#I hope John Green is happier now he's away from here :(

[kittyball23]

(Listen, idk if there's still request here but just to make sure, sorry-) so in the story "reunion", what if branch did end up saying yes about the leafy vest and told his brother about his life and the "gray" ones too?

No worries, here it is :3

Reunion v2 (a Trolls fanfic)

“Is… is that m-my vest?”

“Huh?” At first, Branch was not sure what his brother was talking about. Floyd, for one, was not wearing a vest, or any article of clothing on his top. And what Branch had on was all his own. It’s not his fault, Branch thought. Whatever was happening to him could be making his mind more deluded, having him say things that weren’t all there. But Branch came to realize in a jolt of remembrance that it wasn’t Floyd not making sense. He was making perfect sense, in a way. Because when Branch took into consideration his brother’s line of sight, he had to look down at his leaf green vest and recall just why he had chosen such an outfit for his daily casualwear. It had made great camouflage in his gray days, for when he had to be extra vigilant of Bergens. But, even before he had been able to fully encompass the dangers that the Bergens once posed, there had been another reason he’d worn vests of this design. It had been Floyd’s parting gift to Branch, right before he walked out of his life. He’d slipped out of it, placing it upon Branch’s small shoulders and telling him to keep it as a reminder. Back then, he’d thought it meant only as a reminder of Floyd himself. But as Branch grew up, he saw that he’d also meant it as a reminder of better, happier days as well. Because that was one of the vests that Floyd often had worn when the band was off-duty from the limelight, and could simply hang out and goof off among each other as young boys should.

Fingering the leaves, Branch nodded his head. “Um… yeah, actually,” he mumbled. “It, um... is.”

“I can’t believe you kept it.”

“Well, yeah,” Branch said. “It’s the only thing I had left of you. Before you left.”

“Oh…” Floyd said, quietly, looking pensive. “Right… I, uh. I guess that makes sense,” he said rather sheepishly.

Branch just shrugged awkwardly in a gesture of agreement. It was kind of a “duh” moment for him and he couldn’t help feeling some anger. But that anger quickly went away when just as suddenly, the glassiness in Floyd’s eyes seemed to shift into something else, and it took Branch a second to realize that it was tears that had pooled in them. “Branch,” he whimpered, his bottom lip trembling and his voice shaky, “I’m so, so sorry…” A sob finally escaped him, and the Troll covered his face in shame, letting loose the tears.

Branch was not one to cry, at least, not in front of others when he could help it. It was a slip when Poppy had found him and his tear-stained face within his Grandmother’s old pod, just the previous day. But Branch was starting to feel himself waver, a hurt overtaking him at hearing how utterly broken - how completely defeated - his brother was, and he could feel a dampness overtake his own eyes.

“I’m an awful brother,” Floyd lamented with a sniffle. “I left you… I left Grandma… I-I really thought you guys would be fine, but… and n-now you’re in this mess because of me… and w-we’re not gonna…” He swallowed the great lump that had formed in his throat, but was too choked up to finish.

But Branch could, and he didn’t like where it’d been going.

We’re not gonna make it.

It seemed that Floyd had lost all hope. Despite knowing that John Dory had been making his best efforts along with the rallied brothers, time was just not on their side. Luck was not favoring their mission. Fortune was not smiling upon them. It almost felt like the more they strived for victory the harder the odds became. But Branch did not want to give up… not on them, at least. If this was to be the very last time they would be with each other, he didn’t want it to be so solemn. Bittersweet was okay, but not completely devoid of happiness.

So the blue Troll took a deep breath, and did the only thing he could do when simple words were not enough. He sang.

Floyd raised his head slightly when he did, timidly peeking at Branch from behind his bangs. There was a mystified expression on his face that Branch couldn’t pinpoint, until he realized that the reason for it was because Floyd had not heard him sing with his full voice - Only the small, childish one that he’d had when he was merely starting to get his groove on the stage with the rest of the band. Branch continued to sing to him, his voice getting richer and the notes flowing smoothly, its beautiful sound bouncing off the walls of the crystal dome and amplifying it.

Branch had knelt down when he got to the second verse, scooting closer to Floyd’s side and extending his hand as a means to offer his friendship. Floyd did not hesitate in reaching out to grasp it - even though his motion was slowed due to the taxing effects he was undergoing - and Branch gave it a small squeeze, unnerved with the fact that his brother’s hand felt slightly limp within his and not so warm with lifeblood as it should be.

Branch couldn’t be sure of it at first, but he soon heard Floyd’s gentle voice harmonize along. The Troll echoed back a couple of words to start with, but with the following verse was able to muster enough energy to sing the chorus.

With the fadeout of the melody, silence fell among the brothers. Then…

“Floyd, I… I can’t say life was easy after you guys left,” Branch admitted in a hushed voice, “because it wasn’t. Not all of it, at least. Grandma died a few years after you left…”

Floyd looked at him in astonishment, shaking his head in disbelief. But Branch nodded. “Yes,” he sighed. “She was taken away… by a Bergen… and I never saw her again after that…”

More tears slipped down Floyd’s cheeks.

“I lost my colors after that. I was gray for over twenty years, hiding from the Bergens, camoflauging…” He touched his vest as he spoke those words. “I never sang, I never danced,” Branch continued. “I never had any fun… I guess that’s kind of why I don’t look as blue as I used to.” He regarded his skin and hair, which were more dull than it was when he was a baby. “But my girlfriend, Poppy, helped me see that I still had happiness inside me even with the bad things that happened. And, well…” He put a hand on Floyd’s. “I really don’t know what’s gonna happen now, but… I, um… I just want you to know that I do forgive you. All of you,” he concluded, in reference to their other brothers as well.

A part of Branch felt like a hypocrite in making it so easy for Floyd when it came to making up. He’d given John Dory, Spruce, and Clay a hard time, letting them have an earful at first and not being open to their attempts at affection. But he had to remind himself that it was all for the sake of time. It was quite possible that Floyd could keel over any second, lose the sparkle of life in his eyes and be gone forever. Things had been on bad terms for too long. If Floyd was meant to pass on, then he could at the very least go in peace, knowing that Branch, the brother he was closest to and had wronged the most, was back on good terms again.

Floyd was glad to hear this. He let out a sigh of relief, and leaned into Branch’s shoulder, both as a means to support his exhausted self and to seek condolence. And it was that action that made Branch feel as though their roles had been reversed for once. There was plenty a time as kids when Floyd had been there for Branch to comfort him if he’d gotten a scraped knee, or was fearful of doing a performance, or was sad about having dropped his ice cream cone on the ground. This time, though Branch was the youngest brother of BroZone, he felt like he was the older one.

Next to him, Floyd had calmed down considerably, and was able to relax against Branch comfortably, closing his eyes and easing the tension he had worked up while fussing over the past. And Branch, who normally hadn’t been quick to forgive and forget, did as his song had said and let it go.

There was only so much he could do, trapped in a diamond and wondering what fate could possibly await him and Floyd, but it felt good that one of those things was a solid reunion.

[wienerbarnes]

Much Ado About Nothing (5/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,747

Warnings: none! wedding stuff? 

A/N: happy new year yall hope everyone had a safe one! das all imma say tho im keeping my mouth shut about 2021 i aint risking shit anyway enjoy this chapter :P

MAIN MASTERLIST | MUCH ADO MASTERLIST

For being given a week, the ballroom looks immaculate. Satin drapes and tablecloths of cream and white cover the room, gold and olive green accents strewn throughout. The handful of tables in the room have large centerpieces of small white flowers, thin branches, and delicate leaves, as well as a lace trim around the vase they rest in. A warm toned light makes the room look bigger than it is and the dancefloor welcoming for everyone.

The wedding guests include the team, of course, some of Sharon’s family that were able to make it in such short notice, and anyone’s dates were welcomed. Sam brought a date himself, Sharon extended the invitation to some agents she’d been training over the last few months, and she told you invite those who worked in the lab with you.

She insisted, in fact.

Sharon banished you and Nat to the ballroom, while she finished getting ready, wanting to have a few minutes by herself before the wedding started. You assume Steve felt similarly when you see Sam and Bucky enter the ballroom and merge together with the rest of the team. You linger by the bar, hoping to get a bit of liquid courage before the party starts, but to your dismay, the bar doesn’t open until after the ceremony.

You also don’t want to take a seat because you’ll be one of Sharon’s bridesmaids, along with Nat. You and her wear matching warm brown dresses with a slit on the side, tying in with the neutral and woodsy tones going on throughout the rest of the wedding. Sam and Bucky wear brown bow ties and you assume they’re taking the role of Steve’s groomsmen. You pray you don’t have to walk with Bucky.

As more and more people take their seats, you find Nat and meet the other boys at the back of the room.

“Sam already claimed me.” She tells you cheekily as she loops her arm through Sam’s bent elbow.

Of course he did. You sigh and begrudgingly loop your own arm through Bucky’s as he smirks. While the group of you wait for the music to start to indicate your time to begin walking, you take in the man standing next to you.

He smells crisp and clean, his cologne smelling fresh and flooding your senses with lavender, rosemary, and cedarwood. His bicep is ginormous in your hand and you can feel the warmth radiating off of him through his suit jacket that he wears. He cleans up really nicely. Not that you’ll tell him, but you’ll definitely be thinking about it for the rest of the night.

Bucky’s mind goes through a similar thought process. Your skin is shiny and smooth, and he imagines you applied lotion while getting ready with the other girls. Maybe there hints of glitter in whatever cream you use, because to him, it looks like you’re glowing. You smell like the sweetest of roses and juiciest of fruits, and you look good enough for him to take a bite. He won’t give you the satisfaction of a compliment - God knows the argument that would lead to - but he imprints this vision of you in his mind to remember.

Finally, Steve enters the ballroom and makes his way towards the front of the room and any few people left standing take their seats. As people settle, Steve adjusts his jacket and glances over the room to take in all of his loved ones in one room. He glances over to where John sits alongside Leila and Kennedy, the two other lab interns that work under you, he’s come to learn about. He briefly wonders what John is thinking about, if he thinks his plan worked, if he thinks Steve is going to cause a huge scene in front of everyone, accusing Sharon of cheating in some big explosion. He wonders what John’s reaction will be when he witnesses him marry the most beautiful woman in the world, kissing her to solidify their love.

He can’t wait.

Soon enough the music starts and Nat and Sam begin down the aisle, you and Bucky following after. For someone that has hated the idea of love for so long, walking down the aisle like this feels really great. You’re not sure if it's the anticipation for the bride, or the decorations, or the huge hunk of handsome soldier guiding you down to the front of the room, but it makes you feel tingly all over. Almost makes you want a wedding of your own. Almost.

As Bucky makes his way down the aisle with you on his arm, he meets Steve’s eye, who gives him a smirk that looks a lot like I told you so. He ignores it, though. He knows he’ll get picked on later, but for now, he enjoys having you so close to him. You’re close to him outside of the lab, outside of a mission, outside of an argument. You’re close to him, holding onto his arm like you’re his girl in a sweet silence. He can almost get used to this. Almost.

Once everyone’s in their place, the rest of the guests rise as the music changes and Sharon enters the ballroom. Her dress is beautiful; a lacy brassiere top to connect the flowing train, all of the silk following her walk, making her elegant and glowing. Her hair is lightly curled and there are a few white flowers pinned around the back of her head, matching the rest of the room.

The officiant reads everything they have to and Steve and Sharon share their vows, causing everyone in the room to shed a tear or two. Nat and Sam find it particularly amusing to see you and Bucky wipe a few tears as well, seeming to get foggy eyed in spite of their hatred for love. They’re too busy silently teasing their friends to notice the fume coming from John’s ears, realizing his plan didn’t work the way he wanted it to.

There’s still time, he thinks. Maybe Steve didn’t want to make a big, public fuss. Yeah, once everything is over, he’ll take her upstairs and they’ll talk and soon enough they’ll announce that they’re marriage is over! Shorter than the Kardashians.

Finally, Steve and Sharon kiss to seal their marriage, sharing their official first kiss as husband and wife. Cheers and clapping erupt in the room as the couple makes their way back down the aisle, Nat, Sam, you, and Bucky following after. The lights dim a bit and the bar opens as the music changes to encourage people to mingle and dance until the couple emerges once more.

“What’s the matter, don’t like weddings?” You tease John, coming up behind him, your voice making him jump from leaning against the bar the way he was.

“Uh - No, not really.” He says, turning to face you, feeling awkward as he talks to his boss after trying to sabotage her best friend’s wedding.

“They grow on you.” Bucky’s deep voice makes him jump once more as it comes behind him, forcing him to turn away from you and face him, staring at his towering stance.

“Uhm -” John stumbles as he realizes he’s cornered against the bar by you and Bucky.

“Did you really think you’d get away with it? I mean, you’re surrounded by spies and an artificial intelligence system that records everything in the tower.” Bucky tells him.

John’s eyes widen as they glance between you and Bucky, realizing where he went wrong in his plan. I should’ve figured out a way to hack F.R.I.D.A.Y.! Or at least get rid of any footage of what I did!

“Not to mention the fact that Steve and Sharon are too disgustingly in love with each other to even fall for the kind of charade you put on. In my lab, nonetheless,” You add, “Some kind of unfunny joke by an ex-lab intern.”

“Ex?” John confirms.

“Oh, yea. Leila and Kennedy, too. I don’t want to waste my time training and giving experience and advice to the kind of people that lie, play around, and cause mischief in a lab and in a tower where some of the most important and delicate information in the world is handled. If I wanted that, I’d have Barnes, here, as an intern.” You tell him.

“Hey, I thought we were on the same team here -” Bucky tries to interject, but you smack his arm to get him back into the focus of their conversation with John.

“Anyway,” Bucky continues, “Why don’t you do us the favor of getting out of here? We’ll tell Steve and Sharon that you’re sorry you weren’t feelin’ well and had to head out early. Unless, you’d like for me to get them and bring ‘em over here?” He slings an arm over John’s shoulder, leading him over to one of the exit doors, as John nods his head in agreement, accepting his defeat.

Once John has left and the wedding is officially safe again, Bucky meets you back at where you wait at the bar.

“Nice job, McGeek.” He tells you, leaning on the bar next to you as you turn to face him better.

“Could say the same to you. He looked real scared there at the end.” You giggle.

“He should be, he almost got Steve’s ass kicked by me when Sharon first told us the whole situation.” Bucky tells you, leaning just a bit closer to you.

The bartender comes over to them asking what they’d like to drink. “Whiskey, neat, please. How bout you, Geeky?” Bucky says.

“Vodka cran.” You order.

“Really? That’s your drink of choice?” Bucky teases.

“What? What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, I thought you’d pick a drink that’s actually good, is all.”

“And here I was revelling in the fact that this was the longest conversation we’ve had where we’re not at each other’s throats.” You tell him.

“Well -” Bucky’s cut off by the dimming of the lights and change in music as Sharon and Steve enter the room again to share their first dance.

His words are forgotten as he watches his best friend dance with his bride, the two of them looking happier than Bucky’s ever seen. Bucky feels a smile bloom on his own face as he watches on; he’s so happy for Steve. He knows this is all he’s ever wanted. The girl, the marriage, the house together, the kids in the future. The happy ending. And he’s happy that despite things - or people - trying to get in the way of that, Steve still got the happy ending he deserves.

He peeks over to see you have a similar smile, admiring the love shared between your best friend and his. He gets lost staring at you as the DJ is heard inviting anyone else to join the newlyweds on the dancefloor.

He asks before his brain can filter his mouth, “Do you want to dance?”

Your head snaps over at him, a surprised expression on your face, and Bucky prepares for you to make fun of him.

“Sure.” You tell him.

He doesn’t risk saying anything that might change your mind, only grabbing your hand softly and leading you to the dancefloor where other couples have begun to fill in. The slow music continues as his hands find their place on the curve of your waist and yours rest on the tops of his shoulders. He feels warmth and tingles flow from the placement of your hands through his suit jacket, down his arms, and through his entire body. He looks at you and how close your face is to his, quite enjoying having you so close in his arms like this.

“Do you remember what we were talking about last night?” She finally breaks the silence.

He hums in indication that he does and for her to continue, “So, you really don’t hate me or anything?” You ask.

“No. I don’t. Actually,” He chuckles humorlessly, “I know you like me.” He confesses.

Tension floods your body. How does he know?! “No, I don't! Not anymore than reasonable, I mean.” You deny.

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his body still swaying with yours with the music, “Oh. Well, you have Steve and Sam fooled, then, because they, uh, had me convinced.” He tells you, trying to play off his incorrect assumption.

“Do you like me?” You ask, drawing yourself just a bit closer to him, his arms moving from your waist to the small of your back.

“Uh, no, no more than a friend, I mean.” Bucky lies.

“Oh. Well, you have Sharon and Nat fooled, as well.” You tell him.

The two of you chuckle softly with each other at the whole situation, an attempt to hide the disappointment in each of your chests at the thought of unrequited feelings. Bucky glances back up to meet your eyes once more, eyes flickering down to look at your lips, in time to see you take your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth. He looks back up at your eyes to catch you staring at his own lips. When your eyes meet his again, it's as though the two of you have a silent understanding. An understanding that you were both lying, and an understanding that you both really want to kiss each other right now.

So he does. Bucky leans in seemingly at the same time you do and presses his lips against yours in a sweet yet fiery kiss. His hands push a little harder into your back to bring you closer and your hands move to touch his neck and cheek, ensuring that his face won’t leave yours anytime soon. Everyone in the room has since disappeared; there are no wedding guests, there are no decorations, there is no music, only you and Bucky.

His lips are soft, softer than you were expecting, and he tastes of peppermint and the sip of whiskey he had, all mixed with a taste that’s so him. His taste and his smell and the feel of his hands on your back and his chest against yours makes you want to melt to the ground in a puddle of mush. You can’t believe you waited so long to kiss him.

Your lips are plump and soft. Your lipstick is fruity but he can taste the sweetness of cranberry behind it and a sweetness that’s all you. You’re the rarest candy he’s ever tried and he’s not sure he’ll ever get enough of it. A part of his mind wants to ignore that they’re still in public, though it certainly doesn’t feel like it, and just kiss you silly for the rest of time.

The two of you finally pull away after what feels like forever and you both can’t help but lick at your own lips, savoring the taste of each other. Before either of you can say anything to follow what just happened, another voice interrupts, “About time.”

You both turn to see Tony and Pepper, her with an admiring smile and Tony with a shit-eating grin. The two of you feel warm as you realize the rest of your friends that occupy the dancefloor are also staring at the both of you. Nat smirks from her place in Bruce’s arms, Sam winks at Bucky over the shoulder of his date, and Sharon and Steve are almost on the verge of happy tears at the sight of their best friends finally getting to be happy with each other. Even Clint and his wife smile at the two of you.

“What are you guys looking at, huh? Never seen a guy and gal dance together?” Bucky barks, Brooklyn accent slipping out as he chooses to pretend none of them saw the kiss that you and him shared.

“Not you two.” Steve says.

“Oh, whatever! What are you guys, five years old?” Bucky asks only to be met with his friends giggling.

“Whatever. Make fun of us all you want. I don’t care.” You speak up, curling your hands around the back of Bucky’s neck.

He looks back at you to meet your kind eyes with a gentle smile. Their friends continue to tease on, but you and Bucky only have eyes for each other. He ignores them and chooses to kiss you again, already craving the taste of your lips on his and the feel of your body in his arms.

[socialwriter]

If I Die Young

**gif by @somebodylikeaguardianangel​**

Pairing: John B Routledge x Female! Reader

TW: Angst (duh), death, hospitals, not eating, fainting/passing out, near death experience, grief, sadness

1.4k+

Based off of the song If I Die Young

Series masterlist

A/n: Here it is, the first chapter of my glee song fic sereis! A huge thank you to @girlsru1eboysdroo1​ for reading this through and encouraging me to post this, ily boo <3

The sharp knife of a short life,

Well, I've had just enough time

The pain was agonizing, all encompassing. It drowned out the sounds of the rain pounding down, drowns out the sounds of Kiara and Pope’s tears, JJ’s screams. He’s gone. John b’s gone, lost at sea because some stupid cops that didn’t care about him chased him out there for no good reason. He was innocent, but because he was just a pogue and just a teenager, no one believed him when it mattered. The hurt didn’t leave you. Not when you were taken away from what was now a crime scene. Not when you arrived at the chateau, glaringly empty. Not when you went to bed, enveloping yourself in sheets that still faintly smelled like him. You were too hurt, too broken, left behind by the only boy you had ever loved. 

And I'll be wearing white when I come into your kingdom

I'm as green as the ring on my little cold finger

You all had promised each other that you wouldn’t wear black to the funeral. The color was too dark, too real. It represented too much for the four of you to handle, so you had agreed to brighter and happier colors. Which is why you were in the bathroom of the chateau, smoothing out the wrinkles in the white dress you wore. It hung loosely on your body, making you look like even more of a shell of your former self. Your eyes were sunken in and red from all the crying and lack of sleep, unable to rest without the soothing lullaby of John B’s heartbeat. You looked much thinner than you remembered, probably from the lack of food the past week. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat anything or care for yourself. You did it for him before, not wanting to worry him, but now what was the point? You fiddled with the rings on your finger, stopping when you feel the cold metal on your ring finger. You hold your hand out in front of you, smiling sadly at the small green jewel.

It had been three weeks since you had had a proper date night, or really spent any time, with your boyfriend John B and you were completely and thoroughly pissed off. He’d been avoiding your calls, texts, and barely spoke a word to you when he got home after long days out. None of the other pogues would tell you what was up and frankly you were fed up with it. So, instead of getting dressed up for the date John B had told you about earlier in the day, you sat around moping in sweats and one of his old t-shirts. 

“Hey babe are you ready to g- why aren’t you getting ready?” John B’s voice rang out through the chateau, causing you to pull your knees up to your chest, staring at the ground. John B’s shoulders fall when he sees your demeanor, approaching you slowly. “What’s wrong?”

You shrug your shoulders at him, letting out a deep sigh. “You cheating on me or somethin’?” You mumble, tears filling your eyes as soon as you say the words out loud.

“W-what? No, I’m not why would you even think something like that,” John B says instantly, sitting next to you on the couch and placing a gentle hand on your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

“Well I mean, you’ve been avoiding me the past couple of weeks and no one’s telling me anything so what else am I supposed to think?” You ask him, your voice raising slightly in irritation.

John B makes an ‘o’ with his lips, suddenly connecting all the dots. “I’ve been working a lot of overtime, for the money.” 

You scoff, pulling away from him. “Cut the crap JB, we get by fine without you working so much.”

John B sighs, fishing something out of his back pocket. “Well I mean, I was hoping that I could give this to you in a more romantic way, but here.” He hands you a small box containing a small ring with a little green gem on top. You gasp as soon as you see the present, easily the most beautiful thing anyone had ever given you. “What is this?” You ask breathlessly.

“A promise ring, like a representation of our love. It sounded a lot better when Kie explained it to me..” John B trailed off, suddenly nervous that you wouldn’t like the present or think it was stupid. 

“JB I love it,” you whisper, a small smile gracing your lips. He instantly perks up, grinning at you. “Yea?”

You nod, slipping the ring on your finger. “Thank you JB,” you say, pressing a small kiss against his lips.

“Anything for you princess.”

I've never known the lovin' of a man

But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand

There's a boy here in town says he'll love me forever

Who would have thought forever could be severed

Your home life wasn’t the best. You were a pogue, living alone after your mother had left you for some kook. You never knew your father, never got to experience that love. The only love you experienced was what you had with John b. And now that too had been taken away from you, the world playing yet another cruel trick on you. That promise ring meant that the two of you would love each other for the rest of your lives, what felt like forever. Apparently forever isn’t very long at all. Love wasn’t as strong as you had once thought it was, because it was able to be completely shattered by life, or rather the ending of one. You had never known what love was before John B came into your life, and now that he was gone, you feared that you would never experience love again. 

So put on your best boys and I'll wear my pearls

What I never did is done

The four of you all stood looking over the marsh, grieving the one person that had kept you all together. None of you knew how to handle this, how to cope. You couldn’t look out for one another because each of you were falling apart on your own. Your mind wandered to what could have been. The kisses you never gave him, too shy or fearful of rejection. The words you never said, emotions getting in the way. It all felt silly and stupid. Why hadn’t you simply done everything you wanted with John B while you still had the chance? All the what ifs crushed you, made you feel like you couldn’t breathe and your vision blur, until eventually everything just went dark.

The ballad of a dove

Go with peace and love

Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket

Save 'em for a time when your really gonna need 'em oh

Pope caught you before you hit the ground, instantly in a frenzy. “Guys she’s barely breathing.”

Both Kie and JJ turned to look at your all but lifeless form, panic in their eyes. “Shit she- what do we do?” JJ’s frantic voice echoed throughout the marsh, only increasing the tension and worry in the environment. Eventually, despite the money it would cost, the three of them were speeding off to the hospital, trying their best to keep you breathing and comfortable. As soon as Kie pulled into the hospital, JJ slammed the car door open, picking you up and running inside with your limp body in his arms, Kie and Pope not far behind him. Doctors and nurses were all over you in a matter of seconds, pushing the three pogues away whenever they tried to see what exactly was happening to their best friend. The situation felt eerily similar, the painful events that lead to John B’s death still fresh in their minds. All they could do was stand there, wondering if they were going to lose yet another friend. There were no more tears left to cry, all of them already spent on John B. 

The ringing of a phone pulls them out of their stupor. “Who’s damn phone is that?” Kie questions aloud, prompting JJ to pull the buzzing device out of his pocket. 

“Mine.” He mumbles before answering the call. His eyes widen as soon as he hears the voice on the other end, earning questioning glances from both Pope and Kie. 

“John B?”

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[queen-of-deans-booty]

You’re Not Alone

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader,

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: mental illnesses, still depressed!reader but happier than before, fluff, baby-nipple action

Summary: Everything you thought you couldn’t have, you have now with the man of your dreams. All your life, you were told you weren’t good enough, but now that you know you are... you’re not alone anymore.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Author’s Note: This is the sixth part of six parts of the commission for @sea040561

All your worries as a pregnant woman all went away as soon as your baby boy was born. He’s only a few months old, but he is the light of your life. With having MDD and PDO, you thought you were going to be the world’s worst mom. All throughout your pregnancy, you were scared you weren't going to live up to what being a good mom is supposed to be like.

Regrettably, there were more than a few times where Dean had to force you to do something because your MDD and PDO wouldn’t let you do it. You two have a system going on that works, and now that your baby boy is here, you’re glad that you two went through what you did. You owe everything you have to Dean which is why you named him Bobby John Winchester. When he heard the name, he actually cried a little bit.

You hold Bobby John in your arms and he feeds from your breast. Everything bad you thought wasn’t going to happen, never did, so how can you really complain? Bobby John is literally a miracle, and you’re going to treat him with so much love and respect that he is overwhelmed by it. He seems happy right where he is, and that’s where you’re going to be. He’s everything you hoped to be and more, so you can’t ever imagine being apart from him.

He wasn’t sleeping at all, so you decided to sit in the rocking chair and feed him while Dean slept. There was no use in both of you getting up to deal with it knowing that you’re the only one who can calm him down and give him what he needs. He feeds silently, watching you with big green eyes. You fell in love with him the minute you heard him scream and cry, and now you vow to do everything in your power to protect him from everything bad in this world.

Even if that means it’s from you.

Yes, you still have it, and you’re not sure that it’s ever going to go away, but you’re going to work hard at keeping it at bay. You’ve been getting fewer and fewer episodes the longer you’re with Dean and your son, and that makes you really happy because of it. Dean is doing everything he can to take care of you in ways you never thought were possible, and you’re falling in love with him every single day. You’re learning to take better care of yourself, you go to therapy now to help with your episodes, and you’re doing it all for Bobby John. You have no clue where you’d be right now if you hadn’t met Dean Winchester.

It might be a higher power, but you’re thankful for it.

“Hey, you two doing okay?” Dean whispers when he enters the room.

It’s storming outside, and you’ve opted to keep the lights off so that Bobby John can feel more tired in the dark rather than in the light, but that doesn’t stop the lightning from filling the room with light every once in a while.

“What are you doing up? It’s my turn anyway,” you chuckle and turn your head to face him.

He walks around to face you so you don’t have to strain your neck. He looks at his son and smiles fondly, and he leans down and presses a kiss to his head. Bobby John’s eyes move from your face to Dean’s and then back to yours.

“I didn’t feel you in bed. I just wanted to check to see if everything was okay.”

“We’re doing fine. More than fine. He’s almost done anyway and then I’ll come to bed.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Marry me.”

“What?” you ask and snap your eyes up to his.

“I don’t know about you, but I love you so much it hurts. We have a son now, and all I want to do is spend the rest of my life being married to you… to take care of you and our son like you both deserve. I don’t know how much time I have left on this Earth, but I know I want to spend it with you. Please, marry me.”

“Yes,” you giggle-cry.

He leans down and kisses his son’s head once more before moving up to your waiting lips. The kiss lasts longer than it should have, but he’s the one who pulls away first.

“I’ll be waiting for you in our room,” he winks at you as he leaves the nursery, and you turn to your son who removes his mouth from your nipple.

“You know, your Daddy is the strongest man you’ll ever meet. He’s been so good to us in ways you don’t know, but he is going to be here for all of us for a long time. He and your Uncle Sammy. You have three uncles, you know that? Uncle Castiel and Uncle Jack too. Though, if Uncle Jack tells you to put something in your nose, just say no,” you whisper.

It’s like Bobby John can understand what you’re talking about because he smiles at the mention of Jack. You were never certain about a lot of things in life, and you’re still not certain, but you know there is one thing you are certain of: you’re not alone anymore, and you’re going to be just fine.

I knew they were going to be together from the minute they were born. Y/N and Dean’s souls became intertwined, stretching to fit the distance between them. I always knew Y/N would have difficulties in her life regarding herself, but I couldn't interfere. She had to seek out Dean so she can prove to herself that she can become better. It sucks that she had to wait this long to do it, but I’m glad that she did.

I guess she could have been born “normal”, to have a life that wasn’t so hard. I didn’t make her, but I always kept a close eye on her to make sure she didn’t throw away her life before it truly started. Everyone has their own time clock, and hers just started later than usual.

Dean could have met her at any point, really, but she needed to be ready to meet him. Before, she wouldn’t have been so open to the idea of moving in with him or even consider dating him. Before, she wouldn’t have been so open to the fact that she could be happy. She needed to grow as a person, to meet Jody, and to have her as a support system before anything could have happened.

They’re soulmates, so they would have found each other one way or another. Their souls are interwoven so that it doesn’t matter how much distance is put between them. I’m glad they got to live this ending because I am a sucker for a happy ending. There aren’t a lot of those in the world these days.

Before, I looked at Y/N’s life and I looked at Dean’s life, and all I saw was sadness and despair. Now, all I see is hope, and I realize that they’ll never be alone again. My work here is done.

Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why! Follow my library blog @queenofdeansbooty-writes where I reblog all my stories, so you can follow that if you can’t be tagged!

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[cherryyharryy]

Burning Words Extra

Harry’s POV for Chapter 11

TW: anxiety/panic attack

*** 

“Kayaking!”

I nudge y/n when she brings her glass of champagne to her mouth. She flinches, and swats at my arm like I expected, but giggles nonetheless. 

“I don’t know, a fucking row boat?”

“Language!” My mum berates uncle Matt. “We have children here.”

Y/n clears her throat, “Gondola?” 

“Thank you!” My cousin flips Matt off when mum isn’t looking, and tosses his charade card on the table. 

I lean over to whisper in her ear, “you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“Go?”

“You guessed it right. It’s your turn.”

“Oh.” 

I see it all over her face, and I know she’s scared to say no. The box of cards starts making its way towards us, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head. 

“Um…”

“I’m going.” I reach over her lap to grab the box from my sister. 

“Hey, wait now, it’s not your turn,” Matt complains. 

I flip him off, but my mum sees this one. 

“Harry! Kids!”

“Sorry.” I pull a card out and make my way to the clearing we made in the living room. It takes me a second to remember what I’m doing, because mum scoots closer to y/n, sandwiching her in with Gemma, and I couldn’t be any happier to see the three of them smiling. 

I knew they would love her, but I was still nervous when two different parts of my life came together for the first time. She was anxious too, more than she let on, but she seems to be okay now. She’s spent more time with them since we got here than I have. 

Gemma whispers something to her and they start laughing. Probably at my expense, but I don’t care. I’m so sickenly obsessed, she could do anything and I wouldn’t bat an eye. 

I love her. I fucking love her. Haven’t decided how I’m gonna tell her, or when. Maybe in Italy. I—

“You gonna start, or what?”

Right. The game. I slip my card into my pocket, act out the movie reel, and hold up one finger. 

“Swimming!”

“Backstroke! Drowning!”

“Diving!”

“He said it’s a movie!” Gemma scolds. “Jaws?” She tries, rolling her eyes when she’s wrong. 

I’ve been up here too long, and I’m about to give up when I get an idea. “Y/n! Come ‘ere.”

“You’re not supposed to talk!” Someone yells. 

“Pipe down!” I focus on her, waving her towards me. “Darling, please.”

She hesitates, like she doesn’t know if she’s allowed to, so I slip my hand in hers and tug her away myself. She’s warm and soft and I love her. 

I stand behind her and lift her arms so they’re parallel to the ground, and as soon as my hands are on her waist, she yells out the answer. 

“Oh! Titanic!”

“Finally!” I shout, still holding her waist with my chin on her shoulder while the room cheers in relief. I kiss her, aiming for her cheek but miss and catch her temple instead. When I spin her around to face me, she’s glowing. Golden, so beautiful and perfect for me, it makes my head swim.  I haven’t had that much to drink yet, but I still feel like my bones have trapped in the heat, and it’s seeping into my bloodstream. “Love you! So much!” I pull her in for a hug, and I swear I feel her smile against my chest. 

“Okay, who wants to go next?” Gemma asks, but her question is ignored. 

“Harry’s supposed to play for us.” Danny squalls. “He’s done it every year, can’t skip on tradition.”

“Bad charade guessers don’t deserve my music.” I lead us back to the couch. 

I reach for my glass of wine, but Gemma snatches it away before I can grab it. She smirks, and I know I’m about to pay for something. 

“You owe us. You weren’t supposed to eat any of the gingerbread house—”

“No one told me!”

“We didn’t even get a picture! It looked like a frosting tornado swept over it!”

“Tasted amazing, if that makes you feel better.”

“It does not. And—”

“Okay,” Mum interrupts. “Enough. Harry, you know everyone loves it when you play.”

There’s no way out of this, so I just suck it up and make my way upstairs to get my guitar. It hasn’t dawned on me until tonight that I’d be playing in front of y/n. I’ve done it before at Truman’s, but that’s completely different. 

This will be so much more...intimate. 

But maybe that’s what I need. What she needs. We haven’t had many moments alone together since we got here, and the ones we’ve had have been interrupted. 

The guest room is cold and dark. I take a peek out the window when I grab my guitar, hoping it’ll start snowing soon. She brings it up everyday, and if I knew how to make it happen for her, I would. It’d be even perfect if it snowed tomorrow. A white Christmas. She’d be thrilled. 

When I come back to the party, everyone settles down and stops their conversations. 

“No Christmas music,” Matt blurts out. “I’ve heard enough this week to last me a lifetime.”

I nod and take my seat on a chair that’s been centered in the room while I was gone. I’m not really much of a nervous type, but tonight there’s something in the air. A wave of unease ripples over me, and a looming sense of dread dances at the base of my brain. I try and push it away, clearing my throat and looking up to y/n for reassurance. 

“Okay,” I begin, drifting my eyes around the room lazily. “Um, how about Elton John?”    

I strum my guitar and fill my lungs with air. 

“It's a little bit funny, this feelin' inside 

I'm not one of those who can easily hide. 

I don't have much money, but boy, if I did 

I'd buy a big house where we both could live.”

I don’t really focus on anything, just keep my eyes settled on y/n, letting her take up my peripheral. There’s a look on her face that I haven’t seen before. Unsettled perhaps. She must know I’m singing for her. 

“Oh, I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do. My gift is my song and this one's for you.”

Once I get into the song, I feel comfortable enough to relax. I scan the room a few times. Everyone seems okay, nodding along or mouthing the words. She’s frozen though, stiff, except for the exaggerated pulse of her breathing. I don’t linger on her. 

“So excuse me forgettin', but these things I do 

You see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue 

Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean 

Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen.”

I bite down on my tongue before the next line. I want to stop and go to her, but I know better. 

“I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind... That I put down in words.”

She’s not here with me. I don’t even think she can hear what I’m saying to her. Fuck. 

“How wonderful life is while you're in the world.”

I barely get the last word out before I’m beside her on the couch, restraining myself from touching her. “You okay?” 

She nods, sips her champagne, and lies right to my face. “That was beautiful.”

[kyber-kisses]

What About Y/N?

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: spoilers for season 14, blushy Dean, idk my dudes

Summary: When John is yanked into the future he sees that his oldest Son still hasn’t made a move on y/n.

A/n: this has been swimming around in my head for awhile so I’m finally writing it. I hope you guys like it! If you wanted to be added to the forever taglist, just hit me up.

When you returned to the bunker after a rare solo hunt, you had no idea what insanity you were about to walk in on. The only thing you were looking forward to was a much needed hot shower, a decent meal, and maybe enough time to get through an episode of Game of Thrones with Dean. But that was a long shot even.

Parking your car in the garage, you took your time gathering your things and walking down the hallway towards your room. Throwing your duffel onto your bed, you stripped the dirt and blood stained clothes from your body. Dean and Sam could wait. The hot shower was your top priority right now.

You knew you had made the right choice, ten minutes later stepping out of the shower and feeling like an entirely new person. And fresh clothes only made it that much better. Wrapping a towel around your hair, you ventured out of your room towards the library. It was good to be back. It was good to be home.

“Sam! Dean! I’m back from that Wraith hunt in Washington!” You announced, ascending the stairs into the library, busying yourself by rubbing the towel through your hair in an attempt to dry it quicker.

The brothers had been so per-occupied by the event unraveling in front of them that they failed to remember you would be returning tonight. Your voice sending them turning in unison to face you, revealing the figure partly hidden behind them.

And then things got weird.

You were stopped dead in your tracks at the sight of one John Winchester, standing very much alive between his two sons. Meanwhile your towel was still pressed against your hair.

“What- the- hell is happening?” You stated slowly, eyes darting between the brothers. Dean shot you a smile, beaming at the sight of you.

“Hey y/n! Our Dads back!” Dean grinned, bringing up the obvious. You dropped the towel, eyes still wide as you nodded slowly.

“Yeah.” You breathed out, “ I can see that.” You put your hand up in a half wave at their father, still trying to steady your breathing. “ Hey, John. How’s it going?” You tried, still looking very confused.

You were one of the very few that had been in the Winchesters lives long enough to have known John, hell, you met them when you were in your pre-teens. The point was, John knew who you were and you knew who he was.

John let out a light laugh, an amused look on his face. “ I’m doing alright y/n. Thanks for asking. Apparently it’s been awhile.”

You locked eyes with Dean again, silently asking for a explanation. “Yeah, you could say that.” Dean could see that you were dying for an answer so he quickly stepped forward.

“Y/n, I was just gonna go out to grab stuff for dinner, you wanna tag along?” He asked, grabbing his jacket off the nearest table along with the set of keys for Baby.

“Uh yeah- sure.” Your words coming out slow as you had trouble taking your eyes away from their father. This was too weird.

As Dean stepped down the stairs, you quickly forced your body into motion, following him down the hallway. Once you knew you were out of earshot you turned to your best friend.

“Okay, mind telling me what I just walked in on?” You asked, looking over at Dean who, if you were being honest, who looked happier than you had seen him in a very long time. A huge smile on his face as he looked over at you.

“I’ll explain on the way. Long story short, Sam and I found a pearl that can give you what you want most in the world- or something. One minute there was nothing and then all of a sudden, BOOM. Dads standing there with a shot gun pointed at the two of us.”

“Well that definitely sounds like your dad.” You nodded, sliding into the passenger seat of the Impala.

Over the next hour Dean filled your in on the entirety of the story. From the odd wishing pearl to the fact that it wasn’t a permanent thing. While John was here, time would continue to warp and change. They would have to reverse the wish after dinner. You could see the sadness in Deans eyes as he told you, and you wanted nothing more than to be able to fix it for him.

When you returned to the bunker, you helped Dean unload everything from the car, pausing mid way to the kitchen. Dean stopped when he saw you frozen in the hallway, adjusting the groceries in his arm as he walked back over to you. “ you alright?”

You let out a sigh, giving the green eyed hunter as small, faint smile. “ Dean, I shouldn’t be here.”

Dean let out a huff, giving you a confused look. “what the hell are you talking about?”

“This is a family thing Dean. You always talked about wanting this. I’m not going to intrude. I’ll just go back into town for the night.” You shrugged. Moving past him, you stepped into the kitchen, setting the groceries on the table.

“Okay, first of all-“ Dean corrected you, moving to set his own bags down next to yours. “ You are family and second, I want you here. You’re my best friend.” He turned to look over at you, a smile lighting up his face.

Oof. There it was again. That one little title that had you so conflicted. Of course Dean was your best friend as well, but you also wanted something more than that. And you were sure Dean didn’t feel that way about you. “Are you sure? What if they don’t want me here?” You questioned.

Dean gave you another annoyed look before turning to unpack the groceries. “ are you kidding me? My mom loved you from the moment I introduced her to you and my dad? Even though he would never admit it, he thought of you as his other kid.” He chuckled. “So in conclusion. Your staying and that’s final. Got it?”

“Alright fine.” You exhaled, smiling over at the older Winchester. It was good to see him happy.

*. *. *. *.

And that’s how you found yourself seated down at one of the library tables, wine glass in hand as you watched Sam and Dean retell an old story about how the three of you had to go digging through a pond when Dean lost the keys to the impala during a wraith hunt a few months back.

You smiled into your wine glass as Dean rolled his eyes. Another memory came to your mind, making you slap Dean in the shoulder. “You gotta tell em the story about the fairy!”

Dean whipped his head around to glare at you, wide eyed. “ I’m not telling the fairy story y/n.”

“I’m sorry- fairy story?” John questioned, leaning forward with a raised eyebrow and a light smirk.

“Oh yeah. It’s one of Deans greatest victories.” You nodded, a grin appearing on your face as you took another sip of wine. “ He fought a fairy.” You swiveled your head, sending Dean your growing grin.

“I haven't heard this one either. Now I’m interested.” Mary laughed, leaning forward in her chair and resting her chin on her palm as she looked to her eldest son.

Without much choice, Dean groaned, diving into the story about how he was abducted by aliens and then forced to fight a fairy. The whole time you were trying to keep a straight face, but with everyone else laughing it was terribly difficult.

“It was a little glowing, hot naked lady.” Dean sighed, looking down at his hands which were folded in his lap.

“And then what happened Dean?” You smiled, trying even harder now to hold in your laughs.

“And- and she hit me.” He mumbled in defeat, sending you back into a full fit of laughter along with everyone else at the table. You were laughing so hard tears were streaming down your face as you grabbed your stomach. The rest of the Winchesters not far behind you.

“Oh god, I’m gonna pass out.” You heaved,looking back over at Dean who was shaking his head, only this time he had a small smile on his face.

“Okay get your laughs out.” He sighed.

“Oh, we are.” You laughed again, wiping away the tears on your face. You looked over at Dean, eyes locking almost immediately. You gave him another smile, silently apologizing for teasing him. The smile was returned, which made your heartbeat quicken.

You didn’t see it, neither did Dean, but for a good portion of dinner John was watching the two of you, smirking at the playful and childlike banter between you. Sam and Mary had noticed it too, but they were used to it. You and Dean dancing around each other , both afraid to make the first move.

It reminded John of him and Mary way back when. When times were simpler. Just two young idiots very much in love.

As dinner finished up, you helped clear off the table, you and Dean maneuvering around each other in perfect sync. It was interesting to watch to say the least.

As Dean left with the last of the dishes, heading towards the kitchen, your eyes settled on John, who was leaning against one of the pillars in the library.

You ventured over, tucking your hands into the pocket of your sweatshirt. “ Is it weird? Seeing how much they have changed?” You questioned.

John turned to you, letting out a breath. “ it’s definitely weird, but I can still see somethings haven’t changed.”

You tilted your head, wondering what on earth he was referring to. Shaking it off you sighed, “ you should be proud of them. They have helped a lot of people and they’re easily the greatest men I have ever had the joy of knowing.”

“I am proud of them. Hell, I got no words to express how proud I am of those two. I mean, Dean is still stubborn as hell-“

You let out a laugh, turning your head towards the kitchen.” Yeah, and I don’t think that’s going away any time soon.” You agreed, also realizing there was still work to be done. “I should probably go help in the kitchen.” You ended, giving John a nod before walking away.

You passed Dean in the hallway, who sent you another smile and gave your shoulder a squeeze as he entered the library.

Once John knew you were out of earshot, he turned to Dean, raising an eyebrow. “ I can see you still haven’t told y/n how you feel?” He smirked.

“Is it really that obvious?” Dean sighed, dragging a hand down his face as he fell into one of the chairs. John sitting down across from him.

“Yeah, Son. It’s still insanely obvious.” John laughed, picking up his glass of whiskey. “ I just feel bad for Sam, having to go all these years watching you two dance around each other like a couple of kids.”

Dean let out a defeated laugh. “How do I know if she even feels that way about me?”

John rolled his eyes, leaning forward. “ You two really are blind arn’t you? Just tell the girl. You’ll be fine Dean.”

“How do you know that? Y/n is a loose canon, you never know what you are gonna get with her!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air before letting them run down his face again.

“Just trust me on this.” John sighed, still mildly amused by how his eldest was reacting.

Dean was quick to lean forward, pointing his finger at his father. “Alright, but if this goes wrong, I’m blaming you.”

*. *. *. *. *.

This was not how you expected your night to go when you initially got home. You thought it would just be another night of microwaving takeout and watching some dumb show with Dean. And then you got the exact opposite. A full home cooked meal, a night of laughter, and a very happy Dean Winchester. Your heart was fucking full.

But slowly as the night came to a close, you could see Dean starting to sink, the inevitable goodbye he would have to give to his father drawing ever closer.

You eventually found yourself perched on one of the tables, the jade eyed hunter by your side. Mary and John were having one final discussion together, and Sam was leaning against one of the pillars in the library, clearly lost in his thoughts.

Turning your head, you looked over at Dean, a small sympathetic smile tugging on your lips. He looked so sad, and it broke your heart. Carefully you reached over, intertwining your fingers with his and leaning against his shoulder.

“It’s gonna be okay Dean.” You sighed, feeling his hand squeeze yours. You were keeping him grounded through this whole thing. Keeping him sane. He was grateful to have you in his life.

“I know- I just- I’m tired of saying goodbye to people.” He mumbled, going to rest his head against yours.

“Well I’m not going anywhere- you’re stuck with me till the end Winchester.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He agreed with a light chuckle, eyes falling towards your intertwined hands.

It was unusual, he didn’t think anything of it at first, but now? He was only just realizing that you had never held his hand before. Sure there was the I’m grabbing your hand and pulling you with me while we run from this monster sort of hand holding, but this was different. This was gentle and loving.

You watched as his eyes stayed locked in your hands, slightly amused by how intrigued he looked by it. You smiled, taking your free hand and placing it on his face, before pressing a sweet and firm kiss to his cheek. The action surprising the both of you slightly.

And then something happened, that you never expected to see in a million years. A warm red bloomed across his face, his eyes quickly looking away. He was blushing. Dean Winchester, your best friend since childhood was blushing, turning into a rosy faced mess.

And it was fucking adorable.

The two of you out so caught up in the moment that you failed to notice the grinning Winchesters in the doorway.

*. *. *. *. *.

“You keep these boys out of trouble for me, you got that?” John grinned, pulling you in for one last hug.

You let out a light laugh, stepping back. “I don’t think the strongest power on earth could do that. But I’ll try.”

Moving back, you watched as one by one said their final goodbyes. The pearl that caused this all to happen, sitting ominously on the table next to you. Dean stepped forward, his father pulling him into a bone crushing embrace.

“She adores you, you know.” John stated slowly, low enough that you couldn’t hear it. “I can see it in the way she looks at you. So can Mary.”

The beginnings of what could only be a smile tugged on the corners of Deans lips as he slightly nodded. Yet at the same time he looked pained. Too much was going and he didn’t want to lose his Dad again.

“If you love her, tell her. Even if your scared it’s not the right thing. Even if your scared it will burn your life to the ground, you say it, and you say it loud. You got that, Dean?” John continued, grabbing Deans shoulder and pulling into another crushing hug.

All Dean could do was nod. His dad was right. You never knew how this life would play out- when your time was up. Life was too short to wait in fear.

“Now let’s get this show on the road.” John chuckled, pulling back with glossy eyes that matched everyone else’s.

You watched with a sad smile as the Winchester family collapsed into one last group hug. They all looked so terribly sad, but happy at the same tile that they got this at all.

“Get in here y/n. You’re our damn family too.” Before you could register it, you were being pulled into a massive Winchester sandwich, nestled snugly under Deans arm.

This was nice. To have a family. To have people who loved you. To have a home.

It took the strength of all of you combined to pull away from each other, Dean stepping back to the place where the pearl lay. Mary remained next to her husband, their hands wound tightly together.

You could see Deans own hand shaking as he picked up the bowl to smash the pearl. He was breaking. Doing what you could, you reached out taking his empty hand in yours once again. He looked down in surprise, before going up to meet your eyes in understanding.

“It’s Okay. I got you.” You assured him. He slowly nodded, showing you he understood.

You looked back towards John, who sent you and Dean both a wide smile. Who knew your lives could so quickly change in matter of hours.

And then Dean brought the bottom of the bowl down hard on the pearl, shattering it in one go.

You felt Dean slightly jump in pain besides you, his hand gripping yours tighter as he ignored the tears freely rolling down his face, eyes frozen on the spot where John had been standing just seconds prior.

You could tell he was heartbroken. Shifting the bowl from his grasp, you wound your arms around him, pulling him into you. “It’s alright. I got you. I got you.” You repeated, running your hand up and down his back in an attempt to help calm him. Though delayed, he moved to wrap his arms around you, chin coming to rest on your shoulder as he sank.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, attempt to regain his breathing.

Everything was going to be alright. He was gonna make sure of that.

(A/N: Tell me what you guys thought! this things been sitting in my drafts for ages and I finally finished it. If it gets enough notes ill write a second part.)

[heyyy-hey-babyyy]

Forever After All

Summary: Dean's sure of two truths in this world. 1) Bert and Ernie are gay and 2) nothing lasts forever. It isn’t until you come back into his life that he begins to have second thoughts. Maybe some things last forever after all. 

Based on the song “Forever After All” by Luke Combs (lyrics italicized).

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of drinking

5,100 words

B/N: I really liked writing the flashback, childhood portions of my previous series “When We Were Young.” This isn’t the same reader I was imagining there (I know I shouldn’t imagine reader inserts...), but I’d like to do some similar ‘reader grows up with Dean and Sam’ type of plot with this story, so if you liked “When We Were Young” I’ve tagged you here too! 

Sam was drilling Dean again for reasons why he wouldn’t find someone to settle down with. They were sat at the war table nursing a few beers, and Dean kept shifting under his brother’s gaze. 

“Dean, come on.” Sam stated with a huff, noticing his brother’s irritation, but he wasn’t going to back down this time. “You know that I have always thought the same way you have. But then I met Eileen, and I don’t know man,” Sam took a long swig of his beer to hide the smile from his brother that crept onto his face, as he thought of Eileen. “Some things just change.” 

Dean scoffed, downing the last few swigs his beer and rolling the empty bottle between his hands, really taking in his brother’s words this time. He let out a long sigh, “I don’t know, Sammy. Nothing lasts forever. Hell, a good beer’s got 12 ounces, a good cars got maybe 300,000. You only get so much until it’s gone.” Dean shrugged simply, lost in his own head this time, considering the words he was telling his brother. Nothing lasted forever, so why bother, right? Sam stood up from his seat, defeated, when a different smile jumped to his mind, just for a moment, giving him an idea of how he might convince his brother that some things last forever after all. 

“What about, Y/N? Seems as though you’ve continued to think about her? Maybe she’s your forever?” Dean perked up hearing your name but settled his face into a scowl, not having a clever retort for his brother this time. Sam smirked back in victory, but it didn’t matter. Dean was already lost in memories of you. 

You, Dean, and Sam had grown up together. You were closer to Sam’s age, but hung around Dean whenever you and your dad happened to be in the same town, following the same monster John was. John and your dad would go out and get drunk, and you’d be stuck in your hotel room, so Dean and Sam would sneak over, smuggling whatever snacks they could and watching old reruns of I Love Lucy on the staticky tube TV. Seeing you became one of the only constants in Sam and Dean’s life, and as he got older his excitement seeing you changed into something more. Sam adored you because you gave him the attention he craved, giggling at his newest ‘knock, knock’ jokes and putting up with his nerdiness. But Dean’s feelings were more complicated. When Sam left for Stanford, you really had become the only thing worth a damn in Dean’s life, and running into you during a hunt was the only thing keeping him in the passenger seat of the Impala, letting John drag him across the country. 

Dean smiled simply into his empty beer bottle, forgetting there was nothing left for it to still be attached to his lips. He hadn’t spoken with you in so long, it seemed like you were really only in his memories. Like he was simply imagining you. 

Last he heard, after your dad died, you continued hunting for awhile, mostly spirits easy salt and burns, like your dad used to. The brothers had ran into you about six or so years back, and Sam had begged you to hunt with them, citing your research expertise and describing the bunker, but you merely shrugged him off, eyes locked on Dean while you reminded both of them that you had grown up on the road, and the bunker was “no place for a girl like me.” Dean loved how wild you were, so he didn’t say anything one way or the other to convince you. And with a small flourish, you got into your beat up Jeep and sped away. That was the last time Dean saw you. He had heard through the grapevine that you ended up with some sort of journalism job that allowed you to travel, and keep up with some of the cases that might attract hunters. Dean wasn’t sure if you still participated in the hunt, but he knew from their small hunter circle that you passed on the occasional case to other’s when you were on your way out of whatever town had the latest breaking news. 

Thinking back on these memories had Dean pulling out his phone and scrolling until he found your name. Wanting more than anything to hear your voice he hovered over your contact, but decided at the last second to send you a text instead.

<<Hey. I know it’s late. Up for a call? 

He waited for a few minutes, staring at his screen before you responded, his phone making an excited ping sound. 

<<Hey you! :) You know I’m always down for hearing from you, Winchester. 

Dean smiled, hearing your voice ring through the text, always calling him Winchester, emphasis placed on the chester, almost like it was his first name. Before he could think too much, the picture he had as your caller I.D. popped up on the screen, [Y/H/C] hair wild, eyes squinting at the sun, while you gave him a questioning look. It was his favorite picture of you. Dean pressed the green button on the phone screen and waited for you to speak. 

“Called you first.” Dean could hear the teasing note to your voice, and he felt himself grinning like an idiot. Something about you had all of his walls crumbling down around him. 

“I miss you, Y/N.” He blurted out, his mouth and heart working faster than his mind. There was a pause on your end, but you spoke before Dean could regret telling his truth for too long. 

“Oh, love. You know I miss you always.” There had never been anything physical between you and Dean, but the feelings seemed to always exist, growing as you realized what having feelings for another person felt like. There had been a few rare moments, mostly when you were younger, that you had fallen asleep across Dean’s chest and he kept you close to him throughout the night. And it was no secret to anyone that you and him were the only people the other completely broke in front of. You when your dad died, and him after Sam went off to college, and when John died. You had always held a special connection where you were safe to be yourself with the other. Dean loved you with everything that he had, and after what Sam had said, he knew you were his one chance at a forever. 

“Come see me.” Dean blurted out again, adding a quiet, desperate ‘please,’ to the end, which made you breathe out a soft laugh. 

“Alright.” You responded, trying your best to sound like you were resigning to Dean rather than sounding happier than you’d been in awhile thinking about seeing the older Winchester. “I get the room right next to yours this time, though. The other room was cold, and you were way too far away!” Dean smirked at your request. Anyone else would sound desperate, but you had a way of unintentionally making the people around you compete for your attention, and you were never shy about who you did and did not want to see. 

Dean could hear your pout and he smiled, promising and leaning into your demands. You sounded satisfied, but weren’t ready to let Dean off the phone. He heard shuffling as you moved around whatever hotel you were likely staying in, stuffing your belongings into the same white and black polka dot duffle bag Dean had bought you for your thirteen birthday. When you spoke, you sounded far away, but Dean caught your order for him to “tell a story” while you packed. 

“Okay,” Dean said thinking about what story he should tell, when a specific memory jumped to his mind. “Do you remember that time we boosted the Impala to go see the Northern Lights?” Dean could hear you giggling from far away, before you approached the phone openly laughing, “and we got it stuck in the mud and had to call John to come help us! What were we 15?” 

Dean scoffed, feigning annoyance. “Maybe you were 15, I was almost 18!” You scoffed back in response, and Dean heard the rustle of fabric, knowing you were throwing your clothes into the duffle rather than folding them because ‘they just get wrinkled either way!’ He decided to continue telling the story whether you were listening right now or not. 

“It’s one of my favorite memories because while we waited for my dad, we just sat on the hood of the car and looked up at the stars...” He trailed off remembering feeling like nothing in the world mattered but Y/N in those moments of peace. Dean had been young then, but he knew what he wanted and you were it. It just happened that your lives drifted a part shortly after that. John went on more risky hunts, desperate to find yellow eyes, and you and your dad kept taking care of the salt and burns. You two hadn’t crossed paths much after that. 

You hadn’t responded to what he said before, so he figured you were away from the phone, but suddenly he wanted to remember more of that moment. 

“I hated the world so much during that time. Dad was desperate to find the thing that killed mom, and I could tell Sam wanted more and more out of this life. My family felt like it was falling a part, and I remember thinking that you were one of the only solid things in my life.” It was all true, and though Dean didn’t keep things from you, it wasn’t something he was entirely open about before. The line was silent, so Dean cleared his throat of any lingering emotions, hoping in that moment, that you hadn’t heard what he confessed. 

“Okay, Y/N! Enough packing. Get into your car and drive. There’s still plenty of the night left to drink together.” Dean heard you giggle on the other end and you promised to drive safe before hanging up. 

He grabbed another beer from the fridge and sat back down prepared to wait in the war room so he could see you as soon as you stepped inside the bunker. You were only about an hour or so away, and with Sam back in his room, there was plenty of time to think through his thoughts. Sam would be ecstatic to see you, and Dean decided to keep it a surprise, hoping you weren’t texting Sam or something, promising to watch his nerdy movies with him when you got here. Though you had been one of the only static things in Dean’s life, you had also constantly been there for Sam. Dean remembered the anger he felt when Sam let slip about a time you had visited him at Stanford, confessing that both him and you talked often, when he couldn’t even be bothered to pick up the phone for Dean or John. Dean got over it quickly, because he didn’t blame Sam. You weren’t someone that either of them could just forget about and move on. And Dean knew that you and Sam still talked, even though it had been years since Dean picked up the phone himself. He didn’t know what stopped him from reaching out, now that the smile was plastered on his face thinking of you walking through the bunker door.

Dean glanced down at his watch, a half hour had passed with him lost in thoughts, his beer warming on the war room table. He hoped you were driving fast as he chugged the warm beer, and rose to get another, when Sam emerged into the room. His hair was dripping into his eyes from his recent shower, and he glanced at the two empty beers on the table in confusion. Sam knew that he had been in his room on the phone for almost an hour, and had taken a shower, and Dean had only drunk one other beer? Sam figured it was turning into a ‘drowning himself’ type of night for the older hunter, but when he caught eyes with Dean, they almost sparkled, excitement evident on his face. Sam couldn’t help but smirk at how happy his brother looked.

“What’s going on?” He asked quietly, coming fully into the room, trying to keep a sense of awareness, hoping his brother wasn’t about to prank him. Dean quickly changed his face to look more brooding but the creases at his eyes gave him away, and Sam wasn’t buying it.

“Dean, what did you do?” Dean looked offended, openly gaping at Sam in mock horror, making his younger brother roll his eyes.

“What?” Dean asked raising his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t do anything. Can’t a guy just sit and enjoy a beer?” He sat back down, even though Sam was witness to him attempting to grab another beer from the kitchen a second ago.

“Sure,” Sam replied, a little bit of a drawl appearing on the ‘r.’ “But one beer? I figured from your mood before you’d be at least a six-pack deep by now.” Sam kept talking as he walked to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from himself and one for Dean, returning to sit across from his brother where he left a few hours before. He uncapped his beer and took a swig. “Or did I have you thinking too much about Y/N and you got lost in your own thoughts?” Dean glanced around clearly about to lie to his brother, and Sam chuckled knowing he was right.

“I told you she was your forever.” 

Neither brother heard the front door open as you expertly snuck into the bunker and leaned over the railing to stare at the two men below. They looked exactly how you remembered them, just a bit older, and Sam looked like he maybe cut his hair shorter. You wanted to let them talk a bit more, clearly lost in their own conversation, but you were too excited to see both brothers and your mouth opened before you could stop it.

“Y’all aren’t talking about me, are you?”Dean just about dropped the bottle he was raising to his lips, instantly getting to his feet as you stumbled down the stairs just as quickly, suddenly needing the older Winchester’s arms around you. People could say what they wanted about Dean Winchester, but he was, and always had been, your comfort. Dean met you at the bottom, catching you easily as you launched yourself into his arms, avoiding the last three stairs. You felt him chuckle lowly as you clung to him, your entire existence missing the man holding you just as tight to him.

Sam was still sitting, a crease forming between his eyebrows, and you gave him a lopsided smile, scrunching up your nose, as Dean released you.

“What, I don’t get a hug from my favorite Winchester?” You asked, poking Dean in the ribs with your elbow when he pouted loudly at your words. Sam still looked shocked, but his mouth was moving into a huge smile, and he stood opening his arms. You hugged the younger Winchester back softly as he wrapped his arms fully around you. You barely reached to Sam’s chest, but he rested his head on top of yours and you squeezed him back, communicating silently that you missed him too. Sam released you, almost reluctantly, and you glanced between the two brothers who were clearly having a silent conversation of their own.  

“Well, Winchesters,” You began interrupting the weird looks they were giving each other.

“You have me for a few days! What’s first?”

------

You had only meant to stay a few days, then return to your life. Turns out that was harder than you would have ever thought. 

The first night in the bunker, Dean grabbed you a drink and ushered you and Sam into the aptly named ‘Dean Cave,’ which was complete with a large couch and recliner, the latter of which Sam claimed instantly. You grumbled jokingly about having to share with Dean, but you caught the small smile Dean wore when you sat next to him and curled your legs up under you. Sam begrudgingly let his brother choose the movie and you were both in hysterics as Dean acted out every scene in Die Hard, including donning a horrible German accent for the Hans Gruber parts. 

It was about halfway through the second movie when you shifted to get more comfortable, leaning naturally into Dean, and he pulled you to his side, tucking you under his arm, a large smile on his face. It wasn’t the first time you two had been cozy like this, but between Dean’s impressions, Sam’s giggling and eye rolling, it all felt like home. You snuggled deeper into Dean’s side, and knew in that moment it was going to be impossible to leave these two. 

That was almost a month ago, and you were getting into a comfortable routine with the boys. They hadn’t returned to hunts, though you encouraged them to, knowing you had plenty of work you should be doing yourself. But Dean shut down the conversation the first time you brought it up, the anger from years of loss and pain that he hadn’t let go of exploding from his body in one loud yell. He had stomped off right after to work on the Impala in the garage, where you found him an hour later. 

He had calmed down and was willing to talk through the fact that he didn’t want to leave you alone yet, afraid that you’d leave. You had smiled at him and promised you wouldn’t ever leave like that, but he had wrapped you in his arms carefully, like he wasn’t going to see you again, and you knew he didn’t believe what you were saying. 

The conversation was put high up on a shelf after that, and neither you or Sam mentioned it to Dean again. But you knew that that singular conversation wasn’t appeasing Dean’s irrational thoughts of everyone leaving him. You knew he didn’t believe anything was forever. 

But the longer you spent at the bunker, and the more you spent time with this Dean that you didn’t quite know as well as his younger version, the further you were falling. 

Dean was many things, but the Dean that had been through so much in the time you were apart had emerged caring and passionate. You caught glimpses of the man he was when he made himself a sandwich and one for you and Sam while you were busy marathoning some Netflix true crime documentary, knowing you both wouldn’t eat otherwise. Or when he offered his expertise freely of any hunter that called one of his phones, no questions asked.   

The hot-head from days past was replaced with someone who was open to conversing and sharing his feelings. Whereas you saw frustration and lack of patience from the Dean you knew years ago, this one has grown to feel the brunt of his emotions, and was willing to take the burden away from others. You would have been lying to yourself if you said you didn’t have feelings for Dean all along, but the cocky, sure of himself young man had turned into a person who was filled with empathy for others; a selflessness you had never seen in any human. This Dean Winchester loved with all of him, and you felt it every time he looked at you. You were just waiting for him to act on what he wanted. 

Could he believe that some things last forever after all? 

Dean tags

@akshi8278

“When We Were Young” Taglist (thought you might like this too)

@vicmc624 @woundedxsmile @supernatural3002 @imaginationisgrowth​ @thoughts-and-funnies

[billiejeanisnotyourlover]

GREEN — OBX

PAIRING: John B. Routledge x Fem!Reader

REQUEST: “Hey! I was wondering if you could do a John B x reader where the reader is Topper’s ex girlfriend and is now dating John B and maybe a jealous John B at a party or something 🥺🥺🥺 thank you so so much!!!” by Anonymous.

WARNINGS: Mentions of drug and alcohol usage by minors, I think that’s it actually.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: first request! i apologize if this is bad, i literally haven’t written anything in years, so this is quite the throwback. the beginning kind of drags but it gets better (i think) as it goes on. hope you all enjoy!

Okay, listen. It wasn’t like you were planning on going full-Pogue over the summer. No, you hadn’t been mischievously scheming your conversion to the “dark side” at all; you just broke up with your Kook-y boyfriend and started hanging around the local lowlifes a little more than you thought you would.

I mean, between the hours they spent at The Wreck—where, by the way, you’d been working for a good six or so months now after your parents basically told you that you couldn’t leech off of their money anymore—and the number of times you’ve bumped into them on your way home, hanging out with them turned into something a little more inevitable than avoidable.

It started out small, with little conversations that weren’t entirely based on the Kook vs Pogue rivalry that the group of teens were so set on keeping alive.

Kiara, your boss’ daughter, had been the first to show you even an ounce of kindness; another unruly customer had dumped their water all over you (whether or not it was on purpose depended on who you asked about the incident), and she had been the one to take you to the back, let you release some frustration, and then gave you a new shirt to wear.

After that, it had been Pope. While you were serving him and the two other boys one night, he mentioned something about school and scholarships, to which you opened up an entire conversation with him about, seeing your siblings had all gone through the interview process, so you knew a trick or two. You could tell he regarded you a little more kindly after that.

The next to break was John B, the cute, wavy-haired brunet boy. He’d been the easiest to break, even if not the first. While Kiara and Pope still treaded water, John B dove in head-first. You weren’t even sure why; one day, he’d been giving you a side-eye, and the next, he was inviting you around town with them.

Of course, the final Pogue left was JJ. Blond hair, blue eyes, and a total troublemaker. He didn’t take very kindly to you at all; sometimes you could hear him arguing with his friends about how they were associating with a Kook, even if you hardly qualified anymore. Sure, your parents were rich and you wore nice clothes, but all the people in Kooklandia were dull. Shallow. Boring. You wanted depth—and the Pogues could give you that.

Even now, months later, you could tell JJ was still sketched out about you, but you learned to ignore it as time went on, and every once in a while, he would extend an olive branch—with the olive branch being a blunt or a beer, most days.

Though, in all honesty, the hardest part of it all had been Thomas. Topper, as everyone else knew him. The two of you grew up together, practically joined at the hip since diapers, though there was a period of a few years in middle school and freshman year of high school that he would barely give you the time of day.

Maybe that was why you agreed so quickly when he asked you out one day. Maybe that was why the two of you started dating, because he finally was giving you the attention you craved.

Okay, wait, that sounded shallow. You weren’t shallow. You were just... lonely. Missing the human connection. Something like that. Being with Topper filled those holes in your heart and made you happier and happier as each day passed.

Until it didn’t anymore.

You remembered breaking up with him like it was yesterday, even if it had been at least three months ago now.

He yelled at you. You yelled at him. He blamed your new friends. You blamed his ego. It went on and on until, eventually, you just walked away. Told him not to call. Told him not to come by your house. You two could talk about it later, when you weren’t at each other’s throats, but it was still over. You and Topper were over.

Then, the next day, you joined the Pogues on their handy little boat and went off into the marsh. There were drinks and blunts and jokes and laughter. Then the process basically repeated the next day, and the next day, and the next day, and the next day...

...and now, it was July. You and the Pogues were as thick as thieves (quite literally, in JJ’s case). You did everything together, and you finally found the friendships you’d been craving for so long. The friendships that engaged you, that kept you happy, that made you feel unconditional love. You felt like everything was finally complete for you.

And then you fell. Hard.

John B had always been nice to you. So incredibly nice. He let you in on Pogue things. He made sure you were happy. He always made you smile, and with all of that added together, it really wasn’t surprising when you realized that maybe, just maybe, you liked John B as more than just a friend.

Turns out, he felt the same, and only a few weeks prior just as summer break started, he kissed you.

Yes, John B kissed you. And you kissed him back.

Since then, you two were inseparable, always spending your days together and most of your nights, although you still had a family and had to go home eventually. Those nights, though, you stayed up for hours on the phone with him. Literally. Sleep never came to you until three or four in the morning then, and you’d get up at a whopping nine to meet him back at the chateau that very day.

Of course, the hurricane that blew in ruined it all. The island was a mess and the power was out, meaning there was no signal and you were forced to spend your nights at home in solitude.

That’s what last night had been like, but hours had passed and you met up with John B and the Pogues not too long ago, your group of friends and yourself now at the boneyard for an infamous OBX kegger.

“Hey! Watch this!” comes JJ’s voice from a few yards away. The blond boy had situated himself on a tree branch, and once he was certain he had his friend’s attention, he leaned back. He was holding himself up by his legs, now dangling haphazardly above the ground as he... tilted his beer can back and started drinking?

The liquid was going everywhere. All over his chin, dripping to the sand, and covering his face because he kept missing his own mouth.

You, of course, have to laugh. “Does he not realize that’s not going to work?” you ask, looking at the boy whose arm was wrapped lazily around your waist.

John B glances down at you with an crooked grin. The sight makes you mirror the expression. “He’ll realize eventually. After he chokes, probably.”

Sure enough, JJ starts coughing, the beer having gone down the wrong pipe as he struggles to sit up and correct himself.

You laugh even more, sipping from your own beer can and simply enjoying the amusing show. JJ kept coughing, and you and John B kept laughing, joined in by Kiara’s questioning of what the hell were you thinking would happen? and Pope agreeing with her entirely.

A squeeze on your hip draws your attention back up to John B, whose hand has situated itself on the exposed skin above the waistline of your shorts. His gaze meets yours, shining with a happy sparkle that only makes you smile.

“Yeah?” you ask.

“Come walk with me?”

“Yeah, of course.”

The two of your begin to walk away from the crowd, the cheers and laughter and chatter of conversation fading away just the slightest—until a voice calls out your name.

“Y/N!” It’s all too familiar, and slowly, you turn around in John B’s arms to face Topper.

Topper. What was he doing here?

“Topper?” you call back, furrowing your brows before a small pit of anger bubbles in your stomach. You don’t show to outwardly, though, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

He jogs up in the sand to meet you, now standing just a few feet away. In his hand in a can of beer, but by the way he crushes it, you know it’s empty. You’re surprised he doesn’t toss it behind him and leave it.

“Still slumming around with these guys, huh?” questions Topper. You roll your eyes, and he smirks knowingly. “When are you coming back to the real world, princess? This little fantasy of yours can’t last forever.”

Next to you, John B bristles. “Shut up, dude,” he demands, a shadow now crossing over his face. You’ve only ever seen him upset maybe once or twice, so this was new even for you. “Do you have to come over here and harass us?”

Topper laughs. “You think I want to be anywhere near you, John B?” he scoffs, his gaze flickering to you. “I’m just coming here to remind Y/N what she’s doing. We still have to talk, anyway. Remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. But that was three months ago, Topper,” you remind him, and he stiffens for a moment. “We—” you gesture between you and him. “—are through.”

The blond Kook just scoffs quietly again. He doesn’t have a response right away, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t digging for one. Eventually, he sighs, “Whatever. You’ll come to your senses eventually and realize that life just isn’t as sweet when you’re hanging around with a few dirty Pogues.” He pauses. “Give me a call when you’re ready for that talk.”

Then, he walks away. The confrontation is short and not at all sweet, but it’s still enough to keep John B quiet even after a few minutes pass. The two of you continue down the beach together, but his arm is at his side and he refuses to even look at you.

You know what it’s about. It’s about the same thing he’s expressed to you time and time again. Why would you leave a Kook for him? Money, a good life... for someone from the Cut? He couldn’t fathom it.

“Hey,” you say gently, stepping in front of him. You’d been in silence for too long. “Look at me, John B.”

He does, and you sigh. His eyes are full and his face crestfallen.

“Just ignore Topper, okay?” you ask. “He thinks he’s some hot rod. He’s not.”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” John B replies. “Like—like he thinks he still has some claim over you. Doesn’t he realize he doesn’t? That—that you two are over?”

“He will. With time,” you promise. He’s still tense, though, and for a moment, his eyes flicker over to where Topper is now with the rest of his Kook friends. “John B.”

He looks at you again.

“You,” a finger is pressed to his chest, “are the only one for me.”

“I don’t—”

“No, don’t question it.” You shake your head, then smile as you stand on your toes and wrap your arms around his neck. “You’re the only one for me, John B. I don’t care about Topper.”

At that, he cracks a small smile, and for you, that’s enough. But you still press a little kiss to the corner of his lips.

“Besides, green isn’t your color,” you tease then.

“I’m not... I’m not wearing green?” he states, but the sentence comes out more like a question than anything, and you can’t help but laugh. He’s confused for a moment longer before it processes with him.

He was green with envy, and it wasn’t cool on him. He scoffs, a gateway to a little laugh.

“Okay, that’s it,” he decides, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up with no warning. You squeal, and he lugs you towards the water. “I’ve had enough of your bullying!”

Your laughter drowns out the rest of the party, and you can’t help but feel beyond elated that finally, you’d found your place. Even if your boyfriend is a little green.

[autisticsupervillain]

The Makara Sisters

Ladies and gentlemen, it's finally here. My villainstuck Calliope post. @icedreaper I certainly hope you enjoy my friend.

Now this. This provides me with a fascinating challenge. How do you corrupt someone who is inherently good? Calliope is the heroic half of Caliborn. That seems as close to incorruptible as you can be in the Homestuck multiverse. Well, Calliope is about to learn that good is a very subjective term. The road to hell is paved with good intentions after all.

Our tale begins on Earth C. Calliope had moved in next to Roxy, as she was one of the people she knew best. Calliope is still a bit of a fangirl and casually rooming up with the people she idolized is kinda overwhelming for her. As such, she spends most of her time with Roxy and her friends. It’s not until years later that she gets to have another long conversation with any of the Beta Kids.

It happens during a party. The 5 year anniversary of the day the kids beat the game. Roxy had voided up all the necessities, with a little help from Jane for reference. That night, Calliope sees Dave sitting at a table completely smashed. Calliope asks if he’s doing alright and immediately sees through Dave’s bullshit when he insists he is. Calliope is best friends with Roxy. She knows what grief drinking looks like at this point and that’s exactly what Dave is doing. If he were sober, Dave would be able to keep his mask on and brush of Calliope's concern. But, he’s completely hammered, so he starts running his mouth. Dave admits that, while he was setting up the speakers and trying to get the music to sound right, Dirk surprised him.

The way Dirk was dressed, with his hat and his shades, and with how much he’d grown over the years, for a minute, Dirk looked a lot like Bro. Dave freezes up and flashes back for a minute before Dirk snap him out of it. Dirk comforts Dave about it as Dave vents his heart out at him for a bit. Basically retreading the conversation from when Dave gives him that big hug. Bro’s abuse still happened and that still creeps in sometimes. So, it’s good that the Striders can have these conversations. After a few cracks at how “fucked in the head" they are, the Striders begin pondering their counterparts. More specifically, Alpha Dave. Dave speculates that Alpha Dave was who he would’ve grown up to be if he didn’t have John, Rose, and Jade to lean on. Of course, sense Dirk doesn’t really know him well enough to define Alpha Dave as a person, that doesn’t really clear anything up. That just leaves the uncomfortable question of what a Dave without friends would’ve looked like. Especially with the way Bro turned out.

Soon the party started, and Dirk advised Dave to have fun and take his mind off it. Dave tries, but finds he can’t. It’s eating at him more than it should and he decides to go for a drink. One drink turns to several and then Calliope showed up.

At the end of his drunken ramble, Calliope expresses her sympathy. While she doesn’t know Dave very well, she knows someone in a similar situation to Alpha Dave. She mentions her God-Tier counterpart and reassures Dave that, while Calliope did become a much colder person, she did not become a bad one. Dave is a good person at heart and Calliope assures him that he always will be, regardless of what happens. That’s when Dirk and Rose show up. Dirk thanks Calliope for comforting Dave and explains that he figured something like this would happen and went to fetch Rose to help. Calliope watches them drag Dave home so they could talk to him in private before returning to the party.

The next day, Dave invites Calliope over and thanks her for giving him someone to lean on. The two start visiting regularly and they quickly become friends. They talk about their alternate selves often and Dave eventually mentions that he would’ve liked to meet his Alpha counterpart, if only to put his fears to rest. When Calliope asks if he’s ever discussed this with Dirk, Dave says that it’d be awkward. Bro was a terrible person and all it’d do is make Dirk feel worse about himself. So, Calliope just suggests asking John to let him visit Alpha Dave and Dave goes quiet. He takes a deep breath, figuring that he’s already dumped a lot on Calliope as it is, so there’s no backing out now. He admits that he’s scared to see what his Alpha counterpart is like. Dave has quite a few flaws himself and given how Dirk turned out…

Calliope mentions Davesprite, who had a nasty life himself but still turned out to be a good person, but Dave still remains hesitant. He clams up and Calliope admits that this is probably a conversation he should have with Rose or Dirk. Calliope apologizes for making her company awkward but Dave still thanks her as she leaves. He needed a fresh set of eyes to look at his issues before he began talking them out with his closer friends.

After a few days of stewing on the issue, Dave finally calls up Rose to have a chat with her. Rose brings up a lot of the same points Calliope and ultimately gets to the root of where this new issue comes from. Now that Dave has had time to process how harmful most of what he’s been raised on actually is, he’s worried about how it’s effected him as a person. Basically, he’s worried he might end up as a terrible person because Bro was a terrible person and that constant fear of failure that Bro’s abuse instilled in him is keeping him from just dissipating these feelings logically. Sure, Dave knows he’s not a bad person. He knows, logically, that he’s just a kid trying his best to be a good person. But, Bro instilled a bunch of self loathing in him by constantly beating the shit out of him when he was a kid. That doesn’t just go away. Rose is smart and she knows Dave well enough to comfort him, but she’s not the psychoanalytical genius she used to think she was. The only advice she can give him is from the heart. So, she admits that Dave venting to her was a good first step. But the only one who will know whether or not meeting Alpha Dave will help or not is him. All she can do is listen to and support him. It’s up to Dave to decide if he thinks that will be enough.

A few more days of contemplation later, Dave approaches John and asks him to help meet Alpha Dave.

The two Dave’s talk for awhile, after Alpha Dave calms down from seeing two young men in pajamas spontaneously appear right in front of him. Alpha Dave sympathizes with the younger Strider once he’s all caught up and admits that he didn’t have the best life growing up either. So that’s why he’s being earnest when he says that Dave’s handling it the best he can. Your upbringing doesn’t define you, you define you. And Dave has defined himself a good person who loves his friends and is working hard to work through his trauma. After a big hug, Alpha Dave asks if he could meet Dirk and Davesprite.

On the day of Dirk’ birthday party, Dirk is greeted at home by three Daves instead of two. Cue Strider group hug.

After a long party, Alpha Dave expresses how happy he is to have finally met Dirk. He expresses how happy he is to see two versions of himself grew up to get happy endings and shows how proud he is in Dirk. Even if he’s destined to die, he can die happy knowing that his little bro grows up happy.

Calliope gets caught up by John about the goings on after Alpha Dave returns to his own timeline. She’s happy to know that she helped the Striders, indirectly or otherwise, and Dirk thanks her for giving him the happiest party of his life.

After everything winds down and people start turning in for the night, Calliope thoughts return to God-Tier Calliope, thanks to Alpha Dave reminding her of her. She contemplates if getting to see Earth C and make friends like she did would make her happier.

She waits a few months before asking John for help again, letting him cool off from all the time traveling, partying, and emotional catharsis. She asks him to take her to wear the Green Sun used to be so she can grab God-Tier Calliope’s body and bring her back to be revived by Jane.

God-Tier Calliope is very put off by her new surroundings. A massive, life filled world, filled with other sentient, sapient life forms. She has a hard time opening up and she always comes off as distant next to her counterpart. Not unpleasant, just cold.

She tries to open. Tries to make friends. Calliope insists that this is what made her happy. But it just doesn’t click. Calliope ponders the problem over before coming to a realization. All the ways she was able to contact her human friends. All the technology. All the toys. That had to be given to her by someone. Both Calliopes have vague memories of someone caring for them when they were younger… but they just couldn’t remember who.

So, Calliope asks John for another big favor in order to find out who raised her. When the two find out it was Gamzee, Calliope is ecstatic to have a father figure like what Jane and John had, only for John to cough awkwardly and elaborate who Gamzee actually is. John doesn’t know all the details himself, but he does know that Gamzee apparently killed some of Karkat’s friends and attempted some more horrible stuff. Calliope is distraught but John can’t give any more details. Neither Karkat or Vriska like to talk about it. Dejected, Calliope and John return where Calliope briefs her God-Tier counterpart on the situation.

So, God-Tier Calliope just teleports over to Karkat and bluntly asks about Gamzee. The naked, showering Karkat proceeds to screech his lungs out.

After patiently waiting out Karkat’s tantrum, Calliope clarifies that Gamzee may have been her father. Karkat pauses before shoeing her out of the room so he can finish his shower.

Then John teleports in to warn him about Calliope and Karkat screeches again.

After Karkat finally wraps up and gets dressed, he and John sit down with the Calliopes to explain. John questions whether or not he should be a part of this, but Karkat insists. Honesty is the backbone of a healthy relationship and the Gamzee thing has been eating at him for awhile now. Karkat explains that Gamzee was one of his best friends, even if he didn’t always treat him like it. Which is something that Karkat regrets seeing how he snapped and started murdering people. Karkat would’ve tried to calm him down, stop him, but that plan got shunted aside thanks to the retcon. Karkat goes into self loathing mode, he doesn’t even know why Gamzee started killing people and he blames himself for that. Calliope reassures him and John helps pull him out of his funk while God-Tier Calliope just bluntly asks when and how Gamzee raised her. Karkat admits that he has no idea and that he doesn’t know where to find him now. All he can confirm is that he’s still alive. God-Tier Calliope leaves the conversation at that point, allowing her mortal counterpart to catch up with her later.

Calliope asks about her chilly demeanor and God-Tier Calliope still admits that she doesn’t still fully get this friendship thing. She can see that there’s something there between her counterpart and her friends, but she doesn’t fully get it. She just can’t feel it. After all, she’s a healthy Cherub and Cherubs don’t have friends. Regardless, Calliope tries to help give her a push in the right direction with some nicknames. From now on, everyone will refer to God-Tier Calliope as Callie, calling back to Roxy's nickname. After all, Calliope loved it when she was befriending Roxy, so surely it’ll grow on Callie.

Calliope and Callie start scouring the globe for Gamzee’s refrigerator. However, Jake ends up being the one to find it. Callie coldly thanks Jake for his assistance and awkwardly hugs him. She almost crushes his ribs, but it’s the thought that counts. Hugs are a thing that friends do after all. Callie informs Jake that, while the exact details are personal, Gamzee could potentially still be dangerous and they might need him for backup.

When Gamzee stumble out of the fridge and adjusts his eyesight, the first thing he sees is Calliope. His first instinct is to envelope her in a hug. Nearly a minute passes before he notices Callie hovering over them and Jake training a gun on him.

Gamzee tries to hug Callie as well, but she pushes him back and starts interrogating him. Even when being held several feet in the air, Gamzee is still gushing over his daughter and Callie events puts him down at Calliope’s insistence. Gamzee’s blabbering comes to a dead halt once Callie bluntly asks why he killed Nepeta and Equius. Jake notices the mood shift and awkwardly excuses himself from the conversation, making sure he’s still in yelling distance.

Gamzee sits down, stares up at the sky and confesses to everything. He killed for two reasons. One was in service to his dark master Lord English, whom he believed would destroy reality and replace it with the Dark Carnival. An eternal paradise, free from all the abandonment and suffering he’d been cursed with. The other reason was Calliope herself. When he met her, when he first saw her hatch, he fell in love with her. She was the first person in his life to love him unconditionally.

He goes on into detail about how Lil' Cal, the Gamzee part of Lil' Cal talked about Calliope in his brief moments of clarity. Gamzee didn’t believe it until he met her himself.

Calliope isn’t sure what to make of her surrogate father. He’s a bad person by his own admission and the fact that he was, to an extent, motivated by her just makes it even more complicated. Callie rests a hand on her counterpart’s shoulder and asks Gamzee why she didn’t get this treatment. Gamzee hazards a guess that his counterpart wanted her to survive in that timeline. Cherubs grow best on isolation after all. It was even something he considered doing in the main timeline, given he loved Calliope more than her “brother". Callie suggests that they take Gamzee back to the house. Live with him for a few days. Give Calliope the chance to know him and sort out her conflicted feelings, while also making sure that he’s being monitored by one of the most powerful God-Tiers on Earth should he prove to be untrustworthy.

Jake doesn’t ask what their conversation was about, as he feels like it was a private affair. He’s confident that his dear friend and her alternate counterpart can handle whatever it is they’ve gotten themselves into. However, he is asked a question by Callie: What’s a sister? Gamzee kept referring to the two of them as such. Jake and Calliope explain the concept of siblings to Callie and the two decide too adopt the term. Callie and Calliope. Twin Cherub Sisters.

Over the course of the next few months, Callie and Calliope get to know Gamzee better. Gamzee is fully remorseful for his actions. He reveals more of why he took the path he did to his daughters overtime. He talks about the Sopor. He talks about his faith. He talks about his dad. Eventually, he even brings himself to talk about Tavros.

The sisters notice the way his demeanor shifts. The mood always lightens whenever he talks about Tavros. He looks like he’s somewhere else, somewhere warmer and nicer. In those brief moments, Gamzee looks like Gamzee again.

He refuses to tell them who killed Tavros. He insists he doesn’t know.

Meanwhile, Jake has been incredibly shifty on the details of his exhibition with the Calliopes. His friends know he’s hiding something from them, Jake can’t lie for shit. But, when pressed, he tells them that it’s something the Calliopes wanted him to keep secret. So the subject is left alone.

That is, until Vriska Serket catches wind of it.

It starts innocuously enough. John heard about Jake’s little trip, so he asks about it at the next anniversary party. Jake says the matter is private, so John drops the issue. Vriska overhears and starts hounding him for details. Jake went on an adventure with the two Calliopes and didn’t invite her? This is the most interesting thing to happen in ages! What happened? Who’s involved? What’s going on!?! Jake finds he can’t slip away and ends up accidentally dropping Gamzee’s name. Vriska’s enthusiastic interrogation suddenly turns death serious as she starts squeezing the facts out of him.

Gamzee is enjoying his quiet time at home, waiting for his kids to come back, when Vriska bursts through the wall. A brutal, bloody fight breaks out that lasts most of the night. Right when it looks like someone’s about to win, the Cherub Sisters get home. Callie steps in an demands to know what the hell Vriska is doing. Now that the two are restrained, Gamzee and Vriska argue instead. Calling each other murderers, abusers, manipulators, and every other nasty word the two can think of. Gamzee finally lets slip that Vriska is the one who killed Tavros.

Callie promptly hefts Vriska up by her neck. Even Calliope is giving her weird looks as Callie demands an explanation. Vriska stammers to think of a justification, but she comes up short. Killing Tavros was one of the few things she regretted, after all. Instead, she calls in back up. Vriska fully expects Callie to kill her, so she mind controls Terezi. Everything comes to a halt back at the party as Terezi suddenly shouts about Vriska being attacked down at the Cherub household.

John teleports everyone over there, causing mass chaos when they see what’s happening. Karkat demands an explanation from Gamzee, Callie demands an explanation from Vriska, Terezi demands an explanation Callie, and everyone is yelling at everyone. John, Jane, and everyone else who is trying to get people to calm down are drowned out in the sea of noise, until everything suddenly freezes. Aradia asks everyone to calm down, putting some emphasis on Callie specifically seeing how she’s probably strong enough to just break out of Aradia’s time stop.

What proceeds is effectively a trial, with Aradia reigning as Judge. The question of who exactly is on trial almost sparks another argument, but that gets shut down quick. Both Vriska Serket and Gamzee Makara on trial today and both immediately start flinging dirt at the other. The argument goes in circles as the two throw accusations and excuses at each other, forcing Aradia to break up a few fights. Vriska claims that she had an abusive lusus as an excuse, Gamzee points out that at least she had lusus. Gamzee calls Vriska out on her abusive behavior, John mentions the Pre-Retcon timeline. Vriska calls Gamzee a murderer and Gamzee has to be restrained from beating the shit out of her for what she did to Tavros.

Eventually, the whole thing comes down to a vote. It’s decided that they can’t really hold Gamzee accountable if they’re not going to hold Vriska accountable, as they share a lot of the same excuses and crimes. Regardless of what they’ve done, they still have loved ones among them, especially in the form of Terezi and the Calliopes respectively. Basically, the policy is “live and let live". Earth C is a place of new beginnings for a lot of people. Maybe it’s best to let them start over.

Later that week, Vriska vents at Terezi about being compared to Gamzee. I mean, Gamzee was the big threat that she saved everyone from. Vriska is the good guy here! Terezi points out that Vriska nearly got them all killed and Vriska meekly concedes the point. Vriska decides she should put her money where her mouth is and try to apologize to Gamzee. After all, they’re supposedly really similar and they both just want to me better people, right? So it should be no problem for her to just walk in and apologize.

Gamzee still gives her a chilly reception when she shows up and Vriska isn’t one to take insults lying down. Things quickly escalate into an argument from there before Callie breaks it up and asks Vriska to leave. This pattern repeats for awhile. One would approach the other, an argument would ensue, and Karkat or Callie or Terezi or whoever would intervene and split them up. It happened yearly, then monthly, then daily. Karkat is especially frustrated because he thinks they would make great kissmesises, but neither of them want to go there. Gamzee refuses to give her the time of day for what she did to Tavros and Vriska is so bothered by their similarities that she keeps approaching him about it. This leads to arguments, fights, split ups, and the cycle repeats.

Eventually, Calliope gets an idea. Gamzee’s main hang up with Vriska is what she did to Tavros, right? So, they can just resurrect Tavros, have him forgive Vriska, and problem solved! It worked great with Dave’s issues, so it should work this time. John is getting a bit tired of constantly refereeing their fights himself, so he agrees to help them. They just snatch Tavros’s body from the latest point in the timeline and resurrect him. Problem solved.

Things go off the rails very quickly. Gamzee and Tavros are ecstatic to see each other again and Tav nearly bowls him over with a hug. But, when he asks for a catch up on what everyone has been up too, Gamzee hesitates. Ultimately, Gamzee is serious about wanting to be a better person, for the sake of his daughters', so he decides to be honest. He tells Tavros everything that he did. Everything that happened and why. He even explains what he planned to do to Terezi.

Tavros doesn’t forgive him.

Tavros sees the similarities and they’re enough for him to not be comfortable around Gamzee anymore. He leaves and tells Gamzee not to contact him.

Gamzee tries anyways, to no avail. He begins to shut himself off from the rest of the world. He doesn’t even speak to Karkat anymore. All the good progress he made begins going down the drain. His best bro, his first bro, doesn’t think he’s worth it anymore. What’s he supposed to make of that?

The Cherub Sisters comfort him, try to get him out of his shell. It works, to an extent, but Gamzee quickly becomes possessive. It gets worse day by day, from Gamzee stalking them to him trying to keep them from leaving the house. The Cherub Sisters go to Rose for advice, given she’s the psychologist, but she admits that she’s a little out of her depth when it comes to Gamzee. She advises spending some time away from him and letting Karkat take care of him. He’s his moirail, after all, this is his job.

But, when the sisters go on a trip, Karkat struggles to bring Gamzee out of his shell. He’s far to despondent and doesn’t seem to react to anything Karkat tries. Whenever Gamzee’s about to open up, he looks at Karkat and sees another person he failed, betrayed, and immediately clams up.

When the Sisters get back, he’s an even more possessive, self destructive mess than he was last time, to the point of watching them sleep every night. Calliope decides that they need to time travel again to fix this. John is hesitant, given last time apparently didn’t work out, but he agrees to help. This time, the sisters decide to grab his lusus. But, when introduced, Gamzee’s lusus turns around and swims away, which only sends him further down into his spiral. It’s gotten to the point where Gamzee flat out forgets to eat or sleep for days on end. When the sisters go to him again for help, John tries to refuse, stating they’re just making things worse, but Callie demands that he help out.

This time, the sisters bring Gamzee a recouperacoon to help treat his newfound insomnia. This ends with him diving head first back into addiction. Even Vriska seems concerned when she comes over for another argument, only to find him blankly staring at the ceiling. The more Gamzee’s mental state decays, the more desperate the sisters get to help him. At first, John blatantly refuses to help them any further, because all they’re doing is making things worse, but then he relents when Callie actually threatens him into helping.

When John had dropped them off on a dead planet in the middle of a seemingly Doomed Timeline, he seemed confused. Callie explained to Calliope, once they were out of earshot, that she heard a legend once of a powerful Cherub who got her hands on the Treasure. The Cherub rampaged her way across the multiverse for centuries, leaving countless bodies in her wake, before being killed by a legendary Void Player. They’re there to obtain the Treasure from her body.

None of them notice the torn up Muse of Space outfit hanging on a tombstone. A memorial to an old friend.

When he brings the sisters back, John takes them to Dirk and Dave in order to stage an intervention. They’re creating a negative feedback loop. Gamzee’s falling further into his funk, which is making the sisters more desperate to help him. This causes their actions to become more hasty, which leads to them making short sighted mistakes, leading to an ongoing cycle. The sisters agree to stop meddling and claim they need time alone to sort things out.

But, it’s to late for that now. If some had stopped them sooner, talked to them a day earlier, the sisters could’ve been talked down. But now? It was to late. They were committed now. Their father needed them.

Their plan is simple. Callie reasons that the reason the Gamzee is still suffering, still losing, is that he was thematically predestined to. That’s the theme of his character. Tragedy and comedy. The duality of a lethal joke character. So, if they change what his theme is, what the narrative of his character is, they can change his fate. It makes some sort of sense… even if it is a desperate long shot when you think about it

So, how does one change the themes surrounding one’s character? They just need to change his aspect. Rage is defined by chaos, destruction, discontent, and the aforementioned duality. They just need to change his aspect to something else. And, in order to do that, they need a ritual.

All of reality is made up of games within games. Copies of SBURB that generate copies of SBURB on and on. Those games are made up of code and code can be decompiled. They just need to find the debug tool, reprogram Gamzee’s aspect, and thus eliminate all the thematic suffering that plagues his character.

In order to find the Debug Tool, the Sisters need to jump through some hoops. Using the Retcon Powers, Calliope and Callie approach a random Lord of Light, asking him to use his absolute knowledge to confirm their theory. He obliges, mostly to avoid fighting a powerful Muse of Space. Apparently, in order to find the Debug Tool, you’d have to gather up the fragments of its code that are hidden around Paradox Space. Luckily, the Lord knows where they are, thanks to knowledge being Light's mo. He gives them a list of what to search for and where to find it. The Sisters depart on their journey.

Calliope and Callie come across a Doomed version of Beforus and explain their quest to the local version of Feferi. The Empress admits that she does have something like that and is, in fact, happy someone has come to take it off her hands. The last time she tried messing with that strand of code, she ended up glitching a nearby galaxy out of existence, so she resorted to locking it up and throwing away the key.

Unfortunately, things begin to go wrong once Callie tries interacting with the fragment of code. The Sisters are effectively script kiddies in this “the multiverse is all code" analogy. Meaning, they don’t fully understand what they’re doing and they’re to desperate to fully care. Once the Sisters leave with the code fragment, Beforus's timeline begins glitching. It starts out like a particularly buggy Bethesda game and quickly descends into a lovecraftian nightmare. The Sisters only realize the damage they’ve caused when they see the timeline they just left “crash" and corrupt itself, leaving only buggy horrorterrors and amalgamated monstrosities in its wake. Calliope is horrified to see that they just destroyed an entire timeline, but Callie tries to remain calm. While she’s clearly shaken, she reasons that they can just undo the damage once the Debug Tool is put back together. It’s not like they can save the timeline now, it’s the only responsible thing to do. Calliope reluctantly agrees.

This pattern continues. The Cherubs travel from timeline to timeline, collecting bits of code and leaving buggy messes in their wake. With every piece collected, more damage is done to the very foundation of Paradox Space. Not only do timelines break apart, but survivors who escape said timelines act as viruses that allow the broken code to infest other timelines. People become living, unwitting Trojan Horses, spreading their glitches to other sessions. The spread only gets worse once the infection reaches the dreambubbles. Those who don’t die suffer as unrecognizable abominations.

This just makes the Sisters more desperate to fulfill their goal. Gamzee becomes an afterthought as they start racing to save reality.

Word soon spreads of the precursors of this event. Descriptions of the Capricious Makara Sisters, who would steal the keystones to your reality and doom your timeline to destruction.

The Alpha Trolls and the Ancestors in the dreambubbles team up to try and quarantine the event , with Aranea communicating with Vriska to inform Earth C of the ongoing apocalypse. The Earth C team help out where they can, but they begin to hear things about these so called Makara Sisters. Descriptions and details through the grape vine that sound hauntingly familiar. It’s Roxy who pits the pieces together as her gut sinks in horror.

The Makara Sisters teleport in to find a piece of the code, only to find their friends waiting for them. Roxy, Dave, Karkat, Dirk, and everyone else tries to reason with them. To talk them out of this crusade. The Cherubs don’t know what they’re doing. That’s the whole reason things got this bad. If the complete the Debug Tool, much less use it to mess with something as important as Aspects, they could potentially destroy all of Paradox Space. Quarantine efforts are making good headway, they don’t need to risk all this.

It’s to late though. Calliope is convinced that the Debug Tool is the only thing that can prevent Armageddon. During their argument, Callie breaks down in tears.

Gamzee was the first person she loved. Not appreciated, not cared for, loved. Over time, she’d grown attached to Gamzee. She learned about this things humans called family and she fully embraced it. Gamzee was her father and Callie was going to save him.

Calliope comforts her sister after her breakdown, allowing the two to teleport away.

The Makara Sisters continue collecting pieces of the code, destroying more timelines and making quarantine that much more difficult, until only one remains. The last piece of code, buried deep within Earth C's core. And all that stood between them were all of their friends.

No matter what happens, Roxy will always remember Calliope as her friend.

[its-lovelyhappycollection]

Ok, so I made a prompt about Gordon being stolen away at a young age and then finding his family here 

and then i wrote what I had, but I wasn’t happy with that, so I rewrote it again and changed some things up. and I’m happy with it, I want to post here so i can get your opinion on it!

Jeff Tracy couldn't be happier, he had a loving wife, and he had 6 healthy kids.

5 of them were currently running around in the park with some other kids playing tag. first, there was Scott, named after a Mercury 7 astronaut. most people would say that Scott was a mirror image of jeff when he was younger, he had the same sky blue eyes and chocolate brown hair. at the age of 8, Scott was a natural leader and a big brother, even when he was playing he would constantly look out for his younger siblings.

Next up was Virgil, also named after a Mercury 7 astronaut, he was a lot like his mother, gentle, kind, and had a talent for music and art, but he looked a lot like Jeff's father when he was young with the jet black hair. At the age of 7, he followed Scott around like a lost puppy, always copying him, especially when it came down to his younger siblings.

After Virgil came John, also named after a Mercury 7 Astronaut, even though he was only 6, John was hereby the quietest of his brothers, preferring to spend his days reading books under the shade of trees. like he was doing now. John resembled his wife; Lucy's father in many ways, he had the same red hair and turquoise eyes. But just because he was quiet, didn't mean he didn't look out for his siblings, even though it looked like he was engrossed in his reading, he would always be listening to his surroundings. If one of his younger or older siblings was upset, he would immediately drop his book and run to help.

Then came the twins, named Gordon and Kathryn respectively, both named after astronauts. Both twins had the same strawberry blonde hair and amber eyes, but that's where the similarities ended, Gordon was loud, cheeky and loved getting wet and causing trouble, already at the age of 3, Gordon was already causing trouble at kindergarten and lucy had to be called in 5 times this month to discuss his behaviour. while his sister Kathryn or 'Katty' as she had been dubbed by her older brothers (Gordon was older 2 minutes) was the complete opposite. She was smart, quiet (but not as quiet as John) and preferred to stay out of trouble. Sometimes jeff would wonder if there was a mix up at the hospital, but it didn't make any difference, he loved all his children equally.

Finally, there was Alan, the youngest of the tract family, even though he was only a year old, he was loved by all his siblings, with blonde hair and baby blue eyes he looked a lot like jeff's mother when she was young. jeff only hoped that his cooking skills were better than hers!

Jeff turned his gaze back towards lucy and saw her frowning, he saw that she was looking at the kids and turned his head towards them. after a few minutes, his eyes widened in realization at what lucy had noticed. "where's Gordon?"

####

Meanwhile, Gordon was blissfully unaware of the stir his disappearance had caused. he had seen a bright blue butterfly fly past him and he wanted to see it better, so without telling Scott, he followed it. he followed the butterfly as it flew further and further away from his family before landing on a flower. he sat on the ground so he wouldn't startle the creature. unknownst to him, he was being watched by a man on a bench a few meters away. just then the butterfly took off from the flower and flew high into the sky, Gordon watched it fly away sadly before standing up, he glanced around and realized that he couldn't see his brothers anywhere. Gordon began to feel panicked as he had never been in this area of the park before.

"Hey there kid," a deep voice behind him said, he turned around and saw a tall man with brown hair and green eyes staring at him "you ok?"

"I don't know where my family is" Gordon replied in a shaky voice

"hey, that's no problem, do you remember where they are?" at Gordon's shake of the head the man straightened and held out his hand "come on, we'll find them" Gordon sniffed and took the strange man's hand.

the man walked with no destination in particular, he reached into his pocket and pulled out chocolate, "here" he said and handed the chocolate to Gordon "you must be hungry, got to keep you're strength up if you want to find your family" Gordon took the chocolate

"thank you" he mumbled, remembering his manners and unwrapped the chocolate and put it in his mouth. after swallowing it, he began to feel sleepy, he struggled to keep his eyes open as the world began to spin. "what's..." he said weekly as he collapsed into the man's arms and the world went black...

[hmsjiara]

‘cause you’re amazing (just the way you are) jj + kie

request by @love-life-always​: We never really hear anything about Kiara's kook year, so I was wondering if you could write a story where Kiara had an eating disorder during her kook year, while trying to fit in and stuff but she managed to recover when she became friends with the pogues again, but then for whatever reason it starts to affect her again and jj/the other pogues notice.

this turned into one big angsty mess real quick lol. but protective!jj is my kink, so... here you go lmao. thank you so much for the request, i hope you like it :)

read it here on ao3.

disclaimer: i understand that eating disorders are a serious/complex issue and am NOT trying to romanticize them in any way. and while i did some research before writing this, i am in no way an expert nor have i ever experienced something like this. so, if any part of this is inaccurate or ignorant i apologize. if this triggers you in anyway, please do what’s best for your mental/emotional health.

trigger warnings: eating disorders, panic attacks, brief mentions of abuse.

                                      •••

It was an unspoken rule among the Pogues that they didn’t talk about Kiara’s Kook Year.

It hadn’t always been that way. When Kiara had returned to the Chateau with a years worth of apologies and a case of Miller Lite, John B and Pope had forgiven her almost instantly, but not JJ. Weeks of veiled insults and sharp glares had followed, and despite John B and Pope’s efforts to sway him, JJ seemed determined to hate her forever.

But eventually, even he managed to forgive her for abandoning them. Kiara assumed that it was a combination of her constant presence, and the boobs and curves she’d developed during her Kook Year. She couldn’t really blame them for noticing, since they were horny teenage boys and she spent the majority of her time in a bikini.

So, things went back to normal, and the Pogues caught on to the fact that Kiara didn’t want to discuss her absence, or her exile from the Kook Academy. It was easier this way, she told herself. Talking about Sarah still hurt too much, and as for everything else... well, it wasn’t important.

So, she doesn’t talk about Sarah, about how they got drunk and watched movies and saved baby sea turtles together, how her heart aches when she thinks about her. She doesn’t talk about the girls at the Kook Academy who spread rumors behind her back, who shove her in the hallways and on one occasion dump a smoothie on her head in the cafeteria. She deletes the mean comments under her Instagram posts before the Pogues can see, because she doesn’t need them to defend her, and the last thing she wants is to explain why everyone hates her so much.

Because she just got her friends back, and Kiara isn’t going to burden them with her problems, not when they have it so much worse.

                                        •••

The words eating disorder cause a certain kind of alarm to go off in Kiara’s brain.

Because yes, there’d been those months at the Kook Academy where she’d gone from diet to diet, weighed herself after every meal, looked at the girls in her grade with their flat stomachs and thin, long legs and hated her curves and muscle-toned limbs. She’d followed all the trends— juice cleanses and swearing off anything over a hundred calories. She even stopped surfing, switched to running, wondering if it would make a difference.

Her mother’s comments hadn’t helped. Once Kiara was going to parties and sleepovers with Sarah, her mom started buying her clothes that were two sizes too small, handing her grapefruit halves in the morning when Kiara asked for eggs and bacon, shot pointed glares at the half-eaten box of cookies on her dresser.

So, she started just... not eating. It was almost too easy to do. All she had to do was say that she was running late for school and skipping breakfast, snack on celery sticks for lunch, tell her parents she had homework to avoid coming to dinner. And it had worked: she’d gotten thinner, and her mother smiled when she started wearing the clothes she’d bought her, so Kiara assumed it was fine.

It was a visit to her doctor that made Kiara realize that what she was doing to herself was wrong. There’d been no official diagnosis, just a few pointed questions about her daily food intake, a suggestion to incorporate more protein into her diet. But Kiara had read between the lines, and she’d gotten over it, moved on, recognized that what she was doing wasn’t how she wanted to live her life. And she hadn’t told anyone, especially not the Pogues, because it was her business and they didn’t need to know.

The problem is that sometimes Kiara forgets to catch herself.

Like when she spends a little too long looking at her stomach in the mirror, or when JJ offers her the rest of his fries at the Wreck and she wrinkles her nose and says too many carbs.

He frowns, presses a hand to her forehead, as if checking for a temperature. “Too many carbs? Who are you, and what have you done with Kiara Carrera?”

She laughs, shoves him away from her, goes to get another beer from the fridge, but JJ is still watching her when she gets back. “I didn’t know you cared about that sort of stuff.”

“What do you mean?” She asks, avoiding his gaze as she knocked John B’s feet off of the counter.

“Calories and shit,” he said with a shrug, and it was a perfectly reasonable remark, but Kiara didn’t like the direction their conversation was going in. “Is this something you picked up from the Kooks? You turning into one of those soccer moms who meal plan and don’t let her kids eat sugar?”

It hits a little too close to home, so Kiara snatches a fry from his basket and makes sure that he sees her eat it.

“There,” she said, chewing somewhat obnoxiously. “Happy now?”

JJ rolled his eyes, turned to listen to whatever Pope was saying about his internship, but Kiara couldn’t help but feel like she’d dodged a bullet.

JJ couldn’t find out. Not now, not ever.

                                       •••

Being forced to attend Midsummers is the last thing Kiara needs or wants, but her mother doesn’t care.

She thinks it’s how she copes. Kiara can hang with whoever she likes, as long as her mother can put her in a pretty dress and show her off to the Kooks.

The subtle, pointed comments start again.

Take it in a bit on the hem, Silvia. I’m not used to this, you know. I never had Kiara’s curves when I was younger.

I know that your friends don’t have to worry about this, Kiara, but you have a figure to maintain. Eating at the Wreck every night just isn’t going to fly.

Maybe a side salad instead, sweetheart. I’m paying the seamstress by the hour.

Kiara’s not proud of it, but she does go along with her mother, because she’s tired of fighting with her, and the idea of her daughter going to Midsummers with all the Sarah Cameron’s of the world has made her happier than Kiara has ever seen her.

She tells herself it’s only for a couple of weeks, that she can get through it, but it’s getting harder to ignore the comments, to resist the urge to weigh herself after a bag of popcorn or a sandwich from the Wreck.

Before, when she was friends with Sarah, it was easier to hide. Sarah didn’t really notice other people— it wasn’t her fault, just how she’d been raised.

The Pogues are different.

At first, they buy all the usual excuses. She’s not hungry, she already ate. But then John B asks her to split a burger with him at the Wreck, or Pope roasts her a s’more and she refuses, and they start to notice.

One time, Kiara buys a new kind of green tea ice cream from the grocery store, and she eats it all in one sitting, calories be damned.

JJ laughs, nudges John B. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Damn, Kie.”

It’s a joke, a passing comment, but Kiara flinches, feels a sudden surge of regret. Shit. Her mother was going to kill her.

JJ sees it, because of course he does, and then his teasing grin disappears and he gives Pope and John B a knowing look.

Pope looks instantly uncomfortable as John B clears his throat, and Kiara doesn’t like it one bit. She feels cornered, suddenly on edge, as John B opens his mouth and says, “Kie, is everything okay? With you, I mean?”

“Of course,” she says, shrugging, the deflection easy. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, it’s just—“

“You’re not fucking eating.”

Kiara flinches for real this time at JJ’s harsh, blatant tone, her stomach hollowing out as John B hisses JJ’s name and says this isn’t what we talked about.

Oh, so they’re talking about her now. Wonderful.

“Fuck this,” she says, springing to her feet, the empty ice cream cartoon and metal spoon clattering to the floor. She feels sick just looking at it. “Y’all are— y’all are delusional, okay? I’m out.”

“Kie, it’s okay,” Pope says, his eyes on the floor. “Millions of people have, uh, stuff like this, you know, it’s not—“

“I do not have a eating disorder,” Kiara growls at him, ignoring Pope’s own flinch, how he curls in on himself at her words. “Your statistics don’t apply to me, okay, Pope? You have no idea what’s going on.”

“Kie, we’re just trying to help—“

“Fuck you, John B,” she says, turning to leave, not able to stand the pity on his face.

“No,” JJ snarls, rising from his chair, clutching the neck of his beer bottle so hard she thinks it might shatter. “I’ve had enough. Do you know that’s the most I’ve seen you eat in weeks? Something’s wrong, Kie, we’re not idiots, okay? So just tell us—“

“I don’t have to tell you shit, Maybank,” she snaps, the pit in her stomach filling itself with something cold and bitter. “This is my business, just like whatever the fuck is happening with your dad is yours. So leave me alone.”

She regrets the words as soon as she says them, but it’s too late, because JJ’s beer bottle shatters and John B yells as alcohol and shards of glass scatter across the floor, and Kiara is out the door before any of them can make her stay.

They’re just worried, she knows that, but it’s fine. She has it handled.

                                      •••

In reality, it’s the opposite of fine.

Kiara avoids the Pogues in the week leading up to Midsummers, ignores the texts they send her asking her to meet, actually hides when John B comes to find her at the Wreck.

She tells herself she just has to get through Midsummers, and then it’ll all work itself out.

The stress makes it worse, she thinks, and in between her anxiety over the Pogues and her mother’s pre-Midsummers prep, Kiara doesn’t realize that she can’t remember the last time she ate until she’s pulling up to the club with her parents.

It’s kind of like a wake up call, the shakiness in her limbs and the empty feeling in her stomach, and the next thing she knows, she’s hyperventilating over the sink in the girls bathroom.

It’s hard to breathe, and the heavily perfumed air definitely isn’t helping, and her mother is going to kill her, and Kiara doesn’t even know how it got this bad again. She doesn’t look too thin in the mirror, at least not to her, but what do other people see?

She’s not quite sure how, but she manages to find her phone in her clutch, to fumble through typing in her password and locating Pope’s contact.  

He answers on the first ring.

“Kie? Is everything okay? Where are you?”

He’s obviously concerned, and she feels like such an idiot, because she spent the past week pushing him and everyone else away when all they wanted to do was help her.

“Bathroom,” she manages to say, fighting to speak past the tightness in her throat. “In— Inside. Pope, I can’t breathe, I can’t—“

“Okay, Kie, it’s okay,” he murmured, sounding surprisingly calm. “Fuck, I’m working, I can’t leave. But I’m gonna help you, okay? Just breathe. Give me one second—”

The call ended, and Kiara tried not to panic anymore than she already was, but it was a relief when Pope’s name appeared on her phone screen again.

“Pope?” She asks, his name more of a sob than anything.

“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, Kie, you’re gonna be fine. You’re not hurt, right?”

She shakes her head, then remembers that he can’t see her, and confirms that she’s fine (physically, at least) through the phone. Pope keeps doing that, asking her questions in a low, level voice, until she hears a knock on the bathroom door.

“Pope, is that you at the door?” She asks, clutching her phone tighter in her hand, any sense of control she’d managed to regain vanishing.

“No, it’s—“

“Kie? Kie, are you in there?“

She doesn’t know why, but the sound of JJ’s voice makes her crumble. She can still hear Pope talking to her through the phone, hear JJ on the other side of the door, but it’s like it’s all coming from very far away. Her breathing picks up again, and she barely registers JJ’s fuck it, I’m coming in.

His knock on the stall door jerks her back into reality. “Kie? It’s JJ, can you open the door?”

With shaking hands, she grapples with the lock, automatically shrinking away when light floods the stall and she sees JJ staring down at her.

She must look like a mess— sitting on the floor of the bathroom in her dress, mascara running, like some girl who just got dumped by her boyfriend at a party. But she can’t really bring herself to care about that, because she still can’t seem to get enough air into her lungs.

“JJ,” she whimpers, because he’s just standing there like he doesn’t know what to do, some raw emotion in his eyes she can’t bring herself to decipher right now.

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” JJ says, snapping out of whatever trance he’d fallen into at the sight of her, his movements slow as he crouches down beside her, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Take it easy, okay, Kie? Just breathe.”

He takes the phone from her, has a brief conversation with Pope, then hangs up and pockets it. Kiara doesn’t object, staring at her hands and trying to stop herself from shaking.

“Can I?” JJ asks, and she realizes he’s asking to hold her hands.

She nods, and then his warm, calloused fingers are brushing against her skin as he rubs soothing circles into the back of her palms. Her heart rate isn’t slowing, though, her breaths coming quick and fast again, but then JJ’s arms are around her and he’s pulling her back against his chest and murmuring reassurances into the top of her head.  

He tells her to copy his breathing, and she does, focusing on the steady beat of his heart against her shoulder, the fact that his hands are still holding hers.

Eventually, her breathing returns to normal, and her anxiety is replaced by exhaustion. She sags against JJ, closes her eyes, relaxes into his warmth.

The next thing she remembers is JJ guiding her into the passenger seat of the van and bucking her seatbelt. It’s easy to trust him, to let her eyes slip closed and listen to the steady, familiar hum of the engine.

Kiara doesn’t ask where they’re going, and she must fall asleep at some point, because then she’s waking up in the driveway at the Chateau. She ignores JJ’s offered hand and stumbles out of the van, tugging off her heels the moment she gets inside and collapsing onto the pullout couch.

She doesn’t want to move ever again, content to fall asleep right there, exhaustion heavy in her bones, but JJ takes one look at her and pulls her to her feet. He takes her to the bathroom, turns the shower on and places a hand on her back to guide her inside. He asks if she wants him to stay. She says no, because JJ’s already looking at her like she’s a wounded animal, and she doesn’t want him to think that she can’t do anything by herself.

Even if she almost has another panic attack once he leaves, has to remind herself to breathe as she undresses and steps into the shower. The hot water helps, and she loses track of time standing in the spray. She never hears the door open, but when she gets out there’s a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt on the counter.

She puts them on, drys her hair with a towel but leaves it down, too exhausted to do anything else. The sweatshirt smells like JJ, and she breathes it in. She doesn’t want to think about what it means. She can have a pass tonight, she figures.

When she opens the door, the hallway smells like cooking oil and burnt toast. She wrinkles her nose, pads into the living room on silent feet, and she thinks JJ might be right to treat her like a skittish animal, because when she walks into the kitchen and sees the plate of eggs and toast on the table, she wants to run back inside the bathroom.

JJ seems to recognize her urge to flee, because he pats the seat across from him and gives her a pointed look. “Sit down, Kie.”

She complies, because she kind of owes him, and JJ actually managed to cook something without burning the house down, so that’s a miracle in it itself.

“It’s no five-star Kiara Carrera creation, but it’ll have to do,” he tells her, smiling at her as she sits down. “I only know how to cook breakfast— sorry.”

He seems almost embarrassed, but Kiara doesn’t see why. “No, I love it,” she tells him, and he just stares at her, as if he thinks she’s lying. “Really, I do.”

He grins at her then, his blue eyes sparkling in the dim lights of the Chateau, and then JJ’s digging into his own food like a starving stray dog who hasn’t had a real meal in weeks.

It smells great, even though the toast is a little burnt, and Kiara is starving, but she still hesitates before picking up her knife.

JJ notices it, because of course he does. “Eat, Kiara,” he says, his tone soft but firm. “You need it. Please.”

It’s the please that gets her. She takes a cautious bite of toast, which is burnt on one side by covered in butter. It settles in her stomach, warm and filling, and before she realizes it, she’s scraping her plate clean.

JJ doesn’t say anything, but there’s a gleam or triumph in his eyes when he takes her empty plate from her and places it in the sink.

She was exhausted before, but the food’s made her drowsy, and Kiara stumbles into John B’s room while JJ is washing the dishes. He’s not home, but she decides to wait until tomorrow to worry about it, if she has to. As well as a bunch of other things— like what the hell her mother is going to do with her.

Kiara’s muscles feel like they’re made out of lead as she collapses onto the bed. She’s exhausted, but her thoughts aren’t stopping, and it’s a relief when JJ appears in the doorway.

“You good?” He asks, and she hums into her pillow, not opening her eyes.

But then the floorboards creak as he turns to leave, and she doesn’t know what makes her do it, but she calls his name.

“Yeah?” JJ says, and she opens her eyes this time, studying his silhouette in the doorway, all soft lines and tousled blond curls.

“Will you stay?” She asks, before she can consider what it means, how he’ll interpret it. “I just... I don’t want to be alone right now.”

But JJ just nods, moving to the other side of the bed and lying a respectable distance away from her. He closes his eyes immediately, but Kiara can’t seem to relax. They’ve slept in the same bed before, but this feels different. Heavier.

“JJ?” She murmurs into the silence, and he hums to show that he’s listening. “Thank you. For tonight, I mean.”

“S’ no problem, Kie,” he says, his words slurred by exhaustion, eyelids drooping as he turned to look at her. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, picking at her nail polish to avoid meeting his gaze. “I know. It’s just... it’s hard, ya know? I didn’t want to bother any of you, God knows you have enough shit to deal with without me piling my own on top of it, and it wasn’t that big of a deal, I swear—”

“Kie, your shit is my shit,” JJ said, his voice firm as he reached out to take her hand. She brushed her fingers over his knuckles, comforted by the familiar pattern of the cracks and scars that had stayed there even after his cuts had healed. “I’m not going anywhere. And this... whatever it is, we’ll get through it together. All of us— John B and Pope too.”

Kiara nodded, and it was silent for a while, but then she said, “I’m sorry. About what I said, about your dad. I was out of line, and I—”

“Don’t worry about it,” JJ said, shrugging, his fingers squeezing hers in reassurance. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, but... it’s just scary, Kie. It was like I was watching you slip away right in front of me, and I didn’t know how to stop it.”

Kiara didn’t know what to say to that, so she just tucked herself into his side, pressing her face into his shoulder as JJ wrapped an arm around her. Their fingers were still intertwined, resting on his chest.

“Kie,” he said after a while, when she was on the brink of sleep. “I shouldn’t have to say it, but... you know you’re fucking beautiful, right? Just the way you are. You don’t have to—

“Thanks, JJ,” Kiara whispered before he could finish, her voice catching. She told herself not to cry, but a few tears escaped anyway. JJ wiped them from her cheeks, wove his fingers into her hair, running them through her wet curls.

“No, I’m serious, you’re like really hot, I—“

Kiara laughed, swatting at his arm, even though there was no real force behind it. There was a certain warmth rising in her chest, as she breathed in JJ’s scent and fell asleep in his arms. She didn’t quite know what it was, but it was new, and she liked it.

Far more than she should have.

                                      •••

It’s better after that. Not perfect, not right away, but better.

She explains everything to the Pogues eventually, and they take it all in stride, as if she’d just told them that she had decided to take up knitting as a pastime.

John B is always there, offering to drive her to get dinner, insisting he hasn’t eaten in days. He insists that Kie teach him how to cook fish the way they do at the Wreck, makes her taste-test each batch and critique them.

Pope does research, because that’s how he copes with this sort of thing, and after a while he starts bringing it up with her. JJ glares at him at first, asks Kiara if she wants him to stop, but she likes it. She likes knowing she’s not alone, that this is normal.

JJ’s approach is more subtle. He’s always making her food (he still can’t make toast without burning it, but she eats it anyway). Honestly, when JJ pouts and bats his eyelashes and flashes that devilish smirk of his, it’s hard to say no to anything he offers her. He makes it easy though, and that’s what she loves. It’s not awkward or forced, just them sharing a basket of fries at the Wreck, or visiting a local food truck festival in town.

She doesn’t know why she thought telling the Pogues would be a bad thing, because it’s nice not having to hide this from them, to know they’ll be there if she needs them.

Kiara doesn’t need perfect, she decides. She just needs her boys— if she has them, she’ll be fine.

No matter what happens.

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Magnificent Scoundrels- Similarities

So, I found that the British marching song “Over the Hills and Far Away” is in several of these universes.  What a coincidence.  Therefore, I decided to write a shorter, more heartwarming story.  At least I hope that is the reaction, but you shall be the judge of that.  As usual, I own no one except Drake.  Enjoy the story.  

The stars were out that night.  Not the sort of stars that one saw amongst city pollution or in areas that had been civilized for far too long, but the type of stars one saw in the wild and untamed regions.  They formed a massive sparkling curtain over everything, and those on the ground could clearly see the length and breadth of the entire galaxy laid bare before them, framed by the pitch black midnight sky.  

The night itself was cold.  Not the type of cold that cuts through clothing to the very bone itself, leaving one gasping for breath, and not the type that perpetuates throughout the air, leaving one to huddle within the great masses of a coat for warmth, but the type of crisp cold that seems to invigorate the body and mind, leaving a happier and more lifelike person in its midst.  

Throughout a wide valley, the sickly green grass shadowed in the dark, sat encamped the various forces of the Scoundrels.  It had been decided that they should stay on the small planet they had recently defended against a slave raid, and so they were all camped in the rolling plains, a fair sized town within sight, and more importantly, within range.  

Fires studded the night, with the various forces of their respective commanders camped around them.  The smells of cooking wafted through the air around the fires, but not to where the solitary rock, far from all else, where Thomas Drake sat in his dark coat.  Three figures walked towards him, their footsteps soft in the grass.  Unborthered, he continued to stare peacefully at the night sky.

“Drake.  We want to know.  Why did you want to kill the prisoners?”  Without turning, Drake smiled.

“Ah, yes.  Kirk, Vir, and Shepard.  My three most moral companions.  Everything has more than one meaning, and my actions had several.  First, they are murdering, torturing, slavers, and thus deserve no pity or remorse, and secondly, I wanted to see what you would do.  You did not crack.  You stood by what you believed in.  I like that.”

“So you killed someone over a test?”  

“Correct.”  The three frowned at each other in the darkness.

“And was it a test for Cain, too?”  This elicited a low chuckle from Drake, who had still yet to turn around.

“The reasons remain the same.”

“But you knew he would do it,” snapped Kirk.  

“No.  I did not.  That’s why I did it in the first place,” replied Drake placidly.  

“They treat all of us with disgust.  I read your damn briefing, Drake, and one of the mottos of their precious Imperium is “suffer not the xeno to live”.  That is ridiculous.  We can’t serve along people who on a fundamental level want to kill us all,” said Shepard.  

“They’re getting better.  They’re getting better,” said Drake.  “The thing is, though, your three realities are somewhat similar.  A galactic government of all species, dedicated to the concept of peace.”  He stood slowly and gestured to the stars with a gloved hand.  “Now look up.  Tell me what you see.”

“That one’s Polaris, that’s Sirius, Vega, Antares...that wasn’t what you were looking for, was it?” replied Vir, slightly sheepishly.  

“Not quite.  But I appreciate the astronomy lesson.  I suppose...what do all those stars, what does that infinite black mean to you?”  

“Freedom.”  The response was instantaneous.  Shepard and Vir looked approvingly at Kirk.

“Good answer.  Couldn’t think of a better one.”  Drake chuckled again.

“Yes, I rather thought so.  You are all in agreement.  But to them,” he gestured in the direction of the Imperial camp, “Where they come from, that infinite void means nothing but existential terror.”  He smiled in an odd, knowing fashion.  “Their universe is quite different.”  It seemed as if someone was going to say something, to interrupt, but suddenly Drake held up a hand for silence.  “Listen,” he commanded.

A sound wafted through the air, the wavering singing of a single sentry from the Imperial camp.  

“When duty calls me I must go,

To stand and purge another foe,

But part of me will always stay,

Through the Warp and far away.

Through the Warp, to near and far,

To Tallarn, Krieg and Ultramar,

The Emperor points and we obey,

Through the Warp and far away.”

It was not particularly good, but it had a feeling of loneliness, of homeliness, of nostalgia to it.  Then, something quite strange, and quite wonderful happened.  Another voice, this time from Drake’s camp, replied in kind.

“Over the hills and o’er the main,

To Flanders Portugal and Spain,

Queen Anne commands and we’ll obey

Over the hills and far away

All gentlemen who have a mind, 

To serve the queen both good and kind

Come list and enter into pay

Then over the hills and far away.”

Drake smiled in the darkness.  

“Recognize that song?” he asked the three men standing near him.  In response, Shepard’s voice, slightly hoarse in the night air, sang through the night.

“40 shillings on the drum,

For those who volunteer to come,

With shirts and clothes and pleasant pay,

Over the hills and far away.”

He smiled.  “Not much of a singer, I’m afraid.  But, yeah.  I know the song.”  Kirk pursed his lips.

“I’ve never heard it before.  You?”  Vir shook his head negatively.

“No.  Never.”  

“It’s an old, old, British marching song.  The Imperials apparently picked it up from somewhere.  The other version is from the War of Spanish Succession,” said Drake.

“When was the War of Spanish Succession?” asked Vir.

“You know the names of all those stars but you don’t know when the War of Spanish Succession was?” replied Drake.

“Hey, well, it’s-” “Relax.  I’m teasing you.”  They all turned around as an unidentified voice shouted into the night.

“Hey!  Give us another verse!”  A reply came almost instantly from the Imperial encampment, with several more voices joining the unidentified guard.

“If I should fall and rise no more,

As many guardsmen did before,

Then ask the pipes and drums to play,

Through the Warp and far away.

Through the Warp, to near and far,

To Tallarn, Krieg and Ultramar,

The Emperor points and we obey,

Through the Warp and far away.”

And in response, Drake sang back.  

“Then fall in lads behind the drum,

With colors blazing like the sun,

Along the road and come what may,

Over the hills and far away.

Over the hills and o’er the main,

Through Flanders Portugal and Spain,

King George commands and we’ll obey,

Over the hills and far away.”

He smiled.  “And that version is the one from the Peninsular War.”  He had a beautiful tenor voice that carried clearly through the crisp night air.  

“Pretty good.”

“Thank you.”  This was accompanied by a small theatrical bow.  There was a small rustle, and a dark shape appeared.

“So.  What’s happening?  We having a sing-along up here or something?” asked Peter Quill.

“I would not be adverse to such an idea,” replied Drake.  

“Alright.  What should we sing?” asked Vir.

“Hmm.  I have noticed that human history remains the same in all of our universes until roughly the year 2000.  So, should we want to sing something that all of us know, it would have to be either an insane coincidence or something from before that year.”  He frowned.  “Exactly how well versed in really goddamn old music are all of you?”

“Know it all,” said Quill.

“That’s kind of my specialty,” grinned Vir.

“Pretty well,” said Kirk.

“Yeah,” replied Shepard.

“Well.  What a coincidence,” drawled Drake.  “What song then?”

And so, the various crew members and soldiers in the different camps were regaled with song.  It lasted ridiculously long as shouts for more echoed through the still air.  Beautiful harmonies, surprisingly well executed, simples songs, several loud, long, and rowdy songs, everything they could think of, and several other requests.  It was, interestingly, rather good, and even a few villagers from the nearby town gathered to listen despite the late night.  

Under the sharp blanket of stars, in altogether different and isolated positions, sat Cooper and John-117, and though they did not join in, they both heard.  

Cain and Solo had both gone to bed.  When later told of what had happened, they both shrugged indifferently and moved on.

And, in three separate spots in three different encampments, three different individuals shook their heads.  

“Humans,” muttered Kril, Mordin Solus, and Spock at the same time as they heard their commanders singing.

If you have any questions, comments, concerns, criticisms, or request, please, feel free to ask.  

[honney-boy]

I Love You And I’m Sorry

Pairing: Pope Heyward x Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.9k+

Warnings: swearing, fluff, best friend vibes, a bit of angst/argument(ifyou blink you'll miss it)

Summary:  Pope gets a call regarding his scholarship to Merit, and he wants to share the great news with you. Except your reaction wasn't one, he was expecting.

Request: yes

hi, i have a request! do you think you could write a pope x reader where they both have feelings for each other but don't know until pope gets his scholarship and the reader kisses him because she's so happy for him? xoxo

A/N: I got super excited to write this because I've been trying to come up with something to write for Pope because he needs love to! When writing this I kind of forgot the kiss, so hope I hope you still like it. Thank you for requesting!

For: anon From: @honney-boy​

if you want to be tagged in any of my work, send me an ask or message me! taglist is at the bottom of the fic :) request are open!

You lay on your back in the middle of your bed, book in hand, window open ajar letting the summer breeze come in as the words of John Green flowed from the page and filtered into your mind.

You've read a lot of John Green books, and you've seen the movie adaptations of the books. You decided to reread 'Turtle All The Way Down' because it was a good read. 

You didn't know how long it had been since you started reading, but you were already almost done with it but was just to invested in the story to put it down. 

The window in your room gets pushed open even more, big enough to fit the person climbing through it. Landing on his feet, Pope wiped his hands on his jeans and closed your window halfway again.

"That book again? Isn't it like your 4th time reading that?" His voice pulled you from your trance, you jumped and scrambled to the top of your bed at the headboard.

"Jesus Pope, you scared the shit out of me!" you felt your heart pounding in your chest as you held your hand close. "Don't do that." You say with a raised voice. While you were trying to calm down, Pope couldn't help but laugh. 

"Well, pay more attention next time, then you won't get scared."

"I was reading a book," you gestured to the book still in your other hand. "You're the one who decided to climb through my window when you could have used the front door."

"Now, what's the fun in that? Maybe I was feeling a little Shakespearean today." He walked over to your bed, sat at the end, and fell back until your ceiling was in his line of vision. He tilted his head up to look at you, smiling with a big goofy grin. You rolled your eyes and sat your book down on your bedside table.

"You do know they both die in the end?"

"Just as half of his other works. Tragedy or comedy, that's how the man works."

"So, what's up? I know you usually climb through my window, but you normally heads up me first," you say, crossing your legs and looking at him. Pope rolled onto his stomach, his hand bumping your knee in the process.

"I did, when you didn't text back, I came looking for you. Saw your window open, so I figured you were home."

"I could've been somewhere else, you know."

"You only leave your window open when you're in your room. Whenever you leave the room, you shut the window." He says in a matter of fact tone.

"True," you mumbled.

"But if you did read my text, you would've seen that I have something important to tell you."

"Okay...go on, tell me," you clasp your hands together, getting excited.

Pope dropped his head, then looked back at you with a neutral expression. "So, I got a call today."

"About the scholarship?" You ask, he nods his head, confirming your statement. "Alright what did they say, did you get it?" Pope kept quiet, he looked away from you, and you knew then that it wasn't too great of news, but it had to be right? He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed sadly.

"I got the scholarship."

"Oh, Pope, I'm so sorry, bubs–wait, "you frowned, looking at him who had a sad manner, but it was cracking. "Wait! You got the scholarship?" You gasped out, bringing a hand to cover your mouth. Finally, the smile that threatened to blow his cover appeared, and he nodded. You jumped off your bed quickly, Pope following suit as you ran to him, jumped into his arms and hugged him tightly. "You're fucking shiting me, Pope, you got the scholarship!" you pull back to look at him, matching his smile. You didn't realize it at first - you leaned in and kissed the boy on his cheek but almost kissed his lips - not until after. So, you pulled him close again for another hug. 

"Yeah, I got the scholarship," he says, holding you tight against him, trying to ignore the fact that you almost kissed him. You could barely control your excitement after you two pulled away. You began pacing from your bed to your window. "I got the call this morning, and I couldn't believe it."

"Well, I can! This is great, have you told the others?" You ask.

"No, just you." He shakes his head. "I was planning to tell them after telling you, maybe trick them like I did with you."

"Yeah, you're a punk for that." You say to him, your smile slowly getting smaller. It hit you suddenly, but you didn't want to ruin the moment, so you looked down to hide the frown forming in your face. But being Pope, he noticed your sudden change in mood.

"Hey, what's wrong?" 

"Nothing," you reply.

"Seems like something is wrong, you don't have to lie to me y/n."

"There's nothing wrong, so stop assuming there is." You snap at him, if you planned on hiding the fact that you were upset any longer, you blew your cover. You can tell by the way Pope is looking at you that he doesn't understand why.

All you could really do was shake your head, a soft laugh escaped you that you couldn't help. The matter wasn't a humorous one, far from it, in fact, but that's how you responded to it. 

"Y/n, what's funny? One minute you're happy with me that I got the scholarship. I've wanted to get into this school since middle school, now that I finally have it, I'd expect my best friend to be just as happy. But now you're...upset?" He slowly made his way over to you, his words struck you, leaving the both of you lost with how to feel. He was right, you were happy, you are so glad for him because he deserved it. The smartest person you know, the one with the brightest future, the boy that you…

"Yes…" you mumbled, you heard him scoff from behind you. 

"Wait, so you lied, you're not happy that I got the scholarship?" You held your face in your hands, letting out an annoyed breath. You turn to face him. You could finally see the confused and hurt expression on his face–eyebrows knitted close together, lips tugged into a frown and hurt in his brown eyes. 

Rubbing your temples, you say, "Yeah–no...I am pissed, okay," you drop your arms by your waist in defeat. "I mean, all of a sudden, you're leaving me." Tilting his head to the side, the confusion stayed, but his face softens. 

"Well, look, I'm only gonna be gone for the first semester, around Christmas I'll be back. Then I have to go back, but spring and summer, I'm right back here in Outer Banks." He takes a few steps toward you. "I'll visit as much as I can, I promise." His hands go out to reach yours, but you step away from him.

"I don't care. I don't want you to go." You shake your head lightly again, taking your eyes off him for just a second to look at your window. "I mean, you've always been, like two minutes away, 30 steps out the back door from me my entire life. What am I supposed to do without you?" You look at him again with glossy eyes. Your throat felt numb, your face warm, and you knew you were about to cry. Pope stayed quiet, lost for words as he stared at you with a sorry look.

The tears that were building up in your eyes escaped down your cheek, making you have to use your hand to wipe them away quickly.

"Look y/n–" Pope began to say. "–this is gonna be really tough for the both of us. But hey, you know what the good news is? When I come back, we're gonna spend all this time together because I'm definitely gonna need some of your famous pot pie and your hugs to make me feel right back at home." He lightly laughed, hoping his words made you feel better, less mad at him because he hated when you were upset. His lighthearted words and his ability to lighten the moment did make a soft smile appear on your face, and you shove him a bit. "Look, you know you're my best friend, and we're wasting our time arguing."

"I know, "you look down at your feet. "You're right." You said quietly, and finally closed the space between you two. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in your embrace as he wrapped his arms around you too. You close your eyes and relish the short moment before pulling back and resting your hands on his shoulders. "We should just enjoy the time we have left. Hang out with the others on the water and celebrate." Your lips pull into a grin, you sound happier as you decided not to dwell on how long until Pope leaves but instead appreciate the time you get to spend with him.

Hearing the contentment in your voice compared from before made him smile too. He pulled you back in for another hug, a longer one because he loved having you close. He wouldn't change it for the world. "I'm really lucky to have you."

"I know, "you teased, earning a laugh you loved to hear from the boy around you. "I'm lucky to have you too."

Though you were more cheery than before, you couldn't help but still feel emotional about the news. You decided to take a gap year before going off to college and help out with the family business. You had JJ and John B to have around since Kie and Pope were leaving. Even Sarah was leaving, and though she was an unannounced pogue, you still enjoyed her presence. It just wasn't going to be the same, You guys were all grown up, you weren't kids anymore. You spent most of your life surrounded by your friends–only the recent two years with Sarah–and pretty much all your life with Pope. You all had all the time in the world, but now you only have a few more weeks.

I guess time flies by when you're with someone you love.

"Can I tell you something, something else?" Pope suddenly said to you." I'm–"

"What Pope?" You begin to pull away to take a step back, but he tightened his hold your waist making sure you stay in your place. "Pope?"

"Since forever, you've seen me for who I am, and accept me for things I've done. Stupid, smart–all of it." He paused a short moment. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you so-"

"I love you. And I know I shouldn't have these feelings for one of my best friends. But gosh y/n I've been in love with you for a while." He confessed; your breath hitched, and you didn't move. You both stood in each other's arms, quieter than you two have ever been around one another. Both shocked out of your minds, but Pope was scared. He just poured his heart out to you–you, his best friend! He spilled out his feelings, and you haven't said anything. 

Gosh, he regretted it. He regrets telling you how he felt. Like why would he do that? He just basically said to you that your time together is coming to an end soon with him going to school. You two just had an argument about him leaving because you meant so much to each other. To top it off, he told you he loved you—way to go, Pope, way to top off the icing.

"Y/n I'm sorry-"

"I love you to Pope, and have for a while."

***

Taglist :)

-Ry

[busterkeatonfanfic]

Chapter 10

The last two-and-a-half weeks of August went by in a pleasant blur. Buster almost forgot about Harry Brand’s gripes and grudges as he indulged his inner boy with the cyclone sequence. He spent the days slipping through mud, battling wind, clinging to an uprooted tree swung by the enormous crane, and clambering all over the Colusa. The production team landed a building on top of him and splintered it to pieces just after he walked out. They tore another building away from him, leaving him looking bewildered in a hospital bed. They slid buildings and piers into the river and rammed the steamboat into a building floating in the river. The more the sets collapsed around him, the more buildings were destroyed, the better he felt about Steamboat. He felt sure that next to The General, it would have the best finish of any of his pictures.

Louise, Jingles, and Myra took a train up one day so that Louise could double for Peanuts, who couldn’t swim, in the rescue scene. He put them up in the Senator where they played cards in the evenings and reminisced about Muskegon and life on the road. When his family wasn’t there, he spent the nights dining in good restaurants and playing bridge. If he tired of these activities, there was always a pretty girl nearby for added recreation.

Every week, a postcard from her mother arrived. I never hear from you. Are you sure everything is okay? Please write or telephone me as soon as possible, Nelly dear.

A spare moment came on Sunday the 28th, the day after filming wrapped and also the day before she was to begin arranging the shipment of the entire contents of the prop house back to Hollywood. Joe and Maggie were at church and had given her permission  to use their phone. She called her mother at ten o’clock, knowing that it would be noon back in Evanston and both church and lunch would be finished.

“Hi, Mother,” she said, when Lena picked up.

“Is that really Nelly? Well I’ve been wondering where you’ve been,” said her mother. “Your father and I have been worrying our heads off about you.”

Nelly suspected they really hadn’t, but didn’t say so. “I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy here. I’ve hardly had a minute to myself. I work practically from sun-up to sundown.”

“Are you famous yet? Is that Keaton going to put you in his next picture?”

“No. And not as far as I know,” Nelly said. Her mother knew that she was acquainted with Buster and that he was a big name in pictures, but was too out-of-touch with the film world to be as impressed by it as she might have been.

“Well I wanted to tell you that Ruthie’s going to have a baby again,” said her mother. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

Nelly’s stomach sank. “Oh my, that’s marvelous!” she said, forcing a smile into her voice.

She and Ruthie had been close as children, but drifted apart as they matured. Nelly liked books and the theater, Ruthie liked boys and homemaking. The younger by two years, Ruthie had always been her mother’s pet. That relationship had only strengthened when Ruthie married auspiciously at nineteen and had her first baby by twenty. This would be baby number three. Nelly loved her niece and nephew, but there was a stiffness to them that she didn’t like to see—as though they were an extension of Ruthie’s big, clean house with all mechanicals and servants running in regimented order.

“She thinks she’ll have it in February,” her mother said. “A St. Valentine’s Day baby. Wouldn’t that be something?”

Nelly agreed that it would.

“You know, Harold Jenkins still asks after you every Sunday at church.”

“Does he?” she said. She had not been to church since leaving Evanston, something she’d never tell her mother, and was very grateful to not have seen the loathsome Harold Jenkins for as long.

“Are you seeing anybody out there in Sacramento?” said her mother.

“Of course not. When would I have the time?” she said.

“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose there are dances on the weekend, aren’t there?”

“I’ve gone to see the pictures a few times, but mostly I’m too tired to do anything on weekends. I work Saturdays, you know.”

The conversation was headed where it invariably did, the lines so predictable Nelly could recite them in her head.

Mother: When are you going to get married?

Nelly: When I find the right man.

M: Are you looking?

N: No, I am not.

M. Time is running out on you having children.

N: I know it is, Mother.

M: I just want to see you happy and settled down.

N: I know, Mother.

Marriage had never factored into Nelly’s plans as it had Ruthie’s. She assumed she’d get there eventually, but her real dreams had been built around the theater since she’d been ten years old and seen her first play. The possibility of having children seemed even hazier than marriage. She knew she was getting older and wouldn’t have forever to decide, but she also knew that marriage and children would put an end to her theater career. She wasn’t eager to declare the dream deceased before it ever lived.

“When are you going to settle down?” her mother asked.

Nelly did not attempt to conceal her sigh. “Just as soon as I find the right fellow.” She was half-tempted to add how bad she’d been at choosing men of late, what with the near brush she’d had with Tommy and the other workmen.

“I just want to see you happy. You’re already twenty-six. I had you and Ruthie by then,” she said.

“I am happy, Mother,” she said, frowning. “I’m working for a big star and I’m going to try out for a role in some of the other pictures just as soon as this one’s wrapped up. I don’t mind being an old maid. I’m happy. Who says happiness is marrying and having babies. What if I married the wrong fellow? I’d be a lot worse off than I am now.”

“I know you have more sense than to do that, dear,” said her mother, brushing aside her argument. “And you will be happy! I was when I met your father, and Ruthie and Gerald couldn’t be happier. It only gets better when the babies come along.”

Nelly rolled her eyes and withheld multiple sarcastic replies. “I’d better be going now. I’ve got a lot of cleaning to do. I promised Maggie and Joe I’d help.” She felt bad lying to her mother, but there was a danger of her losing her temper and that undoubtedly was a worse sin.

“Okay. I do hope you can make it back to Evanston in time for the baby to be born. Your father sends his love.”

Nelly sent her love in kind and said her goodbyes. She went upstairs and sat in her open window after she’d hung up the phone.

“She is my goods, my chattels; she is my house, my household stuff, my field, my barn, my horse, my ox, my ass, my anything,” she muttered. Spoken previously by John Barrymore in one of her fantasies, the words had seemed romantic, but they didn’t seem that way anymore. She never wanted to become a man’s chattel or ass, his anything rather than everything.

The breeze was warm and the lemon tree outside the window was plump with still green fruit. No matter what her mother said, this was happiness. She was earning her own wage and working in pictures, and she didn’t have to go to church every week and endure Halitosis Harold’s clumsy attempts at courting. There was also Buster. Just being near his genius made her feel like a piece of dry tinder next to a spark. If they were acquainted long enough, she felt certain that she would ignite with the same ingenious fire that burned in him.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Field of Poppies Part 5

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 5: Amelia finally breaks her silence about the father of her child. 

            Tommy wasn’t sure to be happy or a bit nervous. But it just so happened that he and Amelia would get the family vardo to themselves for the night. Ada had opted to go stay with her cousins at the camp next to theirs. Polly took Finn over to her sister’s camp across the way. And Arthur and John had decided to rough it for the night, sleeping under the stars.

            Tommy wasn’t sure he’d been that close to Amelia for that long. It wasn’t super cramped inside the wagon, but it wasn’t very roomy either. And with Amelia seven months along, they had to be close to one another.

            “Not too warm, are you?” Tommy asked when he noticed she was still awake, staring at the ceiling with her hands on her stomach.

            “No.”

            He waited a moment and cleared his throat. “Something you want to talk about?” There was that little tell in her eyes that meant she was deep in thought. It was a hint of sadness yet questioning.

            She took a deep breath but didn’t look at him. Her fingers drummed over her stomach. “I uh…he was someone I knew.”

            “Who?” Tommy’s brow furrowed as he turned to his side and propped himself up with his elbow. “Who did you know?”

            “The uh…the father.”

            “Oh, right.”

            Amelia chewed on her lower lip. “My parents were talking to his parents about maybe arranging a marriage. He was my dad’s boss’s son. And they thought it was a perfect match. I guess my dad would get the most out of the deal but I dunno what they were exactly talking about.” Her shoulders moved slightly in a shrug. “Maybe thought it would elevate us in society, what he always wanted.”

            The tone of her voice sent a shiver down Tommy’s voice. It was almost like she was telling him about something she was grieving. Why she was mourning something. But there was shame in her voice as well. And he couldn’t be certain why that was until she told him everything. And he hoped she did. He hoped he was trustworthy enough to confide in.        

            “I didn’t know him very well. We’d only met a few times with my parents. Then I went out with him for the night. He…” She shut her eyes, to block out the memory only in vain.

            “Mel-”

            “I swear I wasn’t drinking or-or anything. I trusted him and I don’t know.” She started to cry.

            Tommy sat up and gently took her hands. “Mel, Amelia, you know I don’t give a fuck about that. If you were drunk or whatever. It was his fucking fault for doing that to you. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He could only surmise what she was talking about. It would kill him to hear the graphic details of the assault. And it wouldn’t do anything to help the anger boiling in his blood.

            “I didn’t say anything, I didn’t know how to say it. But then I got pregnant and my mother-she…” Amelia hiccupped.

            Tommy’s thumb stroked gently over the top of her hand. “S’alright, love.” He tried to soothe her. But what could he say? It was done and now Amelia had to pick up the pieces of everything, to live with the memory. What could Tommy say to help? No words seemed to do the trick.

            “She called me a whore; said I was being loose all over the fucking city.” Her tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She didn’t move to wipe them because she didn’t want Tommy to let go of her hands. “I told her the truth. She told my dad and he said I was a liar. They believed him over me.” She couldn’t say anymore, it was too much.

            “S’alright.” Tommy swallowed his anger and helped her sit up so she could hug him tightly. “I’ve gotcha. I’m sorry, Mel, I’m sorry.” The story was more than he expected and it made his heart pound. He had no clue who the man was, what his name was, what he looked like, but he swore he was going to kill him. No one hurt his Amelia without consequences.

            Yet, despite his anger, Tommy was relieved she was in his arms. He felt better that he was there for her. His arms wrapped around her, cradling her close. There was confidence in his chest that he could protect her.

            “I’m sorry.” She sniffled against his chest.

            “Don’t apologize.” He stroked her hair back. “He don’t deserve you or the baby. Your parents don’t deserve you either. Fuck ‘em all. If they ever bother you again…”

            “I know.” She lifted her head and wiped her cheeks. “Arthur told me what you said.”

            His face went red. “Rat bastard.” He muttered.

            She smiled tearfully. “Tom, I appreciate you so much. I’m just not sure I’m worth any of this. My mom said-”

            “Don’t matter what she said. What matters is that you’ve got people here who care ‘bout you. People who would never hurt you like that.” He wrapped an arm around her when she let out a hiccup. “Just try to get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

            It was so quiet out in the countryside. There were no loud noises waking Amelia up in the morning. So, she slept until nine o’clock, a rarity those days.  

            Warm sunshine was streaming in through the small windows in the vardo. She sat up to see Tommy was gone and had been for a while by the looks of it.

            She got dressed, feeling a bit sluggish from waking up so late. Yawning, she stepped out of the wagon.

            “There she is. Thought you were gonna sleep the day away.” Arthur grinned. He sat with Polly, watching Finn toddle around in the grass.

            “It’s good you got some sleep,” Polly said. “You’re going to need it.”

            Amelia smiled. After the emotional conversation she had with Tommy the night before, she felt much better. The burden of keeping everything inside had been lifted, making her feel lighter and happier. “Is Tom around?”

            “He’s riding around the grounds, probably isn’t too far,” Arthur answered.

            “Well, I’ll go for a walk to see if I can find him.” She decided and began heading for the river.

                       It was a beautiful summer day and Amelia felt blessed to be in the sunshine with the clear sky overhead. Conversation floated through the air as people greeted those they hadn’t seen in a while. Families spent quality time together, for a brief span of time they were unbound by the stresses of life.

            “Mel.” The soft sound of hoofbeats on the damp ground came up behind her.

            Amelia turned to see Tommy riding over on his horse. He slowed the gelding down to a walk once they got beside her. “Oh, glad you found me. I was looking for you.” She smiled up at him.

            There didn’t seem to be anything more natural than Tommy Shelby riding a horse. Amelia couldn’t even recall when he started riding, it was almost as if he was on the back of a horse before he could even walk. She remembered long summer afternoons spending time at Charlie’s yard with the horses.       

            Amelia could ride but she was never quite the rider the other Shelbys were. Her parents didn’t see the benefit of having her around horses. Besides, she thought it was fun to watch the others show off their skill. She was content just to lope around on a well-tempered pony with the reins almost to the buckle.

            Tommy, as well as the other Shelbys, were more content with a challenge. He enjoyed green horses who would kick up a fuss with him. He didn’t mind being bucked off as long as he could get back in the saddle again.

            His uncle said his horsemanship came from his maternal grandfather who was said to be some sort of horse whisperer. But Amelia attributed it to Tommy’s personality. He was the kind of boy who wanted to see how fast he could go. He wanted to see the risks and toe the line. That was always how he was with everything.

            But he was happiest with horses, that much, Amelia knew.

            “Want to hop on?” He offered.

            She giggled. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Her hand rested on her stomach.

            He smiled. “Right, sorry.” He dismounted with ease so he could walk with her instead. “Probably couldn’t even get you up there with that stomach of yours.”

            “Hey!” She smacked his arm.

            Tommy laughed and pulled the reins up over his horse’s neck to lead him along. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. Were just saying you’re pregnant s’all.”

            “Hm…” She shook her head with a smile and a sigh.

            “I did think you were going to sleep the whole day though.” He said as they continued walking along the bank of the river. “You were out like a light. Didn’t even move when I left. Pol told us not to wake you up.”

            “Well, it was nice to sleep in.” She agreed. Her hand absent-mindedly rubbed over her stomach. “Thank you, by the way, for talking to me last night.”

            He shrugged. In his eyes, she didn’t need to thank him for talking or listening for that matter. It was what friends did after all. It seemed silly he wouldn’t. “Of course. I’m just sorry about what happened.” It was unlike Tommy to let things go unresolved. But what was he supposed to do about some stranger in London? It wasn’t completely unreasonable to learn who he was, hop a train, and kick the man’s teeth in, but he knew that’s not what Amelia would want. And it wasn’t what was important.

            “Y’know in a way, I’m not upset that I got pregnant.” She admitted. “I wish it hadn’t happened the way it did but if I hadn’t gotten pregnant, then I wouldn’t have ended back in Small Heath. And I wouldn’t be back with you.”

            He paused in his step to look over at her with a smile. “Always looking on the bright side of things, aye? That’s the Amelia I grew up with.”

            She smiled back but felt her cheeks go a bit red under his gaze. “Can we head back? I think my feet are getting a little swollen.”   

            “Sure.” Tommy clicked his tongue to the gelding so they could turn around and walk back to the vardo.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Once they returned, they were greeted again by Polly and Arthur.

            Amelia sat down while Tommy hitched up his horse to graze.

            “Any more Lee boys giving you trouble, Tom?” Arthur asked.

            “I think they got the message.” Tommy sat down on the steps of the wagon and accepted a cigarette from Polly.

            Amelia looked over the grassy field where a group of children was playing. She spotted Ada and John with their cousins and other Traveler kids. “Who’s that with John?” She wondered. Even from afar, she could tell the dark-haired girl around John’s age was upset with him about something. She was spouting off at him as the rest of the kids ran back and forth around them.

            The two eldest Shelbys snickered and Polly sighed. “That’s Martha Shelby.”

            “Oh, is she a cousin?”

            “Nah, but she’s bound to end up being a Shelby one of these days. Those two already bicker like they’re married.” Arthur chuckled.

            “She’s one of the Boswell girls. They’ve been friends for a very long time even if they wouldn’t admit it.” Polly added.

            “Oh, and here the happy couple comes now.” Tommy pointed out.

            Indeed, John and Martha were both stomping over, each looking irate with one another. “Tom, tell Martha that I jumped a fence that was this high!” He urged, holding his hand up to his hip. “I jumped Whiskey over that fence near Uncle Charlie’s yard and it was this high!”

            “No way, you couldn’t jump a horse over a twig without falling flat on your face.” Martha crossed her arms over her chest.

            “How are you, Martha?” Polly asked.

            “I’m fine, Polly, thank you.” The young girl answered politely while still being frustrated with her friend.

            “Tommy, tell her!” John urged.

            He sighed. “I have no fucking clue, John. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            “HA!” Martha jabbed a finger at him. “You are a liar.” She concluded before hurrying back toward the game of football.

            John glared daggers at his older brother before following after her.

            “You’re only stirring the pot.” Polly scolded, although she did look amused.

            “Please,” Tommy smirked. “The more they fight, the more they’ll realize they should just get on with it.”

            “They seem young to be deciding that sort of thing.” Amelia leaned over as best she could to help retrieve a toy for Finn.

            “Gypsies like to arrange marriages when they’re young,” Polly explained. “I’m sure the Boswells are already looking for a husband for her.”

            “And they wouldn’t naturally pick a Shelby for her. So, might be best if Martha decides for herself, even if they are young.” Arthur agreed with a shrug.

            “Hm.” Amelia didn’t agree with the sentiment but could see their point. “I think it’s important to make your own decisions when it comes to love.” She had a faraway look in her eyes as she watched the kids play.

            Polly subtly glanced over at Tommy. It was hard for any of them to ignore that statement. But Tommy just shook his head, urging his aunt not to say anything about arranged couples.

            Arthur cleared his throat and took the hint to change the conversation. “Y’know, Mel, I think you ought to name the baby after me. Afterall, I’m your favorite Shelby, ain’t I?” He grinned.

            It drew her back to the conversation, making her laugh. “And what if it’s a girl?”

            “Well…I dunno. Maybe there’s some sorta variation.”

            “Perhaps.”

            “Arthura or…erm…”

            Tommy chuckled as his brother racked his brain for options. He leaned back and finished off his cigarette. It was a very nice day.

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[justice4harwin]

#12 for Johnny Lawrence x Noellia

Ask and you shall receive, anon. Hope you like it 😊

This didn't turn out nearly as depressing as I wanted, but I like it.

#12: "I want to know you" or "why won't you let me know you?"

Mid January, 1983

John's fingers drummed against the wheel while he waited for Noelia to come out the school.

They were going to the beach, despite the dropping temperatures, upon her request. He would've preferred to catch a movie or go to Golf 'n Stuff, but it was her turn to choose he supposed.

The music stopped, so he took the cassette out and turned it around, inserting it back in. 

He saw her walking out with Susan. He watched her for a moment, loose hair blowing in the wind, skirt slapping against her legs, his red cobra jacket around her shoulders, partly because she had forgotten her own and the morning air had been chilly, partly so other punks would know better than to try and make a move on her again.

She didn't need to know the story behind he second reason.

She waved her friend goodbye and walked towards his car just as he was about to honk.

"What took you so long?" He asked.

She opened the door of his firebird and got in, placing her backpack and books underneath the seat.

"I had some questions for Mr.Wilson." she was talking about the chimestry teacher. It was one of the few subjects she liked. "About the assignment, you know?"

He knew there was an assignment, but he hadn't bothered to listen to what it was.

"Yeah, totally, right."

She giggled and rolled her eyes, putting on her seatbelt. She always did that, but he had yet to make a comment on it. He was just a bit offended though; he was an excellent driver.

He pulled out of the parking lot (maybe over the speed limit) and set them on the way down to the coast.

"So," she said, extending the vowel. "My mom's been asking when you're coming over."

He felt his throat starting to close up. He shrugged.

"Soon, I guess."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her pulling her hair up into a ponytail.

He half expected her to finally explode, but instead, she just stared at him. It made Johnny feel uneasy.

Stopping at a red light, he turned to her. She had a blank look on her face, and he could've sworn the green of her eyes shone like a neon light. Her eyes gave him the creep sometimes; they were so...shiny.

"What?"

"I didn't say anything." Her voice reflected the look on her face.

Shit.

"You look all,..."

"I look what?"

"You know," he gestured over his face with his hand. "Like that."

"Like what, Johnny?"

Good god. Was she related to Sensei Kreese or something?

"Nothing, nothing."

"Ah."

She turned back front with her arms crossed, a sour look on her face. Johnny sighed, knowing he had ruined it yet again. 

He held excepted her to-

"I don't wanna go to the beach anymore." There it was. "Take me home, please."

"No."

"Johnny…"

"Shut it."

"Take. Me. Home."

"Can you just shit it for five minutes?!" She didn't look any happier when he raise his voice. He shrunk back a little. "Just, just let me find a place to park, okay? Somewhere quiet, so we can talk."

Noelia almost said something back, but instead she went back to her previous position.

He had an idea, so he took a turn and drove them towards the mall.

Johnny could practically feel the questions swimming in that head of hers, but was thankful when she remained silent.

He parked the car on the inside lot and turned to her. Maybe it wasn't the best place, he realized, but it'd have to do.

Noe seemed to be thinking the same, if her arched eyebrow was any indication.

Making himself as comfortable as possible, he placed a hand on the back of her seat, fingers brushing against the nape of her neck.

"You know, the first few times you didn't want to meet my parents I thought you were just scared." She said, tone low.

Oh, he was. 

"I've met them before. What's the big deal?"

Those haunting eyes settled on him, and now he had no option but to look back.

"That doesn't count." She sighed, her cold fury turning into near exhaustion. "I meant an official meeting, so you can talk for more than five minutes, and you can meet my brother. He's been dying to since I told him about the karate." She looked away. "Is there a reason why you don't wanna come home?"

Her tone left plenty of implications hanging in the air, none of which Johnny liked.

The truth was, he had run into Noe's parents once before. Her dad one time when she felt sick and the school called her home. Johnny had taken her to the nurse and stayed by her side. Her mom when they bumped into each other on that very same mall once; he had been on his way to the food court where Dutch and Jimmy were waiting for him. They hadn't been dating for long at the time, so he got introduced as a friend rather than her potential boyfriend.

They scared her, Noe's parents. They were nice, both of them; very gentle in their mannerisms and kinda quiet. Noe had said they weren't perfect, but to him they were, especially her dad.

If he went over to have dinner with the Dávalos, it meant he'd have to take her to his own home soon after, right?

He really liked Noe, and he wanted her to meet his mom for sure (especially since Laura had finally realized that it was a girl that had her son so distracted lately), but there was the imminent risk of Sid. His closest friends had met the bastard only a few times; Johnny preferred to have them over on days he was absolutely sure Sid would be back home late or not at all. If he were to take Noe home, his mom, always the hopeful kind, would want Sid to be there.

He would scare her away. Despite her occasional outbursts, Noelia had a pretty soft personality. Sid would walk over her like an old, ragged carpet and send her running away from Johnny.

He couldn't stand meeting her normal, nice parents knowing it meant he'd also have to take her to that hellhole he called home. 

Also, Noe was his first serious girlfriend; he didn't really know what he was doing.

He wanted to tell her all that, but he wasn't a pansy loser, so he kept it in as best as he could.

"I-"

"Do you-?" 

They spoke at the same time. He gestured for her to go first.

"Are you, um, serious about us?" She asked, her hesitance making him feel further like shit. "Because if you're not, I wanna know now,...please."

He smiled briefly at the last part.

"Of course I am." He hadn't at first. But after that first day he wanted to talk with her again, and after that first date he wanted another, and after their first kiss he wanted another. Soon, he forgot all about his plan to woo Ali Mills, and found himself wanting to do everything and go everywhere with Noelia Dávalos by his side.

She tilted her head to the side, giving him an encouraging look.

"I want to know you." He blurted out before he could fully process it. "It's just...new...to me." He looked away and cleared his throat. "I don't think your parents will like me." He mumbled the last part. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth. At least he gave her one of the real reasons he had been stalling for so long.

He felt her soft lips on his cheek. When he didn't turn to look at her, Noe pressed her forehead to his temple and grabbed one of his hands in hers, lacing their fingers.

"I know they're gonna love you." She kissed his cheek again.

His heart sped up, her warmth just too inviting to even consider pulling away.

He grabbed her and turned her around easily, sitting her on his lap. It was a thight fit on the driver's seat, but she didn't seem to mind.

"And you know everything?" 

"I know more than you." She faked smugness. 

"That's setting the bar real low."

Noe rolled her eyes.

"You're smarter than you think Johnny."

She said it with nonchalance, like it was old news, but it lifted his spirits so much it was pathetic.

"There's more to it, isn't there?" She asked him then, settling into his arms. Johnny didn't answer. She placed her hand on his cheek. "I wanna know you too, but I can't always guess what's on your mind." She leaned forward a bit. "But whatever it is, you can tell me."

"I know." He did, but he still had a lock on his throat and chains holding his feet down.

He closed the distance between them and kissed her deeply. One of her hands rested against his chest, the other on the back of his neck. His own hands longed to wander over her body, but stayed at her waist. He did press her up against him. She sighed and opened her mouth. 

A knock against his window made them jump. With his heart on his throat, he looked to find a middle aged woman glaring at them.

He rolled his eyes. Noelia giggled.

"Sorry, we only do private shows on the weekends." He said, loud enough for the hag to hear.

She seemed more appalled by that, and walked away with a hand to her heart and a loud huff towards her sheepish looking husband.

Noelia pressed her face into his chest, shaking.

Smirking, he kissed the top of her head.

"Well, I guess the mood's ruined now."

"You think?" She looked up, face red and full of mischief. "Why are we here anyways?"

His face softened.

"My mom's birthday is coming up; I was wondering if you'd help me with her present. You did say you didn't want to go to the beach anymore, right?"

She lit up like a Christmas tree and kissed him again, squirming her way out of the car, her bony elbow digging into his side. A quick 'sorry' was all he got.

He'd still stall going to her home to the best of his ability, and he'd certainly keep her away from his home for as long as possible, but maybe this was a step in the right direction.

Her smile was contagious, so with one to match, he got out of the car, took her hand, and led her inside.