#clem's corner

[clementinecoastline]

one thing worm has going for it when compared to invincible is that wildbow doesn't do the thing where he comes up with an extremely overpowered character and then just doesnt utilize them (it's usually a her when this happens rlly) or come up with an understandable reason for why they are underutilized. thank fucking god. every time atom eve is in an action scene i want to throw my laptop against a wall

[suzie-shooter]

"Me and Clem have made a baby."

James Harvey Blair on Clem's Wine Corner (3rd Oct 2024)

...James do you actually WANT people to write filth about you at this point? 😂

[httpiastri]

jack bestie I want to try and write a book but the thought scares me so much 😭 I have two really thought out ideas but I’m scared they aren’t going to turn out the way I want them too in my head

OH?? sweetheart i think you would do sooo well writing a book !!! i agree that the thought is very scary, like putting yourself out there and really seeing like "am i actually capable of doing this" is definitely frightening.... but there are a lot of tips online, and i think the main takeaway (?) is probably that you should go easy on yourself. like, all the stuff about "your work seems predictable because you're the one who wrote it and you know what's coming up", and "your first draft should just be for telling yourself the story, then you can make the big adjustments" !!! i obvs have no experience in real book writing but i have a feeling you would do great 🥺

[babygirlsincars]

It's been so long...

Since last I've seen my son

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

An Illusion || Young President! Coriolanus Snow x reader

GIF by @unknown and divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: Whispers were circulating the Academy about who the lucky girl was to be Panem’s First Lady, Coriolanus’ soon to be wife, his lover; but little do they know.

Warnings: none

Wc:

Coriolanus Snow Masterlist

From the moment you stepped foot in the Academy, the whispers had already begun. You walked with poise and confidence, the clicking of your heel making heads turn as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You basked in the attention your fellow peers always gave you.

You were Capitol’s darling of course. Coming from a high born, and filthy rich family, everyone knew who you were. “Y/n,” Clemensia nods her head at you with a smile as you do the same, “Clemmie,” “You’re here quite early,” She comments as the two of you walk the halls, “He had an early class so he dropped me off earlier,” You say as Livia Cardew joins the two of you.

The three of you converse in conversation, ignoring the curious glances people would give you. You stepped into Casca’s class, he was late. When moving to your seats, you couldn’t help but eavesdrop the conversations happening around you. “He’s being mentored by Dr. Gaul now. Isn’t that crazy?”

“I would love to be Panem’s First Lady.” “He’s so hot. And he’s body? Training as a Peacekeeper does have its benefits” “I’d love to know what he’s like in bed.” That comment caught you off guard but made you smirk to yourself.

Clemensia and Livia give you knowing looks as you chuckle. “Little do they know,” You say to yourself as the girls giggle quietly to themselves. “Quiet down, Quiet down everybody” Casca came in rushed and class began.

After lunch, the whispers had seemed to intensify. “The Academy is going absolutely crazy,” You shake your head as you eye groups of students talking in hushed tones as they glance at you.

In your head, all you were thinking about was the moment you were able to show Coriolanus Snow as yours. And you, his. The satisfaction of watching everyone envy you was itching your brain. “When is this day going to end,” You mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes.

Finally, the school day had ended. You accompanied Clemensia and Livia to Professor Crispus to drop off their essay before walking outside where a crowd had formed. “What is going on?” Livia questions as the three of you walk towards the crowd of students.

Once people saw your presence, they make room for you to see the front. And there he was. Coriolanus Snow. Your Coryo. He was leaned up against the car, his head turned to the side. His eyes finally land on yours, the corners of his lip turning up as he smiles at you.

“Sweetheart.” And that was enough for everyone to start gasping and watch in shock at the pet name Coriolanus gave you. Your cheeks began becoming hot as you smile and move closer to him. Even in heels, you still had to go on your tippy toes to wrap your arms around his neck as his hands place themselves protectively on the small of your back.

You kiss his cheek as he kisses your hairline. “Clemmie, Liv,” He politely greets your best friends and his friends as they both nod back with a smile. “She’s so lucky,” “Of course she’s dating him,” Whispers began once again. “We should go, wouldn’t want to keep your presents at home waiting,” Your eyes lit up at his words and you nod.

You wave to Clem and Liv before Snow opens the car door and lets you in. He closes the car door, moving the curtains so it covered the window. “Really? Presents at home?” You scoff, crossing your arms as you move away from him. “They’re going to think I’m a spoiled brat,” You harshly say.

Snow rolls his eyes. “With that attitude you are, Princess,” He mocks as you shoot daggers at him. He sighs, massaging his forehead. “It’s true, you know,” You turn your head to him with narrowed eyes. “What’s true?” “There’s presents at home waiting for you,” Your lips part as you watch him, a sense of sadness? Was etched into his face.

[anyarose011]

She Looks Like the Real Thing (She Tastes Like the Real Thing)

->Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!Reader

Summary: The day after the Void Incident is quieter than one would expect. While you spent the past night stitching up your boyfriend's wounds, and finally (finally) opening up to him about what happened, the next morning is filled with repairing hearts that were once broken. The night...well, it shows what comes after kissing and making up.

Part 2 of 2 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): P in V Sex, Oral Sex (m and f receiving), Face-Sitting, Breeding Kink, Past Trauma, Implications to Past SA [including CSA], Abusive Parent, Canon Typical Violence, Past Coercion, Mention of Abortion, Past Torture, (Come on guys, it’s the chapter where everyone trauma dumps).

Yes, I am using the Phoebe Bridgers cover because I love her (and I am also biased and heard it before the original). This is a bit heavier of a chapter, and I did my best to be both gentle with the subject matters, without sanitizing anything. Dialogue is also something I try to capture to its realism, adding in the strange filler words and pauses. Again, I hope this gives a more realistic POV to civilian life in the MCU (Feat. Some inspiration from "The Pitt"; as in, showing stressful situations happening to regular people :))

Word Count: 7.8k

You didn’t remember what your nightmare was when you woke up. All you knew was that Clementine was no longer beside you.

For a moment, you forgot where you were. Then, as your eyes adjusted thanks to the princess night light in the corner of the small bedroom, your heart stopped beating so fast when you saw that you were in your daughter’s bedroom.  Alpine was still asleep at your feet. Damn cat. Rubbing your eyes, you looked down at the pink alarm clock on the nightstand.

10:58pm

You were only asleep for four hours. It wasn’t that late, but it was still the same, horrible day.

It was then you saw a glass of liquid beside the clock along with a note.

“For Mommy”

You brought the cup to your lips and closed your eyes at the taste.

Juice. She poured your favorite juice.

The sentiment made your heart full, and you finished the glass. Bringing yourself out of your daughter’s bedroom, you glanced into yours. Sure enough, Clementine was comfortably laid in your bed. It was only then you noticed you hadn’t changed out of your dance clothes, so as quietly as you could, you changed into a set of your favorite pajamas.

You wandered back out to the kitchen, remembering the dreadful mess you made earlier. That had been taken care of too. Clem cleaned the floor and moved the soup into a Tupperware and placed the dirty pot into the sink.

A light ‘thump’ came from outside.

Your heart stammered for a moment before jumping into action. As quietly as you could, you took a frying pan out of the cabinet, and tiptoed to the front door. Nothing else came from outside of it, but taking a quick breath, you pulled the door open, raising the pan above you.

Bucky fell on his back into the room.

Once he hit the floor, his eyes snapped open and he was on his feet.

“Jesus!” You both whispered.

Then you spoke first. “What the hell?!”

He placed a hand over his heart, calming his own breathing. “Good evening.”

“Were you outside there the whole time?” You prodded, relaxing.

 “I would’ve stayed until you came out.”

“Why?”

He looked at you as if you’d grown another head. “I don’t know. I mean, well, you didn’t answer any of my calls after a collective trauma, you lied about experiencing that trauma, you lied about Clementine experiencing it, you-.”

“-Okay, I get it.” You sighed. “Look, we’re tired can we just-?”

Bucky made another face, and you weren’t having it. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“I just want to sleep.” You borderline begged.

He nodded, and clenched his jaw. This was strange. You’d never seen him make that face before; it wasn’t the one he’d make if he was annoyed. It was then your eyes traveled to his chest, and you saw a wet spot on his black shirt.

“Shit.” Left your lips, immediately knowing.

Bucky said your name when you set the pan down and took his hand, dragging him into the bathroom. Flipping on the lights and shutting the door, you looked back at him.

“Take off your shirt.”

He didn’t resist. Sighing, he slipped it off, his dog tags catching onto the collar before falling back against what hair he had on his chest. Sure enough, a new wound was added to his body; a few of them, actually. While most were deep bruises and minor abrasions, the worst was a laceration the length of the top of your thumb to your wrist, blood still seeping out.

“I’ve had worse.” Was the first thing he said.

“Oh,” you mocked him. “I guess you’re good to sleep outside then. Sit down.”

He chuckled. “What, you gonna stitch it up?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t take you for a secret nurse.”

You took a cloth off the towel rod by the shower, bunching it up and placing it over his wound. “Hold it.”

He listened. You kneeled in front of the cabinet sink, opening it and immediately finding a needle and surgical thread. Bucky made a face.

“Why do you have that?”

“Has the bleeding stopped?”

“Doll-.”

“-Has it stopped?”

He removed the cloth. “Yeah.”

You took another clean cloth and ran it under warm water and soap. “This will sting.”

You placed it over the wound, cleaning it. He sucked in a breath from the temperature but remained still. He said your name.

“Why do you have the professional stuff?”

You stopped cleaning, avoiding his gaze. “I…I didn’t know when you were going to go back to fighting but…I don’t know, I wanted to be prepared.”

He frowned. “I didn’t even know I was going to have to do all of this.”

“Call it hyper vigilance.” You sighed, taking out the needle and putting the surgical thread through the eye. “This is really going to sting.”

“Not my first time.” He offered a teasing smile. “You practiced stitching too?”

“No, I’ve only watched movies and sewed on hundreds of ribbons for pointe shoes.” You were serious.

He hummed, and you began to stitch him up. You wondered if his pain tolerance was enhanced by the serum; he barely flinched. He brought his right hand to your cheek, whispering.

“What happened today?”

Your stitching stopped momentarily as the reminder plagued your mind. Still, before you could disappear into the memories, the feel of Bucky’s thumb caressing your chin kept you anchored.

Perhaps…now you should tell him.

“It felt like Narnia.” Were the first words you said, continuing your stitches. “I don’t know how long I was in…whatever hell it was, but when I was out of it, I was still in the dance studio, holding Clem. She-she couldn’t talk. She had this look in her eyes I…”

You swallowed thickly. “There were forty children there. As young as kindergarten, as old as high school…and just three adults. Bucky it…I had to rush from one room to comfort a girl who threw up after crying, only to then be pulled to a little boy whose nose started bleeding because he was sobbing so hard.”

It all came out as you treated him.

If they wanted to, the kids could talk to a teacher about what they saw within their ‘nightmare’ (that was what they were calling it. For once, there wasn’t any news or information on exactly what had happened).

And you heard everything.

“The best thing would be if their dog died.” You couldn’t look at him. “Hell, even if it was a family member. I just…I never knew that-I mean, I did know…” You swallowed the oncoming tears. “Is it bad that I wish I never knew so many of them were…were…”

“No.” He kissed your cheek. “It’s not bad at all.”

“I wish…”

One of the teachers, Leslie, called your name. You shut your eyes tightly as you held a sobbing, ten-year-old Hannah. You looked over your shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Can…can I talk to you? Alone?”

You pulled away from the little girl, wiping her tears. “I’m gonna talk to Miss Leslie, okay?”

She only nodded, lying down on the floor and staring up at the ceiling. You walked to the corner of the green room out of range (hopefully) from the kids.

Leslie’s voice shook. “I…what I saw-.”

“-You told me you needed a hand with the kids in here, and I’m already helping you.” You didn’t snap but spoke blatantly. “I left Sammy in charge of the blue room. She’s not a teacher, she’s a student. I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to talk about what either of us saw.”

Tears began to fall from her eyes. “I’m sorry. I-I don’t know if, I can’t…”

You bit your tongue, taking a deep breath. “Just give me ten minutes, okay? I’ll go check on my room, then the pink room and-.”

The sound of a mirror shattering in the blue room caused a few screams to erupt from the younger children in the room you were in.

You shushed them and left quickly. Racing into the blue room, you saw nearly all of the kids huddled on the other side of the room. Over on the mirror side, you saw a high school girl hunched over the broken glass on the floor.

“Sammy.” You called, worry written upon your face.

She looked at you, rage seeping from her eyes as well as tears. “I still feel his hands on me.”

“Jesus.” Bucky sighed.

You shook your head, nearing the end of suturing. “All of that was thirty minutes after the fact. A lot of parents came a little later. So, we went from forty kids to nineteen.”

Clementine hadn’t said a word to you ever since everything came crashing down. It wasn’t her fault; you barely had time to check up on her, and that was all on you. Sammy’s mom came to pick her up, so that lessened some of the anxiety; only some of it.

“Hi baby.” You cooed, sitting beside Clem, who had her math notebook open. She hummed, looking up to glance at her opened textbook but not at you. You forced a smile. “You’re doing homework?”

“It’s due tomorrow.” Was her response.

“You’re not going to school tomorrow.” You rested your head against the wall.

“I wanna go.”

You furrowed your brow. “Don’t-don’t you want to skip?”

“No, I wanna see my friends.”

“Sweetie,” you sighed. “no one’s going tomorrow.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Clem?”

It was like you weren’t there.

Biting your lip, you placed your hand on her shoulder. “Do you wanna talk about what you saw?”

She shook her head.

“It might help.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Alright.” You agreed, feeling your eyes water. Standing, you fixed your skirt. “I’m gonna go take care of something, but I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

You walked over to the teachers in the front of the room, both in a circle with a few of the elementary kids.

“Hey, I need to take a break; just three minutes tops.”

Leslie nodded. “Yeah go, we got this.”

“Can I take mine after?” Suzie, the other teacher, asked.

“Of course.” You answered. “Thanks guys.”

You finished with the stitches. Still, you didn’t move. Bucky took the materials from your hands.

“What happened?” He asked.

Instinctively, you held your side. His hands wandered to the bottom of your shirt. “Okay?”

You nodded. Gently, he pulled the shirt over your head, leaving the top half of your body completely bare to him. You looked down and saw a nasty bruise forming along your side. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it’d be, but it was still there, and it ached.

“Okay?” Bucky hovered his lips over it, and you nodded. “I need to hear you, honey.”

“It’s okay.” You whispered. He kissed the darkness along your side with a softness you don’t think you’d ever felt before. You sighed into his touch you had missed for months, your hands disappearing into his hair.

“What happened?” He asked again, but even just from his tone, you knew the hidden question: ‘Who did this to you?’

You were in the stairwell on the second floor when you saw her. A woman who reeked of cigarettes and wore a rattled look in her eyes. You stopped on the stairs, standing above her.

“Are you one of the parents?” You questioned.

She stopped where she was, nodding. “Yeah. Sorry I’m so late I just…everything today-.”

“-No, I understand.” You nodded. “What’s your child’s name?”

“Hannah. Hannah Wylie.”

You had been at the studio in Manhattan for less than a day, and yet you already knew that was not Hannah’s last name. The previous conversation you had with the small girl hit you.

Her birth mother was…unstable. She would hold and praise Hannah for doing her schoolwork one day, then break a dish the next day just because Hannah forgot to put it in the sink. There’d be no outside reason anyone, even her father, could see her change in behavior.

It had gotten physical one night, Hannah’s mother punching her after she said she was being mean. That was enough for her father to divorce her mother and miraculously gain full custody.

“We don’t have a Hannah Wylie.” Was all you said. It was possible this woman was the mother, or that she was at the wrong place. “I know there’s another studio a few blocks away-.”

“-No.” She took a step up. “You have her.”

“What’s your name, ma’am?”

“You have my daughter, and I’m taking her home.” She harshened her tone. “I’ve been through hell today.”

“We all have.”

With no warning she dashed up the stairs past you. You turned on your heel, calling after her as you ran. She was on the fourth flight, one more away from the dance studio, when you caught onto her hoodie. She immediately started thrashing, screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Get the fuck off of me!” She yelled over and over.

“Ma’am-!”

She turned in your hold and kicked you in the stomach, sending you backwards onto the stairs, landing on your side. With the wind knocked out of you, you moaned, watching as she ran.

Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself onto your feet and grabbed the railing, pulling yourself up each step. Regaining your strength, you sprinted up the last set of stairs the moment you saw her just about to touch the steel door leading to the studio.

You grabbed the back of her hair, yanking her behind you before throwing the door open and closed once you were inside. The steel door rattled as you locked it, and the most guttural scream you had ever heard followed behind it.

All the teachers and students flooded out of the rooms, some coddling you as you bent over yourself to catch your breath. Hannah hid herself in the back of the group as the unmistakable voice penetrated through the walls, and the door kept shaking.

“She can’t get in, right?” Leslie questioned.

“There’s no way.” Suzie shook her head.

Your chest constricted with each breath you took, and the world was turning darker and lighter at the same time as you hunched over yourself, your breathing becoming erratic.

You didn’t remember when the screaming or the rattling of the door stopped. All you could feel was several little arms wrapped around your body.

For once…it was strangely comforting.

“When did she leave?” Bucky asked as you both laid in the bathtub. It was a peculiar sight; the water wasn’t on, and you both were topless as you leaned against his chest. You were hesitant of course, not wanting to cause more pain than he was already in. He said his pain tolerance was high enough, and it would be nothing more than some tenderness.

Tenderness he wouldn’t mind dealing with for your own comfort.

“I think a few minutes after?” You replied. “We got the kids back into one room so we could keep an eye on them, and it all just stopped. Everything that happened took place in an hour, and after thirty minutes, all the kids were finally sent home.”

He pressed his lips to the back of your head. “Longest hour of your life?”

“One of them.”

You remained in a comfortable silence. That was one of the things you missed; how you could be quiet together.

His name left your lips. “I’m sorry about what I said before I went to DC-.”

“-Not tonight.” You looked up at him. “Please I…I’m tired.”

He gave a watery smile, but nodded. “Okay.”

“Tomorrow.” You kissed his jaw. “I promise.”

“I’ll make breakfast.”

“Clem would love that.”

Neither of you got out of the bathtub right away, still just content in being in each other’s arms again. When Bucky’s right arm started to fall asleep, that was when you finally put your clothes back on and left. He took the couch without any complaints, even though you jokingly offered Clementine’s unoccupied child bed.

Surprisingly, Alpine snuggled onto his chest the moment he laid down, and you wished each other goodnight. You fell asleep before your head hit the pillow.

Clementine awoke before you, but stayed in bed until you woke up. Despite how big she was getting, you still took her into your arms and carried her on your hip out of your bedroom and into the living room. She quickly forced herself out of them once she saw Bucky sleeping on the couch. She crawled onto his chest, promptly waking him up.

You’d never say it aloud, but you were terrified for a moment. Aware that you yourself would panic if suddenly awoken by someone on your chest, you didn’t even want to imagine how Bucky would react with everything he’d been through.

Yet, he grinned first before opening his eyes and then taking her into his arms. She squealed as he tickled her sides, and that was the first time you felt warmth in your chest in the last twenty-four hours.

It was the first time she smiled too.

“Alright,” he grunted, standing. “what have we got for breakfast?”

“Mama said we’d make chocolate chip waffles on Friday.” Clem followed him into the kitchen.

“It’s close enough.” He smiled.

You wrapped your arm around Clem. “Do you want me to-?”

“-No, no.” He opened the pantry door. “I got it. You two just sit pretty.”

“I prefer to stand.” Clementine sassed.

“Suit yourself.” You flopped on the couch, reaching for the remote and turning on the TV. “Bucky, you want me to help with anything?”

“You just made yourself comfortable.” He smirked, taking out the flour and baking powder.

Sure enough, Clementine shoved her way onto the couch beside you. She’d glue her eyes to the television as you and Bucky chatted. It was almost frightening how easy it was to fall back into conversation as if all of yesterday hadn’t happened. There’d be times you’d look back at your daughter and see how her eyes would glaze over, and all you would have to do is brush her hair with your fingers and she’d come back to you.

Breakfast was served, and the lightheartedness returned. Thankfully, Clementine hadn’t said anything about school, and you texted your boss in Brooklyn that you weren’t coming in that day; to which she immediately replied with “No one is. Take care of yourself.”

Bucky would sometimes glance at his phone when a text or call came through but wouldn’t answer. After breakfast, Bucky took a shower as you and Clem had decided the three of you would take a trip to Sunset Park.

“You can take that if you need to.” You reminded Bucky as you were getting ready to leave and he got a call for the second time that morning.

“It’s not serious.” He reassured, tying your shoes after you tried to yourself but hissed from the pain in your side. “It’s just Alexie freaking out that Ava and Walker are fighting.”

“Are they gonna kill each other?” Clementine asked, holding her foot out for Bucky to tie her shoe.

He snorted. “You’re a big girl and can tie your own. And no, they’re just bickering.”

“Like how we all do?”

“Exactly, pumpkin.”

The streets seemed to be much deader that day. Not like how it was after the Blip, but like how it was after the 2012 attacks. Not as crowded as usual, but not to the point where you were the only ones outside. Even if the Void event (that’s what you read they were calling it on the news) only happened in Manhattan, it still took a toll on New York as a whole.

Damn…maybe you should move to DC. No, if it weren’t for the Hydra attack a decade ago, then it would be for the former president turning into a Red Hulk merely months ago…

…Was anywhere in the world safe?

The three of you made it to the park safely, and Clementine made a beeline for the playground. You and Bucky sat on a bench nearby and felt a sigh of relief that Clem managed to make friends with the few kids also there.

Bucky spoke first. “Do you wanna talk now?”

“There’s a lot.” You answered.

“I know.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, let’s start there.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Bringing a bunch of strangers home unannounced, not going to your work to-.”

“-I didn’t tell you to come over,” you shook your head. “and I didn’t answer any of your calls. That’s not your fault.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He looked at you. “I should’ve found a way to find you.”

You slipped your hand into his. “I’m an adult, so please stop trying to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

He took a deep breath, relaxing from your touch. “And I’m sorry for all the shit I said before leaving.”

You swallowed thickly, breaking your gaze. Biting your tongue, you did everything within you to keep tears at bay, and you succeeded; even when Bucky wrapped his arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

“Clementine’s father was my teacher at the Ballet.” Was the first thing you confessed, and you didn’t know why.

You felt Bucky tense. You had barely said anything about Clementine’s birth father, and Bucky had never asked; always wanted you to speak first.

“I…I saw him in the Void,” you said next. “I saw myself in his office and…God, I was twenty-two again. We’d been together for a month or two at that point, it was going to be my first principal role, and…I was good, I was really good. We were celebrating, and he just asked me out of the blue to…you know.”

Bucky hid his face in your hair, nodding. You could practically feel the blood boil under his skin.

“I didn’t want to, but he just kept begging and begging and I wanted him to stop…” You sighed. “I just wanted him to leave me alone.”

You felt Bucky’s lips caress your scalp.

“The next room I walked into was when I found out I was pregnant with Clem.” You swallowed, leaning into him more. “I told him, and we talked about getting an abortion. I thought about it; I really did…but when I’d ever bring up maybe, just maybe, not getting it, he’d say I shouldn’t sacrifice everything I worked for. When I told him it was my choice at the end of the day, he said that it wasn’t serious, and I was overreacting when I called him out.”

You tried to whisper it, so Bucky wouldn’t hear a familiar word. But he heard it.

‘Overreact’.

“I saw us a few months ago when I went to the last place.” You still didn’t look at him. “It was just another loop. ‘You’re leaving, and you’d sacrifice us all for a shitty run at being a politician’, I kept saying, ‘You’re overreacting’. You said…”

He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said that-.”

“-You didn’t know.”

“You were right, you were angry-.”

“-But I didn’t say it right.” You admitted. “I could’ve told you how I felt without insulting you.”

“I should’ve never left.”

You pulled away, cupping his cheeks. “I never should’ve brought the argument home, where Clem heard it all.”

His face fell upon the realization. You nodded. “Yes, I was incredibly hurt by what you said, but I’m more ashamed of what I said to you, and what Clem heard. I’m sorry.”

He rested his forehead against yours, and you felt complete peace for the first time in a while. The birds were singing, and the chatter of people helped ground you as well as the love of your life’s skin against yours.

“I…” he cleared his throat, trying to mask emotion. “I can’t tell you what I saw-.”

You shushed him, kissing the corner of his lips.

He still kept going. “Not now. I’ll tell you tonight.”

“You don’t have to give me a deadline.”

“I need to tell you…I want to tell you.”

Opening your eyes, you saw everything in his. The fear he had for what he would say, the shame for things he said in the past, but above all, there was the love that he had for you and for your little girl.

You smiled. “So, is Alpine ours now, or do you want her back?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “We’ll see who she likes more by the end of the day.”

You spent another hour and a half at the park, just simply walking and taking breaks to sit and people watch. When all was quiet as you sat upon a hill before lunchtime, Clementine spoke up.

“A lot of kids were laughing at me in my nightmare.”

She confessed all that she’d seen the day prior; including memories you hadn’t even known existed. How a nasty group of kids in her grade, and even a grade above, would constantly belittle her. Whether it was talking about plans in front of her or teasing her for every little movement and action she made. Those were what most of her memories were.

The final one was the argument between you and Bucky. She said that he yelled until his face turned red, and you did until your voice was hoarse. It wasn’t how you remembered it happening…but it’s how she did.

“Are you gonna leave?” She asked, voice breaking as she looked at Bucky.

Immediately, several ‘No’s left both of your lips as you both wrapped your arms around her, uttering reassurances.

“We’re both sorry.” you told her. “We said things we shouldn’t have said, and we’re going to be better about talking.”

“Promise?” She prodded.

Bucky kissed her cheek. “Promise. I love you and Mama so so much.”

Even though you knew that, just to hear him openly and effortlessly say that to your daughter…it triggered something within you; a feeling that made you so whole, you felt like you would burst.

The three of you went to a nearby diner for lunch, and all was well. There was more laughing there than there had been in the last few hours. After being stuffed completely, you walked back to your apartment and laid on the floor. For the next hour the three of you simply talked about the most important topics known to mankind.

“Mama, why do you bake cookies but cook bacon?”

You and Bucky lifted your heads up when your daughter asked. Bucky snickered.

“Clem, I think you’re going to get a doctorate when you grow up.”

“I don’t wanna be a doctor.” She whined.

“Too bad, you shouldn’t have been so smart.”

She sighed dramatically. “I’m gonna flunk every class, quit school, and join the army.”

“No!” You both sat up at that.

“That’s what you did!” She pointed out to Bucky.

“You want a metal arm when you grow up?”

“Yes!”

And you laughed until you couldn’t breathe.

Dinner was just box macaroni and cheese and sitting on the floor while watching a movie.

“I still think this takes five years off your life.” Bucky said but still ate.

“Then you can starve.” Clem didn’t take her eyes off the television.

“Woah,” you playfully shoved her. “none of that. But she’s right, we’re here for a good time not a long time.”

You even let Clementine stay up thirty minutes past her bedtime. If not just as a mini reward for surviving yesterday, it was to tire her out more; and it did. As she could barely keep her eyes open, Bucky put her to bed, giving you time to do your night routine.

After washing your face, it was while you were brushing your teeth that you overheard them while the bathroom door was cracked open.

“Someone hurt mama yesterday,” Clementine said from her room. “really bad.”

“I know.” Bucky’s voice was laced with guilt. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you or her ever again.”

“You can’t promise that.”

He was quiet for a moment. “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.”

A smile spread upon your lips, as well as a flutter in your heart. Once you were finished, you kissed your daughter goodnight, turned on the nightlight, and shut her door. You were slipping on an oversized shirt in your bedroom when you heard Bucky’s voice behind you.

“I didn’t mean to scare you yesterday.”

You turned over your shoulder. He leaned against the doorframe, wearing his boxers and a white tank top, his dog tags still around his neck, and his arms crossed. You couldn’t quite tell what the look he was wearing.

“I can’t even imagine what was going on.” You approached him, taking his metal hand into yours. “Come on, when was the last time you slept in an actual bed?”

He snorted. “Not that long.”

After shutting and locking the door (it was always a habit, welcome to being a woman in New York), you pulled him under the covers with you, snuggling into his side and resting your head on his chest. “But…we’re safe, right? From Valentina?”

“That was the first thing I talked to her about after she knighted us as the New Avengers.” He scoffed at the name. “She’s in no position to make threats if she wanted to, but she can make promises. No one’s touching you or Clem.”

You nodded, feeling more at ease even though the thought hadn’t occurred until after he spoke of it. Unprompted, you tossed your leg over his thighs, bringing yourself up to straddle him. He smiled, his hands holding your hips.

“Have I ever told you you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen?” You ran your fingers over his face.

He hummed. “Maybe once.”

You giggled, leaning into him, your hands going into his hair and your lips onto his forehead. “It’s not just because of how you look.”

“Yeah? What is it then?”

“Well, since you’re fishing for compliments, you’re a good man.” Your lips hovered over his ear. “I don’t see many of those anymore.”

He tensed under you, and you brought your face away to look at him. He wasn’t uncomfortable, at least where it was obvious. Still, you saw a look in his eyes and were about to get off him, but his hands held you firmly.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

Bucky sat up, still looking at you. He wrapped his arms around the small of your back to avoid hurting your side, and pressed his face into the crook of your neck. You held him, running one hand up and down his spine, and the other cupping the back of his head.

He leaned against the headboard. “I’ve hurt so many people.”

You brushed your lips where the skin and the metal met on his left shoulder yet let him continue.

“I’ve tried to forgive myself.” He sucked in a breath. “I’m better where I am now then a year ago, hell, ten years…God, has it been that long since I’ve woken up? I don’t…”

You tried to lift your head to look at him, but he brought his hand up to keep your face pressed into him. “No please, just listen.”

And you did.

“I still get nightmares.” He admitted. “Not many anymore and not as bad but…what I saw yesterday…I never…it was happening again. I was back in the forties, and it was the first time Hydra captured me and my unit. I kept saying my name, my number, where I lived, hell, even my baby sister’s name just so I wouldn’t forget anything. The next thing I know, it’s when…after I fell from the train and…”

You gently combed your fingers through the knots in his hair.

“It hurt…I forgot how much it hurt. The machines they hooked me up to, how it took so many tries for them to wipe my memory I was running out of things to say to try and keep myself afloat until…I forgot everything. I went into another room, and I wasn’t just watching the missions I did; I was the mission. It was…I was being chased by myself but I…I don’t know.”

 You didn’t speak, knowing he had more to say. All you could do was keep running your fingers on his skin to let him know you weren’t asleep and remind him that he was there with you.

“It-it doesn’t seem that bad after but I…” You felt warm tears on your skin, and you held him tighter. “Steve left. He left over and over again and I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t tell him that I loved him, that I didn’t want him to go, that I hated him, that he…” He pulled you closer as if trying to make you sink into him.

“I don’t know why that one got me.” He pressed his lips to your shoulder. “Then I saw you. I thought I was out of the woods until I couldn’t see myself, but I heard all the things I said before I left for DC. You looked so scared-.”

“-I wasn’t.” You finally interrupted. “I was of losing you, but never justyou.”

“That’s what it looked like to me.” He professed as if there was something rotten inside of him. “She looked just like you. I thought you were really there, and I tried to open my mouth to say I didn’t mean it, but I couldn’t.”

He fell silent, pressing his face into your shoulder. Slowly, you pulled away just enough to look at him. You moved hair out of his eyes to reveal even more tears. You swallowed thickly, feeling your own emotions bubble.

“If you think I’m going to take back what I said about you being a good man, I’ll throw you off the roof.”

Bucky shook his head, saying your name.

“No, you listen to me now, James Barnes.” You held his face and attempted to speak firmly. “I didn’t know you in the forties, or even ten years ago when you stopped being the Winter Soldier. There are questions I can’t ask, and some things I might never know about you. But I know enough to feel safe; I know enough to let Clementine be safe around you. If any part of me thought you’d relapse, or you would do anything to hurt us, I wouldn’t be here with you right now. I love you; do you hear me? I love you.”

He released a shuttering breath, pressing his face against yours. You don’t know how long you stayed there until-.

“I wasn’t really religious, even back then.” He confessed against your lips. “But God, you’re making me think He’s real.”

You smiled, softly kissing him. “Why?”

“I don’t know how else you’d be here with me.”

“Oh God.” You scoffed, playfully of course. “I gave you a whole monologue about why I tolerate you, and you think God’s the reason?”

He laughed. “‘Tolerate?’”

“Well, it’s going to be that if you-!”

Usually, you hated in romantic comedies how the guy would kiss the girl to shut her up. Now though, you realize it only works when you’re both being playful. You weren’t telling him something serious, so him putting his lips on yours was the best thing to do.

There was a passion that you only had gotten a taste of from him before. Now, it was all consuming as he wrapped you in the safeness of his arms. You moved your hips experimentally, slowly. This was a similar song and dance you both had performed before, yet there was something strikingly different.

He bit your lip lightly before pulling away just enough to speak softly.

“I wanna try something.”

You arched your brow. “How long has it been?”

His eyes shifted for a moment, and you already knew. There were questions you could not ask, but from past nightmares, and what little he had alluded to from them…you already knew.

“A while.” Was what he said.

You nodded. “Me too. Not exactly, but…”

He kissed the bridge of your nose. “We don’t have to do anything. I can just hold you.”

Smiling, you brushed some of his hair behind his ear. “What do you want to try?”

Bucky pressed his lips back to yours. Gentler this time, he bunched the bottom of your shirt up until his fingers rested on your panties. Cautiously, he pulled them down your legs and you separated to toss them off the bed. With that, you also slipped your shirt off.

It was only as you watched his pupils grow while they traveled down your body, did you realize that this was the first time he had ever seen you naked; and that you had never seen him like that either.

He must have shared a mind with you, because he soon took off his shirt. You’d seen his bare chest countless of times over the years, even when you hadn’t been dating, but the wetness between your legs only intensified. Bucky laid flat on the bed.

“Come here.”

You leaned forward to kiss him.

“No,” his grinned widened. “come here.”

“What?” You giggled.

“Come here.”

“What do you-?” Your words drifted as they settled in. “Oh…oh!”

He caressed your cheek, laughing. “You okay with that?”

“I mean…” You suddenly felt self-conscious yet tried to mask it. “I haven’t tried it either, and I haven’t even shaved in-.”

“-You think it bothers me if there’s hair in my food?” He nuzzles his face into your neck, his hands kneading your ass.

Your breath hitched before sighing in pleasure. Kissing his chin, you grunted. “If you insist.”

Still, even as you crawled over him, your knees on both sides of his head, you felt a shiver chill your body; both from the intimacy, but also the unknown. Bucky lightly gripped your thighs, leading you closer to his mouth.

“It’s okay,” he said into your cunt. “it’s just me.”

His tongue entered your lips, and you released a choked sound. Eyes fluttering shut, you put your entire weight on the headboard, resting your head on top of it. Bucky urged you down farther until he was pressing kisses to every inch of your core. He moved his right hand to part your folds before diving his tongue deeper.

You rocked against his mouth by accident, apologies spilling from your lips as you bit your tongue to keep quiet. Your stomach clenched both from the growing pleasure and the repression of sound. Once his lips found your bud, a strangled moan finally escaped, and he didn’t let up.

Your hand traveled into his hair, gripping the top of his head. Unconsciously, each strand you tugged only caused Bucky to move against you; his groans resonating throughout your entire body.

His nose bumped against your clitoris and that was what sent you over the edge. High pitched babbling of his name left your lips as you rode his face and the rest of your pleasure out.

It was after the burning in your stomach settled that you realized your thighs were shaking. Pulling yourself away, you landed beside Bucky, breath still quivering. Both your chests rose and fell, and in the pale lamplight of your bedroom, you saw your own slick upon his chin. You placed your lips on his gently only to pull away, needing even more air.

“How was that?” He asked in between breaths.

You didn’t answer him vocally. Kissing his jaw, your hand traveled down his chest and over his boxers.

Damp.

Eyes flying open, you looked down and saw that there was indeed a wet spot over his flaccid cock. He sighed, hand over his eyes

“Nuts.”

You furrowed your brow. “What?”

“I didn’t mean to…to…”

“Finish from making me cum?” You smiled. “Bucky, it’s sweet.”

“It means if I was normal, I couldn’t do anything for the rest of the night.”

It had been a conversation in passing, a funny one when you were both tipsy at a friend’s wedding in your early days of dating, where he openly stated that the serum ‘heightened’ his stamina in more ways than one.

“It means,” you trailed your hands down to his waistband. “you like me.”

Tenderly, you slipped off his boxers, his now sweltering cock falling between his thighs. Bucky sighed, resting his head against the pillows. Kissing down his stomach, you licked a long strip from the base to the head of his dick.

He sucked in a breath, humming. “You’re trying to kill me.”

You didn’t bother saying something witty back; he was expecting it. You kissed his tip before slipping it into your mouth. Bucky gasped, his left hand gripping the sheets, and his right tangling into your hair. It wasn’t to push you down or even guide you; just to feel you.

Every sound you pulled out of him only grew the deeper you took him. Whatever you couldn’t take, you used your hands, caressing and fondling his balls. You’d glance up every so often, and he only looked at you once. The first and only time he did, he tossed his head back, releasing a strangled moan.

“Honey,” he sighed. “I-I don’t think I’ll-.”

You shushed him before taking him again, bobbing your head up and down. He called your name like a little prayer, pulling you off of him the second you felt little spurts of precum. You wish you could’ve seen what you looked like, because as soon as he pulled you away, you saw him visibly shiver as his eyes grew.

“I-I need you.” Was all he could manage.

“Okay.” You wiped your mouth.

He sat up, grunting from how red and sensitive his cock had grown. He took your face in his hands, chastely kissing you.

“If your side starts hurting-.”

“-I took Tylenol,” you soothed. “I’ll be fine. I’ll tell you though, just in case. How do you want me?”

He laid you down onto the bed as if you were something precious. “I need to see you.”

You lightly grazed your nails over his skin, being more mindful of the scars, past and present. Bucky placed a kiss onto your right nipple, suckling on it as he lightly massaged the other.

“Please.” It didn’t sound like a whisper from you, more like an escape of air.

“Please what?” He asked against your breast.

“James…” You gritted your teeth. He said your name, glancing up and you bit your tongue to not groan. “Please fuck me.”

He grinned against your skin, kissing up to your lips. He shifted to be above you, clutching a pillow then holding the back of your hips with his metal arm. The coolness pleasantly surprised you, a sharp mewl following. He lifted you up, sliding the pillow under your hips before gently placing you back down. He kissed your forehead.

“I remember this.”

Your breath shuttered as you felt the weight of his cock against your fold. Slowly, he entered you, not taking his eyes off yours for a second. The stretch was almost too much to bear from the dry spell, your face tightening.

“I’m okay.” You said when he gave you the look of ‘Should I stop?’.

He kissed the apples of your cheeks. “Just tell me when.”

You adjusted, running your hand up and down his neck. When you felt him fully within you, you began to move your hips. He moved with you, taking your left hand in his right and pressing it above you. With his metal hand, he guided your legs around his waist, angling you deeper.

His name left your lips as he rolled himself into you further, kissing your moans. Your heels pressed into his backside, urging him closer.

And closer.

And closer.

“God, you’re beautiful.” He said against your mouth.

“Love you.” Left yours.

“I love you.”

His cock kissed your cervix, and it was history from there. Strangled, staccato whimpers escaped your throat as he rutted into you, your name falling from his lips so many times it didn’t even sound like a word anymore.

“Come on, baby.” He breathed, hot breath on your sweltering skin. “Come on, give it to me, I know you can.”

You tried to form words but only syllables came out as you clutched his hair, trying to meet his thrusts. His dog tags dangled between you, hitting the space between your breasts with a light ‘cling!’ each time.

“In me.” You whimpered.

“What?” He didn’t stop, but moved some stray hair out of your face.

You didn’t know you said it aloud until he asked. Still, the desire to feel every bit of him flooded your senses enough to beg for it again.

“In me, please, please!”

Bucky shook his head, groaning against your lips. “No, no, we’ll make babies another time.”

That was it. Your euphoria burst like wildfire within you, leaving you a shuttering, whining mess. Bucky’s arms encircled your thighs to hold them apart and let him dig in impossibly deeper. You muffled your moans into the pillow beside you, only for him to capture your lips so that every little noise you made could reverberate through him.

Bucky soon followed behind, pulling away just as spurts of white cum painted your thighs.

There you both lay beside one another, panting messes. He laid his head against yours, breathing with you until the air in our lungs intertwined with each heavy inhale and exhale. He took the box of tissues by your bedside, cleaning himself before slipping on his boxers, kissing your stomach and taking you into his arms.

He took you into the bathroom and placed you on the toilet, cleaning you as you relieved yourself. Quickly, you both sneaked back into your room, and you collapsed on the bed. Still, Bucky slipped your oversized shirt back on, and you both crawled back under the covers, shutting off the light.

“You’re one of the reasons I get up every morning.” He whispered into your shoulder as he held you from behind. “I hope you know that.”

Your hand held his, shifting your head to kiss whatever part of his face you could reach. “They don’t make men like you anymore.”

He chuckled into your skin, and you fell into silence. There was something so intimate about whispering confessions to each other in the dark.

“Did you mean it?” You asked. “That you wanted to have babies with me?”

Bucky didn’t say anything right away. It worried you for only a second before he turned you over onto your back. You could faintly make out his figure from the light of the streetlamps outside your window.

“I’m getting you a ring first.” He vowed. “If you want that.”

You didn’t know if he could see the tears in the corner of your eyes, but you didn’t care. You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him down to you, kissing him.

And kissing him.

And kissing him.

And everything was well in that apartment in Brooklyn.

[heartfullofleeches]

Clem... how does Clem deal with a nightmare because I KNOW she watches us sleep?

Yan Android Maid Drabble

-

"Master."

Accelerating heartbeat- The rapid flutters of your chest before all falls still - a repeating cycle born a new a tentative hand bids to wrestle you from the realm of slumber.

"Master?."

Your knuckles whiten, mirroring the sweat bathed sheets beneath you as you toss and turn; harrowing cries of distress spilling from your lips as you submerge yourself deeper in the entanglement of blankets - fleeing from the icy, synthetic flesh trying in vein to free you from your terrors.

Try as she may to deny the existence of a bleeding heart inside herself, something within Clementine cracks at the sight of tears decorating your puffy cheeks. Left with no alternatives, the android picks up a vase from your nightstand - a lovely piece of craftsmanship modeled out of clay she purchased during one of her solo outings. Pausing momentarily to marvel at the beauty of the flowers you choose to complete it, Clementine dips her fingers into the vase - sprinkling the resulting droplets of water overhead.

"NO!"

Shooting up in bed, two glowing orbs of light prevent your eyes from adjusting to the darkness completely.

"C-Clementine?... My head..... What happened?"

Clementine dries her fingers on her apron, smoothing out the corners as she states matter of factly. "A nightmare. I was watching over you as I do most evenings when I sensed a discrepancy in your breathing."

"Yeah...." Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you slide over to make room for Clementine. "Just a nightmare. I guess you're lucky you don't have to deal with those."

"On the contrary, Master. Whenever you are hurt. Whenever you are upset. Whenever any negativity comes your way and I am not there to protect you - Those are my nightmares, and they are a tad too real for my liking"

"O-oh.... Sorry, Clementine..."

"It's alright. You did not mean anything by it. Forgive me for speaking out of pocket. Shall I stay with you until you are able to fall back asleep? We can do something to distract you from your dreams, unless you are willing to discuss them with me."

[reginaphalangelobster]

My Handsome Hero

Dean WInchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: You meet a certain hunter when he walks into your diner. He turns out to be just the person you need, especially when it comes to your creepy boss.

Warnings: creepy boss, alcohol consumption, violence.

Word Count: 2k

You hadn't been working at Rosie's Roadhouse for long, only a couple of months at most but it was close to home, the work wasn't all that bad and the pay was okay. Not many people came through, just random travellers here and there and a few local bar flies. Since there weren't all that many people around you often worked as the bartender and waitress, if you did both it paid a little better and there were never enough customers to make it an issue. The only real issue was your creepy boss, Clem. He always looked a little too long, stood a little too close and hit on you relentlessly. You nearly lost it one night when you came in for your shift and he gave you your new uniform. New uniform, it was barely clothing. A tight, low cut white tank top and a black pencil skirt that barely went a few inches down your thigh. If you were to so much as think of bending over you'd be exposed at every angle. You talked to him about it but he said it was what the owner wanted, this mysterious "Rosie" that no one in town had ever seen. You put up with it because you needed the money, and to be fair, you did get bigger tips so you tried looking on the bright side. You were only staying in the dingy bar until you had enough money saved up to go anywhere else.

One day you walked in for your shift and everything was as it usually was, Frank in the corner, passed out, Joanna sitting at the bar talking the ear off anyone who would listen, Ron throwing them back as fast as he could before his wife found out where he was, his wife, Joanna, they were both always so out of it that they didn't recognise each other after twenty years of marriage, and Clem, letching around as per usual. The one thing that did change was the old door creaking and two men walking through. One tall with longish brown hair and the other, shorter but still tall with lighter short hair. They walked over to a table and collapsed into the booth, they were a little dirty and looked absolutely wrecked. They could barely keep their eyes open long enough to scan the menu before you walked over. You made your way from the bar to their table in the stupidly tight uniform and heels.

"What can I get you boys?" You asked with your brightest fake smile and sweet tone.

"I'll just have a salad, thanks" The taller one said.

"Well sweetheart, whaddya recommend?" The other grinned, a not so innocent look in his eyes.

"The cheeseburgers here are good, don't get the fish" Your tone turned into a mock whisper "It's not really fish"

"I don't even wanna know what it is" The first man mumbled whilst pulling a laptop out of his bag.

"Cheeseburger sounds great, and a couple of beers, thanks" The sly one replied, still grinning.

You started to walk away when they began to talk, you didn't mean to overhear but it was near silent in there.

"Seriously Dean?"

"What?"

"Don't what me, you know what"

"The waitress?"

"More like every waitress. I'm getting kinda sick of you hitting on everyone everywhere we go when we're meant to be working a case"

"What about that last case in Detroit? All I had to do was eye up the shopkeeper and she told us everything we needed to know about that Wendigo"

"Just, cool it for tonight, please. I want to get a decent night's sleep and I can't do that if you're screwing some waitress in our room"

"You could always get another room Sammy"

He looked at Dean with a warning in his eye, a "don't test me" glare and they both shut up until you brought out their food. You placed the beer and plates in front of them with a smile on your face.

"Thanks sweetheart" Dean said with that damn smug grin and you were done.

"First of all, I'm not your sweetheart. Second of all you can forget about screwing me in your motel room, you'd be better off turning to Jolly Green here" You barked as you pointed at Sam.

You weren't sure what came over you, maybe it was pent up resentment towards your boss but either way you were glad to get some of it out. Although you did feel a little bad. You walked back to the bar and served your regulars. The boys left after a while and you continued your shift.

You didn't think much of them after that until they came back a few months later. You barely recognised them but after you took their same order again it clicked. You didn't bring it up but Dean did.

"Hey, aren't you that waitress we had a couple months ago? You called my brother Jolly Green"

"That's what you remember?"' You replied.

"I always remember when people make fun of Sammy, that was a good one"

"Gee thank Dean" Sam said in an ingenuine tone.

"Yeah, sorry about that I guess. My boss is a dick and I think I took it out on you, how 'bout a free beer to make up for it?"

"If that's what'll cure your soul I guess I can accept it" Dean said, overacting in his sincerity.

You laughed a little before walking off to get them their same order.

"Again?" Sam rolled his eyes.

"Oh shut up"

Sam and Dean stopped in every now and then for the next year. You didn't know it but whenever they were anywhere near the area Dean would insist they stop by.

"Come on, Sammy"

"Their salads are terrible"

"Then get something that isn't rabbit food, the cheeseburgers are great"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you wanna go there for the cheeseburgers"

"I do, they wrap the patty in bacon, bacon Sammy"

"And you're only going for the bacon? Nothing else?"

"The wonderful atmosphere, what else would I go there for?"

"You know what"

"Enlighten me"

"The waitress, you know, the one woman who doesn't want to sleep with you"

"Her? You really think I'd drive forty miles out of my way for her?"

"So you wouldn't for her but you would for a cheeseburger?"

"Bacon. Wrapped Samuel. Bacon wrapped!"

"Okay, okay, I got it. Bacon wrapped, jeez. You'll have a heart attack by the time you're fifty"

"Bitch"

"Jerk"

You didn't realise it but when Dean walked through the door you smiled, some might say your face lit up whenever he was around. Over time his terrible jokes started to become hilarious, you weren't really sure why but any bad day you were having could be turned around if he walked through the door.

The second you saw them you put their order in and cracked a couple of beers.

"Hey sweetheart" Dean said as you walked up to them. The once annoying nickname now warmed your heart.

"Hey boys, busy workin'?"

"Yeah, yeah, monsters ain't gonna kill themselves" Dean replied.

"Except that teddy bear" Sam commented.

"Do I wanna know about that one?"

"It was actually pretty funny" Dean said, laughing slightly at the memory.

"Do tell"

You sat down beside Dean as he told you the story. You weren't busy so you had the time. You reacted loudly, laughing at the whole thing. Sometimes you couldn't believe the stories they told. The only reason you did, was because on one of their trips a werewolf was in town and ripped Frank's heart out, you were the one that found him and that's when Sam and Dean explained everything.

"Nice to know its not all just doom and gloom out there"

"Yeah, occasionally we have a funny case, y'know, apart from the deaths"

You got up to take their plates away, just as you were about to walk into the kitchen you heard a light flapping sound behind the doors, so quiet it didn't even register. When you opened them you saw Castiel and let out a small gasp at the surprise.

"Cas, next time you come by remind me to teach you how to knock"

"I understand the concept of knocking"

"But not the application I see"

"Where's Dean?"

"In his booth with Sam, how come you didn't just zap there? Superpowers on the fritz?"

"No, my grace is fine. Last time I appeared in the middle of a public place a few people, as Dean would say, freaked out and they told me to "knock it off"" He answered, actually putting air quotes around the words "knock it off".

"Ah, I see. Well they're just out there. Go, kick evil's ass? I'm not entirely sure what you do besides live in Dean's ass"

"I don't-" Cas stopped, realising that telling you what had happened would be as pointless as when he asked Dean to stop saying that "Thank you"

You got back to work as Cas talked to the boys, you saw them leave together and you felt like saying something to Dean, anything. You didn't want him to leave, for some reason. Just as you were about to talk to him you felt a hand curl around your wrist.

"Where do you thing you're going, baby girl?"

You sighed, heavily, it was Clem. Of course it was Clem.

"I have to talk to someone Clem, my shift is over in five minutes anyways" You said as you pulled away, only for his grip to tighten.

"You're not done yet, there's something I need your help with, out back"

You rolled your eyes and with a huff of your chest you followed him.

"What do you need help with? I can't see anything" You said, examining the area.

"Everything I need is right here" He said with a disturbing look in his eye.

Before you knew it he shoved you against the wall. You felt the rusty steel pressed to your back, your tiny uniform barely giving you any protection from the cold. And you felt Clem, you felt his slimy hands all over you, trying to get under your shirt.

"Clem!" You screamed at him "Get the hell off me" You tried to squirm free but he was stronger than you though.

"That's it baby, be as loud as you want, no one's gonna hear you, and if they do? They won't care"

"That right?" Dean's voice came from behind Clem.

You felt a wave of relief wash over you when you saw Dean. He was just about to get into Baby when he heard you. Your loud cries stirred a fiery rage inside him and he followed the sound immediately. When he saw that creep shoving you into the wall he felt like he could explode. He ripped him off of you and slammed his fist into Clem's face. You both heard bones crack as he screamed with pain. Dean's knuckles were painted in Clem's blood when he turned to you.

"Are you okay? I swear, if that bastard did anything to y-" Dean was cut off abruptly by your lips latching onto his. An overwhelming wave of affection washed over you as you saw Dean protecting you. You couldn't hold it in, you couldn't help yourself anymore.

He was a little stunned for a second, then he fell into the kiss. His mouth moved with yours like a symphony of love and lust. You could taste the beer on his breath and he could taste your devastatingly delicious lips, so soft. You finally pulled away, breathless.

"Dean" You said softly between lung fulls of air "Thank you"

"I'd do anything for you sweetheart. Want me to hit him again? I'd love to"

You laughed lightly "No" You looked over Dean's shoulder to see Clem, running away muttering curses in-between sobs "I think he got the point"

"Good, but seriously, are you okay?"

"I am, I'm fine, my handsome hero"

Dean laughed, blushing slightly when he caught your lips in another kiss, one of many to come.

Tags

@dianawinchester03 @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird @macbaetwo @castielshunterwife @scarletluvsdanno @twentyonetornmyheart @neospacedoctor @destiel-1967-sammy @yigashimei @something0193 @ursamajor17 @colorfulavenuecollection @fairytailnerd1024-blog @daithideolishmer18 @am-i-the-villain-co @mameeta @bblessed @maximum-uwu @bbywonu @fmlariel @lipstickandlifts @tiannamortis

[dedeinthewild]

marcus armstrong x reader, bestfriends to lovers

-"Yeah, yeah. What's the emergency?"

summary : [requested] Marcus wants her to be on screaming meals, even if he knows it's not her cup of tea, and he won't let her live it down

Friday mornings were their favorite. The place was empty; they could snag the cozy booths in the corner and pour as much maple syrup as they wanted, while soft music played in the background and the waitresses, still a little sleepy but smiling, floated between tables, ready for the weekend. It was their love language in a way—meeting on that day, every week, over pancakes and avocado toast, to talk about anything and everything: her studies, or the latest embarrassing moment from their travels. It became the day they both looked forward to, whether at home or on the road, before a race or during a break. They didn’t care about dressing up or rushing. And anyone who was at that café on a Friday knew Marcus and she would be there, unapologetically taking their time over brunch and sleepy conversations.

That day, the Kiwi had already gone for a run and had swung by to pick her up straight after, hair still damp from the shower, wallet and phone clutched in one hand, leaning casually against the wall outside her place, eyes fixed on the street where a few bikes rolled past and dogs stopped to sniff at each other. They had taken their usual spot at the café, ordered the same dishes as always, and were sipping on their smoothies when Marcus's phone started buzzing nonstop, making her frown.

"Who died?" she asked. She had her blue-light glasses pushing her soft hair back from her face, and was wearing a ridiculous T-shirt with a dinosaur on it that said “I’m an anxious rex,” making Marcus chuckle every time he looked at her. She sat cross-legged on the seat, looking fresh and awake despite having only been up for an hour.

"Nobody. Yet. But if you keep me waiting like that again—"

"Yeah, yeah. What's the emergency?"

Marcus, for his part, wore one of his dark polos that made his green eyes pop and that familiar about-to-ask-a-favor expression that usually meant he was about to drag her into some kind of trouble. He leaned in slightly, resting his chin on his clasped hands as if presenting her with the opportunity of a lifetime.

"Screaming Meals. Guest episode. Special: ‘The people behind the drivers.’ You. Me. James. Clem."

She didn’t even pause before setting her glass down and taking her glasses off, placing them neatly on the table.

"Absolutely not."

"You didn’t even think about it!"

And so began the impossible mission of the IndyCar driver: weaponizing their friendship at every chance he got, slipping his proposal into conversations wherever he spotted even the tiniest glimmer of hope, flashing that charming smile and using that rare charisma.

On the subway, where the noise of the tracks made it almost impossible to hear:

“Screaming Meals, you and me—” he yelled over the clatter.

"I can't hear you," she shouted back, a mischievous grin on her face. She could hear him—he knew she could. She was just messing with him.

At a beachside dinner with Marcus’s sister and a family friend, candles flickering on the table, the sunset casting a reddish hue over the town: Paris had gone to the bathroom, and the other guy was mid-monologue, one she was only half-listening to out of politeness. Her gaze flicked between him and Marcus, who was sitting beside her. Marcus seized the moment, lifting his napkin to reveal a clumsy scrawl:

“Be on Screaming Meals or I’ll dramatically fake fainting at this restaurant.”

She frowned at him, surprised by the new tactic. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, mouthing the words:

"I will commit to the bit."

At absurd hours, when he was still across the ocean in America in his race suit and she was enjoying the European spring, her phone would light up with messages she really should have been ignoring in favor of sleep:

“what if you did Screaming Meals and became an internet icon overnight... just saying” “your laugh could literally carry the whole show. considering rebranding.” “would let you run me over in a shopping cart if you said yes ❤️”

He used every excuse: while gaming, begging her to go easy on him in exchange for dropping it, or while grocery shopping, juggling bags of lettuce and tomatoes teetering dangerously in his arms:

"So if you were hypothetically free Thursday, and hypothetically extremely charming, would you hypothetically come on Screaming Meals?"

"No," she said, snatching the box of tomatoes from his hands.

"Okay, Friday?" He hit her weak spot, and she threw a box of tissues at him, making it clear he’d scored. The green-eyed pilot knew he had won.

A few Fridays later, they were in their usual spot. Marcus wore his favorite shirt, looking like he was attending an important corporate meeting, the black ring on his finger making him seem even more serious as he locked eyes with her.

"Listen to me. You’re smart. You’re funny. You know me, you know James, you know Clem. You’re the perfect guest."

"Uh huh," she said, taking a sip of tea and peering at him over the rim of her cup.

"I need you," he whispered dramatically, letting his head fall onto the table, stretching his hands toward hers.

"You’re an idiot."

"And yet, you like me anyway."

Marcus sat back up, wearing his best pleading look.

"Fine. One episode."

His face lit up so much she immediately knew she’d regret it—but he looked so damn happy that she couldn’t take it back.

"Get ready for Screaming Meals world domination," he announced proudly.

A few days later, he dragged her to the studio he and the others had thrown together, carrying gear and treating her—his new guest—like the most prized possession he owned.

"I’m not funny. I’m just going to sit there and blink. I’m not good at the whole... talking... thing."

She was lost in her phone, looking a little nervous, hair tied up, a big hoodie engulfing her, and a carabiner clip full of random stuff hanging off her jeans. Marcus thought she looked adorable.

"You don’t have to be funny. You just have to be you," he said, parking the car. "And if you’re terrible, we’ll just edit you out. Easy."

She turned to him, eyebrows raised.

"Charming," she muttered, stealing a smile from him.

Clement and James had set up a few tripods and cameras in the backyard of a typical English house, throwing together armchairs with colorful cushions and a little table stacked with chips and sparkling water bottles. It had Screaming Meals written all over it: casual, chaotic, not a serious podcast in sight.

She knew the guys pretty well by now, after spending countless weekends between races hanging around them, getting used to how playful and genuinely funny they could be. They were part of the package deal that came with Marcus—and honestly, she didn’t mind. Not even when they endlessly teased her and Marcus whenever they caught them together.

The guys clipped a microphone to her hoodie, then they all plopped down in the garden, starting what would become the most hilarious episode yet.

"Today’s theme is: the people who make drivers possible. And, lucky for Marcus, he brought his personal therapist," Clem said, wearing a sweater that made him look like a perfect English countryside local, holding a glass of wine from his own brand.

"And chef. And security detail," added James, in his white shirt and mischievous grin.

"I hate to admit you’re not wrong," Marcus said, slouched back in his chair, grinning over at the couch where she and Clem were sitting.

She warmed up way faster than she thought—maybe because, as Marcus said, it was just another conversation like the thousands they’d already had. Or maybe because her introverted side had given way to her ambiverted self, the one that came alive around people she trusted.

"So, ____... how does one end up becoming Marcus Armstrong’s life coach?"

"Mostly by accident. He kind of... adopted me?" she laughed, curling into her hoodie, legs tucked under her, a soft smile on her face.

"But genuinely, you’re the person he turns to when he’s in full meltdown mode, right?"

"I guess. I’m just... there. I listen. I make sure he eats sometimes."

"And tells me when I’m being a moron," Marcus chimed in, fiddling with a receipt he’d swiped from a restaurant.

"That’s a full-time job," she shot back, glancing at him with that relaxed, teasing look he adored.

Out of all three, she probably vibed the most with Clement: easygoing, witty without trying to hog the spotlight, always ready to jump into some dumb idea without making it childish. Marcus’s humor was obvious, a little louder. James’s was pure chaos. Clem was effortless. She fit right in.

"Tell us the worst Marcus story you’ve got," James said, sliding her some snacks.

"Only one?" she joked, pretending to think.

"Here we go," Marcus sighed, eyes sparkling with a small smile as he watched her.

"Oh, this is going to be good," Clem laughed, rubbing his hands together.

"Okay, so Marcus once decided we had to hike this random trail he found online. No research. No map. He said—" she turned toward him, knowing he was already shaking his head, "—'It’s barely a walk. Easy.'"

"Three hours later, we’re lost, it’s getting dark, no phone signal, and he’s swearing the real path must be around the next corner."

"I thought we were going to have to eat berries and establish a society."

James and Clem burst out laughing. It was so Marcus—getting mad at the GPS while mosquitoes feasted on him and she stood there, hands on her hips, hair in braids, amused and exasperated.

"Never trusting you to tell this story again," he said, giving her a gentle nudge, ignoring James who sat wedged between them.

Then she really started exposing Marcus. The others had found their new favorite pastime.

"He’s the king of stubborn. No one else would mute the team radio mid-race because he decided it was ‘giving bad vibes.’"

"It’s his secret ingredient for both success and catastrophe," Clem joked, glancing at her.

"Blink twice if you're being held against your will," James added seriously.

"Honestly, some days it feels like that," she teased, hugging one knee to her chest, that sweet light always twinkling in her eyes.

"She knows you too well, mate. Dangerous."

"Starting to think you’re a mole."

"Wouldn’t need to be. You’re very easy to read."

James and Clem exchanged a look, one only they understood.

That’s how the episode closed: hours later, sun dipping below the English countryside, a small adventure that nudged her out of her comfort zone. When the cameras finally clicked off, she lounged back, nibbling on chips while the boys debriefed, already laughing about how the episode would crush it online. Talking about the crazy life of drivers—and the way it changes the lives of the people who love them, too.

Maybe she would’ve stayed hidden in her own little bubble without Marcus: stressed about her studies, doubting herself. Instead, here she was, laughing, feeling like the main character of some indie movie about being young, wild, and full of life. And maybe it wasn’t so crazy after all—being alongside someone like Marcus: chaotic, yes, but someone who somehow always brought out the best parts of everyone he loved, with that irresistible grin and that sharp wit.

"God, why did I think this was a good idea?" Marcus groaned, watching his fellow Kiwi cooking dinner, while she and Clem were out on the patio laughing about something.

"Because you’re an idiot in love, mate."

Marcus almost choked on his wine, eyes locked on the pair outside.

"Who's jealous now?"

"Me? Jealous of what?"

"Jealous she’s vibing with us better than with you."

It was beautiful, seeing her like that. Talking. Laughing. Making every little moment magical. Building little traditions with him. Seeing him pretend to be jealous, watching her find her place not just with him, but with his people too.

It was beautiful, how she always ended up laughing at him. In one of her oversized sweatshirts or silly T-shirts. With that bright, brilliant smile that kept Marcus grounded. And made him feel lighter than he ever thought possible.

this was requested by a beloved moot of mine, and I hope I did your idea justice!

[kanerallels]

RebelCaptain "and they lived" au? And/or "had a special but forgotten meeting as children" au (is that a thing xD) 🥺 Happy Star Wars Day!

OHHHHH FRIEND. That is DEFINITELY a thing and it happens to be a thing I DEEPLY LOVE so I hope you enjoy this:

“Our contact is on Pantora.”

“Pantora?” Jyn sounded taken aback, and Cassian glanced at her.

“You know it?”

She nodded, slowly. “My—I’ve been there before. When I was little. I only remember parts of it.”

When she was little. So with her parents, Cassian guessed, and didn’t press the issue. “Well, you’re about to go there again. Should be a quick in and out mission. The contact will leave the intel at a dead drop spot, and we’ll pick it up. Got it?”

Jyn nodded, her expression going serious, the way it always did before a mission. “Got it.”

They came out of hyperspace above Pantora minutes later, and had landed within half an hour. It was odd, Cassian reflected, how a place came back to you, even if you’d only been there once or twice, far younger.

He’d been to Pantora on a few runs with Maarva and Clem, when he wasn’t much older than seventeen, to sell what they’d scavenged. Apparently they’d had a good buyer there, because it hadn’t been near Ferrix. But whoever had bought from them paid well enough that they’d returned quite a few times.

Now, he wondered who it was. If they’d been connected to the contact they were following up with, or if it was just a coincidence. Less and less seemed that way these days—but despite Chirrut’s best attempts, Cassian usually wasn’t one to believe in fate, or the will of the Force. Not most days, anyways.

As they moved through the streets, he saw Jyn looking around, studying the sturdy but beautiful buildings around them. Pantora wasn’t Naboo or Alderaan in its natural beauty, and it certainly wasn’t Coruscant, but there was still something about it. Or maybe it was just the memories Cassian saw in so many of the street corners.

“See anything you remember?” he asked as Jyn paused, studying a tea shop thoughtfully.

“I think…we stopped there,” she said, voice distant. “I didn’t like the tea I got, so Papa drank it for me, and promised to get me another treat. Mama said he’d spoil me, but…I remember her smiling.” She shook her head, glancing at Cassian as if waiting for a reprimand, a reminder that they should focus.

He didn’t want to offer one. He wanted to say that they could stop on the way back, have tea, and spend a little time looking for more memories of the family she’d lost far too young. He understood what that was like.

But he also knew they had a contact to meet and an Empire to avoid, and with Skywalker’s destruction of the Death Star things were more dangerous than ever.

So he met her gaze, let her see that he wasn’t impatient or judgemental, then quietly said, “This way. We’ll cut through the square.”

She nodded, the smallest hint of a smile turning up the corner of her mouth, and they kept going.

The square was another one of those uniquely beautiful places on Pantora. For one thing, it was an actual square—a wide expanse in the middle of all the buildings and shops of bricks, bracketed in by flowering trees and lined with benches, a fountain in the middle. The bricks that made up the pavement were brightly colored, and asymmetrical in shape, like each one had been handcrafted by someone different. It was a patchwork of colors, and Cassian remembered Maarva had loved it.

He felt himself slow a little as he crossed it, almost coming to a stop by the fountain where he’d tossed pebbles—credits were too scarce to waste in water, and pebbles were common enough—just to see the water stir.

As he moved level with the fountain, he sensed the absence of someone at his side. Turning, he saw Jyn had stopped between two of the flowering trees, staring at the brickwork.

Moving back to her side in a few strides, Cassian said, “Hey. Everything good?”

“I…remember this place,” she said in a slow, wondering voice. “I stopped to look at the bricks because they were so pretty, and when I looked up…Mama and Papa were gone.” She looked up at him, brown eyes meeting his, and said, “And then…a boy found me. And helped me.”

For a moment, Cassian didn’t know what she was saying, and then it hit him. Because he remembered this, too.

He was waiting for Maarva and Clem to get back from their meeting, tossing pebbles into the fountain aimlessly. The sunlight was warm on his back, and he’d only been keeping half an eye out for stormtroopers when he saw it.

Or rather, her. A little girl, on her tiptoes, picking flowers from the trees. A brilliant smile lit up her face, like she had no other care in the world. Like the sun above them could never cast a shadow. 

It had reminded Cassian of his little sister, who he’d lost, and he’d watched just a heartbeat longer than he usually would have.

Which had turned out to be a good thing. Because the next thing he knew, an Imperial patrol was marching into the square. Everyone else knew to move, to keep their heads down. But the little girl didn’t move. Her head held high, she kept about her business, and Cassian had known it was only a matter of time.

Sure enough, one of the passing troopers pushed roughly past her, and she felt with a cry, the flowers she held scattering to the wind. Cassian had been on his feet before he knew what he was doing. Closing the distance between them, he’d pulled the girl to her feet and out of sight behind the fountain, away from the Imperials.

She wasn’t crying, even though the heels of her hands were scraped, and there were tears in her eyes. She looked angry, more than anything else. “You okay?” Cassian asked her, kneeling in front of her, and she nodded in a little jerk.

“They made me drop my flowers,” she said, her crisp Core World accent sharp in every syllable, and Cassian wondered who this girl was, what she was doing here. Where her parents were.

“I know,” he said. “But you can still see them in the trees.”

“It’s not fair,” she muttered, blinking hard.

“They never are.”

“They should be.”

Cassian had to smile at her vehemence. “They should. Maybe the only way to make things fair is to do it yourself.”

She nodded, ever so serious as she blinked away the tears, and Cassian asked, “Do you know where your parents are?”

She shook her head. “They were walking ahead, and I wanted to look at the trees. So I stayed here.”

Not a hint of fear in her voice, and Cassian couldn’t help but admire it a little. “Let’s go find them,” he said, and she took his hand without prompting.

Maarva and Clem had been furiously worried when he got back. But it was worth it to see the little girl’s delight when she saw her parents. None of her emotions seemed mild—all bright and crackling like lightning. And her parents were equally relieved to see her, her father sweeping her into his arms.

He’d left them like that, remembering the little girl’s bravery and ferocity. But only for a little while. Soon the memory faded away. Until then.

Cassian stared at Jyn, seeing the echo of the little girl she’d been in her eyes.  Still fierce, still brave. “That was you,” he said slowly.

A breeze caught a few of the petals and tangled them in her hair as she nodded. “It was. I remember telling my papa how nice you were…” she trailed off, and Cassian could see a hundred unspoken thoughts in her eyes. “You came for me, even then.”

“I always will.” The words slipped out, simple and true as all the other things he’d never said, but always meant. There seemed to be far too many, and he couldn’t carry them all forever.

A smile crossed her face. “I know.”

Another heartbeat passed, and then Jyn spoke, her tone back to normal. “We should keep moving.” Before Cassian could even move, she had, stepping past him and sweeping her hair back behind her ears, sending the loose petals scattering to the ground.

Cassian caught one as it fell, and tucked it into his pocket.

[clementinecoastline]

the siberian being a middle aged mans astral projection was a hate crime against the sapphic community by one (1) john wildbow. he should be exiled for it

[goodlucktai]

hold the world to its best (5/?)

rottmnt word count: 2k pairing: raph & OC title borrowed from light by sleeping at last part of the archer au

(prev) (next)

x

Gio is by no means a chatterbox. 

His pattern of speech is the same as when he’s nineteen years old, littered with careful pauses, slow to string words together. He tacks on ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ at the end of everything like someone is waiting around the corner to grade him on his manners. He visibly overthinks it every time he opens his mouth to say anything at all. 

If Raph had a dollar for every time Gio looked up at him to make sure it was okay for him to speak, he’d have enough money to buy the state of New York by the end of the week. And he can’t think about why that is, because then anger and hurt and a wailing sense of unfairness that feels like a little kid stomping their feet shouting ‘no no no!’ will swell inside him until he has to do something with all of it, like break a wall. And he can’t break a wall because that would scare the baby. So he can’t think about it. 

But Gio doesn’t need any prompting or encouragement when Splinter comes home from a last-minute run to Stop & Shop. There’s supposed to be a storm tonight, and traveling through flooded tunnels is no one’s idea of a good time, especially not with groceries for a family of eight. 

“Someone needs to go unpack the car so all of you must roshambo for it,” Splinter announces by way of hello. 

Everyone else groans but Gio perks right up. He squirms down from the sofa and runs to greet dad with uppy arms and a hopeful, “Papa.” 

A direct hit. The old rat has to take a knee. Not even the Shredder was enough to defeat the former Battle Nexus champion, but a two foot tall baby turtle is another story. 

“Hello my little one,” Splinter chokes out, scooping the spotted turtle right up. “Ah, I have not been welcomed home like this in many years. It’s enough to make an old man nostalgic. Thank you, Gray.”

“Appliance store commercials make you nostalgic,” Donnie says without looking up from his phone. 

“If you tried to pick one of us up like that you’d pull something,” Leo adds. 

“And thank you my obnoxious blueberries,” Splinter says, still in his baby-turtle-voice but with a narrow look over Gio’s head at the peanut gallery that implies they’d both get whacked with his tail if they were within reach. 

Pops must be feeling nostalgic if he’s breaking out that childhood nickname for the twins. Leo was the blue and Donnie was the berry from the ages of zero to about nine, when they had decided they’d outgrown it. Now Donnie looks incredulous and Leo looks deeply embarrassed, like a couple of kids whose mom is blowing kisses at them out the car window in front of all their friends. It has the additional effect of shutting them right up, which might have been what Splinter intended in the first place. Raph is adding that to his arsenal for a rainy day. 

Gio is too well-mannered to demand dad’s attention back like all the rest of his spoiled siblings would have done, but his eyes are big and lamp-like, and he’s wringing his hands against his plastron like someone five times his age, and it gives him away anyway. 

“What’s up, buttercup?” Mikey chirps, swinging around to hang off Splinter’s back and hook his chin over the rat’s shoulder. 

“Gray,” Gio says carefully. Then he points to himself, and does the question-mark wiggle with his pointer finger. Me?

“Yes, you!” Mikey leans over even further to poke Gio’s beak playfully. Splinter is fully supporting the weight of two of his kids at this point, one significantly heavier than the other. “It’s a nickname! We all have them. You’re Spot, and Gray, and Georgie. And Georgathan and Gregory and Jorge and—”

“Point made, Michael,” Donnie says flatly, because he really will just keep going. 

Mirror neurons in full-effect, Gio smiles at Mikey’s smile. Then he fingerspells C-L-E-M and points to himself again. 

“‘Clem’?” Mikey sounds it aloud. “Is that you?”

Gio nods with his fist, and what little expression they’ve coaxed out of him over the last couple of days is evaporating by the second, leaving behind that neutral-faced toddler they first met. Mikey clocks it and straightens, bracing his hands on Splinter’s shoulder to glance over his head at Raph, brow wrinkling beneath his mask. 

Raph, for his part, is marveling at the fact that it has literally never occurred to him to wonder about where the name “Giorgio” came from. Gio told them that he didn’t grow up with them in the future—that he spent the bulk of his childhood in another dimension before making his way back to the one he belonged in. What are the odds that Gio had a matching name before he knew he was part of a set? Obviously he must have been called something else before. 

Donnie is frowning thunderously. When he shoots a sideways look at Leo and raises his eyebrows, Leo only grimaces back in answer, both of them clearly on the same page and not loving what they’ve found there.

“Share with the class, you two,” Raph says for the millionth time in his life, stamping down an ancient annoyance. They claim not to have twin telepathy and then have entire conversations without saying a word. Who are they trying to fool?

“Ugh,” Donnie says. He looks and sounds disgruntled, like he hasn’t decided how upset he needs to be yet but he’s leaning towards ‘very.’ “Clem—I said it earlier, didn’t I? Clemmys guttata. The scientific name for spotted turtles. It’s like if my name was Apa, short for Apalone spinifera. No individuality, no character, no dynamism.”

Splinter’s tail lashes, agitated. “You all had tags on your shells when you were just babies. I kept them because it was the closest thing to a birth certificate I was likely to ever have. They included information such as your weights and sizes, your approximate time of hatching, as well as your genus and species. I still have them in a shoebox somewhere.”

So whoever found baby Georgie after the portal separated him from his family must have seen that tag. They must not have realized that it was the classification of what, not who, he was. 

Raph kind of hates that, actually. Even pets are given names. 

But he also hates the way Gio is getting nervous, making himself smaller where he’s tucked in the crook of Splinter’s arm, like he did something wrong by bringing it up. 

So he steps over and crouches down the way he’s gotten in the habit of doing with his baby-fied older brother. Splinter helps him out by turning slightly so that Gio and Raph are face to face. 

Gio tucks his chin slightly, and it would be easy to mistake the gesture for timid, but Raph knows better. For a second, Gio’s older self shines through. 

The kid isn’t even wringing his hands anymore, just clasping them so tightly it’s causing his dark gray-green skin to blanch. He’s watching his biggest brother with those archer eyes that miss absolutely nothing. He’s prepared for Raph to be angry with him, even though all he’s done is ask a simple question, even though Raph hasn’t so much as frowned at him once. 

Raph cannot break a wall, he reminds himself sternly. 

“Hey, big guy,” Raph says, smiling his biggest and warmest smile. “I’m sorry, it must have been pretty confusing, all of us calling you by some name you didn’t know. Do you want us to call you Clem instead?”

None of them would like doing it, but Gio’s comfort is more important than how the rest of them feel about a name he used to go by. It’s temporary, and Raph’s bratty little brothers will do as they’re told for once, or he’s putting them in air jail. All of them, air jail. 

But Gio shakes his head fast. He signs ‘no,’ too, touching his fingers to his thumb. 

“No, please,” he adds for good measure. “I want to be Gio.”

“Gio it is,” Raph says firmly. 

Mikey plants both his hands on Raph’s left shoulder and pushes with all his might. Raph doesn’t move, but Splinter is propelled a step backwards. Mikey uses the space he created to flip over dad and land nimbly in front of him and scoop the baby out of his arms. 

Gio doesn’t react beyond an initial widening of his eyes. A few days of constant exposure to Michelangelo has acclimated even the most cautious child in the world to his whimsy and enthusiasm. When Mikey smushes their cheeks together, Gio even smiles. 

“Do you like bananas?” Mikey asks solemnly. 

“Yes,” Gio says. 

“Do you like cake?”

“Yes,” their resident sweet-addict says unremarkably, like that isn’t the understatement of all time. Leo makes an incredulous scoffing noise, a laugh that’s trying not to start. He’s probably thinking of the same thing Raph is, which is the time Gio ate six red velvet cupcakes in one sitting and called it breakfast with a straight face. 

“Did you know I made a banana split cake for dessert?” Mikey whispers conspiratorially. “It’s almost ready to eat—I just need someone to help me add all the sprinkles on top.”

“I can help,” Gio says earnestly, leaning away to look up at Mikey with big brown eyes. Every person in the room would give him anything he wants, no exceptions, but probably the only thing he wants now in the whole entire world is to help with the sprinkles. 

“Aw, Georgie, I knew I could count on you! Helper gets first dibs, so let’s go make sure you get the best piece!”

Raph drags Leo with him to go haul in the groceries. Leo complains about it while in earshot of everyone else, but he doesn’t actually hate one-on-one time with his second-oldest brother. He loves it, actually. He just has to put on a show for no one’s benefit but his own for reasons that are a mystery to everyone but himself. If Raph would have remembered that in those tumultuous months leading up to the invasion, he would have saved himself a lot of grief. 

For now it’s enough to trip Leo and then run ahead of him, hearing the initial startled squawk melt into a competitive cackle and bracing for the weight of a little brother that lands on Raph’s shell moments later. 

Even with the ability to portal back and forth, it makes sense to two teenagers to precariously amass all the shopping bags at once and make a single trip. There’s a paper produce bag of tomatoes that almost doesn’t make it, and would have tipped out all over the kitchen floor if not for the quick save of Mikey’s sunshine-golden magic catch. 

“You boys are too silly for your own good,” Splinter grumps without heat, but he pats Raphael’s arm fondly before elbowing his way through the kitchen toward the fridge. 

Gio is sitting on the edge of the counter, kicking his feet idly and eating maraschino cherries out of the jar that Mikey left unattended. Donnie is leaning against the island beside him, pretending to be absorbed with his phone, but coincidentally within reach if a certain toddler were to slip and fall or start choking. 

Donnie is also, as far as Gio is concerned, the answers guy. He reaches out one pink-stained hand and pats Donnie’s arm very gently. Donnie, who would have no less than twenty things to say to anyone else who dared touch him with cherry fingers, each more scalding than the last, simply says, “Yes, George?”

“What is he like?” Gio asks. 

“Who?”

“Gio,” he says. 

Donnie blinks and sets his phone down. “What are you like? Oh—your older self, you mean?” Gio hesitates, but ultimately nods, and Donnie hums thoughtfully. “How best to describe Hamato Giorgio. A conundrum.”

“He’s so cool,” Mikey pipes up, with a smug glance at Leo. They have newly reached a point in their lives where it’s tentatively okay to make jokes about certain aspects of the day the world almost ended, depending on the joke. Leo’s early-onset hero worship of the long-lost Kraang-killing brother who’d brought him home that day is always okay to joke about, because Leo isn’t teased until he’s red in the face and sinking into his shell nearly enough. 

Leo scowls and shoves a carton of eggs at Mikey for him to put away, but noticeably does not refute the statement. 

“He’s a tank,” Raph adds, smiling automatically when Gio’s big dark eyes find him. “Steady as a rock, rolls with the punches. When he gets knocked down, he doesn’t stay down for long.”

“Proficient at his chosen craft,” Donnie says. “The tool he uses requires precision, focus, and hand-eye coordination, often in the middle of confusing or frenetic situations. But he never misses.”

“And he���s nice,” Mikey says, exchanging the jar of cherries in Gio’s hand for a can of cool whip. Gio holds it and has no idea what to do with it, so Mikey forms his fingers around the nozzle and presses, giggling at Gio’s surprised jump. He directs the baby turtle to the dessert dish, and as meticulous as he usually is with his cooking, he lets Gio apply the whipped topping the way he lets his brothers add color to his spray paint murals—as if each clumsy pass and crooked line is a worthwhile addition to his art. He beams every time Gio glances up to make sure he’s doing it right, so warm and bright and indulgent that it’s almost hard to believe he’s been the baby of the family all along. “He always has time for us, day and night. If we need something, he’ll get it. No questions asked,” Mikey goes on.

“Even if maybe a question or two should be asked,” Splinter mutters, likely having a flashback of the absurdly big tuna fish Gio had once brought home after Mikey made a passing remark about wishing he had the means to make sushi for lunch. They had nowhere to put it. They ate sushi for days. But Mikey had squealed with delight when he saw it, which made every single thing anyone else had to say about it a moot point to Giorgio.

“He’s our big brother, and he’s the best,” Leo says, folding his arms on the counter. “Hey, can I get some of that?” He leans over and opens his mouth, and Gio blinks at him, and then down at the can in his hands, and then attempts to apply whipped cream to Leo’s face. Some of it makes it into his mouth, but most doesn’t. Leo laughs, silly and sweet, before it even occurs to Gio to worry that he’ll get scolded, and wipes the errant cream into his mouth with his thumb. “We love him to pieces, and he loves us, too. It’s a good deal all around. Everybody wins.”

Gio gazes up at him, searching his face for something. He nods, and smiles back, and then giggles when Leo scoops some whipped cream out of the dish and smears it onto his nose—at which point Mikey declares Leo banned from dessert prep and Leo says, “Oh, big words from Mr. Eats-Peanut-Butter-With-His-Fingers,” and Donnie picks up both Gio and the discarded cherry jar and relocates the three of them to the other side of the island, out of the line of fire. 

Gio opts to stay in Donnie’s lap rather than return to his seat on the counter. Donnie looks down at the top of his head, but if he’s surprised he doesn’t show it. As all big turtles are wont to do with smaller ones, Donnie will hold him for as long as he wants to be held. 

From the way Gio’s sticky hands clutch Donnie’s arm, as if he might lose it if he doesn’t hold on, that’s one universal truth he hasn’t learned yet.

[suzie-shooter]

[storges-oranges]

hi clem! i really like your writing so far and i was wondering if i could request smth for touchstarved 👀 recently i’ve been wondering what vere would be like with the sweetest fucking spouse/partner u have ever met. like they might be more angelic then kuras 💀 (honestly i wonder abt all the li’s)

Hey hi hello! Thanks for the kind words! Really appreciate them! I had alot of fun with this but idk if this is what you had in mind, they're mostly a bit angsty , but I hope you like it!

🌸It's hard to imagine Vere with a sweet partner, unless they're rather strong willed. Which you would have to be to deal with him in general. I think the best possibility would be what Dracula and Lisa from castlevania have. Even then, I imagine it would take an eternity for him to come around.

The start of such a relationship would be rocky for sure. I think he would take such a personality as a challenge. He's seen wanna be mother Theresas before, and he knows their resolve crumbles at the slighest hint of danger or when they realize helping the fallen in a place like Eridia takes more than half thought out platitudes.

He would expect you to be the same and pull the usual antics; cornering you in alleyways, baring his fangs or his bloodsoaked claws ect... And turn around each and everytime expecting the looks of fear, disgust before he could proudly prove to you that your own deeply held convictions are a lie. Oh how delicious would the look in your eyes be.

Imho the best way to react to those antics is either indifference or mild annoyence. Why? Well for one it's not like he can go on a killing spree without the permission of the senobium(except for feeding, but I'll consider that a separate thing for the sake of this lxhdhsb), so his displays of violence were mostly confined to dangerous soulless wandering the alleyways. And two because it pisses him off. What? You're not gonna call him an unredeemable abomination? Well that's just not fair. How is he supposed to have his fun now?

His disappointment annoyance morphs into curiosity, then derision. You're not the Wretched creature that runs the clinic in lowtown, you're far easier to kill. Surely you know that right? No one takes those silly little values seriously. If you want to break your curse you'll have to grow a spine.

Yeah sorry, but it would take him a while, years maybe, to fully accept that part of who you are.

When he does though, I think he would develop a bit of a protective streak. He'll never stop pestering you about helping people who clearly wouldn't spit on you of you were on fire, but the remarks would grow less biting and more affectionate.

You might even convince him to do an act of charity here and there but that's where he stops. Having someone who genuinely cares is... nice.

It's a nice thing, and he doesn't have alot of those.

🌸I cannot write this man as anything other than a toxic menace so; Leander resents that part of you. To be precise, he resents that it's not just for him. Part of him is touched by your gentleness and perhaps he tells himself that keeping you under his thumb is the easiest way to preserve your light. But he cannot help the burning pit of envy in his stomach whenever he sees you share thay same light with others. Not that he ever shows it. If Leander has any say in how things turn out, you'll never know the extent of his obsession or how short a leash he wants to keep you on. It's all manipulate mansplain manslaughter with this guy. Some people who have been particularly greedy for your time find opportunities they'd never dream of and are never heard of again.... Weird.

He's not above intentionally getting hurt and then running to you for pampering. Loves it when you fuss over him, loves the hint of worry in your voice as you chastize him for being so careless. Loves loves loves loves LOVES the way you touch him so gently. As if he could break under the lightest touch. As if you could break him. And its so earnest its adorable. Might hiss in faux pain just to have you cup his cheek and murmur "sorry". How kind. How cute.

He's never letting anyone else have you.

🌸Ais would also, much like Vere, be skeptical about your mother Theresa vibes. But he wouldn't be too much of an ass about it. I think the aspect he would crave most from such a partner would be total recognition and acceptance.

The sea spring is a curse in and of itself, so many souls sharing too few bodies and its easy for your own consciousness to be lost in a see of others. And it, in turn, can lead to a loss of autonomy (and identity) thats difficult to deal with. Ais understands that better than anyone, and he strives to give that sense of autonomy to others where he can. Thats why Vere likes him so much imo. It would make sense thats its something Ais himself would appreciate in return.

An angel to him then, would be someone who can tell him where the hivemind ends and where Ais begins. And then love the complicated, temperamental, monster-who-came-from-the-shroud Ais. He is not so different from the soulless, and being seen but rejected might be worse.

To get clarity on who he is, to have his identity redefined and given to him without being encroached upon and on top of it all loved? That would be true companionship. The end to his isolation.

Also not above getting hurt and asking to be pampered. It says in his bio that he likes bar fights. I like to think that it's beacuse it silences the cacophony in his head and the pain reminds him its his body. That he is in still in there, mostly because he feels the pain more than the rest of them.

Being pampered by you serves the same purpose. You love him. You are taking care of him. No other mind is the recipient of this love. He knows he is alive because he can feel the touch of his beloved.

To quote one of my favorite books "The God of small things" by Arundhati Roy:

[...] her body existed only where he touched her. The rest of her was smoke.

The parts of Ais's body that you leave untouched are smoke.

As for the " This is the skin of a killer Bella" duo, well.

🌸Mhin cannot have feelings for you because such a kind person is a beautiful, fragile thing. They have destroyed many beautiful, fragile things. They won't let you be on that list.

It will take a very long time until they somewhat trust that having you around is not a death sentence for you. But a key aspect of being in Mhins life as a lover is figuring out how to reassure them because they are afraid.

What if whatever solution you came up with fails?What if their curse has some other terrible aspect they didn't know about because they haven't been this close to anyone since it befell them? What if your curse and theirs interacted and something happened to you? What if -

You might tease them for being a worry wort, despite their cool and moody exterior chastizing you will take their mind off the anxiety for a second. Tasking woth sharing the food at the local soup kitchen would also help.

Truth is, they would feel a bit embarrassed by their own single mindedness. You are so much weaker than them, but here you are, doing everything you can to help others, even at the detriment of your own quest for a cure. And they..... are doing what, exactly? Loitering by the Senobiums gates?

Be careful not to let their mind wander too long, lest their self deprecating nature take the upper hand.

🌸Kuras hates himself too much to let himself be happy as well. He believes that he doesn't deserve half of what you give him, even before you guys get together.

And I don't think you guys get together before a long long while. I think that you would dane around it. You would help around the clinic, offer food to the residents of lowtown ect..... And that work would bring you together.

At this point in his life Kuras is likely at the end of his rope so he would be to let you linger around him. Let these budding feelings grow and take root.

He can ignore the voice in his head that calls him unworthy as long as there is plausible deniability. Fingers brushing as he passes you your favourite coffee mug.Your breath on his cheek when he bends down so you can whisper something in his ear. Your knees bumping under the table in the cramped space of the clinics kitchenette. Your hand in his as he helps you navigate the crowded streets of lowtown.

It's almost enough, which means there is restraint, which means there is pain. So it's ok. He's not indulging. He knows he doesn't have the right to and he is not.

The problem, of course is that there is pain on both sides. Of course you wouldn't let his reasoning fly. Of course you don't believe he is a corrupt existence. Of course you love a Wretched being like him.

And of course he can't let you ruin yourself like that for him.

I will be upfront dear reader, you will love him for decades before Kuras lets himself love you back. Your insistance will win him over evantually, but centuries of guilt won't magically disappear. Certainly not when Kuras feels you are too good for him.

It is with Kuras that I most clearly see a mariage happening. The years you do get are pure marital bliss and Kuras's only regret is that he lost so much time with you being stubborn.

That a being as short-lived as you could be so kind will mark him forever.

[rowancries]

STARMAN — REMUS LUPIN X READER

in which a tall, alluring boy & and loud chaotic party girl have unlikely chemistry.

A/N: OK so this story was legit writtrn for wattpad and it SHOWS… (btw my wattpad is rowancwries heh chapter 2 is up there). anywho this is a new series i worked SO hard on so feel free to show it some love and i’ll continue to cross post it :)

wc: around 2k+ warnings : use of (y/n)

CHAPTER 1 🪐

THE HUFFLEPUFF COMMON ROOM was buzzing. Hufflepuff had just beaten Ravenclaw in the first match of the season, and everyone in the house seemed elated to finally get a win.

The door to the common room swung open, and Charles Prescott, Hufflepuff's star Seeker strutted in. A cheer erupted from the crowd and Charlie grinned, like he had been expecting it all along.

"CHARLIE!"

(Y/n) (L/n) was standing on one of the couches in the corner, waving her firewiskey above her head to grab his attention. Aurora (often refered to as Rory) Clementine, her best friend, was sitting criss-crossed beside her, looking unimpressed.

Charlie spotted them immediately and made his way over. With a dramatic sigh, he flopped onto the couch.

"It's exhausting being this talented," Charlie groaned, letting his head fall back.

"Oh, poor you," Rory said flatly, handing him a glass with something there Professors would not approve of inside . "It must be so hard being Hufflepuffs newest hero."

(Y/n) smirked and leaned forward, shoving his shoulder. "It's getting harder to put up with your ego every day."

"I'm humble," Charlie argued, completely serious as he took a huge gulp of his drink.

"You're the opposite of humble," Rory deadpanned.

Charlie grinned. "Unbearably charming, then."

Before (Y/n) could come up with a retort, Charlie leaned toward her. "Speaking of unbearable," he said, "how many drinks have you had? You're looking a little too happy tonight. Should I prepare for you to need rescuing?"

She snorted, waving him off. "Please. This isn't my first party, Prescott."

"Oh, is that a challenge?"

Rory rolled her eyes, muttering something about the two of them being "basically insufferable" as they bantered back and forth. She reached for a handful of popcorn just as the conversation shifted, but her hand froze halfway.

"Don't look now," Rory muttered, leaning closer to (Y/n), "but Creepy Gryffindor is staring at you again."

(Y/n) frowned, glancing over her shoulder. Sure enough, Adam Abbott was standing by the snack table with a few of his Gryffindor friends. He had this smirk on his face that instantly made her regret looking. When he caught her eye, he raised his drink like he was toasting her.

She turned back around so quickly. "Why is he here?"

"Because ugly Gryffindors don't know how to stay in their own common room," Rory said.

Charlie, who had been watching the interaction, looked between the two of them. "Do I need to punch him?"

"No," (Y/n) said, though the idea of someone dumping pumpkin juice on Adam's head was tempting. "He's just... being werid. Like always."

"If he gets creepier, let me know," Charlie said, sitting up a little straighter. "I've been told my right hook is impressive."

Rory snorted, leaning back against the couch. "Yeah? By who?"

"Oh, you know, the guys," Charlie said casually, waving a hand like it was obvious.

"What guys?" Rory pressed, smirking. "Your favorite Gryffindor nuisances? Because I don't think their judgment counts for much."

Charlie scoffed. "No, not James and Sirius. Like the guys. Quidditch guys."

"Quidditch guys," Rory repeated slowly. "You mean the ones who can't walk past a mirror without checking their hair? That's your judge of character?"

"Hey, just because they care about their hair doesn't mean they don't appreciate a solid right hook," Charlie shot back, punching the air.

"Right," Rory said dryly. "Because when I think of someone who knows combat skills, I definitely think of Quidditch players."

"Laugh all you want, Clem, but my hook's legit. Ask MacMillan—he still flinches every time I go near him."

Rory rolled her eyes, fighting back a laugh. "You probably tripped and accidentally hit him."

"Okay, there was the one time but that an accident," Charlie admitted, "and it still worked, didn't it?"

"Sure," Rory said, dragging out the word. "Very intimidating, Prescott. Truly terrifying."

"I am terrifying," Charlie said, puffing up his chest dramatically.

(Y/n), who had been quietly sipping her beverage and watching them bicker, chimed in. "Charlie, the only thing terrifying about you is how seriously you take your hair routine."

"Oh, come on!" Charlie groaned, throwing his head back. "Not you too, (Y/n)."

"You use more product than I do," she said, grinning.

"That's because I'm an athlete," Charlie argued. "Do you know how much wind damage my hair takes? It's called self-care."

"Sure, Charlie," Rory said. "Wind damage. Not vanity at all."

"Whatever," Charlie muttered, crossing his arms. "At least I'm not letting some creepy Gryffindor guy wander around thinking he's hot stuff. I'll punch him if I have to."

Rory grinned. "You're all talk."

"Am not."

"Are too," she shot back.

"Want me to prove it?" Charlie challenged, leaning forward like he was about to march across the room and confront Adam then and there.

(Y/n) put a hand on his arm to stop him, laughing. "Okay, tough guy we get it. You're very strong and scary."

"Thank you," Charlie said, sitting back with a satisfied smirk.

Rory rolled her eyes again, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You're ridiculous, Prescott."

"And yet you can't get enough of me," Charlie said, flashing her a grin.

"Yeah right," Rory scoffed, acting annoyed despite the smile she was fighting to suppress.

—

The party raged on, people were packed into every corner. At some point, the "infamous" Marauders made their grand entrance, causing a ripple of excitement to sweep through the crowd.

Sirius Black and James Potter burst through the door each of them holding a bottle of firewhisky in one hand and wearing matching grins that promised nothing but mischief.

Sirius was devilishly handsome as always. His dark, shoulder-length hair was messy, yet well kept. He strode into the center of the room like he owned the place. Nobody could ever enchant a room as quickly and confidently as Sirius could. Well, maybe James.

James was glowing with his chaotic energy. His jet-black hair stuck up in every direction, a clear sign that he'd been messing with it as usual. He had his usual smirk, an obvious indication he was up to mischief settled on his face.

Arriving a few seconds later was Remus Lupin, who didn't try to command attention the way his friends did. His brown hair was neatly combed, though a few strands had fallen into his face. There were faint scars that traced his face and hands. Unlike James and Sirius, who radiated chaos, Remus had a calmness about him.

The room erupted into cheers and laughter at the sight of the trio, Sirius immediately raising his firewhisky bottle in a toast to no one in particular. "Hufflepuffs know how to party!" he declared.

James, however, had spotted someone in the crowd (Y/n). His grin widened, and he cut through the crowd with ease, ignoring the people around him, calling for his attention.

"Oi, (Y/n)!" he called, his voice cutting over the noise.

(Y/n), who had been sitting in the middle of the couch next to Charlie, raised her eyebrows as James approached. "Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence," she teased, with a fond smile.

James plopped down on the empty seat next to (Y/n), sprawled his legs across their lap. "And miss the biggest party of the year? Not a chance," he said, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Besides, you'd miss me if I didn't show up."

"You saw me like three days ago," (Y/n) said, rolling her eyes but laughing anyway.

"Three days too long," James said, grinning. "What've you been up to? Causing trouble without me?"

(Y/n) smirked. "Unlike you, I try not to draw attention to myself."

"Rubbish," James said, leaning closer. "You were just as bad as me when we were kids."

"That's because I didn't know any better," (Y/n) shot back, nudging him playfully.

(Y/n) had grown up with James; their families were close, and almost all of her earliest memories involved running through the Potters' backyard with James, both of them covered in dirt and laughing about something only they found funny. Even as they grew up they never grew apart, and James never changed. He was still the same loud and funny kid (Y/n) had met when she was four.

While James and (Y/n) talked, Sirius had started leading a group in a random drinking game Peter had told him about the day prior. Remus, however, had found a quieter corner, leaning against the wall with a drink in hand. His dark eyes occasionally flicked toward (Y/n) and James, a frown creasing his face as he watched them.

(Y/n) glanced over at him briefly and caught his gaze. For a moment, the noise of the party seemed to fade, and she felt a warmth rise to her cheeks. Was it all the alcohol in her system or was it the way Remus looked at her, so calm and observant?? She quickly looked back to James, hoping he hadn't noticed.

James, of course, was oblivious, already launching into a story about some ridiculous prank he and Sirius had pulled. (Y/n) listened, but her mind kept drifting back to the boy in the corner.

He leaned against one of the bookshelves, watching the chaos with that soft expression he always seemed to have. He wasn't like his friends—loud and dramatic and always at the center of the action. He was quieter, steadier. He didn't need anyone to notice him the way Sirius or James did.

(Y/n) noticed, though. She glanced over at him more than once, catching the way his hair fell into his eyes when he looked down, or the way his lips quirked into the faintest smile when James tried (and failed) to charm one of the badger statues into dancing.

(Y/n) tried to follow along to James' stories, laughing at all the right moments, but her focus was slipping in and out. The warmth from the firewhisky she'd been sipping earlier still buzzed pleasantly through her veins, making her head feel light. It didn't help that her gaze kept wandering across the room.

Her eyes landed, again and again, on the boy in the corner. (Y/n) kept glancing over at him without even meaning to, catching his movements. She shook her head, trying to focus back on James's story, but her thoughts kept drifting.

"You're staring," came Charlie's amused voice, far too close to her ear for comfort.

(Y/n) startled, the sudden voice causing her to nearly spill her drink. She twisted to glare at him, her cheeks already heating. "I am not," she hissed, voice a little louder than intended.

"Oh, you so are," Charlie said, grinning. He leaned back, resting his elbows on the couch's backrest with the kind of confidence only a Prescott could manage.

(Y/n) groaned, her face burning as she pushed his shoulder weakly. "Shut up, Charlie."

"No, no, this is important. I'm just stating the facts," he said, feigning innocence. "And for the record, you're not very subtle."

"I hate you," she mumbled, covering her face with her hands to block out the smug expression on his.

"No, you don't," Charlie said with a smirk, snatching her half-empty drink off the table beside her. "But it's okay. Everyone's a sucker for a quiet, brooding type. He's got that mysterious thing going on."

(Y/n) peeked through her fingers to glare at him, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Thanks for the insight, cupid."

Charlie simply winked, taking a swig from her cup. She turned away from him with a groan, her mind already drifting back to the boy in the corner.

Remus hadn't moved, but his eyes had flicked up, meeting hers for the briefest moment. She quickly turned back to Charlie, pretending to focus on his nonsense, but the warmth in her cheeks was impossible to ignore.

Charlie raised a knowing eyebrow but, for once, didn't say a word. He just leaned back into the cushions with a smirk.

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

My rewrite of TWDG season 2:

Episode 1

Mostly the same, except Christa doesn’t go missing. She and Clementine are still together and Christa is the one who gets bitten by the dog. So instead of Clem having to tend to her own arm, Clem has to tend to Christa. Other than that, the story is mostly the same.

Episode 2

Again, mostly the same. However, the rivalry is no longer Kenny vs. Luke, it’s now Kenny vs. Christa. This is a direct continuation of their dynamic in season 1 since Kenny and Christa would often butt heads. However, it’s much worse this time since it’s two incredibly traumatized people taking their anger out on each other.

Episode ends the same way, with everyone being captured by Carver’s people.

Episode 3

This is where the storyline takes a massive deviation. We learn that part of the reason why Luke’s group fled Carver is that a war is about to break out in the area. Apparently, Carver got on the wrong side of a man named Arvo, the leader of a Russian survivor camp. Carver knows his people would lose a war with Arvo’s people, but is too stubborn to grovel for peace.

So, this episode is mostly about the group’s attempt to escape before Arvo makes his move. Unfortunately, in another deviation from the original storyline, the escape plan fails. Alvin, if he survived the previous episode, is killed as a result of the failed escape.

As punishment, Carver decides to kill one of the main characters. He forces Clem to make a choice between Nick (if he survived episode 2), Carlos, and Sarita.

If Nick is chosen, Luke will hate Clem. If Carlos is chosen, Sarah will hate Clem. If Sarita is chosen, Kenny will hate Clem.

Regardless of who dies, Carver tells the group to prepare for war.

(Also, the walker herd from the original storyline is still present. The storyline reason is that the walkers are being used by Arvo’s people to attack Carver’s camp, similar to how the Wolves in the Walking Dead TV show used walkers)

Episode 4

Arvo’s people makes their move. This episode is mostly focused on the war between Carver’s camp and Arvo’s camp. Knowing that Carver’s people can’t win the war, Kenny and Christa come up with a new escape plan. This time, they’ll use the chaos of Arvo’s next attack to sneak out of the area.

Before the group can make their escape, Rebecca gives birth. Carver takes baby AJ and says something along the lines of raising his son to take over as the group’s new leader.

We then get a new mission in which Clem sneaks into Carver’s office to get AJ. Unfortunately, while trying to sneak back to the group, Carver catches her. But that’s when Kenny and Christa arrive, leading to a brutal fight scene that ends with Kenny shooting Carver in the legs. You’re then given the choice of watching Kenny beat Carver to death or leaving the area.

Even after Carver dies, Arvo’s people launches another attack. This time, the group manages to successfully get away. Unfortunately, Nick, Carlos, and Sarita all perish during the escape (so whoever you didn’t choose to die in the previous episode ends up dying anyways, per Telltale tradition).

Rebecca also dies. But before she dies, she makes Clementine promise to her that she’ll take care of AJ.

The episode ends on a massive cliffhanger. Even though Arvo destroys Carver’s camp, he sets his sights on Clem’s group, vowing to wipe out everyone who was associated with the man.

Episode 5

The first half of the episode is focused on the group trying to get away from Arvo’s army. During the exodus, the group tries to cross a frozen lake. Clem falls through but Sarah saves her. Unfortunately, Sarah is dragged down by a walker and drowns. Bonnie could also die in this sequence.

After Sarah’s death, despite the group’s efforts, they are eventually cornered by Arvo’s army. A shootout occurs, leading to a walker herd arriving and attacking both sides. Clem is shot in the shoulder by Arvo and passes out.

When Clementine wakes up, she sees that she’s in a truck with Kenny, Christa, Jane, and Luke. Luke explains that Bonnie (if she’s still alive) and Mike went missing after the attack by Arvo’s people. When Clem asks if they’re still being chased by Arvo’s camp, Jane says that most of them were wiped out by the walker herd.

Kenny and Christa are arguing, leading to the car crashing. Everyone is separated in the blizzard. Eventually, Clementine finds Kenny and Christa. When Kenny asks what happened to AJ, the three of them assume the worst. Kenny thinks Christa killed AJ, while Christa thinks Kenny killed AJ. The two fight, which ends in either Christa being killed by Kenny or Clem killing Kenny. Or both could die if you let Kenny kill Christa, and then choose to shot Kenny afterwards.

Regardless of what happens, Clementine learns that AJ was actually with Luke and Jane the whole time. So the sad reality of this situation is that had Kenny and Christa not immediately jumped to conclusions, they would’ve learned that AJ was safe and sound. At this point, Jane says she’s going off on her own since she feels she’s gotten too attached to the group. As Clementine, you take AJ and decide to:

1) Go off on your own

2) Stay with Luke

3) Stay with Jane

4) Stay with Kenny (if he survived)

5) Stay with Christa (if she survived)