#and the guy who came to paint my parent's house (I was watching it for them) told me that he goes to a church with a woman pastor even

[wokestonecraft]

obligatory disclaimer about not everyone in the south being a bigot, but by god, where else do I get told to my face by near strangers that they don't think women should be in positions of authority?

[sparxyv]

Milena Student ID 💜🦅

I decided to finally issue a proper introduction to Milena Chase for you guys so she doesn't remain a face without a story any longer 😤

Thank you for the template @kiwiplaetzchen !! 🫶

Brace yourself for a big infodump - here is Milena's backstory etc etc 🫠

Family

Milena Jacqueline Chase was born in 1874 to a French muggle, Henri Marie Chase, and a Japanese witch, Miyuki Hoshino.

Milena is the oldest of seven siblings.

The Chase Family™ is extremely rich, like, buttloads of money rich. Coming from a long line of vintners, they founded one of the leading brands of the best quality wines in Europe, as well as owned a luxury hotel in central Paris.

Milena's grandparents on her mother's side lived in Feldcroft, and still do. They often watched over the Sallow twins after their parents death when Solomon was busy. (Milena does not know her grandparents. 👍)

Miyuki - Milena's mother - was a Slytherin in Hogwarts, and was friends with Solomon Sallow.

Life Before Hogwarts

Growing up, Milena and her siblings resided in their family's hotel in Paris, France. Since their parents were too busy with business and galas, they were raised by the housekeepers and servants that worked at the hotel.

Milena was homeschooled, undergoing typical muggle education with many tutors over the years. She gained a passion for learning early on, intensively studying practically anything that piqued her interest! (my little Matilda LOL)

Milena did NOT go to Beauxbatons, yet showed signs of magic very early on. The only reason she was aware of magic and wizardkind because of her mother's house elf, Teeley. (we love Teeley 🫶)

She had so much free time on her hands that she'd mastered and studied so many different things, making her a true jack of all trades! Some of these things include - Chess, fencing, horseback riding, painting, embroidery, baking, PLUS she's fluent in German and Russian (in addition to English and French).

Relationships

I'm planning on going more in depth with Milena's relationships in a series of separate posts so I'm just going to list her closest friends 💜

Sebastian Sallow

Anne Sallow

Ominis Gaunt

Imelda Reyes

Athol 'Mousey' McGregor

Samantha Dale

Amit Thakkar

Natsai Onai

Garreth Weasley

Poppy Sweeting

Sacharissa Tugwood

Richard Jackdaw

Personality

MBTI - ENTJ-A

Alignment - Neutral Good

I really think of Milena's personality as close to the in-game MC as possible, but I do tend to wander from that sometimes.. 😗😗

Milena always strives to help out people when faced with trouble, but never actively seeks out problems to solve - they just always seem to find her. Nevertheless, she always takes on difficult situations and rises to the challenge.

It helps a lot that she's very self-assured, something that came out of spending most of her childhood alone and taking care of herself AND others. That being noted, she's a natural born leader. Milena is assertive and logical and can easily adjust and adapt to many different situations - which makes her the perfect person to deal with a certain Slytherin boy who's emotions control him and not the other way around.. 👀👀

Milena is an ambivert. While she enjoys socializing, she's also comfortable being alone. She doesn't exactly prefer one over the other though. Socializing comes easy to her, and she has a secure attachment style when it comes to her relationships, never really feeling insecure about them or getting jealous easily. Milena tends to be more mature, and she never internalizes things when people are rude - but because she's so calm and mellow, people are usually either drawn to her or intimidated by her.

As a Ravenclaw, Milena is naturally curious! She's constantly on the hunt to learn new things, which is why she enjoys exploring outside of Hogwarts so much, taking in everything she can about the hamlets and just the Highlands in general. Her curiousity helps her find wonder in even the smallest of things. She's very open-minded, yet nearly always at least slightly skeptical when it comes to new things. She can be very opinionated, but is always open to other perspectives.

Milena is not one to be overly expressive with her emotions (but to be clear - she doesn't hide them either 😗), yet she does have a side of her that naturally comes out only when she feels comfortable. With friends like Sebastian especially, she feels like she can let loose and be more playful as well as a bit snarky/sarcastic.

Additional Fun Facts!

I've already mentioned this before - but Milena's absolute favorite things in the world are BIRDS. Birds of all kinds. She knows everything about every species, and I mean everything. And somehow, birds naturally flock to her like she's some type of woodland princess.

Milena's hair is NOT naturally curly/wavy, nor is it naturally auburn! Prior to Hogwarts, she used a charm to change her hair color, but it seemed to have some extra effects on her hair texture too..

Milena doesn't often speak French after arriving at Hogwarts, but since it's her native language, she finds it much easier to express herself in French even though she speaks near-perfect English. She also enjoys sneaking in French phrases to occasionally mess with Sebastian since he has no idea what she's saying 🥰🥰

Her love language is gift-giving, but when it comes to receiving it would be acts of service and quality time.

Is VERY passionate about potion-making.

Becomes an animagus in the summer before sixth-year, her animagus form being a giant golden eagle!

Already mentioned but she's quite fearless, except for when it comes to mooncalves. (She's more creeped out by them than scared of them, though.)

More of a dog person - Raphael is the exception 💜

Seeker for Ravenclaw in her sixth-year!

[ellecdc]

L 😭 im a mess i cant stop listening to this song [https://youtu.be/4ELTaMB41OQ?si=7PCNCUQenoJsLQNC] and the only thing in my head is Regulus playing piano w reader 😭😭😭 like i imagine ofc the black parents forcing their children to learn art and music and french shit and playing piano stuck with Reggie bc it helps him kind of turn his mind off for a bit and just let his fingers do their thing 😭 then reader comes along not knowing how to but always loving to listen to reg play 🧍‍♀️ good bye

🩷

omg aweeee yes I see this - I totally see Reg as an artsy guy, both with instruments, painting/sketching, and maybe poetry (tortured souls, right?) this was so cute - and the song too! I've never heard it before so thanks for sharing!

Regulus Black x GN!reader CW: mentions of past family/parental abuse, sibling relationships

You weren't at all surprised to find him here. He'd gone quiet at dinner and excused himself as early as politely possible.

You leaned against the doorframe as Regulus' fingers skirted across the keys of the grand piano in the living room, murmuring soft lyrics you couldn't make out from this distance. The chance of the song being a cover or an original equally as likely.

Dinner's with his brother could sometimes be hard for Regulus - both parties feeling different levels of guilt over their respective treatment of the other. Living in a house with abusive parents meant you either adapted, or you died. Sometimes the boys would stick together - power in numbers and a sense of camaraderie. And sometimes, life was a little bit easier for you if it was your brother who was the object of your parents' attention.

That kind of environment didn't exactly support or foster a healthy sibling relationship.

It only grew worse after Sirius ran away.

All this to say - though the boys have done a lot of work on their relationship and reconciliation, sometimes memories were brought up in conversation that neither boy has had the chance to process fully, and they had to deal with that as it came.

Which brings you back to the living room after having cleared the table, washing the dishes and putting the left overs away.

You were friends with Sirius too - and you couldn't help but chuckle at how different the two boys ended up.

For example, you knew Sirius would rather sit naked on a hot grill than return to the seat of a piano; you supposed having your hands smacked with a ruler until the bled for messing up your scales could do that to a person. But somehow, Regulus seemed to find peace in the thoughtlessness of letting his fingers find their notes along the instrument he knew inside and out; the quiet of his mind gave him the chance to process his feelings.

You decided to stop being a creep from the edge of the room and join Reg quietly on the piano bench. He must have known you were there, because he never faltered or surprised at your appearance.

"Sorry I left." He murmured quietly. "I'll clean up later, I promise."

You leaned your head on his shoulder as you watched his fingers work, shaking your head. "I've already done the washing, don't worry about it."

He made a tsking sound as he leaned his head atop yours. "I didn't mean to leave that up to you, mon chéri."

"I was happy to do it."

"I'll make it up to you, hm? What would you like?" He offered as he kissed your head, the keys and their notes never faltering under his hands.

"Play me a song."

And he did.

[wyverndreamers]

WARNING for extensive talk about the dsmp and the characters in it !! THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH CC'S THIS IS PURELY STORY BABBLE

loving the dsmp revival going on rn (maybe it's only on twt but i don't post on twt, so sorry for dsmp posting on this account) but i really don't like how a lot of the 'revival' is bringing back a lot of c!tommy's mischaracterization as a whole. i can understand the URGE to smooth him out, into something malleable and kind of babied, because for a while there he was just seen as this really annoying character in fandom spaces pertaining to the dsmp, but i see this urge around the internet to turn tommy into a 'perfect victim' with his trauma when that's just not true at all. i say this as a c!tommy enjoyer, i used to watch his pov's RELIGIOUSLY and i say this as someone who has an appreciation for his story and hate to see it cheapened by this constantly crying, blue sweater wearing blonde baby i see on my TL a lot. apart of what made c!tommy compelling is that at certain points he was very petty, and abrasive. he would act on impulse, and not always in a good way. a lot of the time, yeah it did good in the long run, but in the moment a lot of the stuff he does are stupid impulsive decisions that could've ended in FAR worse scenarios. people really like to hold up his trait of loyalty but completely ignore that his loyalty to a fault always came with a subtle sense of ENTITLEMENT that they were supposed to do right, because he was following him, kind of like how a child would be mortified seeing their parents doing something socially wrong like yelling at someone else. and a lot of people in the fandom actually LIKE this aspect of his character, but mostly because it can add to their characterization of him that is of inherent helplessness and childishness. and its usually painted as a good, pure trait to have, fully ignoring how a lot of his childishness is actually willful ignorance- especially in the face of his actions and how they'll effect people around them. he might bend eventually and mutter out a sorry, but that's not something he really WANTS to do. tommy is someone usually fully fixed in his own perspective and you can especially see it in the way that almost every other character at some point gets irritated at him FOR this in certain places in the narrative. and a lot of people would actually have you believe this is a good thing, because they actually view tommy as always having a perfect perspective on everything all the time. they think because he's the closest thing we have to a 'morally correct protagonist' that he is inherently morally correct and thus should be worshipped like the next messiah that will lead the revolution against the evil-doers. except, tommy just does not have that inherently morally correct perspective. yes he wants to do right, but his sense of 'right' is not always what is 'good'. bro literally tipped the initial domino that led to Doomsday happening, and that's not to say that anything that happened because of him burning down George's house was his fault (quite the opposite) but he also knowingly burnt down George's house knowing that George was friends with Dream, and having the full knowledge of what they could do at least to the extent of the L'manberg revolution where they literally had a traitor on the in betray them all. he recklessly incited George's (and again by proxy, Dream's) wrath because he did a reckless action. it's okay to call this behavior reckless and brash guys, that doesn't mean you're saying he deserved to be exiled. i could go on, but again i say this as an enjoyer of the c!tommy storyline and arcs he goes through. i just don't appreciate it when the thing that made his character so compelling, is cheapened down because the fandom cannot fathom the idea of liking a character that responds in complex ways to complex traumas. maybe some people relate too hard, IDK i just don't understand how you can praise a character for being human and then take out everything that MAKES the character feel so human sorry if this wasnt constructive or coherent, i didn't beta read my tumblr post

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Question...? Act II - “Good girl, sad boy, big city, wrong choices…”

Pairing - Steve Rogers x Reader Summary - After years of back and forth, years of unknowns, a lifetime of questions, it's time for answers.

Question...? Mini Series List | Steve Rogers Masterlist

15 Years Earlier... 

You pick at the grass in front of you, plucking each blade with the utmost precision. “Can I ask you a question?”

Steve watches on as you pick at the grass, content to watch you in the warm glow of the sunset, “Yeah.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him as the question leaves your mouth in a timid tone you’ve never taken with Steve. “Have you had your first kiss yet?”

A fierce blush paints Steve’s face. It's his turn to stare at the grass. He rakes his fingers through the blades of grass, refusing to look you in the eye. “No… have you?”

You shake your head, finally finding the courage to sneak a glance at him. You pluck blade of grass after blade of grass leaving a small bald spot in Steve’s backyard. “No.”

He clears his throat. “Why?”

“Bucky said he had his first kiss.”

Steve snorts, rolling his eyes, “I know. He won’t shut up about it.” 

“I guess I didn’t know that guys stopped thinking girls were gross,” you lightly joke, finally able to look up from the grass and up at your best friend. “When did that happen?”

He stares at you as the question falls from your lips. You look at him and see the same bright blue eyes you’ve seen every day since your family moved into the house beside his. 

Your best friend. The boy you’d known since your world was one block wide. Those same eyes, and yet, it felt different.

You'd heard the warning dozens of times. From your parents. From your teachers. You and Steve were at an age where things started to change. From one day to the next, the girls in your class went from talking about how they hated boys to hushed whispers about who was going to take them to the next school dance.

Your mom somewhat unsubtly hinted that you and Steve might someday be more than just friends. You were so throughly warned, and yet you'd never felt more throughly blindsided. Feelings flooded the pit of your stomach without a warning. The boy you'd known since you were five, he suddenly seemed... different.

It was the sort of different that you didn't have the words for. All you had to go off of was the fluttering sensation in the pit of your stomach that erupted whenever he smiled at you. 

“I didn’t think you were gross,” Steve offers. 

“Only because we were the only kids on our street,” you retort. “You’d have been all alone without me.” 

It was true. Both Steve's and your mom had no qualms about forcing you to play together in your backyards. As an only child, your mom constantly worried about you not being around kids your own age. And with the way Steve was picked on as the neighborhood playground, his mom was certain he was destined for a lonely childhood. Until you came along. 

“I would’ve had Bucky,” Steve counters.  

“Bucky lives on a different street. You didn't meet him until school.” 

“I’m not worried about getting my first kiss.” 

Your gaze snaps back to him, brows furrowed as you try to figure out who Steve had planned for his first kiss. “Really? Why?”

“Are you kidding?” Steve bitterly chuckles. Though you didn't see it, you knew what he was talking about. You heard it in the mean, borderline cruel, verbal jabs some of the other kids at school liked to hurl at Steve. Even now, he was small, more frail than most, if not all, of the boys in your class. He still struggled with his asthma. He was shy and a little dorky. You knew what people thought about him. But he was, and you were sure always would be, your best friend, your Steve. He rolls his eyes at you like all of those perceived flaws should be as obvious to you as they are to him. “Have you looked at me? I’ll be lucky if I get kissed before I graduate high school.”

“I’d kiss you.” 

Steve’s eyes widen, blown so far out of proportion that it looks almost cartoonish. You'd probably find the look on his face funny if you weren't so thoroughly mortified. “What?”

“I’m not - I mean - I’m just saying, if we get to our high school graduation and you haven’t been kissed, I’d kiss you.” 

He groans, tossing his head back, “Great, I’ll have to wait another five years for a pity kiss.” 

“It’s not a pity kiss if I want to kiss you.” 

His eyebrows pull in as his brain works overtime trying to piece together exactly what you're telling him. “So you want to kiss me?”

“Do you want to kiss me?” you challenge. 

“I asked you first.” 

You shrug your shoulders, trying to seem as casual as your racing heart will allow you to, “Like I said, I’d kiss you.” 

“I’d kiss you too.”

“Steve?” 

“Yeah?” 

You don’t allow yourself to think about what you’re doing. You lean forward as far as you can with your crossed legs. He gasps as your lips gently graze his. The soft breath dances across your lips. 

Just as you’re about to pull away, he closes the rest of the gap, firmly molding his lips to yours. Once. Twice. His hand slowly slides closer to yours. He fumbles forward, resting his hand on yours.

He gulps, wheezing slightly as he pulls away, “That - that was nice.” 

The sound of blood rushing roars in your ears. All you can bring yourself to focus on is the intense flush of his cheeks. And ‘nice’. You’re not sure you’ll ever un-hear how the word fell from his lips. 

Nice. 

Nice. 

Nice?

“Nice?”

“Yeah, it - it was nice.” 

In that moment, it occurs to him that there were probably a million and one better things to say, a million and one better words to describe a kiss other than ‘nice’. 

Your face warms as you feel embarrassment floods your system. “I should go. My mom's probably waiting for me.” 

He doesn't get a word out before you stand up and run out of his backyard. 

Your face flames as you run the dozen or so yards back to your front yard. You burst through the front door as quickly as you can. You don't waste a single moment as you race up the stairs and to your room, praying your parents didn't bear witness to your storm of emotions. 

You slump down on the edge of your bed. Your mind races. He said it was nice.

Nice wasn't bad, but you were sure it wasn't good either.

You would normally go to Steve about this kind of thing, but that was clearly out of the question.

You definitely couldn't tell Bucky about this.

You don’t know what any of it meant - if it even meant anything. 

And you certainly didn’t know that this would be the moment everything had changed.

Question...? Mini Series List Inspired By Taylor Swift Steve Rogers Masterlist

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky@roseproseposts @theoraekenslover@king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24 @guiltyasreid @bellabarnes1378 @blithecapricorn @mrsnikstan

[albertasunrise]

Oops Baby - One too Many

Masterlist

Summary: Being best friends with Frankie meant movie nights, drinks with the guys and a shoulder to cry on when you got your hear broken. He is head over heels for you but you don’t feel the same… yet a drunken mistake will tie your lives together forever!

Relationships: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+ (I am so excited to share this with you. Came up with this idea ages ago, just wasn't sure who to use. Was between Frankie and Marcus Pike... Though our cutie Fish would work best though. Hope you enjoy ♥️)

Series Masterlist -

"What's wrong with me Frankie?" You grumbled as you downed the last of your drink and motioned at the barman to get you another "I mean... Do I have cheat on me written across my forehead?"

"Nothing's wrong with you." He gave you a reassuring nudge and a sweet smile "The guy was just a fucking idiot and couldn't see how good he had it."

"You have to say that." You scoff "You're my best friend."

"No, I mean it." Fish pouted, his eyes growing sad "If I was with you I'd never let you go." His whole body went rigid at his confession and so did yours.

In all the many years you had known each other, Frankie had managed to keep his feelings for you buried. He had watched as you went from relationship to relationship. All of them ended the same way. You cried into his t-shirt as he fed you beers to try and numb the pain.

He coughed in an attempt to dispel the awkward silence that had now settled over you both. His left hand fidgeted in his lap as he grabbed his beer and drained the remainder of it in one large gulp.

"Another!" He said as he motioned at the bartender "Never trusted him you know." He stated as he returned his attention to you.

"No?" You question, your eyebrow quirking at his statement.

"Nah... Guys with eyebrows that well maintained are either cheats or gay." he stated plainly and you spat your beer over the bar "Woah... Mind the shirt."

"Sorry." You choke out as you bash your chest to dry and clear the beer in your throat "You can't say shit like that Francisco."

"What?... It's true."

"No I mean you can't say shit like that whilst I'm taking a sip of my drink!" You chuckled "You nearly killed me."

"You're smiling though, are you?"

"That I am." You agreed, giving him a sweet smile before supping at your beer again.

The two of you moved on to other subjects then. How Will had finally bitten the bullet and created an online dating profile. How Ben was smashing his fights and how Santi was expecting a baby with his wife in Australia.

"Talking of parents... How are mels?" You asked and his expression grew a little sadder at the mention of his, somewhat recently, deceased wife.

"They're doing okay." He replied with a nod "Taking each day as it comes. No parent expects to bury their kid..."

"I bet!" You sighed as you leaned into him and rest your head on his shoulder "I don't know about you... But I think we need more drinks!"

"You going to be okay to get home if you drink much more?"

Ahh sweet Frankie... always the worrier.

"I'll work it out Fishsticks."

"Please don't call me that." He groaned, throwing his head back dramatically before fumbling to catch his hat that had slipped off his head "You can crash at mine if you like?" He propositioned "Seeing as I have the house to myself for the weekend."

"Sounds good." You grinned, perking up immediately "Bartender! More beer please."

...

You weren't sure how you'd got here. One moment you were drinking with Frankie in the bar and the next you were pinned against his front door as he painted your flesh with kisses. His hat and shirt were long discarded and you revelled at his form. Strong arms, broad shoulders and a tiny waist. His tummy was a little softer but you found it endearing and you found your mouth watering as you unfastened his jeans and pushed them, along with his underwear, down his hips.

Then, in what felt like the blink of an eye, Francisco Morales... Your best friend of six years... Was naked as the day he was born in front of you. Normally this is where you would start to panic. Yet, you found yourself so wrapped up in the feel of him that you didn’t have time to. You were dragged back to the present when Fish plunged two thick fingers into your heat, pulling a filthy moan from you and you grabbed his biceps firmly as you threw your head back in pleasure.

"What me to fuck you right here or in my bed?" He purred in your ear and you clenched around his digits.

"Start here... Bed later..." Was all you could pant out before you were grabbing his length and stroked it as he roughly fucked you with his fingers "Fuck Frankie... I need you now."

"Mmmmm." He hummed as he grabbed your thighs and lifted you, wrapping them around his waist.

Your arms instinctively looped around his shoulders as he pushed you against the wall beside his front door, mewling as he drove into you in one deep thrust. He was easily the biggest you'd ever had. Filling you so deliciously that you knew after tonight, he was going to ruin all other men for you.

"Fuck you feel incredible." He growled as he pushed into you, finding your sweet spot almost instantly "Just like I imagined."

This statement would, in any other situation, have given you pause but right now as he continued to fuck up into you with a precision you'd not expected from him, you paid it no heed. He was literally fucking you dumb. Pleasuring every thought out of your head except for one.

A revelation that had taken you by surprise.

You sweet, quiet, reserved Francisco had a filthy mouth... And you loved it. You soaked it up. Revelled in his praise and bathed in the warmth that filled you. He was quick to tip you over the edge. Something guys often failed to do without some stimulation but not Frankie... Not he was able to make you cum with just his length and his mouth.

"That's it, baby." He purred when he felt you peak "Cum for me beautiful."

He fucked you through your high, attacking your neck with kisses and nips as he then went about chasing his own. He fucked you like his life depended on it. Focusing his thrusts so that he could wring every last ounce of pleasure from you before he fell.

"Frankie I'm... I'm..."

"I know baby." He cooed "Me too."

"I'm cumming." You sobbed as he pushed you over the edge one last time but this time you pulled him right along with you.

He collapsed against you, panting as he desperately tried to keep himself from collapsing to the ground. You were now a limp mess in his arms, panting and grinning like a fool as you smiled at him.

"Let's get to bed." Fish managed to say after a short pause "I wanna taste you sweetheart." He stated before pushing away from the wall and carrying you down the hall to his room.

It was going to be a long night.

...

Your brain was pounding.

You groaned as you rolled over to grab your phone, only to find it wasn't there. Two Tylenol and a glass of water, however, were waiting for you. Taking the tablets you threw them in your mouth before downing the water, practically groaning in relief. You then started to study your surroundings and realised that you weren't in your bed.

You were in Frankie's.

"What the hell;?" You questioned as you started to push yourself up and then you realised that you were naked.

Completely naked.

Your heart started to race then. Your mind reeled as you tried to remember what happened last night. You had gone for drinks with Frankie after learning your boyfriend of two years had cheated on you. Then things got a little blurry. You tried to focus... Things come back to you in flashes but then you remembered what you had done.

You had fucked Frankie.

"Shit." You groaned as you scraped a hand over your face "Shit, shit, shit!!"

You grabbed one of his shirts from the wardrobe and headed down the hall, the smell of bacon pulling you into the kitchen where Frankie was standing in just some shorts. His hair was a curly mess. His neck was littered with the evidence of what you two had done last night.

Catching movement from the corner of his eye, Frank looked up to see you gingerly walking in in one of his shirts and his mouth went dry at the sight. He smiled sweetly at you as he pushed the bacon off the heat and went to pour you a mug of coffee.

"How you feeling?" He asked as he grabbed the milk and poured it into your mug, nodding when he was satisfied with the colour of your drink.

"Sore." You groaned, nodding your thanks when he handed you the drink he'd made you.

"Mmmmm." He hummed as he smirked at you, the twinkle in his eye making your stomach twist "The good kind of sore or..."

"Frankie-"

"Last night was amazing." He purred as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close "Wanted this for so long."

"Frankie I-"

"Felt too good to tell you how I felt. I've hated watching you with all those other guys."

Your mind was suddenly assaulted with memories. His smile as he told you his deepest secret.

The night before...

"I need to find someone like you Fish." You sighed as you sipped at your beer "Someone sweet and kind that will treat me right."

"What if I could be that someone?" He asked and you perked up, looking at him in confusion.

'What?"

"What if I could be that guy for you?" He repeated, his eyes doing that puppy-dog thing that you found impossible to resist.

You don't know what came over you but as you looked at him. All dark eyes and sweetness. You decided to kiss him. He didn't respond straight away and you panicked for just a second before he was returning it, his hand threading through the hair at the base of your neck as he deepened it.

"Wanna get out of here?" You suggested and he nodded.

"Fuck yes." He practically panted.

The walk back to his place wasn't a quick one. Any opportunity he had, he'd stop you so that he could kiss you. Unable to get enough of you.

"Fuck... I have wanted this for so long." He panted between kisses "Wanted you for so long." Another firm kiss had your knees going weak "I love you..." He whispered against your lips as he rested his brow on yours.

You should have stopped it there. You should have told him that you didn't feel the same... But you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. Your body wanted him too much and you were a slave to your desires.

So you didn't say anything.

You just followed him home.

...

You were pulled from the memory by Frankie calling your name.

"Baby you okay?" He asked as he looked down at him in concern, brows pulled together.

"Frankie I... Shit, I don't know how to tell you this." You sighed as you pushed him back "Last night was a mistake."

"What?" He all but squeaked and you felt like the worst person in the world.

"It shouldn’t have happened." You sighed as you ran your free hand through your hair "I was in a bad place and I shouldn't have kissed you. We were both super drunk and it... It was a mistake."

"I told you I love you." Frankie growled, his voice taking on a tone you'd not heard from him before "I confessed to you how I've been feeling all these years and you slept with me."

"I know, but Frankie I-"

"No... You don't know." He interrupted as he turned his back to and gripped the stone countertop in front of him "I have been in love with you for years... probably since the day I met you. I told you last night that I wanted to be the guy you wanted and you kissed me... You led me to believe that you wanted the same thing."

"Frankie I'm sorry I hurt you but-"

"I think you should leave."

"What?"

"Get your shit and leave." He growled and you sobbed.

"Okay." You choked out before putting down your mug and making your way into his lounge.

Your clothes were strewn all over the place. Evidence of what you two had done all over his home. Changing back into the clothes you wore the night before you walked back into the kitchen to find Frankie sitting at the breakfast bar, staring at the new mug of coffee in his hands.

"Frankie I... I'm sorry." You sobbed "I never meant to hurt you I just-"

"Please go."

You nodded. Choking out a barely audible "Okay." Before walking to his front door and leaving. You knew this was your fault. You saw an opportunity to bury your sorrows and you took it. But at the expense of your best friend.

You had royally ruined everything.

...

2 months later...

You hadn't spoken to Frankie since that night.

You had called and texted but he had chosen to ignore your attempts to contact him. If you were being honest, you didn't blame him. You had taken advantage of his feelings for you. You had secretly known for a while that he had feelings for you and a part of you had tried so hard to feel something back but you couldn't. You didn't get why though.

He's hot. Kind. Funny.

He's the whole package and yet you still kept falling for men you knew would wind up hurting you. They were all the same. You knew going into each and every relationship that it would end with your heart broken and yet you kept dating them. You were your own worst enemy.

Then, exactly two months to the day that you had broken your best friend's heart, you'd taken a test that was going to change everything.

Ben had kept inviting you to drinks and up until now you had kept declining. This time however you had accepted. You needed to talk to Frankie and he was always at drinks. You just hoped that your going wouldn't push him to ditch them that night.

When you stepped into the bar you could hear Benny call out to you and you smiled as you make your way over, noting how both brothers were smiling up at you but Frank was looking away.

"Hey." You said as you made your way to the table and sat down on the chair Ben pulled out for you "Long time no see."

"Well, whose fault is that?" Will grumbled and you grimaced as you nodded your head.

"Touche."

"Got you a beer." Ben said as he pushed the beverage towards you.

"Oh, I'm not drinking tonight." You said as you nudged it back "Alcohol hasn't been agreeing with me lately."

Frankie snorted and you tried hard to ignore the reaction. You desperately wanted to talk to him. For him to acknowledge you but you knew that he wasn't going to do that. You had hurt him.

"So what's new with you?" Ben asked "How come you've ditched us for the last two months>"

"Had a lot going on." You answered, not a complete lie "Some stuff happened and I needed some time to deal."

"What stuff?" Will asked and you sighed.

"I lost someone." You elaborated "A friend and I miss them."

"Shit Titch, I'm sorry." Will said as he gave your arm a friendly squeeze "Anyone we know?"

"I don't really wanna talk about it." You said as you gave them a weak smile.

"Figures," Frank grumbled under his breath and you looked up at him in shock.

"What was that Fish?" Ben asked and Frankie shook his head.

"Nothing." He growled out "Need another drink."

"What's his problem?" Will asked and Ben shrugged.

"Been off for a few weeks now." Ben sighed "Think he got his heart broken."

"He was seeing someone?" You pushed and Ben shook his head.

"Dunno but I haven't seen him like this since Mel died." That statement made your stomach roll "He's been really forlorn. Doesn't wanna talk about it though. He's not the guy to kiss and tell but I think he might've been seeing someone and she ditched him."

You let out a sigh as your hand reached into your pocket and clutched the item in there. You needed to talk to Frank but you weren't sure how you were going to get him to listen to you. Little did you know, it wasn't going to be how you hoped.

You were an hour into drinks when Ben finally snapped. Each snide remark Fish made when you answered a question had him at tipping point. So in a fit of rage, he opened the can.

"What the fuck is your problem Fish?" He snapped, taking the older man by surprise "You've done nothing but make shitty remarks about Titch all evenin'... Something happen?"

"Doesn't matter." Frankie grumbled and you sighed.

"Frankie I-"

"You say you're sorry to me one more time and I'll-"

"What the fuck she got to be sorry about?" Ben growled and Fish flipped.

"She fucked me and then dumped me." He snarled. taking everyone by surprise "I confessed how I felt about her and she took advantage of me."

"Frankie can we talk about this outside for a moment."

"I don't wanna hear it." He grumbled and you felt yourself growing more agitated.

"There's something I need to talk to you about."

"I doubt it."

"Please... I need to tell you something."

"Nothing they can't hear." He spat and you lost it.

"Fine!." You pulled out the item that had been burning a hole in your pocket all evening "I'm pregnant!.. and it's yours."

Frankie's expression changed from one of anger to complete shock. Finally for the first time this evening he looked at you and what he saw broke his heart.

"I'm going to keep it. I don't expect anything from you." You finished before grabbing your coat and your bag "I think I should leave."

"Titch." Ben grabbed your wrist but you pulled it from his grasp.

"Sorry to have ruined your night."

You left then. Disappearing from the bar and leaving the three men sat there in shocked silence. Frankie stared at the test in disbelief. He was going to be a dad? And with the woman who... despite everything that had happened... He was still very much in love with.

"Fish?" Will's voice pulled him from his thoughts "You okay?"

"Yeah... Um... Just, processing I guess."

"What you gonna do?" Asked Ben and Frankie shrugged.

"Do you want this?" Will asked and Frank sobbed, nodding as he looked over at Will and then a Ben.

"I really do."

"Then you best go tell her." Ben pushed as he gave his friend's arm a friendly squeeze "I know she hurt you and I pissed as shit at her about it but you guys are gonna have a baby so you got to move past that."

Frankie nodded at Benny before grabbing the test and looking at the message on the small screen.

Pregnant

He had to see you. To talk to you but he found himself glued to the spot. What was he supposed to say? He supposed he'd know the moment he saw you. So after staring at the test for a little while longer he said his goodbyes to the brothers and left, waving down a cab when he reached the street.

Meanwhile, you were sobbing quietly to yourself as you brewed your depressing mug of decaf coffee. That was not how you had wanted to tell him. You'd wanted to confess how sorry you were and how shitty you'd been before giving him the test and telling him that something wonderful had come out of it though. You had just sat down on the couch when a knock sounded at your door. You sighed as you placed your mug down on the coffee and made your way over. Not bothering to check who it was before you opened it.

There, standing on your porch was Frankie.

"Frankie, what are you-"

"I'm in." He stated plainly as he gave you a small nod "Let's have a baby!"

Next

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[loveswrites]

Pumpkins Please Billy Loomis x Stu Marcher x reader

Pumpkins Please Billy x Reader x Stu

Word count: 1397

Time it Took me: 1 hours 30 mins

To my loves: It was so obvious that stu and billy would win for our celebration of 300 followers! I wrote it that same night so I've had it in my drafts for 6 days now. I was thinking if I should wait till the poll ended but we reached over 300 followers before it even did, So here you go loves! Enjoy! Thank you for the support. It makes me so happy you guys enjoy my writing as it is all I want to do in life.

Love <3

“I wanna carve a pumpkin.” You pouted.

“Why don’t we just crave someone up instead.” Billy smirked playing with the tip of his knife. 

“I already have the pumpkins at my house. You wanna carve em here or there?” Stu said dropping himself on the bed making you and Billy shake with the bed. 

“You didn’t tell me you bought pumpkins.” Billy said, narrowing his eyes at Stu.

“Do I have to tell you everything?” Stu laughed out.

“Yes.” You and Billy said in unison. 

Stu started to laugh but slowly stopped when he realized you and Billy were not joking. 

“I just thought I should have them at the house since you know it is halloween. You know our favorite holiday.” Stu said, looking in between you and Billy.

“It’s not my favorite holiday mine is-”

“Christmas.” The two boys groaned, making you smile.

“The moment September 1st came along you were running around here yelling out ‘It’s christmas!’” Billy mocked you but you could see the slight smile in his cheeks as he recalled the memory. 

“It’s a lovely holiday, what can I say?” You smiled rubbing your socks together. 

Billy stroked the sides of your waist with his knife sending a shiver down your spine. He did this often. To both you and Stu. Still would often get cut most of the time cause he'd always laugh or move too much. But you trusted Billy to never leave a mark on you and he never did. Never has. 

Billy had three favorite things. His knives. His girl. And his best friend.

“Do we have to go to school tomorrow?” You questioned as Stu rubbed your legs while he stared up at the ceiling.

“You wanna skip again? Something on your mind, pretty girl?” Stu questioned. 

“Is someone bothering you? I can handle that, you know.” Billy said with stern eyes as he watched you respond.

“No no none of that I’m fine and no ones bothering me. I just don’t want to go and talk to people you know?” You said, stressed by the thought of even being in that building. 

“When do your parents get back in town?” Billy asked, putting his knife on your nightstand after taking one last long drag against your skin that sent tingles throughout your body.

Your parents had left for a business trip so you invited your two boyfriends to keep you company because why not? They weren’t doing anything before you called anyways.

“Sometime next week. It might get extended depending on some things. They told me I could go with them as always but I wanted to stay.” You said snuggling into Billy’s side.

“I would’ve left. No school and a free trip as a replacement sounds fun right about now.” Stu said, making you smile knowing that he wouldn’t just leave. He’d make sure that you and Billy were able to come as well. No matter if he wanted to admit it or not Stu couldn’t live without Billy nor you. 

Looking up at Billy who had his eyes closed you know he couldn’t live without you or Stu also. He wouldn’t admit it but he shows his love in crazy ways. Rather that’s spray painting the sides of buildings to pulling pranks on literally anybody to actual crimes. Billy has killed for you and Stu. If someone hurt one of you two you either never saw them again or saw them in the news the next day. Same if it was reversed with Stu but Stu doesn’t really clean his tracks very well so it’s mostly just Billy. 

You wondered if loving them made you a bad person. You wondered if keeping their victims a secret made you a murder. You wondered if not feeling a drop of remorse made it seem like you have the knife in your hand. 

But at the end of the day you didn’t really care because at the end of these dark sad thoughts all you saw was Billy and Stu. The two crazy boys who were in love with you. The two boys who showed you the world and would kill anyone who got in the way of your happy fairytale. You just prayed that they wouldn’t be the one to ruin your love story. 

You woke up the next morning feeling relaxed and refreshed. This made you just up and check the time. 1:24 pm. Shit you thought I missed damn near all of school. Rubbing your eyes you noticed that your bed was empty. Where did they go? Getting out of your bed you walked downstairs. Hearing voices, you followed them to the kitchen.

“Dumbass! the butter goes first, did you not read the box?” Billy snapped hitting Stu in the back of his head with said box. 

“You didn’t say that!” Stu said, trying to defend himself as he wiped his cheek leaving some flour in its place making you smile. 

“Maybe if you looked at the box I wouldn’t have to say it!” Billy fussed back. Stu opened his mouth to say something but that's when you decided to make yourself known.

“So are you two gonna bicker all day or tell me what you're doing?” You questioned walking fully into the kitchen.

“Baking you some cookies. Again..” Stu said, making you frown your eyebrows.

“Again?” You questioned.

“Stu burned the first batch.” Billy said, rolling his eyes.

“I did not! They just cooked a little bit longer than the rest.” Stu finished.

“Burnt.” You and Billy said in unison. That was happening a lot more often than usual. 

“We just wanted to do something nice for you before you woke up.” Stu said sneezing all over the batter when he rubbed flour on his face.

“What the fuck Stu!” Billy yelled while you just turned your nose up at the fact that he just sneezed on the batter.

“It’s fine. I’m not hungry. Like at all. I just wanna carve pumpkins okay? That’s it.” You said shifting your eyes between Billy and Stu.

“I’ll go get the pumpkins then.” Stu said starting to move, making you and Billy scream out ‘No!’.

“No! I’ll do it,  just stay here.” Billy said, shaking his head as he walked past you but not before giving you your ‘morning kiss’.

“You keep touching me I’m gonna throw pumpkin guts all over you.” You yelled out. Stu’s elbow kept touching yours as he attempted to show you how to carve your pumpkin.

“I’m trying to help you! You're doing it all wrong, trust me I do pumpkins.” Stu stated as if he was some kind of Pumpkin master.

“You do pumpkins?” You laughed out, tightening the grip on the knife in your hand.

“Shut up if I did you’d be jealous of the pumpkin.” Stu said, rolling his eyes. 

“As if, Who wants to sleep with you?” You questioned going back to cutting your pumpkin.

“You!” Stu said laughing as if that was the funniest thing in the world.

“Only on holidays.. Billy gets Monday through friday.” You said poking your tongue out at Stu to which he leaned in and bit your tongue making you jump back squealing in surprise. 

“Good thing Halloween is coming up.” Stu grinned. 

“Billy, he bit me!” You pointed at Stu with the knife in your hand. Billy pointed down to your pumpkin that was hanging on for dear life. 

“You need help, you keep cutting it like that there's not gonna be any pumpkin left.” Billy said, smirking, making Stu laugh.

“Shut up, it's perfectly fine.” You said going back to cutting pieces of the pumpkin.

“As if.” Stu snickered, earning a handful of pumpkin guts to the face.

“Hey!” Stu yelled out. 

“That’s what you get your lucky I didn’t throw the whole pumpkin!” You yelled.

“What pumpkin?!” Stu yelled back making you gasp.

“Billy!” You yelled.

“God.” Billy said, holding his head in his hands still with the knife in his hand. All he could hear was you two fighting with each other

He was in for a long bumpy ride if he wanted to be with you two forever. But watching the two of the most important people in his life bicker made him realize that he would kill any bump in that road to make them happy.  

[betterbooktitles]

When my father could think of nothing to add to a funny or odd moment in a conservation, he’d let out a sarcastic “Nothing but the best.”

When a drunk guy on the street swore at us and made lewd gestures as we walked to get dinner in Cleveland one night, he looked over and said nothing but the best. When I showed him a particularly insane clip from Wondershowzen he liked, nothing but the best.

It was rare, however, that he had nothing to add, argue, or joke about when talking to me.

The last time I was able to have a long conversation with my dad, he told me he thought his personal knowledge base had a few spots of depth but that he didn’t know much. It was a rare moment of self-pity, one I felt was unearned since he was a person who knew a lot about everything. I challenged him. I began listing stories he told me about writers, actors, politicians, about history and economics. He knew about petty arguments Joni Mitchel had with her managers in the 60s. He explained the 2008 financial crisis to me in under a minute (likely during one of his furlough days when the government was shut down). He taped avant-garde short films on VHS so we could watch them together on the weekends. That’s how I ended up seeing Maya Deren’s “Meshes of the Afternoon” before entering high school, let alone a film course. His favorite short was “Down Rusty Down,” an Australian black-and-white comedy from 1997 where humans play various dogs in a neighborhood. We watched it for the first time together but he asked me 50 times over the last few years if I’d ever seen it. I wanted to scream every time that I was there with him for his entire indie cinema phase! Our shared movie viewings started when I was a child when he forced me to watch All That Jazz and Die Hard (inappropriate movies to watch with your kid) and ended around 2001 when we watched Y Tu Mama Tambien (an inappropriate movie to watch with your parent). It made me feel better that he didn’t even remember I was with him on this art house movie rabbit hole because it meant he liked it on his own, whether his kids did or not. He liked paintings, he hated musicals, he liked cooking and got better from my middle school years on. He subscribed to specific guitarists’ Patreon pages during the lockdown and watched his favorite musicians explain how they wrote old songs.

When my grandfather died, my brother told me what he thought makes a great dad. “It’s doing stuff you don’t want to do for your kids.” This was before he had kids of his own. He seems to enjoy attending as many of my nieces’ volleyball games as he can.

What my brother meant was that the sign of a good father was the ability to engage in your kids’ interests rather than strictly engaging in your own. Our dad was not a basketball player, but I have memories of him teaching me in our driveway how to box out. When my brother decided to become a CPA, my dad took accounting classes online so he could understand what my brother was talking about when he visited. He came to every play I was in from the age of 6, including shows I did in college that were, I’m sure, not to his taste. He gave notes on scripts and stories I wrote, he played guitar with me, he helped brainstorm ways to get an agent with me. He would preface each piece of advice with “I don’t really know how any of this works” and then make cogent, informed arguments about what I should do next. He treated every interest his kids and grandkids had like a hobby of his own.

When he was not busy being a dad, cheering in the stands of a football game or clapping in the audience of a play or in the kitchen making dinner for his wife and kids, he was reading, exploring, and finding tolerable classical music to listen to and share with all of us. He didn’t merely love the act of reading, he liked fiction specifically. He liked finding out about the craft of writing. He worked on novels and stories of his own after retirement. He liked comedy. His knowledge of it was specific and enigmatic. After taking a few pictures at the house of my friends and our homecoming dates, he asked where we were taking the girls for dinner. “Buca di Beppo,” I said (because I know how to treat a lady), and my dad said “oh, that’s where Phil Hartman’s wife got drunk for hours before going home and shooting him.” “Thank you, Dad. That’s a great icebreaker.”

When I got into stand-up myself, he pitched me jokes and essay prompts via email, even when he was ill. His last email to me was to let me know he thought a big break was approaching for me and that he and my mom did not sit up at night worrying that I couldn’t make it in comedy. "We have faith in your work and talent.”

One day, inspired by some mystery itch that came from no one in his family, my father started digging a hole in the backyard. He read through a tiny yellow pamphlet on how to build a pond, and with no help (certainly not from his kids, and before the days of YouTube), he made a mosquito-free pond in our yard. He put in fish that survived winters, he put in tadpoles that became frogs and hopped into neighbors’ yards. One morning, he came outside and discovered a giant crane hunting one of his frogs. He’d made an entire ecosystem thanks to one afternoon of reading and following through on a whim.

That’s what I’ll remember about him. Not strictly the things he did his damnedest to enjoy for us, but what he enjoyed.

He was married to my mother for 49 years. He studied city planning and managed to find work in his field. He focused on fighting for affordable housing and revitalizing neighborhoods including Ohio City where we lived for most of my teens. He was a good dad because he engaged in the stuff his kids and wife liked even when he disliked it (that included moving from the city to the suburbs for a time). But he was a great dad and friend because he managed to get me interested in what he liked. He took the time to listen, to watch, to talk. He let me know how much joy he took in his work. He let us know how much he loved being a dad and grandfather.

When I think of what he could have done better, I can’t come up with anything to say. He gave us nothing but his best.

[invisibleraven]

"Let's burn it down." for Willex, please and thank you

"Do you ever wonder about where your parents are?"

Alex looked over to Willie who was still gazing up at the clouds, trying to find weird shapes in them. Meaning the question caught hima little off guard since the last one involved if he saw the bunny or not. He rumenanted on it for a moment. "Not really. My parents were... less than supportive once I came out. They made it very clear that if I didn't change I would be on my own."

"Man they suck," Willie spat. "You deserved better."

Alex shrugged at that-for how full of homophobia his parents were they never denied him his meds and his drums like Luke's parents or beat him up like Reggie's folks. And up until he came out they were pretty good parents-cool with nearly everything as long as he kept his grades up and went to church every week.

"I don't really think about them much. The guys and Julie are my family now, and they're all I need," Alex hummed. "What about yours?"

"I never knew my parents," Willie admitted. "Grew up in group homes, went from foster to foster, then ran away before I aged out and then well...you know the rest. I figured they wanted better for me or didn't have a choice in giving me up."

"I'm sorry," Alex said quietly.

"Don't be," Willie shook his head with a smile. "I had a kickass childhood full of fun people and seeing the country, it's all good. Might have been nice to have one home though. Guess I wanted to see yours."

"I mean, I don't think my folks are there any more, but I can show you where I grew up," Alex offered, giving Willie a hand with a grin.

"Cool beans."

They poofed to the manicured little subdivision that Alex knew like the back of his hand. The same familiar identical lawns, the same pastel siding, the same rows of trees that were allowed by the HOA. It was like nothing had changed in 25 years-like it was stuck in time.

He and Willie held hands as he showed him the houses that belonged to his neighbours, none of whom had kids his own age. Then the butter yellow house that had been his. The mailbox at the end still bore the name Mercer-but that didn't mean anything, it was a common last name.

"Let's go inside," Willie suggested.

A niggling feeling climbed Alex's spine as they phased through the door. The reason why became immediately apparent as he took in the decor. Sure, some of had been updated, but he knew that crucifix affixed to the wall, the needlepoint pillows, the wedding photo of stern, taciturn faces.

"They're still here," he breathed out.

He let go of Willie's hand, wandering the halls. New paint adorned the walls, the couch was updated, but the knick-knacks that littered the mantlepiece were the same, down to the crystal duck with the chipped beak that he had broken when he was seven.

He looked at what was missing though-the pictures of him. There was no evidence he ever lived here. No baby albums, no photos on the wall. Even his room was a by the numbers guest room.

"They erased me."

"Let's burn it down," Willie said.

"What?" Alex exclaimed, too startled to wipe away the stray tear. "We're not burning it down!"

"Why not?' Willie asked, fully sincere. "They made it so their only child never existed, even after he died just because he was gay. Why not send them a little reminder?"

"Oh yeah, a big 'Alex was here and queer' right on the lawn," Alex joked.

"Now you get it!" Willie giggled,

"I'm good without the arson," Alex admitted. "I left here long before I died. And you were right-I deserved better. So they deserve to live without my memory. Fuck 'em."

"Fuck 'em," Willie agreed, offering him his hand. "You wanna go watch me do ollies in Beiber's pool?"

"Only if you don't try and make me do them with you again," Alex replied, taking his hand.

"No promises," Willie grinned and they poofed away, haunting the Mercer house no more.

[dre6ming]

Playing for keeps

Chapter I

Masterlist

Pairing: Austin Butler x Y/n

Plot: Austin is the next in line for the throne, but he can’t be king if he doesn’t have a wife. In your country tradition says that a selection formed of 35 young women must be formed for the prince to find a wife. You are obligated by circumstances to participate against your will. What are the chances that you might be the next queen? None right? Right?

Warning: none

Word count: ~4000

"To heal the soul by the means of the senses and the senses by the means of the soul" or something like that, is what Oscar Wilde said to make me really understand why something so simple as feeling the bristles of my brush stroke the rough surface of the canvas. My lines look a little jagged today, my hand keeps shaking and no matter how many deep breaths I take, the rock sitting on my chest hasn't gotten any lighter.

Thirty five, what a strange and odd number, why so many? Why not more or less? Did they have a mathematician who centuries ago did the math for them and concluded that thirty five was the lucky number to find a wife out? I take a deep breath as the word "wife" bounces off of the walls of my skull. It's not just a wife, it's the future queen.

It's been a little more than 30 years since the last selection, when queen Lori was selected out of the bunch by King David and now the result of their successful selection, their son, prince Austin, is about to have his very own selection. All of the girls in the kingdom between the ages 18-22 were asked to submit an entry into the competition, to hopefully end up being the princess of the kingdom and the future queen.

Emphasis on the word "asked" , we were not obligated to do it, at least not by our government, our parents however? Well the forced me to apply, dragged me down to the office where the applications were collected and made me sign up.

"Y/n it's time, come come sit!!" My mom shouts for me and I put down the paint brush, wiping my hands on a rag, brushing back some hair as I make my way to the very small, very crowded living room. My mom , dad and all my 5 siblings are spread around the tv, watching it like hawks. "Come sit!" Mom pats the spot next to her on the couch and I squeeze between her and my older sister.

I can't help but feel angry at the whole situation, my parents live in a poorer side of the country and the fact that they had 7 kids did not help, I'm right in the middle, being the 4th to be born, my older siblings, are married off to their own households where the also pop baby after baby, that is except for one of my eldest siblings, my sister Hannah, who's the reason why mom put me into the selection in the first place.

To back track a bit and explain, my parents met and got married when they were 20 years old, my brother Josh came a year later, he's now 26 married and expecting child number three, his income already stretched thin. Then came Anna, she's 24 she married in a more stable family, but with baby number two, turning into babies number 2 , 3 and 4, yes that's triplets that she's having, money is low. Mark, 22 now, not married, he's actually, well we don't know, he ran away with a girl from around here, we haven't heard anything in years and since we barely have time to live our own lives and win enough for a living, we've put him aside. My sister Hannah, 22 as well, she's Marks twin, she's supposed to marry, but the guy she chose is from a family of twelve and they have little to no money.

Then there's me, Y/n, 20 being auctioned away in the hopes that the weekly allowance my family will get for my participation would be enough for my sister's wedding and some other things for my youngest siblings. After me my parents had kids 2 more times, Kyle 14 and then the other set of twins, this time identical Tana and Lane, 10 years old.

My mom works as a nurse and my dad is a retired guard from our region. Money is low so we all have to work, but with 2 siblings out of the house and one waiting to marry, we lost working hands. I sell paintings on commission and I also work at the local bakery to try and make some extra money, but it's not enough to support me, mom and my younger siblings. Which is why I was forced by mom to join the selection, the family of the girl competing gets a weekly allowance for as long as she stays in the game, not to mention the chance of actually being queen.

As names are being drawn on tv I can feel everyone in the room tense as the 34th girl gets called out and it's not me, I had 34 chances and I lost them all, now I get one more, but I hope I'll lose again. I don't want to go, I don't want to meet the prince or be his wife, I'm not meant to be queen, I'm just not.

My breath gets caught in my chest as the host, Lucas, puts his hand back in the bowl of names. My ears are ringing as he read the name and I almost faint seeing my picture there. "You got it, hon, good job!" Mom says and all of my present siblings start to chant my name, happy for me. I can barely hear them though, so I get up with tears in my eyes, brushing everyone off, walking out, out of the room, out of the house.

My bare feet, touch the sharp gravel, but I can't give into the pain, all I know is I need to run, run for now, or at least until tomorrow when the people from the palace will be at my door to package me up and send me to their prince. Staring out into the midnight sky, I could see everything I had being ripped apart, I didn't have much, but I had enough. Dropping to the ground and letting the cold grass soak my thin cotton dress, I close my eyes, scared to death about the outcome of what I had just gotten myself into.

The next time I open my eyes, two guards from the royal guard stand in my door and my mom hands me a bag I didn't pack, pushing me out the door. I take one last look back at the people I'm leaving behind and I tell myself I have to at least make it a few weeks, so that my sister could use the money for her wedding, then I'd come back and move to a richer part of the country, where I wouldn't be able to ever see my family. Those are the rules, after you get into the game, when you live you have a higher status and income so they move you and you can no longer interact with your past the way you used to.

Watching my step getting out of the car that took me from the airport to here, I take in the palace, with it's high towers and beautiful architecture. People are outside, forming a pathway for us to walk as they chant different names of other girls who also got selected. I am so out my element here, the dress my mom picked for me was too tight and itchy, the high heel shoes hurt my feet and my hands were sweating too much. "Here it goes!" I say under my breath stepping forward and into the unknown building. The inside even more beautiful than I could describe, high ceilings with crystal chandeliers, gold accents and mahogany furniture, underneath my heels white marble floors.

"Ladies! Welcome, I am Silvia and I'll be you're etiquette advisor and teacher, I'll also be your voice here, anything you need, you ask me and I'll make it happen if it within my powers. You will now be less to yours rooms where you will meet your maids, they will help you with hair, make up and clothes and anything else you might need. Dinner will be served in your rooms tonight and breakfast is at 7 am tomorrow, after breakfast you will each get to talk with the prince and get to know him. I've left some pages on your beds with instructions about tomorrow as well as the schedule of our classes. Good evening going forward!" The tall blonde woman left our sight walking gracefully in her long gown. I wonder if I'll ever be like her? Back so straight, shoulders so strong, hair so put together, make up so natural yet so beautiful, voice so clear, everything about her spoke volumes on everything I was not. I don't know how they expect me to last a day here.

In my room, I stand and wonder how can a place for one person be the size of my home which currently houses 7, now that two of my siblings had moved out. "Lady Y/n!" Two petite women curtesy in front of me, they look like sisters, about the same age as me, but one of them looks a bit older. "Just Y/n" I lick my lips fiddling with my fingers. The older one nods, smiling. "A-and you are?" They seem confused by my question. "Your maids lady!" The other one explains in a sweet voice.

"Yes no, I know, I meant, your names, what are your names?" I ask again hoping I'm not making them uncomfortable. "I'm Jules and she's my older sister Jane, we're very happy and honored to meet you, lady Y/n" I nod, smiling as well, as they start pacing around the room fixing things up. My eyes watch them move, mesmerized by how synchronized they are. "Can you stand and turn around lady Y/n? We have the water running in the tub, so you can take a bath."

I stand and turn so that Jules could undo my dress, then sliding my arms through the silk robe. "Just Y/n please!" I ask again, all these official things making me uncomfortable. "Lady Y/n, if I may-" I open my mouth to correct Jane, but she puts her hand up stopping me. "You are now a lady, his majesty will refer to you as such and you have to keep to these titles, at least until you get to know him better." I nod at her kind advice and follow her into the bathroom, where she helps me step into the tub, taking my robe away and checking the water temperature one last time. "Well relax lady Y/n, when you're ready, call for us and we will get you ready for bed."

Before she leaves me to my own, I dare to ask her one more thing. "Jane, is he nice?" I ask, this being the first time I actually my curiosity about the prince, spiked ever since I was selected. Jane gives me a soft smile, fixing the creases on her apron. "That's for you to decide lady Y/n, but his majesty, prince Austin has always been well liked by the staff." She leaves before I get to asks anything more and I take that as her polite way of saying that's how much she's allowed to say.

The bed here is so much softer than the one at home, the one I uncomfortably share with my twin sisters. The sheets are so soft and silky, it feels like I could turn to fast and fly off the bed. Jules and Jane left shortly after, brushing my hair back and helping me into my silk night gown. Even in this big room, air feels compressed and I want to walk, so I find myself putting on my slippers , taking a moment to look at them, I've never had slippers before. I the dark of the room I make out the location of the door and I turn the knob slowly, trying to make no sound.

I feel a cool breeze brushing my bare legs and I follow it thinking this could be the way to find a door leading outside. Only thing stopping me are the two guards standing in front of it. "Miss are you lost?" One of them asks, making me blush, finally so aware of the fact that I left my room wearing only my thin silky night gown. "N-no, I was wondering how to get to the garden." I say hoping my voice didn't sound too shaky. "No can do miss, you need to get back to your room." The guard tells me, his eyes staring straight ahead. "Please, I, I just need a moment." I beg, taking a step closer and that's when they both move their eyes to look at me, their mean stares making me shiver. "Not allowed, back to your room miss!" The other guard speaks.

Suddenly another set of steps are heard and the guards stand straighter. I don't dare to make a move and look at who it might be. "Your majesty!" They say in unison and the blood freezes in my veins. I've never heard him speak before, his voice sounds so clear, a bit raspy, but still sweet, like warm honey. "Lay her be!"

"Your majesty, we can't-" the guard protests. "I said let her be, open the doors!" They do as he says and I don't wait to walk out, the cold air hitting my warm skin leaving goosebumps. "Stay 5 minutes, then back to your room, if you won't go willingly they have my permission to drag you there." I stop and without turning around I say. "Thank you, your majesty!" My voice sounding like it's under water.

I didn't stay too long after I heard him walk away, running back to my room almost immediately after. Sleep came to me easily after that, but I still felt restless now as Jane brushed my hair into a braid. They put me into a floor length light green dress, with beautiful lace details all around the corset. I looked like a princess this morning when I looked at myself in the mirror and I couldn't believe it and then for just a moment too long I had questioned why I pushed this competition away so vehemently. That last thought however got send back to the depth of my mind and I was now patiently waiting for my turn with the prince, tormented by the wonder of whether he would recognize me from last night or not. 

At last my turn comes and I get up from my seat, fixing my dress as I walk with my head down toward the table where he awaits for me. Sitting down, I still keep my eyes on the ground scared to look at him, feeling my heart thudding against my corset concealed chest. "Y/n? Right? Pleased to meat you, I do hope you're feeling better." His voice comes out first, breaking the silence and making me finally look at him. I had seen him on tv, but the screen did him no justice, the blue in his eyes is so electric, the gold in his hair, is so endearing, my fingers itched with the wish to have a feel at it, his pink lips look so soft and warm. Everything about him is inviting and the way he seats in his chair, leaned back with his legs crossed, his chin in his hand, makes him look so young and careless, which he is, being only 22 and a prince. 

"Yes, your majesty, I'm quite well, thank you!" I blush deeply, my hands clutching the material of my dress in a stupid attempt to calm my nerves. Austin's eyes move to my hands and back to my face, a concerned look painting on his god like face. "Are you all right? Lady Y/n?" He asks, changing his position in the chair, leaning towards me. "If you're not feeling well, I can have for the doctor to come and see you later Lady Y/n." He says in a whisper. The word doctor makes me immediately let go of my dress and smooth down the creases, breathing deeply. "I am fine your majesty, it's all nerves." 

Austin hums and I expect him to go back to his previous sitting position, but he doesn't, he actually leans a bit closer if that were possible. I can now smell his woodsy cologne and a warm fuzzy feeling takes over my body. "You don't need to be nervous, I'm just a boy, just as you are just a girl-".

"But you're not" I find myself rudely interrupting him. "You're going to be king some day and 35 women were randomly chosen to come here and allow you to peruse them. 35 is a strangely small number compared to all the women out there that could be potentially way better for you than any of us."

"Then why come here? Why put your name in the ballot in the first place?" He asks and I can't read if he's been offended by what I said or not. "Your majesty, I apologize!" I look away from him and I can't help but notice that the other girls are all watching us, just like I had watched the previous ones when they were up here. I can only imagine they are analyzing if he likes me better or not. 

"Don't apologize, keep talking, I feel you have a point." Austin urges me and I bite my tongue. "Lady Y/n, my situation is unique, but I have no choice, it does not matter if the love of my life is someone outside these walls, I am not allowed to meet them. So please keep talking!" I feel sad for him, it's clear he's thought the same thing as me, what if his one true love is not one of us, but he's obligated to choose one of us either way. 

"My favorite book, "Withering highlights" the protagonists were not allowed to love each other but they did and the impossibility of being together killed them, had they not ever met, they would've been able to love someone else and live. I think what I said is quite wrong your majesty, maybe neither of us will be the love of your life, but with time you might find someone among us, that you could learn to love and survive." 

Austin opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn't get the chance, since it's announced that our time is up and I must go in order for the next girl to come. I get up breathless and do a very bad curtesy. 

The rest of the day I can't help but feel like I'm sitting on egg shells, I knew I had let my stupid mouth speak before I gave to much thought, but something about him made me feel like I could speak my heart. Jane brushes my hair, as Jules arranges things around the room,  taking the pillows off the bed and putting in place the last things for me to go to bed. 

A knock on my door makes Jane jump as she brushes my hair and Jules goes to open the door. "Your majesty!" I hear Jules say and so I turn to see him, in all his glory, wearing the same dark brown suit from breakfast, only he's discarded the jacket and the tie, a few of the buttons from his shirt being undone and revealing some of his chest, the sleeves are rolled up and this look suits him much better than the previous. Realizing I was just sitting and staring, I quickly get up and curtesy. "Your majesty!" 

"How would you like a stroll out in the gardens, Lady Y/n?" Austin's voice is calm and my ears are ringing, so I barely make out what he's saying, but I nod. "Yes, um Jules, my robe please!" I say, remembering I'm just wearing my night gown, which was very inappropriate. "Lady Y/n!" Austin extends his hand and I walk the few steps over to him, putting my significantly smaller arm around his. 

He takes the lead and walks us out of my room and to the gardens. My thoughts are racing, I'm not stupid I know he could have every advantage right now to try and make an inappropriate move onto me, but he doesn't seem like that kind of guy, but how does that kind of guy look anyway. 

"You're awfully quiet." He says as we walk through the dimly lit gardens. "I was waiting on you your majesty." He stops and turns to look at me. "Why so?" Austin asks blinking. I simply shrug my shoulders. 

He sighs and licks his lips, walking further into the gardens without another word. The whole situation is rather spooky and I can't help the anxiety building up inside me. Soon we get to a table, decorated with candles and flowers, steaming cups of tea resting on it. "I thought we might enjoy some hot tea, it's a bit chilly out." He pulls my chair out for me and I sit down hesitant. 

"Tell me more about you, your favorite book is "Withering highlights", what else do you like?" It takes me a moment to realize that he is being serious I can't stop the giggle that comes out. Confusion is once again shown on his face, but this time is accompanied by something else, the corner of his mouth slightly pointing up, he's amused too. "You really want to know?" 

"Well I must find a wife somehow." The breath gets knocked out of me by his statement, for a split second I had forgotten why I was here, to play in the game of selection. 

"I like to bake and knit, I make clothes for my siblings all the time, but by far my favorite thing is painting, there's something so strange about being able to use my own hands to capture a moment I time li you would a picture." He looks at me as I talk and something in his demeanor tells me he's actually interested. 

"Picture, I, well I don't paint, but I do enjoy photography." He admits, his eyes glimmering with excitement. "Really? And what do you find best to photograph? Objects, humans or nature?" I ask, Austin blushing slightly. "All, I can't say I'm that good, I don't have enough time to dedicate to the hobby, but I enjoy it." 

"I don't believe that you must show me one day, any kind of art is good art. I don't have any of my paintings here, but perhaps if I got the supplies I could paint you something!" I propose, trading the experience of showing off our works of art. "Perhaps one day." Austin says absentmindedly, clearing his throat before getting up. "It's late, I should escort you back to your room!" He says hastily. 

I don't bring up how neither of us even touched the tea or what a short time had passed since we got here, the tea still steaming in the cups. Something about him has changed, he's much colder, stiffer if you may. No more words are exchanged between us, except the good night he rapidly wishes me, before walking away.

I'm left confused and with another feeling stuck in my heart, because for a moment there I actually let myself go and I got happy? Maybe, I don't know. 

Sleep came to me very difficult and when I woke up this morning I had a headache, I didn't want to see or talk to anyone. As Jules is complaining that I had tangled my hair so bad in my sleep another knock is heard and my heart stopped. Is this hope I'm feeling? Hope that is Austin? 

"Lady Y/n, a package for you!" Jane announces. 

I get up taking the note from her hand, looking at the huge box that bigger than her. I open the small envelope and the first thing I notice is the very clean and neat handwriting. 

 <Lady Y/n,

I hope you will forgive me for leaving so hastily as I did last night, but I figured that our encounter wasn't quiet up to etiquette and in fear of damaging you or me, I thought it better continue some other time. Please forgive me and accept this gift, I hope you'll have a painting to show me soon enough

A.B>

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[acowardinmordor]

My brain won't shut up about this, so maybe if I write it my brain will let me finish working and get this massive work project off my plate.

Warning for Accidental Drunken Pregnancy

Fandom loves, correctly, the idea of Girl!Steve Harrington, either as an 'always a' or trans, we're a fan. And that's good. No arguments from me there.

But I was thinking about Always a Girl Eddie. And the impact that would have. Because see, Eddie is already Wrong in a lot of ways. She's poor, she's loud, she's a freak, she sells drugs, and starts shit with bullies. She's too much in every way, and she refuses to be a girl properly. Has ever since she was old enough to express an opinion.

She didn't want to play with dolls or play house. She wanted to run through the park chasing dragons. When her parents fought, she wanted to run away and get found by the Addams family where no one would be mad at her for liking black and reading about blood and fights and monsters.

By the time she's in high school, everyone's decided she's a lesbian. She isn't. She thinks she isn't, but she doesn't get a chance to try or test or find out before the whole damn town has made it Known. Eddie doesn't wear skirts, and she doesn't style her hair, and she doesn't listen when the counselor sits her down to talk about her behavior and how she needs to try to be a bit more like other girls if she wants to get married one day. That's her junior year, which is when she snaps and, true or not, goes on a rant about being a carpet munching butch who never wants to have a husband.

Her friends don't care. They've talked to her and agree its all bullshit. Her only regret about it is that her outburst becomes fodder for the kind of bias that makes her fail two classes her senior year. It makes her fail four her second time around. PE is one of them. The teacher won't let her participate if she isn't 'dressed appropriately' which suddenly requires that all the girls have their legs shaved. Surprise surprise, Eddie is the only one that has an impact on. Wayne gets into a shouting match over it, and he wins, but not in time for Eddie to pass.

And every time someone pushes her to be more ladylike, Eddie doubles down on being a freak because she's a lot of things, but she's not a quitter. The one good she knows she manages is that barely any other girls in Hawkins get bullied all that much. Eddie pulls too much attention, and Eddie is so far off the end of the scale, it makes the minor mistakes easy to ignore.

All her friends are guys because the girls of Hawkins are scared of the witch/lesbian/succubus/whatever bs they came up with this week. There are some girls who Eddie thinks want to come talk to her, thinks she'd be friends with if she could, but any girl willingly hanging around the Freak is going to get painted with the same brush.

She showed up to every single class in her third go around, daring her teachers to fail her again when she was getting perfect scores on anything with a straight answer, and doing so well on the subjective stuff they were giving her passing grades. She had a new flock of sheep who didn't care about the rumors because she ran Hellfire for them.

After Spring Break, after they accuse her of seducing and murdering Chrissy, after Eddie walks into Mordor and is dragged out the other side. After Eddie gives everything she has for a town that hates her, the school gives her the diploma. Maybe its just because they're terrified that she'll come back for a fourth try if they don't, but she has the damn thing.

Or maybe they don't want the new freshmen to start crying when they see her scars.

After the hospital lets them all leave, and after El and Will do whatever it is they do and promise it's over for real this time, Robin, Eddie, and Harrington sit around and watch crap movies and talk. It's still June when Robin comes out to her, and Eddie has to awkwardly explain that she isn't. Supportive, in favor of it, but not sure if she's like Robin.

"But everyone heard about what you said to--"

"Yeah, she was telling me I should start curling my hair and wearing makeup so I could find a husband."

"She did not."

"Yeah. I kinda snapped."

A few minutes tearing apart that kind of thinking later, and Steve asks, "So you like dudes?"

Eddie shrugs, because she's never tested that either. A bit of leftover enmity from when he was the King and she was the Freak keeps her from admitting she's a virgin. Instead she gestures to her face and neck, the part of her chest visible around her tank top.

"Don't think that's going to matter, Stevie, not now that I look like the Wicked Witch midway through melting."

There's nothing either of them can say about that. Between her status as a murder suspect, the infection from Upside Down dirt, and how efficient the demo bat fuckers were, her scars are ugly. Not the sort of thing she's read in books that a hero learns to take pride in. Just a mess. Her smile is jacked up on the left, and while she does have both of her nipples, the one boob is significantly smaller, and lumpier than the other now.

But they're friends, and its nice. Robin didn't find a fellow lesbian, but Eddie can understand the way she feels, and they bond over it. Where Robin goes, so goes Steve, so intentional or not, Eddie and Steve get close. Help each other with scar cream type close. It would be weird if there was any universe in which Steve would ever be interested in her. Instead they're good friends, and co-conspirators against the gremlins.

Robin is starting college in the spring semester in Chicago. Steve is going with her. Obviously. Eddie hasn't agreed to anything, but she's considering it.

They have one last party at Harrington's place. The kids leave around seven. The Hellfire guys leave around nine. By eleven, all three of them are plastered, and Robin is lamenting that she's leaving Hawkins and still hasn't kissed a girl. Eddie rolls her eyes and smacks one on her. Get it over and done with, right?

After an hour of Robin flustered and babbling about 'yes, yes, yeah, I do like girls! Kissing! Kissing girls is great! Steve! Steve-o! Did you know kissing girls is great?" she passes out on the couch.

Steve and Eddie, just sober enough to know that they're all going to be hungover in the morning, close blinds and lock doors. They leave water and asprin by Robin, then chug down a glass each.

"So, did it help you figure it out? Kissing my Soulmate with a capital P? Did you figure out if you like kissing girls more than guys?"

Eddie giggles instead of answering.

"I know Rob's not kissed anyone, but if you liked kissing her you probably could tell, right? So if you liked kissing her as much as you like kissing guys, or if its not like kissing guys, then you know!"

Steve's not a dumb as the kids joke. When Eddie doesn't answer, he puts it together. "Oh. Oh shit. Eds. You and Robin were each others' first kisses? Thats so -- you didn't have to do that! And now you don't know if you like kissing girls or guys or both or neither or -- Oh!"

Eddie watches Steve come to his decision and turn, and she decides to let it happen. Steve is the only guy her age who doesn't wince looking at her face. This is probably the only chance she's got until she's old enough her skin gets all wrinkly and no one can see the scars are there anymore.

It's better than kissing Robin. There's a lot of reasons why that might be true, but none of them matter, because after that first one. After a few seconds pause. After she leans a little closer like she's asking, they don't stop.

She wakes up naked and sore, with a blinding headache and the tight-skin pain that comes from forgetting the scar cream.

Awkward doesn't cover it when they look at each other in bed. When Robin trips on her way to make coffee, it gives them an excuse not to talk about it. It's bad enough that Eddie keeps thinking about it, and excavating the fragments of memory she's got. Probably the only chance she's going to get, and she remembers barely half. She does remember liking it, and Steve liking it, and neither of them being weird about the scars because they've been helping each other with them for months now.

Once they're sober enough for it, they talk, both of them apologizing, but not really. Neither of them regret it, even if it wasn't their best idea, and Eddie starts quoting Robin's rant about antiquated concepts of virginity when Steve tries to apologize for that. It's definitely weird, but they're not going to freak out about it.

By Wednesday, when Steve and Rob are loading up the beemer to drive north before the holidays, so they could get a place with a rental discount, everyone turns out to say bye. Eddie winks at Robin again, because it still makes her blush, and it still makes Eddie and Steve laugh when she does. She gives Steve a hug, and a promise to make a decision soon about moving up with them.

Six weeks of scheduled phone calls with them, and uncomfortable talks with Wayne, Eddie has finally, finally decided to go for it. She'll still be a freak, but according to Steve, no one in the city will bother her about it unless she asks them to. He's working at a diner, and swears the bookstore across the street will totally hire Eddie if she applies. Robin loves her classes, and her part time hours at the library on campus.

It's while Eddie is looking around and opening drawers, trying to plan how to move with more detail than 'throw stuff in the van' that she notices. There's a box of pads, mostly empty, in the corner of the bathroom cabinet. It's been mostly empty since November. And yeah, her period has never been predictable, and this isn't the longest its gone, and Eddie has never cared since she wears black all the time -- but. This time she had sex.

The odds are tiny, and the image of it is ridiculous. Eddie isn't any kind of a mom. Harrington is more a mom than she is. Anyway, all that shit in sex ed about it only takes once is crap. And she remembers Steve getting out the box of condoms. She doesn't remember anything between that and getting fucked, but she definitely remembers how concerned he was about opening the foil. So there's no way. No chance. Absolutely none.

The test comes back positive, and the nurse at the planed parenthood in Indianapolis asks if she wants to hear about her options.

It's pretty easy to choose as it turns out. Easier than quitting smoking cold turkey is for sure. Hell of a lot easier than telling Wayne. It's not something she ever wanted, ever thought about or considered, but Eddie knows this is the only chance she's got. Well. Sperm donors maybe, not that she'll ever have the money for it, unless she paid a guy to keep coming around until she got knocked up.

At first, she keeps it quiet because the nurse told her about the potential problems, especially with how much Eddie drank and smoked. It's not certain, so she stays quiet. Stalls the topic of moving up. She waits an entire day for the doctor to slip her in between appointments to get an ultrasound and check. Everything looks good. Healthy. and Eddie gets on their weekly scheduled call, hears Robin and Steve laughing as they tell stories, and Eddie breaks it to them.

"What do you mean? You said you were going to move up here. I thought you said you -- Eds, what the hell? You're going to leave me alone to watch Robin's attempts at flirting? You - I thought you promised."

"Excuse you, Dingus, she needs to come up so we can watch your attempts at flirting. I'm great."

"Fun as that sounds, me and Wayne are getting out of Hawkins. Wayne has some family in West Virginia, and I can't leave him at the mercy of all those spinsters. I'll still have a phone, you know."

They move before she's showing, and Wayne never asks, and Eddie never tells, but her uncle knows who it has to be. They land in Summersville, which is a damn lie since its a blizzard when they arrive. It isn't hard to use moving as an excuse to cancel a few phone calls. Then uses a boss moving her hours working at motel as an excuse when hormones means she knows she'll start sobbing if she gets picks up the phone.

Steve gets accepted to a community college. Robin aces her exams. Eddie finds out she's having a girl. She wouldn't have spent the money to find out since it wouldn't change anything, but the planned parenthood was still worried because of the alcohol at the start.

Wayne brings it up. Eddie considers it.

Steve gets a girlfriend. Eddie stalls.

Robin calls solo because Steve is on a one month anniversary date.

Eddie abandons the idea.

She never makes a choice to hide it from anybody. It's always one moment at a time, needing to get through one more thing, one more problem, one more checkpoint, then she could say it. By the end of July it's been too long, and it would be too weird. They didn't have some great tragic romance. They were good friends who got drunk one night. And Eddie is just living up to the warnings all the guidance counselors scribbled down about her.

She's never going to be anything special. She's not going to go chase her dreams and become the Joan Jett of metal music. She's coming up on eight months pregnant, can't hide it or pretend its something it isn't. She's still loud and obnoxious. She still wears all black and chained pants and refuses to style her hair in anything more complex than a ponytail. She's still mauled by monsters and scarred.

She's never going to be marriage material, and never wanted to be anyway. She can be a good mom though. Not a normal mom. Or a traditional one. She's probably going to end up punching someone at a pta meeting. But she can be a good mom for her daughter, whoever her daughter wants to be as she grows. And if that means she has to learn about ballet and glitter and my little pony, then she will.

Steve and Robin ask about a visit before their classes start since they'll have to do calls every other week now. They offer to drive to West Virginia, or buy Eddie a bus ticket. Eddie manages to dodge that bullet.

She dodges another when she starts contractions while on the phone with them, and plays it off like she has heartburn. She cries when she holds her daughter thirty hours later, smiling broad enough that the scars on her face hurt nearly as bad as the rest of her.

She gets good at sewing together a patchwork lie. Gets Wayne to take Lulu out for a walk during calls. Swallows the guilt when Steve talks about his girlfriend, Amy, who wants to have kids. Stares down the pediatrician who raises an eyebrow at her daughter's name.

It's awful. It's wonderful. It hurts more to do it alone than Eddie could have imagined, but she still can't bring herself to say it. Not because she thinks Steve would hate her for it . He wouldn't. One look at Stephanie Luthien Munson -- Lulu -- and Steve would know. And Steve would stay. And Steve would give up his classes and his girlfriend and his hope for his perfect family. Eddie has always known she's not what anyone is looking for.

So Eddie gets good at dodging questions, and explaining away noises in the background, and finding very reasonable excuses not to come out to visit. Very good at it.

She makes it to June of 1989, when her best friends decide it's been too long, and show up for a surprise visit.

Eddie was right though. It only takes a glance at the toddler on Eddie's hip as she opens the door for both of them to know.

[r0ttenb0gb0dy]

jack ‘canary’ skalbek — full backstory

this is incredibly self indulgent, but i wanted to get it out of my chest, i guess. it's raw and silly at times but i love it all the same and i hope you do too. ive never posted my writing on tumblr so i really hope it does ok out here heh.

18+ for swearing, canon COD violence, no explicit sex but alluding to further acts, just generally not for minors ! adult topics and characters individual trauma discussed within .

There’s something to be said about the haze of being a teenager in California in the early aughts. The warm, all-over feeling of the sun beating down on tanned, freckled skin. Bruised knees, busted knuckles. Spending every day in a lake or a river, god forbid the chlorine riddled soup of a swimming pool, making the most out of what time is had.

Jack Skalbek was, by all accounts, an average teenager, who did average teenage things. Smoking pot behind the bleachers when he should be in class, watching his marginally more athletic friends throw themselves at gym class like it actually mattered. Football, soccer — whatever it was, he could usually find Keegan and Alex there.

Keegan, a year his senior, and Alex a year older, the closest things he could call his friends. They’d spent much of their childhood daydreams running around town together, iPod plugged into a speaker on the back of one of their bikes, blasting some obnoxiously emo music that all of them indulged in. 2004 lends itself to that aspect, dyed hair and painted nails, one too many chains hanging off of Jack’s wallet.

Alex would never speak of it, but he could see it in little glimpses. Catch the fleeting hand-holds and hushed laughter, that look.

There was no way they weren't feeling something.

They just didn't know what to call it.

Sitting on the roof of Jack’s parent’s house, having climbed up through an access point that certainly wasn't meant to be used by 16 year olds, Keegan and Jack lingered. Long past Alex’s curfew, his need to return home leaves them in each other's presence.

“You decide anything about college yet?” Keegan asked, watching Jack fumble with his lighter in an attempt to light the cigarette between his lips. They tasted awful, and he didn't even like the nicotine buzz, but the ‘deep breathing' exercise was relaxing.

“No — I mean, I still have a year.” Jack huffed, sighing with satisfaction as he got it to light. The burn in his throat was comforting, but his attention was more focused on Keegan. “Did you?”

“Yeah.” Keegan murmured, his voice low and quiet. “I, uh, I was talkin’ to a recruiter downtown the other day.”

“Oh? Is that why you blew off our mall date?”

“It wasn't a date, but yes.” Keegan chuckled, pulling the sleeves of his hoodie down over his hands. Worn from use, he slipped his thumbs through holes in the cuffs, the heather gray fabric fraying at the edges. He felt like he was doing the same thing, some days.

“So, like, what sport? Did you get picked up for football?”

“No, I mean, like — a Marine recruiter.”

“Oh! Yeah, I got that letter too — you actually went and talked to those guys?” Jack snickered, but Keegan was infinitely more serious about it. He had really gone and discussed a future in the military? What future was there in something like that? Brutish violence and bloodshed, all for some rich man’s greed — proxy wars.

“I mean, yeah. Alex came with me. They said I’d be a prime candidate. I’m taking the test soon to see where I place, but they said my grades were high enough that —”

“Slow down.” Jack turned to face the other boy entirely, the warm glow of the setting sun painting him somewhere between coral pink and tangerine. His eyes, though, were still an icy blue. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “You joined?”

“Enlisted.” The dark haired boy shrugged, fixing his gaze on Jack’s. “It’s no big deal, Jackie.”

“It’s a really big deal.”

“It’s not — it's the same as if you told me you were gonna go to art school in New York City.”

“Art school doesn't get me killed.” Jack said softly, almost embarrassed that his qualm with the entire thing was the idea of his person Keegan dying. His cheeks were flushed red, all heated up and uncomfortable. He averted his gaze, but Keegan's hand on his cheek returned him to reality.

“Is that what bothers you about it?”

“It's dangerous, Keegan. Y-You could get shot, or lose a leg, or —”

“I can live without a leg.”

“You're not funny.” Jack groaned, pushing Keegan's hand away only to feel it in his hair this time, fingers laced in-between his long grey-blonde hair. It grounded him, making his thoughts clear up and focus down to just one, very clear idea. “I don't want you to go. I-I thought you had to be 18 to enlist.”

“If I pass all the tests, they’ll make an exception. It’s still a couple months out, I’ll be 18 by the time I get out on deployment.” Keegan said whilst gently brushing through Jack’s hair, a bit tangled from being wet earlier that day, knotted with pool water. “This is somewhere I can make a difference.”

“But why does it have to be you?” Jack replied, having long forgotten his cigarette by now. It was mostly ash, all balanced perfectly at the end. One little twitch of his hand and it all fell off, leaving half an inch of smokable length behind. It didn't matter anymore, though.

“Because if I don't, and I just assume someone else will, nothing’ll ever change.”

“How poetic.” Jack mumbled, closing his eyes as Keegan’s hand drew forward, back to his jaw. Soft, gentle, well intentioned. Better than anyone that Jack could ever pray to fill the gap Keegan would surely leave behind with. It made his heart ache knowing that these nights were fleeting, slipping through his fingers already and Keegan hadn't even passed his exams yet. “Promise that you’ll come back from wherever they send you?”

Keegan bit back the words that came to mind first, acknowledging that he couldn't promise to come back. Men and women die all of the time overseas, and he could likely become one of the many that don’t come home outside of a casket. He looked down at Jack, those soft brown eyes enamored with him, and knew he had to make that impossible promise.

“I’ll come back to you.”

It happened quickly. His exams came up fast and he passed them with flying colors, eviscerating the physical testing all the same. Even with the sword of Damocles above their heads, they continued to share hurried kisses and late nights, begging for a few minutes more from the universe. Fighting the timer with every movement. Pressured by the impending doom, Jack started applying to colleges — it was a year too soon, but if Keegan could weasel his way into the Marine Corps at 17 then he could finesse his way into some pretentious art school.

Flashes in his memory now, images of his acceptance letter and Keegan’s coming just days apart, his call to action a far greater anomaly. He and Alex would be leaving for the opposite side of the country in a matter of weeks, ensuring Jack felt helpless. His best friends, whisked away to die in the middle of the desert.

The night before Keegan needed to be at the airport, to be sworn in and shipped off, he didn't spend a second longer at home than he needed to. He was at Jack’s house the second he finished packing, duffel bags discarded at the front door. Mrs. Skalbek would surely move them and re-fold the messy clothes, probably even press his uniform nicely for the next day — she knew it, too, the way that her boy was enraptured by the Russ kid.

She didn't mind, even if Keegan’s parents did. He was leaving, now, she could at least provide them with a safe home for one more evening.

Keegan half expected Jack to break down in tears, begging for him to change his mind or something, but he didn't. He opened the window of his room instead, letting the salt air in, a gentle breeze cooling the room down. Christmas lights strung from the ceiling the only real illumination save for the fading sunset, casting a pinkish glow over everything. On his desk, a closed sketchbook with about a million drawings of Keegan and Alex, though there was a distinct pattern of a particular set of blue eyes repeating every few pages. Then there was Jack laying on his bed, swallowed whole by the comforter, his sad and tired eyes fixed on Keegan in the doorway.

They skipped the “awkward” part fairly quickly.

No hello or how are you, just straight and to the point. Wrapped up in each other’s arms above the sheets, bodies warm and hazy at the edges, blurring the lines between a tangle of limbs. Jack didn't say a word as he closed his eyes and breathed in the achingly familiar scent of the gold standard of a boy he’d grown to love.

“Don’t get hung up on me, alright?” Keegan asked, sleep laced between his words.

“What’d’you mean?”

“Like…go and do whatever you’re gonna do in LA. Don’t worry about me. I can handle my own.”

“Respectfully, shut the fuck up. I’ll be worried about you until you’re home.”

“M’not gonna change your mind, am I?”

“No.” Jack replied, pulling Keegan in closer. It was much too hot for proximity like this, but neither seemed to care.

“At least make some good memories so we have somethin’ to talk about when I come back.”

Jack hummed in reply and drifted off to sleep against his will, waking up without another body in his bed. In a panic he sat up, making his head spin, but he realized Keegan was just getting dressed. He hadn't left yet. The uniform he wore looked foreign on his frame, a little too big on him, but he looked happy enough in it. Keegan looked up when Jack startled awake, a slight frown on his face.

“Wanted to slip out without wakin' you.”

“You didn't say goodbye.”

“That was the point, Jackie.” Keegan chuckled as he sat on the edge of the bed, lacing his boots up with unpracticed hands. “I didn't wanna make you have to go through a goodbye.”

He was right. Goodbye sounded awful. It took Jack a moment of contemplation before he settled on an alternative, his half asleep brain convincing him it was a great idea.

“I love you.” Jack spoke softly, though confident in those three words. They'd remained an unspoken law thus far, only now being brought into the fabric of reality. They made Keegan stop in his tracks for a split second.

“I love you, too, Jackie.” He replied, his voice a solemn tone. After he finished tying his boots he turned and placed a kiss on Jack’s forehead, rustling his hair up one more time for good measure. “I’ll text you when I get to base. Be safe.”

‘made it 2 base. no phone 4 a few months. alex says hi. xx keegs.’

Jack loved and hated those text updates every single time he received one. They were few and far in-between, but they meant the world. It was all he really had left of Keegan. The following summer, after nearly a year of no real contact, Jack finally got a phone call. He was moving into his dorm at UCLA when his phone started blaring Keegan’s ringtone, setting his mind on high alert. Jack fumbled his phone open, pressing the green answer button as soon as his fingers stopped shaking enough to do so.

“Keegan?”

“Jackie.”

He’s alive.

“Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice. Holy shit.” Jack laughed, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes from the sheer emotional weight. He could hear idle chatter in the background, Alex’s voice included, carrying on about something he didn't quite understand. “How has it been?”

“Listen, I don't have a lot of time. We’re gonna be leaving for Tel Aviv, soon.” Keegan sounded all too serious, some of that warmth and wonder gone from his voice. It’d dropped an octave, too. “S’been good, Jackie. I just wanted to call and talk to you before we hit dirt.”

“Tel Aviv?” Jackie mumbled. “You’re in the middle of the war?”

“Fuckin’ neck deep in it.” Keegan replied quietly. “You made it to LA, right?”

“Didn't know you still got my texts.”

“Of course I do. I just — I don't have time to reply, some days. I don't have a good excuse, either. Just want to make sure you know I meant it, back then. Miss you like hell.”

“S’that your girl?” Someone’s voice called from a distance, earning a huff out of Keegan. “Is she hot?”

“Shut your fuckin’ trap!” He barked back. “Sorry, Jackie. Listen, I — I gotta bounce, I don't know how long we’ll be out here. Be safe for me, okay?”

“I — yeah, of course, K.” Jack stuttered, running a hand back through his hair in a self-soothing manner. Though Keegan hadn't said the words, Jack wanted to make sure that the point got across that he understood. “I love you, too.”

Click.

Radio silence did not begin to describe what followed that phone call. Jack pushed down his anxiety for a long, long while, ignoring all of the news outlets claiming that a civilian hospital in Tel-Aviv had been assaulted and defended by U.S. Marines. That there had been countless casualties, that those men would be honored posthumously with medals and awards. He didn't read a single article out of fear that he would see Keegan Russ or Alex Johnson in the list of names.

College flew by. The war raged on. He didn't hear from Keegan, his family, no one. Even when his mother called, he blew her off, fearing that she was calling to break the news of his untimely death in the Middle East. Birthday after birthday, year after year, and he had not even begun to fill the space in his chest with something real. Uppers and downers, party culture — it was his way of smothering the pain temporarily, far better than anything his psychologist offered him in way of coping.

Deep breathing exercises and journaling didn't bring Keegan back.

Nothing did.

Not drinking, not partying, not kissing strangers in bars — nothing.

The world continued to strife while Jack continued to linger in 2004, the better part of him remaining on the rooftop of his mom’s house. He especially noticed his inability to change with the rest of the world as ‘The Federation of the Americas’ rose to power. News of their rampage spread like wildfire until they, themselves had spread closer and closer to the U.S. Even when their leader was assinated, it didn't stop them.

Tensions were high, tides ebbing and flowing with every passing day, until 2017.

Jack Skalbek had settled into his life in Los Angeles. He had a house that he rented with a few roommates, a cat, a rather nice car — nothing was too awful those days. He could go outside on his porch and rip a bong like his life depended on it, seeing stars in broad daylight, and —

Wait.

Those aren't stars. It’s broad daylight.

Jack blinked a couple of times as he raised his hand over his eyes, shielding out the harsh glow of the sun. There were small pieces of something hurtling towards the earth, like shooting stars, and as they drew closer he knew they weren't small. They were large, flaming chunks of a spacecraft or something — that was the only logical explanation.

People were running. Something was rumbling.

Impact.

The earth split in two, directly through Los Angeles, and all Jack could do was run. He ran like he never had before, stumbling through the literally broken streets with little regard for anything else. His cat, Molly, leapt out into the street (he never quite stopped thanking God for that) and he scooped her up, hauling ass as fast as he could.

He never really stopped running.

Molly learned to stay at his side, mewling as they traversed what remained of Los Angeles for a while, eventually forced up North by the Federation’s invasion. Before he knew it, Jack had found company with a military squad, having been on base whenever ODIN hit. They stuck together in the aftermath, and when they found Jack essentially camping in the wilderness, they picked him up. At least then, he was “camping” with a group of heavily armed, skilled soldiers.

It didn't last long, the ideation that he could just tag along. Before he knew it, Lieutenant Ames had shoved a rifle into his hands.

“You're too tall to be a sniper and too lanky to be close quarters, so you’re gonna scout. Think you can manage that, Skalbek?” Ames asked, watching Jack inspect the rifle. He’d never used a gun before, or held one, but he supposed that now was as good a time as any to learn how. It would likely be the only difference between him living and dying, so it felt important.

A distant memory these days, although a sweet one, Keegan would have been proud of him. He had passable marksmanship, steady artist hands coming in handy for such a task. His lungs were a weakness, but it wasn't exactly commonplace to come upon large quantities of smokable substances in their travels. Stretching a pack of cigarettes became a habit, until he was barely smoking them at all. Once he could hold his breath long enough to get a few shots off, he was good enough.

That was all that mattered. He could protect himself in the wild.

Jack spent years with the same crew of men, calling them brothers. He never grew too close, never squinted to see Keegan’s face in theirs — he didn't think of those blue eyes often those days. It was hard to dream of good things in such a bad place, like a war-torn America, in desperate need of saving.

Jack just prayed that Keegan was alright, wherever he may be, whatever he may be doing. He had to have survived the initial attack in Tel Aviv.

The soldiers would gossip about a team of men that came from Santa Monica, made up of the survivors from Tel Aviv — fifteen men out of sixty that came out on top when up against five hundred Federation attackers. Ghosts, they were called, a supernatural force that somehow overcame the odds.

He believed that men had survived, but he didn't believe that they were so mythical. Though, after so many years of dissidence, some will cling to those little miracles out of desperation.

Hope was a very dangerous thing for anyone to have, let alone some random man from Northern California that barely survived Los Angeles' implosion, but he had it. Even if he would never admit such a thing aloud for fear of it being taken away. Jack spent most of his time from 2017 until 2022 doing the best he could to hold himself together, and eventually in the winter of that year, it came crashing down.

He woke up to gunshots. Loud, quick, violent. Close. Jack startled awake and reached for his rifle, but before he could even aim he felt a firm thunk on the side of his head. Everything hurts, his head ringing until he falls unconscious, and everything goes painfully black.

Jack had never been knocked unconscious before, but he learned quickly that the wake-up was infinitely worse than the go-down. Nothing was worse than realizing he was chained up, though. His hands were cuffed above his head, the distinct taste of copper rich on his tongue as his eyes fluttered.

“Fuck…” Jack breathed, the sound of his lungs almost wet. He’d surely aspirated his own blood, but he couldn't be certain he wasn't waterboarded by the way his lungs felt liquidy. “Hello?”

Mistake.

A Federation soldier joined him in that cell within seconds, and he learned to keep his mouth shut from then on. It went on for a week straight, the torture, getting beat senseless day in and out by Feds just for fun. They’d laugh, dump alcohol on his gaping wounds, break bones like it was a game. One of them took a bat to his knee on the last day of that first week, and he was sure that he would die in that cell.

Cold. Alone. Bloody.

Months went by. Long, arduous. Sometimes he wouldn't see another human being for several days, and then he would be forced to take a beating alongside another of the soldiers from his company. He wasn't sure when he started referring to himself as one of them, as a soldier, but the Feds saw him that way too.

Corporal Skalbek. The punching bag.

Six. Long. Months.

He was happy that he was still alive on occasion, but most days were spent half-conscious and starving for breath. He couldn't even scream anymore. His throat was so terribly dry he was certain that it was only wet from his blood, coating every gulp with the distinct taste of it. If he coughed, it’d sputter out and paint his pale flesh with an array of sanguine specks, blending with the other stains from the physical abuse. Bruises littered his body, alongside gashes and lacerations, marks from where ligatures had dug into his skin.

The handcuffs were always the worst, a little too rusty and worn, sure to give him tetanus if he survived this ordeal. But, in some sort of optimistic turn, he wasn't sure he would survive it.

If Jack closed his eyes, he could almost hear Marines charging the camp, barking orders over gunfire. That, however, was a fantasy, just like the idea of going home was. Well, at least back to the U.S.. LA wasn't home anymore, and he didn't rightly have a place to live since the soldiers he ran with were always moving, but he would be happy to live in an abandoned motel for the rest of his days at this rate.

Fantasies of a better life left him feeling warm and fuzzy inside despite the exhaustion gripping his every emotion. He was sure, now, that he was starting to see things that weren't really there. Disturbed cognitive functioning is a symptom of mental deterioration, and with the way his mind was creating custom imagery of Marines coming to save him he had to be close to death at this rate. The deafening sound of gunfire traveled closer down the hallway, echoing off the walls alongside the repetitive drum-beat of bootfalls.

“Clear every room — I want every last one of these boys to survive.” A voice shouted, followed by a few affirmative replies of some kind. Jack perked up, straining the cuffs holding his hands up, aggravating the painful friction wounds. A fresh stream of blood ran down his forearms, warm and wet.

It took a few minutes for him to actually believe that someone was here to rescue him from this hell, but once he did he started fighting his restraints. Trying desperately to make the chains jingle but failing at that as well. The pain in his wrists was too much to simply push through it, and he truthfully couldn't feel the lower half of his body anymore. He tried to push himself up on his knees but they were in pure agony.

It wasn't fair.

They’d never hear him.

When they came to the door of his cell, a pair of eyes appeared in the barred enclosure, glancing the room over. He opened his mouth to speak, to beg for mercy, but once more nothing came out. Jack fought his restraints once again and the eyes lit up. Next thing he knew, the door was wide open and he was sure that this was all some vivid hallucination before his death.

The man looked to be a grim reaper, or a twisted angel of mercy. His eyes were nearly white, they were so blue and he knew right then and there that it was him.

He couldn’t mistake those eyes.

“Hey — look’a’me. You’re gonna be jus’ fine.” The man’s voice was low and gravelly, husky in every sense of the word. He went to whimper his excitement but, well…it came out as a coughing fit, blood coating his dry lips once again. Did he not recognize Jack? Has so much changed? Did he not look like himself anymore? “Don't push yourself.”

Jack huffed and sat patiently as the man, who’s last name was too blurry to read and he knew it anyway, broke the cuffs off his wrists with bolt cutters. It hurt, but it reminded him that this was actually happening and that he was alive still. Air still filled his lungs at a quickened pace, he could still feel the warmth of another person’s flesh on his. The man had gloves on, but there was life in his touch — gripping Jack’s fragile and broken body.

“Can you walk?” He asks. Jack shakes his head rapidly and the man doesn't reply, picking the semi-emaciated other up without hesitation. When they enter the hallway, Jack can see the blurry outlines of other men populating the space, both his soldier friends and Marines. “Merrick! Got the last one — he’s not doing too hot.”

“Exfil’s outside — he’s still breathing?’ ‘Merrick’ called back, a fuzzy figure in the distance.

“Barely. Pulse is thready.” The man holding him barked back to Merrick, leaving Jack wondering if he would die anyways, regardless of being saved. It was getting hard to stay awake now that he knew he wasn't going to be stuck in captivity any longer, his eyelids fighting sleep. He knew he was safe. “Hey — stay awake. Eyes on me.”

Jack suddenly felt his eyes open wide again, fixing on the man holding him. He felt like a teenager all over again, looking up through tired eyes on that last day before he lost his best friends to a war he was now fighting, too.

“There we go…eyes on me. Just a few more minutes.” Focusing on that voice wasn't hard. It had gotten deeper, but it was as familiar as breathing.

It was just a few more, in truth. Jack found himself seated in the back of a Humvee, bleeding all over the fabric interior. His body begged for sleep but his blue-eyed angel kept nudging him awake, occasionally pinching his arm to make sure he felt something enough to keep him awake.

“Stop it. You fall asleep, you die.” He huffed in frustration as Jack dozed off again.

“Don't be such a prick, Keegan. He’s a prisoner of war.” Merrick called from the front passenger seat, gazing back at Jack and his mangled body. A mess of limbs and blood, but with the widest smile he could possibly muster. It was him. In the flesh, breathing right in front of him, holding his hand. “You’re gonna be alright, kid.”

Oh, he would be just fine.

Upon arriving in Fort Santa Monica, he was allowed to rest. Anesthetic sleep was never truly restful, as it was artificial, but it was enough for him to walk in a more lucid state. His vision wasn't blurry, his head was no longer pounding, and he didn't taste blood.

A much better day in Jack’s book by a hundred miles.

He rolled onto his side and overlooked the small med-bay, the typical hustle and bustle of a hospital environment carrying on beyond the curtain. It smelled sterile there, but it was welcome in comparison to the scent of rust and rot. The flat white surface of the curtain was disrupted by a hand, followed by the presence of Keegan fucking Russ.

“Didn't think you'd be awake so soon.” He sort of darts his gaze away from Jack, embarrassed that he’d come to sit with a man that he’d presumed to be unconscious. The trouble, though, really came when Jack went to reply. No noise came out. His throat was sore, but it likely only felt that way because morphine was smothering any real pain he would normally be feeling. He touched at his throat anxiously, fingertips dancing across bandages wrapped around the entirety of his neck. “I can do most of the talking, s’alright. I’d like to know who I’m talking to, though. You know sign language or something?”

Jack rolled his eyes. It definitely made sense for him, a person with functional vocal chords and ears six months ago, to have learned sign language. Keegan chuckled at the display of attitude, not a clue in his mind still that he was who he was.

“Stop me when I say the right letter. A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J—”

Jack tapped Keegan’s hand. A flash of recognition crossed his face before he continued.

“Okay, J. A—”

Another tap.

“J-A…A, B, C—”

Tap.

“Jack?” Keegan spoke softly. “You — sorry, you kinda look like someone I know. His name was Jack, too. When LA went, he went, too.”

Huh? How had he even heard something like that? How was he so certain that Jack was dead?

“Nevermind. I’m, uh, Sergeant, First Class. Keegan Russ. You in pain or anything, Jack? I’m sure I could get them to sneak you a little extra morphine or something. Maybe a cigarette? Not that you should smoke with your throat torn open, I guess…”

Jack stared up at him. If there was any uncertainty, it was resolved immediately.

“What’s that fuckin’ look for?”

Jack went to speak and he literally squeaked in place of words. God damnit.

“Exactly. Go on, get some sleep. I’ll be around with a better way for you to talk, later.” Keegan said as he left, pulling the curtain shut once again. Instead of throwing a fit because Keegan didn't recognize him, Jack opted for sleep, coiling up on his side as the morphine lulled him into a sense of security, the warmth putting him out like a light.

A man of his word as he always had been, Keegan returned after Jack got some much-needed sleep, food, and water. He looked somewhat disappointed though, taking a seat across from Jack’s bed.

“Does a pen and paper work? I really thought I’d have a more innovative solution to the, uh, no-talking thing but…” Keegan said sheepishly as he snatched the medical clipboard from the side table of Jack’s bed, flipping to a blank sheet of paper before handing it to Jack alongside a pen.

‘It’s fine.’ Jack wrote, turning it to face Keegan. ‘My wrists hurt, though.’

“I figured — Doc said you got some pretty deep lacs. I’ll keep it brief. Your last name?”

‘Skalbek.’

“No it isn't.” Keegan’s expression dropped. “Don't fuck around. Who the fuck told you that?”

Jack furrowed his brow and turned the clipboard around, scribbling out a response as fast as he could before Keegan reasonably flipped out. ‘Do I not look the same?’

“You're not Jackie.”

‘How can I prove it?’

“You can't. Fucking…that's a sick prank, you know that? Whoever the hell told you his name is gettin' gutted.” Keegan stood up and turned to leave, only serving to frustrate Jack more. How did he not recognize him? It would seem that while he was excited to see Keegan again, Keegan was…upset? He licked his lips, dry and cracked as they were, and did the only thing he figured would work.

He whistled.

He whistled the tune to Drowning Lessons by My Chemical Romance. It was cheesy and fucking stupid, but he knew for a fact that Keegan knew it because they’d bought the CD together. They didn’t rip it off of Limewire or Napster, no, they bought the actual disc.

They would listen to that song on repeat, Jack never quite shutting up about the bridge and the melodies of Gerard Way’s gang vocals, and Keegan always said it was easily the best song on the record. He knew that they were never really together, and they never had a song, but if they did it would be that. He whistled until Keegan’s expression softened up, and he pulled his mask up over his head.

Same oceanic blue eyes, same slightly crooked nose, a few more scars. Still Keegan.

“I searched the wreckage at that address he — you sent me.”

Now, it was Jack’s turn for rightful emotional revelations. Keegan still got his texts in 2017? He only texted out of habit, out of a desire to vent every once in a while to nobody, even knowing that Keegan was dead. Being convinced that he was, at least.

“I found a body, I…”

‘Housemate. I had three.’ Jack wrote, urgent this time.

“He was so-so burnt that I…I thought the worst, I guess, I —” Keegan stuttered, his eyes never quite leaving Jack. The gap between them was much too far all of a sudden. “I need a minute.”

‘Take your time.’ Jack wrote back, but Keegan was gone before he could even turn the paper around. He sighed and leaned back into the pillows, closing his eyes once again. He would never know, but Keegan practically bolted outside because he didn't want to crack in front of anyone, let alone Jack. The dark haired man locked himself in a broom closet and covered his mouth with his gloved hand, chest heaving with pure emotion as he panicked. His entire world view was shattered by that one living, breathing man out there.

Keegan Russ was not a man that broke down often. He fought back the urge to feel anything about this for two decades, to let his emotions get the best of him, but there was little he could do to stop it now. Jack was alive, a miracle in it of itself, but he was right there in front of Keegan. Busted and bruised, shattered bones and a scruffy face, but it was Jack.

He always regretted not getting a hold of him once they survived Tel Aviv, but there was little he could do about his mistakes now. They had already been done. Truthfully at the time it didn't seem like such a terrible thing, Keegan always had the hope that he would make it to UCLA to see Jack when the war ended, but it never did. Then, he looked forward to seeing him again when he moved to the outskirts of the city, but when ODIN struck LA…

In his mind, Jack had died. He had already mourned him and their brief respite of time together. The grief was simply something he grew around, letting it become a piece of his past that he could lovingly look back upon. Smile, knowing he gave Jack the best version of himself, untainted by war and violence.

Now what was he?

A killer, hardened by years of killing Federation soldiers indiscriminately, unable to look himself in the mirror on the bad days. The last thing that they never see coming. A ghost.

Jack didn't deserve that.

After all of that time, of burying his first and only semblance of love in the backyard outside next to who he used to be, he was sitting right there. If he opened up the door right in front of himself, he was right out there.

He moved his hand from his mouth once he was sure his breathing had regulated down to normal, taking a couple of shaky and unsure breaths before feeling satisfied. The last thing he needed was for their medic to appear out of nowhere and start prodding Jack again, only to see Keegan visibly shaken by seemingly nothing.

It wasn't Jack's fault that everything panned out the way it did, and if it was anyone’s fault it would be Keegan’s. He left, not the other way around. In fact, his squad was responsible for Tel Aviv, which sparked the following energy crisis, inevitably landing them where they are today. Here. In Santa Monica, perhaps the last safe place close to No Man’s Land.

There were two options.

He could, reasonably, walk away and let the medical staff deal with Jack. This could end right here and now, send him on his way with the survivors of the squad he was found with. Keegan would never have to see him again, never have to let him see this mangled version of himself that he had become.

Alternatively, he could walk back out there and sit back down, and start from the top. A do-over. Pretend that the last twenty or so years weren't so long, own up to his fuckups, and make a new starting point here and now. It would be infinitely more difficult, but Keegan also knew that it was indubitably the right thing to do.

With a few more seconds of silence to think about what he was about to choose, he stood up from the pile of boxes he’d been sitting on in the closet, and then went right back to Jack’s side.

“Sorry.” Keegan said quietly as he re-opened and shut the curtain again, sort of standing at the end of the bed rather than sitting in the chair he had previously been in. He was too full of anxious energy to sit down, having to actively think about not tapping his boot on the tile floor. “I just — you have to understand why this is weird for me.”

‘I thought the same when you unchained me.’ Jack wrote, earning a little sad-puppy look from Keegan. It was much harder to see Jack all beaten up and bruised knowing that it was, in fact, Jack.

“You don't look the same, for the record. I don't know who this badass, battle-worn version of Jackie is.”

‘Me neither.’ Jack shrugged.

“He seems like an alright guy.” Keegan said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’ll have to tell me about him whenever you can talk again, huh?”

‘How about you tell me about this Sergeant Russ guy?’

“Very funny. You need some sleep, y’look like shit, Jack.”

‘Come on. You’d have, like, pretty good bedtime stories.’

Keegan couldn't help it, he laughed at that one, a wide smile on his face. Still the same little spark of attitude that he always had, just with a few more years of bite to them.

“Fine — what’d’you wanna know?”

‘Tel Aviv.’

“Not right now. How about…basic training?”

‘Fine.’

It became a ritual, almost. Every single night without fail, Keegan would return to his side with something he stole from the mess hall and a new story, carrying the conversation enough for the two of them. Beforehand, he had been the quiet one, but Jack had involuntarily taken that role. He told him tales of Task Force: STALKER and the Ghosts. Their adventures through the entirety of the war, how many lives they saved — shit, he even got to hang out with Alex, too, on occasion. Well, Ajax, now.

It also became ritualistic that every single night, without fail, he'd wake up in a cold sweat.

He could only manage to gasp for breath, clutching at his throat as he set the attached heart monitors off time and time again. The ringing noise it made was most insensitive to someone having a panic attack, but it at least actually alerted the medic to his state. Grim, his name was, as in reaper.

It was no comfort to have a medic named after death itself at first, but he learned rather early on that Grim was a saint. He’d show up, mute the monitors and administer anti-anxiety medication, which was in short supply, but useful all the same.

Jack wasn’t terribly embarrassed about it either, he’d survived something traumatic and deserved to feel any way about it that he wanted to, until Keegan witnessed one of those late-night panic attacks. He'd fallen asleep in the chair beside Jack’s bed after a late night of one-sided conversation, barely awakened by the quickened breathing of the man in the bed beside him. Jack had never had panic attacks as a teenager, but the heavy breathing and scared eyes were a dead giveaway. Grim had learned to leave the monitor’s sound off, so it wasn't blaring, but Jack was still gasping for breath. His hands were clasped over his chest, eyes screwed shut as he tried to get his heart to slow down.

He looked over when he saw Keegan jolt awake, his eyes flicking anxiously up and down the other man as his cheeks flushed red. Fully embarrassed of the way the trauma affected him so deeply. It meant he was damaged goods. Discardable for something more favorable, less troubled.

“Y’alright? Should I get Grim?” Keegan asks, genuine concern laced into his words. He was so soft spoken it was almost scary, gruff texture never leaving even at a low volume.

“No.” Jack squeaked out, wincing at the pain. It sounded painful, too, a fragile pitch that wavered for the brief second it was spoken. His hand rubbed at the front of his throat, hoping to smother the pain out.

“Easy, Jackie.” Keegan replied, his brow knit in worry.

“M’fine.” Jack hacked, that wet feeling in his lungs returning in a phantasmal way.

“You're not. Take a deep breath. You’re safe. I’m here.” It was so very grounding, hearing those words spoken aloud. He was safe. He was alive. He was no longer cuffed to a wall in some dank basement.

He was with Keegan again.

Jack heaved a few more anxious breaths out, hand grasping at his chest for purchase until Keegan grabbed it, stopping him from scratching at the bandages constricting his breathing, a bit of a frown hidden beneath his mask. At first, Jack struggled, but he gave in after a few short moments of Keegan’s firm, gloved grasp on his twitching fingers.

“Thanks—” His voice comes out timid in both tone and volume.

“Stop trying to talk. You’re just gonna make it hurt worse.”

“Fuck —” Cough. “— off.”

“Just tryin’ t’help.” Keegan murmured, giving Jack’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You've been having night terrors like that a lot?”

Jack went to reply but bit his tongue, squeezing his hand instead.

“Yes?” squeeze. “Okay — hey, I can work with that. Do you want me to stay?”

Jack didn't reply. He just held Keegan's hand tighter, not letting go for a long, long time.

It was unconventional, this method of communication, but it got the point across. One for yes, two for no became the gold standard, especially when he was able to leave the med-bay and explore a bit. Fort Santa Monica was in no state of beauty, sure, but from what he could see it was a haven. There were refugee camps surrounding the military installments, packed tight with families and off-duty soldiers alike, lining the sandbag ridden streets. It was engineered to be impossible to take, the perfect place to shack up just outside of No Man’s Land.

Jack stood outside once he was cleared to walk again, leaning on a railing that overlooked the dismantled city. He was in a great deal of pain most days, but he’d rather grit his teeth and bare it over scarfing down painkillers. A brace and a dream, he could get just about anything accomplished these days.

“Elias said he wants to talk to you.” Keegan’s voice came as a shock, giving Jack the slightest bit of a scare. He turned on his heels to look up at the other man, brow knit in confusion. “Don't know why, don't ask. C’mon.”

What the hell could STALKER’s Lieutenant even want with him? The Ghosts weren’t exactly arms wide open to anyone in particular. They were brothers forged in blood and dirt, and he certainly was not present during Operation Sand Viper. So, short of kicking him out of the encampment, he had no idea what thee Elias Walker could possibly want.

Nothing bad, surprisingly.

“You must be Jackie Skalbek — pleasure. Elias Walker.” A firm handshake from the older man, setting Jack back a few notches. He felt awkward and terribly small next to such a force of power. Keegan had told him so many stories by now that he was certain Elias was inhuman purely based on skill and drive to do more, do better. Jack nodded a reply and Keegan stood quietly by, waiting for his presence to be necessitated.

“So…you’re the infamous Jack.” Elias smiled. “Keegan didn't shut up about you in…what was it, ‘06?”

“Embarrassing.” Keegan huffed, averting his gaze.

“I gotta say, son, your squad sung some high praises of you. Keegan, too. You’ve got a lotta reputation preceding you.” His squad? The soldiers he’d been shacked up with. They were saying he’d done well? His marksmanship was nothing to scoff at, sure, he had steady hands — but make him a soldier it did not. “I know you’re still taking it easy for now, but…we need warm bodies. Desperately. I’m sure Sergeant Russ filled you in on our work, the things that STALKER is responsible for?”

“Only the good parts, I promise.” Keegan said jokingly, earning a bit of a glare from Elias.

“Point is, if you’re up to the challenge, I could use the hands around here. You’re no Marine, but I betcha I can make one out of you yet.” Elias had a sort of warm smile, a confidence that exuded from every word he spoke, that almost made Jack feel like he could do it. How could he fit into the very rigid spot here, though? The lifestyle was hard and rigorous, made for men with years of experience in the field, not…him. “What's that look for?”

“I —” Jack squeaked. Squeaked! In front of Elias Fucking Walker. Frustrated with his own inability to produce a sound that wasn't equivalent to a hamster, he turned to Keegan. Now, they hadn't tried lip reading, but there wasn't exactly a better way to deal with this.

“He’s — slow the fuck down, Jackie, Jesus — he doesn't think he’s cut out for it.” Keegan roughly translated the quick talking, focused on the irregular way Jack formed certain words, the way he most definitely still had a slight lisp based on the way his tongue caught his front teeth sometimes. His fully grown voice was probably lovely if he could choke out more than two words at a time.

“I have it on pretty good authority that before the Federation got their paws on you, you were the best sniper among that squad of army veterans.”

“That was before the Federation.” Keegan translated once again, a slight sadness to the way he spoke the words. It didn't feel good knowing that he’d taken such a confidence blow from being held hostage — it made sense, though. Nobody comes out of that sort of ordeal without a few loose marbles. “He doesn't want to get someone killed because of his inexperience.”

“I understand that, but you've got a certain…quality. It’s that resilience, Jack. That’s what being a Ghost is.”

It resonated deep in his chest, the way that he spoke of what comprised a Ghost. Surviving against all odds. Coming back from ungodly nightmares and asking the world if that was all it had. Having the guts and courage to do what just be done. When Alex and Keegan enlisted, he knew they had more willpower than he ever would, and he wondered how Elias could possibly see that quality in him.

Scrawny, terrified, shaking, Jack Skalbek.

That was no Ghost. He was no soldier.

“I’m not who you think I am.” Keegan spoke his words once more, shaking his head just a little. “I did what I had to do to survive out there, but that's it.”.

“You can live, not just survive. I just need you to have a little faith in yourself, huh? Those boys you ran with sure have it. There’s a lotta folks out there that can't fight for themselves, that’s why we’re here — you can make that difference for folks. It’s up to you, though, I won't force it. I just know a Ghost when I see one, and I have a real good feeling that you’d be at home with us.”

Home. Home wasn't a place anymore, was it? Not since his home got blasted off the face of the earth by ODIN, not since his family and housemates got —

Then, there was us. The Ghosts. His closest friends from growing up.

Men that he’d spent weeks hearing stories of, the legend of brothers in arms coated in blood and sand, walking corpses. He was not made to do that, let alone the minimal work he’d put in during his travels. Jack realized he was just looking at Elias with shock and awe still, shaking his head to get his thoughts right.

Jack knew that if he took this opportunity, he’d be roped into this war for good. Moreso than if he only stuck around for Keegan’s company. There wouldn't be a way out of it, not that there was now, but he would cement his future if he trained to take up work with STALKER. He swallowed his fear, the anxiety welling in his stomach, and extended a hand to Elias.

“Good.” Elias shook his hand, taking it as the ‘yes’ answer that it was. “Once you're cleared for duty, we'll see how well you do.”

“Y-Yessir.” Jack managed to speak, a slight terror in his eyes that paired well with the confidence that came from actually forcing words out.

This, of course, meant that he was now privileged enough to meet the rest of the Ghosts. He’d met them in passing, trailing around behind Keegan most days like a lost dog, but now they were becoming acquainted. They were few in number compared to normal squads and battalions, but they were a force to be reckoned with.

Ajax was more than thrilled to see Jack again, having a much more overwhelmingly positive reaction to his presence than Keegan had. Saying that ‘I knew you weren’t dead because you’re too stubborn to die.’ It almost felt like the before again, memories flickering back to life in the back of his mind. Synapses that hadn't fired in decades.

Kick was the friendliest by far. He sat down with Jack before any proper training and got him kitted out, thrusting a marksman rifle into his hands before he even had the chance to protest. Boasting American made quality, a magazine that would make Vogue blush, and a scope with dual magnification. The matter of his tactical gear would come later, but Kick was more than satisfied to ramble about the specs of his firearms whilst Jack listened intently. He promised him custom gear and maybe even a mask, one day, but he needed more time.

Torch, Grim — they were well acquainted enough from his time in the medical bay under Grim’s watch, Torch often spending his days down there as well for an extra set of hands. He worked in demolitions, but that didn't mean he didn't have surgically delicate hands to assist when Grim couldn't get to something himself. He was actually the one to remove Jack’s stitches — a painfully long process that was almost, but not quite, as bad as his bones getting shattered in the first place. Grim would occasionally cheer ‘you’re doing great!’ and Jack couldn't be sure if he meant him or Torch.

Merrick, though, he was the tough one to crack. Cold, harsh — but effective. He was a decorated officer, completing the SEAL training at 17 years old with flying colors. Sure, Keegan and Ajax had become Marines at the same age, but that wasn't the same as being a Navy SEAL. It was overachievement to the highest degree, except he wasn't showing off — he was just that good. Jack felt small and insignificant in the presence of a man like him, who could outsmart entire battalions of Feds without much forethought.

He was out of his league, and Merrick knew it from the moment they met.

Sitting in the arsenal, having been gifted his uniform by Kick, but too terrified to put it on, Jack just held it. It was dark gray in color, camouflage and flat black as well, though the vest and accompanying guards were all matte black. They’d given him the standard patches that matched everyone else’s, a STALKER insignia set, but his name was the most jarring one to observe.

Skalbek. Corporal Skalbek.

He wasn't even enlisted — how could he be classified as a Corporal? The soldiers called him one, sure, but it was mostly in a teasing way. Jack thumbed over the embroidery and took a deep breath, deciding it would be better to just get dressed and have an existential crisis later. He had to tape and brace his knee in order to walk for long periods, but he’d grown used to the limp in his gait by now that it didn't bother him much anymore. The return of his voice, though, did bother him.

Even as he strapped his gear into place and laced his boots, every little huff or grunt of exertion felt foreign in his mouth. He didn't know what he was supposed to say for himself, truthfully, so he wasn't comfortable with using his voice. It was impossible to even fathom an explanation for how he ended up here, for what he went through in that cell — so he just didn't.

Instinct always takes over, though.

“You all set, blondie?” Keegan asked, leaning in the doorway of the arsenal. He could see Jack all geared up, but it felt right to ask.

“Yeah. All set.” Jack spoke, unaware that he'd even done so at first. Keegan knew better than to overreact, though, it would likely scare him off. Take that pretty voice away. If he wanted to talk, he could, and Keegan wouldn't apply pressure in any way.

“Good, good…lemme see.” Keegan said as Jack turned to face him, sort of standing awkwardly with his arms down at his sides. He looked lost. Uncomfortable in all of th buckles and straps, like the gear was suffocating the life out of him. “You look suicidal.”

“I’m —” Jack stopped himself, a bit shocked in his expression.

“You were doing great.” Keegan huffed in response, mildly disappointed. “The uniform looks good, though, Jackie.”

Jack rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, watching Keegan draw in closer across the room. He picked up the other man’s marksman rifle, inspecting it for a moment before handing it back to Jack.

“Needs some dirt on it — lucky for you, we’re just doing recon. Nothing crazy, just gettin’ your boots wet out in the field.” Keegan watched Jack take the rifle back, clicking the carry strap around his neck into place, carefully snapping the scope cover on for travel. He looked nervous, like a kid on his first day of school, only with much more weighing on his chest. It made sense. He hadn’t been sure of himself the entire time Elias was giving him a golden opportunity, so it made sense that confidence wasn't leaking out of his every movement. “Stand up straight, act like you know what you're doing until you do. Merrick prefers his name or his title, not sir, if you decide to talk to him.”

Jack nodded, letting a shaky breath out. He held up a thumbs up, hand trembling ever so slightly, pathetically. Keegan reached out and steadied it.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll be with you.”

Jack turned his hand and held his pinky out, raising a brow. Without much hesitation, just the normal amount from a tough guy, Keegan did the same and interlocked them. He leaned in instinctively and pressed where his mouth would be under the mask to Jack’s knuckles. It was a thing from years ago, something they did to “seal” a promise. Jack was surprised that he remembered, but not upset by any means.

It wasn't a terribly long drive to the recon point. It felt that way because of the deathly silence in the SUV, save for Merrick giving the mission brief. Kick sat in the passenger seat beside their Captain, humming to himself as they flew down the dirt roads, jostling over every bump. Jack kept his eyes on the floor until they arrived at the infil, at which point he and Keegan exited the vehicle. It was fairly heavily wooded, the area well covered and higher than the place they were doing recon on, making it ideal for a sniper’s nest. Jack had a natural sense for that sort of thing, carefully and quietly slinking around the woods before coming to a tall, heavily branched tree. He looked it up and down, sizing it up, then looked at Keegan. He was all searching for a nest, a ways away into the brush.

“You take up high, I’ll go down low?” Keegan asked into the comms for confirmation as he found a comfortable place to get vantage from, half expecting a vocal response from Jack and half expecting a snap or something in reply.

Whistle.

“That works.” Keegan chuckled to himself as he pulled his rifle off his back and nestled into the dirt, mounting the tripod on a hard surface so that he could get a stable view. Meanwhile, Jack climbed up into the large redwood. He struggled at first because of his knee, but eventually he powered through and hoisted himself into straddling a large limb. “Are you in position?”

Whistle.

“Heard that. Merrick, we’re locked. Watchin’ exits.”

“Roger — the place should be empty, but you know how that goes. We’ll clean and clear, then raid for supplies.” Merrick replied, voice a low crackle over the comms, before silence fell over the area. Jack relaxed back against the trunk of the tree as he racked a round in his rifle, sliding the bolt into place as he looked down the scope. It was peaceful, almost, quiet. The idle rustle of birds in the trees and the quiet thrum of the earth breezing past, only occasionally interrupted by the crackle of activity over the radio.

Jack hummed quietly, the soft rumble of his voice in his throat only truly comfortable in a muffled manner, barely making any sound at all. He felt his finger gently sliding over the trigger, not quite squeezing just yet — there was next to no movement ahead, save for Merrick and Kick as they navigated the empty warehouse.

They spent a long while going through the place room by room, combing it through, picking up any usable supplies. Sterile equipment, alcohol, first aid kit materials — all sorts of things. It had been vacant for quite a while, clearly, despite old Federation flags flying above. They’d yet to reoccupy it after their removal, meaning everything inside was up to date and ripe for the taking.

Jack’s gaze traveled around outside, flickering from the warehouse to the dirt road leading up to it, watching a car start to close in. Federation flags. His eyes went wide and he stuttered to speak, nothing quite coming out. Damn anxiety reaching up from the depths of his stomach to choke him out internally, clawing his vocal chords into submission.

Three, rapid fire whistles. High pitched and quiet all at once, ringing out through the comms.

“Movement?” Keegan asked quickly.

One.

“Got it. Watch your backs, boys. How many?” Keegan called.

Five.

“Five tangoes, on their way to your position.”

“He didn't say anything, Keegan. Are you sure you're not hearin’ things?” Kick asked, almost a laugh to his voice when he spoke.

“I’m sure.” Keegan asserted, glancing over through the blur of leaves and trees blocking his view of Jack. He had to be right. A couple of seconds pass and he can see the vehicle for himself, five Federation soldiers climbing out slowly. Stalking their prey. Merrick and Kick. Jack wasn’t scared, though, knowing very well that he only had one shot before they were aware of him.

He let out all of the breath he had been holding in from his lungs, took a deep breath and released it slowly, feeling the unsteadiness slip out of reach.

Bang.

Two down. One shot.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Jack gave a long, drawn out whistle of satisfaction as he took a new breath in.

“All clear.” Keegan exhaled. “Nice fuckin’ shots, Jackie.”

Pride washed over him all at once. The warm, fuzzy feeling of success seeped into his bones and made him blush all over, a hot feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“We're on our way out now to confirm kills. Meet us down here?” Merrick asked.

“Rog.” Keegan replied, leaving Jack to watch the doors in anticipation. Before he knew it, Keegan had made his way over, looking up at Jack perched in the tree. He rocked back on his heels slightly, taken aback by the way Jack had curled himself up onto a tree limb, nearly wrapped around it as he aimed down sight. His cheek was pressed up against his rifle, keeping him nice and steady.. “Look like a bird up there, y'know that, Jackie?”

Jack sat up straight, a bit surprised. He hadn't been listening at all to his surroundings, sort of zoned out as he watched down his scope. A bird? He prayed that didn’t stick.

“The whistling works. Got my attention real fuckin’ quick.” Keegan extended a hand to Jack, helping him climb down from the tree unceremoniously. He replied with a playful whistle, a smile crossing his expression briefly. After collecting his first 5 confirmed kills as a Ghost, they returned to base in the same car they came in. Quiet, at first, but Merrick broke the silence midway back to HQ.

“Quiet type, huh, Skalbek?” Merrick asked, glancing back in the rear view mirror.

“Leave him be.” Keegan asserted. His voice always seemed to be quiet and soft spoken, but he had a bite to it that showed he meant business. If anything good happened to Keegan while he was gone, it was that voice.

“Didn't mean anything by it. You did great out there, Jack.” Merrick defended himself.

Silently, Jack thumbed over the pristine Federation tags before stuffing them into the pocket on his vest. He didn't like the idea of keeping trophies, but those tags were proof that he could actually do some good here.

It took a long time for him to truly feel that way.

Like, the first time he got to see his own dormitory. It wasn’t anything crazy, just a room with four walls and a bed right down the hallway from the showers, but it was his room with four walls and a bed. Dark, cozy sheets on the mattress, a warm light overhead — his name on the door. Jack actually sort of felt important for once in his life, and he began to understand the draw and appeal of military life. There was one tiny problem with the lone dorm, though.

Even at UCLA, he dormed with someone else. His first apartment had a roommate, and the same man moved with him into their home in Los Angeles with a handful of friends. He had no siblings as a child, but Keegan and Alex were at his house so frequently he may as well have at that point. Being alone did not come easily to Jack.

“Hey — came to drop off your tags.” Keegan knocked at the door, a little whistle coming from inside telling him to enter. When he threw the door open he saw Jack sitting on his bed, legs crossed, just sort of looking lost once again. A recurring theme for the blonde. “Need some decor in here, seriously. It’s abysmal.”

Jack just sort of shrugged, catching his tags mid-air when Keegan threw them, the jingling making him flinch slightly. They had, of course, his name on them. Blood type, affiliation, spot for a call sign if one ever stuck to him. He thumbed over the engraving before undoing the clasp and snapping it back into place around his neck, stuffing it beneath his shirt. It was ice cold, but the metal would warm and warp to him eventually. Become like a second skin, something he couldn't go anywhere without.

“I had something else, too, but — s’up to you if you want it or not. Could always make your own.” Keegan added as he came a bit further into the room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside Jack. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a piece of black fabric, neatly folded into a little square. When unfolded, Jack could see it was a mask, his very own. It looked similar in pattern to Keegan’s, but noticably neater and cleaner in texture and facial features — across the mouth were two black strips in an X. Maybe a little bit on the nose, but he couldn't complain.

“It’s not great compared to what you could probably do — don't know if you’re still into the whole art thing these days.”

Jack shook his head, turning the mask over a couple of times in his hands before he went to put it on. The fabric was thick, making him uncomfortable at first, but once it was in place he could breathe easily. He looked over at Keegan as if to ask how he looked, the scrunched up wrinkles around the other’s eyes telling him everything he needed to know.

“Little Ghost.” Keegan hummed, ruffling up Jack’s hair in a playful manner. “You’re one of us now, as far as I’m concerned.”

Wide eyes like saucers, just looking up at Keegan with awe, wondering how they'd managed this. Circling back to sitting in Jack’s room, though this time it was less than cozy. Even without the Christmas lights casting a warm glow over everything, though, Keegan was more sure than he ever had been that everything was worth it to end up here.

That summer, July was hot in Santa Monica. The sun bathed the city with regularity, not even letting up in the evening. Though, there seemed to be a brief respite in between months of hardship.

After a particularly good bout of missions, Jack even getting some more confidence in himself (and a call sign, while he was at it) they decided to have a small leisure break. Time for themselves, to breathe in without the threat of being dispatched on a mission looming overhead. Something that many of them hadn't had a chance to do in a long, long while. There often wasn't much remaining time for recreational drinking, but Keegan couldn't lie, there was something about Jack in the doorway of his dorm with two cans of beer that made his heart skip a couple of beats.

Sure, they’d stolen liquor as teenagers and gotten wasted on Jack’s roof. His mom always made sure that they were safe and well looked after when they made those foolish errors, giving them plenty of room to make mistakes and not feel stupid about it.

They had kind of missed out on sharing 21st birthdays, though. Keegan's was a year sooner than Jack’s, so they would've had to wait anyways, but they’d inadvertently waited over a decade. The crack of the pop-taps couldn't come soon enough, and neither could the ensuing burn of alcohol. It was liquid comfort, burning the whole way down and settling in the stomach, leaving every sensation tinged a hazy shade of amber.

Kick, in his endless curiosity, had obtained a camcorder at some rate. They had access to new technology, high quality drones and cameras, and yet he was obsessing over the film grain and scan lines of the older camera. It was probably as old as him, the brand name long scratched off from time and use, but he still boasted it’s American made durability. Pointing it at Jack after a couple of drinks, giggling to himself as he zoomed it in and out.

“Alright, alright — this one’s Jack. We’re still — heh — getting used to him, but this kid?” Kick turned the camera to himself for dramatic effect. “Sharpshooter. I think he could shoot the pimento out of a fucking olive from a hundred meters out.”

“He said that’s pushing it.” Keegan answered for Jack, having taken up that role nicely. They weren't quite at the point of telepathy, but beating ASL into his head was starting to work. Jack picked up usage of it back in college, so a refresher was needed before he could actually use it, but the main problem was teaching it to Keegan. He was impatient and short tempered, but he could learn it for the other's sake.

“Maybe! Maybe it's not! Only way to find out is to try, Jack.” Kick snickered as he turned the camera around again, watching through the viewfinder as Ajax joined Keegan and Jack on the balcony. The sunset over Santa Monica Pier was beautiful, even now, with a fort plopped overtop of it. Ajax took his spot between the two others, throwing his arms around them with a smile.

“Good to have the gang back together.” Ajax hummed, pulling Jack in a bit closer, spilling a little bit of his drink in the process. “Fucking missed you, kid, seriously. You have no idea what it was like dealing with Grumpy over here for 15 years without you.”

“I’m not grumpy.” Keegan huffed. “I’m apathetic.”

“Whatever you say.” Ajax laughed, snatching Keegan’s drink from his hand before disappearing back inside with Kick hot on his heels. It was a mostly empty can anyways, so he wasn't terribly disappointed. Still, he wanted to obtain just one more for the end of the night, grabbing one for Jack as well. Turns out, both of them grew up with quite the tolerance for the stuff despite having exactly zero when they were younger. Keegan’s resilience could be attributed to body mass, but Jack’s was built entirely on whiskey lullabies.

The years of travel were hard on him, a once soft and fearful creature of a boy, now…a man.

Keegan took a moment in the doorway to look at him, really look at him. Wearing sweat-shorts and that blasted knee brace, scars drawing up and down the length of his left leg. His sweatshirt, an increasingly well used and loved camouflage tarp of cloth, swallowing up his lanky frame with ease. Those pretty brown eyes, watching the sun dip beneath the horizon, casting tangerine and coral hues all over him.

It was straight out of a movie, or a memory, he couldn't tell.

What’re you staring at? Jack signed, catching Keegan a bit off guard. He bit at his bottom lip beneath his mask and unhooked one side of it to take a drink from the fresh can.

“You. Just…taking it all in.”

Take your time. I’m here now.

“Got no idea how good it feels to know that you're still kickin’ dirt up, Jackie, I…” Keegan stuttered a bit, an uncommon occurrence for him. He didn't feel that sort of nervousness often, hadn't since he left for basic. Scratch that. He hadn't felt genuinely nervous since Tel Aviv, calling Jack from the back of that plane, hands trembling in fear. This wasn't anything like that, though, this was the butterflies sort of nervousness. Somehow, infinitely more terrifying than getting shot at. “I want to make it up to you, somehow.”

What?

“The last…what, 15 years?”

We're older now. You know that. Can't go back and change what already happened. Jack shrugged, not quite grasping that Keegan meant it. He wanted to repair what damage had been done to whatever extent he could, even if things were vastly different, even if they were entirely different people now.

Whether Jack knew it or not, he still had the combination to Keegan's pad-lock chest, the chasm labeled hollow to keep anything good out. It didn't matter how they got here, what mattered was now Keegan has a shot at actually apologizing. Making right what he had once done wrong. He would regret not reaching out sooner until the day he was dead, but he could do better this time around. This is not the kind of opportunity he could squander.

No way in hell.

“I know. But…I can be the person now that I couldn't be then.” Keegan came closer until he was leaning up against the railing, too, overlooking the pier. If he looked up at the stars long enough, he could almost imagine the floating space trash left behind from ODIN, what didn't enter the atmosphere swirling and churning above their heads. “I’m not saying we pick up where we left off in ‘07, I’m just asking that you hear me out.”

Okay. I’ll bite.

“Plain and simple. We know what happened in-between then and now, but we can just…ignore it.” Keegan inched closer as he spoke, until he was shoulder to shoulder with the shorter man. The cold drink in his hand was all he had to steady himself, shocking his system into continuing to speak. “You know I loved you then and I still do.”

Jack swallowed. Loud. The can in his hand crinkled slightly under the pressure he was holding it with, his mouth dry. He still loved him? He? Stone cold, violence wrought, Keegan fucking Russ still loved him?

He, who hid at Jack’s house from his parents, always thanking Mrs. Skalbek for the place to stay, always denying how often he was there. Hiding the fleeting kisses, never lingering long enough to leave a mark on soft flesh. Lying to himself and his father, always forcing himself into the image of what he thought a man to be, never showing much softness at all.

Only to Jack, only back then, only behind closed doors.

This was a massive, groundbreaking departure from whomever that was back then. It took their semi-permanent separation for Keegan to admit that he loved Jack the first time, it only took a few months this go around. The promise of staying, rather than leaving or coming back, was much more emotionally grounding.

“Was that too much?” Keegan asked after a moment. He seemed on edge about Jack’s reaction, gaze flickering anywhere but on those soft brown eyes, eating him alive.

No. It's just been a long time.

“You probably moved on, like, a few months after I last called, huh?”

Never. Jack sighed softly in reply. There was emotion in the movement of his hands, his eyes portraying all of that sadness well. It was never really over.

Just five words, but those five words carried an unspeakable weight. Keegan stared for only a few seconds, going to speak when Jack continued.

Everything came back to you one way or another. My thesis for my degree was a portfolio full of you. I still texted you every time I needed to talk even if you didn't answer, I needed you. My mom called me every few months and I was so scared that she would tell me you were dead that I just didn't pick up. Everything I did up until the fucking world ended was about you, no matter how fast I ran.

It all spilled out so fast that Jack couldn't even be impressed with himself. His hands stuttered every once in a while on more complex words. The words themselves shocked Keegan, too, but that was secondary. He felt wholly guilty for ever letting himself get so close to Jack back then, because his own feverish dreams of doing something with his life just meant he did that to Jack. Got him hooked and ran, watching it spiral out of hand until he was sure he lost Jack forever. The red string tying them together threatened to be severed by the universe with every knot and fray in its threads.

But it never broke. It never fell lifeless.

He would've thought that Jack married, maybe even squeaked out a kid or two, joined the PTA. Cut his hair short and finally start making art for a living, take his kids to soccer practice — not wake up in the middle of the night missing his highschool boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

Were they ever even that much?

Are you gonna say something or what, K? Jack added, breaking Keegan out of the cyclical nightmare of thoughts in his mind.

“I just didn't…know you felt that way about it.”

You had everything to lose by loving me, and you did it anyway. How could I ever move on from that? He wasn't speaking, but he was feeling every emotion from every word. Jack’s eyes were all welled with tears, a soft gasp escaping with every mouthed syllable. Threatening to spill out, but not quite making a sound.

Keegan knew what Jack meant. He would’ve been kicked out if his father ever caught wind of what Keegan was doing with ‘the no-good Skalbek boy’ down the street. If not for Jack’s mom, they would’ve never gotten as far as they did back then. Even then, it wasn't far. He would’ve been spitting teeth from that fight, if he ever found out, probably dead.

He’d unknowingly shown Jack that someone could love him enough to die for him, and as a consequence he never really learned how to be loved any less.

“You still feel that way?” Keegan asked after a moment of silence, a bit of his inhibition slipping away. Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was just an old spark flickering back into life.

Always.

“Can I start trying to make up for that lost time, then?”

“Please.” Jack replied out loud, gaze averted out of embarrassment. That didn't last long, though, not with that spark beginning to rage into flames. Nothing could've kept Keegan’s hands off of him, his drink thrust into Jack’s hand so that he could pick him up a little bit easier. Hoisting him up onto the railing of the balcony for balance, strong arms laced around Jack holding him steady. The railing creaked, the drop was far, but neither of them seemed to give a damn.

Hot. Heavy. Hurried, whiplash kisses, hands in hair and lips on teeth. It was not gentle, it was not pretty, it was feverish and raw. Keegan could've made him bleed with sharp canines on his bared neck and he would’ve been quite alright with it.

Even when Kick threw the door open, trailed by Ajax with the camcorder, he couldn't have guessed what was going on outside until he saw it. Under the haze of one flickering light that never quite stays on long enough to catch a clear glimpse, but the camera picking up their meshed bodies nonetheless.

“Get a room, you two! Sheesh!” Ajax laughed, but impressively enough, neither seemed to care.

“Mmmhmm…Can’t hear you.” Keegan murmured against Jack’s lips, earning a snicker from the blonde in his arms, still faithfully holding both of their drinks.

“Talk about making up for lost time.” Ajax joked. Kick all too certain he would get chewed out by Keegan if he drunkenly giggled too, he stayed quiet. As quickly as they came they dipped back inside with Ajax pumping his fist, proclaiming that he always knew.

“This alright, Jack?” Keegan asked, breathless as he took a moment to cool off. Still holding the other man, just leaving some space between them for now. Foolishly, Jack dropped the cans so he could sign, a blush dusting his cheeks as the half-drank liquid spattered on the ground beneath them.

Haven’t been this alright since I don't know when.

“Can't lie to you, I never — you were — ugh, fuckin’ sounds pathetic…” Keegan sucked a breath in shakily and buried his face in the crook of Jack's neck, faint scent of cologne and body wash still attached to him. “Never let anyone get close after you. No-one.”

Touch-starved did not begin to cover it.

He didn't hug, he didn't do physical contact, skin-to-skin was a foreign thing. Jack was probably the last person who touched him with bare hands and he didn't convulse. Ajax was an exception to that rule, but it wasn't like they were snuggling. Pats on the back, pull-ups onto a ledge — those weren't intimate like this. He didn't get intimate.

Jack felt sort of dirty knowing he'd gone and tried to bury the feeling of needing someone he couldn't have in the arms of others, never succeeding, whereas Keegan had done the opposite. Instead of voicing that he only ran his hands through Keegan’s short, scruffy hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“You think it’s pathetic, don't you?” Keegan sighed, nuzzling into the other man with wandering butterfly kisses, lips ghosting over his main artery.

Two whistles for no.

“Hah! Sure thing, Jackie, sure…” He laughed. “Remind me to never ask you that sorta thing again, ‘cause even your whistles sound sarcastic.”

They weren't, but Jack would let him live in his little bubble. Moments like this were never long enough, and thankfully they got to spend the rest of the night catching up on the important things, previously undiscussed stories of Jack’s life in SoCal. It was good to know that they at least had a chance before things began to kick up once again.

For some reason, things didn't.

It was a pure, mostly calm stalemate.

Sure, they still got sent on patrols. They often made ventures to the No Man’s Land border, overlooking the minefields and traps, wondering what could possibly shift the tides. Piece by piece, some bizarre force of nature allowed them to rebuild what used to be between them.

Some nights that meant they’d climb atop the roof with Keegan's iPod, still functional despite a cracked screen and barely functional UI, and let the world melt away. If only for one night at a time they could pretend to be real people, living some sort of domestic existence in a place far from the halted war. Perhaps, in that distant timeline, they wouldn't even have survived a relationship in their teen years without the hardship they’d suffered.

As far as either was concerned, it made them stronger.

Forced them to learn what it meant to live without the other one. Of course, this meant that they knew how dull and awful life could be when it was empty, and they'd fight a hell of a lot harder to stay now that they'd been threatened with separation once.

Jack was a silent killer, Keegan a mouth full of vicious mockeries. Ghosts. Wisps in the wind. Dead already, living a better afterlife on the other side of the apocalypse. Nothing the Federation could throw their way would hold any weight, of this they were certain.

Until they did, of course.

No good thing lasts forever.

[keelt9]

Chapter 8

Powder

Masterlist

“Good morning honey.” Sunday morning is always the same, my parents make a nice breakfast for us to eat in the garden. When I was little in the weekends, after dad came from a mission, specially a hard one, dad usually came with a lot of stress some bad nightmares and troubles for keeping calm, so my mother and I opt for isolated him in our backyard with a nice and just made breakfast, as the time pass and my father were related to a calmer position it was already a routine.

“The painting is in the garage.” My dad says, of course, he won’t let split my disobedience.

I watch my mother asking for help but we both know it was useless. “Yeah, thanks.” 

The rest of the day I spend painting the house, my dad takes mercy of me and helps me for 2 hours then he said was enough for today and I got some rest, I take a quick shower and left for go and visit Penny, my parents warned me we have a special guest for dinner and I must be there.

In Hard Deck, Penny was getting ready for a moving weekend, but she stopped when I entered, giving me a couple of minutes of her attention. I told her the reason why I moved from the house that Riley and I bought, and agreed with me but that doesn't mean she didn’t have her doubts.

“So, when you are approved one more time, where are you going to live?” I help her clean the tables. 

“Here, not in my parents house of course, but I’ll find a nice place.” She puts all the balls from the pool table inside the triangle. 

“And if for some reason you don’t approve?” I stop, strangely I already have an answer for that question. 

“I’ll go back to Pearl.”

Pearl Harbor was where everything began, trying to get free from my father's influence; I moved there in my late teens; my mother almost had a heart attack when I told her but somehow works. My application passed most of the time not related to dad; leaving Pearl in one of the carriers is where I found I really have talent for flying and it’s not some kind of mind trick; I was notified in Pearl they sent me to FighterTown. Riley and I celebrate our first honor on the beach;if I think well, Pearl is a place full of happy moments, I don’t mind going back there and settling down.

“Pearl, huh?” Penny didn’t seem to like my choice. 

“Come on Penny, it will be hard to be here in Miramar watching aviators come and go as I stay, meanwhile in Pearl I can have a new start, maybe finish the college, who knows.” She didn’t answer. “You and my parents are the only ones who tied me here, if the navy said no, I would not like to be here and envy the people who get to be up there.” 

I grab her hand. “That means if it’s a no…”

“I’ll quit the navy.” I smile, because even though I know it will be hard, the truth is actually, I don’t see myself in some desk job, I will be so unhappy. 

As Hard Deck star to full of boys, girls, and people from the navy I help Penny a couple of hours before I have to left.I see Payback, Yale and Omaha having around, still any friendly faces, so I grab my things and say goodbye to Penny, just when I was about to enter to the car she came out. 

“Y/N sorry, it’s not the support you expect but… it just will be hard letting you go and not seeing you wearing even this horrendous jacket or just hanging around with those loud guys.” She is clearly overwhelmed by the thought.  

“I know but you still see me, a new me. Let’s not worry about that yet, ok?” She nods. “I love to keep talking but my parents are waiting for me for a special dinner.” 

She hugs me and I feel her sadness just thinking I could definitely go. “Have fun.”

At home my mother has everything set, so we get ready. Even if it’s not a fancy dinner it must be an important guest because dad is really excited watching his clock and reading a book at the same time. 

At 8:30 the doorbell rings and dad goes to open it; my mother and I were about to walk to the dinner room, when we see Pete hugging my father; in a lovely way too similar to the photo hanging on the wall.

Iceman and Maverick smiling and grabbing his hands sealing a lifetime friendship. 

“Who is the best pilot?” My dad asks and Mav smiles. 

“I’m hungry, you don’t?” All of us laugh.

Pete Michell since I have memory is an important person in my parents life, in mine well let’s go to say it’s like having two dads. He always makes sure to be present in my life, even when dad was somewhere on the planet; he always came home with something sweet for me; from time to time he sends me letters asking how I am or just telling me about how much he pisses off his officer. 

Actually, on my 15th birthday I rushed to his home to tell him I already decided what I want to do. He freaked out, so I had a good base for guessing how my parents would react but when he calmed down and saw the strong conviction in my decision he just said. <Just like your old man, head, and hands cold as ice.> 

My parents told him when I got in Top Gun and he made sure to send me a small cake with a little F-14 on the top to Pearl. When I get to be the first in my class dad can’t let this go and barging about one more time a Kazansky is the best pilot. 

And of course, he was there when I crumbled.

Riley and Maverick met when we got our first honor. Riley was on cloud 9 meeting the famous Pete Michell and Mav was glad to know that someone like Riley covers my back all the time.

A couple of days after the funeral, he told me he lost his best friend in a exercise, he understands the pain and the grief I’ve been through, I never ask him more, who was or how he get out of this because I saw the pain still lingering in his eyes, when I decided to get a full recover in my house he refused to left me alone at least until I can walk without the crutches, I’m pretty sure my parents and he having a constant communication was the  reason they left me go so far away from them with a strange calm.

Like mom and dad, Maverick is a big part of me.

I love this kind of dinners where they don’t have filters and talk like the time didn’t pass, and each time I learn something more about them, as the night passes my body screams for a proper rest, so I said goodbye to all and go to sleep. The next morning, I found empty glasses and bottles on the dinner table, and Mav sleeping on the couch. I giggled probably because the night was longer than I imagined.

The clock hanging in the wall marks 11:30 when Mav enters the kitchen with his hands over his eyes.

“I never imagined seeing Maverick hung.” I smiled at him, and he sat in the stool from the kitchen putting his hand over his face. 

“Here.” I put in front of him a cup of strong coffee. 

“The breakfast is almost ready, so I go and wake up my parents.” He nods and smiles, thanking me and raising the cup of coffee. “It’s nice to have you here, uncle Mav.” 

-

“I can’t believe you are thinking that.” Mav said, putting his cup of coffee on the table, my parents just smiled and looked at each other, we’re just in the middle of the breakfast when I told him if I don’t pass, I will decide to move to Pearl. 

“We told her the same.” My mom stands to pick another pancake. 

“Y/N is ridiculous. Come on!” My dad just giggled. 

“IT’S NOT” I pushed my father's shoulder. “Why does no one think they can reject me?” Mav put his hands over the table and laughed. 

“Sky, can you have a little more trust in you, you put me in a really bad position up there, and that's a lot to say.” I smile and wait a little bit for my mother to join us. 

“Listen, I really appreciate all the blind confidence you have in me but let’s be real, my position it’s not sure anymore and I must have a plan B, and that’s ok, I’ll be ok.” All give me a half smile, not wanting to, they let slip the topic.

When we all are saying goodbye to Maverick my dad can’t avoid messing around one more time. “Pete, the next time, told Penny she didn’t need an invitation to come too.” He got shy at the moment, put on his sunglasses and left home waving his hand. 

“You don’t forgive him a single one, right?” Dad smiles and wink at me.

-

“I’m leaving.” I scream getting downstairs. 

“Hold on, hold on, hold on, young lady.” I smile and turn to see my father reading the newspaper in the living room. “Leaving where?” I sat next to him and put my head on his shoulder. 

“Hard Deck, dagger team is leaving, and I want to say goodbye to them.” He turns the page. 

“And?” I laugh. 

“Have a little fun.” 

He kisses the top of my head. “Be careful.” I hug him and kiss my mother cheek who is entering with a glass of water. “Have fun, honey.”

Hard Deck has a full house, when I get to the counter I see Penny talking and having fun with all the people who are asking for a drink, then she turns around, she sees me sitting and watching the crowd.

“You came” I smile and nod. 

“But I think I arrived at a bad moment.” She denied. 

“No, they are all already he…” She sees the same I saw when I sit; Phoenix in intense play with other people on the table pool, Bob is talking with a nice girl while he smiles to her shyly, Jake is talking with other aviators I guess, barging about how good he is and Rooster well his lips are really busy. She closed her eyes and giggled. 

“Can I offer you something?” I ask for mineral water, another drop of alcohol and my liver will bother me all the coming week. “You look great, by the way.” 

I corrected her. “I look cute.” A blue summer dress is my outfit of the night.

I let the minutes pass, focus on the crowd and think about how much I will miss this if I fail, but at the same time it will be painful and hard to be here, suddenly I hear someone call my name. 

“Sky” I turn, and I see a guy who I can recognize from the dagger team. “They left you in the ditch, huh?” He came closer. 

“Well, they are busy right now.” He scoffs. 

“Come on, let’s play, Hangman always presumes about your fine aim.” I doubt but I also start to get bored. 

“Ok.”

I lost track of time,I was about to throw the next dart, Phoenix pulled me for a hug by the shoulders and lost my balance and hit far away from the center. 

“Why don’t you approach us?” She looks like win more than a couple of games. 

“Damn Nat, I have it.” I close my eyes to the missing target.

“You invited her then let her alone, huh.” I smile and try to get free from Nat. 

“You must tell us, Payback, don't steal her.” She is so strong. 

“Ok, ok, you have me now.” She points with her finger to Payback and Coyote and drags me where Bob is now drinking alone, I wave to them and thank them for the games. 

“Oh, it was actually you.” Bob says when I sit at the table. 

“You almost broke my neck, and yeah it was me.” Nat kept searching for someone in the crowd. 

“If you’re busy, why can't I be there playing?” Nat always will treat me like her little sister. 

“Where the hell is Bangman and Rooster?” Bob and I look at each other, I get it, we both know the answer. 

“Well, Jake is in the bathroom and Rooster is…” Is lovely how good team Bob and Nat have built. 

“Keeping his lips and hands busy.” I cut giggling at the reaction of Nat who just looked at us with open eyes. 

“He is what?” Bob points to our six, where Rooster keeps holding and kissing the girl; Nat didn’t have a chance to answer because Jake sits beside Bob.

“Did you have fun cheating on me? You look beautiful.” He is playing with me, and he notices Nat with her expression about killing someone, he points her to us, and Bob denies and raises his shoulders. 

“Are we having fun, or can I just keep playing with Payback and Coyote?” Jake smiles and all stands walking to the pool tables.

Like Cinderella, when the clock marks the 00:00 in my watch I start to say goodbye. Maybe they left on Tuesday, but I have to go tomorrow morning; a family is waiting to enter their new home tomorrow night. 

“Take care, ok? Never stop talking to her up there.” I hug Bob before going to Nat. 

“You better be back, huh?” She holds me tighter. 

“We work harder to be here for the results, ok?” I felt a few tears in my eyes. 

“Just be safe, that’s all you need to do.” She let me go but holding from my shoulders. Jake pulled me as soon as Phoenix let me go. 

“We’ll be here kiddo, we promise.” I put my arms around his waist. 

“Be safe, but never stop looking good.” He laughs and messes up my hair. 

“I’m always looking good.” 

I turned when I took a few steps. “Say goodbye to the guys.” They nod and wave his hands to me, I walk to say goodbye to Penny, she’s talking with the girl who was with Rooster, but he wasn’t there. 

“Y/N are you leaving?” She asks me when sees me. 

“Yeah, I have a flight early in the morning.” I smile at the girl and jump over the counter to kiss Penny's cheek. “I guess I’ll see you next weekend, right?” She lends me my purse. 

“Affirmative.” She smiles at me. “Take care, ok?” I nod and wave before leaving Hard Deck.

In the night while I was sitting on the little “bench” from my window I talked to myself. “Come on Sky, have a one sided crush is the last you need right now. Put yourself together, there is still a lot to do for having troubles with that.” I laid in bed and remembered Riley's words.

<You deserve someone who loves you with all his heart, mind and soul, not settle with less.> 

*

I let go of Lilian with her friends and I stayed with the rest of my team. 

“She is great.” I hear Coyote talking while he’s paying the bill to Penny. 

“A new girl in your sight?” I ask feeling the dangerous eyes from Phoenix and Penny. 

“I don’t think Hangman will let me.” He says waving his hand to Penny and leaving the bar. 

“Totally right.” Jake kisses Penny cheek before going, leaving just Penny, Phoenix, Bob, and me.

“Who is it?” Phoenix punches me in the arm. 

“Y/N…” Damn it. 

“She was here.” Bob ends her sentence. 

“I told you Bradley, no games if you really like her.” Bob and Phoenix said goodbye to Penny leaving me speechless. 

“Penny…” She cut me off. 

“Rooster, you know I love you so much, but I warn you, Y/N it’s not a girl to mess around, and I won’t let anyone mess around her.” Her face is serious let me know I really fuck off. “Go and rest Rooster, you need to be fine for the deployment.”

[weekendpassrevoked]

Easy's Songbird - Chapter Two

Orlando, Florida, January, 1942

They had been lucky. Michel had been out at sea that day, saved from the savage attack on Pearl Harbor. Maya and the kids had been in Orlando. She had decided to give birth here, Japan too far and her own parents unwilling to travel to help her. She didn’t want her son to be born in a military base, surrounded by unknown faces.

They had been lucky. 

Her parents had been huddled in the living room, Anzu running around outside on the patio with her and Maya was upstairs with Taiga, healing. But everything came to a stop when she heard her mother scream and a plate shatter.

They had been so, so lucky.

Eventually, Michel managed to call. Reassuring them he was fine and that there wasn’t any need to worry about him, especially with them being busy with the baby. 

The house had been dim that week, even with the blessed arrival of Taiga. Her mother had gone to mass everyday while Isabella stayed back to watch over Maya and the kids and Michel Senior went to work. She cooed at Taiga’s little squeals and gurgles. But there was a weight on their shoulders that nothing could get rid of, not even the innocent laughter of children.

Once winter break had ended and Isabella went back to school, she realized it wasn’t just her. Her childhood best friends and honorary brothers, Lucas and Cameron, felt it too. Everyone did. She felt no need to go perform, to sing and lift everyone’s spirits like she always had. No need to paint the walls of the barn in her usual flowers. Not even Lucas or Cameron would ask her to woo them away with her music. The songbird in her had gone silent.

She had been walking home, hand in hand with Cameron and Lucas behind them when they broke the news to her. 

Her boys would be leaving her too. 

Tears pricked her eyes, hand tightening around Camerons. “You guys should at least finish school before you start making stupid decisions,” she sighed, “Cameron isn’t even old enough to enlist.”

Lucas sped up, throwing his arm around her, grinning. “That’s what lying is for, Isa.”

She scoffed, annoyance and worry radiating off her. She rolled her eyes at him as he kept grinning down at her, his blonde hair shining in the sun. 

“Is that what you guys are going to tell mama when she finds out?”

They stilled at her words. Nothing was more dangerous than an angry Vega. Especially if it was Claudia, who had lovingly taken them under her wing when their own families hadn’t.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” she gritted out. She let go of Cameron’s hand, stomping her way home. 

She heard fast footsteps behind her, racing towards her. 

“Come on Isa, don’t run off like that. It’s too cold for you to be walking by yourself, especially in that dress.”

She turns around, cheeks pink from the wind, dress skirt flowing behind her. Folding her arms over her chest, she squints.

Angrily, she answers back. “You have one minute to give me a good reason to not kill the two of you before my mother does.”

Her boys stayed silent. Deep inside, she knew that they were only doing what they thought was right. To fight for the country they loved. But they were her boys. Who would perform with her at the bar? Walk her down the hallways at school? Make fun of her bookworm habits?

What would she do without her boys?

She sighs, tears growing in her eyes again. “I’m sorry…” she sniffles. “I’m being mean.”

Her tears begin to fall and she feels them wrap their arms around her as she puts her hands on her face. 

“You guys are so unfair, you were going to make me a cake this year.”

They chuckle as they hug her, waiting for her to calm down. After a while, she speaks up again, ready to continue torturing them for their decisions.

“Mama really is gonna kill yall you know?”

They stiffen and she laughs.

“Let’s get home before I freeze my butt off.”

That evening, her mother truly almost did kill them. But after scolding them at the dinner table, she fell silent and wrapped her arms around them, making them promise to always write no matter what. 

As they lay on the floor of her room, Cameron dead asleep, she asks Lucas about everything.

“So, what are yall gonna sign up for?” she whispers.

Lucas turns back toward her, eyes tired. “Cam wants to join the Army.”

It would suit him, somehow. Cameron was the youngest of the three, with Lucas as the oldest and her in the middle. She stared back. “What about you?”

“Marines.”

Her stomach dropped. She wasn’t dumb. She knew what the Marines would go through, she’d rather he go with Cameron to the Army. 

“Isa-”

“Did the Army reject you?”

Surprise flashed in his eyes. But Isabella knew he wouldn’t go to the Marines if he hadn’t been turned down by the Army. Lucas had always loved planes and the logical part of her mind knew that he would want the Air Corps before anything else.

He stayed silent as she stared. 

“What was it?”

He turned towards the ceiling. He’d always found her room the most beautiful thing in the house. She had painted it when she was younger, covered it in flowers and vines and birds. 

“My eyesight was too bad.” he sighed.

That’s all she needed to hear. She stretched her hand out to grab his, squeezing. 

They stayed quiet for a while, so long that her eyes had begun to shut from exhaustion. She was about to doze off until Lucas spoke up again.

“You could be a nurse you know?”

She shifted, body turning towards him. “What brought this on?”

“You’ve always been good with people. Helping them.”

Eyebrows wrinkling, she retorts. “That ain’t mean I’d be a good nurse.”

“You gonna say that to all those animals you take care of?”

He was right. She saved more than one cow and horse from a bad colic. Saved more than one baby when its mother couldn’t handle it anymore. Wrapped more hooves and legs than she could count.

“I wanna sing and perform, Luke. I ain’t wanna be a nurse.”

Lucas scoffed. “Do you think I was born yesterday?” He pulls her close, hiding her face in his chest. “I know you. You think we ain’t notice how excited you get when your pa tells his stories? How happy you got when you shot his rifle for the first time? You were made for the military, just like Michel is.”

She stays quiet, not knowing what to reply. He was right, she was a military brat through and through, just like Michel was. 

“I ain’t gonna tell you if it ain’t true. Two things can be real at the same time you know?”

Would she truly be able to leave this life behind and do the same duty her brother and father did? The same sacrifice her boys were making?

“It ain’t bother you than all these people are treatin’ Maya and the kids dirty? That those kids at school keep kicking ya because of your family? You won’t do it for the future you want Anzu and Taiga to have?”

It was true. Ever since Pearl Harbor, people had been treating her and the family differently. Maya barely left the house anymore after someone tried to throw a rock straight at Anzu’s head.

“I’ll think on it…” 

She feels him smile into her hair. “That’s my girl.”

Two days later, Lucas and her had walked into the Army enlistment office. She hadn’t told her parents yet, but Cameron had agreed with Lucas. They were her closest friends, who was she to doubt them. 

She walked up to the desk, hands clutching her skirt.

“Excuse me? I would like to sign up for the Nurse Corps.”

[need-a-hobbie]

Identity Crisis: Prologue

Summary: Naya’il is a young na’vi woman that has yet to share her past with the Sully children. Only Jake, Neytiri, Norm, and Mo’at know the pains she went through as a child and that is why she is accepted into the Omatikaya as a sitter for the children. That’s before her, Spider, Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk go out into the forest to explore and get captured. This time, Spider isn’t the only one the Sully parents fail to get. Naya’il and Lo’ak join him, the three bonding as teenagers. The only question is, why do the colonel and that bald headed corporal keep looking at her so weirdly?

Warnings: Mature language, trauma, abuse, mentions of death, smidge of stolkhom syndrome, slow burn, smut, graphic sex scenes

Pandora, or as the natives called it eywa’eveng, was the battle ground of human and a humanoid race called the na’vi. First, they came to learn from the people, to build bonds and trade, then it turned to tearing up the ground for unobtanium wich would supply energy to their dying Earth. Now, fifteen years after The Great War that ended with humans being thrown from the planet, they have returned to ensure a new planet for the humans to thrive on and kill. It ends with every creature not domesticated killed, every na’vi hunted and destroyed, the ecosystems, so beautiful and unique replaced with housing for the humans. They will destroy everything, everyone, for their own gain.

“What the hell were you thinking?! I take you two out and you can’t follow a simple order? What happened to staying in the skies and calling out incoming ships?!” The olo’eyktan of our tribe, the great Toruk Makto, tells at his two sons. They had disobeyed, almost died, and I watch with crossed arms. Kiri had come over with Tuk at some point to argue the fact that the oldest sibling, Neteyam, was bleeding. From what Lo’ak explained, an explosion went off and he had been caught in it, flying and cutting up his back pretty decently. “Ma Jake,” Neytiri, his mate, Palulukan Makto, sighs. Her hand, four fingers, rests on her son’s shoulder.

“Go to your grandmother’s tent.” He waves them off and I don’t miss the look she sends him while brushing past. The four leaving to tend to the oldest leaves Jake and Lo’ak, a potent mix of every daddy issue ever. “Olo’eyktan.” His eyes, muck more intense with the black paint surrounding them, land on me, daring me to say anything. “I will take care of Lo’ak.” He opens his mouth and I place my hand on the young boy’s shoulder. “Your yelling is attracting the attention of the clan. Go with Neteyam, please.” A moment of tense silence between us, the ikran chittering and wind rushing through the opening of High Camp. “You’re grounded, no flying for a month.”

He turns on his heel and I squeeze Lo’ak’s shoulder as we watch him stalk off. While I respected him, yelling at the boy who’s a carbon copy of him isn’t something I condone. “You okay, Lo’ak?” I turn him to face me, ears pinning at the tear filled eyes that meet mine. “I got you.” I pull him into a hug, resting a hand on the back of his head. “You’re okay now.” His shoulder’s shake and he cries into my shoulder, hugging me tightly. He reminded me of my younger brother so much, and to see him so upset and emotionally neglected hurt my heart. My ears twitch at the small patter of approaching footsteps and Spider peaks his head out from behind one of the many rock formations.

“Hey guys.” Lo’ak pulls away from me and Spider approaches with a wet cloth. “Jake wanted me to get you something to clean your face off.” Lo’ak lets me take it and I cup his cheek, carefully wiping the paint from his face. “Your father’s war paint. Very important. Very symbolic.” No response and I sigh. “You know, I remember what he was like when you and your brother were babes. Kiri as well, of course, but I distinctly remember the look on his face when he saw you two.” I rub gently, folding over the towel to get a clean spot as to not smear the paint on his face. “So proud, so happy, so young.”

Spider stands beside us, watching, listening. “That was before the humans came back. Before he had to worry for the safety of those who shared his blood, who were made from the very material of his body.” Lo’ak meets my eyes, his ears twitching. “The forest burned when the ships came, destroying much of the forest and burning many of the animals that were caught in the flames.” A pause while I turn his face. “They died horribly, unable to put out the flames on their skin.” A sad look from Spider, and I curse myself for not considering my words. “It was very sad, a very unhappy time for the tribes. Now, he sees himself in you, and he is scared that you will have to go through the same pain that he did as a young warrior.”

The paint is gone, so stains left behind by the pigment and I pat his head, smiling. “Spider, of course, had nothing to do with the pain brought. Only the pain that he brings by pulling pranks all the time.” The boy gives a sarcastic laugh and I grin at him. “Very funny, Naya’il.” I shrug, throwing the rag at his chest before messing with his dreads. “It is true, small man.” A gasp and he smacks the rag into my thigh very harshly. The sound is loud and I yelp, my skin stinging. “Oh! Watch your back, human!” He laughs, Lo’ak joining in and I pout.

“Since you think this is funny, you two can tend to the ikran by yourself. All thirteen that went on the war party!” Groans from the two teenage boys and I give a sarcastic laugh, which turns into a real one after the looks they give me. “C’mon. Let us get them tended before the great Toruk Makto comes back to yell.” Lo’ak snicker, Spider joining in before we start unsaddling the ikran. It takes close to an hour before all of them are fed, watered, unsaddled and sent on their way. He seems in better spirits when Spider starts joking around with him, and his smile reminds me so much of my brother I have to look away from the two as tears well in my eyes. He is not him, and he will never be.

After the ikran tending I head to my tent, head pounding. For the past few days, constant memories have been plaguing me, almost like a warning. I sigh, pulling back the leather of a strumbeast that had been given to me. Not a courting gift, but something that could be spared since others used blankets and rugs for their own tents. My fingers rub over the textured leather before I shake my head. Right, nap time. I enter my tent, stopping at the sight of Tuk. She’s sitting on my worn pillows, an uncharacteristic serious expression on her young face. “Thank you for joining me, Naya’il.” I feel my face scrunch up in confusion, questions on the tip of my tongue before I sigh.

“What can I help you with, young Tuk?” A tense smile and I sit on my bedding, crossing my legs. She had turned on the lamp, setting it behind her, and the idea that she did so to look intimidating crosses my mind. “Lo’ak is going to the forest later, with Kiri and Spider.” I nod. “Okay, what does this have to do with me?” A smile, sickly sweet and dangerous takes over her serious expression. “They want you to go. I want to go.” Another nod and concerned expression from me. “Are you wanting me to force them to take you as well?” She nods. “Yes, you are the oldest.”

I raise my eyebrow, or the muscle that would move one of Lo’ak’s and give her a pointed look. “Tuk. I turn eighteen in two days, that does not make me as old, wise, or persuading as your grandmother.” She frowns and I sigh, slouching enough to rest my elbow on my thigh and prop my chin in the palm of my hand. “Okay, but! You have to stay close and listen to what we say. I cannot promise you will be allowed, but I will try.” The youngest Sully child throws herself at me, squealing and I let the force of it push me onto my back. I hug her back, blinking up at the shadows on the leather, created by the light striking the sticks on the opposite side. “Get out. I need a nap.”

[distilledmelancholy]

Pride/Coming out Headcannons

Happy pride month! And happy first post lol. I thought it would be fun to make some headcannons about how the Welcome Home cast would celebrate/ react to you coming out!

Wally Darling

Celebrating

I feel like Wally would not really understand at first

"A special month? What about when it's not June?"

Would walk around to spread the news to the other neighbors about this wonderful thing he just learned called "pride month" (even though everyone already knows what it is)

Coming Out

Depending on what identity you're coming out with, you will most likely need to explain it to him a little bit. He's just a silly little guy after all.

Would probably paint you a picture of something to do with your identity flag or something to show that he loves you no matter what! Best friends stick together

Barnaby B. Beagle

Celebrating

Something tells me this guy can make balloon animals

Would probably make a comedy routine for pride and make jokes that target each neighbor and their identity lol

Coming Out

Would definitely make some out of pocket jokes (in a good way)

Howdy Pillar

Celebrating

Would deck out his bugdega in banners and ribbons and streamers n shit.

Would also change into the most hideously colorful uniform ever. Dear lord the colors clash so bad but hes trying to show his support for his friends!

Would stock up on all the things that the gays need (extra hairspray for Wally, and just a plethora of rainbow things and decorations for the other neighbors)

Coming Out

"Oh, ya don't say?" (already knew)

Would order you something special that reps your flag so you can show your pride!

Eddie Dear

Celebrating

Already has decor and corny outfits ready the first day of pride, and will continue to wear corny ass outfits with rainbows everywhere until the very last day.

Probably has special mail stamps and envelopes too lol

Defintely shows off Frank during this time. He loves his partner!!

Not headcannon but actually cannon... drag queen. Would be a drag queen in Sally's drag shows

Coming Out

"Awesome, more of us!"

Will definitely give you a big ol' hug and get emotional because you trust him enough to come out to him.

Frank Frankly

Celebrating

Will celebrate if his friends are doing something, but won't do anything himself.

But he'll do anything that Eddie asks him to do.

Which means he wears Eddie's god awful accessories so they can match because he just can't say no to his lovely husband.

Coming Out

Would just kind of be like "Okay cool, can you leave my house now? Im kinda busy" (Was about to go butterfly watching)

Julie Joyful

Celebrating

Would go to each neighbor individually and wish them happy pride month!

Would want to play lots of games and have lots of sleepovers to celebrate as much as possible!

Also matching with Eddie and Frank

Coming Out

"beeee who you areeee"

Give you a big happy hug and get suuper excited

Sally Starlet

Celebrating

Would host plays with the main characters being gay or something so probably shakespeare tbh

Host a drag show once a week

Coming Out

"Does this mean you'll be apart of my plays?"

Poppy Partridge

Celebrating

Makes sooo many baked goods you get a stomach ache

Definitely takes over as a mother figure during this month, so if you normall don't have supportive parents shes your mom now :)

Coming Out

Will probably start crying and give you a hug because she loves you so much

So touched that you came out to her