#but there were actual consequences for actions and it had a more serious tone while also having fun moments

[bikananjarrus]

why did the mandalorian literally wait until the second to last episode of the season to give us a good episode?

[alteriivik]

IN A BIT OF TROUBLE | RAMBLES

a/n: inspired by an aventurine an aventurine bot + here you go, a decent meal for ya’ll

warnings: 1.3k words, sexual content!! mentions of smoking + drinking + brownies + gambling (but not actual descriptions of it), public sex, dacryphilia, degredation

troublemaker sub who’s known to cause trouble wherever he goes. He’s similar to a walking time bomb. In one second, he’ll be seen wearing a big grin, and in the next, he’s being held by the collar by a random person. Even in that situation, he grins and shrugs. He’s a loud guy with his bluntness and insulting statements—he is, indeed, a charm that brings trouble. He usually gets bought out of situations, not having experienced too dire consequences. He’s done a lot of things: smoking, drinking, getting high, gambling. A red flag through and through.

troublemaker sub whose parents finally started to get tired of the constant complaints about him. At first, they tried to talk to him, trying to persuade him not to be so reckless, and the first week, when they told him that, he calmed down, but he stopped after that, being reckless. So, as a last resort, you were brought in and hired as a bodyguard for him.

troublemaker sub who surprisingly didn’t complain about the situation. He was initially uninterested in you, but when you saved him from a fight, he started with a random group of thugs. He’s been looking at you more closely. You always stop him. Drinking? You take the bottle away from him, throwing it to the nearest garbage or his favorite, raising it up and away from his reach—he plays along, leaning against your body and going on his tippy toes, but that’s all an act to tease you. Smoking or getting high? You either slap that shit out of his hands or chuck it into a trash can. Gambling? You stop him from going even a mile close to one.

troublemaker sub who starts to intentionally get into fights more frequently, may it be with a man or a woman, he doesn’t care (gender equality, guys). He starts fights with rowdy large individuals and with bratty, spoiled kids—sometimes, it would end up in a diss battle or throwing hands. He could always count on you to appear, your calm voice striking through the loud voices and trying to alleviate the problem he caused. Although he gets disappointed when it goes your way and the fight discontinues, he sits there, listening to you scolding him—the only thing he’s paying attention to is your face. But if it goes his way and violence happens, you’ll be in front of him with a serious expression on your face. One he enjoys.

troublemaker sub who’s gotten in trouble again. Somehow, he was cunning enough to escape your sight and enter a casino. While you were trying to find him, he crashed into your chest. He looked up with a mischievous grin and an innocent tone and confessed that he had made some guards angry. Now there you two were, you caging him against a rough wall with your hand against his mouth. In some sketchy alleyway, with shadows of the buildings looming over you both. You were thankful it was already night when he decided to cause trouble again.

troublemaker sub who dislikes the silence, so he comes up with an idea. He bit your fingers playfully, asking, although muffled if you liked this position. Of course, your first reaction was to tell him to quiet down—you knew he was a strange kid, so you didn’t care much. It's more so focused on the sounds you’re trying to hear. There was a pout on his face when you ignored his actions, so he wrapped his arms around your neck, pulling you closer to him. His feathery light touches your neck, creating goosebumps on your skin. He couldn’t help but get excited by the thrill of being caught in such a position with you despite the possibility of being caught.

troublemaker sub with your fingers in his mouth, muffled whimpers, and whines coming from his lips. He tries his best to suckle on your digits. He felt heat pool down his lower abdomen, liking the look of your annoyed expression as you told him to shut up with your rough voice. He grinds against your thigh, feeling himself grow harder. He was enjoying the friction given to him, stuttering out thank you’s in his voice and his mind. Although, he couldn’t help but want more, his mind burning with more lustful thoughts.

troublemaker sub who has one leg over your shoulder. Your arm was under his leg, giving it support yet forcing it to fold upwards, and your fingers were still knuckled deep inside his wet cavern. Your other hand held his thigh up so he wasn’t standing anymore. If you let him go right now, he’ll probably fall into your arms. He felt his mind racing from how he was being pushed up against the wall, a vulnerable position to be in. He didn’t know he was this flexible; it did pain him a little… but that didn’t mean it wasn’t pleasurable. He didn’t try to quiet down his moans, his voice ringing desperately. His pants were too tight for comfort, and your clothed member grinding against his didn’t make it better. He was desperate, desperate for more—wanting… needing it. He’s willing to beg even if that means you fuck him then and there.

troublemaker sub who’s sobbing on your dick, grinding against it. Your fingers were still inside his mouth, trying to quiet him down and only serving him to make pathetic whines. His mind felt fuzzy, yet it could conjure up thoughts, thinking about how you were splitting him so wide. His dazed eyes were teary, and he had a pleading look. He wanted you to at least grind back into him, and he tried his best to grind down onto your dick, feeling it throb and pulsate inside his gummy walls. When you still didn’t move, he sobbed out, wanting you so desperately to move. Be rough or gentle, so whatever. Just begging you to fuck him.

troublemaker sub whose mind goes blank when you start to thrust into him. Your thrusts were deep and precise, hitting his prostate head-on. He felt fat tears rolling down his eyes; it felt so fucking good. The way you roughly slammed against his prostate made him tighten even more. His muffled mewling turns you on. You wanted to show him his place, that his cheeky and bold persona is only a facade—being easily broken by his bodyguard’s dick. His flushed face had tear stains; even then, tears continued to run down his cheeks as he gagged around your fingers while also moaning like a whore around you.

troublemaker sub who cries harder when you whisper words in his ears. He felt your hot breath fanning against his ears, making them flush red from the hot air. Imagine the way he let out a pitiful whimper when you started to humiliate him. His body is burning up more, and his hands are digging into your clothes. Even with your degrading words, he bucked his hips while tears fell through his puffy red eyes. You were making him go insane, and when you started to talk about how much of a loser he was, he felt himself cum against your bodies—dirtying yours and his clothes at the same time. A sleek layer of sweat on his forehead.

troublemaker sub who always makes trouble for both of you, with him leading you to slightly isolated spaces (which are still in public) and with him being pushed up against walls. That’s when he just wanted to have a little fun with you. Afterward, he was always seen with a sweaty and disheveled appearance when you deemed it safe enough to leave whatever isolated place he took you to, with your attire, somehow, still intact. With you escorting him back to the confines of his house.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that the guards almost caught you both in the act! It’s safe to say he got hard again.

@alteriivik | do not steal

[anantaru]

— telling him “we need to talk”

including childe, gorou, alhaitham, scaramouche x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, crack, childe's part is a bit sad, we‘re evil, they're panicking

— childe

"oh! and one last thing." you pause, luring a deep gulp of air through your snagged throat, "can you come over tonight? we need to talk."

correspondingly, childe groggily rubbed his eyes and frowned at the wearisome remembrance of your previous accursed encounter— it just couldn't leave him alone, that constricted gruff of panic.

the words you had spoken out earlier were continuing to peskily repeat themselves through his psyche, again and again— like a virus progressively taking over its host— and it did, wretchedly slow, even after he finished a couple more salient tasks of his work.

did something happen between you both? or did he unintentionally do something he should be aware of but isn't?

nowadays, he had been abundantly occupied with carrying on the crucial duties as the eleventh fatui harbinger, essentially the befalling of the various nations all around teyvat in search of the enigmatic gnosis.

consequently, ajax would go on about balancing his private life together with his work in a notably strategic way. He had always made it a habit to keep the serious out of your relationship, though now he was debating wether or not that was your last straw.

because you see, ajax was convinced you'd actually dump him tonight.

so, well, under those circumstances, yeah, it's fine, he's fine, or wasn't he? after all he couldn't force you to stay, maybe, he's joking, perhaps.

he gave himself a second to rewind his rational thinking in search of a breakout from this state of affairs but instead, a rising silence befell his mind and he couldn't concentrate for the life of him.

by that means, childe was inordinately nervous and a dizzying sense of anxiety had been manifesting from inside out— his breathing too, had become nimble, he felt as if someone had been suddenly suffocating him with a giant plastic bag over his head.

and then presently, there he was.

without a way to escape he was soon trapped in between the door and your body when he closed it shut behind him. You had made him follow you to the living room— your face, without a doubt, undisturbed and calculative which didn't make the appalling situation any better, due to this action his dreadful judgment prevailed over him much more unyielding.

he began to hatch a plot; because if he manipulates his emotions good enough while bamboozling himself over and over that he was in fact, okay, he'll maybe not suffer from an integral cardiac arrest after this blood curdling conversation.

for a brief period of time childe had been wholly iced to the ground, awaiting your voice. You turned around to face him, silence, a long and grueling five seconds of unbroken staring when you in confusion, pucker your brows together, "what's with you?"

he was overcome by a flat sense of both irritation and surprise at how casual you sounded, "w— what?" childe didn't mean to stutter out his words like that, but his voice was still distressfully stricken.

"you seem sick." you note, directly holding your hand towards his face to keep it on top of his forehead, a flicker of concern eroding inwardly, childe winced at that and he bleeds into your touch, it was alleviating and he missed it, "no fever."

your apprehensive tone faded when you hastened to follow up your words, "i'm glad, because there's this thing i need your help with." you press yourself into his body, "it's a present for a family member." with your lips instantly split into a humane smile, you settled to tease him, ruffling his hair a bit.

childe thought this had to be some kind of metaphysical fantasy he had been trapped in the moment he entered your home, could he be hallucinating or did dottore really mix something into his orange juice earlier?

one of the first couple skills he had learned in the fatui was to always keep a clear head, yet right now he didn't have the time to even recompose himself nor did he realize that he‘s been standing in front of you without moving an inch— it‘s as if he was currently deciphering a difficult secret riddle in his mind and wholly forgot about your presence.

ultimately, you had caught up on the panic and the unintentional perpetual twitch in his eyes, "hey." a sigh of relief, so soft yet it brought him to tears, he felt your hand shelter his once more, the tone on his face grew a bit lower and delicate— a little more allayed.

without trying to conceal his worry now, childe responds clearly to you, "i thought i did something." he blurted out— barely, his throat was still clenched and a continuing dread thudded in his heart.

his eyes widened and a light bead of sweat formed just above his browbone. The thought that you might‘ve broken up with him vehemently churned and wrecked a deep havoc in his gut, it almost had him see white of terror.

you saw the glint of fear— the panic, and closed the distance of your bodies, wrapping your arms around his waist to pull him close, "you didn‘t." the sound of your voice seized his heart and he breathed out a shaking heave.

"because you‘re perfect to me."

as an instinctive counter, his eyes squinted a little of a bigger smile and a shadow of boundless solace stamped in his veins. effectively, he can breathe easily now— be that as it may but for childe to purely envision a skid second without you by his side hurt him so much, if the control of his body hadn't been as well trained by him as it was, he'd tremble into your enfold.

"i‘m sorry." you patted his warm, rosy cheek with a kiss, "i didn't mean to make you feel this way." the tepidity of your eyes felt like the sun buzzing on a sweet summer day, "don't apologize." he stated and swallowed hard, returning your hug.

"i love you." he's leaning his face against your head and closed his eyes shut, "i love you too, ajax." a tear— just one, was then glissading down his cheek at your well spoken words, .

— gorou

"gorou, we need to talk, i finally made up my mind."

talk about what? the great weather on watasumi island?

meanwhile gorou nearly lost what little self restraint he had left in his soul— his right ear repeatedly twitching and serving as a bodily response. However, the way he had acknowledged the teeny tiny letter in his hand in the first place— with the disreputable words frumpily scrabbled on top of it with a black pencil, was largely concerning, he realized.

gorou didn't move for a couple seconds and remained by his own company— in silence, now his eyes grew a tone darker, because he was beginning to feel sick to his stomach, precisely the lower area, a stormy tornado of panic exuberantly nagging on the base of his spine.

what was it that he did because there must've been something he had to mess up if you're handling the situation in that precise way.

fundamentally speaking, (and that was the most irritating component in this whole situation) for you, to not say it out right away but rather have a hand written letter sent over to his office— it's ambiguous, everything turned out to be like a complete mess and he was a part of it.

to say he was both bewildered and crushed combined into one heavy ball of perplexing emotions was a restrained statement. Because truthfully, he was on the brink of a mental breakdown, his face was now hiding in his palms while he leaned further into the desk.

"it's over." he's talking under his own breathing, "that must be the case!"

if you have figured out one thing about your boyfriend— it was that he had a habit of talking to himself whenever he was pressurized by an crucial mission or something was simply bothering him.

he (himself) stated that it was an eminent way of analyzing his scattered thoughts and bring down all meaningless components should there be any at hand.

having said that, you would mentally applaud him because gorou was a genius, it was a great way— while not the one that would be of any need to him right now.

he decided to go all out and search for you— from his perspective, there wasn't any other way. Gorou had previously decoded that you must've been at your home by now, his work wasn't far off anyways so he could show up any time— yet unannounced but this was an emergency, he noted.

for gorou there wasn't anything more important than his relationship with you, it was a part he'd protect vigorously, yet if you were to dump him tonight, that's a different story because then he wouldn't know what to do nor how to retaliate.

considering that, he had been vastly comfortable with you to the point that he simply cannot envision a life without you by this side.

so, yes, maybe that's why he was so tense and anxious moving forward to your home. Little does he realize it wasn't quite how he had imagined it because truth was, gorou didn't do anything wrong.

you see, for a while now, you had been greatly pondering with the thought on your living situation, after all, you had been a couple for a long time and moving in together was the next designated step to be taken.

resultantly you had talked about this with gorou, yet only once and the timing wasn't the best either. If it was for him, he had long since forgotten it, in any other occasion he was a great listener and infallibly did his best to memorize whatever important topic you had to say to him.

but as an automatic result of the miscommunication taking place, gorou had visualized how he thought the conversation would end up, it being with you dumping him for good.

on the other side of the coin there was you, so very happy you could barely wait to tell him that you want to finally approach the next step and move in together.

the moment you let him into your home, you, as always, you greeted him with a kind hug which caught him completely off guard, obviously he wasn't expecting it. You knew your boyfriend very much, so when you saw him in the composition he was currently in, you almost gasped out loud by the terror.

his eyes were sunken and he seemed a bit pale, his ears too, were pointing downwards and that frown on him— together with his ragged breathing made you realize that something wasn't on their designated place. "hey." you approach him gently, "did something happen at work?"

his muscles stiffed and he thought about the words he had planned out to say, repeatedly they had thudded into his skull but nothing arose off his throat. You watched him closely and his gaze softened when you decided to hug him once more, this time with your lips ghosting over his ears, "it's okay, you're home now gorou."

"home?" granted, he couldn't place any fault on you for his own too quick thinking or his habits of jumping to conclusion when it came to this relationship, gorou wasn't the most experienced in that peculiar department after all. "our— our home?!"

"yes!" you're quick to show your happiness to him, your eyes glowing with brilliant shades of delight.

"that's what i wanted to talk about, i was busy preparing everything so Ii couldn't visit you in person." you fleetly pecked his cheek, "i hope it was okay to send a letter instead."

gorou was stunned— bewildered, he thought his ears fell off. "wait." he's taking both of your hands in his to make you stare at him, "this it what you wanted to talk about all along?" your brow ploddingly arose at his way of speech, because you were still very much clueless about it all.

"what did you think i was going to say?" at this rate, your conversation would never end anytime soon. gorou fidgetily scratched his neck before he chirped his words out in a blabbering draw no one but you was able to discern.

"oh nothing special, ijustthoughtyourebreakingupwithme." you were rendered speechless— lost of words and you placed a mental sticker in the deepest ends of your brain to get better at spelling things out more clear.

your eyes formed of sadness and you felt bad, trying to soothe your boyfriend in your own ways, "why would i?" you humorously squeezed his cheeks in a strive to delete his troubled expression, smiling in a loving kind, "i'd never do that, ever."

— alhaitham

beyond the shadow of a doubt, becoming the acting grand sage was an astonishingly tedious task for alhaitham to take— and he did not look forward to it.

unquestionably it was apparent that he wouldn't potentially have as much time for you as he previously had when he was the akademiya's renowned scribe. In spite of his new occupation, you undeniably had supported him throughout the first stages as much as you could.

but, lets say, you had felt a bit neglected lately— or to state said emotion in a contrasting light, you were in need of some much required attention from your boyfriend, plain and simple. Of course— and this usually goes without saying but it's not like alhaitham did it on purpose because, by all means, he didn't.

there wasn't anything he'd like to do as much as leisurely resting on his cozy bed with you by his side, cushily enclosed in your arms while you play with his hair and talking about all kinds of topics at hand.

with it becoming worse, it followed that he rarely had time to come over for dinner anymore, sure, you had your own duties to be taken care of but you missed him so so dearly and weren't sure how else to get him to move his unwavering attention from his work to your sweet frame again.

though your approach seemed a bit evil, you realized. but wasn't your creative thinking one of the reasons alhaitham had fallen in love with you in the first place?

to accurately get your plan in motion, you had sent an overly prettily framed letter to his new office— you added your favorite symbols to the paper and used your best-loved colors to have it cross your boyfriends keen eyes the second it would land on his desk.

under those circumstances you had impatiently began to wait at your place for him to get to you. And he did see your letter glowing in midst all the important papers on his desk, bedazzled by your most dearest decorations.

alhaitham slanted his head a bit to the left when he caught a glimpse of it eventually— he was a bit puzzled at first because whenever you did require his cooperation you'd just show up in person. But then again, in recent times he had his hands full of work and you arguably wouldn't even meet him to begin with.

his fingers gingerly opened the fine letter to scrutinize the words at hand, "we need to talk, it's about us."

he was taken aback, very, and caught off balance. He didn't view you as someone who'd send cryptic messages like that one in particular. Alhaitham distressfully rubbed his eyes and placed the letter on his desk above all the other workloads he had gotten delivered today.

upon that, he leaned into the broad armchair and careened his head back, closing his eyes. In that peculiar state he might potentially arrange and categorize his thoughts more coherent. The last thing he would've wanted now was to have your relationship suffer because of his current job.

first, it's dreary, second, it would throw him off completely.

while alhaitham had a dozen more work to finish before he could routinely head home, he decided to go to your place instead to talk it out. In his opinion, pushing back a much needed conversation would only elude his rational thinking skills by a huge mountain of precious time. it would've been obtuse for him to not handle this.

deep wrinkles were forming around his brows when he knocked on your door, his eyes fixated with worry but also irritation. On the flip side alhaitham was also concerned that something might've happened to you without him being aware of it.

another knock and you had lastly opened the door to your home, with a pseudo sad frown on your lips, maybe that was your ticket to great evilness because you did feel a bit wicked for tricking your poor, overworked boyfriend like that.

he doesn't say much, a dreadful silence of a couple minutes had surrounded the atmosphere and the inches in between your frames. A direct steady approach hadn't been found before he decided to speak at last, though heedful. "i saw your letter." he remarked through a clenched jaw.

"you did?" you slowly turned around and simulated to shuffle something out of a drawer in your kitchen— pretending to make a cup of tea for you both. "yes, i did." alhaitham might be many things, but he wasn't stupid, he knew something wasn't adding up, at all.

at first note, there was your body responses, despite your d class acting skills you were still showing emotions that weren't classified as sad nor angered. Second, it felt as if you didn't even know what to say, more thoroughly did you appear to just like him being here because why else were you settling a cup of tea and would you look at this, a few pastries he was sure were freshly bought.

"do you want me to applaud to you?" his voice was dry but despite that it harvested a glint of humor, "for this performance, i mean."

you bit down on the mushy insides of your cheeks before turning around, "i don't know what you're talking about." there you stood with an empty cup in your hand when he resoluted to walk towards you, haltering himself when he reached your body. "you wanted to talk." his hand finds your cheek and banteringly nudges it, "then talk."

you avert your gaze to recollect your thinking, because truthfully you did not expect him to catch onto it that fast— plus, you could also say you didn't think too far ahead into the future as on what to do once he's actually there.

"okay, okay." you dramatically throw your hands in the air, "i pretended to be mad so you'd show up." silence, "because i missed you." before you could hide the embarrassment with your hands alhaitham had swiftly bolstered one of his arms around your waist to pull you into his chest, "I know."

"can you blame me though?" you tried to explain yourself through your shy smiles which he had found so so very adorable, "you're never home." you lay your cheek against his warm chest to reply with a cuddle back and alhaitham sighed out when he beheld your distressfulness— how much he longed for his calm days to return.

"i know." he idly pawed his hand over your spine, "i can't wait to be the scribe again." you quietly shake with laugher at his words, the sides of your lips creasing up, "though i have to admit." you suddenly state while blinking up into his multi colored eyes, "saying my boyfriend is the grand sage doesn't sound that bad."

he's amusingly shook his head and found himself deeply connected in your arms— though being wary of the entire settling of today, alhaitham's sadness resigned back into him, he realizing that the last time he had held you just like this had have been a long time ago.

for this, he couldn't wait to get back to his usual, comfortable life with you again because no matter which position he'd take in the akademiya, he'd never want to place you second under it because it was you who truly gave new meaning to his life.

— scaramouche

working in the shadows had been something scaramouche was practicing his entire life, he‘s as fast-moving as the wind, a split second and he was gone, poof, unforeseen and brief.

substantially, you weren‘t quite sure what made you reach the conclusion to perpetually poke your finger into his hardiness, over and over— to sweetly aggravate him because it’s fun. especially when he had gotten back to you after a long, monotonous day full of his duties to fulfill.

on the assumption that nothing was wrong, kuni, as in any other circumstance, had saddled back into the couch with you next to him— actively observing how you’re casually paging through a couple letters in your hand.

"hey." in the pitch of his voice alone you were capable to discern the fatigue in his body— he must‘ve been especially hard working tonight.

"put the book away." undoubtedly, it was that time of the day again, scaramouche required your unwavering attention because if you aren't handing it over to him right this second, he'd become actually ballistic and sullen, waiting until you notice.

"hm." you do not say much, pretending to have something critical crossing your current state of mind, "what do you mean hm?" he's peeved by your behavior— despite that it piqued his interest.

you evidently weren't drained or disgruntled by his presence, at least he thought you weren't, "is this more important than i am?" scaramouche loftily pointed towards the book in your hand which you then, meteorically closed.

"there is something—" you do not dare to look into his permeating eyes, being panicky stricken you might blow your cover in front of him. Kuni had a way of heeding every so little change in both the articulation in your voice and face.

"there is something we need to talk about— about us."

scaramouche didn't buy it, not even once, you were too perceptible and easy to detect.

what was there to talk about when nothing happened, in the morning you seemed fine, you even gave him a goodbye kiss when he left for work. "really now?" he's sharpening his eyes on you, his chin held up high to throw you off the high in your conversation and most pivotally, to make you all jittery so you‘d eventually slip up.

"yes." you outstandingly flumped back into the velvety cushions of your couch, "we're just so different." - "no we're not." he was right there to cut you off, giving you no room to breathe while also slouching closer to your frame so you‘d look at him.

without beating around the bush, scaramouche decided to play this game with you, though in his eyes, he was way better at this than you could ever be, "but we are." now coming across at him through distinct eyes, you sealed your lips together so you wouldn‘t suddenly burst out laughing.

in a wink of an eye he had edged himself so near to you— with only being a mere couple inches away from banging your heads together, "are you playing games again?" he really wanted to know it now, fundamentally, scaramouche was captivated by this— he never loses and this side of yours would never bore him, not even once.

"maybe." you blurt out bluntly, affectionately wiggling the tip of your nose against his own, "you're a menace." he rolls his eyes and pulls away. with how swift you were to follow him, you put your legs over his lap so you‘d be dotingly enclosed into one another. "don't do that again."

sweet scaramouche— what he didn't show you was that he in actuality shared a concern in result of your behavior. All things considered he was aware you were kidding to rally him up. He thinks your skills were amateurish at best, whimsical, he hoped you were practicing your acting to once really catch him off guard.

"it's so fun though." you brusquely admitted to him with a candid smile while venturing to case your arms around his neck.

if only he wasn‘t so utterly compelled by you he‘d actually be mad for once, yet he only puffs out a warm heave, "i'll get you back for this."

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[wackybuddiemewbs]

Still not done. For reasons. Wacky brian go brrrrr. Happy new season, peeps!

This Future We Choose

Part 3/???

Part 1 • Part 2

Buck knew this was going to bite him in the ass eventually. He just had hoped it would be a while longer until he’d have to face the consequences for his actions. He will blame his stupidly bruised ribs for it, but of course his research material had to slide out of his folder and sail to the ground, just as he was about to show his sister the seating table he’d prepared for the wedding.

And of course, Maddie instantly recognized what those papers were, picked them up before he could bend down himself, and gave him that look.

While everyone knows by now that him and Natalia are no longer a thing, this was the thing he’d meant to keep between himself and Eddie a while longer. But fortune continues to be anywhere but on his side.

So his time is up, as his sister’s stern look at him will tell him with utmost surety.

“What are these?” Maddie asks.

“Research?” Buck answers, tight-lipped.

“Why are you researching that?”

“Coz I wanted to?”

Maddie rolls her eyes at him. “Evan.”

“Well, what do you think?” he grumbles.

“So you… seriously consider adoption? Or fostering a child?” she asks, her tone shifting to something more serious and thus something Buck knows he will find impossible to escape from.

Buck can feel his jaw tensing up. “That’s what started it, yeah.”

It started out feeling great, actually. Buck felt the usual excitement he has bubbling up in his stomach when he finds a new field of interest and learns all about it. It felt like it was all coming together, like he was coming back together, like he was heading in all the right directions at long last.

But it doesn’t matter how you start the journey, it matters how you end it.

And Buck got the sinking feeling a while ago that this journey ended before it ever truly began.

“I had… no clue, to be honest. That this is something you were considering now. I mean, I always knew you wanted kids, but… this is much more concrete than just a general wish to want children further down the road,” Maddie mutters pensively, her eyes drifting back to the brochures.

Buck rolls his shoulders. “Well, I guess actually dying sheds some light on how short life is.”

Maddie shoots him a stern look yet again, the kind of look that makes him cringe the same way it did when he was still a kid. Buck knows he shouldn’t be joking about it as much as he still does, especially with Maddie present. But sometimes, he can’t help himself. Not because he thinks death is funny, that his death was. But, as of late, he starts to think that his death was indeed some kind of cosmic joke at his expenses.

So why shouldn’t I laugh it up, at least?

“A lot’s happened this year that made me look at what I really want in life,” Buck chooses to say instead. “And… and one thing I can say for sure is that I want to become a father.”

Maddie touches his forearm lightly. “That’s great. It really is. And I’m not… I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“I get that. I was surprised, too,” Buck replies.

“But… why would you keep this from us, from me? This is great news!”

Buck makes a face. “Because it’s weird?”

Because it’s futile?

“You wanting kids is not weird at all. Honestly, I’m still surprised you don’t have one already. You always loved kids, so much. And you’re great with them. I mean, just look at Jee doting on you. And you sure came around a lot, so I wondered that you didn’t…,” Maddie says, her voice trailing off.

Buck nudges her lightly. “Hey, I got the talk early on in my life. And I was taught very emphatically to always use protection, always.”

“Don’t remind me,” she grunts. “Because I was the one who had to give the talk to you.”

“I appreciated the diagrams and the flash cards. Has me very sure you’re gonna put out the greatest PowerPoint presentation ever for Jee, once it’s time to talk about the birds and the bees,” Buck laughs.

“So, there’s nothing weird at all about you wanting kids. I find it weird that you’ve been keeping this to yourself for so long, though. I mean, judging by the dates on some of the printouts, you’ve been doing research for a few weeks, at least,” Maddie says, gesturing at the apparent evidence of his own failures.

“Well, once it dawned on me that this is what I wanted, I guess I just wanted to get a better understanding of what’s involved in the process before announcing my intentions,” Buck explains. Which is true enough. He figured that research would make it less scary, less daunting. While Buck is considered to be somewhat the “daredevil” on the job, he can’t say the same is true when it comes to those private matters. That’s why he actually went through the hassle to print things out, to have physical proof, to make this just a bit more real.

But in the end, none of it worked.

In the end, it’s all just fantasy and make-believe.

“But why not talk to me?” He can hear the pain there, which Buck probably should have anticipated.

“I wasn’t trying to keep this from you,” he tells her in all earnest. Sure, Buck didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t want to leave Maddie out of the picture in particular.

I just wanted to have something to show for it. And look at me now, winding up empty-handed yet again.

“But you did not want to tell me, even though you’re sure that this is what you want,” she argues. “I just want to understand why.”

“I… I don’t know. I felt like I needed more information before saying anything, to anyone. I just started out with the premise that I wanted to be a father, really. But how? That was a big question mark for me. It still is. So I figured that I’d want to know what to announce at least, like… I wanna foster, I wanna adopt…”

She shakes her head slowly. “That’s not why you wouldn’t say anything, though.”

And of course she is right, of course Maddie sees through it. She’s been trained at reading him since they were children. Maddie raised him, so she sees the things that Buck is always busy to hide. And while it still saddens him that his big sister had to shoulder that responsibility, Buck knows that she will keep watching out for him the same way he looks out for her.

Us against the rest of the world, right?

“If you know the answer already, then why do you keep asking?” Buck doesn’t meet her gaze, he can’t.

“Because I’d rather hear it from you,” Maddie answers.

He sighs. “Honestly? I feel like it’s a good thing I didn’t announce anything, because I feel like this isn’t going anywhere.”

Maddie blinks at him. “So you don’t want to… be a father anymore?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then why doesn’t it go anywhere?” She frowns.

Buck did, too, frown a lot, at himself. He frowned at the reflection in the bathroom mirror, his faint outline on the computer screen. He frowned at his own thoughts, and his own feelings. Because they didn’t make sense anymore. Whatever he thought he had figured out about himself, it did not fit together. Like he found some puzzle pieces, but they come from different sets.

“Because the more I look at those brochures and papers, the more I realize that this isn’t… that’s not me,” Buck admits.

“Well, there’s other options.”

“I know.”

He researched, he looked, he tried to find something different. Only to come back to the same spot over and over again. To be stuck, all over again.

Because fortune is not my friend. Because I seemingly have to keep living in waiting mode.

“But?”

“But I don’t want any of those options,” Buck says.

“So you want to be a father… but you don’t want to go for any of the options that’d make you a father?” Maddie asks, looking rightfully confused.

And if you put it like that, it really makes absolutely no sense at all. Which seems oddly fitting. Because Buck has a tendency to want the things he knows for a fact he can’t have. His parents’ love, for who he is, and not just for who he can be to other people. The feeling of being enough, of no longer needing any software updates. A world where he’s enough to protect the people he loves from all harm there is.

And someone to love me anyway.

“I didn’t pretend like this was making any sense, so I won’t start now,” Buck grumbles. He fixes his gaze on Maddie, looking at her with pleading eyes. “Can we just pretend like this never happened?”

He is really good at that, for better or worse.

“No,” is the definitive answer from his big sister, which he knew would come.

“Pretty please with sprinkles on top?” he bargains anyway.

“Evan.”

Buck knows that when Maddie uses that tone of voice when saying his name, there is really no escape anymore. Because Maddie is one of the few people who can actually speak to Evan. The vulnerable kid who only ever cried wolf to be loved by the people who refused to see him. The kid that was willing to bleed out for just one concerned look from his mother and father.

Buck keeps Evan deep inside his chest, for precisely that reason. Because he is that fragile, that broken, inside and out. Buck is stronger than that. He has grown. He has matured. He built up enough scar tissue and callouses. His bones broke often enough, and grew together strong, so he can catch himself if he falls. And he found other people to look at him a different way, to help him back to his feet.

Perhaps foolishly, Buck still tries to protect Evan as much as he can from the outside world. Because Evan doesn’t know how to seem fine. Evan only knows how to get hurt to be seen. Evan knows how to bleed, but not how to stop the bleeding. Buck knows how to become good at bearing the pain without anyone seeing. So not to become a burden.

But he knows he can’t fool Maddie. Because she knows Evan as well as Buck. She loves them both. And she will always manage to lure Evan out of the box deep inside Buck’s chest, the way she’s always managed since they were kids. But once he is outside, Buck knows he can’t shield him, and he can’t keep him from showing all the places he aches that’d Maddie mean to kiss better.

“You want to be a father, but you don’t want to go with any of the options that might make that wish come true,” Maddie tells him. “And you can’t even look me in the eye, saying it. Why?”

Buck’s eyes drift back to the brochures and printouts still on the floor, the ones in her hand, and he can feel his chest tighten to the point that it gets hard to breathe. And it’s not because of the bruised ribs. It’s because Evan long since crawled his way out, begging to be loved anyway. And Buck can’t tell him to go back and keep waiting.

Because the time won’t come.

Because the more he looks at those brochures, the more he is reminded of the reason why he can’t get there after all. Why his hopes are yet again in vain.

“Because the more research I do, the more I realize that I don’t want any of that. Not like this, at least,” he admits at last.

It’s no use anyway.

And he can bear that pain. He will have to, for Evan and himself.

“I… still don’t understand what you mean by that,” Maddie answers faintly.

“I don’t either! I thought I finally figured it out. The great epiphany! That I wanna be a father, more than anything. And that’s still true. It’s so damn true it hurts. I want to be a father, so bad. I want a child that’s mine and that I don’t have to give to anyone else.”

Tears sting in Buck’s eyes, though that’s just about the smallest pain he feels. Even his stupid ribs don’t hurt as much as this. And it just isn’t fair. To finally know what you want, only to realize that you can’t have that. Because being aimless is one thing, but knowing you won’t ever come to the shores you call home? That’s damn well a curse.

Maddie moves into his line of vision. She places a warm hand on his back, extends her other hand to squeeze his forearm.

“Hey, hey. It’s alright,” she soothes.

“It’s actually not.”

It hasn’t been in a long time, but the fool he is, he failed to see it. Because he wanted to seem fine, because he wanted to be fine again. For everyone else and himself. So Evan would remain where he put him, protected, so Buck could get back to his feet and find a way to move forward again. To maybe find a life where Evan could come out and not bleed out from a lack of love.

“Why not? I can only repeat it, there’s plenty of options to fulfill your dream,” Maddie tries to reassure him.

“There really isn’t. And that’s what makes this so damn stupid.” Tears now roll freely down his cheeks. Buck wipes at them angrily, relishes the small burn that comes with rubbing skin against skin.

“Why?”

“Because I know I want to be a father, but I… I want to be a father to a child I know I can’t be a father to,” Buck whimpers, almost choking on those truths that should have no business burning so much down his throat.

“You mean Connor’s and Kameron’s…,” Maddie mutters, but Buck interjects rather harshly, “No.”

Oh, and how he wished that was true. Because that would be easy. Anyone would understand, everyone assumes anyway. Buck wished it was that easy, but this situation only made him realize what he wanted, and just like he had to give over that child, he had to realize that he couldn’t ever get to where he wants to be.

“What child, then, if not their son?”

“Eddie’s son. Christopher.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose.

Biggest fuckin’ joke of my life.

“Christopher.”

“Yeah,” Buck croaks.

Christopher, always Christopher. In every brochure, every stock image, he saw that little guy with his dorky smile and glasses, heard his giggling, felt the way only that little guy could hug him. The boy he thought he had to give up on, knows he has to learn to let go, to be what he wants to be: A father.

Buck swallows thickly. “You know, I’ve tried to put some distance between us, lately. Between Eddie, Chris, and I. To, to figure this father thing out. Because I felt like I was… like I was using them, to have the second-best thing to being a father. But I… I miss them so damn much.”

Maddie keeps rubbing circles on his back, just as she’d done when they were both still kids and he could not be consoled after their parents looked right through him yet again.

“I… I keep seeing Christopher every time I turn the page in one of those stupid brochures. I don’t just want to have a kid that’s mine. I want that one specific kid to be mine. Even though I know he ain’t, even though I know he won’t ever be,” Buck cries, no longer able to hold it in, to contain it.

The love he can’t express, he pours it right out, like bad blood, but it just keeps on coming and coming and coming.

He might be what Eddie would want for his son, should something happen to him, but Buck isn’t that outside that scenario. So long there’s Eddie, and God knows he will make sure of it, he won’t be that for Christopher. He can’t be that for Christopher.

In the end, always the backup plan, isn’t it?

“Christopher loves you,” Maddie argues.

“But not as his dad, never as that. Because I’m not his father. Even in the event that something should happen to Eddie, and I’d take care of him… he wouldn’t be mine, not really. Inside my heart, yes, but… never outside it.”

Bobby once told Chimney that having a child is like having a heart outside of yourself. But Buck know he can’t have that, that he won’t ever get there. He can only treasure that child inside his heart, so no one can see just how much he loves that kid. Because the love he feels for him, he knows he is not entitled to.

I won’t ever be enough to them to be entitled to it. Because that isn’t my place. Not really. More than a guest, but only ever temporary. Never forever.

“Eddie would let me, that’s not the thing. But… but I can’t go on pretending, in my heart, that… that we are a family, in that sense,” Buck whimpers.

“Eddie considers you family.”

“Yeah, but not in the way I’d want him to consider me.”

Which is the icing on top of that shit sundae.

“What?”

“Forget it,” Buck replies quickly.

Because he doesn’t know how much more he can take. Because everything hurts, hurts more than his stupid ribs, more than his stinging eyes, or his inflamed cheeks. And Buck doesn’t want any more pain. He doesn’t want any more pain for Evan who is outside his little box right now, for that part of him to come to the realization that there is yet another thing they failed at.

“No, tell me, please,” Maddie begs. “I want to help.”

“I just know that this is nothing you can help me with,” Buck whispers. “Even though you’re my big sister and I grew up thinking you’re my personal superhero. But this… you can’t fix. And I think I can’t either.”

Maddie takes a deep breath, considers his words, then searches his eyes again. “Alright, then maybe I can’t fix this. But I… I know for a fact that not talking about things that hurt us, scare us, terrify us… those darkest spots in our lives… that’s even worse. And I won’t have my little brother repeat the mistakes I’ve made.”

“You didn’t…”

“It doesn’t matter,” she interjects sternly. “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t want you to keep pretending like all is fine. Like you have to keep something from me, or anyone else. You can always tell me these things. Always. Even if you may actually want to say them to someone else, you can always say them to me first. I don’t pretend to have the answers, but I can listen. And I always will, Evan. But I need to hear it from you.”

Buck looks at his sister for a long moment. He thinks about how far she’s come, how much she’s overcome. And how glad he is that she finally gets some of the pay off for the years of sacrifice. In the end, Maddie is still his personal superhero, not because she is invincible, but because she wears her scars and comes out stronger every time. Because like him, she never gives up, or even if she almost did, she fought her way back.

He takes a deep breath, then another. Maddie is right, he should say those things to someone else. But the person he’d normally go to for this? He can’t say. Buck screws his eyes shut, trying to forget all that, if only for a moment.

“Losing something can sure make you realize how much you loved it, even if you knew you loved it all along. I remember reading that, when I was still recuperating after the lightning strike.”

Buck read a lot, while at the hospital. Not just self-help books. When he stumbled over that quote, he had some sense of how that rang true for him. He just couldn’t put his finger on it, not really. Then his life took one sharp turn after the other, with Kameron and Connor and the baby, with Natalia.

The book fell back into his hands when she got the last of her things. And when he flipped to that page, it felt like lighting was striking through him again. Because he was right back in his coma dream, and it was glaring at him, laughing at him.

Who wasn’t there? Who was the one person who’s so close to you you didn’t see? Who, hm?

“I’m not following,” Maddie mutters, blinking at him.

“The more distance I put myself between myself and Eddie and Christopher, the more I realized just how alone I feel when I don’t have them near me,” Buck says.

“As I said, they love you, too.”

“And I love them, God, I love them. But I can’t love them like I wanna love them. And that fuckin’ hurts.”

Buck loved before. He knows what heartbreak feels like. But he never loved like this, and at some point, he wished he never found out that he could love like this. Because it’s a kind of love that burns even worse than the one he still feels for his parents. Even though they can’t love him back. Even though they made him walk through fire every day of his life. Because it’s the kind of fire he will keep walking into, against better judgment. Because he could learn to live without his parents, but he can’t learn to be without them.

“I can’t love Christopher like a father. And I can’t love Eddie like a partner. I can’t love them as my family I go home to every single night. I can’t love them like I do, and it sucks, and it hurts, and I just want it to stop.”

“P, partner?” Maddie stammers, still taking that in.

“Yeah, that’s about the face I made when it dawned on me,” Buck huffs bitterly. “I mean, in true Buck fashion, I kept missing all the signs. It’s always been there, and I… not even all of those epiphanies I feel I had in my coma dream prepared me for that one. Eddie wasn’t in it, in that dream, not really. Though that’s probably the great message, and I waltzed right past it.”

That his heart wasn’t in it, literally. That his heart wasn’t in that supposedly perfect life. The man who let him into his own, wasn’t there. The man who’d given his heart over to him, telling him that he is not expendable. The world that was without Eddie was the one without Christopher. And that world may have had his parents loving him in it, may have had Daniel alive, but it didn’t have them. And how can such a world ever be any good?

Buck has been wrecking his brain about it. Ever since he broke up with Natalia, he felt like he was finally gaining perspective. Only for the light to switch and put Eddie and Christopher in the spotlight. At first, he liked to think that they were simply his measure to go by. Because Buck wants to be a dad like Eddie, loving, caring, kind. And he wants a kid just like Christopher. So that seemed straightforward enough. Until it became even more twisted. Because the harder he looked, the more he realized they weren’t just the model Buck was going by, they were it. Both of them. Not just Christopher. But Eddie.

Always Eddie.

Buck can’t say he thought about Eddie as someone he wanted to be with, romantically. Sure, an attractive guy, always. Someone Buck could unashamedly say he learned to love dearly. But he can’t say he longed for him the way he is doing it now. Or rather, he now sees all of those signs he missed, all the chances he missed. The things he didn’t see, because he looked at Eddie through the lens of friendship, of what it was, and not what it could be. Because Buck didn’t even dare to think outside that box. Despite his bravado, he was not brave enough. He liked not being a guest in Eddie’s house. And he was fine with that, just that.

I never thought I could be more than that.

But Buck grew, and he’s coming to terms with it that he gets to want more, be more. He took a step back and saw more than he used to. But once you start to think outside the box, you can’t go back to its confined space. You can’t go back to only just. Once you open your heart to wanting more, it won’t be satisfied with the lesser.

How can I be enough, if I am not enough to have them?

So now, he’s left with longing and missing again. He wants the things he can’t have. And Buck won’t jeopardize the happiness either Eddie or Christopher or Marisol have found together. He won’t be that person. He can’t sink that low. Even if that means he is back to greedily stuffing the crumbs of life with Eddie and Christopher into his mouth, like a guy who’s been left out in the desert for weeks without a single thing to eat.

So maybe he’s good enough for Eddie and Christopher, to be a part of their family. But he won’t be that part of the family. Maybe Marisol will fill that seat. Maybe it’s going to be someone who’s not even in Eddie’s life yet. But no matter what, this person won’t be him.

So what is he even doing, researching ways to have a child, to be a father? How could it be fair to that child? When, in the back of his head, he’d always wind a string around the mere image of Eddie and Christopher as part of the family he might build?

“I’m still wrapping my head around you being into guys. But then again, I never tried too hard to look at that as your sister,” Maddie says, shaking her head wide-eyed.

“I never dated guys, I just got down dirty with them.” Buck shrugs.

He never made it a secret, but he didn’t make it explicit either.

Except for when I told them about my track record in dating yoga instructors. Because those definitely weren’t all ladies…

Buck never had a serious relationship with guys. He just fooled around with them. And especially in the beginning, it may well be that he liked things a bit too rough. Which should show that he belonged in therapy since a young age, because no, that was surely not healthy at all.

“Yeah, no, I don’t need to know that. At all. Ever.” Maddie screws her eyes shut.

“I figured.”

Buck never cared for a label to put on that, he still doesn’t. Had anyone asked him back in the day, he would have said that he’s simply not picky. Today he can safely say that he is extremely picky, to the point that he reduced his entire happiness to two people, to the point that he can’t look at anyone else the way he looks at Eddie these days.

“Alright, I’m… I’m sorry, that caught me off-guard a bit. But… but in all seriousness now, yes?” Maddie goes on to say.

He blinks at her. “Yeah?”

“There’s nothing wrong with realizing that you love people, or that you’ve fallen in love with someone, even if it’s your best friend,” she tells him.

“But there’s something wrong with wanting to say it, to make them love you back in kind, when you know you really shouldn’t,” Buck argues. “Even if it’s your best friend.”

Or precisely because he is.

“We all just want to be loved in the end. And I know for a fact that you love big. But it’s not wrong to want to be loved back in kind,” Maddie points out.

“It’s wrong to want that, knowing where Eddie stands in life right now. Knowing…” He doesn’t have to finish for Maddie to understand where he is going with this.

“People break up, you know,” she offers, which only ever has him snort. “Like I’m going to hinge my hopes on him breaking up with Marisol.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“The problem is that Eddie loves me, but only as a friend. And even if he broke up with Marisol tomorrow… he won’t ever look at me any other way than that. And I can’t unsee what I’ve seen. I can’t look at him any other way than… this. And… and I feel like I’m losing them because of that. Because if I keep getting too close, I will… I will fuck it up, I know I will. Because I wear my emotions on my sleeve and I… this will come out eventually. And I will make a mess of everything. And I… I can’t do that.”

Fresh tears well up in his eyes.

Sure, he wants more. Sure, he wants to feel like he is enough. He tries to get there. But he knows he can’t have Eddie and Christopher, no matter how hard he tries. Not like this, at least. Because this is not about his worth or lack thereof. It’s just now how they see him. But what he can afford even less than this pain is the thought to lose the ways he has them.

He’d rather be less to them than nothing at all.

“But I also can’t keep away from them,” he continues, almost choking on the words. “I just… I don’t know what to do. I just know it hurts, no matter what I do. And I want it to stop, but it just doesn’t.”

Maddie pulls him into a hug, trying to cover up as much of him as she can, despite their difference in size. Buck sinks against her, tries to soak up her warmth to cast out the cold dread of being back where he began, only to remain stuck there.

Because there is no longer a world for him he can escape to, where he isn’t in love with Eddie, where he doesn’t want Christopher to be his son, where he doesn’t want them to be his family. It vanished, slipped through his fingertips.

“Oh, Evan.”

Buck used to think that Maddie’s hugs would always heal him. He still wants to believe that, but he can’t trust it. Because Evan is out there, and he looks back at him, begging to know why they can’t be loved anyway.

And Buck has no answer to that.

And he fears he never will.

[jaladwolf]

Giggly Grizzly Bear

Been a while since I’ve written any fics, so have this random TK fic I made.

CW: Possible swearing, brother fluff, My AU and of course tickling! If you don’t like it, then don’t read (IDK what else to tell you). Also, DNI if you are N$FW/F€stish, Pro/Comship!

Cast: Freddy, Goldie

Summary: Freddy’s been being a grumpy pants all day, so his little brother decides to try and cheer him up and put a smile on his face.

Today was not a good day for Freddy. There was a rowdy customer in the restaurant during a birthday party that morning and it ended just as well as you would expect it. So it was only logical that he would be in a bit of a bad mood when after hours rolled around. Freddy was now sitting on the stage by himself, trying to get his mind off of what happened, but it was too no avail.

It was only then that Goldie decided it would be the perfect time to annoy him. He was already in a grumpy mood and the last thing he wanted was to deal with him.

“What do you want Goldie?”

His tone was tired and had a hint of anger in it. But Goldie, being ever so persistent, kept trying to try to talk to him.

“Aww come on Fredster! I just wanna talk.”

Goldie gave him a playful pout, which only seemed to further annoy the brown bear. He knew he wasn’t stop until he got what he wanted. But what was it that he wanted exactly? He could care less.

“Leave me alone.”

Freddy turned his back to his little brother as he crossed his arms. This however only seemed to make the golden bear want to annoy him even more.

“Come on, perk up a bit! You know you wanna-”

“F*ck off Goldie.”

Goldie was a bit taken aback by his brother suddenly swearing. It was clear that he was in a bad mood and didn’t wanna be bothered. But at the same time, Goldie wanted to make him smile and it’s then that he had the perfect tactic on how to achieve that.

He leaned a bit closer to his brother, a sly grin on his face.

“Alright Mr. GrumpyPants. You can either cheer up or I can make you…”

Freddy turned his head a bit when he heard him say that before rolling his eyes. Seriously, how could he possibly cheer him up in this situation? There wasn’t anything he could do to possibly-

“Ghh’hk!”

His thoughts were cut off by his brother squeezing his sides, causing him to let out a yelp. He turned to his brother with a glare as he felt his face flush a bit.

“Wh-… what was that for?!”

Goldie giggled a bit at his brother’s reaction. Now he had the brown bear’s attention, and there was no way he was gonna stop now. Without warning, he pounced on him before he began tickling his brother’s sides, wiggling his fingers up and down. The reaction he got was almost immediate as Freddy burst into a fit of giggly chuckles.

”Hehehahaha! Gol-Goldiehehe, quit it!

“Ah ah ah, no protesting now. I told you to cheer up and you refused. Now, you have to have to suffer the consequences!”

Goldie cackled a bit seeing his brother attempting to push his hands off, causing him to move his tickling to his underarms, raking his claws across the sensitive area, making his brother let out a giggly yelp as he dissolved into another fit of laughter.

”Sto-stohohop! F*ck!”

Goldie let out a fake offended gasp when he heard his brother swear again.

“Freddy Fazbear! Swearing is not allowed onstage. I’m sorry, but such an action cannot go unpunished.”

With a sly grin, Goldie moved his hands down to his hips, squeezing and gently scratching the area with his claws. Freddy immediately let out a squeal as he desperately tried to push his little brother’s hands away. At this point was a laughing and flustered mess as he began flailing helplessly trying to get him to stop, but to no avail.

“Kehehahaha! Sto-stop ihit! I’m sorry!”

Goldie chuckled a bit at his brother’s begging. He couldn’t help but find it hilarious how this pile of laughter was actually his usually serious brother.

“Hmm, I don’t know.”

Goldie temporarily stopped his tickling, but moved his hands to his belly, not doing anything just yet. Freddy, knowing what was gonna happen next, immediately grew nervous as he looked at his brother with anticipation.

“Y-you wouldn’t…”

“Depends. Are you still gonna be a GrumpyPants?”

Freddy just rolled his eyes, which gave Goldie the go-ahead to keep tickling him as he began tickling his belly as he kneaded and prodded the soft spot, turning Freddy into a pile of laughter all over again. To make matters even worse, Goldie had begun blowing raspberries onto the side of his neck, a spot which Freddy both favored and despised at the same time.

“EYAHAHAAAHAHA! GO-GOLDIE, NAHAHAHA!”

At this point, Fred thought that his voicebox was gonna give out. Goldie seemed to take note of this as well and decided to cease his attack. With one last raspberry on his neck, he finally stopped, allowing Freddy to catch his breath as he tried to give his brother a glare.

“Hah… hah… J-jeez, you’re horrible…”

Goldie giggled a bit as he hugged his brother, clearly glad that his little scheme had worked.

“Heheh… Aww, love you too big bro!”

Freddy let out an exhaustive sigh as he let his little brother hug him. As annoying and scheming as he could, he was glad to still have Goldie in his life despite everything that’s happened.

And done, finally! This was honestly really fun to write. Hope y’all enjoy it!

[fungifanart]

Consequences

Characters: Male reader, Yuu!reader, Grim, Leona Kingscholar, Malleus Draconia

Cw: Angst

Notes: We're nearing the end, friends! I can definitively say that the next part will be the last (for better or worse)

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3) (PART 4)

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The week has finally come to a close and Malleus couldn't be happier...or more nervous.

Following Kingscholar and Lilia's advice was agonizing as it meant not being able to see the Prefect for a whole week following the party, but after taking that time to plan out his apology down to the letter, Malleus is confident that he'll be able to reclaim his greatest treasure flawlessly!

.......But what if he doesn't?

No. Impossible.

The idea that he'd fail now is so ludicrous that he can’t help but laugh.

Once classes let out for the day, Malleus frantically scans the crowd of students in the hallway until he spots a familiar head of hair accompanied by a mass of grey fur walking away from him.

"Y/N!" Malleus calls out as he makes his way through the hall to the other man, who turns around upon hearing his name.

The Prefect looks at Malleus in surprise before changing his expression to look at him with a cold glare, "Los--*ahem* Oh my! What could the great and powerful Malleus Draconia want with little old me?" He says in a mock-surprised tone, which hurts, but not as much as being separated from him.

"Y/N, I must ask that you accompany me." Malleus says while gently taking hold of his free hand, "There's something important I must speak to you about."

A moment of silence passes as the Prefect's eyes bore directly into Malleus's, searching for any hint of malicious intent, before Grim's voice cuts in.

"Myah! And why should he?! You've been nothing but trouble for him lately--" Grim tries to argue, but is stopped by the Prefect.

"Stand down, Grim." He says calmly, "I'll take care of this. You just go study with Ace and Deuce or something and if I don't message them by nightfall, get a search party together."

Malleus feels his heart throb with guilt, but pushes forward regardless, "Please, follow me."

The moments spent walking towards their destination seem to stretch on for an awkward eternity until they finally arrive at the woods just outside of Ramshackle dorm.

Once they stop walking, the Prefect faces Malleus and crosses his arms impatiently, "Alright, Mr. Draconia. You gonna tell me what you dragged me all the way out here for? Don't tell me you're actually kidnapping me again?"

"I...would like to formally apologize to you." Malleus says while bowing towards the other man.

"...Go on." The Prefect says with an unreadable expression.

"It was truly the height of foolishness to transport you to the Spectral Realm without so much as consulting you first. It was wrong and, while I'm sure that no amount of apologies can restore the trust in me you've lost, you must know that I am truly sorry." Malleus says while maintaining his bow, "Of course, you may rest assured that I've already given apologies to the rest of the student body."

"Is that so? So that makes me the last one to get an apology?" Malleus looks up briefly to see the other man raise his hand to his chin thoughtfully.

"Yes. The actions of yourself and others made me realize that you were FAR from the only one I'd hurt with my own…and I knew I could never face you without having first made amends with the others…" Malleus had planned to finish the apology there, but then his mouth begins spewing more words on its own, "I knew that you'd never talk with me about gargoyles again if I couldn't give a genuine apology. I-I knew you'd never call me 'Lostie' again if I couldn't show you how serious I am."

Malleus isn't supposed to say this much! What will the Prefect think!?

The only sound that can be heard in the next moments is that of the Prefect walking towards him.

Another moment passes quietly before it's broken by the Prefect sighing and beginning to speak, "Raise your head."

Once Malleus does as instructed, his eyes meet the Prefect’s just to see them full of…pity.

"I see you, Malleus. I've heard your apology and I acknowledge your sincerity." He says, causing Malleus's hopes to skyrocket despite his formal tone, "However…"

Malleus's heart practically stops upon hearing that damned word.

"As you've said, simply saying 'I'm sorry' won't magically restore the trust I've lost. What you did, it really hurt me, y'know? The kind of hurt that's gonna take me some time to get past." The man explains calmly while beginning to walk away as Malleus simply stands there in shock.

The Prefect stops at the edge of the clearing to glance back at him, "And so, while I can't forgive you right now, I still greatly appreciate you taking the time to apologize. I'll see you in class…" He faces his head forward and fully leaves the clearing as one final word escapes his lips, "...Lostie."

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

Leona leans against the back of one of the trees surrounding the clearing the horned bastard had brought the Prefect to. Normally, he’d be more careful about getting so close to the action for fear of being caught, but he thinks he’ll be fine this time, considering the sounds of sobbing coming from the center of the clearing.

Leona can’t help but feel mildly shocked at this outcome. The Prefect’s got a bit of a reputation around NRC for being a bleeding heart and he can’t deny that the dragon's apology was VERY sincere, so for him to reject it like that, no matter how softly, feels…unnerving. Suddenly, he feels the need to tread more lightly around the herbivore from now on.

However, this hasn't changed Leona's overall feelings. If anything, he knows now more than ever that the Prefect is the one he wants by his side for the rest of his life. And he's not gonna let that horned bastard get in his way.

[anti-katsuki-lounge]

I find it odd that how it is normalized to hate Endeavor but not Bakugo.

Don't get me wrong, Endeavor deserves to be hated by readers because he isn't doing all that much to be forgiven by his family and when people learn about his abuse, they don't react accordingly. But at least the majority of the audience points the blatant downplay of abuse and has criticisms for Endeavor's redemption arc. Which is wonderful and should be the expected reaction.

But when it's about Bakugo, why is it so unreasonable to hate his redemption arc? Why do people ask us if we even actually read the manga as if they possessed reading skills superior to ours? Is it because he's a minor and therefore gets a slap on the wrist? I never found Bakugo's character charming or interesting to say the least. I really do want to understand, but the more I see his Stan's brush off the bullying, I go back to disliking him as a character. (I know that there are people who do like Bakugo but still hold him accountable for his bullying, which I'm happy to see). I would go as far to say that the real reason why I begun to dislike Bakugo is the blatant favoritism almost everyone seems to have for him. Before I really began to immerse myself into the fandom, I sort just thought everyone didn't like him. I couldn't be more wrong.

Because from my perspective, abuse and bullying are both horrible things to do. While, bullying is less serious in comparison to abuse, I don't understand how it's easily brushed aside. Maybe other people just don't find bullying that serious of a problem, but I do and I will never not bring it up if someone were to ask me why I don't like Bakugo. I'm not going to forget it just because it happened in the past (chapter 1 as some like to say). Which is incorrect because Bakugo had continued bullying Izuku even after they entered U.A. Before someone tries to bring up how in the first few chapters, Izuku mentions Bakugo stopped bullying him, I think it's necessary to mention that Izuku is an unreliable narrator. Furthermore, bullying does not only include physical bullying, it also includes verbal bullying, which Bakugo still does by yelling at Izuku for the most pettiest reasons. The severity of Bakugo's actions are masked by the fact that these interactions are depicted as gag scenes, which does not make me laugh in the slightest. Imagine the gag scenes were depicted in a serious tone. Would it be funny then? I think not.

Also, I do believe that one of MHA's theme is that past actions have consequences. Which is what Endeavor and Bakugo are supposed to represent. But do you really expect me to be satisfied with this. While Endeavor's abuse is revealed by Dabi, he only faces disgust from their society for little bit of time. It wouldn't have been more effective if Endeavor had been the one to reveal his past, rather than his son forcing him to confront it. But at least the society he lives in knows of his horrible abuse. Bakugou on the other hand apologizes in front of his classmates, whom know nothing of his past and have this misconception that his relationship with Izuku is sour is due to the fact both of cannot make up due to their differences. And the cherry on top is that Izuku doesn't say anything against him. I just can't look at his scene and still take Bakugo Stan's seriously. How could they look at this scene and think that Bakugo's redemption arc is great. Clearly both Bakugo and Endeavor's redemption arcs are horribly written, yet calling out Endeavor's is the only acceptable thing. Wish I could understand why Bakugo is so beloved in this fandom, but it seems that I can't do that.

But, hey, at least found a community in which I can share these thoughts.

I really do think it’s cause he’s a minor and the narrative sympathizes with him. I personally agree with what you’ve said about Endeavor and I feel his story should’ve been done better, but the narrative at least tells you he was wrong to treat his family the way he did. Yeah, there’s some backpedaling, and yeah, the reactions from others are relatively tame compared to what they should be like, but the narrative does tell us that Endeavor was a bad person and now he’s making up for his sins. With Katsuki, after the USJ, they narrative is constantly sucking him off and trying to hammer that he has good traits and that he is “redeeming” himself but his actions show otherwise. When watching something for fun, it’s easy to let the narrative influence your thoughts on the series, but once you take a step back and analyze things, you might notice some inconsistencies. That’s pretty much the case with Katsuki.

[mdhwrites]

Do you think toh needs a reboot? There's lots of things that I don't like how were handled in the show but it's also painful to give up on them when you think of the better ways they could've worked out, characters, backstory, plot, everything in general.

I wouldn't mind a reboot tbh, but then again you mentioned that the show isn't quite concious of it's own identity. So I guess unless they work with better writers, it won't make a big difference even with the time needed.

The short version of this is that TOH's inherent flaws mean that… No. A reboot won't help it, it'd be a nightmare to try and adapt or reboot in general and it's never going to see one in animation that could improve much on the version we got except for cleaning up mistakes made because the writers weren't thinking about the consequences of their character's actions.

And this mostly has to do with its crises of identity being a very core part of its image at this point. If you try to refine it into an adventure series, into a school drama, into a more traditional fantasy story or one of the half dozen identities you could place on TOH, it becomes effectively a different show. It's going to feel different, it's going to be different, etc. like that.

So the first problem with even conceptualizing a reboot is you have all these disparate, clashing elements that barely interact and never were enabled to properly interact in the show so… What do you emphasize, what do you de-emphasize? Because no matter what, you're pissing SOMEONE off. If you lean into the childish nature of S1 then you annoy people who prefer the darker, more serious tone to S2. If you lean into the school stuff, Eda's plotline with her sister becomes more neglected and S1 doesn't feel as coherent while Belos feels like even less of a figure than he already does. If you lean more into the Owl Family, you lose as much time with Amity so her character arc is going to suffer, Lumity takes longer to happen naturally and you probably get called racist because people already call the show racist for how little it cares about Gus and Willow.

Quick note for another blog: I don't think race had literally anything to do with Gus and Willow's treatment. They simply stop having a place in the narrative post S1, even arguably after Luz becomes friends with Amity. They look the way they do for design variance and demographic numbers and that's probably it.

Anyways: No matter what, you cannot fix the conceptual problem of TOH being everything that Dana wanted to say and do alongside throwing in the kitchen sink. The only way to smooth out The Owl House is to literally smooth it out. Just flatten it into five or more seasons so it has the time to breathe and actually explore EVERY concept and even then… Yeah, that definitely gets into needing better writers than TOH has who can follow through on the ideas they have. After all, just because they would have more time doesn't mean they have the skill.

And you would need that promise from go so the writers could plan that out properly and… That's never going to happen. Especially not for serialized content like The Owl House, not in the current media landscape that we have. This isn't even because the show is bad. Quality has VERY little to do with whether something gets renewed nowadays. And if you want to get renewed consistently beyond three seasons (and iffy on even that) you need to hit one of two different options.

The first is for broadcast television where ease of programming, cheapness, and advertising is king. This is where you get why Teen Titans Go has two movies and a billions episodes. That show is entirely episodic and thus very easy to break up, throw into a hole in your broadcast schedule, easy to make marathons because you can just slap a bunch together without care, etc. like that. The animation is also incredibly simply and the show in general is probably very cheap to produce. Its writing style of literally anything goes adds to this fact. Cartoon Network can probably make five episodes of Teen Titans Go with the budget Disney gives for ONE Owl House episode and it works better for the company's goals monetarily.

And yes, Teen Titans Go is bad. It's WAY worse than The Owl House. But quality doesn't matter here. What matters is that it's easy, it's cheap, it has brand identity and is easy to merchandise. It is profitable, safe and people see it as easy to sit their child in front of for when they need the television to babysit.

The other option is streaming services and you're not going to get a 100 episode contract for a streaming service. Yes, they want cliffhangers and serialization to make sure you binge and continue subscribing even between seasons but that's also why streaming services are all or nothing. You either are so big that you will continue to pull people for months after your release or they don't care about your small squad of dedicated fans.

And TOH… Didn't become a cultural phenomenon. It was genuinely nothing special to most people, if they'd even heard of it, until Grom. Outside of that, it was just known that it had above average animation when it launched and… That's literally all I ever heard about TOH until I joined the fandom inbetween S1 and 2. And by then Netflix would have cancelled the show most likely.

Because TOH didn't break any records. It didn't light the world on fire. It didn't even cause some giant discourse that rattled through the internet on all fronts. And that means streaming services would probably rather invest in another attempt at a new Walking Dead or Game of Throne rather than continue the show. It's those record breaking numbers that got Velma and Wednesday renewed after all, not their quality or anything like that. (This isn't me condoning these practices btw. I think it's a real problem like everyone else and that it has to do with a lot of focus on short term gain rather than long term retention but I'm rambling enough as is)

And The Owl House never had that clout. Ever. I mean, how many people always had to add caveats to what made The Owl House special like "On Disney" or "in a prime time kid's show" rather than the show actually being special on its own merits? Especially now? There is one last option and that's of course a reboot that doesn't happen in the next five years but instead is closer to 20 when enough time has passed that radical changes might be allowed. That's the Voltron and She-Ra method effectively. Except... That's where we get the fact that Voltron and She-Ra were big properties at their time, never truly forgotten and have strong nostalgia attached to them. They pushed toys, they pushed consumers and those IPs had a real value to them, even to the current day but to revive them took a delicate touch because cartoons are different now. And TOH just doesn't have that power. That impact and care. And there is a LOT to be said about how it's much harder for shows to have that sort of impact nowadays but that's beyond the scope of this blog. The main point is that in 20 years, why would a studio choose to give TOH that much love and attention versus any of the other cancelled animation projects around this time? Especially something that did get to do its full run like Amphibia?

So… Is there a way The Owl House could get the time it needs to explore its whole identity and possibly become better? Yes? In a webcomic, manga or book. Animation is simply too expensive a medium and not regarded well enough that it's going to get the time but things like webcomics, manga and books are known for being more drawn out, able to do more with that space and more independent because the overheads are a LOT less than other mediums. After all, you only have to pay one writer and maybe a couple editors for a book.

But… I don't think Dana has the skill or attention span for any of those mediums. Not if she's working solo. If you look at her solo episodes in TOH, they have some really powerful moments and statements in them… And also some of the most meh B plots, some of the larger narrative cheats, show blatant disregard for her own world building and even at times had to have major plot points in them retconned by future writers because Dana wrote the show into a corner while trying to be clever. It shows someone who would be much better on an anthology series or an episodic series than ANYTHING serialized.

Remember, Dana wrote Reaching Out, where everyone just forgets that being a Wild Witch is met with the death penalty and is not just equivalent to college, which is how Amity and Alador treat it, let alone the twins celebrating becoming outlaws like they just joined a special club.

So in general, I don't think The Owl House is going to see a revival or the like. I think the best thing that could happen to The Owl House's legacy is that people figure out which parts they like the best and go on to make media inspired by those parts of TOH. Because I feel bad for anyone who tries to adopt TOH as a whole.

Because I just don't think it's possible to capture TOH's essence without also bringing along its crises of identity. The two are too intertwined and that was always going to hold the show back.

[frawed]

I haven't felt like I've had much to say lately so I haven't been writing. Haven't felt inspired or like I had thoughts worth sharing. But sometimes, writing, in & of itself, is a worthwhile activity & can spark creativity and help me to put those underlying and perhaps somewhat unconscious feelings down where I can see them and see if it rings true. And I have often benefited from re-reading old posts and seeing where I was at mentally, spiritually and emotionally at different points of my life.

Quite often, after a breakup is a very reflective time in my life. And, interestingly, around that time, without you going searching for it, it seems previous exes or even other non-romantic relationships that have fallen by the wayside seem to have a way of cropping back up as if to say, "hey, there's some unresolved stuff here - since you're processing so much, want to process this, too?". LOL Well... this time has been no exception. I've actually had some surprisingly not unpleasant conversations and interactions with some people who previous relationships had failed with. It seems I am not the only one who has been going through a difficult time lately.

Whether or not you want to acknowledge or draw attention to it (by calling it BC or AC or whatever), times after Covid do seem inherently different than before. It does feel like we have lost a lightness of being (that most, not all, of us had) and that things have taken on a more serious tone. Kinda like a fast-forwarding of adulthood for many of us. I don't have many teenagers in my life to ask but I know that in my age group, the people I have talked to seem to collectively be suffering from the trauma resulting from a worldwide pandemic and various countries' and regions' responses to it by forcing compliance on things like self-quarantining. Or, conversely, the enormous stress that resulted for many who did not have the option to quarantine when that was the CDC's and WHO's recommendations but we were considered "essential workers" or worked for employers that rebuffed those notions that quarantining was even necessary.

At the very least, it seems to have shaken us up. Some, it shook into a sort of rebellion against being told what to do by our government. Others seem permanently more withdrawn and perhaps even more reliant on instruction from authorities. But overall, the effect seems much deeper and we were forced to come to terms with what we ourselves deemed as important and what we ourselves wanted to prioritize. Our options may have been limited but we still have opinions, desires, goals, etc. In a way, all the possible responses to the pandemic felt like one more thing to divide us when unity and perhaps empathy was most needed. Former activities like dating and hanging out with friends or going out to make more friends felt more difficult and the implications of those actions felt more serious (whether for health or more ideological reasons). Every decision felt more serious and difficult in some ways or the decisions we did make seemed to have more of a possible negative impact - perhaps judgement from our peers, for example. This may have had the effect of chipping away at our autonomy in a very insidious way.

When we break all the noise away, though, what we are left with is quite simple. We are all trying to do the best we can do with the resources we have in an increasingly partisan and charged environment. A more SERIOUS environment where every choice we make and action we take seems to have possible detrimental consequences. Gone is the lightheartedness that much of us had pre-Covid. Now the actions we take for our own mental well-being often feel like a giant "fuck you!" - and we're not even sure to whom or why.

There are, I think, many reasons for this. Many of us worked possibly the hardest we have ever worked in our lives during the pandemic and while work got more intense with no signs of letting up, and with fewer outlets to blow off steam (work hard, play hard, anyone?), we got increasingly burnt out while being told we should be thankful for our jobs because now, more than before, employers are letting people go. And the pandemic assistance has dried up while the Fed tries feverishly (a little late, perhaps) to correct the inflation. No more free money. We're now adjusting to life with one more rapidly mutating seasonal thing to fight alongside common colds and the flu. But with no more paid time off and perhaps worse job prospects than before (despite the supposed number of vacancies at jobs).

So, when we do take a stand and do something for our mental health, it is perhaps extra urgent to us. It is perhaps something we put off for far too long. It can be something we might get a little defensive or upset about if anyone were to try to stop us or try to get us to adult a bit more and play a bit less. We might be tempted to flip a desk and say "fuck all this b.s.!" while we run off on a long overdue vacation. Our childlike senses of wonder, hope and love for the world and adventure have suffered during this time. Those of us who have held on might be dealing with anger and resentment for what we've been put through. Even if we don't feel we have someone specific to blame. It's like shadowboxing. We have an enemy - but what is it, exactly? The pandemic? Our greedy employers who seem insistent to preserve profit margins above all else? Is it other humans who think and believe differently from us and try to impose their beliefs on us? Is our way of life irretrievably changing and becoming more serious and less playful and fun, for us to never get it back?

I think Americans specifically are having a hard time, especially those of middle class status. We're accustomed to a certain standard of living that has been threatened increasingly so lately (& not just by the pandemic). It's almost a palpable noose tightening around our necks. Some may have come closer to homelessness than they ever thought possible and feel incredibly disillusioned and unsafe in a way they never had before. It is all too common in America to be living paycheck to paycheck so you might already have had a love/hate relationship with your employer, but now? I think the tension between employer and employee is the most I have ever known and witnessed. Without an employer, most cannot afford health insurance, for example. It doesn't take much to plunge to new depths of a situation that feels impossible to dig oneself out of.

But - you might ask - is it really all bad? Is all of this that we have endured for over 2 years now ALL BAD? Are there any positives we can take away from this? I would say yes. I think in most things, it is your perspective and what you choose to take away from a situation that ultimately matters and impacts you the most. Instead of focusing on the negatives, we can realize that life is cyclical. We are in a very important time politically and we have the power to affect change. Many of the things we were focused on BC were trivial and superficial. The pandemic has helped give us perspective on what is important and helped us to see how we react in times of stress. And if you don't find that of value, perhaps you'll find it of value that it has shown how others around you react in times of stress. You've been given a window to see into the minds and souls of others. Not as a way to judge but still it can be a quicker way to know who you might align with more even on an energetic level (if not ideologically or politically). You can see those who tend to bury their heads in the sand. You can see those whose strength emerged against all odds when they were tested by fire. Y'all - we have been THROUGH it. We really have. As a nation, as a world, as humanity. We have been tested. And not all of the things we did or learned from this are good. But we can hold on to the good and we can also use this as a time to practice empathy & remember - we all are limited at times. We all have only so much capacity and resources with which to live this life with. We can be a bridge for some who have run out. We can be a safe space where they can just BE. It doesn't have to be about judgement and about lessons and learning all the time. Sometimes it is just about BEING. Existing. Breathing. Or as it is also sometimes called - living. But I think most of us long to begin to find a way to emerge and hopefully get back to thriving - not merely subsisting.

For that, I wish you good luck. And one of the best things we can do right now is cultivate a practice of gratefulness - for what we DO have.

[ladyluscinia]

izzy is white and participated in colonial violence against his indigenous friend/co-worker/whatever. he actively executed that colonial violence for his own means so he could have ownership over ed. how is ed cutting his toe off any worse than that?

I assume this is referring to this post?

So first, anon, I want you to take a second and reflect on why you feel like the logical response here is to rationalize how a man could morally deserve his boss permanently mutilating him and feeding him his own toe.

And then I want you to stop asking yourself that because it's insane, it's absurd, and mainly because this is completely the wrong show for either of us to be taking that question seriously. Or your original "how is this worse than that?", for that matter.

The point of the toe scene isn't to prompt us all to start digging into the nitty gritty of every interaction and implication and power dynamic present between Edward and Izzy and try to figure out who the real victim / bad guy is here. It's a shocking escalation that makes doing that ridiculous, and lampshades it if you try anyway. We were already skipping around the absurd situation line when Izzy's betrayal was undone in 24 hours by mugging a guy for a dinghy, and that just puts us firmly past it.

And in this kind of show it can be a really good decision to make a situation too absurd to approach realistically.

I'll put this under a cut because it got very long, but I am actually trying to explain how in-universe handwaviness is a good and fascinating thing, and why you might want to excuse a character from narrative consequences (and how that's different from excusing them from character growth).

---

So to start, handwaviness is normal in OFMD. This is because some narrative consequences are fun and interesting to play out - Izzy's rising frustration and tragic drama playing out in the background cumulating in a great raising of stakes and proper arc set up for Edward - and some narrative consequences suck and / or are boring - actually making Stede and Edward get stuck working for the King of England. So if you do it right you can explore the good bits and drop the bad ones without the audience going "Hey wait a second! That was way too easy." And adding a character level just makes things more complicated.

Outside of Edward and Izzy's everything, the character situations are a mess if we start bringing in consequences. Stede's entire crew save Buttons, Oluwande, and Jim wanted to murder him in episode 1. Jim tried to kill Lucius in episode 2 (while Stede wasn't very concerned by his potential loss), and Edward pulled off a much better attempted murder in 10. Buttons and Roach were actively trying to murder and cannibalize The Swede after Edward abandoned everyone but Jim and Frenchie to die, and the whole crew including Fang and Ivan also tied Izzy to an anchor and were seconds from murdering him. Given all that, how many of these people should honestly just never be in a room together again? For personal safety if nothing else?

Hell, even if your defense is that most of these situations were played for laughs - which they were and I love the mutinies in particular - there's still a glaring exception in Edward trying to kill Lucius. That was right in the middle of the "serious" set of actions that showed Izzy's scenes, so we're going to have to treat it similarly if we don't want the bad kind of dissonance... which you also get if the toe scene gets handwaved but Izzy threatening Edward is treated as serious harm. All three of these are linked. Either being sorry is enough for them all or it isn't, and I would not want to be the writer who had to figure out how to reckon with the long lasting effects of traumatic harm committed by someone you thought was a friend while in a romcom.

If we treat all of these things as serious, are amends even possible? Much less amends that can be carried out with destroying the lighter tone of the show? What about the people around them? What kind of person does it make Stede if he forgives / accepts Edward's treatment of Izzy and Lucius even if they don't? Even if Izzy doesn't realize it was fucked up in the first place (which is now less a funny masochism joke and more a giant red flag for abuse)? And Edward's marooning of the crew wasn't treated as seriously as the rest at the time, but can we really keep stretching handwaviness to cover that if Lucius is being treated as an actual victim right next to them?

And while I'm sure plenty of people would say that Izzy's situation is different because he's the antagonist, he's also an antagonist who has been treated with a lot of nuance and caution. If he becomes the sole member of the cast who is actually considered guilty of his own actions it will be fucked up, and that has some yikes implications too seeing as our main protagonist is a rich white guy who is getting to benefit from handwaviness around race. (Check the notes on that 2nd one too because there were multiple interesting threads.)

Protagonist centered morality gets very unfunny very fast if your protagonists start becoming hypocrites with wildly unpleasant implications.

For all of these reasons, it is a far better decision for the show to continue its policy of excusing unwanted narrative consequences as soon as it's reasonable - via keeping situations absurd enough to pull it off - and that includes letting Izzy off the hook as soon as he learns his lesson. Because this deliberately written and genre embedded handwavy approach is not the same thing as just blanket excusing a character.

I mentioned this in passing in my original post (to keep it short lol) and elaborated in the tags so I'll just pull those here:

Narrative consequences that lead to character growth are the fun and interesting kind. You don't wave those off. You want to explore them.

This is why despite the extensive collection of fix-it fics, fanart, jokes, etc. I doubt most fans would be satisfied if Stede shows up next season, kisses Edward, and all the events of episode 10 are forgotten. That would be a retcon, not a resolution. Edward has to face the narrative and go through the character arc that they've set him on, and he needs to get the development out of it. He just doesn't have to keep facing the consequences once they've done what they needed to.

He can regret throwing Lucius overboard, Lucius and the crew can forgive him, and they can all go right back to hanging out and shipping him with their captain. Hell, the comedy is dark enough they can make jokes about the attempted murder. But it won't make much sense to keep haunting him with it for the rest of his life, so I don't think they will.

Izzy? Is in a very similar boat.

He has to face first and foremost the toxicity in his relationship with Edward, and this will almost certainly necessitate addressing the racial elephant in the room if they do it right. That's the part where he figures out he fucked up and earnestly gets sorry about it.

The thing is after that bit, the logical progression is just making him behave better in the future. It would be weird and inconsistent if Izzy gets the character development but is still deemed "beyond forgiveness" somehow (ex: Edward being unwilling to mend their relationship while getting along with Lucius, or the writers never letting him out of the apology phase). They could maybe present it like racism is a special form of evil, but for Stede reasons that is a dangerous play on a thematic level (and also a bit fucked on a real life level, since they put so much effort into making Izzy nuanced presumably to make attaining racial awareness and growth feasible in the first place).

EDIT: While it's still possible they might be addressing some of Izzy's standard white guy race obliviousness, the confirmation that the anchor hoist scene wasn't intended to be a racially motivated decision very much pushes that out of the spotlight. He needs to address his and Edward's whole toxic mess, but it's now very possible that character growth skips over any race based dynamic because the writers haven't been including that as one of their problems.

So yeah... I will very easily excuse Izzy's actions if he gets the "I fucked up" arc right alongside Edward's, because I know I'm going to very easily excuse Edward's actions and it does not make any sense for me to hold these characters to different standards. The show can still explore themes and character growth despite the handwaviness - in fact in part because of it giving them a way to cleanly exit a serious tangent without having to be completely serious about it. This is deliberate. This is fascinating. And this is fun.

(And tbh I have already excused specifically the Navy plot both because of the toe thing and because it very rapidly dropped in significance as soon as Edward signed the Act of Grace. It no longer matters as a specific thing that was done so much as just one of the steps in the collapse of Edward and Izzy's relationship.)

Also, as a final note... As with literally anything in fiction, people are going to react to things differently. Just like there's people who can't watch this show at all because Stede Bonnet was a real slaveowner, there are people who will not consider Izzy redeemable or who will be unable to handwave his actions to the extent they will other characters'. And if the show does go through with character growth, there is a good chance they won't be satisfied with what they get. It happens. There's not really anything to be done about it.

[zukkoxx]

mha boys doing the hickey prank on you

(w/ bakugo, kiri, shinsou)

bakugo 💥

you and bakugo’s relationship started with bickering and annoying each other till you drive the other crazy.

and that didn’t stop when you started dating.

now, it’s more of pulling silly little pranks on each other.

and each time you would try to one up the other.

well, the last prank you pulled in bakugo had him fuming, he was mad for a week.

so obviously he had to get you back even worse.

he got mina to help him, figuring she’d be best at making the makeup look like the actual thing.

she berated him the whole time, telling him if he broke her best friend’s heart she’d shoot acid in his eyes.

he brushed off her comment. you deserved this.

it was a little late in the evening after you get to bakugo’s dorm, finished with all the tasks you had to do today.

“hey kats.” you greet, placing your things on his desk and joining him on the bed where he was sitting on his phone.

he looked up at you, almost feeling bad when you gave him a genuine smile before snuggling up next to him. “whats up?” you say when he doesn’t respond.

“nothing. how was your day?” he quickly asked.

the two of you talked for a while about random stuff, and at some point you went up to kiss his cheek, laughing at a comment he made.

but you freeze when you see a dark, purplish mark on the side of his neck, in plain sight.

you furrowed your brows, wondering how you hadn’t noticed to before.

“katsuki...what’s this?” you ask, making him turn from his phone and look at you.

“what’re ya talkin about dumbass?”

“don’t call me a dumbass, what the hell is this on your neck?” you speak louder, pressing a finger under the mark.

“it’s nothing, probably a bruise from a mission-”

“bakugo.”

the blond widens his eyes at your deep tone and the way you said his name. he never really heard you speak like this unless it was towards a villain. but even then, you never sounded this serious.

“you and i both know that’s not a fucking bruise.”

he stares at you silently, not knowing if he should end the prank or not.

he decides to push on.

“i don’t know what you want me to say.” he shrugs, looking away from you. he couldn’t stand seeing the hurt in your eyes.

you scoff, trying to get rid of the pressure building in you throat. “you really are just a big asshole, aren’t you?”

he stayed quiet. “if you wanted to break up with, you could’ve just told me.” you try so hard to keep your tears at bay, not letting them cross your waterline.

but it feels like a dagger had been stabbed through your heart.

“and to think, i thought you could have actually loved me.” you chuckle darkly before trying to get off the bed.

upon hearing your words, bakugo quickly grabbed your hand, pulling you against him.

“i do love you-”

“let me go you asshole!” you push his chest, tears finally escaping. “we’re done! that’s what you wanted right?”

“y/n it’s not real! calm down.”

he holds your waist so you were sitting on his lap, keeping you still. you look at him, trying to figure out what he was talking about. “what the hell do you mean it’s not real?”

he stared at you for a second, almost scared that if he looked away, you’d be gone. but he eventually reaches to the table beside his bed and grabs a makeup wipe mina lended him. he quickly wiped the mark, staring at you intensely.

“see?” he turns his head, and you find the purple mark gone, only a slight red pigment left from where he wiped so harshly. “fake.” he holds up the wipe so you see the purple stains covering it.

“it was a prank.”

you felt like you could finally breath again, but your relief quickly turned into anger, and you punched bakugo’s chest out of instinct. he didn’t react.

“i hate you. why would you do this?”

“you pranked me last week!” bakugo states, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“i put pink dye in your shampoo katsuki. this was overboard.” you mutter, wiping your cheeks to get rid of sparse tears.

bakugo frowned, feeling even more bad about the whole thing. he had to admit, he took it too far. “you’re right. i’m sorry.” you didn’t respond, but accepted his apology.

“hey.” bakugo lifted your chin to look at him. “you know i love you, right? more than fucking anything.” you nod. “don’t ever doubt my love for you, or i may have to blow myself up for making you feel that way.”

you laugh slightly, bending down so you could hug when, pushing your face into his neck.

“you know i’m getting you back for this.”

kirishima🪨

kirishima often does things without thinking ahead.

not fully comprehending the consequences of his actions.

this was one of those moments.

it was april fools day! great right?

except kiri and the boys made a bet, wondering who could pull the best prank on someone in their class.

kiri took a while thinking about who he should prank. and eventually, a perfect prank to pull on his precious s/o came to mind.

a hickey prank. haha....ha. -_-

he had seen tons of videos where someone made a fake hickey and pranked their s/o with it. he always laughed his ass off at them.

this would be the perfect opportunity!

so he sprinted to ochaco’s back room, hers being the closest, and asked for some makeup he would return quickly.

he went to his room, doing his best at imitating the red, purplish bruise you’d often give each other.

when he thought he did the best he could, he leaves his room, trying to find you so he could get the prank over with.

he sees you in the kitchen, eating a bowl of fruit, chatting with jiro.

he makes his way over slowly, nervousness creeping up his spine with the amount of people in the common area at the moment.

he didn’t want to embarrass you, but he didn’t want to give any of the boys 50 dollars either.

he stood behind you, awkwardly waiting for you to finish talking to jiro.

jiro looks past you, motioning for you to check. you turn, eyes brightening as they land upon your boyfriend.

“hey kiri, what some fruit?” you push the bowl towards him, and he shakes his head with a dopey smile. “no thanks babe. just checking on you.”

you melt at his kind words, about to respond when jiro speaks up beside to. “i think you should be checking on yourself kiri. jeez y/n, are you human or a leech?” she covers her moth to stifle a laugh, pointing to a very specific spot on kiri’s neck.

you halfheartedly laugh, confused, and glanced at the area yourself.

you breath stops when you notice a big purple mark covering the side of his neck.

you didn’t do that to him...

kirishima stands uncomfortably still, not real really knowing what to do this far into the prank.

“kirishima? wha...” you can’t even speak, just utterly astonished at what you’re seeing.

you stare at him and shake your hands, waiting for him to explain himself.

“are you going to say something!?” you ask, the hurt in your voice making his heart break.

he didn’t like this. not at all. why did he do this?

“...fuck you kiri.” you spit, ignoring the fact that you still used his nickname while you were mad at him.

you walked away in a hurry, leaving jiro glaring at kirishima.

“what did you do?” she asked.

“i-it was a joke! a prank! i...it’s april fools!”

“well go tell them that!” jiro says, pushing kiri to go follow you.

kirishima runs after you, getting to you as soon as you enter the elevator to go to your dorm. he sprints inside, crashing into you in the process.

he looks at you with wide eyes when he sees tears running down your face. “why are you here?” you quickly yell.

“y/n it’s a prank! it’s april fools day, please baby! i’m sorry!” he goes to hug you. you don’t return it but you don’t push him away either.

“what the heck eijiro! that wasn’t funny!” you yell in distress. you were happy it wasn’t real, but the feeling from being absolutely heart broken to feeling better in the span of seconds was overwhelming.

“i know. i know it was stupid of me to even attempt this. i made a stupid bet with the others. i am so sorry. you know i’d never do this to you. please, forgive me.” he begs, holding onto you for dear life.

“i’m really upset with you right now, eijiro.”

“you should be. i don’t blame you y/n. but please, don’t leave me.”

you sighed, finally going to hug him back. “i’m not going to leave you kiri. i was scared you were leaving me!”

“i’d never! never in a million years!”

“i know, just don’t do that again. you really scared me.”

he nods against you. “never again.”

shinsou 🌀

shinsou was never good at expressing his emotions.

he was very reserved and even though you were his s/o, you often had trouble figuring out what was going on inside that complicated head of his

so when you laughed at izuku’s jokes, or praised shoto’s quirk

of course he wouldn’t tell you how jealous it made him feel. how it made all his insecurities rise up.

you didn’t mean to make him feel this way, god no. you had known the two boys longer than him and were used to having the comfortable playful conversations with izuku and serious quirk related talks with shoto.

but shinsou didn’t like all the attention you gave them.

and he couldn’t find a way to let you know how he felt that didn’t involve telling you. which he wasn’t going to do.

so he ended up doing the next best thing that came to mind.

make you feel what he was feeling.

he gets some makeup from someone he had already forgotten the name of and went to his dorm, doing his best to make the fake hickey at least a little believable.

he didn’t want the prank to be too serious, just to hit you with a quick realization that you had been making him feel this way.

so he waits for you to meet him in his dorm like you always do, and even leaves the makeup out in the open to see if you’d catch on yourself.

“hellooo my love.” you say cheerfully, and shinso smiled at your happy mood.

“hi y/n. had a good day?” he asked, sitting on the edge of his bed as you approached him, standing between his legs.

“mhm. but i missed you.” you muttered, pushing his face against your stomach as you hugged his head.

hitoshi frowned at your words. maybe this wasn’t a good idea. maybe he’s been overthinking and this stupid prank will just make things worse.

“so, what did you do today-”

you pull back from hitoshi and catch a glimpse of a bruise on his neck. you grip his chin, turning it to the side with slight force and narrow your eyes.

“what happened here?” you asked curiously

“nothing babe.” your boyfriend shrugs

“hitoshi is this a fucking hickey?” you asked after getting a better look, hoping to whatever god there was that his answer would be no.

“what does it look like?”

“don’t talk to me like that, you prick.” you seeth, and push his head away until he falls on his back on the bed.

“we’re over! i hate you.” you say the last part quietly, still not wanting to believe what you saw was real.

“wait y/n, it’s fake!” hitoshi yells before you could leave his dorm.

“how is it fake hitoshi? what, you had no real feelings for the bitch that sucked on your neck? do you think i’m stupid or something?”

“the hickey is fake y/n. i made it.”

you stared at him with deceiving eyes, crossing your arms and tapping your foot. “is this some type of mind joke hitoshi? i told you don’t use that shit on me.”

“please babe, c’mere. wipe it off.”

you slowly made you way back to him, gripping his chin to turn his head again and swiped at the mark. it smeared a little, but didn’t come off. you licked your thumb before rubbing it into the mark, finally making it disappear.

you pushed him back slightly, eyes still angry. “what was that all about? why’d you do that?” you ask.

“just thought it’d be funny.” he lies, looking away from you. you knew he was lying. he always looked directly at you when talking about something. especially something serious.

“do not make me even angrier than i already am shinso. fess up.”

hitoshi groaned, putting his hands over his face before looking at you with tired eyes. “fine, i got jealous of you hanging out and being friendly with midoriya and todoroki. i just wanted to get you back in a way.”

“so you pretend to cheat on me?”

“i’m sorry. it was really immature of me and i should’ve just talked to you. the makeup is right over there if you still need proof.” he points to his desk and glance at it, seeing the makeup sprawled on top.

you sighed, not wanting to forgive him so easily. but you couldn’t help it with the way he rubbed the back of your legs soothingly and looked at you with love filled eyes.

“ugh, you’re lucky i love you.” you state, trying to stop the smile growing on your face as you see him smirk softly.

“and i love you. more than anything. thank you for forgiving me.”

“and...i’ll try not to make you jealous. i really didn’t mean to.” you say, remembering the reason for the whole situation.

hitoshi shook his head. “you can hang out and be friends with whoever you want. i know you wouldn’t leave me or be unfaithful. and i’d never be unfaithful to you. i’m so thankful for you.”

.....

“stop getting all mushy on me.”

i always see hcs where the boys get pranked, i thought it’d be cool to do the reverse. i can still do y/n pranking the boys if you guys would like that! hope you enjoyed this! leave a request here! -> 🥀

[mochegato]

The Night of the Consequences

Continuation of Well, Well, Well, If It Isn’t the Consequences of My Actions

“Ladybug!”

Ladybug’s eyes widened, recognizing the voice booming through the Watchtower halls without even having to turn around.  She eyed Chloe nervously.  Why did these things keep happening around the nosy blondes in her life?  She turned around with an overly wide smile.  “Oh… hi… um… M.… Wing,” she stuttered out.  

Son of a bitch!  She really should have prepared for this.  She knew it was coming.  Granted, she didn’t know it was coming today, but it had to be coming soon, they couldn’t afford to let just anyone go around knowing their identities.  If the family was really worried, they couldn’t afford to wait to talk to her about… well… her.  

Bee side eyed her with an incredulous stare.  “What the actual fu…” she started quietly.

“Is there something we can help you with?” Ladybug asked loudly, cutting off whatever rant Chloe was going to go on.

“Um well, first off,” he gave her an overly wide, supposedly charming grin, “you can call me Nightwing.  M. Wing is my… father.”  He cringed as he the last word came out.

Bee raised an eyebrow.  “I thought your father was M. Bat.”

Nightwing puckered his lips.  “Yeah… that’s… true.”  He shuffled awkwardly.

“If you’re going to use that line, you’re supposed to say we can call you Night, which I’m not going to do, by the way,” Bee said flippantly and starting to study where her nails would be if she didn’t have gloves on.  “Otherwise it really doesn’t work.”

“Bee!” Ladybug lightly chastised.  She turned to Night… Wing… Nightwing!  She wasn’t calling him Night either.  “Sorry about her.  I’d say she’s just tired, but that would be a lie.”  She ignored Bee’s scoff and continued.  “You said ‘first’, so I assume there’s a second?” she prompted.

“Right, right,” he nodded, finally seeming to settle a bit, his face becoming a bit more determined and the ‘charming’ smile returning.  “I wanted to ask you about someone.  She gave your name as a reference and I just wanted to see if it was someone we could trust.”

Bee leaned over to Ladybug’s ear.  “Why does he keep smiling like that?” she asked in a normal volume.  She shivered dramatically.  “Creepy.”

Ladybug pursed her lips to stop the noise that wanted to escape, some kind of a combination of frustrated whimper and raucous laugh.  “Okay,” Ladybug smiled tightly, focusing entirely on Nightwing. “Who was it?”

“Yeah, a name would be useful here, Smile Boy” Bee added in.  “Or we could just give our opinion on everyone we know, along with a fashion critique.  We can start with your costume history.”

“Bee, didn’t you have something else to do?  Right now?” Ladybug’s voice was sharper than an obsidian edge.  This was her boyfriend’s… future boyfriend’s?... love interest’s?  Yes, love interest’s brother.  She did not need to piss him off while he was asking her as a ‘reliable source’ about her.

“Nope,” Bee smirked back.

Ladybug groaned and turned to Nightwing.  She nodded off to the side.  “Should we…”

Nightwing nodded and followed her over.  “Ugh, whatever.  I didn’t want to hear anyway,” Bee grumbled and walked to get coffee.

“So, the woman I’m asking about is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.  You may have come across her in Paris?” Nightwing prompted.

Ladybug nodded.  “I have yeah. She’s actually…”  She bit her lip.  She really should have planned this better.  How much should she tell him?  Clearly she wasn’t going to say it was her, but maybe she could say she was a part time hero?  Or maybe she could just say they trusted her.  The point was whether she could be trusted with their identities so maybe exposing her identity, one of them anyway, wasn’t the best idea.  Maybe just that she knew their identities and had never told anyone?  That should work, right?  She just had to…

“It’s just,” Nightwing spoke up misinterpreting her silence, “my brother has kind of fallen for her.”  He watched her face carefully when he said it to see if there was any indication of what she thought of the idea.

Ladybug’s eyes bugged out.  That was not the approach she had been expecting.  She thought he’d focus more on the identity aspect more than the personal aspect.  Not to mention ‘fallen’?  That was… they’d only just met.  She knew he liked her but fallen was pretty strong.  Did Jason really feel that way toward her or was Dick… Nightwing just exaggerating?  And she didn’t even think Jason had told him they were seeing each other, let alone how he felt about her!  She looked up and met his expectant eyes.  Oh right, he was waiting on her to respond.  But how did she respond to that?  “Oh?”  Very eloquent.  Her eloquence was clearly not improving around the bats.

His face scrunched as he studied her reaction.  It was definitely odd.  “Yeah. It’s kind of bizarre really.  Not to say anything bad about Marinette,” he rushed to assure her.  “I don’t know her well enough to judge her, obviously.  That’s why I’m here asking you about her.  But he’s really taken with her really quickly.  I’ve never seen him like this.”  He suddenly stopped and his eyes blew wide.  “Oh God!  Don’t tell her that.  Jason’ll kill me if he finds out.”

“Oh… um…” she looked away suddenly trying to hide her sudden blush and searched for a way to answer.

“Oh my god, y… Dupain-Cheng bagged another hero?” Bee exclaimed slapping Ladybug on the shoulder with her elbow and handing her one of the cups in her hands.

“Bee!” Ladybug exclaimed.  “I thought you didn’t care!  What are you doing here?”

“This is the thanks I get after bringing you tea?” she scoffed in pretend offence.

Ladybug rolled her eyes and let out a long suffering sigh.  “This is just water.”  She brought the cup to her lips.  “Not even hot water!  You brought me a cup of tepid water.”

“Oh my God, can’t you just be grateful I thought about bringing you tea?” Bee exclaimed, exasperation clear in her tone.

Ladybug gave her a deadpan expression.  “Did you though?”

“No, not really,” she shrugged.  “Let’s get back to Dupain-Cheng somehow managing to entice yet another hero though,” she continued, malicious glee sparkling in her eyes.

Ladybug’s mouth dropped in offense.  “She does not date a lot of heroes,” she rushed to assure Nightwing. “Only the one, really…”  She paused and looked at who she was talking to and her eyes widened in realization.  “… not that there’s anything wrong with dating a lot of superheroes… if that’s… um… what you want to do,” she finished weakly.

Bee snickered at the flustered cover-up.  “Yeah, she’s not like some heroes that date everyone they shake hands with.”

Nightwing gave an offended scoff.  “I have not dated that many people… or heroes.”

Bee scoffed.  “Maybe not that are officially sanctioned by the JL.”

“We didn’t say that you did,” Ladybug promised, “did we Bee?” she hissed at Bee through gritted teeth.  “And even if you had, there’s nothing wrong with that.  Right, Bee?  Because there’s nothing wrong with dating around.  Is there?”

“No,” Bee groused.  She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted for a moment before the pout became a vicious grin.  “Yeah, sure, we can stop talking about his dating history.  So, anyway, back to Dupain-Cheng…”

“Oh fu… I can’t believe I walked right into that,” Ladybug grumbled into her hands.

“It may be just the one she actually dated.  The rest just have wet dreams about her.”  She smirked at her.

“Bee!” Ladybug exclaimed her cheeks rapidly turning a dark scarlet.

“Relax, I know you and Dupain-Cheng have a… unique relationship, but that doesn’t change facts.  And pretending like she isn’t getting lusty looks from other people doesn’t change it either.”  Bee rolled her eyes and took a sip of her coffee.  The cup wasn’t nearly big enough to hide her widening smirk.  “You’re just going to have to suck it up.”

Nightwing perked up at that comment.  Well, that was an interesting tidbit.  “So you must know Marinette very well considering you know her dating history so well.”

Ladybug nodded while still glaring at Bee.  “Yes.  You could say that.  We know each other rather well.”

“Extremely well,” Bee agreed, her grin getting even sharper.  “I’ve known her since we were children but Ladybug still knows her much more intimately than I do.  Why don’t you tell him about her?”

“And I would trust her,” Ladybug continued over Bee.  “I have trusted her with a lot, both in and out of the suit.”

Bee cackled at the answer “Yeah LB do tell.  Go on about her amazing attributes.  Tell us all about her.”

“Bee,” Ladybug whined, her cheeks heating up.  Nightwing observed the interaction with a raised eyebrow.

“Come on, he’s going to think you don’t like Dupain-Cheng,” Bee teased.

“What! No!”  Ladybug straightened quickly, her eyes going wide.  “I do!  I like Dup… Marinette,” she glared quickly at Bee before she whipped back to face Nightwing with wide eyes.  “She’s great! She’s ama… She’s…” she faltered.  This was so awkward.  If she and Jason ended up getting serious, Nightwing was eventually going to know who she was and remember what she said here and if she overplayed it, he’d think she was pompous and hate her.  Then his whole family would hate her and Jason would break up with her because his family would convince him she was a terrible influence.

But! But if she wasn’t complimentary enough he’d think she didn’t like… herself and that she wasn’t trustworthy. Then he would convince Jason that it was a mistake to be with her and he’d break up with her because he’d trust his family’s word over hers and think she wasn’t a good person and deserved to be miserable.  She looked back up at Nightwing with a sigh.  “She’s a good person.  She deserves to be happy.”

Nightwing stared into her eyes for a few moments as if trying to read a part of her soul.  Finally, his eyes softened to a more sympathetic glint.  “I was worried about her knowing our identities but I’m mostly worried about him.  He’s been through a lot and he can be pretty hot and cold because of it and I just…”

Ladybug’s eyes softened too.  She looked down for a moment trying to figure out how to word her response.  “She’s… Marinette’s pretty understanding.  She’s had to deal with that before and it didn’t work then but… I don’t think that was on her…”  She pursed her lips and looked down while the memories washed over her. When she looked back up there was a bittersweet look in her eyes.  “She fights for the people she loves.  She puts effort in.  If you’re asking if I would trust her with an identity, I have before and she’s never let me down.  If you’re asking me if I would trust her with your brother’s heart, I would.  Whether it works out with him or not, she’ll still be there for him.  She’ll do everything in her power to protect it.  If you trust me, you can trust her.”

Nightwing reached out and squeezed her shoulder.  “Thank you.  This has been very helpful.  I’m sorry if I brought up any bad memories.”

Ladybug shook her head.  “No, it’s fine.  I hope I made you feel less worried about her.”

Nightwing nodded.  “You did. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome,” Bee interjected loudly.  “Even though you didn’t ask me my opinion.”

“Sorry.  I hadn’t been given your name as a reference,” Nightwing said with only the tiniest touch of condescension.  

“I grew up with her,” Bee scoffed.  “And even though you didn’t ask, I’ll tell you my opinion anyway.”

“Bee…” Ladybug started, but her voice was tired.

“I don’t know who your brother is, but whoever he is…”  Ladybug sighed deeply and dropped her head.  “…he isn’t good enough for her.”  Ladybug’s head snapped up and her jaw dropped.

“Are you… are you admitting you like m… Marinette?”  Ladybug gaped.

“Relax, I’m not like hitting on her or anything.  I’m just...  Shut up.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away with a pout.  After a few seconds she looked back at Ladybug from the corner of her eye and rolled her eyes.  “Close your mouth, LB.  There probably aren’t flies here to fly in, but Beast Boy could always be transformed as a fly for whatever ridiculous reason and if you swallow him we can’t go on our date.”  

“You’re dating Beast Boy?  When did that happen?” Ladybug exclaimed.

Bee grabbed Ladybug’s arm and tugged her back in the direction they had been heading originally.  “I was trying to tell you before we were so rudely interrupted.”

Nightwing watched them walk away with a smile and a small wave.  That was a lot to take in, but at least now he knew she was trustworthy.

<><><><><> 

Marinette had just gotten home and immediately collapsed into her bed after an extremely long and wearing day when he heard an incessant pounding at the door that wouldn't stop.  “What the hell,” she groaned.  She pushed herself off the bed with a great deal of effort and shuffled to the front door. “Somebody better be about to die,” she grumbled to herself, “or someone’s going to be.”  She looked through the peep hole to see a frantic looking Jason. 

She whipped open the door for him.  “Jason! Are you okay?”  She reached to check him over to assure herself he was okay.

Jason stared at her for just a second.  “Dick just… He said… You slept with Ladybug!  She’s the one you dated?” he yelled.

Marinette blinked at him a few times trying to take in what he just said.  “What!?”

Continued in Truth so Cold

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver @ashbrea381writings

[secndlife]

[3:05am]

“We get an air mattress?” Soonyoung asked, staring at the sleeping arrangements Doki had set up for the two of you. You were all staying the night after celebrating their latest milestone: a million subscribers.

You elbowed your boyfriend’s side, a giggle escaping you while he whined.

Doki rolled their eyes, “Yes.”

“Why do Seokmin and Krys get the nice room?” He asked, voice changing in protest. To be fair, it was a good mattress, he just enjoyed annoying Doki more than he probably should. Especially as they could intimidate him in less than a minute if they wanted to.

You sighed, “You just had to ask.” You knew what was coming.

“Because you two fucked in my bathroom,” Doki explained calmly while handing you the extra pillows and covers. Soonyoung didn’t drink much that night, but he moved around too much when he was even slightly tipsy, so you liked to have extras around just in case.

“Get over it, that was last year!”

You placed the bedding at the bottom of the mattress and watched as the both of them bickered, head still a little lightweight from all the drinks you had consumed throughout the night.

Your friend shrugged, “Don’t care, and I’m trying to avoid it happening again.”

“We’re not fucking,” you stated after yawning. You were too tired and too scared of the consequences.

Soonyoung pouted, “We’re not?” He was absolutely insane.

“Do you want to be banned from this loft?” Doki’s tone was serious, and his eyes immediately widened. They were joking, but their face game was too strong, making everything a little too believable.

They were joking, right?

You raised your hands in defense, “I didn’t say anything.”

Your boyfriend stared at you in disbelief, “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

“Not when you’re literally trying to make us personae non gratae.”

Doki let out a long breath, clearly being too tired to deal with this. “The mattress makes a lot of noise if you move too much, and the walls are green.”

Soonyoung’s eyebrows furrowed, “I got the mattress reference, but what does the color of the wall have to do with anything? Is this because she hates green?”

They nodded, “Yes.” You snorted at your friend’s desperate attempt to ensure no action would take place tonight. At least in that room. Another sigh. “Anyway, please behave, children.”

“I’m not a child,” you said, arms now crossed in front of your chest.

“I am,” your boyfriend opposed. “I’ll behave, mom.” His tone made you want to laugh, being well aware of the fact that he was just trying to push Doki’s buttons.

They pursed their lips in disgust, “Ew.” They gave Soonyoung one last stare before walking out and closing the door behind them with not so much of a good night.

You looked at him, the smile you tried so hard to hold back finding its way into your features. “You’re crazy.”

He shot you a wink, face displaying all the pride in the world, “I know.”

You shook your head and turned to the table where your bag was placed, reaching for your face cream. You were both all set to bed, the only missing step was a bit of moisturizer. Soonyoung positioned himself in front of you, hands pushing his hair back slightly to make sure it was out of your way.

You smiled softly at him, fingers moving gently against his features. His cheeks were painted red and that made him look that much more adorable. When you were done, you leaned in and gave him a small peck. You would never get enough of his taste.

“Thanks,” Soonyoung said, lips still curved upwards. You nodded, taking some of the cream for your own face while your boyfriend moved towards the mattress.

Once you were all set, you turned off the lights and proceeded to adjust yourself by Soonyoung’s chest, humming in content at the sound of his heartbeat.

Theoretically, you were ready to fall asleep. You were warm, tired, and in that drunken state where you don’t actually feel tipsy, but ready for some good sleep instead. Still, one of the conversations you had earlier with Doki made its way into your head again, and you wondered how that thought never occurred to you before. You wondered how you let that go when it was brought up earlier.

Soonyoung was quick to notice. “What?”

“What what?” You tried to brush it off. It was nothing. Something meaningless now, considering how much you both meant to each other already.

He scoffed, “Don’t what what me, miss.” It was almost as if he was scolding you. “Whatcha thinking?”

You were too transparent.

Before you could respond, he spoke again, “No, let me guess.” You hummed in agreement, and he continued, “You’re still thinking about what Doki said to me when they set us up.”

He knew you too well.

You laughed faintly, and he mirrored you, your head moving alongside his chest. “Babe.”

“What?”

“Nothing, really?” You inquired. “You didn’t ask Doki a single thing about me? You just took my number and that was it?”

Soonyoung nodded, “Yeah. I mean, what was I supposed to ask?”

You looked up at him, “I don’t know? My age? Or what do I do for a living? Or if I’m funny? Or nice?”

“I was gonna figure that all out on our date, so why should I have asked Doki?”

He wasn’t wrong. But it was still mind-blowing to you how he needed no incentive nor reassurance before agreeing to be set up on a blind date with you almost a year ago by someone he had just met, while you practically didn’t agree to it, even after asking Doki a million questions about him.

“What if I was a bitch?”

A smirk formed on his lips, “You can be one sometimes.” You pinched his waist and he whined. “I’m kidding.”

“Soonyoung.” The way his name left your lips was barely comprehensible from the amount of dissatisfaction in your tone.

You pouted and he kissed your forehead. “You’re not, I promise.” After a couple of seconds of comfortable silence, he resumed the conversation, “But yeah, I didn’t ask anything.”

“Why though?” This made absolutely no sense to you, your initial interrogatory to Doki about him still fresh in your mind and being considered, up until now, the only possible way that someone would go about a situation like this.

He laughed again, understanding that he’d probably just have to explain his easygoing mindset over and over until you understood that he wasn’t the type of person that needed much convincing to try new things, especially in situations where he had nothing to lose. Overthinking was not a good look on him. That was your thing.

“I didn’t feel like I had to.” Simple. “Saw your picture, thought you were cute, and that was enough.”

“Babe.”

“What?”

“How?”

Soonyoung let out a breath, arms pulling you closer to him in an attempt to offer you some comfort. “Just like that.”

You clicked your tongue. Unbelievable. “So did you just agree to go on random dates like that?”

“Kind of?” There wasn’t anything wrong with that, especially as, back then, he was single, and he liked to have a good time. He couldn’t think of a single reason not to go about things like that.

“But—”

“No, listen,” Soonyoung interrupted, almost running out of ways to reason with you, and lifting your head so he could properly see you, even though the room was almost pitch black. “Worst-case scenario, I was going to go on a bad date. Best-case scenario, I was going to find the love of my life,” his eyes turned into crescents from how big he smiled, “and we both know what happened here.”

He knew it. Simple.

You felt your heart skipping a beat at his words. Again, unbelievable. A different unbelievable, though. The type of unbelievable that makes you dizzy and giddy and unable to form a proper response. So you just went for a joke. “A bad date you can’t get rid of?”

Soonyoung couldn’t hold back a giggle, “Wrong.” He kissed the tip of your nose, hoping this would be enough to close the topic.

“I guess we’re just different,” you concluded after giving it another thought.

And, looking into it more, it was almost comforting to understand that he was that type of person.

No hesitation. Nothing to lose. No regrets.

“And that’s why we work out so well,” he stated, confidently. You couldn’t disagree. “Satisfied?”

You chuckled, “Yeah.”

He sighed in relief, “Good.”

You rested your head back in his chest, and he placed a kiss at the top of your head, fingers moving aimlessly against your back.

Not long after, you called out for him again, voice barely a whisper, “Soo?” He did nothing but hum, eyes already closed. “You really think I’m the love of your life?”

You probably shouldn’t have asked him that, and you wished you could swallow the words back in.

Instant regret.

Another small laugh escaped him and, as simple as that, Soonyoung let the words roll out of his lips.

No regrets.

“No, I know you are.”

a/n: SURPRISE! yes another mmf timestamp (as i can't seem to work on the sequel) to warm up those who miss this universe hehe i think this will make slightly more sense if you read happy ending as the conversation about the couple being set up happens there (with names as y'all aware this is a self insert ! and as that's from doki's perspective, my name's mentioned). anyway. i believe it stands alone too but i 100000% recommend reading happy ending as it's amazing as everything @bbugyu write. ANYWAY! yeah! i personally think this is really cute !!! so enjoy babes and, as always, my askbox is always open mwah!!!!

[engie-ivy]

If searching for non-existent signs that Sirius might fancy him, is all Remus has to do to get Lily to drop her crazy theory, then so be it.

Read Part One here!

Read Part Three here!

Read The Final Part here!

Get What He's Saying: Part Two

Remus drops down on the couch next to Lily holding a cup of tea.

“Potter just left for Quidditch practice in quite a state,” Lily says. “Was he still mad about me going to Hogsmeade with Chase Danes?”

“Hmm? Oh, no. I think he’s over it. He’s actually going with Hestia Jones.”

“Oh.” Lily presses her lips in a tight line. “Well, good for him. What was he getting himself worked up for now, then?”

“I guess that’s my fault,” Remus sighs. “We had this weird conversation, and I think he got upset because I didn’t believe the stuff he was telling me.”

“What did he say?”

“Oh, he was all like ‘Moony, someone told me he fancies you, and it’s serious and you should-’”

Lily lets out a shriek and bolts upright, staring at Remus with a hand covering her mouth. “Merlin’s beard, Remus! Why didn’t you say so immediately? This is huge! Potter confided in you that Black fancies you? I knew it! I just knew it! How can you be so calm about this?”

Remus blinks at her for a moment. “What? Oh. Oh! No, Lily, no. Merlin, no. Why would you even think- Serious, Lily! As in not joking.”

“Oooh.” Lily sags back on the couch. For a moment, she looks disappointed, but then she starts laughing. “I’m sorry! I totally thought you meant it was Sirius! Really, that boy’s name!”

Remus shakes his head at her, while Lily, still laughing, wipes some tears from her eyes. “Remus, Remus, Remus,” she says. “Getting my hopes up for nothing.”

“Its not my fault you’d jump to such a ridiculous conclusion!” Remus says defensively. “How can that be- Wait. Hopes up? How so hopes up? And what the hell did you mean with ‘I knew it’?”

Lily shrugs. “‘I knew it’ is probably too strong a phrase. More like, I suspected it? Or at least I thought about the possibility before.”

Remus, who has never considered it as a possibility, gapes at her. “Why?” Is all he manages to say.

“I’m not sure,” Lily replies, looking at him thoughtfully. “He’s just... different when he’s around you. More grounded, somehow.”

“Well,” Remus mutters. “We’re best friends. Would be strange if he didn’t feel comfortable around me.”

“No,” Lily says in the same contemplating tone. “It’s different. Different than when he’s with Potter. When you two are together, it’s like... puzzle pieces falling into place.”

Remus can only stare at her. If only. If only he could be Sirius’ missing puzzle piece. But if Sirius’ puzzle is some bright, sunny landscape, Remus is a dreary raincloud that has no business being there.

Lily smiles sheepishly at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t really know how else to phrase it.”

“Phrase it however you like,” Remus says. “I’m not going to let myself believe such fancies. It’ll only lead to disappointment.”

“Oh?” Lily smirks. “So you’d be disappointed if Black would turn out to not fancy you?”

Remus clenches his jaw. “It. Doesn’t. Matter.”

“Anyways,” Lily chuckles. “Good thing you didn’t misunderstand when Potter told you! That would’ve made for an awkward conversation.”

“The thought didn’t even cross my mind,” Remus responds. “I’d never get such an idea in my head. He’s clearly way out of my league.”

Lily opens her mouth to protest, but Remus beats her to it. “No, Lily. Don’t try to boost my confidence. ‘Remus, you’re not in a different league, you could date someone like Sirius’. James already gave me that speech. He even said I could ‘date someone exactly like Sirius’.” Remus rolls his eyes. “Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

“Remus...”

“And the conversation was awkward enough without misunderstandings. He kept repeating ‘it’s serious’, while giving me these weird, intense looks. Like, what can I even do with that information if he won’t tell me who it was? But when I asked, instead of answering, he just repeated ‘it’s serious’ again.”

“Remus.”

“And even if James meant it, the person who told him could’ve very well been messing with him. James can tell me this person was serious all he wants, but how can he be sure? I mean-”

“Remus!”

“What?”

“Remus! Bloody hell, Remus!”

“Yes, Lily what?”

“Remus, for Godric’s sake, Remus. You bloody idiot!”

“What, Lily? What am I missing?”

“I’ll tell you what you’re missing, you bloody oaf!” Lily crosses her arms over her chest, giving Remus a firm stare. “You’re missing the whole bloody fact that Potter looked you right in the eyes and told you Black totally fancies you!”

“He... What?” Remus chokes. “What in Merlin’s name are you talking about?”

Lily sniffs. “From what I gather, he wasn’t even very subtle about it.”

“No, Lily. No.” Remus shakes his head. “I really think I would’ve noticed!”

Lily raises an eyebrow. “Do you, Remus? Do you really?”

“You weren’t even there,” Remus mutters.

“Alright, alright.” Lily throws up her hands. “So he didn’t consequently phrase it as ‘it’s serious’ and ‘this person was serious’, and never anything like ‘I’m serious’ or ‘it’s for real’?”

“Well, yeah, he did, but-”

“And wasn’t he throwing you meaningful, emphatic looks every time he said that?”

“He was, but that doesn’t necessarily mean-”

“Come on, Remus! He was sending you a message, you must acknowledge that!”

“Lily, please,” Remus says pleading. “I can’t afford to hope. Hope... is dangerous.”

Lily’s face softens. “Remus, I don’t expect you to run up to him right now and declare your undying love. Although I do think that would be the right course of action,” she adds with a stern look. “But nevertheless, you shouldn’t let fear stop you! Just... try to at least open up to the possibility. Keep your eyes open the upcoming time, for any signs he might actually like you. That’s all I ask.”

Remus sighs. “Fine. I will.”

Lily stares at him for a moment. “Nope,” she then says. “No. Nope. No, you’re not getting away with it that easily. Knowing you, Black could be wearing an ‘I love Remus Lupin’ shirt tomorrow and sit down on you lap at breakfast, and you’d go ‘ah, such an affectionate friend’.”

Remus rolls his eyes, but Lily ignores him and picks up a quill and a piece of parchment. “I’m going to make you a list of specific signs you need to keep an eye out for! Number One,” she says. “Looking at you often.”

“We are best friends,” Remus says dryly. “We do tend to look at each other occasionally.”

“You know what I mean!” Lily says, but still she adds “Looking at you often, while you aren’t talking, or doing anything interesting, so when he has no reason to be looking at you. Let’s see, what else?” She taps the quill against her chin, before bending over the parchment again. “Number Two. Blushing/biting his lip/doing that thing were he tilts his head downwards and looks up at you through his lashes while interacting with you.”

Ah, yes. That thing. Remus definitely knows that thing. Not that he has ever thought Sirius does that around him in particular.

“Number Three,” Lily continues. “Giving you loads of compliments.”

Remus crosses his arms over his chest. “He only says he likes my sweaters to have an excuse to feel how soft they are!”

“Number Four,” Lily says pointedly, while looking at Remus unwaveringly. “Making up excuses to touch you.”

Remus huffs, and looks away.

Lily taps her quill in thought again. “Oh, right! Number Five. Acting extremely jealous when other people flirt with you.”

“How the hell am I supposed to check that?” Remus asks. “It’s not like people flirt with me every day! Or any day for that matter.”

“Well, I could-”

“Oh no, Lily! Don’t you dare! James’ sad deer-eyes are heart-breaking enough without knowing I caused them.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind that much,” Lily mutters.

Remus looks at Lily, then down at the list, and then back up at Lily. “Well, hello kettle. Nice to meet you. My name is pot.”

“I’ll think of something else,” Lily says irritably. “Let’s stick to these five signs for now, starting tomorrow at breakfast. If by the end of the week you haven’t seen any of them, I’ll drop it, but if you do manage to catch a few, you have to start seeing it as a serious option. Or as Potter would say, a Sirius option.”

“Fine,” Remus says, taking the list from Lily. “If that’s what it takes to get you to drop it.”

The next morning, Remus sits down at the breakfast table in his usual seat next to Sirius, across from James and Peter. James is rambling on about some new Quidditch strategy he wants to try out, and Peter is pretending to understand and trying to ask questions that don’t sound too dumb.

As Remus reaches for the porridge, he notices Mary McDonald batting her eyes at him. At first, he frowns at her. Does she have something in her eye, or is she trying to get his attention? Is she sending him a message in Morse code or something? Her finger is twirling in her dark hair so fast, that Remus is worried it might get stuck in there. Then Lily leans over and whispers something in Mary’s ear, and Remus understands. So this is Lily’s ‘thinking of something else’ for the last point om her list.

Remus groans under his breath, but decides that he might as well get started keeping his end of the deal. He turns to Sirius, and startles when he finds Sirius, head resting on his hand, staring right at him.

Sirius, also startled, jerks his head up when he suddenly meets Remus’ gaze. Remus wouldn’t consider blushing as something Sirius Black does, but the colour on his cheeks having been caught staring is definitely red. Sirius bites his lip, and tilts his head downwards, before looking up at Remus through his lashes. “I... Erm, I was just wondering if that’s a new jumper you’re wearing?”

“Eh, no. No, it’s not.”

“Well, in any case, I like it.” Sirius gives him a small smile. “I like how it looks on you. The colour really brings out your eyes.” Sirius chuckles as he reaches out and gently brushes Remus’ hair from his eyes. “If you don’t let that floppy hair of yours cover them completely, as adorable as those curls are.”

While Remus is struggling to form a reply that makes more sense than his first urge to promise Sirius he’ll never wear anything else ever again, another voice demands his attention.

“Rrrrrremus!” Mary makes the R sound like a purr. She has walked up to him and is now standing right behind the bench where he’s sitting, leaning in close over his shoulder so she can directly speak into his ear. Really, if she’s going to lean over like that, she should button up her blouse a bit more. Poor Peter nearly chokes on his toast.

“You’re so good at DADA. I was wondering if you have time after classes for some tutoring? I could really use some practice with my wand work.”

“Eh...” Remus once again struggles to form a reply. If she really needs help it’ll be rude refuse, right? Or is it part of Lily’s scheme? And if it is, would Lily want him to refuse or agree?

Before he can say anything though, Sirius speaks up, his cold gaze intently focused on Mary. “He can’t,” he says in an icy voice. “Remus is already working on his Potions Paper after class, with me.”

Remus doesn’t recall making such plans, but they do have a Potions Paper due, and Remus does desperately need Sirius’ help when it comes to Potions, so he just nods.

“Oh, booo,” Mary pouts prettily. “Better luck next time, I suppose.”

She turns around and walks out of the Great Hall, swaying in such a manner Remus worries she might dislocate a hip. Boys all over the Great Hall hang out of their seats to watch her go, but Remus is pretty sure that Sirius is the only one who’s glaring daggers.

Even though he only started keeping an eye out five minutes ago, Remus goes over the signs on the list in his head.

Well, fuck.

Part One

Part Three

The Final Part

[80s4life]

The Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing

Word Count: 4,438

Status: Not Requested

Fandom: Back To The Future 1985

Relationship: Biff Tannen x Female Reader

Summary: As time is altered for a total of 2 weeks (I extended it slightly), you and Marty struggle to get his parents under control, having problem after the next. But, when an unexpected solution occurs, you find yourself willingly okay with it, soon finding the exact reason as to why.

Warnings: language, fluff, Biff being a dick, slight angst, cute Biff

Masterlist Back To The Future Masterlist

Prompts: (from this list @youneedsomeprompts​)

Y/C/S= Your Choice of Sport/ Your Chosen Sport (you don’t have to honestly play one, just choose one you like or one that comes to mind)

{gif and prompts are not mine, gif credits go to @backtothefuturemovies and credits were given above for prompts!}

No one ever said time travel was fun. No one ever said the job was easy. And no one sure as hell told you the consequences that come with it. Well, at least not before you, and your best friend, Marty McFly, had gone dead-on through a barn, sacred a neighboring family of ‘alien invasion,’ run into younger McFly parents, and altered time just enough to fuck you over for a few days.

I mean, who would’ve guessed right? Your mom just so happens to be romantically interested in you, their child. Well, that was at least in Marty’s case. For you, you had just managed to run into the biggest dickhead of the century, Biff Tannen. Or so you thought?

Making your way out of bed, you automatically go to where Marty was sleeping in the garage, waking him along with Doc up. The go-to plan for the day was to go undercover as usual students in the 50′s, secretly following Marty’s parents around, finding out where they lie in this part of time, and try to find ways into manipulating them together once more in time for Marty and you to get back home. Easy enough, right?

Groaning, Marty goes to slap your hands away weakly, mumbling something along the lines of ‘Just a few more minutes.’ You giggle slapping his hands back in an attempt to wake him up cheerily. Mornings weren’t really your forte either, so any upbeat wake-up is better than a pissy, tired, horrible morning. 

Doc, on the other hand, was happy to return the affection, getting out of bed to give a quick hug and kiss to the forehead. Then he makes his way over to the bed, going to tickle Marty’s feet as you go to tickle his sides. Finally, in a fit of laughter, Marty gets up and goes straight for the bathroom. You were going to argue him, having to use the bathroom first, but decide to just leave it be, heading for the makeshift kitchen instead.

You smile fondly as Doc and Marty play around a while later, wrestling about, cracking jokes. It was only just a few hours ago that you and Marty had witnessed the untimely death of the currently very lively man in the house. Witnessing the blood loss, the machine gun in action, and the bullets that whizzed pass with only one malicious intent: to kill. But he’s here now; he’s safe and sound, having many years until that date will arrive.

With the freshly cooked smell of eggs, toast, and pancakes, the boys straighten up, Doc clearing his throat in an attempt to organize himself, and Marty leaving his shirt ruffled as he follows the smell of deliciousness. You giggle as both men of different ages act exactly the same, piling their plates high and digging in, giving thanks through mouthfuls.

///LATER///

After breakfast had finished, you and Marty made your way to the school, not wanting to be late, and, quite frankly, not wanting to miss a second in the disaster we’re in, wanting to fix it as soon as possible. Upon entering, the building erupts in laughter, tears, screaming, perfume, cologne, aftershave, and lots and lots of both testosterone and estrogen. Fucking high school, you smile.

Going to “your locker” right besides “Marty’s,” you both place the books and supplies that are unneeded inside it and take only the things you need for the first two classes, somehow having those together. As Marty catches glimpse of his father, George McFly, he winks at you, moving to catch up to him. Rolling your eyes playfully, you turn back towards your locker, just barely missing a group of young men some ways down the hallway, locking eyes with a particularly taller man, towering almost everyone in the halls.

You pay no mind, however, being blindsided by three girls your age. Instantly, you recognize the one right in front as Lorraine, Marty’s mother. Smiling nervously, your cheeks tint only a little, being unprepared to see her so quickly, not yet having a plan made up on how you could help tackle the situation with Marty.

“Hiya! I’ve never seen you before, are you new here? I’m Lorraine Baines, and you are?” she asks cheerfully, her books clasped tightly to her chest.

Taking an obnoxiously long time staring dumbfounded, you finally realize you haven’t spoken, quickly recovering with newfound purpose and confidence, “Ah, yes! I am new here! Sorry, I’m just trying to get used to this place a tiny bit. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Well that’s quite alright, you can come with us!” she says once more in a cheery tone, taking you by the arm and lacing her arm around yours, locked elbows. You smiled, knowing exactly where Marty’s cheerful and people-person nature had come from. Walking down the halls, she had asked for my schedule, checking classes to see what we had together, “English, History, and Agriculture- Hey! You should try out for cheer leading!” 

Shaking your head lightly, “Nah, I’m more of a Y/C/S myself to be frank.”

“But...We don’t have that sport here? There are no girls sports at all actually...” Lorraine says confused. You go to cover it up, choosing to say it was a sport you play for fun at home, in the backyard. However, a beefy arm separates you momentarily from her, as the owner of the harm moves to pin her to the lockers.

You were going to walk away, figuring it was some sort of make-out session in the works, but upon looking at her before going, you notice that the man was absurdly unwanted. 

“Get your meathooks off me Biff!” she screams at the man, his huge form towering her much smaller one. Not taking the message, the pair continue to squabble, neither of them being successful in winning. The warning bell sounds over the halls and classrooms, alarming kids to get their asses moving, but it seems whoever this dick is, he feels he is greater than the school, and god forbid, knowledge.

“Hey, you do realize your not making a damn bit a difference, right? She’s not interested! And, quite frankly, it seems as if no one does! Now, if you don’t mind, could you please be kind enough to unhand her as some of us treasure a piece of mind and how to take a hint?” you finish, quite ticked off as the last bell warns, cursing under your breath as you already know your in for detention on the first day.

It finally seems that he’d caught a grip, thankfully, letting go of Lorraine’s arm and she quickly scurries out of his proximity, taking your hand to lead you to the class you both needed to be in. As you go to walk in, you are stopped by the teacher, scolding both you and Lorraine. Looking at her regrettably, she smiles defeated. So you decide to do what’s right, take the fall.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t know where to go as I was trying to find where all of my classes were before I ended up lost every time classes switch. I caught up to Lorraine here at some point, and as she was hurrying to this class, she was kind enough to show me where I needed to be,” you finish, sighing guiltily.

“Well, as you’ve taken acknowledgment to your mistake, then you’d be just as happy with detention. After school, on Friday, as the first week is extremely busy. As for you, Miss Baines, thank you for your help. You are off the hook for now,” the older gentleman finishes, nodding to each of you personally before turning around and beginning just one of the classes you’d have today. This is going to be fun!

///LATER///

Finally, after grueling hours of just a few of your classes, lunchtime had came round, giving you a slight break. Catching sight of Lorraine, you smile and wave, going in the direction of Marty, or Calvin Klein, as you’d heard Lorraine go on and on about. You’d known it was him the second she’d said it, the brand not yet known to man yet; or at least in this timeline, it wasn’t.

As time had went on, it was only natural for the peace to be broken, as a newly familiar face was starting to appear more and more, Biff Tannen, as you’d known his name by now. But, instead of heading towards Lorraine, he makes his way over to the table you were residing with George and Marty, sitting himself right beside you. 

At first, you were trying to ignore him, knowing his presence was there, but keeping your eyes trained on either Marty or George, eyes dancing between the two. Biff, being the everlasting child he was, tried to catch you attention, trying stupid ass things after the other: kicking your shins, pulling your ears of hair, flicking your head, and even trying to tug on the 50′s style dress you’d been forced to wear to play your part. 

Only when he goes to tug your hair once more is when you finally snap, turning a furious glare to the hulking figure beside you, shoving his shoulder in a feeble attempt to create distance. He giggles at this, his body not moving an inch at all. “You can’t be serious right now! You don’t know when to quit it, do you?!” you scream, fed up with his shit.

“Well, if you’d give me the human decency of turning your head when I’m trying to talk to you, then I wouldn’t have to pester you, now would I?” he asks in a teasing tone, no doubt taunting you, but all you do is stare him down, getting lost in a staring contest, daring him to say something again. “Alls I wanted to say was that we have detention together. Just thought I’d let you know since you got me in all that trouble this morning.”  

“Why you-!” And with that, he gets up with a shit-eating grin plastered to his face, prancing out of view and back to the table he and his gang usually sit. Watching the whole interaction, George smirks at Marty, the pair giving an unspoken mutual agreement to whatever they had both caught on to, bursting into fits of laughter moments later. 

“You have a longer tolerance than I do, I-I-I’ll tell you that much,” George says, his usual slight stutter back in place, Marty laughing once more. As George joins in again, you couldn’t fight it either, giving into the childish antics.

///LATER///

To say your week had gotten any better than the first day was a lie. It hadn’t gotten any better, and your meetings with Biff at lunch had only gotten all the more common and all the more infuriating. He’d made it his duty to agitate you in any ways possible, even resulting in whispering something nagging in your ear when you weren’t paying attention, usually doing something in your locker.

Either way, he was on the countdown to Friday, it being constantly on his mind, mentally counting down the days, hours, minutes, and even seconds until the two of you were locked in a room alone.

Unfortunately, that day had seemed to come way faster than you’d like, Friday rolling around quite quickly. School had finished, and you were making your way to the front office, awaiting a tiring 2 hours with only yourself and Biff as company for the time being. You hadn’t known where the room was, and instead of spending time looking for it, you gave up and looked for the office instead, the nice front desk lady leading you where you needed to go.

Upon entering the room, there was Biff in his prime, casually spread across his chair, legs crossed atop his desk nearest the windows. Sighing, you ignore him, deciding to sit on the opposite side of him, the front desk lady giving you a sympathetic smile before she closes the door behind her. You look at the wall, head turned away from him like the plague.

You knew it’d only last so long until he’d speak, the time coming way faster than you pleased. Given it was Friday, you couldn’t even do homework or even study in order to block him out as he started to blabber, running his mouth over stupid shit once more. Inhaling through your nose, and exhaling through your mouth slowly, you straighten in your seat, hands clutching the desk so tight, your fists turned white. 

“Biff, Sweetheart, Baby, Doll Face, Hun. Please. PLEASE. Shut up for five god damn seconds. I know you truly have nothing to say, so why do you insist on speaking so much?” you finally say, hands prying off the desk to turn in his direction exasperated. 

“Well, if you’d just talk to me, Shortcake, I wouldn’t have much to say at random,” he answers, copying your actions and posture. With this change in childish demeanor, you give in, laughing at him in an unexpected rush, running your hands through your hair tiredly. 

Although you hadn’t seen it, he’d smiled in satisfaction upon seeing you laugh, the glitter in your eyes much more captivating than it ever was when he looked at Lorraine. He hadn’t barely pestered her since you’d barreled into his life. It was weird, but he welcomed it with open arms. And for the first time, he learned what it was like to have an actual, clammy-handed, closed throat, warm, cheek-tinted, teenage crush. A crush that left his heartbeat loud and fast, breathing ragged and uneven, and his behavior out of character and out of his control. Lorraine was way under whatever level he’d placed you on, holding you up on a pedestal like you were the sun or sky.

Of course, you hadn’t taken notice to his antics, just thinking he was annoying. Just Biff being his notorious self. But, as you finally calm your breathing down, the giggles fading, you decide to give him a chance, knowing that sitting in silence is just going bore you. Smiling warmly, you say, “So what do you want to talk about then?” 

///LATER///

Grabbing your bag, you get out of your seat, giggling at a story Biff had told you. He follows your lead as well, getting his own as he lets out a bark of laughter at a certain part. You guys looked like idiots as you shoved each other down the halls, making your way out of the school as your detention had came to a close. Sighing as the warm sun radiated on your skin with the light, spring breeze, you stretch out any kinks the classroom chairs and desks had left. Biff watched you intently, your small body easily swallowed by his shadow beside you.

The sun was setting and it was getting late, although you weren’t concerned. The boys knew you wouldn’t be home ‘til late due to the detention you had initially despised. Now, you and Biff were side by side, walking peacefully to his car in the school’s parking lot. For once, he was quiet, great company to have. It was something else for sure, but you enjoyed it. As you came up towards Doc’s place, you’d realized that Biff had drove you home like a gentleman, too lost in the conversation to notice earlier on. 

Sheepishly, you itch the back of your neck, realizing your mistake and feeling guilty for making him walk all this way to now have to walk all the way home. “Ah- Sorry...I didn’t realize I’d dragged you all the way out here. Now you have to drive all the way back.”

“It’s no problem, really. I liked it. It’s nice to talk to someone other than the guys every now and then. And to have A female speak to me instead of screaming,” he answers, now being the one who is a bit shy.

“You do know that you bring that on yourself right?” you say teasingly, now leaning your head on your hands, propped up on the passenger side door. “Not every girl would want to kick you in the groin if you showed a little more respect, “ you finish off with a smile.

“Yeah...Yeah I know. I’ll try harder, I swear.”

“That’s all I ask,” you say with a wink, drumming your hands on the door as you take a step back, waving as you start walking down Doc’s driveway.

“Hey!” Biff calls from the car, stopping you in your tracks to turn around, facing him with a smile. “Uhm- Well- The Enchantment Under the Sea Dance is coming up next week...Would you mind being my date?” he asks, stuttering as he feels his cheeks heat up, nervous as hell.

“I’d love to!” you answer, turning back around to walk into the house. Biff does a little fist bump as he puts the car back in gear, excited for what is to come.

///

Marty was a little less than amused with this newfound knowledge once entering the door and going over the events of the day. It was only when Doc had suggested that the date with Biff would keep him away from Lorraine, giving George the freeway to attract her long enough for their True Love’s Kiss. Then, and only then, did Marty give the okay, shaking his head, but liking the fact that it’ll give George some time, being the nerd that you know and love.

///Enchantment Under the Sea Dance///

Checking yourself over in the mirror for the final time, you let out a nervous yet satisfied sigh, feeling like an absolute princess. You never minded dresses too much, although you couldn’t deny the fact that normal pair of shorts, jeans, or even leggings were your first choice. All that mattered was that you liked the dress you were wearing, it fit you; it was your favorite color, length, and strap(less) type to hold everything in.

Walking out, you grab the pair of heels to match, knowing that you couldn’t get away with sneakers in this generation, painfully grimacing at the reminder. Finally standing, you recount when you had gotten the dress just a few days ago, having gone with Lorraine and the her two friends, Babs and Betty. They were very endearing and supportive the whole time, you not having to worry about being “to picky” as they were just the same. You ended up loving the dress given that you’d taken the time without pressure.

As you walked into the main room of the garage, you heard a low whistle of Marty, Doc slapping him on the back of the head for it. Giggling, you curtsy and spin in the dress. Doc, the gentleman he always was, compliments you, “You look amazing, my dear. Let’s hope this boy deserves it, hmm?” 

As an answer, you hug him tightly, knowing that, by the end of the night, he will be nothing but a dead man at home, in a lonely, dark parking lot. Your eyes tear up just at the mere thought of it, clutching him tighter. Marty seems to be on the same wavelength, going to interrupt the moment with great urgency, trying to pass him a piece of paper.

“Marty, if this has anything that involves my future, do not. And I repeat, DO NOT try to hand it to me. Whatever happens, happens young man. That’s how the world works,” he says in a warning tone. You wanted to disagree, but you knew the truth that was laced beneath it, as if it was a punishment. You whimper instead, pulling him in tighter; Marty looking down in defeat, soon switching to anger. In the midst of it, he storms out of the garage, getting in the car to go pick up who you’d hope was Lorraine for the dance.

“Just let him go...” you start, sadness evident, “He’s just not very happy with the outcome of what the future has in store for you. Quite frankly, neither am I.”

“I’m sure whatever the outcome is, that I wanted to go with it, dear. I assure you, I’m fine,” Doc answers in a consoling tone, wiping the tears that had slipped from your eyes. You knew it was just a mask, no one wants death, but you knew he needed to go no matter how much you hated it. So you nod, not having to say much more as a honk sounds from outside.

“That’s Biff...” 

“Have a great time! Make sure the McFlys kiss!” Doc screams, following out of the garage, scolding Biff from behind you.

“Yes sir!” you scream back, saluting him as you take a seat in the passenger.

///

“You look beautiful Y/N,” Biff says after a while, finally working up the courage to speak.

“Thank you Biff. And you look handsome yourself,” you giggle, the car pulling into the lot. 

He shuts the engine, grabbing his keys from the ignition and closing the door, making his way around to you as you let yourself out to straighten yourself out. He takes your hand as he leads you to the entrance of the dance, you sighing in relief as you catch a glimpse of Marty pulling up in a car with Lorraine. Finally, you relax, grasping on Biff a little lighter and with more meaning now as you have the night to yourselves. He smiles down at you as you wrap your arm within his, something Lorraine does with you quite often.

With the party in full blast, you let loose with the music, dancing and joking around with Biff. At some point, however, he says he needs a drink and will be right back. Although, he doesn’t seem to actually come back. You’d thought you’d seen him spiking the punch just as few moments ago.

Just as you were going to in the direction of the hallways to the rest of the school, you notice Match, one of Biff’s friends, storming out of the gym through an exit. Taking your bets, you follow behind him, soon being greeted by a huge commotion of screams, all of them from familiar people. Biff was in a car with Lorraine, her dress pulled and taken off in parts. He was no doubt about to do something stupid, the fact pissing you off, saddening you in some ways as well.

The others that were screaming were also George and Marty, the pair trying to get Biff to stop before he regrets it. He doesn’t listen, unfortunately, until your voice booms over the rest, “Biff!” 

His head snaps instantly in your direction, the situation dawning on him the instant he looks at your face. You hadn’t meant to portray your emotions so clearly, but your face had shown such distraught and hurt. He lied. He had gotten over Lorraine, yet the moment she was alone, he runs right back to her.

With his momentary change of focus, George finally steps in, “You get your filthy hands off of her!” finishing with a blow to the jaw that knocks Biff off balance. 

Marty looks to you sadly, but tries to smile in cheers as George and Lorraine leave together, motioning that he was going to follow them just in case. You nod, looking down now as your play with your fingers. You didn’t know what to do now as the only reason you were really here was for Biff. You weren’t needed for Lorraine and George, you knew Marty had it.

You decide to make your way home then, as there was nothing else you could do. Dances were just drags anyway, nothing worth while. “Your just going to leave? Just like that?” asks a deep voice, his body having gotten back off the pavement and stood by the car he was pinned against.

Without turning, you answer his question with another, “Why not? There’s nothing left here for me is there?”

“And why wouldn’t there be?” Biff asks once more, no doubt ticking you off at his usual teasing tone.

“Well, let’s see. You. You asked me to the dance as your plus one. I came here as your date. We have a good time, we dance, we talk, and then you come up with an ‘Oh I need a drink’ charade, not returning. Then, I come to find my date in the parking lot, about to get his licks in on a woman he was apparently over with! So tell me, what is left here for men here, Biff?” you finish, tears pooling your eyes over the time, although you don’t let the fall, keeping them there.

He looks guilty, you can see it, but you don’t care. Your not in the wrong this time. But, as your blood starts to cool down, you do notice the look in his eyes, the change in his demeanor, and the utter remorse that has overcome him. He has his head down, fists clenched at his sides, body stock still. He doesn’t know what to do, all he knows is that he’d fucked up.

“Or was this your fabulous way of telling me that you love me?” you finally ask, eyes moving to look up at him in a teasing manner.

He hadn’t expected you to speak, head snapping up to meet your gaze in confusion. Being as you’d looked at him with a glint in your eyes, he finally lets everything click together; you’d forgiven him. His face heats up in bashfulness however, as your words resonated within him as well, hand going to itch the back of his neck again.

You giggle, walking up to him now, hands going to his collar. Pulling him down, he gazes at you in amazement, his own hands falling to rest on your waist. Then, you crash your lips to his, pulling him ever closer. It takes him a moment to get the hang of it, soon pulling you closer to himself as well. Lifting you slightly, he sets you on the hood of his car, the height difference a definite stretch for him. But he wouldn’t have it any other way, you were perfect. Just the same as he was perfect for you.

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

Trust Me -- Part 2

02/06/2021: Wow, uh, wow. This one got me. Almost started crying at the cheesy ending. I will cringe at it in precisely two months from now. Thank you guys SO much for all the positive feedback of PART 1, it really helped me finish this part. Without you guys, this would have been still sitting in my drafts. There's lowkey a bit of pressure in this actually being GOOD, so I'm sitting here with a bit of Imposter SyndromeTM and crossing everything I can cross that you guys like it. I can't tell whether I went overboard or not, though... I guess that's for you guys to tell me lmao.

Also, these commas can be pried from my very cold, extremely dead, fingers.

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! For the first time in almost ever, I'm a bit very nervous to post this -- I hope you enjoy it!!

Tagging: @marshmallow--3 // @yourlocalfrenchie // @rahdaleigh // @sofiewithat /// @iceboundstar // @mythandmagik // @itseivwhore // @pink-polarfox // @missbenzayb // @ct-5445 // @timbreavery // @dacian-assassin // @thepalaceofmelanie // @asilverraven // @huntheimpossible // @eclectic--assassin // @thehistorynut19 // @ta-ka-shi-ma // @roki3chocoa // @fandomsfanman // @le-nottibianche // @bandit-brunsmeier // @starmoji1 // @spocktheestallion // @salty-thembo // @missingfrye // @xdeimos // If you want to be tagged, let me know!!

Warnings: Lots of swearing, a bit of graphic violence, implicit mention of sexual assault (I hope it's not a spoiler to say that this does not actually happen, but the idea is used as manipulation. It's not done well, but I'm blaming that on the character being a horrible liar, instead of me sucking at write arseholes), implied character death.

Pairing: Edward Kenway x F!Reader

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The neighbouring ship was chaotic. The opponents were drunk on victory, so slipping through unnoticed was easy. The hard part was going to be staying undercover until you could free Edward and the rest of the crew without anyone falling casualty. “Strip them of their weapons and take them to the brig!” You heard the Quartermaster yell. Thinking quickly, you moved to Edward; if you knew where his weapons were, escaping could be much easier. People were already pulling out his pistols and cutlasses, fortunately dumping them in your arms. Looking around, you pulled away to hide them in an inconspicuous barrel for later.

You weren’t planning on staying long.

Quickly rejoining the group, you took hold of one of your crew members -- you recognised him as one named Jonah -- at the back of the crowd, keeping your face covered lest they accidentally reveal your identity. You kept your eye on Edward’s tense shoulders the entire time, heading below deck and to the rows of cells at the end of the ship.

As you gently pushed Jonah into the cell, someone slammed the door shut, chucking the ring of keys your way. “Lock ‘em up.” Swallowing, you nodded, feeling uncomfortable under their gaze while turning the key in the lock. Taking them out of your hands, a mop and bucket was shoved in its place. “You’re on cleaning duty, starting upstairs; let’s go.” With one last glance, your eyes scoured for Edward before they all disappeared from view.

----------

Edward

There was this crushing anxiety he just couldn’t shake. It rendered him almost motionless, crouched in the corner of the cell, picking at his sleeves. There was a commotion heading towards them; he was in for company he was not in the mood for.

Heavy footsteps gave away the visitor. “We searched your boat.” His crew parted to clear a view as Charles Marlowe relaxed against the cell bars. “We found your woman.”

Edward’s eyes snapped to Marlowe’s as he clenched his jaw, almost daring him to say more.

With a chuckle and a disgusting grin, he brought out a small knife to clean. “Don’t you want to know where she is?”

“I expect you’d would tell me regardless.”

“I would advise against winding me up, Kenway. I could always take my anger out on her instead.”

It took a second for Edward’s arms to fly through the bars, constricting around Marlowe’s throat. “What have you done with her?”

Although cold metal pressed against his jaw, he didn’t ease up.

“She’s waiting for me very nicely... in my cabin.”

Edward didn’t have to think very hard to infer his meaning.

“I’ll kill you if you touch her. I’ll kill you.” Growling, he held impossibly tighter, for if he was here, he wasn’t there.

“With your actions come consequences, Kenway. And you might not be the one paying for them.”

A dilemma came to mind: delay him to keep him away from you, or risk the consequences of his revenge?

Somewhat luckily, he didn’t need to choose.

Before Edward could comprehend that he loosened his grip, Marlowe slipped out of his grasp. The distraught Captain pressed himself against the bars, anger drenching his expression as he heaved out breaths. His captor laughed. “You’re very good at empty threats, Kenway.”

“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.” His cold tone streaked through the crew, setting hairs on end. They had never heard their Captain like this before; so angry, so dangerous.

It terrified them.

“That remains to be seen. In the meantime…” With a mocking whistling tune, Marlowe spun on his heels and began to walk away.

“Come back here, bilge rat!” He pulled harshly against the cell door. “Don’t you dare touch her!”

“Then you better stay in line.”

As he disappeared from view, Edward’s emotions overwhelmed him, frustrated tears coming to his eyes. He turned to a solid wall, slamming the side of his fist against it and yelled.

Fear, anger, guilt, and grief echoed around the brig.

Collapsing against the wood, he hid his face in his hands, aiming to either calm himself or hide his inevitable breakdown.

----------

Y/N

“Finish up downstairs.” Nodding affirmatively, you picked up the mop bucket and eagerly headed beneath deck, having to consciously slow down to avoid suspicion. You were glad you were disguised in the uniform of Marlowe’s crew instead of the rags of the common sailors aboard; it would’ve made the job much harder than it had to be.

Keeping a level head, you walked past the cell holding your family and placed the mop bucket against the wall, scanning the deck.

Empty.

Sighing in relief, you realised that you were alone with your crew at last. As you pulled the covering off of your face, you shushed frantically, the cell almost erupting into cheers. You gestured for them to part, eyeing Edward, almost balled up in the corner of the cell. “Hey, Ed,” you whispered, watching as his head snapped up to you, eyes widening.

Scrambling up, he strode to the bars in a second, reaching through the gaps to hold you. “Thank Christ…” he exhaled in relief, bringing your forehead to his lips between the bars. You pulled away after a few moments, sharing relieved glances. “Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?” he asked, eyes scanning you for any sign of injuries.

“No, no, I’m okay. Are you alright? Did we lose anyone?”

“I’m... fine; I haven’t done a head count yet.”

You didn’t reply, watching as Jonah came up to tap Edward on the shoulder. “Capt’n?”

He turned around, withdrawing his hands as Ryan came into view. “I can’t find my da’.” His voice was barely stable, cheeks stained with tear tracks. For a second, you both exchanged sorrowful glances.

Edward crouched down, ruffling his hair. “He’ll be around, lad. We just have to find him. Maybe he’s escaped and is planning his own rescue mission for us.”

Ryan nodded, wanting to believe him. Meanwhile, Edward stood and brought Jonah close, leaning to whisper in his ear. He withdrew, a willing but uncertain look on his face. Both retreated back into the small crowd.

“What did you tell him?” you asked.

“...That he has to look after Ryan now.”

You squeezed your eyes shut to stave off tears. “Shit.”

His fingers gently grazed your cheek. “Are you sure you’re alright? Does Marlowe know you’re here?”

Frowning, you shook your head. “I wouldn’t have thought so; if he did, I’d be stuck in there with you.”

His expression was nearly unreadable, but you could sense his anxiety. “I saw him come from here a few moments ago. What was he saying?”

“He…” Pausing for a moment, Edward swallowed. “Just Templar bullshit.”

You scoffed at the notion. “Of course he did. Look, I know how to get out of this.”

“I’ll take anything at this point.” Although his tone was sarcastic, you could tell that for the first time, he didn’t know what to do.

“He needs to die.”

Edward froze, brows narrowing, realising your intention. “No, Y/N, no.”

“‘No’ was an option in Nassau, but we don’t have that choice--”

“No, there must be another way -- “

“There is no other way! This is our only chance--”

“Are you hearing me?! He--”

“Do you understand the situation we’re in?!”

“No, Y/N, please--”

“All it takes is--”

“Just LISTEN to me!” He hissed through gritted teeth, grasping your arm to give it a sharp shake to stop you talking over him. The shock threw you into silence. Lowering his voice, he continued. “If you make so much as one mistake, he won’t just kill you; he’ll make you wish you were dead. Please, please, don’t do this.”

You were stunned. You’ve never seen him so adamant about staying your blade. The desperation in his tone threw you off; you’ve never heard him this serious -- this frantic -- before.

Edward grabbed one of your hands in both of his, bringing your knuckles to rest against his lips. “I love you… with everything I have; I can’t lose you. Not if I can help it,” he murmured, closing his eyes. Your heart broke as you watched a tear escape, trailing down his skin.

“Okay, okay.” You rarely saw Edward cry, and when you did, it was usually due to either drinking or laughing. He took a small, shuddering breath, trying to compose himself.

“We wait for Adé. Then we’ll think about Marlowe.”

“Alright, okay. Hey...” you caressed his jaw. “I’m okay. We’ll be okay. Trust me.”

You heard ruckus above the deck. “Someone’s coming.” Both of you broke away like shrapnel, Edward sitting himself on the floor while you mopped, facing the wall.

And that was how things were.

----------

A couple of weeks had passed since the crew was abducted from the Jackdaw. Everyone had been forced to labour on the deck, doing various jobs, from scrubbing floors to adjusting sails to everything in between. Adé was nowhere to be seen; whether he was hidden on deck and still strategising, or God forbid, something worse, you didn’t know.

A few didn’t make it.

Keeping your identity hidden was becoming increasingly difficult as time went on, of both being a woman and lover of the imprisoned Captain. You had, however, been able to gather intel of Marlowe from the crew that despised him. Each day further validated your belief that this man would be much better off dead; the crew have no loyalty except out of fear, and you could work with that.

You understood Edward’s fear, but it would be selfish of you to stand back and not do anything, watching as almost everyone on the ship suffered; if you did nothing, you would regret it for the rest of your days.

One particular morning was extremely hot, extremely dry, and extremely labour intensive. You were almost halfway through your journey, and you knew you were running out of time. Something had to happen, and soon, or you would never make it to the end of the year.

----------

Edward

After the first week, the crew joined the common sailors around the ship, performing average labour over hours. There was barely time to rest, eat, or drink; he could tell that this was wearing him down more than any form of torture.

The sun’s rays beat down on the nape of his neck as midday approached. Orders were to scrub the floor. He had a brush in his hand the size of a polishing brush, sharing a bucket with four other members of his crew. Each time he made eye contact with one of them, he’d give them a reassuring look; they’d all get out of this, he just needed a plan.

Doors were haphazardly flung open, Marlowe revealing himself from his cabin, followed by an entourage of his closest crew. They clumsily made their way across the ship, bumping into those scrubbing the deck, only to send them a look as if it was their fault in the first place.

One of them knocked over a bucket of water, spilling the liquid across the wood. Edward looked up to observe the situation. It belonged to his crew, including Jonah and Ryan. Marlowe stopped, his stare set on the ones kneeling, completely ignoring the real culprit. “You.” He crooked his finger towards Ryan. “Get up.”

With a petrified look on his face, Ryan stumbled to his feet, shaking like a leaf. “It wasn’t--”

Marlowe put his hand up, a warning to shut up. “It was your bucket, was it not?”

“Y-Yes, but--”

“So it was your responsibility, correct?”

“W-Well--”

“It’s a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question, boy.”

“... Yes, sir.”

Marlowe turned to call to his second in command. “Get the cat.”

Edward’s heart stopped. By now, the ship had dropped to complete silence. They wouldn’t… he was only a boy. Marlowe was sadistic, but he wouldn’t be that evil, would he?

Before he could stop himself, Edward found himself standing protectively in front of Ryan. The child gripped onto his sleeve as he was pushed behind his Captain by the arm. “Why don’t you give a punishment to someone who deserves it?”

Marlowe held a neutral expression. “You’re right…” With a wave of his hand, arms snaked themselves around Edward’s, pulling him away from the others, restraining his movements.

Edward’s eyes flitted to Ryan for a split second; he was pulled to sit beside Jonah before he gained any more unwanted attention. Marlowe came to stand in front of him, unpinning his cape from around his shoulders. It fell into someone’s arms, who carried it away. Although his limbs were pulled harshly behind him, he held his head high, a hard expression in his eyes.

Undoing his cuffs, Marlowe smirked. “I believe you deserve twenty, in place of that boy…” Without warning, a fist came into contact with Edward’s sternum. If it weren’t for the arms holding him upright, the force would have sent his knees buckling. As he regained his breath, he glared at Marlowe. “Another twenty is in order for disobedience…” Another strike winded him again, this one seemingly worse than before. Keeled over, hair blocking his vision, he almost didn’t notice Marlowe leaning into his ear. “Then, about as many as I deem fit…”

Standing up straight, he shook out his hand. “Get him ready.”

Edward stumbled as he was half-dragged across the deck to the main mast. His chest and face collided with the post, the wood almost burning his skin. His arms were pulled taut above his head, rope quickly entwining itself around his wrists. He gave them an experimental tug, his heart skipping a beat when he found not even an inch of give.

Oh, fuck.

Hands gripped the back of his shirt, swiftly tearing it open. His muscles tensed as the sunlight hit his skin. Closing his eyes, he steeled himself with a breath.

The first strike licked his skin, the force shoving him against the post, ripping open stripes of flesh. Pain shot across his back. Biting a back a groan, Edward clenched his jaw. Sweat trailed down his temples, arms straining against the ropes.

Resting his forehead against the post, he prepared for the next lash.

But the strike never came.

----------

Y/N

Ooh, boy.

You were shocked at yourself for a moment, your hand firmly wrapped around Marlowe’s extended wrist, the cat of nine tails trickling Edward’s blood onto the back of your hand.

“I demand satisfaction.”

Gasps and muttering littered the crowd, and you kept to yourself the true realisation of what you’ve done.

You’ve challenged Marlowe to a duel.

“Don’t…” Edward looked over his shoulder, voice loud enough for only you to hear.

You spared him a side glance, urging him to quiet down.

Instead of the expected anger, Marlowe chuckled. “Alright; who demands it?”

You pulled off your face covering and hat, the sun hitting the skin on your face fully for the first time in two weeks. “Naturally, me.”

He hummed darkly, eyes narrowing with recognition. “Naturally.” He began to unsheathe his sword.

“I thought you were a man of tradition; are pistols not your forte?” You raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

After a prolonged glance, metal clicked back into its leather hold. “You really don’t know what you’re getting into, my dear.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“... Let’s get this over with.”

Your heart pounded. This was such a stupid move.

But it was also your only move.

Hiding your own fear, you held eye contact with Marlowe. With trembling fingers, you drew your own pistol, gifted to you by Edward from your last birthday. It was very much your lucky charm, and you hoped it wouldn’t fail you now.

“Ten paces, on my count.” You had no idea who the voice belonged to, nor did you have the current emotional capacity to care. Pulling the hammer down on your pistol, you turned your back to Marlowe. A blank was fired, the echoing shot a signal to start moving.

1…

2…

3...

It was almost deadly quiet.

4…

5…

6…

This was stupid, this was a bad idea. You won’t make it.

7…

8--

An unexpected shot rang out. You dropped to the floor, a pain beginning to blossom in your side.

“NO!”

Marlowe had cheated. Internally, you scoffed. Of course he did.

Although it stung, you were surprised at how bearable the pain was, given you just got shot.

Or did you?

You lay still, partly in shock and partly to plan what to do next.

“What are you all looking at? Get back to work!”

“Y/N? Y/N/N!” You heard Edward’s voice crack. “You cheating bastard!”

“Now, now, Kenway. Don’t forget the position you’re in.”

Floorboards creaked as someone approached. Pistol miraculously still in hand, you waited for as long as possible. Just a little longer....

A shadow shaded your face from the sun. Without thinking, you turned, aimed, and shot.

Marlowe stared back, glassy eyed, blood trickling down his nose.

A moment later, he collapsed.

No one dared to move, choosing to stare at the body in front of them, not quite believing that he was dead.

The monster of a man was dead.

After the adrenaline ebbed away, you sighed heavily. “Glad that’s over.” A hand came into view, offering assistance to stand up. You locked eyes with someone who should have made himself known a long time ago. “Adé!” Accepting the help, you smirked. “Great timing.”

You quickly moved to Edward to begin untying the knots around his wrists. “What the fuck were you thinking?!” he exclaimed, exertion clear in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for worrying you--”

“Worrying me?” One wrist freed, he deftly moved to the other. “When I saw you lying there, I felt as if I had died!”

You sighed. “I needed to do something, lest you became more bone than back.”

“That was the most stupid plan I’ve ever seen in my life.” His hands free, he paid no heed to his own wounds and immediately tried to inspect yours. “You were so irresponsible--”

Bringing his face to yours, you stopped him talking with a kiss.

He diffused immediately, finally processing that you were in front of him, alive, and Marlowe was the one dead on the floor. Melting into you, the tension in his muscles dissipated, replaced only with relief. He broke apart from you, burying his face in your neck, his arms wrapped around you tightly.

“If the plan worked, it couldn’t have been that stupid,” you remarked.

“I’m so sorry.” His words were mumbled into your shoulder.

“You were looking out for me; I would have done the same if the roles were reversed.” You hugged him back, recoiling when he suddenly flinched in pain. “Oh, God, I’m sorry.”

“Shall we just accept each other’s apologies and call it a day?”

You laughed. “That would be good.”

Turning to the hands on deck, you raised your pistol in the air. “It’s over, lads! We can go home!”

You held your side, the pain greatly subsided under the amount of other emotions you were feeling; joy, relief, but also grief. Not for Marlowe, but for the ones that didn’t see this day.

You made a vow there and then; a vow to live your life the way they would have lived.

With joyful, carefree fun.

With the ability to live in the moment.

With gratitude for what you still have that they lost: For some, love, and for others, life.