#gave us good found family content for like two episodes

[rockstar-burger]

ACT II SPOILERS BELOW (NOT A LEAK) ‼️

[lizaluvsthis]

Sparks in the air

This fanfic is dedicaded to @shygirl4991 and @alianarepasa for Mothers Day! Thank you for being our found family!

Summary- Smg4 receives an official invite from a group of famous content creators such as himself to work with them.

It's always been a dream for him yet he has to leave his home and friends forever. After careful consideration, he decided to pursue his dream and packed up his things.

His friends threw him a going away party, and he was sad to leave but what bothered him the most was that he hasn’t seen too much of his meme guardian partner lately since he announced he was leaving...

INSPIRED BY - The show “Friends”

References:

Notebook (from Spiderverse Part 1) -Liz

Holding hands episode -Aj

Written by @itsajanea and @lizaluvsthis

Illustrations by @lizaluvsthis

Gmods by @itsajanea

COMBINED IDEAS BY THE EGG N’ BEEG DUO

[AJ]

3rd Pov

“GUYS, GUYS LOOK WHAT I HAVE!” Smg4 yelled excitedly, running into the room, and waving what seemed to be a half-open letter. The crew looked at him with confusion but expected it was good based on his reaction.

“ I got an official invite to work with the best content creators!!” The blue meme guardian starts jumping up and down, waving the letter in the air.

The others were happy for him and celebrated with him.

Something slipped from the inside of the envelope and fell onto the floor, Meggy picked it up and stared at it before turning back to look at the happy Smg4.

“Ummmm Smg4, did you read the ENTIRE letter?” Meggy calls out to him, catching everyone else's attention as she waves a small plane ticket.

Smg4 looked back at the invitation in his hand and took out the letter from the envelope only to realize it was also talking about him moving away from his current residence

“Oh, it says that I will be going away for a long time…” What once was happy cheers turned into a sad moment of silence, until Mario shuffled up to him and gave him a big ol hug.

“Mario understands how much this means to you, and Mario is very happy.” He softly said, hugging the other tighter while he held back some tears. Smg4 hugged the red plumber back and soon everyone joined in the group hug, it was nice and comforting for the man.

All except for one, Smg3. He looked back at the group making sure no one noticed him hiding his tears before running off.

Smg4 Pov

It's been a couple of days since I got that invite… I should be finished packing by now, yet I don't want to move.

I’ve been lying here, staring at the ceiling for quite a while and I hear some noise outside.

They told me earlier that I should stay in here for a while so they’re probably throwing a party for me which is nice but… something feels wrong.

I sat up and looked at the boxes surrounding the room, I finally got up and walked around the place, reminiscing about the time I spent here.

I spotted a glimpse of a certain picture inside the box and I took it out. I smiled seeing the picture of me and the gang, we all looked so happy, I pulled out another picture from the box and it was of the two of us.

“Three…” I frown just thinking of him, I haven’t seen him in a while since I said to everyone that I accepted the offer.

And even when I DID see him, he’d just avoid me.

I bet he’s just mad that I got a good deal instead of him. I rolled my eyes and shoved the picture back into the box, walked away, and found myself looking back at the box.

Even though I'm a little mad at him… I’ll still miss him, like everyone else but I think I’ll miss him the most. But we know that I have to leave soon, so I better finish packing.

I grabbed an empty box and started packing some stuff in it, later on, I finished packing all my stuff so I took off my hat, lay on my bed and I stared at the wall to my right.

I waited for a while for the others to finish outside but I can’t help thinking about him. I turned to the left, looking at that space beside me and for some reason, I felt something was missing in that very spot.

I closed my eyes and drifted off into a deep slumber.

…

Suddenly I felt a gentle breeze, I opened my eyes and found myself sitting on the grassy plains, staring at a purple sky, It was a sight to see and reminded me of someone-

I looked around the beautiful plains and saw 3 in the distance, I got up and rushed over to him yet I had a weird feeling.

When I called out his name, he looked at me with an enraged look, clenching his fists and what shocked me more was when he spoke in a sarcastic tone.

“Congratulations Smg4, you got what you wanted, now you can go off with your new friends.”

He then started walking away, I tried catching up, pleading with him to understand what he meant. I thought he would understand.

I tried reaching my hand out to him

and then the next thing I knew… I woke up, realizing I was reaching for something that wasn’t there

I tried relaxing my mind because it didn’t matter, for now, maybe I’d see him later and we could talk if he would be here.

“Oh ES-EM-GEE-FOUR!” I hear Mario’s call, which means I can finally come out now. I fixed my hair, put on my hat, and was ready to get out.

When I stepped out, I noticed all the decorations and everyone I knew. They all yelled out in excitement and came rushing towards me. I was overjoyed, even though it may be the last, I'm glad to see everyone again.

While chatting with one of my old friends, I see Smg3 just standing there.

I excused myself and walked up to him til Mario just popped out of nowhere. I was stuck talking to him for a while and saw 3 leaving the party too soon. He looked at me with a cold stare before disappearing from my gaze.

What did I do wrong?

3rd Pov

It was after the party that Smg4 couldn’t sleep, that look 3 gave him shook him to his core. It made him angry for some reason. Why couldn’t he be happy for him just once, just because he was the one who got an amazing offer?

4 could’ve tried sleeping, his flight is in the morning but it bothered him too much to the point where he decided to go march over to 3’s place and give him a piece of his mind.

He took his hat and entered the shop, while riding down the elevator he thought of what to say and then

Ding

He got off the elevator and yelled out

“THREE! WHY THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN AVOIDING ME THIS PAST-”

Smg3 sat on his bed, hugging himself while he cried in anguish. Surrounded by a mess and Eggdog, who was trying his best to comfort his beloved father he still weeps.

4 felt devastated, he felt sick to his stomach seeing the other in this state. He had never seen 3 in such a terrible state like this before.

“Three…” He softly says, slowly approaching the other before 3 stared at the man intensely, his eyes were red and puffy, and he kept gasping for air and felt his body tremble.

“Get out.” 3 quietly answered, pausing to wipe his face on his shirt. “Now…”

“But I-”

“I SAID GET OUT, GET OUT NOW” he raised his voice and threw the nearest object he could find at 4.

4 was able to dodge it but he still had goosebumps. Before he could speak, 3 threw another object at him and kept throwing more and more objects while yelling at him

“GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!!!”

[Liz]

A moment without thinking, he threw the only thing that felt important to him…

His secret diary… his notebook… the one that he hides most often when he’s around with four or any other of the crew members.

“Three! Please stop- we can talk about this-” Four trying his best to cover his face with his arm on defense.

He was brought by surprise just the second he saw a notebook coming closer that was about to his face.

It was too late for him to dodge it, right after the split second he noticed that it was SMG3’s diary. The sharp corner hit his forehead and fell to the floor.

“OW!” SMG4 knocked himself back to the ground, with his eyes closed. His hat fell off to the floor, and the amount of pictures and notes flew out of the pages from three’s notebook.

Like how it exploded in the air.

The notes and pictures that scattered across the room, gave Three a quick moment of realization then his face turned pale. Feeling shocked after realizing what he had just done.

Seeing Four has a tiny scratch from the impact and the purple notebook he owns. Just right in front of him…

Three starts to panic after he gave himself a second to think, he f-cked up pretty badly…

“SHIT- SHIT- SHIT!” he hurriedly grabs the photos and the other notes lying on the ground, and Four rubs his forehead then finally opens his eyes to see papers falling.

As one of them falls and lands in Four’s hand, he slowly picks up the note to try and read what the handwriting says.

Three’s handwriting is oddly new to him since he’d never seen much of his writing before, looking a bit closer now. He reads a simple note of-

“Today, Four made me laugh. I honestly hated how soft I am to this baka but the joke was funny tho.”

Then to the bottom after the text, it shows a doodle of him and Three laughing together, just the two of them sitting on the bench.

“What…” he saw two marked pink colored hearts, one beside four and one beside three.

Three’s heart started pounding, this can’t be happening to him right now. But then again it was too late to stop him.

As Four carefully placed the note down with now seemingly widened eyes, his other hand moved to the other side reaching out for another picture.

It was a picture of him and Three back when they were both in their recolored designs. Back when Three seemed to like Four a little bit…

The picture is back on Christmas when Four insists on taking a selfie with him and Three while Mario is the one to use the camera. SMG3 felt a bit uncomfortable with the idea but Four still insisted.

Grabbing him around the shoulder, Three is seen blushing red in the camera while Four just smiles casually.

[AJ]

“You kept this….” 3 took the picture away from him, his face was red and he was extremely frustrated with 4.

[Liz]

“I…” Three wanted to respond but never dared to. SMG3 felt like his whole world tore apart right after a single thing he’d done. Now everything about his friendship with Four is destroyed.

Four tilted his head from side to side seeing all of the notes that were all mostly drawings of him and the pictures Three and him have been together or even without three and just him only marked with pink hearts all over.

“Three… you… you’ve been hiding all of this from me this whole time…?” Deep silence caused Four to get more upset. “Three… please…” “Stop.” The notes three were holding are now crushed right after clenching his fist.

“YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING AT ALL!” He slapped Four’s hand away after trying to reach him.

“Then just tell me-”

“FOR MEMES SAKE- WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS SO DENSE? I LIKE YOU IDIOT?!”

Three snapped out to Four as soon as he kept pushing Three to finally admit these feelings that he’d never given to him years from now.

Four, still lying down on the ground, looked up at Three to see the tired look on his face. His red cheeks were visible enough and had been caught in tears streaming down from his eyes.

He took a harsh breath and began to avoid his stare, he looked down to his side. “There…” he took every second to catch up on his words, taking deep breaths to regain his stamina.

“Now… you know…” his eyes kept watering, it made him want to wipe it off. He was still mad at him during this time, he just wished that Four would go away.

Yet the man refuses to leave him alone.

Smg4 Pov

“Why didn’t he tell me…?”

My thoughts wandered from his act, I had never seen him like this before.

But when he finally said that he had feelings for me… I didn’t know why it just stabbed my heart after hearing him this broken.

I spoke right to his front, trying to understand why he kept avoiding me.

"But why 3... if you felt this way, then why didn't you at least see me one last time?"

“Was it selfishness…? Was he jealous…? Did he hate it when I said I was leaving…?”

Three as soon as he wiped his tears, he turned to me and stared right into my eyes with hatred and pain.

"BECAUSE IT HURTS FOUR! It hurts so bad seeing you leave and I CAN’T DO SHIT ABOUT IT…"

…

Oh…

(shit… I fucked up pretty badly… didn’t I…)

As much as I want to follow the path I’ve always dreamed of achieving, I promised myself to never hold back. Never LOOK back. But just seeing Three like this I don’t think I could ever say no just by baring to look at his eyes.

“Three… you know we both have been friends right…?” I saw him backing away from me and avoiding my glances, He kept picking up other of the notes that were left on the floor as soon as I saw the notebook right in front of me, one of the pages seemingly read as “SMG4” which was my name, is written on the lines.

“Dear Diary, I wish that SMG4 would have stayed here. But there's nothing that I can do now, I guess no one ever stays the same once there is one important thing way ahead in people's lives.

He’s leaving too. I don’t want him to, there's so many things that he’s done here. And now that he just started to leave? What kind of idiot does that man think he is? It’s not fair.”

There was a space gap in the paragraph, the last sentence is crossed out of the line. I leaned in closer to read the final letters. “I wish I could tell him- about how I feel-” The notebook is shut closed in my face as Three snatched it away.

“You’re moving away from us today… Leave me be… I don’t want to discuss any of this anymore” Three puts the remaining notes back on the pages and puts them back in the drawer, shutting it loudly.

Third Pov

“You should leave… Before you might miss the airport” Four got up from the ground and picked up his hat, putting it back on his head. “Can we just talk this out?”

“You don’t want to know how heavy it is to me when you’re gone.

I’ve waited every OTHER MOMENT of our time to get together but NO!

You wanted what you wished to get and you already had your time here, you enjoyed the celebration, the party, your friends, Mario, and everyone who was all up to support your dream. But me?

I’ve already run out of time, thinking about what could happen between the two of us, when you’re not by my side…”

Four wanted to speak to him, he wanted to hug him tightly. If he had to choose between the options of either leaving or staying, he could never decide.

What will he ever listen to? His heart or his head? But he could never decide about this, not with the one he loved, his friend that he broke his attachment to just because of moving far long away.

Which one should he decide…? Even though it was his dream… his partner…

He had already decided that following his dream was the only choice for him to do so, yet he also had no choice since he accepted that letter.

“I’m sorry…” Four backed away and ran to the elevator, Three was left alone from the scene.

—--

Four had finally had his luggage packed and was hugged by Mario and then by every other of his crew members.

“Mario’s gonna miss you very much!”

“I agree with Red, things are never the same without you around and…” Meggy and Mario gave each other looks and went completely silent right after they gave a sad one.

“Guys, what’s the matter?” They both looked at him with sad eyes as Meggy spoke the second time.

“Three was barely seen around the party. It seems like me and Mario wondered that it’s worrying him that you’ll be gone…”

Mario pulled out a meme quote out of the random. “Mario smells GAY DRAMA from you” His mustache grew as he sniffed him.

Four couldn’t help but think about what happened back to his lair. Was it all true? Did he- as in SMG3 have this kind of romantic feeling for him?

He tried not to think much about it since he was running out of time.

He knew he had to go but there's just something wanting to let him stay there, someone… who in particular was Three.

“Oh, yeah right. Him…” He immediately felt bad about the words he said to him, he couldn’t ever forget about it, it felt like the words were stuck to his head.

“SMG4- did something happen with your boyfriend? Did you both fight or something?” SMG4 flinched after hearing Mario say the word.

He began to back away from his words defending himself “What? We’re not boyfriends! He and I just had a misunderstanding- "On what exactly?” Meggy grinned in curiosity.

[AJ]

A honk of the bus caught everyone off guard, They all knew this moment would come sooner or later and they all had to be strong for their friend.

The crew gathered for one last hug before Smg4 stepped onto the vehicle.

He sat down and looked outside the window, seeing everyone waving him goodbye while the bus began to move.

He had one last glimpse of them, the showgrounds and Three’s Coffee shop.

He only saw for a moment, but swore that he did see Three watching him leave before going back inside.

The man in blue felt blue once again, he put on his headphones and watched some memes to make him feel better but nothing helped…

Smg4 then closed his eyes for a little while, waiting for him to reach the airport.

—--

After he was cleared for inspection, Four got on the plane earlier than expected. He should feel excited, overjoyed, and thrilled even for this wonderful opportunity yet he still feels upset.

He felt tired, he took his hat off for a breather and ran his hand through his hair. Looking at the lights and looking back down at his hat, noticing a small folded-up note inside.

Smg4 opened it up, expecting it was a fun quirky letter left behind by his friends but instead he was greeted with an old photo he took with Smg3 not so long ago, before the whole YouTube thing.

He had convinced Three at the time to take a selfie with him, Four giving his usual goofy grin while Three who was looking at the other just smiled, with his face colored with a bright tint of red.

There was also an added note written in purple ink, “I just love him and his goofy ahh smile so much” dotted with hearts.

The whole world felt like it stopped for Four, he held the picture close to face and he now knew for sure that deep down in his heart.

“I love him”

Smg4 Pov

“I love him, I do love him!” After so long I finally understood, I always felt that we were just more than friends. GOD I’ve been such an idiot, It's been so obvious this whole time!

I just love him so… but if I do love him, What the heck am I doing?

I look around me to see the plane filled up, If I do love him what am I still doing here?

This whole YouTube thing can wait, I need to see him, I need to get off the plane.

I put back the picture and wore my hat, grabbed my bag, and was determined to go after him.

Jumped out of my seat and rushed down the aisle, I could feel the stares of people I passed by but It didn't matter.

“Sir, you need to go back to your seat.” The flight attendant lady stood in my way, denying me the exit that was right there.

“But Miss-” I replied “I need to get off, I need to do something”

“I'm sorry, but I cannot allow you to leave-” We felt the plane shake as it began to take off.

Oh no.

—-

3rd POV

After a long day of serving customers, 3 placed a sign on the front door saying “We’re Closed”, grabbed a broom, and cleaned up. He sighs, wondering what could have been. If he had told 4 sooner than later, Would they have been happy? Would they still have to come across this problem? But, It's too late anyway, 4 made up his mind and he has to deal with it.

Smg3 kept on sweeping and sweeping, then he heard somebody enter.

“Oi! Shops closed!” He didn’t bother facing the person, he wasn’t in the mood at all.

“3…”

He recognized that voice, it was impossible. He turned around to see if it was real.

“I got off the plane” It was Four, standing in front of him with a sincere smile.

[Liz]

Smg3 scanned the area where Four dropped his suitcase.

The suitcase tumbled to the ground with a dull thud, and it landed face down, the wheels clattering against the floor.

Three’s face contorted into a surprised expression, His partner darted forward, sprinting to embrace him and open his arms wide.

Four’s arms held tightly to SMG3’s waist, and he lifted him into the air, spinning him around quickly, with their faces beaming with joy.

SMG4 carefully lowered SMG3 back down to the floor, their reunion now complete.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been missing you for so long, you idiot…” Three said softly. They turned to look at Four, who was now facing them with a rage-filled expression.

He, however, was not so quick to forgive and forget, and he let go of SMG4’s arms. Turning around as he punched him in the face, with all of the anger and resentment he had pent up over the years. “Ow, that hurt-” “Well that’s what you get for leaving me!” Three said.

Four rubbed his cheek after the punch, his face hurting yet understanding why SMG3 reacted the way he did.

After all, he had left him without even saying goodbye, acting like a true jerk-face. “I guess I deserve that. I’m sorry I hurt you.” Four said trying to reach for his hand to mend their relationship.

Three backed his hand away from him, he couldn’t bring himself to meet Four’s gaze, avoiding eye contact with him. He started to speak, but stopped his sentence, realizing something. “You didn’t make it to the flight…?” He asked as if it had just clicked in his mind.

“I came back to tell you something…” Four replied. “To tell you how much I loved you…” He offered his hand once more, and this time, Three accepted his hand, their bodies finally close as they embraced each other.

Three’s voice rose in an upset tone as he asked, “But what about the invitation? The content creations?” Aren’t you supposed to be following your dream?”

Four gave him a soft and warm smile and replied “I decided to follow my heart, the path I want to choose. I chose you, and our other friends.” He hugged SMG3 tightly and said. “I’m sorry for leaving you…” his response surprised Three.

“So- you’re not leaving?” Three questioned with wide eyes, feeling so much relief that a smile spread across his face. Four shook his head in reply and said, “No, I’ll never leave you or anyone else. I promise.”

Three’s eyes welled up as all the emotions flooded his mind, he felt relieved and overcome with happiness.

SMG4 noticed this and quickly wiped the tears away from the man’s cheek, saying “Hey, you’re crying.”

Three gave him a laugh and replied, “I’m just glad that you came back…” He then gave the man in blue a kiss.

Four was taken aback by the sudden display of attention, he was not prepared for the display of affection that Three had recently given him just now.

Four’s eyes immediately closed as Three pulled him in for a kiss. The long, drawn-out kiss was now the end, and all that could be seen was two lovers locked in a passionate embrace.

-THE END-

[whateverisbeautiful]

What is something that you feel like the show didn't talk about or explain more on in TOWL and or TWD about Richonnes relationship or friendship?? I thought in TOWL Michonne would have asked what happened to Rick that left him injured on the bridge. Can u rank the TOWL episodes in your opinion about which one is the best and not as good? Can u also rank each episode 1-10 and give a reason why u gave it that number? Merry Christmas and I u have a wonderful new year 🥰🤩

Thank you! I hope it’s been a great holiday season for you as well. I think I’ll always remember 2024 as the Year of Richonne because we got to witness their beautiful return in TOWL and I got to revel in them all year with you all which I’ve really appreciated.

For the 1st question - I think in TWD it would’ve been impactful to have seen Richonne’s first discussion about Andre. They did subtly reference Andre once in season 8, but I think showing how that initial discussion about him went would just add even more insight into how Michonne and Rick connect, understand, and confide in each other. For TOWL, that would be interesting to have seen them share their side of what happened on the day Rick disappeared.

A TOWL episode ranking feels like the perfect thing to share on the last day of 2024. 😊 I wrote out my list from lowest to highest below. Happy New Year to everyone & thanks for reveling with me over here! 🥂💗:

TOWL Episode Ranking

#6: Episode 5 (7/10)

This one is in 6th place mainly because I felt the cuts to Jadis and Father Gabriel weren’t the most engaging and took up more time than it needed and I wasn’t really feeling the one-dimensional sibling trio. However, when it comes to the Richonne content in this episode, I absolutely loved their scenes together. 🤩 That souvenir shop scene and the lovely proposal were some of my favorite moments from the series.

#5: Episode 6 (7/10)

The Grimes family reunion was gold and so was the episode's opener. Plus, I liked the scene where Rick tells Michonne how much he missed her and when he shares he's mad about the time he missed seeing their kids growing up. There was just a few dialogue moments that I found forced or unnatural scattered throughout the ep. I didn’t mind how they handled the CRM stuff and wrapped up their plan tho. Some parts were a bit of a stretch, such as Pearl surviving that explosion, but overall I was fine with it. And seeing Rick and Michonne get their happy ending with their kids was everything. 🥹

#4: Episode 3 (8/10)

Episode 3 was a really good midpoint episode with a great memorable ending. For an episode where Rick and Michonne barely converse with each other, they did a great job of still having so much tension and impactful exchanges. This episode proved that all those two have to do is look at each other and it can communicate oh so much. Rick and Michonne having conflict and different approaches on how to save each other was interesting to see. Highlights from the episode were the scene when Michonne speaks to the portratist, Rick and Michonne's hot and heavy moment behind that boneless tree, and of course, Michonne yanking Rick out of a helicopter at the end. 🤭

#3: Episode 1 (8.5/10)

This was such a compelling premiere to me. Andy’s return as Rick Grimes in this episode was excellent as always and Okafor had such an impactful presence in just one short episode. I thought ep 1 did a great job of showing us the toll these years have taken on Rick and how the most resilient man could break and shut down the way he did. Rick finally deciding to stop fighting to get home strictly because he was willing to sacrifice himself to keep his family safe - the heartbreak and dejectedness Rick felt was palpable, especially in his final letter to Michonne. And I adore the dreams he had of Michonne in this episode. I’ll never forget how overjoyed I was hearing Rick say “5 pizzas and a wedding ring” the first time and realizing Richonne was going to reunite by the end of the episode. Iconic. 🙌🏽

#2: Episode 2 (9/10)

Man did they deliver with that Richonne reunion. 🔥 For that moment to be as highly anticipated as it was, it was going to be a tall order to successfully orchestrate Rick and Michonne’s first time seeing each other in years and they truly rose to the occasion and delivered something special. I loved seeing Danai reprise the role of Michonne and pick up where she left off from TWD, meeting one of my favorite additions to the TWD cast - Nat. Like Okafor, Nat made such a lasting impact in just one episode. It also makes a lot of sense why Danai got recognized for her performance in this episode because she knocked it out of the park with the emotion she infused into each scene. And then, Andy joined right with her once Richonne reunited. Another thing I love about ep 2 is that the Richonne reunion was already so well done but then they went and gave this episode an equally great Richonne scene between the CRM vehicles too. We were spoiled and I love that for us. 😇

#1: Episode 4 (10/10)

'What We' easily tops the list. Episode 4 is such a meaningful masterpiece to me and to so many. I’d list highlight moments from the ep but every scene is a highlight. Genuinely. 👏🏽 Just the other day I was thinking about the dialogue in this episode and started tearing up just thinking about it. What Danai crafted with this episode is so powerful and unforgettable. And Andy and Danai's performances were incredible. I love that this episode focused on just Rick and Michonne in one location, letting these actors and these characters shine.

There are so few things I’d give a 10 out of 10 to but this deserves it. I couldn’t ask for more. To watch two characters who love each other more than anyone has loved someone start the episode with more conflict than we’ve ever seen them have only to believably and powerfully reconcile by the end of the episode and bring each other back to life. Just wow. 😭❤️‍🔥

I’ve already said so much about Episode 4 but I can feel myself ready to type yet another novel about how exceptional this piece of television was. Before this gets even longer, I’ll just say that TOWL overall was already a big achievement for the franchise but Episode 4 is TOWL’s crowning jewel, and I’ll forever be in awe of how great and special that episode was in depicting the beauty of Richonne. 👑😌

[cocogum]

I'm sad the great wave volume is over and eager for the next. But I think I enjoyed following through your commentary more than actually getting the story xD

So, thanks for that.

I’ve been giggling at ur comment for two minutes now 🥰🥰

DON’T TELL ME NICE THINGS, MY JAW’S ABOUT TO POP OFF FROM SMILING TOO MUCH-

But in all seriousness, your lovely comment means more than you’ll ever know.

Every Thursday when a new chapter was uploaded, I found myself re-reading it repeatedly. I had to carefully organize my thoughts to articulate them clearly and in a logical order for others to easily follow. I also had to screenshot every panel I needed to reference in order to illustrate my points.

I often have to combine two or three panels into one using Picsart on my phone because Tumblr only allows 10 images and 30 images on the website. This way, I can avoid discarding or wasting any of the images I want to share. Additionally, I sometimes use ibisPaint X to cover up certain parts in images where I cropped them and it affected the appearance of the eyes.

But don’t get me wrong, despite going through this hell every Thursday night, the chapters were a joy to read, and I enjoyed reflecting on them while considering how to approach discussing them.

In short, it was hell but I enjoyed the full process 💖

But it’s obviously not over for the great wave series lol

Since the physical copy of the first volume featured 5 chapters (the 10 webtoon episodes got fused into 5 chapters), this means that we’re only at the very beginning of the Great Wave manga’s story. (I can’t believe we’re still at the beginning even though it feels like we’re already in deep shit 💀)

Tot pretty much confirmed on Twitter that there will be around 100 chapters to prepare for.

That means I’m aware we’ll see much more mature themes (*cough* chapter 1 *cough*) and much more graphic content (*cough* possible horrid assassination of the royal osamodas family *cough* no I am not delusional).

That means I’m aware I’ll have to keep this whole commentary thing going about a hundred times 😄🤭😁

But to know that you enjoyed my commentary more than the story is just-

Wow??? I am speechless???

Like-

What do I even say to that??

I get that the story gave us a huge weekly migraine cuz of the chicken and gorilla but omg???

I am genuinely happy that I made your migraine bearable throughout those weeks, thank you so so much for telling me 😭💖

Just the thought of knowing that you liked them makes me wanna bash some blue animals again 👹👹

I hope you’re having a wonderful day/evening/night imatekuani 💖💖💖

(I see you got a King pfp 👀 ur even more amazing for having good taste ✨💕💕 I’m also pissed disney had to end the owl house earlier than expected)

[kathyprior4200]

Hazbin Hotel Episode One: "Overture" Part 2 (Helluva Scribe Remake)

“Overture” Part 2

Charlie had never felt so humiliated in her life. She sat in her seat and curled into herself. Once again, her ideas were dismissed, mocked, ridiculed. No one was willing to see the good in themselves. The demons were content to wallow in suffering, violence, and cruelty until the end of their afterlives. Tears were already threatening to spill from her yellow eyes, but she held them in.

Maybe her father was right. What if she really was a failure, like everyone said?

As if reading her mind, Vaggie gave her a small hug. “You’re not a failure, Charlie. It’s just…no one understands your ideas. People think they’re…I don’t know…outlandish?”

She got a sad sigh from Charlie in response. “I just wanted to make things better for my people. I know I don’t feel much like a princess, but at the same time…I feel like it’s my duty…my destiny to being some cheer to this place.”

“Heh. No one can ever top your optimism,” Vaggie mentioned, with a playful roll of her orange eye. “Your happiness can be spotted miles away.”

A small smile formed on Charlie’s face. “Well, at least I can pull myself up and keep going…”

Vaggie stared, hopeful…

“…But today isn’t one of those days.”

Vaggie slumped slightly. “I did warn you not to sing.”

“I couldn’t help it,” she countered. “How else was I supposed to get my message across?”

“Not everyone likes singing and music all the time.”

“My family does.”

“But the other demons aren’t your family.”

Charlie stared out the window at the buildings whizzing by. “Sometimes I feel like my family is bigger than just my parents.” She turned to look at her girlfriend. “You’re my best friend, sorta like my sister…and the only one who seems to get me. You’re part of my family already.”

Vaggie chuckled softly. “Without me, you wouldn’t have lasted very long out in the big world.”

“For once, I agree with you there,” Charlie replied.

During several minutes of silence, the two demon girls locked hands just out of sight. It was their habitual way of showing comfort, and it worked on the many days when Vaggie didn’t want any hugs.

“Don’t get too discouraged,” Vaggie said. “We’ll get back to the hotel and figure things out from there.”

“I kinda feel like singing another lament now.”

“Please don’t.”

“Fine.”

The limo drove past the 666 Shop, the Nightmare Night Club, and an Evil Donuts store, complete with slime and worms displayed on the donut structure. Pink eyes decorated the ceiling of the car. Charlie curled into herself again and took a puff of breath. Even the painted eyes seemed to judge her every move. She glanced over at Vaggie, whose eye was twitching in annoyance.

Angel Dust was busy playing with the button, making the car window go up and down, up and down. He froze when he saw an angry Vaggie staring at him.

“What?” Angel Dust asked with a shrug.

“What? What?!” Vaggie shouted, pulling out chunks of her long white hair. “What were you doing?!”

Angel Dust sighed. “Aw come on! I owed my girl buddy a solid! Isn’t that a ‘redeeming quality?’ Helping friends with stuff?��

“Not with turf wars that result in mass murder and destruction!” Vaggie replied.

“Eh, you win some, you lose a few hundred,” he said with a snicker. “It wasn’t that bad anyway.”

He propped up his long legs and pushed the window button again. Vaggie tossed a dagger at the button, and it fizzed out in a shower of sparks. Angel Dust stared, shocked and terrified. Vaggie growled in warning.

“Aw come on, I had to!” Angel Dust protested. “My credibility was on the line!” He sighed. “I mean what kind of reputation would I have of people found out I was trying to go clean? It just throws out my entire persona.” He lifted up his furry chest for emphasis.

“Your credibility?” Vaggie asked in anger. “What about the hotel? Your little stunt made us look like a fucking joke!”

“No, no no, babe. Jokes are funny! I made you look…uh, sad. And pathetic! Like an orphan, with no arms. Or legs. Uh…oh with progeria!” Charlie covered her face with her hair as Angel Dust blabbered on.

“Great! Now I’m bummed just thinking about it! This thing have any liquor?” He bent down to the floor and tossed a bottle aside. He then flicked a wrapper away onto a seat.

Vaggie was fuming. “Can you please just try to take this seriously?”

“Fine, I’ll try. Just don’t get your taco in a twist, baby.”

Vaggie stood up with hands on her hips. “Was that you trying to be sexist or racist?”

“Whatever pisses you off more. Is there seriously no liquor in here?”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Vaggie swore, crossing her arms and sitting back down.

“Too, late, toots. Wait, would that make me double dead?” He laughed slowly and loudly. “And where exactly do I go? To double Hell?”

He laughed again. “You’re stuck with me, bitch. Get used to it.”

Vaggie swore in Spanish. “Eat shit, bastard.”

“Listen, who cares if some jagoffs got hurt?” Angel Dust nonchalantly asked. “Most of them are ugly freaks. Look around! Got a bunch of fuckin’ harlequin babies down there.”

“You’re one to talk,” Vaggie muttered with a small smirk.

Angel Dust then yelled “Hey!” in protest. “This body is flawless! Everyone wants some of me and I’ve got the creepy fan letters to prove it!”

He pulled out a dirty piece of paper from his chest that read: “Show me your feet! Brandon. #1 fan/critic.” There was a picture of a young Angel Dust in the lap of a naked fat green man, licking Angel Dust with his green tongue. He had a tattoo of Angel Dust with a red crossed out sign.

This time, Charlie spoke up. “That was really uncool, ya know, Angel.”

Vaggie growled and turned to her friend. “Uncool?!” She mentioned to Angel Dust. “After that train-wreck, there is no way anyone is gonna wanna stay at the hotel.” She turned to the spider. “All thanks to you and your selfish bullshit!”

Angel Dust glanced at a discarded pile of ash and used cigarettes. “Does this mean I don’t get a free room anymore?”

Vaggie spread out her hands as if asking “Well, what do you think?”

He let out a mock sigh and snap. “Ah, well, shucks.”

Charlie pulled off her dark pink jacket, revealing a white shirt with a black bowtie.

“Hey, come on, we don’t know if things are over yet. Try to relax, Vaggie. It’ll be okay!”

Now it was Vaggie’s turn to let out a small smile of thanks. Charlie placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and her friend calmed down.

“What would I do without you?” Vaggie asked. She and Charlie slowly leaned into each other, their heads gently touching.

“Get a room, girls!” Angel Dust remarked, before receiving a “Shut up!” from both of them.

Finally, the crew arrived at the Happy Hotel. It was a good enough building fit for any demon who wanted to stay a few nights. Eye catching on the outside, but messy on the inside. Eye designs lined the border of a dark pink circus canopy at the front like a creepy mosaic. Branches jutted out from the roof as part of the structure. Old fashioned lanterns attached to the wall had flames flickering inside, nonstop. The double doors consisted of stained-glass windows with red apples in the center. Little stained glass snake eyes peered unblinkingly at them from around the larger window in the door.

Angel Dust, Vaggie, and Charlie got out of the car and threw open the double doors. A random black bug scurried away from the incoming light. A yellow sign read “Concierge” behind a pink “welcome” banner. The check in table was decorated with colored flags leaning toward the floor and random balloons with small star shapes on them. A vase was decorated with yellow eyes along the sides. Another flowerpot was in the shape of a human mouth…white flowers posed above. Vaggie sighed and plopped onto a red cushioned couch in the style of a monster’s mouth.

The red rug down the hallway was decorated with the same eyeball designs, apples on the end, plus shadow skulls of horned monsters in the center.

All around the room, were pictures of Charlie as a little girl with her father and mother on various trips. One picture showed her and Vaggie in front of a castle at Loo-Loo World, Hells’ version of Disney World.

Angel Dust came across a red fridge leaning low against the wall. He opened the door and pulled out a purple box labeled “Popsies.” He shrugged at the dripping ruined box and took out a popsicle. He gave it a lick.

“It’s prolly a good idea to get some actual food in this place. Y’know, to feed all the wayward souls ya got in here.” He laughed nervously, trying to cheer Charlie up. But Charlie just sat sadly on a wooden box in a darkened area of the room. Angel Dust closed the fridge door, sucked on a popsicle and reached out one of his arms to her…then hesitated. He walked away, letting Charlie have some alone time.

Charlie walked past the two posing elephant statues balancing balls on their trunks, and toward the front door. She opened the door and went outside. Holding out her purple cell phone, (or “Hell Phone, hah, get it?”) she pressed an icon with the word “Mom” decorated with horns and pointed tails on the m’s.

Charlie took a deep breath as a voicemail tone came through.

“Hey Mom. Um, I know I keep calling, and you must be busy. Really busy. But, um…the interview didn’t go well and…I don’t know if I’m going to make a difference. I don’t know what I’m doing. I could really use some advice, Mom.”

She slid down and sat on the stone ground, tears falling from her eyes. She wiped some away with her arm. “I think Dad was…right about me. A-anyway, I’ll stop talking before this gets too long. Love you! Bye.”

She ended the call with a tap and rubbed her eyes with her hand. Standing back up, she opened the door, closed it, and leaned against the stained-glass window, eyes closed.

What was she supposed to do now?

A slow ominous knocking from outside interrupted Charlie’s thoughts. She opened her eyes.

Knock. Knock, knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock.

It was a rhythmic knock, sounding like “shave and a haircut.”

 An ice cold feeling of dread spread through her veins. No other demon would ever do that kind of knock.

Unless…

She tentatively reached out her hand to the door handle, and quickly pulled it open.

Sure enough, the most feared demon in Hell was standing right outside her door, a few shadowy heads with glowing eyes peering through the doorway curiously.

He stood towering over her, wearing an elegant dark red dress coat that had tatters near the bottom. Light red vermilion strips were vertical along the dress coat. His bright red undershirt was decorated with a black upside down cross. His pants were burgundy in color, his shoes black with red deer tracks on the soles. A wine-colored bow tie was over his undershirt. He wore burgundy-colored gloves over his four clawed fingers, with red tips and knuckles. A fluffy red and black deer tail was hidden under the lower part of his dress coat.

It was his face that unsettled Charlie right away. His skin was ashen gray, scars across his chest concealed beneath his clothes. Small black antlers stood on his head between large red and black tuffs shaped like deer ears. The tips of his tuffs were black as where the ends of his red hair by his chin. His eyes were large and glowed red, taking up much of his face. He grinned, showing a wide set of sharp yellow teeth. A monocle rested under his right eye. A red vintage microphone staff was in his left hand. A radio buzz sounded when his demonic eyes lit up. His eyes already appeared to be teasing her, mocking her after her humiliation on the news and her sad phone call.

Charlie’s eyes turned as wide as saucers; her face full of fear.

The man began to speak in a radio-filtered voice, holding up a finger.

“Hell…”

Charlie slammed the door in his face.

She opened the door…

“looo!”

She slammed it again.

The man stood, shocked in front of the stained-glass door, smile still plastered on his face, hand and curved claw in the air.

“Hey, Vaggie?” Charlie called.

“What?” Vaggie replied in annoyance on the couch, hand on her forehead.

Charlie flashed a nervous smile. “The Radio Demon is at the door!”

“What?!” she demanded.

“Uh, who?” Angel Dust asked. He sucked erotically on his popsicle.

“What should I do?” Charlie asked, pulling at her lower eyelids.

“Well, don’t let him in!” exclaimed Vaggie.

Charlie was tempted to do just that. But she also had a duty to not leave any Sinners behind. She took a breath, eyes furrowed and opened the door again.

“May I speak now?” the red demon asked.

“You may…” Charlie replied.

The man held out his gloved hand which briefly glowed. “Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart, quite a pleasure!”

He eagerly grabbed her wrist and leaned his face close to hers, noses almost touching before strutting inside. Charlie stood, dumbfounded, her hand still out.

Alastor was born Creole in New Orleans around the early 1900s. He was very close to his African American mother who taught him how to cook, sew, dance, and do voodoo rituals. In contrast, his white Christian father hardly paid any attention to him. Although, his father did teach him how to hunt and do taxidermy. Alastor as a human had brown skin, short brown hair and brown eyes, glasses, a bright smile always on his face.

Alastor was different from many kids his age. He dreamed of playing in a jazz band and performing on stage... and did so for a period of time. But being a man of color, he had it difficult since the beginning. He applied for music and radio jobs, always being turned down and shooed away. Racist remarks became daily background noise, almost impossible to ignore. Alastor’s father would frequently give him black eyes and harsh beatings. Several tragic events happened, including his father raping him and beating his mother. He almost sent Alastor to rot away in an asylum. When his mother died during the Spanish Flu of 1918, he was devastated…he was even forced to bury her himself.

Alastor eventually became a radio host and serial killer. After his father threatened to divorce the family, Alastor killed him with a gun and ate his remains. Alastor mostly killed men who were racist or were criminals. Knives, axes, guns, he used them all. He made a vow to himself to not harm women or children when possible. After killing off several higher ups, he managed to form his own radio studio and became the most famous radio host in Louisiana. Jambalaya, deer meat, black coffee…and human flesh were always on his menu.

Alastor basked in his fame and wealth, even meeting blonde dapper performer Mimzy, who was head over heels for him. But Alastor didn’t want to be tied down to anyone. On the air, he would talk about the murders, play jazz music and tell dad jokes. “Your Never Fully Dress Without A Smile” was his favorite song to play. Alastor enjoyed the Stock Market Crash of 1929, but soon found himself running out of food. Thus, he resorted to cannibalism for survival. No one suspected him until 1933. He got bitten by a rabies dog and ran through the woods. Alastor soon died a brutal death after being shot in the head by a hunter and mauled by police dogs at the same time.

 “Excuse my sudden visit,” he told Charlie, “but I saw your fiasco on a picture show and I just couldn’t resist. What a performance!” Clapping sounds came from the microphone. He raised his arms before walking forward. “Why I haven’t been that entertained since the Stock Market Crash of 1929!”

He bobbed his head side to side and burst into laughter. “So many orphans!”

“Stop right there!”

Vaggie suddenly pointed a spear weapon at him, Alastor freezing like a deer in the headlights. She swore in Spanish under her breath. “Rabies son of a bitch! I know your game. And I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone else here, you pompous, cheesy, talk show bastard!”

Angel Dust peeked around the corner to see what was going on.

Alastor merely chuckled slightly and nudged the weapon away with his fingers.

“Dear, if I wanted to hurt anyone here…”

He added in a low creepy tone, his mouth not moving, “I would have done so already.”

His red eyes briefly turned to red radio dials as radio static filled the room. He tilted his head slightly, letting his chaotic magic roam. Vaggie and Charlie were frozen in fear as they caught glimpses of red Voodoo symbols, static, and warped reality.

Then just as quickly, the noise and magic ceased and Alastor shook his head, eyes back to full red. His eyes had briefly been black with red pupils.

“No, I’m here because I want to help!” He bowed.

Charlie was sure she hadn’t heard him right.

“Say what now?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“Help!” he responded with another laugh. He held up his microphone staff.

“Hello? Is this thing on? Testing, testing…”

He tapped it and a glowing red eye appeared in the center.

“Well, I heard you loud and clear!” the microphone responded in a radio voice, eye shaking in fear.

“Um…you want to help?” Charlie asked.

Alastor appeared behind the demon girls, hands on their backs, switching from a shadow to his regular self. Both Vaggie and Charlie flinched.

“With…” he mentioned in an imitation of Charlie’s higher voice…

“…this ridiculous thing you’re trying to do!” finishing in his normal voice. “This hotel!”

Charlie could hear the call bell ding twice on the table, even though no one was there to ring it.

“I want to help you run it.”

“Uh…why?” Charlie asked, confused.

Alastor laughed again. “Why does anyone do anything? Sheer absolute boredom!”

 He curled up his fingers before dramatically putting his hands up to his cheeks. He then moved off to the side. “I’ve lacked inspiration for decades!”

He placed his elbow on an annoyed Vaggie’s head, tilting his head on hers. Then he shoved the moth demon aside.

 “My work became mundane, lacking focus…aimless! I’ve come to crave a new form of entertainment!”

He laughed again, tilting his head back.

Charlie looked downcast as Vaggie stood up with a scowl. “Does getting into a fist fight with a reporter count as entertainment?”

Alastor laughed again. “It’s the purest kind, my dear! Reality! True passion! After all, the world is a stage! And the stage is a world of entertainment!”

He smiled and titled his head, after making crawling motions with his fingers.

Charlie brightened a bit. “So, does this mean that you think it’s possible to rehabilitate a demon?”

Alastor held up a dismissive hand and laughed. “Of course not. That’s wacky nonsense! Redemption, oh the non-existent humanity! Nononono, I don’t think there’s anything left that could save such loathsome Sinners!”

He grinned at a glaring Vaggie and Angel who sat on the couch and shrugged.

 He continued. “The chance given was the life they lived before; the punishment is this!”

 He spread out his arms, Angel looking at the front. “There is no undoing what is done!”

“So then, why do you want to help me if you don’t believe in my cause?” Charlie asked.

Alastor smirked from the side and looked at Charlie over his shoulder.

“Consider it an investment in ongoing entertainment for myself!”

Briefly making a “come hither” motion, he pulled Charlie close to him with his arm and twirled her in a quick dance.“I want to watch the scum of the world struggle to climb up the hill of betterment! Only to repeatedly trip and tumble down into the fiery pit of failure.” His eyes glowed red in pleasure, voice lower.

“Right…” Charlie began, slowly removing his clawed hand from her shoulder.

Alastor took her aside for a walk. “Yes indeedy! I see big things coming your way, and who better to help than I.”

“Ah, so uh, what’s the deal with Smiles over there?” Angel Dust asked Vaggie.

“Wait, you’ve never heard of her before?” Vaggie asked, surprised. “You’ve been here longer than me!”

Angel Dust shrugged his shoulders.

“The Radio Demon, one of the most powerful beings Hell has ever seen?” Vaggie asked.

“Eh, I’m not too big on politics,” Angel Dust replied.

Vaggie let out an annoyed sigh before leaning in close to explain.

“Decades ago, Alastor manifested in Hell, seemingly overnight. He began to topple Overlords who had been dominant for centuries. That kind of raw power has never been harnessed by a mortal soul before. Then, he broadcast his carnage all throughout Hell, just so everyone could witness his ability. Sinners started calling him The Radio Demon. (As lazy as that is). Many have speculated what unimaginable force enabled him to rival our world’s most ancient and destructive evils. But one thing’s for sure: He’s an unpredictable source of danger, a wicked spirit of mystery, and a violent monster of chaos, the likes of which we cannot risk getting involved with, unless we want to end up erased.”

Flashes of Alastor in his full demon form, a giant red wendigo-like being with branching black antlers, glowing red eyes, a long lavender tongue, sharp teeth, and long dark claws, appeared on screen. He grinned as he hovered his claws over the demonic faces of voodoo imps and minions. His dress coat revealed a flaming hole where screaming demons struggled to escape.

“Ya done?” Angel Dust asked with a snicker. “He looks like a strawberry pimp!”

Alastor conjured his staff into his hand with a smug look.

“Well, I don’t trust him!” Vaggie exclaimed.

To be fair, do you trust any man? Any men? Men?” Angel Dust asked with a slight laugh.

Vaggie ignored him and walked up in front of her friend.

“Charlie, listen to me. You can’t believe this creep! He isn’t just a happy face! He’s a dealmaker, pure evil! He can’t be redeemed! And is most likely looking for a way to destroy everything we’re trying to do.”

“I…” Charlie began. “…we don’t know that. Look…I know he’s bad, and I know he probably doesn’t wanna change, but the whole point of this is to give people a chance! To have faith things will be better! How can I turn someone away? I can’t. It goes against everything I’m trying to do. Everything I believe in.”

Alastor stared in fascination at a family picture on the wall. It showed Lucifer dressed in a white suit, Lilith in a dark purple dress, and Charlie as a little girl wearing a brown and white dress in the middle. The picture border consisted of branches and yellow eyeballs and a dried rose in the upper right-hand corner.

“Just trust me,” Charlie added, placing comforting hands on her girlfriend’s shoulders, “I can take care of myself.”

Charlie,” warned Vaggie, “Whatever you do, do not make a deal with him!”

From a distance, Alastor opened up the palm of one hand, claws curled. Both girls glanced in his direction, worry on their faces.

“I’ll have these two in the palm of my hand…” thought Alastor.

“Don’t worry,” Charlie replied to Vaggie with a chuckle. “I picked up one thing from my Dad…”

She spoke in a manly voice as she walked away, “’Ya don’t take shit from other demons!’”

Gathering her courage, Charlie marched over to the Radio Demon.

“Ok, so…Al. You’re sketchy as hell, and you clearly see what I’m trying to do here is a joke. But I don’t.”

Red Voodoo symbols to bind the prepared deal appeared around a grinning Alastor, then vanished. Charlie glanced back at him with narrowed eyes.

Charlie continued. “I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be better. So, I’m taking your offer to help. On the condition that there be no tricks or voodoo strings attached.” She emphasized with a brief wiggling of her fingers.

Alastor twirled his cane and held out his right hand. “So, it’s a deal then?”

Flashes of eerie green light surrounded the two, electricity snaking up the walls. Shadows swirled around the room, and everyone covered their faces at the force of the wind.

“Nope!” Charlie yelled, holding out her hands. The energy stopped and light returned to the room. “No shaking! No deals! I…hmm…”

Charlie decided to try another approach.

“As princess of Hell, and heir to the throne, I uh, hereby order that you help with this hotel, for a long as you desire.”

A moment of pause…

“Sound fair?” she asked.

“Hmm…Fair enough.” Alastor shrugged before he strolled away, his cane vanishing. Charlie's verbal agreement had allowed him instant freedom to pursue his mischievous schemes. It would be a treat to eventually break Charlie down...then she'd have to accept his deal.

 “Cool beans.” Charlie breathed a sigh of relief and even did a thumbs up.

Alastor stopped and spotted Vaggie off to the side. He smirked in a way outside observers would describe as lecherous. He tickled her under her chin with a finger.

“Smile, my dear! You know you’re never fully dressed without one!”

Alastor hummed happily on his way, while Vaggie growled in disgust and rage.

“So…where is your hotel staff?” Alastor asked Charlie, leaning in.

“Uh, well…” Charlie began. Alastor peered at a glaring Vaggie through his monocle. “Oh ho ho ho, you’re going to need more than that.”

He strode over towards Angel Dust.

“And what can you do, my effeminate fellow?”

Angel Dust grinned. “I can suck your dick!”

A screech was heard as Alastor stared in shock and revulsion.

“Ha! No.” Alastor deadpanned.

“Your loss,” Angel Dust said with a grin. Alastor summoned his staff again.

“Well, this just won’t do!” Alastor exclaimed. “I suppose I can cash in a few favors to liven things up!”

Alastor snapped his fingers and a fire sparked to life in a small circular fireplace. Animal skeletons decorated either side of the wall, fully repaired.

A dark figure plopped down onto the chimney floor.

Alastor walked over and picked up the ashen creature with his hand. A large single yellow eye was revealed. Angel Dust, Vaggie, and Charlie peered at the creature. In a puff of smoke and a squeak, the creature revealed herself. A cute cyclops girl was wearing a dark pink skirt with a poodle on the front, and a white shirt with pink paint stains. Her hair was magenta and short with a streak of yellow. White spots were on the left side of her skirt. Her single yellow eye took up most of her face.

“This little darling is Niffty!” Alastor introduced with a smile, before dropping her. The girl landed on her feet.

“Hi! I’m Niffty!” she greeted with a wave. “It’s nice to meet you! It’s been a while since I’ve made new friends!” She laughed slightly as her pupil grew smaller, darting in circles.

“Why are you all women?” she asked. She darted over and lifted Charlie up before putting her down. Vaggie growled, aiming her spear at the newcomer.

“Are there any men here?! I’m sorry, that’s rude.” She missed the fact that Alastor and Angel Dust were male, for obvious reasons.

 “Oh man, this place is filthy!” she exclaimed, running around and lifting up couch cushions. “It really needs a ladies’ touch, which is weird, because you’re all women, no offence.” She chewed on a black spider she found, then rushed toward some stained-glass windows.

She darted around, using a dust ruffle to clean them, removing spider webs. “Oh my gosh, this is awful! No, no, no…Nope!”

Niffty raced around, removing cobwebs, then poked at a piece of a voodoo doll. Well, it was actually a blue beetle doll that Alastor had stabbed with a clothing pin for her to play with. Niffty turned and exclaimed, “Oh my goodness, a dirty rat!” She dashed over, scooped up the dark grey creature and popped it into her mouth rapidly. Rows of her sharp teeth were visible. Strained squeaks mingled with rapid chewing sounds. “I bet there’s tons of them under this place, I’ll be sure to get more! I can kill dozens of them in a day!”

Alastor looked amused, while the others stared in disbelief. Niffty had been a Japanese chimney sweeper woman who died in a fireplace in the 1950s.

Meanwhile, at a casino, a cat demon placed a joker, an ace, a 2, and a fourth card down on the table. He had black and white fur, a fluffy chest, wore a black top hat and had red wings with card suits decorated on them. He also had long red eyebrows and wore a large red bow tie.

“Ha!” he declared in triumph. “Read ‘em and weep, boys!”

He suddenly felt himself being forcefully pulled out of the room through space and time.

 “Full…whoa!”

He ducked as a curtain of red energy surrounded the existing space. Voodoo symbols flashed in the background along with eight yellow eyes, a creepy voodoo skull and a purple skeleton of a worm-like creature. Another voodoo skull with horns appeared for a moment not too far from tan ghost-like spirits with creepy faces and a row of jagged teeth.

The cat demon figured he must have had too much booze to drink.

“…the hell?”

As the images faded, he soon found himself at the hotel bar, not in the previous room at the casino. A large “Come and Play Blackjack” sign took up much of the wall behind him. Most peculiar, the gray wood walls were missing halfway up, replaced by the red themed décor of the hotel. He was sitting in a portion of the casino he was in. It felt like he was in a house with no roof, surrounded by the outside world.

“What the fuck is this?”

He glared at the group and then saw Alastor, pointing an accusing claw.

“You!”

“Ah, Husker, my good friend!” Alastor cheerfully greeted as audience claps came from the microphone. “Glad you could make it!”

Alastor’s head briefly had the appearance of large antlers sticking out from either side. When he moved it, it was revealed to be an antler skull with glowing green eyes hanging in the background. Snakes were wrapped around one of the pillars supporting a bar stand. “Big Booze,” “Welcome” and “Big Soul” signs were placed overhead on the stand. Neon green card suits consisted of the designs at the bottom of the stand.

Husk had been born in Nevada and grew up in a casino. He enjoyed gambling, drinking, money, and magic shows. He had died at age 75 in the 1970s via drinking overdose.

“Don’t you “Husker” me, you son of a bitch!” Husk spat, swiping Alastor’s hand away from his shoulder. “I was about to win the whole damn pot!”

Husk stared in anger as the stacks of money and chips on the table vanished in static.

“Good to see you too!” added Alastor.

Husk face palmed. “What the fuck do you want with me this time?”

Alastor grabbed hold of him in a side hug, startling him so much that cards fell from his hands.

“My friend, I am doing some charity work, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services! I hope that’s okay.”

Husk was taken aback. “Are you shittin’ me?!”

“Hmm. No, I don’t think so!” Alastor replied.

Husk shoved the Radio Demon off him, the latter casually dusting off his red sleeves. He puffed up his black and white fur in anger, his cat ears twitching. “You thought it would be some kind of big fuckin’ riot just to pull me outta nowhere? You think I’m some kinda fuckin’ clown?”

“Maybe,” Alastor grinned.

Audience laughter emitted from the microphone.

“I ain’t doin’ no fuckin’ charity job,” Husk protested.

Alastor appeared next to him, startling the cat. “Well, I figured you would be the perfect face to man the front desk of this fine establishment.”

He pointed toward the bar stand with the staff as clapping was heard again.

“With your charming smile and welcoming energy…”

Alastor spread the corners of Husk’s mouth upward into a demonic smile of yellow teeth. Husk frowned seconds after Alastor let go of his mouth.

“…this job was made for you!”

Alastor strutted over toward the bar stand, the soles of his black shoes revealing red hoof prints as he walked.

“Don’t worry, my friend,” Alastor continued, “I can make this more welcoming…if you wish.”

With a curve of his fingers, a green bottle of cheap booze appeared on the counter.

Husk stared with wide eyes, suddenly very thirsty. He swore he could hear the sound of a slot machine.

“What, you think you can buy me with a wink and some cheap booze?!” He took the bottle in anger. “Well you can!”

He immediately guzzled it down and walked away.

“Too easy,” thought Alastor.

By this time, Charlie, Vaggie, and Angel Dust had arrived to see what the commotion was about. Vaggie rushed toward the bar, furious.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” yelled the moth demon. “No, no bar, no alcohol. This is supposed to be a place that discourages sin! Not some kind of…brothel, man-cave!”

Angel Dust lunged himself into her, knocking her to the floor.

“Shut up! Shut! Up! We are keeping this.” He pointed at Husk with multiple gloved fingers.

He slid up to Husk. “Hey,” he said in a flirtatious voice.

“Go fuck yourself,” Husk deadpanned, drinking his booze.

“Only if you watch me,” Angel Dust retorted, with a sway of his butt and hips.

To make matters worse for Husk, Charlie leaned in close to him, excitement and red stars in her eyes.

“Oh my gosh! Welcome to the Happy Hotel! You are going to love it here!”

“I lost the ability to love years ago,” Husk replied, gulping down more booze.

Alastor walked in, an ever-present grin on his face.

“So, what do you think?”

Charlie ran over to him. “This is amazing!” she beamed, rubbing her cheeks. Alastor blinked rapidly in appreciation.

“It’s okay,” Vaggie grumbled from nearby, arms crossed.

Alastor laughed and pulled the two girls close to him. “This is going to be very entertaining!” His laughter was mixed with old radio sounds and static.

Alastor conjured fire in his hand…Charlie stared in wonder at the flames and the voodoo symbols. He pushed Vaggie aside and changed his attire.

He soon wore a fancy red suit with a white undershirt and a black bow tie. A red top hat appeared on his head, complete with small spikes along the black band and two needles sticking out from the top. He twirled Charlie around in a dance, the princess looking stunned. Pointing his finger over her head, he transformed Charlie’s outfit. Her blonde hair was now short and wavy. She wore an elegant black and pink dress, black gloves, a pink hat with a small black bow and black heels. She looked like a dapper lady from the early 20th century. The bottom half of her dress was pink, while her round hat was mostly the same color.

Charlie stared at her conjured clothing in amazement.

Vaggie was on the floor, fuming.

Alastor picked Charlie up and threw her into the air. She yelped in delight and landed gracefully next to him. Two glowing apples and a skull with deer horns flashed in the background.

Reality had been altered to the Radio Demon’s liking. The entire room was lit in psychedelic colors. Voodoo symbols and shapes were etched in every nook and cranny, including a pair of pink claws reaching for the door. Alastor and Charlie waltzed in the spotlight as electro swing music began to play in the distance. The all-encompassing noise, though, was the signature radio-static sound.

Alastor sang his reprise to Charlie:

“You have a dream You wish to tell And it’s so laughable But hey kid, what the hell!”

Charlie found herself sliding down what was the staircase moments ago. Alastor led the way as they held hands. They landed on the lower floor as Alastor continued his reprise. Deer statues and painted antlers were everywhere.

Back at the bar stand, Husk sat looking bored. Vaggie hissed at Angel Dust grabbing onto her shoulder, while Niffty stared in wonder. Alastor snapped his fingers and their outfits changed as well.

Angel was wearing a neon pink suit, Husk a pink bow tie, Vaggie a dark dress, with her hair now smooth and long, and finally Niffty, with a dress and a cute top hat with small flowers.

“‘Cause you’re one of a kind A charming demon belle! Now let’s give these burning fools a place to dwell (Take it, boys!)”

Alastor snapped his fingers once more and shadowy imps rose to life from a hole in the ground. The happy spirits played a trumpet, a tuba, and a drum set. Charlie snapped her fingers to the beat, while Vaggie watched with worry. She reached out to her friend but was pulled away by Alastor. He enveloped the group into a tight hug, followed by glowing images of dark spirits staring at them. While Husk, Vaggie and Angel Dust looked on in terror, Niffty watched in amazement, like she had seen it all before.

Alastor pulled Husk and Angel Dust close again. He rubbed Angel Dust’s head with a white hat and went on his merry way. He pulled a strand from one of Husk’s red eyebrows. Husk flipped him the bird as he left.

Vaggie stood, annoyed in the spotlight. Using his cane, Alastor added a feathered peacock hat and a white fox fur scarf to her outfit. Then out of nowhere, he slapped her butt.

“Pompous pervert!” Vaggie thought in rage as he wandered away with a smirk, throwing down her hat. Alastor danced some more, kicking a horned skull to the side. In the background, Niffy happily swept up the bits of bone.

“Inside of every demon is a lost cause But we’ll dress ‘em up now with just a smile! (With a smile!) And we’ll chlorinate this cesspool With some old redemption flair And show these simpletons some proper class and style! (What’s in style? Oh!)”

He made his way to the circular fireplace, where he waved his staff. Shadows arrived to join the party, including a shadowy version of himself, with large antlers and fangs: Rotsala. The shadow grinned a blue grin at him, before making it disappear in a poof. He then led Charlie in an upbeat dance, spinning her around, helping her match her steps to his. Their noses almost touched. Charlie blushed when he toyed with her cheeks. As Charlie was led away, Vaggie stood in the background, horrified and disgusted. What was happening to her friend?

Charlie and Alastor laughed as they danced, the princess locked in a happy trance. She could almost see the sparkling romantic themed bubbles in the background.

“Here below the ground I’m sure your plan is sound! They’ll spend a little time Down at this Hazbin Ho…”

Alastor was about to finish his song, when an explosion burst apart a window behind him. The force caused the door to blow off and fly straight into little Niffty’s face, sending her flying back. “Ow! I’m okay!” she called from a distance.

Soon the colors were back to normal and so were everyone’s outfits. The group peered out from the hole, Alastor craning his neck. The group went out onto the path and spotted a flying blimp. Sir Pentious poked his head out from an opening in the ship, fangs bared.

“Ha!” the snake inventor laughed. “Well, well, well, look who it is harboring the striped freak!” he called, mentioning to the white spider demon. “We meet again, Alastor!”

Alastor merely asked with a smug look, “Do I know you?”

Sir Pentious’ face fell before he grew angry. “Oh yes you do!” He slithered back into his seat. “And this time I have the element of…surprise!”

He pulled a lever and a cannon lowered to the ground.

“I’m so evil!” he declared with maniacal laughter as the cannon fired up.

Alastor snapped his fingers, red tendrils of smoke rising from his hand. The weapon froze in mid fire and a fiery portal opened up below the blimp. Pink smoke filled the air.

A horde of black tendrils rose from the hole, latching onto the ship. One tentacle ripped off the cannon and threw it into another smaller portal, causing it to explode in pink smoke. One of the tentacles had already smashed a hole in the large round window.

Sir Pentious looked on in shock as his Egg Boiz slammed against the wall (one of them read #Ouch.) One of the eggs cracked open, spilling out yellowish brains and small organs among the stains of yolk. Sir Pentious and another minion were thrown against the wall.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he screamed before he was slammed against the ceiling by a black limb.

“Ow, that hurt!” he cried.

Sir Pentious screamed as he was forcefully dragged along the floor and lifted up slightly. He was held in place, surrounded by the wrapped up tendril. At once, the tendril shrunk and squeezed the helpless snake. The Egg Boiz ran around frantically.

From the outside, more black tendrils were closing in. Red voodoo symbols appeared around the blimp.

Four horned shadowy spirits with red auras floated around, wearing toothy grins.

The tendrils were now wrapped around the entire blimp, holding it in place like thick black vines.

Red radio waves filled Alastor’s eyes as he curled his fingers inward. The sky vanished, replaced with red. Hovering red voodoo symbols appeared all around him as he altered the state of reality. Radio static consumed the air.

The vines thickened and completely enclosed the blimp. The spirits swooped around it in excitement, with echoing shrieks. The aura around the tendrils glowed a fiery yellow, the same color as the portal rim.

Alastor closed his four-fingered hand which began to glow. A red drop of blood fell from his glowing hand. The tendrils proceeded to crush the blimp. Pink rays of light shot from the center and the blimp exploded in a loud BOOM!

Pink smoke spread everywhere as the spirits sped away. The tendrils broke into severed bloody pieces that rained down to the ground. Alastor smiled victoriously, while behind them, the group of five stared in utter terror and shock. (Save for Niffty who had a small smile on her face).

“Well, I’m starved!” Alastor exclaimed, turning around to face the group. Who wants some jambalaya?” He spread his arms out before leading the way back to the hotel. “My mother once showed me a wonderful recipe for jambalaya! In fact, it nearly killed her!”

He laughed. “You could say the kick was straight out of Hell!” he added while laughing at his own joke. “Oh, I’m on a roll!”

The others followed him back.

Charlie and Niffty smiled while Husk, Angel Dust, and Vaggie looked on with concern. Niffty scurried around Alastor with a look of admiration. Angel Dust blew Husk a kiss, which earned the druggie demon a glare from the gambler. Charlie turned to Vaggie excitedly. Vaggie reluctantly went along with Charlie’s idea, even giving her a small supporting smile. As long as Charlie was happy, then Vaggie was alright, too.

From up above, the hotel looked like a mashed-up haunted house. An old dark train was perched on a balcony, with some monstrous faces carved in. A ship, reminiscent of the Titanic, was leaning upwards against the building as part of the structure. An old carousel served as part of the upper balcony and windows. Skull designs decorated the small windows in a row. Finally, on top of a giant yellow eye, was the sign “Happy Hotel” supported by pillars of worn wood. 

Alastor continued, “Yes sir! This is the start of some real changes down here! The game is set! Now…”

He glanced up and pointed his finger toward the sign. Pink electricity shot out and made contact with the sign.

The sign now read “Hazbin Hotel.”

“Stay tuned,” he finished with a low sinister laugh.

Back at the crater, smoke took the faces of demons and rose into the air. Broken egg minions littered the ground. One minion rubbed his head. With a shaking arm, Sir Pentious lifted himself up from the gaping hole, fangs shattered, eye swollen.

“Now will you shoot me with your ray gun?” asked the minion.

Sir Pentious face-planted on the ground in response.

0 0 0

One week later, Charlie sat solemnly on a long red couch in the Hazbin Hotel, gazing out the window. There were a few pillows next to her, one with a gold eye design. Her suit and pants matched the red color of the couch, though her undershirt was white, her high heels were white and black, and her bowtie was black. Contrasting the red color of her clothing was her white face with red spots on her cheeks and her long blonde hair in a thick braid. Behind Charlie was a small striped circus tent decorated with strings of lights. A white plant pot had a snake design curled around it. A round sign outside read “Welcome to Hell” and the sky was its usual crimson red. A glowing red pentagram hovered over the city, hence its name Pentagram City. Charlie stared sadly at the nearby city buildings; many of them were on fire, smoke rising through the air. The streets were littered with broken glass, burned debris…and a few leftover mangled demon corpses in puddles of blood.

Charlie was feeling more lonely than usual. Not too long ago, her father Lucifer had considered her Happy Hotel project a failure. He had somberly suppressed his former dreams for so long, he had closed himself off from his daughter’s own dreams. Charlie had further been mocked on live TV after presenting her hotel idea, and her mother Lilith had not been answering her calls. In fact, she had been missing from her life for quite some time. Where had she gone?

“Charlie,” called a familiar voice from behind her.

Charlie turned around with a gasp, dropping the black Sinner’s Key on the couch. In a puff of red smoke, the key morphed into a small black and white cyclops cat named KeeKee, who meowed and scampered off. Over the double doors was a glowing chandelier and glass decorated with a large eye and two small apples.

“Oh shit, were you here the whole time?”

A woman stepped into the light. “Uh, yeah. I was right there,” Vaggie said, mentioning her thumb to the double doors behind her. Vaggie the moth demon, was Charlie’s girlfriend and manager of the hotel. This time, she wore a short black skirt, gray fingerless gloves, and a short red shirt with a black collar and black buttons. She wore a small black collar around her neck and a slightly worn large red bow tie in her hair. Her skin was light gray, and her white hair spread down past her waist, ending in gray stripes resembling moth wings. Her right eye was yellow with light orange sclera and her left eye was covered by her hair, a patch, and a glaring red X over it. She also wore gray leggings over her legs.

Charlie was thankful to have her faithful companion with her, for Vaggie served not only as her girlfriend, but a protector and a grounding contrast to Charlie’s exuberant nature.

“Sorry,” Charlie said. “I get pre-tty worked up after an Extermination happens.” She glanced back toward the window. “Staring helps.”

Vaggie briefly blinked and gave a chuckle. “I know. Don’t worry, I enjoy your moments of quiet. And your moments of theatrics. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Charlie replied, as Vaggie sat down next to her. “Just…thinking, ya’ know? Family stuff.”

Vaggie frowned, glancing to the side. “Did you…hear from your mom yet?”

Charlie shook her head sadly.

“Oof,” Vaggie replied, blowing a bang of her white hair and a sigh. “How long has it been now?”

“Not that long. Only…seven…years…” Charlie exaggerated with a strained smile. She stood up, hands together, moving toward the giant eye-shaped window. “Off doing something important, I’m sure! But this kingdom was something she really cared about. Something I care about.”

Vaggie took Charlie’s hands in hers. “Well, at least you aren’t alone.”

Charlie smiled. “I just hope what I’m trying to do here will work.”

The two women sat down. Vaggie tenderly touched Charlie’s cheek with her hand. “It will. I have faith in you.”

Charlie smiled as KeeKee the cat hopped into her lap. Keekee’s ears had black tips and a white heart in the center.

Vaggie stood up. “All right, come on. Alastor says he has something to show us.”

Charlie froze in place as she heard the ominous tolling of the golden angel clock tower outside. It had a glowing halo on top, eye designs on the tower and clock faces with pentagrams on them. Under that was a giant glowing hourglass and a counter that showed the number of days until the next extermination. Four imposing black Exorcist statues were posed like gargoyles around the four corners under the clocks. Charlie shuddered before following Vaggie.

0 0 0

An old-fashioned TV buzzed with spiky static before showing a red shirtless demon with a spiked collar and bat wings stabbing a red imp with a dagger.

“Well, hello there you wayward Sinner!” came the radio voice of Alastor. The camera showed his hand pointing at the demons.  “Do you like blood, violence, and depravity of a sexual nature?” The demons looked at Alastor, the tall red demon posed with his head in thought. “Of course you do! That’s why you’re in Hell!”

The camera panned back to show buildings torn, on fire, and in pieces on the ground near a barbed wire fence. An overturned purple arrow sign with faded round lights read “NO TURNING BACK.” One building part had several purple eyes on it.

Alastor waved his hand and more demons popped up: a female cyclops wearing black BDSM clothing, a demon with horns, four eyes and dragon features, a red horned demon with two eyes, a small, one-eyed brown cat and an upside-down demon shaped like a grenade.

“But what would you say if I told you there was a place to stay that had none of that?”

The screen buzzed and switched to the Hazbin Hotel building. Arrows pointed to Alastor’s glowing red radio tower off to the side. There was a carousel, a Titanic-shaped boat and a “NO VACANCY” sign as part of the decorative structures. A retro theater sign above the front doors read “NOW PLAYING.” The doors were decorated with designs of circus tents on the glass.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! A misguided path to redemption! Founded five days ago by Lucifer’s delusional daughter, Charlotte Morningstar!”

The screen showed Charlie nervously smiling and waving at the camera. Angel Dust posed next to her with a grin, making his pink gloved fingers into horns around her head and his two other white hands into peace signs. The clip shifted to Charlie showing a dismissive Katie Killjoy a drawing of the hotel, a rainbow on the top and stick figure demons smiling on the bottom. Charlie pointed to the sky, while Katie Killjoy narrowed her eyes, a cigarette between her fingers.

“Come place your fate in her inexperienced hands as she tries to work through her daddy issues by fixing you!”

Several pictures, one on top of the other showed Charlie posing in front of a crime board with a drawing of a demon with puppies, a rainbow with hearts and an “evidence index” card on the board. The next showed Charlie with tears in her eyes as Lucifer posed under a red spotlight, apple cane raised. Charlie was then shown posing with an instructional stick in her hand next to a white board that read “1. SORRY, 2. A red heart, yellow stars, pink hearts, and a rainbow, 3. PLEASE, 4. THANK YOU.”

The hotel doors opened and showed Charlie’s flying goat bodyguards Razzle and Dazzle sweeping and dusting the lobby.

“FUN THINGS” spiraled onto the screen in yellow. “Here we offer fun things, such as…”

The camera zoomed in to show the grumpy cat Husk with black eyes and small yellow iris slouched at his bar. He had a black top hat with red trim, a large red bowtie, black and dark red wings with a red outline and dots decorating them. His eyebrows were long and red with black stripes on the ends. His pointed cat ears had a small red heart design inside each. A black bug crawled on the table. “CONCIERGE” was shown on the top of the bar stand and the highest part was decorated with large deer skulls with rows of long sharp teeth among melted white candles. “Beelyjuice” and a beer mug and wine glass glowed in neon colors on the wall near a pool table. There were three red bar stools and the bottom of the stand showed two green 7s and a red apple in a slot machine style.

“…somewhat functional staff!”

Husk crashed his head on the table in a drunken stupor. Niffty glanced at the black bug crawling over Husk, a sewing needle in her hand as a weapon. The cyclops had white skin, short red-pink hair with a yellow streak in it, and a 1950’s maid pink dress with a white lacy center and a black poodle design on her dress. Pink stains were at the top near her chest. Her large eye was dark orange with a black pupil.

Niffty jabbed at the bug with her sewing needle.

“…and twenty-four-hour pest control!”

“PEST CONTROL” blinked in yellow.

“Custom rooms…”

“CUSTOM ROOMS” blinked in yellow after appearing on a dismal bathroom stall, showing a white toilet and red eyes on the red walls.

“And just look at this tacky parlor!”

The main room had a fireplace and mantle. The fireplace was round, with two skeletons curled on either side. A large eye design was in the center of the mantle. Over the mantle were two crossed canes and golden curved snakes below them, making Lucifer’s sigil. Two elephant lights were on either side. The red wallpaper was decorated with Lucifer’s sigil surrounded by six angel wings. The wall borders showed eyes with gold wings on either side. KeeKee was posed on a table near an old-fashioned radio of Alastor’s near plant vines. An old boxy TV stood off to the side, complete with knobs. Angel Dust lounged on a nearby couch, wearing his usual white and pink suit with a black bowtie and high black boots. He had white fur, spider-like limbs, pink dots under his eyes and a sharp golden fang among his teeth. A wooden plank collapsed to the floor, making the cat hiss and scamper off the table in fright. The red wallpaper had several tears in it.

Alastor spoke sarcastically. “Enjoy riveting conversation with our singular resident!”

Angel Dust noticed Alastor and glared, flipping him the bird.

“WOW!” spun onto the screen in bold red with a yellow spiky background. “Wow!” Alastor added.

A drawing appeared, showing the hotel and various signs made by Alastor: “Ship I guess,” “$1,” “DANGER HOTEL!” “SALE” “Best part” (pointing to the radio tower), “HAHA I NAMED IT!” “50% OFF,” “neat.” “NO TACKY CIRCUS DÉCOR! PROMISE!” Several signs showed Alastor’s creepy grin drawings.

“All this, and more at the Hazbin Hotel, your last desperate attempt at salvation starts here!”

The screen showed the building sign up on the roof and with yellow words: “CALL NOW! OR DON’T, I DON’T CARE! WE STILL DON’T HAVE A WORKING PHONE!”

The screen clicked off as Alastor tuned the knob.

Alastor with a large smug grin turned around. “So, what do you think?”

Vaggie and Charlie sat dumbfounded on the red couch. The couch had three eyes designs on the top golden frame, the armrests and outside structure curved like horns. Alastor wore his 1920’s red torn tailcoat with vertical pink stripes, a black bowtie with a red center and a red undershirt with an upside down black cross design. He had red long sleeves, black gloves with red tips, and a red monocle near his right eye. His hair was red and black, with thick deer ears pointing up. Small black deer horns curved upwards from the center of his head.  His black shoes had red deer tracks on the bottom. In his left hand was his magic red old-fashioned radio microphone with a red eye in the center. His eyes were many shades of crimson.

“I’m sorry, what the fuck was that?!” Vaggie fumed.

Charlie did a strained grin, and held up a finger, trying not to upset anyone. “Uh yeah, one note, Alastor. I mean, first off, thank you so much for making this…seriously amazing…but um…” she moved her hands. “But maybe the tone is a bit…off.” Alastor narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, a wide grin of yellow sharp teeth plastered on his face.

Charlie continued, “We want people to come here. This makes it look…um…”

“Bad,” Vaggie deadpanned, folding her arms. She turned to Charlie. “The word you’re looking for is ‘bad.’”

“Funny. I was going for hilarious!” Alastor exclaimed, craning his neck.

“It didn’t explain anything about how we’re trying to save demons from extermination, which is the whole fucking point!” Vaggie chided.

“Vaggie is right, Alastor,” said Charlie. “The commercial was to let Sinners know we are trying to help them.”

“Well, my dear, I haven’t been active in Hell for some time,” said Alastor, moving his fingers along his microphone staff. He paced and tilted his head. “…and everyone remembers me from my radio show, the proper medium to express oneself.”

Alastor paced back again and pointed at the TV with his staff, a glare in his eyes. “But you insisted on this noisy picture box of advertisement…” He tapped the TV twice with his staff, “…so I had a little fun with it.”

“Oh fun? You had a little fun with it?” Vaggie angrily stood up, hands on her hips.  “Well, this not what we want to represent us! When you showed up here a week ago, you told us you would help run this hotel. Instead, you’re mocking us.” She spread out her arms. “Nobody’s gonna wanna come to a place that a powerful Overlord like you thinks is a waste of time!”

Angel Dust casually raised one of his pink gloved hands.

“What?” Vaggie asked with a glare, facing Angel Dust, and sitting on the armrest.

Angel Dust posed with his long legs in the air before sitting up. “If you’re filming a commercial, can I suggest you take better advantage of the talented celebrity you have right here?”

Angel Dust grinned, pointing at himself with three hands, holding a beer bottle in his fourth and moving one leg on top of his other one.

Vaggie was not amused. “Angel, you’re a porn star.”

“A famous porn star! I’ll have the horniest Sinners knocking these walls down to get in!” He pointed to his lower regions.

“We are not filming a porn as a commercial!”

“Why not? Sex sells, don’t it?” Angel Dust made a money gesture with his hand. Alastor materialized near the couch from shadow. Angel Dust continued. “I swear, if you film me going at it with Mr. fancy talk creepy voice here, you’d be rolling in participants willing to stay at this tacky hotel.”

Alastor laughed forcefully and then deadpanned to Angel Dust, “Never going to happen.”

Charlie added, “Angel, I appreciate you wanting to use your ‘special skills’ to, um, attract folks to the hotel, but, I really don’t want to exploit you…in that way.”

Angel Dust grinned. “Oh please, baby. This body was made to be exploited.” He waved a dismissive hand and posed. “I got the arms, I got the stamina, I got the legs, I got the lung capacity.” He laughed, legs in the air. “Oh, I got the legs! The gag reflex, the holes, the chest fluff everyone thinks are tits.”

Angel Dust leaned against the armrest. “I could keep going all night, baby!”

“Hey, I have a question,” Angel Dust said to Vaggie. He mentioned to Alastor. “If freaky face over there is so powerful, then why can’t he just make people stay here?”

Alastor chuckled, “Oh trust me…” He spoke in a low voice, his eyes glowing red, black antlers branching out, his face darkening, “…I can.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Husk scoffed from the bar. “You actually think I’d be cleaning bottles and listening to you fucks bitch and moan all the time if he wasn’t forcing me?”

“I like being forced!” exclaimed a smiling Niffty, raising her hand from beside Husk.

“Keep that to yourself, Nif,” Husk glared.

Angel Dust smirked. “What? You don’t love being here with me, Whiskers?”

Husk pointed an accusing finger. “Call me Whiskers again and I’ll jam that bottle down your throat.”

Angel Dust grinned, beckoning a pink finger. “Kinky. Come on, keep talking dirty.”

Vaggie sighed. “Angel, let Husk do his job. And no, we can’t force Sinners to stay here. They need to choose to.”

Angel Dust scowled. “I’m choosing to be here, and I think it’s all stupid. We’re in Hell, toots. That’s kind of the end of the road, ain’t it?”

“Well maybe it doesn’t have to be,” Vaggie countered. “Just because nobody has made it out before, doesn’t mean it’s not possible.”

Angel Dust put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, whatever means I can keep crashing here, rent-free. Crack is expensive.” Vaggie glared.

0 0 0

Later, Vaggie, Husk, Niffty, and Angel Dust sat together on the red couch, while Alastor sat in a nearby red chair. Angel Dust’s long legs hung over the armrest. Husk’s eye twitched in anger as he glared at Angel Dust’s sultry expression.

Charlie paced in front of the group. “Yes, okay, so, Vaggie and I were talking about ways to promote the hotel, so we decided we are making a new commercial that represents our vision and what we’re doing here.”

 “So, we need a camera.” Vaggie held out a hand. “Alastor?”

Alastor smiled and snapped his fingers. In a flash of green light, a red and black 1930’s folding camera with no film appeared in her hands. It was decorated with golden antlers.

“A video camera,” Vaggie glared.

“Hmm.” Alastor snapped his fingers again, and in green light, an old video camera with an eye lens appeared in her hands, with tape and a Band-Aid stuck to it.

“Alright! Let’s do this!” Vaggie said with excitement. Soon, she had positioned the camera to show Angel Dust and Husk sitting at the bar.

“And…Action!” Vaggie called, pointing a finger forward as Charlie watched next to Vaggie.

Husk stared in annoyance at the script papers in his hand while Angel Dust rested his head in one pink gloved hand, elbow on the counter.

Husk pressed the script to his face as he read in monotone: “’Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. Can I help you with anything?’”

Angel Dust put a finger to his chin and smirked playfully as he leaned toward Husk. He cupped Husk’s chin.

“’I’ve been a bad boy and I need a big strong daddy to put me in my place…on the path to redemption!’” He pointed upwards.

Husk rolled his eyes as he read the next line.

“’Well, you come…’”

Angel Dust leaned back and let out a sultry moan… “Oh yes!”

Husk glared at Angel Dust. “’…to the right place.’”

“Cut!” Vaggie called. She slouched and groaned. “Okay, Angel, I need you to be less horny if possible, and Husk, can you maybe not have a script in front of your face?”

Husk wasn’t happy. “I ain’t no actor! I can’t memorize this shit!”

“Well, we can improv this shit, baby cakes.” Angel Dust mused, putting a hand on Husk’s cheek. “Rawwr.”

Husk shoved Angel Dust hard with his paw off the bar counter. He shrugged. “Whoops.”

“Husk, come on,” chided Vaggie as Husk guzzled down his alcohol in a bottle.

0 0 0

Sometime later, Niffty was gleefully trying to stab at a four red-eyed black bug with her sewing needle. “Stab, stab, stab, stab!” she breathed. Vaggie went on her knees down to Niffty’s level.

“Um, alright, Niffty, Niffty,” Vaggie held her arm to stop her from stabbing. She placed her hands on her shoulders.

“Niffty. Your line is ‘we have the cleanest rooms?’ okay?”

Niffty stood up and smiled. “Okay, got it! I’m ready!”

Vaggie stood up and turned the camera on, pointing it at Niffty.

“Action!”

Niffty’s smile fell, and she stared blankly into the camera with her large red-orange eye. Her arms went limp at her sides. Vaggie, Charlie, and Angel Dust stared in confusion as Nifty’s iris grew smaller and smaller.

“Uh…cut,” Vaggie said.

Niffty then shook her head and smiled again, spreading out her black arms. “How was that?!”

“Well, Niffty, you actually have to say the line, so let’s roll again.”

Niffty nodded rapidly and made two fists. “Okay.”

“Action!”

Niffty stared blankly again.

“You’re doing great, Vagina!” Angel Dust whispered to Vaggie with a smug expression.

“Cut!” Vaggie yelled, standing next to a red bed. “Alright, uh, maybe we can try to fix it in post.” She folded her arms.

Angel Dust asked, “Do you even know what that means?”

“I’ll figure it out!” Vaggie bellowed. Angel Dust held up his hands. Charlie comforted Vaggie as she left the room.

Later that night, Vaggie slouched in a red chair in the dark, watching static from the old-fashioned box TV.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel…” came Husk’s monotone voice from the TV.

“Urgh!” Vaggie groaned, hands covering her face, camera in her lap. Wanting some peace and quiet, she had turned out the lights, but the glare from the TV wasn’t helping. Her heart sank; Charlie would surely be disappointed at this half-assed commercial. She was the hotel manager, and she felt a great responsibility to help make her girlfriend’s dreams come true.

“If only I wasn’t surrounded by a bunch of asshole self-absorbed idiots,” she thought.

“Seems like you’re having a bit of a trouble there, hmm?”

Vaggie glared at the smirking Radio Demon, who had popped out of nowhere. He looked at her and moved to either side of the chair.

“Ugh, este pendejo (ugh, this asshole). Why are you even here?” she asked in annoyance.

Alastor settled down onto the couch, one leg over the other.

“For the entertainment. I came here because I love seeing wasteful souls struggle to accomplish something meaningful and fail spectacularly, like you are doing now!” Alastor’s shadow crouched menacingly behind the couch with glowing red eyes, extended antlers, and a wide grin as Alastor talked. “Good job!” Alastor added with a mocking wave of his fisted hand and arm.

Vaggie stood up, aiming her camera at him. “And here is Alastor, the egocentric piece of shit that…ugh!”

Vaggie gasped in fright as Alastor glitched on the screen. The screen flashed red, and the camera fizzled out and sparked with green electric magic. Vaggie let go and it toppled to the ground, smoke curling from it.

“I wouldn’t try that, my dear,” Alastor warned in a low radio voice. Vaggie froze, terrified. Alastor’s shadow grinned behind him. “This face was made for radio.” He tilted his head and neck and his eyes turned black with red radio dials moving where his pupils were. Brief static and red voodoo symbols flashed across reality.

Vaggie recovered and stood up again. “That’s it.” She made a swiping motion with her hand, then pointing a finger at Alastor. “I don’t care who or what you are. If you’re staying here, you’re going to make this work, because it won’t be so ‘entertaining,’ (she waved her fingers) to watch over an empty hotel, will it, shitass!” Vaggie stomped away, but Alastor just stood there, hands folded behind him. A plan was conjuring in his mind.

“Fair enough,” he shrugged. He strolled over to her. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s make a deal.”

Vaggie turned around and sat down.

“Pfft, you think I’m that stupid making a deal with a demon like you?”

Alastor rolled his red eyes and waved a dismissive hand.

“Not for your soul, just a simple deal. I do this for you…” He leaned in toward Vaggie, “…and you never ask me to engage with this frivolous television technology ever again.” He turned around and grinned.  “Or Charlie will get to see absolutely nothing.” He turned his head around to smirk at Vaggie, his grin glowing. “Your choice.”

‘Just this once,’ thought Vaggie, pushing down her fear. This commercial was important, and Charlie needed her help.

Vaggie sighed, closed her eyes, and held out a hand. “Fine.” She picked up the camera and placed it in Alastor’s hands. The camera glowed an eerie green as green skulls of magic swirled around it.

“Now then,” Alastor said, clamping his hands together. The camera disappeared and he snapped his fingers. The lights flicked back on. Angel Dust, Husk, and Niffty materialized into the room in green light, with a new video camera with two eyes on top, a round green stage light and a director’s chair. Alastor now had a worn red top hat on his head and a red tuxedo suit, much shorter than his usual one, one red part hanging tail-like behind his back. Vaggie gasped as Alastor’s voodoo shadow minions appeared around her. One wore headphones and held an attached remote. A thin one held a hanging microphone with its pointed tail and a small camera. The third sat in a small wooden director’s chair while holding a white megaphone. The fourth had Xs over its eyes, carrying another hanging microphone and wearing headphones and a worn baseball cap.

Angel Dust, Charlie, and Niffty looked on in amazement as their clothing changed in green swirling light. Niffty now wore a flapper style dress, light red on top, dark red in the middle and light red and straight on the bottom. She wore a big dark orange ladies’ hat with an orange rim and a small yellow flower decorating the top. Angel Dust admired his pink 1920’s suit with a dark pink necktie, buttons on the front, a white hat with a black rim and long white pants. Husk slouched as black and red sleeves and pants appeared on him. Charlie had on a flapper red dress and a red hat decorated with flowers.

Vaggie smiled, standing proud. She soon wore a gray wavy flapper dress, mostly dark gray but with light gray at the bottom. The top had a pink wavy rim. She wore a large black ladies’ hat with a red rim, red flower, a red foxtail, and two red feathers sticking up from the middle. She also wore white gloves. “Alright, everyone, let’s make a fucking commercial!”

For once, Vaggie was pleased with Alastor’s created outfit for her.

After many hours of practicing, pain, and process, they were finally successful.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel,” Vaggie began as the group stood in front of the hotel with their 1920’s outfits. 1920’s jazz music played.

“Founded by Lucifer’s daughter Charlie, the princess of Hell.”

Charlie waved and posed.

The double doors opened, and Charlie spread out her arms. “Come check in here and see our new cozy parlor room.” KeeKee was sleeping on a table next to a radio.

“Meet our first resident, Angel Dust,” said Charlie.Angel Dust posed.  “He’s staying here in the hopes of getting clean and becoming a better person.”

“Still just stayin’ here rent-free,” Angel Dust whispered, earning a glare from Vaggie.

The scene shifted to Angel Dust and Husk at the bar. Husk managed to say his lines without holding the scripts, though he was still grumpy.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. Can I help you with anything?’”

“I’ve been a bad boy and I need a strong daddy to put me in my place…on the path to redemption!” He pointed upwards.

Husk rolled his eyes.

“’Well, you come…’”

“Oh yes!” Angel Dust moaned.

Husk glared at Angel Dust again. “’…to the right place.’”

“In that case, I’ll just check in to one of these fabulous rooms…I could always go for private time in bed.”

Husk looked at the camera. “Have a drink. It’s on the house. Or come over to play cards or whatever. Um…I do magic shows too.”

Niffty appeared in the bedrooms. “We have the cleanest rooms! No trace of bedbugs, dirt, or any kind of mess!” Niffty stabbed at a black bug with her sewing needle and popped it gleefully into her mouth. “Just ring the bell and you’ll have instant fast room service!” Niffty darted around as she cleaned the rest of the room.

Vaggie moved the camera over to Alastor, who just glitched. “Erm, we also have a boat, a kitchen, and a radio tower for anyone interested in listening to music or shows.”

Charlie and Vaggie appeared by a portrait of the royal family. Charlie began.

“With rumors about Exterminations getting worse, the Hazbin Hotel is a safe place where you can stay with your friends and family. Best of all, it’s at no cost! If you’re a Sinner, we can make you a Winner! And with my special self-help program, you’ll be able to pack your bags to Heaven before you can say…”

“Oh, fuck me!” Angel Dust moaned in the background.Vaggie rolled her eyes.

“Charlie Morningstar’s Happy/Hazbin Hotel! Your path to redemption starts here!” Vaggie finished. A number appeared next to “Call Now!” 1-800 – 666 – 6666 or 1-666 – RAINBOW. (Yes, our phone actually works, ignore that other commercial!)

It was as good as it was going to get.

A few hours later, Vaggie grabbed Charlie’s hand and smiled. “Come here, we have something exciting to show you!”

Vaggie led Charlie over to the red couch where the group sat. Niffty sat on the couch armchair. Angel Dust lounged on the floor. Husk slouched in his spot, his chin under his large paw hand. Alastor sat up straight in a nearby red chair, one leg over the other.

“Alastor pulled some strings and it’s about to air,” Vaggie mentioned. She and Charlie sat down.

“I pulled a few limbs, too, hahaha,” Alastor added, hand over his chest.

“Our commercial’s about to be on TV?” Charlie asked, surprised.

Angel Dust grinned. “Yeah, it’s one of my better performances if I do say so myself.”

Charlie beamed, tears in her eyes, hands over her heart. “That’s…that’s amazing.”

Angel Dust put a pink finger to Charlie’s lips. “Shh! It’s startin’.”

The TV screen showed the group standing at the front of the hotel with their 1920’s outfits on. They stood under the “NOW PLAYING” theater sign and the “WELCOME TO THE HAZBIN HOTEL” logo. Niffty stared blankly at the camera, Angel Dust posed with his arms out, wiggling his eyebrows, Husk chugged his bottle of booze, and Alastor glitched in and out next to him.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel…” Vaggie began, off to the side.

Static buzzed across the screen. Niffty clapped her hands, and Alastor sat in amusement as everyone else groaned out loud in anger and disbelief. Charlie’s horns briefly stuck out of her head, and she hissed.

The blue 666 News logo and “BREAKING NEWS” appeared on the screen. Katie Killjoy soon appeared at a desk on TV, with Tom Trench next to her with a gray gas mask for his face. Katie Killjoy was blonde and pencil-thin, wearing a red dress and a necklace. Tom Trench wore his light gray suit with a red necktie.

Katie Killjoy began: “Breaking news in Hell today! We have just received word from the Heaven Embassy that the next Extermination is happening sooner than ever before!”

Three black menacing Exorcists appeared on an image on the screen with “EXTERMINATION” under it in red.

The words scrolled along the bottom of the screen:“HOLY SHIT! THE EXTERMINATION IS HAPPENING IN SIX MONTHS! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! CONFIRMED! LEGIT! FUCK! WE ALL DEAD SOON! WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME?!”

“Do you know what that means, Tom?” Katie Killjoy asked, turning to him.

“No, what does that mean, Katie?” Tom Trench asked.

Katie Killjoy’s eye twitched, her smile strained. “It means we are all royally fucked!”

The screen then showed the large glowing hourglass. The Sinners screamed as the counter reduced to 176 days. Back in Heaven, Adam’s glowing evil smile flashed in the darkness.

[wwillywonka]

2023 Wonka movie and Clara Oswald for the reverse ask game?

for this ask game!

Wonka 2023

i like the wonka prequel. i don't love it, i don't think it's good, but i like it. if charlie and the chocolate factory wasn't my special interest, i think i would have watched it once, thought it was silly but a good time, and moved on. if the character wasn't supposed to be willy, i would even say he's a perfect fantasy family christmas movie protagonist. but alas, it's poorly written, has horrific acting, and worst of all, the most outdated body-shaming jokes i've seen since the early 2000s. that being said, i do genuinely listen to some of the songs regularly because they're fun and sweet and a simple escape from... everything that's happening in my life right now. it captures (some of) willy's characteristics well, in a blinding innocence/cover-the-hurt-with-humour sort of way that makes sense for a prequel. it gave me noodle who is an interesting charlie parallel and thus gives fuel to my headcanon fire, especially when considering where the hell she is during original canon. it gave me canon slugworth, ficklegruber, and prodnose, something i've been wanting for years. at the end of the day, it gave me more willy wonka content to think and write about, which is the actual only thing that keeps me going so i can't complain.

Clara Oswald

listen. i used to hate clara but it was literally you who convinced me to like her. the thing is, i was a HUGE river/doctor shipper in ye olden days of 2013-2015 as a literal child and found myself in online communities where it was either choose river or clara OR be cyber bullied. river is still one of my favourite dw characters, but now that i've rewatched her episodes as an adult (as recently as yesterday when i was making that gifset), i can see how much she represents a Particular Era of doctor who that truthfully doesn't really hold up. what the fuck does "hell in high heels" mean. meanwhile, clara and the doctor have some true fucked up toxic co-dependency, become one another, two souls intertwined, not platonic not romantic but a secret horrible third thing relationship going on and that has become My Shit. the older i get, the more irredeemable i want my favourite characters to be because it makes them more interesting. don't give me vanilla, don't give me a hero, give me a villain hardened by war. heaven sent favorite episode. That One Edit You Showed Me >>>>>>.

clara/eleventh doctor has no rights though.

[abbyholmes]

Ok. I saw THE episode.

Whoa.

Best episode of the Season so far. Maybe one of the show’s overall best. What I loved:

- The way Buck is once again amazing at calming down two scared children. I mean I‘m not a parent-y Person, but that man is so Dad-shaped it melts my heart.

- May and Athena undercover!!! I was LIVING for May‘s sarcastic addict performance. She clearly has her mom‘s investigation-genes. And I love that they are supporting Bobby in investigating his sponsor‘s death.

- I still hate the Buckley Parents but I do like that there is some kind of progress. Don‘t get me wrong I think cutting ties with bad parents is totally legit and I hope Maddie and Buck always Keep them at an arm‘s lenght. But I do like that there seems to be some kind of healing going on and I hope it will bring Maddie and Buck more peace of mind in the long run. (Bobby and Athena are still Buck‘s parents and the 118 is his found family, Zero doubts there.)

- Albert being back!!! Even though I wish he hadn‘t brought his dad. But maybe it will be good for Chim to finally tell his father how angry and hurt he really is.

- Buck‘s smile after his conversation with Maddie on a world where Daniel hadn‘t died. It was so short and yet had so many layers. Buck looks so content in this moment. As if, yes, life isn‘t perfect and his biological family is Even further from perfect, but he has Maddie and Chim and his niece and his 118 family and life is good anyway. Idk the smile did something to my heart.

- Mom-Hen. I just like her. And I hope Danny comes clean about his Dad soon and they can find a good patchwork solution that works for everyone and makes Danny feel happy, loved and protected.

- Hen saying That Karen Lobes surprises but the definitely does not. (Same, Hen. Same.)

- Athena worrying about Bobby. I just love those two so much.

- Buck offering to listen to Bobby and really actively being there for him. It is just the essence of Buck and I‘m so here for it.

- THE. CHILLI. CONVERSATION. I mean…it had me smirk with tears in my eyes. Peak Television. They are father and son, your honor. (And I prefer to put very dark chocolate in my Chilli instead of coacoa powder. But you do you, Bobby.)

- The way the pregnant Woman on the Uber was hilarious before the Crash. I love me some light-Heartedness in the darkness.

-And then: All the foreshadowing in the episode. Buck going up instead of Chimney. ‚Go get them, Cowboy‘. ‚What is that?‘ (A THUNDERSTORM, you adorable dumbass), THE SILENCE After Buck gets hit by lightning. Eddie struggling back to his feet. Buck dangling up there. The disbelief on everyone‘s faces. Eddie screaming Buck‘s name in growing desperation. ‚Come here, kid‘, Chimney forgetting Medical facts because this is Buck and Buck can‘t be in cardiac Arrest, ‚Eddie, You’re driving‘, Eddie’s desperate ‚Talk to me, Buck!‘ (IS THIS ANOTHER TOP GUN REFERENCE After ‚you can have my back anyday- or you know, you could have mine’? Is this a ‚Talk to me, Goose‘?!? I HAVE QUESTIONS), the immense shooting / Eddie trapped Below the ground Parallels!!!

- Stellar Performances all around!

This Episode has WRECKED me. My Heart hurt so much for Buck and for all of them. I am seriously worried for Bobby. It‘s going to be so difficult for him. A Part of me hopes That there might be some Buddie-Realization on the Horizon for both Eddie and Buck. (I love them both as bffs and as a ship and I think both interpretations are equally valid even though I would prefer a Potential bisexual slowburn on a popular Show actually becoming canon).

I am excited to See how Eddie will Deal with his emotions. How the Team, Maddie and Athena will Support each other through this. Who will sit watch at Buck‘s side. What Cheistopher will say. If Eddie will Talk to Coma-Buck and be angry with hin for Not Waking up. What Coma-Buck will experience. It‘s…the storyline is so sad and so intriguing and has so many layers. 911 did it again and I love it.

I‘m so glad Fox already gave us some pictures of Oliver still being on Set. I would have seriously worried if they are going to kill Buck otherwise.

[blackenchanting]

Welcome to ravens borough episode 7 all is not well at the steakhouse

Somewhere in the unheard of town of Raven's Borough…

The contents of this story are nsfw therefore not for children

"I just can't help it you know" Robin said

"Can’t help it huh?" Katelyn asked

"I've just become an asshole of late" Robin explained

"Have you ever considered that maybe you're being so rude because you're lonely and jealous?" Katelyn asked

"I mean I considered it as a possibility… but doubt it" Robin said

"Jealous of her nah" Robin added

"No one is jealous of her. I just mean jealous of the fact you’re alone and everyone else but you is taken" Katelyn said taking a drink

"A little more feasible but still doubt it" Robin said taking a drink as well

"Well what do you think it is" Katelyn asked

"Stress of work feeling the pain of the family's who have lost someone close to them" Robin said

"Yeah that could be a cause" Katelyn said

"Told them about events yesterday.. father of three disappeared not even a how's the family doing just glossed over it… it's like they didn't even care.. that now those kids might have to grow up without a father" Robin said picking up his drink and swirling it

"I wouldn't say that. I'd say it was more like they had their priority set on something besides the family" Katelyn said

"I suppose that's understandable.. it'll get them one day all their cases so far have had happy endings or open ended ones… You know how many times I've had to tell parents their children are dead… too many... seeing the color drain from their face as they become engulfed in tears.'' Robin said as Katelyn put her hand on his shoulder.

"I wouldn't wish that upon anyone. Not even them." Robin said, pulling up his sleeve where he had a tattoo that said till death do us part. And above it was a butterfly as he scratched them before pulling his sleeve back down.

"I.. think that's the most respectable thing you've ever said" Katelyn said as Robin finished his drink

"I.. I uh.. need to get back to searching" he said standing up from the bar

"You don't have to push yourself to find her" Katelyn said as Robin stopped turning his head

"Her name is Salein. She's eight years old and suffers from mutism. She loves puppies, coloring, stuffed animals and her friends… If anyone needs a chance at life. It's her" Robin said, walking up the stairs to his interceptor.

With a clack the red letters flickered on spelling out Lucy's Outlaw SteakHouse. And under was reflective red paint that said the best western desternation in america.

"🎶I wondered if I could hold it.. and fall in love with it too🎶" a voice sang as the detectives stood up and stretched.

"Whatever is behind these disappearances is thorough. Haven't found shit." Rob said.

"And we don't have access to the camera footage so we can't check that for anything either." Eva said. Staring at the ginger behind the desk through the front windows.

"Yup. Annoying." Rob said.

The letters flickered off except for the word Out.

"Aaaand now the building is telling us to leave." Eva said.

"Let's go and actually ask her ya scaredy cat." Rob said heading straight to the door.

"Oh fine." Eva said following Rob. They entered onto the mahogany floor is the word out slowly flickered off outside

"Hello." Rob said.

The ginger jumped as she looked up from her computer with two large bags under her eyes. As she gave a slightly awkward wave

"..hi.. welcome to Lucy's Outlaw SteakHouse northwests best western desternation in america.. if it ain't western it ain't steak. How can I help you" she asked.

"We're investigating disappearing workers here. Families want closure or their loved ones returned." Rob said.

"Shame really... They were good employees... It's hard to find employees that's don't ask questions but they just stopped showing up one day." The ginger said.

"Huh, interesting." Eva said.

"They were last seen entering the building." Rob said, placing the four pictures on the counter.

The ginger picked them up holding them up to the light

"Ah.. these were taken on day one. As you can see they're not in uniform." the ginger replied handing them back

"Right. We need whatever information you can give us about them and probably camera access." Rob said.

"Sorry it is against corporate policy to let you view any of the cameras on the property of Losh inc." the ginger siad.

"Of course it is." Rob said.

"And why is that?" Eva asked.

"Lets just say... things tend to go bump here at night… things that would turn you white... and Losh inc would not like those things getting out." the ginger said.

"You do realize that there could very well be why people go missing around here right?" Rob said, placing his hands on the counter.

"Oh absolutely the things that go bump in the night around here... Aren't ghosts… or are they I'm not exactly sure... they aint human that's for sure." the ginger said

"Then you see why we need to see the footage. We're here to potentially put a stop to the disappearances." Eva said.

"And Losh inc prohibits anyone who's not super management or a security guard to view the cameras on this property." the ginger said.

"Ma'am, you are impeding an official investigation." Eva said.

"Do you have a warrant?" The ginger asked

"Shit. I knew we skipped a step." Rob said.

"Then as previously stated explore the property as much as you'd like. But you may not review the footage" the ginger said.

"Well then. Guess we'll have a look around." Rob said as he and Eva went further in.

"One more thing..." the ginger said

"Lemme guess, if we get hurt we can't sue." Eva said.

"Losh inc would like me to tell you that if you get hurt or killed on the property of Lucy's Outlaw SteakHouse.. AFTER daytime hours.. you can't sue." the ginger said, turning around to look at her computer.

"Why is that a warning? That's awfully suspicious." Eva said.

"Whatever. We'll get what we need one way or another." Rob said.

"Name's the mistress, by the way leave before three am or if you don't. don't go outside till four am" she said as the two detectives entered the dining room which was very fancy with wagon wheel chandeliers hanging from the ceiling above the booths.

"Noted." Rob said.

"Yup. Definitely suspicious." Eva said.

"Not much we can do about now." Rob said, looking around. As the mistress slowly walked up behind them

"This is the dining room we can sit about a hundred people at our very soft and comfortable booths with our very eye pleasing black with red confetti table clothes" the Mistress said, gesturing to them.

"It is very eye pleasing." Eva said.

"Feel free to examine.. mabey activate the spirit box if you think you're feeling brave." the Mistress said

"Couldn't hurt." Eva said, pulling out the spirit box. As the Mistress stepped back abit.

"Hello, is anyone here with us today? We mean you no harm, we just have a few questions." Eva asked, as a door slammed shut in the distance causing the lights to flicker.

"Yup. Haunted." Rob said.

"That's a big a sign as any." Eva said.

"I told you things go bump in the night" the Mistresses said

"...if I may ask how did you die?" Eva asked as static came from the box. While Rob looked around

".....murder" a synthesized voice replied

"Any idea who?" Eva asked.

"Him…" the synthesized voice replied.

"Who's him?" Rob asked. They looked around as a large mechanical tail snaked out of the Mistresses white panties. As it snaked around rising up behind Eva causing the tip to split open revealing a large needle as it spun ready to stab. But disappeared back inside of her ass as Rob turned towards her

"Any idea who that's referring to?" Eva asked. As the mistresses wiped a black stream from her eye

"They never seem to clarify who 'him' is.." she replied

"You.." the synthesized voice replied

"And then they tend to just start blaming you for their deaths.. quite depressing really." the Mistress added

"Quite." Eva said.

"Moving on." Rob said. As they heard another door slam followed by a girl's laugh.

"Interesting." Eva said.

They walked along until they entered a room filled with arcade machines and claw machines

"This is our arcade room because losh inc is committed to family fun and above all safety." the Mistress said

"Don't forget Lucy's Outlaw SteakHouse official merch perfect for birthday parties." she added In a really fast and quiet tone.

"You say safety yet there's been murders on the premises." Rob said.

"You can thank our founding fathers Chris madison and Jordan allen for that" the Mistress said

"Fun fact back in twenty twelve their used to be a factory named okami kinetic solutions on this land " she added

"We know." Rob and Eva said in unison.

"Then good you know why the place is haunted. it has nothing to do with our friendly little business." the Mistress said, seeming a bit agitated by them.

"Nope. That was the little girl. This is different." Rob said.

"Anyway, moving on." Eva said.

"Loads of people died in that factory or have you forgotten" the Mistress said in a annoyed tone as they moved across the hall to the kitchen.

"We remember." Rob said.

"This is our kitchen.. you can figure out what we do here." the mistress said standing next to a door at the back of the kitchen.

"Make some pretty good steaks, so I'm told." Rob said.

"Doesn't look any different than the restaurant I worked at." Eva said.

"This door would go out back to the salvage shed... However, we're not going out there." The Mistress said, seeming more like a threat than a request.

"Understandable." Rob said.

"And last on our tour is the party room" the Mistresses said walking into the hall and taking a left as they walked through a fence gate into a replica of an old western town equipped with a sheriff's department, a saloon, a place to sit and eat, church, stables, mechanical bull, and a large moon that hung from the ceiling above them.

"Oh this is quite thematic at least." Rob said.

"Cozy." Eva said.

"We usually do 'live action shoot outs' here" the Mistresses said as the lights flickered above them causing a few to bust.

"Another spirit." Rob said.

"Yeah yeah totally." the Mistresses said as they heard a bathroom stall slam shut in the dining room.

"That was loud." Eva said. As her spirit box switched on by itself and only played static causing Rob's EMF meter to activate as it beeped uncontrollably.

"Oh that's not great." Rob said, hearing an ominous slightly older but still familiar female laugh.

"Veronica." Eva said

"And that concludes our tour of Lucy's Outlaw K̷̯̻͍͔̝̯̒̎i̴̧͗̿̀͌͂͘ĺ̶̤l̶̫̥͇̪̯̝̏̅̽̇͠͝ͅ ̵̧͍̲͙̭͇̤̏̐̊͜ͅỷ̸̙̖̣͔̈́̐ō̶͇̠͐̇̚ư̷̢͉̗̠̞̗̂͊̋̈́̉͝ȑ̶̥̾̿͂̿̾̌̚s̸̳̰͔̭̱̹̾̔͌͋͋͆̄̾͘e̴̜̣͓͖͋̋̈́̓͑̏͆̋ĺ̸̛̘̻̣̮̥̳̖͇̇͂̇ṽ̸̟̲̾͐͗̓̿e̸̡̠̜͖͉̔̋s̵̥̹͊̽̓͐ SteakHouse" the mistresses said.

"Yup. That's definitely a cue." Rob said, pulling a colt 1911 out of his coat.

"Anywhooo I'm going back to my office. Feel free to look around the property." the Mistress said, walking away.

"Not even gonna question what just happened?" Eva said.

"Whatever. Let's go to the salvage shed screw her." Rob said as the pair went.

They opened the back door in the kitchen as they stepped into the fog only a few lit lamps were visible.

"Ah that night air." Eva said as the pair went towards a shed.

They walked through the fog looking for anything. The musty wind made them feel uneasy as the wind whistled through the trees. They followed the lanterns until there were none.

"Now what?" Rob said.

They walked around in a random direction till they came to a shanty overgrown brick shed that said jobsite b in spray painted white above the door.

"Well that's promising." Eva said, opening the shed.

"Hello Sam Aryan, welcome back to another night in the salvage shed." a female robotic ai said.

"Not Sam." Eva said Rob said in unison as they looked around.

"Unfortunately Sam, there is nothing to savage tonight." the female ai said as they looked at the desk In front of them with a cassette player on top

"Noted." Rob said as Eva looked at the cassette player.

"Under paragraph six of Losh Incorporated you agree that anything you see and or salvage in this shed will never be spoken of. And in the event that you go rogue you agree to the terms of being put to sleep." the ai said.

"There's nothing in here." Rob said.

"Guess that's everything. We should probably just get back to the office and work on that warrant. We ain't got shit." Eva said.

"Well at least we can go back to watching our show in the meantime. But this was all kind of pointless outside of the spirits." Rob said.

"Yup. Let's get going." Eva said as the pair went back the way they came. Reentering the steakhouse they felt at least some kind of safety as Eva made a quick trip to the bathroom first.

"Surprisingly clean." Eva said washing her hands after using the bathroom. She looked in the mirror as the bathroom stall behind her slowly creaked open, turning around to look at it. As she felt a change in atmosphere.

"And out I am going." Eva said, turning towards the door. As the two detectives booked it to their car never wanting to see this place again. They jumped in their car as the fog crawled over the parking lot covering the Impala leaving only the letters of the steakhouse visible as they sped off

[radiant-reid]

Sherlock Holmes Titles and The Name Game

Summary: A part two of Old Wives' Tales and Ice Cream Sandwiches where the Reid family expands

A/n: I'm so grateful for all your support on part 1 🤍🤍 Also, I'm aware the sherlock holmes' novel is the sign of four, but the tv episode is the sign on three

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Fluffy fluff)

Content Warning: some food/calorie talk (not negative) | pregnancy (nothing graphic)

Word Count: 4.1k

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Y/n hadn't actually believed that her bump would dramatically pop overnight until it happened. It seemed to be happening each night, her stomach getting bigger and bigger as the baby grew. Quick enough that Spencer was slightly shocked whenever he came home from a case. It was a pleasant shock, and he always assured her that it was natural for fetuses to develop visibly at varying rates.

Spencer was on a case and feeling horribly for it when her 21-week scan happened. He even offered to drive the nearly 10 hours from Atlanta to DC to be there. Although he had never liked driving.

The guilt was already setting in, and Y/n could see it when he walked into the apartment. Head hanging heavy, feet dragging against the floorboards, and a pout on his lips. She was sitting on the couch, still shaken from the appointment. It was big news to receive, and even though she knew he couldn't be there, she was in need of someone at some point. Usually, she would have called someone else, but she wanted him to know first.

"Hi, sweetheart," Spencer mumbled when she got up. Y/n tiptoed up to place a kiss on his lips while he placed a hand on the emerging bump. "And our little carrot. How is she?" He asked, smiling a little at her when he reasserted his gender hypothesis.

It was a question she knew she would have to answer, but she hadn't figured out how. "Uh, they're good." She answered briefly. What she was attempting to hide, she didn't know because it was inevitable that he'd find out. "No abnormalities or concerns from the Doctor." It was really the most important news.

"I think we should use gender-neutral pronouns as well." Spencer agreed, obviously missing the point of what she was trying to tell him. "Everyone at the BAU is getting confused when I say she and then he when talking about them." He added.

Y/n darted her tongue over her bottom lip before biting down. "That's not exactly what I meant." She breathed out, waiting for a reaction.

She got one. Spencer's mouth dropped wide open as he gawked at her, hand pulling away slightly and starting to shake. "Y-you mean?" He stuttered out, eyes darting between her and her bump. "Two?"

That would have been slightly easier news to break.

Her face instantly gave it away, clenching her teeth as she slightly shook her head. "Not exactly." Spencer immediately looked like he was going to faint, time stilling as his face remained frozen. "Sit. You look like you're about to faint." She knew because she had done when she found out.

A mechanical version of Spencer's brain would show the cogs turning so fast there was steam coming off them. His frantic search for an answer fell flat before he fell back to sit on the couch, his face completely drained of color.

"How many?" He murmured, swallowing even though his mouth was dry. Instead of speaking, she held up three fingers. It was impossible for her not to smile, overjoyed by the news once the initial shock wore off. "Do you know what the odds of that are?"

She should have guessed his reaction would be statistics-based. It had always brought him comfort to go back to something he knew. "Slim?" She offered, positive she didn't know the numbers like he did.

"Approximately 1 in 10,000," Spencer answered, running his fingers through his curls, thinking more clearly. His eyes snapped back up to meet hers, face softening as the guilt set in. "I wasn't there."

"Oh, hey, don't do that." She sat next to him, reaching out to place her hand on his bouncing knee. "I know you were out there saving the world."

Spencer enveloped her hand with his, chuckling as he shook his head slightly. "I should be the one comforting you."

"We're in this together, Spence." She reminded him, wanting to avoid any tears from him. "Are you okay?"

It was like his brain switched on, everything in his brain rebooting like a computer being turned on and off. "Yes, sorry. I'm good, I'm so good." Y/n could hear his excitement as well as she could see it when his lips parted into a grin. "This is incredible. You are incredible." That was the genuine Spencer, saying whatever popped into his head, especially in a shower of compliments. "How did we not know before?"

Y/n figured there would be a hundred more questions, but she was thankful Spencer stopped himself from asking them all at once. "Well, apparently, they're already pranksters like their father." She joked, reaching over to grab the pamphlets of medical information from the doctors.

"Are they monozygotic or dizygotic?" Spencer excitedly asked, his hand drifting back to her bump while he quickly read the information. When Y/n gave him a what are you talking about look, Spencer simplified the question. "Identical or fraternal? Because the odds of having identical twins are 1 in 250 regardless of genetics, but the chance of identical triplets is 1 in 200 million."

She replied before he could keep talking. "Two are identical, and the other is fraternal." She recalled what the doctor had said. "There are still some things to figure out, though."

Spencer was rambling before he could help it, his brain making up for the minute-long blackout. "Like where they're going to sleep, or if they're going to share clothing, and what will happen if they disagree, what will happen if two pick on one, how we're going to adequately give them enough time. Should I quit my job?"

"Breathe," Y/n instructed, waiting for him to take a few deep breaths and get his heart rate steady. "I was thinking more in the short term." She picked up the information leaflet so he could thoroughly read it.

"The sign of three." Spencer read aloud, drawing his finger over the words before he continued speaking. "Pythagoras thought the meaning behind numbers was deeply significant. Three is the first perfect number, the one that represents divine perfection. That's kind of what this is, really."

Giggling slightly, Y/n found herself grinning at him again. "Are you excited or something, Spence?" She joked, earning a sheepish smile from him.

"Grossly unprepared, but ecstatic," Spencer answered, already preparing to visit his favorite book store and purchase everything relating to multiples. He knew a lot about a lot, but triplet pregnancies were not one of those things.

"Not to add to the stress, but read number four on that list," Y/n said, tapping the piece of paper to remind him it was there.

His eyes frantically read it before bouncing back and forth to her. "We had 42 weeks total, but now we have 32 to 35?" He confirmed, voice soft again. She nodded at him. "That is a little concerning." He admitted bluntly, a sign of his shock. "Everything is threes, though. Birth, life, death. The beginning, middle, end. Primary colors. The three fates. The three blind mice. And, of course, the rule of three where everything is more satisfying with threes." He stopped himself listing, hand protectively drifting back to her bump. "And three perfect carrots."

She shifted, swinging her legs onto the couch so her knees rested on his thighs and her back rested against the arm. "I mean, we were aiming for three in total, so now I don't have to go through this again." She gestured to her stomach.

Absentmindedly, his thumb stroked over her skin when her top rose up. She'd never get sick of his hands on her, the softness of his fingertips. "This is comprehensive." He mentioned, reading the article. "They're going to be in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit?" Y/n was just as unsettled about the fact as he appeared to be. She could see it as he bit down on his lip while his brain sped up. "I guess it makes sense since they could be born ten weeks early." He figured.

"I know we still have a lot to do, but I can't wait." She admitted, sending him a smile.

Spencer's nods were enthusiastic. "There's a lot that I need to do. You're doing the heavy lifting, so I'll get everything else sorted out." He assured her, leaning over to cup her cheek, placing a soft kiss on her lips. "Are you eating enough? I read that you need an extra 300 calories a day if you're pregnant with one baby. With three, that's 900, probably more."

"You could cook me dinner." She suggested with a smirk, although she knew how much he loved to improve his cooking skills.

Gently moving her legs off his lap, Spencer stood up and offered her a hand. Y/n followed him to the kitchen, sitting on a barstool at the island. "What about folic acid, iron, calcium, vitamin D, DHA, and iodine?"

"Yes, pinky promise." She assured him, grateful he cared so much, although she rolled her eyes.

One of the things she enjoyed about their domestic life was Spencer cooking. It wasn't something he was vastly experienced in, but it helped him turn his brain off for a little.

Spencer frowned to give her a chance to take it back. When she didn't, he listed off the preparation to do. "I'll call Morgan because we're probably going to two more bassinets. Oh, and I'll talk to Emily, if you have to go to the doctor every week, I'm coming to every appointment." He firmly stated, not giving her space to argue. "I guess we're going to need three of everything now. If you're okay with it, I can ask JJ what exactly that is."

Y/n nodded, reaching out so he could hand her some of the peppers he was chopping. "Yeah, of course." She agreed.

The thoughts running through his head must have drastically changed because he immediately stopped what he was doing and looked at her thoughtfully. It had always been his 'I just thought of something serious' expression. "We're going to need three clever names with some sense of synchronicity." Spencer realized. "If they came at different times, we'd have time to think about it."

She giggled at him. "That was the urgent thing that gave you a look you get when you can't solve a mathematical concept?" She teasingly asked, only eliciting a nod as he went back to cooking dinner. "It's a good thing the three of them have so many aunts and uncles."

"Oh, does this mean they can each have different godparents?" Spencer asked, the pathways in his brain connecting as he realized the new circumstances.

"I mean, they are different people, so yes." Y/n decided, not having really thought about it.

His face flooded with relief. "Thank goodness. That's going to stop some of the bickerings."

"Oh, but I like Penelope baking cookies to swing the vote in her favor." Y/n realized, remembering she ran out of the delicious white chocolate chip cookies the other day.

"I don't know if we can swing a vote that's only ours," Spencer stated, scrunching his nose in the cute way she loved. She hoped all three of them got his button nose.

She shrugged. "We've still got six names to pick, not two." Somewhat of a daunting task. "Plus all the medical how-am-I-actually-meant-to-birth-three-child stuff."

"We'll figure it out." Spencer comforted, taking her hand to place a kiss on her knuckles.

The next day, Spencer was up early to see Emily, knowing she would be at the BAU. No one else was there when she walked in, but they'd be there in the next hour. He brought donuts to commemorate the event. Something he'd grown so used to was striving for perfectionism, so, although Y/n was his priority, he was anxious about being away from the BAU and the teams' reaction.

Tapping on Emily's door after putting his satchel at his desk, Spencer stepped into her room. There was a pep in it, still awestruck by the news. "Hey, Spence." She greeted him, looking up from her paperwork with a smile. "What are you doing here so early?" She question, checking her watch. "Don't you have a pregnant wife at home?"

Spencer sat down to show her he was ready for a serious conversation. "That's actually what I was here to talk about."

"Are Y/n and the baby okay?" She cut him off, quickly concerned.

"Well, it's actually babies." Spencer corrected, the grin creeping onto his face. "As in three." He avoided any more confusion.

Emily immediately sprung up, barely giving him time to stand up before she engulfed him in a hug. "Spencer, that's amazing news. Congratulations." She said, pulling away with a smile and a hint of surprise. "She is an absolute angel."

"That she is." Spencer agreed, having thought the same thing when he admired her after waking up. "But because it's considered a high-risk pregnancy, she does have to go to checkups every week, so I was wondering if it's okay that I consult from home if we have cases on those days."

With a small scoff, Emily nodded at his request. "Anything you need. Seriously. I do not want to see you back here until you're both ready." She sternly told him, having known his tendencies for years. Grateful, Spencer smiled while a suspicious smirk crept onto her face. "Does this mean there are more possibilities for godparents?"

He knew that was coming, but he didn't think it would be from Emily. "That would be correct. Although, I'm unsure where we're going to find six suitable, mature godparents." He joked with a smirk.

"I thought godparents we're meant to be the fun ones who spoilt the kids, no maturity needed?" She asked, prompting Spencer to shake his head with a giggle. "I should buy two more bottles of champagne, though."

Spencer frowned, tipping his head to the side to determine if she was serious. "You're going to give my newborn baby a bottle of champagne?" He questioned.

"Duh, for when they're a teenager." She replied like her intentions were clear. "Just because you were 7 years old at high school and couldn't party doesn't mean I'm going to let my godchild miss out."

"12, and I didn't confirm any godparent status." He corrected her.

Emily shook her head like she knew something he didn't. "You didn't need to. I can read you like a book." Spencer didn't bother denying it. Emily had been for him since he was 25. Even if she had missed some time, she'd always be one of his best friends. "Now, can I see what's in that box that looks like it could be donuts?"

"Of course." Spencer opened it and turned it towards her. "I got your favorite."

"I love you more and more each day, boy genius." She informed him, taking it out of the box. "Are you wanting to tell the team?"

Y/n had already agreed, knowing he was delighted to let everyone know. "Yeah, that's why I got donuts. Duh." He mimicked her. "Round table room?"

There was always anxiety amongst the team when a meeting was called, but when Spencer walked in with a beaming smile he'd only worn on two other occasions, all worries were put to rest.

He didn't bother drawing it out, stating his announcement when he walked into the room. "Y/n's having triplets!"

The cheers were just as immediate as the hugs and congratulations from all of them. Emily stepped in after with the purple box. "And he brought donuts!" She declared, holding them above her head.

~

93 days later, once again, there was nothing that could wipe the smile off Spencer's face. So much his cheeks were starting to hurt, but he did not care.

The three adorable, flawless babies slept in their little clear incubators well he watched them. Two at a time, the team had come to meet them, admiring the three new additions to the Reid family and embracing Spencer. He'd seen Luke, Matt, Tara, Penelope, and even a surprise visit from the Morgans, the Callahans, and the Blakes.

"Uncle Spence!" His attention turned to two blond boys running into the room.

"Hey, what'd we say 'bout runin' in the hospital, you two?" Will drawled out, stepping into the room hand in hand with JJ.

The LaMontagne boys slowed down, eagerly walking over to their godfather. Spencer picked Michael up, so he could see in. "Thank you two so much for coming." He said to the two of them, smiling down at Henry. Both he and Henry admired the babies with wide eyes, acknowledging Spencer with only nods.

"So little," Michael mumbled, reaching out to touch the outside.

"I know." Spencer agreed, spinning him around so he could see the other two.

Henry frowned up at his godfather. "You have three?"

"Mmhm," Spencer admitted proudly. "Triplet means three babies born together because tri means three."

"Wow." Their simple reply came, one word the summarized what Spencer was feeling.

Will patted Spencer on the shoulder. "They're fantastic, Spencer." He said, taking Michael from his arms.

JJ gave him a long hug, squeezing him tightly. "How did you get the kids in here?" Spencer asked, looking over her shoulder at them. "I thought only adults were allowed in the NICU."

"We abused our law enforcement badges slightly." She admitted, not concerned at all. "They really are beautiful, Spence." Her attention was back on the triplets with the wires hooked up to them. "Is Y/n doing okay?"

He nodded, smiling even more at the thought of his wife. "Tired, she's sleeping."

"Do they have names yet?" She asked, turning to admire another baby. Spencer shook his head, still not sure what they'd decided on. "You deserve all this happiness." She reminded him.

Spencer chuckled. "Until one starts crying and wakes the other two, and we can't get any of them to sleep." He joked, knowing he'd still be joyful.

JJ grimaced. "I can't imagine, but if you or Y/n need someone to talk and/or rant to, Will and I are here." She made sure he knew he had their support. "Our gift is with everyone else's, but we should get the boys home to sleep."

Glancing at his watch, Spencer realized how long he'd been looking at the triplets. He wrapped his arms around JJ again. "Thank you, Jennifer. For everything."

Something about the whole day had made him incredibly emotional, reflecting back on all the people and paths that had gotten him to that point.

She nodded on his shoulder, patting him on the back. He hugged the boys and Will before they left, passing Emily as she walked into the room.

"Spencer." Emily smiled, leaning up to hug the closest thing to a little brother she had.

"Thanks for coming," Spencer replied when they pulled away, their focus landing on the babies.

Emily nodded. "Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world." She assured him, watching as one of the newborns stretched. "Wow, just look at them."

"Amazing, right?" Spencer asked, earning a nod from her. He placed his hand through the hole, putting his finger in the tiny baby's palm. "I didn't know they came this tiny."

"Look at their tiny feet." Emily agreed. "And their perfect Spencer Reid noses." She added, tapping the triplet's father on his nearly identical nose.

Scrunching his nose under her finger, Spencer giggled. "You can touch them." He assured her. She reached out to stroke over one of their heads, feeling the incredibly soft hair. "I thought I was going to break them, they're that delicate." He mentioned being able to fit one in his palm with ease.

"You and Y/n are going to be the absolute best parents," Emily told him. It was something Y/n had been assuring him, and it always meant the world to hear it. "I think these might be the three luckiest babies in the world." She decided, looking at them. "So, which one is the luckiest? Getting to have me as a godmother." She joked, nudging his shoulder.

Spencer hadn't told anyone else their unofficial names or their godparents. "Actually, the one you're touching." He reported. "It's silly, but I just feel like you're similar. I hope she grows up to be as kind, clever, funny, ambitious, and badass as you."

Emily was close to tears at his sweet words. "I promise to be the best godmother to her and aunt to all of them." She assured him, giving him another hug. "Oh, and I'll teach them every language I love."

"Thank you, Emily. I can't thank you enough for everything." Spencer told her, smiling at his friend.

"Hey, you two." Y/n's voice interrupted as she came slowly shuffling into the room.

Emily wrapped her in a gentle hug, not wanting to hurt her. "You look incredible for having had these three 5 hours ago." She complimented. "I'll leave you two to it, but the three of them are perfect." She farewelled them, walking to the door. Turning back, she looked at Spencer. "Take some time." She commanded despite the fact she thought the situation would change once they were in the world.

"Hi, sweetheart." Spencer greeted his wife. "Are you okay walking?"

Y/n nodded, wrapping her arms around his torso and turning her head to the side. "I'm not going to be able to go for a run or anything, but the doctor said it's good if I walk around a little." It was something Spencer had already read the importance of. Along with every other tip and piece of information he could find.

Usually, he hated hospitals, but it was the best feeling in the world, making up for all the times he'd been there and hurt. There wasn't a single word, in any language, to accurately reflect how he felt at that moment.

"They're so..." Y/n clearly was at the same loss for words.

"Perfect?" Spencer offered a close synonym. Aginst his chest, she nodded. "I already told Em who was hers. I'm sorry."

Y/n pulled back to look up at him, gently kissing him, before pulling away to look at the triplets.

Their triplets.

The product of a 50/50 mix of their DNA was better than they could have imagined in their wildest dreams. The three little Reid babies they got to take home in a few weeks and keep forever.

"So lucky and so grateful," Spencer mumbled, placing a kiss on her forehead as he held her cheek.

"Tell me about it." Y/n joked, stroking one of the baby's cheeks. "So... names?"

It was the big decision they left to finalize.

He pointed to their first daughter, technically the youngest. "Paisley Morgan." Y/n nodded with him. "Emily and Derek."

"That's asking for chaos." She joked, giggling along with him. She pointed out Paisley's identical twin sister. They looked so similar as well, their parents using the bands on their ankles to identify them. Noses like Spencer's, his hair, Y/n jaw and lips, and a mix of their bone structure. "Peyton Diana and Dave and Penelope."

Spencer laughed at that as well. "The most spoilt."

"I think Penelope's going to go crazy with matching outfits for them," Y/n said, but it had always been inevitable. Triplets just amplified the adorableness and added outfit coordination choices. "There are so many gifts." She commented.

Spencer agreed with a hum, nodding towards the other baby. The fraternal triplet's bone structure was all Spencer, along with his nose, Y/n's hair, and eyes. "Pascal Jason. Godson of Luke and JJ."

"A sweetheart." Y/n summarized. "I think the same letter and syllable first names was a brilliant idea of mine." She joked, smirking up at Spencer.

"And Pascal for some triangular symbolism," Spencer said, touching his tiny fingers. Spencer's finger was bigger than his whole arm. "You know what's weird."

Y/n was used to reading his mind. "The tally suggested a 2/3 chance for a girl and 1/3 chance for a boy?" She correctly guessed.

"So, I'm a little more right?" Spencer asked, winking at her when she took her eyes off her daughter. She only narrowed her eyes at him in reply. Spencer leaned down to talk to the triplets. "Your mommy's always right. That's the first lesson I'll teach you."

Y/n hit him on the shoulder before wrapping his arm around her body. She was adoring the joyful aftermath of the stressful last few weeks trying to get everything ready. Every part of it was so totally worth it when she looked down at the three most incredible babies she'd ever seen.

Unknown to newborn Pascal, Peyton, and Paisley, they had both their parents thoroughly wrapped around their tiny fingers.

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Good for a Weekend (Helmut Zemo)

Masterlist

Summary: You were retired, a disgraced Avenger content living the rest of their life out in solitude. But Sam and Bucky's shenanigans dragged you back into the hero life and you found yourself face to face with the man who'd got you into this mess in the first place. The question is, however, is he really who you thought he was? Or are you just as crazy as him?

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x Reader

Warnings: TFAWS Episode 3 Spoilers, Zemo (he's a warning), swearing, mentions of torture and experimenting (past), drinking, Zemo being semi-protective, I think that's it??

Word Count: 3.41k

Author's Note: Biting the bullet and writing this BEFORE Marvel does something to get us to hate him again. Also, ZEMO AND BLANK SPACE WORK SO WELL TOGETHER OMG.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” You murmured, looking at the message from Sam flashing across your phone. Although you had stopped dead in your tracks, the chaos of the bustling streets of London continued around you. You pushed your sunglasses further up your nose, them having fallen down as you were peering at the screen of your burner cell.

‘Need your help in Madripoor ASAP,’ the text read. You weren’t daft, you knew exactly what kind of lawless entropy happened on that Indonesian island and if Sam was asking for your help, that meant he was in some deep shit.

‘I’m retired,’ you replied, glancing over your shoulder out of habit. Although you’d been pardoned after the Berlin incident by the government, you were still a disgraced Avenger in the eyes of the world. All you wanted was to live the rest of your life out in peace, a future without the world-saving you began when you left HYDRA with the Maximoff twins.

You hadn’t chosen to become a human lab rat, tortured and exposed to the mind stone until you could suddenly hear the thoughts of others in your head. Telepathy and telekinesis were not necessarily the kind of special skills that employers wanted to see on a resume, but alas, here you were. Thankfully, however, you'd learned to block them out until necessary to violate people's privacy. Fighting aliens and other superpowered entities, including the people you’d once considered to be your family, were in the past.

‘Please. It’s Bucky,’ Sam messaged again. Those three words were enough to make your blood run cold and your heart stop. Bucky was the reason you were in this mess in the first place, and you would be damned if the ex-assassin was going to fall back into the clutches of evil.

With a sigh, you typed back ‘fine’ and began the trek towards your apartment. Your phone was vibrating again immediately, Sam explaining that they would be picking you up at a small airstrip on the edge of the city.

Three hours later, you were walking along a long, concrete runway, the harsh England wind attacking your body as you pulled your leather jacket tighter around you. Your brows furrowed in confusion at the sight of a civilian jet rather than the military-esque vessels you’d become accustomed to. The steps were awaiting your ascent with an older man stood adjacent to the entrance.

“Ms.(Y/L/N),” he greeted. A thick accent laced his tone, one you couldn’t quite determine from the crackling of age in his voice. German or Russian, most likely, you deduced. Attempting to be polite despite your skepticism, you gave him a tight-lipped smile and handshake before the elder man gestured towards the stairs for you. Entering the jet, you turned right to be met with the familiar faces of Sam and Bucky.

“(Y/N)!” Bucky exclaimed, rising from his seat and embracing you in a hug. He held you tightly against his body, almost as if he wasn’t sure you were really there. The super soldier had taken a liking to you when the two of you stayed in Wakanda during your exile, both of you having a certain understanding of the other due to your shared experiences with HYDRA. The sergeant had become somewhat of a brother to you in your time away together. “What are you doing here?”

“Sam messaged me.” You replied, Barnes’ arms immediately releasing you as he whipped around to face Sam.

“You tattled on me to (Y/N)?” He scoffed. If looks could kill, Sam would have dropped dead from the darkness in Bucky’s orbs.

“Wait, if he’s okay then what am I here for?” You said, shifting your gaze to Sam as you raised a brow.

“You’re here to make sure that he stays in line.” Sam snapped, crossing his arms over his chest as Bucky let out an exasperated ‘Jesus Christ’ under his breath.

“Bucky’s fine, Sam.” You replied, rubbing your face with your hand in annoyance as you glanced at the super-soldier.

“He’s not talking about James.” A new voice sounded from behind you, one both vaguely familiar but also strange. Whipping around, you were met with a face you’d only ever seen through a screen. Zemo.

“What the fuck is he doing out of prison?!” You exclaimed, looking between Sam and Bucky in utter disbelief.

“Bucky broke him out of jail!” Sam exclaimed, pointing a finger towards the super-soldier.

“Sam’s the one who pulled me into this mess!” Bucky pointed back.

“You two morons have reached a whole new level of dumbassery!” You exclaimed, keeping a cautious gaze on Zemo in the corner of your eye. “You broke out the man who ripped apart the Avengers out of jail and you let him do it?! The same man who killed King T’Chaka! Do neither of you remember what T’Challa and the people of Wakanda just did for us after we became enemies of the state?! I cannot believe that you would betray their trust and help this monster to escape!”

You paused for a moment, breathing heavily as you looked at the ashamed faces of Bucky and Sam in front of you.

“I’m sorry to-” You heard Zemo begin, you turned to face him with utter rage shining in your eyes. “No! The grown-ups are talking, you can wait your turn.” You scolded him, almost as you would a child but just a tad harsher. Grown-ups may have also not have been the best choice of words to describe Wilson and Barnes.

“I don’t want any part of this suicide mission!” You snapped at the duo, moving to leave.

Thirty minutes later, however, you were still on the jet, glaring into a pair of brown eyes as the four of you flew through the air. Honestly, you couldn’t believe you were still there, but Sam and Bucky knew you too well and pushed just the right buttons to convince you to stay. Sam needed you to tap into Zemo’s mind if need be to figure out if he was planning on betraying them, and you didn’t want two of the last people you trust getting themselves killed if you could prevent it.

Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum were sitting across from each other, meaning that you got stuck sitting across from the Baron in silence. He shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, the darkness in your (Y/E/C) orbs not sitting well with the man.

“So, you read minds.” He began, rubbing his hands together anxiously. You noted the nervous tick and couldn’t help but feel amused at his discomfort, but your expression never faltered.

“You don’t need to make small talk.” You bit, your icy tone growing colder in every syllable.

“I’m genuinely curious, is all.” He began, pausing his fiddling to brush his hair back only to resume it once more. “It just seems like for someone with your abilities, you’re often an overlooked member of the team. You’re the most powerful, even more so than Maximoff or Banner, perhaps, yet you were never truly an Avenger, were you?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m retired.” You muttered, ending your glaring to gaze out the window. The way Zemo spoke about you was unsettling, especially considering how he felt about the Avengers. He seemed not to think that you were part of the team, similarly to Bucky, and that brought you a feeling of unease.

“And why is that?” Zemo pushed, your avoidance evidence that he’d struck a chord.

“Why do you care?” You scoffed, looking back at the Sokovian man, both annoyance and exhaustion present in your tone.

“Because I think you’re like me.” He answered, his tone becoming quieter. Zemo didn’t look at you with the same rage you’d seen in footage from 2016, nor with the amusement that he gazed at Bucky and Sam with. No, it was something different, softer and analytical, perhaps. You wanted to peer into his mind for something, anything to figure out what he was thinking, but he would likely feel your prodding into his consciousness. As of now, he didn’t seem to have any plans to betray you guys, and you wouldn’t be the one to give him a reason.

“That’s enough from you.” Bucky interrupted, rising from his seat to switch places with you, his brotherly possessiveness clear as day.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, and Zemo provided the three of you with costumes for the roles you were to play in Madripoor. Yours seemed to have been designed specifically to be horribly uncomfortable, both in feel and the amount of skin that was exposed in the cool evening air. The three of you were making your way towards the glowing city shining in the distance, the nerves in your stomach rising with each step.

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp.” Zemo explained in response to Sam’s protests over his own outfit. “You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”

“He even has a bad nickname.” Sam said, looking at the picture of Conrad on the phone Zemo had just handed him. “Hell, he does look like me though.”

“And who am I supposed to be playing, exactly?” You questioned, still unsure as to what role you would be playing in this scheme.

“My partner,” Zemo said simply, an amused smile working his way onto his lips.

“What?! No! Nu-uh, I’m not doing that!” You protested, Sam chuckling at your denial of what was probably inevitable.

“Would you rather the alternative of all of us getting slaughtered the second we step foot into the city?” Zemo retorted, still humored by your resistance.

“Fine, but if you try anything I’m going to break your nose.” You gave in.

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

Soon, the four of you were making your way into a bar, Helmut’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist since the second you exited the car in a mock possessiveness. It was all part of the charade, you had to remind yourself, as the Baron kept your side pressed against his snugly.

Making your way up to the counter, the bartender didn’t look impressed to see the group of you there as he made his way over to you.

“Hello,” He began. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed. We have a business to do, with Selby.” Zemo interjected before Sam could respond.

“The usual?” The bartender ignored Zemo and turned his attention back to Sam, who simply gave a curt nod in response. The bartender turned, grabbing a snake from a jar and slicing it down the underside with a blade. A part of you wanted to cackle, especially seeing Sam stiffen beside you, and you didn’t doubt that Bucky was having to restrain himself as well. Zemo didn’t seem surprised as the bartender pulled who knows what out from the snake and placed it into a glass.

“Smiling Tiger, your favorite.” The Baron commented, the bartender sliding Sam his beverage only to pour two glasses of a different liquor for Zemo and yourself.

“I love these,” Sam said, raising to clink glasses with yourself and the Sokovian man whose arm was still draped around you.

“Cheers, Conrad,” Zemo replied, smiling back at poor Sam. The three of you downed your burning liquor, Sam struggling the most out of the three of you, clearly appalled by the organ at the bottom of his shot. You could see Bucky give a little nod in the corner of your eye, knowing he must be finding this as amusing as you were.

A man soon approached Helmut from behind, tapping him on the shoulder before he turned to face the stranger, shifting you with him. When Zemo felt the little nudge, he immediately pulled you closer to him. You were even tighter against him now, so much so that you had to wrap an arm around him as well to stabilize yourself. It was almost as if he was trying to shield you from the man despite him knowing full well that you can hold your own.

“I got word from on high; you ain’t welcome here.” He spat, getting too close to the two of you for either of your likings. But Zemo kept his air of indifference while you instinctually moved closer into his side. It’s all an act, remember? You have to play the part of the clingy partner who would get frightened at such a rough man threatening you two. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” Zemo began, trailing off as he gestured to Bucky.

“New haircut?” The strange man asked Bucky, who merely glowered in response.

“Or bring Selby for a chat.” Zemo finished, this time him being the one to get into the man’s face. Thankfully that was enough to send him away, most likely to Selby or this Power Broker who seems to be Madripoor’s own version of Big Brother.

You could feel Zemo let out a breath that you don’t think he even knew he was holding, giving a quick glance down at you before placing a peck on your temple. For the facade, of course. But what wasn’t fake were the butterflies rise in your stomach, something that you hadn’t felt in a long time. Were you… Flustered?

No, you reminded yourself internally. This was a very bad man holding you close, the same one who killed the former King of Wakanda and ripped your team to shreds. Not only that, but he hated all the Avengers, so why did he seem to like you? It doesn’t matter whether or not he likes you, he’s Zemo. But the more time you spent with him, the more intoxicated you became. He was starting to look more and more like your next mistake, and love is certainly not a game you wanted to be playing with him. Right?

The next thirty or so minutes were a blur. Bucky having to fake being the Winter Soldier to kick a bunch of men’s asses to finally meeting up with Selby, only for Sam to break your cover through a phone call and Selby quickly being shot. The four of you promptly exited the bar, attempting to remain inconspicuous until bounty hunters from all around started shooting at you. Bucky and Sam jumped forward, meanwhile, Zemo darted to the right, dragging you with him as he moved his hand from your waist to interlock your fingers.

You cut through alleyway after alleyway, hiding in the shadows as gunfire echoed around you. Eventually, you managed to catch up with Bucky and Sam, approaching the pair with your hand still in his.

“Well this is too perfect.” A female voice interrupted your mini-reunion, Sharon Carter emerging from the shadows as she ripped down her hood, gun fixated on Zemo.

“Drop it Zemo,” She started, Zemo raising his gun-holding hand before lowering the weapon to the ground. “You cost me everything.”

“Sharon, wait.” You reasoned, raising your hand as you slowly backed up.

“What, are you his lover now? His sugar baby or some shit?” She badgered you, causing your eyes to widen as you only just remembered that you were still holding his hand. You quickly dropped it, raising it to match your other arm as Zemo sent you a look that you couldn’t decipher. Oh, how desperately you wanted to look into his mind, but the little bit of sanity left in you told you to leave it be.

“Someone recreated the super-soldier serum and Zemo had a lead,” Sam explained.

“That explains why you guys are here. And Selby’s dead.” Sharon replied, gun still pointed at your group.

“So what are you doing here?” Bucky questioned the blonde.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass so that you could save his ass from his ass and became a criminal with their ass.” She explained, pointing the gun at each mention of whoever's ass it was that turn. “Unlike you, I didn’t have the Avengers to back me up, so, I’m off the grid in Madripoor.”

“Hey, don’t blow that smoke. I was on the run, too.” Sam rebutted Sharon’s complaints.

“Was. Is. Big difference. I don’t speak to my family anymore - I can’t. My own father doesn’t know where I am.”

“Listen…” You began. “Sharon, we need your help, the former agent only laughing in response. “Please.”

“This isn’t over.” She conceded, shaking her head at you. “I have a place in High Town, you should be safe there for a while.”

Sharon’s place was definitely nicer than yours is now, and you’re not even on the run anymore. She, thankfully, had a change of clothes for you to slip into, the soft material much a welcome relief from the tortuous item Zemo had you wearing.

While you were waiting for Sharon’s guests to begin arriving for whatever event would soon be taking place downstairs, everybody slowly filtered out of the room until it was only Zemo and yourself remaining.

“Can I ask you a question?” You spoke up, breaking the silence from your spot on the sofa as you glanced towards the Baron seated across the room.

“Ask away.” He smiled, taking a sip from the amber liquid in his glass.

“What did you mean earlier, when you said we were the same.” Your voice was quiet now, so much so that you weren’t sure if he’d even heard you. That is until he got up from his seat and slowly walked towards you.

“I never wanted to tear the Avengers apart, not until they killed my family. Destroyed my city… Sure, I didn’t like them, but I didn’t want to destroy them. It was all about vengeance.” He began, sitting beside you on the yellow fabric. “For you, it was HYDRA who ruined your life. You joined the Avengers because it was where the last people you had left were going and it was the easiest way for you to ensure the organization was destroyed. You never wanted the idolization that came with being a hero, and it was clear when your work was done that you had no desire to keep going. Everything that came after the Sokovia Accords was out of survival.”

“I’m not saying you're right,” you began, “but what would that make me, then? Insane? Cause that seems to be the running theory.”

“You’re not crazy, despite how rumors fly. Neither am I, really.” He began, eliciting a small smile from you at the last bit he added. “You’re a fighter, someone doing whatever it takes to get their agenda done. Whether that means breaking the law or joining the Avengers, nothing will stop you once you put your mind to it - it’s one of the things I admire about you.”

You pursed your lips as you focused on the amber fluid floating in its crystalline home, him taking another sip of the burning liquid. Your gaze shifted back to his face, and oh god, look at that face. Maybe it was the liquor in your system already or maybe your last bit of sanity was finally escaping your mind, but suddenly his past didn’t seem to matter anymore. You had plenty of red on your ledger as well, and the more he spoke the more you began to sympathize with him.

“So you admire me?” You smirked, crossing your arms as you tilted your head slightly to the right playfully.

“Why don’t you look into my mind and tell me?” He replied. Reaching out, you gently placed your fingers against his temple as you gazed into his consciousness. Flashes of magic and madness, ideas of a love that could be forever or go down in flames. You didn’t go searching deeper, because your own mind was racing. Would pursuing this be worth all the pain that could very well follow? No, not could, would. You’d be betraying your former teammates, but what did that matter much anymore.

Rather than pulling your hand away, you placed your lips gently on his, tentatively, even. He tasted of expensive liquor and a hint of peppermint, and you found yourself intoxicated. The kiss ended far too soon for your liking, him pulling away so his brown orbs could gaze into your own.

“So… What do you say?” He asked, cupping your cheek in his hand, you place your own over top of his.

“Why not?” You smiled back, reconnecting your lips to his.

“I can make the bad guys good for a weekend.”

Taglist:

@fanfictionedagain @lam-ila @b0nnyzz @haydieenzzibug @cyanide-mustard @duchess-of-new-shire @the-chocoholic-writer @milenadixon @real-fbi @golddenlioness

[starks-hero]

Right a Wrong

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You, Sam and Bucky get to work repairing Sam’s family boat. Turns out the boat isn’t the only thing in need of fixing. But with help from you and Sam, Bucky figures some stuff out.

Word Count: 3,745

Warnings: a bit of a make-out session but not enough to be classed as smut, tfatws spoilers! 1x05

a/n: This is a direct result of watching episode 5 too many times. Spoilers below!

|| Part Two ||

Small waves lapped gently against the dock and the afternoon sun warmed your back as you worked on the old boat.

You were standing side by side with Bucky, crowbar in hand as you attempted to pry off the old metal cleats from the boats side, whilst he expertly pulled rusted pipes apart and threw them into a pile. As if on queue, one of the pipes on the opposite side of the ship burst, hissing and spurting out white clouds of steam. You marvelled at how quickly Bucky reacted, quickly crossing the deck and sealing the leak with an abrupt upward turn of the pipe with his metal arm.

"Where did you learn so much about fixing boats?" You teased, motioning to the now fixed pipe with your crowbar. Bucky dusted off his hands.

"I used to work on the docks in Brooklyn before the war." He shrugged, rolling up his sleeves to the elbow and taking a seat on a crate next to you. "I picked up a few things."

He furthered his point by leaning over and pulling at the cleat you'd been grappling with. It came away from where it was attached to the boat's side with ease in Buckys iron grip. He smirked as he tossed the scrap aside and you rolled your eyes.

"Show off."

Bucky chuckled, sitting back as Sam stepped onto the boat. He was carrying a crate in one hand and shook his head when he noticed Bucky's smirk and your dismissive smile.

"Alright, you two." He placed the crate down and pulled out two green bottles, throwing one to Bucky and handing you the other. "Beer break."

Sam took a seat across from you both and you sighed as you opened your beer, raising it up to Bucky.

His annoyance was discredited by the fond smile that broke through his expression as he begrudgingly clinked his bottle with yours. You reached over and did the same with Sam as the three of you relaxed under the heat of the Louisiana sun.

"It's starting to look good," you noted as you glanced around the boat and Sam smiled.

"Yeah, it's coming together." He took a swig of his beer. "You know, Sarah and I were talking." He started and both you and Bucky glanced up at him. "And we could use the help. Don't suppose you two would consider staying around a while? Just till we get a lead on Karli."

The offer caused a noticeable smile to pull at your lips whilst Bucky shifted beside you at Sam's words. His agitation grew and he stood.

"I've got my plane to catch tomorrow, a hotel room for the night," he said, raising his bottle to his lips to hide his doubt. He really didn't have that much of a plan beyond that.

"You're just gonna set me up like that, huh?" Sam asked and Bucky shrugged.

"Well, I don't want to make it weird for your family."

"Just stay here," Sam said and you couldn't help but nod subconsciously. The truth was you really didn't really want to leave. There was something about staying with the Wilson's and spending the day fixing up an old run-down family boat that made everything seem so normal. It gave you a sense of home, a sense of normality that you hadn't had in a long time. For a while, it even made you forget about the flag smashers, Walker, all of it. It was a much-needed break.

"The people in this town are the most welcoming in the world. They don't care if you wear small t-shirts or if you've got six toes or if your mom is your aunt-"

You laughed and Bucky barely hid a chuckle behind a huff of breath and a bright smile.

"Okay, I get it. The people are nice."

You placed your bottle aside and turned to Sam.

"You're sure Sarah doesn't mind?" you asked and Sam's smile only widened.

"She's the one that offered."

Grinning, you sat back and nodded. "Then I don't see why not."

"See?" Sam pointed to you and then Bucky. "Just stay, man."

Bucky shuffled his feet for a moment before finally answering with a begrudging, "Okay. Alright." He didn't say anything else as he turned and walked down the boat.

"He'll come around. He probably just wants his space." You said, picking up your beer. Sam nodded, taking a swig of his own drink.

"I hope you're right."

You woke up feeling more refreshed than you had in a while. Your hands and back hurt slightly from the tiring work on the boat, but it was a dull ache compared to the constant throbbing that came after a mission. Your cheeks were warm, surely as a result of the hours spent out in the sun the day before.

Both you and Bucky stayed the night. Sarah had offered you the spare room and after a solid fifteen minutes of bickering, you finally conceded to Bucky and agreed to sleep in the guest bed. He took the couch.

The sun was just beginning to rise up over the water when you and Bucky both headed back out to the boat. Sam joined you not long after. You worked until mid-afternoon, reluctantly taking short breaks. You fell into a quick rhythm as you worked around the boat. Surprisingly, the three of you seemed to make a pretty decent team off of the battlefield.

"Hey, can you pass me a 12-300?" Sam asked from under the boat's control panel. Bucky reached into the toolbox and placed the wrench in Sam's outstretched hand. A few seconds later Sam was rolling out from under the controls and glaring disapprovingly at Bucky.

"What?"

"I asked for a 12-300," Sam stated plainly. "This is a 10-250."

"No, it's not." Bucky bit back.

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not!"

"Hey, geniuses." You cut their bickering short as both men turned to look at you. You held up the grease-slick wrench that had been misplaced and tossed it to Sam. "You left it below deck when you were working on the engine."

Sam muttered a quiet 'thanks' as he got back to work. Silence settled over the three of you for a few minutes until Sam decided it was getting awkward.

"So, are you still planning on leaving tonight?" He asked from under the station and Bucky nodded, before realising Sam couldn't see him.

"Yeah," he said loud enough for Sam to hear. "I'll be out of your way soon."

You could hear Sam's sigh from beneath you as he clambered back to his feet and stood between you and the super-soldier leaning against the wall of the cabin.

"Well, there's no hurry."

Sam didn't say anything else as he cleaned the oil and grease from his hands with a cloth and stepped off the boat. Bucky sighed and let his head fall back behind him.

"Go," you ordered plainly and he looked up at you.

"What?"

"Go," you said again, nodding your head towards where Sam was walking away. "You both need to talk. Bucky, whatever you're not saying, it's getting to you. So go talk to him."

Bucky hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He glared at nothing in particular but his gaze softened when it found you and he muttered a quiet, 'fine.' You stepped aside as he made his way past you and stepped up onto the dock, heading after Sam.

"And don't be a smart ass!" You called after him. He didn't reply, but you could only hope that Sam and Bucky's conversation would be somewhat constructive.

"Nice shot!" You retrieved the football from the back of the goal as Cass, Sam's eldest nephew, celebrated his score.

Once Sam and Bucky had left the boat, you had headed back to the house, helping Sarah with any errands or chores, doing anything you could to help out. Sam and Bucky had been gone a little over an hour and you didn't know if that meant their talk was going very well or very not. You'd been sitting rather uselessly on the couch, waiting in anticipation, when Sam's nephews had invited you to play a game of football. And how could you refuse?

You tossed the ball back to the boys who eagerly pounced at it. You were stood in the small goal, allowing both boys to take as many shots as they wanted. AJ stepped forward and kicked the ball, groaning when it flew off to the left, a few meters away from where you were standing and missed the net entirely. He glanced down at the ground, disheartened.

“Hey, it's alright, AJ.” You smiled as you ran to grab the ball and passed it back to him. “Come on, try again.”

With encouragement from his brother, he took the shot and this time the ball planted itself in the top corner of the goal. Both boys cheered as they celebrated and you smiled. You dusted yourself off, your knees and hands covered in dust from the football game as you turned to head back inside the house. Both boys protested as you left but you promised them you'd be back. The more time you spent with AJ, Cass, Sam and Sarah, the more you didn't want to leave. There was something about staying with the Wilson's that made you feel content. It was homely and offered a sense of normality that the last few weeks had caused you to miss.

You entered the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of water. Sarah had told you over and over again to help yourself to anything in the kitchen. You leaned against the counter, glass in hand and just basked in the feeling of not having to worry about donning a suit and risking your life at a moments notice. It was something you could get used to.

“That was adorable.”

Your head snapped up at the sound of a voice and you found Bucky joining you in the kitchen. He was smirking fondly.

“You and the boys.”

You chuckled softly and shrugged. “They're sweet kids.”

Bucky nodded, pulling a glass of his own from the shelf and filling it with water from the tap. It furthered the sense of domesticity that you were really starting to love. He took a seat at the table across from you.

“So,” you started as you placed your own glass aside. “How did it go? You and Sam.”

Bucky chuckled and you couldn't tell if it was sarcastic or genuine, but something about the grin that lingered on his lips had you banking on the latter.

‘‘Not bad,” he admitted eventually with a shrug. He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “We talked. He said if I'm going to fix anything, if I'm going to get what's left of him out of my mind.” Bucky subconsciously ran his hand across his temple. “I'm going to have to put in the work. Help the people I wronged instead of just saying sorry.”

You nodded, silently making a note to thank Sam later on. He always had a way with words, he could always get through to people. That's why he was given the shield.

“He's got a point.”

Bucky scoffed and hung his head at your words. “I should have known you'd be on his side.” There was no hostility in his words. He just sounded amused, and maybe a little tired.

“I don't think this comes down to whose side I'm on, Bucky. We both want what's best for you.” You answered honestly and Bucky glimpsed up at you. He anxiously toyed with his hands as you spoke, looking vulnerable, and slightly lost despite how hard he tried to hide it. You knew Sam had already spoken to him, but it couldn't hurt for you to say something as well.

“Look Bucky, telling yourself that you're okay and that everything that happened doesn't matter anymore because you've made 'amends' isn't going to help.”

He sighed, shuffling his feet against the tiles of the kitchen floor. “I know,” he admitted quietly.

“And I know you're probably tired of hearing this but, you're not him anymore, Bucky. You're not the winter soldier. Everything you did whilst you were him wasn't your choice. Just because you remember it doesn't mean that it was your fault. It's not your responsibility to fix it.”

Bucky sighed but didn't interrupt. He was listening. This wasn't like the therapist that he was forced to sit in front of and lie to every other week. This was someone he trusted, someone whose words he valued. Someone he honestly believed could help. He sighed but nodded to show that he was still listening.

“I think Sam’s right,” you said. “It might not be your responsibility to fix everything that went wrong but trying could help. It could give you that closure that you keep chasing after. You need to let go, Bucky. You need to forgive yourself. Maybe you just need the people who are hurting to forgive you first. Then you can learn how to do the same.”

Bucky's expression was unreadable. So many emotions flashed across his eyes you found it difficult to pinpoint just one.

“How do I start?” he asked quietly. It just seemed impossible. There were so many people he'd hurt, so many people he'd wronged. He'd left children as orphans, wives as widows and parents childless. How could he possibly start trying to fix or make all those people feel in any way better?

You smiled softly at his question. “Small. One at a time,” you said simply. “Then just keep putting one in front of the other.”

Bucky considered your words, glancing down at his hands as he thought. Before long, a small smirk pulled at his lips.

“I can't decide who'd make a better therapist. You or Sam,” he joked and you laughed, shaking your head dismissively.

“Well, Sam did council veterans so I think he takes that title.”

“I'd say it's pretty tied,” Bucky said, walking across the kitchen and standing next to you as he washed his glass, drying it off and placing it back on the shelf. The room fell into a comfortable silence.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He said after a moment, his tone sincere and his expression genuine as he looked at you. You nodded, gently placing your hand against his shoulder.

“Don't mention it. You know I'm always here if you need to talk.”

The sound of a football colliding with the wall dangerously close to the window followed by two voice's loudly shouting, 'sorry!' in unison drew a quaint laugh from you both.

“Duty calls.” You grinned, patting Bucky on the back as you passed him. “Team Wilson is missing its goalkeeper.”

Bucky chuckled, watching you go. You crossed the kitchen but his voice stopped you just as your hand reached the doors handle.

“Y/N?”

You turned back around to face him and couldn't help but notice that he seemed a little more apprehensive than he had before.

“Yeah?”

He exhaled slowly, willing himself to tell you what was on his mind.

“I was just thinking things over and you know, I’m leaving today,” he hesitated slightly before glancing up at you. “And I guess I was wondering if you’d come with me?”

Your hand slipped from where it was still holding the brass handle of the door. You tilted your head as your mind fully processed his question. The shock must have been evident in your expression as Bucky rushed to continue.

“I know you're planning on staying here and I get why.” He pulled a tattered red book from his pocket which you immediately recognized as Steve’s. He began absentmindedly turning the pages, running his fingers over the paper. “I want to try and start fixing things, making things right. But truth is I have no idea where to start. I thought that maybe you could help me with that?”

“I thought you wanted your space," you admitted after a moment.

“No.” He shook his head. “That's the last thing I want.”

You thought it over, resting your back against the door. Bucky trusted you, evidently a lot more than you thought he did. Not only was he comfortable enough telling you how he felt and admitting he didn't know what to do next. But he also wanted you with him. It was clear he was holding back, not wanting to overwhelm you by admitting just how badly he wanted you to go with him. But the way he eagerly watched you as he waited patiently for your answer was a dead give away.

You wanted to help Bucky, you wanted to be there for him. If that meant helping him right his wrongs and staying with him during that trying time, at least until Sam got a lead on Karli and the Flag Smashers, then you were more than happy to comply.

“You're sure about this?” you asked and Bucky pushed off the counter and crossed the room, stopping just in front of you.

“Absolutely.” His voice dropped down to a hushed whisper. “Come with me.” His hand gently caught your wrist, his fingers running up your arm. His face was inches from yours now, your breaths mingling. “Please?”

His lips pressed to yours before you could answer and you immediately kissed back. Your hand fell against his shoulder, the other laying gently against the nape of his neck. He groaned quietly against you, his arms finding your waist as he gently guided you backwards till your back met the wall. He pressed into you, his hands roaming up your body and you moaned as he deepened the kiss.

“Yes.” You answered when he pulled away slightly and he smiled against you, relieved. Neither of you said anything else as Bucky sighed and pulled you closer, his thigh slipping between your legs as he pinned you to the wall.

God, he'd wanted to do this for so long. Wanted to kiss you, to feel you against him. He wanted you. Your hand slipped into his hair and you pulled him closer, smirking against him. You'd wanted this just as bad. And you both only had your own stubbornness to blame for taking so damn long. It didn't matter now though. Not as he gently bit down on your lower lip and you slipped your hand under his shirt and felt up his chest. It all felt so natural, so right.

“Ten minutes.”

Both your eyes flew open at the all too familiar voice, Bucky pulling away from you so quickly he only barely avoided falling over a nearby chair.

“I left you two alone to talk for ten minutes,” Sam repeated from where he was standing on the other side of the room, his arms crossed. You tried to subtly smoothen out your clothes whilst Bucky ran his hand through his tangled hair.

“We were,” Bucky said, clearing his throat. “We were talking. We...talked.”

Sam nodded, entirely unconvinced, and smirked. He reclined against the counter, showing no sign of leaving anytime soon. A painfully awkward silence settled over the kitchen as Sam continued to shift his knowing stare from you to Bucky.

The humiliation of the entire situation seemed to get to Bucky first as he clasped his hands together after less than a minute.

“You know, what? I'm leaving in a few hours and I've got to pack so I better just go-” Bucky rambled as he shot you a subtle apologetic look before turning to Sam, who was nodding along in faux agreement to his pathetic attempt of an excuse.

Bucky quickly crossed the kitchen, Sam harshly patting him on the back as he passed him and left the room. Leaving just you and Sam alone. You turned to your friend and found that he was still grinning at you with that same mischievous look in his eyes. You felt like a deer in headlights. In an attempt to act as though Sam hadn't just walked in on you and Bucky making out, you tried making normal conversation.

“Sam, there was actually something I wanted to tell you. I know I said I was going to stay for a while but I guess there's been a change of plan. I-”

“I know.” He cut you off and his smile only widened when you looked at him in utter confusion. “You honestly think he would have asked you to go with him if I didn't tell him to get his shit together first?”

Your confusion slowly melted away and was replaced with a look of disbelief. You laughed despite yourself. You should have known Sam had something to do with it. ‘‘How long have you been playing cupid?” you asked jokingly and Sam chuckled.

“He needs you, Y/N. More than he wants to admit,” Sam said, tone now more serious than before. “Things will be fine here, I'll call you as soon as Torres finds us something to work with. But right now, he needs your help before that hole he's stuck in gets too deep for him to climb out of.”

You sighed as the weight of Sam's words set in. He was right, Bucky really did need you. That wasn't a responsibility you could afford to take lightly. Not that you planned to.

“Thanks, Sam,” you said genuinely and Sam smirked as he crossed the room and pulled you into a hug. He could tell you needed it.

“Anytime.” He pulled away and offered you a warning glare. “But I swear, if you two making out the minute I turn my back becomes a regular thing I'm going to kick both your asses.”

“Got it,” you nodded, barely stifling a laugh.

Sam's scowl melted into a smile and he motioned towards the stairs. “Go on, get your things together. You've got a plane to catch in a few hours.”

You smiled and headed upstairs after Bucky. Sam leaned against the counter with his arms crossed and a satisfied smile. Getting you two together had taken more work than he'd thought. But he knew it would be worth it, you both needed each other. Whether you were willing to admit it or not. And Sam was confident that if there was anyone that could help Bucky and offer him that sense of home and peace that he was so desperately craving, it was you.

tag list: @bakerstreethound​ @miraclesoflove​ @doozywoozy​ @kealohilani-tepise

[rax-writes]

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Fandom:  MCU Pairing:  Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader Warnings:  Sexual intercourse with a female-identifying person with a vagina + a bit of sugar daddy Zemo vibes at the end Notes:  Y’all... don’t judge me. I have a power kink, and Marvel did me dirty by randomly deciding that Zemo is fifthly rich royalty. And my girl @henrysmorgan​ did me even dirtier by actively encouraging my attraction to this fucker. So, blame Marvel, and blame her. // This is kind of really fucking long, and I didn’t edit it much, because I wanted to get it posted before episode 4, in case that episode flips the script. So, potentially some editing issues, and slightly rushed writing. Hopefully it’s alright, but please let me know if I screwed up anywhere. // Lots and lots of TFAWS ep. 3 spoilers

When Bucky texted you to ask that you meet him in some dusty, old, abandoned-looking car garage, you certainly didn’t know what to expect. All you knew was that an old friend needed your help, so you intended to be there.

It had been a few months since you’d last seen him, and even longer since you’d participated in any sort of mission, but you suspected that was what you were walking into. Being exposed to the Mind Stone had granted you the power of telepathy, which meant that SHIELD was quite keen on persuading you to work for them. They trained you in martial arts and hand-to-hand combat, and you went on miscellaneous missions a handful of times. They put in a lot of effort to convince you that it was your moral obligation as an “enhanced individual” to help them with these missions, but you ultimately decided that that simply wasn’t the kind of life you wanted. Instead, after the Blip, you began working a desk job for SHIELD, which is when you crossed paths with Bucky, helping him with paperwork associated with his pardon, and the two of you formed a friendship. But SHIELD kept trying to coerce you to get back into the field, constantly badgering you about it and making it clear that you weren’t wanted if all you were doing was paperwork.

The truth is, you weren’t cut out to be a superhero, and you had no desire to be. It didn’t help that your entire country had been reduced to rubble several years prior, leaving you with a bottomless pit of homelessness in your heart. So, you left SHIELD, and started a life in Berlin, where you were content to live out your days as the owner of a small bakery, residing in the small apartment above your shop.

That is, until Bucky Barnes dragged you into a particularly sticky situation, with a certain Baron Helmut Zemo.

You knew that helping Bucky and Sam would throw a colossal wrench in the life you’d created for yourself in Berlin, but after they explained the situation with the super soldiers, coupled with Bucky’s puppy dog eyes, you found yourself refraining from storming out of the building the second you saw Helmut fucking Zemo.

“We need you to keep an eye on him. You don’t have to tap into his mind 24/7, we just want a heads up if he’s going to screw us over,” Bucky explained.

"Look, we really need him. We’re obviously scraping the bottom of the barrel here, otherwise he'd still be in that cell. And neither of us want to be packing a criminal around like a rich bitch's chihuahua, so we need you here to make sure we're not gonna get bit," Sam explained.

"Fine. But you both owe me," you relented, and they both took sighs of relief. You glanced at Zemo, locking eyes with him for several tense moments. He gave you a polite smile, giving off the impression that he had nothing to hide – which he didn't, as his thoughts showed his intentions were pure at the moment. "We're good for now. He just genuinely wants the opportunity to take down these new super soldiers."

Sam and Bucky nodded, visibly releasing tension from their shoulders as they moved to head out, now reassured that Zemo was truly on their side. Meanwhile, Zemo eyed you with curiosity and awe, murmuring, "Fascinating."

The four of you walked on the landing strip toward a private jet, owned by Zemo.

"So all this time you've been rich?"

"I was a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty before your friends destroyed my country," Zemo explained, before glancing at you with a small smile. "But you knew that already."

"Wait, how did she know that?" Sam asked, then turned to you. "How did you know that?"

"I am Sokovian myself. I was certainly not royalty, but I lived there for my entire life, until it was destroyed," you explained, stopping outside the jet as Zemo greeted the elderly butler, Oeznik, in your native language. It made you smile to yourself; it had been years since you'd heard it spoken. Zemo shot you a grin when he noticed, and when you took a peek into his mind, you saw that he understood exactly how you felt.

As the butler handed Zemo a flute of champagne after you all boarded the jet, the Baron smiled politely as Oeznik stated, “Apologies if that's a little warm. The fridge is out, but I will see if there is some good food in the galley.”

Zemo glanced as you sat across from him, then in Sokovian, Zemo told Oeznik, "Another flute for the lady, please. And if the food does not pass the smell test, give it to the gentlemen."

"It's good to have you back, sir!"

As the man retreated to the cockpit, also in Sokovian, you noted, "You are a mischievous man, even more so than in your infamously criminal ways."

"You will find that there is more to me than meets the eye, angel," he responded coolly, the Sokovian language rolling off his tongue like honey. Before you could respond, admittedly enjoying speaking Sokovian, Sam grew tired of everyone speaking a language he couldn't understand.

"Why don't you tell us about where we're going?"

After a tense exchange between Bucky and Zemo, followed by a discussion about Marvin Gaye, Zemo finally got to the point: Madripoor. You exhaled slowly, resting your forehead in your palm in exasperation.

“You couldn’t have invited me on a mission to Cancun? Or Paris? Why must it be Madripoor?” you asked Bucky, who shot you a tight-lipped, pitying smile, silently apologizing for what he was dragging you into.

“What’s up with Madripoor? You guys talk about it like it’s Skull Island.”

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s,” Bucky explained.

“And upon seeing it, you would see that times there haven’t changed one bit since then,” you added.

“It’s kept its lawless ways. But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone,” Zemo said.

You frowned as you caught a glimpse of Bucky’s thoughts as he went silent. Fear. Anxiety. Disdain. Apprehension. You reached across to rest your hand on his shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze. He shot you a small smile, then looked out the window.

Upon landing in Madripoor, one of Zemo’s contacts met you on the landing strip with a new wardrobe for you, Bucky, and Sam, and Zemo explained that each outfit was per his instruction, carefully chosen to fit the role each of you would be playing in Madripoor. One by one, you took the covered clothes hanger to the bathroom of the jet and changed. Bucky was first, stepping out in some sort of leather number, looking eerily similar to the Winter Soldier you’d seen in photos. Sam was next, donning a three-piece suit of burgundy and gold. He looked sharp, although he was immediately complaining about how ostentatious it was. And finally, you stepped into the room and closed the door behind you, unzipping the covering on the hanger and revealing your “carefully chosen” outfit.

“Ich werde dir im Schlaf die Eier abreißen, Zemo!”

Bucky choked on his water and Zemo chuckled under his breath, while Sam looked between the two in confusion.

“I don’t know what she said, but she sounded pissed,” he observed, eyeing Zemo suspiciously.

“She informed me that she intends to remove my testicles in my sleep.”

“And why is that?”

“Perhaps because he’s chosen to parade me around Madripoor like a cheap whore,” you said angrily, stepping out of the bathroom with your hands on your hips, glaring at Zemo.

“That dress is by Armani Prive, and your shoes are Louboutins – far from ‘cheap.’ And you do not look like a whore, the dress is merely more revealing than what you are used to,” Zemo argued, standing and walking over to survey your outfit. He seemed to be enjoying what he saw, judging from the way his eyes raked up and down your body, but you didn’t dare check his thoughts to confirm or deny it.

If you were honest with yourself, he was right. It was a very nice dress; plum purple, matching the color of Zemo’s turtleneck, with long, fitted sleeves, all of it made of the softest silk you had ever touched. It was fitted at the top but flowy from the hips down, with a low balconette-style neckline, showing more of your chest than you were accustomed to, although you pulled it off quite nicely. It ended just above your knees, which was fine, as you sometimes wore skirts of that length. Overall, the luxury of it and the low-cut neckline ensured that you were out of your comfort zone, but you looked stunning – and expensive, despite your spite-fueled initial claim.

“I thought the color would look nice on you, and I was right. And I knew that the flow of the fabric at the bottom would allow for this,” Zemo said, his hand gingerly trailing from your waist to your thigh, where he pulled up the hem of your dress slightly to reveal the edge of the Glock strapped into your thigh holster. He smirked as his suspicion was confirmed. He knew you’d find a way to arm yourself, regardless of what you wore.

In hindsight, the way Zemo touched your side and lifted your skirt was all far more intimate than you should have allowed, and yet… you couldn’t deny the way your breath caught in your throat when he touched you, or how his close proximity made your body temperature rise, as he gazed down at you with those intense brown eyes.

Christ, you needed to get laid. Soon. Before you further entertained the idea of jumping the bones of a highly wanted criminal.

“Touch me like that again, and I will kill you where you stand,” you informed him sternly, and Zemo immediately took a step backwards, looking apologetic. From the corner of your eye, you saw both Sam and Bucky visibly relax, tension leaving their shoulders. You had read their thoughts briefly, and they were both wondering why the hell you were so calm about getting cozy with Zemo. The absolute last thing you wanted was for them to know that you were, in fact, inexplicably drawn to being that close to the Baron.

As the four of you walked along a bridge in Madripoor, Sam was quick to resume his complaining.

“We have to do something about this. I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.”

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”

“He even has a bad nickname,” Sam grumbled, then looked at the phone Zemo handed him. “Hell, he does look like me, though.”

“And who am I supposed to be?” you inquired, glancing down at your clothing to see if you could guess who you were meant to be portraying. An heiress or socialite, perhaps.

“My fiancée,” Zemo answered simply, the faintest smile on his lips.

You barked out a crude laugh, “Oh, I think not.”

“There is no one involved with Madripoor who looks like you. And it is rare that there are newcomers to the island, especially not in the place we’re going. Pretending you are someone random would raise concerns about the intentions of your presence; you would be perceived as a potential threat, which would jeopardize our mission. It is far easier to simply pretend we are engaged, I assure you.”

You hesitated a moment, before arguing, “No one will believe that we are engaged.”

Zemo pulled something from the inside pocket of his jacket, took your left hand, and slipped it onto your ring finger. It was a solitaire diamond ring; not large enough to be gaudy, but enough to catch anyone’s eye.

“They will if you play your part well,” he told you, then addressed the rest of your party when he added, “No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There is no margin for error.”

The four of you reached a sleek black car, and climbed in, you in the back between Sam and Bucky. The ride to Low Town was tense and silent, as each of you mentally prepared for what lay ahead. When you arrived, Zemo offered you his hand as you exited the car, and the pointed look in his eyes told you that it was time to begin playing your part. You took his hand, and as you began walking into the heart of Low Town, he laced his fingers with yours. As the crowd drew near, Zemo wrapped his arm around your shoulders, gloved fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your shoulder. After reading his mind, you realized that it was both for the sake of protecting you, and showing possessiveness to make it believable that you were his girl – and because he simply enjoyed having your body close, although you suspected that he’d rather you have not known that.

Despite the fact that you had been on a few missions for SHIELD, you were not exactly incapable of fear; you did not possess nerves of steel. All of the missions you’d been on were low-profile, and you were mostly just there for the sake of gathering information from those reluctant to share it. Sure, you’d been in danger before, you’d had to fight your way out of several sticky situations, but this… this was different. You were in the crime capital of the world, a lawless place filled to the brim with crooks, thieves, and murderers. More than likely, any given person around could slit your throat and never bat an eye or give you a second thought. Swallowing your own pride in the face of fear prompted you to return Zemo’s gesture, wrapping your arm around his waist and sticking close to him, which earned a smile from the man.

When you arrived at your destination, Zemo approached the bar and leaned against it confidently on one arm, the other still wrapped firmly around your shoulders.

“Hello, gentleman,” the bartender greeted, before his eyes fell on you. “Who’s your new lady friend, Baron?”

“My fiancée,” Zemo answered, then turned to you and ran his finger along your jawline, as you looked at him in adoration. “Isn’t she lovely?”

“Very,” the bartender acknowledged, then turned to Sam. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby,” Zemo responded.

The bartender made ‘Smiling Tiger’ his usual drink, which apparently consisted of… something he cut out of a snake, and dropped in a shot glass with a bit of liquor. You shared a look with Bucky before he turned away to survey the room, and when you read his thoughts, you found that you both desperately wanted to laugh out loud at Sam’s ‘short end of the stick’ situation, but didn’t want to risk everyone’s lives for the sake of a chuckle. You returned your attention to Zemo, opting to sell the whole “fiancée” thing a bit more by turning into him and tracing patterns on his chest as you gazed at him affectionately, while the bartender handed you and Zemo each a shot glass of your own – sans snake organs, thankfully. You both downed yours, while Sam understandably struggled a bit more with his, but still managed it.

A random man approached Zemo then, and as Zemo turned to face him, he protectively moved you behind him a bit.

“I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here.”

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” Zemo countered, gesturing toward Bucky, who looked menacing as he pretended to be the Winter Soldier. “Or bring Selby for a chat.”

After a weary look in Bucky’s direction, the man walked away, and Zemo turned back around to face the bar, this time keeping you in between him in the bar, in case someone were to come up behind him – which they did a few moments later.

“Winter Soldier… attack,” Zemo commanded in Russian, as a different man came up and laid a hand on Zemo’s shoulder. With a pained look in his eye that quickly shifted to cold determination, Bucky grabbed the man’s hand with his vibranium arm, twisting it as he removed it from Zemo’s shoulder. Zemo took a step away from the bar to allow you room to turn and observe as Bucky beat the absolute shit out of various challengers. Zemo wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him as he noted, “Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.”

The unmistakable sound of numerous guns cocking drew your attention away from the altercation, and Zemo gently pushed you behind him as he surveyed the room to note all the weapons drawn. Sam grabbed Bucky’s bionic arm to stop him, but Zemo whispered, “Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us.”

“Well done, soldier,” Zemo then said to Bucky in Russian, signaling for the ‘Winter Soldier’ to stop.

“Selby will see you now,” the bartender interjected, and Bucky released his grip on the random man’s throat.

“Thank you,” Zemo responded, walking off to find Selby, grabbing your hand to guide you, but not before you spared a sorrowful glance at Bucky as your friends followed closely behind.

As Zemo took a seat on a couch across from Selby, you sat close to him, crossing your legs gracefully as you leaned into him, your arm wrapped around his as he clasped his hands in his lap authoritatively. You watched his exchange with Selby in silence, as did Sam – and Bucky, of course, considering he was pretending to be the Winter Soldier.

“By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison,” Selby told Zemo, then smiled as she looked you up and down, before her eyes found the diamond ring. “And not engaged – to a woman far out of your league, I might add.”

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” Zemo answered calmly, then looked over at you, staring into your eyes with warmth and adoration, and you smiled lovingly at him. “My beautiful fiancée was a guard at the prison. We fell in love over the years, and she helped me escape. Anyway, I’m sure you have already figured out what I’m here for.”

The conversation went relatively smoothly after that, until Sam’s goddamn phone rang and screwed the entire operation. In the blink of an eye, Selby was shot dead, you had shot two of the guards with the gun strapped to your thigh, and Sam and Bucky had each knocked out one, before Zemo suggested sneaking out of the bar as best you could, without any weapons. You secured your gun back in its holster, not missing the way Zemo watched as you hiked your dress up to do so, before making a break for it with the three of them.

Once you were on the streets of Madripoor, bounty hunters began to come out of the woodwork, and when they began shooting at you, Zemo abruptly grabbed your hand and ran down a nearby alleyway. As you were running, the heel of your stiletto caught on a grate, and you’d have fallen flat on your face if Zemo hadn’t caught you.

“Are you alright?” he asked hurriedly, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he supported you, before standing you back onto your feet. You nodded, and he glanced over your shoulder as he noticed a few men looking down the alley. “Forgive me.”

You were about to ask what he was talking about, but then Zemo abruptly grabbed you by the backs of your thighs and lifted you up, pinned you against the wall behind you, and kissed you.

The men at the end of the alleyway muttered something about “freaks who do it in public,” then their footsteps faded as they walked off, clearly thinking the two of you were some overly horny couple, not two of the people with an insane bounty on their heads. But you were barely paying them any attention, a bit preoccupied with the fact that Zemo was fucking kissing you, and much to your chagrin, you really fucking liked it.

Once there were no more voices and no more footsteps, Zemo broke the kiss and sat you down. The two of you stared at each other for a moment, before you heard more gunshots, and you broke into a run in the direction Bucky and Sam had gone, desperate to find your friends, and no time to process what the hell just happened.

As soon as you caught up with them, the two bounty hunters nearby were shot dead, and the four of you turned to see Sharon Carter emerging from the shadows.

An hour later, you found yourself in her swanky home in High Town, in a change of clothes, since the brick wall Zemo had held you up against ripped the back of your silk dress. You lied to Sam and Bucky, saying that it happened because you fell while running in your heels, and thankfully, they believed you. Sharon commanded the four of you to lay low and enjoy the party, which Sam and Bucky left her living room to go do, entrusting you with ‘Zemo watch.’

It seemed as though he was merely nursing his brandy in lieu of abandoning it for the party prior to finishing it off, but his eyes were on you most of the time. You didn't necessarily believe he could be plotting to overpower you and run off, but there is always that possibility, so you delved into his mind to check.

Expecting to find thoughts of strategy about how to defeat the super soldiers or travel plans, or even plots to escape you, Bucky, and Sam, you were astounded to find nothing but thoughts of you.

The way it felt to kiss you in that alleyway, and how he had monetarily debated just staying there, having his way with you against the brick wall before Sam and Bucky could locate you. The dress from the bar, and how it rested on your thighs, revealing just enough to have his mouth watering without being revealing to the point of immodesty. The way your necklace currently rested against your bare collarbone, and how desperately he craved to litter the area with love bites. The delicate skin of your throat, thinking of how it would look with his hand wrapped around it, just enough to cut off a bit of air but not enough harm you. How alluring your voice is, and how much he'd like to know what it would sound like to hear you scream his name. The softness and warmness of your skin when he had his arm around you in the bar, and when he held your hand as you fled the scene, and he wondered how soft and warm you were elsewhere.

"Your thoughts are filthy."

He bristled immediately, sitting straighter in his seat and eyes going slightly wide, either forgetting you can read minds or not realizing you'd be doing it right then. It only took a moment for him to regain his composure, before he took one long, last drink of his brandy and set the glass on the table in front of him. He turned his whole body to the side to face you, as you sat on the opposite end of the couch, wearing a small, somewhat mischievous smile.

"I suppose there is no sense in denying it, is there?"

"What game are you playing, Zemo?" you snapped. He was rattling you. As much as you hated to admit it, he was. For the entirety of the time you'd been around him, this wanted criminal had been flustering you, and goddammit it, you wanted to know if it was accidental, or for nefarious purposes. He could be using it as a tactic to throw you off your game, so that he could get away when it was just the two of you – like right now.

"There is no game, Liebling," he stated softly and sincerely, sensing your discomfort. Slowly, he scooted closer to you on the couch, so that the arm he had laid across the back of it was now behind you, as he stared intently into your eyes. "Merely the natural response of a man who has been widowed and then locked in a prison cell, and therefore has not known the touch of a woman in many years, sitting next to a woman of absolute ethereal beauty."

You said nothing, merely stared at him, sizing him up to see if he was toying with you or telling the truth. Zemo sensed your lack of belief in his words.

"If you doubt my true intentions, you are welcome to delve as deep into my mind as you'd like to find the truth."

In all honesty, you'd have done that already if you weren't trying to avoid being even more flustered by his thoughts about you – but you couldn't tell him that. So, you did as he bade you, and searched his mind to find any shred of malevolence towards you, but you came out empty-handed. Zemo genuinely just wanted you, craved you, like a starved man sitting in front of an endless buffet. He watched you carefully as you came to this conclusion, and although you said nothing further, he knew that you had found what you needed to know.

"Just say the word, and I will never approach the topic again, as well as attempt to quiet my thoughts about you. But if there is any part of you... deep inside you," Zemo paused, eyes grazing you up and down purposefully, before continuing, "that has any interest in being with me... I will do anything to bring that to fruition."

The ball was in your court now. You could tell him to get bent and never speak to you like this again… or you could get your rocks off, and maybe even get something more in return.

"Such as?"

"Name it, Schätzchen. Anything you want. A car, a mansion, jewels – say it and it's yours, if you will be mine," Zemo proposed earnestly, licking his lips quickly as he looked at you, visibly thrilled that he was getting somewhere with you.

You weren't the type to accept gifts from men you barely know, but… this was Zemo. A man who had done a great many terrible things, which soothed your guilty conscience. So, you said the first thing that came to mind.

"A car," you blurted out, then explained, "Mine broke down a week ago, and it's beyond repair, so… a car."

"Tell me the make and model of your preference and I'll have it delivered to your home within a week's time," Zemo said calmly, then brushed a lock of hair away from your face, before allowing his fingers to trail delicately along your cheek and jawline. "Is that all, Kätzchen?"

"No. One more thing," you replied, then looked at him sternly. "You must agree to never speak of this to Bucky or Sam."

"You have my word," he assured you, smiling in amusement.

"Then I'm yours."

Zemo's smile faded slowly, and he merely stared at you for a split second, before cupping your face in his hands and pulled you into a searing kiss, full of ferocity and sheer desperation. It shouldn't have been this easy, to kiss a man who's done such terrible things – yet here you were, melting into his embrace, allowing him to pull you into his lap and straddle him, your hands resting on his shoulders and gripping the black fabric of his turtleneck. His hands laid flat against your back as he kissed you in this new position, slowly gliding down, down your sides and to your hips. He kissed you in a way that was feverish and fast and hungry, as his fingers dug into your skin, holding you firmly against him as if he were fearful that this was all a dream and you'd disappear at any moment. Upon taking a peek into his mind, you realized that was actually exactly what he was thinking. Additionally, he mentally spoke to you directly, somehow knowing you were reading his thoughts at that moment.

"Tell me if I do anything that you do not like, and know that you have absolute freedom to end this at any given moment."

You pulled away slightly to nod in confirmation that you received his message, before resuming the kiss. Mind hazy and instincts taking over, you found yourself tugging his bottom lip between your teeth, earning a low groan from Zemo. One of his hands darted upwards to grab a fistful of your hair, right against your scalp at the base of your neck, and he pulled on it harshly, causing you to let out a wonton moan. He then laid that hand flat against the back of your neck, holding your lips firmly against his as he kissed you with even more fervor, and the other vacated its position on your hip to slide slowly up your torso, until he began palming your beast through your shirt. You moaned softly against his lips, but not as loudly as a moment ago.

Zemo wanted more, needed more; he longed to hear you loud and desperate. So he delved that hand at your neck back into your hair, gripping it tightly once more, and used it to pull your head backwards a bit, so that he could have better access to your neck. The action itself, and the tightness of his grip, earned an embarrassingly loud moan to escape your lips, and you felt him smile against your skin. He moved his hand to the middle of your back, supporting you as you leaned back a bit to grant him better access. As he littered your neck and décolletage with kisses, you felt him pull the neckline of your blouse down a little, then felt the sharp pain of a bite on your chest, above your breast. When you looked at him with narrowed eyes, he wore a cocky little grin.

"You should not be surprised, Liebling. I know you saw that I've been wanting to do that all day when you read my mind," he noted. "Wear a high neckline tomorrow, it will be fine."

Before you could respond, Zemo pulled you flush against his chest with that hand behind your back, and into another heated kiss. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and without thinking, you ground your hips down on the bulge resting against your core beneath your skirt. He groaned, both hands flying to your hips to push them down again, guiding them as you repeated the action. It only took a minute or two of this before Zemo had enough, abruptly grabbing you by the throat and throwing you down onto the couch beside him. He then loomed over you, one hand propping himself up and the other applying slight pressure to your throat, gazing at you with admiration in those searing eyes, pupils blown wide from lust. You looked right back at him, pupils undoubtedly dilated as well, eyes half-lidded, panting a little, and hair a bit of a mess.

"You are an absolute vision," Zemo praised softly, to which you smiled, then he released his grip on your neck to lean down and kiss you again. That only lasted a moment, before he broke the kiss to pull your blouse up and over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side. Your bra joined it shortly after, then he moved to your skirt, fussing with the zipper for a moment, but it seemed to be caught on something, as it wouldn't budge. Before you could interject and state that you'd get the zipper yourself, Zemo ripped the seam apart with his hands, before tearing the article from your body and tossing it like he had with the blouse. A gasp escaped you, but you had no time to think much about his actions, before he was pulling off your panties and bra as well, dropping them somewhere beside the couch.

He was then looming over you again, kissing you breathless as he rested on one elbow while the other hand toyed with your nipple, his knee coming up to rest between your legs as he laid between your body and the back of the couch. You tangled your fingers in Zemo's hair, moaning against his lips as you sought friction against his leg. He smiled softly against your lips, before your hands wandered, finding the hem of his shirt and tugging it off of him. You had just managed to get his belt off before his hand left your breast, trailing downwards across your torso as he moved his knee further away from you, before delving between your hips and expertly locating your clit.

No longer capable of focusing on ridding Zemo of his clothes, your hands gripped his shoulders, and he hissed deliciously as your nails dug into his skin when he began rubbing small, methodical circles on your clit. Small moans fell from your lips as he watched the way your mouth hung open slightly, face relaxed and eyes closed as you enjoyed his work. But again, he wanted more, needed more. Still observing you, he delved his middle and ring fingers into your core, causing you to let out a loud gasp that faded into a long, low moan. Zemo smiled to himself. That was the reaction he was dying for.

He kissed you senseless, drinking in your moans and gasps of pleasure like wine, his free hand cradling the back of your head as your arms wrapped around his neck. It didn't take Zemo long to find that sweet spot, deep inside you – as he'd subtly alluded to earlier – that longed for his attention the most.

You couldn't help but moan loudly and cry out, "Fuck! Baron!" Zemo growled low in your ear, clearly a fan of your usage of his title as he picked up the pace, fucking you with his fingers with expert precision and speed, sending you hurtling over the edge with a string of curses in both Sokovian and English. By the time he removed his fingers from you and stood, you were seeing stars, breathing heavily as you laid flat against the couch. When your dazed gaze found him, he was naked from the waist down, and was just finishing rolling a condom over his length. You had no idea where he got it from, but you were way beyond giving a shit at this point. Zemo then rejoined you on the couch, roughly spreading your legs apart as he kneeled between them, looking at you with a primal, deep hunger in his eyes.

"You are certain that you want this?"

"Yes, please – fuck," you cut yourself off as he began rubbing your clit again.

"Yes please, what?" His voice was low, teasing, as he continued his work below. "I want to hear you say it again, Kätzchen."

"Yes, please, Baron."

"Good girl."

Zemo took your leg and rested your calf on his shoulder, before easing himself into you, agonizingly slow. You watched through half-lidded eyes as his brows furrowed together, his jaw went slack, and his eyes squeezed shut as he bottomed out. He was silent, but you very much preferred it when he was a bit vocal. So, you flexed your muscles down there, and he groaned, letting his forehead fall against your shoulder.

"Do not do that if you want this to last long," Zemo suggested through clenched teeth. You smiled to yourself, then said the magic word that you knew would get him going.

"Yes, Baron."

He growled again, right in your ear, then sat more upright to begin a harsh, quick pace of thrusting. His hips collided with your body each time, causing a delicious sort of pain, and he leaned down to lock you in a messy, deep kiss.

A few minutes later, Zemo moved your other calf to his shoulder as well, and the new position enabled him to get delectably deep inside you. You raked your nails down his chest, watching as a shudder ran down his spine, all the while releasing small, breathless moans and whimpers. When he opened his eyes again to gaze down at you, he licked his lips before delving both hands under your head and into your hair, and forcefully gripped two fitfuls of it at the base of your skull. The moan that tore its way from your throat was animalistic, as your nails dug into his forearms as you desperately gripped them from their positions on either side of your head. Just then, he hit a spot deep inside of you, and that familiar, tight coil in your lower belly began to form.

"Fuck! Right there, Baron, please, right there!"

"As you wish, Schätzchen."

Zemo began to thrust even faster, careful to maintain the same angle as he released his grip on your hair and leaned up a bit, so that he could resume rubbing your clit. Moans began to fall from your lips practically endlessly, and somehow, you still needed more. More, more, more. You took his free hand and laid it on your neck, and he instinctively wrapped his fingers around your throat, careful to apply pressure on the sides but not the front, as to avoid harming you. When he opened his eyes once again and looked down at you, he couldn't stop the moan that escaped him.

"You will be the death of me, mein Engel," Zemo whispered, seemingly more to himself. All you could do was moan in response.

"Baron, I'm going to – fuck – I'm —"

"Yes, come for me, Kätzchen. I want to feel you."

That was all the encouragement it took. Well, that plus how perfectly he was rubbing your bundle of nerves, and how his pace nor angle had faltered once since you had requested exactly that. You came undone again, legs shaking as your nails clawed at his shoulder blades, earning a series of groans from him. As you came down from your high, Zemo's hips began to falter, enthralled by the waterfall you had become, soaking the base of his cock as your walls squeezed around him. His hand at your wet heat abruptly moved to grip your hip, at the same moment his hand around your throat clutched at your hair again, and he met his end with a loud, gruff moan as he spoke a mantra of nonsensical praises and your name.

Zemo rested on his arms on either side of your head, and he let your legs fall to the sides of him, breathing hard against your neck as he occasionally peppered kisses there. He remained inside you for a few moments, savoring the feeling, before you chose to have a bit of extra fun by flexing your lower muscles and squeezing yourself around him again. With a sharp intake of breath, he pulled out of you, shooting you a glare.

In Sokovian, he murmured, "You are a naughty little thing."

"You adore it."

"That I do," Zemo conceded, then stood and walked off to the restroom. You heard the tap run, and a few moments later, he returned with a glass of water for you, sitting beside your feet on the couch and resting his heels on the coffee table. He was exceptionally handsome like this; still catching his breath, sweat glistening on his forehead and chest, a content look upon his face. You spent a minute or two admiring him, before he looked over to you, and a smile blossomed on his lips.

"I cannot thank you enough for that. I must admit, I spent countless nights alone in my cell, dreaming about getting to touch a woman like that again. Especially considering the fall of our country, I never could have imagined I would be lucky enough to lay with a stunning, intelligent Sokovian woman."

"In the spirit of confessions, it's been a while for me, too. My last boyfriend was about two years ago. And I'm not the one-night-stand type. So, do with that what you will," you stated, earning a small chuckle from Zemo. You sat up so that you were sitting beside him, instead of laying down, as you continued. "I fantasized about it a lot myself, but I never even dared to think my next time would be as good as this was."

Zemo smiled, a mix of pride and joy, then his smile softened as he leaned toward you, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. "This doesn't have to be our last time, you know. I would be honored to have you as often as you'd allow me to. And I assure you, I would make it worth your while. I will give you whichever vehicles your heart desires, more jewelry than you know what to do with, take you to the most beautiful places in the world, dine at only the finest restaurants – and above all, treat you like my queen. Take care of me, and I will take care of you, Liebling."

You allowed your curiosity to get the better of you, as usual when you feared that someone was lying to you. You searched his mind for any fraction of false pretenses, but there were none. The man simply found you intoxicating, and would do whatever it takes to keep drinking you in.

The arrangement wouldn't exactly be an easy one, nor would it be all that wise – nor morally correct, in all honesty. But he was undeniably sexy, and the danger and reprehensibility of it all made it that much more alluring. And besides all that – the way his power and wealth turned you on, how good he was capable of making you feel – most Sokovians were dead, and you missed home. Getting to speak your native tongue with him, chat about your country – it made you feel at home with him.

But you wouldn't give Zemo the satisfaction of agreeing to him that quickly.

“We'll see.”

—————

Part Two

[respectthepetty]

Whac-A-Mole

Who do you think the mole is?

It has to be a bodyguard:

Pete is not it. He will have a different connection to the minor family, but this ain't it, sis.

Pol is very content sleeping and watching telenovelas. He isn't trying to mess up his cush life.

Chan would be a nice twist, but it doesn't seem right. His patience is running thin with these baby bodyguards messing up left and right, but why move from the top of the main family to a spy for the minor family?

Big is a strong contender, but he is in love with Kinn, and too many of these situations put Kinn in danger, so he is out. He has also been shadowing Kim and wants to kill Tawan. His confession to Chan about it being his fault in the woods seemed odd, but man is in love, so it's excusable.

Ken is who I want it to be. He fits. He (with Big) escorted Porsche through the estate at the end of the first episode, so he was one of the first to know about the new bodyguard. He doesn't like Porsche. He was at the party in episode two where the female assassin attacks Kinn in the bathroom. He actually told Porsche to go into that bathroom, and then never returned to help during the fight. He speaks English, which I believe is a sign of a deceit. He knew Porsche was transferred to Khun. He was the one to punish Porsche after episode four, so he also knows how Porsche is upset, and he knows the signs of I'm-in-love-with-Kinn from working with Big. He was the one (with Big) to lock up Porsche, so he could have told Vegas where to find him. There are other reasons, but none seem as close as.. Arm. I don't want it to be him, but it's not looking good for my fellow glasses wearer (who isn't wearing his glasses in the individual promo photos...). Starting backwards - Tawan found the device that Porsche planted in his room pretty quickly. The device that Arm gave him. Arm knew Pete would be watching Vegas because he was around when Kinn asked Pete. Arm informed Pete and Pol that Porsche and Kinn were seeing each other, which is also information he could feed the minor family since nobody else seemed to notice, and could imply that he is watching Kinn and Porsche through surveillance. Arm was at the minor house with Porsche and Pete, and seemed to be distracting Pete at the party, so Vegas could talk to Porsche alone. When Kinn and Porsche were in the woods, Arm stated that he couldn't track Kinn's phone beyond the truck, which could mean three things: he knew Kinn left the estate in the first place and where he was, he actually could still track the phone and heard the conversation about Porsche and the beach, and he tracks Kinn in general, so he would know that Kinn was at the temple so Tawan could show up to surprise them. Arm was with Porsche at the club when Vegas showed up on the motorcycle. When Porsche was taken at the auction, Arm had the surveillance video to know where Porsche was, which also means he could notify Vegas that they were coming up. Arm is Khun's bodyguard, so he knew when Porsche had been transferred back and forth. The first time they went to the club, Arm was so drunk, he took off his shirt and kicked Pol after he realized he was standing on him (very aggressive behavior). In episode two, Arm seems upset that he is considered the nerd, but gives Porsche instructions on how to use the ear piece, which he knows Porsche still doesn't understand. However, the ear piece could have been for Arm to listen in on Porsche at the party, and to notify Vegas that Kinn was vulnerable to an attack. Arm is smart and capable, but overlooked often, which could be the reason he would spy for the minor family. When Pete goes into the house, he will need equipment to tap the phone and bug the house, which is Arm's area of expertise. I'm still lighting candles and praying it's Ken or not even a bodyguard, but Arm, my man, it's looking really bad right now.

[local-redhead-bookworm]

Interrupting your regularly scheduled content from me to complain about the new LOTR show. My mother had told me she was planning on watching the show anyway, so I watched the first two episodes with her. I don’t plan on watching the rest. Prepare for an exhaustive list of reasons why.

First off, some things I did like:

Arondir. One of the best new characters, and works very well in a bad show. I’m glad that a human-Elf relationship was addressed as the rarity it was. He’s also very handsome.

The Harfoots’ sense of community, and Nori and the Stranger (Gandalf?). Their interactions were charming, and Nori has the same wide-eyed wonder as Frodo.

Disa and Durin’s interaction. They were fun and Disa was very funny.

Now for the issues, which is basically everything else.

Why are these Elf kids bullying each other? Valinor was basically Eden

Correction: Elves had died before the kinslaying. That’s why Galadriel and Finrod exist, their grandfather remarried after his first wife died.

Where is Finrod’s signature flowing golden hair?

The dialogue is painfully clunky. It does not get better. “It’s not going to float, it’s going to sail.” Those are the same thing?? And Finrod “beloved by every species” Felagund would never have encouraged Galadriel to choose the Dark Side. Also her name was still Artanis (used here on out) at this time, since Celeborn gave her that name

We skipped over several ages of war entirely too fast. What about the Feanorians? The Kinslayings? And Finrod didn’t die in a battle, he died saving Beren from a werewolf in Sauron’s dungeons. So him being Artanis’ tragic motivation is not accurate.

Artanis was a respected lady, not just a commander. And her desire for war and violence wasn’t a good thing.

Artanis crossed the Helcaraxë (a massive ice bridge) to get to Middle Earth, she should know more about surviving a frozen wasteland than this!

What is with the Elves’ costumes? These are Noldor, they’re basically known for being extravagant. And with the massive budget, they still couldn’t get some long wigs for the male Elves? Arondir would have looked so cool with a bunch of long braids!

Why do Celebrimbor and Gil-Galad look so much older than Galadriel, who was literally around before the moon? Those two are young by Elf standards.

Elrond makes absolutely no mention of Maedhros and Maglor?

What is going on with Elrond and Artanis? They’re not a couple

That’s not…how the Undying Lands work. None of that is right. Gil-Galad can’t give the right to go to Valinor, all the Elves lost that right to physically travel back when they left Valinor. The only way back is for Elves to actually die

Bronwyn? Theo? Those are the names the writers went with?

That’s not…the history of the Silmarils. Morgoth didn’t steal them because he found them beautiful, he stole them because he was jealous of Feanor’s ability to create when he could only warp or destroy. He didn’t hide them away because he couldn’t bear to look at them, he set them in his crown. That’s a whole plot point when Beren and Luthien steal one.

Also we should already be seeing Sauron as Annatar. Where is he?

Do Durin and Disa have a Silmaril?

The show is bad on lore and dialogue alone. But the most blatant deviation from Tolkein’s themes is the attitude surrounding war. Tolkien was a World War One veteran, he saw people die for honor or come back traumatized. The core theme of his work has always been that there is no honor in waging war, only in defending our homes and family, and that it is far more honorable to grow and heal than it is to kill. Galadriel’s characterization is a direct contradiction of that theme. She’s not a hero for chasing vengeance and refusing to move on from Finrod’s death, she’s falling into the same trap that Eowyn did, wishing for honor and glory or a death in battle. Her behavior is understandable, but her reckless endangerment of other lives shouldn’t be framed as heroic.

I won’t be watching the rest of the show when it releases. I refuse to let Jeff Bezos twist this series into his little money-making project any further. He himself is a direct betrayal of everything Tolkein stood for. Don’t be fooled by the CGI, it’s not worth it. Don’t give him your money or if you must watch the show, pirate it.

[twdeadfanfic]

Outsider Pt. 7

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Daryl’s been out of Alexandria for two years, mourning the loss of Rick, looking for him, unable to go back to his family, when his dog finds a woman in one of his traps at the outside of his camp, a woman badly hurt, seeming about to pass out, looking more ghost than person…

…she’s been running away from a group that was more than bad news, having survived on her own for years, wary and afraid of groups after being mistreated by people, until she’s found by a stranger with blue eyes and a cute dog, a stranger that for once, might be a good person, someone willing to help, someone she can trust…

This has both Daryl’s and Reader’s POV in third person.

N/A: I wrote the first four chapters of this before season 10 was released, which means, this doesn’t follow, and won’t follow, what was made canon for Daryl’s life in the woods in 10x18 episode. I had abandoned this fic after that episode was released, but decided to go back to write it, I hope you can enjoy it nonetheless.

When the sun started to set and Daryl hadn’t come back, you thought he might have finally decided to stay the night with his family, and you wondered if he’d be back the next day, or maybe stay with them for a couple of days.

You tried not to worry much and ignore those bugging thoughts telling you that maybe he had an accident with the bike, or maybe he was caught up by another storm, or by one of those big hers of walkers, or he found a group of bad people…

You knew Daryl could take care of himself and that he was good at it, but still, you worried.

You had managed to get the campfire going, and you were heating some dinner for Dog and you, when Dog’s ears perked up, waggling his tail. Soon, you heard the sound of Daryl’s bike too, and you got up, rushing to the wire to open it for Daryl.

He was dismounting the bike when you reached the wire, and you grinned at him as you began helping him to open it, while Dog barked his greetings, jumping on Daryl as soon as the wire was open.

“Hi!”

“Hey, ya okay?” Daryl told you, dragging the bike inside and you nodded, closing the wire securely behind him. “I’m gonna park this.”

“I thought maybe you were staying at Alexandria for the night,” you said as you followed him.

“Nah, the storm gave them trouble too, I was helpin’ them fix stuff around, took us a while,” Daryl said as he untied the bags from his bike, and then looked around the camp. “Ya fixed everythin’ here, looks good, thanks.”

You just shrugged, smiling shyly at Daryl’s compliment, and helped him to take out of the bags some fabric. “Didn’t have much plastics or fabric,” Daryl explained. “They need them too.”

“It’s okay, we can manage with this, it’s enough to reinforce the roof over the tent and campfire,” you said as you examined the fabrics. “And we can tie these ones over there so the wind doesn’t hit us that bad,” you said, waving towards some trees.

You took the fabric with you as you went to sit down on the log to sew some pieces of fabric together. Daryl went to check the fabrics that you had left drying, including his torn tent…even he knew that he couldn’t use that again, but there were some other pieces of fabric less torn and ripped, and if he sewed them together, maybe it could work.

“You got enough with those?” he asked, pointing at the fabrics that you were sewing together, and you nodded. “I’m gonna use these for the tent.”

You chewed on your lip…you had liked sharing your tent with Daryl, feeling safe, warm, and content, but you didn’t know how to tell him, and you were unsure of how he might react, or if he’d be weirded out by it…besides, none of those fabrics were like the ones Daryl had used for your tent, they wouldn’t protect him like yours against the cold, and the rain would soak them again if your makeshift roof malfunctioned.

“Stay in my tent this night, the sun’s going down and dinner is ready,” you said, reaching towards the pot on the campfire. “We’ll see about your tent tomorrow.”

“Nah, it’ll take me five minutes.” Daryl didn’t want to take over your space again, and so he was already taking some fabric and heading towards you to take the sewing kit so he could make a bigger piece of fabric out of those.

He hadn’t minded sharing your tent, it had felt kind of nice, and for some reason seeing you there peacefully asleep had helped him to feel at ease, even if he’d also felt shy and it’d been a bit awkward, and he had to admit, it was way warmer and more comfortable than his tent used to be, but he didn’t want to take advantage of your kindness and take over your tent.

“I just think…” You fidgeted, trying to find a way to word what you thought. “These fabrics are good but…you know that the ones in my tent are better, those isolate the tent more from the cold and the rain, and the wind…so…” You shrugged. “So I think we should save those fabrics for something else and  we can keep sharing that tent, nights are cold now and there might be rain again, so…yeah…”

“I ain’t cold,” Daryl said, sitting down on the log and reaching for thread and needle without looking at you. “This is fine.”

“You are cold…” You sighed. “And it’s going to be cold for months…making a tent with those would be fine if we didn’t have anything else, but we do…we have a whole tent already built, with isolating fabric.” You waved at your tent, feeling a bit frustrated. “Look, if you don’t want to sleep next to me in the same tent, okay, I get it, but-”

“It ain’t that,” Daryl interrupted you, looking down, shy.

“Then don’t be stubborn and let’s share my tent.” You nudged his foot with yours. “Besides… the weather is so cold that I feel it even in my tent, but, uh…you and I are warm, so we help to warm the tent…our body heat…” You tried looking for something to convince Daryl to share your tent, something more useful than just saying that you liked the feeling of him sleeping near you. “So, uh…if we share the tent, it’d be two bodies helping to keep it warm it instead of only one, so, it’ll be less cold…three, counting with Dog too…so…yeah, it’s better to share it, it’ll be warmer…it’s physics.”

Daryl hadn’t said anything while you spoke, you had been looking at the fabric on your hands, but you made yourself look at Daryl. He seemed shy, but also a bit amused as he looked at you, arching an eyebrow.

“Physics?” He asked and you nodded. “Yer an expert on physics now?”

“Are you?” You shrugged. “Besides…you don’t need to be an expert to know that two bodies generate more heat than one.” You wondered if Daryl thought you were being silly, but even though he seemed kind of amused, it didn’t seem like he was laughing at you.

“There’s this guy in Alexandria, Eugine,” Daryl told you. “I think he knows more ‘bout physic that ya and I combined…I don’t think that’s hard, though,” he said and you snorted, nudging him with your shoulder. “I’ll ask him next time if yer physics are right.”

“Okay…in the meantime, I think I’m right…nights are cold, these fabrics aren’t as protective as the ones in my tent, and if we share it we share warmth too,” you listed. “So, I think we should share the tent.”

Daryl didn’t say anything, just looked at you in silence, making you feel a bit shy.

“Ya sure ya don’t mind?” He finally asked you. “I won’t be cold, I’m used to it.”

“You’re used to it but you get cold anyway…it’s not good, less when you could just stay in my tent and not be cold…and no, I don’t mind it…I…I really don’t,” you assured him, but you felt too shy to tell him that you liked it, and you were afraid of him feeling weird about it. “And Dog likes it because he can sleep next to both at the same time.”

“Yeah…” Daryl chuckled softly, reaching to pet Dog’s head. “Okay…okay, thank ya,” he said without looking at you, and you grinned, happy that you had managed to convince Daryl to share your tent.

“I got more books from Alexandria,” Daryl told you, leaving the fabric now that he didn’t have to make it into a tent, and heading to take the other bags that he’d carried. “Also some more oats,” he said, placing that bag inside one of the sturdy, wooden boxes that served as a little pantry for the camp. Then he went to sit down next to you again, opening the bag of books.

“Thanks.” You smiled, reaching inside, taking one of the books, wondering which one to read first. “How were your friends?”

“Good…they were good…pissed ‘bout the storm, it’d made some damage but, uh…we fixed it…and everyone seems good.” Safe, fed, Daryl knew he couldn’t hope for more.

Daryl looked at you and then reached inside the bag, taking out one of the books, in which he’d kept a drawing that Judith had made for him, so it wouldn’t get lost. He unfolded it and then passed it to you, and you smiled as you looked at it.

“She’s gotten better…quite the artist,” you commented and pointed at one of the stick figures, that had Carol written under it. “Totally looks like her,” you said and Daryl chuckled softly. Then you pointed at a tiny stick figure with RJ written under it, next to him a bigger one holding what seemed another stick, Michonne written under it. “Her mom and brother?” You asked and Daryl nodded with a small, sad smile.

There were some more stick figures which names you had heard Daryl talk about, and there were Daryl and Dog too, in the middle, next to Judith’s own stick figure. “Look at this…the similarity is amazing,” you half-joked and Daryl snorted. “You should take Dog the next time you go, she’ll like it.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Daryl chewed on the skin of his thumbnail. “And if ya, uh…if ya wanna come one day…ya can end up on one of those paintings too…”

“That sounds very nice,” you smiled softly, but you felt the stab of anxiety in your gut. “I, uh…I’ll think about it…” You said and Daryl nodded without pressuring you more. “I’m glad that your family is okay.”

“Yeah…” Daryl nodded, and you knew that he was relieved and glad that they were good, but he also looked sad…

He missed them, you knew, he looked sad sometimes when talking about them, and it seemed as if he kept trying to remind himself that he couldn’t be there with them, that he didn’t deserve it, or any of those bad things that Daryl told to himself and that you wished you could stop.

You didn’t know what to tell him, and instead, you just reached to squeeze his hand softly. Daryl seemed a bit startled at first, as if his mind had been somewhere else, but then she gave you a small, shy smile, squeezing your hand back.

“It’s, uh…it’s the stew warm already?” He asked shyly and you nodded, letting go of his hand to pour you both some dinner.

*

You hadn’t lied to Daryl about the tent being warmer with him there too, whether it was real or psychological, you felt warmer and content that night when you went to sleep, Daryl at one side of the tent and you at the other, and again, Dog in the middle, your hand on top of him.

You woke in the middle of the night, startled, but for a moment, you didn’t know what had woken you. Then, you heard the rustle of Daryl’s sleeping bag, and him muttering and whimpering things in his sleep, as if having a nightmare. Dog whined at that too, and you felt him shifting closer to Daryl.

You didn’t know what to do, wake him or not, but he seemed to be in distress, and so you reached out a hand towards him, stopping when your fingers touched the hair at the back of his head. You began stroking his hair softly, and at first Daryl flinched but then he began to calm down. When you felt him stiffening, you wondered if he’d woken up and you pulled your hand away.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “You were having a nightmare.” You weren’t sure if Daryl was asleep or ignoring you, but then he hummed a yes.

“Sorry I woke ya,” he muttered.

“It’s fine…” You hoped this silly thing wasn’t going make Daryl regret sharing your tent. “I have nightmares too sometimes…and it’s better when you have one to wake up near someone instead of alone, yeah?”

“Yeah…” Daryl felt weak for admitting that, he felt like a kid, but it was true.

“Well…I mean, if you wake up near someone, but if that someone is a friend,” you said quietly. “If it’s a stranger or someone dangerous, I guess it’s better to wake up alone,” you half-joked and Daryl snorted.

“Probably,” he agreed, he didn’t know if you were trying to make him feel better after his nightmare or if you were just thinking aloud, but in any case, he felt better.

“Like when I woke up to that crazy woman holding a knife to me…” You whispered. “I’d have rather woken up by myself as always.” You heard Daryl moving, as if he was turning to face you, but you both could barely make each other’s silhouette in the darkness of the tent.

“Ya, uh…ya have nightmares with her?” Daryl whispered to you.

“Not for now…I think…I think maybe my first night here but I can’t remember…I hope I won’t have them,” you murmured. “Do you want to talk about yours?”

Daryl stayed silent for a moment, unsure, fidgeting in the dark as he looked at your silhouette. “Ya, uh…ya remember the asshole I told ya ‘bout? Negan? That lead a group that attacked us and killed friends?”

“The Saviors, yes.” You nodded, you couldn’t forget those, not after Daryl told you how that man had killed Maggie’s husband in front of her, and how for some reason Daryl blamed it on himself.

“Yeah, uh…told ya Rick kept him in a cell in Alexandria…he, uh…he’s still there…” Daryl said, reaching to stroke Dog’s fur. “I hadn't seen him before but, uh…today, when I was helpin’ around, I walked near the cells and uh…saw him…he was there and he smiled at me…I…wanted to punch him…kill him…” Daryl knew that he hated Negan, but seeing him there grinning at him as if nothing had fed his hate even more.

“But…I knew Michonne wouldn’t let me…” Daryl had long given up on killing Negan, since Maggie wasn’t there anymore, but still he hated the man, and couldn’t help how he felt when he was around Negan. “She says that he’s worse caged there than dead, that he hated it more.”

“Maybe…depends on the person I guess,” you whispered and Daryl hummed. “Was your nightmare about him?”

“’bout the place he used to lead, the Sanctuary, an old factory,” Daryl told you, even if it embarrassed him a bit to admit it. “He had me there on a cage too, for a while…like a closet or somethin’ dunno…” That cage was not like Negan’s, neither how he was treated…but Michonne said they were better than saviors…Daryl guessed they were…

“Did they hurt you?” You asked softly.

Daryl didn’t want to say how it’d been, not then, at least, but he nodded in silence. You couldn’t see it, but still, you didn’t like his silence, it felt like they had, indeed, hurt him.

You knew Daryl was stroking Dog’s fur, and you reached out, looking for his hand, placing your hand on top of his when you found it. You were worried that maybe Daryl wouldn’t want you to do that, that he might feel awkward or uncomfortable, but when he noticed your hand touching his, he couldn’t stop himself from holding your hand in silence.

“One of the groups I found, they were staying in a small warehouse,” you began to explain. “They found me in the woods, I hadn’t slept in a couple of days because I had lost my camp to a group of walkers and I had nothing to make one, nothing that would let me know if walkers were coming, I couldn’t sleep. I was scared but I didn’t know what to do so I joined them when they offered it.”

“Some people there weren’t bad, one taught me how to shoot properly…others I didn’t like that much, neither did they like me…but it wasn’t too bad, I worked, I kept to myself. But one day, food went missing, and the person who was stealing it accused me of it…they knew him from before they knew me, so they believed him…they locked me in a small closet of the warehouse, dark…” You shuddered and you felt Daryl’s hand squeezing yours ever so gently.

“But, someone had seen the man stealing, she didn’t want to accuse him but she was decent enough, when she saw that they were going to keep me locked there, she told them who she’d seen stealing and they finally believed her and unlocked me but I was scared and I couldn’t be there anymore…I ran away that night.”

“Sounds like yer always runnin’ into assholes…” Daryl murmured, unsure of what to tell you…he was angry at that asshole who had put the blame on you, and at the people who had believed him without hearing your side, locking you in darkness, but he didn’t want to show it and maybe scare you.

You snorted. “Yeah…most people are assholes so it’s not hard to run into them…” You shrugged. “But not Dog and you…didn’t run into assholes for once.” And you were more than grateful for that. Daryl too, was grateful that you trusted him, after all the assholes you’d run into.

“Thank ya…ya, uh…ya should try to get some sleep,” he murmured shyly.

“Okay…okay, you too.”

*

To your relief, Daryl didn’t try again to build himself another tent, sharing yours every night, with Dog.

Some nights, not always, you’d wake up to Daryl having a nightmare. Like that first night, when it happened, you’d reach out and stroke his hair gently, until he calmed down or woke up.

Other times, it was you the one having nightmares, and Daryl was always unsure of what to do, feeling shy at the idea of stroking your hair as you did to him, even if he enjoyed it when you did it. Sometimes, he’d dare to brush your arm, ever so gently, murmuring that it was just a nightmare. Most times, Dog was the one to help you out, whining and pushing you with his snout until you calmed down or woke up.

One night, though, Daryl woke up not to you having a nightmare, but to you laughing aloud, quiet, but aloud.

“Y/N?” He called your name quietly but you just muttered something sleepily, before giggling quietly again, and Daryl realized that you were laughing in your sleep. He couldn’t help his snort, smiling when you did it again, murmuring something. He waited, but you didn’t laugh again, and he couldn’t help but wonder what were you dreaming about.

That morning, Daryl was making oatmeal for breakfast when you crawled out of the tent.

“Good morning,” you greeted him and Dog.

“Mornin’.” Daryl smirked as he looked at you. “Did ya dream ‘bout somethin’ this night?”

“No…why?” You frowned. “Did I…did I say something embarrassing? Tell me I didn’t…” You groaned.

“No, but ya were laughin’,” Daryl said, his smile growing.

“Really?” You snorted.

“Yeah…” Daryl nodded. “It was fun.”

“I think Dog was in the dream…” You reached out to pet him. “But…I don’t remember.”

“Yeah…should have imagined it was ‘bout Dog,” Daryl half-joked, pouring you a bowl of oatmeal.

While you eat, you noticed him checking his map. “Are you planning on going out?”

“Mmh mmh…” Daryl nodded and pointed at the map. “Tomorrow. Check this area again, see if I missed somethin’.”

“Alright…” You nodded, studying the map too. “I’ll go with you.”

“Nah, ya don’t have to, ya were cold the last time.”

“It’ll be fine.” You shrugged, giving him a smile. “You, me and Dog together, six eyes.”

Daryl knew he should tell you to stay at the camp, safer and warmer…but he found himself nodding. “Okay.”

*

Daryl didn’t regret that he’d gone to look for Rick, he never did, no matter he didn’t find anything, as always, but when a big storm caught you both, he regretted having taken you with him.

“We have to wait it out,” you said as the wind and rain hit  you. “Camp until it’s over.”

Daryl nodded, you couldn’t keep going through that wind and rain, the sky was dark and the sun was coming down soon. He looked at you, cold and shivering, rain soaking you, and guilt pierced through his gut.

He took off his poncho and put it on you before you could try to stop him, making part of the fabric cover your head too, trying to protect you from the rain a bit more.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a small smile, his gesture making you feel something flutter in your belly, like every time he cared for you. “But you need it too.”

“No.”

You decided not to fight it, instead you began helping Daryl to set a camp that could protect you from the rain.

You both tied a perimeter of wire that could stop stray walkers even if just for a bit. Usually you’d tie metallic caps from it, that would rattle if walkers approached, but the wind was so strong that it’d keep rattling those, not only it wouldn't work as an alarm anymore, but it’d make noise and maybe attracting walkers.

Then, you both began fighting with the piece of fabric that was supposed to be your on-the-go tent, the same that Daryl always used when he went out. You were trying to tie it to the trees and stakes, trying to form a protective barrier of fabric, even if it was already getting wet.

The wind kept rattling it, making it almost impossible to tie, and you cursed when one of the cords was blown from your hand, burning it.

“Ya okay?!” Daryl shouted over the sound of wind and rain.

“Yeah…come on, it’s almost done!”

Finally, you both managed to tie the fabric…it wasn’t the best, but it’d protect you from the worst of the wind and rain, as long as the wind didn’t blow it away.

You sat under the fabric and looked at the rash on your hand, cursing again and reaching inside the bag for the first aid kit.

“Let me see it,” Daryl said, kneeling in front of you and taking the kit. When you showed him your hand, he cleaned it and applied some balm before wrapping a bandage around it.

“Thank you.” You smiled at him, but Daryl looked serious and troubled, and you didn’t like that look on him, it was always bad news. He got up and made to leave the tent, but you reached to hold his arm. “Where’re you going? The rain and the wind are strong, we have to wait.”

“I’m gonna take watch.” Daryl tried to leave again but you didn’t let him.

“If a walker gets in the wire we won’t hear it but Dog will, he’ll tell us,” you said, placing your hand on top of Dog’s head. “Come on, don’t act like you don’t trust he can do it, he’s right here, it’s rude,” you tried to joke, but Daryl was still serious.

He freed his arm from your hand and left the tent, and you looked at him as he paced, wind and rain hitting him, soaking him. You let out a sigh…he was so stubborn and so silly sometimes…you didn’t know how to convince him to get in the tent with you to wait for the storm, you were tired and cold and you didn’t feel like arguing.

You were shivering, wet and cold as you were, and you wrapped an arm around Dog, pulling him to your side, he was warm and comforting, and so you held to him.

Daryl looked at you, shivering as you held to his dog… you had hurt your hand, you were cold and wet, under the storm, and it was his fault…he’d dragged you out there with him, and for nothing…he grunted in frustration and kicked a tree.

“Daryl?” You asked from the tent, worried, but he just kicked the tree again and so you wrapped the poncho around you tightly, covered your head again, and left the tent, walking under the rain to stop in front of Daryl. “What are you doing?” He didn’t look at you, trying to move away from you, but you reached to hold his arms. “Daryl?”

He was still not looking at you, head hanging low and wet hair hiding his face, but then he snapped, taking you aback. “I told ya not to come!”

“I, uh…I…” You didn’t know what to say.

“Now yer cold and got soaked by the rain, and ya hurt yer hand, and it’s my fault!” Daryl snapped again. “’cause I dragged ya here for nothin’!”

You let out a sigh and stopped Daryl when he tried to move away again. “Daryl…this is not your fault, this is just winter and bad luck, and you didn’t drag me anywhere, I wanted to come, it was my choice…okay?” Daryl shook his head and you sighed again. “Let’s get under the tent, we can argue and you can yell at me there instead of here under the rain.”

You thought Daryl was going to resist, but finally he nodded and let you drag him under the fabric, sitting down there too, still hiding his face and not looking at you.

You decided not to say anything, you had managed to get Daryl inside the tent, and that had been your goal, you didn’t mind some awkward silence, but Daryl broke it.

“I, uh…I ain’t gonna yell at ya…” He said quietly. “I’m sorry that I snapped at ya…I didn’t…didn’t mean…just…”

You reached for his hand when he began to struggle for words, and you tried to look at him, but he was still avoiding your gaze. “Tell me what’s wrong,” you asked softly.

“Told ya already…yer here ‘cause of me…and yer cold and soaked…”

“And I told you, I’m here because I wanted to, you didn’t make me, and we just got unlucky and got caught in a storm, these things happen, okay? There’s no reason to try to blame someone.” You told him but Daryl didn’t say anything or looked at you.

“I didn’t find anythin’…again…” He murmured.

“I know…” You sighed, feeling sad for him. “Bad luck…maybe the next time…”

“Nah…nah, Carol’s right…there’s nothin’…” Daryl scoffed and when you looked at him, afraid that he was going to get angry with himself again, his eyes had watered, and it stabbed your heart. “This is stupid.”

“Maybe…maybe not…” You knew you shouldn’t encourage a potentially dangerous search, but neither did you want Daryl to be sad and brokenhearted…you didn’t know what to say. “Just…you can think about it…if you want to keep searching or not. But maybe now is not the best moment to decide…I don’t think that being cold and soaking wet in the middle of the woods are the best conditions to make a good choice on anything, uh?” You tried to awkwardly joke, but Daryl didn’t say anything, and neither you knew what else you could say.

You were shivering cold, even if you tried to stop it, not wanting Daryl to feel guilty, and you knew he must be cold too. You wanted to hold him, to feel warm and give him some comfort that he clearly needed, but you weren’t sure how he might react.

“Daryl…do you remember that I was right about physics and the tent being warmer with both of us in it?” You asked and Daryl hummed a yes. “I have another physics lesson…if you’re close to someone, you’re going to share body warmth, it helps against the cold, so…yeah…sometimes when I’m cold I hold to Dog, it works, so, uh…it’s cold, we’re cold…so…” Why, why did you have to be so awkward, why couldn’t you just tell Daryl that you could hold each other and hope for the best…

Daryl was silent, and you began to worry, but then he spoke.

“Yer really a physics expert, then?” Daryl asked teasingly, and when you looked at him, he gave you a small, half smile, even if he still seemed to be feeling down. You shrugged shyly. “This is yer way of askin’ for a hug or somethin’?”

You frowned at him, embarrassed, but then realized that he was teasing you, and you snorted. “Yeah…yeah, I guess…I’m really good at it as you can see…”

“Didn’t have to ask,” Daryl said. “Don’t think the dog is gonna complain.”

“Oh…no, I didn’t mean the dog, I mean…”

“I know,” Daryl said softly, giving you that half-smile before he looked away as he shyly reached out to wrap his arm around you.

“Thanks…” You whispered, shifting closer to him with a content smile, glad that Daryl was okay with holding you.

It should be awkward, Daryl thought, uncomfortable, but it wasn’t, he just felt content and warm, wrapping his other arm around you too, holding you as you snuggled to his chest…it felt nice.

“See…warmer already…physics…” You murmured and Daryl chuckled.

“Next time I’m in Alexandria, I’ll see if Eugine has some physics book or somethin’ I can bring to ya.”

“Thanks…maybe I’ll end up getting a physics degree, not what I was expecting to do after the apocalypse but hey…I’m not complaining,” you joked and Daryl chuckled again.

“Or I can take Eugine to the camp, so he can speak to ya ‘bout physics for half a day without makin’ any sense,” Daryl joked and you snorted.

“Yeah…I think I’m gonna pass on that…”

*

The next day, or rather night, back at the camp, you were inside the tent with Daryl. The tent was dark but you were awake, and you knew Daryl was too, you could hear his fingers brushing through Dog’s hair and Dog’s tail tapping the ground as he wiggled it.

“You okay?” You whispered.

“Yeah,” Daryl whispered back. “Why?”

“Nothing…” You chewed on your lip…Daryl hadn’t snapped again, but he’d been still looking thoughtful and troubled, and you thought you knew what was on his mind, but you weren’t sure about asking, afraid that it might make him feel worse, but finally you did it. “Have you thought about what are you going to do with the search? Are you going to stop?”

Daryl stayed silent for a little while and you were afraid you’d upset him, but he didn’t sound angry when he spoke. “I ain’t gonna give up…I’m gonna keep lookin’.”

“Okay.”

“Ya think it’s stupid…that I’m an idiot?”

“No.” You turned to face him, even though you couldn’t see him in the dark. “I think you’re…” You tried to look for the right words. “You’re loyal and determined, and that’s good, even if I don’t like that it puts you at risk…but those are good things. You’re not an idiot…and if someday I have an accident, or if I get lost, I wish someone like you looked for me.”

“I would,” Daryl said quietly. “Look for ya.”

You smiled at that, feeling something twirling in your belly. “Thank you…then I don’t have to be scared of someday getting lost, because you’ll find me,” you whispered, making Daryl feel something weird in his stomach too. “I’d look for you too, if you’d get lost…but I’m not too confident that I’d be able to find you, so…don’t get lost…” You said it as a joke, but when he went to trade to the settlements or to look for Rick without you, you couldn’t help the worry at the back of your mind that something might happen to him and he wouldn’t be back.

“I ain’t plannin’ on getting lost,” Daryl whispered back. “But…yeah…should teach you how to track properly.”

“Okay, I’d really like that.” You smiled, you had already tried to pick up on things here and there, either when Daryl told you or just by looking at him. “The next time we’re out hunting?”

“Okay.”

You both stayed silent for a little while, but there was something you wanted to ask Daryl, something you’d wanted to try for a little while now, but you never dared, unsure of how Daryl might react…you were still unsure, but you couldn’t stop yourself from trying this time.

“Daryl?” You whispered, not wanting to wake him if he’d fallen asleep.

“Mmh?”

“Do you remember what I said…about physics, and the cold and staying warm and-”

“Yer thinkin’ on physics now?” Daryl interrupted you, snorting. “Yer really gonna get that degree.”

“No, well, yes, I mean…” You chewed on your lip. “It’s kind of cold so…would you mind if I moved closer to you? Because…body warmth and that…you know.”

Daryl was silent for a couple of seconds, but then he nodded in the darkness. “Okay.”

You shifted towards him, bumping into Dog. “Dog, hey, can you…do you mind if I…I’m just trying…” You didn’t know what to do, not wanting to bother Dog, but you really wanted to get closer to Daryl and Dog was in the middle. “Just move a little? No, I didn’t mean climb on top of me…” You complained when Dog moved to lie on you. “You’re heavier than you look, you know? You’re digging your paw in my stomach…Come on…”

Daryl couldn’t help his smile as he heard you struggling with Dog. He’d tensed, feeling shy when you began moving closer to him, but he relaxed again as you argued with Dog.

“Yeah…that is…” You reached to pet Dog’s head when he moved to lie on your and Daryl’s feet, and you shifted until you could touch Daryl’s back, noticing his scent and the warmth coming from him…it was nice… “Thanks,” you murmured and Daryl just hummed.

After a little while of fighting with yourself in your head, you couldn’t stop yourself any longer from at least trying, and so you reached to shyly place your arm over Daryl.

“Is this okay?” You asked.

“Mmh mhm” Daryl nodded, but you weren’t convinced, feeling how stiff he was now.

“Are you sure?” You didn’t want him saying yes just because of you but being uncomfortable.

“Yeah…” Daryl nodded again, and then he placed his hand on top of yours as if to prove it…he meant it, it felt warm, comforting, and nice, even if he’d be shy to admit it.

You couldn’t help your smile, feeling him relax, and you let out a content sigh as you snuggled to his back.

*

N/A

If you enjoyed this, comments and reblogs are always more than welcome, thanks, comments really make my days and make me happy about posting this.

Also, as always, excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

New taglist for Daryl, if you want to be tagged let me know and also, please, if you are not interested in being tagged anymore let me know too, please.

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[reidsaurora]

"Best Friend's Brother, Final Part" ~ D. Winchester

GIF by castheology

Summary: After eight years of not communicating with Dean, Y/N finds herself living the life she always wanted: college, good friends, no hunting, and no Dean. What happens when Dean somehow winds up back in her life?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,344

Content Warning: mild swearing, mild sexual references

Genre: Angst to Fluff (?) i don't really know lol

Extra Notes: based on the pilot episode, though it's not completely canon to the episode

Based On: the end of The Kissing Booth 3 + the other parts of this series

Originally Written: 11/20/2021

Series masterlist can be found here!

Supernatural masterlist can be found here!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Eight years.

That's how long it had been since that morning in Kansas. That's how long it had been since I had spoken to Dean.

Luckily, Sam and I stayed pretty close. Turns out even dating a family member couldn't break us up.

Sam and I ended up going to college together and were basically inseparable. The only time we parted was for classes we didn't share and to sleep.

Pretty soon into college, he fell in love with a girl named Jessica. Jess and I didn't get along at first because of how close Sam and I were, but she quickly figured out my heart was not attached to Sam in that sense.

The three of us actually ended up hanging out together quite a lot. I often felt like a third wheel, but Sam and Jess were both quick to remind me that they enjoyed my presence.

This particular night, the three of us found ourselves hanging out at their apartment. We had just got back from a Halloween party at a bar, though we left early so Jess and I could help Sam prepare for his law school interview the following Monday.

"Babe, you're gonna ace it. I don't know why you're so stressed," Jess said, her arm around Sam's shoulder as she played with his hair. They're so cute.

"What if I clam up and forget what to say? What if I panic and say something stupid?" he argued.

"Jess is right, Sam. You're gonna do amazing. You've got nothing to worry about," I spoke this time.

CLANG!

"What the hell was that?" I asked after hearing a crashing noise in what sounded like the kitchen.

"I don't know. I will go investigate," Sam replied before standing up from the couch. He grabbed the baseball bat they kept beside the door before heading to the kitchen.

Jess and I shared a frightened look, unsure who would break into their apartment at midnight. After a few seconds, we heard what sounded like feet scuffling quickly through the kitchen. Curious, we both arose to see what was happening.

"Sam?" Jess called out as she rounded the corner.

"Jess, this is Dean," Sam awkwardly introduced them.

Dean… of course… who else would choose to go through the window instead of knocking on the door?

"Your brother Dean?" she replied.

Nothing was said in response, so I assumed one of the two of them had nodded or gave her some sort of non-verbal affirmation.

"You know I love the smurfs," Dean commented on Jess's shirt. "You know, I gotta say, you are way out of my brother's league."

Jess's voice sounded a bit panicky as she said, "Let me put something on."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Dean replied. Leave it to Dean to somehow make this sexual.

Finally, I had the courage to step around the corner to where the two boys could see me.

"Y/N," he said, followed by an awkward swallow.

"Dean," I replied in the same nervous manner he had used.

"You look… wow…" his voice trailed off.

It was at this moment, I realized I was still wearing my Halloween costume, a.k.a. sexy Hermione Granger.

I cringed, not sure what I was supposed to say.

"No, don't worry, you look nice. Really nice," he explained.

Jess quickly returned, wearing one of Sam's hoodies over her cut-up Smurfs shirt from earlier. It was so big on her that it covered up her shorts.

"I need to borrow Sam for a second, talk about some private family business," Dean said.

Sam walked over to Jess, throwing his arm over her shoulders. "No, whatever you have to say, you can say in front of them."

"OK," Dean whispered to himself, "Dad's on a hunting trip. He hasn't been home in a few days."

"Girls, can you excuse me and Dean for a minute?"

And so, Jess and I headed back to the living room. Jess paced back and forth, unsure what to do next. To be honest, I wasn't quite sure what to do next either. It had been so long since Sam and I had been involved in a hunt that I didn't really know what to do now.

After a few moments, Sam and Dean walked into the living room. Both boys looked nervous. Yes, I'd continue to call them my boys until the day I died.

"Y/N, I need to speak with Jess privately for a moment. Is that OK?" Sam asked.

I nodded. "Why wouldn't it be OK?"

He simply nodded his head toward Dean.

"Oh, come on!" Dean groaned, throwing his hands up in surrender.

"It's OK, Sam," I reassured him.

Sam led Jess by the arm into the kitchen, leaving me and Dean alone in the living room.

"So…" Dean sighed.

"So…" I replied.

"You look nice," he said.

"You said that already and I'm not totally convinced it's not because I'm dressed as slutty Hermione."

"I'm serious. You look really good. You seem happy. Well, not that happy now that I'm here, but other than me, you seem happy."

I forced a smile onto my face. "I am."

"So, how've you -"

"Eight years, Dean. It's been eight years. No calls, no texts, hell, a letter in the mail would have sufficed," I cut him off.

"I'm sorry."

"It's OK, Dean. I'm happier than I've ever been. I'm doing really well in my classes. I have a really good group of friends. I'm happy, for once."

Then, in the most serious and genuine tone, he said, "That's good. I'm happy for you."

That one sentence was enough to get me in love with him all over again, and I'm convinced he knew it would. The thought of Dean being genuinely happy for me for once was enough to make me forget what happened all those years ago. All the fights, the eight hour overnight drive to find him, all of that was gone. The thought of ever being angry with him was buried in the deepest recess of my mind.

"Thank you," I smiled. It was a genuine smile this time.

"I want you to know that I genuinely am sorry. I wanted to call. You don't understand how many nights I sat on my bed with your number dialed on my phone."

"Why didn't you?" I asked. I thought it would sound more sarcastic, but it actually sounded like a genuine question when I said it.

"Nothing ever felt right. I would go over sentence after sentence in my head trying to think of something I could say, but nothing ever felt like it would suffice."

I had to admit, it wasn't until about six months after that morning in Kansas that I stopped staring at the phone, waiting for him to call. It wasn't until about nine months after that morning that I stopped dialing his number, thinking of something to say.

"So, what does this mean?" I asked.

"I'm not sure."

"Dean, I wanna forgive you. I really do, I'm just not sure how to do that."

"You shouldn't. I don't deserve it. I was a jerk. I shouldn't have given up on you the way I did."

I sympathized with him, knowing now that if it were adult Dean, he'd never do that to me. "You were a kid, Dean. I was a kid. We didn't know what we were doing."

"Does that mean…" his voice trailed off.

"Does that mean what?"

"That you'd be willing to try again now that we aren't kids."

I hadn't thought about that. I'd been so caught up in thinking about everything that happened before that I hadn't even stopped to consider the future.

For a moment, it felt as though everything was right. Like me and Dean being together again was the way it was supposed to be. Like what happened between us eight years ago was all some sort of nightmarish dream. Being with Dean again just felt like it was meant to be.

"Yes, I think I'd be willing to try again."

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