flirty, but Max is relaxed – they both are, it’s an easy connection. When Max proposes, he does it by the hospital when he’s on call! He’s in his scrubs and not only does he think that’s okay- she thinks that’s okay.

Their relationship never really existed outside of his career, he never put her first, and she points this out when she finds out about the medical director job. She knows that he will not choose her over the hospital, especially not the hospital where Luna died. The thing is, Max doesn’t even really try. He never chooses her, and she never actually expects him to.

When he almost dies at the lake and has the temporary epiphany that he has to take his cancer seriously, she doesn’t advocate for him to leave his job- even though…he almost died. She knows the job still comes first. Georgia and Max’s relationship thrived on emotional distance- when Georgia begs him in her hospital bed to tell her one true thing- he could only say- I love you. While he and Helen debated his cancer treatment, her only input was going with what Max wanted? When he woke up from his minor tooth surgery, his first thought wasn’t how the surgery chain went, it was what helen said specifically.

I love my doctor

Before Helen, Max had likely never felt true intimacy and vulnerability. He had likely never been able to be himself completely with a partner. We don’t know much about his relationship with his parents, but we can deduce that he’s not close to them.

Although the physical chemistry was palpable from their first scene, Max and Helen built a friendship based on trust and honesty since they let each other in very early. This relationship was built with the best intentions but every relationship comes to a point where emotion supersedes emotion and that’s where we ended up at 1x 16 where the clairvoyant tells Max that he’s going to lose someone close to hum. As soon as she assured him that it wasn’t his wife, he pulls Helen aside to reassure her and try to explain how he feels about her ending by saying “I love my doctor”.IN THE MIDDLE OF TREATING A PATIENT IN THE MIDDLE OF A STORM WHILE MARRIED. At this point, both Max and Helen are at a crossroads of the undeniability of their connection, even though they are both too principled and respectful to call it anything other than “this thing between us”.

At the lake, when he goes to spread ashes for Luna, he says to her- or to the wind that he’s addressing as her- everything I do is because of you. I just keep trying to save you , over and over that’s all I do and I never, never will.

Now where did we end up hearing those EXACT words before?

In that moment, it’s Max admitting that he’s been consumed with emotions that are clouding his judgment and he has to let go.

When Helen uses those words in 2x16, the subtext is the same. By that time, she had saved his life and even Georgia’s life- multiple times. She even saved his life twice in one episode! She saved his life by taking on his cancer in the first place, she saved his life by choosing to pass him off to another doctor when he was using their relationship as an opportunity to not take his cancer seriously and she saved his life by making the decision for him to stop that treatment when it wasn’t working. She took on the role of deputy medical director- which let’s face it was more or less the medical director, she found him, not one but two trials, she gave up half her department that she loved more than anything. She gave up her romantic relationship- she meant it when she said everything I’ve done I’ve done for you- just like Max meant it when he said it to Luna. Max and Helen had have both poured themselves into people that couldn’t pour back, one because she was dead, and the other because he had too many warring emotions to deal with.

Helen could have let Max save her more- he definitely was willing to be that person and showed it many times, but we have to accept that she was in a very difficult position. Just as soon as she felt settled, started a new relationship, made a decision about freezing her eggs, she’s hit with a consuming, intimate relationship with someone that’s married. She had to leave some walls up.  

Everything I Do Is For You

Their characters have gone through a lot- Helen has a dead parent and a dead fiancée, fertility issues and a fear of vulnerability and the feeling of running out of time- Max has a dead wife, who he had outgrown emotionally, raising a child alone, battling with grandparents that blame him for their daughter’s death and parents that by all indications don’t play a significant role in his life, plus a dead sister he has carried with him his whole life. Finding each other was in many ways, the catalyst each of them needed to move forward with life at so many points. For Max, he could have very well died without Helen- Georgia could have died in the bedroom without Helen- his grieving process would definitely have been longer and more complicated without Helen – it wasn’t insignificant that she was the one that pushed the ghost of Georgia out of the apartment, she was an anchor through it all.

For Helen, she was pushed to come back to the hospital and by having that anchor to a place and her patients, she was able to explore romantic relationships and face her fertility and wanting a child head on, she was able to explore how much of herself she could give to another person again after Mohammed died and try another relationship. In turn, she was able to be in a different position when Mina came to live with her.

By Max receiving the kind of selfless love he had never gotten before (from the parts of his story we’ve been told), he was finally able to heal, from so much of the stuff he’d been carrying to come to a place where he feels able to match Helen’s energy. To come to a point where he’s able to see himself as a WHOLE person, not just a flawed one- not just a guilty one- not just an overworked or crazy or erratic one. The speech at the end of 3x13 to Luna’s parents showed just how far he’s come; how much he’s changed and how much his relationship with Helen has changed him. The confidence that he was enough as- is a Max that we had never seen before.

And Helen- naming them- before now, it’s always been Max with his double meanings  and his “I want to build something better for you and Mina” and “It helps not to be alone” and “I can’t do this without you”, but this time it’s Helen- Helen who is saying “us”- Helen who is putting them together as a family and is relaxed and comfortable doing so. Helen who isn’t simply giving him advice as a friend or listening to him but giving him advice as an anchor- we are here and we are fine and you need to fight for our family because it’s worth it.

I see you

The decon shower. His hand trailing down her neck. Those voicemails. Here they are finally, trying to get into an ADULT relationship. Moving beyond the cute hand holding and lingering looks, to hopefully many kisses, many distractions and many mornings waking up next to each other.

Sharpwin is coming and I’m ready!

[gffa]

YOU DON’T REALIZE HOW GOOD THIS EPISODE IS UNTIL LIKE YOUR THIRD FULL REWATCH OF THIS SHOW AND TWO STRAIGHT YEARS OF ARGUING ABOUT STAR WARS POLITICS AND ALSO FANDOM POINTING OUT EVERY SINGLE “ECHO AND RHYME” WE CAN POSSIBLY FIND. The first time I saw this episode, when I was tearing through TCW at speed because it was new and I was hooked and it was so good, this one didn’t really have much of an impact on me.  Not my favorite characters, I appreciate that Toydarians got some better portrayals other than Watto, but man the middle of it definitely dragged for me. Then I rewatched it, after two years of examining politics in Star Wars and having fun with all those parallels and echoes of stories.  And this time the episode hit me like a goddamned brick. It’s an episode about whether or not Toydaria should remain utterly neutral in the war or let themselves become a staging area for humanitarian aid to Ryloth, which has been under siege by the Separatists.  Lott Dod of the Trade Federation pops up and is like, yes, but it’s under a Separatist Blockade and, if you help, the Separatists will see it as breaking your neutrality.  Which means your entire planet will be at risk, your own economy could tank because you have vital contracts with us and it’ll force us to cease trade with Toydaria.  You can’t just have a humanitarian base, you’ll get drawn into the war, you’ll be a military base, that’s how war goes. Bail Organa counters with that the Twi’leks didn’t ask to be invaded by the Separatists, they didn’t ask to be taken hostage and dying in a war they didn’t ask to join, either.  Don’t let them suffer just for the sake of your neutrality! King Katuunko and his advisers debate for a brief while--all while clones and Jedi and Twi’leks are dying on Ryloth--and eventually says that we cannot get involved in this war.  No matter that compassion is one of the most important tenets of our society, for the sake of my people, we must remain neutral. Stuff happens, King Katuunko eventually realizes that neutrality is maybe not actually a great thing when people are out there dying and you’re not doing anything to help--yes, even if that means you get drawn into the war. That’s it, that’s the message:  When innocents are dying at the hands of invaders, neutrality is not a compassionate, caring choice. What of course made me sit up and take notice was the deliberate use of the word “compassion” being used as one of their tenets and we all know who that reminds us of:  The Jedi have compassion as one of their central tenets as well.  The Jedi, who have already been drawn into this war. And this is exactly why I don’t think the Jedi could have made any other choice, shouldn’t have made any other choice, about joining the war. Billions of lives are at stake--even Hera Syndulla says in Rebels, how she remembers that clones and Jedi working together saved billions of people, including herself.  We literally see the innocent people of Ryloth suffering because the Separatists attacked them.  It doesn’t matter that many of the people in the Separatist Senate and worlds who joined did so because they were sick of the Republic ignoring them and their valid concerns.  (Doesn’t matter in the sense of whether or not it affects trying to remain neutral in the war, not doesn’t matter in the sense of trying to find peaceful solutions, that’s an important difference.)  Because this was always going to happen.  Innocent worlds were always going to be invaded and held hostage and murdered and stripped for resources because of who was running the show over there. Being neutral in such a conflict was narratively shown as the wrong choice, that’s why Katuunko realizes his error.  That’s why Bail Organa (a character we know is caring and compassionate) argues in favor of the Republic, why Alderaan joined the war.  That’s why Padme, even when she wishes she could remain neutral, argues her way back to saying she must try to change things from within.

This is a sentiment that’s at the heart of the theme of the episode, that Ahsoka echoes it in the classes she teaches to the Mandalorian cadets.  And it’s one that’s important to the themes of Star Wars characters’ actions, especially in the prequels--that it’s the very heart of the Republic vs the Separatist war. Do you remain with the system and try to improve it from within? Or do you leave it and bombard it from the outside in hopes of burning it down to create something better? The answer depends on context and the situation and whether or not there’s hope for rooting out the corruption.  For example, Padme believes that they’re at that point with the Republic.  Bail believes they’re at that point with the Republic.  That they still have the belief they can make it better.  They still have hope. This is why Bail joins the Rebellion under the Empire, though.  Because the Empire being worse isn’t just a matter of contrast, but it illustrates having passed a moral event horizon, where it’s not possible to salvage it anymore. The issue of the above and the issue of neutrality overlap a lot in this episode (”Corruption”), but the point of many in the Republic is that neutrality was not an option because it ignored that they could be doing something. And that’s why I cannot possibly imagine the Jedi not trying to help.  I cannot possibly imagine them saying, no, we will abstain from this war, when people were going to suffer and die if they didn’t.  That’s even setting aside that George Lucas describes them as literally being drafted into the war, that that was the narrative take-away, how could they possibly have refused? Even in Kanan: The Last Padawan, Depa says she thinks they made a critical error in accepting titles in the war, but the clones vehemently disagree, because she’s underestimating the importance of clarity of chain of command, so that people know what they’re doing and where they’re going and how to get organized, so they’re not half-fighting each other and half-fighting the Separatists, which would have gotten even more people killed.  There’s no clean answer to that problem, because they can both be right--the Jedi accepting titles in the war led them into being seen as the villains of the conflict by those who were tired of the war (Star Wars Propaganda makes the very clear point of how this narrative was painted onto them, rather than what they created for themselves), but the clones are also right that unclear lack of chain of command would have made everything an absolute hot mess. So, neutrality was a really shitty option and, further, what does it even gain anyone?  Satine Kryze fought so incredibly hard to keep Mandalore and the other worlds neutral, because she didn’t want to drag her people into war, and how did that end up for Mandalore?  Even setting aside that they were refusing to help fight against the evils being inflicted in the galaxy, even setting aside that whatever points they made, they ignored worlds like Ryloth? It got them nowhere good:

Their neutrality still didn’t protect them from trade routes being closed to them and their world suffering through a supply crisis. This is what politics in the GFFA does.  You cannot just ignore it and say, “Fuck politics!  We’re not going to play that game!” because then you end up like Mandalore--starving and cut off from the connections you need to survive. That would have happened to the Jedi in a heartbeat.  Their granted legal authority to help anyone?  Cut off.  Their Republic funds for their Temple, their home, their food, their clothing, their ships?  Cut off.  Add in scary mind powers and people would turn on them incredibly quickly, as well as they have the hauntingly clear illustration of what happens to neutral worlds when people are in a war and scared and not thinking clearly--they lash out, they react, they turn their backs.  Mandalore managed to scrape by for awhile, but it was unstable and chaotic and we can see how that unfolded. It doesn’t make the situation right, not even close.  But it’s the situation that you deal with, you work within the system of government you have, you do what you can to try to make it better, you try to help as many people as you can. And neutrality doesn’t help anyone but yourself--and, even then, ultimately that’s not true, either.  We see that illustrated very clearly.

[cblgblog]

So my issues with Irondad are well documented at this point, starting from their very first scenes. Specifically the utter tone deafness of Peter’s recruitment, by both Tony and the writers. Tony starts the movie being blamed for the death of a 20-year-old kid who was in the wrong place, wrong time in Sokovia. That accidental death that can be put down to negligence on his part, is pivotal to what happens next. So pivotal he uses it in his pitch for why the other Avengers need to sign the Accords.

Tony, midway through the movie, deliberately brings a 15-year-old child into this conflict. A child he blackmails into going with him, because if you don’t, I will tell your aunt.

Charles Spencer was an innocent civilian, wrong place, wrong time in Sokovia. He died. That tears Tony up, as it rightfully should. And yet, in the midst of his crusade about following laws and accountability, he lies to May Parker about taking her 15-year-old nephew out of the country and into a warzone. Ignoring some well-established laws about child soldiers.

Tony blackmailing a child who’s had his powers for 6 months into participating in this conflict makes no sense. Ever. It especially makes no sense in the context of Charles Spencer and his mother. Yet neither Tony nor the writers seem to comprehend this. Which is why Irondad has been bullshit from the start. Blackmail and kidnapping are not sweet, father-son moments, even if you ignore the fact, as the MCU wants to, that Peter had a father already, in Ben Parker. He has a loving adult parental figure in May Parker. Both of whom cared about him before he had spider powers that might be helpful to them.

All of this, I’ve said before, so have others. And then I realized that I actually hate Irondad more than I thought. That Feige and co. mishandled it even more than I thought, and why? Because of this.

We know the story. Peter was, supposedly, this kid Tony saved at the Stark Expo in Iron Man 2. Started out as a fan theory, and then was confirmed that yes, this is true, this is exactly what we intended.

Now, we know Civil War had different writers/directors than Homecoming or FFH did. We also know that, for all the lip service of, ‘It’s all connected,’ we know that the creatives in these different franchises do not always talk to each other, and that they often blatantly contradict each other.

Taking all that into account, acknowledging that…the dumbasses at Marvel did not think up the idea of Peter being the Iron Man 2 kid. They heard the theory, thought it was cool, then took credit for having meant that the entire time, yes, that was totally us.

We know this because it is never mentioned in canon. All those Tony and Peter interactions, all those times of yes, Mr. Stark, I just want to be like you, Mr. Stark, and Peter never mentions that? When Tony takes he suit from him in Homecoming and Peter says that he just wants another chance, wants to be like Tony, would he not mention that hey, you saved my life, Mr. Stark. You saved my life and I just wanted to be like you, and now I can be, now I can save lives like you, just please give me another chance.

If the Iron Man 2 theory were true, would he not say that? In FFH, when he’s all guilt-ridden, I didn’t save him, would he not mention that hey, he saved my life before I was Spider-man, before I was special, before I was anyone?

Now I know what you’re thinking. The Iron Man 2 thing isn’t that big a deal. It’s not a crucial thing. And you know what, you’re right. It isn’t, it’s just always annoyed me, in an eyeroll way, that the same people who couldn’t count properly between 2012 and 2017 (8 years later flashing in giant letters across our screens means that Homecoming was meant to take place in 2020), that these same people who let something so blatantly timeline breaking get through then took credit for a kind of cool, kind of clever fan theory. It’s annoying.

I’ve now realized, however, that it is far more than annoying to me. Because TPTB at Marvel did not think of that idea for themselves, but if they had, and if they’d run with that idea? If they had, it would’ve made Peter’s recruitment in Civil War so much more fucked up than it already is, but so much more interesting. So, so, so much more interesting.

I’ve talked about why Spidey’s own movies (as much as you can call them that given the level of Tony infiltration) prove that the theory isn’t true. Now let’s go to Civil War. Different writers, yes, but let’s talk anyway about why we can tell from CW that Peter was not that kid.

He gets home. May is like, look who it is, Tony Stark. Not, look who it is, the hero who literally saved your life. When Tony locks himself in Peter’s room with him (still fucking gross, Jesus Christ), Peter is just, nope, I got no idea what you’re talking about. That’s—no, I’m not a superhero, no. He’s defensive. He’s apprehensive. He’s trying to figure out what fresh hell this is. He’s trying to hide stuff from Tony. If this is the guy who saved him at the Stark Expo, why this reaction? Why not, oh my god, you saved my life, I thought I’d never see you again, not, not up close I mean. When Tony asks him to do a thing, why is it not, well yeah, duh , you saved my life, where do we start? Or even, okay, I don’t really wanna do this, but, you saved my life, I owe you?

So, nobody wrote a fucking word of any of Peter and Tony’s interactions under the theory that he was the Stark Expo kid.

But what if they had?

Tony shows up at May’s place. He does not know who Peter is, in relation to their “meeting” before. He’s expecting to have to do some level of smooth talk to get in here but, nope. May’s just, oh my god, you saved my boy’s life, come in, come in!

We don’t know for sure that Peter was orphaned by the time of the Expo, but if we base it on comics and prior films, he likely was. Most versions seem to have him fall under Ben and May’s care between 2 and 6.  O1’ birthday means he would’ve been around 9 at the Expo. So, more than likely, Ben or May or both were the ones there with him. They may credit Tony with saving their lives as well.

So, Tony starts the movie being called out by a grieving mother. Going down this route, we’re at the midpoint…and here’s a different mother telling him how great he is. How he saved the most important thing in her life. How if Ben were here (May’s wearing her wedding ring around her neck btw, you can see it in the scene), Ben would say the same thing. Shake his hand. Hug him.

Now, Tony’s got a sharp ass mind, when it’s not clouded with booze or drugs or the like. Since he wasn’t wasted at the Expo, there’s a good chance that, given some details, he remembers saving this kid. He remembers how small this little boy actually was. He remembers how light this kid was when he grabbed him. It was a few seconds in a long ass night, that he hasn’t thought about in years, but to May Parker, it’s everything.

So maybe at this point Tony’s rethinking this. He’s remembering that little boy, realizing how young he still is. He pulled that boy from danger. And now here’s this woman who invited him into her house, told him how her husband just passed recently, things have been hard, especially for Peter but God, he’ll love to see you. Maybe Tony’s rethinking this, coming up with a way out, when Peter shows up. And then, aw hell. The kid’s just a mess of excitement and shock, possibly tears…okay now it’s just gotten harder to make an exit.

Let’s pause here to say that May Parker is not fucking dumb (“Cut the bullshit. I know you left detention. I know you left the hotel room in Washington. I know you sneak out of this house every night.”).

May is not dumb. Letting the 50-year-old dude go into her nephew’s room with him, alone? Arguably dumb, even if it is Iron Man. Letting him grab the kid for some Stark…thing, and take him wherever Tony said he was taking him on 12 seconds notice? Even more arguably dumb.  CW as it’s written dumbs down May’s character for the sake of an already questionable plot point. Especially since she literally says she’s not a fan of Tony in Homecoming. Yes, her comment there comes after the “internship,” her noting Peter’s distraction and stress because of it. But still, it’s fucking weird that she’d let this man take her kid out of the country, alone, in CW. It makes her dumb for the sake of plot.

But if Stark saved Peter’s life not so long ago? It at least makes a bit more sense. He’s a hero. Peter literally wouldn’t be here without him. Why would Tony hurt him now?

So, back to the scene. Peter’s probably less paranoid about showing his stuff to Tony. Probably not spilling everything himself, but when Tony notices things, Peter’s probably less panicked over it, more willing to confirm. Yes, he’s got these powers, okay? And he hasn’t had them for long, but he’s trying to do good, like Tony. He’s trying to do the right thing, like Tony.

Now, this kid has such literal hero worship going, and he’s so damn inexperienced, he admits that. And Tony’s still got Charles Spencer’s mom in his head. He’s dead, Stark. And I blame you.

Can Tony really take this kid—actual minor kid younger than Charles was—take him and put him on the field against the goddamn Avengers? That woman out there with the dead husband and the ring around her neck, what’s he going to say if Peter gets hurt, or worse? Sure the kid obviously has skills but, can he risk another grieving mom?

So, maybe Tony’s rethinking this. Maybe he can still get out of this, improvise a Plan B. But then there’s a text from Nat or Ross. Where are you? We’ve only got a few hours, what’s the play?

Special circumstances, nobody in that group is really gonna fight to kill…it’s special circumstances, and he can keep the kid mostly sidelined.

This time, he doesn’t have to blackmail Peter. He doesn’t have to threaten to expose his secret. Peter’s willing, either because he genuinely wants to, or he feels he owes Tony a debt. So there goes the dick factor of Tony literally blackmailing a child. And the lack of questions Peter seems to ask about what he’s fighting for, the acceptance of vague answers, that’d also make more sense in this context.

In this version, Tony is both more and less of a dick. He’s doing less active threatening and manipulation…but he’s also being doubly manipulative. His genuinely good deed gives him an easy in with the Parkers. He’s playing on the credibility of an earlier, at least somewhat better version of himself. One who saved Peter Parker and hadn’t yet ended Charles Spencer.

Look, I won’t lie, I legit don’t know what I’m saying anymore, except that Marvel sucks for taking credit for a thing that they definitely do not have credit for. Which isn’t particularly new for them, and wouldn’t particularly matter if the thing they took credit for (and didn’t do anything with) could’ve offered some interesting story possibilities.

[ghosthan]

hello!! i saw that you made a lot of stuff for 1872 and i was wondering if 1872 tony is similar to regular comics tony?? i know mcu and comics tony are different and i want to get into 616, but if 1872 comics are more easy to read i might try those first! 😅

Hello, hello! 

Thank you for asking, and sorry it took me so long to get back to you! I wanted to think about it and put together a thoughtful response because I am desperately trying to convert MCU fans to 1872. Or comics fans who just haven’t gotten into 1872.

This post will contain some 1872 spoilers, but not the Big Spoiler that you probably already know about anyways. 

Anyways, let’s get into it. Yeehaw.

What is 1872? It’s Steve/Tony in the wild west.

1872 comics are very easy to read, very short, and you need absolutely no prior knowledge to get into them; I highly recommend these as a start point for MCU fans who are curious about dipping their toes into some of the other Steve/Tony universes. And 1872 is, indeed, a Steve/Tony universe. It’s really gay, (and dramatic.) Uh. So gay, in fact, that one of the comic artists who drew pages even occasionally shares Steve/Tony shipping memes. So.

Marvel 1872 is a four issue series released as a part of the Secret Wars event; you really do not need to know anything about this to enjoy 1872, because it is a self-contained alternate universe in a “pocket dimension”, meaning it’s totally separate from the 616 cannon but technically exists in the expanse of the multiverse!

Here’s the summary:

In the Battleworld zone of 1872, Sheriff Steve Rogers faces corruption and fear in the boom town of Timely. Can Anthony Stark pull Rogers' fat from the fire? Probably not, since the only thing he seems capable of pulling is a cork from a bottle. Things in Timely are bad, and getting worse — and when a stranger arrives in town, Timely will be changed forever.

Now, to compare “regular comics Tony”, or 616 Tony, with 1872 Tony.

The main difference? 616 Tony wears this sexy little under suit (or nothing) under his armor, like this:

And 1872 Tony wears dirty, stinky one-piece pajamas under his armor (not sexy):

He’s so gross, he’s a mess. I love him. You’ll love him, too. 

No, okay. Being serious.

 616!Tony’s backstory is a lot more complicated just due to how long the character has existed, and the decades of cannon (much of it self-contradictory at points.) Like MCU Tony, 616 Tony used to manufacture weapons, experiences something life-changing, and becomes who he is as a result of this as a catalyst. 616 Tony’s backstory has been rebooted a few times, and I’m definitely not the definitive source on Iron Man lore compared to people who have read all of his comics, but I’ll try to touch on the basics.

Originally, 616 Tony Stark is shaped by his experience in the Vietnam War. This is later rebooted and changed to war in the middle East (we see this in the MCU when Tony is held captive in Afghanistan.) In both circumstances, he is taken captive after being in the air for war technology, and then he creates the suit to save his own life (losing a beloved mentor in the process, the guilt of which stays with him after.)

Tales of Suspense #39

In 1872, Tony’s formative event is the Civil War in some ways, but in other ways, this is only half of it, because this is not the event which causes him to build armor or set him onto his “become a better person” trajectory, like in the other comics. Mainly, the Civil War functions to cause Tony to stop weapons manufacturing and throw his life away down a bottle.

We get a flashback of Tony in the year 1862 with his female companion, picnicking and about to watch a battle, (rich people from the North did this in real life. If you’re interested, read more here!) We don’t get much of his past, but we discover that he is a rifle manufacturer and that he has created something called the ‘Stark Repeating Rifle’, and it seems that he has done so with the hope of encouraging a cease-fire, more than a slaughter.

Well. We don’t always get what we ask for.

Tony vows to actually never touch a weapon ever again, and this personal oath means so much to him that he gets creative at times during 1872 when he’s being chased by baddies:

Witnessing the extreme bloodshed of the Civil War, and feeling responsible for a huge amount of deaths, Tony turns to drinking, (and presumably moves to the west to escape the Pain of his Past, but this is not shown explicitly on panel; I have assumed, though, that Tony’s weapons manufacturing company was in the East, probably Boston or New York, since he comes from family money and because the American West was still “young” at this point in time so it would be unlikely that an established business would be supplying a war from lawless territory with little infrastructure.)

In 616, it’s worth noting that Tony builds the armor to save himself from danger in a war scenario; this is not the case in 1872, things unfold a bit differently. The Civil War certainly sets in motion the chain of events that eventually lead to the creation of Tony’s armor, but he’s not in physical danger or physically traumatized by the war in this verse as he is in other verses, and 616 Tony seems to have a stronger sense of duty than 1872 Tony, but this might be a complication of the depression/apathy related to the alcoholism.

What I mean by this is that both iterations of Tony struggle with alcoholism, but differently. Mainly, while 616 Tony has several alcohol themed arcs, and hits rock bottom with his alcoholism to cope with his trauma, he is sober more than he is drunk in the comics. His drinking almost kills him, and he almost loses everything because of the drink. It’s a source of enormous shame for him.

In fact, during this time in 616, I think Tony at his lowest reminds me a lot of 1872 Tony; 616 Tony is not an apathetic person and he holds himself accountable for an obscene amount of responsibility, but during what is referred to in fandom as The Second Drinking Arc, Tony basically gives up. This is the most “like” 1872 Tony, at least at the start of his arc. Rhodey takes over the mantle of Iron Man, and 616 Tony spirals, not caring whether he lives or dies, not hero-ing certainly.

We see both versions of Tony express similar sentiments, a certain cavalier attitude about their lives (and outright suicidality at other points) with nothing left but the drink.

Iron Man Vol. 1 #182

Compare with:

And you can certainly see a resemblance between this set of panels from IM v.1 #176 and in 1872:

Iron Man Vol. 1 #176 and Marvel 1872 #1

It’s a little different in 1872, where his drinking really is purely a result of his existing despair, and it doesn’t cause enormous problems for him, (minor problems, sure. He spends a lot of time drunkenly singing to Sheriff Rogers, or bothering him from the inside of a jail cell.) But this Tony lives at rock bottom, whereas 616 Tony only stays at rock bottom long enough to get his life back together (as many times as it takes.)

This Tony really doesn’t show any outward shame about his drinking; presumably, the people he knows in Timely have only ever known Tony as a drunk, and none of the people from his old life are here to see him like this. 

This is a Tony who has essentially given up on himself and has moved out West to hide from his shame and his past; this is not a Tony who is scared of letting down his friends by drinking, or scared of shirking his “duty”, because this Tony has moved away from all of his friends and has given himself no duties. He’s a bit more apathetic, but I would argue that this is not because he inherently is a less moral version of Tony, but because in this verse, he was drinking for a very long time and circumstances unfolded differently so it took him a longer time to find that sense of purpose and responsibility (beyond just shutting down manufacturing guns,) which is awakened in him by Steve Rogers. 

616 Tony’s sobriety is a major part of his character, and a conscious choice that he makes, even during some lowest points:

Civil War: The Confession

He takes some amount of pride in his sobriety, and when he does fall off the wagon at times (or magic makes everyone think he did,) it absolutely tears him up because 616 Tony cares very, very much about his sobriety and does not like who he is when he’s drinking. We do not know if 1872 Tony’s father had been a drunk or not, but we know 616 Tony’s father was, and that the drink lead to him treating Tony abusively.

Iron Man Vol. 1 #285 

Avengers Disassembled #1 (This was when ~magic~ made Tony drunk and it wrecked him breaking sobriety without ever having actually drank. Oof.)

616 Tony’s long struggle with alcoholism is a major part of his character and he has had relapses over the years and throughout the reboots, but in general, he does not drink.

1872 Tony starts drinking in 1862 and doesn’t stop until the last pages of the story, so in terms of the cannon we have for him, he is a current drunk, rather than a former drunk. This isn’t to say he doesn’t stop; but since it’s in the last page or so, it sets the reader up to imagine his sober future, rather than exploring his sobriety as 616 does. (Calling all fanfic writers!)

Anyways, both Tony’s are excellent. Both are damaged and traumatized, both are Iron Man in their own ways, both (eventually) find sobriety, both have some cute, quippy dialogue (though 616 Tony tends to be more reserved/polite for sure, in general). 

The last thing I’ll point out, is that both Tonys’ narratives are intertwined with and influenced by their respective Steve Rogers. I’m not saying soulmates but I’m saying soulmates.

Anyways. Sorry this post got super long, and I apologize if any of it is confusing or redundant, I am not functioning at my highest capacity currently. Please read 1872. Let it rock your world. Create & consume the fanworks, I would love to see a boom of 1872 content (more than the fics and art I keep making!) And my ask-box is always open!

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Let Me Save You - Sirius Black

Title: Let Me Save You Pairing: Sirius x Fem!Reader Summary: Y/N will do whatever it takes to save the ones she loves, even if it means joining the dark side. A/N: for the anon who wanted Sirius helping his girlfriend after she takes the dark mark! This is the first time I’ve written a full imagine for Sirius, so I hope it’s okay!! Feedback is always welcome!!! Tags: @feltondarling​ @pandaxnienke​ @raerae27​

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Sirius’ first thought when he boards the Hogwarts Express with James after the Christmas holiday is Y/N. They’ve only been apart two weeks, but for him it feels like an eternity. It doesn’t help that most of his letters went unanswered, and when she did write her letters were short and uneventful.

Sirius and James race each other to their usual compartment, shoving each other as they run. James just barely cuts in front of Sirius as they reach the door and he grins up at his friend as he plops down next to Lily, slightly out of breath.

“Better luck next time, Pads,” James teases, throwing an arm around Lily.

Sirius flips James off as he collapses on the bench across from them. He looks around the compartment, frowning when he doesn’t spot Y/N. Marlene is seated between Lily and Wormtail, and Mooney is sitting a few spaces away from Sirius, dead asleep with his head leaning against the window. “Where’s Y/N?”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Lily responds leaning into James’ side. “I figured she was with you guys.”

“You don’t think she’s not coming back, do you?” Marlene asks, a worried look on her face.

James rolls his eyes. “Why do you always have to be so dramatic, Mar? Maybe she’s in the loo or got caught up talking to someone. I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.”

Marlene reaches behind Lily to smack James upside the head. “Shove it, Potter. I’m being serious.” Marlene leans in and drops her voice to a whisper. “We all know what her family is like. Things with the war have only been getting worse. Maybe they’re not letting her come back.”

“I hate to admit it but what if Marlene is right?” Lily asks, her face contorting into the same worried look that’s on Marlene’s. “She didn’t return any of the letters I sent over break, and Remus said he didn’t hear from her either.”

James nudges Sirius’ leg with his foot. “You wrote to her a bunch, Pads. You get anything back?”

Sirius nods lamely. “One or two letters, if you could even call them that. She didn’t say much in either of them. Mainly just bullshit pleasantries.” Sirius runs his hand through his hair and closes his eyes, leaning back into his seat.

He’s known Y/N since he was a little boy, her family is part of the Sacred 28 as well, and their parents have been friends since they were kids. Even though they spent quite a bit of time together growing up, Sirius and Y/N only truly became friends when they both started at Hogwarts. Like him, she was the first in her family to be sorted into Gryffindor and they quickly bonded over being the family disappointment. They started dating just before the beginning of their 5th year, and now halfway through 7th year Sirius is sure that Y/N is going to be the woman he marries.

“She seemed fine on the train ride home at the end of term last year,” Wormtail adds. “Something must have happened during the break.”

Sirius’ eyes snap open as the train starts to move. “I can’t just sit here. I’m gonna go see if I can find her.”

Before anyone can stop him Sirius is out of the compartment, frantically heading down the hall.

-

“Where the hell were you?” Sirius asks as he engulfs Y/N in a hug. They’ve all just stumbled into the Great Hall worried about their missing friend, only to find her already sitting at the Gryffindor table.

Y/N returns Sirius’ hug lamely before pulling him down beside her. “Sorry, love. I got to the train late so I just sat in the first compartment I could find.”

Sirius watches her for a few moments as his arm winds around her waist. He can tell that she’s lying, but he’s not sure exactly why. Wormtail was right on the train, she’d been acting fine all term, and had been joking around with Sirius and everyone else on the train back to Kings Cross. Something must have happened at home, that’s the only way to explain her distant behavior. Y/N had cut herself off from all of them over the break, and even now as she talks with Lily Sirius can see that her smile isn’t genuine, and there’s no light behind her eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sirius whispers in her ear when Lily turns her attention towards something Remus has said.

“Nothing, Sirius. I’m fine,” Y/N responds, trying to sound genuine. But in reality, she’s dying on the inside.

Spending time at home with her family is mentally and emotionally draining, and after the events that went down over Christmas Y/N just doesn’t feel like herself anymore. But she has to put on a fake smile, for her sake and her friends. They can’t know what really happened over the break, and if she wants to keep them safe she has no choice but to start slowly pulling away from those she loves most, Sirius included.

It’s no secret to anybody, especially her friends, that Y/N’s family are willing to do anything to keep their money and their power. Even though she’s well and truly the black sheep of the family, they expect the same things out of her. There’s a war brewing in the Wizarding World, and up until Christmas break Y/N and her family had been on opposite sides of it. But Y/N would do anything to protect the people she loves, and so on Christmas Eve Y/N stood in the middle of her family’s living room and took the Dark Mark.

The Mark burns with pain every time she thinks about it, but Y/N knows she deserves it. Whether she truly believes in Voldemort’s mission or not, she’s now one of his slaves. She’d done it to protect her younger brother, who was supposed to be the one taking the Mark. But he’s barely 15, and Y/N couldn’t stand there and watch her parents ruin his life. She also did it to protect Lily, her sweet Muggleborn best friend who was already on Voldemort’s radar as a target. And she did it to protect Sirius, who had already been cast from his home and no longer afforded the same protections from Voldemort’s torture as the rest of the Black family.

If taking the Dark Mark is what it takes to save her friends’ lives, then she’d do it over and over again.

“If you’re sure,” Sirius murmurs, before pulling Y/N into a deep kiss. She’s his whole entire world, and he’s willing to wait for her to be ready to open up to him. “I love you. You know that, right?”

Y/N nods and lets her hands tangle in his hair for a brief moment. “Of course, Sirius. I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.”

-

It starts off slowly. Y/N knows the only way to truly keep all of her friends safe is to keep her distance. But just immediately cutting them off would be too obvious. So she starts by heading to breakfast early, so by the time all of her friends are awake and heading to the Great Hall, she’s already on her way to the first lesson of the day. The first few times Sirius questions her, since normally Y/N likes to sleep in until the last possible second. But she brushed his concerns away, simply stating that she never gets to sleep in at home, and she’s gotten used to rising early. Everyone seems a little confused, but they accept her explanation anyway.

Next she moves her seat in all of her classes, so she’s no longer sitting by her friends. They don’t all have every class together, so it takes them all a while to figure it out. Lily confronts Y/N about it during lunch after Potions, when she’d completely ignored Lily and sat next to Severus of all people. Again, Y/N had tried to brush off their concerns casually. Her parents had gotten on her about her grades during break and sitting with her friends would only distract her.

Then she stops hanging out in the common room. Whenever there’s downtime everyone is usually piled up in front of the fire, messing around or playing games. But Y/N is always absent. She either hides away in her dorm room with a book or is in a dark corner of the library doing schoolwork. The first half dozen times it happens one of her friends always seeks her out, usually Sirius or Lily, and they try and coax her back to the common room. But she always denies their offer, either blaming it on her large amount of schoolwork to prep for NEWTS or feigning some kind of illness. Eventually they stop trying, no matter how much it pains them to do so.

The final straw is when Y/N stops sitting with her friends at all. They come down for dinner one night and find that she’s not sitting at their usual spot at the Gryffindor table. Instead she’s at the far end of the table, sandwiched between a group of first years and a group of fourth years. No matter how hard they try no one can get her to come sit with them, even Sirius’ best puppy dog eyes, which can make even Lily melt.

“So, what are we going to do about her?” Remus asks one night over dinner. Y/N has just left the Great Hall, walking by them without even sparring any one a glance.

“She’s being a proper bitch, I don’t know why we need to do anything. She doesn’t want us to be friends with her anymore? Fuck her then,” Marlene sneers, clearly using anger to cover up the hurt she’s feeling.

Lily throws her arm around Marlene’s shoulder, pulling her in tightly. “It’s okay, Mar. I miss her too.” She turns to Sirius then. “Got any ideas?”

Sirius shrugs. “She doesn’t even look at me anymore. Not sitting with us in class or choosing not to hang out with us is one thing, but the silent treatment? It’s killing me. Something must have happened during break and she won’t talk about it.”

“Have you talked to your brother lately?” James asks suddenly.

“Regulus? No, why?” Sirius asks, his tone lit with confusion.

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but I’ve seen him and Y/N talking in the halls a few times while doing Head Boy stuff after curfew. Snivellous was there once or twice too. Seemed like they were talking about something serious, and once they’d spot me they’d all run off.”

Sirius frowns. “So she can talk to that greaseball and my brother but not talk to me?”

Remus sighs. “I think this is far worse than any of us have imagined.” When everyone turns to look at him he continues. “We know Snape has a pension for Dark Arts, and it’s likely that Sirius’ family has aligned themselves with You-Know-Who, right? Well who’s family is close friends with the most ancient and noble house of Black?” He lets the question hang in the air for a moment, but no one has to answer, they all know who it is. “Sirius, you suspected that your parents had made Regulus take the Dark Mark over the summer, after you ran away. What do you think are the odds that Y/N’s family have forced her to take it as well?”

Lily gasps and covers her mouth with her hand. “That makes sense. As much as I hate to admit it, it makes sense. I mean of all the people to sit next to in Potions she sat next to Snape. That never made sense to me, she knows how vile he is, the vile things he’s said about me. But I’d bet all the money in the world that Snape has taken the Mark as well and that’s why she’s talking to him and Regulus.”

“Alright, that’s it,” Sirius says, standing up. “I can’t just sit here and theorize about what might be happening. I’m going to go find Y/N and make her talk to me. Whether she’s taken the Dark Mark or not, something is wrong, and I can’t just watch her suffer.”

-

When the door to the dorm creeps open, Y/N figures it’s Alice or Mary coming to grab something quickly. Lily and Marlene stopped checking up on her ages ago. So she’s surprised when Sirius walks into their dorm. He looks like a mixture of concerned and angry, and it makes Y/N’s chest aches.

“What?” she asks coldly, turning her attention back to her book.

Sirius doesn’t say anything at first, choosing to watch Y/N as he comes over and sits on the edge of her bed. “We need to talk.”

“Didn’t you get the hint? I don’t want to talk to you.” Y/N hates having to be like this with Sirius. He’s always been the person she trusted most in this world, but now she has to let him go. As painful as it is for the both of them.

Sirius crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t care about what you want. You’re in pain, Y/N. And you can’t lie your way out of it. I know you too well. I can see it in your eyes. Please just stop pushing me away so I can help you.”

Y/N slams her book shut and puts it down on the bed. “It’s too late for you to help me, okay? So just give it a rest. It’s in everyone’s best interest to just stop thinking about me and stop caring about me, okay?”

Sirius watches Y/N storm towards the door and he reaches out, grabbing her forearm. She immediately winces and tears her arm from his grasp. Sirius’ eyes widen and fear washes over him. “You have it, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Y/N responds lamely, looking down at her hands.

Sirius clears his throat. “The Dark Mark. It’s on your forearm, isn’t it?”

Y/N shakes her head and pushes past Sirius and heads back towards your bed. “You’re out of your mind, Sirius. Now just leave me alone please.”

“Not until you show me your arm, Y/N,” Sirius demands firmly. He already knows what he’ll see when she finally rolls her sleeve up, but he needs to see it. He needs to know that this is really happening.

Y/N sniffles as she turns to face Sirius. At some point she’d started crying, but she’s not entirely sure when. She rips the sleeve of her shirt up to her elbow and holds her arm out so Sirius can see the Mark on her skin. “There! Are you happy? I’m a dirty, rotten death eater. Is that enough to finally get you to leave me the fuck alone?”

“Baby,” Sirius coos, taking a step towards her. “How did this happen, please, Y/N. I love you. This doesn’t make any sense. Talk to me, please.” Sirius isn’t even sure if what he’s saying is making sense, but his mind is going too fast to string a coherent thought together. This was never supposed to happen to them. Sirius ran away from his family to avoid this fate, he let himself be disowned so he and Y/N would have a chance at a long, happy life together. And the sight of that Mark on her arm has suddenly ripped those dreams right from under him.

Y/N collapses onto her bed, holding her head in her hands. “I didn’t want it to happen. You have to believe me, Sirius. I’ve hated myself every single day since I took this fucking thing.”

Sirius sits down next to Y/N and wraps his arms around her, bringing her to his chest. “I know, baby. I know,” he soothes, starting to stroke her hair. “Let me in, please. I can’t see you hurting like this anymore.”

“They were gonna make him do it. Michael,” Y/N starts. “He’s barely even 15, I couldn’t let him. He looked so scared when they told him, like he was going to cry. I had to protect him Sirius, I couldn’t let them ruin him. So, I told them I would do it.”

Sirius leans down and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Then why not just say that to us? Y/N we all care about you. We love you. You can tell us anything. We’d never be mad. I’d never be mad.”

“Because, Sirius. This isn’t just some game or joke. I’m his slave now, I’m at his every beck and call. Being around me is dangerous, especially for you and Lily. He has information on muggleborns, Sirius. Like files and files about people. He knows pretty much everything you can about Lily. Being friends with her gives him a direct connection to her and I can’t let that happen. And you. God it would kill me if you got hurt because of me. I love you, Sirius. More than I love anything in this world.”

Sirius grabs Y/N’s face in his hands and tilts her head up so he can kiss her slowly and passionately, trying to convey every feeling he has for her through this one kiss. “Runaway with me,” he whispers when their kiss breaks.

“What?” Y/N asks, blinking up at him.

“Let’s go to Dumbledore. If anyone can help you out of this mess it’s him. He’ll be able to hide us away somewhere, until it’s safe.” Sirius hugs Y/N tightly. “I love you, Y/N. There’s no one else in the world who will ever make me feel like this. You’re the person I’m supposed to marry and have kids with. Grow old with. You’ve already saved me, now let me save you.”

Y/N kisses Sirius. “I love you too. There’s no me without you.”

Y/N lets Sirius drag her from her dorm and to Dumbledore’s office. There’s no guarantee that he’ll say yes, or that hiding will work. But with Sirius by her side, Y/N knows that everything will work out in the end.    

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 20

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Stiles and I sat outside the ruins of the Hale House in his Jeep. It was the early morning before school, practically the crack of dawn. Derek thought it would be safer there and they could do more research in the family archives that had survived the fire. It had been a few days since the attack at the police station and to say we were both shaken up was an understatement. We had both been so helpless. He had been paralyzed and forced to watch his father be beaten and I was under control of the person who had hurt him. They had put Stiles in counseling at the school. He said it helped but I’m not sure how much I believed him. 

“Dad’s asking about you. Why haven’t you answered him?” He asked, staring straight out the windshield. Uncle Noah had called me multiple times, a least a hundred text messages, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer.

“Because I’m afraid.” I answered honestly, “You didn’t see the look on his face when he saw me with-with the claws and fangs. He looked at me like I was a monster.” 

“He’s worried about you.” 

“He’s worried about what I am, Stiles.” I looked at him, trying to hold back tears, “I’m the monster from the movies he took us to watch when we were kids. I can’t see him. Not now.” I have been crying a lot lately, but how could I not? None of this was fair? Why couldn't everything just stop? As soon as we stopped Peter and Kate a new and worse threat appeared.

Stiles sighed, “Alright, I get it.” He looked towards the house, “Derek... He treats you well, right?” 

I smiled slightly, “Yeah, he does. He tries to be protective but I’m too stubborn for that.” 

“I just...” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, “I just wish that none of this would have happened. All this supernatural stuff.” 

“I know.” I said softly, “I’ll try to talk to your dad soon, maybe he’ll let me come home.” 

“He will, (Y/N). He loves you. I love you too.” He avoided eye contact which is something he did when he was vulnerable. I leaned forward, hugging him tightly, blinking back tears. He wrapped his arms around me, breathing in deeply. 

“I love you.” I pulled away, grabbed my bag that he had packed for me of my clothes from home and hopped out of the Jeep. After waving him off, I made my way into the house. 

Derek was in the middle of the room, looking through boxes, his back turned towards the door. 

“Man,” I said, dropping my bag off on the floor next to him, “I haven’t been here since I threw your uncle through that wall.” I smiled, leaning against his arm. He seemed off, his movements sharp and rigid. 

“What’s wrong? Where's the rest of them?” Talking about the betas in the pack.

“They want to leave the pack.” He said, flipping through another book. 

“What?” I asked, shocked. 

“I can sense that they’re making a decision. All of them.” He let out a deep breath through his nose. I took his hand in mine slowly, hoping to ease his nerves. 

“And what happens then? Is it just us?” 

His anger spiked, “Well, we don’t have any other allies. Seeing that McCall is working with the hunters. All for some girl.” He grumbled. 

“Wars have been fought for less.” I sighed, “I understand your anger. He betrayed us. He... Betrayed me. I mean they want to kill you for what happened to Argent’s wife. All for Allison who has been a little two sided of late.” Scott was my friend, and had been for a long time. I thought I knew the kid inside and out. But I guess I was still surprised by this town. Surprised by people I thought I knew.  

“He’s not Chris anymore?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Not when he wants to kill you. Besides, I don’t think the treaty he had with my father stands anymore.”

I caught their scent before they came into the room. Erica smelled like flowers and Boyd was like the deep woods. Derek closed the book he had been looking in, turning in their direction. They stood by the stairs, hardly meeting our gaze. 

“You've decided.” Derek said like he was resigned to it, “When?”

“Tonight.” Erica said timidly. 

“Everyone's gonna be at the game. We figured it was the best time.” Boyd said. I had completely forgotten about the game.

“It's not like we want to-”

Derek took a few steps forward, “What do you want?”

“Since I just turned sixteen a month ago, I wouldn't mind getting my license... I can't do that if I'm dead, you know.” Erica said.

“Well, I told you there was a price. We both did.” 

“Yeah, but you didn't say it would be like this!” Boyd said, defending their actions.

“Yeah, but I told you how to survive-- you do it as a pack. And you're not a pack without an Alpha.” Derek turned back towards the stack of books.

“We know.” Boyd said, causing Derek to turn back around quickly. They both seemed anxious.

“You wanna look for another pack? How are you even gonna find one?” Derek asked. Erica looked up at Boyd to speak.

“We think we already did...” They explained how they were running through the woods and stopped. How they heard howling. 

“Like, all of a sudden, we heard all this howling. It was unbelievable.” Erica said.

“There must have been a dozen of them-”

“Maybe more!” Erica interjected. 

“Yeah, or maybe only two.” Derek scoffed, “You know what the Beau Geste effect is? If they modulate their howls with a rapid shift in tone, two wolves can sound like twenty.”

“Look, that doesn't matter, okay?” Erica said quickly, “There's another pack out there. There's got to be. We've made up our minds.” She looked at me, “You understand, don’t you? You never wanted this for us.” 

“No one forced you to take the bite.” I looked at the both of them, they seemed shocked at how cold my voice sounded, “Sure, he changed two impressionable kids, but you could have taken the time to think it over. You heard what you wanted to hear and took it blindly.” Whatever sympathy they thought they would get from me was not something I was willing to give.

“We lost. And it's over. We're leaving.” Boyd finished. Derek didn’t feel anger, more sorrow, guilt, and betrayal. A familiar feeling. 

“No. No, you're running. And once you start, you don't stop. You'll always be running.” After he spoke, both of them scurried away. We turned back towards the books, Derek deep in thought.

That’s when I picked up a new scent. A dangerous one. 

“No...” My internal voice rang, “It can’t-” Derek grabbed a shard of glass from the table, throwing it back towards the intruder. The sly bastard caught it with one hand, the tip of the shape edge against his throat. We both turned, glaring at the man who was supposed to be dead.

“...I expected a slightly warmer welcome. But, point taken.” Peter said, almost amused. I stayed close to Derek, my eyes never seeming to find a distraction from the monster before us. Peter Hale was like a car wreck: no matter how much you want to look away, you can’t, you don’t want to miss a single movement. Derek kept an arm in front of me to shield me from any incoming attack. 

“It's quite a situation you've gotten yourself in here, you two...” Peter said, “I mean, I'm out of commission for a few weeks, and suddenly there's lizard-people, geriatric psychopaths, and Derek's cooking up werewolves from every self-esteem-deprived adolescent in town.” He looked pointedly at Derek.

“What do you want?” Derek asked irritably. 

“Well, I want to help.” Peter said innocently, “You're my nephew-- the only relative I have left. And (Y/N), I owe you an apology and I can show you how to be a true matriarch. You know, there's still a lot that I can teach you...Both of you.” He walked closer to us, Derek’s anger growing more and more. “Can we just talk?” He put a hand on Derek’s shoulder. The shoulder closest to me. 

Very bad choice. 

Derek looked at Peter’s hand, “Sure. Let's talk.” Peter was then thrown across the room into the staircase. He landed to a thud and groan, some wood from the railing falling on top of him. 

-

A few hours went by and I had received a couple messages, namely from Coach and Stiles, both wondering where I was. I looked at the time, the game would start soon, meaning I was missing Coach’s speech. It was the same speech he made every year... It was the speech from Independence Day, but I don’t think he knew any sports movies. 

Derek had been beating Peter for a couple of hours, running off his rage and mine. A groan made me look down, Peter was at my feet, panting heavily. 

"Ya know, groveling isn't gonna make me forgive you." I stepped to the side, letting Derek grab Peter by the collar and punching him in that smug face of his. I needed to figure out how I could get to the game safely. If I went, that meant Gerard or any other hunter could grab me and use me as leverage to get to Derek. That would kill us both.  

Derek growled and kicked Peter, sending him back towards the house. It was a side of the house I had only seen once or twice, when I had to run from the what turned out to be Peter all those months ago. 

“You don't actu-actually think that I want to be the Alpha again, do you?” Peter chuckled nervously, panting hard, “That wasn't my finest performance, considering it ended in my death. I mean, I'm usually more-” He sat up. Derek grabbed his collar, rearing his fist back. 

“Okay, go ahead! Come on, do it! Hit me. Hit me. I can see that it's cathartic for you!” Peter shouted, causing Derek to hesitate, “You're letting go of all the anger, self-loathing, and hatred that comes with total and complete failure.”

“Hey!” I shouted, coming around and slapping Peter hard across the face, "Watch your tongue."

Peter’s head snapped in the direction of my blow. Slowly bringing it back towards Derek, “I may be the one taking the beating, Derek, but you've already been beaten. So, go ahead. Hit me if that will make you feel better. After all, I did say that I wanted to help.”

Derek shoved his uncle back to the ground, “You can't help me.” He walked towards the main living area. I started to follow.

“You’re wearing the ring.” Peter panted, causing me to pause. I look down at the silver triskele ring, “That was my sister’s wedding ring.” This was Talia’s.... I left the room quickly, following Derek back to the main room of the house. I touched the ring softly.

Talia’s face was close to mine, a sweet smile on her lips. In the reflection of her eyes I saw myself, no older than two or three. Looking down I saw small hands playing with the many rings on her fingers, including the silver triskele. 

“You like my rings, don’t you?” She said, her voice higher and more animated, the usual tone someone had when speaking to a young child, “Someday you can have pretty rings like this.” She smiled, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

I was brought out of my memory by a text. 

UNCLE NOAH:

Stiles is playing... You should be here to see this. For him.

-

Derek sat on the steps of the stairs, looking over his bloody knuckles. I sat beside him, running my fingers softly over his back. Peter managed to stumble into the room, leaning against a doorway.

“See? Prime example right here-” He began yet another monologue, “I’m not healing as fast. Coming back from the dead isn't easy, you know. I'm not as strong as I used to be. I need a pack. I need an Alpha. An Alpha like you. I need you as much as you need me.” He spoke only to Derek, knowing how vulnerable he could be.

Derek scoffed, “Why would I want help from a total psychopath?”

“First of all, I'm not a total psycho.” 

“Coulda fooled me.” I glared.

He titled his head to the side, speaking defensively, “And, by the way, you're the one that slashed my throat wide open. But, we're all works in progress, right? So, we need each other. Sometimes, when you need help, you turn to people you'd never expect.”

"I killed you for a reason.” Derek glared, “You used mind control to kill people, you killed Laura, you tried to kill me, and you tried to force her into creating a new bloodline. 

"All for a good reason."

"And that is?"

Peter looked like Stiles when he hadn't come up with a clever comeback, "Come back to me about that." He tried a different approach, “You tried to build your pack. You tried to prepare for the worst. You weren't ready. Because of it, Gerard is winning. He's taking his time. He's toying with Scott. He's going after your wolves, one by one. He's relishing in his victory.”

“How about you tell me something I don't know?” Derek said, getting more and more irritated. 

“Oh, I'm going to, and it's gonna prove why you should trust me-- why you need to trust me. Because I'm going to tell you how to stop Jackson.” Both of our heads perked up.

“What do you mean? You know how to kill him?”

“Actually, how to save him.” He licked his lips, “There's a myth that you can cure a werewolf simply by calling out its christian name.”

Derek scoffed, “It's just a myth.”

“Sometimes myths and legends bear a hint of truth. Our name is a symbol of who we are. The Kanima has no identity-- that's why it doesn't seek a pack.”

“...It seeks a master.”

“And who else grows up with no pack? No identity?”

“An orphan.”

“Like Jackson. And right now, his identity is disappearing beneath a reptilian skin, and you need to bring him back.”

“How?”

“Through his heart-- how else?” Peter said as if it had always been the obvious answer.

“You know, in case you hadn't noticed, Jackson doesn't really have much of a heart to begin with...”

“He’s a spoiled prick.” I added.

“Not true.” Peter said, “He'd never admit it, but there is one person-- one person with whom Jackson shared a real bond. One person who can reach him. Who can save him.”

“...Lydia." We both said. 

Peter leaned down close, “Your best ally has always been anger, Derek, but what you lack most is heart.” I jerked forward, Derek grabbed my arm, bringing me back to my seat. 

“That’s why you’ve always known that you need Scott more than anyone. And even somebody as burned and dead on the inside as me knows better than to underestimate the simple yet undeniable power of human love. Perhaps that’s why you were drawn to our lovely (Y/N). She knew our secrets, yet still human.” 

“I’ll show you human-” I growled, my claws sharp and ready to swing.

“Feisty.” He smirked. My phone started ringing and I cursed. 

“Shit. I missed the game.” I slipped off the stairs, shoving by Peter on my way into the other room. Scott. 

I pressed my phone to my ear: “I know, I’m sorry I missed it. Is Stiles mad?” 

“That’s the problem.” Scott said, his voice full of dread. 

“What is it?” I asked, gripping onto the doorway. 

What he said next practically made my heart stop, “Stiles is missing.” 

”I’ll be right there.” I hung up the phone, rushing back into the room. Derek was already on his feet, catching me before I ran into him. 

”Stiles’ is missing, we need to find him. Now.” I said hurriedly. He looked me in the eye. 

“We’re gonna find him. He’s going to be okay.” 

“But what if he isn’t? What if he’s not okay and it’s because I wasn’t there to protect him.” There was a tight ball of emotions in my chest, ready to burst. 

“We’ll find him.” He said calmly, leading me out to the car. 

-

The three of us made our way into the school, avoiding Gerard and whoever else he had patrolling the halls. There were a few deputies, we passed one who almost made me gag. I could smell that beef jerky spice rub. He was one to avoid. 

We got into the locker room with ease thanks to my keys. We found Isaac and Scott in front of Stiles’ locker. Isaac was holding up a shoe.

"How come you get a shirt and I get a shoe?"  Isaac grimaced, his eyes shooting up to look at his two alphas. Scott noticed his expression, turning quickly. 

"We need to talk." Derek said. Peter walked up behind us, making a dramatic entrance. As usual.

 “All of us.” 

“Holy shit.” Scott whispered, “What the hell is this?”

“You know, I thought the same thing when we saw you talking to Gerard at the Sheriff's station...” Derek looked at him pointedly.

Scott’s eyes widened, “Okay, hold on! He-he threatened to kill my mom! And I had to get close to him. What was I supposed to do?”

“I'm gonna go with Scott on this one.” Peter said, causing us all to look back, “Have you seen his mom? She's gorgeous!”

“Shut up!” We all said. 

Isaac leaned over to Scott, “...Who is he?”

“That's Peter, Derek's uncle. A little while back, he tried to kill us all, and then we set him on fire, and Derek slashed his throat.” Scott glared.

“Hi.” Peter smiled. 

“...That's good to know.”

“How is he alive?” Scott asked. I was curious myself. 

“Look, the short version is he knows how to stop Jackson... and maybe how to save him.” Derek said, getting more and more irritated.

“Well, that's very helpful... except Jackson's dead.” Isaac dropped the bomb shell. 

“What?” Derek and I asked.

“Yeah, Jackson's dead. It just happened on the field.” Scott motioned back to the direction of the lacrosse field.

“Okay, why is no one taking this as good news?” Isaac asked, so incredibly confused. 

“Because if Jackson is dead, it didn't just happen-- Gerard wanted it to happen.” Peter said slowly. 

“But why?” I looked back at Peter.

“Well, that's exactly what we need to figure out.” He sighed, “And something tells me the window of opportunity is closing. Quickly.”

-   

Back at the Hale house, Peter and Derek were looking around for something that could help us. Scott finished getting off the phone. 

“Oh. Oh, they found Stiles.’ He sighed in relief. I let out the breath I had been holding in since he had been on the phone. 

“That kid is gonna kill me.” I leaned against the wall, a smile on my face. 

“I told you, I looked everywhere.” Derek shouted. 

Peter smirked and got down at the ground, looking under the staircase where Derek usually sat, “You didn't look here.” He removed a plank of wood and pulled out a thin rectangle. Has that always been there? Or had it been since the fire?

“What is that, a book?” Derek asked. 

“No,” Peter scoffed, “It's a laptop. What century are you living in?” He opened the dinosaur looking laptop, “A few days after I got out of the coma, I transferred everything that we had.” He closed the laptop, seeing that it was still working, “Fortunately, the Argents aren't the only ones who keep records.” He stood up with the laptop, moving into the living room area, Derek and I following behind. Scott was in the corner of the room, talking to his mother. Melissa had gone with the EMT taking Jackson to the hospital for an official autopsy. 

“Hey, Mom. I can't talk right now-What's wrong?”

“Something... Definitely something... I don't know what, but I think you're gonna want to see this for yourself.” He looked over at us. 

“Go.” I said, motioning my head towards the door, “We’ll stay here.” Scott nodded, rushing out the door. 

-

After a while, Scott called us and explained that Jackson wasn’t as dead as we thought he had been. Derek had the phone on speaker.

“They say he's in some kind of transparent casing made from the venom coming out of his claws...” He said. I grimaced at the thought of it. 

“That sounds sufficiently terrifying.” Peter said, not looking up from the laptop screen.

“They also say he's starting to move.” Derek said grimly. 

“Okay, look- I think I found something.” We both looked over Peter’s shoulders. “Looks like what we've seen from Jackson is just the Kanima's Beta shape...” Beta shape. That’s definitely not good.

“Well, meaning what? It can turn into something bigger?”

“Bigger and badder.” His voice wavered, meaning that it was definitely worse. My eyes widened as I saw the kanima’s next evolution. It was bigger and it had wings which and longer claws and would be in my nightmares. 

“He's turning into that? That has wings!” Derek shouted, looking just as terrified as I did. 

“I can see that.” Peter said curtly. 

“Are those... more tails?” I asked, really hoping they weren’t what I originally thought.

“No, those are claws.” 

“...Great.”

“Scott, bring him to us.” Derek spoke into the phone. 

“I'm not sure if we have time for that...”

“Look! Somebody actually made an animation of it. Maybe it's less frightening if we-” He played the video. A loud shriek played over the screen. Peter closed the laptop quickly. 

“Nope. Not at all.” He looked back at Derek, “We should probably meet them halfway.”

“Scott, get him out of there now. Go now!” Derek shouted into the phone, sounding more urgent than ever. Derek grabbed my hand, starting to rush with Peter through the house. Peter stopped in front of the door, stopping us from moving forward. 

“Derek, we need Lydia.”

Derek growled impatiently, “There's no time for-”

“That's the problem.” Peter interrupted, “We're rushing. We're moving too fast. And, while everyone knows that a moving target is harder to hit, here we are, racing right into Gerard's crosshairs.”

I looked up at Derek, gnawing on the inside of my cheek, “I wouldn’t usually agree with him, you know that. But he’s right.” Satisfied, Peter opened the front door and we all came out. Peter reached for the door handle on the passenger side. I grabbed his hand, pulling it off.

“I don’t think so.” I chuckled and opened the door. 

“I’m taller than you.” 

“Get in the back, Peter.” Derek shouted, glaring. Peter hummed, getting into the back of the car. 

-

As we drove, I looked over, seeing that Derek hadn’t put his seat belt on. I leaned over, trying to grab it. He swatted my hand away. 

“It's not really that important." He grumbled. I raised an eyebrow at him. 

"Not important? Tell that to the seat belt that kept me from being thrown through my car window and killing me.”

“You would have healed.”

"Derek Hale-" 

"I am a little busy worrying about a reptilian demon out for blood!" Derek said, glancing at me. Huffing, I sat back in my seat with my arms crossed over my chest. After a moment, Derek sighed loudly, followed by the familiar metal lock of a seatbelt clicking into place. Peter blew out air, followed by the sound of a whip cracking. 

Derek looked back in the rear view mirror, eyes red. 

-

We parked in the alley next to the railway depot, waiting for Scott and Isaac to arrive with Jackson. Soon after they pulled up, dragging Jackson’s body bag behind them. And after Scott and Isaac appeared Chris Argent behind them. We got out of the car, waiting around the corner and listening. 

“I think he stopped moving...” Isaac panted. 

“Where's Derek?” Chris asked. That’s when Derek ran around the corner on all four. Peter and I looked around the corner, seeing him do a flip, then land in a  crouching position. Probably flashing his red eyes. 

“Someone certainly enjoys making an entrance...” Peter mumbled. 

“Must run in the family.” I said casually, smirking a little when he looked down at me. 

“I'm here for Jackson, not you.” Chris said.

“Somehow, I don't find that very comforting.” He looked to Scott and Isaac, “Get him inside.” I stepped out to follow behind them when Peter grabbed my arm. I looked down at his hand, then him. 

“Taking my hand off.” He removed his hand quickly, “But you need to stay out of this.” 

“Why-” 

“Because you don’t remember how to fight.” 

I narrowed my eyes at him, “Don’t remember how to fight?”

“Yes, You don’t remember. You were trained by your parents and my sister. You were an excellent fighter.” He looked over my clenched fists, “But when they took your memories, you forgot.” 

“I know how to fight.” I glared. 

“No, Derek taught you how to defend yourself. You swing your claws and hope to land a blow. That’s not fighting, you’re leaving yourself too open.” 

“Look, we don’t have time for this.” I squeezed my eyes shut, taking a deep breath. My attention was brought to the voices inside the warehouse. We looked in through a nearby window. They surrounded Jackson’s body bag. 

“Where are they?” Scott asked, looking around. 

“Who?” Derek had his eyes trained on Jackson. 

“Peter, (Y/N), and Lydia!” Scott shouted. Derek shook his head, kneeling down and unzipping the body bag. 

“Whoa! Hold on a second-” Scott stepped forward, “You said you knew how to save him.”

“We're past that.” Goddamit, Derek. I’m about sick of him doing this. He knew that killing Jackson when there was a possibility to save him wouldn’t go down well with anyone. 

“What about-”

“Think about it, Scott!” Derek shouted, “Gerard controls him now. He's turned Jackson into his own personal guard dog, and he set all of this in motion so that Jackson could get even bigger and more powerful.”

Chris stepped forward, “No. No, he wouldn't do that.” He said defensively, “If Jackson's a dog, he's turning rabid, and my father wouldn't let a rabid dog live.”

“Of course not...” Gerard’s brogue echoed through the depot. “Anything that dangerous, that out of control... is better off dead.” I inhaled sharply, my whole body wanted to run into the warehouse to be by Derek’s side but Peter was keeping me back. 

“Pay attention to Gerard.” He whispered, “Look at him.” 

“I can see him-”

“Look closer. Get his scent.” He whispered. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. I could smell metal and gun smoke, but there was something else, something foul. 

“He’s dying.” I whispered, opening my eyes. I looked back at the group, watching Derek lift a claws hand to slash Jackson’s throat. That was Jackson beat him to it, stabbing his hand through Derek’s chest and throwing him across the room. 

“DEREK!” I screamed, getting out of Peter’s grip and running into the back entrance into the main room of the depot. A cocking gun made he stop abruptly, Gerard had a gun trained on me. 

“Please.” I begged, my voice shaking. Not only from watching the man I love be skewered and thrown through the room, but from the pain we shared. He only chuckled, motioning for me to join Scott and Isaac on the other side of Jackson’s body bag. I slowly stood besides them, watching Gerard and the area Derek was thrown in.

"Please get up... Please don't die on me."

“Well done to the last, Scott.” Gerard said smugly, “Like the concerned friend you are, you brought Jackson to Derek to save him. You just didn't realize that you were also bringing Derek to me.” A whistle shot through the air, and the next thing we knew, Isaac had an arrow in his shoulder. Isaac fell back, grunting. 

“Allison?” Scott sounded shocked, as if there were any other people we knew who worked exclusively with crossbows. Scott and I rushed over to Isaac, moving to get him away from her line of fire. A shot rang out, Jackson’s reptilian hiss echoed. More gunfire followed. We got Isaac behind a cement pillar. He was grunting in pain, gritting his teeth together. 

“This is gonna hurt.” I said, pulling the arrow from his shoulder. Isaac yelled through his teeth. A roar cut through the air, making us all look back. 

“Derek.” I smiled. We walked back, growing claws and fangs, ready to fight Jackson before he fully transformed. Scott and Isaac walked forward and as I stepped up, I felt a sharp pain in the back of my neck, followed by darkness. 

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

Read part 21 here!

And there is where the story takes a turn, see I told you we'd get there.

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Critical Role 126 Discord Convo

Here, my sibling and I talked a bit about Veth, Caleb, the Cerberus Assembly, and Astrid/Wulf in particular (it starts out a bit goofy at first but gets serious): Sibling: Did you see that animatic I sent you, speaking of that scene?

Me: Yes

Sibling: Like, it'd be great to update it with Astrid and Wulf in a mound just behind the 9

Me: Lol, they would have seen the polymorphed worm, too... And the yeti friends... "They... built snowmen in balenpost?"

Sibling: And had to camp out while they disappeared into the wizard tower... the Beau-shaped hole in Balenpost lol

Me: There was a jester one too

Sibling: LOL. Like, a snowman... a snowman with 2 heads

Me: and sad faces

Sibling: One kicked over snowman and two human-shaped holes in the snowbanks. But seriously, there's no way someone isn't aware that Vess is dead. Her window was open, letting the snow come in

Me: Oh, the assembly knows. At the very least, Ludinus, Trent, and the scourgers definitely know. Astrid "thanked" Caleb because she's assuming he killed her, or she wants that to be the case, at least.

Sibling: Veth is totally missing the point. The writing is on the wall, Astrid is using the shit out of Caleb and I think, at the very least it might be an interesting DQ6 moment where when they come back from saving the world, Astrid's already taken Trent's place and they have to deal with it that way.

Me:  Yeah, it's very obvious, especially when you consider how Astrid and Caleb have similarities. Like... Astrid's panic attack in the alley reminded me of Caleb's breakdown in Shady Creek Run. Right after the manipulation is over and they're out of sight, they have a breakdown. Tbh... If Caleb were to replace anyone on the assembly, it shouldn't be Trent. It should be Ludinus. Ludinus is the root of the problems in the empire, pretty much everyone is certain at this point that that is the case. The king is evil but seems incompetent/useless.

Sibling: I wonder, honestly, if that'll be the conclusion to the M9? If Caleb's arc will conclude it?

Me: But at the same time I don't want him to be in the assembly; I don't think he WANTS to be.

Sibling: Rewatching the table scene *Veth: (to Wulf) "When the war was a bit more hot... Were you much more busy?" Wulf: "Not any more than yourselves." Veth: "No I mean, were you out on the lines like a soldier?" Wulf: "I'm not much of a frontliner... More of a scout, if you would."* Wulf is totally tailing them. Wulf is absolutely the person they sent after them, I'm certain of it.

Me: Yeah, I figured. There's going to be a confrontation in Eiselcross when they're traveling with Essek, I'm sure of it. That's gonna be rough.

Sibling: No, I know that, but it stuck out to me. I feel like Matt's dropping major hint bombs... ex vs current bf?

Me: I wonder if Essek has MET Wulf before.Sibling: I like Wulf more than Astrid.

Me:  Me, too.

Sibling: I think I'll be sad if he gets gravity crushed, but he better not lay a finger... on my butterfinger.

Me:  I mean, I feel bad for them both, but the problem is that they can't be trusted with power, and if the Assembly falls, they may try to seize power. Tbh I just don't see them surviving to the end and that's pretty sad.

Sibling: I could see Wulf being turned if the party spent more time on things, seeing as he seems to be more of a piece to be manipulated than a major player himself... but their focus is entirely on Trent and Astrid, which makes me think that he'll be canned.

Me:  Actually, I'm not so sure about that Wulf thing. I think he may be harder to reach in some ways. See the thing is... Astrid wants power.  That's understandable.  But it's not clear if she wants power for necessarily nefarious purposes or if it's just that the life of poverty she led before coupled with how much she's lost drives her to reach for it, and it's not clear what would satisfy her or whether or not she'd be interested in taking her life in a different direction, so that's complicated.

Me: But with Wulf... Wulf's issues are simpler, which I think arguably makes him harder to reach. Wulf and Astrid have both basically shrugged off their parents' deaths at this point, they've both indicated as much in different ways, but Wulf's a servant of the Raven Queen.  He can rationalize the death of anything and anyone under her banner.  Unlike Astrid, who is motivated by power/ambition, Wulf is the holy soldier... of the death god.  That's uh... zealotry.

Me: Worse still, he has religious motivations for going against those who use Dunamancy, which is likely an anathema to the Raven Queen. He was already following her when he was a teenager, because Caleb was looking to see if he had any symbols of her on him when they first reunited. Honestly I really don't think either of them can truly be reached unless Caleb DOES take over the assembly and even then they might do scummy stuff behind his back out of perceived necessity.

Sibling: If his motivations have been so tied up in his religion, it would make it very difficult to reach him, true. But Astrid seems to have invested so much into her ambitions that I wonder if she might try to quiet those talking her out of it. She seems very aware of her actions' consequences, unlike someone like Essek who had ambitions without understanding where his studies would take him. If they're left alive, which I don't think they will be, Caleb's best scenario would be to avoid the assembly as much as possible.

Me: Honestly at this point I feel like the entire government of the Empire needs to be cleared out and replaced, ideally by the Cobalt Soul.  Though that would be very controversial, I don't think any other organization can be trusted with filling that vacuum. The Soul is ultimately an international religious organization, but considering they have shown willingness to weed out corruption within their own ranks, it would be interesting if they pooled their resources and had the Empire taken over by a circle of vetted monks instead of corrupt mages, and then have them transition to a democracy eventually.

Sibling: Considering that Matt has reinforced that the Cobalt Soul is attempting to weed out its own corruption, but can't seem to do so for other organizations... I wonder how long it would last. At least they wouldn't have to operate in secret anymore. Maybe that would lift their final restriction?

Me: Well, the thing that really chafes at me with respect to Caleb potentially joining the assembly is that he just DOESN'T FIT THERE.  I've thought this before but Caleb would be more at home working for the Cobalt Soul than the Assembly.  He's been talking about burning out the rot in the Empire for ages now, and that's basically the goals of the expositors. I wouldn't object to him being involved in the Empire's government... as long as that government did not consist of anything resembling the assembly. A complete restructuring.

Sibling: I mean, you can't really rework the gov unless you're already in a position like Ludinus, but even then, Caleb I still feel like is not the person for that.

Me:  But let's be real, ideally he would be the head of the Soltryce Academy... and that's the thing... One of the problems with Wulf and Astrid is that you get the feel that they could rationalize doing anything.  And you have to wonder under all that rationalization and manipulation if there is any malice/sadism... there probably is, which sucks because Astrid is actually far better positioned to be an effective politician than Caleb; she's had experience around it for over a decade, she probably knows politics very well. Caleb is earnest and an excellent negotiator but he is not a politician. He would be best off as an ambassador, if I had to pick a political position for him to take.

Sibling: The government does still need to be overthrown for Essek to come hang out with Caleb though, so it must be done.

Me: It must be done. Looping back to Veth/Astrid... Here are some of the posts on Veth's behavior that I've seen. *posts a bunch of links* It's interesting... the Astrid thing. I haven't seen anyone else point this out, but... Veth probably sees Astrid as being Caleb's Yeza.  And if Caleb can go back to Astrid and be happy, it's like a test run for her going back to Yeza. Which is pretty messed up. He keeps telling her "Yes, I care for her, but we've both changed" and that's not something Veth wants to think about because it applies to her as well, except that... well, Yeza really hasn't changed.  Just her.

Sibling: 1) Ah, skirting her trauma by attempting to address what she sees as Caleb's? Addressing her issues by proxy? Overbearing mom living vicariously through her son...? ... That kind of makes my stomach churn, but I get it. 2) Another revenge perspective. Considering her knee-jerk reaction to kill people who've wronged her family or the party, I think revenge is totally an aspect that has gone unexplored for her. 3) Eugh, the romance still squicks me out, but I understand. Nott was a different person to Veth, she probably had a hope out for returning to her form and going back to Yeza... But I wonder if she thought he wouldn't accept her, and she had Caleb as like... (ew) a backup?

Me: I mean, it's pretty well-established that she has a thing for Caleb.  And yeah, her feelings for him are pretty fucked up because of their dynamic up to the point where they went to Felderwin. The CA did wrong her family, and so did Essek, and Veth is very much a vengeance-minded person in a far more straightforward way than Caleb.  Most of the others have told Caleb that if he goes after the Assembly, it should be for the right reasons.  Interestingly, Veth, Fjord, and Jester don't seem to agree exactly. Jester sees it as a sort of "why not both?" thing.  Fjord seems to have no qualms with vengeance at all (unsurprising considering which parts of his past have not yet been resolved, and yet Fjord has never gotten shit for that like Caleb has, and Sabian has done far less harm/damage than Trent).  But Veth?  Veth sees vengeance as clearcut, something that ought to be pursued and then when it's done, it's done and she's satisfied.  It's interesting that the person who Caleb was most attached to at the start of the campaign is also by far the most unhealthy influence on him in the group at this point.

Sibling: I think it's because Fjord hasn't been molded by Sabian. Sabian wronged him, but the more Fjord found out about himself, the less important that seemed. And the more they found out, the more you begin to call into question whether what he did was to get rid of Vandran, an unsavory figure or... something else? Not to mention, Sabian is insignificant, whereas Caleb's abuser is still abusing people to this day. I can see there are major differences between the consequences of either of their revenge quests.

Me: Yes, but that's precisely my point. Sabian is not hugely harmful in comparison to Trent, so it's interesting that people give Caleb shit for being motivated partially by revenge, while Fjord doesn't get any when that's basically his ONLY motivation for tracking down Sabian.

Sibling: Probably because Fjord might get a reason without killing Sabian. Caleb might be walking into a trap, laid out by his peers. I still am of the opinion that killing Trent is a net positive. Just the act of getting rid of him is necessary to stop the cycle. But what comes next is the most important part. Because if Trent is dead when they come back, and Astrid sits in his place... The perpetuation of this cycle won't come to a close.

Me: Yes.  I mean, personally?  His entire section of the Empire's government should be outright dissolved.  It's absolutely revolting.  The thing is that it's not just Trent that needs to go; it's his POSITION.  That needs to not exist, and I don't see that ever happening so long as Ludinus exists as well.  Edit: Well, you basically said what I meant in a different way, lol.

[moral-turpitudes]

Mending Hearts:

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Blood, Mentions/Descriptions of War and PTSD, Lil bit of Fluff and stuff.

Word Count: 3,296

Characters: Arthur Shelby x Reader

+ Ada, John, Finn, and Polly.

Request: (I got this super detailed request on my Wattpad: @jetblackheartsx but I loved it so much I wanted to post it on here :) For the sake of this one, it’s taking place around the first season-ish where Billy Kimber has become the Peaky Blinders’ current headache.

Paraphrased: “...Reader is new to Small Heath and makes friends with Ada. One day she invites reader to come to one of her brothers mansions. As they drive out there she tells reader about her family, and upon arrival they find blood and two men around the corner. They check to see if they’re alive and Ada calls an ambulance while reader figures out how to save them. After she manages to save them, the ambulance crew arrives and takes them to the hospital and the reader brings Ada home. The next day Ada and Arthur come to thank her and bring her flowers. Then Arthur asks the reader if she’d like to come for dinner one night to meet the rest of the Shelby family. Reader blushes and agrees to meet them after a couple days in order for them to recuperate. When there, she meets Finn who is sweet and charming, and then she’s led to the drawing room of the mansion where she meets Polly and John. And as typical Shelby’s they are a bit flirtatious and so as she sits down with them she wonders what on earth the future could hold.” 

Requested by: Wattpad Reader

Y/n walked out of her apartment ready to meet her new friend Ada and her family. She had just moved to Small Heath a week prior and it wasn’t long before she’d gotten herself in a rut. She had just been rejected from a seamstress job, roaming the dark colored town and heading towards the Garrison to drink away her current feelings. When she arrived, she saw a brunette standing at the bar with a disgruntled look on her face. She smiled and walked towards her, not paying any mind to the ogling stares from the groups of men drunkenly hanging around during the day.

“What will you have miss?” The bartender asked.

“Oh, just a bottle of whiskey....thank you.” She said as he handed her a shot glass and a bottle. She slipped him the cash and he smiled as he went to tend to the other customers.

“You don’t sound like you’re from here...what’s your name?” Ada asked, staring at her glass of wine as Y/n took a seat.

“Y/n...and you’re right...I’m not from here. Just moved from London.” She said.

“Well...welcome to Small Heath then, Y/n. I’m Ada...Ada Shelby.” She said hesitantly.

“What brings you here?” She asked.

“Planning to drink away my sadness for the night, it’s lonely here. Job rejections and such...” Y/n said before taking a shot.

“I see...well I may be able to help you out with that if you’d like. I have some pull in this town.” Ada said winking.

“Really? You’d help me out? You barely know me.” She said taking another shot.

“I know...I just want to help for a change. You seem nice so I’m willing to take the chance. And....let’s just say my family is always looking for ways to expand their business. What do you do exactly?” She asked.

“Well I was a nurse back in London for a couple years, but then I got sent out to help in the war, stitching soldiers, mending wounds, repairing uniforms, things like that.” She said nonchalantly. She never opened up much about her experience, seeing wounded soldiers everyday, but she managed to integrate back into civilian life just fine, but it was the nights when she’d sit at home alone that worried her the most.

“Oh really? All of my brothers except for my youngest got sent to France...I’m glad they and you got back. It’s changed them though...” She said sipping her wine.

“War does that, yeah.” Y/n said looking down at her third shot. Remembering all the men she saw and helped mend.

“Are you wanting to drink that whole thing?” Ada asked smirking.

“Only if you‘d want to help me.” She said, pushing the bottle towards Ada.

They continued on like that for the day, becoming best friends by the end of the night.

“You...you’d like my brothers. Maybe I’ll let you meet them tomorrow?” She asked, slurring her words a bit. Y/n could see the poor woman was desperate for some kind of human interaction that wasn’t with her family, so she smiled, agreeing to meet them and looking forward to hanging out with her again.

“I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow. What’s your address?” Ada asked.

Y/n wrote it down quickly, hoping it was legible in her current state.

“I’ll have my driver take you back, here come with me.” She said taking her arm as they both hobbled out. She paid no mind to the men whistling at them as they walked to the car.

Once in, Y/n looked around hazily and drunkenly talked with Ada as they both watched the dreary night blow by them as the driver made his way to her apartment, Ada only slightly more sober than her, helping her to her door.

“Noon tomorrow alright? Thanks for keeping me company tonight. You’re a good friend Y/n.” She said before giving Y/n a hug. Y/n smiled and waved her off, quickly going inside and heading for her scarcely furnished bedroom.

During the war she learned to live with next to nothing, as she constantly had to share stuff with her nurse mates and only had a few clothing items She could bring. Necessities were pretty much it for her, keeping her style in both clothing and furnishings to a minimum.

The next day, Y/n awoke with an all-too-familiar headache and so she took a quick shower and put on a white dress-shirt and beige skirt. Tying her hair up into a tight bun with a ribbon and some pins, just as she did years ago. It had to be done so often that she did it out of habit now.

Grabbing her coat, she walked out, seeing Ada parked outside.

“Hey Y/n! Nice to see you! How are you feeling?” She asked, her sunglasses hiding her own tired look.

“Hungover, but I’ve been through worse.” She said smirking. Ada laughed and continued on, driving down the road.

“So tell me about this family of yours? They have a business I may be of use to you said?” Y/n asked.

Ada gulped and smiled, trying to hide the uneasiness in her voice as she spoke.

“Well, they’re pretty well known here as am I. The Shelbys that is....my brothers mainly...are known as the Peaky Blinders...rigging the books, going to horse races, taking bets, smuggling drugs, weapons, the lot...” Ada paused, waiting for y/n’s reaction.

“Oh my...You know I think I’ve heard of them before, they got in quite the scuffle in London about a year ago.” Y/n said.

“Does that scare you? What my family does?” She asked, knowing many of her friends left her due to her status.

“Not really. They sound quite interesting. That or I’m insane...” Y/n said jokingly.

“Well Y/n you might be. But in that case I think you’ll fit right in.” She said.

“I don’t mean to barge in or anything though, to their business that is, I don’t want to seem desperate for a job...” Y/n said, fiddling nervously with her hands as they pulled into her brother Thomas’ driveway.

“They don’t mind. I’ve already talked with them. Tommy needs a new nurse and a seamstress if I’m honest. The bastard gets in dangerous fights and rips holes in almost all his suits at some point. Not to mention, the old nurse almost gave him an overdose of morphine once because she couldn’t see the dosage markers.” She said chuckling.

“Oh my. Well I’d be glad to help, thanks for putting a word in for me.” Y/n said before getting out of Ada’s car.

“No problem.” She said smiling and leading her into Thomas’ estate.

As they walked along the hallway, Y/n saw a trail of blood and Ada gasped.

“Walk to the side of it.” Y/n said sternly, walking down the long hall and towards the kitchen. The blood was fresh and a dark crimson, the light glinting off it as it led down into the cellar.

Groaning was heard from two dark haired men. Ada suddenly screamed and ran away from her to call an ambulance.

“Hello! Yes come to Thomas Shelby’s estate quickly. He’s been hurt again and so has Arthur.” Y/n heard her say urgently from upstairs.

Without thinking, Y/n carefully dodged the blood and ran towards them, seeing the man with blue eyes drifting in and out.

“Hey, stay with me. Focus on my voice. I’m going to put pressure on your abdomen okay?” He nodded and looked at her from bloodied eyes, he’d been beaten and stabbed badly.

“What’s your name aye?” Y/n asked as he winced.

“Thomas...Thomas Shelby.” He said quietly.

“Ada get me a first aid kit! Now!” She yelled from the cellar loudly, causing the other man to cover his ears as he bled from his arm profusely.

Ada came running down, a look of fear and disgust as she got blood on her heels.

“Here, I found some whiskey, a needle and thread, and some pliers. Oh and the former nurses morphine.” She said handing her the box with all of it and the bottle of whiskey.

“Ada I know you don’t want to do this but I’m going to need you to wrap your brothers arm in gauze and squeeze it. Talk to him. Don’t let him fade out.” Y/n ordered. Ada shakily went over to her brother Arthur and did as instructed.

“Oi! Ada who’s that?” He asked, panting as he held his hand over his stomach which was also bleeding.

“Sh-she’s my new friend, the one I told you about. I figured she’d be able to be of some use.” She said sloppily wrapping the gauze and squeezing his arm as he yelled out.

“Thomas? Hey. Hey! No don’t look up look at me.” Y/n said shaking her head a bit as she looked on the syringe and loaded the correct amount of morphine into it, administering it carefully into his arm. She could feel his eyes on her as she poured whiskey in the wound. His eyes opened wide and he bit his lip trying not to scream as she worked.

“A piece of the knife broke off and I have to extract it, bite down on this.” She said, putting his loose tie in his mouth.

She cleaned her hands with whiskey and then carefully extracted the piece of metal from his wound, causing it to bleed more. Then she quickly threaded the needle and put pressure on him to stop the bleeding before stitching him up just as she was instructed in the medical ward.

It seemed as if it took her forever but really it only took her about 10 minutes.

Ada gagged as she held the now saturated gauze, watching Y/n put the final touches on Tommy’s gauze before wiping the blood from his face and putting ointment on the cuts near his eye.

Thomas watched her as she ran towards Arthur who was losing blood more quickly. She didn’t think, just acted, as she undid Arthur’s belt causing Ada to give her a questioning look.

“Tourniquet.” She said sharply before yanking the remainder of it from under him.

“You did great Ada. Put his tie in his mouth now please.“ Y/n said, and Ada did as instructed.

“So I hear your names Arthur. Keep your eyes on me. I’m going to tie this alright? Bite down.” Y/n said as he weakly bit down.

He groaned and she saw tears escape his eyes as he looked at her, frantic and nervous as he was losing blood rapidly.

Y/n averted her gaze and pulled the belt as tight as she could, getting the bleeding under control gradually as she assessed his wounds.

He was stabbed like Tommy but not as deeply and not with a piece of metal embedded in his side, as his arm was what took the brunt of it.

Y/n unwrapped the gauze and flushed both wounds out as he yelled through the tie. Ada walked over to Tommy after she saw Y/n had Arthur under control and asked him about what happened, Y/n listening in as she worked.

“Kimber’s men...they came in here after we got back from the races. It was just me and Arthur here as we were going to go to the shop. They came here to get me Ada. They came here to kill me after what went down.” He said weakly.

“Well they failed miserably.” Ada said half smiling. Tommy took his sisters hand and held it as she watched Y/n work, waiting for the ambulance.

Y/n got the bleeding in his arm to fully stop for now and so she administered another correct dose of morphine and then stitched Arthur’s arm up and wrapped it, doing the same to the wound on his stomach, blushing a bit as his eyes caught hers as she shyly checked him out, his abs prominent as he tensed up from the pain.

As Y/n finished cleaning him up, he looked up at her and smiled weakly.

“Where did you learn all this? You’re a way better nurse than that old hag... isn’t she Tommy?” He said looking over at him. Tommy’s blue eyes darted over to him as he nodded, he itched to get back to business, to hunt down Kimber’s men, but he knew he couldn’t right now, no matter how much he wanted to.

“I uh...was sent off to France during the war. I helped take care of the soldiers.” She said hesitantly, remembering one of the nights when she had to rush into the field and help one of the men near the tunnels. He had the shakes and was doubled over in pain from the heat and an injury he had came into the infirmary for a few days prior.

Her heart raced as she remembered trying to help him out of the tunnel as a bomb went off near one of the trenches they were stumbling towards, killing the other soldiers near them instantly. The dirt, debris, and blood of her fellow nurses and soldiers raining down on her as she hit the ground, her ears ringing for what felt like forever as the man helped her hide despite his shaky and weakened state. He had brought her down near a dirt hole that was much less deep compared to the other trenches, urging her to hide as he looked around for more bombs. She tried her best to help him when he came back, giving him her canteen and helping him cool off as they hid. But he later died in front of her as he succumbed to the shock and from sepsis due to the injury he had gotten.

She sat there with tears in her eyes, snapping back to reality at Arthur’s voice as she remembered hiding with the mans corpse until sunrise.

“Y/n are you alright?” He asked. He must’ve said something before but she hadn’t heard him due to her flashing back to that night.

“Oh! Right, sorry. I just have memories...I’m sure you both know what that’s like...” She said, as he nodded and took her hand. She wiped her tears away as she heard the ambulance blaring in the distance and immediately went to help Tommy and Arthur up and out of the cellar, desperately shoving the memories away to focus.

After they’re swept off to the hospital, Y/n looked as Ada watched them leave, leaving her to clean up the mess scattered through Tommy’s house.

“Here I can help Ada. I’m great with washing blood out of things.” Y/n said smirking.

“You have a morbid sense of humor, truly.” Ada said as they both worked their way down to the cellar, cleaning every inch of the flooring with mops, soap, a pail of water, and some bleach.

When all was done, it was around 5pm, and Y/n could tell Ada was tired. Y/n was used to the stress and violence keeping her going, but Ada on the other hand was worried and exhausted.

“Here I’ll take you home. I’ll drive and then walk home.” She said.

“Oh no I’ll have a driver come pick you up, no friend of mine will be walking alone.” She said.

“Alright, well I’ll still drive you home though, no use tiring yourself more than you already are.” She said patting Ada on the back as she grabbed the keys.

“I guess. Just don’t speed too much.” She said jokingly.

“No promises.” Y/n said and then got in the car, driving off to Ada’s lavish apartment.

By the time they got there, a car was waiting for her and so she said her goodbyes and received a million thanks from Ada, and then tiredly got in the car and headed home, watching the lavish building fade into the night.

The next day she awoke to a loud knock on her door, and so she sprung up and slipped on a robe as her hair fell down around her shoulders. She sighed as she took in her tired appearance, but nevertheless walked to the door.

She was greeted with a tall man hiding behind a bright bouquet of flowers and a smiling Ada.

“Put the flowers down you doofus. She can’t see your face.” She said before forcing him to give Y/n the flowers. Once she placed them inside, she saw it was Arthur.

“Oi, hiya Y/n. We just wanted to say thank you. You uh saved my brother and I‘s lives back there and I wanted to tell you in person.” He said as he looked at his fresh bandage on his arm.

Y/n blushed as she glanced at him and the flowers.

“It was no problem really.” She said looking at him again as she blushed slightly.

“I know you’ve been through a lot, but would you like to come over to meet the rest of the family for dinner in a couple days? They’re keeping Tommy over In the hospital for a day or two so that they can get some things sorted and make sure he doesn’t run out like he did in the past.” He said smirking to Ada who rolled her eyes at the memory.

“Sure! I’d love to meet my new colleagues and....patients...should the need arise.” She said.

“Alright I’ll see you at Thomas’ estate then.”

“Sounds like a plan. Ada will you be there?” Y/n asked.

“Of course! I’ll pick you up at noon.” She said.

“Alright, see you both very soon.” Y/n said before closing the door, blushing like a madwoman as she took in what just happened. She smelled the flowers before bringing them to her table near the window, finally having a bit of color to brighten up the place.

A few days had passed and she got ready in her long green dress, putting her hair up as she looked in the mirror. She added makeup and then heard Ada’s car as if on cue.

She quickly pulled on her coat and dashed out the door, excited to meet the rest of the notorious Shelby family.

Upon entering, Ada introduced Y/n to her youngest brother Finn, who politely greeted her and directed her to the others.

They were all in the drawing room, discussing what happened when Ada and Y/n walked in.

“There she is! The woman of the hour!” Arthur said excitedly, pointing at Y/n, causing her to blush.

Polly and their other brother John came over and hugged her. Polly telling her how grateful they are for Y/n being their new nurse, and John eyeing her up and down and winking as she walked past him, advancing towards Arthur to give him a hug. John frowned, wondering why she’d go for someone that wasn’t him, but he soon sat back down, wiping the expression off his face when Polly came near.

“How are you doing Tommy?” Y/n asked making her way over to him, patting him lightly on the shoulder.

He put his hand over hers and looked up at her smiling slightly.

“I’m doing better. Thanks to you of course.” He said and she smiled.

“Hey I was there too you know!” Ada said slumping down in her seat by John and Polly.

“You did great too, holding my arm and all Ada. But nothing beats a badass military nurse aye?” Arthur asked winking at Y/n as he raised his glass.

“I’ll drink to that.” Y/n said, smiling and raising her glass at him as she took in her new friends and colleagues.

She never thought she’d end up here but she knew it was where she was meant to be. Coming from nothing in London, to finding some semblance of a normal life in Small Heath, eager to leave some parts of the past behind but reluctant to let go of others. She knew that this was better than where she had been before. And that despite her brief flirtatious interactions with the tall, short-haired man, she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe he wanted something more, and that maybe it was fate that she’d moved here after all, but only time can tell.

Tag List:

@flysafepapi, @inglourious-imagines, @peakysabrina, @blinder-secrets, @ta-ka-shi-ma

[hamilsquadwritings]

The Worst Kind of Event (Washington x platonic fem!soldier reader)

The Worst Kind Of Event

(Washington x platonic fem!soldier reader)

Request:- @t0xcat

“” hey! could i possibly get a washington x platonic fem solider reader where he basically sees her as his daughter and has been fighting by his side for a long time and then she’s sent away to south carolina for the battle of yorktown and he receives news from one of the soldiers that she died and washington and the rest of the hamilsquad has a funeral for her n stuff,, sry if it’s confusing!! have fun writing!! 💖💖 “”

~ Warnings: angst, a couple swears, soldiers and war, death, lots of tears ~

{{I'm so sorry if it sucks I've never done angst before, hope it's okay!!☺️💗}}

Words: 3.1 k (so I may have got a little bit carried away?!) 

You had worked with George for 3 years now. You'd come along way from the scrappy blood thirsty recruit he's met all that time ago. You'd joined the revolution after your parents had been killed in an attack from the British soldiers. You'd had enough of standing by and letting others fight for you. 

When you first approached him he didn't take you seriously, something he would quickly learn to regret, you attacked his name and ended up in a duel on your second day on camp. It didn't go anywhere because George had stepped in, he had sent you to his tent while he dealt with your opponent, a one Alexander Hamilton. He wouldn't hear slander against his mentors name, no matter who it came from.

Three years later Alex was the closest thing you had to a brother, you loved him dearly. He was always by your side, you'd saved eachother lives many times over. Be it from enemy fire or from eating food John Laurens had prepared, he said he could cook but Washington had warned you never to accept food off him unless you wanted to spend a few days with the nurses throwing your guts up. He was also one of your best friends, the three of you were practically inseparable, you'd fight, eat and sleep together. The three of you were Washington's aids so you'd all room together. You didn't mind, you'd much rather have them with you and know where they were rather than worry about their whereabouts; as you often did when you couldn't find them about camp. 

You'd also made friends with a tailor who'd frequent the campsite, you recognised him as the boy who worked with the tailor your father had gone to. When he'd first seen you he did a double take. Where was the sweet young girl he'd often played with when their fathers had been busy. You quickly grew inseparable, he'd seen first hand what this war had done to you. He adopted an older brother role, watching out for you on the campsite. 

There had been a group of soldiers who'd decided you'd be an easy target and grabbed you on your second week, they had planned to rough you up a bit and steal your rations, making its a regular occurrence. Unfortunately for them Lafayette had been watching and followed you out. He'd had trouble with those particular men before and had a horrible gut feeling that they were going to do something bad. They didn't get the chance because he'd followed, grabbing the leader and shoved him against the wall, his friends looked on mouths agape as Lafayette was explicitly clear about what he would do to them if they ever bothered you again. You'd been thankful for him ever since. The five of you grew to be a close knit group of friends.

"Hey (Y/N)!" Alex grins as you sit down next to him with your tray "they're giving out assignments at 7, they said some of us will be going as far as South Carolina.." he says nervously, John was from South Carolina which meant it was likely he'd get selected, he knew the terrain which would prove useful to the troops. The last they'd heard south Carolina had been secured but a LOT of blood had been shed to get there. It was likely that just as much would be to keep it that way. 

"He better make it back' you say, trying to sound strong, your voice betraying you with a slight wobble. 

"Who better what?' John asks and he slides info the seat across from you 

"Nothing" Alex says quickly, too quickly. John just gives him a strange look before he starts to eat his own dinner. Hes barely half way when Washington comes up to the table 

"Laurens, Y/L/N, with me," he says gruffly. You have just enough time to shoot a look to Alex, who looks worried, before you're following George to his office. You and John half speed walking, half running to keep up with the general. He wasn't happy, not one bit, you could feel it in the air. "sit down, both of you" he says shutting the door to his office. You share a worried look with John and take a seat.

"Sir?" John asks after a few seconds of silence, there was something wrong, George was stalling.

"You're both shipping out to South Carolina tomorrow" he says finally "first thing in the morning, I'm not sure how long for but you'll both be back before you know it" he says confidently, well, like he was trying to be. If only he could have guaranteed that.. 

You and John left the next morning, Alex and George had both gotten up hours earlier than they should've to see you off. Hercules and Lafayette had said their good byes the might before, the five of you shared dinner together. You'd be lying if you'd said there wasn't a tearful goodbye. Alex took it really hard. As soon as he'd heard south Carolina he knew John would be going. You, however, were a complete shock and it shook him to his very core. You both were excellent soldiers, he knew you could handle yourselves but he couldn't help but worry. 

George hugged you both and saluted which you gladly returned, he wasn't big on goodbyes so he said "until we see eachother again" and smiled, you could feel the love through those few words and you wiped away tears and hug him again, Alex and John quickly joining, he was the closest all three of you had to a father which made you your own little family.

"We got this' John says squeezing your shoulder as you join the other troops in the carriage. 

As it turns out, you in fact, did not have this, far from it. Upon arrival it seemed as all was okay, you'd been thinking the worse but once you got there it didn't seem so bad. You had a part of your family with you and that was all you needed. The conditions were rougher than you were used to but it wasn't so bad, you shared a tent with John so you attest had someone familiar to talk to. 

One the second day you were sent out into the field, there was enemy fire and you were sent as back up. John was by your side laying against a rock when it happened. A loud crack and a searing pain erupted across your side. 

You'd been shot.

The medics did everything they could, they allowed John to travel back to base with you but there was nothing more to be done. He sat by your side while you lay in the bed. He did his best to cheer you up, even with tears in his eyes he told you it was going to be okay and you'd be fine. You knew better. 

"John" you said quietly and he stopped mid sentence, he could see the light behind your eyes was dimming

"Yes?' he whispers back, knowing his voice would betray him if he raised it any higher 

"I want you to write this down, f-for when you go back" you choke out as he scrambled to get a pad and pencil. He scribed down your final words, a letter for each of your family. You used the last of your energy to sign each one.

Alex had been looking forward to your return for weeks. He'd received a letter from you and John the first week, you'd sent it the first day. He'd received letters from John since but he didn't think much of it, field work was tiring and he knew you put 100% into your work and probably fell into bed as soon as you'd had the chance. John's letters were short, but that was to be expected, hed never been half the writer you or alex were. 

"You're going to wear out the deck" Lafayette chuckles from beside him

"I can't wait to see them" Alex says happily as Hercules grins up at his friend. He's sat on the desk with a notebook as he sketches some new designs for a dress, he'd already made you one since you left, he was so excited to see you and show you the three others he'd designed. 

Alex stood on his tippy toes as the ship came into view. He could see soldiers peering over the edge of the ship, there were less than those who'd left three weeks earlier but that was to be expected. He couldn't see you or John. He looks to Washington who'd joined them as the ship docked. Soldiers flooded off the ship, happy to be home on dry land after the travel at sea. 

They waited patiently as soldier after soldier disembarked, as the crowd on the ship dwindled they began to grow worried. Finally John emerged, he looked ill.. no not ill, heartbroken, he looked heartbroken. Hercules felt his stomach drop as they ran to the deck, the crowd of soldiers clearing as Washington marched up to the ship

"John?" He asks as Lafayette helps the grief stricken man off the boat and back onto dry land. "What's happened?" He asks carefully, not daring to utter your name. John just shakes his head as tears filled his eyes for what felt like the 100th time since it happened. Alex felt his knees give out as he collapsed, laf catches him just in time, practically having to hold him up. No.. no this couldn't be happening. Everyone had told him you'd both be coming back, where were you?! 

George's face had hardened a thousand years, his eyes glossy with unshed tears. He turned away as they threatened to spill over. He gently lay a hand on John's shoulder and squeezed it, it was all he could do before he marched away to his office. This wasn't supposed to happen, you and John were supposed to come home okay, he'd warned the general to keep an eye on the both of you, to keep you safe. He needed you to be safe. You were the closest thing he'd ever come to having a daughter. You'd saved his life more times than he could remember, you'd also kept Alexander out of trouble more than enough times which he was, of course, grateful for. When he'd heard your story about your parents he'd been moved, most people would've crumpled at that hardship but you only took it in your stride to power yourself. That's what he loved about you, that you took everything like gave you and used it to your advantage. You were also incredibly kind and would do anything for your family. 

He thought back to his last birthday, he hadn't wanted anyone to know it was his birthday but you'd decorated his room with balloons and a handpainted banner and had your whole little family there to celebrate, you'd even found a cake for him to make a wish on. He'd promised you he'd return the favour for your next birthday- god your birthday was in less than a week.. he had so many plans but now none of them could happen.. you couldnt be gone, you just couldn't.. he knew better but it was easier to kid himself at least for a few short moments.

The boys were a mess, they'd help John off the boat and to the room he'd shared with you and Alex. They were silent on the trip, Alex and John settled on his mattress while Hercules and Lafayette took Alex's. Your bed was left empty, no one could bear to look at it, they all snuck glances and felt an intense pang of pain at the sight of your made bed, complete empty.

"H-how?" Hercules asks quietly, he didn't want to know the answer but he had too

"Shot" John replies, equally as quiet, he hadn't spoken more than a few words to anyone since it had happened "second day.." 

"You- you didn't mention it in your letters" Alex mentions as John turns to look at him "it wasn't something you could mention in your letters" he corrects quickly 

"Three weeks ago?" Laf asks quietly as tears fill his eyes. John not only had to go through it alone but he had to keep it to himself for three weeks? My god "Mon ami' he sighs softly as he goes over to hug his friend, Hercules following quickly. They stayed there, all crammed into John's bed for what seemed like hours, just existing, they didn't say much except to comfort eachother, there was nothing else they could do. 

Your funeral was held 3 days later, on your birthday of all days. Instead of George distracting you for most of the day while the others ran around preparing your surprise party they were preparing another event, the worst kind of event. George had sent Alex to the meadow with John to pick wild flowers to decorate your coffin with. He didn't want either boys around when you body arrived, he knew it would be too much for alex and John had already gone through so much. Hercules had travelled into town to purchase some food and drink for them, your favourites of course. Lafayette stayed with George, they'd both needed to be on duty so they worked through out the day, dreading as the evening drew closer. 

There was a memorial scheduled to start at 8 but Washington had arranged to have a small private ceremony just before so at 7 he gathered the boys up and they went to say their goodbyes. Alex and John had done a beautiful job, there was flowers tucked into every crevice possible, a beautiful array of flowers taped to the top, George smiled, they'd practically emptied half the meadow for you.

"I'm going to keep this short" George starts after clearing his throat 

"Like Alex" Alexander says with a teary smile, as you'd always responded when George said that 

"Of course" George says as the other boys smile "(Y/N) was an incredible person, I'd always thought of her as a daughter and I'm going to miss her, a lot" he sighs softly as he places a hand on the coffin "I wish I'd told her in person.." he trails off gesturing for someone else to speak.  

"I've known (y/n) since before I even started tailoring, we'd play together while her father was fitted for his suits. Her dad was a kind man who always brought extras of whatever lunch her mum had packed, for her to share with me. it's easy to see where she got her kindness from, and she was so kind, she didn't care what kind of person someone was, if she could help them she was going too" hercules smiles softly "she'd helped me on too many occasions to count, whether it be needing a model for a dress or shooting someone who'd come up behind me.. see told you she'd help in anyway" he chuckled as his eyes laid sight on the coffin "I'm going to miss your pretty face (y/n).. although I'm sure I'll see you in my dreams soon enough" he smiles 

Laf was next, he approached the coffin and placed a hand on it tentatively, as I'd he was scared it would open suddenly "I am thankful everyday that I was brave the day we met ma Cherie.." he says quietly "since that day I've been thankful for you, your laugh your energy and your love. You've been an absolute light in our lives" he says softly as the other smile and nod "j'adore tu' he whispers quietly as he steps back so that Alex could step up 

"W-we fought the first day we met.. Nearly ended up shooting eachother, I'm so glad we didn't because the last three years have been the best, a-all you guys have made me so happy, I truly feel like there's somewhere I belong" alex says wiping away tears furiously, he WOULDNT cry, not again "(Y/N) came to share the room John and I had and from the very first night I could tell we'd be the best of friends, she didn't mind John and I staying up talking for hours, she was the one who started card games that ended in a pillow fight" he giggles as Washington sighs 

"You know how much trouble I got into because you woke up the general across the hall?" He chuckles 

"Yeah enough that we were on washing up duty for a week" John laughs "still worth it though" 

"Definitely" Alex smiles softly as he looks between the coffin and his friends "love you (y/n)" he whispers quietly as he steps back

John sighs softly "Is it wrong that I wish I'd been here?" He asks no one in particular "don't get me wrong, I'm glad I was there for her but I see it every time I close my eyes.." 

"Were here for you son" George says gently as he pats John's shoulder reassuringly 

"Like everyone's already said, she's incredible and it fucking sucks she's gone" John continues, he wasn't the best at public speaking, especially when he was upset "at first I was happy I wasn't going alone but now I wish it was me instead.." he says as the tears start to fall "it's so fucking unfair! Why do-"

"Hey" Alex says gently and hugs him tightly, the other three joining quickly, there was nothing they could do about you but they could be there for John and eachother and they'd get through it, they had to, for you. John pulls away after a few seconds and pulls something out of his coat 

"B-before she.. I wrote these letters for h-her, there's one for each of us, she signed then end of them" he explains and he hands out the letters for the others to read. They stood in silence as they read their letters. John had already heard them and knew his own inside out, he'd read it many times but that didn't stop the sting of tears in his eyes. He looked at the others, Alex and laf had both sat down to read theirs, knowing they wouldn't be able to stand. Hercules stood frozen as he got to the end of his letter, his fingers hovered over where your name was signed, he sighs softly, a small smile spread across his face as he read the stupid joke you'd made John add as a ps.

Washington read his letter slowly, he was already trying to keep in together, he couldn't break down in front of them. The others had never seem him cry before. Unfortunately his eyes had other plans, the tears freely flowing from his eyes as he finished. 

He was going to miss you terribly.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Tomorrow there is a comic con in the town 50 miles away. I long to go, but I’m at war with myself over it.

The temptation is HUGE.

Honestly, the biggest draw is like minded people.  I haven’t been anywhere expect to run errands since March 2020. Even without Covid, I still would be craving human company.  I live in isolation, with no friends or family around. I can literally go weeks without speaking to another human other than Mom on the phone. There are no local social groups for a non-Christian geeky weirdo in my teeny, tiny southern town. I just want to talk to people that maybe don’t see me as a freak.  And, yeah, I’m a geek. Going into a room bursting with geeky stuff, unapologetically, is heady stuff. Every con I’ve been to has an intoxicating effect, maybe partly because I grew up in a time and place where all these fantastical things would get you shunned. I dunno if I’d go so far as to say I feel I belong, but it’s about as close as I have ever felt.  But, is going a good idea?

Covid. Obviously that’s a big problem. The county with the con doesn’t have much better of a vaccination rate that mine, and it will draw folks from all over the region where in some cases it is dramatically worse. Young folks are less likely to be vaccinated, and since it is a college town there will probably be a lot in that group. Few people around here wear masks, which does not help inside a convention center full of people with no sense of personal space, let alone social distancing. My being vaccinated and masked might not be enough.

Still, another problem is money. Or rather my lack there of. I’d had be careful to save $50 for the con and enough for gas. Now I dunno if I should even spend that much when the parts I need to repair the washer cost more than that. That con money might make all the difference in being able to buy groceries at the end of the month. And the truth is I need money for so many repairs where $50 would be a drop in the bucket, but how can you fill a bucket without those drops?  Then there is the drive. I’m not used to the traffic in that town. I’d gotten good at it, but after well over a year not going I have forgotten how. I don’t even remember things like which lane I need to be in. And tomorrow has an 80% chance of rain for the whole day, so the weather won’t be my friend. I hate driving at the best of times, but I’m having real anxiety about it.

It boils down to a no win scenario. I want to go more than I have wanted to go anywhere in a long, long time, so if I don’t go I will be haunted by my disappointment. If I do go I will be all nervous and eaten up with guilt, worrying I will regret going.  Actually, there is one more risk in both going AND not going: Loneliness.

If I don’t go I will hate myself for missing my very rare chance of human contact.

If I go I will be there alone with no friends to meet up with. If I fail to have any chats while I’m there I will hate myself for being unworthy of even polite friendliness.

Basically, at this point I could be feeling very alone and unhappy by Sunday.  ***sigh***

I can decide what to do later….only I’m running out of “later”. 

[worminstuff]

karl jacobs lore ish thing

by crackba- mick.

here is my karl lore/ time travel brain vomit. i genuinely do not believe this will make sense to anyone because it is SO all over the place and a lot of the things said aren’t fully explained so i can do another more organized one if that’s what people want, cause this is literally just confusing brain vomit. i condridict myself and i don’t explain each thought which is because of how confusing the topic i’m explaining is. plus i’m a tad rusty lol.

while reading this you may form your own logical theories i may not have thought of, that’s okay and that doesn’t mean i or you are wrong, nothing about this is proven it’s just gumbled insane theory’s created by logic that hasn’t been proved yet. also all of my knowledge of time traveling is back from when i was 12 and had the mind of a crackbaby, so bear with me. good luck!!!!!!!

Okay so this is going to be broken up into a couple things so bear with me. I'm gonna go through some of karls lore for background, time traveling facts and or things to generally know about it and how it works and can affect things, and how these things will affect Karl possibly or maybe explain some things.

To start, Karl first started/learned of his abilities after the destruction of l’manburg. According to the wiki page (i know i'm sorry) he was done with picking sides and just wanted to see everything be peaceful with all of his friends happy. His end goal is to find a timeline that is peaceful and happy OR try to help each timeline he can find so that it will maybe cause peace in OTHER timelines.

The thing about time traveling though, is you physically can't do it “right”. No matter what you do you're changing or messing with something you shouldn't, because of the butterfly effect. The butterfly effect simplified is where when one thing is slightly changed it drastically changes everything else. When you time travel and change something there is always the loophole of future you did that oo, so it was already bound to happen before you could change it. You can't change” a timeline in theory, because the future happens based on the past so what you're doing “right now” has already happened in the future. I hope that makes sense. This kind of cancles out the butterfly effect, but if we were to rely on the butterfly effect without that logic then that is a whole other type of problem. By changing one thing, youre causing a chain reaction for many things to happen, after. This mostly affects things when traveling BACK in time, but it can affect the future too. If you were gonna go back in time to the day prior and let's say, not eat the breakfast you ate that day. When you go back to “present day” suddenly you've got a stomach ache and your mom gets worried and then you have to go to the doctors and then you miss school and suddenly you've got a tardy that messes with your grades and transcript to the point that it changes which colleges you would've gotten into had you NOT time traveled. Make sense? No? okay.

Karl has also more recently become aware of this place called “the between '', i'm gonna personally assume this is the place that each and every dimension/timeline available coincides in some way. Some sort of middle ground. In this huge castle/heaven like place of peace are books to guide karl. Who could be writing these books? A future karl who knows he’ll find them? Do they just exist? We don't know. In the last stream we saw at the end that there were many karls passing through each other as if they were all ghosts or something, non interacting with each other, but for some reason karl could see all of them. Why could he see them all but they couldn't see him or eachother?

Because he's witnessing other timelines overlap?

Wrong. Well maybe- each time you pass into a timeline, one that is close to yours (which karl does because why would they help the smp if they weren't that timeline?) so that means there is already a karl in that timeline. But he's putting another one in, himself. By overlapping these, it can cause many things to happen.

There are MANY karls that ALL time travel. So a possibility is that when one karl does something, another does something in that same timeline messing it up further. They're accidentally crossing dimensions.

Every time karl messes with the past, he's changing a future, so every FUTURE he's been to can't exist anymore unless we were to consider that in that future karl had already gone to the past in that time line many years prior causing it to be that way. This could be confusing to look further into though.

Why does this all matter? i don’t know.

Because karl cant change anything. Whatever he has done, or will do, is already set in stone by another karl, a future karl already did it and that's why that future is that way.

One could argue that he could force a butterfly effect continuously, but again, future karl must've already done that, because he lived the same thing this karl had.

This would mostly all aply if he were going to times when he was still alive, so let's think about how it is where he's going further and further into the future and past. If he's not alive then he's going into a timeline where he has already been there (because of the many karl rule things we went through a bit) so by going there he's only solidifying what future was already there. He's still not changing anything. Because what he's trying to save already happened. How could traveling so far into the pass make things so much worse? Because what he's trying to fix hasn't happened, but he's going to do is going to cause it. No matter what he's done, if he's staying in the same timeline and dimension, he's still only solidifying what (same but different) Karl already has done.

Bringing it back to the book in the inbetween thing, another theory could be that Karl DID succeed so he put books to force his other selves to follow what he did to keep that same outcome for whatever timeline he saved. But then back to the knowledge of “how could he have put them if he would've needed them to fix that timeline like the new karls will?”

I still don't know. why are you asking me?

That's why it doesn't make sense for any good outcome of this. Karl is messing with time, and in no way will he be able to “fix” it consistently. He's Not the only karl, and because of that, time will never be consistent.

Not to mention he's losing himself, that could lead to even MORE problems.

None of this made sense to anyone. I'm sure this is literally 12 year old mick brain vomit, if you understood any of this good on you. If not, I am so sorry you read all of that.

The thing about writing about this stuff is that the further you write the more you think of and the less it makes sense.

Stupid version of all of that: (this part is a joke)

Karl go different time that time change and he do bang bang which essentially won't actually change anything, because past/future karl would have already done it. When karl time travel, future karl did it first cause future karl USED to be present karl, and past karl isn't present karl yet. Which means, the wars were all karls fault lol