#and now they’re still Alone (plus a couple buddies!) but they’re alone together.

[gumy-shark]

Re: the Shou and Teru roomate situation I think it's sooo. Interesting to think of the different and same ways they have been affected by Claw. Shou not having a place to stay after the world domination arc bc like where is he supposed to go/where was he even staying to begin with. And Teru bc Claw BLEW UP HIS APARTMENT...

EXACTLY!!

also btw their friend group does not find out about this situation until shou invites ritsu over to hang out and the same time teru invites mob over. from then on teru forces shou to coordinate calendar events with him once a week to prevent conflicts from happening again

[shinimout]

Oh you’ve really opened pandora’s box with this one buddy—

BUT YES, I WILL TELL YOU EVERYTHING. Good luck understanding any of my ramblings

First and foremost,, i’ll share that the funniest thing is that Vaati initially wasn’t going to be a character in ode to love & lament. I happened to need another villain, and was considering bringing a sorcerer to the mix,, when Vaati came to mind and I decided the gremlin was the perfect addition. And despite being a last-minute addition, he was the third villain to get designed (after only Shadow and Ghirahim). Once his design was done I took a look at it and thought “haha he looks like he could be Ganon’s concubine.” Followed immediately by “WAIT WHAT IF—”

That idea was paired with a decision to not put Vaati on the same level as the other villains. Seeing as he’s been a stand-alone antagonist and actually has the ability to kill Zelda, dropping him in the same block as characters like Ghirahim and Volga felt a little ehhhhh.

The combination of the two slowly evolved to what we have now: Vaati and Ganon being nearly on the same level and decimating Hyrule together as the world’s most feared power-couple.

THANK YOU FOR SPECIFICALLY ASKING ABOUT HIS ARMS!!! This is a trait that I gave the Minish- based on the type of magic they use, they get markings on their arms themed to their respective element. So Vaati, a wind mage, has wispy, blue markings.

It’s because of how these markings present that he’s exiled. Vaati has a knack for dark magic from a young age, but is warned by Ezlo not to use it. But during a conflict between the Minish and the humans, Vaati uses dark magic to protect his home. But it’s hard to be discreet about using forbidden magic when your arms visibly change when you do. As a result he’s shunned and forced into exile.

Shortly after, he stumbles through the Gerudo desert and meets Ganon,,

Ganon’s reaction to Vaati is exactly like the little Gerudo girls in totk,, struck with the “a boy!” surprise, he brings Vaati back with him to Gerudo Town. Rules are broken and Vaati is allowed to stay as a “unique exception.”

Fast-forward several hundred years and due to issues regarding sexism and racism they’ve laid 3 sieges on Hyrule Castle, defeated each time by a different Hero of Time and Zelda.

What starts off as a morally-sound attempt at revolution at the first siege eventually gets lost in the hate towards Hyrule as a concept. While Ganon retains more of a semblance to an actual goal and desire to topple Hyrule’s social and political constructs -albeit overpowered by his hatred- Vaati is just here to see the world burn at this point.

After their 3rd siege, Ganon is banished to the Sacred Realm (because the dark realm failed last time) and Vaati is sealed away by the Master Sword.

Ganon ends up getting the Triforce, it splits bla bla bla,,, NOW ONTO THE SAGES I WILL EXPLAIN MY DECISION—

I used windwaker’s sages, making Makar and Medli the sages of Farore and Nayru respectively. But then there’s no sage of Din?

And what better candidate than Vaati? Whose desire for power may as well outweigh Ganon’s? Who at this point has the single goal of pure chaos? But will still stop at nothing to see Ganon’s visions realized?

Plus I now had the excuse to add the symbol of Din to Vaati’s markings and that’s a win no matter how you look at it hghfhfijk

I’ll also go into the malice concepts, since they’re here! These were concept designs for Vaati’s phases in the final battle

In botw/totk the ability to create malice and gloom is generally reserved for Ganon,, but in to ode to love & lament I made it so that the creation and use of both is credited to Demise.

Because of this, Ganon -as the reincarnation of Demise- has the ability to create gloom. And Vaati, the more vindictive of the two, inherits the ability to produce malice when he becomes a demon.

It’s also thanks to the abilities being able to use malice gives him that Vaati is able to create Shadow!

k that’s all I can think of right now gjegdyrgf

In conclusion I love them very much, so thank you for asking me to talk about them~

can—

can you tell who my favorite is

[plus-size-reader]

Something Wrong

Theo Raeken x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2901 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: The reader follows Theo around like a lost little puppy, which rubs Stiles the wrong way

—————————————————————————————————

Stiles didn't like it. 

There was just something strange about the relationship you and Theo shared.

There was never a time that he wasn't dismissive and nasty to you, but you still seemed completely and totally devoted to him.  He had never seen you before, or even heard your name around here, but now that Theo was here, so were you. 

...And it wasn’t just that. 

Stiles was sure that he’d never even seen you without the male right by your side. It was like you didn’t go outside unless he was there to accompany you and in general, it just rubbed him the wrong way. 

It wasn’t natural. 

You should have been able to go wherever you wanted, or do whatever you wanted without his permission, but you just didn’t. You hardly even spoke when you were all together, unless it was to agree with whatever Theo was telling them. 

There was just something wrong, he could feel it in his gut. 

So, Stiles did what he always did, he decided that he was going to make it better. 

He wasn’t entirely sure how yet, or if you would even talk to him, but if something was wrong, he was going to find out. All you had to do was actually speak to him, and everything else would be his problem. 

Though, the speaking to him part was the part you would surely struggle with the most. 

Not only would Stiles have to get you to tell him what was going on, but he would likely have to get you away from Theo to do it which was much easier said than done. By this point, it really did seem like you were attached at the hip. 

There was no way you would just open up to him alone.

Not that Stiles thought that was too much of a problem. He always had a plan and this whole thing was just asking to be taken care of like everything else he did. First thing was first though, he had to talk to Scott. 

If there was anyone out there who could figure out what it was that was between you and Theo without having to actually ask, it was Scott. 

Before he went out and did something stupid or made a problem out of nothing, Stiles needed his best friend to tell him it was okay.

 After all, things with Theo were complicated as they were, and the last thing the pack needed was him making a problem where there didn’t need to be one. 

“Hey, you know what Y/N’s deal is?” he asked, out of nowhere as if it was no big deal. 

It was hardly his usual icebreaker, but thankfully, Scott knew his best friend well enough to know that he didn’t really think in terms of icebreakers and social constructs. Whatever it was he was thinking, it was just going to come out of his mouth. 

Today, he was thinking about you, apparently. 

“Theo’s Y/N? No, I don’t know what her deal is” Scott shrugged, hardly batting an eye at his weird little buddies antics. Eventually, he would get to the point, and asking follow up questions would just prolong the process. 

It was better to just let himself go, similarly to how you would a wind up toy. 

“You don’t think it's weird though? We don’t know anything about either of them, y’know” Stiles continued, clearly Scott didn’t get what he was getting at. 

There was something going on, something more than whatever it was they were supposed to believe. 

After all, the two of you certainly didn’t act like a couple, but you didn’t not act like a couple either. You were clearly hyper aware of whatever it was the other male had going on at all times, but he didn’t pay you any mind unless he wanted something. 

It just didn’t seem healthy.

Granted, Stiles had never really had a serious, long term relationship like the one  you shared, but it wouldn’t have been like that even if he had. 

You just seemed like the kind of person who deserved better, and that was just a general statement. It was no secret that Stiles didn’t like Theo, but this wasn’t that. 

This was something else, and he just couldn’t put a finger on it. 

“I don’t know man, they’re weird, but it's not really any of our business” the true alpha shrugged again, sort of hoping that Stiles would just let this whole thing go. Whatever it was he was getting at, it was coming out of nowhere. 

The last thing any of them needed to be doing was meddling into Theo’s business, not when they needed to be getting rid of him. 

Of all the things they needed to know about him, his relationship to you didn’t even crack the top ten. 

Though, Scott was perfectly aware that trying to get the other male to understand that wasn’t going to do him any good. All he could do was wait for Stiles to do whatever he was going to do, and once he realized it was fine, he would let it go. 

He had to. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right” Stiles decided, momentarily considering the fact that Scott may have had a point. 

This was hardly where he needed to be focusing his energy but that didn’t mean he was just going to let it go. 

He would just have to put it on the backburner for a little while, and if the opportunity arose for him to gather more information, then he would do something about it. 

Until he really understood this whole thing, it would be better that way anyway. 

~

The idea of having Theo over wasn’t exactly ideal, for multiple reasons, but at the very least, it would give Stiles a chance to further sus out what your deal was. 

As much as he understood what Scott was saying, he just couldn’t stop thinking about it. The whole situation was weird, and when he stopped to think about it, he knew that something had to change. 

One thing was for sure, if he didn’t get some clarification soon, he was going to drive himself insane. 

From the second you entered the room, Stiles kept his eyes on the two of you, his gaze only leaving your face to shoot a glance at Scott. He wanted to see if the other male was seeing what he was seeing, that this was weird. 

...but Scott was oblivious. 

Really, whatever it was that was going on between you and Theo, it wasn’t any of their business. Scott truly believed that, and he just wished that his best friend would do the same. 

What he’d said was true. 

They didn’t know anything about you or Theo, really, and making assumptions was hardly the way to fix that. 

If Stiles was so worried about it, all he had to do was get to know you and maybe that would make him feel better. 

After all, it was hard to not just write his suspicion off as a distrust of Theo. It was no secret that he didn’t like the new guy, and if anyone was going to be convinced that he was doing something bad, it was going to be Stiles. 

So, until he had proof, Scott was just going to leave him to his detective work. 

You didn’t say anything at first, sticking close to Theo just as you always did, your arms held tightly behind your back to avoid touching anything. 

You didn’t want to be here, something you had told Theo without hesitation before, but that didn’t mean much. 

Clearly. 

Building relationships with the rest of the pack was important to him, and he needed you to come across as less threatening than he would on his own. In his experience, bringing a pretty girl along made him easier to trust. 

If nothing else, the pack had no reason to hate you. 

Stiles watched you with burning eyes, waiting for something to happen, anything that would warrant the pit in his stomach. 

He didn’t have any proof yet, but he knew it, deep down inside himself, that something was wrong. 

There was something wrong with this guy. 

You stood there for a moment more then, after Theo leaned over to whisper something in your ear, you nodded slightly, moving to take a seat on the couch. 

All in all, it seemed like more than enough to justify the suspicions he was feeling, but no one else seemed to feel that same way. Stiles had a bit of a habit, he was paranoid sometimes, and could really make something out of nothing. 

Maybe the relationship you and Theo shared wasn’t like what they were used to but nothing said you were in danger or anything like that.

It could have easily been anything else. 

“I didn’t realize you were bringing Y/N tonight, Theo” Stiles hummed, a strange tone leaving his lips that didn’t really fit in with the mood of the evening but if nothing else, it opened the door. 

Everything that left his lips in regard to Theo was hostile, but as per usual, the other male didn’t bat an eye. 

Instead, he smiled, that sly sort of knowing smile that he always wore when he knew just what to do. 

It was a confidence you had never had in your life, but that was part of why you stayed with Theo like you did. He always made sure you were taken care of, and you never had to worry about anything when he was around. 

He kept you safe. 

“Her being here isn’t a problem, is it? I mean, we’re sort of a package deal” he smirked, looking at Stiles in a way that could only be described as challenging. He wanted him to say something, here, right in front of everyone. 

He wanted them to know just where he stood, and that you weren’t any of their business. 

“Don’t worry about it, right Stiles?” Scott interjected, before the dark haired male could respond. Having Theo here was probationary, just to see if he knew anything that could help them, and the last thing any of you needed was a pissing contest. 

Tensions were high enough as it was. 

Theo seemed content enough with that, at least for now, when Stiles nodded but you know well enough to know it was hardly over. 

There was just something about them, they were never going to get along, and the last thing you wanted to do was get in the middle of it. 

It was much better to just sit where you were and let Theo handle it. 

Like you let him handle everything. 

A small “good” left Theo as he sat down beside you on the couch. 

It was little more than an acknowledgment of your presence but you didn’t mind it. Tonight would be over soon enough, and you would be able to breathe again. All you had to do was do as you were told, and this whole thing would work out just like it was supposed to. 

The interaction was meant to console Stiles in some way, to assure him that whatever you were doing here wasn’t any of his business, but it didn’t seem to be working. You could practically feel Stiles’ eyes on you,  not even paying attention to what was going on. 

...and, if the tight grip Theo had on your thigh was any indication, he had noticed too. 

Thankfully though, he didn’t say anything and just kept talking to Scott about whatever it was that was going on. You couldn’t have cared too much about whatever the true alpha had to say, because if Theo got what he wanted, he wouldn’t be alive much longer anyway.

You just had to wait this out. 

“I need to get out of here for a bit” 

Your words were little more than a whisper to Theo, who was still sitting ridgid at your side, deep in conversation with Scott and the rest of the pack. You could tell that he wasn’t happy with the idea due to the tension in his jaw, but you didn’t have a choice. 

If you sat here any more under Stiles’ watchful eye, you were going to lose your mind. All you could do was hope that a little fresh air was going to make the anxious fluttering in your stomach go away. 

You didn't want him looking at you anymore. 

[number-1-kuaidul-fanboy]

I rewatched those Air Buddies movies instead of  what my blog is actually about. Oops.

Yeah, not even Air Bud because I don’t own those and I’m really cheap. Plus, I grew up with Air Buddies way more than Air Bud. I know, horrifying huh? I’d like to at least rewatch the first two if I can find them but for now, it’s puppy time.

Rewatching the whole series in order... I actually kinda like it.

Maybe it’s “nostalgia” or being so enthralled by cute puppies that I ignore all the problems in these movies, but I had fun watching all of the movies. Well... besides Space Buddies. Fuck Space Buddies. Yes, I enjoyed Spooky Buddies and Super Buddies. Those movies aren’t good, but they’re hilarious. They’re complete guilty pleasure. Most of the other movies... I wouldn’t call them guilty pleasures but besides a couple of them, I wouldn’t quite consider them good.

These movies on principle aren’t the best. The live action/CGI hybrid format is limited by default, and the dog acting and lip synced mouths can definitely bother some more than others. I personally don’t mind the mouth sync but it does look weird if you’re not used to it, especially in Super Buddies where their mouths are flapping all over the place. These movies would have been better (and possibly more appreciated) if they were fully animated.

These movies are also sprinkled with racist and sexist stereotypes. Rosebud is your typical token girl character. Her entire personality is girly and she makes everything about “girl power” which really gets on my nerves (though I will she has some legitimately good moments). As for the racism, there are racist stereotypes/accents all over these movies, even some of the better ones. Buddha is the most egregious example of this. While he’s my favourite of the puppies (because he has the closest thing to character depth and says some of my favourite lines in the series) and I like these movies despite those big issues, it’s important to acknowledge that stereotypes like that are still problematic and shouldn’t be condoned. It wasn’t okay then and it’s not okay now.

Still, that doesn’t mean we’re not allowed to like these movies for reasons outside of these issues. And I do. I honestly do. So here is my ranking of the movies from least favourite to favourite:

7 Space Buddies 4/10

This one is just as bad as it looks. There’s a couple cute moments, like Buddha and his owner enjoying looking at space together and Buddha later giving him a rock from the moon, but overall, this movie is mostly just boring. Boring or aggravating. It’s only been a few days since I watched it and most of what I remember was just the really stupid stuff. Skip it. You’ll miss nothing.

6 Spooky Buddies 4/10 (Ironic entertainment: 6/10)

This one is just as bad as Space Buddies but honestly, I found myself laughing more at the absurdity than cringing at it. Some of it is legitimate humour (like pretty much everything the ridiculously over the top villain does). The rest is laughing at the stupid situations and horrible special effects. This is not a movie to watch alone (unless you’re drunk or something). It’s a movie to watch with someone so you can make fun of it together and laugh at each other’s reactions. That’s what I did and it was a blast.

5 Air Buddies 6/10

I was honestly surprised at how decent this movie was. Sure it's clearly more geared toward kids, the characters are kind of all one-note, and there’s some juvenile humour but it’s not a poorly told story. It’s a basic one but it tells it well and there are some wholesome moments and some legitimately funny moments. It also feels like a story that could actually happen in the real world, if you suspend your disbelief on the talking puppies. Maybe nostalgia plays a part, but I legitimately think this is a decent film as well… the top three. The next one though…

4 Super Buddies 5/10 (Ironic entertainment: 7/10)

Going straight back to the crazy. This movie is completely stupid, badly constructed, has really cheap looking effects, a terrible anti climax/fake out death, and makes no sense but honestly… stories where established characters suddenly gain superpowers are honestly my really niche guilty pleasure. Also, a lot of the humour I got from this movie is actually intentional and for how dumb it is, I think some of the stuff with the super powers is legitimately cool. Super powers are cool, I don’t make the rules.

3 Santa Buddies 6.5/10

Okay, if any of these movies is purely winning me over in cute factor alone, it’s this one. I don’t care for Christmas and I know this movie is a cluttered mess with wonky pacing but oh my god, have you seen Tiny?! Have you heard her cute little singing?! It’s enough to melt a grown man! And-and that cranky old dog catcher letting cheer into his heart and giving Tiny to that sick little boy?! And the boy’s family inviting him to their Christmas dinner in return?! The sweetness is off the charts! The Christmas joy of this movie can eat me alive if it means I get to see wholesomeness like this.

2 Treasure Buddies 7/10

Okay, this is a weird pick, I’m aware. I didn’t even care for this one as a kid but rewatching it now, man was this movie cool! This is the first movie since Air Buddies where all the characters get a chance to shine in a unique way especially my two favourites, Mudbud and Buddha. (Yeah, I actually like these characters. Do you blame me? They’re puppies!) Mudbud’s hyper-devotion to his owner is adorable and honestly the heart of this movie and Buddha has some of the best lines in the film. He also stares down and hypnotises a snake. Yeah, that’s my favourite scene in the movie. Also, while it does have a bit of an anti climax, the final action sequence of this movie is really interesting and fun.

1 Snow Buddies 7.5/10

Yeah, this wasn’t much of a contest. I was surprised that one of the movies even came close to this one but still, Snow Buddies triumphs. This is not a masterpiece by any means but it is a genuinely well told film with good pacing and heart. It’s the most down to earth and while these movies are sorely lacking in meaningful character moments, this movie at least gave it an attempt. Also, Shasta is a great new character and the way this movie barely holds any punches with the tragedy of his parents dying in a dog sled race (they even say the word die!), is very admirable for a movie of this calibre. It had no need to go this far but it did because they felt it was stronger this way and it is. The best scene in this movie, and any of these movies for that matter, is where Shasta is crawling over some slowly cracking ice, the same place and same circumstance that took the lives of his parents, to save the very dogs that caused the deaths of his parents. The editing makes you feel the weight of every paw step. Like any moment, Shasta could fall in and die the same way his parents did. It’s very tense.

This was actually a tight list believe it or not. There was a definite worst and best film but the middle ones feel kind of interchangeable for me, even with my scores. Well, anyways, no one is gonna read this but I’m still gonna post so... have a good day! :D

[alwaysmarveling]

Sticks and Stones

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

Warnings: death (it gets pretty depressing)

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: I do recommend reading Chapter 1 before this one, which you can find here.

Fair warning, I normally don’t read angst, let alone write it, so this could all be a failed attempt at a depressing storyline. But hey, I tried :) And thank you so much @vancityfire13 for helping me out with this chapter!

“Mama, I don’t want to go to school. I think I’m sick,” Igor trudged into the kitchen, his steps heavy and his brows knit together.

“You don’t feel warm, Igoryok. Why don’t you sit down and have some breakfast and then we’ll see how things go, yeah?” Igor nodded reluctantly as Natasha carded her fingers through his hair, trying to tame the bee’s nest that had formed on his head while he was asleep. When you entered the kitchen, you quickly adopted a look to match the frown on Igor’s face.

“What’s wrong, Iggy?”

“I don’t feel good.” You copied Natasha, feeling his forehead but finding it perfectly normal.

“What doesn’t feel good, Igoryok?” Your frowns only deepened when he shrugged.

“If you don’t tell us, we can’t help you.”

“I just don’t feel good, okay?” Both of you flinched slightly at his anger. Although he could get rambunctious and excited at times, Igor was generally sweet, always offering to share his toys with other kids and giving you and Nat random hugs “just because I love you.” Plus, he was four, and you weren’t expecting the attitude for another couple of years at least. After sharing a concerned glance with your wife, you knelt down and held Igor’s hand in yours, noticing his bottom lip wobbling and his eyes beginning to shine.

“Igor, sweetheart, what’s the matter? Why don’t you want to go to school?”

“It’s okay, Igoryok, you can tell us anything,” Nat reassured him when he started to cry, gently rubbing his back in an effort to soothe him.

“I don’t want to see Jackson.” You squeezed his hand, urging him to continue. You knew Jackson and his family; Jackson had even come over to play a couple of weeks ago. While you tried to keep the conversation going, you saw Natasha tense up the second Igor finished the sentence.

“Why don’t you want to see Jackson, honey? Did something happen?”

“Jackson said I’m stupid because my letters don’t look right, and he said I was a baby for having light-up sneakers. And he pulled me down when we were playing tag.”

“And your teachers didn’t say anything?” Natasha gritted out. It was obvious she was trying to stay calm for Igor’s sake, but any second now and Mount Vesuvius was about to explode, bringing all of Pompeii with it. Igor shook his head, his whole body trembling as he cried.

“They didn’t see it. He waited until recess and we were in the back of the playground behind the slides.”

“Igor, sweetie, why didn’t you tell them?” You tried wiping the tears off of his face as they fell, but they were quickly replaced by new ones.

“He said if I did he’d tell the whole class I was a weirdo because I wet the bed.” You butted in before Nat could start yelling, placing a hand on top of hers to try to remind her of the situation.

“I see. Igor, do you think any of the things he said were true?”

“No.” The muttered answer was hard to hear, but it was there.

“That’s right, they’re not. So don’t let that boy get in your head for one second, okay? For every bad thing that he says to you, I want you to remind yourself of at least one good thing about yourself, okay?”

“Okay, Mom.”

“Why don’t you start right now? Tell me three things you like about yourself.”

“Um, I draw good dinos.”

“That’s right,” you smiled. “Mama and I love when you give us dino pictures.”

“Maybe I can draw you one today in school.”

“We’d love that, Igoryok. Two more, buddy.” The redhead had relaxed slightly, her fingers beginning to comb through his hair once again.

“I’m good at soccer. And I have cool cleats.” You nodded at him, rubbing small circles over the back of his hand to encourage him to continue. By this point, his crying stopped, and he only paused every so often to let out a hiccup.

“I can read some of the big kid books in the library. Mr. Goldman says that it’s very impressive for a four-year-old.” Natasha chuckled as Igor puffed out his chest, Jackson’s insults long forgotten.

“It is very impressive. So-”

“Wait, Mama, I have one more!”

“And what would that be?” the redhead smiled.

“I have the two best mamas in the entire world. And they love me so much, and I love them so much too.” It took everything in you not to cry at that moment, and one look at Natasha’s face told you she was struggling as well.

“That’s right, Ig. Mama and I love you more than anything or anyone in the entire world, more than you could ever imagine. You never forget that, promise?”

“I promise, Mom, but don’t cry! It’s happy!”

“I’m very happy,” you whispered, giving him the tightest hug you could without crushing him.

“Igoryok, I need you to listen to me.” The four-year-old nodded as he turned to give your wife his full attention. “When Jackson says mean things to you, you tell him to stop, okay? Don’t be mean, but tell him firmly.”

“Firmly,” he repeated.

“And if he doesn’t stop, you tell your teacher. Okay?”

“Okay, Mama.”

“Miss Olivia is going to pick you up from school today, but Mom and I are going to talk to your teachers about Jackson as soon as we can, we promise.”

“Okay, Mama. Does that mean you and Mom are going to fight the bad guys again?”

“Yes, but just for a little bit. We’ll be back in time for dinner. Which means you have to be good for Miss Olivia or you can’t have any dessert,” Nat winked.

“Now, group hug and then it’s time to go to school,” you ordered, wrapping your arms around the two of them.

-

Igor remained mostly quiet on the car ride to school, which wasn’t unusual for him, but you and Nat found yourselves checking on him regardless.

“Mom, in school, Miss Taylor told us ‘sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me.’ Is that what she means, with Jackson?”

“Well, yes. Basically, it means that when people say mean things about us, like the things that Jackson said to you, we shouldn’t let it hurt us.”

“How do you do that?”

“You do what we did at breakfast. You know in your heart that what he says isn’t true, so you ignore it. And then you remind yourself of all the good things about yourself.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“We love you, buddy,” Natasha reminded him as she brought the car to a stop. “If anything else happens, you tell us and we’ll help you, okay?”

“Yes, Mama. I love you too.”

“Alright. Then you have the best, most amazing day at school, okay, lovebug?”

“I will, Mom. Bye bye!” With a kiss on each of your cheeks, Igor put on the Avengers backpack that was half his size and jumped out of the car to meet his teacher and friends at the front of the school. With Igor out of the car, Natasha’s anger returned ten-fold.

“‘Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me,’ huh? That’s the best they can teach?”

“Nat-”

“You know it’s outdated, and it’s totally not true at all! Of course words can hurt, you know that, Y/N!”

“I know,” you murmured, thinking back to all the pain and chaos a bunch of reporters had caused over some rumors about the Avengers.

“And who does that kid think he is talking about Igor like that?”

“Natty, he’s four.”

“Being four doesn’t give you an excuse to be a bully!”

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” you sighed, “but being four means he has time to change. You know that at this age they usually get it from seeing other people do it.” Two minutes of driving in silence passed before Natasha spoke up again.

“You’re right,” she sighed, her shoulders slowly dropping. “It just makes me so angry that he’d do that to him. And Igor didn’t do anything about it. What if something else happens in the future and he doesn’t protect himself? Igor doesn’t even wet the bed anymore. He knows that and he still let that kid scare him. Or what if Igor doesn’t want to tell us when bad things happen?” The longer she spoke, the softer her voice became as anger dissolved into sadness and concern.

“Well,” you placed your hand over hers that rested on your thigh, “the good thing is Igor is also four. It’s good that something like this happened now rather than later because we have time to talk to him and teach him that we’ll always be there for him. Today was one step towards that. It’ll be okay, Nat. We’ll make sure it is. Especially if we’re going to have another little one on the way.” Your wife smiled at that.

“Igor’s going to be an amazing brother.”

“He really is,” you laughed as you picked up her hand and linked her fingers in yours.

“I will admit, though,” your eyes returned to your wife’s face in time to notice her quirk an eyebrow, “I thought we’d have some more time before we had to deal with the ‘sick to get out of school’ trick.”

“You and me both,” you giggled. “That kid is too smart for his own good.”

“How much do you want to bet he learned it from Tony?”

“Well, he definitely didn’t learn it from Steve.” All the remaining tension in the car dissolved as you two chuckled at the thought. 

When the car became quiet once more, you brought her hand up to your lips. “I. Love. You,” you murmured, each word punctuated with a kiss to her knuckles.

“I love you more. And everything’s going to be okay,” she repeated, more so reassuring herself than you.

“It is. Now, let’s go over that mission plan one last time. We have some butts to kick.”

---

“Okay, Steve’ll meet you guys at the rendezvous point. Get in, and get out. And don’t let yourselves get caught. It’s just an info grab, but it’s an important one.”

“Got it, Hill. See you later.” After ending the call with Maria, you turned to Natasha. “You ready, hon?”

“Yeah, I just can’t help but shake this feeling. I know the mission’s short, but…” You tilted your head slightly to meet her eyes, which was a bit difficult since she’d lowered her gaze to the floor.

“No, I get it. I think it’s just the events of this morning, yeah? And it definitely doesn’t help that we can’t have outside communication.” After a recent mission gone wrong, Fury had temporarily prohibited all outside communication on missions unless absolutely necessary, meaning you and Nat would only be able to communicate with each other until Steve picked you guys up. “Let’s just finish this mission and get back to Igor. Things’ll be better after that.”

“You’re right,” the redhead agreed, giving you an uneasy smile. You rolled your neck once before giving your wife a quick peck on the cheek.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

---

“Where have you guys been? I’ve been waiting for two hours!” His check and money was lying on the table, his meal eaten long ago.

“Sorry, Rogers, a minor complication meant we had to be a bit more careful. But we got all the info, and there’s no trouble.” Natasha slid a small flash drive across the booth. He simply nodded, pocketing the device and standing up.

“Let’s go.”

“Everything okay, Steve?”

“Um, yeah. Fury asked that you guys stop by the tower first though.” You frowned, prompting Nat to slip her hand into yours.

“Is it important? We wanted to get back and see Igor. We told him we’d be back for dinner, and we’re already late.” Before Steve could respond, a waitress walked up to the table.

“Oh, hey! I see your friends are here. Do you guys want to place an order?”

“Um, actually, I’m so sorry. Something came up and we have to go. Thank you so much, though.”

“Of course, have a nice night, guys.” You flashed the waiter a smile and handed her two twenty dollar bills as an apology before following Steve out of the restaurant.

“Steve, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he responded, his voice void of emotion.

“C’mon, you know neither of us is buying that. Is everyone okay?”

“Just hurry up,” he muttered. He was walking so quickly that you and Nat were practically jogging to keep up. You shared a worried glance with Natasha, but neither of you spoke up again.

-

After a thirty-minute drive, you’d reached the tower, and Steve sent the two of you up to Fury’s office without another word.

“Do you think we did something wrong, Natty?”

“I don’t see what we could’ve done wrong. We’ll find out soon enough, though,” she sighed. She sent you a small smile in an effort to calm you, as she could tell you were becoming quite anxious, but she was rather nervous herself.

Fury was waiting for you guys when the elevator doors opened, which only served to make the two of you even more on edge than you were before.

“Romanoff, L/N, follow me please.” He led you to his office, his demeanor stoic and unreadable as per usual, but something was off. As you placed a hand on Nat’s lower back, you found her spine to be stiff. She must’ve sensed it too. “Sit.” The three of you sat in silence for about thirty seconds, during which you realized what was wrong. The twinkle he always had in his eyes, whether from playfulness, determination, or something in between, was missing. That realization was enough to make you crack.

“Fury. Why’d you call us in here? I hate to rush you but we’ve got a kid to go home to.” You and your wife noticed when he flinched at your last sentence.

“Right.” Both of you stared at him expectantly but quickly became agitated when he didn’t seem to make any move to continue.

“Fury. What is it.” You placed a hand on Nat’s arm before she could jump out of the chair, but if he didn’t speak in about two seconds you’d be right there with her.

“We received a call about three hours ago about a car crash. A massive pileup caused by a drunk driver during the school rush hour. Two people were seriously injured.” 

“I- I don’t understand. You want us to help with a car crash?” you asked, your voice shaky but light. “Fury, with all due respect, this is ridiculous. This isn’t our area of-” 

“Why are you telling us about this?” Natasha cut into your rambling.

“Romanoff… this was three hours ago. Just outside of the elementary school.”

Three hours ago. What was three hours ago? Three hours ago would’ve been when Olivia was bringing Igor back home from school. But that couldn’t be what Fury was talking about. It was a different kid, a different family, maybe even a different school; Fury hadn’t been specific. No, you and Nat would go back home and they’d both be there. They had to be there. 

“By the time the ambulance got there, paramedics suspected that they were both gone. They called time of death at the hospital. I’m so sorry.” You couldn’t tell when exactly your heart stopped beating, when all the blood left your face. He couldn’t be talking about what you thought he was. He wasn’t even looking you in the eye, dammit.

“Gone? What do you mean by gone? Who’s ‘they’?” You spoke in a whisper, not able to speak any louder. With each second that passed, you could feel Nat’s forearm getting tighter as she clenched her fists harder and harder.

“Fury,” Natasha finally spoke, her voice gravelly, “If you’re telling me what I think you’re telling me, you’re going to have to be very clear with me. So what. Are. You. Saying.”

“Igor is dead. Your son is dead. I’m so-”

“Stop saying you’re sorry!” This time it was Nat’s turn to hold you back, grabbing onto your waist when you slammed your hands on Fury’s desk. “You have no reason to be sorry, he’s not- No, you’re wrong. That doesn’t make any sense. How in the hell would there be a drunk driver at 3 in the afternoon? No, you’re wrong! Nat, he’s wrong, right?” You looked at your wife, eyes shining, but her expression was unreadable. Her arms were crossed against her chest as she stood in the center of the room, and you couldn’t help but remember the last time she looked that alone—at the SHIELD party all those years ago.

---

She was standing in the corner with her back to everyone in the room. You didn’t believe it was her at first—sure, redheads weren’t that common, but how could it be her? You hadn’t seen her in months, although it wasn’t from lack of trying. Besides, this woman looked so unbelievably… small. And sad. And alone. This was a party, for heavens’ sake, and she looked like she was stuck in solitary confinement. None of those sounded anything like the woman you’d met.

But with a shake of your head, you turned back to the bar, taking a sip from your drink with the intent of clearing her from your mind. You got over her months ago, Y/N. It was literally just one date. Stop thinking about her. Besides, what are the chances she works for SHIELD anyway?

Yet, ten minutes later, the woman remained in her place and looked just as pitiful as she did when you first saw her. Your mind couldn’t stop your legs from swinging off of the chair and walking over to her.

“Um, excuse me?” Your heart stopped when you saw her face. It was her. She was glammed up for the party, but it was Nat, and she looked just as beautiful as the first time you’d seen her. 

“Y/N?” Your heart caught in your throat for a second as if you hadn’t thought that it could be her, not allowing you to respond until after you’d taken another sip from your drink.

“Nat.” You didn’t know what else to say. You hadn’t really planned it out, to be honest. Your body just kind of… brought you here. The two of you just stared at each other, neither of you too sure of what to say. Suddenly, all the anger you’d had towards her over the past few months pushed its way to the surface. “Did you lose my number or something? Get a new phone?”

“Y/N, I- what are you doing here?”

“Really? We had an amazing first date, you told me you can’t wait for the next one, and then you didn’t talk to me for months? And then, when I do find you, that’s all you have to say? I mean, obviously I was the fool for believing yo-”

“Are you stalking me?” Her eyes narrowed.

“Are you serious right now? No, I’m not stalking you! I work for SHIELD now, which you would know if you didn’t freaking ghost me!”

“You- you work for SHIELD?”

“Yes, I’ve been working for SHIELD for six months.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I… I have to go.” You watched her, your eyes blazing and nostrils flaring, as she walked out of the room. She never came back that night.

---

“I have to go,” Nat interrupted the silence.

“Natasha, wait. You really shouldn’t be going anywhere like this.” Fury stood from his chair but remained behind his desk.

“I’m going home.”

“Natasha, please, just hold on a seco-” Unlike that night, you followed Nat out of the room. The two of you were out the door before Fury could stop you.

-

When you got home, the house was dark and Olivia’s car wasn’t there. That didn’t deter either of you, though.

“Igor! Igor! Mom’s home!”

“Igoryok, it’s Mama!” When neither of you heard a response, the two of you frantically began running through the house. You searched room after room, checking each one and the hallway closet at least three times. When your legs turned to lead and you couldn’t breathe any longer, you dropped to your knees, completely unaware of what part of the house you were in.

That’s how Natasha found you—in Igor’s room, sobbing, your knees digging deep into the hardwood floors and your head resting on his pillow right next to his stuffed pig and the green baby blanket he refused to sleep without.

“Y/N,” she murmured, her voice broken and tears trailing down her flushed cheeks. Your wife stumbled her way over to you and collapsed by your side. Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, she pulled you as close as she could, and you let her.

-

The two of you cried for what felt like a million lifetimes, not stopping until you physically ran out of tears, your eyes so dry that it hurt to open them. Your head leaned against Nat’s shoulder. Both of you stared at the wall ahead of you with an empty gaze, the only sound heard in the room being your shallow breaths.

“You were right,” you whispered, your throat dry.

“About what?” Nat’s voice was as quiet and hollow as yours.

“Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me.” Miss Taylor had told your son that words could never hurt him, but she was wrong. Hearing the words that Igor was dead; that your son was gone; that you would never get to see him earn his high school diploma, or get a job that he was passionate about, or grow up to be a happy adult, or even hug him one last time; that you would never get to see him become an amazing warrior like you’d predicted just five years ago—those words caused you the most pain you’d ever felt in your entire life.

-----

Tagging: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

[lovely-angst]

Ok so may I request a part two of "walk me to the bus stop" where bakugou and his s/o are older now, and he's in like his 3rd year at UA, and he just happens to be at the bus stop late at night and hears shouting and runs over to see his s/o struggling to get away from those same men in suits, and he rescues her again and they're just like long time no see? and bakugou proceeds to walk s/o home as the men in suits get whisked away by the police <3 so swoony uwu

changed the ending juuuust a tad bit, but i hope it’s just as good ;^)

pt 1 here!

genre: fluff

word count: 2.4k

01.15.21

-

“Are you sure you don’t want us to wait with you at the bus stop?” your friends ask, but you shook your head politely. “Thanks for asking, but I’ll be fine. It’s getting late and I know they’re about to do last calls for buses and trains, I wouldn’t want you to miss them,” you explain as your friends give you smalls smiles.

“If you say so. Text me when you get home then, okay?” she says as you give her a nod before turning around to make your way to the bus stop.

Walking down the empty street lit by the dim street lights, you tried not to think about all of the horrible situations that could happen, it would only keep you paranoid.

Plus, your boyfriend taught you a few moves of self defense if you’re ever in a predicament, you were prepared for anything!

Sighing, you continue to walk down before turning into another street, eyes slightly widening when you notice two men in suits standing off to the side of road.

“They’re probably just businessmen (Name), stop over thinking things,” you told yourself as you walked passed the men, keeping your head down. Once you had gotten passed them, you let out a relieved sigh, “just business men,” you whisper to yourself, relaxing a bit.

It wasn’t until you continued walking for a couple minutes that you heard footsteps behind you. You tried not to think too hard about it, maybe someone was just taking the same path as you.

Your hand gripped your bag tightly before you cautiously looked over your shoulder, only to find those two men following you.

It was happening again.

Quickly turning back, you tried to maintain a normal speed to not seem suspicious, but when you thought they weren’t suspecting anything, you ran for it.

Your heart raced as you tried to reach the bus stop. It would be the main road, there would be people there to save you, heroes there to save you!

You felt your eyes gloss over as you tried to outrun these men, but even you could tell they were catching up and catching up fast. “One more street and I’ll make it!”

Just as you were about to turn the corner to your bus stop, two more men popped out and blocked your path, sealing you from escaping.

You turned every which way to find a way to escape but they were slowly inching closer. Swinging your bag, you tried to attack but it backfired when they grabbed on, pulling you in and pining your hands together as a car pulled up on the side of the road.

Before they could stuff you in the vehicle, you let out a yell.

-

“Hurry up, Bakugou! We’re on a time crunch here!” Kirishima cries as he tries to remind his grumpy buddy that Aizawa had given them only an hour to grab whatever they needed from the convenience store before heading back to the dorms for the night.

“Thanks for tagging along, Kacchan!” Midoriya says but Bakugou could only scoff, “I can’t believe you two losers dragged me along,” he complained, following the two boys.

“You’ve been kinda tense lately, I thought maybe being outside of UA could help you a bit,” Kirishima confesses with a toothy smile, causing Bakugou to frown.

“I’ll just wait out here for you idiots. Better make it a fast trip,” Bakugou says as the three finally made it to the convinience store. “Okay!” Midoriya and Kirishima quickly head in, the sliding doors closing behind them leaving Bakugou alone.

Though Bakugou hated running errands, Kirishima was right—being outside of UA was nice. There were normal citizens walking about and for some reason the air felt and smelled different.

He wished he could enjoy a night out like this with you. Running to some convenience store to buy snacks because you were hungry before the two of you would walk through the quiet town together.

Glancing through the glass doors, Bakugou noticed that Midoriya and Kirishima were still busy deciding on what brand to get.

A small walk wouldn’t hurt.

He knew that the bus stop the two of you always waited at was nearby, maybe he could take a quick picture and send it your way. He could already imagine all of the texts you would reply with.

‘I can’t believe you’re allowed out and i’m not there!’

‘Message me as soon as you can next time! Even if it’s just for five minutes, I want to see you!’

Just the thought of it made him smile. Just as he approached the bus stop, he heard a faint yell, “help!”

Like the snap of a finger, all the gears in Bakugou’s brain began turning as he quickly set off to find the source of the distressed cry, someone needed his help.

It didn’t take long before Bakugou found four men trying to force a girl into a car as she continued to resist. 

Using his explosions, Bakugou propelled himself forward before grabbing one of the men by the collar of his shirt, slamming him onto the hard ground beneath them before raising his arm towards another, letting out an explosion in the man’s face.

With the two in the back down, the young lady was able to turn her head around towards him, their eyes meeting. “Katsuki!”

Before Bakugou could cause unleash another attack, they quickly shoved you in the car before one of the men turned and brought their hand up towards Bakugou’s face, and unleashed their quirk as a flash of bright light filled the scene.

Just as the light slowly disapeared, the car had driven off with you in it.

“Kacchan!” “Bakugou! What happened to waiting outside the store?” Kirishima scolded as the two ran over to the blond, “We saw that bright flash of light and decided to come check it out.”

Bakugou cursed, “That damn light caught me off guard. They took (Name), hurry before they get too far!” he shouted as he began propelling himself in the air to catch sight of the car.

Bakugou wasn’t sure if the two followed behind, but he could careless. His girlfriend had just gotten kidnapped in front of his face and he wasn’t going to let them get away with it.

Meanwhile, you were continuously trying to pry yourself away from the men who sat beside you. Your hands were tied together in front of you as you scanned the car with your eyes.

It didn’t seem like they had any guns on them thankfully, but you weren’t sure how you could manage to even attempt to escape. It didn’t matter though, you were going to do whatever it took.

Violently shaking yourself to try to loosen the fabric around your wrists, you would purposefully shove the two men beside you to get a rise out of them, and it worked.

“Hey, knock it off before I-” before he could finish his sentence, you roughly swung your fists into his face before swinging your head to headbutt the other man, causing them to curl in pain.

While they were distracted from the sudden attack, you reached over and unlocked the car door before swinging it open and throwing yourself out of the vehicle, rolling onto the hard ground with a few rough scrapes.

As you tried to regain your focus after the tumble, you could hear the voices of the men and their quick footsteps as they ran over to you.

You were so close.

Just as you turned your head and flinched from the men, Bakugou suddenly dropped down in front of you with his arms raised, “Watch out, (Name)”

Releasing a large blast that shook the ground, the men were finally all down and unconscious. 

“Sorry we’re late Kacchan!” Midoriya exclaimed as he jerked his head behind him at Kirishima who was riding Midoriya’s back. “Ha, can’t exactly get here as fast as the two of you, so Midoriya here offered to give me a ride.”

“Just go apprehend those guys,” Bakugou said, rolling his eyes as the two nodded, running over towards the unconscious men.

With a sigh, Bakugou finally turned around to face you who was still on the ground exhausted. Bending down to your level, he couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his face before he brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

“I can’t ever leave you alone, can I?” he says softly and you can only rest your face against his palm. “You’re always getting into trouble.”

“You’ll always be there to save me though,” you say with a small smile. And though Bakugou knows that won’t always be the case, he can only hope that he’ll be able to be there when you are in trouble.

“Can you sit here for me for a bit? Got some hero work I need to finish,” he explains, nodding his head over towards his two classmates. “Of course,” you reply as you rest yourself against the back of a building.

Bakugou smiles, quickly pressing a kiss to your forehead before catching up with Midoriya and Kirishima.

-

The cops were called to take the men away and Aizawa was called to the scene to retrieve his three students—thankfully Aizawa was understanding about the situation and wasn’t terribly upset that they had missed been out for longer than an hour.

Bakugou knew that he had to go back to UA, but he couldn’t leave you alone right now after everything you’ve just been through.

“I understand that I’m pushing my limits here, but would it be alright for me to wait with (Name) until her parents get here?” Aizawa stared down at the blond before shifting his eyes to you, who looked a bit distraught, understandably though.

He would hate to be the cause any unnecessary danger trouble to his students, but it wouldn’t hurt this one time. Especially if it was Bakugou, one of the top students. “Come back as soon as they get here,”

“I will, thank you,” Bakugou states before jogging over to you, pulling you in for a hug.

Aizawa hated being soft with his students, but growing with them for the past few years, he just couldn’t help it.

As the scene died down and the cops were slowly dispersing from the scene, you and Bakugou sat quietly on a bench together fooling around as you waited for your parents to arrive.

“Give me your bag,” Bakugou says firmly causding you to hold your bag close and away from him, “Why do you want it so bad, huh?” you accuse as Bakugou leans forward to try to pry the bag from you.

“Just give it to me!” “No!”

Your giggles fill the air as he begins to lightly tickle your sides, successfully retrieving the bag from you as you gave him a pout from between your laughter. “What are you looking for?” you asked as he begins to rummage through your items.

“Nothing,” he curtly replies before pulling out your small first aid kit, “Come here, you scraped yourself a bit jumping out of that car didn’t you?”

Your eyes widened as you glanced down at yourself, finally noticing and feeling the scrapes against your once smooth skin. “You’re so careless,” he says gently as he rips open the small packet of alcohol wipe.

His large calloused hands gently rub the wipe against your injuries as gently as he could before rubbing ointment on the clean wound.

His soft blond hair obstructing you from seeing his handsome features as he was treating you like glass. It was odd seeing such a different side of him, but you welcomed it with open arms.

“I cleaned it good, so don’t go crashing into things to cause more injuries,” Bakugou states organizing the first aid kit. You reached over and placed your hand over his before turning his hand around, letting his palm face up.

“Didn’t you hurt your hands today too?” you ask as you glanced down, your free hand gliding across his palm as light as a feather, trying not to irritate any injuries he might have.

“You were using your quirk a lot without your gauntlets,” bringing his palm up, you planted a soft kiss to it, “it must have hurt, I’m sorry.”

Quickly releasing his hand, you reach into your bag to pull out an ice pack that was mostly melted before placing it in his hand, “it’s not cold anymore, but I hope it’ll soothe your hands enough.”

The smile you gave him reminded him about how much he wanted to protect you from this world full of evil things. You are so precious to him. He was thankful the stars aligned for him to have been able to save you today.

“Oh, that’s my parent’s car!” you say standing up and grabbing your bag, Bakugou standing up beside you. “See you soon?” you asked, glancing up at him as he gave you a small smile.

“See you soon,” he repeats as your cheeky smiled widened, leaning up to press a kiss onto his lips. “Thank you for saving me today again, Katsuki,” you whisper, pulling away from him before entering the car.

Giving him a small wave goodbye, Bakugou watches as the car drives off into the distance before he turns around and makes his way back to UA.

It was quiet without you beside him, but he knew the next meeting was going to be worth the wait.

- extra -

It had been a long and tiring day of quirk training as the students all sat around trying to catch their breath or to rejuvenate their spent energy.

“What you got in your hand there, Bakugou?” Kaminari teases, catching the students’ attentions as they all glanced at his hand.

Turning his hand around to face his palm up, Bakugou opened his fingers to expose the cute ice pack you had given him that night. “It’s (Name)’s. She gave it to me too cool my hands down after I over use my quirk,” he explains with a smug smile knowing all his single friends couldn’t relate.

The class reaction was a mix of ‘ooh’s and ah’s’ and ‘cute’ and a very quiet ‘simp’, but he’d let that slide this one time.

“Augh! I can’t believe you have a girlfriend! Why haven’t I been blessed yet!” Kaminari cries, shoving his hands into his hair in despair.

Glancing down at the ice pack, Bakugou smiled. Yeah, he was definitely blessed.

[shyficwriter]

You Laugh, You lose

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Yondu, Kraglin, Peter

Summary: You're stuck on planet until morning when a part fails on Yondu's M-ship, so Peter suggests a game to pass the time.

Author’s Note: This is the fluffy/funny fic I promised to make up for the two angsty fics before it. Hope you like it! Also shoutout to @badjokesbyjeff where I got most of these jokes from.

Word Count: 3,100

One rule.

You laugh. You lose.

Ok, maybe there were a couple more rules than that, but that was the gist.

It was a game often played between you and Peter, and occasionally also with Yondu or Kraglin on long job travels to kill the boredom.

The goal? Make the other person laugh. If you succeed, you win. You fail, then the game continues until someone loses it and laughs. Winner gets bragging rights, loser usually has to buy a round of drinks for the rest.

The game had originally started out with the one rule, but over time a couple more rules had been added. One of these rules was that stuff like tickling was cheating. You'd think this would have been an obvious rule to start with, but when it was you losing the game to tickles, Peter didn't mind. Less competition, right? But once the tables were turned and he lost a round, then suddenly tickling was "major cheating" and "totally unfair!" So, naturally, now there was a "no touching" rule during the game.

Another rule that needed to be added later was that Yondu couldn't gibberish talk his way to a win. It just gave him too much of an unfair advantage over you and Kraglin, who would crack up very quickly upon being face to face with a deadpan Yondu talking to you in pure nonsense. Peter was the only one of you three not really effected by it, as he found it more annoying than anything else.

Of course, Yondu tried to use his status as captain to veto this rule, but after a vote of 3-1 against the gibberish, he finally relented, stating that, "Aw, fine! I don't need to do that to win anyway!"

However, this didn't stop him from slipping a little in from time to time, always claiming he "forgot."

Sure, Yondu. Sure.

That was pretty much the main rules. The rest were more just guidelines. Like, smiling was allowed, as it didn't count as laughing, but too sharp of an exhale out your nose while smiling could be considered a laugh. Stuff like that.

Today happened to be one of those days where a job had run long, or rather, the trip did.

The job actually went fairly smoothly, to Yondu's surprise. However, when it was all said and done and it was time to leave, the ship wouldn't start.

Luckily, Yondu knew a guy who could fix the problem (just something minor with the fuel intake, but at the same time not something that Yondu could fix without replacing a part he didn't have and certain tools he didn't bring with him.) Only problem was the guy couldn't get the part in until the morning.

So you were all stuck there. Until morning. On a patch of the planet that wasn't within reasonable walking distance of anything fun. Plus it was raining, so you were all more or less confined to the ship for the evening.

Great.

So that's why Peter proposed a game of You Laugh You Lose.

At first Yondu didn't want to, being grumpy about being stranded for the night over such a minor fix and all, but Kraglin managed to convince him in hopes it would lift his spirits.

Now, playing with four people was a little different than one on one. With two people you'd sit facing your opponent and take turns trying to make the other laugh. When starting with four you all sat around the table, each person taking a turn in attempts to get any of the other three to laugh. If someone cracks, regardless of who made them laugh, they're out, and can act as referees, or mildly help crack the others if they choose. Also, instead of the just first to lose owing everyone a round a drinks, all three losers would owe a round, pretty much ensuring the winner 3 free drinks the next time they went out.

Peter sat directly in front of you at the small table, with Yondu to your left and Kraglin sitting directly in front of him. The four of you took a second to fully compose yourselves, making your faces as expressionless as possible, and then Peter started.

He stared you dead in the eye. "Why do bees hum?" he asked, waiting a moment, more for comedic timing than an actual answer, as was how many of the jokes told in the game went. When no one spoke up he said, "Because they don't know the words."

You exhaled slowly through your nose and shook your head, the known sign for, "That the best you got?"

Kraglin's turn now. He took a different approach. He crossed his eyes and in a deadpan voice said, "Wanna hear a joke about a piece of paper?"

Yondu raised an eyebrow, but shook his head when Kraglin continued, "Never mind, it's tearable." Peter made the universal noise for having heard a bad joke.

Your turn. "What did the A'askavariian say after a bad night out?"

"What?" asked Kraglin.

"Wouldn't know. You should ask Peter."

Peter made a scandalized noise. "One time!"

You saw Yondu's mouth twitch, but he quickly recovered. Kraglin took a deep breath and exhaled to keep it together.

Yondu's turn. He told another joke at Peter's expense, and actually made himself crack a smile when Peter protested again. You and Kraglin fought back grins as Peter took his turn.

"What's Beethoven's favorite fruit?"

The three of you shake your heads, though in Yondu and Kraglin's case you were sure it was more because they didn't know who Beethoven was. This was then confirmed by Kraglin asking, "Who's that?"

Peter didn't answer the question, instead letting out a, "Ba-na-NA-NA!"

Peter said this so suddenly and loudly that even Yondu jerked his head back in startled surprise, as did Kraglin, but Kraglin also had to stop himself from barking out a startled laugh. You, however, had to try much harder to keep yourself from laughing. It wasn't even that good of a joke, but his delivery had you biting your tongue to keep it together. Yondu didn't get the joke, but assumed it likely would have been real funny on Terra as he watched you try to steady your breathing just as Kraglin took his turn.

"Ya know the difference between an oral and rectal thermometer? ... The taste."

That one received a collective groan and a look of disgust from you and Peter. Yondu looked almost impressed as he shook his head.

It was your turn again. "I once watched a documentary on how ships are kept together. It was... riveting." You wiggled your eyebrows on the punchline, but only received a mock-disappointed stare from the others at your awful pun.

Instead of a joke, Yondu decided on his next turn to tell a story. "One time we were on a job on Krylor," he began, "and a pretty lil' miss thing caught Peter's eye..."

Peter's eyes widened. He had a bad feeling about which story Yondu was about to tell. "Yondu, don't." he warned flatly.

Yondu only grinned and ignored him "He goes sauntering up to her, trying to be all smooth like.."

"Yondu, seriously." Peter warned again. Again, Yondu ignored him. By now you and Kraglin were already grinning from Peter's reaction alone.

"But the boy ain't watchin' where he's goin', he slips on an empty soda can and falls flat on his face right in front of her. But that's not the best part-"

"I will seriously kill you, ya blue dick!" Peter was getting so red and flustered you had to bite your tongue, as did Kraglin who's nostrils where flaring with the effort.

"It had rained that mornin', and he had been just unlucky enough to land on a puddle, and when he stood up it looked like he'd gone and done pissed himself. I don't think I need to say he didn't wind up gettin' the girl."

That broke Kraglin. He snorted a laugh and Yondu clapped his hands together, shouting, "Gotcha! Yer out!"

Kraglin groaned out a, "I don't know why those stories always get me!" but sat back grinning anyways as Peter buried his scarlet face in his hands whining, "So uncool!"

Peter composed himself and glared at Yondu. "Alright. What about that time you accidentally switched the intercom on while listening to that Brittany Spears music from Terra?"

Yondu just stared at him stonily, no hint of emotion, refusing to dignify the story with a response, although you almost thought you could see his face slightly darken. Kraglin, even though he was out, pretended to be very interested in the table and after an awkward beat you decided to take your turn, because there's no way you'd let yourself laugh at Yondu's music choices if you knew what was good for you.

"SO- Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off? He’s all right now." you say in an attempt to bring the game back to jokes lest you be the next one they decide to dredge up an embarrassing story about.

Yondu turned his attention to you. "Ya know, I think the toilet has anger issues," he said. You gave him a confused look and he continued, "Whenever I flush it, it completely loses its shit."

You fight a smile. Peter does the same despite himself still being cranky about Yondu's previous story. Kraglin, however, openly giggles at the joke.

Peter quickly steadies his breathing and says, "There were once two guys flying a ship in dead space. One turns to his buddy and says: 'Damn, I can’t find any milk for my coffee.' His friend replies: 'In space no one can, here use cream.'"

You raised an eyebrow in confusion momentarily before throwing your head back with a groan as you got the joke. "That's a terrible joke!" you say, allowing yourself to grin.

"But you wanna laugh, don't you?" Peter teased.

You playfully glare at him and take your turn instead of answering. "Which is heavier, 200 lbs of feathers, or 200 lbs of bricks?"

Now Yondu raised an eyebrow. "They'd weigh the same, kid."

You try not to grin as you shake your head. "Nah. It's the feathers, because you also have to carry the weight of what you did to those poor birds."

Yondu propped his elbow on the table and half-hid his grin behind his hand as he nodded his head in approval, before being mildly startled by the sound of a laugh escaping Peter's gritted teeth. Yondu joyfully slapped the table and pointed at Peter. "Yer out too, boy!"

"Aw, dammit!" Peter cried out, but he wasn't angry anymore. He followed Kraglin's lead and relaxed in his chair knowing he was now able to laugh freely at any corny jokes that came.

Yondu smirks at you. "And then there were two."

Crap. You had really been hoping you wouldn't need to square up against him alone. He was really good at this game, and rarely broke. You, however, always had to fight super hard against turning into a giggly little mess, and usually lost. There was just something about his ability to deliver the jokes with a completely deadpan or stern face that always broke you, but this time you were going to try your best to avoid that.

"I was kidnapped by mimes once." he said, "They did unspeakable things to me."

You inhaled deeply, and let it out slowly, shaking your head as you did so and giving a look that said 'Damn you.' "What’s the difference between an amateur thief and a professional thief?" you begin, continuing after a beat, "The amateur thief says, 'Give me all your money!' The professional thief says, 'Sign here please.'"

Yondu nodded his head thoughtfully. "That's actually pretty accurate. Not sure that's even a joke..." he grinned, almost taunting you at the inability to draw a laugh from him. His turn now. "Two burglars are robbin' a liquor store. One turns to the other an' asks, 'Is this whiskey?' The other replies, “Yeah, but not as wisky as wobbing a bank.” Of course, this last line was delivered with a clean slate of emotion, your weakness.

Fuck.

You had to turn your head away from him as you fought to keep your breathing in check, your lips pressed together, threatening to betray you.

"Ay Ay! No looking away you coward!" Peter laughed, prompting you to face him instead. You flipped him off, your grin finally splitting your face.

"There it is! Come on, you know ya wanna laugh." Yondu teased, grinning at how your nostrils flared when you turned back to glare at him. An unconvincing glare, but it was the best you could manage.

After a couple deep breaths with your hands balled into fists you thought you had calmed down enough to take your turn. "I yelled “COW!” at a woman on a bike once. She flipped me off and then ran straight into the cow..." You raised your hands and shrugged your shoulders in mock exasperation. "I tried!"

Peter laughed while Kraglin and Yondu just shared an amused glance.

"Ya know, I might've actually found that funny... if I knew what a cow was." Yondu taunted, grinning as your shoulders fell in realization.

That made Peter snort, probably for no other reason than he now just had a case of the giggles. But the look on your face was probably part of it. His snort in turn made you grin, his laughter contagious.

This gave Yondu an idea. Grinning evilly he reached over to poke Peter in the side, making the younger man jerk almost violently away with a giggle. Kraglin chuckled as Peter protested, "Hey! You know that's cheating!"

"Nah, you're out, boy. There ain't no rule that says I can't use it on someone that's outta the game." Yondu argued playfully, throwing a look at Kraglin who took the hint and poked Peter from the other side.

"Hey!" Peter whined, the pitiful sound making you cover your mouth to hide your widening grin.

Kraglin stood so he could tickle Peter properly, seeing your amusement at his predicament, and you clenched your jaw as streams of your friend's laughter mixed with uncharacteristically high pitched, "No!"s and "Please!"s poured from his mouth before he managed to escape Kraglin's grip and hop away from the table, clutching his sides and catching his breath. Just in time too, because you were worried that might've actually broken you if Peter hadn't stopped his girly ticklish squeals.

Yondu must've realized this too because he snapped his fingers in mock frustration, and conceded that it was your turn again. In truth he was glad Peter got away as well. The plan had almost backfired on him, nearly having made him laugh at the sight as well.

You had to restart your joke twice, each time having to stop yourself from accidentally laughing so you wouldn't lose. Eventually you finally got out, "Guy with a gun enters a bar... He cries out angrily: 'Who the fuck had sex with my wife?'... A voice was heard in the background, "You don’t have enough bullets mate!”

Yondu grinned, looking down at the table before nodding. "I like that one. It's good." However, he didn't laugh, just went straight into his next joke. "Nurse hands a man his newborn and says 'I’m sorry, but your wife didn’t make it.' He hands it back, saying, 'Well give me the one my wife made.'"

Your eyes went wide. "Yondu!" you scold. "That's terrible!"

"Don't give me that! I can see ya fighting not to laugh."

It was true. As much as the joke was bad, you couldn't help it. There's nothing that makes someone want to laugh more than knowing you can't laugh. Everything's funnier when you can't laugh. You roll your eyes and deliver your next joke. "Why couldn't the toilet paper cross the road? ... It got stuck in a crack."

Peter cracked up at that, moving to sit back down with a warning glance at Kraglin, who held up his hands as a sign that he wasn't going to tickle him again. Kraglin then shook his head with a wide grin as he watched Yondu run his tongue over his teeth and look down as he tried to suppress a smile.

Yondu inhaled. "Damn. Ya almost got me."

You grinned wide and bit your tongue. You almost got yourself.

"Ya wanna hear a joke 'bout construction?"

You let out a dramatic sigh. "You're gonna tell it anyway, might as well."

"I'm still workin' on it."

You smack your hand on your thigh and jerk your head to the side as your breath hitched. "Fuck you!" you say, a wide grin plastered to your face.

Now Peter and Kraglin were laughing at yours and Yondu's reactions more than anything else.

"Ya wanna tap out now? There's no shame if ya do." Yondu teased.

"Fuck you." you say again. "What did the plumber say to the singer?" You cursed yourself for not being able to come up with a better joke, but delivered the punch-line anyway. "Nice pipes."

Yondu didn't even crack a smile a that, not that you blamed him. He asked, "What's the difference between a good joke and a bad joke?"

"I don-"

"TIMING!" Yondu shouted so suddenly that you jerked back and a startled laugh finally broke free from your throat, and once it was out it was like a dam had collapsed- you couldn't hold back the torrent of giggles that had built up for so long.

"Dude! You can't just yell stuff out like that!" you scold, still giggling as you held a hand to your heart, "You scared me!"

"Made ya laugh though, that's what counts." he grinned. He stood up from the table and stretched. "Looks like I win." He ruffled your hair and you swatted him away playfully.

"One of these days I'll get you!" you say.

"Then why don't ya put your money where your mouth is," Kraglin laughed, Peter nodding with him, saying, "Yeah, you two face off again. Right now. Loser pays for everyone's drinks for the night next time we go out."

Still giggly you glance from Peter and Kraglin to a smug looking Yondu standing and grinning at you with his arms crossed.

With a giggly sigh you bow your head and concede. "I can't. I'm not ready."

Yondu lets out a chuckle and pulls you in to give you a noogie. "That's what I thought."

[buddiebeginz]

After reading this thread that does a good job giving a quick run down on Buck and Eddie’s journey up until this point like where they’ve been separately and where they are now, I got to thinking about some things especially where Ana and Taylor are concerned.

I was so frustrated earlier in the season when I felt like the show kept shoving Ana and Taylor in our faces and I kept thinking that this was the shows way of saying Buddie was doa and they were moving on but I don’t think that’s the case at all anymore. While it might have seemed on the surface that Eddie and Buck were off doing their own separate things when you look at season 4 as a whole everything with the guys as been connected especially the stuff with Ana and Taylor. They weren’t brought back so Eddie and Buck could have separate love interests they were brought back around the same time as part of Buddie’s journey toward getting together.

---

Ana and Eddie’s relationship really starts in 4x06 Jinx which is telling enough as it is. It’s also in this ep that Eddie keeps trying to prove that he doesn’t believe in supernatural forces. Meanwhile it’s Buck who tells him “it’s like the universe is screaming at you and you refuse to listen”.

Both Ana and Taylor are in Breaking Point 4x08

It’s fitting that this episode is called Breaking Point because I think the show runners knew this episode would piss some fans off but I think that was the point in a way. I think a lot of the stuff with Ana and Taylor in this episode and thought out season 4 really was meant to be a red herring.

We’re reintroduced to Taylor and we see her and Buck become friends although it’s clear we’re meant to think this could go somewhere by that kiss at the end. Ana and Eddie go on a date and at the end he brings her to see Christopher, a pretty uncharacteristic move for him given the pandemic and Chris’ health. This is another way I believe the show was trying to trick us into believing that these relationships were going somewhere.

Plus in an episode that was chocked full of Buck and Eddie off with other people we still had Buddie always on the periphery like when Eddie came home to Buck, a pretty symbolic moment. Then you had Buck and Eddie at the stand off. Buck complaining to everyone who would listen about Albert and Veronica (even though he couldn’t care less about Veronica) and Eddie admitting he didn’t know how to tell Christopher he was dating Ana. The show focusing on both of their love lives but interestingly enough not showing them talking to each other about their problems when they’re supposed to be best friends.

There was a really important scene with Buck talking to Taylor where he admitted that he felt ready to meet someone and “start a meaningful relationship” and Taylor tells him “I’ve met the people you work with your life is nothing but meaningful relationships”. Interesting choice of words there. To which Buck says, “doesn’t seem the same”. Taylor then tells him “do you ever think you need to be patient and let the universe come to you” a line that mirrors what was said in Jinx. So both Buck and Eddie were being told in season 4 that they needed to listen to the universe, ostensibly the signs around them.

Now at the time the show sort of frames this as Buck and Taylor maybe flirting like maybe the signs are pointing towards Taylor, but I think it was just another misdirect because when you put everything from this season together it’s clear that there was a deeper meaning there and it was directed towards Buddie.

--

Ana was in 4x10 Parenthood

This episode was all about parents and it would seem on face value that Ana’s role is about her getting closer to the Diaz family but it’s not. Her role in the episode was to highlight how Buck is Christopher’s other dad. How the only other person Christopher is terrified of losing beside Eddie is Buck. How when Christopher was upset and scared he ran to Buck’s house.

Taylor was in 4x11 First Responders

Again I think the show was trying to mislead the audience into thinking that things could be going somewhere with her and Buck when really they were just developing their friendship. Notice how they didn’t spend any real alone time together getting to know one another like how a show would typically frame a couple in the making. Their only scenes in this ep involved them trying to solve what happened to Sue. Like work partners working on a project. Taylor comes over at the end of the ep with wine but there’s no real intention on her end that she’s interested in Buck and they only talk about the case.

---

Taylor was also in 4x12 Treasure Hunt

This is where things start to get interesting and I think really where the show starts to turn things from just faking out the audience to giving more clues about Buddie.

We get a scene where a bunch of the 118 are talking about the treasure hunt after seeing Taylor talk about it on the news. They talk about how it’s going to get more people hurt and Eddie says to Buck “your girlfriend’s news story is probably not going to help out with that”. Buck says “she’s my friend not my girlfriend”. To which Eddie nods his head like he believes him but he makes a face looking pouty and jealous.

Now why would the show put that line in there and show Eddie being jealous right before the three of them end up working together? 🤔

Buck calls Taylor and asks to team up to find the treasure and at the end of the call the camera pans out to show Eddie. Almost like they would if Buck was keeping things from his so.

Eddie asks Buck to team up but Buck had already teamed up with Taylor so he brings Eddie in the on deal. We then get the kitchen scene with the three of them where it’s obvious Eddie is jealous and as was pointed out in the twitter thread I included above the framing of that scene was definitely intentional. Eddie looking jealous seated in the middle of Buck and Taylor.

Even though the three of them were supposed to be a team we see Buck and Eddie together through most of the important parts of the episode. Like at the end when they find the treasure chest.

There’s a scene with Buck and Taylor at his apartment where he thinks things are going somewhere between them they’re not and it’s not the first time it’s happened. One has to wonder why he keeps trying to put himself out there for something that just isn’t going to happen.

While eating breakfast with the 118 Buck says "at this point I don’t trust anyone” and the camera specifically focuses in and lingers on Eddie looking hurt. When Buck notices he quickly clarifies what he meant.

The episode ends letting us know that Taylor only thinks of Buck as a friend and that’s how we move into the final two episodes of the season.

Also Just like with Parenthood Ana was in that ep to highlight Buck being Chris’ other dad Taylor was in Treasure Hunt to highlight that Eddie isn’t comfortable seeing Buck with someone else.

----

Ana was in 4x13 Suspicion

So I’ve wrote about this in another post but I think that Ana’s whole purpose in this episode was solely for Eddie and Carla to have the convo they did. The show made it clear that Eddie has not been emotionally invested in his relationship with Ana.

We saw Ana looking up the stuff about that mother who was poisoning her son but Ana wasn’t really involved in that whole storyline ultimately it was Buck. Buck was there when they first went to that call and he was the one who went to the women’s house with Eddie at the end despite being in civilian clothes. There was also no acknowledgement of Ana before Eddie was shot. Usually before a scene like that you’d have a couple saying something meaningful like I’m so glad you’re in my life or Eddie deciding to tell her he loves her but instead it was all about Eddie and Buck. It was also Buck who right before the shooting said “that kid is just lucky he met you” when Eddie was feeling guilty for not getting to the call sooner.

Then of course the shooting was framed to be all about Buck and Eddie. To the point that it was like almost nothing else existed in the world for a few seconds. Even when they pulled out of the slow motion all the camera really focused on was them.

----

Now looking ahead to the last episode for season 4 both Taylor and Ana will be in the episode. We can see that Taylor is in the finale just from the promo. It’s not surprising that Ana will be given she’s been dating Eddie and he was just shot.

But I can’t help but wonder why is the show bringing Taylor in to a season finale that is already clearly over flowing with stuff for the characters to do. I mean surely they don’t have screen time to waste? And I don’t mean that as a dig on Taylor. I mean I get the impression this episode is going to be planned to the second with no filler junk. We have the sniper, saving Eddie’s life, Athena and Bobby’s marriage dramas, Maddie’s depression, Buck doing something reckless to save everyone, Buck thinking Eddie is going to die and losing his shit, Buck talking to Christopher, whatever happens in that convo between Buddie.

So again why is Taylor in the finale? We see her with Buck in the promo and it looks like it might be in front of the hospital. It’s possible she’s there to help Buck find the sniper but I think the show could get around that some other way. If you look at how the show has handled Ana and Taylor thus far and how their presence in each ep throughout season 4 was to further Buddie’s story I think there’s only one reason she’s coming back and that’s because Buck is going to confess something to her about Eddie.

---

If we look at 4x13 again it was an episode that was more about Eddie than Buck and it was about discovery and honesty. People discovering things and being honest with others and themselves. I think 4x14 will be similar but with Buck. We can tell from the promos that Buck is going to have a lot of focus in the finale and I think part of that is going to involve him being honest with himself about some things. This will hearken back to the journey he’s been on for the whole season.

In the season 3 finale we saw Buck closing the chapter on Abby finally. We saw him grow and go through so much all season 4. He’s had to face a lot of truths this year. About his parents and about the kind of relationships he’s been in and what he really wants now but I also think he’s still been running. I think given all the hurt he’s experienced he’s been afraid to be truly vulnerable. He said earlier in season 4 he wanted a more meaningful relationship and it’s been in front of him all along yet he keeps running in the opposite direction.

In Breaking Point Taylor came back to 911 to tell Buck the he needed to listen to the universe and I think when she comes back in the finale whatever she says will be an echo of that convo.

My guess is Buck will come to some kind of realization after the shooting and he’ll talk to Taylor about it. I think that Taylor will be the one who pushes him to talk to Eddie and she’ll even likely say that she knew something was there between the two of them to begin with which is a big reason why she didn’t pursue anything with Buck. She knew he was in love with someone else.

----

Which leads us to what happens next

I’ve been thinking about this scene a lot and what might happen here. I’ve seen some people say they think Eddie will ask Buck to be Chris’ legal guardian in case something happens to him or that it might be a dream sequence. I think both of those things are possible but I can’t shake this feeling that when I look at Buck’s face here he looks like he’s being being told some surprising bad news.

I think it’s possible that Buck will go to the hospital with the intention of telling Eddie how he feels only when he gets there maybe Eddie tells him Ana is moving in. Maybe Eddie says she’s going to help take care of him and Christopher. Eddie says he wants to make sure that Christopher has someone in case something happens to him.

Which leaves us on a cliffhanger for the end of season 4 and in season 5 we could get Buck trying to navigate his feelings for Eddie while figuring out his sexuality.

I don’t think the actress who plays Ana will end up coming back for season 5 but that doesn’t have to affect how they leave things at the end of season 4. If we look back on previous seasons 911 is notorious for doing cliffhangers like this. Abby left at the end of season 1 and didn’t come back and it was essentially a cliffhanger to her and Buck’s relationship. The season 2 finale didn’t give total clarity about where things with Ali and Buck were going and by the time season 3 came the actress was gone.

So this whole idea of Ana moving in with Eddie could just be an idea and we won’t actually have to see it happen in season 5. Like Eddie says Ana is moving in but by the time season 5 rolls around we hear that she got a job offer in another state and she took it.

But something else could happen too. Maybe Eddie breaks up with Ana given the clarity he got from the convo with Carla and the shooting. Then he asks Buck to move in and help him and Christopher while he’s still healing. Buck decides that now isn’t the right time to tell Eddie how he feels that he needs to just be there for his friend so he holds back. That would still bring us into season 5 with a will they or won’t they which is ultimately where I think things are headed.

I’ve seen some people speculate that Eddie might tell Buck he’s going back to Texas which I think is less likely but still possible. So Eddie breaks up with Ana and decides he’s going to spend time with his family in Texas. Buck goes to tell Eddie how he feels and before he does Eddie tells him he’s leaving. Season 4 ends where we don’t know when or if Eddie and Christopher are coming back. Though ultimately they do in season 5 but how that all plays out would make for some good storylines and it could open up room for another Lonestar crossover ep too. It would be great to have an episode where Buck and TK talk about how Buck feels about Eddie.

---

I know a lot of people are going to be pissed if anything less than Buddie getting together and living HEA in the season 4 finale happens but I think we need to be patient. If we actually even get one of them acknowledging his feelings for the other it will be a huge step in the right direction towards them becoming a canon ship. But it does feel like the show is taking them more seriously now.

I know that the show could just be queerbaiting us that’s always a possibility at this point but I think it’s okay for us to be hopeful too. I feel like if the show didn’t want to move forward with Buddie they would have put more effort into developing Buck/Taylor and Eddie/Ana and a lot less into Buddie. This would have been the best season for the show to finally cut ties with Buddie if they really wanted to move on and were tired of hearing about it from us fans. Instead they’ve only developed Buck and Eddie more and there’s no getting around all the symbolism in that final scene in the recent episode. It was shot like two lovers.

I think we just need to have some faith that the writers care enough about the characters and audience to not string us along and that this is all leading somewhere. Which for the first time since Eddie arrived I actually think it is I really do think that Buddie will become canon.

If you read this whole thing blessings upon you and your cow and I’m sorry I talk so much. 😝💗

[oabf45]

Ok so I finally watched the new 9-1-1 and 9-1-1 Lone Star episodes and here is what I think overall for the seasons so far, the characters, and part 2 of the seasons. Badically my opinions no one asked for 😁

9-1-1

- Let's rip the band aid off. I'm sorry but we're never getting Buddie. I'm a huge Buddie shipper myself, but I honestly have reached the point where I just don't see it happening. For one their friendship alone just isn't what it's been the past two seasons. Idk if its just me feeling this, but their scenes together, though sweet, just haven't been what they've been in the past. I mean this last episode is the most connection I feel from their characters than i have this whole season. I'm still not over Eddie's lack of reaction to Buck being trapped when Buck was ready to dig through the earth to find Eddie. Though I think there is still a chance Buck could be BI I just no longer have hope that Buddie is going to be a thing. I mean, they've at least hinted that Buck could ride that way, but Eddie has given zero signs of being into men at all. But honestly if they at least explore a BI Buck then I'll be happy, even if he's not with Eddie. It also doesn't help that there's a HUGE possibility that Oliver and Ryan don't get along anymore. They stopped following each other on social media and they post pictures with all the rest of the cast except each other. Its just looking extremely unlikely.

- I don't think Ana deserves as much hate as she's getting. I wasn't so fond of the Eddie/Ana pairing either, mostly because I was so into Buddie. But Ana does seem genuinely a great person and its a plus that Christopher loves her. I just wish that if they were going to persue this they would have built it up more and showed us more of her character. I mean we know close to nothing about her which is what makes it hard to like her or like her with Eddie.

- I'm glad that even if Buck doesn't end up with Eddie he still is obviously going to be someone very close to Christopher. Their relationship is so absolutely darling and even if its not Buddie, Buck is very obviously like a second dad.

- At first I was not at all happy with them bringing back Taylor. I found her character so freaking annoying in the past. But honestly her character seems to have mellowed out and I actually liked her. But I am PRAYING that if she sticks around its just as a friend and not a girlfriend. Buck and Taylor are just a huge NOPE in my book.

- I need more of Athena, Bobby, and Michael ASAP! I miss seeing them more on my screen!

- I'm super excited for baby Chimney/Maddie. And I'm so happy Chimney felt safe enough in his relationship to express his feelings about an at home birth. Their relationship is so sweet and healthy and it makes my heart so warm

- I swear on everything I love if they take that little baby away from Hen and Karen I will RIOT! I also hope to see more of Hen's mom and can't wait to see her pass her exam.

- Albert was wrong for dating Buck's bad date, but he's a good guy and overall a good friend. Buck needs more friends outside of Eddie. I hope they give him more of a storyline in part 2.

- Overall loved the first half of 9-1-1 season 4. I hope they do another crossover in part 2 so that Buck can meet Carlos.

9-1-1 Lone Star

- Yes I have hated the baby trope this first half, yes Gwyn has been annoying af and I'm ready for her to go, and YES Owen has been annoying this season too. But I still love Owen and no I don't believe he's a bad person or a bad father. I hope they do right by his character in the second part and bring the old Owen back now that his life is going to go back to what it was. But I also know this is going to leave room for another romantic interest which you just know they're going to bring in. Maybe they'll bring Michelle back 🤷🏽‍♀️

- The amount of screen time Carlos got is *chefs kiss*. I'm so glad we got to see more into his family dynamic. And how great he is as a cop?! Like make that man a detective already! Also Rafael's acting is superb. He has the most expressive eyes I've ever seen! His face with Owen compliments him on his caring heart and how that makes him a great cop? He BEAMED and it was like no one had ever told him that before. I wanted to hug him so badly.

- I'm so happy they're showing a healthy gay relationship. Sure they've had their ups and downs, but they show TK and Carlos working it out perfectly with good communication which is what we need to see represented more with LGBTQ+ couples on TV. I have no doubt they'll last because they're literally the reason most people tune in and the showrunners know that. And that reuniting hug? Ronen and Raf's real life friendship makes their on screen relationship feel so real and I hope that never changes.

- I need more Mateo. The only thing we know is that he's dyslexic and has a cousin in LA. He's such a great character I wish they'd give him more screen time.

- I know that most y'all see them as just a brother/sister pair, but I love the idea of Mateo/Marjan as a couple. I feel like she could help him grow up a little while he could help her have more fun. But either way I love their relationship and want to see more.

-PLEASE give Paul a GREAT love interest. Someone who loves and accepts him for everything he is. He deserves so much love.

- Tommy Vega is THAT BITCH! She deadass basically said "shoot me. You won't". LOVE seeing a strong black woman on the screen. And I hope they give more screen time to Nancy. I feel like she could be a really interesting character.

- Am I the only one that kind of wants to see them bring back Billy Tyson? I know thats so random, but I think he needs redemption. Idk 🤷🏽‍♀️

- Last but not least......thank GOD I read spoilers before watching the episode because if I hadn't prepared myself and they ended the show with that bridge scene......all I gotta say is JUDD AND GRACE BETTER BE FUCKING OK! OR I'M FIGHTING EVERY DAMN BODY! But honestly I think they will be. These two make the show, for one. Judd is deadass the glue that holds that firehouse together and is overall a great character. No way they're killing him off. And Grace is a fucking saint and also a great character. And she's one of the only two black women on the show. Showrunners, y'all really wanna try that? They're such a great, healthy relationship who are literally so unstoppable together. I think they'll have some trauma but survive. And possibly a Ryder baby? Yes please, and please let it be a baby boy. Judd needs a little mixed cowboy 🤠

- Overall the season has been good, but too Owen/Gwyn central. Hoping the next part has more spotlight on the others. Maybe some "Character Begins" episodes? I think a "Judd Begins" Episode would be perfect to start off with to tie into the whole "omg is he alive" aspect we're bound to get.

[fnf-brain-rot]

[Whitty x Boyfriend] Chapter - 7 don’t worry about it

Whitty found it hard to rest that night.

He had been thinking about that sad look on Bee's face when he got home that night. He didn't like seeing him sad, it put him on edge. Boyfriend said he would talk it out with him, but they never did talk about what happened over dinner, or even after. The small male simply retired to his room at about ten at night.

He watched the boy sleep, out of being new to staying in one place. Boyfriend obviously wasn't sleeping peacefully, however Whitty had no idea how to fix that. It must have to do with what was bothering him earlier that day. The only thing he could think to do was Boyfriend's favorite form of comfort; physical touch. He tried his best to gently slide into bed with him, curling his large body around him protectively so he could snuggle. Boyfriend didn't wake up, though he did lean against Whitty's arm some, and his tense expression finally calmed down. Whitty smiled a little at the sight. He hadn't known Boyfriend for very long, but seeing him smile was starting to have an affect on him. He was warm, but on the inside. But not warm on the inside like mechanical wise, like.. happy? Was this happiness?

________________________________________________________________________________

Boyfriend felt like shit in the morning.

He opened his eyes, only slightly since a ray of sunshine decided it would be best to hit him directly in the face. He grumbled irritably, turning around so the light wouldn't be in his eyes, though he paused when he saw Whitty staring at him.

Fucking again.

The rapper let out a yelp and shot up in his spot, pulling the covers up on his half naked body. He immediately relaxed though, upon realizing it was Whitty, but tensed when he noticed Whitty was in his bed. "Whitty!! What the hell are you doing in my bed??" He quickly asked, and Whitty sat up beside him, not breaking eye contact. "You looked sad last night.. So I thought it would help if I gave you cuddles.." The bomb responded with a soft tone, then seemed to remember something. His expression took a more serious and angry one, and he pointed to a purple bite mark on Boyfriend's shoulder.

"You told me no one hurt you yesterday. Where did that come from?" He then asked. Boyfriend knew Whitty was naive to most things, that probably included sex and everything surrounding it. "N-No Whits, no one hurt me.. It was uh.. I wanted that.." He then explained softly, though the pang of guilt from the mere thought of Pico made him not want to continue. "Why would you want to be bitten? It looks painful." The taller made a face at the statement. He noticed Boyfriend's face begin to saturate a deep red color, though in context this doesn't seem like a particularly happy conversation.

"I can explain it to you some other time, just uh.. Let me get dressed.." Boyfriend took note of the somewhat disappointed expression on Whitty's face, but he of course nodded, not wanting to impose on his little buddy. He was starting to feel bad about this too.. Maybe he should talk to Gigi and see how she would handle it.

________________________________________________________________________________

He had called the auburn haired girl to meet up at the little local café, and brought Whitty with him this time so he wouldn't be home alone. Besides he and Girlfriend were friends now, so it wouldn't make sense to hide him from her still.

"Whitty! Bee!" Girlfriend ran over to the two as she saw them approach the building down the sidewalk. "Hi Gigi.." Whitty muttered shyly as she tackled his leg in a hug, which he greatly appreciated. She had such a warm, happy aura, it would be impossible not to feel comfortable around her. She pulled away and looked to Boyfriend, who simply gave her a weak smile. It was worse than she thought. "Come on, I reserved one of the rooms back in the building so we could be alone." She hummed, gently rubbing Boyfriend's hand with her thumb to comfort him. He nodded, then followed her, along with Whitty, into the café.

The room wasn't huge, enough for maybe a group of people. Whitty would need all the room he could get. "So, you two been alright since this weekend?" Girlfriend smiled, grabbing the menus from the center of the circular table. "Yeah, I guess.. Whitty's getting more comfortable around the house, considering every morning I wake up to him staring at me." Boyfriend shot Whitty a look, though the taller just seemed confused. "I just like to make sure you're okay.." He pouted a little, causing Gigi to giggle. "You two are so cute." She sighed happily, then remembered what Boyfriend had called her for in the first place.

"Are you doing any better since.. yesterday?" She started, cautiously of course as to not trigger any water works the blue haired male might still have pent up. "Eh.. He still hasn't texted me back. I'm gonna have to go see him sooner or later, but I feel so guilty." Boyfriend dropped his head onto the table in despair, and Whitty leaned down a bit to where his head connected with the smooth surface.

"I mean bailing after sex is kinda.. it's kinda shitty, I'll give him that." Girlfriend nodded her head, only for Bee's head to shoot up. "Aw what!"

"What, do you want me to lie?"

"A little bit yes!" Boyfriend pouted at her. It only made her laugh more. "Sweetie, you know Pico is a sensitive man. He may not show it but he notices every little thing you do, and he takes it all into consideration. He knows you're pretty stupid, and he doesn't even know Whitty yet so you can't expect him to understand why you would leave for him like that." Gigi had moved so she was on the other side of Boyfriend, gently pressing against him in a hug.

Whitty was hella confused as to what they were even talking about right now, but decided to join in the hug anyway. Anything to make his little buddy happy. "Yeah.. You're right.. I don't have the energy to confront that today though.." Bee sighed softly into her shoulder, and she gently cupped his cheek. "Well you're in luck. There's a carnival in town, and I'm taking both of you with me. To get your mind off things. I don't like it when you're mopey." Boyfriend perked a bit at the mention of "carnival", and Whitty made a sound of discomfort. "What's a carnival?" He asked the two softly, and Boyfriend gasped.

He hopped onto the bomb man's lap, squeezing his face in his hands, the excitement showing in his dark eyes. "Oh my god Whitty! you don't know what a carnival is?!" He cried out, bouncing a bit on him. "It's an event where you go to play games and win prizes and ride rides! It's absolutely amazing!" Whitty grunted a bit as Bee began to shake his head a little, and Girlfriend tugged on his pants leg. "Now now, be gentle on the big guy."

"Oh right.. ha, sorry.. I just haven't been in so long." Boyfriend let him go, and plopped back down in his seat. "I used to go all the time with my parents when we were little, but honestly, the events were always really shitty. Like.. the budget was a thousand dollars shitty." He laughed lightly in memory. That town in itself was just.. shitty. No wonder he moved.

"Well I can assure you the ones here are frankly not as bad." Girlfriend smiled, gently giving his arm a squeeze. He was glad he came to talk to her. He would talk to Whitty, but he would have to explain every little thing to him. Plus he didn't want him to worry. "Now order up boys, we have a big day ahead of us." She opened up her menu, and the other two followed suit.

______________________________________________________________________________

The event took place on the far east of the city on the beach. Of course they hadn't walked, Girlfriend simply called a chauffer. Whitty found it very, very hard to sit in that limo. He ended up having to lie on the floor, resting his head and feet parallel on the seats. He looked like a wooden plank with a crook in it. Boyfriend teased him about it for a couple minutes. The guy was unbearable sometimes.

Whitty didn't know how he felt about the carnival at first. There were a lot of people around, a lot of noises, and the sand was hard to walk on. Thank goodness most of it was on solid land. The only major part on the sand were bouncy castles and a few random booths for games he didn't recognize. "Whitty!" Boyfriend's voice cut through his thoughts, forcing him to glance down at the shorty. "Look at the giant wheel up there." He pointed to the Ferris wheel standing tall quite a bit away from them, so he couldn't see the whole thing. Just looking at it made Whitty a little queasy.

"What is that? What.. What is it for?" Whitty asked him, feeling the smaller slip their hands together, intertwining their fingers. "It's one of the rides! You get on and it takes you high up into the air. If we're lucky they'll stop it when we're at the top." Whitty didn't know how he felt about being so high up. "Is it safe?" He looked to Boyfriend with an anxious expression, and the smaller simply nodded. "Of course. It wouldn't be legal if it was unsafe." Whitty hummed in acknowledgement.

"Do you wanna try it?" Boyfriend beamed up at him, and Whitty couldn't help but laugh nervously. "Not.. at the moment.." Boyfriend nodded understandably. "We can play some carnival games while Gigi goes to get our tickets for the fireworks tonight." Boyfriend then informed, beginning to pull his big roommate down onto the boardwalk.

"Fireworks?" Whitty echoed in curiosity. Boyfriend seemed bewildered with how many things Whitty didn't know. He was pretty much born yesterday. "Yeah they're like.. They're lights that shoot up in the sky and go BOOM!" Boyfriend threw up his free hand to exaggerate the explosion. "That sounds scary.." Whitty muttered softly, and Boyfriend laughed at his timid nature. "It's pretty loud yeah, but it won't hurt you. It's like gunpowder and fire and that makes it explode.. I think.. In the air. I'll ask Gigi how it works later." Whitty flashed him an unamused look. He knew just as much as the bomb did.

They decided to try a ring toss booth first. Boyfriend handed the man two dollars for four tries. "Here, I'll do two, and you do two. Watch me." Whitty stood to the side of him, and watched as he held up a red, plastic ring. Boyfriend studied the jars in front of him for a moment, then tossed the ring. Of course, it bounced off the glass in between the jars, falling to the floor under the stand the jars were on. Boyfriend didn't give up. He paused another moment, then threw the second ring, only to have the same result. "Aw man! This game is rigged!" The blue haired male pouted, but Whitty only seemed confused.

"Tough luck bucko." The concession owner shrugged his shoulders, a devious smirk on his face. Boyfriend only glared at him. "Wait, so what's the objective?" Whitty asked softly, awkwardly moving in place of Boyfriend to give his try. "You have to get the ring around one of the bottles. If you get it on the one on top, you can get the best prize!" Boyfriend pointed at some stuffed animals hanging above them. There was a large alien plushie, and one that particularly caught Whitty's eye.

It was a little bomb with little orange feet and cute white eyes. Boyfriend recognized it as the little bomba from the Mario games. "I want that one.." Whitty pointed at it. Boyfriend couldn't help but grin and put a hand on his mouth. Whitty was so cute sometimes, it was ridiculous. Of course he would want the bomb one.

"You gotta get the ring around the jar for it." Boyfriend nudged Whitty's hip in encouragement. It wouldn't hurt to try. He really wanted that little bomb thing. With a new found determination, Whitty focused on the glass jars ahead of him. He tossed the ring, and it bounced off the glass. He whined a little, and looked down to Boyfriend, who gently patted his back. "You got one more try buddy." He hummed softly. Whitty looked back to the jars, huffing lightly under his breath.

He stared for a good thirty seconds, then tossed the ring. He whined again, louder this time as it seemed like it wouldn't hit, but he and Boyfriend gasped in unison as the plastic successfully clinked and dinged against the glass, settling around the top one. "Holy shit Whitty!!" Boyfriend cried out happily, and concession owner seemed surprised. "Well I'll be! That's a different type of luck." He stood, going over to the back of the booth and grabbing the long stick to retrieve Whitty's beloved little bomb plushie. Whitty thankfully took it from him, holding it in front of him and. His eyes stared wide into the smaller white pellets of the soft thing in front of him. "It's.. it's so soft.." The bomb man muttered, wonder in his voice.

"You two have a lovely date na'!" The owner shot a finger gun at them as they began to walk away, making Boyfriend's cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "That was... fun.." Whitty mumbled. He didn't use the word often. He could barely put into words what this emotion was other than, what was it earlier, happiness? Whitty hugged the plushie tight to his chest, a tiny smile on his face.

The two walked around for a bit, looking at all the colorful attractions around, there was even a stage down on the beach, there was a band playing music, rock music of course. It fit the atmosphere of the little fun house down by the pier though. "Oh oh!" Boyfriend suddenly popped up upon smelling a sweet smell. "The carnival has all types of food around! The most popular one is cotton candy!"

"Cotton candy?" Whitty looked down, Boyfriend squeezing his hand in confirmation. "Yeah! Come on I'll show you!" Boyfriend had Whitty sold when he said the word "food". They walked up to another concession stand, one of the little cotton candy machines. Strewn around were different colors of cotton candy on the frame of the stand. Blue, pink, yellow, red, white.

"This is cotton candy. It's made out of uh.. It's not made out of cotton, it's.. sugar or something." Boyfriend made a face  in thought. The line was short, thankfully. He and Whitty got to the front in no time. The owner of this stand was a woman, and she smiled at the two men, but seemed to focus on Boyfriend. "Hey, you're that blue haired kid that featured with Mommy must Murder!' She pointed out, and Boyfriend blushed, but tried his best to stand tall. "Yeah that's me! I try my best!" He put a hand on his chest, a confident smile on his face.

"You got quite the voice on you. I wouldn't be surprised if you became as big as some of these mainstream artists. What can I get for ya, darlin?" She gave him a warm smile. Boyfriend cleared his throat, hoping she couldn't see how flustered this was actually making him. "Well, uh.. Whitty, what color do you want?" He turned to his buddy, and Whitty stared at the options available.

"Uh.. red." Whitty hummed softly. "Alright, it'll be ready in just a moment." She grabbed a bottle sitting on a table behind her, pouring an opaque substance into the spinning device in front of her. "How big would you like it?" She asked, and Whitty thought for a moment. He tucked his plushie under his arm and held his hands apart scarily wide. Boyfriend and the woman both laughed awkwardly. "How big can twenty dollars get me?" The blue haired male asked awkwardly. "Twenty is just fine for that amount." She winked at him. Boyfriend smiled sheepishly. People were so nice..

The cotton candy was the size of the giant alien plushie they saw earlier. Whitty happily took it, and Boyfriend paid up. "Good luck on your trip to fame, little guy." She smiled, and held up a fist. He grinned back, and fist bumped her. "Thanks miss!" He walked off on Whitty's side, ducking to avoid the ridiculous amount of cotton candy on that stick.

________________________________________________________________________________

"Whitty! Bf! I've been looking for you guys!" Girlfriend's voice sounded from behind the two. The sun had set a few minutes ago, and the two guys were sitting on a bench down near the beach, watching the waves crash against the shore. They turned around, noticing she was approaching someone else. Wait.. No way.

"NENE?!!" Boyfriend shot up from the bench, damn there sprinting full speed to the girl in pink beside Girlfriend. "Wh- Bee-" She squealed as their bodies collided, and Boyfriend tackled her into the grass below. "Oh, you know each other?" Girlfriend laughed a little as Boyfriend stuffed his face into Nene's neck, squeezing her torso tightly.

"Ow! That hurt! Get off me dumbass!" Nene laughed out, gently pushing against the man. He was starting to suffocate her. They eventually got up, but Boyfriend didn't want to let her go. "I haven't seen you in fucken years how DARE  you ghost me!!" He finally let her go, putting his fists against his hips. "I never got your number! I'm sorry! Everything got super busy ever since you moved out!" She smiled and held his hand with both her own.

Whitty stared at the interaction from the bench, not knowing how to feel from the new face. And how much Boyfriend was paying attention to her. Why? Why did he feel that way? He likes Boyfriend's hugs yes, but enough to the point where he felt weird watching him hug someone else? He squeezed onto his plushie again, deciding not to move from his spot as the three interacted, Boyfriend of course being the loudest one. He was practically vibrating with excitement.

"Oh yeah! I want you to meet someone!"

Whitty's head perked back up, now seeing them begin to walk over to him. He grew a little tense, pressing his knees together. "Whitty, I know you wanna take it slow, but this is the perfect opportunity! This is Nene, a friend of mine!" He grinned at the bomb man as he sat beside him. "Nice to meet you Whitty!" She smiled and waved, and Whitty nervously looked at her. "He's very shy, it'll take him a while to open up." Boyfriend then informed her. "Oh no worries! No pressure." Nene hummed, and Girlfriend laughed at her.

"Hey bb.." Whitty then mumbled out of no where. "I think the Ferris wheel is a good option now." He told him. Boyfriend beamed happily, hopping up from his seat once more. "Hell yeah! Come on let's go!" Whitty didn't really want to get on it. He just wanted to escape this situation. Four people is a lot of people, and one of them he doesn't know well. It was pretty abrupt. Boyfriend didn't seem to notice his discomfort, which was good for Whitty. He didn't want to inconvenience him.

The small man led him to the Ferris wheel, which looked absolutely fucking massive up close. People ride this for fun?? Yeah, a fun torture method. He swallowed nervously as they stood in line, Boyfriend gently bouncing on his toes and humming cheerfully. It helped Whitty to see Boyfriend be so happy. "Woohoo!" Boyfriend threw his fists in the air and exclaimed excitedly, running onto the loading dock when it was their turn. they got booth number twenty four. "Hey Whitty, you know what's funnier than twenty four?" He asked the tall bomb as he strapped himself in his seat. Whitty had to get one of the staff to do it for him. It was confusing. "Funnier? What?" He asked him. "Twenty five." Boyfriend giggled into his hand like a little school girl, and Whitty stared at him, confused.

"What's so funny about numbers?" He mumbled in confusion. they sat there for a couple minutes, Whitty allowing Boyfriend to rant to him about, who the hell knows. He was doing a thing with his hands where he would bounce them up and down, like shaking some maracas. Whitty found that image funny. The queasy feeling in Whitty's stomach returned when he felt the booth begin to move. He held onto his plushy tight, unable to hold Boyfriend due to them being seated across from each other.

"Hey, you nervous?" Boyfriend tilted his head, and Whitty opened his eyes. He hadn't realized he closed them. No wonder he couldn't see anything. Whitty nodded, deciding to be honest. no point in lying to him. "You can come sit by me if you want." He patted the leather seat beside him. It was comfortable, funnily enough. Whitty hesitated for a moment, nervous to even stand up in the moving car, but he eventually unbuckled his belt, doing the opposite of what he saw the ride operator do earlier.

He stood up slowly, swaying a little, which made the booth sway a little. He made a nervous sound, but managed to shuffle toward the blue haired male, taking a stiff seat next to him. "Oh look at the ocean Whitty!" Boyfriend locked arms with the bomb, and that seemed to comfort him to an extent. He hesitantly looked up from the floor, through the clear glass surrounding them.

They weren't too high up yet, but man did everyone look like ants. More so than usual. He wasn't as scared as he thought he would be, though. In fact, he was intrigued. "Woah.." He muttered under his breath, watching as their view slowly ascended above the entire carnival. There was something with fire going on at the stage, and all the lights and colors popped against the darkness of the evening. The ocean stretched out wide, and Whitty watched the sunlight slowly disappear over the horizon. It was at the moment Whitty realized just how.. big the world was.

He looked down at Boyfriend, who had his face pressed against the glass beside him. "Aw man the fire dancers already started.." He pouted a little, but his smile quickly returned as he continued to look out over the sea. He then turned around to look at Whitty, noticing the look on his face.

"What's wrong?" The small rapper blinked, though Whitty couldn't answer right away. He stared at Boyfriend for another moment, the eye contact causing butterflies to explode in the taller's stomach. God he was so.. pretty. Pretty was the word right? He'd have to expand on his vocabulary.

"Thank you, Boyfriend.." Was all he said, and the man in question blushed heavily, looking away and tugging on his collar. "Aw come on Whits, you don't need to thank me.." He uttered out. Whitty enjoyed his company. A lot. He appreciated him. A lot.

He likes him. A lot.

[lovelylogans]

debutante

previous chapter / chapter three / next chapter

part of the wyliwf verse.

warnings: mentions of transphobia, food mentions, alcohol, kissing, someone makes an approach as if they’re going to start a fistfight but they do not, please let me know if i’ve missed anything else!

pairings: logince, moxiety

words: 15,031

notes: the spanish is from an online translator, so if it’s terribly wrong, please let me know! also, the emails in this are fake, please don’t try to email them, pretty sure they don’t exist lol. also the wine advice is from my general family's ideas about the value of wine, but the pretentious way you're meant to drink wine was taught to me when i was in italy by some other students who went to sommelier class, a few days before i posted the first chapter of wyliwf, so

⁂

patton’s lingering over one last (decaf, darn virgil) mug of cocoa/coffee when the bell over the door jangles. 

patton turns to glance over his shoulder and automatically brightens when he sees that it’s logan.

“hey!” he says eagerly. “i hope everything at the slange’s went okay, and even if it didn’t, i have masterfully wrangled virgil into allowing you to select a sweet treat of your choosing, or we can stop by lucy’s, if you want, and—oh!”

because logan had made a beeline straight for the counter, and has wrapped his arms around patton, burying his face in his shoulder.

“oh,” patton says softly, because—because logan’s not much of a hugger, and if he’s hugging him now... 

patton immediately wraps his arms around logan in kind, rubbing a hand up and down his back as he does so. logan’s taller than him—patton distantly wonders if that will ever not be strange to him—and so he has to duck his chin to place his face into the space between patton’s neck and shoulder. patton squeezes tighter, and logan shivers a little bit.

“oh, hey, buddy, are you okay?”

logan nods, but he doesn’t say anything, lingering with his face pressed into patton’s sweater for a couple seconds, taking a couple deep breaths, shoulders relaxing slowly, oh so painstakingly slowly, before he emerges, looking slightly embarrassed, in a way that feels distinctly teenager-y.

“sorry.”

“you don’t gotta apologize for hugging me, kiddo,” patton says, frowning, reaching out to cup logan’s cheek. “is everything okay?”

“yeah,” he says. “just—” and he awkwardly reaches out to poke patton’s shoulder. “y’know. you’re my dad.”

“well, yeah,” patton says, still a little confused. “super thrilled i’m your dad, lo, have been for sixteen years and—how many days has it been since your birthday?”

logan’s lips twitch up into a little smile, and he settles into the chair next to him.

“d’you wanna talk about it?” patton says.

logan shakes his head, and he says very quietly, “not here.”

patton nods, absorbing this, but before he can say anything else, virgil comes out from the kitchen, rag and spray bottle in hand, ready to wipe down the counter.

“oh, hey, you’re back!” virgil says. “uh, your dad’s been taking decaf most of the night in order to get you a sweet, if you want one, even though nutrition doesn’t work like it’s split across two people—”

“can i get a brownie?” logan asks. “no offense, virgil, i just—kind of want to get home.”

“that’s cool,” virgil says, not at all offended. “one brownie, to go, comin’ right up.”

and so virgil plucks a brownie from the pastry case with a pair of tongs, setting it in a wax paper bag, before sealing that inside of a virgil’s diner to-go bag, passing it across the counter. “see you tomorrow for breakfast?”

“breakfast,” patton confirms, and leans forward, cheerfully demanding “kiss!”

virgil obligingly leans forward the rest of the way, giving patton a quick peck. patton passes over enough money to cover his meal and a tip, before he gently taps logan on the shoulder. 

“let’s go, then, the couch is calling my name,” patton says, like he isn’t even a little worried about what could have prodded logan into hugging him out of the blue.

they step out into the night, the bell jangling in harmony with virgil’s goodbye. patton tucks himself a little more snugly into his jacket—spring may be approaching, but winter wasn’t letting go without a fight, so he was stuck with steel-gray cold mornings and too-early sunsets for a while longer—looking over to logan, who’s backlit by the street lamps and the fairy lights dotting a few of the buildings around town. 

his face doesn’t give anything away. it almost never does, but patton studies his face anyways; stiff and unyielding, eyes sharp and looking out for any oncoming traffic. patton wishes a little bit that logan’s face would at least give him a little hint as to what happened at the slange’s, but logan just looks like he normally does, if a little stressed, and that could be for any number of reasons—school, or tiny bureaucratic roadblocks for the debutante ball, or a fight with dee, or just something to do with dee in general.

either way, patton jerks his head in the usual direction they walk to get home, and logan nods, falling into step beside him, the pair of them mirroring each other’s posture; hands in coat pockets, faces ducked to shield from any stray gusts of wind, their pace the same, the way it only ever is when you’re very used to walking to the same places with the same person.

they walk in silence for a couple minutes before logan takes a deep breath.

“can i ask you a morality question?”

patton smiles, just a little—journalistic morality and ethics questions are always interesting conversations with logan, as patton’s innate moral compass works well with logan’s encyclopedic knowledge of the history of journalism, so they tend to spend almost hours talking about stuff like this, hypothetical situations they can puzzle over together. plus, it’s a nice little insight into something logan’s so passionate about; it’s something they can do together that increases patton’s appreciation for logan’s talent.

“‘course you can!”

logan chews at the inside of his cheek for a few seconds, getting his question in order, before he says, “let’s say i’m interviewing someone. a peer.”

“yes.”

“and, not due to any prodding from said peer, i come into knowledge of something from… that peer’s family.”

ah. okay. so this might not be a hypothetical question.

“yes,” patton says cautiously.

“and if a previously established… editor,” logan says, edging carefully around it. “already knows sensitive information about said peer that was previously, ah. decided against publishing. if the reporter wished to ask advice, should they ask the editor, or keep said knowledge to themselves?”

patton rolls the question around in his head, removing the hypothetical-ness of it all. so, if patton knows sensitive information about dee that he’s already keeping secret, and if logan found out something else, then is it okay for logan to tell patton about it?

if patton knows one thing about dee, it’s that he’s secretive. the fact that dee has secrets isn’t surprising. the part that’s surprising him is that logan feels the need to get his dad’s opinion on the secret. so that probably means it’s a pretty serious secret—logan’s a smart kid, he knows what to do in a lot of situations, so if he feels like he needs patton’s help...

“well,” he says cautiously. “um. i guess it depends on the knowledge itself. is it going to hurt d—um, the peer, if no one knows? is it something that puts them in danger?”

“...no,” logan says. “i—ah, the reporter doesn’t think it will put the peer in physical danger.”

patton frowns. “so it would be more of an emotional distress situation.”

“yes,” logan says, relieved. “yes, exactly. it would put the peer in emotional distress. it causes the peer emotional distress.”

“currently?” patton says, frowning deeper.

“yes.”

“is the peer alone in knowing this? do they have other people to talk to about this in their personal life, not just the reporter and their editor?”

“technically,” logan says and frowns. “the peer and their family… employs people. so, the staff are aware of the situation, but they aren’t—friends.”

“the peer’s family?” patton says, glancing. “is that an option, for them to talk to their family?”

logan’s face deepens into a scowl. “it seems like that is not an option, given the information that the reporter has learned about the peer’s family.”

patton sighs, because, well. he probably should have expected that. dee’s dad was never particularly kind, but. he’d been hoping things like marriage and fatherhood might have changed him.

“um,” logan says, and gives patton a sidelong glance. “i thought a potential solution could be… offering the peer a space to come in and sl—um. interview. in the presence of the editor who already knows things. because the reporter feels out of their depth, but—but maybe the peer will decide to discuss things with the editor, who seems to have more expertise in this… area.”

the sleepover text, patton realizes. logan bringing dee over doesn’t just mean more planning, or an easy place for dee to stay after Get Cultured day; it’ll mean that patton will be there, too, and if they all get to talking, like last time, and dee lets something slip, like last time, or (more preferably to patton) if dee decides that patton seems like an adult he can trust with information, if patton seems like an adult who can give out sound advice...

“that seems like a great choice for the reporter to have made,” patton says, smiling at logan. “not divulging any confidences, but offering a way for the peer to decide if they want further support or not. agreed. that was a good moral exercise.” 

logan nods. “on a completely unrelated note, i texted you earlier—”

“oh, yeah, totally unrelated,” patton agrees, winking. “but—yeah, that sounds good to me! totally down for that, it’s been a while since you’ve had a slumber party. have you already asked dee over?”

“no, not yet,” logan says, and that line of conversation has carried them to the front door of their house, where patton steps ahead of logan to unlock the door and let him in, flicking on the light as logan divests himself of his backpack and his jacket.

“well, you can go ahead and do that, i may as well mention now that you don’t need to get some gloves, i ordered some,” patton says, “so we can cross that off the list. um, your escort—what’s her name again?”

“poppy,” logan says.

“right, poppy,” patton says. “one, do you know if she’s coming to Get Cultured day, and two, does she have a tux?”

“i’ll text her and ask,” logan says. simultaneously, they collapse on the couch. logan makes no move to text her. instead, he frees his brownie from virgil’s, breaks it in half, and hands one half to patton. patton, grinning, accepts it.

“so,” patton says, taking a bite of the brownie. “how was the slange’s house, anyway?”

logan turns wide, beleaguered eyes to patton. “rich people are ridiculous.”

patton snorts and tucks his legs up underneath him, propping his head on his hand. “tell me about it.”

⁂

dee’s eyebrows arch at him as logan opens up his lunchbox. logan’s had his lunchbox for a few years, so it’s not quite as pristine as it was when he first bought it, after a lot of time spent in backpacks with heavy textbooks, and dropped on the ground, and shoved into lockers, but logan still likes the design of it—it’s black, with white sketchings of chemical formulas.

logan glances at his ziplocked jam sandwich and back up at dee. “what?”

“i don’t know how you can eat the same thing every day,” dee says.

“just for lunch,” logan says, removing a clementine. “and the fruits and vegetables change seasonally. dessert depends on what grocery store sales are on. what do you have for lunch, anyway?”

dee, wordlessly, proceeds to remove a gold-foil-wrapped something from his lunchbox, a black yeti-branded one, and logan eyes it.

“that’s excessive,” he tells dee.

dee shrugs. “yellow and gold are my favorite colors. shortly followed by black.”

“what, not brown?” logan says, eyeing his cape. “also, do you have a special understanding to flout uniform rules? ted grayson got pink-slipped because he wasn’t wearing a jacket or a sweater, how do you get away with—” he gestures vaguely to the bowler hat, the cape, the yellow gloves.

dee’s smile flits across his face so fast that logan thinks he might have imagined it, before he pulls out his phone.

“if you ever come to my parents’ house, i’ll show you my pink slip collection,” dee says decisively. he hands over the phone to logan, and logan obligingly looks.

it’s a wall full of filled-out pink slips.

“it’s the most precious art piece i own,” dee says in an officious tone, taking his phone back.

“how have you not been expelled,” logan breathes out disbelievingly.

dee’s smile is much less fleeting, this time, and he says, “anyways, speaking of clothes. you know a tailor, right? i need one for the ball.”

“well, tailor,” logan says with a shrug, beginning to peel his clementine. “it’s just virgil, but i could ask him. he’s doing a lot of dresses for sideshire high kids, is yours very complicated in terms of alterations?”

dee looks at him, before he says in a measured tone, “it fits perfectly fine, i just think the fabric at the shoulders needs reinforcing.”

logan blinks at him. “the shoulders?”

dee stares at him, for a few seconds, before he says in a purposefully casual tone, “yes, i had to look at a binder full of designs and i thought this one would be the best, what with the binder and all, but it turns out it needs a little bit of cover. some of the lace at the shoulder’s torn already, i need to make sure that’s hidden.”

logan promptly feels like an idiot—dee would need alterations to ensure that his secret’s kept, and if he’s wearing a binder and has a lacy shoulder, that would surely show—

“of course,” logan says. “i can ask him later. should i… tell him? about the… shoulder?”

dee chews at his lip for a moment.

“virgil’s my dad’s partner,” logan adds, as a means of explanation as to why he’s the tailor, but also to somehow pass along that virgil is supportive of trans people. “he’s been a bit puzzled by brick’s dress—brick’s nonbinary, they’re a year or so younger than us—but i think virgil’s managed to figure out how to customize the dress to best help brick feel comfortable. that was the biggest alteration, for a while, all the rest of the ones he’s doing are mostly hemming and the like. other than mine. mine used to be my dad’s, and he was quite a bit shorter than me at the time.”

dee chews at his lip a little harder.

“i’d tell only virgil,” logan says, and tacks on hastily, “about the, ah. torn lace at the shoulder. you don’t need to worry about that getting out to anyone else.”

“...i suppose you can,” dee says eventually. “as long as he’s discreet.”

“of course he is,” logan says. “you can let me know if you change your mind, though, i’ll probably tell him after dinner tonight. anyways. if we’re already talking about the debutante ball, shall we go over any of the more recent developments?”

dee nods, and the conversation turns to less fraught topics.

well. perhaps a little bit fraught, because if this blows up in their faces, logan still isn’t entirely sure of what repercussions could face him, but he’s sure there are repercussions.

poppy less casually enters dee and logan’s murmured conversation during lunch about the last touches before Get Cultured Day, and more quite literally shoulders her way in.

“so,” she barks, setting down her lunch tray with a clack, “what are the registration numbers looking like?”

logan looks at dee, and dee shrugs at him, tilting his head ever so slightly so his bowler hat covers his yellow eye, as if to say, you’re her partner, you’re less of a social threat than me, you handle it.

logan turns to poppy, and instead of saying any of that, asks, “aren’t you a freshman? why are you at sophomore lunch?”

she gives him a look, before she says, “so. numbers?”

“it looks like the final number of our participants is at forty-six,” logan says, “barring any last-minute entries, of course.”

poppy looks impressed for a moment, before she says, “i’ve gotten my tux, by the way. what’s your dress like?”

logan pulls up a photograph on his phone—the dress on the mannequin, not on himself—and tells her, “it’s still being altered, but it should be done by the end of the weekend.”

“you have your gloves, your fan, all of it?”

“yes. heels, too.”

poppy nods, and pulls out her planner, ticking talk to logan about dress off her list—logan spots bribery? and namedrop logan to dr. kramschissel and ask opinion on pitch as part of a sub-list underneath it—before she pulls out a manila folder and hands it to him.

“what’re these?” he says.

“design plans, new letterheads, and font families i think we should start using,” she says briskly. “oh, and a few new ways to update the website. that thing hasn’t been updated since before the dot com bubble burst, and we need to stay up-to-date on the latest design trends in the newspaper circle to be able to win a pacemaker, or at the very least continue the all-americans.”

(hey, a definition break from a former staffer here: all-american awards are distributed through the nspa, or the national scholastic press association, and the jea, or journalism education association. an all-american yearbook or newspaper is the highest rating given in critiques; it covers approximately the top five percent of high school and college publications in the entire country. the pacemaker is the highest award a high school publication can receive. these awards are basically high-school versions of pulitzers. and, uh, not to flex, but two-time all-american winner here!)

logan opens the folder, and his eyebrows arch at the infographic example greeting him. it looks incredibly professional, like an image in a magazine, with a color palette pleasing to the eye and simultaneously incredibly simple to read.

“so you’re a designer, then,” logan says; he’s dabbled in adobe photoshop and illustrator, and he knows better than most how long it takes to seem even slightly competent in illustrator, and by the looks of this, poppy is incredibly competent.

“artistic hobbies are proven to improve job performance, ease stress, and can improve memory and cognitive function,” poppy says matter-of-factly. “there’s no front-runner for design editor your senior year, which means there’ll be a gap, and if i prove early now that i know my stuff in design i can get an editor position my junior year. which means i put even more of an impressive resume forward to secure editor in chief my senior year. also, the style guide hasn’t been updated at this school in eight years. i want to write the newest edition.”

“...right,” logan says, and gestures vaguely with the manila folder. “have you shown these to mel?”

“obviously,” she says. “she said i had to wait until i got on staff, but my enthusiasm is apparently very encouraging. anyways, editor-in-chief gets a say in who the other editors are, so i figured i’d submit a portfolio early. also, there are pitches back there. you’ve already had three contribution bylines and i want your opinion on my chances of getting at least one this year.”

she takes the folder from him, flips past a couple pages, before she slides over another infographic, centered with empty boxes for photographs, placeholder text for an article. she’s designed an entire double truck layout. (double trucks are two facing pages in a newspaper; these are usually reserved for photo stories or large events. these are double trucks.)

DEBUTANTE HEADLINE HERE, it screams at the top of the page.

logan’s eyes flick across the table to dee, whose face is entirely blank, even though logan knows that an entire story about the debutante debacle would just draw more attention to what they threw the debutante event to cover.

“you’d have to be interviewed,” poppy says. logan cringes.

“i know, i know, you’re used to being the one who holds the pen,” poppy says. “but—”

“tell you what,” dee cuts in, voice smooth. “i know a way to pitch this to mel that benefits all of us, and won’t require poor logan to have to undergo the interview hell he’s used to submitting others to.”

“hey,” logan says mildly, without any heat.

poppy turns her attention to him, and dee digs out a pen, flipping it smoothly over his fingers.

“may i?” he says, gesturing to the mock-up.

poppy takes it from logan’s hands and passes it to him.

“right,” dee says, and draws a large circle around the infographic, jotting a p beside it, then circling one of the articles (headlined as DRESS SHOPPING PIECE?) and putting l beside it, along with the PARTICIPANT COLUMN, which also gets an l. DEBUTANTE STORY HEADLINE, he circles, and places a d beside it.

“there,” dee says matter-of-factly, capping the pen. “we all get actual bylines, not just contribution ones. logan can write a column and a dress piece, because he knows the person who’s altering sideshire dresses, and i can write the debutante piece, because i’ve been integral to the process, but i’m not as close with the organizers as logan is, which clears him of any bias. he’ll write the column about why the whole thing started. you can get credit for graphics and layout. we’d only need a staffer to take photographs.”

poppy’s eyes dart to him. “you’d think she’d take an entire double-truck by students who aren’t staffers yet?”

dee shrugs, spreading his gloved hands. “the worst she can do is say no. plus—” he slides the paper back, and takes a photograph of it with his phone, tapping a few buttons. “there. now we’ve got proof we came up with it first, and you and i can pitch a fit if they take the idea without involving us.”

“not me?” logan says.

“obviously not,” dee says, “you’re the favorite, which means you’ll be editor-in-chief once you keep that up, and i can benefit from nepotism.”

“i won’t be—”

“okay,” dee says with an eye-roll, “and who else are you going to trust to be your managing editor, louise? please.”

logan hesitates, because, well, he has a point. dee is by far the most capable person in their grade, aside from logan, of course. louise would be best qualified for entertainment editor, or perhaps photo, and then he shakes himself before he starts mentally assigning every proficient journalism student in their grade to editor positions.

“it wouldn’t be nepotism, you’d be qualified,” he says pointlessly.

dee tsks, patting logan’s hand. “of course not. mcmaster, buzz off for a moment, while i finish up this chat with logan, and then i’ll walk you to the journalism lab and help refine your pitch on the way, if you like.”

poppy’s eyes sharpen. “what, pitch it now?”

“no time like the present,” dee says. “and anyways, they’ll probably want a photographer there as we learn all the dances and curtsies this weekend, so—”

“right!” poppy says, “right. i’ll be right back” and she darts off, forgetting her folder, backpack, and lunch entirely.

logan watches her go, and says, resigned, “she really is going to be one of my editors, isn’t she.”

“editor in chief works closest with managing, copy, photo, and design, so she’ll practically be your right hand,” dee says gleefully.

“yours too, if you’re going to be my managing, so don’t look all smug because i will delegate if you make some kind of comment,” logan says, and dee grins at him—an actual, real grin, not a smirk or a smug little smile, a grin, like he’s happy.

and so of course logan has to ruin it by saying, “oh, i’ve been meaning to ask—would you like to come over and spend the night on Get Cultured day?”

the grin vanishes. dee actually looks somewhat alarmed. “what?”

“come over and spend the night,” logan repeats, trying his best to maintain a normal tone even though dee is looking at him as if he’s said come over and we’ll sacrifice you in an attempt to perfectly re-enact aztec ceremonies. “we could make sure everything’s done, then, and you could bring your dress so virgil could alter it and it could go home with in the morning, already done.”

he waits a beat, and when the alarmed look on dee’s face doesn’t abate, he adds, “it could be practice for a work night at the newspaper,” as if that is at all helpful.

“a sleepover?” dee says.

“well, yes,” logan says. 

dee continues to stare.

“you can just say no,” logan says, perhaps a bit snippy, because dee’s acting like logan’s invited him away to get murdered. he is trying to help.

“at your house?”

“yes, at my house,” logan says. 

poppy comes back; she’s managed to pull her hair back into a neat french braid that shows off the sharpness of her cheekbones, the intensity in her eyes. 

“all right, i’m ready for the pitch,” poppy says decisively. “i think we should open with pointing out how this feature wouldn’t exist without you two, but i’m the one who came up with the idea.”

dee ignores her. “are you sure?”

“yes.”

“just you and me,” dee checks, wary.

“well, and my dad, but that’s a given.”

dee absorbs this, still looking rather spooked, before he says decisively, “fine.”

“fine?” logan repeats, arching his eyebrows.

“i mean—yes,” dee says. “yes, i’ll come.”

“all right, then,” logan says. “we can text about details.”

dee clears his throat, and offers his arm for poppy, which she takes with a confused look on her face.

“poppy,” he says, as they’re exiting the cafeteria. “i don’t suppose you’ve been to any slumber parties lately, have you?”

“oh, my mom usually pays me to stay at parties until ten-thirty,” poppy says cheerfully. “she thinks socialization is important and i’m not enough of a people person, so she keeps sending me to parties, so she has to keep paying me, which means i can save up so i apply to the summer science program through mit this summer. mom wants me to stay and do some kind of internship at a beauty company, but how is that going to further my career in cancer research? once i get in she can’t just keep me from going, it’s mit.”

great. his first sleepover, ever, and his only options for in-person advice are the person who invited him to the sleepover and the girl who has her life planned out through her forties likely down to what she’ll eat for lunch every day.

“fantastic,” dee says through gritted teeth.

⁂

From: melissakramschissel@chilton.edu

To: logansanders@chilton.edu; dslange@chilton.edu; poppymcmaster@chilton.edu

CC: laurenpatrikis@chilton.edu

Subject: Debutante Spread

I’ll admit, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten quite so ambitious a pitch from three underclassmen, and never one spearheaded by a freshman. I absolutely love the idea, and if you stumble across a spare ticket for an adult to witness this socially conscious display, please feel free to let me know. I’ve CC’d Lauren Patrikis on this email—she’s a staffer on the Franklin who’s free on Saturday, and she’s very talented with a camera. Feel free to exchange numbers and text about other photography opportunities that you think would help benefit the spread.

Poppy: please put your infographics on a flash drive and drop it off in the lab so we have the highest resolution to upload. Thank you very much for coming up with this idea; I’m all the more excited to have you in class.

Dee: I think that about 1000 words should be the goal for the main piece, but we can discuss length when you come by. After school still works for you, correct?

Logan: Please confirm a time to come and see me so we can discuss the more specific story pitches for the two columns you’re doing.

I very much look forward to what you three get up to in your years in the Chilton journalism program. I have a feeling this is just the beginning of all the unique ideas you’ll have, and I eagerly await the opportunity to edit them.

Best,

Mel Kramschissel, PhD.

 From: logansanders@chilton.edu

To: laurenpatrikis@chilton.edu

CC: dslange@chilton.edu; poppymcmaster@chilton.edu

Subject: Directions for Lessons

Hello,

The directions to the dance studio we’re holding lessons in are attached. Please let me know if you have any further questions about navigating to Sideshire, or about the event in general. I can get you the phone numbers of the teachers, if you’d like them. Would you mind sending me your number, as well?

Regards,

Logan Sanders

 From: logansanders@chilton.edu

To: melissakramschissel@chilton.edu

Subject: Pitch meeting

Hello,

I’d be available during sophomore study hall, if that would work for you? If not, I can stop by after school with Dee.

Regards, 

Logan Sanders

 From: melissakramschissel@chilton.edu

To: logansanders@chilton.edu

Subject: Re: Pitch Meeting

Logan,

I’ve got a feeling that you’re the de facto leader of this little trio, even though the current spread is quite clearly Poppy’s brainchild, and I must say, this is very promising in regards to your future on the paper. I’m sure you’ll do exceptional work with this.

Sophomore study hall works great. You’ll be peeking in on the paper, but I have a feeling you won’t mind that at all. 

Best,

Mel Kramschissel, PhD.

(P.S.—Me pairing Lauren on this project is entirely out of selfish curiosity. Take from that what you will.)

⁂

patton is not sure if he has ever been more awkward eating a cherry danish in his whole life. he supposes that’s a pretty narrow gap to clear, but really, today has blown it out of the water.

most of the time whenever he’s around isadora, he feels like anything he does is dreadfully awkward, so it isn’t like this is news.

they’re together in isadora’s office, a small room just beside the studio; patton had offered to pick up supplies from remy’s café, so he’d brought her a tea and gotten a coffee for himself, and a little tray of assorted pastries. patton had grabbed the danish primarily because it was closest to him, and because isadora had already laid claim to a cruller that she’s been slowly picking at.

he winces a little as isadora takes a sip of her tea, pinky up, more preoccupied with the list in front of her. seriously. he went through years of etiquette training, he knows every fiddly little rule of silverware, he knows the various subconscious messages you can send while selecting a menu for the evening, and yet attempting to eat (or talk, or walk, or do most things) in the presence of isadora’s effortless, intimidating grace, it, well.

patton’s not the most refined person (anymore) but he knows he’s refined enough that he shouldn’t feel so buffoonish in isadora’s presence. he swallows his bite of danish, chasing it quickly with a sip of coffee.

“have you done the viennese waltz before?” he asks, just to break the silence.

“twice,” she says idly, turning the page. “well enough that i can remember the choreography and teach it to the children.”

“oh, good!” patton says. “good, good—um, not that you wouldn’t be able to pick it up really fast if you’d never done it before, since you’re obviously very good at dance being, um, being a dance teacher. and also a professional ballerina! even though i suppose ballerinas don’t really do waltzes, unless it’s, like, the waltz of the flowers or something, so i guess ballerinas do do waltzes! sometimes! what do i know, you know?” and immediately takes another sip of coffee because oh my god, patton, shut UP, he always gets like this whenever he and ms. prince have a one-on-one conversation, she’s so quiet and patton can’t help but word vomit because sometimes the silence gets agonizing.

isadora politely ignores him. patton takes another bite of his cherry danish and chews with fervor, because this way he won’t start blabbering about whatever comes to mind.

“all right,” isadora says at last, closing the handbook. “so, we’ll need to ensure that they know how to do the st. james bow, the viennese waltz, and the circle dance with the fans. that will all be my jurisdiction to lead, with you helping demonstrate, of course.”

“of course,” patton says, nodding like a bobblehead.

“—which means you shall take lead on the proper walk, proper dinner manners, and general courtesy, comportment, and etiquette.”

patton keeps nodding.

isadora takes another sip of tea and says, “so, we have approximately thirty-five kids coming, is that correct?”

“logan’s checking, but some of the chilton kids are being sent to other prep courses by their parents,” patton says, and frowns. “so—maybe a little less than that number, really. i can text him, if you want? i should text him—”

“that’s acceptable,” she says, waving him off. “he’ll be home from school soon enough, we can ask then.”

patton freezes, phone already in hand, before meekly puts it aside. 

“i think we should begin as one big group,” isadora says, “and demonstrate the bows and curtsies, then we can split off into groups to cover the fans and the walk…”

and so patton mostly just listens and takes notes—he does not want to forget any part of this process—on how isadora thinks the teaching should be done. honestly, it’s a miracle she agreed to do it when roman pitched it to her, because one, she’s a teacher and he has basically no experience in teaching teenagers other than his own very curious kid, two, the studio is basically the only space big enough to hold all of them at once, and three, isadora has come up with a way to do this in such an organized way that’s almost militaristic. he’s very grateful that she’s agreed to this, and he tells her so once she’s finished informing him of the general outline she’s come up with for Get Cultured Day.

she nods in acknowledgement and says, “well, roman’s quite excited about the whole ordeal.”

patton grins at her. “i heard about their date—sounds like his dress is a definite statement piece.”

isadora huffs softly, shaking her head; she hasn’t yet put her hair up in a severe bun for her afternoon lessons, like she almost always does, though she’s in a pair of stretchy leggings and a loose sweatshirt that tumbles down to her mid-thighs. her hair’s in a ponytail, with a few black strands framing her face. it’s one of the only times that patton’s seen her hair out of a bun, though he’s never seen it down. he’d had no idea that her hair was so long—he guesses that it might come down to her ribs, maybe even her waist.

“roman wants everything to be a statement,” she says. “he got his dramatics from his father.”

“ah, but he makes it work, doesn’t he?” patton says. “both did, from what i hear, if a bit differently.”

“more than a bit,” isadora says. 

“he wouldn’t be our roman without it, though, would he?” patton points out.

isadora’s lips twitch with what might be a smile.

“no,” isadora says. “no, he certainly wouldn’t.”

“wouldn’t have him any other way,” patton says. “love that kid, i’m thrilled to see what he’s gonna do—not just with the debutante ball, either.”

she’s certainly smiling now. “that’s the wonderful thing about children, isn’t it? watching them grow. like you’ve done with my boy, and i with yours.”

patton smiles, too, a little bittersweet. “gosh. we’re presenting them as adults to society. seems like yesterday roman was putting logan in a dress for a fashion show for the pair of us.”

“oh, yes,” she says, “and roman nearly dropped logan because he wanted to have a grand finale stunt he’d seen the older dancers do, i remember it well.”

patton snorts a little; after the initial rush of paternal panic when logan had clung to roman’s neck and it looked like they were both going down, it had been kind of funny to see logan, eyeshadow smeared over his eyes and lipstick messy on his mouth squawking in protest at roman even as roman had attempted to do the stunt again, even as isadora was telling him all about the importance of recovering from mistakes smoothly on stage. 

“they’ve come a long way from a fashion show for the pair of us.”

“that they have,” isadora agrees, and offers an expression to patton that is the softest he’s ever seen from her. “i’m very fond of your boy, as well.”

patton can’t help but smile—he always smiles when he hears about people loving logan, because it’s logan, his son, of course he’s happy about logan being well-loved.

“we did a good job with them,” patton says musingly. “the weird parenting pool we’ve made—you, me, virgil. we turned out two amazing boys.”

“that we did,” she agrees. “and it looks like they’ll stick with each other. it’s rare for a young love to last so long, i know, but—”

“but they’ve been stuck on each other since they were five,” patton says, with a nod of agreement, and holds his breath as he reaches over to gently squeeze isadora’s hand, moving slowly enough that she could move away if she wanted to. she does not swat him away, so, success! “should we do the stereotypical thing now and start planning their wedding? i think logan and roman would be lovely spring grooms, personally, but i’m not totally set on season yet.”

isadora’s letting out that soft huff once again when the studio door opens, and patton turns to see who it is.

roman, his red backpack slung over one shoulder, him bracing the strap with one hand to unceremoniously dump it on the nearest bench, and scrolling through his phone with the other.

“¡mamá!” he calls.“¿qué peluca crees que se vería—?”

he pauses in his tracks, blinking, before he grins sheepishly at patton.

“hi, pa—mr. sanders,” he corrects. patton can feel the force of the arched eyebrow that ms. prince was giving him to make him correct himself.

“hi, roman,” patton says; he doesn’t know much spanish, so he isn’t really sure what roman’s asking. “how was school?”

“oh! good, good,” roman says. “the cheer squad finally figured out what uniform we’re gonna wear at the next game, and also they finally decided who’s officially escorting who—sasha’s mine, i’ve got a list i was gonna send to logan—”

“do i know sasha?” isadora asks.

“nah, i don’t think she ever took classes here,” roman says. “she’s one of the kids who comes in from the farm towns nearby, y’know?”

isadora nods, noting this, and roman hesitates, looking between patton and isadora, before—

“do you think you can keep a surprise a secret?” roman asks patton.

patton considers this. “well, i can definitely try my best!”

“oh, good, i want opinions,” roman bursts out and rushes over, showing off two pictures on his phone.

patton blinks at them; they look like two people, from what he can tell, with big hair and a lot of makeup, maybe a bit familiar, and if he could get a closer look ohhhh he knows where he recognizes them now.

“so, looking at wig alone, which one?” roman asks, and patton glances at roman, before he looks back at the pictures, and back at roman.

“you’re doing drag?”

“uh-huh,” roman says brightly. “as soon as i got my dress, i realized, like, i have to go full camp with it, you know? it’s this massive eighties monstrosity, i adore it. it’s definitely something a drag queen would wear, and i’ve been looking at makeup tutorials, and—”

“—and i was a private instructor for a few queens back in the day, so i know enough of the process to help,” isadora says, as if this is an utterly casual thing to say and not the most wild job he could imagine for her.

“you did?!”

“mm,” isadora says, sparing him a slightly bemused look, as if his surprise is completely unnecessary.

“i know, i had the same reaction,” roman says to patton. “my mom, isa-diva prince! anyways. from someone who’s seen a lot of drag queens, and someone who has been to a debutante ball—?”

“oh, yeah, i’ve attended one,” patton says, “i just never actually, y’know, debuted. but, um, lemme see the options again—?”

patton, as one might guess, does not know anything about wigs. he doesn’t have to, either, because isadora tuts at roman for one of his options, which is apparently subpar, and her son is going to make his drag debut fabulous—

roman, grinning, sends the link to isadora so that she can order the wig for him, drops a kiss on her cheek then patton’s, and calls, “i’m gonna go change and warm up to get ready for the baby’s class soon! you gotta remember to put in calls to get me an actual fairy drag mother!” and darts up the stairs, the door closing behind him.

patton turns to her, smiling. “drag?”

“drag,” isadora agrees. “he’s been watching some shows for long enough, i’ve been expecting him to at least express a little interest in attempting it for himself. and now he is absolutely exhilarated by the concept of wearing drag to an event that is so traditionally heteronormative and surprising everyone. well, except for you, now, i suppose.”

“everyone?”

“everyone,” isadora confirms. “he hasn’t told logan, or virgil. he wants to see their reactions.”

patton laughs, a little bit. “that seems… very roman.”

isadora huffs softly and agrees, “remember what we said about dramatics?”

⁂

New Groupchat

Logan Sanders, Dee Slange, Poppy McMaster, 1 Unknown Number

Logan Sanders: I’ve taken the liberty of putting everyone involved in the debutante spread for the newspaper into one group text. This is Logan Sanders.

Unknown Number: Hi, Logan, I’m Lauren! We’ve got a friend in common, you’re in the GSA with my boyfriend Kai. 

Dee Slange: dee slange here

Poppy McMaster: I’m Poppy McMaster. 

Logan Sanders: I was wondering where I’d heard your name before. Yes, Kai’s talked about you.

Groupchat has been titled: Franklin Debutante Spread Team

Lauren Patrikis: Okay, so, I think I should get to the debutante lessons about fifteen or so minutes early, just to get my camera set up with the lighting and to get a general idea of the space. Do either of you have ideas on who you want to focus on in your pieces, so I have an idea of who to photograph?

Dee Slange: i’m going to interview ana and janey definitely, plus logan’s dad and the ballet teacher, but other than that, I haven’t settled on who I’m getting quotes from

Lauren Patrikis: Ana and Janey, got it. Logan?

Logan Sanders: One of my pieces is a column from me to explain where the idea came from, and the other one will be focused on dress shopping, but Kram said she got photos for that already.

Lauren Patrikis: Oh yeah lol I went with a few of the other Clairs to get their dresses, so I got that taken care of. Good thing they wanted me there for Instagram otherwise we’d be depending on student-submitted cellphone shots Lauren Patrikis: Not that those aren’t nice, but. You know. Gives off a certain vibe.

Dee Slange: yeah, really convenient for us that you’ve withdrawn your participation into the ball and turned it into something for our direct gain

Logan Sanders: You’re a Clair?

Dee Slange: don’t be obvious logan Dee Slange: ofc she’s a clair

Lauren Patrikis: Haha yeah I’m a Clair

Poppy McMaster: Really??? Poppy McMaster: Can I text you with a few questions about that Poppy McMaster: And about your plans on going into journalism after high school

Lauren Patrikis: Ofc! Love to help a fellow journalism gal, and that you’re an aspiring Clair makes it all the better, girls gotta stick together, right? Lauren Patrikis: no offense boys

Logan Sanders: None taken. We’re all feminists here.

Lauren Patrikis: Now, with all the planning out of the way, can I ask your guys’ specific interests when it comes to the paper? Lauren Patrikis: I’m planning on applying for an editor position next fall, and fingers crossed I get EIC, but I’d be happy with managing or copy, really, and it’d be cool to get an idea of some of the juniors I’d (hopefully!) be working with

Dee Slange is typing…

Logan Sanders is typing...

⁂

“logan?”

logan glances up from his plate, where he’s been spearing scalloped potatoes without really lifting them to his mouth. virgil and patton are giving him twin looks of what might be parental concern, and logan grimaces without really intending to.

they’re having dinner, all three of them, which logan has been carefully edging around calling family dinner in his head, because if he says it aloud, he’s pretty sure it’ll spook virgil or patton. it’s a good dinner, too; the butcher was having a sale, so virgil got three good cuts of steak and made scalloped potatoes and asparagus and herbed butter, with something brought under a round tin that is now in the fridge. patton’s eyes have been darting to it, then back to virgil, trying to evaluate what dessert fulfills virgil’s stringent ideals for nutrition. 

“sorry,” logan says, and eats the scalloped potato that he’s been butchering.

he is also slightly certain that this is their way of having a date night without leaving logan home alone on a week night. he is also edging carefully around that in his mind. he is very happy that they’re dating. it’s just that if he gives any thought to the implications for what they might do after their date it would be, as he would have declared ten years ago, icky. 

the trouble is, logan reflects, is that it’s much more nerve-wracking to come out on another person’s behalf than his own coming out process was. 

as he’s chewing, he reflects; it’s not like virgil is going to have a negative reaction, given that his boyfriend has been openly trans for sixteen years, and in regards to the dress tailoring, the worst virgil can do is say no.

“no need to be sorry, kiddo,” patton says. “busy thinking about that awesome double-pager—”

“—double truck,” logan corrects—

“—which, again, we're so thrilled for you, or is something on your mind?”

logan sighs to himself. there’s an opening if he’s ever heard one.

“dee still needs a tailor for his dress,” he says, and then he turns his attention to virgil. “i am wondering if you would be willing to offer your services.”

virgil’s face twists up.

“look,” virgil says, sets down his fork, and sighs. “i’m glad that you’ve got—i dunno, an understanding or whatever with this guy. you’ve got two more years at that school and i’m glad you’ve settled into things there. but—”

“but,” logan repeats quietly.

“—but,” virgil agrees, looks at patton, who has a polite listening expression on his face, and then virgil looks back at logan again, “look. you might have heard some things about my teenage days around town, and you’re almost an adult, so i don’t really hold any compunctions with telling you i was an asshole. a lot of teenagers are assholes, and some of them even manage to grow out of it. as a former teenager who was also an asshole, i can tell you that i got into some scrapes here and there. now, did i punch a few people on my own? ‘course i did. i was an asshole, i got into fights. but i can tell you that even in the depths of my stupid teenage actions, i never manipulated someone into punching someone else for me.”

logan absorbs this with a slight dip of his chin, a silent go on.

“these are just my two cents,” virgil adds, firmly, “you can do whatever you want, it’s your life, and you’re the one who’s at that school for hours and hours a day, you have a better idea of how to navigate things there than me. but. to add in my two cents, i don’t think the kind of guy who manipulates someone into doing physical harm on his behalf and has been openly very competitive with you to the point of doing something like that is a—a good buddy to hang around.”

he spreads his hands. “i could definitely be wrong. but—”

“but those are your two cents,” logan murmurs. “right.”

patton’s chewing at the inside of his cheek, now. “well,” patton offers timidly, and then snaps his mouth closed, clearly not wanting to spill the secret.

“i know you believe the best in people, patton, and that’s great,” virgil says, reaching over to squeeze patton’s hand. “i’m the jerk in this relationship, i’m aware of that, i can be an overprotective asshole, so i couldn’t sit by and just not say anything. you have the main call, obviously, logan’s your kid and this is your house.”

logan sighs a little, meeting patton’s eyes.

“he said i could tell him,” logan says, nodding his head in virgil’s direction. “he needs the tailor to be able to alter the dress without his parents’ interference. or so i gathered.”

patton sighs, too, except it’s more in relief, and he reaches over his other hand, to clasp virgil’s hand between both of his.

“dee’s…” patton says quietly, and then he straightens up a little. “he’s like me, honey.”

virgil’s brow furrows, ever so slightly. patton tilts his head. they’re looking each other in the eyes, a silent conversation, and patton arches his eyebrows at virgil, as if to punctuate whatever thought they’re nonverbally passing between them.

and then—

“oh,” virgil says blankly, and then he looks to logan. “he’s trans.”

it’s not a question, but logan nods anyways.

“he kind of accidentally mentioned it when he was over for the gsa posters, a month or so ago,” patton says, still quiet. “we promised we wouldn’t tell.”

“‘course not,” virgil says, still with that blank tone, reaching over to pat his hand. “you wouldn’t out someone, i wouldn’t want you to, not without their consent, but why—?”

“the dress,” logan says. “he needs someone to alter the dress to hide his binder. i don’t think he can go to any tailor his parents would bring up, they wouldn’t want him to wear one.”

virgil’s brow furrows. “why not?”

“his father never quite managed to grow out of it,” patton says primly, avoiding the swear. “apparently he found a wife who didn’t, either.”

and so the whole story behind why they’re really doing the debutante ball comes out slowly, as they’re finishing up their meal. virgil sits and listens, brow still furrowed, as logan explains how he’d come up with the idea, and patton provides a little further insight into dee’s background, and logan tells him as much as he can about dee’s house, without disclosing his grandmother’s illness, and by the time they both finish, a deep line’s marring virgil’s usually smooth, pale forehead.

“so,” virgil says slowly. “let me get this gay. you—” he points to logan, “came up with this whole idea to hide dee’s status, and you hid that behind the idea of doing this for feminism.”

“well, two things can be true,” logan points out, very reasonably, he thinks. “it started as just dee, sure, but i still despise the tradition of it and the sexist absurdity of it all should be pointed out.”

“and you,” he says, lightly bumping patton with his shoulder, “are hosting the Get Cultured day, plus a sleepover with the pair of them?”

“there’s—more,” logan says haltingly. “in dee’s life. i think dad could be a help with. i’m not at liberty to say.”

“christ, of course there is,” virgil mutters, rubbing at his forehead, as if he’s developing a headache. “right. i’m getting the chocolate-dipped strawberries—” patton brightens—“and the prosecco.”

“ooh, prosecco,” patton says. “fancy.”

“can i try?” logan asks, more out of curiosity than anything else.

virgil pops the cork, and then turns his eyes to patton, attentively waiting for an answer. patton considers this.

“pour him a little one,” patton says to virgil, who nods, and then proceeds to pour logan the tiniest flute of prosecco he can, before pouring more substantial servings for himself and patton. 

“this has fruity flavors of green apple, juicy peach and ripe lemon, framed by hints of minerality,” virgil reads aloud, before he sets down the bottle, passes over the glasses, and then fetches the tin.

logan takes a cautious sip. patton is watching him do so closely, his hands under his chin, pinning logan with a curious look.

“this tastes like none of those things,” logan informs him. it mostly tastes like fizz, and, if he holds it in his mouth long enough, eventually just bitter grape juice.

“yeah, the whole flavor profile things tend to be bullshit,” virgil says, setting the tin at the center of the table and uncovering it to show off a collection of chocolate-dipped strawberries, drizzled over with dark or white chocolate, sitting in cupcake wrappers, and patton oohs and aahs. 

“don’t say that around my family, or else you’ll be treated of stories of about thirty different wineries,” patton says dryly. “mom thinks she could have been a sommelier in another life.”

“don’t tell me you did the grape-crushing thing with your feet,” virgil says to patton, amused.

“i can neither confirm or deny,” patton says, taking his own sip of prosecco. “ooh, this is good!”

“thanks,” virgil says, then, to logan, “just as a pro-tip for when you’re twenty-one, go for the highest rated wine you can find at the lowest price.”

“highest rated, lowest price, understood,” logan says, and claims three strawberries for himself before his dad can take all the ones with white chocolate.

“and,” virgil adds, “if you find yourself around pretentious people—god knows you will, with your grandparents—just swirl it and sniff it and say oh, the bouquet is lovely, is this oak? or whatever.”

“oh, i can teach you the pretentious way you’re meant to drink wine!” patton says brightly, and so virgil and logan are treated to an informal lesson of how to best hold wine glasses (at the stem, so your fingers don’t transfer heat to the wine, which seems logical) and to swirl them (“you’re supposed to do this with wider glasses and wines that aren’t bubbly mostly, but it helps oxygenate the wine so you can smell it better,” patton says wisely) and how to aerate it while you’re drinking (“you’re kidding,” logan says, but obligingly attempts to suck in air and not dribble prosecco from his mouth simultaneously) and the three of them try their very best to drink their wine in as ostentatious a fashion as possible.

once logan’s had his fill of strawberries, and finished his tiny helping of prosecco, he helps wash the dishes and graciously bows out of the kitchen as subtly as he can. virgil and patton pour themselves thirds, kissing as they clink glasses when they think logan’s out of sight.

logan thinks he’s managed to be a fairly good third wheel to this date.

⁂

“well, i’ve got mine hanging in the closet,” patton says. “have you gotten yours yet?”

virgil groans; he’s feeling much too pleasant to think about such things. 

patton’s sitting almost in his lap; his thighs are slung over virgil’s, at any rate, and virgil’s got his free hand resting on patton’s thigh, absently kneading at the muscle, savoring the warmth and weight of him. patton’s got his free hand playing with virgil’s hair; they’re both finishing off the last of the prosecco and talking about the debutante ball.

virgil knocks the last of his back, and sets the flute aside.

“i’ll get mine while you and the kids are off for Get Cultured day,” virgil grumbles. “a tux. ugh. no one more than the people who’re absolutely necessary will see me in that.”

patton smiles at him, fondness making his eyes go softer and sweeter than usual; his cheeks are pink, probably from the prosecco. 

“you’re forgetting that we’re all gonna see you wear it at the ball,” patton points out, voice sugary, and virgil groans, tilting his head back, and therefore into patton’s hand; patton bears the weight of it gently, his hand bracing his skull, giggling even as he does.

“and don’t forget your white gloves,” patton points out, and virgil groans louder.

“oh, stop,” patton says, but any scolding attempt is ruined by how tender he sounds, the way he carefully tilts virgil’s head so he’s looking at him; virgil’s eyes trace along his cupid’s bow lips, lush and wet from the prosecco, the curve of his jaw, his eyes, a loving expression in them that makes virgil’s chest ache with devotion, his cheeks, going pinker the longer virgil looks. his eyelashes brush against his cheeks when he looks down for a moment, unable to hold eye contact.

patton seems to rally, shaking himself a little, before he says with great dignity, “you know looking at me like that makes me go to bits.”

virgil tries for a smirk, but it probably comes out soppy and moonstruck. “do i?”

“you know very well,” patton huffs, before he sits up a little and says, “and. you’re all deeply touched that roman asked you, i know you are.”

virgil’s the one to break eye contact, now, looking down at patton’s legs in his lap and mumbling excuses that sound weak even to himself. honestly, it’s a bit of a miracle he manages to get it out around the lump in his throat.

“i was talking to isadora, about our weird little circle of parenting,” patton continues, his tone victorious. “you, me, her. the boys. our boys.”

virgil squeezes patton’s thigh again, just listening.

“logan and roman are credits to you,” patton says. “not just us.”

virgil squirms a little. sentimentality is still not his strong suit. “you—and ms. prince—are the ones who raised them, took care of them day and night. i helped out where i could. and,” he kisses patton’s cheek, “you’re the ones who let me into your lives, so. they’re still majorly credits to you.”

“mm,” patton says, and looks at him with half-lidded, slightly mischievous eyes. “we’ll call it even, how about that?”

virgil snorts again and says, “if you think i’m about to claim credit for an isadora prince production, i hope you’ll plan out my funeral.”

patton swats his shoulder, but conversation veers away from virgil’s role in the kids’ lives.

good. if they go too much into parental feelings after virgil’s had three glasses of prosecco, he’s pretty sure he’ll get all annoyingly teary, and he’s pretty sure patton would think it cute and sweet, but he doesn’t exactly plan on getting all annoyingly teary to conclude this date.

⁂

the excuse that he’s told logan is that dee is coming early to survey the studio and help set things up.

the fact of it all is that he could probably drive his range rover in fifty laps around this town and he could probably still find something new to surprise him, like some kind of small-town culture shock.

for example—his range rover sticks out like a sore thumb. he has already spotted five people gawking at it as he drives around. two people even elbowed their walking companion and pointed. 

they’re in for an influx of bmws and mercedes’ bought with daddy’s money—dee supposes it must be a car enthusiast’s idea of christmas to be able to see all the chilton students’ cars unexpectedly flood this tiny town, whose ideas of automobile finery are probably topping out at a prius.

he spies the punnily-named cat-themed store that he’d been so boggled by the last time he was here, and the community garden, and the town is just as kitschy as it was at night, except now he can see better in the light of day, instead of the light of fairy lights and wrought-iron street lamps. 

now, he can see a local newsstand. he didn’t even know those still existed. on the same level of outdated absurdity, there is something called a mailboxes etc., which he can only hope is this town’s excuse for a post office. there is also a shoe repair store, because apparently these people are right out of the victorian era and have employed cobblers in this town.

there is a store called harry’s house of twinkle lights, which only sells twinkle lights, how on earth is that a sustainable business model? 

incongruously, there is a tattoo shop right beside the famed virgil’s diner he’s heard logan talk about so much. he spends a lot of time parked in the street, staring at that. a tattoo parlor. well, at least something in this town has evolved past the ideals of a fifties housewife.

(there is a black lives matter sign in a place of pride in the window, along with a rainbow flag. there are a lot of pride flags waving brightly in the bleak wind, of all stripes and colors. there are black lives matter signs staked in a lot of front yards, actually.)

(in his neighborhood, there are no black lives matter signs staked on the professionally manicured lawns. he isn’t even allowed to have one in his room. he’s tried. his parents threw it out.)

dee checks the time, clears his throat forcefully, and moves to park as close to the dance studio as he can.

he’d seen it before; he’d watched as logan got all moony-eyed and reverent at his boyfriend dancing in the window, without the boyfriend’s awareness. it isn’t particularly difficult to find—it’s in what passes as the town square, which he supposes makes it as a technicality of being the shape of a square.

it’s also easy to spot because logan is out front, along with another boy their age; he recognizes him from logan’s birthday party last fall.

he hops out of the car, locking it as he does so (the town may look like it’s a fifties housewife’s dream, but he doesn’t know the crime rates of this town off the top of his head, and his sleepover bag is right in the back, looking prime for someone to steal, but the most they’d get is a decent bag, some clothes and toiletries, and his phone charger, so there.) logan glances at him, holding up one half of the sign; the boy (roman, dee remembers) glowers at him behind logan’s back, and dee tries his very hardest not to grin. thank goodness, something fun today.

“i didn’t know you had your license,” logan comments. he’s in jeans, but otherwise he still looks like an accountant (an actual accountant, not the wink-wink nudge-nudge joking kind that’s been popularized over that one song that says the accountant is a cover for really being a sex worker)—he’s wearing a collared shirt and tie, and a jacket on top of that.

“turned sixteen in february,” dee says.

“well,” logan says. “happy belated birthday, i suppose. roman, would you pass me the tape—?”

even dee has to admit roman is very well-dressed. he is wearing a black overcoat that is so nice that dee would not be embarrassed to wear it over a collared shirt, a red-and-black plaid sweater, and a pair of black, pleated, high-waisted pants and a pair of black booties. it’s like he’s stepped off someone’s painstakingly curated ✨ winter fashion ✨ pinterest board.

roman, however, is still glowering at dee even as he ensures his half of the sign will hold and passes logan the tape.

dee tucks his hands into his pockets. the wind is sweeping in their direction, which means his cape is flowing dramatically in the wind. it’s like he choreographed it. he hopes he looks like a norse god sweeping down to enact destruction.

“roman prince, i remember,” dee says smoothly. “we had a conversation at logan’s birthday party. nice to see you again.”

roman’s scowl deepens. “i can’t say that’s mutual, villain,” he declares, and takes a moment to ensure logan’s got a grasp on the sign (he does, he’s taping the last corner to the window) sweeps dramatically off into the studio with his nose in the air. dee can’t help but laugh.

logan simply looks chagrined.

“villain,” dee repeats, delighted. 

logan rolls his eyes at dee and says, “my dad is just about the only one who’s forgiven the louise incident from you, so. be cautious.”

“when you say the only one,” dee begins.

“virgil and roman are the primary grudge-holders in the family,” logan says absently, too busy smearing a hand over the corner to ensure it’ll stick to the window to catch dee blinking at him, caught off-guard—family?—before logan continues, “and i suppose ms. prince, but ms. prince terrifies most she interacts with anyways, so the fact that she’ll hold a grudge should be indecipherable to those who are not practiced in conversing with her.”

“terrifying?” he asks.

logan looks away from the window at last, the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. if dee didn’t know any better, he’d think that logan was being mischievous.

“oh, yes,” he says. “i’m uncertain if you’ll fear her or love her. perhaps both in equal measure.”

forget the tattoo parlor, this ms. prince woman is by far the most fascinating thing about this stupidly charming town.

dee looks at the sign. DEBUTANTE BALL TRAINING HERE, in logan’s neat hand, and then underneath it in a scrawling, well-practiced calligrapher’s cursive, GET CULTURED DAY! and a variety of other doodles around it. there are sparkles. he briefly entertains the mental image that logan is actually a sparkle enthusiast behind closed doors, but also, dee has seen his boyfriend, so. he’s got a feeling on who insists on sparkles in that relationship.

“well,” dee says, and nods to the door. “shall we?”

logan opens the door as an answer.

dee steps through, pausing just for a moment to sweep his eyes over the dance studio.

there are what look like old church pews in the hall, which leads back to what looks like a small room and a set of stairs; it is, he knows just by looking, renovated from an old building in town—a barn, maybe, or an old house, but one can hardly tell once they’re inside it.

he steps into the actual studio. the studio itself has two walls lined with mirrors, one with the windows facing out into the street, and a few windows facing out into the hallway. there are three round tables shoved to one half of the room; patton sanders, in one of his sweaters (a muted shade of plum, today) and jeans; a short, brown-skinned woman with her black hair swept back into an impressively tight bun.

they both glance over at the sound of someone entering; patton brightens, the woman frowns.

“dee!” patton says. “happy you made it, kiddo, c’mon in!”

the woman must be ms. prince.

ah. roman prince. this is roman’s mother.

“this is isadora prince, but she’s ms. prince to you,” patton prattles on cheerfully, seemingly ignoring the fact that the woman is sizing him up—predator knows predator, dee supposes, so he does not feel any compunctions about doing the same. 

“she’ll be teaching all the dance stuff, the movement things,” patton says, “and i’ve got how to behave yourselves in a fancy-schmancy setting like this. plus, like, the proper walk. now, it’s been a few years since i’ve taken lessons, so i might be a bit rusty, but—”

dee stops paying attention, then, too busy tilting his head ever so slightly to survey ms. prince. she looks almost clinically disinterested, except for a unyielding, rigid look in her eyes that simply gives away impressions of stubbornness, but nothing of observational value. dee could have guessed she’s stubborn, she’s a single mother, as far as he knows, and a ballet teacher. aspects of both of those things require a certain amount of tenacity.

the closest thing dee can amount her expression to is a no-nonsense substitute teacher waiting for class to calm down, with the eerie sense of preternatural calm that the entire class will be in trouble far beyond their wildest dreams. 

it absolutely does nothing to him. he does not react at all. if, perhaps, there is a chill sent down his spine, it is obviously because the heating system in here is inadequate and the old, shoddy architecture is clearly allowing a draft.

“...think it should be okay!” patton finishes, smiling still, completely unaware of what has come to pass. “‘course, i haven’t been around teenagers in a while that aren’t you, logan, and roman, but i manage the part-timer kids at the inn okay, so fingers crossed it’s the same for the chilton kids.”

ms. prince looks away from him. he does not feel anything that could possibly be likened to someone removing the last piece of rubble that was pinning someone down, and at last they could scramble away.

“you shall manage just fine,” isadora says. it sounds less like a comforting statement and more like the prediction of a military officer before a battle.

patton nods, seemingly bolstered by this. dee does not even try to imagine what would have happened if he wasn’t.

“can we practice?” roman says, doing his very best to pretend that dee isn’t there; dee rolls his eyes, even as patton exclaims “‘course we can!” and logan leans in to murmur, “roman usually assists his mother with dance classes, he’ll do the same for the dances we’ll need to learn.”

isadora moves to turn on music, and patton and roman turn to face each other. patton smiles at him encouragingly, and, as if unable to help it, roman smiles back as the music comes in, with an old-timey blare of horns.

“may i have this dance?” patton offers gallantly.

roman tee-hees and takes on a nasally tone reminiscent of most rich brats as portrayed on television, “i dunno, do you have a trust fund?” before he turns and declares, in a passable teacher’s tone, “always make sure, ladies, we’re mocking the original purpose of the ball! gold-dig away!”

it makes patton laugh and logan smile, but roman takes patton’s hand without waiting for his answer. 

patton promptly assumes form—dee isn’t sure why he’s surprised it’s picture-perfect, but he is anyways—and roman does too, their hands clasped together, roman’s opposite hand on patton’s arm and patton’s hand resting on roman’s shoulder blade. 

patton counts aloud as they sweep across the room, “one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three,” for his own benefit or for roman’s, he isn’t sure. 

if not for that, if not for the surroundings of this dance studio, if not for their relatively casual state of dress, if not for the frank sinatra in the background, dee could easily believe that they were leading the opening dance of the actual debutante ball. 

if roman were in his debutante gown, if patton were in his tuxedo, if the studio surrounding them was replaced by a beautiful, marble ballroom, then they would have been the jealousies of everyone at the ball.

roman, dee observes, is good. patton dances with the practiced air of someone who learned how to do this years ago, and roman’s ability to keep pace is so well-matched that dee passively wonders if they make a habit of dancing together; if perhaps they share a common hobby of attending sock-hops.

he recalls the dance-a-thon poster he’d seen while he was in town. he really cannot discount this theory.

“dee?”

dee looks away from the pair of them twirling around the room, roman’s coat flaring with them the way his skirt eventually will.

logan gestures to the table, and holds up a handful each of forks and knives. “would you help me with these?”

you expect me to do what, he nearly says, before he recalls his excuse to get here early was to help set up, and so he heads over to the table, logan handing him the forks and knives, dee setting the table as if for a proper three-course dinner. 

he watches patton laugh as he dips roman, roman laughing too, their faces lighting up with it; he glances over out of the corner of his eyes, and he sees logan’s eyes gone soft, the way that dee has only ever seen him do once, that night of the poster-making when he had watched roman without being aware. he’s stopped unfolding the cloth napkins to stare at roman, that look on his face, the corners of his mouth lifted up; he has the fond expression of someone wed to their husband for fifteen years, watching them do the thing they love, not watching boyfriend of less than three months. 

huh. logan sanders is a sap. he honestly wouldn’t have guessed it.

he mentally analyzes his memories of seeing logan and roman together; at the chilton dance, logan watching him through the window, and now. all three times, logan had looked at roman like he'd hung the moon and stars.

it bears further observation, for certain.

dee clears his throat loudly, just for the pleasure of seeing logan jump, come back into himself, and hastily resume placing napkins.

dee smirks to himself as he straightens the dessert spoon.

all right. that is also his major motivation to continue the observation—the fun of watching logan get flustered. 

⁂

so maybe patton hasn’t thought about the way that a lot of teenagers are until virgil brought it up over dinner, but honestly, patton doesn’t think it’s his fault he overlooked that.

his track record with teenagers isn’t exactly a stellar one: when he was one, he was something of a wild child, and the other teenagers only ever really liked him at parties, and their opinion declined even more once he came out, and then that opinion crashed straight through rock bottom to start digging for the center of the earth when he got pregnant. 

then he dropped out of school, and moved here, and he didn’t really have much interaction with other teenagers in sideshire, except for the occasional part-timer at the inn, who mostly treated him cordially, if a bit awkwardly. 

then he kept working with those teenage part-timers, who were technically coworkers, and most of them carried that same generally friendly attitude throughout the years; then his boys turned thirteen, but he’d been so used to the pair of them, the only turmoil they’d had to deal with were occasional emotional outbursts and boy drama. 

and now, well. dee, too, he supposes. he isn’t sure how much dee qualifies as a typical teenager, though, what with him dressing like a victorian gentleman on an off day and his apparent secret that logan’s hinted at but not said.

and now an incoming horde of chilton students. the last generation of chilton students he’d dealt with while he was at chilton, and he’s pretty sure those opinions are still slow-cooking in the lava in the core of the earth. he isn’t sure how a new generation of chilton students is going to be. for one, they’re chilton students. for another, they’re teenagers. 

so patton is maybe a little nervous about today!

the boys are milling about the room, checking on everything. roman seems to have settled on the strategy of ignoring dee, which seems to suit dee just fine, even amuse him, a little bit. logan goes back and forth between helping the pair of them—dee with the tables, roman with nametags—and isadora is scrolling through her phone, checking to make sure she has waltz-appropriate music queued up, and patton…

well. patton is nervously pacing around the room, trying to see if he can poke in somewhere in help, but apparently they’ve all got it covered, so. patton’s job is apparently pacing.

unsurprisingly, the sideshire kids filter in first; brick comes bearing what they say is a gift from virgil, handing patton a tray full of heat-preserving cups for the four of them, and patton eagerly removes the top to sniff it only to pout that it’s decaf before he passes out the other three drinks to isadora, roman, and logan.

“hi,” brick says to dee.

“hello,” dee says warily, hovering near the corner of the room.

“wicked cool cape,” brick says. “you’ve got the phantom of the opera thing going on, then?”

dee lifts his eyebrows, looks as if he is about to do something that will be great fun, and says in a tone that is mildly threatening, “was that a joke about my vitiligo?”

“okay!” patton breaks in, as brick starts to look like they’re about to fall all over themselves in apology, “brick, kiddo, this is dee, he goes to logan’s school. how about you go on over with roman and get your nametag, huh?”

brick scampers off with a squeaky “sorry!” and patton turns to dee.

“be nice,” he says, in the same tone he’d use when logan was in kindergarten and demanding to know how on earth the other kids were unaware of what he’d thought to be universal common knowledge, like the heat death of the universe. 

“it’s too easy,” dee complains, gesturing to his face. 

“be,” patton repeats pointedly, “polite. i know that wasn’t the best thing for them to say, it was not a very good comparison, but they were talking about your clothes, not your face.”

with a facial expression much the same as six-year-old logan grumbling about how it isn’t his fault the universe might one day reach thermodynamic equilibrium, dee sighs before he goes over to pick up a nametag off the table.

“don’t worry, brick,” roman says, giving dee a dirty look, “that villain is vile to everyone he meets. it’s such a disaster that’s probably where he got his name. dee-saster.”

patton looks between them. brick, looking very much like they would like to duck out of this conversation now please; roman, victorious in his nicknamery even though patton can admit quietly to himself that it’s not exactly roman’s best work; and dee, who looks entirely unaffected. 

and then he smiles. a placid, calm smile. he looks rather mild-mannered, actually. the room is quiet.

“you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid,” dee returns, and roman looks terribly offended, his hand flying to his chest.

“exCUSE you,” roman says very loudly, “i am very happily and VERY CONTENTEDLY in LOVE with the HANDSOME man whose face you chose to MAR through—through your machiavellian manipulations and jealousy of logan’s many talents like you’re the stepmother in snow white! how dare you! i—ew!” he says, sounding like that one character in the canadian sitcom he’s trying to make logan watch. he’s clearly about to continue, but patton takes that as his cue to cut in.

“boys,” patton says loudly. he waits for them both to be quiet before he continues.

“be polite,” he repeats sternly, putting his hands on his hips. “be nice. we are here today to learn about absurd, sexist traditions that we all plan on going in and upheaving, and any good heist team needs to get along! am i clear?”

roman sighs but grumbles out an affirmative; dee rolls his eyes but does the same.

“good,” patton says, and points. “dee, please go help logan. roman—stay here.”

the boys, at last, split up.

“sorry,” brick repeats to dee.

dee shrugs. “i’ve heard it before.”

“still,” brick says, “i’m really sorry. patton’s right. that was a bad comparison to make, i should’ve said mr. darcy or something,” and then brick proceeds to stand as close to isadora’s general vicinity as they dare, as if her mere presence will protect them from any other catastrophes.

it probably will, honestly.

any awkwardness in the air doesn’t linger very long, though, because some other sideshire kids come in; elliott, for one, so they can go stand with brick, along with a few members of the cheerleading squad, which means that roman is distracted. there’s a girl with a camera he doesn’t recognize, but patton’s guessing she’s probably with the franklin, because she splits straight off to talk to logan and dee, stopping briefly to introduce herself to him and isadora, before she takes up residency in a corner and starts adjusting her camera’s settings.

dee and logan stand in the back, heads tilted toward each other, speaking quietly; he catches something about how brick’s in the theater program at school with roman before patton turns his attention to asking isadora a question about waltzing. at one point, brick accidentally catches dee’s eyes, and rather than scowl at them or anything, dee, instead, nods, as if in acceptance. brick’s shoulders relax, they nod back, and they turn to resume talking to elliott.

huh. that’s something.

he doesn’t really have time to think on it, though, because then the first wave of chilton kids start arriving.

the difference between the sideshire kids and the chilton kids is immediately stark, even though it’s not anything as visible as the quality of their clothes, or the way they look, or like all the chilton kids are wearing their blue-and-navy and the sideshire kids are wearing their red-and-white. 

it’s in the way they’re acting. 

the chilton kids are all in clumps of each other, and patton’s sure that logan and dee could tell him the precise clique each of them are in; a group of girls whisper behind hands and giggle together, and the sideshire cheerleaders look immediately ticked off at the sound of it. a group of chilton boys bump up against each other and ruffle hair in typical teenage rough-housing fashion, scoffing at their surroundings together, and the sideshire boys—if patton’s looking at them right, he thinks that group’s mostly the hockey team—look like they’re ready to go over and join in with the rough-housing with a much less friendly intention.

so. patton might have his work cut out for him. he'd say the same for isadora, but he holds no illusions about the fact that isadora will be able to rule her half of teenagers with a firm hand.

once the time ticks to the new hour, patton looks at isadora, who simply nods at him.

right. patton’s doing this on his own, then.

he steps forward into the front of the room, clapping a few times to get everyone’s attention; their conversations die down, and all of their eyes turn on him.

all of their eyes. they’re all watching him. waiting for what he’s going to say. a group of teenagers. yay. so fun.

why is patton’s mouth suddenly so dry.

patton wipes his suddenly sweaty hands on his pants, trying to pass it off like he’s putting his hands in his pockets.

“hi!” he says, in a bright and cheerful tone that sounds fake to his own ears. “i’m patton sanders, some of you might know me as the manager of the independence inn here and town, others might just know me as logan’s dad.”

logan hunches his shoulders slightly when some chilton kids look back at him, looking so much like virgil for a second that patton’s heart pulses a little stronger than usual.

“—and this is ms. prince,” patton continues, gesturing to isadora, “she owns the ballet studio here in town and has been very gracious to let us use this space and to join in on teaching you kids how to waltz properly. she’s a professional ballerina, so this is a really unique opportunity for everyone!”

isadora crosses her arms over her chest. the kids do not look particularly enthused about this really unique opportunity.

“okay,” patton says. “um—if you haven’t already, go ahead and grab your nametags over there at that table, that’s roman, he’s gonna help us out with the waltzing today. we’re splitting you up into two groups, we’ve already assigned—”

some of the kids groan.

“—you’re probably still going to be with some of your friends!” patton continues. “um, it’s just the two groups, one of them will learn dancing first and the other one will get a review of the proper etiquette to have at these sorts of events, and then we’ll switch, and then we can convene back together as one big group to answer any questions you might have, or practice the dance all together, does that sound good?”

there’s a chorus of teenagers grumbling in agreement.

“okay!” patton says, putting a lot of effort into maintaining his bright tone. “if you’ll take a look at your name tag, red dots are with ms. prince first, blue dots are with me, all right?”

there isn’t even a chorus of teenagers grumbling in agreement this time.

“um,” patton says, then, because it seems like the thing to do, “any questions?”

it is a terrible mistake.

“didn’t you get pregnant when you were sixteen?” one of the chilton girls with a very familiar pair of eyes and a strikingly similar chin (god, if this kid is somehow related to shauna christy, and she probably is, patton’s going to have a terrible time trying to teach her anything) and patton clears his throat.

“i, um—yep. yep, i did—”

“wait, you got pregnant?” another chilton student says.

“i’m trans,” patton says, really hoping this isn’t going where it’s about to go, “so, any questions about the ball—”

the first girl, the one who might be related to shauna christy, makes a loud noise as if she is about to ask another question, but there is something louder that even makes patton jump a little.

the entire room swivels to look at what has caused the noise, only to see dee with his hands hovering casually in the air, as if he’s still holding the massive block that isadora uses as a standing prop.

“christy,” dee says, still with that same calm voice (aha! a tiny voice in patton’s head says, i was right, she IS related to shauna!) “if you continue this line of questioning, everyone in this room will know precisely why the words ‘snyder’s hanover’ are significant to you.” 

christy goes incredibly pale, and she squeaks out, “how the hell could you know about—?”

“well, i didn’t,” dee says, looking remarkably pleased with himself. “not for sure, anyways, but now i do.”

the chilton students turn curious eyes to christy, who goes beet red.

dee surveys them all with the same air patton's mother gets whenever she’s observing the way a new maid cleans to see if it’s to her satisfaction. 

“i know at least five significant things about every chilton student in this room,” he continues imperiously. “if you all don’t shut up and let us get this over with so i can get a unique college essay and not just a story about how i was adopted at a young age that thousands of other students will surely have, i will sow social chaos unlike anything this school has ever seen. those of you who will recall the nettie eckstrand incident will know that is not an idle threat.”

a tall, blond boy snorts and says, “what are you gonna do about it? swim back home to haiti?”

“hey,” patton says sternly, but before he can really lecture this boy, dee holds up a gloved hand.

dee looks at the boy, sweeping his eyes up and down him. the entire room is silent; though the chilton kids are clearly waiting with bated breath, even the sideshire kids seem like they’re interested, a fresh batch of drama and gossip that doesn’t affect their school at all. the boy is all smirking, postured swagger, every inch the stereotypical young, rich white boy who’d known no consequences.

then dee looks him dead in the eyes and says, “pj harvey.”

okay, look, patton doesn’t know why a musical artist who was very popular in the nineties has to do with anything, but before he can say anything the boy surges forward, as if to fight him—

“HEY, HEY!” patton yells— 

—and he’s stopped in his tracks by two of his friends who step in to hold him back, and he huffs, straightening his jacket with a bit more fervor than necessary. he stalks off, which doesn’t have quite the effect it would’ve if he’d stormed out of the room.

dee hadn’t even flinched.

patton looks to isadora for help—he can’t imagine she’s often had brawling ballerinas in her classroom, though—but before either of them say anything, a tiny, dirty-blonde girl bursts out from the corner.

“now that the male posturing is done,” she declares impatiently, “can we get to the part where we subvert patriarchal expectations, please? we all have homework to do after this and some of you really need to at least try to make it seem like school is for more than making out with each other and killing your brain cells with alcohol.”

“okay!” patton blurts out, before anyone else can try to start a fight with her, “blue dots over here, please, blue over here!”

the girl comes over to his side of the room first, as does dee.

great.

patton spies her nametag, too; POPPY MCMASTER.

ah. she’s the escort to logan’s debutante. 

even better.

as logan’s crossing the room to join with the red dots, patton bends his head close to his ear and murmurs, “goodness, aren't your chilton friends…" he wracks his brain for a good word, "so enthusiastic?”

logan scowls, and returns in an equally quiet voice, “first of all, that is not exclusively a chilton thing, you have known roman for over a decade, and secondly, poppy isn't quite a friend, she has more attached herself to me in the hopes that i will be a mentor to her and give her an editor position her junior year.”

patton opens and closes his mouth a few times, before he says, "excellent," what on earth is in the water at that school, before he pushes logan gently in ms. prince’s direction and turns his attention to the group of teenagers.

they are not any less intimidating when halved.

“right,” patton says brightly. “let’s get this Get Cultured day started!”

[avengerscompound]

Running to a Standstill - 12

Running to a Standstill: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  2104

Rating:  E

Warnings: Sex talk and post sex stuff

Synopsis: While on the run from an unknown organization trying to take your son, you meet two super-soldiers.  While they try to help you get to the bottom of who is hunting you and your son, feelings come out and admissions are made that make your personal life even more tricky.

Chapter 12

You had been dreaming when the press of Steve’s lips woke you.  For a moment you were trapped in this weird in-between state, stuck between sleep and awake where you were simultaneously being chased by faceless beings that seemed to keep spawning more and more every time you got free of one, and snug and warm with a pleasant post-coital ache in your body.

“Honey,” Steve said gently.

You stretched and opened your eyes, looking up at the two large men looking down at you.

“We have to go into work,” Steve whispered.  “Didn’t want you to wake up to the bed empty and worry.”

“Oh,” you said, sitting up.  “Is it late?”

“Fuckin’ wish it was,” Bucky grumbled.

“No.  We need to hit the gym and then there’s a meeting about going forward with the investigation on Madripoor.  Plus a few other missions,” Steve explained.  “You’ve still got a couple of hours before Pepper said she’d bring Geo down.”

“And there’s breakfast in the oven,” Bucky said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.  “We’ll see you tonight.”

They headed up to work and you dozed for a little longer.  Your life kept changing in major ways ever since you left home.  It was like every three to five years the universe decided that things had gotten too predictable and you needed everything shaken up.  Sometimes it was good, like starting college.  Getting married.  The look in your husband’s eyes when you told him you were pregnant.  Geo’s birth.  Lately, it had been a lot of shit and now that it seemed to have swung back into something good again, you had put on the countdown for when the other shoe dropped and wondered how fucking bad it would be considering how good you felt the potential for this could be.

Because it had the potential to be amazing.  Steve and Bucky were actively trying to free you from the terror you’d been living for the past three and a half years.  They were fun to be with.  They were kind and beautiful and it felt good being with them.  You felt safe with them and for the first time in years, you felt like you had room to breathe and open your heart again.  Not that there weren’t things you were worried about.  You had started to feel a little too comfortable when you’d been living in BedStuy.  Looking back at all the people you’d trusted to babysit Geo you couldn’t help but worry.  What if one of them had been -them-?  What if you’d trusted the very people trying to get him to take care of him?

Of course, that hadn’t happened, but now all you could think was that now you were so close to being that real ‘happily ever after’ kind of happy,  you’d trust Geo with a babysitter and they’d kidnap him.  Or you’d enroll him in childcare and he’d be kidnapped by someone pretending to be his dad.  You didn’t want to just be the stay at home mom, reliant on your new boyfriends to take care of everything, but you knew from experience how hard it was to find jobs that didn’t mind you having a kid with you and there were very few that you could do while in such a high-security building.

You sighed and got up.  You’d figure something out, you always did, and lying in bed dwelling on it when your very new boyfriends were trying to be nice and give you some time to sleep in was not going to help.

After a long hot shower, you went into the kitchen to eat.  The room smelled of freshly brewed coffee and you found a Monte Cristo sandwich warming in the oven.  You poured yourself a coffee and sat down to eat your sandwich.  There was a blissful ten minutes where it was just you, your food, and silence when there was a knock at the door.

You got up and answered the door, to find Pepper, as flawlessly put together as she always was holding Geo’s hand.

“Mommy!” He squealed and slammed into your legs.

You laughed and picked him up, cuddling him to you as you let Pepper in.  “Hey buddy,” you said. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, mommy,” he replied.

“Hey, Pepper,” you said as she put his backpack by the couch.  “Thank you again for having him over.  How did you go?”

“Really well,” she said.  “There was a little stress at bedtime.  He kept asking for you.  FRIDAY was the one that calmed him down.”

“I'm so sorry,” you said.  “That was his first sleepover.  So I guess it was weird for him.”

“It was no problem, really,” Pepper assured you.  “He was an angel otherwise.  And I knew if he didn't calm down we could call you.  He and Tony had a lot of fun building robots and playing with computers.  He’s all clucky now.  Went to bed asking if we could think about having kids now.”

“Did you and Tony make robots?”  You asked Geo.

“Yeah, mommy!” He said excitedly. “Dey’re so cool.  I maded fwiends wif dem.”

“That's so great, buddy,” you said, kissing his cheek.  You put him down and he went back over to Pepper and took her hand.

“Come.  Come.  Come see my wegos,” he said, tugging on her hand.

“Just for a little bit, okay?” She conceded, letting the little boy pull her along.

“Can I get you a coffee?” You asked as Pepper took a seat on the couch and Geo began pulling out all his favorite lego creations.

“That would be great, thank you,” she accepted.  “Just black.”

You went into the kitchen and poured the last of the coffee into one of Steve’s grey mugs.  “So are you on board with the whole having kids thing?”  You called out to Pepper.

“Oh, god,” Pepper called back.  “I don't know.  It's never even come up before and I was always career above everything.  This might just be a passing phase so I’m not going to give it serious thought unless he hyper focuses on it.”

You brought out her cup and handed it to her, handle side first.  “Thank you,” she said.  “Enough about me, anyway.  Tell me; how was last night?”

You smiled and sat down to the breakfast Bucky - your new boyfriend Bucky - had made you.  “Good.  A little emotional, but good.  We had a nice time.”

“So you think it’s going to work?  The three of you like that?”  Pepper asked as she helped Geo build something.

You shrugged.  “I know I like them.  I know they’re good people.  But if we’re going to get into talking about my belief that anything will work out for me, it’ll probably end up being a very dark conversation.”

Pepper frowned and looked over at you.  “Well you are right,” she said.  “They are good people.  If you’d ever told me Steve would try out -” she waved her hands around her head “- I wouldn’t have believed it.  But the fact he has… is… means he’s serious about it.”

You chuckled.  “Yeah, he doesn’t go into things half-heartedly.”

Pepper laughed.  “You can say that again,” she drained the last of her cup and stood up.  “Alright, Geo, I have to go to work.  Fortune 500s don’t run themselves.”

Geo stuck out his bottom lip.  “Aww…” he whined.

“I know, little one,” she said.  “I had fun too.  You’ll have to come to have a sleepover again sometime.”

“Yeah,” he said, bouncing in his seat.

She chuckled and ruffled his hair as you stood up to walk her out.  “Thank you again,” you said.  “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, any time,” she said.  “It was really fun, and I did like seeing Tony go full dad.  If you’d like to have another night off let us know.”

You smiled and opened the door for her.  “Thank you.”

Pepper stepped out and paused, turning back to you.  “I know you haven’t been getting out on your own since you moved in.  If you want to borrow some security, let me know.  I can send Happy down.  You can trust him, he’s basically family.���

You smiled.  “Thanks, Pepper.  That would actually be amazing,” you said, though your heart felt heavy.  This whole Avengers thing was getting too good and that sword hanging over your head was beginning to look extra sharp.

Happy had come down just after lunch and he’d escorted you and Geo out.  He took the job seriously, which you appreciated.  It made you feel safer.  Not to mention he was even jumpier than you.  So when you went into the library after spending some time playing in the park with Geo and you became acutely aware that someone was following you, Happy was quick to believe you.

“You see them right?”  You said as you pushed Geo down the hall in his stroller toward the children’s section.

The guy who you had originally noticed hanging around the carousel had been trying not to be noticed as he kept his distance and followed you into the library.  He was now browsing a rack of fliers for local exhibitions and tours of the city and he was doing his absolute best to not make it look like he was watching you.  Happy guided you around the corner.  “Alright.  So… we won’t make any sudden moves.  You go get books like you wanted.  I’ll call the boss.  I don’t want to try and chase him off and then have someone else come from another angle and grab you or the kid.”

You nodded. “Stay close.”

Happy put his hand on your back.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

He pulled out his phone and started tapping out a message as you wheeled Geo over to the open area where they kept the picture books.  He started wiggling in the chair and fumbling to get the straps that held him down off.

“Hang on, buddy,” you said, crouching down. “What’s the rule.”

“Stay cwose, where I can see you,” he said.

“Okay, good,” you said, kissing his forehead.  He ran over to the rack of large picture books and pulled the biggest one he could find down before sitting down and opening it up.  You stayed close to him and Happy stayed close to you, still tapping away on his phone.  You could see the guy on the other side of the children’s section, but the library security was already eyeing him as he was alone in the children’s section.

“Alright,” Happy said, speaking quietly and slipping his phone back in his pocket.  “We’re going to check some books out and go out the lion entrance.  Tony will be waiting.”

You nodded.  “Thank you, Happy.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Happy said.  “I’m a professional.”

“Alright, Geo,” you said.  “Pick your books, buddy.”

Geo began to load books at random into the stroller making Happy laugh as the pile got bigger and bigger.  “Okay, sweetie.  I think you have enough,” you said.

You checked the books out and Happy led you back outside.  “See the car stopped over there?”   Happy asked.  You nodded without breaking your stride.  “That’s for us.”

You approached the car with Happy and Tony stepped out of the back of the car.  The bright blue polygon that indicated that he was wearing the bleeding edge armor sat in the middle of his chest.  “Mommy,” Geo said excitedly.  “Fwiday’s here.”

“I know, baby,” you said as you approached Tony.

“Hello, dear,” Tony said, kissing your cheek.  “Into the car.”

You nodded and started loading Geo into the back.  “Where is he?”

Happy looked around, but the guy who was tailing you hadn’t exited the building yet.  You got Geo safely into the back and went and put the stroller and books into the trunk.  The guy came out the front door, spotted Tony, and quickly turned and ran back in.

“There!”  Happy yelled, pointing to where the guy had just disappeared.  “He saw you.”

“Right,” Tony said tapping the casing on his chest.  “Get her home.  I’ll see if I can find him.”

The armor bled out over his body and Happy hustled you into the back of the car.  You buckled up as Happy jumped in the driver's seat and Tony took off in the direction of the library.

“Don’t worry,” Happy said.  “We’ll get you home, safe and sound.”

You nodded again, but as you held Geo close to you in the back of the town car, you doubted that you were ever really going to be safe again.

// NEXT

[incorrect-nozaki-kun]

Mangang New Years Eve Plans

The Girls + Mikorin wanted to go to a street fair and honestly who can say no to the combined cuteness of Chiyo, Kashima and Mikorin? And the terror instillled via Seo

So they went to the fair!

Mayu was physically dragged there but he went!

Originally they were all together but eventually the couples broke off on their own

Waka and Seo dipped first bc Seo ran off to a stall and Waka had to go find her and by the time he did the others were already gone

They spent the evening winning prizes at game booths...well Seo wining them and Waka trying.

Poor bby learned that night that basketball is very different from a ring toss

When the countdown hit midnight they were in the middle of a game so they kinda missed it lol

But when Seo walked Waka home she gave him the prizes(they were all things he likes and Waka didn’t even realize lmao) and patted him on the head so all in all good evening

Waka like 4 hours later waking up in a cold sweat: WAIT THAT WAS A DATE

Next to peace were Nozaki and Chiyo. Nozaki INSISTED to get photos of the fireworks they needed the OPTIMAL location and needed to start as early as possible(Nozaki it’s like 8pm chill)

So they got food from a stall and parked down on the grass with like 5 blankets bc Chiyo brought 1 to try and be romantic but Nozaki somehow ended up with all of the ones Mayu was wrapped in when he dragged him to the fair so. 5 blankets.

At least it’s comfy

Let’s assume here that they’re already together or at least like Nozaki is under the impression they are BUDDY YOU NEED TO COMMUNICATE

One they’re done eating Nozaki just pulls Chiyo into his lap and rests his chin on the top of her head and wraps the blankets around them both so it’s comfortable

Nozaki’s a hugger I’m sure of this

So Chiyo’s just malfunctioning bc she’s sitting in Nozaki’s lap?!?! Holy shit?!?!?

But it’s comfortable and warm so she fell asleep it’s very uwu and I don’t use that term lightly

She woke up to the fireworks going off at midnight and Nozaki thinking she was still asleep pressing a kiss to the top of her head it’s very soft we’re talking soft hours here people

After Chiyo “woke up” for real Nozaki walked her home. He offered to carry her but that plus carrying blankets did not end well

He kissed her on the cheek when he dropped her off and did a little victory dance once she closed the door bc he’s a DORK

Very wholesome very cute mildly chaotic we stan Chiyozaki in this household

Kashima, Mikorin, Hori, and Mayu actually stuck together for most of the fair

Bc Kashima and Mikorin are the cutest BFFs ever and Hori and Mayu are lowkey whipped

Eventually Mayu tapped out and went to go home around 10. Hori went in good senpai mode ™ and insisted he couldn’t walk home alone this late

Mikorin vibrating at a high frequency: I’ll walk him home no big deal

So they walked to the Nozaki place

Mayu was honestly half asleep at this point(lowkey I HC him with chronic fatigue) so Mikorin helped him upstairs to make sure he got back safely

Mayu invited him to stay and after Mikorin went through the cycle of a flirting line and then IMMIDIETLY panicking they hung out in Mayu’s room and played video games

Nozaki Mayu Mario Kart Champ I’m sure of it

When their phones beeped at midnight they were in the middle of a race but Mayu paused the game

“Dude why’d you pause the game I was-“

Mayu, master of absolutly zero subtly, yanks Mikorin in and kissed him

Mikorin.exe has stopped working

Did Mayu press play on the game and win while Mikorin was frozen? Yes. Yes he did.

After Mayu and Mikorin left Hori and Kashima just kinda chilled out at a table with some candy and fair desserts

It was getting later so they were just waiting for the fireworks at this point

Downside of them being stationary was that Kashima’s fan club had found them

Now Kashima is a sweetheart and she’ll flirt without hesitation like 99.8% of the time

This was that 0.1% she wouldn’t bc she was on a DATE! With HORI!

Did he know this was a date honestly probably not but that’s not the point

So Kashima’s talking and joking but Hori can tell her heart isn’t really into it. Yeah she looks kinda sad time for Hori to step in.

Kicking Kashima under the table HARD MIGHT I ADD Hori started fake coughing and put his head in his hands

“Ugh you know what I think I’m gonna head home I feel sick”

Kashima, catching on: “Oh no! I’ll take you home senpai! You ladies should go enjoy the fireworks for me. Admire their beauty though I’m sure your own surpasses all of them”

Yeah okay that line might actually make Hori sick for real

Eventually they made it to a secluded area of the fair that was still vaguely close so they could see the fireworks

They’re both slumped against the back of a game stall but the second they lock eyes they just burst out laughing bc of course that would happen to them

Once they calmed down a little Hori scooted closer and pulled Kashima into him with his arm around her waist and leaned his head on her shoulder as the fireworks started

These two asdfgghjkl I can’t

They had to walk home separate incase one of the fan girls said but they walked home happy and that’s what matters

[infernwetrust]

Hands On [Michael Langdon x Jim Mason x Fem Reader] Pt 1.

Summary: The one where you attempt to teach Michael how to use his hands rather than his powers, but things get a little out of hand.

Warnings: some smut, mentions of smut, swearing, some violence, fluff, emotional, brief mention of drug use

WC: 4.0k

A/N: The next chapter is allllll smut up until about the end. This one came to me randomly today and I had to get my ideas down before I lost them forever. Part 1 of a 2 part series. Thank you for reading! -Juno

He stood there in his boxing gear that you had got him the same time you had got yours. He watched as you effortlessly took jabs at the punching bag he had gotten you for Christmas last year, not all really interested in your technique more than how invested he was in your body. The way your training bra fit you perfectly. The way your shorts pointed out all your features. You glistened as the sweat rolled off your body.

You've been doing this with him for the past 2 weeks after months of trying to convince him. The two of you had to talk it over. You let him know that sometimes he didn't always have to snap someone's neck when he was angry. Aside from being the fucking anti-christ, you wanted him to have a normal life as much as possible. You wanted to give him the things he never had when he was younger and of course he was grateful for that. And while snapping their necks was his favorite thing to do, he let his guard down and allowed for you to teach him how to box.

"Okay." you said, taking a moment to pause and catch your breath. "Ready to show me what we've been working on?"

"Remind me as to why I can't just continue to use my magic?" Michael questioned, using his glove to scratch the back of his head.

"Because I'm going to show you how much fun it is to be more hands on."

"It's messy, Y/N. You know I never like to be messy when it comes to my work. I don't like to leave evidence behind."

"But you're sooooo good at it."

And he was. A quick learner, he too, was damn near flawless in front of this punching bag. It was an outlet for all the anger he's been keeping in since he was small and when he got into it, he was really into it. He would go for hours and hours on end and you'd had to do some strong convincing for him to stop and come have dinner. He thought of everything he went through growing up, letting the energy flow through him.

"Plus it'll be your exercise for the day." you added.

"I already get that in the bedroom every other night, my love." he retorted, giving you a smirk.

"Haha. Very funny, Michael."

"But if you insist, so I shall."

He took a deep breath, stepping in front of the punching bag, peering around it to stare at his and your other partner, Jim, who also liked to box, but his fighting style was more MMA. He loved to use both his hands and feet whether he was just sparing or actually fighting. He watched the boy, who was sweating profusely, jab after jab after jab on his new punching bag that you had bought him, his very first birthday he spent with the two of you instead of his sister. Michael loved to watch the two of you pursue a common hobby. He loved how tight Jim kept his boxing shorts. He was on full display and Michael eye's always drifted across his body, especially the bulge between his legs. When Jim got in front of his punching bag, everyone in the room disappeared. He zoned completely out. It was just him, his kicks and punches, and most importantly, his music. You and Michael warn him every time that he isn't going to be able to hear when he gets into his 50s, but Jim's always been hard headed.

You were already married to Michael for 2 years when the two of you found Jim, but he didn't care, he still loves the both of you the same. It's been a year since then. All 3 of you met at a bar, Michael pointing him out to you. He was shy at first and reserved, but a few drinks loosened him up and he was telling the two of you everything. You learned about his parents divorce, his substance abuse, his anger, and fear of abandonment over the course of a 2 week period and why he left Palos Verdes and moved to LA. Michael was the first to fall for Jim and he fell hard, you following shortly behind. Behind all his anger, he was so sweet, so caring, and so passionate. He made love to you and Michael and was rough when he needed to be, but he preferred to be gentle. Him and Michael occasionally exchanged roles in the bedroom. Jim's favorite after a long day of surfing was having Michael ride him while you sit on his face, the two of you making out above him. Or when you would come home after an extremely stressful day of work, venting to the both of them, Jim and Michael both would take turns loving you, filling you up until you felt like you had enough. This was followed by cuddles and kisses all night long until Jim fell asleep, Michael already sleeping like a baby. Or the nights when Jim would hear Michael yelling at one of his cooperative members either over the phone or video call, and especially the meetings he had in house. The in house ones Jim loved. Michael would be furious, storming into the bedroom to Jim sitting in the middle of their California king, shirtless, in those soft blue boxers Michael adored, reading a comic book. Jim would instantly look up, his soft eyes, meeting Michael's hard gaze and he'd shoot him a reassuring smile before motioning him to come here. Jim would give Michael whatever he wanted and a sucker for his boy, Michael was gentle.

Jim was always overwhelmed with excitement when Michael let him know that he was the full dom for the night. He'd absolutely destroy you and Michael, loving hearing the screams of his name come off your lips, especially. Whether it was you begging for him not to stop, or Michael desperately begging to be choked harder, Jim out performed himself every time.

There was nothing you enjoyed more than watching your two men together. When you come home from work to find them cuddled up on the couch, just laughing at random things or when they're both cooking and snap their heads up at the same time once they hear your voice. It's both of them being able to be the voice of reason for different situations. It's Michael arguing with Jim over the small stuff. It's Jim purposefully fucking up Michael's work, so that he would give the two of you some attention. Everyday the both of them never fail to remind you why you love them so much.

"Actually." Michael said, holding onto the punching bag in front of him. "I want to spar with Jim."

"You really think Jim is going to let you spar with him?" you questioned. "He doesn't play spar like we do, Michael. He wouldn't even spar with me, experienced as I am." Feeling pairs of eyes on him, Jim looked up, still punching, glancing between the two of you. He stopped, holding onto the punching bag until it stilled.

"What?" he questioned, taking his one of his ear buds.

"Michael wants to spar with you."

"No." Jim immediately said, running his hands through his drenched hair, walking over to one of the shelves for his water bottle. "2 weeks with you and only has ever done MMA once with me when you were sick. I won't even spare with you, Y/N, let alone the inexperienced."

"That almost hurts my feelings." Michael said, giving his best pouty face. He walked over to Jim, leaning against his punching bag as he watched him gulp his water down.

"Told you." you said, glancing between the two of them.

"Come on, Jim Jam." Michael said, playfully taking a jab at him, which Jim dodged of course, still drinking from his water bottle.

"No, Michael."

"You're wasting your time, Mike. He's not going to lay his hands on you." Michael took another jab at Jim, this time, causing him to drop his water bottle on the floor.

"Michael, come on, seriously. I don't want to hurt you. I don't "play" spar. If I start throwing punches, I'm going to throw them like I'm in the ring."

"Let's get in the ring then. That's what I renovated this house for. Got that brand new ring in the middle of our gym, just for you and Y/N. Put it to use, yes?"

"I have been using it. A couple buddies come over every other weekend, but you're too caught up in your cooperative bullshit to come socialize. They are the only ones I spar with."

"What are you afraid of?"

"I don't want to hurt you. That is my only reason. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to finish up here. You might be the anti-christ, but you're still human."

"Plus.." he continued, mumbling. "I can't fuck up that pretty face of yours."

"Sweet." Michael said, grinning. "But I'll let you know if you're hurting me. Don't I always?"

"Michael." Jim groaned. "Why do you never take no for an answer?"

"This man hasn't been told no for most of his life."

"So spoiled." Jim sighed, popping his ear buds back in, cracking his knuckles to return back to his objective. He pulled his fist all the way back and was about to strike, when Michael appeared directly in front of him, causing him to halt immediately.

"For fuck sakes."

"Spar with me."

"NO. Now MOVE." Michael appeared behind Jim, giving him a jab in his back.

"Spar with me."  You watched amused, folding your arms over your chest, wanting to see exactly how this would play out.

"Michael, I swear-," Another jab connected with Jim's side. "Fucker."

"Spar with me." Jim turned around to glare at Michael who had that stupid grin on his face again. Without even thinking and completely catching Michael off guard, Jim picked him up by the back of his thighs, Michael naturally wrapping them around his waist. He was a dom that wasn't afraid  to be a sub for his babies. And then Jim slammed him down to the mat in front of him, knocking all the wind out of him, Michael grunting loud as his back hit the floor. He coughed vigorously as Jim hovered over him, jaw clenched in a semi-angry gaze.

"Jim!" you yelped.

"Safe word." Jim said, jaw clenched tighter.

"Safe word for what-,"

"Safe word!" Jim barked at him. Michael cocked his head to the side, confused. And while the safe word was normally used for sexual connotation, Jim had started using them for when his spars got over the limit serious.

"Hands..." Michael said. Jim quickly hopped off of him, grabbing his hand and yanking him up off the mat. What was special about the ring that Michael got installed in the house was that he got special gloves made for them as well and all for Jim. When Jim wasn't on the beach surfing, he was always practicing and learning how to defend himself. These gloves were only activated once you stepped in the side the ring. They were designed to register critical hits to the body, thus administering points on an electronic score board.

"Change your gloves." Jim said, sounding agitated as he took his practice ones off to put on the special ones. "And get a mouth guard on."

"Jim you're really gonna-," you were gonna question him, but he cut you off.

"Daddy wants to spar right? So Jim is gonna spar with daddy." You grabbed him by his arm, pulling him closer to you to whisper in his ear while Michael got ready.

"He's no where near ready for something like that."

"He doesn't seem to care." Jim whispered back.   "And you know Mike gets what he wants or he loses his mind." You sighed, resting your forehead against Jim's, feeling him lighten. "I most likely won't go overboard. I really can't bare to hurt him. You remember how I felt after I accidentally burnt him one time and now he wants me to put my hands on him."

"Just be careful please."

"I wish you two would stop worrying so much." he said.

"And I wish you would stop reading our thoughts."

"Habit." he chuckled, putting his long hair into a neat bun. "Come on Jim Jam." Michael stepped in the ring first, it immediately recognizing him.

Welcome, Michael.

Jim sighed, stepping in after him.

Welcome, Jim.

Jim walked over to Michael, wanting to convince him to change his mind because he knew once he got in the zone it would be hard for him to stop. He had a soft spot for the both of you.

"No I don't want to change my mind." Michael said as Jim approached him, but that didn't stop Jim from getting any closer. He grabbed Michael by the back of his neck, pressing his lips roughly against his in a heated kiss.

"I'm sorry..." Jim said, pulling away breathlessly. "If I do anything to hurt you." He touched gloves with Michael before returning to his corner. "Y/N, you know the drill." You got in the ring with the both of them, giving them the cue.

"Are you ready?" you asked Michael, him giving you a quick nod. You looked at Jim. "Are you ready." He gave you the same quick nod in return.

"Fight!" you said, throwing your arm up in the air and immediately getting out of the way. You watched as they both shuffled around, getting closer to each other. Michael started with baby jabs, jabs that Jim easily slapped away as the two continued to shuffle around. Jim noticed how quick Michael was on his feet and was going to have to change up his strategy. Michael knew better than to use his magic for an advantage. He wanted this to be fair. Jim took the first real jab, Michael softly grunting as it connected with his side. He backed away slightly from Jim, still shuffling on his feet, but Jim wasn't having it. The more Michael tried to back up, the closer Jim got.

"Remember to not let your opponent corner you." you reminded Michael, knowing that if Jim got him in that corner, it would be over. Michael quickly glanced over at you, Jim taking the opportunity to throw another punch, but Michael deflected that one, hitting Jim in his jaw with a counter, but Jim still didn't stand down. He wanted to box Michael in. Jim grabbed him, the two immediately entering a grapple, Jim's cheek pressed up against Michael's shoulder as he attempted to knee him on the side of his leg.

Michael attempted to switch positions, wanting Jim to be facing away from him, but still wrapped in his arms, but Jim knows that move all too well, so he went stiff as a board, not allowing Michael to move him. Instead, he swept Michael off his feet, slamming him to the ground, wanting to go for the submission early. He wrapped his leg around Michael's throat, pulling his arm all the way back, to the point where Michael thought his shoulder was going to rip out it's socket. Full of energy, he quickly broke that submission, now on his back, but Jim was quick, making his way on top of Michael.

Michael held his hands up, knowing to defend his face as the punches from Jim came. He could deflect them all day and as soon as he felt the energy change in Jim's body, kicked him in his chest so that he would stumble over, attempting a submission of his own. He had seen this one on tv. The triangle choke. He tried to grab of Jim's arms, but Jim scrambled to his feet and so did Michael.

"No one submits me." Jim said. "Ever."

"But you submitted to me last night in my office?" Michael questioned as he shuffled around in circles, forcing Jim to do the same. "My cock looked pretty good in the back of your throat." And that made Jim, angry. And before Michael knew it, Jim's foot had connected with the side of his thigh, making him lose his footing immediately, slamming down into the floor, giving Jim the opportunity to get back on top of him. The punches came too fast for Michael to block, so he flipped over onto his stomach instead, getting on his knees so that Jim would fall off of him. And when he got back up, Jim did too.

"Jim, calm down, remember who-," you began to say, but he had already tuned everything out. It was just him and Michael in the room now. Whack. Another kick came, but this time it was in Michael's side, completely knocking the wind out of him for the second time today. He screamed, falling to the ground, rolling around in pain, but that didn't stop Jim. That didn't signal the end of the match. He walked over to Michael, breathing hard, his tongue pressed up against his bottom lip as he focused on what he was about to do. He was going to do the triangle choke. He kneeled down beside Michael who was still groaning, in pain.

"Jim, stop!" you yelled. "I think he's actually." But Jim didn't seem to hear you. He grabbed Michael's arm, pulling it over his head, causing him to scream again, pain radiating all throughout his side. He wrapped his leg around Michael's neck and shoulder, placing his other leg around his opposite ankle. He squeezed. He squeezed his like his life depended on it, Michael's own arm and Jim's legs, now applying so much pressure to his neck, Michael got light headed. Jim knew he would have to tap or he would pass out in a matter of seconds. "Jim no!" You got in the ring, trying to get Jim off of Michael, but he was determined to get Michael to submit to him.

"Hands..." Michael said, barely above a whisper, so ever lightly tapping Jim's leg, causing Jim to immediately let him go, Michael choking on his own spit, gasping for air, in pain, due to his side. Jim stood up, throwing his gloves off, running out of the ring, hands in his hair as he stormed out of the room.

"Michael." you said, placing your hand on his chest, wanting him to stay still. "Calm down baby, breathe. In 3...2...1. Out 3...2...1."

"My side." he breathed out. You looked at it and the giant bruise waisted no time forming. Michael's eyes went black for a few moments, him scanning over his own body to make sure nothing was broken. He blinked a few times, his eyes returning back to that ocean blue. "This is going to suck for the next couple of days. Where's Jim?"

"He stormed off." you said, fighting back your own tears. "Why can't you just listen?! What if you got seriously hurt."

"Y/N, I'm fine." Michael said sternly.

"He said he didn't want to hurt you, but you made him anyways, Michael." Michael fell silent, knowing good and well that this was his fault. He sighed, groaning as he laid his head back down against the floor, holding onto his side.

In their bedroom, Jim was a teary-eyed mess as he paced back and forth, pulling at his own hair as his cheeks puffed in and out. He had hurt Michael. He knew he did and that's exactly what he didn't want to do. He heard his scream when he fell to the ground. He heard the tear of his muscle as he pulled his arm back over his head and he still didn't stop.

"Fuck." he said to himself as he peeled his shorts off, heading into their bathroom. Their shower, big enough to have a small party in, wall seats, he stepped into, making the water all the way hot. He stood under the water, rinsing the first layer of sweat off, letting his tears fully flow. Not wanting to hear himself cry, he turned on the shower stereo, blasting music as the water changed different colors due to the stereo lights. He rested his head against the shower wall, reaching for the bottle of shampoo when he heard the shower door open.

"Y/N.." he called out. "Is... is... is he okay?"

"No." a voice said, that wasn't yours. "But he will be." Jim bit down on his lip hard as the tears continued to flow.

"Michael I'm so sorry.. I didn't want to. I told you..."

"Sssh." Michael said, limping over to Jim who happened to be by one of the wall seats. He sat down, still holding onto his side. "I pushed you too far, Jim. You did nothing wrong, okay?" Jim looked over at Michael and noticed the large bruise that his so desperately tried to hide.

"I did that, didn't I?" Jim asked, getting riled up again.

"Jim, no, no. It's okay. I promise."

"Don't fucking lie to me, Michael. I- I- I- did that to you!"

"Accidents happen Jim! I know you didn't mean to. I provoked you. I will deal with the consequences of my actions."

"You know, you're not so easy to fucking deal with." Jim said, pacing back and forth in front of Michael.

"I know." Michael groaned as he shifted in his seat, getting some if the hot water on him. He moaned softly as the pulsating jets soothed a small amount of pain in his side "C'mere." Jim stepped directly in front of Michael, getting down on his knees to wedge his way in between his legs. "I appreciate the gesture, but I want you to sit next to me." He listened, carefully getting up as to not slip and fall and joined Michael. He placed his hand softly on Jim's thigh, rubbing it with his thumb.

"Do you know why I fell in love with you, Jim?" Michael asked, staring at his lover.

"No, honestly." Jim answered. "I'm just some fucked up kid from Palos Verdes."

"Jim Mason, don't you ever say that to me again."

"Well it's true."

"I fell in love with you because your soul is still so pure. You have a lot of heart Jim that goes beyond just loving Y/N and I. You're passionate about things. Don't look at this bruise as an attack on me. This is a remind that no one should ever fuck with Jim Mason, right?" Jim stayed silent, tears still running down his face, causing Michael to squeeze his thigh, probing for an answer. "Right?"

"Right." Jim said back, knowing that Michael doesn't like to wait for answers. He took his hand from Jim's thigh, patting his lap. "I don't wanna-,"

"I didn't ask you whether or not you wanted to hurt me. I asked you to sit in my lap." Jim, slowly made his way over to Michael's lap. Michael groaning as Jim sat back again him.

"I can get up." Jim said, but Michael firmly wrapped his arm around his waist.

"There's no need for that."  Michael placed soft kisses along his back, causing Jim to shiver despite being warm from the water. "So precious. My Jim."

"Your Jim." Jim confirmed, causing Michael to smile against his back. "Please don't make me do that again."

"I won't." Michael grabbed Jim's throat, tilting his head back so that their blue eyes met each other's. "But what I will do, Jim Mason, is fuck you senseless in this shower." Jim whined, not only from the pressure his neck, but from the seriousness in Michael's voice and the feel of his growing erection against his bare ass. "You tease me all the time with those little MMA shorts you wear, so tight against your skin, basically begging for one of us to humiliate you."

"Are you guys really about to have fun without me?" you asked, pouting as you opened the shower door, immediately wet by the sight. Michael chuckled softly against Jim's neck, tongue gracing over his jugular, causing Jim's breathing to speed up.

"And look who has made it just in time. Do you still want to show me how fun it is to be hands on?"

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid

[puppypeter]

1999 words Stucky prompt? *sorry*

Ok so I couldn’t go to sleep last night because I kept thinking of this Stucky AU where Steve is an ex-military medic who is now retired because his wife passed away and he has to look after the family. He has like 10-12 kids between his own and adopted, big family, big house, a dog. The kids range between barely 1 year old set of twins to grumpy teenagers. He had to come back from war when his wife sadly passed away while giving birth to the twins and so he didn’t really get any time to re-adjust and he lives with the regret that he wasn’t even there for her when she needed him. He is struggling a lot, but tries to hide it for the sake of the kids. He runs the house a bit like a military base, there’s time tables, bathroom times, meal plans and menus, budgets etc wakes the troops up early in the morning to get them ready for school (he still struggles in the kitchen cause he’s barely used to having decent food again himself, let alone make something all kids eat!!), the oldest have to help with the youngest etc a big chaotic disaster of a family, but he’s trying. The kids miss their mom too, but it’s been a year now and daddy is still sad. He doesn’t know that they know he is. They see him stare into nothing at times, they know Sunday mornings are the day nobody is to bother daddy until he comes down for lunch (which he prepared on the Saturday already) because sometimes daddy finds it hard to sleep and other times he finds it hard to get out of bed. He always wants them to eat their greens, yet standing on the staircase late at night they’ve spotted him sitting on the couch eating ice-cream straight from the tub and weeping over Disney movies. And that has happened more than once.

So one day they’re at the park. Steve is laying down on their red and white cloth on the ground with all the food bags and the tiny twins next to him. They’re so cute, wiggling around at all the sounds and colours, he should want to play with them but all he feels is tired. The other kids are scattered around the park, between playing ball and looking at insects and on the swings. The younger kids have been talking about what they should do to make daddy happy. That’s when little Mary spots two men sitting on a bench. One of them is playing with a leash, probably of the big dog that’s just sitting at his feet, not even caring about going far. The other is wearing a leather jacket, slightly unzipped and a white furry kitten head pops out of it. “Which one of them do you think?” Peter asks. “That one!” Mary shouts just pointing at the guy with the kitten “look at his hair! he looks like a disney price, dad will love him!” (they don’t even know their dad is bisexual, bucky is just pretty so they’re confident he’ll like him).

So her and some of her siblings make their way over to the men and start asking them questions. Their names are Sam and Bucky (“That’s a weird name” Mary says). Sam teases Bucky by calling him prince charming, having heard the previous comment, and Bucky’s cheeks go pink. This little boy with his thick glasses on gets overly excited when he sees that one of Bucky’s hands is made of metal “So cool, like a robot!” and asks if he can touch it (cause daddy thought them it’s important to ask before). And Bucky just feels overwhelmed. He hasn’t been around this many people since he came back, the most people he’s had around were a bunch of doctors when they operated on him roughly a year and half ago, but he was sedated and unaware. He struggled for a while to get out of the house, to accept his disability, accept having a prosthesis he can’t really do anything with, having to learn to do everything one handed (he only ever wears it outside the house cause he doesn’t want people to stare at his empty sleeve, but the moment he’s at home he likes to give his shoulder a break). 

Sam, he works as a counsellor at the VA has helped him a lot, and now they hang out together, but not in crowded places. This is why they like coming to the park. But now there’s a bunch of kids in his face and for the first time he doesn’t mind having many people around. Maybe because they’re little people and he knows they won’t hurt him. Maybe cause one of them is geeking out about his prosthesis he always felt self-conscious about. Mary invites him over to meet her dad (Sam cackles), but Bucky is definitely not ready for any form of relationship, let alone a romantic one. So he blushes and declines. 

The kids leave a bit upset. After a while Mary comes back saying she’s hurt and lost. “You look fine to me kid!” Sam replies. So she dramatically throws herself on the grass and big fat tears start coming out of her eyes. After they laugh at her overly dramatic attitude, she stands up huffing and puffing and leaves clearly kicking her feet in the ground. “I mean maybe you should go for it!” Sam insists “It’s not like you have to marry the guy. You’re just meeting a new person, nothing has to come of it. Maybe you’ll make a friend, maybe you’ll never see him again, but you’d talk to someone that wasn’t me or the cashier at the deli by your flat”. Bucky knows that’s true, but he really can’t bring himself to. He still hasn’t talked to his family since he’s been back. Something about getting your arm blow off and seeing your mates blow up when it should have been you instead makes it difficult to relate to normal people.

It’s only maybe 20 minutes later when a blur of blonde hair and orange dungaree comes rushing towards them crying. “It ain’t gonna work missy!” Sam jokes. But Mary looks clearly upset. “Help my daddy please!”. They doubt her for a second, thinking it’s her amazing acting skills and they’re gonna go there and her dad is gonna be fine. But her lower lip is wobbling and she sounds seriously distressed. Plus they all see a bunch of kids clearly surrounding someone sitting on a blanket. So they follow her, cause that’s the right thing to do. When they get there they see this big burly man folded in half on himself with his hands in his hair, gripping at it, shaking, panicking. Sam immediately drops on his knees, but doesn’t touch him yet. Bucky has seen him do it plenty of times with himself, when he barely got out of bed to finally have some food and then started crying if he dropped a spoon on the floor or spilled a bit of coffee. He would be forever thankful to have had him as a counsellor and now as a friend. 

Bucky steers the kids a bit away, asking the older ones to give them some space to help their dad. Together with a young woman, he scoops up one of the two babies in onesies that were on the blanket and leans one up on his chest. He can’t really do much with his metal arm, but geeky kid is currently holding onto it. After they move a bit further away, he passes on the baby to another older teenager and goes back to Sam. He sees that he has managed to get the man to unclench his fists from his hair and sees him panicking when he can’t see his kids. “They’re alright, they’re ok, they’re all together”. 

And so that’s how they meet and they all go to a diner to get food (taking over like 4 different booths). They find out Steve is ex-military from the dog tags shape Bucky sees under his shirt. Steve has apparently had the ability to lie his way through his psych test coming back from the war simply because he knew he would lose his kids if he admitted how he was truly feeling. He is struggling with depression and has PTSD, but he’ll never admit it out loud. He has a family to care about. He says none of that, but Sam knows. He invites him to the VA, “just to talk, we’re not gonna call anyone on you my man, and it seems like you’re doing an amazing job considering you got a whole football team”. 

The following week Sam and Bucky go over to his house for a bbq, bringing dog & cat along for the joy of the kids. It’s loud and it gets a bit much for Bucky at one point so he sneaks out to have a second of quiet. Steve finds him and they get talking. At some point Sam has to leave, an emergency with one of the veterans. But Bucky stays a little while. 

He says he can leave when Steve calls out bed time for the youngest, but Steve asks him to stay, if he wants, it’s not gonna take him long, have a beer. Bucky glows seeing how Steve runs the bedtime routine for 10 kids, the older ones helping the younger ones to get to stay up a little longer. When he comes back they sit out back on the porch, sharing a cigarette and having a couple of beers. It’s quiet, they don’t talk much. Bucky’s shoulder is starting to ache a bit so he keeps rubbing it. They get talking about that, well.. the most that Bucky can say (how it happened, where it happened, then blackout. He can’t go into his feelings about it). “You.. you were from that unit?” Steve asks seemingly speechless. “That’s, that’s where I was operating. We rescued 3 people but we couldn’t get to everyone on time. There was someone closer to the explosion and their arm was….” he cuts off. “Steve” Bucky looks at him unable to breathe “are you telling me that you’re the one that rescued me from under the tank?” ((and it goes from there. it takes awhile but they get together and smooch (Mary acts like she’s about to throw up “But not because you’re two guys, just cause that’s daddy!!”). Bucky learns to open up and getting more comfortable around Steve without the prosthesis on. Steve still cries at Disney movies while eating ice cream, but this time every other spoonful goes to Bucky’s, whose arms he’s wrapped in on the couch. Steve starts going to see Sam at the VA and deal with his issues, because he wants to be there for his kids as they grow up, he doesn’t want to give up on them or himself. He deals and accepts what happened with his wife. He gets to grieve and heal. Sam comes over to their house so that his Missy (his dog) can hang out with her new buddy Dodger *wink wink* and because since starting to deal with his issues Steve has made an effort to reconnect with his friends and there’s a very beautiful redhead that hangs around his house at the weekends... Sam wouldn’t mind spending more time with her. A few more friends from the military come back into his life too - Clint, Thor, Maria, Sharon - and the kids have now a bunch more aunties and uncles to play with. At some point in the distant future, Bucky moves in. He never thought he’d get to have that. A big family, animals, a house. Maybe they have more kids at one point? Bucky reconnecting with his family? & lots more smooches and cuddles!!))

[writingwip]

A fic I probably wont finish but the thoughts there. Anyone’s free to take it up if they want. Basically Five wakes up and finds out he’s the god of a cult. Klaus better explain this one in .5 seconds or Five’s gonna have his head on a stake. 

Five had found himself sat on a throne of sorts, expression wild and confused. People were lined up on both sides with fruits and drinks held neatly on platters and kneeling stiffly with faces respectfully angled downwards. They all had on similar clothing, soft flowing fabrics that draped over them but fit nicely, deep blues and soft beiges. The room was lit with candles and incense that made him feel sleepy and lightheaded. 

A bizarre experience is how Five would put it. Bizarre and slightly amusing and confusing and interesting. 

He had caught the eyes of a figure standing out among the rest, closest to him and wearing slightly altered clothes. He had a little cylindrical hat with funny symbols Five realized were his math equations, only if all the letters and numbers were shoved into one image haphazardly made to look semi-symmetric. His eyes lit up as they made eye contact and a smile quickly took over his face. Five already wanted to punch him. 

“Awake at last, my lord,” and oh jesus, he was being called a lord. What had he gotten into this time? “We have long awaited you to arise. Welcome back, dear lord,” and the man deeply bowed. Five wasn’t sure whether to run yet or see where this was leading. “Lord Klaus had predicted today would be the day you awoken and joined us once again. Such divinity has blessed us and we had quickly gotten ready for your arrival.” Klaus? What had that oaf done? Five sighed and stood up. 

He had been sitting criss-cross on a soft, velvet pillow sat on a raised platform. Surrounding it were more candles and a burning stick of incents strong enough to make Fives head dizzy. This was ridiculous. 

“Where is Klaus?” Five asks the man. He seemed downright euphoric that Five had spoken, let alone directly to him. He was quick to fully stand and reach his hand out, offering support as Five’s legs wobbled. Five shot him a glare and raised his hand as a warning. He would slap this man if it came to it which, judging by how he’s acting already, it will. 

“Lord Klaus and Lady Vanya are awaiting you in the congregation room,” The man says quickly, shuffling forward slightly before turning back to Five to see if he was following. As if he were a child. Five sneered and walked in front of the man if just to prove a point. He felt an ache in his chest and eyed the food platters suspiciously, taking an apple off of one. The woman who was holding it squeaked and when Five looked away he heard a bang. He was pretty sure she passed out. Five had half a mind to tell everyone to fuck off but his head was too busy trying to figure out what was going on to really put the thoughts into action. He wondered idly if it were poisoned or drugged, but quickly pushed that thought away. These people were way too adoring of him to try to touch him, let alone poison him. Plus, he was almost sure Klaus wouldn’t let a weird cult drug him. Almost. He shoved the apple into his mouth and made it to the end of the room, pushing the two doors open with a grunt. 

Sweet, succulent fresh air invaded his lungs. It wasn’t choking in incense and body heat. Thank god. The door opened up to a bright room with an arched dome ceiling entirely made of glass. Sunlight streamed in and lit up the white pillars supporting it all, dancing across the fresh green leaves that decorated the walls and sat prettily in the center of the room. It had soft looking benches lining the walls, though other than that it was barren. It was a room made to look pretty and that’s about it, apparently. Such a waste of space. Five stepped in and looked around. There were three doors on each wall. Five looked back to the man trailing behind him and gave him a pointed look. The poor buy was sweating bullets. 

“Right this way sir,” He stumbled out and veered off to the left. The air was fresh and crisp and slightly cold, like a cloudless october morning. It made his fingertips cold to the touch. He rubbed them together and followed the man. 

“Who are you?” Five asked, just so he could stop calling him ‘the man’. He jumped up at the broken silence and looked nervously towards Five. 

“I’m the head priest, my lord. Priest Bence, of your religion, sir,” Five’s brow rose at ‘your religion’ but otherwise didn’t comment on it. He’d grill Klaus on it when they got there, for now he’d like to enjoy the pretty scenery and let his stiff joints loosen up and pop. 

They ventured through a few more rooms with similar architecture, though some were more furnished than others and were obviously meant for people to hang out in. It was all very cozy and bright, something Five wasn’t much used to. 

With a final push of a door the lighting changed. It was still bright but it shone with a dulled yellow glow. Soft pews lead up like dominos to a stained glass window portraying… something. Five couldn’t really wrap his head around the colors, though they were obviously meant to represent a silhouette of a scene. Five wasn’t much of a visualiser anyways. 

Directly below the intricate glass were his siblings. Two of them at least. Klaus was sat on a bright pink bean bag chair that looked wildly out of place front and center in a church setting, gesturing bodily as he narrated whatever odd story Klaus spun. Vanya was standing, leaning against the wall and looking at Klaus with a smile. 

When the door closed behind them, the two looked up. Smiles, soft and warm and kind and so uncanny directed at Five, were immediately on their faces. 

“Five…” Vanya said, voice choked up as if she were about to cry. Five really hoped she wouldn’t because he was lacking in social skills and wouldn’t know how to comfort her. Thankfully she seemed to be holding it in. 

“Five, buddy! We’ve been waiting like, forever for you! Took you long enough, sleeping beauty!” Klaus was grinning ear to ear and even he seemed a little choked up. What was going on? Five made his way up to his siblings as they patiently waited. Head Priest Bence trailed after him like a lost duckling all the way, making as if to grab for Five then quickly putting his hands back. It was odd and awkward and Five just wanted him to leave. 

When he got in front of them Vanya leapt in for the kill, hugging Five tightly and burrowing her head in his shoulder. Klaus was standing now, kicking the bean bag slightly to the side and squeezing the two siblings. 

“Group hug!” Klaus laughed. Fives fingers twitched. There was silence for a second before Klaus looked directly at Head Priest Bence. “Dude we’re having a moment. Go, shoo, off to the dinning hall or whatever,” and before he could even finish his sentence the man was out the door, eager to accept any of their orders it seemed. Five watched him go with detached amusement. He pulled away, though both siblings looked dejected. He couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad. 

“What the hell’s going on here?” Five asked first, arms crossed loosely over his chest. Vanya and Klaus looked at eachother knowingly. This can’t be good. 

“Straight to the point as always, Five-o!” Klaus grinned. Vanya snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, it’s good to have you back. It's… it’s been a while,” she said and her eyes fogged up again. 

“How long exactly?” Five glowered. He felt like he wasn’t going to like this answer. The two siblings sent each other looks again. He really hoped they didn’t learn telepathy or something. Vanya looked away first and Klaus looked victorious. 

By god they did, didn’t they?

“It’s uh… it’s been a couple… hundred… years?” She stutters out and looks at the opposite wall with great interest, fiddling with her hands. Five wants to either slam his head through the stain glass or scream into one of the very soft pillows. Possibly both if he positioned himself right. Klaus looked at him with a shit eating grin. He knew exactly what this was about. 

Five could settled for neither of those options and instead wanted to punch his brother directly in his stupid nose. 

“You really are sleeping beauty with your hundred year rest,” Klaus grins. 

It would be so easy. He could probably break his nose.

Surprising even himself, Five showed an impressive amount of restraint. He only punched him in the gut. Vanya choked on a giggle as Klaus hunched over. 

“I wasn’t even the one to tell you,” he wheezed out pathetically. “This is totally unfair.” Five scoffed. 

“You know damn well Vanya’s my favorite,” and Klaus said nothing to that, admitting defeat and slumping down to the floor. Five looked down on him like a lion looks down on a prairie mouse. Vanya smiles goofily next to him, crouching down and patting Klaus’ back. 

“Why didn’t you guys just, i dunno, wake me up?” Five hisses, arms tightening around himself. Vanya opens her mouth to reply but Five cuts her off, “And before you say it’s one of those self-induced healing comas, I know I had like a thousand viles of that kick start you could have pumped into me”. They’re both quiet. 

Klaus still seemed winded so Vanya spoke up after a few hesitant seconds. “Your lab… may or may not have… blown up…” She smiles nervously. Five clutches his arms tightly against his chest and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath in and letting his tense shoulders unwind. He opens his eyes and smiles back. 

Vanya screams, sharp and ringing, and books it towards the door. Klaus is scrambling to stand up and clutch the bean bag up to his face, cowering in a corner. Five’s smile widens and a vein throbs in his head. 

He had been awake for less than twenty minutes and he already felt a headache ebbing its way into his temple. 

With pinpoint accuracy he picks up the nearest object, a wooden pedestal that was probably supposed to have a book on it, and chucks it directly at Vanya. She’s out the door in time, however, and now there's a wooden pedestal halfway out the door. He hadn’t been trying to actually hit her, he never would, but hearing that sentence had him teetering the line more than he had ever thought possible. 

By the way she said it, she definitely had something to do with it. 

Five looks over at Klaus with a cold glare and he flinches deeper into the small corner. He sighs, head in his hands, and takes a minute to compose himself. Klaus peaks his head over the bean bag and gives him an innocent look. 

“Okay, I’m fine now,” Five declares and Vanya shakkily opens the door. Wood Splinters rain down from the gaping hole only plugged up by the pedestal itself. She creeps up to him, though she has no real fear lining her shoulders. 

“So let me get this straight. I was out of commission for a few hundred years and since none of you could wake me up, you decided to start a cult,” Five practically growls. Klaus is now stomach-down on the bean bag, kicking his feet to make it slide back over to his siblings. 

Klaus makes a placating expression of contemplation before shrugging. “Yeah pretty much,” He says. 

Five contemplates murder, for just one second. One beautiful second. 

“And why am I a part of it, pray tell?” Five asks, annoyed. He had made it specifically clear that he didn’t want to be a cult leader or a ‘god’ a good few thousand years ago after the train wreck that was his first and last cult. At least, it used to be his last. He was genuinely confused, knowing his siblings would comply with at least those restrictions when asked to. Vanya's face screws up a bit, looking almost pained. 

“When you, uh, were attacked and put in that state, we weren’t sure where your body was. We’re still not entirely sure. We just got word a few hundred years ago that there was a small cult forming around an ‘immortal sleeping child’ and we were willing to take a gamble and look into it,” Vanya muttered out, seemingly embarrassed. So they had lost his body then? How?

“What happened? Why was I attacked in the first place?” Five asks, walking over to Klaus and sitting next to him. He leaned heavily onto the beanbag and Klaus shuffled over, though Five never climbed on. 

Vanya’s fingers grew somehow more twitchy. “That's the thing…”

Klaus beat her to it, though his usual happy air was completely gone. He looked serious for once. 

“It was one of us, and we don't know who”