#and i used to dog ear my pages when i was a kid

[sanguineterrain]

okay i've had this thought brewing for a while and i think you're the only writer who would do it justice!

reader meets jason again post-lazarus pit and he's amazed by how different reader is look-wise. reader was a teenager the last time they saw jason and now as an adult they've gotten a more "adult" body. reader is curvier, fleshier, no longer as lean as they were as a teen and is a bit self conscious about their body. but it drives jason wild to see his old crush all grown up into this mature body, hell he's changed a lot too. but yeah i feel like jason would be so body positive and full of praise 🩷

decided to combine this with a request i got for this prompt: 8) we share the bed because this is what we’ve done since we were kids, regardless of the adult implications now. i so agree with you anon, i think jason would be simultaneously body positive and absolutely FERAL for his old/current crush ;)

jason todd x gn!plus-sized!reader. reader used to work with the bats and is best friends with jayjay. reader is insecure and speaks poorly about their body. jason does NOT like that and desires you carnally! wahoo! suggestive content but no outright smut.

****

You haven't been in Jason's room in five years.

Alfred's kept it pretty much the same. Same books on the shelves, same Gotham Knights sweatshirt Dick gave Jason for his birthday. The curtains are the same shade of maroon, and the left one has a tear from when you played with a batarang. Jason had covered for you and was grounded for a week.

You flip through a dog-eared copy of The Three Musketeers. A few of the pages have underlining in pencil. You trace them with your finger.

The door creaks open. You look up.

Jason freezes in the threshold. His wrist is bandaged and you can see stitches on his forehead. You frown.

"Hey." You set down the book and go to him, offering your shoulder for him to lean on. "You okay?"

Jason sighs, ignoring your shoulder. "Who called you?"

"What d'you mean? We're psychically linked, Jay-Jay. I sensed that there was trouble afoot in Gotham City."

"Uh-huh. That didn't work when you tried to convince the old man I needed a puppy because you psychically divined that it knew me in a previous life."

"You and that Terrier were soulmates and I'll hear nothing of the contrary."

You take Jason's arm, despite his protests that he can make it two feet to the bed. He lays down, trying to hide how his arm twinges in pain. You frown and slip in beside him.

Jason's a lot bigger than he was the last time you shared a bed. Well. You both are. You roll over so you're facing him, squished against his side. You pull your leg up, suddenly self-conscious about everything Jason might be able to see.

Jason is warm. He's warm and big and solid and good God, you've missed him.

Your best friend is also fucking gorgeous and you really want to kiss him, but, uh. Ignoring that. You're very practiced at ignoring the urge to kiss Jason.

"Thanks for comin'."

The light is still on, casting a soft orange glow across Jason's features. He glances at you, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. You can count all the freckles on his nose, this close.

"I'll always come when you call, Jay," you say. "Well, when Dickie calls. Said you got a concussion."

He turns his head, sighing at the ceiling. "'S not a big deal. Mild concussion. Leslie said I'll be fine in a week, but we all know that's code for two days."

"Yeah, I don't think so. You bats really are birds of a feather."

"How dare you. 'M nothing like those wackos."

"Sure, buddy. Keep lying to yourself. You brought me in all those years ago for a little normalcy."

"My mistake," Jason says.

He gets thwacked with a pillow for that. It fluffs his curls. He grins at you.

You tuck in closer, resting your chin on his shoulder. Jason turns his head so his cheek rests on the top of your head.

"You can have the bed," he says.

"Don't be a silly goose."

"'M gonna go home anyway."

You scoff. "Not like this, you're not."

"Been worse for wear."

You roll your eyes. "How are you gonna ride your bike with a hurt wrist and a concussion, genius?"

"Please, babe. The real question is how will I sneak past Alfred?"

"I'm a babe, now?"

Jason half-smiles. "Always were."

"Liar. Can you imagine me in a Batsuit again? Exactly, you can't. I simply don't have the bod for it."

"Hey." Jason reaches down and gently pinches your thigh. "Why ya doin' that?"

"Doing what?"

"Talkin' bad about yourself. Don't do that. 'Sides, it ain't true."

"Jaybird." You level him with a look. "Be serious. I know you're my best friend and you have to say that, but c'mon. I've seen the hotties you work with. Hell, I've seen Bruce and Dickie."

Jason's face twists in disgust. "Do not call my dad and brother hot."

"Okay, fine. I've seen you."

His brows rise. "What?"

"What, what?"

"Are you... callin' me..."

You snort. "Duh. Have you seen yourself? You've always been cute, Jason. If you didn't have the demeanor of a honey badger, you'd be fending off marriage proposals left and right from the Gotham public. You've always been the prettier one of us, Jay-Jay."

Jason's quiet. You keep going.

"Anyway, neon's never been my color, and it seems like that's a pretty immovable requirement these days. Like, I get Clark's trying to be seen from space but he doesn't get bloated. And the Spandex? Goodness gracious—"

"Y'really see yourself like that?"

Jason's staring at you with a wrinkled brow, mouth set.

"Like what?"

"Like you're not pretty? Like I'm too good for ya?"

You prop your head up on your arm. "You've always been too good for me, Jason Todd."

"That's just not true. And you're fuckin' beautiful, so stop sayin' that shit."

You blink. "Jay, c'mon—"

"No. It's true, so stop. You're the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure to know, and if anybody's gettin' proposed to, it's you."

"Jason." Your face is on fire. Why did you open your mouth? "Stop. It's fine. So I'm different; my body's changed and shit. I'm not an athletic vigilante anymore. My thighs have, like, their own zip code. It's my own fault. I didn't keep up the training and whaa—!"

In one fluid motion, Jason's rolled you onto him. Your legs straddle his waist. You catch yourself on his shoulders, then begin to scramble off, burning with embarrassment.

"Sorry, I'm heavy, you're injured—" you babble, picking up your leg.

"Will you quit?" Jason keeps your leg exactly where it is, tenderly stroking your ankle with his thumb. "Actin' like I'm made of whipped cream."

"You're concussed."

"Mildly."

"Stop, Jason. Please. You don't have to do this to-to prove a point. I get it, I won't talk bad about myself."

Bit hypocritical, considering some of the stuff you know for a fact Jason believes about himself.

But this is humiliating, your extremely attractive, crime-fighting best friend pretending that you haven't totally let yourself go all to bolster your ego.

"Nah, I don't think you get it," Jason says conversationally. His hand creeps under your shirt. You squirm. "I really, really don't think you get how fuckin' gone I am for ya."

"Huh?"

"Oh, yeah. Now, that's my fault, never sayin' anything. I was being cowardly. So lemme make it clear for ya, sweetheart."

His hand leaves your ankle and pulls your face to his. And then Jason kisses you.

"You're concussed," you whimper against his mouth. "Jason, you're—"

Jason laughs, low and sweet. He strokes the side of your face. "I could have amnesia and I wouldn't forget the fact that I've been in love with my best friend since I was fourteen."

"Are you sure you don't want me to move? I can—"

"No way. Y'know how long I've wanted you on me? Shit, I sound like a creep, thinking 'bout you like that, but—"

Jason rolls you both onto your sides. He hefts your leg over his, so you're slotted between each other. Then he kisses your neck, mouth hot and desperate. You gasp, belly swooping.

How long have you wanted this? How long did you believe you'd never feel this way about another person after Jason?

"I can promise you," Jason says, breathing hard against your skin. "You're a knockout. You knock me out. And I'll knock out anyone who says otherwise."

You huff and get a little braver, kissing Jason and returning him onto his back. He grins, sharp and hungry. He wants you. There's no doubt.

"I still think you're concussed," you murmur, letting him feel up your shirt. "But lucky for you, I have the utmost sympathy for poor, bedridden bats."

Jason hums, grunting when your teeth scrape his ear. "Oh, I've always known I was the lucky one, having you."

[lanadelnegan]

Ghost - Part 2

Negan x Glenn’sSister!Reader

Part 1 here

smut will be in part 3, don't worry :)

“Y/n!” Maggie practically tackled me as soon as I walked through the gates, followed by the others. 

“The hell you been?��� Daryl grunted with an angry expression, refusing to hug me. 

“He’s been out looking for you everyday since you left.” Maggie clarified. 

I pushed him playfully as I walked by. “You knew I’d be back, I told you I didn’t want to be found.” 

After all the hellos and welcome backs, I finally made it back to my house, thrilled to be alone again. That was too much. 

While unpacking my things along with some of the items I stole from the cabin, I noticed my picture of me and Glenn was missing. No, no, no. Please tell me I didn’t leave it. It was the only thing I had left of him. 

A knock on my door distracted me and I went to answer, finding Rick on the other side. 

“Hey, heard you were back. Just wanted to come say hi.” 

“Hey, its good to be home.”

“Listen, a lots happened since you left. You need to know about the Saviors. They’ve been here a few times already. They’re scheduled to return tomorrow.” Rick’s hand rested on his hips as he looked down. “I thought you’d wanna know.” 

I forced a smile. “Thanks for the heads up.”

I closed the door and exhaled a breath. It’s a good thing they’re coming tomorrow. I need to meet this asshole and learn his ways. Learn how to destroy him and what makes him weak. 

I settled back in, had some dinner, and decided to read some of my book. When I opened the page, the corner was dog-eared and at a place I didn’t remember reading. 

Oh my god. I have never in my life dog-eared a page…..

Should I be relieved that I’m not crazy? Or sad that my mystery man left without saying goodbye? It doesn’t matter. I reminded myself and went upstairs to go to bed. Stopping in the doorway, my jaw dropped at the empty space where my bed used to be. Not even a pillow left behind. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. 

Maybe I’ll kill them all. Not just Negan. Fucking pricks. 

I slept on the couch downstairs. Luckily I still had that left. I woke in the morning to the sound of a loud, obnoxious voice outside. It sounded familiar. I didn’t bother changing out of my sleep clothes or brushing my hair before heading outside. I couldn’t let them think  I was scared or hiding. If my plan was going to work, I needed to be assertive. 

I quickly joined the others, who were standing around Rick and that’s when I saw him. Negan. His back was turned to me, but I knew it was him because a baseball bat rested on his shoulder. He was wearing a leather jacket, and his hair was black, slicked back, and…. Oh god. 

That can’t be… 

I suddenly felt sick, like I could faint any moment. 

“Reeelax, Prick. We’ll be in and out in no time.” He patted Rick’s shoulder before waving a finger in a circular motion and signaling his men to start their routine intrusion. Negan whistled, spinning on his heels before instantly locking eyes with me. His arrogant smirk faded into regret the moment he saw me. I turned away, quickly walking back to my house.

“Shit, wait.” i heard him call from behind me.

I ignored him and made it all the way to my porch before his hand grabbed my wrist and spun me around. 

“Baby, please. Listen.” 

“I am not your Baby. What the hell is wrong with you?!” I said through my teeth, jerking out of his grip. 

“Please, just let me explain.”

“And if I don’t? You’ll just forcefully break into my house anyway! So sure! Come on in.” I spit out furiously as Negan followed me into my house. Two of his men were already inside, lifting my couch. 

My hands flew up. “Oh, great.” 

“Put it down.” Negan ordered his men who gave him a funny look in return. “Are you deaf or fucking stupid? Put. It. Down. This house is off limits.”

“Yes sir.” They obeyed, setting my couch back down and awkwardly left. Negan and I stood in silence for a moment before he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a picture. It was the one of me and my brother and I felt my throat closing. 

“When you fell asleep that night, I carried you to bed and found this on your nightstand. I knew you looked familiar, but once I realized..” He paused, looking up at you. “..I felt so guilty. So I left. And I haven’t stopped thinking about you once. Baby, I am so sorr-”

I laughed loudly, cutting his sentence off. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes so I looked up at the ceiling to hold them in. "You cannot be fucking serious right now. You murdered my brother, in the worst way possible, and then you have the nerve to give me a half ass apology?!” I scoffed, shaking my head. 

He set the picture on the end table and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Alright, what’s it gonna take for you to forgive me? You want me to get down on my knees and beg?” He walked closer, towering over me. 

“Yes, actually.” 

His smile widened as he looked back and forth between my eyes, but I remained serious. He shook his head in disbelief, but finally gave in. Leaning his bat against the back of the couch, he kneeled in front of me. 

“I’m so sorry, baby. Please, forgive me.”

"Let me bash your head in. Then I'll consider it."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room and he nodded towards his bat. 

"Fine, go ahead." He whispered.

"Wh-what?"

"Go ahead, doll. Bash my brains out, if that’ll make you feel better." 

I walked over to the bat hesitantly, not taking my eyes off of him. When I stood in front of him again, I looked down at the bat in my hands - the same one that killed Glenn. My tears spilled over the wood and I dropped it like it burned my skin. 

My knees buckled beneath me before Negan caught me, pulling me close to him and adjusting us so that he was holding me in his lap. I sobbed into his chest as he held me tightly, stroking my hair while his chin rested against the top of my head.

"Goddamn it, doll. I am so fucking sorry. I can’t say it enough. I wish I could bring him back." Negan sounded as if he was crying himself.

I let him hold me a moment longer before I shoved him away and stood up. "Please just go. I don’t want to see you again." 

He looked at me pleadingly as he stood, and for a moment I let myself imagine his sincerity until my gaze returned to the floor and he left without another word, taking his stupid bat with him.

2 weeks later...

I’ve fully betrayed myself. Thinking of Negan like he was the only man to exist. My days ran together, and the more time went by, the more I missed my brother, and the more I resented myself for fantasizing about the man who took him from me.

The loud rumbling of engines vibrated my ears as I washed shampoo out of my hair. Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around my body and approached my bedroom window, moving the curtain slightly.

Rick's back was facing my window while Negan stood in front of him. I remained still, trying to listen to their conversation and also to avoid drawing attention to myself in the window. 

Sensing my stare, Negan's eyes darted up, instantly meeting mine. I couldn't look away, being frozen in mix of emotions that I didn't know was hatred or lust. Or both. 

A smirk appeared on his face, causing Rick to turn and look towards the window, making me quickly drop the curtain and step back. I brushed my hair, threw on some shorts and a tank top and headed downstairs. As soon as I reached the bottom, there was a knock on the door. My heart raced and I scolded myself on the inside for smiling, quickly replacing it with a frown. Get a fucking grip.

I opened the door, probably with too much eagerness. "I thought i told-"

Oh.. it's just..

"The hells going on with you and Negan?"

"What?" 

"Ya heard me."

I stared at Daryl confused and shocked, not understanding where this sudden confrontation was coming from.

"Nothing! Nothing is going on, what is that even supposed to mean?" I looked past Daryl to find the Saviors' truck already gone and it felt like a punch to my gut.

"I saw that little exchange from your window. Not to mention his last visit when he kicked the saviors outta here." Daryl’s hands rested on his hips and luckily no one else was around to hear his little outburst. This was the most I’d ever heard him speak. 

"Daryl, where is this coming from? How could you seriously think I could ever have an interest in him after what he did?!"

Daryl’s head dropped. "Glenn made me promise if anything ever happened to him, that I’d look after ya."

Tears filled my eyes. 

“We care about ya. Just trying ta keep you safe.”

"I know." You smiled sympathetically before Daryl turned to leave. "Wait.. they left quickly this time. What did they take?" 

"You should know. He only went to your house."

I frowned, closing my front door and suddenly the air around me felt different. I looked around for any trace of him, but it seemed the only thing he left was a pit in my stomach and a faint trail of leather cologne. I was getting ready to head upstairs when something caught my eye from the kitchen table. A rose, lying next to a folded piece of paper.

Meet me at our place tonight. We need to talk. 

Part 3 here

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[morganski-19]

part 1, part 2

Dustin visits the next day, sitting next to Wayne with the same book he’s had for the past few days. Turning to the page that was dog-eared, reading. Voices and all. Just like Eddie does when he’s practicing for one of those campaigns. Claiming that it’s better to get it down with someone else’s words so he can improvise. So he doesn’t have to memorize some script and can be in the moment. Let his mind do the workings along with the players. 

It’s one of the many parts of Eddie that Wayne sees in this kid. The dramatics, the drive. The snobbiness about certain things that don’t really matter to the rest of the world. But it matters to them, so it matters to the people who care about them too. 

If Eddie were awake, he might yell at the kid for turning the corner of a page instead of using a bookmark. Even though all the books he gets are second-hand and already torn and bent in all sorts of ways. But it’s about keeping the art pristine. The author put their heart and soul into this work, it’s not meant to be sullied. Wayne saw Eddie bend the corner of a page a million times over though, he just likes making a big stink about nothing. Just to get a rise out of people, make them laugh. Wayne can imagine that Eddie liked to make Dustin laugh a lot. 

“Have the doctors said anything new?” Dustin asks after finishing the chapter. 

Wayne shakes his head. “Same old, same old. Don’t worry about it too much though, he wouldn’t want you to.”

“He wouldn’t want a lot of the things that happened over the past week. So he’ll have to deal with it.” After a pause, he asks, “How are you doing?”

That makes Wayne laugh. “You don’t have to go worryin’ about me either. You’re just a kid.”

“And you’re just a man waiting for your kid to wake up. The same way I’m waiting for my friend to wake up. At the end of the day, we’re all still people. That sometimes need a break. So, how are you doing?”

It’s scary how much Wayne sees Eddie in this kid. “It’s hard comin’ here to hear the same thing every day.” That’s all Wayne’s willing to say to a kid. 

Hard is definitely a word most people would use to describe his situation. Difficult, disheartening. Maybe even hopeless. But there’s still some hope in this old heart that keeps Wayne coming back day in and day out. Keeps him moving while only getting a few hours of sleep a day. Cause as soon as the night comes around, it’s right back to the plant. Making the money to pay for the care his boy needs to keep living. To pay for the roof over his own head enough so he’ll live to see it happen. 

Truth is, Wayne’s dying here. From the fatigue. From the endless waiting. From the slowly draining pool of hope. Nothing seems to change. Nothing gets better. Six days in a medically induced coma with no hopes of ever waking up. Wayne’s not dumb enough to think that the chances increase the more days pass without him showing any signs of improvement. 

Part of him says that this is the state Eddie will be in for the rest of his life. Wonders if it’s worth all of this just to keep him alive. If he’s really suffering in there and would be better off resting forever. But then the heart monitor keeps beeping and his brain is still active. Wayne’s boy is still in there, he’ll come back soon. 

“Yeah, I bet that’s hard. I still have hope though, I was there when he came in. He looks a lot better now.”

There’s a knock on the door that keeps Wayne from responding. It’s the Harrington boy, in normal clothes this time. Discharged. 

“Sorry to interrupt but your mom said it’s time to go home.”

Dustin dramatically rolls his eyes. “Which one, my actual mother or you?”

“Your actual mother, but I happen to agree with her. Come on, you got school in the morning.” Harrington crosses his arms, looking like he’s ready to start a standoff. 

But instead of fighting Dustin stands. “Have a good night Mr. Munson. I’ll still try to visit as much as I can even though school’s starting back up again.”

“Thanks, kid, I’ll try.”

Harrington ruffles Dustin’s hair as he walks out the doorway. Standing there for a beat before turning back to Wayne. “We’ve never officially met, I’m Steve.”

Steve holds out his hand, waiting for Wayne to shake it. Wayne debates whether that’s a good idea or not. Apparently, it takes too long as Steve returns his hand to his side. 

“I wanted to apologize for the scene I made the other day, you didn’t deserve that. I was just so shocked that they actually cuffed him to the bed. Still have him cuffed to the bed.” Steve looks at Eddie with a guilt that Wayne doesn’t understand. Like he’s the reason Eddie’s strapped to the bed. 

Wayne continues to say nothing, not quite sure what would be appropriate. Tell him that it’s ok, that it didn’t bother him. Or thank him for believing that Wayne knew was true. That his boy was innocent. 

There was more to this story than he knew. Something to do with the kid being there and the rich boy standing in the doorway looking like this is all his fault. When Wayne knows the same scars mark Steve just as much as they do Eddie. Steve made sure that everyone knew that. Using it as proof that Steve was there, and that Eddie was innocent. 

Steve was ready to offer himself up as a witness for a man that the town hates. Wayne should be grateful for that, but it doesn’t seem right. They were part of different worlds. Different status, interests. It didn’t make sense for them to be in the same place at all. Yet here they are supposedly having gone through the same vicious attack. 

“Let me know if you need anything,” Steve continues when Wayne stays silent. “I’m more than happy to help out. Eddie was kind of a new friend and I hate seeing him like this as much as you do.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Wayne snaps. He hates charity, especially from this kid. For some reason he doesn’t really understand why. 

Steve is taken aback. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.”

“I’m sure you didn’t, but you did. I know my boy and I know how my boy thinks about people like you. So don’t go ‘round gaining sympathy points from the real people who are suffering.”

“I, I wasn’t,” Steve stammers. “I would never.”

“Steve,” Dustin yells. “Get your ass moving, we’re your ride too.”

Steve sighs. “Coming, Jesus. I’m sorry for offending you. I won’t bother you again.”

Wayne shakes his head when Steve leaves, letting out a deep sigh. Maybe he was too harsh, maybe he wasn’t harsh enough. He’s not sure. 

He’s not sure about a lot of things anymore.

part 4

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[storiesbyjes2g]

3.195 Uncle Luca's day out

So, uhhh ... We have a closet now. After seeing Less', our empty wall was looking extra empty. Once I told Sophia what I saw, it was a wrap. She ordered that thing so fast, and it arrived way too early this morning, but here we are. It's funny how this room is smaller than the last one, yet we never had so much storage space before. Fewer windows have advantages, I suppose.

Rosie is barking outside our window. Our dogs are always barking, especially when she is playing, but what catches my ear this time is another voice. I look out the window and see Alessia playing with her! This house is doing a number on all of us, I see. I love that she's not only getting along with our dogs but also seeking them out. I've said it a million times, and I'll say it once more: we're going to be alright.

The other night, when me and Sophia looked school information after trying to prep Desiree, we learned the school system is on winter break right now, so we have loads more time with her! I was so glad and relieved to find this out. I mean, if she had to go to school, we'd send her, but I felt like we were all unprepared for this next phase of life. It came around so fast! Now we have the time to prepare, and we get to have more fun together. With school out, four kids, and two deserving mothers, I decide to take the kids out and let the moms rest. Also during the school information quest, I stumbled upon the high school's events page. They host many events that the public can attend, and tonight there's a football contest. That sounded like a good event for the kids, but it wasn't until 5 p.m., so I made an impromptu agenda to kill time. We began our adventure early with breakfast in Oasis Springs.

We go to the steak house me and Sophia frequent, but I don't recognize the host this time. She must be new, but man, does she have an attitude. She acted like me bringing four kids to a restaurant at 9 a.m. is a personal affront to her. Maybe it is early, or maybe I'm just too flabbergasted by her outburst, but I don't know how to respond. It's for the best because I probably wouldn't be nice because I feel the spirit of "I got time" rising up in me again, heh. I need to get into the gym and hit a bag because it is clear I want to fight someone. I blame Alessia's sperm donor, Jace. We got all hyped up about fighting him and never did. Maybe that urge never left me. Anyway...

The cook had just walked in on her berating me and shook his head at her. If this happens a lot, why don't they fire her? It can't be good for business.

"Come on, man," he said to me. "We've got plenty of tables, and I have to walk that way, anyway."

That was so nice of him. We followed him to a table, and I told ol' Nasty Nelly to have a good day so the kids could hear, heh. Sure, it was sarcasm, but hopefully they haven't learned that concept yet. With any luck, they'll learn to return nastiness with kindness.

When we get to the table, we have a quick family meeting. Because it's their first time in public, and I am the lone adult, we discuss inside voices, manners, and general public behavior, aka, this is not a playground, aka do not embarrass me, heh. Breanna and Arvin want to play in the rain, so I let them go as long as they are quiet. Desiree and Lex stay with me. She colors the placemat, and he plays quietly with a toy.

When the food came, I collect the other two from outside, and we have a fairly decent time together with minimal incidents...

I'm not naïve enough to think we could go all day without someone acting up. But what I did not anticipate was it would be my child I'd have to call out. She kept farting and laughing about it. I didn't realize she was the culprit until Breanna had enough and screamed at her.

I told her no one else thinks it's funny. We're eating, and no one wants to smell that with food in our mouths, and she should apologize to the table. Her remorseful face almost broke me, and I wondered if I was too harsh. I knew I wasn't because I didn't yell, but I just hate seeing her sad. I stayed strong, though.

After breakfast, we still have several more hours before the event, so I take them to Copperdale so we'd already be in town. I remembered a park down the street from the pier, so we go there first. The weather is not conducive to playing in the park. A thick blanket of snow covers the ground, and it's still falling on top of being extremely cold. I should cancel our plans and go back home because I don't want anyone getting sick. But the kids scatter before I can stop them. Desi says she has to pee and goes to the bathroom. Breanna makes a beeline for the monkey bars, reminding me so much of her mother. Arvin also goes to the bathroom, which leaves Lex with me again. He's such a cool little dude with a chill temperament, like me. I noticed his outfit earlier, and he seems to care about his appearance more than the other two.

Some older gentlemen are out taking a stroll for some reason and come over to talk about the weather. Lex doesn't seem to mind, but I want him to have fun too, so I excuse myself to have some snow fun with him. We have a snowpal building contest with Bre.

We win by default because Bre quit when she saw Desi and Arvin talking outside the bathrooms. We're still proud of our victory, though.

It seems a shame to come all the way to Copperdale and be a stone's throw of the pier and not ride the rides, so I check on the kids to see how they're doing with the weather. It stopped snowing, so the visibility is better, but it's still freezing. Children have an uncanny knack for being impervious to the weather, however, so they all said they're fine to stay out. I tell them about the haunted house ride, and they're all very excited about it. I figure we'd do that one over the Ferris wheel so we can get inside for a bit.

Although I know the cars only have two seats, I still wish we can all go together. I want to ride with Desi, but who would stay and watch the other kids while we ride? She wants to go with Arvin anyway, and Lex wants to go with me. Breanna is a boss just like her mom, and she doesn't want to sit with anyone. By the time we all take our turns, it's about 5:30, so we head to the high school.

On the way, I explain how this will be their school when they become teenagers. There're all kinds of activities they can get into, like the football team, which is what we'll be doing today, cheerleading, chess club, computer club, and so much more. Realizing they have no frame of reference for school, however, we walk around the classroom building to warm up and see what it's all about. This isn't my alma mater, but a school is a school. They're all basically the same.

Bre got upset about Desi farting again. Just as I begin to express disappointment, I remember something from her infancy. She was gassy a lot and constantly had hiccups. And she belched a lot when we burped her after feedings. Could something still be going on with her stomach? Am I telling her to stop being nasty while she can't actually help it? I didn't say anything that time and decide to talk to her about it in the privacy of our home.

[demigod-shenanigans]

Have not posted about mine and @queenjunothegreat’s next gen kids in way too long so: Pipeyna kiddie

-Her name is Emilia McLean. Her go-to nickname is Em. When she’s in trouble, Piper calls her Lea. Yes, she‘s named after Leo. He would not stop wailing when he was told about this.

-Em is Sofía’s best friend. She’s three years older than Sofía and they grow up considering each other sisters. (Good luck trying to tell Sofía they’re not sisters because they’re not related, she’s not related to her dads either and they’re still her dads, so checkmate)

-When they were small, Sofía followed Em around like a little duckling, insisting to play whatever Em was playing and do whatever Em was doing. There’s nothing these two wouldn’t do for each other. (Also yes I gave them matching earrings in different colors because they’re dorks and they would.)

-Em loves skirts and dresses and putting her hair up in fancy braids. Reyna’s got the braiding covered due to her time on Circe’s island, but when Em asked her moms to show her how to do her makeup, they were both sweating profusely because Piper hasn’t let anyone put makeup on her since she was twelve and Reyna’s just never really bothered with it? They spent like an hour trying to watch a makeup tutorial before giving up and admitting they need help. Hylla never lets Reyna live it down, but Emilia is thrilled because “the queen of the Amazons taught me how to do my makeup” is a pretty cool thing to brag about. (There was a discussion on whether or not to call Drew instead but in the end they settled on Hylla because they knew Hylla would be annoying but not as overly smug about it.)

-Drew absolutely takes Em clothes shopping sometimes because she’s decided Reyna and Piper are both useless. Piper lets it happen because it makes Em happy but is also fuming about it. Reyna is honestly just grateful to be getting out of clothes shopping lmao her closet is almost entirely made up of work outfits.

-Piper and Reyna have a rescue dog named Kitty (Em named her when she was three, in honor of that the name is spelled in all caps in all official documents) and Em loves that dog so much. It’s entirely mutual. Kitty is wildly protective of Em and will bite people if they so much as look at her weird.

-Leo is Em’s chaotic fun uncle and they get into so many shenanigans together. Jason is a significantly less chaotic uncle than his husband but somehow always ends up caught in the crossfire of their uncle-niece shenanigans.

-Leo being the chaotic fun uncle inevitably comes back to bite him when Em takes a page out of his book and starts getting into shenanigans with Sofía. Piper is absolutely cackling in the background.

Some more lore stuff under the cut since this is getting kind of long

-Em is actually the only next gen child named specifically after another demigod. This is both because Leo is close friends with her moms and because in a universe where names have power, choosing the name of the guy who beat the odds and quite literally rewrote fate—who defied death not once but twice so he could have his happy ending—is the greatest blessing Piper can think to give her daughter.

-Leo has thought of himself as a curse for a large chunk of his life. The concept of having his name used as a blessing is something he never fully recovers from.

-Speaking of names: Reyna’s bloodline and family legacy was meant to be intricately tied to New Rome’s survival. It ruined her life and took away almost her entire childhood. She happily laid her family name to rest and took Piper’s when they married. They mostly live in the mortal world and her ties with New Rome aren’t nearly as strong as they used to be when she was growing up, but there’s a part of her is terrified that this will come back to haunt her daughter one day. She never tells her daughter about Bellona’s prophecy. She won’t allow for her to grow up with the future of New Rome on her shoulders.

-Emilia is a natural leader. Aside from her general proficiency with various weapons, her main power is a sort of motivational charmspeak—not quite Piper’s ability to control others, and not quite Reyna’s ability to project her own emotions outward, but a milder combination of both that allows her to demand the attention of other demigods, instill confidence in those listening to her and rally her troops. Everyone knows she’d be a praetor at Camp Jupiter in no time, and it terrifies Reyna.

-But Em is a legacy of Aphrodite and Bellona both. She has a place at Camp Half-Blood as well as Camp Jupiter. And when the time comes for her to choose, she chooses Camp Half-Blood and goes back to live with her moms once the summer is over. Reyna nearly cries with relief.

-Maybe Leo’s name worked. Maybe the prophecy won’t be of any relevance until they’ve all long passed, many generations down the line. But Em strays from the path that seemed so set for her. She’s free, in a way Reyna never was.

[calikitters]

rahhh pjo headcanons part uno

leo is a no sabo kid ����🙏 THINK ABOUT IT the only person in his life who spoke spanish to him died when he was still little - he went to school in america and therefore grew up learning english!! he can understand spanish if it's spoken to him but he can't really speak it himself besides a few phrases and words IT MAKES SENSE

annabeth buys two copies of all her favourite books so she can have one copy that she can annotate and highlight and dog-ear the pages and one that she keeps perfectly pristine on her shelf. if I had the money I would totally do that too

annabeth hated twilight sparkle from my little pony and then when she got a little bit older she realised that twilight was actually her. like literally her. that's why she hated her

jason hates toffee with a flaming passion he cannot stand it he will gag dramatically and aggressively if anyone eats toffee around him. the texture and the smell make him feel sick and so he does not eat it ever, he would rather get struck by lightning than eat a piece of toffee

hazel used to really like bubblegum in the 40s when it was new and now that its cheaper and more refined in modern america, she chews it all the time

leo sticks post-it notes EVERYWHERE like literally everywhere on every surface ever. he labels things he writes little notes-to-self he makes sure he remembers to do things by sticking a post-it note on it. he also tried to have them colour coded by importance but they all ended up labeled as "super important" so it didn't really work

[nivisdreaming]

Skittish

Eddie didn’t think there was anyone outside of Hellfire in the school who liked D&D, and he’s okay with his little group of hyperactive teens. Then, he finds you, drawing what is undeniably a D&D monster. And he is hooked.

• Eddie Munson x Shy!Reader

• Tags: Fluff, Meet-Cuteish?, Drabble, She/her for reader

• WC: ~700

“Wait. Hold on. That’s not- is that? Are you drawing a beholder?” Eddie stops dead in his tracks, quick to lean over head of the girl he’s speaking to in order to get a better look at the sketchbook.

She flinches backwards, nearly ramming her head back into his chest. “No! Definitely not!” She slams the sketchbook shut and pulls it underneath her chin, wrapping her arms across it tightly and tugging her knees up to her chest to hide the leather-bound book from view as much as possible. “P-please don’t try to take it,” she squeaks.

Eddie is quick to pull back, realizing in his eagerness he has ended up towering over the poor girl. He puts his hands up in a show of surrender. “Woah woah, slow down, I have no intention of taking it! It was just really good, ya know? Could I look?” He lowers his voice to a much softer tone. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I may be a freak, but I’m not a monster sweetheart.”

There’s a gentle whine as she unfurls herself from her defensive stance, but she returns the book to its place on the table and opens it to the previous page. On it is an almost completed pencil sketch of a beholder, with miniature doodles of 20-sided dice, swords, and bows decorating the page border. With only a slight anxious glance at the curly-haired man next to her, she pulled the pencil from behind her ear and began adding to the shading. Internally, she sighs in relief at the excuse to look anywhere besides the sad puppy dog eyes Eddie gave her when he scared her. He’s adorable. That’s so unfair. Why do you get to be adorable and tall? People really should only get to pick one of those. Unfair.

“You drew this?! It looks out straight of the D&D manual, that’s awesome!” Eddie plops down in the seat next to her and sets down his lunch tray in favor of leaning in closer to the book, leaving their faces parallel to each other. “I’ve never seen you at Hellfire before, do you play with a friend group or something?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t actually play. My brother did though, and he left all the books to me when he left for college, so I started reading them after school.” She mutters as she continues to draw. The repetitive movement helps lull her anxiety a bit, and she feels her guard lowering with the release of her scrunched up shoulders. “I’ve seen you with the hellfire crowd, but-“ She sighs. “You know how vampires can’t come inside somewhere unless they’re invited in? I’m kind of like that. Groups are intimidating, and I get skittish.” He shifts impossibly closer to peek over her ever-moving pencil, and a strand of his hair brushes her cheek and sends a chill down her spine.

“You should join us sometime, skitty kitty, we don’t bite,” Eddie snickers. She feels him turning his head so more of his hair teases the side of her face, and she swears he’s so close she can feel his breath now. “You know, you’re blushing pretty hard there. Is it the compliments on your drawings, or is something else up? Hmmm?” Her hand freezes for the first time since she reopened the book.

“I- um…nothing,” She lifts her pencil to her mouth and begins to anxiously tap it against her lip. “Yeah, sure, I’ll join you all,” The tapping continues.

On instinct, Eddie’s hand reaches out and carefully removes the pencil from her hand, taking it in his own. He smirks when she looks up from the sketch to his eyes, shoots her a wink, and kisses the top of the pencil lightly. Her tucks it back behind her ear with a lingering touch. “Fridays, after school, in the drama room. Bring these drawings if you feel comfortable, the kids will love ‘em and I’d love to see more of them.” She gulps and fights the urge to nod with too much eagerness, and he slides out of his seat, gives her a wave, and returns to his usual table to eat his lunch.

To be honest, she isn’t sure she is capable of forming another coherent thought for the entirety of the lunch period.

[chaotic-orphan]

Could you please continue ‘The Stranger’ it’s my favourite series on this app

The Stranger (V)

Read part one here // Continued from here

OHHHHHH IT’S ANGSTY YOUR HONOUR?!!!! WOWUH!!! To whoever wanted the stranger continuation!!! sorry it is a day/two late!!!! I hope you enjoy!!!! dedicated to @ehobep

*~*~*~*~*

Vigilante was a ball of nerves. His ears ringing in his skull as Karma drove him into the city again to Hero who was waiting for him on the roof. Karma was singing along to the radio, in a better mood than he had seen the monster in… maybe ever. His finger drummed along the steering wheel, humming when he didn’t know the words, the perfect image of peace and ease.

Vigilante wanted nothing more than to pull the steering wheel and let the car spin out into a ditch. A branch going through the driver’s seat lancing Karma through the chest. Or the skull, it really didn’t make a difference. As long as he died.

At least Hero would be safe.

If Karma hadn’t compelled him to behave like a fucking dog Vigilante could do that! He could save Hero, he could stop Karma— he could— he c— he couldn’t do a thing to stop him, except glare from the corner of his eyes and worry about his great mood. Vigilante had to be smart. He had to be smart or who knows what Karma might do to Hero?

“Ah, here we are,” Karma said turning the key in the ignition and smiling at Vigilante. “Come along, Vigilante. We have a hero waiting for us.”

There was no compulsion in his words but Vigilante obeyed anyways. It unnerved him when Karma started walking towards his and Hero’s rooftop, something so sacred and safe for the two of them.

“How did you know I’d be up there?” Vigilante asked.

“Hmm?”

“On the rooftop, the first time we met. How did you know I’d be up there?”

Karma smiled. “I have eyes everywhere, Vigilante, or haven’t you realised that by now?”

Vigilante glared at him. “Besides, when I saw you save the Mayor’s kid you got on my radar and I followed you until I could intercept. When I saw you go up to that roof, well, I knew it was my chance to speak to you, and then, who comes up after me, but the number two Hero in the city? I could sell your scandalous story to the media if I wanted to.”

Vigilante felt his cheeks flush. “That’s not— we’re not— there’s nothing going on between us.”

“Who cares?” Karma said with a shrug. “It would be juicy gossip, a media circus, and, in the pandemonium I could probably kill the mayor and it would be page seven news.”

Karma beamed at the blushing Vigilante, holding the door to the roof access open. “After you,” he said with a sweeping gesture of his hand. Vigilante swallowed the lump in his throat as he passed, taking the stairs up to the roof where Hero was waiting for him. Unbeknownst of the threat that was waiting for them.

If he could scream, maybe warn Hero, he could— he could maybe save them. That’s what he’d do. Without warning, Vigilante started sprinting up the stairs not caring if Karma was following or on their tail or anything. They ran up the stairs to the roof access and climbed the ladder to get the roof in record time and there—

Across the roof he saw Hero and he screamed: “Hero! Run!”

Hero frowned, rushing towards Vigilante, but Vigilante shooed them away. “Run! Just go! It’s a trap! It’s not me. It’s a villain, Hero! The suicides you need to—”

A hand clamped over Vigilante’s mouth, a razor edge pressed into his throat and yanked him back into Karma’s hard chest. Karma’s chest rose and fell quickly, tired from the exertion, but he chuckled darkly in Vigilante’s ear, freezing their struggles.

“Naughty, naughty Vigilante, Hero’s going to have to pay for that.”

“No!” Vigilante yelled through Karma’s hand but it was muffled as Karma’s grip turned bruising, wrestling Vigilante’s head back and dampening any hope of Vigilante calling out to warn Hero.

“Oh yes,” Karma hummed. “Just be a good little hostage.”

Vigilante’s wide terrified eyes found Hero’s who was still here. Why were they still here?! Why were they being a hero right now? Of all the people Vigilante had to try to save, they had to save a fucking self-sacrificial idiot who got payed to be risk their lives for others?!

It was all some cosmic joke.

“Hey, we can talk about this,” Hero said, hands out placatingly, their eyes going between Vigilante’s and Karma’s. “Just… just let Vigilante go and we can talk, right?”

Karma dug the knife deeper into Vigilante’s neck, pricking it lightly and letting Hero see the bead of blood he drew just for funsies.

“I think we can talk perfectly fine like this, Hero. You, me, Vigilante. I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.”

Vigilante grabbed Karma’s hand covering their mouth and tried to dislodge it but Karma didn’t budge, pressing his lips beside Vigilante’s ear he whispered: “stop struggling, Vigilante. Unless you want me to unmask you here and now in front of Hero.”

Vigilante froze. Karma chuckled. “Ohh… they don’t know either, do they? Interesting. That was a stab in the dark, Vigilante, you need to stop being so readable. It could get you in trouble.”

“Hey! Look, I think you need to release Vigilante right now, or else—“”

“Or else what?” Karma asked. “You’ll fight me? What if you hit poor Vigilante here?”

Vigilante told Hero to do it, to take the risk, but Karma smothered the words until they were just spongey syllables that got lost on the wind. Karma chuckled.

“Tell you what, Hero,” Karma said. “You’re right. I want to chat. So if I let Vigilante go, we don’t have to come to blows?”

Vigilante’s struggles renewed as they tried to shake their head, visions of Karma telling Hero to jump off the roof returning tenfold and making them want to throw up.

“Nngh! Nngh!” Vigilante protested, wishing he could scratch Karma’s eyes out but that fucking command was still lodged in his stupid brain that he couldn’t hurt himself or Karma; his struggles in vain.

Hero swallowed, eyes going between the pair before they nodded. “Deal.”

“Good,” Karma said. “When I release you, you will fall to your knees and remain silent.”

“Nngh!” Vigilante protested, frustrated tears gathering behind his eyes as he pawed uselessly at Karma’s hand. Karma removed the knife first, making a show of taking it from Vigilante’s throat and lifting it away.

Now.

Vigilante had to move now.

Karma’s command was conditional. If Karma released Vigilante, Vigilante would have to obey, but if Vigilante broke free… then nothing.

Vigilante shot forward like a bullet. Karma’s attention focused on Hero allowed his brain to stutter as Vigilante barrelled forwards, throwing themselves ahead and fell to the ground, rolling on the rooftop until they came to a stop beside Hero. Hero’s hand was on him, helping him to his feet, but Vigilante didn’t take his eyes off of Karma the whole time.

Karma threw his head back and let out a booming laugh at the sky. It didn’t sound like a proper laugh, it was chilling, crazed, the kind of laugh anime villains do when they’ve captured the hero or revealed their master plan. It made the hairs on the back of Vigilante’s neck stand on end.

“Vigilante, you slippery little fucker,” Karma bellowed, his laughter dying down to manic little chuckles as he tilted his chin down to stare at Hero and Vigilante again.

“Vidge?”

“You need to get out of here, Hero,” Vigilante said, pushing them behind his back. “He’s a charmspeaker you need to run, he’s the cause of all the suicides and—“”

Vigilante ducked to the left, dodging the knife that was hurled straight for his head.

“Spoilers, Vigilante. Come on, at least play fair.”

“Play fair?!” Vigilante sputtered as he started backing up on the rooftop, Hero behind him. “Nothing’s fair with you, you fucking psycho!”

Vigilante kept pushing Hero back. “Vidge, I’m not leaving you here with him. We can go together!”

Vigilante’s heart hammered against his chest, his blood rushing fast in his ears like a waterfall. The pressure and sound of the spray deafening everything else around him. He wanted so badly to get away, to run from Karma, but if he got his hands on Hero, who knows what he’d make Hero do.

Vigilante shook his head, eyes narrowing as Karma advanced slowly towards them, pushing them closer and closer to the edge of the roof.

“Vigilante~,” Karma sang, tutting him for his defiance. “Didn’t I tell you to behave when we met with Hero?”

“Go fuck yourself!” Vigilante snapped.

Karma smiled at Hero, as if he was Karma’s bold child that just disturbed Hero. “Sorry about him, he’s so spirited, isn’t he?”

“Just who the hell are you?” Hero demanded, their voice hard after they realised that Vigilante wasn’t about to go running with them.

Karma sighed, running a theatrical hand down his face and grabbed his chin as if he were pondering something. Then his lips stretched across his face as he held a finger up in the air, pointing towards the sky. “Ahah! I have a good idea, Vigilante, you come back over here now, and your punishment won’t be severe.”

“Punishment?!” Hero yelled now, stepping protectively in front of Vigilante. Vigilante grabbed Hero’s wrist, feeling their power thrum under their skin and pulled slightly. Hero planted their feet and let out a soft grunt of discomfort as Vigilante pulled on their ability. “You’re not getting anywhere near him.”

Karma smiled, exposing every tooth in his mouth, his half-lidded eyes amused, smirking a little at the pair. “Vigilante, I’ll give you to the count of three to surrender. Three.

“Hero we have to run,” Vigilante told them quietly, pulling at their shirt. “Trust me, please. I’ll explain when we’re safe, just please.”

“If this is the maniac who’s ordering all the suicides Vidge, I can’t just leave him free.”

“Two!”

“If we don’t leave him free, then he’ll take me back and do god knows what to you, Hero. Please!” Vigilante hissed, yanking Hero back. Hero fell back the step, and Vigilante’s hand tightened on Hero’s arm as Hero turned and they started running to the end of the roof towards a shop roof over.

“One!” Karma sang as Vigilante jumped. The sound of Karma’s fingers snapping rang over the wind of the roof, carrying to Vigilante’s ears like the sounds of church bells, deafening and dread filled. The moment Vigilante landed he turned and saw Hero on the edge of the rooftop on their knees.

Vigilante’s eyes blew wide, tracking Karma who was walking slowly towards Hero. “No! No, hero! HERO! GET UP!”

Karma chuckled, reaching into his grey duffle coat and pulling out a packet of cigarettes. He nodded at Vigilante as he walked towards the little step he sat on when he first took Vigilante.

“They can’t get up, Vidge,” Karma said, his words like a spear in Vigilante’s guts. “But I’ll grant you grace and give you five seconds to be by my side on your knees, grovelling, maybe with some tears, I don’t know yet, surprise me,” he continued conversationally, shrugging as he took a breath and light his cigarette between his teeth.

When he looked at Vigilante again it chilled him to the core. “Or this time, Hero walks off the roof and you won’t stop them. What’s another suicide in the city, hmm? Poor Hero, their heart couldn’t take that kid killing himself in front of them.”

Vigilante snarled at the air, his eyes on Hero’s bloodshot ones like the Mayor’s son, willing them to stand up. To get up! To laugh it off and say they were just fucking with Vigilante and that they were about to fight Karma with all the fury that Hero could muster, but Hero just stared blankly ahead at Vigilante, like a marionette with its strings cut, knees perched just before the ledge.

Oh god, if they had been faster when Karma did that Hero would have fallen to the pavement below.

“Five~” Karma sang and Vigilante ran across the roof to get a running jump onto the ledge. It was going to be harder than the initial jump because the usual rooftop was maybe a foot or two above the one Vigilante was on.

“Three!” Karma boomed. Vigilante wanted to scream at him and fight but he didn’t have time. If he wanted Hero to live he’d have to obey everything Karma said. Vigilante jumped and the minute he did a pit opened in his stomach. He realised after his feet left the ledge that he wasn’t going to make it cleanly.

His hands found ground on the rooftop’s ledge but his body slammed into the brickwork, robbing the wind from his chest. Vigilante gasped, fingers white knuckled, his feet doing tiny sprints on the bricks below as he tried to gain purchase on something to boost him up.

“Hero,” Vigilante said, his voice quivering with the effort. His foot found the ledge of a pipe and he wrapped his forearm around the ledge as he pushed himself up. Then his foot slipped and he was dangling. His bodyweight yanked him towards gravity and he cried out, his shoulders screaming at him to get up!

A sole pressed into his fingers and Vigilante cried out but he couldn’t even swing at Karma the bastard. He shifted his feet towards the pipe again and launched off it until he had two hands back on the ledge and—

His eyes widened. Hero stood with Vigilante’s fingers under their boot. “He… H-Hero?”

Karma stood beside them, eyes twinkling dangerously as he exhaled a plume of smoke from his lungs. “Mmm, what do you think, Hero? Should we let him up?”

Hero stomped on Vigilante’s hand. Vigilante lost their grip from the shock and the pain and now only one hand held them up on the ledge. With the momentum Vigilante swung, his eyes locking on the thirteen story drop to the street below. The world seemed to zoom in and out of focus as panic and his laboured breaths clogged every rational thought in him.

He glanced up again to see Hero’s foot hovering above Vigilante’s over fingers, Karma drinking in the chaos. “You’re right, Hero. I did give him a chance and he directly disobeyed me, what to do, what to do.”

Karma took another drag as Vigilante wrestled his hanging hand back up to the ledge, scrambling desperately. “Hero! Please!”

“Hero?” Karma echoed and Hero’s foot came down on Vigilante’s wrist. Vigilante screamed out a grunt of pain and he shook his head.

“Karma! Karma! Please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please! Fuck!” Hero ground their heel into Vigilante’s hand until he almost lost his grip again and screamed.

“Alright,” Karma said with a shrug. “Let him up.”

Vigilante barely registered the words before Hero bent over, foot still on Vigilante’s hands and yanked him by the back of his shirt over the ledge and onto the roof. He didn’t have a moment to catch his breath before Hero yanked him up, marching him back towards Karma who had sat against the raised concrete where Vigilante first met Karma.

Hero shoved Vigilante to his knees in front of Karma who looked down on him as if he were a king on a throne and Vigilante a traitor to the realm. A peasant, nothing more than the dirt on his shoe.

“H-how?” Vigilante demanded. It was the only thing he could say. His mind racing back to the first night on the roof, Karma told Hero to forget him and forget meeting Vigilante. Karma had to use eye contact or at least… that’s what Vigilante thought.

Karma took another drag of his cigarette, Vigilante watching the white burn away down to the coffee coloured butt. “I called them,” Karma said.

Vigilante frowned. “But— don’t you need to do that weird shit with your eyes?!”

Karma let out a startled laugh, nodding, smoke stuttering out his nose into the cool air. “Yes,” he said, grinning. “I do.”

Vigilante’s frown bled away to a picture of confusion. “Then how—”

“Face time, idiot,” Karma said fondly, waving Vigilante’s phone in his face before their gaze went to Hero holding Vigilante down. “The wonders of the modern world, hmm? Poor dear thought you were in trouble, when they answered they were so concerned. I think they really like you, Vidge.”

“But— we had our backs turned,” Vigilante protested, desperate. Karma grinned leaning down until he was crouched in front of Vigilante. Vigilante could do it, he could use Hero’s power and leave a hole of light burned through Karma’s chest but then he would hurt Hero too, and he wasn’t prepared to do that. Hero was innocent.

“It’s like a magician’s command,” Karma told him, eyes glinting with cruelty. “When I snap my fingers, you’ll sleep and when I snap them again, you will believe you are a chicken. All premeditated commands, I just wanted to see the look on your face.”

Vigilante swallowed.

“Yup,” Karma hummed, tapping out the ashes of his cigarette. “It was worth it. A little planning never killed anyone, did it? Maybe if you thought of that you wouldn’t have tried to run and Hero would be blissfully unaware of having to hold you down, against your will while we chat. Didn’t I say I was going to punish you for that, too?”

Vigilante squirmed in Hero’s grip, pushing back away from Karma who tipped forward and pinched Vigilante’s cheeks in a bruising grip, yanking his face towards Karma.

Karma raised his cigarette and pushed the burning red eyed tip towards Vigilante’s eye. Vigilante’s eye watered immediately and he widened it so his eyelashes wouldn’t catch on the smouldering ember. He stiffened, struggles ceasing, his breath coming out in sharp, stuttered pants.

“Karma… d-don’t—”

“Don’t?” Karma asked, inclining his head. “Didn’t I tell you to behave? Didn’t I give you a chance to repent? To avoid this nastiness? And what did you do? Oh yeah, that’s right. You didn’t.”

Vigilante threw his weight back but Hero kept him locked in place and Karma kept his face close to the butt. Karma smiled. “But hey, I’m a forgiving sort of guy, so for now, I won’t burn your corneas out of your skull.”

Vigilante released a sigh too soon after Karma retracted the burning butt from his eye. It got swallowed into a scream when Karma forced the burning ember instead to the tip of Vigilante’s cheekbone and Vigilante thrashed, the cylinder sizzling against his skin, the hear burning his eyes as he tried to move back but Hero wouldn’t let him so Vigilante didn’t think. He just let the power in him flow.

Only it wasn’t Hero’s power he had.

It was Karma’s.

Vigilante hissed, barrelling back, tippling feet over head with Hero across the roof until they got Hero under them and forced them to look into Vigilante’s eyes. Hero went to punch them but Vigilante caught it, their cheek burning from the wind pulling at the wound and he half-shouted: “HERO WAKE UP! SNAP OUT OF IT!”

Hero tried to punch them with their free hand and that one caught Vigilante in the jaw. Shit! It wasn’t working and they could hear Karma’s footsteps getting closer and closer. Fuck! What was it! What was it?! What did he say?!

His eyes widened as they locked on Hero’s again. “I release you!”

Hero blinked up at Vigilante, melting under them, resistance leaving their limbs as they stared up at Vigilante.

“Vigilante? What’re you… oh, shit, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t— I couldn’t control it, I—” Hero reached their hand up to Vigilante’s face, their thumb ghosting over the burn, but not touching it. Tears sprung to their eyes. “Vidge, I’m so… I’m so sorry.”

A loud, slow clap sounded from the other side of the roof drawing the pair’s attention. Vigilante looked up to see Karma standing at the door to the exit of the roof.

“How touching,” Karma said, hand on his heart. “But I didn’t even show you my command for you Vigilante.”

Vigilante’s blood ran cold, not moving from where they were straddling Hero to the ground. “What?” A whisper more than a word.

Karma’s eyes glimmered even from the distance with a malevolent delight at Vigilante’s plight.

“You know, the one that makes you do whatever I say. The one that turns you into my perfect little murder machine, all those special skills, Vigilante, you are a terror.”

Vigilante’s eyelids fluttered, trying to comprehend what Karma was saying behind his words, trying to make out the threat he was making because there was always a threat.

“Vidge?”

Vigilante looked down at Hero, his heart breaking with a small oh leaving his lips. If he didn’t go with Karma, Karma would make him kill Hero.

Hero who answered the call because of him.

Hero who was concerned when they saw Vigilante’s name flash across their phone.

Hero who was innocent in this, just another one of Karma’s victims.

Something hollow took root inside Vigilante’s chest as he stared down at Hero. Something protective and so unselfish that it threatened to swallow him whole. He placed his hands on Hero’s cheeks, tears pooling in his eyes.

“I… I’m doing this because I—” no, that was too much, too much for a time like this, so Vigilante swallowed and started again. “I’m doing this to protect you, Hero,” he whispered.

Hero stared, not quite comprehending yet. Not until Vigilante leaned down a little more, a stray tear hitting Hero’s cheek.

“Don’t, don’t do this, don’t go with him,” Hero pleaded, grabbing Vigilante’s wrists. “I won’t— I won’t give up. I won’t stop looking for you.”

“I know,” Vigilante whispered, his bottom lip trembling. “Which is why I have to do this. Hero, you’re going to forget me. You’re not going to—” his breath hitched, “look for me or worry about me anymore.”

“Vigilante please,” Hero cried.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re okay, we’re okay.” He said, leaning down further, keeping Hero’s eyes in view, keeping them ensnared in his swirling gaze. Then he whispered: “you don’t know where the idea came from but you know that there is a villain out there with charm speak who is behind the suicides, someone from the wealthy side of town and you will find him and bring him to justice.”

Hero was stupefied beneath him as he retreated slightly. “And you’ll forget this too,” and Vigilante finally, for the first and possible last time ever, pressed his lips to Hero’s and wept as he pulled back, strangling his emotions into submission he rose from Hero’s body and walked towards Karma whose glittering eyes never left Vigilante.

“You made the right choice,” Karma said, patting Vigilante on the back. His breath reeked of smoke and cold, and Vigilante wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face, but he just walked past him and down the ladder before making his way back down to Karma’s stupid van, leaving the only person who he ever loved on the rooftop without any memory of him.

[femboyhunting]

Part 1 of a Corrupted Sydney X Reader that I started I don't know years ago and abandoned. Figured the food was going to waste so I might as well feed you ravenous dogs.

SLAM

The sharp sound cut through the cacophony of the cafeteria. You'd been absorbed in a conversation with Robin but you both jumped at the interruption. What now? Why did it always have to be something? Couldn't you have one day without some bullshit bothering you? Your muscles tensed as you readied yourself for a fight and you snapped your head up to see… Sydney? He was still holding the stack of books he'd slammed onto your table. He glared down at you. Wait, glared? At you? 

“I need to talk to you,” he said. Then, gaze darting to a wide-eyed Robin beside you, “Alone, please.”

Robin sputtered, his head swiveling back and forth between you as he tried to come up with some kind of protest. The way Sydney looked at you was different, harder. He used to look at you in almost reverence. A shiver ran down your spine and you dropped your head. You watched his hands tighten around his books. They looked old. Delicate thick tombs that you remembered Sydney held like they could crumble away at a rough touch. It felt almost sacrilegious to watch his fingers creasing the pages now. His nails were adorned in chipped black polish. You remembered the evening you took his hands in yours to carefully apply that polish. Black, to match yours. 

Suddenly one of his hands shot up and, instinctively, you pushed yourself back. Your chair screeched unpleasantly as it scraped against linoleum. Robin bolted up, his own chair clattering to the floor, “What's your problem, Sydney?”

“You're going to be my problem if you don't mind your fucking business and stay out of it!”

You cringed, they were being too loud. Already the commotion was attracting attention. Heads turned your way. You caught the eyes of several other people as you watched them lean in to whisper and giggle to each other, and shot death-glares at them until they turned away in embarrassment. 

“Ok, ok!” You stood, palms up in surrender. Sydney visibly relaxed. 

“Thank you, love. I'm sorry, I-I…I just need to talk to you, I just need to know why you're a–”

And you bolted. A group of students yelled after you as you shouldered your way through them and slammed bodily through the cafeteria's double doors. 

Behind you, “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Oh he sounded mad. But that whole mess would be tomorrow you’s problem. Your footfalls echoed down empty halls. You'd almost let yourself slow when you heard the slam of the cafeteria doors. And running. Dammit. Running away from your problems usually worked. You veered right, into a dark classroom, your sneakers screeching in protest. Perfect. As quietly as you could, you clicked the door shut and stepped furtherer into the gloom. Your breathing was ragged, deep gulping breaths you forced yourself to take through your nose. It was an English classroom you'd found yourself in. The blinds were drawn. You couldn't tell if the darkness soothed or discomforted you. But it was quiet, and you were alone for now. Safe for now, you told yourself. But you couldn’t find it in you to be very convincing, even to yourself. 

And you were proven right when the classroom door slammed open and you were tackled to the floor. You managed to brace yourself against the floor but your vision still momentarily glimmered with stars. The assaulter growled in your ear, “Stop fighting me! Stop it. Please. I just want–ow!-- why are you being such a fucking asshole?!”

Sydney. You kicked out and seemed to hit something important because he gasped and reeled back, allowing you to scramble up and crab-scuttle away from him until your back hit a desk. 

He remained there, huffing, one arm wrapped around his midsection. He was hunched over, his long black hair hanging in messy locks across his face. He looked like a wild animal, yellow eyes fixed on you with a disconcerting intensity. Then he grinned, “Oh I get it! This is some kind of game isn't it, you want me to be rougher so you're goading me into it. Baby, you know you just have to ask!”

Oh no. You threw your arms up to cover your face and tried to go somewhere else, the way you usually did. It didn't work. Not with Sydney.

 Just relax, it'll be over soon. 

But it was Sydney. Sweet angel Sydney, whose smile was as radiant as the sun and who gave tight warm hugs. Safe. One of the few people you could let your guard down around. This felt all wrong. 

“Please don't…” You hated how weak your voice sounded. Hated hated hated it. Hated yourself for your selfishness. For exposing Sydney to a filthy evil world when he could have lived happily without knowing, just for your own thrills. Hated that you were just like everyone else in this awful rotten town. Hated that now that all was said and done, you were-

“-scared of me. You're actually scared of me,”his hands balled into fists,”I've never done anything to hurt you!”

You dropped your hands, a bit of your defiance returning to you, ”Never done anything to hurt me? What about a couple weeks ago? You assaulted me you asshole!”

Sydney blinked, “No I di– what?”

– 

You'd had a bad day. Not like that was new. Just mark it off as forfeit and get back to work. After all, the devil works hard but Bailey works harder. And if you didn't come through for him today he'd sell you off to the highest bidder. Again. Then you'd miss school and they'd send the police after you. And that's really how it started, a snowball turns into an avalanche and suddenly you're buried and have to scratch your way back up all while periodically getting fucked in the ass. That last part was not a metaphor. 

You caught your reflection in a store's tinted display window. You had dark bags under your eyes and your hair was greasy enough to limply lay flat against your head. Your lips were cracked. There were a few specks of dried blood on your cheek that you rubbed at with the hem of your sleeve until they were gone. Then you jumped when, through the glass, a blond man made eye contact and smiled. Oh, Sirius. He smiled like Sydney. Or, well, you supposed that Sydney smiled like him. It was the way his smile always reached his eyes. 

Oh, right, the sex shop. That's where you were. You'd been wandering. Sheepishly, you waved at him. This was good enough. Working here, that is. All you had to do was go on autopilot and work through the day. You could do that. You tugged your sleeves over the angry red rope burns around your wrists and made your way inside. 

The evening was uneventful. Stacking boxes, patrons slapping your ass as they passed. The pay wasn't amazing but the work wasn't hard. Sydney flitted around the store and scowled at the customers that bothered you like he was trying to get their heads to explode through sheer force of will. When he tried to strike up conversation you offered simple one-sentence answers. His face fell, and that immediately made you feel terribly guilty so you offered him your best attempt at a smile and told him you were really tired, a chat was beyond your bandwidth right now. 

Eventually you fell into a rhythm. 

Only to find Sydney, wrists shackled with a pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs. In the dim artificial light of the storeroom he looked up at you through his feathery gold lashes. And mewed out a sultry plea for freedom, breath already hitched and cheeks flushed. He was tempting and you knew exactly what it was he wanted. But as you crouched down to his level you could feel a bone-deep exhaustion well up inside you. None of this mattered now. You had one task you had to do and that was to work up enough money to pay off this week's debt. Every muscle in your body felt wound tight against your bones, a coiled creaking machine on the verge of running out of even the fumes it was running on. 

Sydney's mouth dropped open in shock when you undid the lock to handcuffs and turned to leave. 

Ok back to work. You could do–

“Oh no you don't!”

Your body slammed back to the floor, aided by Sydney's own weight. 

[a-killer-obsession]

Wavelengths [Killer x Reader, Heat x Reader]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 7 - Trust

You help Mohawk give the crew their annual medical checkups.

WC: ~4k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth

Apparently the Kid Pirates took their health more seriously than Yin would have guessed, because during dinner it was decided that tomorrow Yin would start her new job in the infirmary by assisting with annual medical checkups. Apparently Mohawk was adamant that the crew have regular health assessments, though to be honest only the top dogs ever usually made it through more than one annual checkup. Henchmen and cabin boys didn't often survive that long. Regardless, he kept well organized records of everyone currently on the ship, with manila folders containing sheets of information, from medical history to blood types to work he'd done himself. They were all kept in careful alphabetical order in filing cabinets that sat in the infirmary, organized by first name since many of the ship's occupants didn't have a surname.

With the addition of Yin's skills he was determined to add a new sheet of paper to each file, documenting old bone breaks, as well as any current internal issues that he might not have been able to catch without scanning equipment. The crew wasn't due for their annuals for another month or so, but he was excited to test out her abilities, so he'd convinced Kid to bring it forward.

She followed him to the infirmary after breakfast, where he gave her a quick tour of the room before performing her own checkup. He usually liked to do an initial interview when a new crewmate came on board but there hadn't really been the opportunity to do it till now. Anytime she'd been free, he'd been busy.

She gave him the short version of her life, he wasn't shocked to hear how the marines had treated her. They discussed contraceptives for a short while, but in truth he didn't really know much about them, since he was used to working for a crew of only men. She told him she had some sort of implant the commodore had forced on to her, so he made a note to look in to it, but left it be at that. The entire female reproductive system was something he was going to need to study now. He at least didn't need to inquire about her last cycle, or how irregular her period was, since he'd heard from Heat what happened during her initiation. He'd been unsurprised to discover the slave mark burned in to her skin in the middle of her back, it was long healed since it had been probably twenty years since she was branded.

“Any old injuries to note?” He asked, pulling out the new page he'd whipped up yesterday and photocopied a million times. It had a simple outline of a human, duplicated and labeled ‘front’ and ‘back’, with space around the edges so he could make notes and draw arrows to mark notable injuries.

“I broke my left ankle when I was learning to moon step, when I was about fourteen,” she said, tapping her lip with her index finger while she tried to recall past injuries, “oh and I dislocated my right hip when I was eight”

“How'd you do that?” He asked, making quick notes on the page.

“Got raped by a man too big for me,” she said plainly. He paused and put down his pen, letting out a heavy sigh. She seemed indifferent, like she'd just told him she'd fallen from a tree or something. You know, something normal for an eight year old to have done. He didn't pry further, she'd already given him her life story, he didn't need more information.

“I just need to check your eyes and ears and we can start calling the crew in for their checks,” he said, wheeling his stool over to sit in front of her. She was sitting over the side of the examination table. The infirmary wasn't large, but it was big enough for a decent size desk, an examination table, and a couple of more comfortable beds for those who needed a quiet place to recover, or required observation. The walls were lined with cabinets, many of them under lock and key, bookcases containing medical journals, and several tall filing cabinets. The room didn't have any windows, since it was smack in the middle of the building that sat above deck towards the back of the ship, and it smelt heavily of medical grade disinfectant.

“Can you remove your mask for me?” He asked politely, otoscope in hand.

“I can but you have to be quick, did Killer explain how my mask works to you?” She asked.

“He did, you won't be able to hear or see me properly, correct?” He said, “I'll be quick, just look straight ahead and stay still, I'll put your mask back on as soon as I'm done”

“Okay then, I think I trust you,” she slid her mask off and placed it on the bed beside her, sitting as still as she could, “okay, go ahead,” she couldn't make out her own voice, but she hoped she was speaking.

He gasped as he looked at her eyes and saw the grey-pink, no whites or iris or discernable pupil visible on them. He pushed it aside for now, he had to check her ears first. He moved quickly, knowing that every second he took was another second for her to become overwhelmed. Killer had warned that in the past she'd been known to become feral when she was without her mask, and he didn't feel like getting bitten today.

Her ears looked healthy, so he swapped his otoscope for his ophthalmoscope, rolling his stool to be directly in front of her and gently pulling her eyelids away to see more of her eyeballs. It was useless, he couldn't make out anything remotely human on her eyes other than the shape - whatever was going on with them was outside of his skillset. He sighed and gave up, putting the tool down and picking her mask up to slide carefully over her head. She felt it starting to touch her, so she quickly took over and shimmied it into its usual comfortable position.

“All done?” She asked.

“All done, thanks for not biting me,” he half laughed as he scribbled notes in her chart.

“I only do that to men who ask nicely,” he assumed she winked after that but he couldn't tell past the visor.

“Right,” he tried to brush it off, he wasn't one who was comfortable or who knew how to react to open flirting, “so, with the others. I'll do all my usual examinations, and when I'm done I'll have you scan them. I want to hear about any current or old injuries, and any abnormalities you see. I've never had access to scanning equipment so it'll be mostly new information for me.”

“Okay, can do doc!” She replied, moving from the exam table to the desk, sitting on the edge and kicking her feet.

“One last thing,” Mohawk said as he stood to go find his first patient. Most of the crew thought medical checks were for pussies and would no doubt be unwilling victims, “everything in this room comes under doctor-patient confidentiality okay? You're my nurse now, everything you hear is to be kept private. And keep it professional, you may be surprised how many of these men have STIs. If I hear a single laugh while I'm looking at someone's dick I'll have Killer drown you, got it?”

“Genitals don't phase me, most of the showers in the marines were mixed gender,” she shrugged, “you may be surprised to hear how many dicks I've come face first with to check for UTIs”

“Okay, good, we should have no issues then,” he said, “get off the desk, it's not professional. Sit in my chair till I need your assistance. I'll be mostly on the stool anyway”

“Roger that, doc,” she gave a mock salute and slid off the desk as he left.

Yin really was surprised at how many henchmen had STIs, and by the time they were done she was sure she could recite Mohawk's safe sex spiel of the top of her head, word for word. A few henchmen had been suffering in silence with bad constipation, and one had a badly broken toe. The cabin boys were all relatively healthy, but Mohawk gave them all the safe sex talk anyway, since it wouldn't be long before they started getting curious about the women, and he desperately hoped he could keep them from turning in to disease-ridden henchmen. Some of them were already partaking, but had been lucky enough to not catch anything.

It was well in to the afternoon when they got to the officers and commanders. The officers were all healthy, being that they'd been on the ship long enough to have regular checkups and knew well to follow Mohawk's advice. Yin had to stand on the examination table to check Wire's head, since he was just so damn tall.

She was surprised to find during Heat's examination that he actually had several hidden piercings that she could see through his clothes while she scanned him. She didn't ask why his dick was pierced, it didn't seem like an appropriate medical question. Kid wasn't happy about being examined, and complained the whole time that he was too busy for this shit. Mohawk gave him a long, stern talking to about drinking less beer and more water, if he didn't want a repeat of yesterday. She hadn't realised that the metal arm didn't have a real arm inside, she'd just assumed it was some sort of cover. She bit back a gasp when he removed it so Mohawk could check the stump of what used to be an arm. The base had metal embedded in to it, assumedly to help the prosthetic stick. She did her best to not gawk.

Last up was Killer, who they had to wait quite long for since he had been busy with some new recipe he had wanted to try that required being cooked slowly for many hours. He smelled of freshly cut herbs and bread when he entered, mixed with his usual scent of musk and spices. He locked the door as he entered, and Yin came to the jarring realisation that he was probably going to need to remove his mask. Mohawk went through his usual line of questioning before standing in front of Killer, he was too tall to examine from the stool. He did the same flexibility and grip strength tests he'd done for everyone else, and tapped his knees with a little hammer to check reaction times, before picking up his otoscope and turning to Yin expectantly.

“Right, sorry,” she said, turning and facing the wall. She heard something click and hair rustling as Killer removed his mask. “Hey um.. should I examine his head while the mask is off? I can't see his face if I'm scanning him, I promise”

“My head is fine,” Killer said flatly.

“I'm making notes of old injuries as well though, its important for my records,” Mohawk explained, “she's fast, it'll only take her a moment to check your head if nothing is wrong”

“Fine,” he sighed, “as long as she can't see”

“If my visor is dark green or red, I can't see you, just your insides,” she said, “to be honest I can only make out faces when its purple or like a neon green”

“Neon green is what you had when you killed the seaking right?” Killer asked, “is that some sort of night vision?”

“Yeah,” she explained, still awkwardly facing the wall, “and I can see pretty deep in the water as well, thats how I saw the seaking. I'm gonna turn around now, okay? I'll only be able to see your bones”

“Okay,” he replied. Mohawk finished checking Killer's eyes and stepped aside for her. She couldn't see well, but she'd spent all day in the room so she knew there was no furniture between them, and she could see their skeletons, the metal base of the examination bed, and Killer's mask sitting on the bed bedside him. She used what she could see as a guide to carefully make her way over, but she couldn't see the floor so her steps were awkward and she tripped.

“Woah, careful,” Mohawk said as he caught her, “what's wrong with you?”

“Can't see the floor,” she laughed, “I can only really see your bones and the metal things in the room, like Killer's mask and the base of the bed. Hard to walk without a floor”

She righted herself and stood carefully in front of Killer, who was definitely too tall. “You're too big, I'm gonna need to get on the table,” she climbed up on the side of him that didn't hold his mask, thankful that the base was metal and the mattress was thin so she could even see what she was doing. In her mind she was adding thickness to all the things she could see to account for what she couldn't.

“Ah- my hair-” Killer growled and pulled away, she'd unknowingly knelt on his long blond locks that had been resting against the bed.

“Fuck, sorry Kil,” she said, kneeling behind him, “I couldn't see it”

“It's fine, just get it over with,” he muttered, pulling his hair over his shoulder to the front so she couldn't catch it again.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” She asked as professionally as she could, “I need to turn your head”

“That's fine,” he replied.

She put her hands gently on either side of his head, carefully turning it and moving her hands around as she examined. It felt like he had thick bangs over his forehead, which definitely surprised her.

“Fuck you have a lot of old fractures for someone who wears a helmet,” she noted, “I can see… seven, Mohawk, if you want to note that down”

“Got it,” he replied, scribbling in his notes.

She turned Killer's face to look at her, her thumbs tracing his cheeks as she inspected them. She didn't even realise how intimate she was being, it was a natural process for her. His jawline seemed strong and his cheekbones looked prominent, if she had to guess she'd say he must have a sharp, attractive face. It looked symmetrical at the bone level, but who knows what kind of scars or deformities he might have on top that caused him to wear a mask.

“Old fracture on the left cheek as well,” she said, “I'd bet good money Kid did that”

“It'd be a winning bet,” he replied, suppressing a smile. Mohawk was busy with his notes, and she couldn't actually see his face, but he felt exposed anyway, and he didn't want anyone to see his ugly smile - the real reason he wore a mask.

“I'm gonna switch to red now okay?” She said, removing one of her hands from his face to fiddle with her mask. The visor turned red and her hand returned to his face, “Nothing of note on the front, eyes look healthy, frontal lobe looks fine,” she turned his head and made her way around, checking the side, then the back, then the other side. She paused, holding his head firmly in place. “Mohawk?”

“Mmm?” He looked up from his notes.

“There's something here, on the outside, towards the base of the neck,” she said, running her hand through Killer's hair and pulling it gently aside to clear the area she wanted Mohawk to check, “right here,” she pointed as she saw the bag of organs and veins that formed Mohawk stand beside the bed.

“It looks like a small cyst,” he said, prodding it with a gloved hand, “Killer I thought I told you to let me know if your mask did shit like this, it looks like it's about where the edge would rub”

“It's nothing,” he pulled Yin's hand out of his hair, entirely ignoring how nice her delicate hands felt woven through his locks, “I was just gonna deal with it myself”

Mohawk sighed and returned to his desk, “you're staying when she's done checking you over, so I can deal with that. It needs draining”

“I have shit to do,” Killer grumbled.

“Will you stop being a baby and let him do his job?” Yin scowled as she slid off the bed carefully, “now stand up so I can finish the scan, you can put your mask back on but I still have to check the rest of you”

He sighed and put his mask back in place before unwillingly standing, she tugged his arm to pull him further from the bed so she could walk all the way around him and quickly went about her scan, checking his bones first, then switching back to the red mode. She lifted his left arm as she checked his side.

“Your heart is beating a little fast Kil, you okay?” She noted.

“His heart rate was fine before,” Mohawk mused, quirking an eyebrow at Killer, who scowled under his mask at the clear insinuation.

“I'm just pissed off, now hurry the fuck up and quit touching me,” he growled.

“Anddd mister grumpymask is back,” she smiled, “relax, I'm done. He's all clear, doc, fit as a fiddle”

“Good, thats everyone then,” Mohawk said as he made a few last notes and stood to start collecting the supplies he needed for Killer's cyst, “you can go, Yin, thank you for your help. It won't always be this much work, I promise”

“Its fine,” she replied, unlocking the door to leave, “this was fun, I was happy to help. See you two at dinner,” she sung as she left. Mohawk gave her a weak goodbye, and Killer remained quiet.

Dinner wasn't far off, in fact by the time Mohawk was done with Killer it was time to head to the dining hall. Everyone else was already there, and Killer quickly finished off the special recipe of slow cooked beef and beer stew that he'd been working on earlier, with several fresh loaves of sourdough he'd made earlier to go with it.

“Anything of importance to report from the annuals?” Kid asked Mohawk as he dipped his bread in the hearty stew.

“Just that your henchmen need to keep it in their pants if they can't learn to use a rubber,” Mohawk sighed.

“The usual then,” Kid laughed, “dirty cunts”

“Oi, Yin,” Wire interjected, “I've got a question for you”

“Hit me,” she replied with a smile, inhaling another mouthful of the delicious stew - Killer's cooking really was the best she'd ever had.

“How did you know anything about us or our reputation if you've been locked away for the last five years?” He asked in a serious tone. It felt like an integration, like he was about to crack open that everything she'd told them was a lie, “you knew who Heat and I were, you knew the Captain and Killer, you said you knew you'd fit in here. But you've been in a cell for the last five years, and we only got our first bounties a few years ago”

Eveyone else turned and stared at her, and Kid stopped eating entirely, mulling it over in his head and coming to the same realisation Wire had, that the dots didn't connect. “How did you know about us?” Kid was almost growling, it felt like a threat.

She sighed and put down her spoon, looking across the table at Killer's expressionless mask, like he could offer some sort of support. “You really want to know? You're not gonna like the answer”

“Answer the fucking question,” Kid said sternly, grinding his teeth.

“Okay, fuck, don't bite my fucking head off. I'd been with the commodore you found me with for most of my imprisonment, and I guess you could say he was a fan of yours,” she explained, careful to speak to Kid directly, so as not to incur any further wrath from him, “when you came on to the grandline he started getting a bit obsessed. Every time he came to… visit me… he would tell me about your crew, and the big promotion he was gonna get when he took you down. Which is ironic, in hindsight. Anyway at some point he started bringing in your bounty posters, the four of you, mostly Kid's, and he'd use them against me if I wasn't obediently letting him have his way with me. He'd say shit like ‘you're so lucky you have me here to protect you and make you feel so good’ and then he'd wave Kid's poster in my face and say ‘this cunt would rip your legs off just so he could fuck the bloody holes left behind, he'd rape you to death and then he'd keep going. His whole crew would rape your dead body till you were nothing but a pile of rotting bones’. Sometimes he'd leave the posters in the cell with me, to remind me of my place, so I got familiar with your faces. Of course I never believed that shit, it wasn't hard for me to see that the marines are the bad people in this world, I've seen pirates as the good guys for a long time now. The second Kid let me go the day you found me, I knew I was right and the commodore was full of shit. Not that I think there aren't pirates that rape, I just knew for sure that you guys didn't. Anyway, yeah. That's how.”

Kid was visibly angry, not at her but at the commodore, as he tore a huge chunk of bread from an untouched loaf and dipped it with a little too much force in to his stew, making liquid spill out around the edges of the bowl, “Fucker…” he said through a full mouth.

“I did say you wouldn't like it,” she grumbled, looking mournfully at her stew. She no longer had any appetite but forced herself to keep eating anyway. She didn't want to offend Killer by not finishing the food he'd made them.

“Sorry,” Wire said solemnly, “I shouldn't have pried”

“It's okay Wire,” she forced a smile for him, “I get it. I'm a stranger, you don't trust me, and things didn't add up. You were just protecting the crew. I hope you'll come to trust me, in time, like I'm trying my best to learn to trust all of you”

“Trust is hard earned,” Killer added plainly.

“You think I don't know that?” She almost yelled in clear annoyance. Heat spooked a little as she slammed a closed fist on the table, “You think its easy for me to be sitting here on a ship full of men when every man who has every touched me has raped me? You think I don't know how hard it is to learn to trust someone? Cut me some fucking slack, Killer”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“I'm not very hungry anymore,” she said, frustrated and angry. She felt like she was being treated like the enemy, and she'd done nothing to deserve it. She'd been working hard every day to earn their trust, and she felt brushed off. “Sorry, the food was delicious Killer, I'm just… not hungry anymore”

“Leave the bowl, I'll finish it,” Kid told her. He grabbed her hand before she left, “you'll have our trust, Killer's is just a little harder to earn. You're doing good work here, just give it time. I hope I can earn your trust as well, as your Captain”

“Thanks, Kid,” she sighed as he let her hand go. She didn't say anything more, and they watched as she quickly disappeared out of the galley and the doors swung shut behind her.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

[thatsoanjie]

Hometown

Sebastian Sallow x Muggle born! reader

Summary : Sebastian visits you and your family home the summer after your sixth year. You sort through childhood trinkets, share a moment you thought you weren't prepared for, and more ensues.

Word count : 7.6k

Notes : Dual POV! Chose West Sussex for this one lol. Also your muggle parents' names are Thea and Gerald.

No warnings! Just some good fluff lol.

Read my disclaimer and fair use notice here

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the rolling hills of West Sussex. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass, a stark contrast to the harsh, windswept moors of Feldcroft. Sebastian Sallow stood on the edge of your family garden, gazing out at the landscape with a mix of wonder and curiosity. It was his first time visiting your home, and he found himself captivated by the serene beauty of the countryside.

"It's so different from Feldcroft," he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You stood a few paces away, turning to look at him, a hint of amusement flickering in your dark eyes. "Not used to all this greenery, Sallow?"

He grinned, his eyes meeting yours with a playful glint. "It's not that. Feldcroft has its own kind of beauty, but it's… harsher, I suppose. This place feels more… peaceful."

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "West Sussex is like that. It's always been a place where I could escape, especially when things get overwhelming."

He watched you for a moment, noticing the way the evening light softened your features, making you seem almost ethereal. "I can see why you'd want to escape here," he said softly.

You looked away, trying to maintain your usual cool exterior, but there was a slight flush to your cheeks that you hoped he wouldn’t notice. "Come on," you said briskly, turning on your heel and heading toward the house. "I want to show you something."

Sebastian followed you inside, his curiosity piqued. Your home was a charming, old-fashioned house, filled with the kind of warmth and character that only years of happy memories could create. The walls were lined with framed photographs, many of them showing a younger version of yourself with your family, your smile more open and carefree than he had ever seen at Hogwarts.

"Your house is lovely," he remarked as you both climbed the stairs to the second floor. "It's got a lot of personality."

"Thanks," you replied casually. "It's been in the family for generations. My grandparents used to live here, and my parents inherited it when they passed away."

You led him down a narrow hallway to a small, cozy room at the end. The walls were painted a soft lavender, and the shelves were lined with books, trinkets, and other mementos from your childhood. A large, antique trunk sat at the foot of the bed, its surface worn with age.

"This is my room," you said, your voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "I've had it since I was a kid."

Sebastian glanced around, taking in the details that gave him a glimpse into your past. "It suits you," he said, his voice soft.

You rolled your eyes, though there was no real annoyance in the gesture. "Don't get all sentimental on me, Sallow."

He chuckled, crossing the room to stand beside you. "Wouldn't dream of it."

You knelt beside the trunk, your fingers brushing over the worn wood as you opened it. "I thought you might like to see some of the things I’ve kept from when I was younger," you said, your tone casual, though there was a hint of vulnerability in your words.

Sebastian crouched down next to you, his interest piqued. "I'd love to."

You began pulling out various items, laying them on the floor between you. There were old, dog-eared books, a few stuffed animals, and a collection of pressed flowers, each one carefully preserved between the pages of a faded journal. As you worked, you explained the significance of each item, your voice growing softer and more thoughtful as you reminisced about your childhood.

"These were some of my favorite books," you said, handing him a well-worn copy of The Secret Garden. "I used to read them over and over again. They were my escape, I suppose, before I knew there was a real world of magic out there."

Sebastian took the book from you, his fingers brushing against yours for just a moment before you pulled away. "I can imagine you with your nose buried in a book," he said with a grin. "Even before Hogwarts, you were always the serious type, huh?"

You huffed, though there was a faint smile on your lips. "I wasn’t always so serious. But I guess Hogwarts brought out a different side of me."

He studied you for a moment, noting the way you seemed more relaxed here, in the safety of your childhood home. "I like seeing this side of you," he said quietly. "It's different, but… it suits you."

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, and you quickly busied yourself with the trunk, pulling out the next item to avoid meeting his gaze. "Here," you said, holding up a small, wooden box. "This is something I haven’t looked at in years."

You opened the box, revealing a collection of small trinkets—shells, stones, and other bits and pieces that you had gathered over the years. Sebastian reached in and picked up a smooth, blue stone, turning it over in his hand.

"This is pretty," he remarked, his voice thoughtful. "Where did you find it?"

You smiled, your expression softening as you remembered. "I found it on a family holiday to Cornwall when I was seven. I was convinced it was a magical stone, like something out of one of my books. I carried it with me everywhere."

He chuckled, holding the stone up to the light. "It’s not magical, but it’s got its own charm."

You watched him for a moment, feeling a strange mixture of affection and nervousness. There was something about the way he handled your old belongings, with such care and interest, that made your heart ache in a way you weren’t used to.

"You know," he said, his tone turning more serious, "it's moments like these that make me realize how different our lives were before Hogwarts. You had all this… this warmth, this history. Feldcroft was… well, you know what it’s like. It’s hard, isolated. Anne and I didn’t have much besides each other."

Your gaze softened, and you placed a hand on his arm. "You had each other, and that’s something. I didn’t have a sibling, but I always wanted one. I’m glad you had Anne."

He looked down at your hand, his expression unreadable for a moment before he smiled, a bit of the old mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "You’re different," he said, his voice low and teasing. "I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone quite like you."

You quickly pulled your hand back, trying to maintain your composed exterior, though your heart was racing. "Don’t start, Sallow," you warned, though your tone was more playful than serious.

But he was undeterred, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Start what? Telling you that you’re intriguing? That I enjoy spending time with you?"

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips. "You’re impossible."

He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "Maybe. But you like me anyway."

You tried to give him a stern look, but it was difficult to keep your composure when he was so close, his familiar scent filling your senses. "You’re awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?"

He shrugged, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I just call it like I see it."

For a moment, the room was filled with a charged silence, the air thick with unspoken words and feelings. It was a moment of vulnerability, of closeness, that neither of you had quite expected. Your heart raced as you struggled to keep your cool, while Sebastian’s gaze softened, as though he were seeing you in a new light.

Finally, it was you who broke the tension, reaching for another item in the trunk. "Here," you said, your voice a bit too bright. "I want to show you this."

Sebastian watched you for a moment longer, as though considering whether to push the matter, but then he relented, leaning back to give you space.

You pulled out an old, leather-bound journal, its pages yellowed with age. "This was my first journal," you explained, your tone more subdued now. "I started it when I was eight. I used to write about everything—my dreams, my fears, the things I wanted to do when I grew up."

He took the journal from you, flipping through the pages with a gentle touch. "Did you ever write about magic?" he asked, his voice soft.

You nodded, a wistful smile on your lips. "All the time. I didn’t know it was real, of course, but I was fascinated by the idea of it. I used to imagine that I was a witch, living in a world full of magical creatures and hidden powers."

Sebastian’s gaze flicked up to meet yours, his expression thoughtful. "And now you’re living that dream."

"Yes," you agreed, though your tone was tinged with a hint of melancholy. "But it’s different from what I imagined. The reality is… more complicated."

He nodded, understanding the weight behind your words. "It always is. But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it."

You looked at him, your heart aching with a mixture of emotions you couldn’t quite name. There was something about Sebastian—something in the way he looked at you, in the way he spoke to you—that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t been before. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

"Thank you," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"For what?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"For being here," you replied, your gaze dropping to the floor. "For understanding."

He reached out, gently lifting your chin so that you were looking at him again. "I’m glad I’m here," he said. "And I’m glad you let me in."

For a moment, you simply stared at each other, the air between you charged with an unspoken tension. Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, Sebastian leaned in, his gaze dropping to your lips.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a split second, you considered closing the distance between you. But then, at the last moment, you pulled back, your heart pounding in your chest.

"We should… we should get some rest," you said quickly, your voice trembling slightly. "It’s getting late."

Sebastian blinked, surprised by your sudden change in demeanor, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, you’re right. Tomorrow’s another day."

He stood up, stretching his arms over his head as he prepared to leave. "Thanks for showing me all this," he said, his tone genuine. "It means a lot that you’d share it with me."

You managed a small smile, though your heart was still racing. "I’m glad you’re here, Sebastian. I really am."

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned to leave. "Goodnight," he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Goodnight," you replied, watching as he left the room, the door closing softly behind him.

As soon as he was gone, you let out a shaky breath, your hand coming up to rest against your chest as you tried to steady your racing heart. You had managed to keep your cool, but just barely. There was no denying the pull you felt toward Sebastian, but you knew you had to be careful. You couldn’t afford to let your emotions get the better of you, not when there was so much at stake.

But as you sat there, surrounded by the remnants of your childhood, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—there was a future for you two beyond friendship. It was a dangerous thought, one that you weren’t quite ready to entertain. But it was there, lingering in the back of your mind, a quiet whisper of what could be.

And as you finally settled into bed, your thoughts drifting to the boy who had become so much more than just a friend, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that whatever the future held, it was bound to be anything but ordinary.

·····

Sebastian’s POV

Sebastian closed the door to the guest room quietly, letting out a long, slow breath as he leaned back against the wood. His heart was still pounding in his chest, a mixture of adrenaline and something else—something that had been building for years, ever since you had walked into his life.

West Sussex was nothing like Feldcroft. It was peaceful here, almost idyllic, with its rolling hills and lush gardens. The kind of place he might have daydreamed about as a kid, before the world had gotten so complicated. But it wasn’t the beauty of the countryside that had him restless tonight. It was you.

You were unlike anyone he’d ever met—mysterious, guarded, and yet so incredibly captivating. From the moment you arrived at Hogwarts in your fifth year, you intrigued him. But it wasn’t just curiosity anymore. The feelings he had for you had deepened, grown into something he wasn’t quite sure how to handle.

As he moved to the small window in the guest room, looking out at the moonlit garden below, his thoughts were consumed by the events of the evening. He could still see you there, sitting on the floor of your childhood room, surrounded by memories you’d chosen to share with him. It had been a rare glimpse into the side of you that you didn’t often reveal—a side that was vulnerable, human, and so beautifully real.

And then there had been that moment—that moment—when he’d almost kissed you.

He could still feel the warmth of your breath, the soft brush of your fingers as they’d touched while going through your childhood things. It had taken every ounce of restraint not to close the distance between you, to lean in and finally see what it would be like to kiss you, to taste the lips that had haunted his dreams for so long.

But you had pulled away. And that, more than anything, had left him reeling.

Sebastian wasn’t used to feeling uncertain. He was usually confident, even cocky, but you had a way of knocking him off balance. You had a coolness about you, a way of keeping your emotions in check that made him feel like he was always chasing, always trying to catch up.

But tonight, in that room, he’d seen something else. A flicker of something in your eyes, a moment of hesitation that told him you weren’t as unaffected as you pretended to be. It gave him hope—a dangerous, exhilarating hope—that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way he did.

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling a surge of frustration. He was good at reading people, but you were a puzzle he hadn’t yet solved. Every time he thought he was getting close, you pulled back, retreating behind that carefully constructed facade of yours. It was maddening, but it was also what drew him to you even more.

Sighing, Sebastian moved away from the window and sat down on the edge of the bed. He knew he should get some sleep, but his mind was too wired, too full of thoughts of you. The way you’d looked at him, the softness in your voice when you’d thanked him for understanding… It was a side of you he wanted to see more of, a side he wanted to bring out of you, even if it meant pushing a little harder, taking a few risks.

But then there was the other side of it—the fear that if he pushed too hard, he might scare you away. The last thing he wanted was to lose whatever it was you had, this delicate balance of friendship, flirtation, and something deeper that neither of you had quite dared to name.

Sebastian leaned back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The room was quiet, the only sound the faint rustle of leaves outside the window. In the stillness, his thoughts drifted back to Feldcroft, to the harsh, windswept landscape that had been his home for so long. It was a place that had shaped him, hardened him, but it was also a place full of memories he’d rather forget.

Coming to your hometown was like stepping into another world, one that was softer, warmer, and so full of life. It was a world he wanted to be a part of, a world that you had invited him into, even if you hadn’t fully realized it yet.

He closed his eyes, the image of your smiling face lingering in his mind. There was a part of him that wanted to rush things, to make you see what was right in front of you. But there was another part—perhaps the wiser part—that knew he had to be patient. You were worth the wait, worth the effort, and if he wanted to win you over, he’d have to do it on your terms.

But damn if it wasn’t difficult.

He felt the weight of your journal in his hand, the one he hadn’t quite been able to let go of after you handed it to him. It was a piece of you, something deeply personal, and he found himself opening it, flipping through the pages with care.

The entries were written in a neat, precise hand, filled with the thoughts and dreams of a younger you, a girl who hadn’t yet been touched by the complexities of the magical world. He smiled as he read about your childhood fantasies, your belief in magic long before you knew it was real. It was like seeing a part of you that had been hidden away, a part that was still innocent and hopeful.

He paused on one entry, written in faded ink, the words barely legible. It was a dream you’d had, about a world where everything was possible, where you could be anything you wanted to be. You’d written about wanting to be strong, to make a difference, to find your place in a world that often felt too big, too overwhelming.

Sebastian felt a pang in his chest as he read those words, understanding all too well the feeling of being lost, of trying to find your way in a world that didn’t always make sense. But you had found your way, and you were stronger than you realized. It was one of the things he admired most about you, one of the things that made him want to be by your side, no matter what.

He closed the journal, setting it gently on the bedside table before lying back down. Sleep still felt distant, but he knew he needed to try. Tomorrow was another day, another chance to figure out where you both stood, to see if there was something more between you waiting to be discovered.

But as he tried to fall asleep, one thought remained clear in his mind: he was falling for you, and there was no turning back. Whatever happened next, he was in this—completely, utterly, and without reservation.

And he could only hope that, in time, you might feel the same way too.

·····

Your POV

The water cascaded down in a steady stream, warm against your skin as you stood under the showerhead, letting the heat soak into your muscles. But no matter how soothing the water was, it couldn’t wash away the frustration that churned inside you.

Why had you pulled away from him? The question kept circling in your mind, relentless and unforgiving. You’d felt it—the moment, the one where the air between you had practically crackled with tension, where the closeness, the intimacy, had felt like a fragile thread just waiting to be tugged. And yet, at the last second, you had stepped back, put distance between you and Sebastian, the boy who had somehow, over the past year, managed to get under your skin in a way no one else ever had.

You turned off the water with a sharp twist of the knob, the sound of the showerhead sputtering to a stop the only noise in the bathroom. The silence that followed was deafening, filled with the echoes of your own thoughts. You were angry—angry at yourself for being so guarded, for letting fear and caution dictate your actions.

You stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around yourself as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. The person staring back at you was composed, calm, the same mask you wore every day. But beneath that exterior was a storm of emotions you didn’t know how to control, a whirlwind of longing, confusion, and something else—something that scared you.

You wanted him. There was no denying it anymore, no point in pretending that you didn’t feel the same pull, the same desire that he so clearly felt. But you had always been so careful, so determined to keep yourself in check, to avoid the pitfalls of vulnerability that could lead to heartache.

But now, standing there in the dim light of the bathroom, you realized that maybe—just maybe—being careful wasn’t enough anymore. Maybe it was time to take a risk, to stop holding back and let yourself feel, let yourself be open to whatever it was that Sebastian had been offering, had been waiting for.

Your heart pounded as you dried off, slipping into a soft, comfortable set of pajamas, your mind racing as you made up your mind. You had pulled away from him once, but you didn’t have to keep running. Not from him. Not from what you wanted.

Wrapping your towel around your damp hair, you took a deep breath and made your way to the guest room where Sebastian was staying. The house was quiet, the only sound the creaking of the floorboards beneath your feet as you padded down the hallway. With each step, your resolve strengthened, and by the time you reached his door, you were determined to finish what he had started.

You hesitated for only a moment before raising your hand and knocking softly. The sound seemed to echo in the silence of the night, and you held your breath, waiting.

There was a pause, and then you heard his voice, soft and questioning. “Yeah?"

"Sebastian," you replied, your voice steady even though your heart was racing. "It’s me."

A few seconds later, the door creaked open, and there he was, standing in the dim light of the guest room, his expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity. He was still dressed in his clothes from earlier, though his shirt was rumpled, and his hair was slightly tousled, as though he had been lying down.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly in concern.

You took a deep breath, your eyes meeting his as you stepped closer. "I’m sorry," you said quietly, the words coming out more easily than you’d expected. "For earlier. For pulling away."

His expression softened, and he stepped back to let you into the room, closing the door gently behind you. "You don’t have to apologize," he said, his voice low and soothing. "I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn’t," you assured him quickly, shaking your head. "That’s not it. I just… I’m not used to this. To feeling like this."

He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. When he didn’t find any, he nodded slowly, his voice tender as he spoke. "Neither am I, if I’m being honest. But I don’t want to rush you into anything you’re not ready for."

You felt a pang of guilt at the thought that he might be holding back for your sake, that he was willing to put his own feelings aside just to make sure you were comfortable. But more than that, you felt a surge of affection for him, for the way he had always been patient with you, even when you had given him every reason not to be.

"Sebastian," you said softly, taking a step closer until you were standing just inches away from him, "I’m ready. I’m here because I want to be. With you."

His breath hitched slightly at your words, and for a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you palpable, charged with the weight of everything unspoken. Then, slowly, as if afraid you might change your mind, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, the touch so gentle it sent a shiver down your spine.

"You’re sure?" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

You nodded, your own voice trembling slightly as you replied, "I’m sure."

That was all the encouragement he needed. In the next moment, he closed the distance between you, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close, his warmth seeping into you as you melted against him. It was the first time you had ever allowed yourself to be this close to him, to let your guard down completely, and it was intoxicating.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, "I’ve wanted this for so long."

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your own. "Me too," you admitted to both him and yourself, the words soft, almost fragile.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression tender, almost reverent, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. His hand slid down to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw with a gentleness that made your chest tighten.

"Tell me to stop, and I will," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he were afraid to break the spell that had settled over you.

But you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want to go back to the way things had been, always holding back, always pretending that you didn’t feel the way you did. So instead of pulling away, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in the faintest of kisses.

It was soft, tentative, as if you were both testing the waters, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you, a spark that ignited something deep inside. Sebastian let out a shaky breath, his hand tightening slightly on your waist as he deepened the kiss, his lips warm and insistent against yours.

You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your fingertips. It was all so new, so overwhelming, but at the same time, it felt right—like this was where you were meant to be, in his arms, with his lips on yours.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. The room was filled with a heavy silence, but it was a silence that spoke volumes, that said all the things you hadn’t yet found the words to say.

"I don’t want to hold back anymore," you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of the admission. "I want to be with you, Sebastian."

He let out a shaky laugh, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear you say that," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, your heart swelling with a warmth that you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. "Well, now you’ve heard it," you replied, your tone light, but your words filled with sincerity. "And I mean it."

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze soft and filled with a tenderness that made your breath catch in your throat. "I want this too," he said quietly, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a gentle caress. "I want you."

There was something in the way he said it, in the way he looked at you, that made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just about the attraction, the physical pull you felt toward him. It was deeper than that, something that had been building between you for months, something that neither of you had been willing to acknowledge until now.

It was a connection, a bond that went beyond friendship, beyond the flirtation that had danced between you. It was something real, something that had the potential to be so much more if you were both brave enough to let it.

And in that moment, as you stood there in the quiet of the guest room, you realized that you were ready. You were ready to take that step, to let yourself feel, to let yourself be open to whatever it was that you had with Sebastian.

Sebastian’s POV

Sebastian had barely settled into the guest room, his thoughts still a tangled mess from earlier, when there was a soft knock on his door. His heart leapt into his throat, recognizing the sound immediately—your knock.

"Yeah?" he called softly, not entirely trusting his voice to stay steady.

"Sebastian" came your reply, a quiet affirmation that sent his pulse racing even faster. "It’s me."

For a moment, he hesitated, a whirlwind of emotions storming inside him. He had convinced himself that tonight was over, that whatever had been brewing between you two would have to wait, maybe forever. But here you were, standing outside his door in the dead of night, and he could hardly believe it.

He crossed the room in a few quick strides and opened the door, finding you standing there in your pajamas, your hair still damp from the shower, your eyes searching his face with an intensity that made his breath catch.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, the words coming out before he could think them through. The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was anything less than thrilled to see you there.

You took a step closer, your eyes never leaving his, and in that moment, Sebastian felt the air between you crackle with that same electric tension you had shared earlier. "I’m sorry," you said, your voice so soft and vulnerable that it cut right through him. "For earlier. For pulling away."

Sebastian’s heart twisted at the sight of you like this—unsure, almost apologetic, when you had no reason to be. He stepped back to let you in, closing the door behind you as a wave of protectiveness washed over him. "You don’t have to apologize," he said gently, trying to reassure you. "I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn’t," you insisted, shaking your head. "That’s not it. I just… I’m not used to this. To feeling like this."

Your words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, Sebastian was struck silent by the raw honesty in them. He had always known that you were different, that you kept your emotions close to your chest, guarded by that cool facade you wore so well. But hearing you admit that you were struggling with these feelings, that you were feeling just as conflicted and overwhelmed as he was… it made him want to reach out, to close the gap between you and tell you that you didn’t have to go through this alone.

"Neither am I, if I’m being honest," he confessed, his voice tender. "But I don’t want to rush you into anything you’re not ready for."

It was the truth. Sebastian had always been drawn to you, fascinated by your quiet strength, your intelligence, the way you carried yourself with a calm confidence that made others take notice. But he also knew how easily you could retreat behind that wall of yours, and the last thing he wanted was to push you too far, too fast.

"Sebastian," you said softly, taking another step closer, until you were just inches apart. He could feel the warmth of your body, the faint scent of your soap still clinging to your skin, and it made his heart race all over again. "I’m ready. I’m here because I want to be. With you."

The words hit him like a bolt of lightning, electrifying every nerve in his body. For a moment, he simply stared at you, hardly daring to believe that this was real. But the sincerity in your eyes, the way you were looking at him, was all the confirmation he needed.

His breath hitched as he reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he brushed his fingers against your cheek. "You’re sure?" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He needed to hear you say it again, needed to know that this wasn’t just a fleeting moment.

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. "I’m sure."

And that was it. The last thread of restraint inside him snapped, and he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as if he could somehow shield you from everything else in the world. The feel of you against him, soft and warm, sent a shiver down his spine, and he pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he let the moment wash over him.

"I’ve wanted this for so long," he whispered, his voice shaking with the intensity of his feelings.

You leaned into him, your hands resting against his chest, and he could feel the steady rhythm of your breathing, the rise and fall of your chest against his. "Me too," you murmured, the words so soft that they barely reached his ears, but they were enough to make his heart swell with emotion.

Sebastian pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes tracing every feature of your face, memorizing the way you looked at him, the way you seemed to glow in the soft light of the room. His hand slid down to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing along your jawline with a tenderness that he didn’t think he was capable of.

"Tell me to stop, and I will," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He needed you to know that you were in control, that he would never push you further than you wanted to go.

But instead of pulling away, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in the faintest of kisses. It was tentative, hesitant, but it sent a bolt of electricity straight through him, igniting a fire that had been smoldering for months.

Sebastian let out a shaky breath, his hand tightening on your waist as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that he could no longer deny. The world outside the room seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you, caught in the whirlwind of your emotions, your desires.

Your hands slid up his chest, fingers tangling in his shirt as you responded to his kiss, your movements just as desperate, just as full of need. It was everything he had imagined, everything he had dreamed about, but it was also so much more, so much deeper, because it was real.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. The room was silent, the only sound the rapid beating of your hearts, but it was a silence that spoke of all the things you hadn’t said, all the things you had been too afraid to admit.

"I don’t want to hold back anymore," you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of the admission. "I want to be with you, Sebastian."

Sebastian felt his heart swell at your words, felt the last of his doubts melt away in the warmth of your confession. He let out a shaky laugh, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear you say that," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. "Well, now you’ve heard it," you replied, your tone light, but your words filled with sincerity. "And I mean it."

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze soft and filled with a tenderness that he had never felt for anyone else. "I want this too," he said quietly, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a gentle caress. "I want you."

And it was the truth. He wanted you, more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. But it wasn’t just about the attraction, the physical pull he felt toward you. It was deeper than that, something that had been building between you for months, something that neither of you had been willing to acknowledge until now.

It was a connection, a bond that went beyond friendship, beyond the flirtation that had danced between you. It was something real, something that had the potential to be so much more if you were both brave enough to let it.

And as he stood there, holding you close, feeling the warmth of your body against his, Sebastian knew that he was ready. He was ready to take that step, to let himself feel, to let himself be open to whatever it was that you had together.

So, when you leaned in again, your lips finding his in a kiss that was deeper, more certain, he didn’t hesitate. He kissed you back with everything he had, pouring all of his emotions into that one moment, letting you know without words that he was all in, that he wasn’t going to hold back anymore.

And as your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, he knew that this was only the beginning.

Whatever the future held, he didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were in this together, and that was more than enough for him.

Because in this moment, with you in his arms, he knew that he had found something real, something worth holding on to.

And he wasn’t going to let it slip away.

****

Your POV – The morning after

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm, golden light across the room. You blinked slowly, the events of the previous night coming back to you in a rush of emotion. The memories were vivid—Sebastian’s touch, the tenderness in his gaze, the way he had held you close as if you were the most precious thing in the world. You turned your head on the pillow, your heart swelling at the sight of him beside you, still sound asleep, his breathing soft and even.

For a moment, you simply watched him, feeling an overwhelming sense of contentment. Last night had been more than you could have ever hoped for—filled with intimacy, trust, and the quiet understanding that whatever had been brewing between you had finally found its place.

You shifted slightly, careful not to wake him as you slipped out of bed, your feet touching the cool wooden floor. As you stood, wrapping yourself in a robe, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of what your parents would say when they saw the two of you together this morning.

You were certain they had been waiting for this moment almost as long as you had.

The house was quiet as you made your way downstairs, the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. You found your parents in the kitchen, your mother, Thea, standing by the stove while your father, Gerald, sat at the table, reading the morning paper.

“Good morning,” you greeted, your voice a bit softer than usual, as though you were afraid to break the gentle peace that had settled over the house.

“Good morning, darling,” your mother replied, turning to you with a warm smile. “Did you sleep well?”

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, and you quickly busied yourself with pouring a cup of coffee. “Yes, I did. Thank you.”

Your father glanced up from his paper, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. “So, where’s young Mr. Sallow this morning?”

You nearly choked on your coffee, the blush deepening as you shot your father a look. “He’s… He’ll be down in a bit.”

Your mother exchanged a glance with your father, her smile widening as she turned back to the stove. “I had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before you two finally sorted things out,” she said, her tone light but full of warmth.

You stared at her, a mix of embarrassment and surprise flooding through you. “You knew?”

Gerald chuckled, setting his paper down. “It was fairly obvious, love. The way you two have been dancing around each other for the past year… It was only a matter of time.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, a mixture of relief and amusement filling you. “I didn’t realize we were so transparent.”

Thea turned to face you, her eyes soft and full of understanding. “It’s alright. We’re just happy that you’ve found someone who makes you so happy. That’s all we’ve ever wanted for you.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, the emotions of the past day catching up with you. “Thank you,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “That means a lot.”

Before your mother could respond, you heard footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later, Sebastian appeared in the doorway, his hair still slightly tousled from sleep. He hesitated for a moment when he saw you standing with your parents, but then he offered a sheepish smile. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Sebastian,” your father greeted, his voice full of warmth. “I trust you slept well?”

Sebastian’s eyes flicked to you, and you could see the faint flush on his cheeks as he replied, “Yes, very well. Thank you.”

“Good, good,” Gerald said with a nod, clearly enjoying the moment. “Breakfast is almost ready. Why don’t you sit down and join us?”

Sebastian glanced at you, a small, tentative smile playing on his lips, before he nodded and moved to sit at the table. You followed suit, taking the seat beside him, your heart fluttering at the thought of how natural it all felt—sitting there with him, with your parents, as though this was how it was always meant to be.

Your mother set a plate of eggs and toast in front of you both, her eyes twinkling with barely concealed amusement. “So,” she began, her tone casual, “how long have you and Sebastian been… you know?”

You nearly dropped your fork, your eyes widening in shock. “Mum!”

Thea laughed, a light, musical sound that only added to your embarrassment. “What? I’m just curious. It’s not every day my daughter brings home such a charming young man.”

Sebastian chuckled beside you, his usual confidence returning as he glanced at your mother. “I think we only just figured that out ourselves, Mrs. Williams.”

Your mother beamed, clearly pleased with his response. “Well, it’s about time, if you ask me. We were starting to wonder if we needed to give you two a little nudge.”

Gerald nodded in agreement, a mischievous smile on his face. “We’ve been watching you two for a while now, and I have to say, it’s nice to see you finally getting on with it.”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, but there was no denying the warmth that spread through your chest at their words. They had always been supportive, always encouraged you to follow your heart, but hearing them speak so openly about their approval of Sebastian—it meant more than you could put into words.

Sebastian reached under the table, his hand finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. You glanced at him, finding his eyes filled with that same tenderness that had been there last night, the one that made your heart swell with affection.

“We’ll try not to disappoint,” he said with a grin, his voice teasing, but there was an underlying sincerity that made your heart skip a beat.

The rest of breakfast passed in a blur of light conversation and easy laughter, the kind that came naturally when you were surrounded by people who cared for you, who wanted nothing more than to see you happy. And as you sat there, hand in hand with Sebastian, you realized just how lucky you were—to have him, to have your parents, to have this moment.

When breakfast was finished, your parents rose from the table, your mother patting you gently on the shoulder as she passed by. “We’ll leave you two alone for a bit,” she said with a knowing smile. “Take your time.”

As they left the kitchen, you turned to Sebastian, your heart full to bursting with everything you felt for him, everything you hadn’t yet had the chance to say.

“They knew,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

He chuckled, pulling you closer, his arm slipping around your waist. “They did. They’re smarter than we gave them credit for.”

You smiled, leaning into him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. “I guess we weren’t as subtle as we thought.”

“Apparently not,” he agreed, his voice soft, a hint of amusement lacing his words. “But I’m glad. It feels… good, doesn’t it? To finally be here, with you.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with love for this boy who had somehow become so much more than just a friend. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you felt. “It feels perfect.”

And as he leaned down to kiss you, slow and tender, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever uncertainties the future held, you would face them together—with the love of your parents behind you, and with Sebastian by your side.

***

This one was funnn!! Thank you for reading, requests are open. Hope you're having a good september!

[moth-related-inquiries]

Hi! I read your oneshot involving Micah and fem child reader and absolutely loved it! I never thought i could see Micah ever taking on the role of a parental figure but you did such a good job tying his character into a role that i thought would never fit him! I was wondering if you could expand more on their dynamic afterwards and how reader would interpret his ‘cull the weak beliefs’ do you think teaching her these would ever come to backfire on him later especially if used against him?

Micah Bell and Fem! Child Reader Pt2: Knives Out

Warnings: incredibly angsty, Micah Bell, you're gonna hate this if u love Micah LOL, lots of murder, terrible beliefs, graphic description of murder, and child death.

tldr: Micah Bell's teachings came to bite him back in the ass. :( Nobody close to him can be happy.

A/n: Hi, Anon! Thank you for the req ♡♡♡ I'm so glad you liked my last fic! I hope you like this one, too. Feel free to send any more requests you might have :p

Listen while you read?:

Today was your third month of 'bonding,' as Micah liked to call it. You'd slowly progressed from being as terrible of a shot as Sean Macguire to being fairly good at your shots. Of course, you weren't as good as Micah, but he congratulated you on your significant progress. Unlike the others, Micah has been surprisingly patient with you. There were a lot of things he had to teach and show you, and you seemed to learn best when you were in the middle of action.

Not only had you become a better shot, but you'd also become a more malleable tool. When you finished your first robbery, Micah decided that from now on you weren't going by your old name. The Bell family had a very specific practice they used when choosing names. For the first time in a long time, he flipped open a Bible and scoured its pages for a suitable name. Eventually, he settled on Elisabeth, the technical grandmother of Jesus. Not because she was a humble or remarkable woman, but because she was stubbornly faithful. Like a dog.

He hoped that, since he'd earned your trust, you'd follow him like a dog to the ends of the earth. And that you did. No matter what he did, where he went, or who he killed, he stayed as your role model. Beyond that, he was also your new father figure. Sure, you liked Dutch and Hosea, but they never saw things from your point of view like Micah did. The Dutch, for one, insisted on the dramatics constantly. He'd make up schemes to entertain himself and some big wig bastard, then steal the money. Which probably would've entertained you if you had the patience. And Hosea, well, he didn't enjoy the 'thrill' of murdering and robbing the same way that you did. Meaning that he liked making a fool of himself and then leaving with a small sum of money.

Not to mention that Micah secretly found both of them to be fools in their own ways. You thought, at first, that he saw you as a fool too, but he assured you that you were anything but. He called you his 'kinfolk.' His kid. You found it odd. He claims to be so strong, yet he practically creates his own weakness. With this idea in mind, you began to dissect some of his flaws.

When the two of you were in camp, you noticed that he was anything but pleasant to the other members. He often harassed and berated many of the women in camp, too, which you found odd. Even odder was the fact that he berated Jack, which made you curious. Was he perhaps jealous of John and Abigail for their achievements? It seemed so. You guessed that he was jealous because he too wanted a family, no matter how dysfunctional. Though he hadn't had much luck considering that, like the stupid man he is, he took his anger out on all the women around him.

Micah Bell could never score a woman, and he knew that very well. And now, so did you. And all you had to do was watch him like you normally do. Every time you did, he'd lean over and whisper in your ear about how someday he's going to get a nice and fine wife, and these floozies are going to be sorry. You knew better. Every time he'd provide some weird back-handed compliment, you wondered if he knew it only made him look weak. He had all bark and no bite. Which, in many cases, he did. All talk until Dutch struts over, then suddenly he's acting like he's a holy deity sworn to do nothing but good.

That was one major weakness you'd noticed about him. His one big fault. Micah seemed to assume that being a snake oil salesman made him a man. A man fit for survival in the natural world. A man who could do whatever he wanted and whenever he wanted as long as he still had his silver tongue. And it did, for a little while. He could go around murdering families and sleep like a little baby the night after. That is, until he met you.

See, Micah Bell had done himself dirty when he began 'training' you. Because, unlike Micah, you shut your mouth, and you watched everyone really well. You waited for someone to come to you, and you didn't, no matter how tough it was to resist, let your guard down. Yet Micah Bell had shown his since the day he decided to mentor you. Sure, you were unaware of the impact of his actions then, but he'd taught you well. He'd gifted you a higher consciousness without even knowing it.

So, after three long months of needlessly long interaction, you put his teachings to work. You woke up bright and early to listen to the birds chirp their jovial toons. It was nice to let the weak be, just for a moment, because sometimes they end up surprising you with their entertainment. Your steel gaze turned to Micah, who was fast asleep on his bedroll, facing the cliffside. He, too, was nice when you left him be. When he did sleep, it looked peaceful. And, for a moment, you decided to let him be, too.

You grabbed your satchel, one that Micah had bought for you, and opened it. From it, you produced a jagged stone that you'd found back in Strawberry, after the pair of you (and Arthur) murdered an entire town. You originally picked it up in order to execute whoever was holding Micah's precious revolvers, but he beat you to it. And, with savagery and cowardice, he murdered another family right in front of you. It was eerily thrilling when you first experienced it, but now? Now you feel nothing but guilt. Not for the town you'd helped murder, but for Micah.

You looked down at him, staring at his greasy forehead. As you lifted your stone, you teared up as you remembered all the times that he'd slipped up. A terrible feeling sank into your chest as you thought about your first robbery. How he wiped your tears away after you'd committed your first murder and rubbed your back like the father you never had. You'd given him your weakness, and he accepted it with unknowing tenacity. From then on, you gave him your weakness, and he allowed you to piggyback off of him like a little parasite.

For such a morally corrupt man, Micah had always done his best to assure your safety, no matter what. When the two of you were low on rations, he let you have the last. When the gang was ambushed, he made sure you were never there. When the two of you were caught in a rock and a hard place, he always made you run back to camp while he distracted the bastards following you. It's your fault that he turned into something he never wanted to be.

It's your fault that he became so weak.

Your brows furrowed, and your face twisted into anguish. You lifted the stone up above your head and, with all your might, sent it crashing down upon his skull. It made a sickening crunch, like a pumpkin being dropped, but Micah did not move. You repeated the action over and over again until his head finally caved in. Once you were done, you walked over to your horse, one that he had gifted you, and shot her, too. Baylock was smart enough to run off.

From then on, you decided that, out of the four of you, Baylock would be the strongest. He was the survivor because he ran like hell instead of sticking around to die. Finally, you walked back to the cliffside and erased the last remaining proof of Elisabeth Bell's entire existence.

A/N: i hope people like this :p i know child death is a very sensitive topic, but I think that this is how it would go in the eyes of a child. I tried to make it a little confusing so that we could really understand how uniquely this kind of situation would affect someone as vulnerable as a child versus an adult.

[paradoxlemonade]

Like a Flower in Bloom; chapter 2/3

Fic summary: Doc Monster is a many things: he's a tinkerer, a college graduate, a creeper hybrid, and a husband to his wonderful spouse, Ren. Most importantly, he is a father. And he would do anything to make his trans daughter Scarlet happy. Even if it means becoming a Buttercup Scout troop leader and herding a trio of middle school girls.

Chapter Summary: Let's make a troop.

This is my @mcytblraufest fic, made in collaboration with my artist @watchmewhirl and beta-read my @raivaughn. You can find the masterpost for the art here.

Warnings: none!

Ao3: Here!

First - Next

---

Doc pulls into the driveway about 20 minutes later, a bag of fast food sitting in the passenger seat. Scarlet needs some comfort food after that meeting, so who is he to deny her?

She trudges in the front door a few paces behind him. When he glances back, there’s a smile on her face for Ren, but her eyes are red and puffy from crying. Doc gives his husband a pointed look before he can even think of asking how the meeting went.

Instead of prodding, Ren fills the empty space of dinner time with meandering chatter about how his day at work went, a video of a little kitten riding on a dog he saw online, and whether or not ketchup should count as a vegetable. Scarlet’s smile gets a bit less forced as the evening wears on, but it also grows tired and she slinks to her room down the hall early that evening.

Doc carries the plates over the sink where Ren has already started rinsing the glasses. He sets a cup and his rag down, just staring for a moment. “...Now can I ask about how the meeting went?” His ears flatten to his head. “The other girls weren’t mean to her, were they? Middle schoolers can be the cruelest beasts.”

Doc leans against the counter with a huff and crosses his arms. “No, no, the scouts were perfectly nice.” He leans back and scowls at their ceiling. “The troop leader, on the other hand, is a heinous bitch. Excluded her a lot. Transphobic. The works.”

Ren sucks in a breath around his teeth. “Oh, she must’ve been devastated.”

He takes the lead-in to get Ren caught up on everything that happened while they finish loading the dishwasher, including how Scarlet was so torn up about the idea of not getting to be a Buttercup Scout. Devastated she was, no matter how she tried to hide it.

They finish up in the kitchen and retire to the family room couch, a laptop balanced between them. The stark white Buttercup Scout web page drowns out the soft lamplight.

Just like last time the two of them looked, most of the troops in the area fell into one of three categories: far enough that they couldn’t justify the time or gas prices, not currently accepting new members, met on a Tuesday (their standing date for Scarlet’s physical therapy, which they can’t move around due to how busy the practice is), or that asshole Symmetry’s troop, which definitely wasn’t an option. Sure, they could go complain to the local council, but Doc doubted she would play nice if they forced her to let Scarlet in.

“Apparently,” Doc mutters, running a clawed finger down the side of the keyboard, “she overheard us talking about how the other troops around here are a bridge too far.”

Ren winces at that. “Man, we’re running out of options.” He gnaws on his lip a moment, and his ears prick up a second later. “Well, all except for one.”

Doc’s not quite what one would call desperate, but he’s edging closer and closer to that word’s gravity. He gives his husband an unimpressed look. “Which is…?”

Ren scoops up the laptop and rapidly taps away at the touchpad. Tap tap tap, click-clack-click-clack. He turns the screen around after a moment so Doc can read the page title, a self-satisfied smile threatening to break.

How To Form a Troop By Becoming a Buttercup Scout Troop Leader.

Doc looks down at the screen. He looks up at Ren. 

“You’re kidding, right? I don’t want to be in charge of a bunch of brats. Just the one is enough.”

Ren snorts at that, his grin now out full-force. “Brats. Please, I know you love children.”

Doc rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t mean I want to spend one night a week trying to keep middle schoolers from killing each other.” There’s a waver in his voice. He slumps back against the couch with a huff. 

Ren leans over and cuddles up against him, laptop tilted askew by the shift. “But you would do anything for our baby girl. Scarlet wants to be a Buttercup Scout, and there’s no good troops in the area. We told her we would try, didn’t we?”

He’s not actually considering what Ren is saying, is he?

…

Goddammit.

“You’re going to help me with this,” he says dryly.

“Of course, baby!” Ren gives him a gentle kiss on the corner of his lip. Doc can feel the smile through it. “We’re going to be the best troop leaders ever!”

Doc leans into the touch, but the scowl doesn’t leave his face. “We’ll still need to find at least two more girls that we aren’t the guardians of to form a proper troop.” He picks the laptop back up and points to a subheading halfway down the page. Troop Minimum Requirements. “We also need to get certified and set up with the local council, figure out our budget , and—”

Ren reaches over and slowly closes the laptop screen, giving Doc ample time to resist. He doesn’t. “And we’ll get there. Let’s just take one step at a time, okay baby?”

Doc bumps his forehead against Ren’s. “Okay.”

***

They broach the topic at breakfast the next morning to Scarlet, who’s instantly smitten with the idea.

She stands from her seat and plants her hands on the table. “Oh my gosh, really?” There’s sparkles in her eyes. “You’ll form a new troop for me?” Wait, those sparkles are actually tears. Oh dear.

It takes a family hug for her weeping to stop, but she manages not to cry into her bowl of cereal. Her face is red and she’s sniffling, but her gap-toothed smile is one of Doc’s favorites.

“I’ll find you two more scouts! I just have to ask my friends who aren’t already in a Buttercup Scout troop! Or boys!” She makes a face at that idea. “Hang on, that’s most of my friends.”

Doc can’t help but snort at her expression. Despite being told that he and Ren can put up a notice online about forming a new troop, Scarlet insists on trying first and they stand down to her badgering. Arguing with her begging kitty eyes is an exercise in futility.

He digs more into the training requirements while she’s at school and Ren is at work, and makes some decent progress on the first module. It’s a quiet enough day, going between tinkering in their garage and parked in front of the family room computer to watch a video with a droning narrator explaining first aid.

Ren gets home first as per usual, and Doc sets him up with the laptop on the couch (and with a glass of water, and with some beef jerky as a snack) so he can get cracking on the training he needs to do to be an assistant troop leader.

It’s a quiet enough afternoon, the two of them coexisting with quietly-playing videos and the mouse-clicking of going through the quizzes.

Scarlet arrives home not long later with a shout, waving her backpack around like a spoil of war. “Guess who found you your new scout members!” She drops the crutches held in her other hand and swings around. “Am I good, or am I good?”

Ren startles and almost drops his water. “Woah baby, already? How in the world did you do that?”

Scarlet bounces on the toes of her feet. “So I talked to all the girls in my art class, but they all already had a troop or didn’t want to be scouts, and language arts was the same, and the math teacher told me to stop talking during the lecture so I only got to ask my table partners, but!” She swings her arms wide for emphasis. Doc slips over and takes her bag before she can knock a picture frame off the wall, but lets her keep talking. “But then at lunch! I was talking to my best friend Cub about needing new scout friends for the new troop, and he said that he knew some people!”

A laugh rumbles in Doc’s chest. “Did he, now?” Scarlet and Cub have been friends since kindergarten, and he’s gotten to know the kid pretty well over the years. If he recommended people to Scarlet, then there’s definitely some kind of catch.

“Yeah, he did!” Scarlet grabs her phone from her pocket and fumbles with it for a moment before flipping it around to show Doc. “Here, this is them!”

The picture on screen is of a selfie that Scarlet took in the cafeteria, presumably during lunch not long after Cub gave her the tip. Seated against the wall are two girls glancing up through the camera. The first is a very tall girl with black hair in a curly ponytail, red-lensed glasses, and curiously, a fake handlebar mustache stickered on her face. She’s tall enough to be bunched up awkwardly to be entirely in frame and her wobbly smile betrays her nervousness. The other is much shorter, a blonde avian girl with parrot-like ear feathers and a freckled, smirking face. She’s throwing up an ironic-looking peace sign.

Middle schoolers get stranger every year.

Scarlet points to mustache girl. “This is Mumbo—” and to the blonde one— “and this is Grian!”

Ren trots over to take and look and Scarlet repeats their names for him. “Huh. Cool! And they want to be Buttercup Scouts?”

She nods emphatically. “Yeah, that’s what they said!”

Doc hums in careful acknowledgement and herds them out of the entryway and back into the rest of the house. Ren ambles back to his training, and Scarlet bounces into the kitchen and grabs an apple out of the fruit bowl that lives on their island. He gives her a look. “Do you know why they haven’t already joined another troop?” Which is probably where the catch is, if he knows anything about Scarlet’s friend by now.

She waves her hand vaguely. “Yeah, yeah; Mumbo said she was too nervous to join—or, well, Grian said that for her, but whatever—and Grian said she was—” she takes a bite of her apple and the last half of her sentence dissolves into gibberish with few recognizable sounds.

Doc raises his eyebrow.

Scarlet swallows the bite and chuckles sheepishly. “Sorry. Yeah, Grian said she’s been a Buttercup Scout before, but she got kicked out of her last troop.”

What.

Doc blinks. “Did she say why, or…?”

She shrugs. “I dunno what happened. But she wants to join our troop! So that’s two more members! And we only need three!” She looks up at him with pleading eyes. “You gotta take her, ‘cause Mumbo said she wouldn’t join without Grian! And no one I asked wanted to join! So!”

Curse those kitty eyes.

He ruffles her hair and smiles through the hesitation churning in his lungs. “I did say all we needed to form a troop was two more girls.” Scarlet cheers before Doc can say his next thought. “Did you get their parent’s phone numbers so I can call them?”

Her celebration stutters to a halt like a toy running out of batteries. She clears her throat and focuses very hard on her apple. “Um, no…? 

He can’t help but chuckle at the redness growing on her face. “Ask them tomorrow, and we’ll see where it goes, okay?”

“Okay!”

[pommedepersephone]

I feel like I'm the only one in the Good Omens fandom who doesn't get the subtext behind the "aim for my mouth but shoot past my ear" quote. Do you have thoughts to share on what it means to you?

Ooooh do I. This is probably one of my favorite lines in all of Good Omens. And that is saying something because I'm one of those with an old dog-eared copy of the book AND the S1 script book, both full of underlines (don't tell Aziraphale, he'd be horrified). So, here is my unhinged passionate explanation of what that line means to me, and how I think it actually applies to multiple moments through S2, specifically moments where there is some kind of performance/deception taking place. I will try to keep this only marginally long, so I will break down the three moments I think are MOST important, and then sum it all up at the end. Ready? Here we go!

What the line means in 1941

"Aim for my mouth but shoot past my ear" clearly applies to the mechanisms of the bullet catch in S2E4, so let's start there. What does the bullet catch tell us about their relationship? First, they are always being watched. By humans (the audience) but also by their respective sides (in this case Hell). Second, they have to pretend they don’t know each other but still have ways to communicate throughout their charade. Third, they HAVE to trust one another. Like, a LOT because - Fourth, their relationship puts them both in danger.

In this context, the line is really interesting because the idea of aiming for the mouth and shooting past the ear can also be interpreted as speaking and acting in ways that either pacify or confuse those watching, but that clearly communicate to one another. There is SOMETHING about the fact that in the presence of the Nazis Crowley speaks very plainly but in a way only Aziraphale would REALLY understand - “If the bomb does land here, it would take a real miracle for my friend and I to survive it” - yet when they are being watched unaware the line that the Nazis manage to get is “banana, fish, gorilla, shoelace with dash of nutmeg” because never, not even alone, do they speak in a completely straightforward manner. This does not mean they do not communicate, it means they communicate in their own language.

What the line means in Job

But wait! There is MORE! Because 1941 isn’t the first time we’ve seen these two perform for an audience! "Aim for my mouth but shoot past my ear" also applies in Job. There is one big difference - at the start of the story, Crawley is performing alone. He is saying all the right demonic things - "I want to. I long to destroy the blameless children of blameless Job, just as I destroyed his blameless goats." And at first, Aziraphale is in the audience, unaware of the sleight of hand taking place in front of him. But Crawley offers to read him in by showing him… the crows. And Aziraphale ends up stepping into the roll of magician’s assistant as Crawley works to save Job’s kids, human and otherwise.

What I find interesting is the way you can think about mouths and ears here - Crawley lets him hear the crows bleat (shoot past my ear) which lets Aziraphale understand who Crawley really is. Then Crawley offers him the ox rib (aim for my mouth) which in some ways makes Aziraphale begin to actually examine who HE is. Both are necessary if they are going to eventually become An Us, and it really starts here, with Job.

What the line means in the Final Fifteen

By the time we get to present-day S2 “Aim for my mouth but shoot past my ear” has taken on such a deep meaning for these two man-shaped beings. Their communication is so rich and layered, where they speak in metaphors and puns and have rituals like the I Was Wrong dance. I mean, just look at this silly little act of love -

I. Simply. Cannot. These two! They deeply enjoy one another. BUT this very complicated language they have developed together only works when they are ON THE SAME PAGE.

What happens in the Final Fifteen? They stop speaking the same language. For the sake of this analysis, we are assuming that Aziraphale is feeling threatened, and is aware that Metatron has ill intent, okay? Okay. In that context… just like 1941, they are AGAIN being watched (this time by Heaven), pretending they don’t know certain things about each other, need to trust each other and their relationship has put them in danger. But here is the kicker - they have slipped back into their roles from the start of Job, except reversed. They don’t have the same information and awareness. Fell the Marvelous is desperately putting on the performance of his life, and Crowley doesn’t even know they are on stage. There was no time for a backroom conversation to discuss the finer points of the trick. In the end, Crowley decides “fuck shooting past your ear, you aren’t hearing me."

And in the MOST devastating way possible, these two aimed for the mouth and shot right past each other's ears. Ouch. OUCH.

*Clears throat, dries eyes* in summary, this little line of poetry does a heavy lift for S2. It applies to scenes where a performance/sleight of hand is taking place, but it reads differently in each one. Importantly, "Aim for my mouth but shoot past my ear" only works out when they are properly partnering not pretendy partnering. If there is information withheld, or they aren't in agreement (this applies to Edinburgh toooooo) things just implode. They have to have TRUST for this to work.

Just in case I seem even remotely normal at this point, here is the little poem I wrote after watching S2 the first time, as the brainrot started to take real hold:

aim for my mouth and shoot past my ear

tell me the lines but show me your eyes

so i learn how hearts can hide truth in lies

here beside you

aim for my mouth and shoot past my ear

i promise to burn you if you hold the match

you walk through fire but i'll turn to ash

a shade grey for you

aim for my mouth and shoot past my ear

show me the words i can't seem to hear

give me something to hold as i go through my fear

and here return to you

[hadesisqueer]

When I was a kid, and still now, I took care of all my books. Some of them are fifteen years old now and I've read them like twenty times and you could still think I bought them only like a year ago or so. Some were inherited from my cousins and are clearly old but I fixed them up myself: for example, I never spent a penny on any H****y P**ter books because I inherited all of them from one of my oldest cousins when I was six, and she really was careless about her books (she still is, which is why when I let her borrow a novel last week I told her that if I saw ONE ripped page it's on sight); so basically all of those books are held together with duct-tape (my mom once asked if I wanted to by a new copy of the third one since it's the one that looks the worst, but I told her I'm not giving Her a single penny so no lmao). My The Little Vampire books are over thirty years old I think, and they also look like that. But the ones I didn't inherit? Yeah those look pretty good. My Fairy Oak and Geronimo Stilton books look almost as new, like most of the books I had as a kid.

Except the PJO ones, because I let my friend borrow them when I was 11/12. You can tell that my The Last Olympian copy isn't new because I let a friend borrow it and when I got it back the cover was... well, it really looked like her little brother had tried drawing over it, only that he couldn't and instead fucked it up. Then I saw that it was also dog-eared everywhere (and I specifically told my friend to please not to do that because I don't like it after I saw that she had done it with the other four books; I even gave her my Camp Half-Blood bookmark and she still didn't use it) and some of the pages were half ripped. I'd gotten that book for my birthday only like three weeks ago and it was brand new when I let her borrow, I told her to be careful with it and when saw how it looked when I got it back I wanted to yell at her because for fuck's sake what the fuck did you do to MY NEW BOOK? And she was like "oh sorry about the cover and all yeah but like it's no big deal right?" and 12yo me had to have a lot of self-control. I told her that yeah sure, but that I wasn't letting her borrow any more books ever again. You wanna read The Lost Hero? You wanna read another one I talked to you about? Buy it or something but you're not getting my copy after what you did with the other five. For fuck's sake they're not your books María.

[mammalidentifier]

FAQ

Q: What do you do here?

A: I identify mammals seen in Tumblr posts.

Q: Why?

A: For fun!

Q: Why only mammals?

A: I’m more confident in my ability to identify mammals over other kinds of animals.

Q: Are you a biologist?

A: No. I went to vet school for three years, but eventually chose a different career path because I was born with some visuospatial and fine motor issues. I’m an animator and character designer!

Q: Do you work with animals otherwise?

A: Yes! My family owns an animal shelter and we rescue and care for abandoned cats and dogs.

Q: Can I tag you on posts if you haven’t gotten around to identifying a certain animal on it yet?

A: Go ahead!

Q: Can I submit pictures of mammals I find around the net to you so you’ll identify them too?

A: Feel free to!

Q: How confident are you in your identifications?

A: Depends on the animal, but usually around 85 to 90%.

Q: How did you gain this ability?

A: I used to read animal encyclopedias and Wikipedia pages about animals for hours when I was a kid.

Q: Where do you get the pictures of animals you post yourself?

Unless otherwise stated, they’re all either from Wikimedia Commons or other similar websites. If I use any copyrighted material, I try my best to credit it accurately to its original author.

Q: What’s your main blog?

A: @crtter

Q: What’s your favorite mammal?

A: Opossums, but I’m also a big fan of rodents in general.

Q: What’s the animal in your icon?

A: Big-eared opossum (Didelphis aurita). I caught this one stealing my dog’s food and got to take this picture. Best day of my life.