#and would it matter if it was $5 million? $1 million? would people who want the steady incomd chamge for $20m?

[impulsivelycontentious]

I'm still thinking of that $10,000,000 vs $1000 a day poll because My Brain Be Like That and now I'm thinking of people's trust in banks and the economy and the marshmallow experiment and how it didn't prove what people claimed it did and how poor kids trust adults who promise marshmallow later a whole lot less and then what is the marshmallow? The lump sum or the $1,000 a day? The promise that you get to keep it or the promise that there will be more?

What do you trust less?

[wilwheaton]

The GOP wonders why young people (and others) don't want to vote for them. Some wise scribe assembled this list.

1.) Your Reagan-era “trickle-down economics” strategy of tax breaks for billionaires that you continue to employ to this day has widened the gap between rich and poor so much that most of them will never be able to own a home, much less earn a living wage.

2.) You refuse to increase the federal minimum wage, which is still $7.25 an hour (since 2009). Even if it had just kept up with inflation, it would be $27 now. You’re forcing people of all ages but especially young people to work multiple jobs just to afford basic necessities.

3.) You fundamentally oppose and want to kill democracy; have done everything in your power to restrict access to the ballot box, particularly in areas with demographics that tend to vote Democratic (like young people and POC). You staged a fucking coup the last time you lost.

4.) You have abused your disproportionate senate control over the last three decades to pack the courts with religious extremists and idealogues, including SCOTUS—which has rolled back rights for women in ways that do nothing but kill more women and children and expand poverty.

5.) You refuse to enact common sense gun control laws to curb mass shootings like universal background checks and banning assault weapons; subjecting their entire generation to school shootings and drills that are traumatizing in and of themselves. You are owned by the NRA.

6.) You are unequivocally against combatting climate change to the extent that it’s as if you’ve made it your personal mission to ensure they inherit a planet that is beyond the point of no return in terms of remaining habitable for the human race beyond the next few generations.

7.) You oppose all programs that provide assistance to those who need it most. Your governors refused to expand Medicaid even during A PANDEMIC. You are against free school lunches, despite it being the only meal that millions of children can count on to actually receive each day

8.) You are banning books, defunding libraries, barring subject matter, and whitewashing history even more in a fascistic attempt to keep them ignorant of the systemic racism that this nation was literally founded upon and continues to this day in every action your party takes.

9.) You oppose universal healthcare and are still trying to repeal the ACA and rip healthcare from tens of millions of Americans and replace it with nothing. You are against lowering the cost of insulin and prescription drugs that millions need simply to LIVE/FUNCTION in society.

10.) You embrace white nationalists, Neo-Nazis, and other groups that are defined by their intractable racism, xenophobia, bigotry, and intolerance. You conspired with these groups on January 6th to try to overthrow the U.S. government via domestic terrorism that KILLED PEOPLE.

11.) You oppose every bill aimed at making life better for our nation’s youth; from education to extracurricular and financial/nutritional assistance programs. You say you want to “protect the children” while you elect/nominate pedophiles and attack trans youth and drag queens.

12.) You pretend to be offended by “anti-semitism” while literally supporting, electing, and speaking at events organized by Nazis. You pretend to hate “cancel culture” despite the fact that you invented it and it’s basically all you do.

13.) Every word you utter is a lie. You are the party of treason, hypocrisy, crime, and authoritarianism. You want to entrench rule by your aging minority because you know that you have nothing to offer young voters and they will never support you for all these reasons and more.

14.) You’re so hostile to even the notion of helping us overcome the mountain of debt that millions of us are forced to take on just to pay for our post K-12 education that you are suing to try to prevent a small fraction of us from getting even $10,000 in loan forgiveness.

15.) You opened the floodgates of money into politics via Citizens United; allowing our entire system of government to become a cesspool of corruption, crime, and greed. You are supposed to represent the American people whose taxes pay your salary but instead cater to rich donors.

16.) You respond to elected representatives standing in solidarity with their constituents to protest the ONGOING SLAUGHTER of children in schools via shootings by EXPELLING THEM FROM OFFICE & respond to your lack of popularity among young people by trying to raise the voting age.

17.) You impeach Democratic presidents over lying about a BJ but refuse to impeach (then vote twice to acquit) a guy whose entire “administration” was an international crime syndicate being run out of the WH who incited an insurrection to have you killed.

18.) You steal Supreme Court seats from democrats to prevent the only black POTUS we’ve ever had from appointing one and invent fake precedents that you later ignore all to take fundamental rights from Americans; and even your “legitimate” appointments consist of people like THIS (sub-thread refuting CJ Roberts criticisms of people attacking SCOTUS' legitimacy).

19.) You support mass incarceration even for innocuous offenses or execution by cop for POC while doing nothing but protect rich white criminals who engage in such things as tax fraud, money laundering, sex trafficking, rape/sexual assault, falsifying business records, etc.

20.) You are the reason we can’t pass:—Universal background checks—An assault weapons ban—The ‘For the People/Freedom to vote’ Act or John Lewis Voting Rights Act—The ERA & Equality Act—The Climate Action Now Act—The (Stopping) Violence Against Women Act—SCOTUS expansion.

21.) You do not seek office to govern, represent, or serve the American people. You seek power solely for its own sake so you can impose your narrow-minded puritanical will on others at the expense of their most fundamental rights and freedoms like voting and bodily autonomy.

22.) Ok, last one. You are trying to eliminate social security and Medicare that tens of millions of our parents rely on and paid into their entire lives. And you did everything to maximize preventable deaths from COVID leaving millions of us in mourning.

Source: https://imgur.com/gallery/e8DBZLH

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 10: The Cabin: Day 5 (pt.1)

Summary: You and Soap both struggle to sleep. You have nightmares all night while Soap tries to rationalize his feelings and help you cope with the nightmares.

Word Count: 6,821

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, angst, strong language, slight smut, nudity, graphic description of blood in nightmares

A/N: I had a few comments on Wattpad asking for a specific scene for this chapter, so I modified the chapter to include that. Please enjoy, like, comment, and reblog 🫶🏻

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Bitter Allies • Part 10

No matter what he does, Soap cannot get to sleep tonight. It not like he's too hot, and he wasn't horribly uncomfortable in his bed either. Yet, he's been tossing and turning for hours. While there was no way of telling time, he knows it has to be past midnight at this point.

He's not completely clueless as to what's keeping him up though. Any time he tries to quiet his mind, it always end up wandering back to the woman lying silently in her cot a few feet away from him. He can't stop thinking about you. About what happened today, or in this case, what happened yesterday. Within the last twenty-four hours.

It wasn't even the fact he faced off with a black bear. Hell that didn't really scared him much. He was a well traveled soldier was this point and had survived the wilds of Russia. He'd learned how to handle wild animals of all sorts. No, the thing bothering him was feeling like he almost lost you today.

Having sex with you just the day before had opened his eyes to new feelings he felt towards you. It was easy to push that down with time and put his walls back up. He could just call it a mistake and move on, pretend like it meant nothing. But something as drastic as hearing you scream in terror, begging for him to get to you, looking so frightened and small and vulnerable, shaking and sobbing as he held you... it was different than just having sex.

At least with sex, he could blame his new feelings on the fact you'd done something so intimate. He felt different towards you cause you made him feel good, because sex makes people feel closer to each other, because it was exciting and fun, because he normally didn't sleep around just for fun, so doing it as a one time thing was confusing for him. There were a million excuses to explain how he felt. But with what happened with the bear, he couldn't fully rationalize those feelings.

When he heard you scream, his blood ran ice cold. He'd never felt such panic at the thought that you might be in trouble. Even thinking about it now makes his heart beat a little faster. Then when he finally got to you, and you looked so scared, something in him just snapped. He wanted to protect you, but not in the same way he wanted to protect his brothers and sisters in arms. He couldn't explain it.

Once that bear had run off, all he wanted to do was get to you. Make sure you were ok. The thought of you being hurt filled him with dread. It wasn't like that with his other squad mates. If the 141 boys got hurt, he'd be worried and concerned, but with you he'd almost felt sick. He didn't think of himself as sexist, but maybe it was because you were a woman. But he'd worked with other women before and never felt that way about one he liked let alone you, who he couldn't stand.

Then when you started trembling, he could have died. He had to fight off the urge to wrap you up in his arms and hold you close to him. He probably would have had you not been naked. Even if he could brush or excuse everything else, this was one thing he couldn't explain. He had never felt such a stong urge to want to hold someone. The only other time he could think of having a feeling that strong would have been when his sisters got scared when they were kids. He'd certainly never wanted to hug Ghost or the others or any other female he'd worked with.

Then of course once you got inside, and you wouldn't shut up about how you almost died, that kept bringing up all those feelings tenfold. He couldn't stop thinking about himself not being fast enough. Not getting to you in time. Feeling panicked, filled with dread, wanting to hug you close to him and never let go.

He couldn't make sense of it. Had these feelings always been here, and they'd just been hidden behind layers and layers of hate and resentment? And when you'd finally cleared your minds, is that when it could finally come through. God... did he actually like you? And more than just another teammate.

Soap growls, slapping his hands over his hands and dragging them down. He was going insane. This cabin was making him absolutely insane. He wanted to go back so desperately to when it was simple, but there was no turning back now. Hell, he still had the rest of today with you and then two more days past that. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad. You had "started over" after all. You'd even done that stupid little bid of reintroducing yourselves to each other.

A huff leaves Soap as he thinks about that. Fuck it'd been so fucking cute. Your annoyingly adorable pout when he didn't shake your hand right away and even more adorable look when he had. He'd never thought of you as cute. Annoying fit, but not adorable. Something had changed, and he didn't like it, but he did.

He glances over to where you lay, fast asleep and breathing peacefully. You're on your side facing him, his liner pulled up right to your chin. It's so dark out he can't really make out your face. The wood stove between your cots, which normally did have a fire going during the night, was currently not being used. It was a warmer night, so he decided there was no point in starting a fire. The only light source was coming from the moon, but it was only a half moon. It barely illuminated the room.

Soap is about to give up on trying to sleep for the night and go to the kitchen and draw or maybe journal for a bit. Or as Gaz would say, write in his diary. Whatever you wanted to call it, writing things out helped get stuff off his mind.

He's about to get out of bed when he hears a faint whimper from your side of the tiny room. He stills for a moment, looking over at you when you do it again. Your cot makes the God awful creaking sounds it always makes whenever you move the slightest bit, and Soap watches you curl into a tight ball. You're starting to breathe heavy, taking very small gasps, and he knows you're having a nightmare.

You sound like you had right after the bear attack, only on a smaller scale. He frowns at he listens to you, only able to tolerate it for a few seconds before he's slipping out of bed and taking the two quick steps to your side.

He kneels down, able to see your face a little better now that he's closer. It's pinched up, your brows furrowed and lips turned downward in a frown. He feels the longing in his chest once again to hug you close to him and comfort you, but he won't let himself. Instead, he places a hand on your arm, giving you a very gentle shake to try and wake you up from whatever is plaguing you.

"Oi, lass." He whispers softly. "Hey, States. Wake up." He adds a little louder when you don't come out of sleep the first time.

You startle awake, taking in a big gasp of air and jumping. Your hand flies out to grab at his arm, and he lets you sit up. Your eyes are widened in fear, and he quickly tries to calm you down.

"Hey, easy." He tells you gently. "You were having a nightmare."

"O-oh.." He hears you weakly mutter. "I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"

Soap frowns at your question and shakes his head. "Nah, I was already up."

"Why are you still? Can't you fall sleep?" You ask, and he knows he can't tell you the real reason why he's awake. That he can't sleep because you were tormenting his mind.

"It's just a bit warm is all. I'm too hot to get comfortable." It wasn't a complete lie, just a half truth. "I'll be fine. Go back to sleep, aye?" He gets up, moving back over to his cot and setting down. He hears you mumble an "alright" before your cot starts squeaking again as you settle.

Soap stares up at the ceiling, you now in the forefront of his mind once again. All those odd unexplainable feelings from earlier had resurfaced, and he had to push them all back down once more. He just needed to sleep it off. Maybe his mind was just tired, and he wasn't thinking straight. That had to be it. He'd think more clearly in the morning.

He tries to sleep, but he still can't get himself to drift off. Cursing softly and kicking his blanket off in frustration, he fishes out his journal from under his pillow and gets up to go into the kitchen. It's not much brighter out there, but the small table sat by the window allowed for slightly more light to come in.

Opening his journal to a new page, he begins to scribble his feelings into the book. He writes about the argument from the morning, about the things he said to you. He writes about hearing your voice and how it made him panic. About the bear, how small you felt, about the moments right after and how he hates that you make him feel this way. He hated you long before this, and now he just had more reasons to add to that. More reasons to hate you.

But then why can't I hate you...

The last words he wants to write in his journal don't make it down onto the paper as his attention is torn away from the book. A sob is coming from the bedroom. Standing before his mind can catch up, he opens the bedroom and peaks inside. You're asleep again, he's pretty sure, back on your side and sobbing. Your breath has a panicked rhythm, more so than before.

And then, if it wasn't hard enough, he hears you call his name in a mumbled and slurred speech. Pleading with him, crying for him, and it's like his heart being ripped from his chest. Like he's reliving the encounter with you, and he can't stand it anymore.

In a few quick strides, he's back to your side, gently shaking you awake again.

***

Big black sharp claws, a horrible pain in your stomach, blood staining the clear water, guts floating up right before your eyes. Your guts. The pain is intense, feeling like a burning sensation. You scream, hands gripping onto black fur and pushing away the animal that is trying to bit at your throat. Your arms shake as you struggle to hold the beast back. You scream again, this time for the one man you know is here to help you.

Please, you don't want to die like this...

The bear's head turns and bites your arm, pain radiating where its teeth sink in. You let go, ripping your arm free, but also ripping the flesh from your arm and leaving the bones bare. You don't know how you haven't passed out yet.

As you look at your arm, screaming in horror at the all too real visual, the bear lunges, teeth sinking into your throat. Your head is pinned to the side as the pain sinks in, as breathing becomes harder.

Through your tears, you see him. Standing on the side of the lake shore, looking out towards you. His arms are crossed, his expression stern. You beg him to help you, the words coming out even despite the animal crushing your throat. You plead, reaching out your mangled arm to him, but he turns away. He disappears into the trees, leaving you behind.

You thought you could trust him... you remember starting over... why was this happening?

The bear forces you under water then, its large body pinning you to the bottom on the lake, head thrashing as it tears at your throat. You gasp, somehow able to breathe in the water, and when your eyes open it's pitch black.

The pressure is still on your chest, the burning in your stomach and neck, but you're able to move better. Maybe it let you go, but you can't see anything. You sit up, gasping and blindly grabbing at the air in front of you to grab the bear before it can get you again. You miss every time though until it grabs your arms again, and you cry out as you duck away, fearing it's going to get you again.

As you duck, your head sits something solid, and you pause. The pain starts to leave your body, besides your head, and you realize you're not in water anymore. You make out a window that has a tiny bit of moonlight shining through it and realize you'd hit your head right on the frame. Then your ears start to work and you hear someone saying your name.

"States please! You're having a nightmare! Lass, you're just dreaming, it's alright!"

You immediately recognize the Scottish accent, but you don't quite interpret the message he's giving. The freshest memory you have of him is of him walking away while you got mauled. You rip your arms away, trying to get away, but you can't. A hard wall blocks you in.

"No!! Get away! You left! You fucking left me to die!" You scream at him, still not in the right mind.

He puts his hands on your thighs by your knees, rubbing soothing shapes with this fingers. "Shhh, it's alright. You were having a nightmare. You're alright. Please, calm down. It's alright." He coos over and over again. "Just a nightmare. Deep breaths. Come back to me, hen."

Your breathing starts to slow slightly as your mind separates reality from dreamscape. Memories of what actually occurred flood your head, but now you're just left with the raw feeling of terror from what you made up. You cry, hands covering your face as you remember the fear, the pain, the feeling of teeth and ripping flesh.

You feel yourself move, being pulled into Soap's chest. His large arms wrap around your body and hold you firmly against him. He guides your head to lay on his shoulder, forehead tucked against his neck. You don't fight it, maybe because you're still kind of out of it, maybe because it feels nice. He's so warm, he's whispering gentle things to you in a deep voice, and his hands rub soft circles on your back as you sob.

"I've got ya... It's alright now. You were just dreaming. Just a nightmare." He repeats, one of his hands gently cradling the back of your head and bushing softly through your hair.

"I-I-t-it was-s hor-horri-ble..." You finally choke out, beginning to hyperventilate more than cry.

"I know... I know..." Soap says softly, holding you a bit tighter while you struggle for air. "It's ok though. Just breathe for me."

"It attacked me... I felt its teeth in my throat, and it cut me open, and you were th-there..." You're just making yourself upset all over again as you recall everything that happened. "You just watched. You wouldn't help, and then you left me..."

"Oh hell, lass..." Soap frowns as he listens to you somewhat explain your dream through broken words. "It wasn't real, hen. It wasn't real."

"But it felt real..." You whimper.

"Hey, look at me." Soap says gently, moving his hand to your chin and pulling you away from him just slightly. Your eyes meet his, and you can just barely make out the whites from his bright blue irises. "It was not real. I know it felt like it, but it wasn't. I know we fight a lot. I know we are a pain in each other's asses, but listen to me. You are still 141. I will always have your back. No bear is going to get you on my watch. You hear me? Don't you think for one second that I would just leave you. When I heard your scream, I never run so fast in my damn life to get to you."

You're left speechless when he's done. How do you respond to something like that? It was so sweet, so heartfelt, so not the Soap MacTavish you knew. You'd been seeing small glimpses of this softer side of his, but nothing like this. His words are a soothing balm to the terrors you dreamt of, and you've never been so grateful to have him here with you.

"Soap..." You whisper, holding his gaze and allowing your body to ease itself of tension. "Do you really mean that?"

"Of course I do." He drops his hand from your chin, settling it on your hips instead. "I don't want you dead. I don't not like you that much."

You laugh softly, probably because you're exhausted. It was a long day, and to top it off, nightmares sort of took a lot out of you. At least he didn't hate you. He wouldn't be here holding you in his arms if he did.

"Thank you." You tell him softly. "For everything. For coming to save me, for giving me your shirt, for making me soup, and calming me down, and... I really appreciate it."

"Don't do that. You don't need to do that. My mum would have beheaded me if she knew I didn't help a lady in distress. Plus, I just couldn't stand the sound of your cot when you thrash around." He grumbles, but you know he doesn't mean that.

"Well, my parents wouldn't be happy if I didn't acknowledge it." You throw back at him. "Plus I don't want to hear you bitch about how I never even said thank you."

"Brat." Soap chuckles. "Go to sleep. Don't need you to be grouchy tomorrow."

You're smiling, but it quickly fades at the idea of going to sleep. Despite Soap making you feel better, the nightmares still tickles at the back of your mind. Just waiting for you to shut your eyes so it can take over once more.

"I... I might stay up for a little bit." You say slowly.

"I know you're exhausted. You had a stressful day. Get some sleep, lass." He tells you softly, trying to gently push you to lay down, but you don't let him.

"But what if I have another nightmare?"

Soap pauses for a moment when you say that. You can't make out his expression in the dark, but you feel like he's clenching his jaw. There's a beat of silence before he continues.

"Then I'll be right here." He assures you. "You'll be alright."

"Well, I don't want to keep waking you up."

"Eh, you haven't yet. Still hadn't been able to get to sleep. Don't worry about me though." Soap starts to gently nudge you to get you to lay done. You're a bit reluctant, but you let him. You sink back onto your cot, the springs creating a symphony of whiny metallic screeches as you do. "Fucking hell, I hate your bed so much." He grumbles.

You roll your eyes, sighing heavily. You would argue more with him about your squeaky cot, ask him how he thinks you felt having to sleep on it, but you're actually pretty tired. So you opt to just lay back and hope you won't dream at all.

"Alright. But if I wake you up though I'm not gonna feel bad." You yawn softly.

"Yeah whatever, you-" Soap pauses to yawn as well. "Probably wouldn't have regardless." He finishes.

You giggle a little bit. "Goodnight, Soap."

"Night, States."

***

You're not sure what time it is, but you wake up in a cold sweat, Soap gently shaking your arm. Your cheeks are damp, and it still takes you a second to figure out that you're not dreaming anymore. Although you are getting quicker at coming around with each time he wakes you up.

You still grab his wrist in a death grip, breathing heavily as you look in the dark at him. He's still shushing you softly like he had the other times, though he sounds a lot more tired now. You're definitely waking him up.

"Hell, States. You're fine. Just another nightmare." He says, rubbing his face with his free hand when you won't let go of his other hand immediately. "It's alright, lass. Can you let go of my arm?"

You blink a few times, coming back once again. His words take a few seconds to register, and you release him once they do. You're far past feeling guilty now. You've woken him up a few times now. The nightmares are not letting up or going away.

"Sorry... Fuck what the hell is wrong with me..." You sigh, drying your cheeks on your shirt as you sit up. This was probably the fifth time now. It had to be close to 0400 but it's too hard to tell. The room was still in total darkness, so you know it's not quite 0700 yet.

Soap sighs softly, stinking down to sit on the edge of your bed, making the springs make a horrid noise. "There's nothing wrong with you. You're just dealing with a lot. Processing stuff. You'll probably be fine tomorrow."

"I want to be fine now." You complain. You felt bad for keeping him awake. If it was just you, you wouldn't care, but this was exhausting for Soap too.

"Unfortunately it doesn't work that way. Only thing you can do is just go back to sleep."

You can tell he doesn't really want to stay up with you. He wants to sleep, and you can't blame him. He's been up all night essentially and any sleep he is getting is being interrupted. You're honestly surprised he hadn't snapped at you yet.

"The sun's gotta be rising soon. I think I'm just going to stay up." You say, pushing the liner down and pulling your legs free.

"You don't know that. Could be only 0200 for all we know." He counters, but he doesn't push it. "But if you wanna stay up for a bit though that's fine. I just wanna sleep. I'm fucking tired."

You frown, watching as he gets up and drags his feet as he walks over to his side of the room. "I know you are. I'm sorry."

"Eh," Soap waves a hand back towards you as he crawls back into his cot. "It's fine. You can't help it." He yawns, the sound a little obnoxious and dramatic. "Just don't stay up too long." He adds, already half asleep the second his head hits his pillow.

"Alright." You agree, not even sure he's heard you. After a few minutes, he's already softly snoring.

You carefully try to get off your cot, wincing as the squeaking from the springs echo in the quiet room. Soap's snoring continues on uninterrupted though. Normally, you moving even the slightest bit would make him wake up and gripe, so that was a testament to how out of it he truly was.

The rest of the walk to the bedroom door is silent in comparison once you're off your cot. Even the slight squeak of the door hinges is nothing. Once you're in the kitchen, you can breathe a sigh of relief, glad to finally give Soap a little time to actually get some sleep. Though now you're cursed with trying to find something to do to occupy your mind.

It's far too dark to do something like read. You could use the flashlight, but you don't want to waste the batteries on something like that. You'd rather have it for emergencies. Cooking was also out of the question. The pots and pans and the smell of food would probably just wake Soap up again. Plus it was dark still. It was a little hard to cook without being able to see what you're doing.

You can, however, make yourself a drink. It was just a mixture of purified water from your cantina and a cherry flavoring packet, but it was something to occupy your mind for a few seconds and gave you something somewhat tasty to drink.

You set about digging through the box for the flavor you want, finding what you hope is a red and not an orange packet. When you tear it open though, a strong scent of cherry confirms it was the right flavor. You mix it into some water, trying to stir your cup quietly. Every time the spoon hits the side of the metal cup, it sounds so loud in the quiet night air.

You're about done with your stirring and are about to go sit at the little table when you hear a stick snapping somewhere outside. You inhale sharply, your body going tense. You try to rationalize with yourself that it's nothing. Just a deer or something else. But of course your sleep deprived, stressed out, overactive, brain thinks it's the bear.

No matter how much you tell yourself it's nothing and to calm down, your heart rate just keeps getting higher and higher. You can't make yourself calm down. Even if your rational brain knew it wasn't in danger, that didn't keep all the sensors from firing off.

Then you hear another twig snap, this one closer to the cabin. A horrible shiver runs up your spine as you imagine it is the bear. Smelling you from outside, right outside the door. It could just bust down that door and get you. And it's dark out, its fur would blend in so well that you wouldn't even see it coming.

That's enough to set you off. Your hands shake as you try to place your cup down somewhere it won't spill. You just want to be back in your bed. Right by Soap. An extra door between you and whatever else is outside.

The cup doesn't quite make it though. What was most likely just a crab apple from a nearby tree falls and lands on the roof by the deck. It rolls from the roof and hits the deck, making a thumping sound, which makes you jolt. Your frazzled mind doesn't think it's a nut though. You imagine it's the sound of a bear knocking something over outside while it makes its way up onto the deck.

You are in full panic mode. Water spills over the rim of the cup as you jump, and you hurriedly set it down. Once your hands are free, you bolt back into the bedroom. You don't mean to, but you end up slamming the door in your hurry. It doesn't immediately occur to you how loud it was, but it was enough to wake Soap up.

The poor Scot jumps awake, the loud bang nearly giving him a heart attack. He's on high alert as his eyes search the darkness for what caused the loud sound. He's drawn instantly to your dark figure by the door, and he can hear you breathing heavily but quietly.

"States?" You hear him ask hesitantly. "What the hell? What's wrong?"

You flinch when you hear his voice. You'd managed to wake him up yet again. Though you feel an odd mix of guilt and relief. You hate to admit it, but there is a part of you that is happy he's awake.

"There.. there's something outside..." You say softly, as though the imagery thing out there would hear.

"What?" Soap asks. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"There was a noise! I heard something on the porch and-and-"

"Oh Christ." Soap sighs. "Lass, it's probably nothing." He tries to reassure you, but you don't budge. Your tense figure stays standing in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around yourself as you watch the door.

"But-"

Then you hear a loud bang, and your heart jumps to your throat. It definitely came from outside. There was no way something in the kitchen had fallen over. You quickly back up until you're at Soap's side, tears collecting at the rim of your vision. Your heart is pounding, and you're doing everything you can to not have a full panic attack.

"See! I told you! What if the bear is back!?" You cry out.

Soap up on his feet instantly. Seeing him so alert only makes you want to panic more though. If he is this ready to go, then it really could be that the bear was back.

"What are you doing?!" You ask him, unable to keep the panic from your voice.

"I'm just gonna go check it out. I'll be right back." He tells you rather calmly. You're anything but calm though.

"No! Don't do that! What if something happens?!" You grab his arm before he can leave, making him look back at you.

"I doubt the bear is back. That thing was scared shitless. Just stay here. I'll only be a minute." He gives your hand a little pat, and despite any further protesting from you, he leaves to go check the sound out.

You have an internal debate with yourself on if you should go with him or not. You are terrified to face off with that black bear again, but you also don't want Soap to be by himself if it is back. Sure, he scared it off the first time, but you wanted to have his back like he had yours. After a few seconds of going back and forth in your head, you finally give in and rush after him.

"Soap! Wait up!" You sigh, running to catch up with him in the kitchen.

By the time you get there, Soap has already grabbed the flashlight and is shining it out the windows on the side where the banging sound had come from. His hand is cupped by his eyes as he looks around.

"I don't see anything out there." He assures you as you stand close to him, too scared to look for yourself.

"Well the bear is black. Kinda blends in right now." You mutter, chewing on your lip.

Soap huffs softly, standing up straight again as he looks back over to you. "Most bears sleep during this time. I am pretty certain it's not out there.

"Then what was that loud sound? Huh?" You worry, frowning at him. Soap groans, and you watch in confusion and then panic as he goes the door. "Don't fucking go out there! Are you crazy?!"

He's already out the door though, shining the light outside and looking over the porch. You manage to make yourself go to the doorway, watching him helplessly as he scouts it out.

"There's a bucket out here that's been knocked over. It was pro- Jesus! Fucking!" Soap jumps suddenly, taking a quick step back towards the door, which makes you jump.

"What?? What?!?" You shout, bouncing on your heels slightly as you try to make yourself stay and not run. You feel like your heart is going to explode it's beating so hard.

Soap takes a deep breath, placing a hand over his chest to calm himself down. "Just a fucking raccoon. Scared the shit out of me. See, have a look." He motions for you to come look as he shines the light.

Your feet stay firmly planted, but you do strain to look outside, and you can see a raccoon in the middle of the yard, its eyes glowing due to the light shining on it. It's frozen in place, on its way back to the woods. Then it suddenly turns and runs the rest of the way back.

"It probably just knocked that bucket over. Looking for food or something." Soap pieces together, turning and heading back inside. He shuts the door and places the flashlight back on its shelf. "No bear though. Come on, let's get back to bed."

You still haven't left your spot, trembling as you still don't feel safe. You know it's irrational to think the bear is still out there, even though Soap just proved it was most likely just a raccoon you'd been hearing, but you can't help it. The only thing that makes you move is when Soap comes over and gently grabs hold of your hips, trying to pull you away from your frozen state.

You resisting at first, but it doesn't take much for Soap to get you walking back to the bedroom. Your arms are folded over your chest, shivering both from fear and because the opened door has let some of the chilly night air in.

"Fuck. You're shaking again." Soap sighs, his hand rubbing your back as he guides you through the bedroom door. "You need to relax and stop working yourself up."

"I can't help it!" You frown, your exhausted mind breaking down a bit. "I've had fucking I don't even know how many nightmares about it now. I'm so tired, but I'm scared to sleep. But if I stay awake, then every little sound makes me imagine the bear just stalking the outside of the cabin! I just want to sleep..." You let out a little sob.

"Oh, States... you're killing me." Soap sighs, giving your back a few pats. "Here, come give me a hand real quick." He leaves your side, and you watch him out over to your cot. You're confused at first and then wince as the railing of your bed make jarring sounds as he moves it.

"What are doing?" You ask him, plugging one ear to help mute the sound.

"I'm moving your cot next to mine for the night." He explains. "Come give us a hand." He walks around to the side and gives it a push, essentially doing all the work himself. The beds are already close to being next to each other.

"You really don't have to-" You try to protest, but with a final shove, the beds are now side by side, almost creating one mattress.

"There." Soap sighs, crawling over yours and settling onto his own. "Come on. I'm tired." He pats your mattress firmly. "Get your ass in this bed and go to sleep." He grumbles, readjusting his pillow and blanket while he speaks.

"Was that really necessary?" You question, though you really don't feel like arguing.

"Yes." Soap says firmly. "Now I don't have to keep getting up.  You have another nightmare, I'm just going to kick you. You start blabbering about a bear, and I can just slap you."

His explanation, though a little harsh sounding, makes you smile a bit. He was clearly doing this so you felt safer. Also probably cause he truly was sick of you waking him up, but the sediment was there. Slowly, you walk over to the bed and sink down onto the mattress, fidgeting until you get comfortable. It pulls a long groan from Soap.

"That sounds even worse up close..." He complains, making you smile again.

"We could trade cots you know." You offer, getting a dry laugh from him.

"Yeah, not a chance. Sleep tight, States."

"Sweet fucking dreams." You mumble back.

***

You're out in the middle of the lake, the sun is shining on your back as you scrub your front with a wash cloth. The water is warm for once, you notice. It feels like you're taking a regular bath back at your parent's home in the US, expect for the fact you're outside. You're completely unaware of your surroundings, not paying any mind to what's around you as you bathe. It's so peaceful out, you don't feel the need to.

A twig snapping somewhere off in the distance breaks the visage of peace. You gasp and quickly turn to scan the woods for any dangers. All you see is the lush greenery. The only movement is from the wind blowing through the leafs. You want to go back to bathing, but you just can't shake the feeling that something is with you.

Then a pair of red eyes can be seen in the middle of out of the bushes. The red is a stark contrast to the green leafs, and you find yourself freezing as you stare into them. Slowly, the eyes get closer, a nose and head appearing as a snarling bear shows itself. You gasp, feeling yourself shrink down. The fear that had been clawing at you starts up again, making your heart pound in your chest.

Then, you feel something behind you. Something sharp grabs onto your sides, teeth sink into the side of your neck. You scream, trying to get away, but the thing behind you pulls you back, not letting you escape so easily. Terror fills you, and you think the bear has somehow gotten behind you. But then the bear talks.

"Sorry, love. Didn't mean to frighten you."

A deep Scottish drawl fills your ears. You pause as the sharp, what you thought were claws, smooth out and turn into warm palms. The teeth biting down on your neck ease up, and the stinging feeling turns into the warm press of lips. You're confused for a long moment.

"S-Soap?" You question, trying to look behind you. It's hard to turn your head though when the person's head is pressed into the side of your neck, leaving delicate kisses over where teeth had once been. You know it's him though.

"Soap, th-there's a bear! We need to go!" You try to urge him, completely ignoring the fact that you're naked and he's kissing you. "It's over there! Please! It's going to get us if w-"

"Don't you worry about that. It's not gonna get you as long as I'm here." He promises, a hand sliding up your body and cupping one of your breasts. His thumb circles at your nipple, pulling a gasp from you.

"What the hell are you doing?" You question him, grabbing at his hands as they cup your breasts. You look down, the sight making you feel heavy all of a sudden. "We need to get in the cabin." You attempt to leave, but Soap tightens his grip, pulling you firmly against him. You feel his firm, definitely naked body, against your backside. Even more shocking, you can feel an even firmer something else pressing into your lower back.

"You're safe with me, lass. Nothing is gonna try to harm you as long as I'm here. So you can relax. I've got you, hen."

He starts to kiss at the side of your neck once more, hitting every spot that makes you weak in the knees. Your eyes remain on the tree line, scanning for that bear. There is no sign of it now though. There is no longer a feeling of fear. Just a warmth and a feeling of safety. You start to involuntarily relax, putting more weight back onto Soap and letting him hold you.

"There we are..." Soap whispers to you, his hands starting to dip lower now. It slides down your stomach, fingers teasing the sensitive skin just above your pelvis. "You're safe. Not gonna let anything get you, bonnie."

You sigh, eyes fluttering a little as you feel his hips begin to rub against your ass. His member is thick and firm against you and slippery from the water. He's starting to breathe in your ear, the puffs slow and steady, matching the intensity of his movements.

"You gonna let me take care of you? Let me make you feel good. Let me help you relax a little bit." He whispers to you softly, his kisses trailing up the side of your neck, sucking little hickies here and there.

You're finding it hard to focus on anything but him anymore. The lake, trees, cabin, bear. All seem to fade into the foreground. You want to talk, but it's like your tongue had gone numb. It feels heavy in your mouth, all senses dim. It only to heightens every touch, kiss, and movement of him. All you can manage in response to him is a soft hum.

Then wordlessly, you feel his slick member dragging down along your backside and settling between your legs. He feels so hot against your throbbing need. You feel yourself arching to try and move his cock head to your entrance. It nudges it softly, making your whimper. You can feel him probing, his swollen tip poking around, looking for its way in. And when he finds it, and starts to sink in, you vision gets blurry, and the dream starts to fade.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Lady - 2

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader

Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.

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Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , Chap 7.

Your ongoing support means the world to me! Reblogs are a fantastic way to help spread the word about my work. I'll do my best to reply to all your comments. Thank you for your continued encouragement!

Bucky leaned back in his chair, studying her reaction keenly. "I understand your concerns," he said, his tone surprisingly understanding. "But trust me, this is a business matter. We're not in the business of hurting innocent people."

"If someone died, I'd probably get deported," Bucky added casually, his tone belying the seriousness of his words.

"You're American too?" you blurted out, your voice tinged with disbelief. It was only now, under the stress of the moment, that you noticed Bucky's lack of a British accent.

"Yup. Just like you. So we have something in common," Bucky replied, his smile masking the underlying tension between you.

Leaning back in your chair, you feigned deep contemplation, buying yourself time to process the weight of Bucky's request. "After thinking thoroughly, it's not gonna happen," you finally declared, your words a thinly veiled refusal.

Bucky's easygoing demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by a steely resolve that sent shivers down your spine. Drawing closer, he rested both arms on Rupert's study table, his gaze piercing you unwaveringly.

"Your Grace, because of my friendship with Rupert, I'm giving you this last chance," Bucky declared, his voice low and commanding.

With a swift motion, he produced a business card from his suit pocket and slid it across the table towards you. "I'll be waiting for your call."

As he retreated, you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding creeping over you. The stakes had never been higher, and you knew that the choices you made in the coming days would shape the course of your future in ways you couldn't yet comprehend.

The weight of the situation pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket as you surveyed the room, your eyes landing on the familiar photos adorning the walls.

Among them, a small picture frame caught your attention, capturing a moment frozen in time: you and Rupert, smiling at a polo game.

Your voice faltered as you addressed the silent figure in the photograph. "Why did you choose me?" you whispered, the weight of the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. "Dad."

Feeling lost and overwhelmed, you pondered your next move. Should you confront your mother, who seemed to have kept secrets hidden all along?

Or seek answers from the twins, who had already distanced themselves from the burden?

After careful consideration, you decided to turn to your childhood friend, Eddie, for guidance. With a sense of determination, you grabbed the car keys and set off for Halstead estate, hoping that Eddie might offer some much-needed clarity in this sea of uncertainty.

As you stepped onto the familiar grounds of Halstead estate, memories of summers past flooded your mind. Despite the initial awkwardness of being left behind by your mother, the warmth of Eddie's family soon enveloped you in a sense of belonging.

The memories of summers spent here flooded back. Your mother left you behind, as the twins didn't want you to join the holiday. So, your mom left you here since Eddie's manor was closer to you.

Initially awkward, but it became enjoyable with Freddie always cracking jokes and Eddie, the adventurous one.

Reminiscing about fishing trips, horseback riding, and clay shooting, you couldn't help but smile at the fond memories made in this idyllic setting.

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke through your reverie, and you turned to see Freddie, Eddie's brother, approaching with open arms. Despite the passage of time, Freddie seemed unchanged, his jovial spirit shining through.

"Y/N! Come here. Give me a hug."

You embraced him. It had been 15 years, and he seemed different, almost radiant.

Freddie said, "I'm sorry about Rupert. I lost my dad last year too."

You replied, "I'm sorry too."

"So, it's obvious you're not here for me. You want to see Eddie?" Freddie asked.

"I am," you confirmed.

"He just finished a conversation with a guest. Let me take you there," Freddie offered, leading the way.

When you walked into the study room, you heard an elegant female voice saying, "I'll give the info later."

As she walked out, you noticed her stylish demeanor and sensed a mysterious aura around her. There was a hint of leadership in her presence, but what struck you as odd was the faint smell of weed lingering in the air.

She smiled at you before departing.

"I didn't expect you to come here so soon," Eddie remarked with a smile as you turned to face him. Seated in a leather chair, he exuded the air of a true duke.

"I didn't know where else I could go," you replied.

Freddie cleared his throat. "I'll leave you two alone."

Eddie offered you a seat and poured a drink, which you gratefully accepted.

"I heard you got the title. Congrats," Eddie said, raising his glass in a toast.

You chuckled softly. "The title is useless when all I've got is debt."

Eddie fell silent for a moment. "I went through a similar situation myself. What kind of problem are you having right now?"

"Do you know Bucky Barnes?" you asked.

Eddie clicked his tongue in response.

Crossing your arms, you continued, "So you know him. That means you knew about my stepdad's weed business."

Eddie leaned back in his chair, thoughtfully swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Rupert got into the business earlier than me," he began, his tone reflecting a mix of resignation and regret. "The woman you saw before is Susie Glass."

"He had a business with her," Eddie continued, his voice tinged with disapproval.

You clenched your jaw, the realization sinking in.

"I didn't know much about the details, but your father was on the list that worked with the Glass," Eddie explained, his expression troubled.

"He wanted out," you interjected, your voice firm with determination.

Eddie nodded grimly. "And that's where Barnes came in. He's a syndicate, setting up a branch in the UK from New York. His business was unique and deadly."

The dimly lit study seemed to take on a more sinister atmosphere as Eddie spoke, shadows dancing across the walls like flickering flames. The air was tense, each word carrying the weight of unspoken truths and hidden dangers.

"Rupert owes Barnes 8 million pounds," you stated, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

Eddie hesitated for a moment before responding, his expression thoughtful. "That's..."

"I know, it's insane," you interjected, your voice tinged with frustration.

Eddie met your gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of sympathy and determination. "I could pay off your debt," he offered quietly.

You recoiled slightly, taken aback by his proposal. "Then what? I'll still in debt. It never ends," you countered, a note of bitterness creeping into your voice.

You sighed, the weight of Rupert's decision heavy on your shoulders. "Why did Rupert choose me?"

Eddie nodded in understanding, his expression reflective. "I asked the same thing when my dad chose me instead of Freddie."

Your brow furrowed in confusion as you looked at him, prompting Eddie to chuckle softly. "Problem solver," he explained simply.

You nodded slowly, considering Eddie's words. "Both of us did join the military. Is it because we went through difficult situations?"

Eddie leaned forward, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with you. "Probably," he agreed, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. "But I'm sure you could handle it. If not, I'll be here to help you."

A warmth spread through you at his words, and you felt a slight blush creeping up your cheeks. "Thank you," you murmured gratefully, appreciating his caring demeanor.

You nodded firmly. "I've got all I need. I'll go now," you declared, trying to maintain composure as you turned to leave.

Eddie nodded in response. "Sure. I'll see you next time," he replied, his tone gentle and understanding.

As you walked away, you couldn't help but feel a swirl of emotions inside, like a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and feelings. You tried to keep a cool facade, but deep down, your heart was racing.

Meanwhile, Eddie watched you go, a flicker of concern crossing his features. Then, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Did she notice?" someone asked quietly.

Eddie glanced over, meeting the gaze of the speaker. "Not yet," he responded softly, his expression thoughtful as he contemplated the situation.

You drove for what felt like an eternity until you finally arrived back at your own manor. As you stepped inside, you noticed Hugo playing in the living room with Susan. Ignoring your mother, your focus was solely on your little step-brother.

You were just ten years old when you first met Rupert, and he had quickly become the best father figure you'd ever known. During the eight years you spent here, you learned to appreciate Rupert's love for his legacy and the history of the manor.

Sighing heavily, you knew you were about to make a risky decision.

Heading to Rupert's study again, you picked up Bucky's business card and dialed the number. After just two rings, his voice filled your ears. "I've been waiting for your call, Your Grace," he said smoothly.

Rolling your eyes at his confidence, you replied, "Just one job and you clear the debt?"

Bucky chuckled, his tone dripping with assurance. "It would be a big explosion. They'll think it's a terrorist attack. But no, Your Grace. Five small explosions, and we're done."

Bucky's voice crackled through the line, his tone both humorous and tinged with an unmistakable edge. "Think of it as fireworks, Your Grace. Except instead of pretty colors, we'll be making a statement."

You couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh, the gravity of the situation juxtaposed with Bucky's nonchalant demeanor. "And what kind of statement would that be?" you asked, trying to match his casual tone.

"The kind that says, 'Don't mess with us,'" Bucky replied, his voice dripping with a dangerous charm. "We'll leave 'em scratching their heads and scrambling for cover."

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, you couldn't deny the thrill of adrenaline coursing through your veins. "And you're sure this will work?" you inquired, a hint of skepticism creeping into your voice.

Bucky's confidence was unwavering. "Trust me, Your Grace. When it comes to making a scene, I'm the best in the business."

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[writingwithfolklore]

Tips for Moving Out for the First Time

              I moved out of my parents house around 5 years ago and have since lived in four different apartments with four different combinations of roommates. And I’ve made a million mistakes. So if you’re thinking of moving out soon or have a move planned already, here’s just a few things you need to know:

1. Don’t mess with your lease

I cannot express this enough. The lease you sign is a serious legal contract. To break your lease is a genuinely big deal, and one that I didn’t take seriously enough in my first apartment. Listen, you may hear about your friends or other people sneaking in pets or an additional roommate that goes against what their lease says—I did this too, because people do it all the time and who cares as long as I pay rent on time? What started as my best friend and roommate bringing in her cat in our no-pets-allowed apartment ended in a very traumatic eviction, police involvement, and a permanent fissure in my friendship with my best friend.

Listen, I don’t want to scare you with all the gory details, but eviction is no small thing, and after that experience, I would never mess with my lease again. Even afterwards, I found landlords will always take the word of another landlord over yours. To get our next place we had to lie about our previous housing, give a fake name and number of our previous landlord, and in general it was incredibly difficult and stressful to get into a new place having to make up everything about our previous situation since we were in the wrong.

Please, don’t mess with your lease. The rules are the rules, and unfortunately landlords can make your life hell if you don’t follow them.

2. But seriously question it + know your tenant rights

On the topic of leases, read yours thoroughly to understand what rules are expected you follow, what it’s expected you’ll pay versus what’s included in the monthly rent, and when your contract begins and ends. Leases are packed full of important information, so don’t let anyone rush you through reading and understanding it, and it’s definitely a red flag if your landlord isn’t willing to talk or answer questions about it.

If your landlord told you that utilities are included in the rent, but your lease says it isn’t, question them! The lease is ultimately what rules you will follow, their word doesn’t mean much. If you need to change something, get it on paper, and don’t sign until you’re both happy with your contract.

Also do your research on your tenant rights in your city. What actions you can take if your landlord breaks your lease, what’s expected from your landlord in handling concerns of your suite/house, rent increases, what things a landlord can ask you about or not, and what is grounds for eviction (versus what they can't evict you for). Take notes for later in case you need them (but hopefully you won’t!)

3. Sign contracts with your roomies

I lived with a friend I kind of knew from school, my best friend, two best friends, and then a best friend and their friend, and no matter what my relationship to my roommates was, it was made 1 million percent better when we had a contract with each other, and had talked over and set specific rules for how we’d live together. People say don’t live with your best friends—I’d just say, don’t live with your best friends without a contract.

Sit down with your roomies, figure out who will do what chores and when, what the expectations are for sharing or not sharing groceries, cleaning supplies, dishes and other kitchen supplies, toilet paper, etc. etc., rules for having friends and partners over, noisiness, and any weird pet peeves you all have so you can avoid them with each other.

Put down everything you decide together on paper, and get everyone to sign it. It maybe seems extreme, but it’s better to do this right away than have to have a difficult and awkward conversation later about your roommate’s boyfriend who hasn’t gone home in three months and is driving up your grocery costs without adding anything to the household. Trust me on this one.

4. Get a job before you move out

Especially if you’re moving to a new city or far away from where you live currently, don’t assume you can move in first and then find a job later. Unless you have a lot of savings and you’re willing to lose it all if it comes to that, a job isn’t always guaranteed and rent money goes quick. To be safe and maintain trust with your landlord, job comes first.

(It’s also going to be a lot easier to get a place if you have a job first, landlords always ask about your work and earnings each month to make sure you’re a reliable tenant.)

I have a lot of experience in moving and finding apartments so if you want some more specific tips about actually getting a place, roommates, or anything else about the moving out process I’m happy to answer questions as best as I can! Just send em to my inbox or in the comment.

[laurfilijames]

Like My Dreams

Part 5

Intro Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: Pete Dunham x female reader

Words: 9.9k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Alcohol consumption. Unprotected intercourse. Sex in a public place. Blood, cuts and bruises. Dressing of wounds. Cockwarming. Mention of stab wound and life-threatening injuries. Assault. Threat of rape.

Summary: Right when you and Pete seal the deal on your relationship, more car trouble and a visit from an ex stirs up drama and pops the blissful bubble you waited so long for.

A/N: 😅 this chapter really got away from me but I had the best time writing it!! I had an idea for part of it and pitched it to the wonderfully supportive @ramadiiiisme who encouraged me to go for it and helped me pull it off, so big thanks to you a million times more 💗 The scene with Mrs. Platt was inspired by a conversation with @stealfromthedevil about her dear grandmother who's cheeky words are included in the dialogue 💗💗

The linked song is one I've been listening to non-stop while writing this chapter and is just so lovely and fits in with all the fluffy bits of not only this chapter, but this series as a whole.

---

It had been a couple of hours since Pete had gone home to shower and clean up after the friendly game with the lads, now sitting in his favourite seat at their table watching the Hammers struggle to get a lead against Chelsea, the match currently tied at 1-1. He would normally care a bit more about it, but knowing you were on your way to meet him there had taken all his focus and energy, feeling more excited to see you than bothered that his team might end the game in a draw, or worse.

He slouched against the old chair with his arm over the back, taking a long sip of his beer before setting it back down and licking his lips.

“Oh, come on! Fucking unbelievable!” he muttered at the screen, the referee pulling an outrageous call against West Ham.

Whatever happened next in the game no longer mattered to him all that much, seeing you walk in the door and through the crowd of people standing between you, his smile growing as he watched you tug your scarf out from around your neck and head over to the bar where you stopped to say hello to Terry and order a drink.

Pete stood and walked over slowly, admiring you from across the room as you chatted with Terry for a moment, your smile making his heart nearly stop when you turned and directed it at him as he reached you.

He said nothing, his grin too large to control any words to come through it, instead opting for a greeting he had been waiting all night to give.

Grabbing your cheeks, he leaned in and kissed you, inhaling with a low moan as he felt you melt into him and release your breath, your hands landing limply on his biceps.

A few people cheered around you, making both of you smile again after you parted from each other, but the need to get you alone was quickly becoming a priority in the realization of how many people were preventing him from doing all the things he wanted to do right then and there.

“Hi, love,” he said warmly, the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes making desire stir inside you.

“Hi,” you sighed with a love-drunk smile, the single word a breathy whisper.

Pete bit his lip as he reached for both of your drinks off the bar, nodding in the direction of their table in the corner.

“Come on, gorgeous, we’re over here.”

You were greeted warmly as usual, the spirits of everyone high after the Hammers scored a goal, and with all members of the GSE and their respective partners present to watch the match, little room was available at the booth.

Ned and Ike shifted over to make a spot for you beside Clair and Dave, leaving a space that was too large for your liking between you and where Pete sat in his designated chair, his hands folded together with his elbows resting on the arms of it as he looked fondly at you mixed in with his favourite people.

As much as you loved being at The Abbey enjoying conversations that made your cheeks and stomach hurt from laughing so much, the company that Pete kept people you now couldn’t imagine your life without, it was difficult for you to focus tonight, your mind constantly wandering to how the night was going to turn out just as much as your eyes continued to find Pete’s automatically.

It was like he knew everything you were thinking, his blue eyes glowing with a telling want and his looks loaded with insinuation, every swipe of his tongue over his lips or the way he rolled the toothpick that hung out of his mouth teasing you and driving you mad.

You squirmed in your seat, your fingers toying with the soggy coaster that had been spilled on too many times, forcing yourself to peel your eyes away from him whenever you felt the heat inside you becoming too much, only to steal another glance a moment later, finding him still looking at you hungrily.

The game was coming to an end, and with the Hammers still holding onto their lead, Pete was more than happy to miss the rest of it in exchange for seeing something he had wanted to all day, and as you slowly trailed your hand down your neck to your chest before reaching for the drink you had nursed most of the night, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

Waiting for you to glance over at him again, he watched you intently, imagining your bare form beneath him, pressing his lips against every single inch of you.

Finally, you met his gaze, a sultry look weighing in your eyes, and with a subtle nod toward the door, Pete silently told you it was time to go.

You smiled almost sheepishly, your face seeming to glow in a mix of embarrassment and excitement as you rushed through your goodbyes, your friends all shouting teasing jeers at you in knowing the reason behind your early exit.

Pete winked at you as he shrugged into his tan trench coat, adjusting the collar and tugging it up at the back so it covered his neck, flicking the toothpick he still had in his mouth onto the table.

He took your hand and lead you through the pub with a pride that didn’t go unnoticed by those you passed, finding yourself bashful in thinking that everyone knew what was about to happen based on the look on your face, having to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning and cast your eyes down at the worn carpet as you made your way out.

The door hadn’t even shut behind you before Pete had you up against the brick wall, his hands holding your waist with a claiming grip as he leaned into you and kissed you breathless, his want for you inarguable.

“Let’s go home,” he said with surety, his smile lighting up his eyes when he stepped away from you, pulling you with him with his hand clasped around yours again confidently.

The walk to Pete’s wasn’t long, but was made longer tonight by how often the two of you stopped to kiss, unable to keep off of each other for the duration it took to land at his door.

There was thankfully no sign of Mrs. Platt hanging around to make comments, the time it took for Pete to fish out his keys and unlock the deadbolt incredibly delayed due to interrupting the process in favour of kissing, your bodies now pressing together more closely and your hands becoming bolder where they roamed.

Pete finally opened the door and walked through it, and after tossing his keys onto the table, turned to grin at you and take your hand, pulling you inside with him.

“Get in here,” he said through his smirk, the playful tone of his voice undisguisable despite how much lust showed in his eyes.

He brought you in against him, his lips teasing yours as he whispered, “I need you.”

You smoothed your hands up the back of his neck as you kissed him, melting when he moaned into your mouth as the sensation of your fingers raking through his hair made him desperate for more, the intensity of the kiss increasing quickly.

Within moments you stood naked in his room, holding each other close while playful kisses were shared and hands began their worship, the excitement and anticipation that had slowly built up to this moment stirring within you.

It was clear that Pete felt the same, his smile unable to be wiped from his face each time you parted to look at each other, and as he moved closer to the bed with you, he tucked his bottom lip in his teeth to try to restrict it.

You sat on the mattress, leaning back on your elbows where he followed closely, crawling over you as you fully laid down in his bedding that lingered with the scents of him and you. His smile turned into a sweet chuckle as you giggled too, having him settle between your legs and laying on top of you making you feel unbelievably elated, the sensation of his readied cock resting against your core solidifying the fact that you couldn’t possibly wait another night.

His expression turned serious for a moment as he peered down at you, a soft groan coming out of his mouth as his cock rubbed against you when he shifted slightly.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asked, his voice somewhat shaky with restraint.

You nodded, and spoke with as much certainty as you could have in a moment where you felt on the border of being totally consumed by lust and longing, “Fuck me, Pete.”

He didn’t hesitate, pushing into you with a confident drive of his hips, your head tilting back as you cried out, the stretch of him filling you bare without a doubt the best thing you had ever felt.

Together, you quickly found a pace that suited you both, his thrusts slow and rolling but purposeful, his kisses growing more desperate on the skin of your neck and chest as each minute ticked on.

It took hardly any time at all for your climax to fire up within you, the anticipation of sex with Pete having let the intensity of it lay in dormancy right under the surface only to bring it forth faster than ever, his body linked with yours igniting and awakening every part of you.

You clawed at his back in a signal of your oncoming pleasure as well as a silent plea for more, half of you wanting to experience it immediately while the other half begged to prolong it all.

Clenching around his cock, you couldn’t ward it off any longer, moaning into his mouth as he continued to slam into you in a tempo that sent you to the edge but you could tell was beginning to falter as his climax took him in its clutches.

Your orgasm came through you hard and fast, shattering every inch of you as he followed right along with you, feeling him pulse and swell inside your walls, soaking him at the same time he filled you.

Pete kissed you almost frantically as he slowed his movements in you, savouring every second of being inside you while seemingly starving for more, your whines quieting out in his mouth as his breathing worked to calm to normal.

Emotion overcame him at the thought of never being able to experience this with you, the reality of him almost dying without ever having kissed you or touched you or loved you made his eyes burn, and closing them tight as he parted from your lips, he held your face in his hand and brought his forehead to rest against yours, his thumb moving to pull down your lower lip as you shared more laboured breaths.

You made love again and again through the night, resting between rounds only long enough to recharge, the addiction you had to each other increasing each time.

It was well after three in the morning when you had finally fallen asleep, exhaustion eventually taking over the nagging need for more, the cold comfort of the open window and your bodies wrapped together truly feeling like heaven.

The sound of rain and Pete stirring against you woke you up, making you scoot back against him to get closer to him, his arm that was wrapped around your waist tightening its hold and pulling you in.

He hummed in your hair, his body beginning to wake before his mind fully did, feeling him harden against your bum while his lips lazily kissed down the back of your neck.

A long moan sounded from you as you indulged in the blissful sensation, wriggling against him until his cock was firmly pressed between your cheeks, beginning to rock your hips languidly back and forth until his sleepy kisses turned to warning nips.

“Babe…” his sleepy voice purred in your ear, his lips pulling your lobe between them before his tongue swept along its shell.

“Pete…I need you.” His name fell from your lips in a whimper as your hand took hold of his and guided it between your legs, his fingertips gently stroking your clit until he had you begging for more.

Pete sat up and guided you onto all fours, positioning himself behind you where he gripped your cheeks with his hands to part them while he stroked your folds with the head of his cock.

Despite feeling how wet you were, he was aware how you would likely be sore from the amount of times he’d fucked you already, reaching over for the bottle of lube on the nightstand where he squeezed some out and coated his length until he hissed from the sensation of his own hand and slowly guided himself inside your tight walls.

He watched your hands grip the sheets as he filled you, your fingers relaxing slightly as he pulled back out, only to grip them harder and cry out when he pushed in again.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” he muttered, keeping a slow tempo even though he was tempted to quicken it and destroy you.

He heard your soft hum of appreciation for his praise over the pouring rain, everything you did adding up to drive him insane and make him fall more in love with you, suddenly feeling as if being buried inside you wasn’t enough to appease his heart.

Pete wrapped his arm around you so his hand splayed out over your stomach, applying pressure to guide you to sit up and onto his lap, careful to keep himself locked in your cunt.

Spreading the remaining lube onto your clit with his fingers, Pete began to steadily work you, his other hand holding you up while also squeezing and massaging your breasts, his mouth worshiping the space between your shoulder and ear in an intoxicating way that had your head lulling back onto his shoulder.

Goosebumps erupted over your skin as a brisk gust blew in through the window, adding to the over-stimulation that assaulted every part of you, doing your best to focus on the fullness of Pete driving inside you as you rocked yourself on his lap.

You reached your arm up and around his head, stroking his hair and gripping at him as you rode him, feeling yourself beginning to lose all control but placing all your trust in him to take care of you just how you needed.

Still holding you firmly against him, he continued to strum between your legs, knowing how close he was getting you from how you subtly tried to escape his grasp and your body convulsed to his touch, feeling your hands tighten on his head and forearm that was wrapped around you to keep you in place.

“That’s it. Come for me,” he panted in your ear, feeling you angle your hips against his hand in order to gain more friction on your clit, chasing your end as he increased the power behind his hammering thrusts.

Quiet whimpers grew at a steady pace as they spilled from your mouth, your whines of pleasure drowned out in your own ears as you focused on the sound of Pete’s heavy breathing and the praises he was showering you with, the pouring rain tapping furiously against the glass panes.

You unraveled together, the way your body tightly coiled before turning limp milking out his climax at the same time, his breath fanning out over your dewy skin as he rested his parted lips on your shoulder and stilled inside you.

Lifting yourself off his lap, you sank onto the mattress on your stomach, closing your eyes as exhaustion completely took over you, a faint smile tugging at your lips when you felt Pete follow, kissing up along your back until he collapsed half on top of you.

He took hold of your hand and brought it to rest between your bodies, kissing your knuckles softly until his breathing began to turn shallow as sleep quickly dragged him into its grasp.

These were the moments you knew you couldn’t live without, willing to sacrifice sleep night after night in order to love and be loved like this, the gratitude that filled you at being the one laying beside him as he slept outweighing any desire to close your eyes and miss even a second of it.

You knocked twice on the door before opening it anyway, letting yourself in just as Pete had told you to whenever you came over, the urgency you felt to get inside and out of the hallway too much to handle even if you weren’t allowed to walk in as you pleased.

Pete gave you an amused look, one of his eyebrows hooking high on his forehead as he placed the pen he had been holding in his mouth and reached for another paper to grade off the coffee table, your laughter sparking his curiosity.

“What?” he asked, letting out his own chuckle at your flustered state as you leaned against the door and ran your hand over your head.

“I was just stopped by Mrs. Platt. She told me she can hear us and to keep it down!”

Pete burst out laughing, shifting on the settee so his arm rested on the back of it to face you more.

“It’s not funny!” you argued, even though you were still laughing yourself, shaking your head in disbelief at the conversation you had just had with the crotchety woman in her eighties.

“Oh, it is!”

“Pete!” you urged, as if saying his name would scold him into not making fun of the situation, walking through to the living area where you plopped your bag down on one of the chairs as you passed.

“She actually said, ‘It’s not my place, but do you two ever sleep? All I hear night after night is that bed banging against the flaming wall!’”

Pete only laughed harder, hanging his head back over the sofa where you stood behind it and leaned down to grab hold of his face, begging him to stop laughing before kissing him in order to try to shut him up when he didn’t.

He was still chuckling when you pulled away from him, prompting you to smack his chest as you cursed at him.

“I can’t keep being stopped in the hallway to listen to this poor old woman make comments about hearing us have sex!”

“Ah, she’s just winding you up!”

You turned to walk into the kitchen only to be stopped by Pete’s arm wrapping around your waist to pull you back to the couch that he leaned over the back of, looking at you with mischief in his eyes that made you melt and suddenly not worry about anyone hearing the things you did together.

“Come on, love,” he purred. “She ain’t heard nothing yet.”

“Is that a promise, or a threat?” you asked, smirking as you freed yourself from his grip and made it into the kitchen, filling up the kettle.

“Both!” he replied, sitting back down on the sofa where he resumed marking his student’s homework.

“I need to take my car back to the mechanic,” you explained, shifting the conversation to something ordinary after a couple minutes of comfortable silence while placing a tea bag into your respective mugs.

“Yeah?” Pete asked somewhat distractedly as he focused on his task.

“Yeah, it's been making a funny noise whenever I accelerate, and it sort of jolts when I shift gear. Hopefully it’s nothing major or expensive, they were meant to be the best mechanic…”

“When are you taking it in?”

“Tomorrow morning. My sister’s going to meet me there and take me to work after.”

“I can do it if you want,” he offered, glancing over at you.

“Nah you’re off the hook,” you smiled, “she’s got some holiday time so I’m off duty being Jack’s chauffeur for a week!”

“Ah, look at you!”

“I know, right? She’s even taking him to practice this week.”

“That means I won’t get to see you there then, nothing good to look at on the sidelines and distract me,” he pouted, making you roll your eyes before pouring the hot water into your mugs.

“I reckon you’ll live.”

“Ah, then Mrs. Platt will just get to hear an even better show than normal when I get back home to you,” Pete laughed, ducking when you threw the tea towel at him.

The drive to Millwall took longer than normal due to rush-hour traffic, but it didn’t bother you as much as it typically would knowing you had a late start to your day that had been approved by your boss.

You pulled into the open bay door of the garage, parking your car and stepping out, giving a friendly smile to the mechanic who had helped you before.

“Giving you some grief, then eh?” he asked through a grin, nodding to your car as he wiped his hands on a rag.

“Yeah, as I said on the phone it’s kind of clunking when I’m shifting and the sound it makes when I accelerate worries me a bit…”

“We’ll put ‘er right, not to worry!” he beamed at you, extending his oil-stained hand to take your keys that you held out for him.

He stared at you for a moment, making you avert your gaze slightly, feeling somewhat uneasy.

“Say, you don’t happen to know the Dunham’s do you?” he asked, his question making your head whip up again in surprise. “Steve and Pete? They’re brothers.”

You tilted your head, your curiosity somewhat guarded, “I do, as it happens…”

The way his smile changed and the shift in his eyes put you on edge and raised your suspicions, but you did your best to remain confident, interested as to why he was asking and how he knew who they were.

“I thought as much,” he nodded.

His response took you back, and you blinked quickly, trying to wrap your head around this whole inquiry.

“Sorry, how exactly do you know them?”

He hesitated, staring you down for a few seconds before answering, almost as if he was being careful to formulate a proper response or like he was unsure how much to tell you.

“...We’re old mates,” he said slowly, his smile not leaving his thin lips.

You nodded, glancing down at the embroidered name tag on the chest of his overalls, the name ‘Martin’ one you wouldn’t forget.

“Right,” he broke the silence, his tone more cheerful in disrupting the somewhat tense air. “We’ll have a look at it and likely get it back to you at the start of next week…give ya a ring when we know what it needs and what the damage is.”

“Ta,” you thanked him, giving him one last look before turning and walking out of the garage, heading to your sister’s car where she was parked on the road out front.

You pulled the handle on the door and sat down into the passenger seat, looking out the window into the shop where Martin stood with another man of equal stature, both of them glancing out in your direction.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Hm? Nothing, it’s fine,” you assured her, smiling at her as you put your seatbelt on. “Can we stop for a coffee on the way?”

It was a typical Thursday night at The Abbey, everyone gathering at the table one by one as they flowed in from work, a pint and some laughs with mates seeming to be of the same priority for each hardworking hooligan alike as the week started to take its toll and winded down to an end.

“Where’s Pete?” Ike asked, sitting down beside you with his fresh pint.

“Oh, he’s coaching tonight,” you explained, spinning what was left of your gin and tonic in its glass. “He should be here in an hour or so.”

Ike nodded in confirmation as he took a long sip of his beer, both of you drawing your attention to the Bjorno’s as they walked in with a cheerful greeting.

Dave planted a kiss on Clair’s lips as he stopped at the bar to get the drinks in, letting her continue on to the table where she sat down with a sigh.

“Long shift?” you asked, catching the weary look that she couldn’t easily hide.

She glanced at you exasperatedly, “Oh, don’t even get me started!”

“Here you go, my love,” Dave said while leaning down to place her drink in front of her, kissing the top of her head as he did.

You found it difficult to focus on the conversations happening around you, your attention glued to the small group of women standing at the far side of the bar, the looks they kept shooting your way making you feel uneasy.

“Hey, do you know who they are?” you asked Clair, subtly nodding in their direction as they leaned in over the bar to get closer to Vicky, the barmaid, before all staring back at you again.

“Those tarts?” Clair began. “Yeah, they’re mates of Vicky’s. Bunch of slags.”

You nodded, taking it in but still not having an answer as to why they seemed so interested in you, thinking of all the times you had nice enough conversations with Vicky, or so you thought.

“Pete used to have it off with the blonde one,” Bovver piped up, blowing the smoke from his freshly lit cigarette in your direction as he spoke.

Your eyebrows raised high on your forehead as you took in the information, finally having some clarity as to why these women you had never seen before were obviously unhappy with your presence.

“Fucked like crazy for a few months…” he continued, the iciness of his blue eyes holding something of a threat as he told you.

“Oi! Don’t be like that,” Dave scolded him, shoving his arm. “Why do you have to say it like that?”

“It’s true!” Bov scowled, his loyalty to his relations with Vicky clearly extending to her friends over you.

You sighed, trying not to let it bother you, reminding yourself that everyone, including you, had a past, and hoped that whatever issue she had with you would pass soon.

“Right, I need another,” you stated, shaking your empty glass in your hand as you stood.

Just as you anticipated, the daggers coming from across the bar dug into your back, still doing your best to ignore them while waiting for Terry to fix your drink, but that became impossible when the blonde who was apparently an ex of Pete’s slunk over to you and stood far closer to you than you would’ve liked.

“I didn’t think it was true, but here you are,” she began, her accent sloppy from the drinks she had tossed back already, her breath smelling of stale fags and the tartness of the cranberry juice she mixed with her vodka.

“What’s true?” you asked, giving her no more than a sideways glance as you fished the change from your pocket to pay for your drink.

“That Pete is dating a plain, old slag.”

“I’m sorry, and who might you be?”

“I was you only a few months back,” she grinned, her smile vicious and proud in her admission that she had been Pete’s at one time.

You huffed as you smiled, taking your drink from Terry who eyed you up as if offering his help, turning to go back to the table. The thought of him being with someone as vile as her made your stomach lurch, and not wanting to give it any further attention, you ignored her.

“I’m not done talking to you, you soppy cow!” she shouted, her lack of couth on full display to everyone around as a hush fell over the pub.

When you continued on your way over to the group, all of them watching with bated breath to see what would happen next, the satisfaction on Bovver’s face boiling your blood more than she was, her shrill voice sounded out again, making you pause.

“He said I was the best he’s ever had, and I’ll be right here to remind him of that.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the adrenaline making you feel shaky and on the verge of doing something stupid, but instead you neglected to give her the drama she sought and took your seat again, praying that Pete would get there soon.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Dave assured, leaning over Clair who had already offered to fight her twice. “It wasn’t that serious…”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” you assured, hoping it sounded genuine or at least believable.

“I mean, they were at it together for a few months…” Keith added in, earning a scolding from both Dave and Swill, making you swallow thickly.

You took a long sip of your drink as you tried to tune out the sound of the lads bickering and the jeers still coming in your direction from across the bar, your eyes closing as you tried to slow your breathing.

After a couple more minutes, you stood and made your way through the bar to the loo, praying no one would follow you, your newfound enemies calling you names as you passed.

Pete finally made it to the pub, strutting through the crowd and desperate for a beer after a long day at work and then coaching out in the cold rain, the sight of his ex leaning what she thought was invitingly against the bar making him scowl as he passed.

When there was no sight of you at the table, he did a quick glance around, distractingly returning everyone’s greetings as he shrugged out of his jacket and sat.

“Oi, what’s she doing here?” he asked Dave, nodding over in the direction of the bar where they continued to stare over at him.

Dave shook his head, “They’ve been causing trouble, pal.”

Seeing Pete’s face fall into worry as he looked around for you again, Dave continued. “She’s in the toilets, she seemed a bit upset…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Pete muttered, standing and going through the pub in quick strides, not giving his ex even a glimpse as he passed.

He pushed open the door to the ladies room more aggressively than he intended, his anger at the situation and that cheap tart upsetting you getting to him, his anger quickly turning to surprise when he saw you standing in front of the tarnished mirror reapplying your lip gloss, appearing fine and unbothered.

“Can I help you?” you grinned, watching him in the mirror with unhidden amusement at his presence.

His head tilted a bit to the side, walking toward you slowly while still assessing you, his concern still creasing his features even though he was smiling back at you.

“They said you were upset…”

You laughed and shook your head, screwing the cap back on your lip gloss before sticking it in your pocket, turning to look at him directly instead of in the mirror, your bum sitting on the edge of the sink.

“Upset? Over those twats? Come on…” you shrugged, trying your best to play it cool even though it had bothered you more than you were letting on.

Pete closed the space between you and leaned his forehead against yours, still searching your eyes for any hints of you being hurt or shaken up.

You let your eyelids close, instantly feeling relaxed from him being close to you, breathing in deeply when he brought his hands up to hold your face.

“We all have a past, Pete,” you whispered, saying it more for your own conviction than his, the frustrated exhale he let out at his past involving that awful slag fanning over your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his lips moving against yours as they hovered there, teasing a kiss.

“Don’t be sorry,” you answered, your hands trailing up his chest where you took hold of the collar of his jumper and slid the material through your fingers, his body moving closer to yours. “Just kiss me, Pete.”

He did, crashing into you so hard your head was forced back but stopped by his hands still gripping your face, his tongue delving into your mouth hungrily and greedily where you didn’t hesitate to match his fervor.

Everything was rough and desperate, kissing with a need to prove that each other’s lips were the only ones ever worth kissing, your hands pawing and groping in a crazed act of passion.

Pete’s fingers tore at the button and zipper of your jeans before diving his hand inside them, his long fingers stroking through your folds until your wet coated them, your moans reverberating in his mouth as you continued to kiss, your lips moving against each other sloppily and hastily.

After a minute, he withdrew from you, roughly tugging your jeans and panties down your thighs, his steely eyes staring at your exposed cunt as he quickly unfastened his own jeans and pulled out his hard cock before crashing against you again.

You spread your legs as wide as you were able to, giving him enough access to your core where he guided his leaking head, smearing his precum on your clit a few times until you were moaning and begging him to fill you.

Pete happily obliged, pushing inside your tight walls where he paused once he couldn’t go any deeper, kissing you frantically and groaning into your mouth from how good you felt.

Like he lost all sense of control, he slammed in and out of you, fucking you hard and fast while his mouth hung open and panted against yours in his efforts, the sink creaking precariously as you rocked your hips in time with his brutal thrusts, your fingers digging into the back of his neck and shoulders as you held on tight.

You were both so entranced in each other that neither of you noticed the door opening, his ex standing in the doorway in shock of the scene she walked into, scoffing as she turned and left.

“Fuck, babe,” he growled, pulling his face away from yours slightly where he watched his cock slide in and out of you, the sight encouraging him to move even more furiously within you, your cries growing louder as your climax quickly built up.

“Pete!” you bellowed, a desperation in your voice that told him you were on the brink, and knowing you were at risk of screaming as you came, he covered your mouth with his and proceeded to pound you mercilessly, swallowing your noises of unbridled pleasure as you clenched and shuddered on his cock.

Only seconds behind you, Pete bucked into your soaked cunt until he pumped you full of his hot spend, feeling it leak out of you as he continued to slowly thrust, drawing out every moment of your highs that he could.

You laughed as you comprehended what just happened, smoothing your hand over your head as your chest rose and fell sharply, Pete chuckling as a mischievous and prideful look dressed his flushed features.

“It’s impossible to get enough of you,” he admitted, his eyes flickering over your face as he leaned his arms against the sink, caging you in.

You hummed appreciatively, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, kissing him long and slow and in a way you hoped conveyed everything you felt for him.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked when your kiss slowed to a pause, the blue of his eyes more vibrant and full of emotion.

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling at him softly while your finger traced the crease beside his mouth.

“Okay, darling,” he cooed, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as he inhaled deeply, his face moving into the side of your neck where he pressed kisses into the sensitive skin and made you squirm and giggle.

Stopping, he brought his face back up to look at you, his expression serious again, his hand finding yours where he laced your fingers together and gave it three gentle squeezes.

“You know you’re the only one I want, yeah?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand back three times, smiling bigger as his own grew.

“I do, though I wouldn’t mind you showing me again…”

“Careful what you wish for!” he laughed burying his face into your neck again where he nipped and sucked at your skin, your laughter echoing against the tiled walls.

Pete walked out of the bathroom with you confidently after cleaning up and composing yourselves, even happier to see that his ex and the rest of Vicky’s horrible friends had left, the expressions on everyone’s faces as you sat back down at the table telling you they knew exactly what you had been up to.

“Oi, that colour suits you, mate,” Ned commented, pointing to his lips as he stared at Pete’s that were tinted from your lip gloss.

“Yeah? It’d suit yours too,” Pete said, leaning over and planting a kiss on Ned’s cheek quickly before he pushed him away, cursing and wiping his cheek dramatically.

Pete laughed as he took his seat, downing his pint that had been waiting for him to return to, leaning back in his chair where he pulled you onto his lap to have you proudly perch, the atmosphere more relaxed and as it normally was.

Red dripped into the sink one drop at a time, flowing steadily from so many places on his hands and face he wasn’t even sure where it was all coming from.

Pete tugged more tissues out of the box, bunching them up and holding them to what he thought was the deepest cut on his chin with as much pressure as he could, the ache in his hand preventing him from doing a sufficient job. He didn’t think he’d cracked on that Zulu cunt as hard as he did, but his knuckles proved otherwise, split open what felt like to the bone.

Any effects the pints in his bloodstream had provided him had definitely worn off now, his head pounding and every cut on him stinging and burning like mad, the severity of each fresh injury hard to determine as he looked at himself in the mirror through one good eye, the dark, puffy welt spreading up to his other from his cheek.

He stood with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his blood and sweat-stained clothes discarded in a heap on the floor, his reflection revealing bruises on his side and abdomen that refused to be ignored when he had lifted his jumper over his head.

It was late, and as quiet as he tried to be, Pete knew better than to think you wouldn’t have heard him come home, your inability to stay asleep for long without him something he secretly loved and made him swell, always feeling equally as eager to get back home and in bed with you.

“Hiya, love,” he muttered, smirking at you in the mirror when you appeared in the doorway, your sleepy face quickly changing to shock when you saw the state of him.

“I’m fine!” he stressed, knowing what your next words were going to be, the worry on your face breaking his heart a little.

“Pete…” you whispered, not in an accusatory or scolding way, but out of sheer love and care, your hands cupping his cheeks gently despite getting blood on them, your eyes searching his for truth in his claim of being okay.

“Fucking Zulu’s…” he trailed off, a small laugh blowing out of his lungs.

Never once had you asked him to stop fighting, and he knew you wouldn’t now, taking the aftermath of his hobby on the chin just like he did multiple times tonight, his love and appreciation for you making him feel a bit emotional as he watched you open the cupboard and get out the first aid kit to tend to his wounds.

He blinked back the moisture that had quickly accumulated in his eyes before you were facing him again, closing them when you pressed a careful kiss to his bloody lips, letting out a long sigh when you pulled away.

“Sit so I can see better,” you instructed, your voice soft and soothing to his ears.

Pete turned and stepped toward the tub, perching on the edge of it so he faced the sink for you to work, watching the deep red spots staining it dilute into a rusty colour as water ran from the tap and washed his blood off the porcelain.

Carefully, and for as long as it would take, you gently cleaned all of his wounds, wiping the blood that had dried and stuck in his blond stubble and dabbing the cuts that still oozed, your touch becoming lighter whenever you noticed a wince that involuntarily snuck past his attempts to hide them.

Luckily, nothing needed stitches, and even though Pete knew you were done cleaning and disinfecting each cut he’d sustained, you continued to linger, admiring his bruised and battered features.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you close to him, letting his face lean into your stomach, breathing deeply as you raked your fingers up his bare back and through his hair. His shoulders relaxed, letting go of the tension held in them from taking the painful sting of peroxide seeping into his cuts over and over, his hands smoothing up your bare thighs and your bum.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” you whispered, your lips pressing against his scalp.

He hummed, pulling his face away from the warmth of your body in his sweater.

“Yeah. C’mere,” he offered, shifting slightly so your legs had room to straddle him.

You seated yourself on his lap, smiling when his own broke out on his damaged face, your back arching into him when he placed his hands under his sweater that you had now worn more times than him to card up your back.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, admiring you for a moment before kissing you softly, his nose moving back and forth on yours a couple of times before nudging your cheek, resting his face against it while he closed his eyes and breathed slowly.

“You’re welcome, love,” you cooed, your fingers ghosting over the back of his neck, making him melt into you even more.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he spoke, mostly to himself, still finding it hard to believe that he had been lucky enough to survive his injuries and then have you walk into his classroom that one morning.

Pete kissed your cheek once, then again, each press to your soft skin urging him to add another and then more after that, eventually meeting your lips with his until minutes had passed with you lost in the haze created by your slow kisses.

His hands held your back firmly, keeping you close to him and preventing you from falling back as he moved his head away from yours and looked at you in a way that made you want to show him that the love you had for him existed like no other.

“I love you,” he professed, as if he had stolen the words right out of your mouth. Those three words were spoken with a calm surety that held such truth there was no way you could deny or question it, your fingers trembling against his cheek as you trailed them along the crease that flanked his lips.

“I love you, too, Pete.”

The taste of blood transferred onto your tongue again as he crashed into you, kissing you with more ardor than ever before, the relevancy of the cuts on his lips no longer a concern to either of you.

Your hands slipped around the back of his neck, pulling him into you even more to deepen your kiss, your hips rolling against his just enough that you could feel his cock hardening, your bare core grinding on the somewhat rough material of the towel separating you.

Pete moaned into your mouth, and without stopping kissing you, leaned back enough to unwrap the fold of the towel from his waist, letting it fall open under him.

His hands slid under your thighs, guiding you to lift your hips in order to get on top of his cock, breaking your kiss to watch your face as you sank down on his length.

Before you even had the chance to start riding him, Pete ran his battered hands over your hair, his eyes holding as much softness as his voice did.

“Just be still for me, yeah?” he asked, wanting to savour the intimacy of being inside you unmoving.

You nodded, drawing in a deep, shaky breath, closing your eyes as his nose brushed against yours before capturing your lips again, your hand resting on his chest where you could feel his heart beating wildly.

You would have been kidding yourself if you said you weren’t feeling a bit uneasy about going to pick up your car alone, the conversation you had had with the mechanic, Martin, when you dropped it off still fresh in your mind.

Pete was unable to take you, having to coach a practice after work, and your sister was taking Jack to it and staying to watch since she always missed so many, leaving you to take the tube over to Millwall to deal with it on your own.

You assured yourself over and over that it would be fine and that you were probably reading into things too much, but still the way he had mentioned knowing Steve and Pete and claiming to be old mates with them wasn’t sitting right with you. With work being so busy this week, you had completely forgotten to mention it to Pete, and you cursed yourself for failing to bring it up when you had checked with him again that morning if he was sure he couldn’t get someone else to coach for him.

As the stops to Millwall grew closer and closer, you did your best not to dwell, reading the book you brought with you while your leg bounced up and down unconsciously, your eyes scanning over the same paragraph again and again without being able to absorb the words.

“Alright, good job, lads!” Pete shouted after blowing his whistle, signaling the end of their practice.

He held the bag open for them to toss their soiled jerseys in, laughing at all their comments to each other and how supportive they all were of their teammates.

“Eh, Jack, will you help me gather up the pylons?” he asked when your nephew had made it over to him in the queue of rowdy boys.

As Pete knew he would, Jack happily jogged around the pitch and collected the majority of them, saving Pete and his leg the trouble of going to do it all himself.

“Cheers, mate,” Pete thanked him, ruffling his hair as he walked with him over to where his mum stood waiting.

“Great practice, love!” She praised her son, then smiled at Pete as Jack worked at untying his cleats and taking off his shin guards. “Reckon she’ll be back from Millwall soon, then?” she said, glancing at the watch on her wrist.

“Millwall?” Pete asked, his face screwed up at the mention of his rivaled district.

“Yeah, that’s where the mechanic is she took her car to.”

“What’s the garage called?” he questioned, an urgency present in his voice as he reached in the pocket of his jacket for his phone.

“I don’t know, I didn’t look when I had dropped her off and she never mentioned it…is everything okay?”

“Hmm, yeah,” Pete lied, trying to settle the rising panic he felt inside him at the thought of the garage you took your car to for repairs being Tommy fucking Hatcher’s.

He hit the button to dial your number and held it up to his ear, pacing as he listened to ring after ring before the sound of your voice came through, his heart falling when it was only your voicemail picking up.

“Fuck-” he hissed, hanging up before redialling, praying you would pick up and tell him you weren’t alone at Tommy’s garage.

The bell that chimed when the door opened sounded ominous tonight as you stepped through it, the smell of oil and exhaust fumes hitting your nose heavily, the distant sound of the radio and tools clanking against metal filling the otherwise quiet shop.

Your car was parked out front, seemingly ready to drive off in, and you hoped to settle the bill and get your keys quickly so you could make your way back to see Pete, wanting this day and especially this exchange to be over and done with.

Glancing through the window that looked into the garage from where the little waiting area was, you could see Martin bent over the bonnet of a car, and behind him, a small office where who you assumed was the owner sat at his desk.

When neither man noticed your presence, you stepped through into the bay, careful your heels didn’t slip on the greasy floor.

The man in his office finally caught sight of you, grinning with a somewhat villainous smile that split his hardened features, and you thought no matter how friendly he tried to appear, there was something about him that seemed impossible to soften.

“Hello, love,” he greeted, his voice matching his looks.

“Hi, sorry,” you stammered, “I’m just here to get my car.” You hooked your thumb and pointed over your shoulder in the direction of where it sat outside, planting your feet firmly on the cement floor while doing your best to stand tall and confident.

“Yeah, not a problem, I’ve got the paperwork all here for ya,” he explained, standing from his chair and turning to reach for some papers from the filing cabinet behind him.

Martin nodded as you walked past him to enter the office, giving you a curt ‘Evening,’ as you smiled weakly in return.

The man seemed to fill the entire space of his office, his form tall and broad, his personality giving off a powerful air that made you feel somewhat suffocated.

There were empty beer bottles on his desk, and scattered across the walls and cabinets that took up nearly every square inch of the small room were various pieces of Millwall F.C. paraphernalia.

“You a fan?” he asked, catching you looking at the poster of the crest hung on the wall beside him.

“Erm, no, I don’t really pay attention to football all that much,” you lied, the realization that this man was clearly a huge supporter of the club that was Pete’s sworn enemy making you want to avoid the topic altogether.

“No?” he questioned, his head tilting to the side as another vicious smile revealed his teeth. “Not even a fan of the mighty Hammers?”

The way he said it made your blood turn cold, and you swallowed thickly, thinking how Martin must have discussed your affiliation to West Ham United through knowing Pete and Steve, and you wondered if these men were members of Millwall’s infamous firm.

You shook your head and huffed out a false laugh, reaching into your purse for your wallet.

“No,” you repeated, hoping he didn’t press his inquiry any further.

Clearing your throat to ensure your words came out properly, you started filing through the stack of notes you had taken out of the bank that morning, counting out what you had been told the total was going to be for the repairs.

“It was £450, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right,” he confirmed, watching as you placed the money on his desk, folding his arms across his chest.

“You sure you aren’t running about and singing along to ‘Forever Blowing fucking Bubbles’ then?”

You scoffed, trying your best to look like you hadn’t heard or even sang that song more times than you could count since meeting Pete.

“Ah, I see,” he said, slowly. “So you’re going to lie right to my face and tell me you’re not Pete Dunham’s missus, are ya?”

You almost choked, words unable to form on your tongue that felt too big for your mouth, the air in your lungs feeling trapped while everything around you started to distort as a dizziness overcame you.

“How…how do you know that?”

He pointed his finger at you, his lips still curled into a smile. “See, I knew you were lying to me, you little slag.”

You stepped back as he walked around his desk, his blue eyes icy with an evil you had never seen before.

“Don’t you think you’re going anywhere anytime soon, love,” he grinned, sitting on the edge of his desk as he nodded behind you. “Martin there hates your little boy toy just as much as I do, so he won’t be letting you run past him too easily either.”

You kept still, taking in as deep a breath as you could, closing your eyes briefly to gain some courage as you thought of which of the many questions racing through your mind to ask next.

“How do you know who I am?” your voice squeaked out, unable to hide your fear.

He shrugged his shoulders and frowned, “I get people to find things out for me.”

“Right, I’d just like to get my keys and leave, I don’t want any trouble-”

“You’re missing the fucking point, here!” he shouted, cutting you off. “Didn’t little Petey warn you about me?”

You shook your head again, confused as to who this man even was to Pete. “No, I-”

“Was he too afraid to come with you, not man enough to protect you?”

He stood from his desk, walking closer to you until you were face to face and your back was pressed against a cabinet, leaving you nowhere to escape.

“Is the taste of death still too fresh for him?” he laughed, clearly amused in seeing you put it all together.

“You’re-”

“Yeah, that’s right, darling,” he cooed, his face so close to yours you could smell the stale beer and smoke on his putrid breath. “I’m Tommy Hatcher. The man who nearly wiped out the Dunham name.”

He seemed so proud of it, like the memory was something he revisited often, and you felt sick knowing you were standing vulnerable at the hands of the man who almost killed the one you couldn’t live without.

“It’s funny, innit? That out of all the garages in London to get your car fixed, you came to mine.”

His finger jabbed into your chest with each word, making you recoil to try to make space between you, only to press yourself harder into the cabinet.

“You’re vile,” you spat, shoving your arm against his chest to push him away from you, only to have him come back stronger and closer than before.

He gripped your chin with his meaty hand, his fingers digging into your skin so hard it made you yelp.

“I’ve been watching you for weeks now. You should really pay more attention to your surroundings, love,” he warned, the pleasure he took in this written all over his grisly face. “How’s that nephew of yours, by the way?”

Bile rose up your throat at the idea of him getting to Jack and causing him harm, the lengths this horrible, soulless man would go to to make anyone he hated suffer having no limit.

“He seems like a good lad,” he whispered, his mouth hovering beside your ear where his hot breath made your skin crawl and you squirm in his grasp. “It’d be a fucking shame if he didn’t make it past his twelfth birthday just like my son didn’t.”

“You wouldn’t!” you cried, trying to move your legs enough to kick him, only to have his body lean harder into yours to stop you.

“See, you’re forgetting what I’m capable of. How easy it was to drive that bottle into Stevie’s neck and how much fucking joy I got breaking Petey’s body until he was lifeless on the ground.”

His grip tightened on your face as his eyes scanned over you, and despite your efforts to not let it happen, tears sprang from your eyes at the description of him trying to kill Pete.

“Don’t think it wouldn’t be hard to do the same thing to you or that little boy.”

With all the strength you had, you pushed against him, hitting him as hard as you could in his stomach while stomping hard on his foot, but Tommy was too strong, slamming you back into the cabinet so the handle drove into your ribs and all the air in your lungs was knocked out of you.

He laughed in your face, locking his forearm across your neck to keep you in place, your struggle to breathe seeming to satisfy him.

“I could do anything I wanted to you right now and no one would know or be able to stop me,” he bragged, growing more aroused with the power he held over you.

He ground himself against you, making you feel his hardness through his trousers, the possibility of you actually being sick between that and the lack of oxygen becoming more and more likely.

“It’s funny, you've got the same look of terror in your eyes as he did right before I smashed his fucking face in!” he pointed out, his laughter ringing through the room like you had just shared a joke together.

Within a split second his demeanor changed again, glaring at you seriously as his voice quieted and turned calm.

“See, I could rape you, ruin you so he’d never want to touch you again...”

You let out a broken sob, your eyes screwing shut when you felt his other hand travel slowly down your waist until he reached your thighs, stopping when he spoke again.

“But it’s lucky for you I’m a changed man.”

Tommy loosened the force of his arm against your neck, backing away from you slightly, and ran a hand over his hair to regain some composure.

“Don’t wanna be stuck in the nick again over someone as pitiful as you and your precious Petey!” he barked, adjusting himself in his pants crudely while you shook against the cold, metal cabinet.

He reached for something on his desk, turning around and quickly throwing your keys at your face where they missed and hit you hard in the chest, making you jump and cry out which only made him howl a maniacal laugh.

“Go on, you shitcunt,” he spat, “go home to Petey and cry all about it to him!”

You stooped and grabbed your keys off the grimy floor with a trembling hand, bolting out the door as fast as your legs would carry you, the sound of his and Martin’s laughter chasing you out of the building where you pressed the button to unlock your car as quickly as possible.

The tears didn’t come until you were out of the lot and onto the road, the lights from passing cars blurry and blinding as you finally let out wracking sobs, unaware of how fast you were going or which roads you were turning down, getting as far away from Tommy Hatcher as you could the only thing on your mind.

---

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[wood-white-writer]

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” || [4.5/...]

- OPLA! Buggy x F!Reader

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live action) x F!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Summary: In which Buggy discovers that he’s in over his head while making a deal with Arlong the Saw.

Warnings: LA! One Piece, Canon typical violence, slight canon divergence, Arlong is his own warning

A/N: Unfortunately, part 6 of "DMTMYHB" is a little delayed and won't be out until at least next week. However, I began working on this initially out of boredom, so at least you can read about Buggy's POV after the events of chapter 4 and before the events of chapter 5.

Life sure is a shitshow sometimes, Buggy thinks to himself while spitting out a few grains of sand. For fish people, there’s a certain irony with pulling over a bag propped with sand over his head.

Then again, it could’ve been considerably worse.

They could have decided to water board him, or maybe take a decent chunk off his nose. It’s not too outlandish to assume that these kinds of people prefer the taste of human flesh, and although he considers himself fairly experimental man on occasion, that one is not on his kink list.

He might be big-headed sometimes, he’s man enough to admit as much, but even Buggy knows better than to underestimate the fish people. He’s had his fair share of encounters with them before, and needless to say, mixing a Devil Fruit eater with people who primarily live and breathe in the sea is a bad combination.

A very, very bad combination, especially if you throw Arlong the Saw into the mixture. Buggy’s not a recluse; he’s heard of his reputation as the self-proclaimed ruler of the East Blue. Ask just about anyone who he is, and they’ll whisper his name while pissing their pants like school children.

A misanthrope with a less than discreet disdain for all things human, and a face only a mother could hope to love, the guy does not fuck around with what he considers his, which approximately covers all of the East Blue. And the people in it are merely collateral.

If anything’s a testament, it’s his bounty. Twenty million berries for his head, doesn’t matter if it’s attached to his body or not. The highest bounty on this piece of the ocean.

Well, second highest. The top spot belongs to you, but that’s a thought Buggy has tried desperately to bury in the sand for the past few days. He doesn’t need to think about you, least of all now.

He has bigger fish to deal with, and it blows.

It’s his fucking luck that this is happening specifically to him.

No, it wasn’t enough that he got his ass handed to him by a bunch of scrawny nobodies.

It didn’t suffice that he had to watch you turn your back to him twice in a lifetime.

He’s managed to evade the saw-nosed fucker’s eye up until this point, and so, of course Fate would deal him this final one.

Just as the cherry on top of the shitty sundae that is his life.

So, to conceal or own terrified state when faced with the darkened stage room, Buggy decides to do what Buggy does best:

Fake it ‘til he makes it.

And he sure as fuck hope he does.

“Is this the best way to ask for an autograph?” His echo bounces like a ball through the darkened room. “I mean sheesh! Fans have gotten so toxic!”

The eerie silence is his only companion now, and he finds that he can’t stand it. Not even the two fishy folks standing guard at his side offers him more than rolled eyes. Rude.

This place — his stage — which once served as his sanctuary, might soon become his tomb. If Arlong lives up to his rep, he’ll ask the clown to dig his own hole before chomping on his jugular.

Curtains for him and all fucking that.

“Alright, what do you want?! Tickets to the show? I can get you house seats, they’re pricey!”

A loud thud emerges from the shadows behind him, and a cold breeze brushes against the the exposed skin on his face.

“Oh, I am no fan of yours.”

He knows a beast when he hears one, even better when he sees them. He spent the good portion of his youth alongside one, and witnessed first-hand just how they could be. Beasts are strong, and brutal, and precise. They can tear you apart if they deem it necessary because it’s in their nature, but that’s all it is. Nature.

However, Buggy’s also come to discover that beasts have also the capacity for kindness and love. A beast is someone he can fall in love with.

This thing that emerges from the dark at his side, on the other hand, is no mere beast.

Hell, he can’t even qualify it as such. This creature at his side, one he doesn’t dare to face at first until he notices it’s gradual approach, is a monster.

Ain’t no way in the blue hell he’ll ever consider tapping that the way he would with a beast.

“I run things here in the East Blue,” the fish-man speaks, voice grating Buggy ears as he circles the clown. “I’m here to remind of you of your place in the food chain. You pull a job in my seas, you gotta pay tribute.”

Despite the fact that he’s nervous as shit, there’s a certain taunt crystallising in Buggy’s brain that he’s subconsciously urged to free against his better judgement.

Arlong’s place is second in this so-called food chain. Yours is the first, and if it wasn’t for the fact that voicing this would guarantee his premature death, Buggy would’ve reminded the fishy shithead of this.

Despite whatever grievances you two share, Buggy knows that he won’t mind not being at the top as long as it means it’s not under Shark-boy’s hierarchy.

The East Blue is, per Arlong’s definition, yours, whether you know it or not, and he’d much rather comply with that.

But Buggy keeps his act going. “But Arlong, baby, you don’t gotta worry about me. I’m small potatoes. Pirating’s more of a side gig.”

As much as he tries, and he does try, Buggy knows his words can’t keep the shark’s teeth at bay for much longer. Arlong is not a patient type, and it just about snaps when he reaches for his throat and prepares to chomp.

Buggy doesn’t intend to die now. He can’t. He’s got unfinished business to attend to.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!”

Maybe fate is actually on his side for fucking once, because the fish man actually does wait.

He has a shot.

“You know who’s out there really disrespecting you? It’s that little Rubber-Prick in the straw hat, goes by the name of Luffy.”

It doesn’t work, because it seems Arlong is more of a recluse than him. Has never heard the boys name. So, he tries a different approach before the teeth settle in again.

“He— He’s not alone.” Fuck, he’s losing air, and he kinda needs that to get the primary point into Arlong's thick, scaly head. A point that he’ll be sure to catch the asshole’s attention. “Cross-Hairs is with him!”

Arlong halts, and his lips don a sneer.

Another thing Buggy has discovered in all of this is that Arlong is an inherently proud guy, and believes himself superior to others not only because of his fishy nature, but due to the fact that he has among the largest bounties on this piece of the map.

Yours is the only obstacle keeping him from completely claiming that title.

“The Captain of the Cross-Haired Pirates has been absent for the past decade.” Arlong lets up on the pressure around his neck, enough to let Buggy grasp a few fistfuls of air, but his feet still dangle above the ground.

“Y-Yeah—,” Buggy heaves. “But her— b-bounty hasn’t changed, has it? And the kid, he just knocked over a marine’s base in Shells Town, then he stole a map of the Grand Line and now he’s talking shit about finding the One Piece.”

This seems to be enough reason for Arlong to finally drop him, and Buggy struggles to retrieve all the air he’s lost.

“The One Piece, an excuse for humans to spread their filth across the seas.” Arlong is less than impressed, but what he says next opens a door. “Why should I concern myself with the ambitions of a mere human boy?”

“Because that map is useful,” Buggy regains some semblance of balance on his knees. “The kid is not, but I have unfinished business with him. What’s more, if Cross-Hairs is with him, then that’s your chance to get the highest bounty in all of the East Blue. Think about it! You’ll be at the top of the list if she’s out of the way.”

Arlong doesn’t like the implication laced in Buggy’s words, the possibility that he’s in any way lesser than a human. “I am already at the top of the list, clown. The Cross-Haired Pirates are disbanded, and humans tend to age so quickly compared to fish men. I’m sure she’s grown old and weary in the last couple of years, hardly worth my time.”

Buggy wants to smile. Smile as he thinks about just how fucking wrong this guy can be. The years have not drained you, nor weakened you, nor made you any less hot if he does say so himself.

Oh, if anyone can wipe the floor with Arlong, it’s you. That’s why he’s not afraid of revealing your current whereabouts, because he already knows fishy over there will get his ass whopped big time.

“How about this: you let me live, and I’ll help you find Luffy and Cross-Hairs. Two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

Two birds, one stone, and one fish filet, to be more specific.

Arlong grabs him by the neck. “And how do you plan to do that?”

“I've got eyes and ears everywhere.”

The fish takes the bait, and Buggy can't help but laugh.

Laugh, not because Arlong agrees to his plan, but because the guy is going to be struck by lightning so fucking hard that in the end, there'll be nothing left of him save for that ugly-ass tool he calls a nose.

The moron has deliberately put himself up for slaughter, and personally, Buggy can’t wait to watch the show unfold.

The stage is yours.

He’ll watch from the front rows and give you an upstanding applause once the curtains falls.

---

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[superbpiratesandwich]

This is So Against HIPPA pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: you’re James Buchanan Barnes’s government assigned therapist

Warnings: mentions of signs of depression, sad Bucky, tfatws accurate Bucky,

Writers note:

Sooooo I’ve never written fan fiction before so I hope you like it!! Leave any tips or criticism in the comments I would greatly appreciate it. Also let me know if you want a part two!

“So any nightmares?” I ask my client

“No” he’s short, he’s *lying*

“I’ve known you long enough to know you’re lying James”

James Buchanan Barnes AKA the Winter Soldier AKA the biggest pain in my ass, he’s stubborn, prideful, and refuses to take my advice.

He sits in front of me, black jacket, black cargo pants and gloves to conceal his prostethic. He looks annoyed as I call him out for his lie.

“I’m not”

“Yes you are and the longer you lie to me about them the longer this goes on” I gesture between us.

He rolls his eyes as I click my pen writing in my notebook

“Not the notebook” he pinches his nose bridge

“Yes the notebook” I smile

“Okay fine…” he sighs “I *have* been having nightmares… shitty ones, about the people… the blood, everything they made me do in HYDRA” he mumbles. I write down his words, before responding, “anything that makes them go away?” I ask already knowing the answer but wanting to ask anyways.

“No”

“How about a person?”

“No”

“Oh come on James” I slam my notebook shut frustrated with the stubborn soldier, “there’s no one or nothing that can help them?” I ask exhausted “No” he says quietly “what about a girlfriend?” His eyes widen at that, his mouth not opening not daring to betray his mind. I stare at him a smile creeping on my face “you’re telling me you’ve had no action in the last 90 years?” I laugh “I find that hard to believe”

I watch as his brows furrow and his face heats up defensively “I’ve had action!”

“Yeah in what, the battle field?”

“I’ll have you know I was quite the lady killer back in the day”

“Mmhmm so I’ve heard” I roll my eyes at him, “anyone in particular you have seen that you would want to pursue a relationship with? Maybe having someone close to you like that would be helpful?” I watch him closely, his arms cross, and he gets a look on his face

“No” his favorite word

I sigh “okay well then that’s your objective find someone nice and take them out!” He looks like I just asked him to get me a million dollars in five minutes “what?” I question his look

“how the hell do you think I’d manage to do that?” He says gesturing towards his arm “not every woman is lining up to date a traumatized ex assassin with a metal arm”

“I know some women who would actually sell their right kidney for you so” I shrug thinking of at least 5 women mental enough who would want to go out with him.

He looks at me his brow furrowed as confusion falls on his face “Yeah right, what kind of women are you hanging out with?” He cocks an eyebrow “Legally I cannot discuss that” I pull out my go-to excuse when I don’t want to talk about something. He scoffs and rolls his eyes.

A beat of silence passes between us before I bring up his other favorite topic.

“Phone” I order holding my hand out palm up

He sighs pulling it out of his pocket and handing it to me.

I scroll through the call log analyzing outgoing and incoming calls and texts.

“James… this is just pathetic I’ve been the only person you’ve called in the last 4 weeks,” I pause looking up at him, he looks unbothered but his body language is screaming how uncomfortable he is “and you haven’t responded to Sam’s attempts at reaching out” I mumble tossing him the phone.

He catches it effortlessly, relying on his reflexes.

I glance at the clock 4:45pm

“Look, you need to reach out to Sam or someone just to talk” I explain “for soldiers with PTSD” I watch him flinch at the word looking annoyed “it’s not good to be alone 24/7” he rolls his eyes “I’m not alone 24/7” he states matter-of-factly. I just stare at him deadpan. “Just reach out to one person yeah?” I state standing and walking him over to my door. I watch him stand and his posture immediately becoming that of a statue his head slightly forward his shoulders back and his arms bent slightly at his sides. We stop at my door “James” I say quietly looking at him “you’re making progress.” I smile he gives me a tight lipped smile and walks out his strides exuding ‘soldier’ every step. I welcome my next client Dorothy into the office.

That night I walk to my apartment exhausted, fortunately I’m only a quick 5 minutes walk from it. I take in the fall evening a cool breeze falling over my frame as I look up at the sky. It’s a deep orange the sun reflecting off of the tall buildings covered in glass, only a few people are out at this time, a few cars and the sound of honking and traffic falls on my ears quietly as if miles away. I turn up the steps and walk into my building.

As I walk into the building it’s quiet, the only noise being the stairs as I walk up to the fourth floor. I glance to my right, the door number showing apartment 4C. I turn to my left, seeing my apartment, 4A. While placing my key in the door I hear a couple of loud thumps as if someone is slamming furniture down repeatedly. I turn my head to the door labeled 4C, humming in confusion, before pushing into my own apartment.

I glance around the clean area, the only thing misplaced, a Garfield mug on the counter, still about 1/3 full with coffee. Placing my keys down I hear another few thumps deciding in my head to check it out if I hear another succession of noises. I put my purse down immediately hearing the confirmation for my decision to investigate.

I open my door walking the few steps to apartment 4C knocking rapidly. Silence, followed by a few, heavy, steps, and the door opening to reveal, “James.” I sigh.

He’s wearing a black t shirt, his vibranium arm on display as I see him clench his metal fist and let go in a pattern, just body language. He still has on the black cargo pants he wore to our meeting.

He stares at me, confusion casting a shadow on his face momentarily. He’s silent as if waiting for me to explain why I’m checking on him. “Sounds like you’re fighting your furniture and losing the fight,” I say deadpan. “I’m fine just… cleaning” he pauses looking behind him, I cock an eyebrow “didn’t realize your cleaning sounded like you have a WWE ring in your apartment.” I state smiling slightly as I watch his face contort in confusion again.

“Sounds like you need help” I say breaking the silence that comes from his confusion. “I don’t need help.” He mumbles quickly becoming irritated.

I sigh, squeezing my eye shut thinking about the night in I had planned before coming over here, speaking “You sure about that?” I ask him again peaking behind him and seeing an apartment that looks like a tornado ran through it. He lets out a huff opening the door and accepting my offer. I glance around his apartment, topically clean but papers are scattered on the floor, a makeshift bed lies next to the couch… not on it, there’s one dish in the sink, indicating he probably hasn’t eaten.

“Wait here” I state walking back to my door, grabbing some left overs from my fridge and bringing them back. He’s standing in the doorway, the door cracked open behind him. He looks bewildered at the object in my hands before I push it towards him “here.” I enter his apartment rolling up my sleeves. “You don’t need to do that” he says quietly not wanting to accept help. I cut him off “I know, just eat okay?” I mumble before getting to work. I wipe down the surface of the kitchen, his body moving quietly around me as he heats up the left overs. Silence falls over us neither one of us willing to endure painful small talk.

As I crouch down to pick up some papers, his voice breaking through the silence “don’t touch that” his voice is low and cold. I glance at him bringing my hands up in mock surrender “okay, okay not touching” I stand, watching him grab the papers and shuffle them. The Winter Soldier, Steve Rogers, and James Buchanan Barnes all catch my eye, the words being in bold black ink.

As the night progresses I only clean a little, wiping down surfaces and, with his help, moving his furniture back to its original position. He glances around at the, still slightly messy, area “You didn’t help you just moved things” he deadpans. I’m writing down a list of what to do to clean his apartment completely “I know, I’m not enabling you, I’m helping you become your own person” I state before ripping off the piece of paper and handing it to the soldier. “After you’re done come get me yeah?” I’m aware he probably won’t listen to me but I might as well offer just in case. In response, silence from him. I reach for the door “Wait” he mumbles. I turn around to face him an eyebrow raised at his request. He looks down a hand coming up to rub his neck “thanks” he says quietly. I nod in acknowledgment and leave his apartment.

As I unwind, showering and making myself dinner I glance at the clock taking note of the time 11:14pm. I sigh, sitting back on the couch and turning on the TV, wanting to watch shitty reality TV until I pass out, my favorite pastime. A few minutes pass and I hear a knock at my door. “Who the hell-“ I start before looking through the peephole seeing James standing there a ‘shy’ look on his face.

I open my door, standing in my sweats and oversized sweatshirt, my hair dampening and darkening the material. I give him a confused look “Yes?” I ask,

“You said to come knock when I was done” he says quietly

“Oh” I mumble remembering my assignment I gave him “you wanna show me?” I ask, he nods turning to walk to his door. I peak inside the dim room lit by a singular lamp in the corner. It’s clean, the floor clear of clutter, his makeshift bed folded and put away, I glance around.

“Good job” I smile at him

He smiles slightly, a sense of pride seeming to overtake his features. He nods to me “Thanks for the list” I glance at the fridge the note stark against the bare fridge “you even cleaned out the fridge?” I question. In response, he walks over opening the refrigerator door. It’s clean, I smile wider “that’s great James, you did good” I look at him. A beat of silence falls over us as I glance around again.

“What were you watching?” He mumbles

“What?” I ask not hearing him properly

“The show, I heard it through the door… sounded like arguing, unless you were arguing with someone” he asks raising an eyebrow slightly.

I laugh a little “yeah I was arguing with a British dude” I smile at him before adding “No… no I was watching some reality TV” I admit

His face lights up “Really?” He tilts his head “Didn’t peg my government-assigned therapist to be into shitty TV” he laughs.

“Hey” I say feigning offense “I have to hear about everyone’s problems, I am allowed to cope.” I pout, but only for a minute before a smile creeps on my face.

We talk about different TV shows, older and newer, fiction and reality, his takes being… odd.

“I like the animal shows… that’s the only thing that hasn’t changed a lot.”

“Really? So you dig the whole ‘the apex predator… the tiger’” I mimic an Australian accent.

He throws his head back leaning against his counter, he sighs “I knew I shouldn’t have said that”

“Hey, I’m not judging”

“That’s practically you’re job, doc”

I smile at the nickname

I stare at him for a minute longer than I should letting my gaze follow his jaw down his neck and arm. I stare at the shiny metal.

He notices and crosses his arm slightly covering it with his flesh hand.

“Sorry” I say sheepishly my face heating up as I’m caught

He just stands there, clearing his throat, “it’s getting late you should get some sleep,” he says quietly refusing to look me in the eyes, “hey James I didn’t mean to stare I was just,” I’m cut off by him “it’s fine just go home and get some rest yeah?” He walks to the door.

I hop down from off the counter, “I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable James you have full right to ask me to leave,” I’m sad to go but I’m glad he’s using his voice to speak up

I watch his eyes flicker with an emotion I can’t quite read as I open the door walking out.

AND THATS IT!!! Let me know if yall want a part two I really enjoyed writing this!!

[ipushedthewrongbutton]

Imma do this final vent and then I’ll shut up about it.

This was a dumb move, from every possible perspective.

In the og goodbye video, they really made it sound like they were doing the streaming service because they wanted to go bigger, make cooler videos, really see what they could do and let their creative vision take the lead.

Growing as an artist is what you do when you Already Have The Money To Do So. You don’t tell your audience “give me money and then I will use to it to make cooler bigger things”. That’s not a streaming service, that’s a kickstarter.

They didn’t have the numbers to pull a streaming service off either. “We think we’re ready for television quality content” no you don’t. Sorry, no you do not. Television quality content means 30-50 crew per project, means at least 4-5 production being worked on at the same time, and at least 4-5 productions being broadcast at the same time. Watcher has maybe 2 series they upload simultaneously and they have 25 employees TOTAL. Not even CLOSE to tv levels of content, who the fuck do you think you are???

Did they really think all 3 million of their subscribers were going to follow them on this? Including kids, whose spending is dependent on their parents? Including the casuals, who only subscribed for the occasional video? Including people for whom $6 dollars on another streaming service just isn’t an option? Why DIDN’T they poll this, was this being a surprise really that important??

AND why would you completely cut off another revenue? Even if YouTube is restrictive, it’s still another source of income. Cutting that off completely is… bold.

Especially since in the apology, they let it slip that no, actually, it’s because Watcher is on the brink of having to close up shop because they’re not making enough money with just the patreon, the merch sales, the ad reads, etc.

So… one of those is a lie. Or at least part of the truth.

But let’s assume they are in financial trouble, then this was still the dumbest they could’ve done.

Welcome to the entertainment industry where we follow 1 giant fucking rule: Kill Your Darlings.

Fellas, pals, amigos, bros, dudes. If your projects spend more than what they make, it’s time to downsize. Not upscale. Cut the shit that’s spending the most money, start concentrating on how you can conserve without having to fire your crew. Put the projects where you have to fly out and buy new stuff all the time on the back burner, you can get back to them once you actually have the money for them. Work with what you already have. You have a MASSIVE studio space, fuckin use it. You HAVE sets, you HAVE props, you HAVE talent and you have ideas. Start workshopping all the crazy and shit ideas you thought weren’t gonna work and start thinking how you could make them work with the lowest possible budget you can have. Your audience is there, they’ll watch whatever you throw at them. Now is the time to go crazy and see what sticks. You HAVE viewership. Collab. CONSTANTLY. Get it the fuck out there that you exist. A lot of people had no idea a patreon existed, mention it ALL THE TIME. To the point that it becomes annoying. Do it!

If your studio is becoming too expensive, get rid of it. Sorry, kill your darlings. Move some shit around in Steven Lim’s tesla garage, put up some green screens, this is where you work now until you can afford a studio in LA again, you dipshits. Editors can work from home, sound designers can work from home, writers and researchers can work from home, meetings can happen in someone’s kitchen or living room.

And finally: be transparent. Be honest to your audience and communicate. “We’re sorry to put Ghost Files on hiatus, however we can no longer justify the cost of traveling to locations.” The majority of your audience will understand and show patience. The part of your audience that matters will wait and enjoy your other wacky shit in the meantime. Hell, they might spontaneously start their own kickstarter because those who can, will want to support you financially, if you’re just hONEST WITH THEM.

As a business, you constantly have to choose between your financial stability and that of your employees, your vision and the future of your company and what you Want to do with it, and your integrity, the trust between you and your audience. (Especially that last one, businesses can’t pretend they don’t have a relationship with their audience, that’s not how business works, guys.)

When you’re in financial straits, one of those has to go. Watcher chose the latter, they should’ve picked the middle. Their grand television quality ideas can fucking wait, if money is a problem.

Look, I’m an artist too. I had a vision too. But it was either my creative vision or being able to afford food and rent. Creativity can wait, creativity will always be there once I can support it. Living comes ALWAYS first. Asking my audience to fund my huge artistic dreams though, with only the promise of something cool, NEVER even crossed my fucking mind. That’s what donations are for, that’s what the patreon is for.

They apologised. And good. But this was a dumb decision from the goddamn start. There were like 500 steps in between and they skipped all of it. And for what? For money? For grand ideas? For greed or for hubris? How many of their original subscribers are actually gonna come back? How much money did they lose with this stunt? If they really are in financial trouble, this MASSIVE risk -which is what it has always been- might just be their downfall. And it’d be 100% their own fucking fault.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

thoughts on sokka and zuko's netflix actors ian ousley and dallas liu (jokingly?) teasing zukka in interviews? are they queerbaiting?

For those who don't know what the fuck queerbaiting is: you know how Disney announced "it's first openly gay character" in literally every movie they've been releasing lately, and these "characters" are always on screen for only 5 seconds so it won't annoy conservatives or be banned in China?

That's them trying to use the promise of gay content to get people (be it gay people or someone that just wants to know if Disney will handle the subject properly) to watch their stuff. It's just false advertizing in rainbow colors.

Netflix, being the cheap bastards that they are, love using "We got minorities in this!" to advertise either their bland, bad shows that will get a million seasons, or the rare good show that they'll cancel way too soon because they seem to be alergic to quality. Either way, the gay content they promise audiences is usually there - you know, it's just not good because Netflix hates good things. Hell, they made Oma and Shu a lesbian couple from what I've seen.

Considering I've heard that the cast of the Avatar Live Action is pretty comfortable dunking on Zutara as a ship despite it being crazy popular and some fans literally only watching the show because they thought it'd make Zutara canon, and even having the balls of saying their show is less problematic than the OG one because they cut the plot of Sokka unlearning sexism, I'd say they're not claiming to like Zukka because some executive told them to, in the hopes of getting people to watch. The actors are probably either two buddies joking around because "Dude, what if our characters got together?" or saw some fanart/headcanon on Twitter and rolled with it.

So no, it's not queerbaiting, it's just actors voicing their opinion - basically the same as the Wedneday situation. The actresses for Wednesday and Enid ship their characters, but Netflix never gave any indication that these two would be a thing, and the internet only cried QUEERBAITING because people can't accept that sometimes the goth girl and the girly girl don't kiss because none of the writers even thought about making them gay.

And before someone inevitably goes "Oh but one/both of them are straight/don't want to discuss their own sexualities - are they queerbaiting when showing excitment at the idea of their characters hooking up?"

1 - Real people can't queerbait because their sexuality is a personal matter, not a product meant for other people to consume.

2 - If Netflix does want to make Zukka a thing (and I've seen nothing to sugest that they do) and starts promoting it, it's the CHARACTERS that would have to be gay, not the actors. I'm pretty sure Zuko's actor can't create/control flames at the palm of his hand, but that doesn't mean he's lying to people, he's just an actor acting. Even if and Sokka's actor have to play a gay couple at some point, it won't be queerbaiting for them to do so and even be excited for it/thinks it makes sense for their characters, regardless of what sexuality they are in real life, because the actors are not their characters they're just people doing a job.

[asideofchaos]

II 16 Spoilers Ahead!

So I see a lot of people panicking that the contestants aren't real, but I don't that's what the whole "MePhone Created Everyone" was supposed to mean.

Because yes, MePhone made them and we see Suitcase and Knife glitch at the end, but we also see repeatedly that the contestants have their own souls and free will. Sure, there is definitely parts of them that MePhone came up with; such as PB's fire and the S2 Finalist not remembering the S3 time skip, but we see again and again the contestants doing things that MePhone does not want.

Case and point: Taco. Everything about Taco. Not only was she secretly smart without MePhone knowing, but she 1. tried to steal the million dollars, 2. hid in the woods for who-knows how long, 3. conspired with and manipulated running contestants, 4. kidnapped his assistant, and 5. took over the show for an entire episode. If MePhone had control over her then none of that would have even happened.

Outside of Taco, almost all of the contestants do things that MePhone does not want, such as:

Bow never leaving no matter how many times she was punched with the Fist-Thingy

The eliminated S1 contestants trying to escape Idiotic Island

Paper going insane and everything with Evil Paper happening

The Cherries launching Marshmallow to space where she would be unrecoverable

OJ suing MePhone and threatening to do it again

Tissues making MePhone sick

Suitcase developing horrible anxiety and hallucinations

Microphone taking Taco's deal

Lightbulb using Fan to fly (which we see MePhone call out as cheating)

Marshmallow running away to live in Purgatory Mansion

Lightbulb and Test Tube traveling back in time

Paintbrush painting Steve Cobs and then burning the entire field

Lightbulb and Test Tube finding the Gemories

Fan rushing out to get the egg

Knife not telling MePhone about Taco

Fan and Test Tube creating Bot to bring back Bow; who MePhone did not like

The Eliminated S3 contestants being able to go back to the hotel

Box getting hit with a hammer, falling down a mountain, and then bursting into flames when MePhone did not have a medic

The Floor not being able to be eliminated and almost erupting the volcano

Blueberry faking his own death

Silver Spoon letting his aura get the better of him and almost killing Candle

Lightbulb avoiding telling everyone about what is happening

And those are just the things that are coming to mind, I'm sure there are things that I missed, but there's even more compelling questions. If the contestants are fake, then why do they need a place to go when eliminated if MePhone could make them not exist anymore? What about everything going on in Hotel OJ, Idiotic Island, and Indefinite Island without MePhone knowledge; especially for the last one since he didn't even know it existed until Ep10. If the BFDI crossovers and Nickel's early comments in S1 are to be believed, then at one point Nickel had somehow tried to join BFDI instead!

Even in II 16, we see that the contestants can have their life sucked out of them, which shouldn't be possible if they don't have souls, meaning that they have to. There's also how Bow and Dough are both ghosts and how everyone can be body-swapped in S3 Ep8, or even how MePhone can revive them in the first place with all of their memories and personality intact. None of this should be possible if the contestants are fake.

That's not even mentioning that we already know what a fake contestant looks like with the replicas that Spring made in S3 Ep13! They can't talk and they have few emotions, which is in complete opposition to everyone else in Inanimate Insanity.

Even if MePhone made them in the first place, there is so much saying that yes, the contestants are real.

[planetary-gus]

Explosions are Loud. Who Knew?

Fandom: Varian and the Seven Kingdoms

Full version on Ao3: here

Prompt: Ears Ringing

Varian definitely knows how to exercise proper lab safety.

He's 20 years old. He's been doing this for well over 15 years now.

This has been his special interest since he was old enough to like anything.

He has the gloves. Which he makes and tested himself to work almost 100% percent of the time and be very difficult to get through with any nicks from tools or melt with accidental spills.

He has goggles which have lasted him well over a decade at this point. He just has to make new lenses every once in a while, if he accidentally cracks one. Or both. They were only last replaced because his dad got him new goggles for his 9th birthday because he was trying to be supportive on his son's hobby but also wanted him to be safe.

And he's careful. Most of the time. Like 85% of it.

And of course, his infamous spooky mask that he made when he was 7 at Quirin's insistence and that's the only way he was allowed to get some of the mor dangerous things he wanted to experiment with.

But he never wears earplugs. Or any form of ear protection for that matter.

Why, you may ask?

Because, in his words, "I don't like the feeling of stuff in or covering my ears."

So sensory issues.

And his hands over his ears in a split-second notice hardly works as protection.

So he's dealt with tinnitus for nearly 12 years at this point.

He was used to it. He learned sign language with Quirin (who still struggles with it sometimes but is just trying his best) in his early teenage years to communicate when it would sometimes get too loud to hear people talk. But it does come in handy when he's too overwhelmed to talk.

And that brings us to now. Varian, "carefully" conducting an experiment while Hugo left the room for 5 minutes to get them some snacks. (At Ruddiger's behest obviously)

"Okay Ruddiger, 3 drops should be enough..." Varian said to the raccoon, holding the eyedropper of orange liquid over the blue beaker they were heating over a Bunsen burner.

He carefully squeezed 1, 2, 3 drops into the beaker, and watched and the liquid swirled around and turned magenta instead of the muddy brown they were expecting.

The chubby little raccoon quickly darted to a little nook created in a bookcase by chewing it out, and hid there.

"Well that can't be go-" Varian started before the combustion of the beaker sent him into the wall behind him.

Note: I love the headcanon of deaf/HoH/tinnitus Varian so much and I toned down my original headcanon because it doesn't make sense to anyone outside of me and my girlfriend (and our cats who've heard it a million times)

But yeah.

This was me satisfying that little part of my brain at 3 in the morning

[katsona-the-katsequel]

ALRIGHT, BREAK'S OVER. TIME FOR...

P3 Q&A (Part 1)

The epic world of Persona 3 is filled with mysteries that only lead to more mysteries. The familiar P3 characters will answer any questions you may have!

Shuji Ikutsuki (from now on "🤓") and...!

Aigis (from now on "🤖").

🤓: So, here we have me, the leading expert on shadow research and Chairman of Gekkoukan High and...

🤖: I am an anti-shadow suppression weapon, and we will answer all your questions. However, Ikutsuki-san...

🤓: Hmm? What is it, Aigis?

🤖: I believed you fell from the observatory and died.

🤓: Don't be rude, Aigis. This me is a commentator character for the Q&A, not the me in the main story. So anything can happen if I comes back to life, and my personality is a little different. I hope you don't worry too much about that.

🤖: Ah, our personalities are different... so, please stop making puns.

🤓: (Says a pun)

🤖: Ah.

🤓: Ah, Aigis...she wasn't the type of girl to click her tongue like that...

🤖: Ah, enough with the nonsense, let's get started. Otherwise, this 5-barreled Medusa will start breathing fire.

🤓: Hmm, if a bullet like that hits you, it's terrible, so it can't be helped, just kidding.

Well, let's ask a question!

Q: So, what is Nyx's true identity?

🤓: To explain, we must first tell a story. In the distant past, there was a gigantic, celestial-sized lifeform that was floating dormant in space. This lifeform, also known as the "star eater," one day crashed into Earth, where life had just begun to emerge. The probability of this happening must have been one in hundreds of millions, or even trillions. This was the first contact between life on Earth and Nyx.

🤖: Was Nyx born in space? How is it possible that the Earth would not have collapsed in that state?

🤓: The matter that makes up Nyx exists under different laws from the physical laws of Earth. However, the impact of the collision was still intense. The shock caused the pieces of the broken Earth to become the Moon, and Nyx's vibrational spirit resided on Earth, while her physical body resided on the Moon. The problem was with the spirit. The vibrations emitted by Nyx's spirit were enough to negate all life on Earth and nullify it. Naturally, the creatures on Earth, who instinctively desire life even though they were primitive, resisted the vibrations of death. As a result, the creatures on Earth evolved explosively and acquired weapons to fight against Nyx. This was the shared information domain of all life on Earth, commonly known in psychological terms as the "collective unconscious."

🤖: But... why would it be a weapon? Was it defeated by some kind of supernatural power?

🤓: No, no. Life on Earth had sealed the spirit of Nyx within its collective unconscious. The driving force behind this suppression is the power of "repression'' that comes from the fear of not wanting to die or being afraid of dying. There's no irony in the fact that life on Earth has evolved to the point where it has a complex mental structure thanks to Nyx, who is supposed to be the embodiment of death. People may have subconsciously known the truth based on the fact that Nyx in Greek mythology is depicted as a goddess, and in a sense, she is the mother of life.

🤖: It is very profound.

🤓: Come to think of it, it's also thanks to Nyx that I can make cool puns...

🤖: I will never forgive Nyx.

🤓: That's terrible, Aigis... But that aside, as long as living beings, especially humans with strong and complex mental structures, fear death, Nyx was meant to remain subconsciously sealed away. In the main story, it was a shame...oh, just when she was close to being revived to a dangerous point, she was resealed by the power of the Universe that the leader had obtained. Truly, it's a shame.

🤖: He's a man who never learns his lesson, even in death. By the way, what happened to Nyx's body?

🤓: After it merged with the moon, its body, which was damaged in the collision, continued to automatically repair itself. By the time of the main story, the repairs were probably almost complete. However, since it was just an empty shell, it was simply waiting idly until its mind was released from the seal. During the battle with the Nyx Avatar, she was called down to Earth. After she was resealed, she became a quiet moon again.

Q: What exactly was the end of the world that Nyx brought about?

🤖: What was it?

🤓: As I said before, Nyx's spirit, which had been sealed in the subconscious, will be released from its restraints and become free. Furthermore, it will re-fuse with its body, which has become the moon, and regain its true form. This will be the destruction and end of the Earth. In fact, this destruction has come close to happening many times in the history of Earth.

🤖: Is that so?

🤓: For example, when a major war breaks out or an epidemic spreads, apocalyptic thoughts begin to take root among people. People start to hate living. When this happens, the power that holds back Nyx, in other words the fear of death, weakens, and Nyx's release, or the end of the world, approaches. The "prophecies" that I mentioned in the main story are books that describe the end of various eras, and using them as a hint, I found a way to free Nyx. Amazing, right?

🤖: It's amazing, but it's no good.

🤓: (Sob, sob)

🤖: But... how did people in the past, when there was no SEES, stop the apocalypse?

🤓: Yes, that's a good question. In the first place, even if 100 or 1000 people wished for the end, it would only weaken the seal slightly. There are so many humans, after all. It's unlikely that all of them would want to die at once. Moreover, humans unconsciously created a conceptual entity to oppose Nyx, and used it to strengthen their own minds.

🤖: It's difficult.

🤓: To put it simply, that's what we call mythology. It usually depicts a good god defeating an evil god and preventing the destruction of the world, right? The existence of this god stabilized the repressed subconscious and played a part in strengthening the seal on Nyx. However, this has become less effective in modern times with the development of science and technology, and conversely, some people are turning to apocalyptic ideology due to religion. Especially in a society with advanced information technology, a movement towards the end of the world that should only be a local phenomenon, but which is only happening in a small area, can spread across the entire world in an instant. The end of the world in the main story was triggered by Kirijo's experiment, but even without that, the end may have come in the near future. Yes, the end is coming this weekend.

The end is...

🤖: …The Kiss of Athena in my right hand is breathing fire, see?

🤓: Uruuru, how cold. Shall I call Nyx again?

Q: What are shadows?

🤓: It's the road that cars drive on.

🤖: It is a roadway. (Bam!)

🤓: …That hurts, Aigis. Umm, in all seriousness, shadows are part of Nyx.

🤖: Are you sure you're not one of Nyx's minions or a child?

🤓: On the previous page, I explained that Nyx is hidden deep within the collective unconscious of all living things. This means that Nyx is located deep within the minds of all living things, even below the unconscious.

🤖: That's what happens.

🤓: So, imagine if a creature, say Iori, says, "I got a zero on the exam, I don't have the will to live anymore," and unconsciously stops resisting Nyx. What happens?

🤖: I'm sure Nyx will emerge from within Junpei's heart.

🤓: That's right. To be precise, a part of Nyx escapes from the subconscious. That part of Nyx's mind is actually a shadow.

🤖: For a member of Nyx, it's pretty pathetic, isn't it?

🤓: It's just a very small part of it. Other than having some special abilities and the fact that they are basically spiritual beings and normal attacks have no effect on them, they don't have all that much power. However, for the creatures that contain it, the existence of shadows is extremely important.

🤖: What do you mean?

🤓: First of all, because we are destined to carry shadows, fragments of Nyx, deep in our psyches, all life on Earth today has a "lifespan."

🤖: Normally, living things are thought to have a lifespan... aren't they?

🤓: That is common knowledge on the Earth today. The primordial life forms that existed on the ancient Earth. For example, something like an amoeba can multiply by repeating cell division, and will not die unless it is eaten by another organism. I explained earlier that Nyx promoted explosive evolution, but I guess lifespan is the compensation for that. Another important point is that the Shadow that is incorporated into the mind of a living being becomes an important part of its mental structure. The loss of this creature would be equivalent to losing a living being, especially a human being with an advanced mental structure, one's own spirit.

🤖: Ah, perhaps...?

🤓: Yes, the reason why Apathy Syndrome victims are also known as the Lost, is because they become like empty shells due to having lost the fragment of Nyx, or the Shadow, that was contained within their psyches.

🤖: I see.

Q. What exactly does it mean to be "devoured" by a shadow?

🤓: You can probably figure this out by now. In fact, shadows don't eat humans. Humans create shadows, and as a result, the empty shells of the Lost are created. However, as a phenomenon, humans are drawn into the Dark Hour → a Shadow is observed clinging to the person → the victim becomes apathetic. When you see this, it just seems like the Shadow is eating their mind. In the previous chapter, Yamagishi's best friend Natsuki hears something called the "shadow's call," but that is also the voice of the Shadow in her own mind. Those who forget the death that lurks within them and live vaguely will enter the Dark Hour as the Shadow in their mind desires and become an empty shell... it's scary. However, in her case, her experience in the Dark Hour made her prepared to fight death again, and so she was able to avoid becoming Lost, which is a special case. Although very rare, people like this do exist. Wow, humans are... wonderful!

🤖: ...Oh, is that done yet? Let's move on to the next question.

🤓: I'm going to take it back to the lab and disassemble it. Seriously... (tears)

Q. What is a shadow's purpose?

🤖: I can understand this too. They are aiming to revive Nyx. But, according to Ikutsuki's explanation, shadows are also Nyx itself, right?

🤓: That's right. To be precise, their first goal is to return to their original Nyx. As they become small new fragments of power, they first try to combine with other fragments, that is, other shadows. Each time a certain number of shadows combine with them, they gradually regain their original power as Nyx.

🤖: The large, powerful Shadows that appear during the full moon were, by the way, artificially gathered shadows and created in Kirijo's experiments.

🤓: That's right. Even if you don't force them together, if the world becomes filled with anxiety and thoughts of the end of the world spread, it will take some time, but a large Shadow will be born, and then it will gather together and Nyx will be resurrected. That's why they exist.

🤖: And it is in order to defeat these shadows that we exist. Ahem.

🤓: That's what's annoying to shadows. I said earlier that shadows don't eat humans, but there are exceptions, and they attack Persona Users. They have intelligence, and they know that Persona Users will prevent Nyx from being resurrected. Another exception is when a person who gets lost in the Dark Hour is attacked. This is because the person is trying to forcibly combine with the Shadow that is suppressed deep within that person's mind.

🤖: That's quite clever.

🤓: Right? When you think about it like that, don't shadows start to look cute?

🤖: Ikutsuki's eyes are blind.

Q. What do the different Shadow Arcana mean?

🤖: The Shadow Arcana classification refers to the Tarot cards from number 0, The Fool, to number 12, The Hanged Man.

🤓: I'm sure you all learned in class that the Tarot represents human growth, right? The Shadow Classification is similar, it represents the Shadow's mental tendencies.

🤖: The higher the number, the stronger it is, or something like that?

🤓: Hmm, maybe it's a little different? The higher the number, the more mature and advanced it is, but each one is an important aspect that makes up Nyx. When all the Shadows with tendencies from 0 to 12 combine, they transform into the 13th Arcana, Death. This Death Arcana is special, and as its nickname, the Herald of Doom, indicates that Nyx is ready to be resurrected.

🤖: You're talking about Ryoji-san. It's a bit of a shame that we've lost such a great person.

Did you call for me? (Ryoji Mochizuki, from now on "💀").

🤖: Megido Fire!

💀: Ouch, ouch, so hot! Heavy weapons don't suit a cute girl.

🤖: Just die quietly.

💀: Well, well, let me explain from here. The special thing about Death is that I share the will and powers with the spirit of Nyx. I am the incarnation of Nyx, that is, the Nyx Avatar. Now I am the Grim Reaper. I will summon a body that has been assimilated with the moon and become one with it, and then I will become a "star eater" that will cause destruction on a planetary scale, sadly. However, my friend used a trick called the Universe and I was once again sunk to the bottom of the collective unconscious. He is really impressive.

🤖: Are you happy that you managed to avoid destruction?

💀: Well, I guess I'll say nothing about that. See you later.

🤖: Ah, he's gone... He's a surprisingly nice guy. By the way, Ikutsuki-san, what happened?

🤓: (Sob sob sob sob sob) The best part has been explained...

Q. Tartarus, Dark Hour, potential, transmogrification, it's so difficult I don't understand it! Please tell me all about it!

🤓: That's a pretty rude question. It tells you something about the intelligence of the person asking it...

(Junpei Iori, from now on "🧢"): Sorry, I'm stupid! You're always making puns, so how could you possibly be so bold as to say something about other people's heads?

🤓: H-how cruel, Junpei-kun... You don't have to deny me one of the few sources of entertainment in a world where I'm always tormented by emptiness...

🤖: That's right. Junpei is terrible.

🤓: Ah, Aigis~ (tears of joy)

🤖: My most important thing is to give a harsh remark to Ikutsuki-san. It's cruel to take someone else's turn.

🤓: Is that the point?!

🧢: Well, that's fine. Just tell me the details.

🤓: Well, let's get back to the point. (Cough) Some of the items I mentioned in the previous question are closely related to certain abilities of shadows. I'll explain them all together now.

🧢: Certain abilities?

🤓: That's right. It's an ability that can only be used when a certain number of shadows combine. It's the ability to interfere with space-time. As I've already explained, the shadows want to gather together and take back Nyx's power. However, unlike normal living beings, shadows are spiritual beings and cannot act normally in normal space. So they wanted a place where only they could move freely, and they used their space-time ability to create law in the gaps in normal time.

🧢: Is that the Dark Hour?

🤓: That's it! The Dark Hour created in this way is a special space-time that is not interfered with by normal space. Conversely, the shadows cannot interfere with things in normal space. So, this is an explanation of transmogrification, and it is thought to be a visualization of the phenomenon where people who are in a place outside of the Dark Hour are not interfered with at all. The hard metal-like appearance is a symbol of the fact that they cannot be harmed by shadows.

🧢: Hmm, it's difficult after all. So, what is different about people like us who can enter the Dark Hour?

🤓: I'm talking about potential. People with potential simply suppress the Shadow deep in their hearts and basically turn a blind eye to it. Of course, you don't want to be constantly thinking about death.

But there are some people who can face death head-on and yet not be obsessed with it. And among these people, there are some who are able to control the Shadow within themselves, even if unconsciously, and acquire that ability.

🤖: In other words, someone who has gained the power to interfere with space-time, just like shadows, has the potential, right?

🧢: So what about Tartarus? That's the one I don't understand the most.

🤓: Well, that's like an antenna, if you like. Tartarus is the landmark that Nyx's spirit uses to call her body on the moon. So all the shadows that escape from humans in the city gather at Tartarus and try to regain their power as spirits by repeatedly combining with them. As their power increases, Tartarus gets higher and higher, and eventually the body (the moon) descends to reach it, and when it has grown large enough, it merges with the spirit.

Q. Why are only some machines, like Mitsuru's bike and Aigis, able to move during the Dark Hour when time has stopped?

🤓: A certain mysterious substance plays a major role in this, a substance that does not actually exist on Earth: Plumes of Dusk.

🤖: That's the continue item when playing on easy mode, right?

🤓: That's right. In fact, that plume is a thin layer of Nyx's body that was peeled off after it was assimilated with the moon and fell to Earth. In other words, it is a part of Nyx's body. It is called the Plumes of Dusk because it looks like a bird's feather. It has an intermediate property between matter and information, and although it is a part of Nyx, the incarnation of death, it has a vibration closer to that of life. At the same time, it has the ability to interfere with space-time, just like shadows. Therefore, machines that have these Plumes of Dusk built into their core can operate even in the Dark Hour. Kirijo's bike and the Evokers that everyone uses all have these Plumes of Dusk built into them.

🤖: Then, maybe...

🤓: Of course, the Plumes of Dusk are also incorporated into the core of Aigis. In particular, the one inside Aigis is two feathers that have joined together to form an X shape like a butterfly, and is the largest of its kind, called a Papillon Heart. This also allows Aigis to have the same spirit as a human, and is also a source of power. However, it is inside a black box, and the detailed principles behind it have not been made clear.

🤖: It's kind of complicated.

🤓: To face a strong enemy, you need to be cunning enough to even use the enemy's powers.

Q. What was the purpose of the experiment that the Kirijo Group conducted 10 years ago? Tell us about Strega!

🤓: To begin with, the reason why the Kirijo Group started researching shadows was because Kouetsu Kirijo happened to get his hands on a Plume of Dusk, which I explained earlier.

🤖: Was that the case?

🤓: At first, he probably wanted to unravel the mysterious power of the plumes and use it for some purpose. However, as his research progressed, Kouetsu Kirijo became aware of Nyx's existence. This is also mentioned in the main story's scenario. Eventually, he became possessed by the idea of ​​the end of the world and carried out the work to bring Nyx down. That was the experiment that was carried out 10 years ago. To be specific, the destruction that would have required a large number of people to be possessed by the end of the world was supposed to be realized by artificially gathering shadows, forcibly combining them, and creating Death.

🤖: I resolved that issue in an undesirable way, by sealing Death within him.

🤓: Right. That's where I came in, even though I was just a low-level employee. By proactively taking on the task of cleaning up the failed experiments, I was able to raise my status within Kirijo and eventually become able to speak on an equal footing with Takeharu Kirijo. At the same time, I also worked hard to establish SEES in order to search for the lost Death, and even became the squad's Chairman. And then, finally, I found the man who would later become our leader.

🤖: It's absolutely awful. So how did the Strega members come about?

🤓: Oh well, let's just pretend that never happened.

Takaya (from now on "🤡"): It won't be enough to just pretend that it never happened.

Jin (from now on "💣"): Seriously! If you say something stupid, your molars will chatter!

🤓: Oh man, you guys...

🤡: Let me explain for you. In the research on shadows, the existence of Personas that could counter shadows had already been confirmed. However, it seems that the conditions for obtaining such powers were not fully understood. So Ikutsuki gathered children and repeatedly conducted inhumane experiments, trying to create artificial Persona Users. Of the dozens of samples, only a few, including us, survived...

🤖: Why did they bother to use children?

💣: I guess it's because the first Persona User Kirijo saw was that girl called Mitsuru. Anyway, we were failures who couldn't live without relying on medicine. Well, there are people like Aragaki who are unstable even when awakened naturally.

🤡: Anyway, we gave up on Kirijo and escaped with a large amount of the suppressants. The remaining test subjects that didn't escape were all lost during the first expedition to Tartarus. And so, all evidence of the plan to artificially create Persona Users was destroyed and sealed away. But I don't hold any grudges against them. Thanks to them, we were able to get closer to destruction.

🤖: It's truly tragic. As an apology, Ikutsuki-san will be taking care of you.

🤓: That's not true, Aigis...

● Next ->

[skzkiyoon]

🎸 yayyy! x LET’S FUCKING GO!

🎸 replies immediately x replies in a million years

🎸 secretly chaotic x openly chaotic

🎸 medium height x tall height

honestly these two match all four of these dynamics. chan does little happy fists and kiyoon will punch the air in excitement (almost as if she would kill someone).

chan replies immediately no matter how serious a message is, and kiyoon takes forever to respond due to being asleep all the time.

chan is known to be the most responsible out of everyone before and after kiyoon joined, but he’s secretly very very chaotic and can be as much as the other members are. kiyoon is openly chaotic no matter what happens, she’s just glad her leader is responsible.

🎸 a smart dumbass x a barely smart dumbass

🎸 dresses nicely x sweatpants and t-shirt

🎸 laughs when they laugh x laughs at everything

🎸 medium height x tall height

lee know is both smart and dumb, but mostly smart. kiyoon is just.. dumb. but she’s also smart sometimes. she’s just no 50/50 like minho.

kiyoon loves her t-shirts, tank tops, and sweatpants. she feels most comfortable with them. lee know is literally stylish even at home and she questions that more often than not at all.

kiyoon laughs at LITERALLY everything. she’s mean but she’s sweet. she WILL laugh at one of the members if they so much as walk into the room funny. lee know will start laughing only because she’s laughing because he thinks her laugh is funny and cute.

🎸 remembers everything x forgets everything

🎸 bothering the sleepy one x the sleepy one

🎸 kendrick lamar lover x bad bunny lover

🎸 medium height x tall height

changbin is just one of those people who has quite a good memory when it comes to a lot of things, while kiyoon forgets everything in the span of 5 minutes.

changbin is just ONE of the people that bothers kiyoon on a daily basis when she’s trying to sleep. like leave the girl aloneeee she wants to rest in PEACE.

kiyoon keeps her spanish culture with her. even though she’s an idol who puts out songs in languages other than her native one, she still listens to some good old bad bunny. changbin likes his kendrick lamar, you can find him listening to it before working on tracks.

🎸 sleepy x sleepy

🎸drama king x angry queen

🎸 short message x long paragraph

🎸 tall height x taller height

sleepy duo part 1. definitely the two you find sleeping on the couch. not much of a sleepy duo as han but definitely places as number 2. they wake up with their hair a total mess and everything.

drama king and his favorite angry queen. they’re both technically drama queens but like kiyoon can just handle more than him LOL. whenever hyunjin gets to be too dramatic it irritates her. he gets a scolding on the spot.

i definitely see hyunjin was someone to get his messages out through short texts, where as kiyoon will say what she has to say in one singular message, no matter how big it may be. it’s just one of her pet peeves.

🎸 silly x silly

🎸 achiever x over achiever

🎸sleepyhead x sleepyhead

🎸 medium height x tall height

definitely so silly when they’re together. if they’re doing lives together it’s always fun because they’re either in the dance room or in another room to stream. always pulling off funny stunts or making the wildest jokes ever.

han definitely gets his goal and achieves everything he needs to in certain amount of time and he’s always proud of it. kiyoon is a hard over achiever. even if she gets something done she feels she needs to keep going until it is perfect. during recording sessions, 3racha (most han) are the only ones allowed to listen to her because they know how hard she works and she won’t let anyone else listen to her. works herself to the brim until they got it breaks because she’s pushing herself.

sleepy duo part 2. now THESE 2 are actually the sleepy duo. they’re found in the most random spots just napping. it could be in the middle of a earth quake and han will just sleep it away, where as kiyoon will wake up as soon as the place she’s sleeping slightly shakes.

🎸 sunshine x sunshine protector

🎸 emotional x secretly emotional

🎸 silly x even more silly

🎸 medium height x tall height

we all know felix is a little ball of sunshine and makes everyone smile, kiyoon has a very big intent to murder if someone were to taint her ball of sunshine (who is probably secretly a living tease).

felix can be emotional when it comes to certain things and definitely expresses how he feels with certain topics often, kiyoon is secretly emotion and doesn’t know how to get all of her emotions out in one go.

kiyoon and felix can be seen as the goofiest members. they’re always making the most random faces for bubble users and posting out of pocket pictures together on their instagrams. on camera, the first thing every stay try to look for is a moment where kiyoon and felix make everyone laugh.

🎸 “absolutely not” x “hear me out”

🎸 loveable asshole x loveable asshole

🎸 head in the clouds x steerer of direction

🎸 medium height x tall height

one of our savage’s way to pick on kiyoon is not listening. “just hear me out on this minnie.” “I absolutely— will not listen.” she wants to fight him every time he does that.

they are both loveable assholes, seungmin is just savage #1 and kiyoon is savage #2. never a dull moment. they’re always picking on people but obviously they’re still loved by many.

yk that face seungmin makes on live sometimes when he’s just staring at the camera with nothing on his mind? yeah times like those is when kiyoon attempts to bring him back to reality and be like “what was the last thing I said?”

🎸 regular humor x dark humor

🎸 “i’m gonna fight you” x “okay bet”

🎸 “you don’t like anyone” x “i don’t like them”

🎸 medium height x tall height

jeongin has somewhat of a regular humor for the normal things people joke about.. while kiyoon does not. stays CANT know that though, it’d would either get too chaotic and some people might even become offended. try living with kiyoon’s family, you get used to it.

stays always think these two are always at each others throats. like as soon as they pull up for a skz code filming its immediately time to box. one look from jeongin and kiyoon’s already got him in a headlock. “HE WAS LOOKING AT ME FUNNY.”

kiyoon seriously doesn’t like most people till she gets to know them (besides stays she loves all stays equally) and jeongin being one of those people she goes shopping with knows this more than anyone. she’s a really judgy person so if she sees someone with a weird hairstyle she’ll frown and sigh in disgust. jeongin just keeps up with what she’s talking about. “*sigh*” “let me guess… it’s either the lady with the weird stiches on her head or the guy with mustard stains on his shirt.”

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Happy wednesday! I hope it’s a good one for you💕 Could I have a bit of arsonist neil/firefighter andrew?

WIP Wednesday (5/1) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 161)

Andrew lets out a breath. “Who the fuck—”

“Don’t ask me that,” 10 interrupts.

“I wasn’t asking for his name. I was going to ask who the fuck has that much reach.” Andrew clarifies.

“Oh. Well, mom took five million of his. And it must’ve been a drop in the bucket, because he still had enough to send people after us, after me, for… about ten years.” 

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. Anyway, sometimes they’d show up— or worse, he would show up— and we’d have to leave our stuff behind to get away. That’s… That’s why I’d never bothered unpacking before.” 10 says, giving Andrew a hell of a lot to think about.

“Father dearest must’ve missed you quite a bit.”

“Maybe he missed the money.” 10 laughs dryly. “He didn’t want to be bested by his helpless wife and kid. It made people think he was weak, how long we were able to evade him. Even though he wasted so much time and money and men trying to track us down.”

“I suppose the two of you won out in the end, at least.”

“I did.” 10 says, his voice shaking. “My mom died first of the three of us. That was… a few years ago. I told you that… I told you she died in a car accident. That was a lie. My father killed her.”

“That’s a rather large lie.”

“I mean, she did die in a car. Of a gunshot wound. She bled out trying to put distance between us and him. I didn’t even realize she was hit until it was too late. I tried to get her to go to a hospital, but she told me it wouldn’t matter.” 10’s voice breaks and Andrew’s heart, if he has one, cracks a bit. “She made me promise to get rid of the evidence, so I had to burn the car with her inside.”

[mariacallous]

In his face-off against Elon Musk, Philadelphia District Attorney Larry Krasner has already earned at least one important win.

A judge on Friday granted Krasner’s request to keep a civil lawsuit he filed against Musk and Musk’s pro-Trump America PAC in state court, rather than having it moved to federal court as the tech billionaire wished.

Musk, for his part, filed a motion seeking to quash any personal appearance he is ordered to make in court, saying that his attendance is unnecessary because the case is largely focused on actions of America PAC.

Earlier Friday morning, Musk had accused Krasner of engaging in a “rushed stage play” and a “spectacle” as he urged a federal judge to deny Krasner’s emergency request to keep the suit in state court.

Krasner sued the billionaire and his pro-Donald Trump America PAC over their pledge to give away $1 million daily to registered voters. Musk claims the giveaway is random, but Krasner alleges that Musk is intentionally targeting people in battleground states with an “illegal lottery scheme” meant to influence voters.

Musk has argued that Krasner must square off with America PAC attorneys in federal court because the lawsuit raises questions about a federal election and the federal laws that govern political action committees, not state matters.

Krasner is adamant that his lawsuit isn’t about whether Musk and America PAC are violating federal laws that ban vote-buying. Rather, the district attorney wants a state court, not a federal one, to determine whether the program violates Pennsylvania’s prohibitions against illegal lotteries.

Attorneys for Musk’s PAC filed a notice in the Eastern District of Pennsylvania federal court this week requesting to have the case remanded there. Explaining this maneuver in a brief filed Friday, a lawyer for the PAC wrote that the group’s expenditures are “political speech” and thus “entitled to First Amendment protections,” which is a federal jurisdictional issue.

But U.S. District Judge Gerald Pappert disagreed.

Musk and America PAC “have not identified any question of federal law that must be resolved in Plaintiff’s favor in order to prove either state-law claim,” Pappert’s memorandum states.

“Defendants argue the Complaint’s references to ‘the forthcoming Federal Presidential Election’ show the lawsuit necessarily raises questions of federal law,” Pappert wrote. “But federal question jurisdiction does not turn on a plaintiff’s motivations in filing suit; it turns on whether the legal issues arising from the claims originate in federal or state law.”

The ploy to have the lawsuit remanded to federal court may have been a boon for Musk anyway. The giveaway ends on Nov. 5, meaning that by the time the courts decide the next steps, the initiative will already be over.

The Justice Department warned Musk in a letter last month that he may run afoul of federal election laws against compensating voters, but Musk was undeterred.

Four giveaway winners are from Pennsylvania, a crucial swing state, according to a website for the program. So far, the PAC has given away a total of $14 million to voters who signed the petition that states they agree to support the First and Second Amendments. The website indicates that winners will be declared through Nov. 5. As of Friday, the site specified that those winners would be selected in Arizona and Wisconsin, which are also battleground states in the 2024 election.

Musk and Krasner were initially meant to face off in court on Friday, but the hearing was brought forward to Thursday. Krasner had asked to move the hearing to a more secure venue following a deluge of threats he said he received.

The DA accused Musk of amplifying inflammatory posts about him and the lawsuit on X, the social media platform Musk owns. In court records, Krasner showed Musk’s reposts from a user on X who claimed the DA knew his lawsuit wasn’t legal but “wants a leftist judge to stop it before Election Day.” Other users on the platform have threatened to come to Krasner’s house in masks and harass him.

Musk himself was a no-show at the hearing, sending his lawyers in his stead.

Attorneys for Krasner, Musk and America PAC did not immediately respond to HuffPost’s request for comment.