#after about an hour of back and forth with the owner one of the teen sons admits to GIVING THE DOG EDIBLES!!! AND SMOKING IN THE DOGS FACE!

[flowery-laser-blasts]

My headcanon (mini fanfic) for Motor Ed convincing Dr Drakken to pierce their ears as teens: warning mentions of blood and alcohol.

For his 16th birthday, Eddie wanted earrings because all the cool rock stars, punkers, and metal artists had them. He asked his mother for one, but she heavily objected to it.

So after gathering all the supplies. Eddie and Drew locked themselves in Eddie's bedroom and then--

At his birthday party (family only), Eddie took Drew aside and convinced him to help him pierce his own ears. Eddie showed his cousin a sterling silver earring from the piercing shop downtown; he tried going by himself at first, but once he found out that pay was upfront and he couldn't just pierce-'n-dash like he would at diners with his meals, he stole one of the earrings when a new client came in and occupied the shop owner's attention.

Eddie said that he found his mother's sewing kit and told Drew that it would be easy piece-y lemon squeezy:

They just needed some ice cubes and towels.

"Oh and booze!" According to Eddie, "Doesn't matter if it's a liquor or a wine, all booze contains alcohol and alcohol disinfects!"

"I don't think that that's how it goes Eddie--"

"Shuddup, Drew I heard the piercer talk about alcohol!"

Drew thought hard, being the one who actually paid attention in class he pointed out: "What about Vodka? It's the closest we can get to pure alcohol. Unless you want sticky sweet earlobes from the wine..."

"Vodka, huh, mom's got a bottle in the cabinet!

See!? This is why I need you for this! You're like my own- uhhh, what's that dude from that book called again? Ya' know, the one with the monster that is made of body parts?"

"Are you talking about the scientist? Victor Frankenstein from Mary Shelley's 'Frankenstein'?" Drew smirked proudly, Eddie beamed remembering the name again,

"No, no, no, no-- you're like that assistant-dude Igor! 'Specially with that brow man, you're like my own freaky sidekick!"

Drew's newfound pride shattered to the ground and he grumbled as he went off to find the supplies.

A loud scream alerted the mothers of the boys.

They managed to break open the lock and saw a bloody mess.

Drew looked very pale and Eddie was sobbing and holding his bloodied ear while rocking on the ground.

The thing is, both idiots thought it was a good idea to take a few swigs of Ed's mother's most expensive wine as liquid courage before doing this. Then Drew started to get second thoughts:

"Is this really a good idea?"

"Yes, it is! Let's just do it!"

Both of them went back and forth for at least half an hour until they solved their discourse by doing rock paper scissors, in which they sipped more wine in between each take. Drew eventually lost so he would be pierced first. Drew just wouldn't sit still, so in the end -after wasting another twenty minutes- Eddie gave up, it was him after all who wanted the earring.

"Look Drew, just hurry up before our moms notice that we're not at the party!" he said as he rubbed the vodka onto his earlobe with a towel.

"Alright then, here goes nothing..." With a trembling hand, Drew took the leather needle -that unfortunately had a bit of a dull tip because it's been used often- and roughly pushed it through Eddie's earlobe

Eddie muffled his groans in a towel he bit on. Drew took out the needle and blood started coming out.

"Oh shit-- Oh fuck, oh SHIT!!"

"W-What's wrong cou-AAAAAUAA! AAAAAGH!!"

In a panic frenzy, Drew tried forcing the earring into the lobe to plug it up and prevent it from bleeding more. However, the metal rod of the earring was bigger than the needlehole itself, so forcing it through caused the wound to burn and bleed harder, the alcohol didn't help either.

And there they were, two drunken dimwits crying their eyes out as their mothers screamed at them while the neighbor called 911.

Eddie went with his mom to the hospital for a tetanus shot, just in case, and both he and Drew got grounded for up to 2 months.

Eddie tried wearing the earring for a while outside his mother's vision but putting it in and taking it out hurt more than it was worth it. So eventually he stopped wearing it and his lobe grew shut again.

To this day, Motor Ed still has a very faint scar on his lobe.

[v5hadow]

WIP Wednesday.... At 8 in the morning Thursday after I didn't sleep... (I got scrolling okay?)

Persona 5 Strikers/Royal AU (with romance with Mishima Yuuki amongst other... choices~ but only one relevant today) Chapter 1 Scene 1 because I finally got THIS to happy enough point and larger chunks until late Sendai written. I'll rant about it some other day. I've got like a 3 page rant on this thing written already actually.

----

A jingle of a bell, and Akira was through the door, Morgana popping out of the bag onto the boy’s shoulder. Near immediately they walked into a bunch of streamers. A bunch of other pops and streamers quickly followed. In a series of blending rounds came a chorus of “Welcome home!” Almost everyone got up to welcome the returning hero.

A quick glance at the first booth, Akira’s eyes were met with mostly midnight blue hair, but their eyes connected even through Mishima’s hands. The new arrival smiled and quirked an eyebrow before moving to greeting everyone with thanks. Before long the smiles spread to everyone.

Everyone surrounded the returning boy, barely taking turns to ask the pair how they are doing and how travel was. Sojiro clapped his hands together before announcing: “While it's good to have you back, kid, I still can’t have the cat down here during business hours.”

“Understood.” Akira nodded as he started to search his bag for something. He nudged Morgana as he looked in his bag.  

Futaba took the moment to shout: “Moving the party upstairs!” She proceeded to grab Yusuke and Makoto’s wrists and start towards the stairs at the end of the store.

“Thanks, Boss!” Ryuji shot to the owner. He patted Akira on the back as he passed, getting nods from both. Ann followed quickly behind.

Haru took a moment to bow to Sojiro. “Yes, thank you for hosting.”

Akira managed to pull a box out of the bottom of his bag. “Figure you’d like this over what I got most everyone else.” 

“Mochi? Oh right, your town has that really famous one.” Sojiro examined the box a moment before patting Akira’s head. “Thanks, kid.” The shop owner got a honestly happy smile.

One straggling teenager remained of the greeting group, as he took until Haru went upstairs to stand up and walk towards the stairs. “Yuuki.” The shorter boy stopped and turned as Akira quickly moved to follow. Akira took the moment to take Yuuki’s hand as he said, “Well someone was excited to see me.” 

Yuuki’s face flashed into an even darker shade of pink, before he bashfully turned his face away. The taller boy took a moment to drag his thumb across red checks. The red-faced teen took a breath in before  turning back with narrowed eyes, telling Akira: “Nope, you do not get to tease me about that.”

“Especially not with me right here!” The cat popped his head out from the bag on Akira’s arm, reminding them both of his presence.

In a quick series of motions Akira threw the bag onto a table still near the corner of the stairs accompanied with a “That better, Morgana?”

“This is animal abuse!” Morgana screeched as he got out of the bag and then stretched.

“Wow, he seriously tossed you up here?” Ann’s voice with some amazement floated down to them.

“Mona-chan, are you alright?” Haru called to the cat.

“Really, Akira?” Yuuki breathed out as he looked back and forth between where Morgana landed and the man in front of him. He got a brighter innocent smile in return. Yuuki rolled his eyes in response before giving Akira a peck on the cheek. “Welcome back.”

[howlingday]

Final part to Frosted Knight. Willow dates Jaune, but it always ends with sex. She thinks this is normal, since it was how she spent her teen years and her extensive time in business school which didn't leave her time to enjoy such carnal pleasures again. Jaune, though, hasn't been with anyone since high school, and they were just high school sweethearts who had sex before they broke up, her for college, him for the war. But he does know that love and sex aren't the same, so he's cautious about being with someone where every date ends with sex.

Part 1 / Part 2

Jaune paced back and forth in his room. His stomach was churning from his anxiety at the conversation he was dreading. He sighed. Depending on the conclusion, it could either mean making the best decision he ever made, or the worst mistake of his life. Even worse, both options were unknown already as unknown as possible.

He and Willow had been officially dating for about a few months now. In that time, he learned a lot about the Atlesian woman. She was intelligent, hard-nosed, and made every decision of her life based on facts. She loved piano, heist movies, and, thanks to him, burgers.

But did she love him? The thought gave him moths over butterflies in his stomach, making him nauseous to a point. He sat down, fumbling his fingers together. With a sigh, he thought back to the nights before with Willow.

Her prodding tongue. Her dragging nails. Her tight embrace. All of it excited him, and from the noises she's made, he excited her, too.

But excitement could only last so long. Once they had finished their love-making, they would hold each other and talk. Some of the most amazing talks they've had yet.

His time in the military. Her time as the company owner. His home life, which surprised her when she heard he had seven sisters. Her home life, which made him hold her tighter. After all this time, she was still a woman in her grief.

Which brought him to the decision he had to make. Should they continue to be with each other, hoping this is real and not a throes of passions, or should he abandon her so she could heal properly on her own time? The thought sickened him, but he was trained to treat the sickness by any means necessary.

He cared for her. He really did. The thought of her alone in her manor with no one to talk to, save Klein, made the moths multiply, and move up to his throat.

But maybe it was for the best? He tried to reason that what they had was probably a fling for her. A whim of passion for her to destress from her aristocratic lifestyle. What was it they called it? Slumming? She didn't really love him, did she?

"I needed that." Willow whispered in the dark. Jaune held her close as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck. She drew soft circles into his chest as his palm glided across her back. "Thank you."

"Willow?" Jaune asked, his voice soft and hushed.

"Mm?"

"Why..." He swallowed. "Why'd you come back? I mean, you went through so much trouble to find me, and we spend a weekend together every month in this bedroom. You could have anyone you want. So why me?"

She sighed, looking up to his eyes. They seemed to shine in the darkness. It did thisngs to his heart. To his soul. To his body. She looked so beautiful, but so sad, and that made him want to kick himself for asking something so stupid.

"Why would I want anyone else?"

The phone rang, waking Jaune from his stupor. He looked to clock and saw only an hour had past. His eyes stung, relieved only when he rubbed them. Reaching over, he answered.

"Jaune Arc."

"Jaune, it's Willow." He was fully awake. "Klein said you wanted to speak with me?"

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

Willow's heart thundered in her chest as she waited for Jaune to speak. It had been thundering since Klein delivered his message. The way he delivered it, too, served only to make her more tense. She could feel her throat closing, her voice shaking.

Was there something wrong with their relationship? Had she failed in some way, offending him in a way she had yet to understand? A small part of her was already preparing for the worst. If this call, indeed, would lead to the worst.

She would throw herself into her work entirely. Jaune would be the last man she would ever be intimate with. Until the day she died, and her company with her, she would control the dust market. Small businesses like Coal and Son's would suffer, if only to help her regain some control in her life. Her heart began to hurt.

"Yeah, I, uh, wanted to talk about us." Jaune gulped on the other end. "Sorry if I caught you at a bad time."

"I always have time for you, Jaune." Willow replied, finding a little calm in his voice. It did nothing to stop her rapping against the desk with her talon-like fingers.

By dust itself, she was becoming a monster. Her horrible thoughts, her aging body. She was no better than a hag in those ghost stories her father told. An awful, ugly creature.

"I... just wanted to say talk about the, ahem, direction we're going."

"Oh?" That was an odd choice of words. "What do you mean?"

"W-Well, every time we met, we, uh, have sex."

"Er, yes, I suppose." Was it every time. Willow quickly ran through her mental catalog of every date. There was their first meeting, which ended in sex. Their first date, in the diner, followed by sex. The walk through the park, then sex. The jazz club, with sex inside the jazz club. "We are quite good at it."

"Amazing, actually." Jaune sighed, making her giggle. She was pleasantly surprised he thought so highly of her. "But I was thinking about how much we do it, and, uh, whether or not it's, uh..."

"Jaune?" He trailed off, confusing her. "Is there something wrong?"

"I... I don't know." He answered. "I was just concerned that, with all the sex we've been having, do you think it might be too much?"

"Is it?" Willow asked. "I thought it was what everyone did after a date. Especially if you were in love."

"I can agree with that, but don't you think it might be a bit too much?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Jaune made noises on the other side that did nothing to ease her anxieties, "maybe we should take a break. From sex, I mean. We can still date, but at the end, we can just kiss."

"That sounds like a lovely idea." Willow replied. It really was. When she was much younger, boys ages ten to twenty nine were not to come within fifty feet of Schnee Manor or herself.

It wasn't until much later, in business college, when she laid next to a man. It was Jacques Gelé, and he was hardly the impressive specimen Jaune was. But she was curious and thought one night would do her no harm. She thought wrong.

"So, you're... not mad?"

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" Willow gave a lady-like chuckle. "You thought there was a problem, so you addressed it with me."

"Phew, okay!" Jaune chuckled. "I was worried that you wouldn't be, well, on board."

"If it's a concern you have, then I will take it into account." Willow nodded. "I will come down next weekend, and there will be no sex. Agreed?"

"Yeah." Jaune sighs. "Willow?"

"Yes?"

"I... I can't wait to see you again."

Willow's heart gripped her phone a little tighter for just a moment. She was fine with not having sex for the weekend, but for some reason, that last statement stung. It was like he was holding back, or maybe she was too expecting of his next words. Those three little words that would send her reeling.

"I'll call before my flight." She answered. "Take care of yourself, Jaune." When he replied, Willow hung up. She then rang the bell next to the phone.

"Is everything alright, Miss Schnee?" Klein asked.

"Is everything in order, Klein?"

"In order? If the tickets are scheduled, then I suppose." He eyed the younger woman. "Were you satisfied with your conversation?"

"He... thinks we have too much sex."

Klein was quiet at that. He pursed his bushy lips and looked away. He then brought a fist to lips and puffed his cheeks, then huffed through his nose.

"Erm, as of yet, there's no word of a child, yes?"

"No, Klein." Willow chuckled. "But he does have a point. Every encounter we've had ends with sex."

"Well, I wouldn't say ended, Miss Schnee." Klein replied. "What happens after you have sex?" His cheeks tinged pink. "Without the more graphic details if you could."

"After sex?" She thought on every event, and they all ended the same way. "He holds me close to his chest. Strokes my hair. Rubs my back."

"And after you've rested?" Klein asked, noticing how dreamy her countenance became. As if she were having the sweetest daydream.

"I wake up to find him out of bed and in the kitchen, brewing coffee." She giggled. "The first night, he brought in the cup on a saucer with so much sugar, I couldn't see the saucer."

"And after your morning coffee?"

"We get dressed and have breakfast. It's always toast."

"Toast? Nothing more?"

"Nothing more, but there's not much else needed. He places everything I could ever need. Butter, jam, cream cheese." She chuckled. "One morning, he was surprised I chose grape jam. He told me, 'This is a first for me. I always have strawberry,' and I couldn't help but find it charming."

"It sounds to me that your date doesn't end on sex, but when you say your farewells."

"I... I suppose you're right." Willow said, surprised by the revelation.

"When my Briggite and I were first together, we could barely keep our hands to ourselves." Klein reminisced. "But it was when we stopped to reflect on our time, we realized the sex doesn't define us, but it is an experience we can share together."

"You are wise beyond your years, Klein."

"Oh, come now, Miss Willow!" He guffawed. "I'm only in my forties!"

The two shared their laugh, and would continue for years to come.

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

"What did you think of the movie?" Jaune asked as they walked back to her hotel room.

"It was fine." Willow sighed. "But it did get boring. Romance just doesn't thrill me."

"Thrill you?" Jaune quirked a brow.

"It doesn't make sense to me. There is always an air of tension between them, but nothing is done to address it." Willow frowned. "It reminds me of that bad burger."

"The one that took forever?"

"Yes, that one." Willow had waited almost an hour for a burger fresh from the freezer, only to bite into it and realize it wasn't just raw, but rotten.

She demanded to speak to the manager, and when the chef was dragged out, She ordered him to return to the kitchen. Jaune watched as his girlfriend show up the manager in business practices, arguing that it is his fault, not the chefs, that meat was rotten in the freezer.

Willow hated that memory, but Jaune always looked back with a smile. When they made love that night, he complimented how powerful she was. She still blushes at his words.

"Well, I'll make sure to get you a good burger next time." Jaune said, pulling her closer to him. "No more bad burgers in your life."

"Do you promise?" She leaned into him.

"I give my word." They stop before her room. "And speaking of giving our word, here we are."

"Well," Willow swallowed, "here we are."

"I guess this is good night." Jaune's finger twitched as he spoke.

"Yes." She unlocked her door and turned to him. "Good night, Jaune."

"Good night, Willow." He pecked her lips, then stepped away, his cheeks reddened over. He turned away, only to feel a hand gripping his sleeve.

"W-Wait!" Willow almost shouted, covering her mouth in embarrassment. "That... That wasn't a proper good night kiss."

"R-Really?"

"It was too chaste." Willow reasoned. "We should be more... intimate in our farewells."

"Oh. Right." Jaune held Willow close and kissed her more passionately, but not excessively. His tongue prodded past her lips, and slid around hers.

Willow restrd her palms on his back, fingers retracted, defying her desires to dig and claw through his coat. He pulled away, leaving Willow to whimper.

"G-Good night, Willow."

"Good night, Jaune."

They both stared at each other, chests heaving with their desires. This might have been the hardest thing they've ever done. More physically demanding than his basic training. More mentally taxing than running your own business.

Those things have been done, and could be done again. They survived and conquered.

But this. This was excruciating.

"Willow..." He breathed.

"Y-Yes, Jaune?"

"I'm... I, uh..." He swallowed hard.

"What is it, Jaune?" He was quiet. Suddenly, she felt him pull her closer, his fingers threatening to tear apart her dress. "J-Jaune?"

"I was wrong." Jaune answered. "I... I need you, Willow. I need you, and I need you to need me."

Willow pulled her hands away, and placed them on his chest. Palms flat, fingers splayed. She looked into his eyes, brimming with barely contained passion and pecked his lips. His grip softend, expecting her to push him away.

Jaune..." Her fingers dug into his coat lapels, seizing them in her clawed grip as she breathed. "Fuck! Me!"

Jaune barreled into the room, kicking the door shut as he ravaged her, and she him. His coat and shirt were torn open, buttons flying off, as her dress and bra straps snapped over her shoulders, freeing her breasts for him to paw at. She leaned forward and sucked on his neck, tugging his skin with her teeth. They fell into bed, his hands tugging away his slacks and underwear while she removed her panties and tossed away her hair tie.

Once they were naked, they stopped. They heaved heavy breaths as they stared at one another. He moved closer, and she reached to touch him. Her hand glided up his arm to his face, where she held his cheek. He hovered over her, then lowered to kiss her.

"Willow." Jaune gulped. "I love you."

Willow froze. She couldn't believe it. In her heart of hearts, she knew, but to hear him say it, and with such clarity, too? Her hand moved from his cheek to behind his head, pulling him closer.

"I love you, too." She whispered. They then kissed, somehow less passionate, but also less chaste. A lover's kiss.

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

"Congratulations, Arc!" Jaune's friend said as he walked in. Callows was a lot of things to the company. He was a traitor, fleeing Mistral to join Vale in the war. He was a sadist, only too excited to conduct medical experiments. He was probably evil with how loud and boisterous his cackling was at the most minute jokes. But he was still Jaune's friend, which made those words equally comforting and frightening.

"W-What?" Jaune asked, holding Willow's hand. She had been experiencing all the symptoms since she returned the following month, but he needed to be sure.

"We ran all the exams you asked, and then some, and it's official." He tittered. "You've been promoted to Papa Arc!" He cackled. "Oh! Oh! Could you name him after me? There's not enough Tyrian's in the world."

"Uh, Callows, we, uh, need the room." Jaune said.

"Oh, of course!" Tyrian bowed out. "I shall return when you're ready." When the door shut, the couple sighed.

"I am not naming anything after him." Willow shook her head.

"I didn't plan to." He looked to Willow. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Jaune. I'm just... nervous? Excited?" She held a hand to her head. "It's all just so surprising."

"It is a lot to take in." Jaune said.

"Yes," she leaned into him, "and I'm glad you're here with me."

Willow's life has been a roller coaster of events. Some would say her life began when her father passed and left his company to her as both his inheritance and her legacy. Others would say it was the day she proposed to Jaune after the birth of their first child. But in her opinion, her life didn't begin until that first night he helped her, and became a part of her life forever.

"Jaune," she looked up to him, "I have ideas for the baby."

"Already?" Jaune chuckled. "Like what?"

"If it's a boy, I want to name him Nicholas, after my father," Jaune nodded, both approving and signaling her to continue, "and if it's a girl, I want to name her Winter."

"Winter Schnee." He smiled warmly. "I like that."

[greenshirtimagines]

Flustered By You

A/n: I’ve been giving Atsushi a lot of attention lately, so I wrote short lil imagines about a few other characters (Dazai, Kuni, Ranpo, Tanizaki, Fukuzawa, Tachi, Oda, Sigma don’t expect anymore DoA content they all scare me except for him) I really tried to make each one unique, I hope they didn’t get too repetitive

(Masterlist)

Dazai Osamu is not one to feel flustered, nor one to feel tongue tied. That doesn’t change when he sees you, but for once, he feels like he can keep quiet. There’s no need to be loud and overdramatic. Of course, he will be out of habit, but when he’s with you, he feels calm for once. Not dead, or emotionless, but a sweetly serene feeling that only occurs when you take him by the hand, or send a smile his way. He wants to be quiet, so that he can relish the feeling a little longer.

Kunikida Doppo is often flustered by the actions of those around him, but he always has plenty of stern words to say to them. When it comes to you, however, he loses the ability to speak any harsh phrases. Every word from your mouth drips like honey, and your whispers of love are enough to reduce his composure to ash. Flailing about, he finds it difficult to look you in the eyes and say any words that will mean as much to you as your words mean to him. But what he cannot say, he can write, all composed into a beautiful poem that leaves you teary-eyed, and even more in love with him than you were before.

Ranpo Edogawa will never show any sort of shyness in front of you, try as you might. He can always turn the tables and make you the flustered one. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate your attempts. Eating ice cream or sucking on a lollipop, he’s silent, thinking of you and reflecting on what you’ve said to him and what your actions signify. A small smirk may develop, after all, he’s a prideful man and loves the thought of having you love him so much, but he also knows he’s incredibly lucky to have that love. He may never completely know why he’s the one who holds your heart, but love is the one mystery he doesn’t need to solve.

Tanizaki Jun’ichiro is still a teen, and has had his fair share of insecurity. He finds himself feeling bashful around you quite often, and doesn’t know if maybe he should be trying to fluster you. What he doesn’t realize is that he flusters you quite often. Making you a bento every day, massaging your back when you’ve spent several hours sitting at a desk, walking you home each night - all these things send your heart fluttering, and you can’t help but feel shy around him. It doesn’t help that he speaks very passionately about you when he thinks you’re not around, making your legs feel like jello as you try to focus on the task at hand, instead of picturing a sweet future with him.

Fukuzawa Yukichi is an old man, who made the choice to marry you long ago. Nothing surprises him, but even in his prime you couldn’t do much to get any sort of reaction out of him. Of course, this doesn’t mean he’s emotionless; you know very well he’s far from it. His love is one demonstrated by actions, and short phrases uttered matter-of-factly, as if he sees no reason as to why the things he says should make you blush. They’re just the truth, after all. But from the very first moment he noticed your surprised expression, the sight of your rosy cheeks is one he looks upon very fondly.

Tachihara Michizou likes to act like he’s under control, but inside he’s a blushing mess. Every touch sends his skin burning, and he can’t control his heart rate around you. However, if you try to provoke him, he will go ahead and try to provoke you back. Eventually, it becomes a back and forth battle between the two of you, resulting in both of you being embarrassed beyond belief. Warm cuddles and a trip to your favorite date spot serve as a peace agreement, the time spent together a better way to awaken the butterflies in your stomachs.

Oda Sakunosuke doesn’t make any attempts to make you blush, nor do you, knowing his character perfectly well. Lucky for you, the bluntness of the five little angels you’ve pretty much adopted does, as they ask if the two of you are married. You fully expect him to say no, but you don’t expect his addition of “not yet”, or the little glance he gives you out of the corner of his eye, gauging your reaction. In return, you jokingly tell them that he’s been keeping you waiting, but he knows that your response masks a yes, and later, he gives you a real proposal and a passionate kiss that take your breath away.

Sigma finds it hard saying anything to you, because he doesn’t know how. Being a casino owner, he’s witnessed many suave men picking up ladies several times, with their smooth pickup lines and seductive voices, but he wants to be sincere with you. Completely unsure, he’ll take you by the hand and desperately try voicing all the intense feelings he’ll have for you, hoping that his sentences can accurately portray the immense love and gratitude he has for you, trying to make you understand that he’s found another reason for existence in you. He’ll be scared at first, fearing that he’ll have messed up, but one small smile from you shows him that you’ve understood.

[endlessnightlock]

Not sure what this might be, probably some sort of Gale and Peeta bonding after Gale scares the crap out of him thing. 

“Dammit, Vick,” Gale swears. His typical patience is skinned to the bone today. He’s running on another short night's sleep, on the heels of another double shift. Today's his day off, and he's giving Vick another ten seconds to finish up whatever the hell he’s doing in the bathroom, whether that's sitting on the john or messing with his hair, before barging in and throwing him out in the hallway on his ass. 

While Gale’s considering how much force to apply with his shoulder to pop the lock, Rory stumbles past. He must’ve just rolled out of bed- his hair’s all over the place. He doesn't try to dodge Gale on his way by, but that's nothing new. The Hawthornes are constantly running into each other. Their three-bedroom, prefab house isn’t big enough for two teenage boys, one pre-teen girl, their mother, and Gale. 

Gale ignores the sideswiping by Rory's bony shoulder. He decides to give Vick another minute before using brute force since he’s been looking through online listings to find a cheap second vehicle for the boys to share. Between leaving for work at all hours of the day and night, Rory and Vick need a car to get back and forth from school, work, and practices, not to mention running Posy wherever she needs to go. Their place is like an airport hub some days.

“Did you hear Katniss is knocked up?” Rory throws over his shoulder.

“She’s what?” Gale demands, forgetting the 1994 Ford Tempo he was thinking of messaging the owner about and stalking into the living room after Rory, intent on answers. 

Rory drops onto the couch and grabs the latest issue of Hemmings Muscle Cars off the end table, steadily avoiding Gale’s eyes. “Pregnant,” he repeats. 

Jeez, he’s as jumpy as if he’d done the deed himself. 

Gale knows; he just knows it’s no coincidence Rory dropped the news about Katniss like that, oh so casually, to prevent him from blowing up. He doesn’t lose his temper often—since he’s never been able to keep his thoughts to himself, it’s not usually a problem. But when it comes to big things, and his younger cousin is a huge thing, his temper sometimes gets the better of him. 

“Who’s she seeing?” he asks instead of punching the wall in place of whoever-the-father-is’s head, proud at himself for keeping his cool. As if Katniss, who’s been through more shit than any nineteen-year-old has a right to, needs one more thing to go wrong in her life.

The bathroom door finally opens down the hallway, and Vick shuffles out guiltily. “Sorry,” he says.

Gale rolls his eyes. Like it even matters now.

“She’s seeing that Mellark guy we were in school with,” Rory supplies, flipping through the glossy pages of the magazine.

“Mellark—” Gale begins but pauses mid-thought, frowning. The only Mellark he knew anything about was the middle one from his class. Couldn’t remember his name, but they were on the football team together. Kind of an asshole if he remembered right. That guy wasn’t good enough for Katniss, for sure.

“Mellarks are the ones who own the bakery,” Vick supplies as if it’s any real help. Also, he doesn’t seem surprised, and that pisses Gale off a little bit. Who all found out about this before him?

Rory sneers at his younger brother. “Like we didn’t already know that.”

“Will you two can it for a second,” Gale mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose before addressing Rory again. “You hear how she’s taking things?”

“Don’t know anything else. That’s all I heard, honest.”

“What’s this kid’s name again?” Gale asked, thinking about paying the guy a visit.

“Can’t remember. It’s something weird,” Rory frowns at the spot on the wall over Gale’s shoulder, lost in thought.

“I know his name,” Vick supplies smugly.

Gale stares at his youngest brother, waiting for him to spill, but when Vick stays mum, he reaches his breaking point. “What are you waiting for—out with it already!”

Vick shifts on his feet. “You guys acted like I was an idiot the last time I chimed in. So I thought I’d make you wait.”

“You are an idiot, but so is he,” Gale addresses Vick while thumbing in Rory’s direction. 

“Hey, you wouldn’t even know if I hadn’t told you!” Rory shoots out, tossing his magazine aside, sounding more than a little affronted.

“Yeah, yeah. Now spill, would you?”

[justkending]

Moral of the Story (Prologue)

Series Summary: From childhood friends, to highschool sweethearts, the two naive, young, and lovestruck teens decided the best way to keep a strong relationship during college would be to marry right out of highschool. No one batted an eye at the idea as everyone knew they were soulmates. However, college is a big step in a person’s life. You learn new things about yourself, you make new friends, find new hobbies… And maybe being newly weds and going to different colleges across the states wasn’t the best plan… After a falling out, and a tragic heartbreaking divorce, the two now hold grudges for how the other handled the whole thing in the past. Neither not really knowing both sides of the story. 10 years later, and they both get a call from the lawyers office that settled their divorce. Somehow the papers never went through and the divorce was never completed. So now, the exes, or should we say husband and wife, have to meet back up after all these years to settle their failed marriage once and for all. (This summary will be shorter in other chapters. I just needed to get the full concept out there;)

A/N (repeat): So the other day while I was doing my hair (quite the process), I was playing music and the song Moral of the Story by Ashe came on. Mind you, I’ve heard this song hundreds of times, but for some reason, this time I got a major story idea! Listening to the lyrics brought me to this new series. Of course, the lengthy summary above will give you an idea of what came to my brain, but I recommend you listen to the song still because it plays a big part in my thought process:) (Plus it’s a good song;) Enjoy and please do not hesitate to share your thoughts and comments with me! I love each and every single one<3

(I will release the first chapter at the beginning of next week! That way I can give myself some time to write more chapters before sharing it!)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N (Modern AU)

Word Count: 1200+

Prologue:

"Melody, have the papers for the Bee's Knees company come in yet?"

"Uh, no. But I can call them again and see if they faxed it or sent over a physical copy though," Melody answered from her desk, already typing away to find the company.

"Perfect. We have a meeting with a recycling plant next week and I want to get everything set before we go in with them," Y/N nodded, coming out from her office with a file in her hands. She turned to her assistant at the front desk who was about 20 emails deep and already finding the issue. "Hey, you're not coming in tomorrow, right?"

"Um, no, no. I am. I rescheduled that date," she answered bashfully as if she had been caught in the act of something.

"Melody..." Y/N drug out, hand on her hip.

"What? I- He understood. He said he was fine moving it to Saturday," the young woman shrugged, never looking back at her boss that was clearly sending her a motherly stare.

"You're already over your 40 hours this week, and you've rescheduled with him, what? 3 times now?" Y/N moved to the front of the desk so the young brunette had to make eye contact with her.

"Yes," she answered hesitantly.

"Is it just nerves or something else?" Y/N smirked.

"I'm not nervous... It's just been a while since I've had time for a date."

"Two things about what you just said in the past minute. One, clearly this guy likes you because he's rescheduled with you this many times and hasn't called it off yet. So if you're nervous about it not going well on his end, I think you're safe," Y/N pointed a finger at her.

"But-," Melody started.

"Second," Y/N cut off with a raised eyebrow. "I'm giving you time to go on a date and you're still not taking it. Work is no longer an excuse."

Melody stopped avoiding eye contact and looked up at the Y/H/C hair woman leaning on her reception desk.

"You've been talking with my mom again, haven't you?" she sighed.

"I promised I'd take care of you. So yes, I have. And though her reasoning for you dating is because she wants grandbabies, I just want you to have fun and live your life. You're 22. Don't waste your young years being scared."

"Ugh, fine. I'll text him now and see if he's still available for tonight," she groaned.

"Perfect!" Y/N grinned in victory as she started to walk back to her office. "I expect the details in the morning," she winked before she walked in.

"Oh, Y/N!" Melody stopped her. "A message came for you while you were in that last meeting."

"Who from?" Y/N quirked an eyebrow, moving back to the desk.

"Uh, I don't really know. Didn't sound familiar, but here's the name and number they said to call back from," she answered, handing her a note.

Y/N took the small paper and looked it over. Her face dropped and her eyes widened.

"You ok? Is it someone you know?" the young assistant asked, noticing what looked like horror on her face.

"Um, yeah. Yeah, an old acquaintance of mine," Y/N tried to quickly brush off. "Um, I'm going to take this. Can you hold any calls and if anyone comes to talk, tell them to just email me?"

"Oh, ok. Yeah, I'll take care of it," Melody nodded.

"Thank you."

Rushing back to her office and quickly shutting her door, she raced to her phone. She read the business name again, not sure if she was dreaming or if it was a hallucination.

Nope. Hammer Attorney was written in Melody's perfect penmanship on the paper with a number that held an area code from New York. A place she never thought she would hear from again and from a town she hadn't visited in almost 10 years._________________

"Buck, did you tell Fury about getting those new water therapy machines?" Steve shouted from his room.

"We're at home, Steve. Why are we talking about work?" Bucky groaned as he slouched on the couch. A beer in hand and a documentary with I Survived stories playing in front of him.

Steve came in from around the corner looking down at his phone in hand before moving his eye line to his roommate.

"Because I just got a call from the night crew saying that the last one that was working, finally went out tonight while they were running it for some test," Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Ugh, you would think that a facility run by a billionaire who literally makes his money on high-tech machines, wouldn't have to ask for those kinds of things," Bucky groaned, grabbing his own phone and going through emails. "Let me check to see if the email went through. He wasn't in office when I went to tell him."

As he was sorting through the hundreds of emails sent back and forth just this week alone, he found the reply message.

"Yeah, management confirmed it. They should be in by Saturday it looks like. Guess Stark was still working out the kinks to a new one and was waiting to send one our way until the last one died to get more time on his newest model."

Steve nodded before walking to the kitchen and typing Bucky's response to the other crew members.

"The man is always finding new ways to upgrade them before he can even send them to us."

Just as Bucky was about to throw his phone to the side again though, it started ringing. Looking at the caller ID, he didn't recognize the unknown number. It was from in-state but in his hometown area of Brooklyn. He pinched his eyebrows together confused at the call, but answered it anyway, thinking it must be someone from home.

"Hello?"

"Hello. Is this Mr. Barnes?" The other voice answered.

"Yes, this is him. Who's this?" he asked, sitting up a little and putting the beer on the end table.

"My name is Matthew Murdock. I work at Nelson and Murdock Law firm," he went on. Bucky shook his head not knowing what that was supposed to mean. "Well, you may actually know us previously as Hammer Attorney. We recently just took over their business after some fraud issues."

Bucky's heart stopped. He knew what that name meant.

"I hate to inform you, but we were going through some of their old files. Ones we were informed could be incomplete or done completely incorrectly due to little care in the actual cases, but more so in taking the money."

"Incomplete cases?" Bucky said softly. His brain was still trying to wrap around the conversation.

"Yes, unfortunately, it looks like a lot of cases having to deal with divorces that the past owners handled, were done strictly in order to launder money. They weren't actually certified, nor trained in handling divorce settlements."

Bucky froze. Eyes wide. Mouth agape.

He stuttered out a response when the man on the other line didn't continue.

"A-And talking about incomplete divorce settlements, you called because..." Bucky knew. He needed to hear it out loud because if he didn't, it wasn't true. It couldn't be.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Barnes, but it looks as though you and your wife, Y/N Y/L/N or sorry, Y/N Barnes, are actually not divorced."

(I will release the first chapter at the beginning of next week! That way I can give myself some time to write more chapters before sharing it!)

Moral of the Story Taglist:

@taylormobley @ximaginx @vicmc624

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @lizzymacy555  @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​ @pham-tastical 

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​  @laneygthememequeen​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @carls1022​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @carls1022​ @anise-d-castle6​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​ @alyispunk​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​

[gryffindors-weasley]

Closed For Business

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: When an unexpected visitor arrives at your bookstore, jealousy ensues.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: flirting, jealousy, fluff, kissing

Your shift at William and Bette’s Bookstore hadn’t been too terrible that day. It most certainly had been a busy one, the rather inclement weather not deterring anyone from stopping in, but you suppose a little foot traffic wasn’t quite so bad when you worked a job that you loved. It was a sweet little place, lined floor to ceilings with a variety of books so vast it was impossible to browse through in just one visit. The wooden bookshelves were organized A-Z, winding and curving around the one-floor shop, lamps littering about as a station for hot chocolate and tea resides in the very far corner.

You’d started working there about a year after the second wizarding war had concluded its disastrous rampage. You were in need of something, anything to busy yourself with. It was a cozy little place, tucked warmly and welcomingly next to your favorite bakery; needless to say it always smelled of cinnamon and old books.

You found it when you were in town with Draco, Narcissa having sent him out to a shop you hadn’t entirely known what for. Perhaps it was for new floral arrangements to have around the Manor—it was absolutely that actually. She’d wanted to liven up the otherwise bleak and somber estate, flowers always having been something to brighten her spirits with her husband having been away in Azkaban for a number of years to come. It was then that you spotted it, the ‘help wanted’ sign taped just inside the old window of the little shop. It’d been Draco who nudged you to go for it, both literally and figuratively as he pulled you along by the hand, so you did. You took the leap and they hired you on the spot much to your delighted surprise.

Long story short, you had been working there since you were nineteen, now twenty-four. The owners, William and Bette, had been and continue to be endlessly welcoming and jovial, and you found you hadn’t wanted to work just anywhere else. It was perfect, in a small town of one of a kind shops and equally one of a kind cottages—one of which you resided in with the love of your life. It was a fairytale, as much as it could have been for two magically inclined lovers who’d been put through more than most could even fathom before the age of twenty-five. Most people thought magic had just been a trick of the eye.

Presently, you were helping your very last customer of the day, relief settling upon you only minutely. Granted, he was someone you hadn’t expected to show up to a bookstore, not even remotely nor the one in your tiny town but you suppose books had their charm. It’d been nearly ten minutes since you’d rung up Cormac’s book, ten minutes since the shop was set to close and he still stood before you with a grin that was telltale to his flirting.

He’d been trying valiantly to win your affections ever since your sixth year, and even more so when a certain blonde in particular had been far more successful at it than him. You never cared for the boy then, always far too full of himself to see things with any sort of rationality. He’d been too self absorbed to capture any sort of attention from you. You supposed Draco hadn’t been vastly different, he’d certainly had the tendency to be so arrogant, but he was far changed from that now. Leaps and bounds different.

He’d come in what had to be nearly half an hour ago, and surely he hadn’t been as interested in the books he’d been looking at as he’d tried to be. Not with the way you’d met his gaze on more than one occasion. It was laughable, really, to be so flirtatious was something that seemed to be rather tiring after a while. In fact, he’d been so caught up in trying to impress you he’d just about knocked over the newly added display for new arrivals. Perhaps he didn’t know your heart belonged to someone else, to the very same person it belonged to the last time you were in each other’s company. Surely he didn’t know that otherwise he wouldn’t be making a fool of himself.

You sigh at the ever so distinct sound of the bell over the door ringing out, effectively cutting him short of his words momentarily and signaling the entrance of someone else to tend to. Someone that should have read the sign on the door much like the one rapidly overstaying his welcome as the clock had struck seven. The sign on the door had been flipped, it was obvious as the lone four letter word stared back at you and ‘closed’ faced boldly towards the town in red cursive letters. You didn’t take the time to look for just who it’d been that came in, however, continuing to wipe the counter with a sigh.

“We’re closed,” you call out around Cormac’s shoulder, offering him a polite smile. A silence fell over the small store as you purse your lips, and he was quick to continue the conversation just where he’d left off minutes prior.

“We’re going to be traveling across the country next month. It’s the most important match of the season,” he says, his chin in his hand as he leans with his elbow against the counter. His eyes sparkled as he looked at you and you tried your hardest to suppress your giggle; he looked absolutely ridiculous, his heart eyes for you beyond comical.

“Oh really?” You inquire then, completely amused at the sheer effort he’d been so desperately putting into impressing you. Little did he know there’d been a brilliant Healer, the best of his time, that had stolen your heart since the day he’d healed you after a clumsy mishap. Cormac hadn’t changed one bit as you readily expected, and it felt as though you were back at Slughorn’s Christmas party once more.

He nods, fingers tapping against his lip as the corner of his mouth quirked up into a grin. “Perhaps you’d like to join me?”

You had to stop yourself from letting your jaw drop, from allowing the snort that was ready to sound from falling past your lips. Had he always been so bold? You suppose so, you know so.

It hadn’t been terribly hard to stifle your shocked and utterly amused laughter when a newfound distraction arises mere moments later, the clatter of a book or two falling to the floor well heard across the entirety of the space. You frowned at the sound of it, unaware that it wasn’t just some other customer who hadn’t abided by shop hours that’d done it, rather a certain platinum blonde had been responsible for it instead. You were most entirely unaware of the way he’d been plucking miscellaneous books from their shelves and shoving them back into their spots in a pitiful attempt to busy himself all while jealousy brewed deeply within him. Not to mention the way he’d been staring daggers into the quidditch player’s back all the same. He’d gone ahead and dropped the very books in his hand upon hearing the brazen question, his eyes falling closed as his jaw tenses.

He promised you to not get so terribly jealous as he once had as a teen, as he once had most notably with the very same wizard who’d been fawning over you in that very moment. While he was far different from the boy who’d once put harmless jinxes and hexes just to be insufferable, he was strongly considering setting his maturity aside for just this once. With the way he’d been looking at you, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. But, instead he settles for dragging the tip of his finger along the spines of the books before him as if he was interested in their titles, trailing absentmindedly as his cheeks still burned from his clumsy blunder.

That brief moment for distraction and distance from the ridiculous offer put forth to you was rapidly coming to an end, his attention focused on you once more. You sprayed a bit too much cleaner on the already well polished countertop, wiping it down vigorously as you felt his gaze on you. You were starting to wonder just how you ever escaped conversation with him in the past.

“I’m afraid I have to decline your offer,” you say, tossing the paper towel in the trash as you bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling as you thought to the love of your life. The one you so desperately wanted to return home to in that very moment, as you had longed to the whole day. The very man who’d been brooding grumpily just behind the mahogany bookshelves mere paces from you.

Cormac frowns only slightly as his head tilts to the left, his gaze holding yours. “Might I at least ask you to dinner then?”

That was it. That had been the absolute last straw. He hadn’t planned on making his presence known just yet, wanted to hear him make an absolute fool of himself if only for a few moments longer. But he knows there’s absolutely no way he could refrain from chiming in. No, not after that.

You open your mouth to speak, to answer his question despite being at a loss for words—though someone else beats you to it.

“Did you not hear? Shop is closed.” The voice is ever so familiar, holding a certain bite to it that one just couldn’t miss even from a mile away. You could hardly withhold your smile as Draco hopped up on the scuffed wooden counter, his brow raised tauntingly before he turned to look at you. “Right, love?”

You nod, meeting his gaze with a soft smile you tried to keep from growing. The look on his face was nothing short of adoring, but the fond expression held solely for you quickly hardens as it returns to the man in question. He straightens his posture and stands tall in Draco’s presence, the smirk on his lips since dissolving in favor of a tense jaw. He played with the ring on his finger, twirling it round and round as he crossed his ankles nonchalantly and fixed his stare on him rather than uttering the spell that sat so temptingly on his lips.

“Malfoy,” he greets coldly, a short nod to follow as he huffs through his nose.

“McLaggen,” Draco starts, sliding his book across the counter hastily. “I believe this is yours. Is it not?”

He huffs out a humorless laugh as he nods, swiping the book from beneath Draco’s fingertips. He holds his stare for a few fleeting moments, the corner of Draco’s mouth quirking up as he watches him sulk to the door and leave with a not so subtle thud. It was a brief interchange, however, one that spoke volumes of his displeasure and filled the small shop with a tension too thick to ignore.

You exhale a sigh then, brow raised quizzically as you cross your arms and try your hardest to be displeased with his behavior. Granted, he hadn’t turned his hair a rich shade of purple or muted him for the next week with a simple incantation, but you weren’t blind to the way his cheeks flushed pink. Nor did you miss the way his knuckles turned ivory, no matter how brief it may have been.

“Just what are you doing here?” You ask as he swivels in his spot, dipping down to kiss you sweetly.

“Can I not walk you home?” He asks in faux offense, the words pressed into your lips before he kisses you once more. Your smile quickly betrays you at the brush of his lips on yours, more so when they travel upwards to kiss the tip of your nose.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here from St. Mungo’s, you know. I could have apparated, love,” you sigh, your smile still lingering on your lips.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He asks, hopping down from the counter completely. His hands settle on your wrists, uncrossing your arms gingerly before sliding down to envelop your hands. “Besides,” he starts, his lips pressing to your cheek, “that was rather entertaining.”

You roll your eyes immediately, ready to pull your hands from his grasp until he tugged you closer with a laugh. You looked up at him with a beaming smile, one that held a certain mischief he was all too familiar with as you tilted your head. “Not nearly as entertaining as your clumsiness, especially not as much as the blush on your cheeks.”

He quiets the very factual statements falling from your lips with his own, the giggle of yours that sounded against his lips enough to make his blush deepen a shade. You were the only one in history to make his cheeks burn and flush like a fool, the only one in the world to make his heart flutter and pull a genuine smile from him. He supposes, he knows, that it’s always been you. Even when he didn’t realize it, even when he was far too unaware of true love for his own good.

He releases your hands in favor of enveloping you in his arms, your own wrapping around his neck. Any bit of jealousy, no matter how trivial and insignificant it may have been had since dissolved as he lifted you off your feet and spun you. The sheer adoration beaming bright on his face went unseen in the close proximity, your laughter filling the empty shop as his lips trailed from your cheek to the corner of your jaw. His breath was warm and broken against your skin as he laughed softly against it, the mere feeling sending a shiver to run through you.

His hair dipped over his forehead when he found it in him to pull from you, the platinum nearly mingling with his lashes. The look in his eyes, the way they sparkled pale blue and loving was a look far different than the one given to you more than a few moments prior. It just might’ve spoken his feelings more intensely than speaking those very three words aloud to you, it’s loving intensity something he never believed he’d be capable of holding for something, to be capable of having. Yet he’s got it all the same.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know,” you say, smile bright as you run your thumb over his kiss swollen lip and to the pale scarlet dusting his cheeks.

“I don’t believe I ever said I was jealous, darling,” he defends, your smile widening as you reluctantly slip from his arms to retrieve your coat from its hook on the wall. He’d missed the feeling of you so close already, his hand only having just now fallen back to his side only briefly as he watches after you in awe.

“Didn’t have to,” you quip lightheartedly, returning to him to lean on your tiptoes and kiss him sweetly. “You’re terribly obvious, Malfoy.”

He didn’t find it in him to form any sort of witty remark to say, he couldn’t, not with the way your kisses left him breathless and more lovestruck with each passing second. He barely even notices when you grab his hand, switching off each and every lamp in the shop with a simple flick of your finger before tugging him out the door. When the lock clicks behind you, you set off down the cracked sidewalk, the sun dipping deeper in the sky.

“Love?” He asks, hand squeezing yours as he keeps you close.

“Yeah?”

“Since when does he read Shakespeare anyway?” He frowns, brows furrowed to accompany his grumbling as he looks ahead.

You only laugh and lean up to press a kiss on his cheek, the near tumble you almost took from your distraction far too worth it to be embarrassed. Not to mention the smile on his lips. In that moment, you were right where you wanted to be. Hand in hand with the true love of your life as you walk back to your very own home. That was all you needed.

“I love you,” you murmur, “more than anything.”

He huffs out a soft laugh, his heart fluttering. “I love you, more than everything.”

—

Tags: @anchoeritic @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @dracosathenaeum @snitches-at-dawn @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @lunalovecroft @writeroutoftime @lilypad-55449

[tsarisfanfiction]

Make Me

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Scott, Alan

It’s time Alan went to bed, but in true pre-teen fashion, he’s being stubborn about it.

Fluffember/fluff&fun day two, using both prompts cuddles and rug.  Been a little while since I last wrote anything for this duo, but this was the prompt interpretation that jumped out at me after some musing, so this was how I took it!  This is pre-series, but a little while post-Zero-X, with Alan aged 10 and Scott aged 22.

Scott caught sight of the glow beneath Alan’s bedroom door and sighed silently.  Eleven pm wasn’t late by his standards, but for a ten year old it was far too late to still be up.  Not for the first time, he considered removing the games consoles from his room and reinforcing the old room of games in the den only, but that was not an argument to be having with an overtired ten year old right now.

Knocking on the door as a warning, he nudged it open.  The room was a glowing red – red lamp shades throwing the whole room into Alan’s favourite colour, as though the walls and covers weren’t also red.  Scott knew that Virgil was despairing about the colour scheme and hoped that Alan would grow out of his incessant need for red everything as he got older.

Considering Thunderbird Three was red, and Alan had had his eyes on that rocket since Dad first showed him International Rescue, Scott didn’t see the obsession dying down any time soon.

He could understand Virgil’s despair, though.  Red was a very overpowering colour when it was the only colour.  Scott didn’t have to be an artist to know his eyeballs were being assaulted every time he entered his youngest brother’s bedroom.

In his red pyjamas, Alan was laying stomach-down on his red plush rug, legs up in the air and kicking back and forth lazily.  Blue eyes, although they looked more purple as they reflected the tinted light emitting from the wall lamps, looked at him as he entered, widening a little as though their owner hadn’t expected the interruption, before narrowing into a look that Scott knew all too well.

Alan was scheming.

Eleven at night was far too late for preteen schemes, so Scott elected to ignore the warning signs as he strode into the room.

“C’mon, Alan,” he said, reaching the rug and crossing his arms.  “Bed time.”

Alan promptly put his head down on his folded arms and looked up at him challengingly.

“I’m in bed.”

Scott glanced up at the fully-made bed, complete with red comforter and pillow, deliberately and raised an eyebrow.  “No, you’re not.  Up you get, Alan.  Your bed is behind you.”

Red-tinted blue eyes met his challengingly.

“Make me.”

Scott’s shoulders slumped and he sighed again.  He shouldn’t cave, he knew that.  He was hardly a parent, but he had his own memories of how Mom had treated him and John when they were Alan’s age, and more recent examples of parenting from Grandma stepping up, and neither woman ever let them get their own way every time.

“Aren’t you too old for that game?” he asked, parroting an oft-heard phrase from his childhood, but his feet were taking him forward without permission and his knees were bending down even as Alan shook his head with a little devil grin on his face.

The kid had him and they both knew it.

“Up,” he insisted, hooking his hands underneath Alan’s armpits and pulling, fully expecting the usual trick of deadweight child as his brother threw everything he had into making himself as awkward as possible to pick up in what seemed to be every child’s favourite game at some point or other.

Scott knew he’d done it when feeling particularly petty, even if he’d normally loved being picked up.  Grandma liked to point out even now that he’d always loved being in the air.  Alan was similar… except at bed time.

The expected resistance was absent, and Scott almost overbalanced as Alan peeled away from the rug easily, only to grip hold of him tight enough to be one of those things that stuck firmly to rocks at low tide – barnacles, if his hours beachcombing with Gordon had taught him anything.

Or just a limpet. That worked, too.

“Right,” he told the bundle clinging to him, adjusting his grip to make sure he wasn’t going to drop him for the few moments he had him in the air, “bed time for you.”

The resistance came when he set Alan down on the bed and his brother refused to let go.

“Alan,” he said warningly, only to get a wide grin, complete with scrunched up eyes.

“Scott!” the limpet parroted.

“It’s bed time for you, kid,” he tried, shifting his grip so he could start peeling clinging fingers away from his t-shirt.  Every time he got one away, another returned.  “Alan.” His voice slipped into a slightly deeper, marginally demanding, register.  “Let go.”

“Make me,” came the cheeky response.  Definitely tired.

“Alan, it’s time you went to bed,” he said, turning around and sitting down on the bed so that he had both hands free to pry his brother off of him.

Alan lashed out with a foot, kicking the mattress by Scott’s legs, at the same moment he lunged his weight forward, and Scott found himself on his back on Alan’s bed, with the ten year old in question sprawled on his chest.

“In bed,” the blond said smugly.  “Night, Scotty.”

“Uh, no, Alan,” he corrected.  “You’re on your bed, not in it.  In fact, you’re on me, not your bed.”

“Same thing.”

“No, no it’s not,” Scott sighed, sensing a losing argument and not even bothering to get started. John could correct Alan on idioms tomorrow.  “Come on.”

With a heave – ten year olds could be heavy if they were on just the wrong spot – he rolled over onto his side, so that Alan was less on him, and more on the bed where he should be.

The limpet still didn’t let go, and now one of Scott’s arms was trapped awkwardly beneath him, so he had one less hand to try and pry the stubborn child off with.

At this point, it was starting to feel not worth it, even if the Grandma in the back of his head was telling him he shouldn’t let Alan have his way.

Was there really any long term harm to giving in for one night?  The level of red in his vision was obnoxious to his retinas, true, but if he closed his eyes he wouldn’t have to see that – as long as he turned out the lights so the red glow didn’t permeate through his eyelids – and, really, Scott could see no other downsides to waiting until Alan fell asleep before wriggling loose.

No downsides except the fact that Alan’s grip didn’t loosen at all even after he finally fell asleep, leaving Scott with the decision of attempting to get free but risking waking his brother and going through the whole rigmarole again, or giving in and staying where he was for the night, even if it was a bit earlier than he usually went to bed.

The idea of an overtired temper tantrum if Alan woke up made it an easy decision, and Scott let his head rest against the too-red pillow again, waving one hand to turn off the lights so he didn’t have to put up with the colour any more before wrapping the arm around his youngest brother.

Tomorrow, he promised the tutting grandmother in his head, he’d make Virgil put Alan to bed.  Or John.  John was probably the best bet, thinking on it more.  Virgil was enough of a hugger in his own right that Alan wouldn’t even need to resort to trickery.

But that was a problem for tomorrow’s Scott.  Tonight’s Scott was going to pull the comforter up over the pair of them and get an early night for a change.

[tinyboxxtink]

"Not My Yacht" *Chapter 1?*

So this is interesting:

So "Not My Yacht" was my very first fic. Like, I'm talking VERY VERY first.

So when I started asking around about ideas for a new series, a few of my lovelies went through my one shots and this story and "Doodling" got some good votes.

So, I decided to include the one shot and just added to it for a POTENTIAL new series. We'll see how this chapter goes over.

Also I'll be including Rita Calhoun in this for the FIRST time ever, so I may need assistance from @storiesofsvu to get her voice right. I did my best here. I'll be honest I've never really watched her, just that one where that guy blackmailed her or something.

Also Also, if it wasn't obvious enough this is obviously the beginning of the SVU episode "Her Negations".

I don't want to give anything away because I haven't even really thought that far, but I'm 95% sure this is going to turn in a William Lewis situation fic. So...pretty dark. I'm just warning you NOW.

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

And yes, the results are in. There is a part 2!

You breathed in the salty air of the sea of the sunny South Hampton shore; It was a beautiful day for a yacht party.

You walked along the pier as you got closer to your boss’s boat: The Crime Wave. Her husband’s idea of a funny name she claimed as she had invited people from the office to this soiree. You were lucky to even get an invite, just being the assistant to the owner of the law firm. “Who else is going to help me dodge boring conversations with men who just wanted a "free ride” on the bosses boat?“ She had teased you; or at least you hoped she was kidding.

You really wanted to just relax and mingle among the elite lawyers of NYC, seeing as you wanted to be one of them someday.

You saw your boss, Rita Calhoun waving you down as you reached the dock space.

"Ah! There you are, for a minute I thought I’d have to mix my own drinks!” She laughed with a wink. You laugh nervously, unable to discern if she was kidding.

“Calm down sweetie, I’m a big girl. Besides, I like to make them myself, strong,” she laughed again, patting your shoulder. Crap had your face looked that panicked? Keep it cool!

“Go ahead, enjoy yourself. I’ll be here, making sure none of those damn punks tries to sneak on here for free booze,” she scoffed, nodding to a group of highly dressed teens playing chicken on the shoreline.

You nodded with a half laugh, stepping onto the yacht. It was a decent size, a second level deck and a very spacious main level. Not a lot of people had arrived yet, so you decided to pick a spot on the yachts back bench area before all the seating was taken. You began removing your over clothes revealing your swimming wear when you hear Rita greet someone else.

“Ah, Barba. You know we have flare guns on board,”

You turn to see the ADA of New York, Rafael Barba. He’s dressed in a windbreaker and what could be either a dark red or salmon polo. You realize Mrs. Calhoun is referring to the almost neon yellow color of the windbreaker, and you can’t help but giggle. It must have been way too loud because they both turn to you which caused you to immediately shut up and go back to undressing and laying out your towel, but ever so slightly still honed in on the conversation.

“You can never be too careful Rita, who knows how many enemies I’ve made in this town; someone might throw me over,” he smirked.

“And anyone here could make it look like a very convincing accident….even my aspiring protege over there,” Rita nods over to you, knowing full well what you were doing.

Barba turned and looked at you, your body frozen in mid towel thrust. You didn’t know whether to throw it over yourself or just run off the boat right there.

“I know it’s an awful jacket dear, you don’t have to keep staring at him.” She called over to you. God why did she have to be so….her.

“Jesus Rita give the girl a break, or did you invite her just to torture her on unbillable hours?” Barba scoffed with a half smile, walking over to you.

“Is it really worth the minimum wage to put up with her?” He asked.

“Mmm…it’s more for the experience, honestly.” You replied surprisingly smoothly.

“Oh….well I mean I could give you the experience without–” He started but was interrupted by your boss’s loud exclaiming.

“Yeah I’ll BET you’d give her experience Barba! Stop hitting on my intern and mingle with the adults.”

If you could dig a hole straight through the boat into the ocean you would do it right then and there.

“…..Without THAT.” He rolled his eyes, lightly flipping her the bird behind his back. You see her respond with a laugh then turns her attention back to the guests boarding.

“She’s probably been drinking since she got on the boat, yeah?” He asked you.

“I…I don’t know I just got here….” You managed to squeak out as your towel strayed from your hands. Barba grabbed it and helped you reposition it on the bench.

“Kinda windy for a yacht party, but Rita will take any chance to celebrate anything remotely resembling a boost to her ego. Am I right?” He chuckled, before sitting down on your towel.

“Just to keep it from blowing away, do you mind?” He asked, gesturing for you to join him. You nodded a boisterous “NO”, plopping next to him on the bench.

“I’m Rafael Barba,” he extended his hand to you, which you took and shook gently, praying to God he didn’t notice you were literally shaking. You had probably had the biggest crush on him since you started working with Mrs. Calhoun, he was constantly in her office challenging her with warrants and favors.

“Oh yeah I know,” you blurted out, mentally facepalming immediately.

“I see….” He raised an eyebrow. “And you are….?”

You were about to answer when his phone went off. He answered it putting one finger up and mouthing the words “one second.”

“Barba. Yeah….what? Seriously, Olivia? On a Sunday?!” He groaned into his phone with an exaggerated eye roll. He raised his hand and ran it over his face begrudgingly as he talked.

“Yeah….alright, fine. Yeah I’ll be there, give me an hour. I’m in the Hamptons. Because it’s my day off, Liv! Do you think I lock myself in my office over the weekends like a vampire in a coffin? Yeah…I’m sorry, I just…” He glanced at you.

“I was enjoying my Sunday.” He gave you a small sad smile.

“Yeah. Ok. See you soon.” He hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry, I gotta go back to the city. Don’t let Rita push you around too much, okay?” He chuckled, rubbing the top of your head like a puppy. You felt your face scrunch up in annoyance, seriously? He thought of you as a kid?!

He obviously noticed, and quickly held out his hand again very sternly.

“Sorry, future counselor.” He said in an overly serious tone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. Again. Like an idiot.

Relieved he had fixed his faux paux, he gave you one last beautiful Barba grin as he jogged over to Rita and told her something before nodding to you once again, then walked off the boat and disappearing down the pier.

Your boss sauntered over to you, a shit eating grin across her face.

“Well Cinderella, you sure kept that cool.” She gestured for your phone beside you.

“Be sure to tell him your name this time,” she winked, handing it back to you. You glanced down at it as she walked away; she had added a number to your contacts.

“BHole Barba.” You laughed out loud. Nice. Maybe she wasn’t such a horrible boss after all….

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

By Monday you still hadn’t had the balls to text Rafael Barba. You had just stared at the number in your phone, imagining all the possibilities contacting him would lead to. You may have gotten so far as planning your summer wedding in the Hamptons, but nobody needed to know that.

But you had chickened out and left it alone, and now you were sitting at your desk typing up a memo for Rita when you saw him come waltzing through the door.

“Ah, Cinderella!” He smiled at you.

“Hey…” Your mind went blank, you couldn’t think of words. Wait, had he already given you a nickname?

“Cinderella?” You blinked in confusion.

“Well I never caught your name-- But I guess I shouldn’t even push it, you’ve clearly moved on and I must seem like a creep,” His train of thought proceeded out loud as he realized you hadn’t taken his number and here he was still flirting with you. Rita had given it to you, he had seen her type it in your phone. Obviously you weren’t interested, why was he pushing this?

“What? NO!” You said a little louder than you intended, actually a lot louder than you intended. You slapped your hand over your mouth after your little outburst, but to you relief he was still smiling.

“Oh? Well I suppose that’s good…” He was obviously fishing for your excuse as to why you had waited until he popped back in your face to talk to him.

“No, I um--” You racked your brain for an excuse that wasn’t “I was busy planning our lives together”.

“I….couldn’t think of something interesting to say,” You finally admitted with a pitiful sigh. You were not a good liar, and under pressure, forget about it.

Again, he still smiled-- but this time he laughed along with it.

“I mean, ‘Hello’ is always an option,” He chuckled. “Or...your name?”

“Oh!” Idiot. You hadn’t even given him your name, how was he supposed to fall madly in love with you without a name?

“Y/N,” You stuck your hand out awkwardly, Was this a ‘shake hands’ moment? Hadn’t you already met before? You stared at your hand as you moved it slightly back and forth, arguing with yourself whether or not this was necessary. Luckily, Rafael settled the argument by taking your hand and shaking it firmly.

His hands were so soft, his long fingers enveloped yours in them. You lost yourself in the moment, and before you knew it he was making an uncomfortable cough, snapping you back to reality. You dropped his hand and snapped yours back into your body like a zip cord, your face in a horrified stare.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, that was so weird. I’m weird. I’m--”

“Well I don’t know what you were so worried about Cinderella, you’re clearly a chatterbox,” He gave you a tongued smile, referring to the word vomit you just couldn’t help spill all over him.

“Oh yeah, I’m a total word machine,” You laughed nervously. A word machine? What the fuck was that?

“...Word machine. Right,” He nodded in amusement. “Well word machine, would you mind shooting some words to my phone, or do you just enjoy this face to face thing?”

“With that face? Definitely the latter. But you can have my number anyway,” You typed a quick message and sent it to his number. Damn that was smooth! How did you do that?

Rafael made an impressed face with your line, but when he opened his phone his brows furrowed.

“Hit?” He gave you a curious look as he read the text out loud.

“Fuck it was supposed to be ‘hi’-- stupid autocorrect,” You muttered angrily. Yeah, that was more like you.

“Oh yes, the dreaded autocorrect,” He nodded while saving your number. “Turning fucks into ducks since 2011,”

“Oh I didn’t have a phone in 7th grade but I’ll take your word for it,” You laughed, but stopped when his face twisted into a mix of horror and discomfort when he realized how young you actually were.

Dammit. Why...why would you do this?

“....Right, is Rita in?” He quickly shoved his phone back in his pocket and headed into Rita’s office before you could answer.

“...Idiot!” You yelled at yourself as your hands went over your face and your face planted into your desk.

Well, that was nice while it lasted. All 2.5 seconds of it.

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

“Well Barba, about time,” Rita smirked as Rafael abruptly burst into her office trying to get away from you. “Done flirting with the intern are we?”

“Shut up,” He rolled his eyes, though his face was a deep shade of red.

“Oh no, what happened? Did your dentures fall out in front of her?” She smirked.

“I’m younger than you!!” He scoffed.

“Yeah but I’m not the one trying to boff a 25 year old,” She smirked harder, making Rafael angrier.

“Can I just get the warrant I came here for, Rita?” He huffed.

“Oooh, struck a nerve there, did I?” Rita chuckled as she grabbed some papers from her desk and started to hand them to him. “Barba, for the record I’m really not judging you. If I were 20 years younger, I’d hit it too,”

“Excuse me?”

“I had a lot of ‘cats’ in college,” She winked.

“Wow,” Rafael held up his hands. “Rita, we really don’t need to be that personal.”

“Fine, but all I’m saying is if you like the girl, don’t let a stupid thing like age deter you. Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s actually very competent and organized. I would almost prefer her not to graduate, unless she'd come work for me. She’s going to be a hell of a lawyer,” She gestured outside to your desk.

Rafael looked at the ground as he mulled over what she was saying, a small smile crawled across his lips as she complimented your potential.

“I’ll take that under advisement, Mrs. Calhoun,” He nodded as he walked towards the door with the papers in his hand, a huge smile across his face now.

He walked out to find you cursing at yourself and whimpering in embarrassment at your desk. When you heard the door shut you snapped to attention and stared at him, shocked he hadn't sprinted out of the office like Usain Bolt. Even more shocking was that Cheshire cat grin now upon his face.

“I-I’m sorry, I totally meant I was--” You tried doing math trying to make yourself reasonably older.

“It’s fine,” He chuckled as he put a hand over your counting fingers. You blushed at the touch of his skin on yours again, but quickly shoved your hands under the desk nervously as you tried not to look him square in the eye. His eyes were so gorgeous you were positive staring straight into them would actually get you pregnant.

“So does Rita ever unchain you from this desk?” He smirked as he was now very aware and very amused at how nervous he made you. He may be old, but clearly he’s still got it.

“Oh yeah, if I ask very nicely she let’s me--” You tried to think of something witty, but it wasn’t coming with him staring at you with those eyes. “....Yes,” You wanted to put your hands over your face but you didn’t want it to be a ‘thing’.

“Well, maybe if you’re an extra good girl she’ll let you off your leash early tonight,” He winked.

“....Am I a dog or a toddler in that situation?” You were genuinely asking, but Rafael clearly realized how insulting that must have seemed.

“Oh no no no, I just, shit,” He tried to backtrack but if he was being totally honest, you made him nervous. Maybe he didn’t have ‘it’ as much as he thought.

You noticed he was the one blushing now, oh my god were you making him nervous? QUICK, BE SMOOTH. BE SMOOTHER THAN YOU’VE EVER BEEN IN YOUR LIFE.

“Are you asking me out, counselor?” You did your best “sultry “voice with a bat of your eyes. Were you batting them too much? What was too much? Oh god you’ve done it for too long now. STOP BATTING.

“...I don’t know, guess you’ll have to wait for me to text you, future counselor,” He was impressed by the line, and decided to bow out before either of you made idiots of yourselves again. He gave you a wink and sauntered out of the office.

Great. Now he’ll probably make you wait two days for a--

*BEEP*

Your phone went off in your desk. You pulled it out to see a text message:

BHOLE BARBA: Dinner? Tonight?

You really needed to change his contact name. But that wasn’t the point right now. He just asked you out. Rafael Barba just asked you out. You stared at in your hands, unsure of what to do. Then you realized you couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t just sit there and imagine things, this required an immediate response.

You nervously typed a reply and hit SEND:

Sire ;)

“DAMMIT!!!” You cursed your autocorrect. You instantly sent another text.

Sure***

Before you could lecture yourself again, your phone beeped again:

BHOLE BARBA: Play

Play? What did that--

BHOLE: Okay** ;)

You typed the word ‘okay’ into your text reply bubble, ‘play’ came up in the autocorrect word list.

He was joking with you. He was flirting with you. RAFAEL BARBA WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU.

This work day could not end fast enough.

[transhawks]

So does that mean bakugou is also a abelist too and so was most of the kids in the class since you call Inko one I mean if you are going to go that far

"Go that far"

Let's unpack this because this is more than just an opinion about anime and hopefully what I write can change your opinion on a lot of things going forward in your life. Which is an opportunity I am very happy about. A lot of people really get upset when you call something "ist". Racist, Ableist, Cissexist, etc. Or the phobic words.. You get my meaning. But the upset over it shows that people mistake what is really being said because we think very simplistically about this - that everyone who is an "ist" or a "phobe" is inherently a bad person.

Why? It's due to a lot of people getting caught up in individual actions over the societal motivations behind them. So, if I was to say "every white person is racist" or "every man is a misogynist" it feels like an unfair absolute, right? Not all people are like that, right? What if someone is actively trying to be an exception? The point blank statement feels mean, right? How could you just generalize?

Here's the thing, the reason the general statement is made is because it more talks about society than individuals. What I mean is this - not every white person (in the US or West, though we can talk about other places too) is actively being bigoted, but we are born in societies that have historically (and today too!) been built and profited off the oppression or exploitation of people of color. And like in a lot of things dealing with unfair power structures, there's a lot of motivation to make sure shit does not change you know, which is why people end up, even if they don't realize what they are doing, defending things. Are they trying to be actual bigots? No, not always, and something to learn is that a lot of these ism do not equal just plain bigotry. There's always a power structure behind it, or an imbalance. So, you can find someone who is bigoted but isn't actually being an 'ist'. When a lot of people complain about 'reverse' anything, what they are usually talking about is bigotry, which is an individual action that on its own doesn't confirm or defend a power structure.

I know this is a bit complicated. It took me a few years to grasp it too, but understanding the difference is really important.

Now, let's go back to Bakugou. In my post about Deku and Inko and how Deku states how much her initial reaction to his quirkless was hurt him for much of his childhood, I did mention that Inko admitted she didn't support him. So there's no argument about whether she did or didn't because Inko took accountability for her mistake. Now, the reason she did it in the first place was because she grew up in a society that tells people quirks are their personalities.

I made a post a couple weeks ago about Deku and Hawks and being 'selected' out of their circumstances where I talk about how the Quirkless are sort of seen as lesser humans simply due to the way Quirk society has folded. You can see it the older name given to Ujiko before the changes, and in Izuku being read as 'Deku'; the implication is of wooden people, puppets, etc. Then you have lots of ranting on the MLA part that revealed that a there kid's books that teach kids people aren't always their Quirks but that this is seen as a very PC concept and not really taken in by the population. Sure the average person probably isn't a Geten level supremacist, but we see how the Fox lady was treated when she was walking outside by her neighbors, or how Spinner was bullied, even by his own family, or just what Endeavor did to 'fix his quirk'.

Inko is a 4th generation quirk owner. That means one, or more, of her great-grandparents have been quirk users. Dr. Tsubasa, upon seeing Deku, also says it's rare for someone to be like him these days, implying the statistic given to us by the manga, or the 4:5 are quirk owners, is very much based on age (I've seen people put forth it might also be location based too). Toshinori adds to this by saying it was more common when he was a kid, and he is likely in his 50s.

Okay, so that's the society Izuku is born too, right? Stay with me, I know this is long but we're getting to Katsuki right now.

In the ask that you messaged about where I explain why Inko's initial problem can be criticized, I said what she did is very similar to how parents treat children with disabilities or illnesses. Hence, why you said I was calling her ableist. As I've been trying to explain in this ask Inko may not be actively trying to be 'ableist' and bigoted, but her apologizing to her son was an issue that he felt insecure over. And that this is of course tied into the fact quirk society does not treat the Quirkless well.

You see this early set of panels? This was Deku explaining that Katsuki only began to bully him really when he manifested his quirk. Why? Because there was a clear difference in the way he was treated and the way Deku was.

These panels show Katsuki looking at Deku and seeing how he's being talked about. Children are impressionable and understand that there are these dynamics even if they don't get why. Katsuki is being told here that he's amazing, that he's going to achieve greatness, and being praised. Deku is being whispered about, pitied. They are not the same. It even goes into their teens:

Katsuki is immediately praised even if he was the one in need of rescue. Deku's actions bought time for All Might but he's seen as reckless especially when he's Quirkless. I've said in the post I linked that Deku's amazing traits - his natural skill at analysis, his quick wits and reactions, and dauntless nature are really where he shines, but until he had a quirk, that society didn't see any of that about him. This is a clear example of how much importance people place on quirks. So is it any wonder in a society like this that a little kid like Katsuki soaks it all in?

Deku also calls Katsuki a bully a few times. I'm not going to post the panels here but I collected a few so there's an absolute acknowledgment on Deku's part that he is bullied for being quirkless.

As I said in the previous ask, you can't remove a lot of these actions from greater societal trends. I also, personally, refuse to label Katsuki as an abuser because he is a child and abuse is usually a very intimate thing which is not the relationship Katsuki had as a former friend. He was, however, a bully who does bigoted things like tell Deku to jump off a roof if he wants to be a hero so he can get quirk in the next life. So, he was bullying out of bigotry and doing so out of societal norms and ideals that he has absorbed growing up.

Most children that are bullied are bullied on differences, and a lot of the time it really does fall on the same divides that as adults turn into oppressions. The children's bullying reinforces the same dynamics marginalized faces outside of childhood.

So, to finally answer your question, if 'quirklessness' is pretty much a bnha-verse disability and is treated very similarly some that we have in real life, then yes, Katsuki as a child and a tween was indeed 'ableist'. But again, this is not remarkable..I don't want to say he's exceptionally bigoted even since so much of it was also fueled by his own insecurities and cognitive dissonance when it comes to Izuku. And unlike Inko, who unconsciously hurt Izuku, Katsuki did so actively but, again, he was a child and he is capable of maturing, reforming, and learning which I think perhaps he might be heading to. EDIT: a few hours after I posted this, he apologized to Izuku so he has gotten there! Katsuki was this was because he was raised to be, so outright condemning a 16 year old for a norm doesn't really solve the real issue that it was a norm, does it?

Now, I will say for victims, it's often very hard to parse this too. Even if it's normalized, the individual bigotry of a person does hurt, and it really doesn't matter to kids that it's other kids. It's why a lot of people who are marginalized will bring up childhood memories, because we are shaped so much by our experiences as kids. But kids don't always have cognitive ability to challenge the norms and ideals around them, it's one of the biggest differences between an adult and a child. Making Katsuki out to be 'biggest bigot ever' is not what I am trying do with this ask, and it's silly to think so.

I will thank you for giving me the opportunity to write this answer. I often forget that my style of applying what seem to me very basic concepts in discussions of identity to anime analysis are not as basic I assume. Your ask seemed incredulous but it reads as someone genuinely new to the concept of societal vs individual actions, and how oppression and strata work with that. I hope that whatever you gained from this ask is something you can apply to a realize situation in the future by the dynamics I speak are real life ones, with genuine real consequences, and I'm happy I can use a manga as teaching or outreach tool. Thank you for allowing to do so.

[stargazing-enby]

The Mysterious Case of the Unclaimed Jumper

Thanks @april-thelightfury115 for betaing!

Drarry | 2k | Teen and Up | Eighth Year, Pining, Fluff | Read on AO3

“Harry!" 

Ron and Hermione halted, leaving Harry no choice but to do the same. He was exhausted, and it had already taken too much energy to get up from their table at the Three Broomsticks so they could make it to the Hogwarts grounds before Filch closed the gates in their faces. The last thing he wanted was to talk to people, lovely as Madam Rosmerta was. 

“Sorry to keep you, kids, but someone forgot this on one of the tables. Would you please do me the favour of taking it back to Hogwarts with you? I still have patrons to attend.” 

“Uh...sure.” Harry took the khaki jumper she was handing him—gosh, but it was much softer than it looked—and she smiled at him appreciatively. 

“How do you know it’s from a Hogwarts student, though?” Hermione asked. 

Madam Rosmerta snorted. 

“Because none of my patrons are naive enough to step into the inn whenever you kids are taking over the town. Teenagers are loud as all hell, in case you hadn’t noticed!” 

“All right,” Harry said quickly, dreading the idea of the exchange turning into a full-fledged conversation. “We’ll take care of it. Have a nice evening, Madam Rosmerta.” 

On their way back to the castle, though, Harry started to regret his decision. It was the beginning of the school year, and the transition from summer to autumn had fooled many Hogwarts students into putting on warm clothes to fight the morning chill, which meant practically everyone had ended up carrying jumpers and jackets over their shoulders and around their waists for most of the day. The jumper could be anyone’s. 

“What are you going to do with the jumper, anyway? It could be anyone’s,” Hermione echoed his thoughts, turning from Ron to Harry.

“I have no idea,” Harry admitted.

“Maybe you could hand it to one of the Heads of House. Or...” Her voice shifted into that tone of hers that meant she knew she’d come up with a brilliant idea, “we could tell the ghosts to ask around the castle and see if anyone is missing a jumper!” 

Even as Harry nodded, Ron shook his head in disbelief. 

“Or you could just smell it,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world and he couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to either of them. Harry and Hermione just stared at him. “What?” 

“That’s kind of creepy,” Harry said. 

“Wha— No it’s not! Don’t you know clothes smell like their owners?” Silence. Ron looked increasingly exasperated. “Come on, don’t tell me your families didn’t smell the clothes lying around the house all the time to figure out who they belonged to!” 

“Er…I’m afraid not.” 

“That’s probably only a necessity when you have seven kids’ clothes to keep track of,” Hermione offered. 

“Yeah…fair enough,” Ron grumbled. “Still, it won’t hurt to try. If it’s from someone our year we’ll probably be able to recognise them.” 

Harry doubted that would be the case, but then Hermione and Ron turned to him, expectant, and he didn’t have a choice but to bring a corner of the jumper to his face and give it a sniff. 

“...Oh.”

“Well?” Hermione asked. 

“It’s…” Harry smelled it again. “It’s familiar.” Familiar and nice, he thought, giving it one extra sniff for good measure. “But I just can’t tell who it is.” 

“Oh?” Ron grabbed a sleeve, brought it to his nose. “Hmm…Yeah, I see what you mean. It’s definitely not a Gryffindor bloke. ‘Mione, why don’t you try?” 

“I’ll pass, thank you very much.” 

“Eh, that’s fine. I’m sure if we leave it in the Eighth Year Common Room someone will claim it sooner or later.” 

“Yeah,” Harry murmured, folding the jumper properly over his arm. 

As a new conversation started, Harry held the jumper a little bit closer. 

***

The stupid thing was still where they’d left it—hung over one of the Common Room couches, the one nearest the hearth—when they came back from Hagrid’s, its pale khaki tone contrasting starkly with the purple sofa. 

Hermione led the way to their usual corner of the room, keen on getting some more homework done before bed, and Harry tried to ignore the jumper, just visible out of the corner of his eye. His friends had clearly forgotten about it, and Harry didn’t bring it up again. 

But the feel of it, the scent of it, was ingrained in his thoughts, and concentrating on his Potions essay soon proved to be an impossible task. Merlin, he knew that scent. He knew it well; every time he’d sniffed the jumper, it’d been like a word was on the tip of his tongue; like a thought in the back of his mind wouldn’t come forth.

Like there was a need, buried deep within him, that he couldn’t fulfill, because he didn’t know what it was he was yearning for. Who it was he was yearning for. 

So he looked. Every few minutes, as much as he tried to avoid it, he looked back at the couch, waiting, hoping that someone would walk past and go, Hey! That’s where it was! And the missing piece inside Harry’s mind would finally click. 

But no one picked the jumper up, and when practically everyone had gone to their dorms, and Ron and Hermione had finished neglecting their homework—Ron’s fingers tracing Hermione’s knuckles, her cheek resting on his shoulder, a goofy smile brightening his face—and seemed ready to call it a night, Harry decided he simply couldn’t leave it alone. 

“You guys go ahead,” he told them. “I feel like I’m finally making progress with this essay, and if I stop now it’s going to be impossible to pick it up again tomorrow.”

As soon as he was alone, though, Harry stuffed the parchment in his bag and made for the couch at a pace just slightly faster than could be reasonably considered walking. 

Ah. The scent was just as enticing as he remembered it from earlier. 

Harry basked in it for a few moments. When someone walked into the Common Room—Terry and Hannah, who nodded at him on their way to their dorms—he let go of it as though it had burned him, but as soon as he was alone again he draped it over his lap and raked a hand over it, thinking, wondering. 

It wasn’t Hannah’s or Terry’s, Harry knew: not just because they hadn’t recognised it on sight, but because the smell did not belong to either of them. It was…deeper. It was masculine, definitely—a hint of sweat at the armpit area, like the owner hadn’t taken it off straight away after growing hot underneath it—and it was intense, in that it did things to Harry; riled him up, and brought him back down from the high, only to make his heart quicken again as soon as the thrill of it had diluted in his veins. 

Sighing, Harry lay on his back and placed the jumper, once again, over the armrest behind his head, just close enough for the scent to reach him. 

The hearth crackled. A House Elf vanished the crumbs and dust from the floor with a spell and disappeared again. Nearly-Headless Nick floated by, but didn’t seem to notice him. 

The door to the Common Room didn’t open again. 

***

“Are we going to do this every night now?” Greg grumbled, dragging the last word—practically dragging himself to the Common Room behind Draco. 

“Only until I force Slughorn to give me an Outstanding,” Draco said. “Which won’t take long, because my first essay was clearly perfect, and if that one wasn’t enough for him, this one will for sure. I swear that old man has it out against me!” 

A portrait shushed him, and Draco flipped it the bird. It wasn’t like there was anyone sleeping in the bloody halls. Or roaming them, for that matter: only Prefects and Eighth Years were allowed outside the Common Rooms past curfew, and it had been a good hour since he’d seen any of the former around. 

“Gardyloo,” he told Sir Cadogan upon reaching the Eighth Year Common Room entrance. Glad as he was that he didn’t have to share a space with people from other years, entering his new Common Room had to be one of the most draining moments of his day. And so, before Sir Cadogan could start spewing nonsense about him and Greg, Draco Silencio’d him, watching as the knight gestured dramatically without uttering a sound until the door had closed. 

“Draco, isn’t that your…?”

Draco saw it just as Greg pointed at it. 

“My jumper.” Salazar, he’d put that jumper on that morning, hadn’t he? When had he even taken it off? He’d completely forgotten all about it. 

He doubted he would ever forget the sight that greeted them, however. 

“Uh, Draco…? What’s Potter doing with your jumper?” 

“It would seem that he is cuddling it, Gregory,” Draco said, tone flat. Completely out of tune with his raging thoughts. 

“More like curling himself around it,” Greg murmured, and Draco could only agree. 

Merlin. Potter looked so young when he slept. So small, like he was afraid to take up space. His hair fanned over his forehead and his face, some of it caught between his arm and Draco’s jumper. His chest falling and rising slowly, evenly. His feet pressed close as if to keep their warmth. 

Draco shook his head, annoyed that he had allowed himself to be caught off-guard by the sight, and walked up to Potter. Grasped his jumper, and pulled at it. 

Potter’s eyes snapped open and stared right into his. 

***

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Fuck,” Harry slurred, sitting up, half-asleep and entirely too awake, as Malfoy took the jumper from him and just stared at him. “Fuck. Sorry. Madam Rosmerta told me to bring it…the...you’d left it there. It’s yours, right?” he asked, even though he didn’t need to. It was Malfoy’s, of course it was Malfoy’s. His strong, deep, alluring scent was unmistakable now. 

“Yes,” Malfoy said. He sounded weird—strained. His eyes were fixed on Harry. “It’s mine.” 

“Right,” Harry nodded. Then, after a few moments: “Er. Sorry about that. I must’ve fallen asleep.”

Malfoy snorted. 

“Never would’ve guessed.” 

“Can we go to bed now?” 

Harry whipped his head around—he hadn’t noticed Goyle was there with them. 

“Go ahead,” Malfoy told him. “I’m right behind you.”

“M’kay then. G’night, Potter,” Goyle said with a yawn, dragging his feet to the stairs. 

“Er…night?” 

Malfoy huffed again. 

“Don’t mind him. He’s an idiot when he’s sleepy.”

“No offence, but he’s an idiot all the time,” Harry said. 

“You’re one to talk.” Malfoy looked at him, then. He wasn’t as stiff now, although he was still weirdly clinging to his jumper, a gesture that reminded Harry of his own fixation with it earlier. “No one with more than two brain cells falls asleep in the Common Room, honestly.” 

“Piss off, I was exhausted!” 

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” Malfoy retorted. “That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t utilise your perfectly comfortable bed to meet the need, though.” 

Harry glared at him, and Malfoy arched an eyebrow. 

“Well?”

“Why do you want to know so bad?” Harry bit back—a little childishly, he knew, but it wasn’t like Malfoy was acting much more maturely right now. “Did you enjoy the sight that much?” 

“Wh—don’t be preposterous!” Malfoy spluttered, a grimace distorting his sharp features. A grimace that did nothing to distract Harry from the angry blush spreading across his cheeks. From the way Malfoy averted his gaze, clutching at the jumper so hard he was almost twisting it. 

“Oh my god,” Harry breathed. “You did enjoy it, didn’t you?” 

Malfoy’s panicked gaze turned back to him. 

“No, I didn’t!” 

Almost as mesmerised as he was amused, Harry stood. He took one more look at Malfoy’s increasingly flushed expression, just to be sure he wasn’t reading it wrong, and then stepped into Malfoy’s personal space. When Malfoy’s breath hitched, Harry, heart in his throat, brought a hand to his flushed cheek. It was soft: softer than the jumper. 

Malfoy stood completely still, wide eyes stuck on Harry’s face. A breath stuck in his lungs: waiting. 

Heart racing, Harry let his hand stray back. Let himself caress Malfoy’s cheek and jaw, let himself cup Malfoy’s head at the nape, play with the hair there—Merlin, was there anything about Malfoy that wasn’t illegally soft?—and lean forward to take a long, deep sniff of his hair. 

Malfoy shivered, and it suddenly hit Harry just how close their bodies were. 

“Potter.” a broken whisper.

Harry inhaled again, his own skin tingling with excitement—anticipation—lust for that scent. That scent that belonged to Malfoy, that now had every reason to drive him fucking insane, to draw him near, to leave him hanging. How had he not recognised it straight away? There was nobody else who could elicit such a response from him. Whose mere closeness thrilled him like this. 

“I needed to know,” Harry said, voice low, as he let his hand slide down slightly, a caress that ended on the jut of Malfoy’s spine at the base of his neck, fingers splayed over the edge of a shoulder blade. Then, pulling back his hand, taking a step back: “I needed to know who that intoxicating scent belonged to.”

As Harry retreated toward the stairs, Malfoy swayed, eyes closed. Jumper clutched close to his chest. 

***

The following evening, when Harry arrived at the Common Room after dinner, a deep grey jumper was draped over the armrest of the couch closest to the hearth. 

[the-great-imagines-of-1812]

La Vie En Rose- Bucky Barnes x Rogers! reader

Summary: By some miracle, Bucky Barnes doesn’t fall of the train on that cold day in the Swiss alps in 1945. He spend the rest of his days with his girl; you.

Song Used: La Vie En Rose // (The Louis Armstrong version)

Hold me close and hold me fast The magic spell you cast 

You remember the day your Sergeant first set foot in New York City after 2 years of fighting overseas so vividly. Two pairs of arms clutched each of yours; Rebecca, Bucky’s sister, on one side and Winnifred, his mom, on the other. 

Dozens on regiments have reached the US several days before, but because both Bucky and Steve were stuck on one last mission, something in The Swiss Alps, as he had expressed in a letter, they were due on the second to last ship.

But now you were here. Two years of tears, nail-biting anxiety, and exchanging letters back and forth had finally come to an end, and soon both your boys were coming home. 

If it weren’t for the three of you standing near the back, you wouldn’t have seen the ship due to all the people crowding the Brooklyn harbor. Thousands of wives, sisters, brothers, families and best friends all crowded together on that day were there were no clouds in the sky. 

It seemed like some sort of sign. All the madness of war had finally reached it’s end; and now the sun was welcoming the country’s men home.

The magic spell you cast This is "La vie en rose"

You didn’t see Steve or Bucky at first. Rebecca clutched on to you, the poor girl almost breaking out into sobs as the three of you had been waiting nearly an hour since the boat had come into sight. 

Winnifred stood on the very tip of her heels, hand over her eyes, in an attempt to block out the sun so she could get a better look at the soldiers walking down the gangplank. 

The shriek she let out could’ve made you deaf if you didn’t realize what it was for. Helping Rebecca up from the ground where she had collapsed, you clasped a hand over you mouth as the last of the soldiers set foot on solid ground, Bucky and Steve among them. 

Rebecca sped away quickly, her body crashing onto her brother’s in a tight hug. Walking up to them yourself, with Winnifred close behind, you gave Steve a tap on the shoulder and he turned around with a smile.

“Stevie, look at you! You’re so tall now. You’ll have to reach the flour on the shelf for me now.” you smiled, while he wrapped you in a now- tight - hug. 

“I have absolutely no problem at all reaching the flour for-” he attempted to answer you, but was cut off by Bucky.

“What m’ I,  dollface, chopped liver?” He said from behind you. 

Turning around and practically jumping on him, he wrapped two arms around your back. He was warm and smelled like fresh pine. Tucking your head into his neck, you felted grounded and safe. 

Because he was home. 

“Let go of the sister, Buck. She does live with me, and we oughta to all go home to catch a rest.”

“Oh shove off Steve. She may be your sister, but she’s my girl and I missed her.”

When you kiss me, heaven sighs And though I close my eyes I see "La vie en rose"

The day that Bucky got down on one knee with his mom’s ring in hand was one you’ll remember for ever. 

It was a year after he had come home, and Steve had put him through the third degree (despite being his best friend) when he stood at the doorway of the small apartment that you and Steve shared with a small bunch of flowers.

You had come out a few minutes later, with a dusty green dress, hair curled to perfection and a red lip.

Steve had demanded that he bring you home by 9, how he couldn't  hurt you, the regular stuff he would say when Bucky came to take you out on a date. 

The stars seemed to shine for only you two that night. There was a soft jazz tune playing throughout the park. The pair of you had just gone to dinner, and couldn’t stop giggling, which earned you a few stares from the elderly people trying to enjoy a quiet night.

But he sat you down on a bench, grabbed both your hands gently, while he got down on one knee, probably delivering what was the most moving monologue you had ever heard in your life:

“Y/N M/N Rogers, love of my life, doll-”

You knew what was coming. Tears streamed down your face in happiness. “Buck I-”

“Just please hun- let me say what I gotta’ say. We’ve known each other for a very long time now. And ever since I can remember, Steve always threatened to punch me whenever I did so much as look at you.”

This earned a laugh from you.

“But somehow, we made it work, and the three of us ran around Hell’s Kitchen like the mighty trio we still are. Hiding under the watchful eye of Steve in our late teens and early twenty’s was not easy- but here we are. And before I left for England, I promised I was gonna marry ya. And I’m a man of my word.”

He let go of both your hands to dig for something in his pocket. After a few seconds, he pulled out a little red box.

“This ring belonged to my mom, and now it’s mine to use. I hope you’ll let me give it to you. You are the love of my life. I might not have much, but I sure love you with everything I have. Will you marry me?”

You practically jumped on him, and if he wasn’t on one knee and hadn’t managed to maintain balance, he would’ve fallen over. Peppering kisses all over his face while he wrapped his arms around you. 

“I’ll take this as a yes, doll?”

“You bet, Sergeant.”

“Now let me put this ring on you, hmm?”

When you press me to your heart I'm in a world apart

You became Mr. and Mrs. Barnes in the fall of that same year. It was a small wedding, so there wasn’t much planning.

It was held in one of Howard Stark’s many residences, an small estate in Albany, which he offered to have the wedding held, and even officiated himself, as he had been a close friend of yours since you had entered a career in science, and had helped Bucky and Steve overseas. 

There weren’t may people in attendance, but that was exactly what you and Bucky had wanted. There was Steve and your soon-to-be sister in law, Peggy (which you had gotten along fabulously with), Bucky’s mother and father and siblings, Howard himself (of course) and his girlfriend, Maria.

The golden rays of the sun shone through the high windows, light bouncing off practically everything in the room. You had previously saved up enough for a dress, and maybe Howard had given you a bonus in the past couple of weeks just so you could. He didn’t tell you that, of course.

As soon as you had been pronounced man and wife, Bucky swept you up in his arms, giving you a quick spin, dipping you, which got “Calm down you two rabbits-” from Howard. Maria slapped him after.

Celebration soon followed in the dining room of the home, with a home-made meal, courtesy of Winnifred, Rebecca, Peggy and Maria all together.

You couldn’t have been more thankful.

A world where roses bloom And when you speak, angels sing from above

The Barnes Family had been blessed with twins two years later, in 1948. One girl, and one boy; Rebecca Margaret Barnes and Robert Howard Barnes. They lit up both you and Bucky’s life, and you both became involved in a much more domestic life, now moving to the suburbs, but still remaining in the state of New York in order to be close to friends and family, which now included your new niece, Sarah Y/N Rogers. 

Howard and Maria had yet to have kids, but they were in no rush to get married, either. 

Every weekday Bucky would come home from work at the bank, were he was finally able to make the money he had been dreaming of his entire life, and your worked from home, making many blueprints for Stark Industries, which you were now the co-owner of, and spent some days at your office in the city while Maria had offered to babysit numerous times. 

Fridays Bucky would bring home soda-pop for the entire family, which was then followed by a big dinner made by you, and dancing in the living room with Bucky till’ midnight, when the kids were already in bed. 

Saturdays were for the Rogers, Barnes and Stark families to get together and have a picnic in the park you, Bucky, and Steve had grown up in. Maria always had the habit of bringing the watermelon, you the apple pie, and Peggy with her famous  English biscuits. 

Sundays, Winnifred practically dragged three families to church, much to everyone’s protest, but it was always followed by a plentiful Sunday dinner.

Nobody ever complained about that.

Everyday words seem to turn into love songs Give your heart and soul to me,

The years had passed, yet none of these traditions faltered, even when all the kids were of age to leave for their college education. 

Minus one Anthony ‘Tony’ Stark, who had been born in 1970. He was the youngest of the bunch. 

As Rebecca and Robert Jr. had moved off to college in New Jersey at the same time, you and Bucky moved back to the city, not to far from The Starks.

The only one tradition that never faltered was yours and Bucky’s dancing on Friday nights, where you often danced to the song form your wedding- “Dream A Little Dream of Me”

You would love and cherish the small things. You knew that then, you knew that now. 

To love and remember, because as long as you and Bucky had each other, you would always- what was the phrase the French used? oh, right.

You would always see La Vie en Rose.

[brandyllyn]

In our own image... (02)

Chapter 2

(Poe Dameron x OFC)

Other chapters...  My Masterlist

Word count: 2200. Read it on AO3.

Rating: Teen & Up (PG) No warnings?

Kina brushed her hair away from her face with the back of one hand, holding the tool in it well away from her face. She’d burnt herself one too many times with a soldering iron to not be careful of the thing now. She wouldn’t even have risked it except that her other hand was occupied holding part of the droid’s circuitry together and if her hair continued to fall as it was she was going to set it on fire.

She waited a moment, then added another bit of solder. "There," she whistled and sat back, dropping the tool back into its cradle. "How do you feel?"

The little round droid flashed through a series of colors before spinning in place. "Much better thank you."

Kina smiled and patted the droid. When they had first arrived they had been full of long, pitiful stories about being shot at by tie-fighters and then covered in sand and tar and something that sounded like saliva. Amid the telling, BB-8 kept mournfully beeping that they were not functioning optimally, as though they were revealing some great secret.

It had been cute. In fact, it had been really cute. Enough so that she had actually missed the arrival of the droid’s companion. It didn’t matter, as he had only wanted to talk to K-0 - which was odd but also fine by her. There was something about being unable to to speak Basic that made people assume she lacked intelligence. Anytime she could avoid talking to people entirely was better off all around. It didn’t really matter that he was easy on the eyes.

As soon as the man was gone the BB unit had proceeded to tell her story after story of Friend Poe. Even when she had half the droid’s panels off and was doing a deep clean, BB-8 kept up an endless chatter about how Friend Poe always made sure that they were clean and functioning well. And how sad Friend Poe had been that he couldn’t take good care of the BB unit on Ajan Kloss.

The information had made Kina feel marginally more gracious towards the pilot. BB-8 was in bad shape, and not all pilots were known for taking good care of their droids. Most seemed to see the units as expendable.

"BB-8," she whistled, ending in a series of clicks, "why do you call him Friend Poe and not Master?"

"Friend Poe asked me to," BB-8 whistled back. "Friend Poe does not like being called Master."

Kina tilted her head, studying the BB unit. That was… interesting information to have. Basic droid programming defaulted to the use of the honorific 'Master' for their owners. The only people she knew of who made an effort to change it were other droidsmiths, like herself. You could often follow the trail of a droid’s repairs based on the terms they used. Some went for gentler monikers, like Friend. Others went ever further past Master. Hells, Hukkin, on Tattooine, taught his droids to call him 'Oh Great One,' which was a bit of an ego stretch but he was also a damned good droidsmith and he had a gentle touch with them. He also had as great of a hatred for restraining bolts as Kina herself so she only barely faulted him for it.

She was so lost in thought she nearly missed the droid’s sudden movement. She barely had time to throw an arm across the table to stop the droid from leaving. "Whoa there little one," she whistled and clicked, "I’m not done with you yet. Let me get you put back together and then you can go back to Friend Poe. Okay?"

The droid settled back, turning their upper unit to her. "Okay."

Snorting, Kina glanced behind her, then up into the rafters. Once she’d gotten the BB unit cleaned out there was a maze of wiring and 'improvements' that she’d needed to sort through. Friend Poe had apparently been doing his own repairs which was… well she knew why people did it but Chasī above - she didn’t try to fly X-Wings, why did people think that just anyone could repair a droid?

She clicked her tongue, "K-0?"

The droid darted out from a small gap between the crates. They were always doing that, finding weird little bolt holes to go exploring. "Where are the converters? The 600 series."

K-0 immediately crossed the floor, bumping into a crate to Kina’s left. She squatted to read the lowest crate before moving to the next. The one she wanted was about three up, with two more stacked on top of it. Two heavy ones. Sighing, she gave herself the mental 'lift with you knees' reminder and started to shift the upper crates away.

"Hello?"

She dropped the crate, jumping back and letting out a sharp whistle. Behind her, she could hear BB-8 trilling happily. "Hello friend! I am much improved since you last saw me."

"Hey BB," the voice said and Kina turned to it. A young woman was cautiously standing near the entrance to the workshop. "May I come in?"

As was their usual wont, K-0 happily translated the woman’s words directly into binary. It was a programming flaw, one that Kina hadn’t been able to fix without wiping the droid’s entire core memory. And she wasn’t going to do that. No harm in letting the droid chatter to themself.

Kina nodded at the woman, gesturing to the BB unit to let her know she could approach them if she wanted to. The woman did, running a hand along the droid in a familiar greeting. "Hey there big guy."

"Friend Rey, I am enthusiastic to see you. Have you met new friend?" BB-8 beeped at her, flashing their recently cleaned lights.

"I haven’t met your friend yet," the woman turned with a smile and held out her hand. "I’m Rey."

Kina stopped thumbing through the crate’s contents to hold out a hand, palm turned open and upwards to show she had no weapon.  She whistled at K-0, who translated for her. "This Kina."

Rey’s gaze swung between her and K-0 and Kina waited for her question. It was the same every time. "It’s nice to meet you Kina."

Okay, so maybe not the same. Rey smiled at her and Kina couldn’t help but return it. Then she turned to BB-8. Clicking to get their attention she told them, "I have a new memory convertor for you, but you’re going to need to power down completely so I can be sure this gets transferred correctly. May I do that?"

"I will not lose memories will I friend?"

Kina smiled, patting the droid reassuringly. "I promise you won’t lose a thing. I am very good at this."

BB-8 nodded it’s top unit before beginning a full power down. Kina waited, aware of the presence of the woman at her side. The slight furrowing of her brow.

"You speak Binary?" Rey asked.

Yep, there it was. Kina nodded, tilting her chin at K-0 before replying in a series of whistles and tongue clicks. "I understand Basic, but I don’t speak it." The droid translated for her almost simultaneously, which was immensely helpful, but their language processor left a little to be desired. It was necessary - otherwise K-0 was prone to add their own… color to the conversation. But her sentence ended up becoming "Know Basic. Can’t speak."

"That’s… I’ve never met any life form that spoke Binary. I thought only droids could." Rey sounded a little awe-struck which was the only reason that Kina didn’t start into her usual speech about the ill-defined lines between those who were considered alive and those who weren’t.

"It’s not perfect," she said instead, listening to K-0 translate about half of what she was saying, "it can take some units a little getting used to, especially the older ones, but I get by."

BB-8 was done powering down, slumped on the table, and Kina pulled a stool up to the workstation, swinging a looking glass down and turning on one of the brighter lights. She felt, more than saw, Rey pull up a stool next to her.

"Do you mind if I watch?" Rey asked, hesitation in her voice.

Kina gave her a sideways look and then shrugged. "Doesn’t bother me."

As she worked, Kina could feel Rey leaning in closer, trying to peer through the magnifying lens. After a minute Kina reached up and swung it slightly towards the other woman. Then she began to speak, listening to K-0 mangle the full meaning but getting the gist of it.

"The thing about a memory converter is that it’s all about the order. Most people don’t realize that. They think if you backup the unit then you can be sloppy about the part replacement," Kina pointed with a set of pliers at the bundle of wires she was poking into. "Each of these has a specific function. They’re like nerves of a body. I can replace one from one part of your body to another, but it will be different. It won’t feel the same." Kina gently nudged the bundle, pulling one free, and then another. "But if you do that too much or too often the whole system won’t work."

Next to her Rey nodded, eyes focused on Kina’s work. She’d never had an audience before, and she appreciated the other woman’s quiet presence beside her. There was something about Rey that was comforting - something she hadn’t felt since she’d left home.

"There," Kina clicked, setting the unit back into its place inside the droid, tightening the braces that held it. Over an hour had gone by and she stretched, feeling bones crack and rumble as she did so. "That should do it."

Tapping the droid’s power panel in a staccato series she felt the low vibration begin and then the top unit slid so that it was completely upright. "Friend!" BB-8 trilled, turning its photoreceptor to look at both Rey and Kina. "Friends!"

"Welcome back small one," Kina whistled. "How do you feel?"

"All systems functioning optimally!" BB-8 replied, spinning in place before wobbling slightly back and forth.

Kina raised an eyebrow, giving the droid a dubious look. "Are you sure your orbiculate motor is functioning correctly?"

"It’s odd," Rey said from beside her, "It’s as though I’m listening to someone speak in a dream. I feel like I should know what you’re saying, like the meaning is right on the tip of my tongue. But I just can’t get there."

Kina jerked her head to Rey, looking down and realizing that K-0 had disappeared at some point. She turned back to the droid on the table, "BB-8 can you repeat what I say in Binary please?"

"BB-8 can you repeat what I say in Binary please?" The droid parroted before titling to look at her. "Friend, for what purpose is this? You are speaking in Binary."

"Yes, but Friend Rey does not understand me," Kina told them. "BB-8 I’d like to check your orbiculate motor. I don’t like the look of that wobble."

"Oh, he does that when he’s happy," Rey interjected, looking between the two of them.

Kina looked at her, then back at BB-8. "Is this true? Do you move like this when you are happy?"

BB-8 flashed their lights, repeating what Kina said before adding, "I am functioning optimally and I am enthusiastic to be doing so."

Kina raised an eyebrow before gesturing at the table, "Can you get down on your own?"

Rather than replying, the orange droid rolled towards the ramp, hitting the floor at a steady clip and circling between the two women a few times before settling to a stop. "All systems are functioning optimally!"

Rey laughed and Kina felt her own shoulders shaking. It was hard not to be amused. BB-8 rolled over, bumping into Kina’s shins and she squatted down to eye level to the droid’s photoreceptor.

"I may return to Friend Poe?" The droid asked.

"If something happens to you between here and there Friend Poe will be very upset with me," Kina started but felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I’ll make sure BB gets back to him, I’m going that way." The woman smiled at her and Kina smiled back standing and leaning against the table.

"Well as long as it’s on your head…"

As she trailed off Kina heard a thump, and then K-0 was back, translating her whistles into Basic even as BB-8 repeated it in Binary. The two droids looked at each other and then K-0 knocked roughly into the larger droid.

"No. Go. No. Bad." K-0 said quickly, continuing to ram into the other droid. BB-8 tilted his upper unit at them quizzically but was barely shifted by the smaller droid’s efforts.

"You two should go," Kina grinned, "before K-0 decides to bite someone."

Thankfully, BB-8 continued to repeat her words because K-0 just kept thumping into the droid, repeating "Go. Bad. Go. No. Bad."

Rey smothered a laugh, ducking around the crates to the front of the workshop, BB-8 close behind her. A few seconds later her head popped back around. "May I visit again?"

Kina nodded and watched K-0 chase them off. When the droid returned, mumbling to themself, Kina blushed. Then she began scolding them, but her heart wasn’t really in it. After a minute she dropped to one knee, stroking a finger along the side of her friend.

"No one will replace you K-0. I promise."

=

Chpt 3

[writeyouin]

Tfa request #1: what is the thoughts of bumblebee/jet twins/ blurr/ sari ( when she’s a teen! ) who has a crush on a dorky yet kind hearted person and what is thier reaction of when they kiss s/o, she fainted or got a nosebleed...( this happened to me but I fainted =u=|| )

TFA X Reader Inserts – Blowing a Gasket

A/N – Hey anon, hope you had a good birthday. Here is a gift for you.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Bumblebee

“YEAH,” Bumblebee cheered, punching the air victoriously. He was the only one who had opted out of the nature walk that Prowl had planned, and without Sari who was with her father for the day, he was left alone with the video game console.

You had dropped by only a little earlier to see everyone and had opted to read your book until they all came back. Normally, you would have played something with Bumblebee, but he seemed to be enjoying the single player game so you had left him to it.

“Nice job,” You said, looking up at the screen and seeing that he had finally gotten the golden relic he was after.

“Nice job?” Bumblebee repeated cockily. “I think you mean that I’m the king of ALL videogames.”

You snickered, “That is so precious. You want to talk to me about being the best player, then come back when you’ve got a platinum relic.”

Bumblebee tutted, “Those are impossible. Nobody can win one.”

“Move over amateur,” You said, taking the controller from Bumblebee and moving the small bandicoot on screen onto a level you knew well.

Starting the time trial, you caused the character to jump, spin, crush boxes, and generally beat the score Bumblebee had set. By the end of the level, you were the proud owner of a platinum relic.

“NO WAY!” Bumblebee goggled at the screen. “HOW DID YOU DO THAT?”

You stretched victoriously, “Years of practice. You know, if you play the second game and jump on the head of the polar bear in warp room two ten times-”

Bumblebee tried to look as if he was hanging onto your every word while internally, he was freaking out. How had he never noticed how cute you were before? It was so obvious. Maybe you had a crush on him too? Wait- A CRUSH! Colour rose to Bumblebee’s face plates.

‘Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no. What if (s)he doesn’t feel the same? I need to know, right now. Why is (s)he still talking about the game? Can’t (s)he see what’s going on here?’

Unable to be patient and wait for an opportune moment wherein Bumblebee might learn if you had feelings for him, he dove at you, pressing his lips against yours, making you let out a muffled yelp.

Pulling away, Bumblebee stared at you, waiting for you to say something. Blood rushed to your face, turning it beet-red. You squeaked as blood started trickling from your nose.

“Primus!” Bumblebee screeched, jumping back.

“It’s okay,” You tried to explain, cupping your nose to catch the blood.

“HOW IS THIS OKAY? YOU’VE BLOWN A GASKET!”

Bumblebee practically drove off to get Ratchet, forgetting his comm-link in his panic. You meanwhile, were left to mop up your bloody nose and search for an explanation by the time Bumblebee came back; all in all, it wasn’t the smoothest first kiss.

The Jet Twins

Jetfire and Jetstorm were listening intently as you talked about the movies you were going to show them back at the base. You had a feeling they would like your old favourites as much as you did. The twins both loved that you took the time to teach them about Earth media and its origins. You were like a walking dictionary of what was cool and what wasn’t, yet if they liked a character or plot that you didn’t, you welcomed the new opinion.

The three of you came to a busy crossing where you had to wait for the traffic lights to change. As you chattered away, the twins gave a small nod to each other, indicating that it was time for something they had been planning since Megatron’s defeat.

Bending down to your height, they simultaneously kissed your cheeks. Afterwards, your head swivelled from Jetfire to Jetstorm, who were both grinning triumphantly.

“I- I- Uh-” You opened your mouth to say something more, but nothing came out. Instead, in a rush of nerves, you crumpled to the floor in a faint.

Jetstorm picked you up, watching you curiously, “Brother, I think she may have-”

“-overheated, yes it seems to being that way,” Jetfire finished his brother’s statement.

“Do you think her cooling fans are to be working?”

“I am thinking that human fans may be slower than ours, brother.”

“Let us be carrying her home then.

“Yes, lets.”

With that, the twins took turns to carry you home, each eager to hear what you thought of their kiss once your heating systems returned to optimal condition.

Blurr zipped back and forth in front of your house, waiting for you to come home. He had repeatedly run this one stretch of path for four hours; he’d been at it so long that the path was a mess of tire marks and scraped concrete. Far too anxious to stop for even one second, Blurr remained a prisoner of his thoughts, running to keep a hold of his sanity.

During the war, Blurr was only consumed with thoughts about the Decepticons. Now that those dark times were behind him, Blurr had time to think about other things… mainly you. He’d always known that he had liked you as a friend. You were one of the few people that could keep up with his fast mind and faster mouth after all. However, he had only realised that very day that he liked you.

Blurr hated the anxiety of wondering what you would think of him romantically. It made him erratic, like there was a swarm of scraplets living in his brain, threatening to tear him open from the inside out. There was really only one solution and that was to tell you how he felt; whether you accepted or rejected his affections, Blurr would at least have an answer and that would be enough.

Finally, Blurr saw you coming around the corner of your street. He rushed forward to you and started jabbering.

“(Y/N),IhaveromanticfeelingsforyouandIthinkyoumayreturnthemifyoujustgivemeachance.Itdoesn’tmatterthatwe’refromtwodifferentspeciesifwedon’tletitmatter,therehavebeenweirdercouplesinthepast.Whati’mtryingtosayiswillyougooutwithme?”

You stared blankly at Blurr. Usually, you were able to keep pace with his fast talking but there was no way to understand the fast-paced speech he had just given you.

“Excuse me, what?” You asked, dumbfounded.

Panicked by the prospect of repeating himself over such a delicate manner, Blurr pressed his lips quickly against yours, pulling away just as fast to stare at you.

Only a few seconds later, blood started dripping down your nose. Blurr was sure he had hurt you, and cursed himself for his behaviour, starting a rant about human fragility, though you only caught snippets.

“BLURR!” You shouted exasperatedly, surprised that the usually confident bot was so nervous now. “I’m fine, it’s just a little nosebleed. I- I like you too.”

Blurr, somewhat exhausted from the override of emotions flopped onto the floor. After cleaning your nose up, you laid down next to him and the two of you relished a few minutes of calm, each momentarily lost for words.

Sari

You and Sari walked through the park on the way to meet the Autobots for a game of improvised baseball. As you talked, you noticed how subdued Sari was. She hadn’t been herself all day; clearly something was on her mind.

“A penny for your thoughts?” You asked, drawing her attention back to you.

Sari sighed, then forced a smile, “It’s nothing (Y/N), don’t worry about it. I guess I’m just distracted.”

“C’mon Sari, something’s bugging you. You may as well talk about it. I won’t judge, whatever it is.”

“I know you won’t. It’s just… I was thinking about by dad.” That first sentence seemed to unlock a flood-gate as Sari began spilling her guts, “I just worry that one day Megatron might want him back. What if he decides to take him again? My dad is totally defenceless, and he could end up building something way worse than a space-bridge. I get that it’s not likely, but I still worry, y’know?”

“Hey,” You said, grabbing Sari’s hand reassuringly. “It’s all gonna be okay. No more bad stuff is gonna happen to you, but if it did, then you’ll have the Autobots to help out, and me as well, even if I can’t punch Megadork through a wall.”

Sari giggled, and smiled at you. You always knew what to say. She only wished she had a way to show you how much you meant to her. Blushing at the idea that just crossed her mind, Sari kissed you before she could lose her nerve.

As soon as her lips left yours, you let out a nervous croak, fainting soon after. Sari stood over you for a minute.

“Hmm.” She prodded you a few times in a small attempt at waking you up. “That didn’t go exactly how I planned.”

She called the Autobots to let them know that she would be late to the baseball game due to an ‘unexpected delay,’ and then she laid down on the grass next to you, awaiting the moment you would regain consciousness.

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[jjmaybanksblog]

Death Bed (Coffee for Your Head)- Rafe Cameron

(Not my gif, credit to the owner!)

Summary: Based on Death Bed (Coffee for Your Head) by Powfu and Beabadoobe

Word count: 3,181

Warnings: (Lung) Cancer, hospitalization, cursing, sadness, mentions of death, death.

I sobbed writing this I'm not gonna lie

Don't stay awake for too long, don't go to bed. I'll make a cup of coffee for your head, I'll get you up and going out of bed.

Rafe Cameron sat there in the doctor's office, his eyes glazed over and his jaw slacked as the doctor stared at him with a pitied look. Six words repeated in his mind, 'you have stage four lung cancer'. He was only 22, how did this happen so soon? 

He rubbed his hands over his face vigorously, cracking his knuckles after he stopped. "How long do I have?" "Some people don't survive more than 12 months, and if you're lucky, the latest I've seen is 5 years but that's with every single treatment."  He flared his nostrils as he held back his tears, he wanted to be around one person and one person only; you. 

Rafe showed up at your door after his appointment, a bouquet of rose's in his hand and a card in the other. You grinned at his kind gesture, your heart swelling with joy. He thought he would have to plaster a smile on his face, but the moment he saw you, a genuine smile appeared on his face. For the slightest moment, he forgot that he was dying.

You two spent the night together, cuddling and watching movies. Rafe held you close to him, his fingers skimming every part of your body, wanting to relish the feeling of you under his fingers. He checked the time and realized it was 3 in the morning and he was still awake. 

You shifted in your spot before turning your body to face his, your hand reaching up and combing his blonde locks out of his face. "Don't stay awake for too long baby, you need rest." You mumbled, half asleep. "I know, I know. I just have a bad headache." He lied. Truth is, he wanted to stay awake and just admire how you looked next to him, curled up in his chest, allowing him to see your natural beauty.

"I'll make you a cup of coffee in the morning and I have plenty of ibuprofen to share." You grinned, pressing a delicate kiss to his neck. "Goodnight, my love." He whispered as he kissed your forehead in return, watching you fall back into your sleep.

I don't wanna fall asleep, I don't wanna pass away. I've been thinking of our future 'cause I'll never see those days.

Rafe rubbed his eyes with his hands as he yawned, today was his third day without sleeping. He told you that he just kept waking up in the middle of the night but eventually he did go back to sleep. You believed him, offering any help to find resolutions but he politely denied them.

Truth was, everytime he fell asleep he had dreams about your future with him. The most recent one he had was of you two, married with two children. You two had moved out of the Outer Banks, wanting a new start. In this dream, he survived the cancer so he wanted a fresh start. Away from the toxic memories he had from that town.

It pained him every time he had a thought about your future, at least what he wanted your future with him to be. He wanted to make you so happy, he wanted to be the reason you woke up every morning and vice versa. You were his everything, and it killed him to know that soon it would come to an end.

I don't know why this has happened but I probably deserve it. I tried to do my best but you know that I'm not perfect.

You sat down on the couch, legs criss crossed as Rafe paced back and forth in front of you. He was mumbling to himself as you sat there confused, trying to calm down the nerves you knew he had. You didn't know what was going on which only worried you.

"Rafe, baby just sit next to me and talk to me." He sat down next to you, his elbows resting on his knees, terrified to look you in the eyes. You scooted closer to him and grabbed one of his hands, "breathe." Was all you said before he closed his eyes, deeply inhaling and exhaling for a few seconds before turning and looking at you.

You could finally see how scared he was, he looked like he hadn't slept, his eyes were pink and watery, the bags under his eyes were a light purple. You turned your body to face him, "Rafe, what's wrong?" He turned to you, mirroring the way you were sitting. "I have stage four lung cancer." 

His words felt like you fell face first in cement from a fifty foot drop. "W-what?" You stuttered, your voice just above a whisper. He nodded his head as he watched your eyes release tears. Your mouth fell open but you quickly covered it with your hand. You tried to speak but the only sound you could make was a gasping sound, like a fish out of water.

"I have maybe 12 months to live." Your mouth was dry, your heart felt like it was somehow racing and stopping at the same time. Your world felt like it fell out of space and shattered. You wanted to know how long he knew, but it didn't matter. Moral of the story was that you wanted him to live a good life for as long as he lived, and that's what you were gonna do. 

You didn't say anything, you simply crawled to him and straddled his lap. Your arms wrapped around his neck and he held your waist, allowing you two to cry into each other’s necks. He held you like if he were to let go, you would disappear forever.

“I got you Rafe, I got you." Your hand reached up and entangled itself in his hair, gently massaging it. "Why did this have to happen? Right when I was finally feeling happy." He screamed into your neck. 

"I don't hunny. I don't know." You whispered.

I've been praying for forgiveness, you've been praying for my health. When I leave this Earth, hoping you'll find someone else.

Rafe turned his head to look at you, making sure you were fast asleep before he slowly got out of bed. Replacing his body with a pillow, he snuck out of the room and outside of your house.

He made his way to the backyard and sat down on the grass, laying back as he looked up at the stars. He took a deep breath before speaking out loud. "Hi, uh- God. I don't know how this works, I don't know how to pray or even if you're up there, but if you are I need you to hear what I have to say."

A star above him shined brighter for a split second before disappearing behind a cloud. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for the disrespectful and disgusting teenager I was. I'm sorry for all the horrible things I did to my body. I'm sorry for the crimes I committed and never got caught. I admit to everything I have done wrong, I understand why you're taking it out on me. But please, leave Y/N out of this. She is the light of my life, the reason I was able to find happiness. Please don't take my actions out on her, make her fall out of love with me or something. Just...just something to ease her pain. Please."

•

Rafe was out at the grocery store, leaving you plenty of time to head over to the neighborhood church. You walked out of your car with sunglasses on so people couldn't see your red and watery eyes. You excused yourself as you shimmied through a small group of people.

You walked into the chapel and sat down in one of the pews. You removed your sunglasses before looking up at the front of the room. You let out a puff of air before speaking out loud. "Hi, God. I really don't know what I'm doing or why I'm even trying to talk to you. But I just, I'm so desperate and I just need your help. Please, please help Rafe. Help him at least live longer than a year, he wasn't the best person when he was a teenager, you know that. But he's changed into a whole new person, he knows how he was before and he hates it now. Please help him recover through this, help him pull through because I need him here. He was the one I was supposed to marry, the one who would be the father of my children, the one to help give me my happy ending. Please."

When I leave this Earth hoping you'll find someone else, 'cause yeah, we're still young there's so much we haven't done.

You shook your head at Rafe's words as you wiped your tears away with your hands. "No, there's no way." You cried out. He grabbed both your wrists and made you look at him. "Y/N, you have to listen to me. I don't want you to grieve or mourn, I want you to keep going. Find a new love, I don't want you to be alone. You need to find a new love, start a new story with them. Please baby, I beg you." 

You squeezed your eyes closed, your throat felt like it was slowly shutting. Your heart felt like it had been stabbed after hearing his words. You knew he had a point, you knew you couldn't mourn over him the rest of your life, but just hearing it so soon pained you more than you could ever imagine. 

Getting married, start a family, watch your husband with his son. I wish it could be me but I won't make it off this bed.

Another night where Rafe couldn't sleep, this being his 6th one in a row. He looked at you while you slept and admired the way the moonlight entered the window. The way the light cascaded down your face, highlighting some of your facial features. 

He slept maybe an hour, however he had a dream that woke him up. He dreamed that you got married to another man, watching as he took care of your son. He felt his heart pang with pain knowing that would be the harsh reality they would soon have to face. 

It felt like his body was there, he knew he was there, but it felt like his soul was floating out of him as he watched you be happy with a random stranger. He watched as you scooped your son up in your arms, spinning around as he let out cheerful giggles.

Rafe watched your husband who looked just as happy as you did. He hated that you were happy with someone else, but he knew you would be in good hands with your husband. He just had to pray that you'll meet someone who loves you just as much as he did.

I hope I go to heaven so I see you once again. My life was kinda short but I got so many blessings. Happy you were mine, it sucks that it's all ending.

Rafe had spent the next few months trying to make up for some of the shitty things he did in his teen years. He's been donating to the pour, volunteering at local shelters and soup kitchens, randomly picking garbage up from the highway. He was trying to do anything and everything to make sure he could go to heaven.

He had no clue if heaven or hell were real, but if they do exist he would do anything he could to make sure he got into heaven. After he dies, he knew that was his one chance to see you again. He knew one day he would wake up on the other side and you would be there, running to him to give him the hug both of you had been desperately craving.

I'm happy that you're here with me, I'm sorry if I tear up. When me and you were younger, you would always make me cheer up.

You softly knocked on the hospital room door, walking through the doorway with a tray of cafeteria food. "Hey baby, I brought you a sandwich and blue jello." He smiled at you, "my favorite." He subtly laughed before coughing harshly. You rushed over to his side and placed the tray down, grabbing one of the napkins to wipe away the small drops of blood that escaped his mouth.

"I got you baby, it's okay." You mumbled, passing him a glass of water as his coughing died down. You sat down in the seat next to him, watching him poke his sandwich before taking a small bite out of it. He sighed before dropping the sandwich back onto the plate, his eyes already crying. He sniffled as he covered his face with his hands, ashamed to be in the spot he was in right now.

You reached forward and grabbed onto his hand, rubbing his knuckles with your thumb as he tightened his grip. "I'm so sorry." He whispered. You shook your head trying to fight back your tears. "Don't apologize baby, I'm right here." "And I'm so fucking happy you are." 

You held his hand, looking down at his fingers as you played with them. "Remember back in 8th grade when I got into a really bad argument with my dad after he married Rose? I was so angry and upset, and I ran right to your house. But you were right there to help me, you cheered me up in a matter of seconds of me being with you. That was one of the first times I truly knew how happy you made me." He recalled the memory, thinking about it like it was yesterday.

Taking goofy videos while walking through the park. You would jump into my arms every time you heard a bark.

You pulled up your snapchat and pressed record. You and Rafe decided to go to the local park to just go on the playground equipment. There was nobody around, even if there was when you were with him you felt like you two were the only ones there.

You recorded the video as Rafe pushed you on the swing set, you turned the camera to face you, zooming in on the large smile on his face. You pumped your legs up, accidentally kicking him in the stomach. The video got the whole thing and his reaction. You jumped off the swing and turned around to see him hunched over and groaning. 

"Oh my god, I am so sorry!" You quickly apologized, trying to help him stand up straight. He laughed loudly, his bright smile never left his face. "That was so fucking funny!" You joined him in laughing, enjoying the moment. He held you closely by the waist as you held his elbows. "God, I am so in love with you." He muttered before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

•

"Okay shut up that was one time and it was a dare!" You defended yourself, jokingly pushing his shoulder. He brought up the story about how you ran down the block fully naked one night in senior year. Your laugh stopped the moment you heard a loud bark echoing in the distance. 

Your hand quickly reached down to grab his as your head turned in different directions to see where the sound came from. Rafe stopped walking and stood in front of you. "Hey, hey it's okay. It was just a dog." You nodded your head before letting out a shaky breath.

His free hand reached up and held the side of your face, "I got you Y/N. I won't let anything hurt you."

Cuddle in your sheets, sing me sound asleep. And sneak out through your kitchen at exactly 1:03. 

You hushed Rafe as he whispered to you. Rafe had been your boyfriend for the last 2 months, however you hadn't told your parents about him yet which meant sneaking around if you wanted to be with him. You figured out a way to sneak him into your house without your parents knowing.

He tiptoed into your room before flinging himself onto your bed. He wasted no time in wrapping himself in your sheets, his arms wide open waiting for you to join him. You laid down next to him, watching as he looked at you with puppy eyes and his bottom lip pouting. "Which song tonight?" He thought for a minute, "Fix You by Coldplay." 

You shifted in your spot so Rafe could rest his head on your chest, your hand reached yo to play with his hair. "When you try your best but you don't succeed…" you quietly sang to him. You continued until you heard his soft snores escape his lips. You shut your eyes and allowed yourself to fall asleep with him.

•

You were woken up by the feeling of his lips against yours, mumbling 'wake up' against them. "I'm awake." You muttered, rubbing your eyes. "I gotta head home."  You nodded before flinging the sheets off of your body. You held his hand in yours before quietly opening your bedroom door. You led him down the halls and to your garage door. 

He spun you around so you could face him, his hands finding your waist as you roped your arms around his neck. "See you tomorrow?" He questioned, "absolutely." You leaned forwards and kissed him softly, your lips hovering over his for a second. 

"Goodnight handsome."

Soon you'll be alone, sorry that you have to lose me.

It's been 12 months, Rafe was admitted into the hospital at the beginning of month 11. It happened when Rafe broke into a coughing spit that ended up with him spitting up splatters of blood. You weren't ready when that happened, you knew that that was the beginning of his end and that terrified you.

"Y/N?" He whispered, you sat up from your seat and stood next to him. "Yeah baby?" "Can you kiss me?" Your heart clenched at how soft his voice was. "It would be my honor." You grinned as he let out a weak laugh. Leaning down you cupped the side of his face and passionately kissed him. 

You pulled away from him, not even knowing about the tears that rolled down your face. "My eyelids feel heavy." He admitted, knowing this might be his last day. You held the side of his face, watching as his eyes slowly fell shut and his heart monitor slowed down. "No no, Rafe look at me. Keep your eyes open." You begged.

"I love you Y/F/N Y/L/N, forever and always." He whispered before his eyes fell shut. The room went silent except for the sound of the monitor flat lining, fear running through your veins. "Doctor!"

[hauntedestheart]

Creek Falls Halloween: Part 1

It was 11:45 pm, October 24th, and the Gangy were in the Trask House.

The Trask House was a local legend. Every small town had a house just like it, an old dilapidated house with a *spooky* backstory that caused mothers to draw the sign of the cross when they passed by it and captured the imagination of children for generations to come. But the Trask House was different. Perhaps it was the particular ghoulishness of the rumors surrounding the late Pablo Trask (there’s no way he actually ate babies, right?) or the particularly imposing architecture of the once great mansion (plenty of big windows, most of which had been long boarded up) but a heavy air always seemed to hang around the place that could make even the bravest of hairs on the back of the hardiest neck stand up. As the house had decayed with time it was as if its owner had never left and his soul permeated the building, warping it until it was as grim and twisted as his mind had been.

The city council longed to tear down the eyesore but they found themselves unable to thanks to the darkest magic of all: legal troubles. Technically the property belonged to some distant relatives of the former owner who had never come forwards to claim it, not that anyone blamed them. After all, who would want to claim familial ties with Pablo Trask? But the point was that the building existed in a strange legal limbo, uninhabited yet untouchable. After years of vandalism and one particularly rowdy party thrown by some overzealous college students that ended with six in the hospital and two being expelled (plus the mysterious disappearance of several members of the local homeless population who were known to be taking shelter in the place) the decision was made to put a fence around the house and just be done with it. A metal fence could do nothing to contain the morbid air that slithered forth from the house, but it did its job at keeping most of the riff raff out of the place.

The key word here was most. A flimsy barrier was no deterrent for the more motivated youths of Creek Falls, who could fit through gaps in cain link and were perversely drawn to the allure of the supernatural. The Trask House became a favorite spot for daredevils and thrill seekers, who sought to test their courage against the ghosts and curses that lurked in the house on the hill.

“Which brings us to tonight…” Wally said, and he wiggled his fingers mysteriously for emphasis. He switched off the flashlight that he held beneath his face (if he was telling a scary story, he was going to do it right) and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the room. “Five young teens break into the Trask House looking for a good time… what will happen next?”

He and his friends were sprawled in a loose circle on the floor of a dusty room that must have at one point been a study, but now was mostly a home for spiderwebs. The five of them had been planning this outing all week, a *spooooky * Halloween adventure where they’d spend the night exploring the Trask House. Well, not the whole night of course, but after a few hours of poking around in dusty bedrooms and closets the group had settled into a large room on the first floor of the building. Moonlight streamed in through the windows, painting the room in a cool grey sheen, and Danny had lit some candles they’d found in one of the rooms with the lighter he always carried with him and it had set the tone so beautifully that Wally insisted that they all sit down so he could tell that what his research about the Trask House had uncovered. Unfortunately, that turned out to maybe be a little bit too much.

“Anyways, to continue on about the history of the Trask House we’ll have to discuss the unusual composition of the soil beneath the house. Now, to those familiar with the concept of ley lines–“

“Alright that’s enough,” Tammie crawled across the room and snatched the flashlight from Wally. “I’m glad you did your research but if you start going off about geology or some shit, I’m leaving.”

“Yeah Wally, your knowledge of local history is as impressive as ever but we should really get a move on.” Danny came to his friend’s defense and snatched the flashlight back from Tammie. She lunged on him and the two wrestled over it for a few moments, forming an awkward beast of limbs illuminated by a flailing strip of light. Across the room, Casey rolled his eyes and leaned back onto his arms.

“Can you two get a room?” He huffed. Blushing, the two separated. Tammie shoved the flashlight into Danny’s hand and shuffled back to the safety of the other side of the circle. Danny tossed the flashlight to Wally, who fumbled with it awkwardly but managed not to drop it.

“Why don’t you skip to the part about Old Man Trask?” Danny offered.

“Does he have to?” Aubrey whimpered, hiding his face behind his fists slightly. He was sitting with his knees pulled up into his chest defensively, and he kept glancing around the room nervously. Shadows kept moving in the corners of his eyes.

“Shut up, I wanna hear this,” Casey said. He leaned in closer to Wally, finally interested. “Tell us about him. Is it true that he used to cut the skin off of naked women and wear it like clothes?”

“Ugh, don’t be crude.” Tammie scoffed.

“Hey, *I* didn’t do anything. I’m just curious.” Casey mimed scraping the skin off of someone. “Skinning naked chicks… this guy knew what he was about.”

“Gross!” Aubrey choked.

“Casey, don’t be a pig.” Danny ordered. Casey flipped him off.

“Are you all done arguing so I can continue?” Wally asked. Everyone grumbled but quieted down. 

“Well, the early details of the life of Pablo Trask are a bit fuzzy but the main thing to note is that Trask… well he wasn’t a normal kid. He spoke in strange tongues and when he’d stare at the other boys they’d get chills running down their spines. As he got older he just got stranger and stranger. Nobody wanted to be alone in a room with Pablo Trask, or anywhere near him if they could help it. The day he turned eighteen both of his parents mysteriously died of a heart attack, and he inherited this very house. They say he sacrificed them to a devil in exchange for power, and that when he became a Diabolist.”

“Like the video game?” Casey asked.

“Nope,” Was the flat reply from Wally. “A diabolist is someone who studies demons and dark magic… think of it like a mad scientist but for Satanism. He’d stay holed up here in the Trask House all day and people passing by swore they’d see flashes of light and hear screams, and everyone could see the smoke that poured out of the chimney at seemingly all hours. He’d come into town looking for the strangest things, like lamb’s blood or octopus. Sometimes he’d wander into the local bar and stay there all night, raving to anyone who got close enough about the dark experiments he had going on in the house up on the hill. There was a large black book he always carried with him–though some people say it was actually bound in human flesh– and they say that if you crossed him he’d open it up and cast one of the curses on you right there on the spot. Nobody could confirm that this had ever happened, but then nobody was exactly eager to find out.”

“It went on like this for years and years until one day it just… changed. I found a lot of conflicting reports on what *exactly* it was that set this off, some people say he kidnapped a young boy, some people say he did something to piss off the mayor, some people even say they just got too many complaints about the smoke, but there was a town meeting where everyone agreed to chase Pablo Trask out of town. Every door in the town would close to him, he wasn’t exactly an active member of the community before but from that day on he would be a ghost. Slowly his trips into town became fewer and fewer until they stopped completely. Everyone put him out of their minds and things were normal here in Creek Falls.”

“That all changed on Halloween that year. Everybody in town knew to avoid the Trask House, but a group of kids wandering around looking for candy passed by the place and decided to risk it. They knocked on the door and found that it was open, and like curious kids do, they wandered inside. The house was completely dark except for a row of floating lights–corpse candles–which ushered the children deeper and deeper into the house. They were led up the grand staircase, through the twisting hallways, and into the study where they saw the body of Pablo Trask hanging there, naked as the day he was born and with blood pouring from his eyes.”

Aubrey squeaked and pressed his face into his knees, shivering slightly. Everyone stared at him for a moment to see if he would pass out or something, but without lifting his head he gave them a weak “thumbs up.” Nodding, Wally pressed on with the story.

“The kids ran screaming from the house of course, and when they finally found their parents they called the police immediately. Although there were puddles of blood in the study, just like the kids said, they were never able to find his body. But he left behind a note saying–“

“–he’d return in fifty years to destroy the town that destroyed him.” Casey interjected. “I knew that part.”

“They say that ever since then his spirit has haunted this house, gathering the energy to make his return.” Wally continued. “Those that knew him say that the eerie chill they feel when they pass by the house is the same unease they experienced when he stared at them as a child, and every so often the police will get a report of flashing lights and smoke pouring out of the Trask House.”

“And it just so happens that this year is the fiftieth year of his disappearance…” Danny said ominously.

“Wait, hold up, if they never found his body, how did they know that he died?” Casey asked.

“Uh…” Wally faltered. He adjusted his glasses. “To be honest I’m not really sure about that. He left behind a suicide note and then mysteriously vanished so the police just kind of assumed. Everyone was so glad he was gone that they didn’t ask too many questions.”

“Maybe he faked his own death and just fucked off to Mexico or something,” Casey mused, chuckling a bit at the image of a gaunt, ghoulish Pablo Trask wearing swim trunks and tanning on a beach.

“Oh please,” Tammie said, ever the realist. “I talked to my boss at the museum and they said that all of that is a load of bullshit. Pablo Trask was just a socially awkward guy who didn’t fit in because he was gay and his family was Chilean, that’s why he spoke strangely and never married. He did hang himself but there’s nothing supernatural about a depressed man, all that other stuff about evil witchcraft is just small town gossip.”

“Trask was gay?” Wally said, startled to hear a fact he hadn’t come across.

“Yup, when the authorities searched his house for the first time they found a bunch of dirty magazines with dudes in them,” Tammie said, smiling a little bit. She wasn’t proud of it but it always gave her a bit of joy when she got to teach Wally something. “So you see, there was no dark magic, just good old fashioned homophobia and racism.”

“Interesting that you should say that” Danny said, jumping into the conversation with an impish grin. “Because if that’s the case then you should have no trouble performing… The Trask Test.”

If it had been raining this would have been the perfect time for a clap of thunder.

To be continued…