#gotta get my toe out of my comfort zone

[echoes-lighthouse]

☀️: What was your awakening like?

When was it?💙: What’s your favorite shift you get? Why?

Ah thank you!!

I really was not exaggerating about being very shy about my kin experiences so they're going under a readmore 'cause I said so >.< But also thank you so much for the questions I want to become more okay with talking about it!!

(otherkin ask game)

☀️: What was your awakening like? When was it?

That's a long story, but I guess they all are!

I grew up with fictionflickers (really intense but temporary identification with fictional characters) and it was a really annoying part of my life because it weirded other people out and I had to suppress it and as a seven-year-old that was a big thing to recognize and then try to implement

As an autistic kid, I grew up never feeling quite right, and I bounced around a lot about why that was. Some of my mother's friends thought I was a fae changeling sent to lead their coven (not joking), and a couple other religious groups also had theories about my spiritual background. Basically there was a lot going on when it came to 'whether I was human or not' and I was always wobbly on it myself: sometimes I said I felt more like a labyrinth or a twisting castle than a human person

I hit really concrete problems as a seventeen year old when I read a book and got absolutely tossed into a new character's head: but I was having all these memory flashes, which hadn't been part of my fictionflickers, and I was having tons of nightmares as this character, and it just felt... like I remembered something important.

Eventually that drove me to finding the otherkin community and the fictionkin community and just... absolute relief that I wasn't alone in this.

💙: What’s your favorite shift you get? Why?

I don't really get shifts, I think! I have intense periods when a new character is getting introduced/integrated, and then it calms down and becomes mostly-background (with occasional spikes).

I will however do a shoutout to my favourite fictionflicker I've ever gotten, but get ready to cringe if you're someone who does that.

My (broadway version) Alexander Hamilton fictionflicker lasted about eight months and I got straight 90%s, wrote half a book, met the prime minister, and spoke at two political conventions on labor insecurity. It was a pretty exhilarating time but holy gods does it feel like someone else did all of that.

[prehistorictriforce]

a few weeks back my mom apparently told the ppl at her work that i dont get out much (which is true, but i’m not a huge fan of it being broadcast to the whole world lmao) and one of her coworkers (who works at a christian school, mind u. and is someone ive never met) invited me, through her, to go out w her and her boyfriend for a bar crawl. i havent stopped thinking abt it since. i dont think that couldve been any further from something i would be comfortable with if theyd tried with an color coded list

[tryingtograspctrl]

THE CHASE: BUCKY BARNES X BLACK PLUS SIZE READER (NSFW)

SUMMARY: Bucky wants you and he isn't very subtle about it at all, you want him too but you're a bit shy and definitely not the type to make the first move. Luckily he is.

Warning: Fingering, cum eating, etc. 18+ only, read at your own risk. Minors DO NOT INTERACT!

Note - This is set after the blip except everyone is alive and still a team because i said so.

“Mr. Stark i have those reports you requested." You leaned against the door holding it open with your wide hip, arms filled with files.

"Do you mind passing them around?" He looks at you briefly.

"Not at all sir." You shake your head.

You make your way around the table, handing each of the hero's their own file.

"Thanks doll." Bucky smirks, purposely brushing his hand against yours as he takes the folder.

"You're welcome Sergeant Barnes." You smile sheepishly.

A low hum emits from his throat as his eyes trail your frame, zoning in on the way your dress pants hug your curves.

"Is there anything else you need from me sir?" You turn towards Tony, doing your best to avoid the predatory gaze of the man beside you.

"Nope, thank you y/n." He smiles gratefully.

You nod and quickly make your way out of the room and down the long hall, a pair of eyes burning holes into your back.

You sit down at your desk with a huff, Today had been quite hectic, really everyday was but you couldn't complain. You had a good paying job with great benefits, that wasn't easy to come by these days.

You breathed deeply allowing yourself to space out.

Adjusting to life after the blip was a bit strange at first, everyone was doing their best to find their footing, to fall back into some sort of normalcy again.

You had spent months applying and interviewing for job after job with no luck, you started to give up when you finally landed the secretary position at the Stark tower.

You had to admit, you were a bit intimidated by the billionaire and the rest of the Avengers when you first started, hanging your head low and speaking quietly, not wanting to step on their toes.

As time passed you grew more comfortable with everyone, they were extremely welcoming and showed you so much grace as you settled into the new environment.

Bucky was a bit different, from the moment you met him you were enamored with him, how could you not be? He was tall, fit, had gorgeous blue eyes that could make any woman melt, he was caring, compassionate and the true definition of a gentleman, the old fashioned kind that didn’t believe a lady should open her own door or lift heavy things. You had a huge crush on him and you were sure he could tell by the way you acted, stuttering and stumbling over your words, giggling like an obnoxious teenage girl.

The attraction was mutual, Bucky was stunned as soon as he laid eyes on you, short, pretty brown skin, a smile so bright that it gave the sun a run for its money, thick in the hips, thighs, waist and pretty much everywhere else which he loved, plus you were as sweet as honey. He knew from the very first conversation you had together that he had to have you, and he wasn't shy with his advances at all.

He loved to watch you squirm as his eyes raked your form, drinking in every inch of you, or the way you'd shiver when he'd brush past you in the halls your sweet voice greeting him before running off flustered, or the way you'd duck your head and get all shy when he complimented you, he loved being the cause of your giggles and cute smiles.

"Y/n?" Sam waved a hand in front of your face, Bucky lingering behind him.

"Sorry Mr. wilson what were you saying?" You blinked several times before looking at him.

"Could you clear my schedule for the rest of the day, i have more pressing matters to take care of." He crossed his arms, stress written all over his features.

"No problem." You gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry doll i know i promised you lunch today but i gotta look after bird brain.” Bucky rolled his eyes leaning against the front desk.

“That’s alright there’s always next time, you two be careful okay?” You shot him a concerned look.

“Will do, scouts honor.” He smiled before running off to catch up to Sam.

You were running around like crazy for rest of the day and once 5pm rolled around you wasted no time gathering your things and shutting down your computer.

"You sure you don't wanna go grab a few drinks with me?" Your coworker asked.

"Positive. All i want is a hot bath and the leftover lasagna in my fridge." You sighed.

"Fine." She deflated throwing her bag over her shoulder.

"How about we go this weekend?" You tried to compromise.

"That works." She smiled brightly.

"Good, see ya later." You smiled too.

"Saturday!" She called after you.

"Got it! What time?" You turned around, now walking backwards toward the door.

"8, don't make me come and find you." She glared.

"Yes ma'am." You laughed turning around and colliding with a hard body.

"I'm so sorry." You held onto the man’s chest, regaining your balance.

"That's alright doll, you should watch where you're going though, wouldn't want a pretty lady like you getting hurt." Bucky smirked holding onto your wrists gently.

"Thanks Sergeant, i will." You laughed, slightly flustered.

His eyes followed you as you walked out the door and down the sidewalk, hips falling into a natural swing putting him under hypnosis.

You were gonna be the death of him.

The next day you dolled yourself up more than usual, putting a bit more effort into your hair and makeup, dressing in a form fitting black pencil skirt and a simple navy blue blouse, a little gold jewelry adorning your wrist and ears.

You had an important meeting today, assisting Tony with a presentation of a prototype for a new gadget he was working on and you knew if you looked your best you would feel your best and if you felt your best you'd do your best.

The meeting went by smoothly, you gave a brief summary of the gadget, assisted with some slide shows and answered any questions the potential clients might have had.

After you finished Natasha gave you two big thumbs up and you smiled brightly, she had always been super supportive and understanding when your anxiety became too much and of course she was always there to celebrate your wins with you, you were so grateful for her.

You were once again walking down the long halls of the tower, making your way to the bathroom to freshen up when you were suddenly yanked into one of the storage rooms, thrashing around and screaming in fear.

"Hey, hey it's just me." Bucky grabbed your shoulders steadying you.

"Jesus christ you scared the shit out of me." You sighed in relief silently thanking god that it wasn't some deranged villain trying to kidnap you.

"Is everything alright?" You looked at him brows furrowed in worry.

He just stared at you for a moment as if he was contemplating something before smashing his lips against yours in a hungry kiss.

You moaned into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

His hands hooked under your thighs, picking you up and placing you on top of one of the old file cabinet’s, planting gentle kisses on your jaw and hiking up your skirt.

"We shouldn't be doing this." You whined as he pushed your panties to the side, fingers sliding between your folds.

"Then tell me to stop, push me away, i'll leave and we can pretend this never happened.” He looked up at you, eyes clouded with lust but you could also see a bit of fear in them, fear of rejection.

"I don't want you to." You whispered.

He grinned and pulled you into another kiss.

"God you don't know how long i've wanted this." He mumbled against your lips.

You moaned as his fingers circled your clit before slipping inside of you.

"Do you know how long i've wanted you, wanted to kiss you, hold you, touch you like this." He whispered breathlessly against your ear.

"You’ve always been such a sweetheart. Taking the time out of your busy day to make small talk with me, laughing at all my corny jokes, being patient, helpful and understanding with me while i'm still learning to navigate all this new age stuff." He spoke lowly as his fingers curled inside of you hitting that sweet spot making you squirm.

"Walking around in these tight skirts that hug your ass, these low cut shirts with your breasts spilling out, driving me insane." He pulled at the fabric.

"You have no idea what you do to me." He growled, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look at him.

"Bucky i- fuckkkk." You bit your lip to quiet yourself as his thumb circled your clit, his other fingers making a squelching sound as he slid them in and out of you, your arousal coating them.

"You gonna cum for me?" He asked picking up the pace.

"Yes, god yes.” You gripped his forearm.

You held your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as you came, rocking against his hand.

He pulled his fingers out of you slowly.

You shuddered as he brought them up to his mouth, sucking them clean.

"Just like i imagined." He groaned at the taste of you.

You stared at him as he adjusted your clothes for you, brain all fuzzy from your orgasm.

"Take all the time you need and when you're finished meet me down in the lobby. I'm gonna take you out to dinner then take you home and have you for dessert." He winked playfully but you knew he meant every word.

He made his way toward the door shooting you one last look before closing it gently.

You rested your head against the wall attempting to catch your breath as you giggled like a maniac.

A/N - This is an old fic that i wrote when i first started this account, i decided to revive it and make some changes. I really hope you guys like it. 🌻

[kegbasher]

For the book asks 📚: 1, 15, 19, and 20

1. book you’ve reread the most times?

i’m a big rereader partially bc my memory is shit and partially bc i find each read of a book is a unique and enjoyable experience lol but the book(s) i’ve read the most have to be the Chronicles of Narnia. obviously the nostalgia factor plays into that and the fact that they’re children’s books means they’re quick and easy reads, but i find the hope and sense of adventure in the series just so refreshing and inspiring so I’ll grab one of the books whenever i need a bit of that. i’m actually planning a narnia tattoo bc the series was so formative for me

15. recommend and review a book.

if literally anyone else asked me this question it wouldn’t have been nearly as hard but we’ve read so much of the same stuff and have recommended most of the rest of it to each other already and i scoured my storygraph and nothing stood out that I haven’t recommended but think you’d like sooo i’m gunna be annoying and hype up a recommendation i’ve already given you 😬 Gregor the Overlander is the first book in a series by Suzanne Collins (of Hunger Games fame) and it follows the story of this kid who falls down a grate in the laundry room of his apartment complex and finds an entire civilization underground. there are humans down there, but there are also sentient giant bats, rats, roaches, and spiders which sounds a little weird but if a book manages to bring me to tears over a damn cockroach, you know it’s gotta be good. it’s also probably part of why i like bats so much lol but anyway Gregor finds out the underlanders have a prophecy about him which he wants nothing to do with til some shit happens. it’s similar to percy jackson in that you’ve got this prophecy outlining the story and setting up expectations but it keeps you on your toes and is still so intriguing to actually watch it unfold. it’s middle grade but it’s complex and like the Hunger Games it doesn’t shy away from heavy topics and deals with them realistically but in a way that’s accessible for a younger audience if that makes sense? also i love the characters and the way they interact with each other so much. i know i’ve mentioned it to you before but the two main characters remind me a lot of Shasta and Aravis in The Horse and His Boy and that’s just such a fun dynamic

19. most disliked popular books?

i answered this in slightly more detail in my last ask but i am an unapologetic Sarah J Maas and Colleen Hoover hater 😬

20. what are things you look for in a book?

at the very base level, a story and characters that are compelling to me. i read mostly sci-fi and fantasy, but as someone who studied and teaches literature, i do actively try to read a little bit of everything. it’s good to get out of your literary comfort zone sometimes lol that being said, the writing style can really make or break a book for me. i’ve picked up books with really intriguing premises and then struggled to get through them or didn’t finish bc the style was distracting or not to my taste or sometimes just plain not good… i admit to probably having higher than average standards for that kinda thing but a lifetime of reading (aaand taking dozens of literature classes) can do that to you lol

[meme-queen-pumpkin]

RP Prompts - Musical Lyrics

To make this, I hit shuffle on my musical soundtracks playlist and took lyrics from each song that played. Starters under the cut since this may get long.

We Both Reached For The Gun (Chicago)

"When d'ya get here?"

"Don't remember"

"Then what happened"

"He stole my heart away!"

"Oh you poor dear"

"Why'd you shoot him?"

"Was he angry?"

"Did you fight him?"

"She knew that she was doing wrong"

"He came towards me, with a pistol!"

"Yet we both reached for the gun"

"It's perfectly understandable"

"Are you sorry?" "Are you kidding?"

What The World Needs (Ride The Cyclone)

"What the world needs is people like me! To keep it all spinning around!"

"No one's gonna keep me down!"

"These folks here, they just pump the gas"

"Fetch me coffee, shine my shoes"

"Some of us are winners, some are born to lose"

"Keep your head down and things will look up"

"This one here, he's raring to fail"

"Do we really need another zero?"

"What we really need is a futhermucking hero!"

"She's a freaky monster!"

"We need a little less of them, a little more of me!"

You're Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile (Annie)

"You both got your style. But brother you're never fully dressed without a smile"

"Who cares what they're wearing on main street?"

"So long for a while"

Ready Set - Reprise (Beetlejuice the musical)

"We're ghosts, damn it, let's...haunt this b**ch"

"Oblivion calls"

"I'm sure we can haunt our own halls"

"We're ready as we'll ever get"

"I gotta get right outside my comfort zone"

"Ready, set, let's go!"

There Are Worse Things I Could Do (Grease)

"There are worse things I could do"

"Make em think they stand a chance then refuse to see it through"

"That's a thing I'd never do"

"I could hurt someone like me...out of spite or jealousy"

"Throw my life away on a dream that won't come true"

"I don't steal and I don't lie"

"I can feel and I can cry"

"To cry in front of you...that's the worst thing I could do"

You Can't Stop The Beat (Hairspray)

"You can't stop an avalanche as it races down a hill"

"You can try to stop my dancing feet but I just cannot stay still"

"The world keeps spinning around and around"

"I was lost 'til I heard the drums and found my way"

"You can wonder if you wanna but I never ask why"

"You can't stop my happiness 'cause I like the way I am"

"If you don't like the way I look, well, I just don't give a damn"

"Yesterday is history"

No Reason (Beetlejuice the musical)

"The universe is more than just space with no end"

"You're on the right track, I got your back!"

"Think positive!"

"Time to take command, you dictate the hand the universe deals"

"Science makes no sense"

"Everything happens for a reason"

"Be a beacon of light in the world"

"Gee...I hate to break it to you"

"The universe is just the contents of time, matter and space"

"The Earth's a small place where good people die"

"The Pacific Islands are sinking but negative thinking is hardly the cause"

"Sounds like terrible things can happen because the universe is random"

Be Safe, Be Good (Ride The Cyclone cut song)

"I planned to stick around and stay alive"

"To my parents I would listen and obey"

"Be safe, they said, be good."

"Things don't happen quite the way they should"

"I tried my best to toe the line"

"You can cross your Ts and dot your I's but steady yourself for the big surprise"

"Sooner or later you'll realise...its not fair"

"All you can do is buckle in and hang on for the ride"

Not While I'm Around (Sweeney Todd)

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you"

"What you talking about?"

"Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around"

"I'll send 'em howling. I don't care. I got ways."

"No one's gonna hurt you, no one's gonna dare!"

"Others can desert you, not to worry. Whistle. I'll be there."

"I may not be smart but I ain't dumb"

"Not to worry!"

"Being close and being clever ain't like being true"

"I will never hide a thing from you...like some..."

[gas-station-chai]

Jack Flowers listens to the sluttiest, most toe-curling, downright HORNY songs all with a straight/deadpan expression because he doesn’t actually listen to the lyrics most of the time; He zones out and enjoys the bass of them bc it makes for nice filler/background noise.

Which leads to this Autistic rizz moment: (aka, Jack infodumping abt his music tastes and Tony simping over him bc he's a loser)

It all starts with Jack and Tony hanging out at Jack's place, his music on shuffle in the background as they lounge on his couch in a comfortable silence. As the playlist goes on, though, Tony notices that the songs start becoming more and more suggestive. Jack’s too engrossed in a book to notice the lyrics, based on the way that he’s tapping his finger along the spine of his novel, but Tony starts to feel his face heat up at a few of the lines. He assumes that this is just the type of music Jack likes, and it wasn't an invitation to initiate anything. But that doesn’t help his overactive imagination supplying him with images of Jack in… compromising positions, based on the descriptions from the song.

Eventually, he speaks up, chuckling nervously before he asks, "Is this, uh... Are these songs from your pole-dancing playlist or something?" It’s meant to come out as a lighthearted joke, but he can’t help but feel anxious that Jack might’ve taken it the wrong way and ask him to leave.

To his relief, Jack just laughs before he casually replies, "Nah," dog-earing his page and putting the book down. He grabs his phone and motions for Tony to sit closer, showing him the screen as he scrolls through his photo gallery. "I mean, yeah, I can see how you could dance to this," Jack continued, turning up the volume on his phone a bit. "But I think songs like... here, this one. It's a little easier to move to, in my opinion."

Tony’s gotta lean over a little to hide his quickly growing hard on as he watches the video Jack’s showing him. In it, Jack wore nothing but a binder and a pair of short-shorts as he slowly circled the space around the pole in his living room, nodding his head to the bass of the music he was playing out loud. "I tried dancing on the pole with fishnets once. Ended up with a bruised hip," Jack shares with a laugh. Tony attempts to mimic his amusement, but his nerves cause a slight crack in his voice that makes him burn with embarrassment. He clears his throat and focuses intently on the screen as the Jack in the video gracefully moves around the pole, swaying his hips lazily to the rhythm of the song.

Tony discreetly grabs a pillow and places it over his lap to hide his erection as Jack continues to explain the reasoning for his choice of music to dance to. “I think the bass is a little easier to dance to than the lyrics. They resonate with me a little more, you know?” For a moment, Tony wonders if Jack was genuinely oblivious to what he was doing to him; if he was just innocently discussing his dance routine without any ulterior motives. But when he finally has the willpower to tear his eyes away from the phone to peer over at the Jack next to him, he audibly groans at the knowing smirk on the other man's face.

‘Fuck.’ He thought to himself as he watched the little tease get up with the excuse to, “grab us something to drink,” shamelessly leaning into his touch when Jack gently rubs his shoulder for a moment, before turning to head for his tiny kitchen. Tony takes a second to just stare dumbly after him, then sighs as he sets his head in his hands. ‘I am so fucked.’

[scorchieart]

5,6,7,8 for the fic asks please 🙈

Hey there, Anon! Thanks for the ask.

5. Share one of your strengths.

One I'm sure many others share; never being short on ideas/inspiration.

6. Share one of your weaknesses.

Perfectionism. I have amassed quite the collection of WIPs that I abandoned halfway through out of fear that "I'm not skilled enough to write this properly." I'm pushing myself to step outside my comfort zone with writing, but we gotta walk before we can run.

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Two writing things I struggle with immensely are intros and descriptions. Of all the things I've posted, the first paragraph of this fic turned out to be my favorite because it sets the tone and setting of the piece exactly how I envisioned :)

Wintertime swept Rhodolite right from underneath everyone’s noses, bringing with it a crippling freeze that shook the kingdom more suddenly and ferociously than one of Luke’s gigantic sneezes. Palace-goers and townsfolk alike responded swiftly, swapping their lighter fabrics for heavy coats and shawls, replenishing every candle, torch, and fireplace the second they died out, and cooking seemingly endless vats of warming soups and steamy breads with every meal. Not even royalty was immune to the cold; it was increasingly more common to spot Jin with his sleeves rolled all the way down, Clavis wearing multiple pairs of gloves at once, and Leon shuffling through the halls cocooned, his velvety comforter trailing behind him.

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Dialogue is one of my favorite things to write, because it's so fun to imagine when you're just sitting there staring at a wall. I set up the confrontation in this fic to be like a Good Cop/Bad Cop scenario, and I'm pleased with how the characters' voices and motivations came through. (I'll color code Leon, Chevalier, Sariel and cut out the dialogue & action tags):

“Have I truly become so predictable?” “You still keep us on our toes. So what’s the next step?” “The next step will be the immediate appointment of His Majesty’s successor.” “Figures. We don’t even get a chance to mourn.” “We cannot afford to mourn until after a new king is crowned, I’m afraid.” “Yeah, no I get it. It’s just messed up, is all I’m saying.” “Few instances transpired over the past few days that I wouldn’t describe as ‘messed up’.” “Then you have more to tell.” “Indeed. It is difficult to broach this topic tactfully, but His Highness… His Highness… sired an eighth.”

Got a fic-y inquiry?

[trulyumai]

making it right

—pairing: eddie munson / reader

synopsis: feeling guilty for the harsh words he gave you, eddie tries to make it right. will you forgive him or could this be the end of the iconic couple?

—warnings: none, just eddie being whipped for reader and groveling over his actions.

a/n: I love writing about Eddie so look for future works coming soon!

It was Friday night, most highschool seniors would be out partying, getting drunk and making out with some random person in the corner of the room. 

But not you. 

Laying flat on your bed, your rotary phone lays against your ear with the wire stretched to the max. Your friend had been rambling onto you about Eddie, how it wasn’t right he treated you like that, you were too good for him, the usual. 

Charlotte, the rambling girl was always saying how you deserved better. Even tried to set you up with a couple athletes from the school. 

Ever the shy introvert you turned out to be, it was awkward trying to turn down such boys; always immature about the situation. Saying they didn’t want to date anyway, yada yada. 

“I can’t believe you’ve gone this far with him,” Charlotte's voice rang out and your fingers twirled up in the phone's cord. Idly twisting and turning with the coils as you zoned out unconsciously. “I mean, look how he dresses for god's sake. Does he even own a shower?” Suddenly, a tapping ensued upon your window. 

It was slow at first, until it gradually picked up and you could ignore it no longer. 

“Char, I gotta go but I’ll call you back.” Interrupting her mid sentence the phone smacked down on the dial. 

Toes meet the wooden floor, you cautiously made your way to the locked window just in front of your bed. Peering out, nothing came into view. 

Dink! 

Something smacked the window hard, hard enough to leave a little chip in the glass. 

“Hey!” Having enough, you aggressively shoved the glass up, going as far as to shove half your body out the crevice to catch the perpetrator in act. 

“—sweetheart!” And there he was in all his glory. Eddie Munson. 

And was that… marshmallows in his hand? 

“Sorry.. I couldn’t find any rocks so this was the next best thing.” A goofy smile lit up his features. And you wanted to cry. 

You missed him so much, that was true. But he was such an asshole you couldn’t help but ignore him for days on end, disappointed in the way he embarrassed you. 

“Go away!” Squinting at the man you moved quickly back in, shrinking into the darkness that swallowed your room. 

“Wait, wait, please!” Eddie begged. Setting the snacks and candies on the ground the man opened his arms wide. “Please just let me hold you? I’ve missed you so much. I’m so sorry.” 

You tugged on the drapes, ignoring his incessant pleas for comfort. 

“I brought snacks… your favorite! And I bought that cassette you left at my place, I'm finally ready to give it up!” No matter how much Eddie complained about your music choice, he had such a soft spot for you he made you a cassette for your last birthday. Full of classics and “overrated,” songs, Eddie had so nicely put it. But after one night of staying over, you accidentally left it at his trailer. And the man never returned it. Secretly, he had been playing it in his room, over and over when he missed you. 

So it’s been used quite frequently these past couple of days. 

“You embarrassed me, Eddie.” 

“I.. I know sweetheart I’ve regretted it every minute since. I just worry for you.” 

You snapped back into view, hands gripping onto the bottom of the frame. 

“It’s not your concern, It's my life Eds. If I want you in it, there shouldn’t be a rule.” 

The curly haired man winced. Seeing you so angry made the man ball up upon himself. 

“You’re right. Absolutely. But being with me will forever mark you, honey.” 

Tears burned at your eyes, your fingers tried to brush them away before they cascade down the grooves of your cheeks. 

Seeing you so hurt, Eddie couldn’t help but sprout a few tears of his own. 

Shaky hands gripped at his jeans and he no longer felt the confidence surge through him. 

What if this was actually it? 

“I don’t care about stupid reputations, why can’t you see that? I care about us, our lives, our future. The little house you promised me and the porch you swore you’d build.” 

A wet laugh escaped Eddie as he remembered such a scene. You were lying in his bed, scraping nails against his wild hair as the man listened to your dreams—aspirations. You told him how you’ve always wanted a forever home with a garden right in front. He didn’t hesitate to promise such a thing to you. Even now he held it in his heart. 

“I want that too sweetheart, more than anything.” 

Man did he look pathetic, barely catching a wink of sleep Eddie looked more chaotic than usual. 

He did look sorry… empathy corroded up your bones, slowly gnawing away any contempt you once held for him. 

“Let me come up, please?” A brash side of you wanted to say no, to flip him off and take some recommendation from your friends. But who were you kidding? It was your Eddie. The man who would hold your hair back when you got sick, the man that would buy you little trinkets and find rocks that he thought you would like. 

You wanted him to stew in the pot of sadness for just a little longer, so a remark left your lips and it couldn’t be pulled back. “What's stopping me from moving on, from dating someone like… Steve?” 

A tight ball of jealousy nested into the man, with tight fists Eddie felt his brows furrow, blue veins sprouted from his knuckles and he could only choose to shake off such irreplaceable words. “Steve, baby? Like that man could make you half as happy.” 

“He wouldn't have yelled at me like that.” Eddie's eye twitched instantly, what was with this new attention on Steve, did he say something, did he already make a move on his girl? 

No way in hell.

“Okay, okay. I see what you're doing sweetheart. But would Steve wake up in the middle of the night to check on you? Would Steve drive you home everyday and rub your back every night?” The man went on. “Or know you're sad when you can’t make eye contact, know that you love blueberry pancakes with a touch of powdered sugar-” 

“Okay, okay I get it!” You smiled, dimples adorning your cheeks. Eddie looked purely smitten, glancing at you with wide eyes and wet lips, a tongue poking out every so often out of nervousness. 

Lightly shuffling on both feet, you nodded to him, signaling for him to come up which earned a high pitched squeal in return. Realizing how unmanly that was, the guitarist cleared his throat before moving.  

Big arms wrapped around the various candies littering your lawn, pressing them in his jacket the man began his climb. 

With each foot scattering across the various stones that stuck out of your outside wall, Eddie began his ascent. 

“Careful!” You breathed, always nervous watching the lanky man carelessly move across the material. With how much he had crawled his way up, finger marks dotted the dirt that lay upon the sides. A clear indication of his many adventures to your room. 

“Do not worry, fair maiden, I—oh,” the open bag of marshmallows dribbled down from their container. With light smacks you heard them making contact with the grass below and Eddie brushed out a laugh of embarrassment. “I’ll buy you new ones.” He promised. 

Rolling your orbs you helped pull him in. Grabbing at his jacket you backed up. The man fell unceremoniously onto your floor with a loud slam before shaking it off and grabbing at your form. 

His breath dusted across your neck, light kisses found their way up your face until one was pressed onto your smooth lips— it was soft, just a peck as the man was scared to come off as too desperate and for you to shove him off in disgust. 

No thing happened, you happily embraced his warm presence. You had no idea just how much you missed him until the familiar musky scent entered your senses. It was almost heavy—sweet with a pinch of cinnamon and some kind of deodorant. 

Eddie groaned, falling onto his knees in front of you, as if praying to your very being. Wide hands played out onto your hips, pulling you in even closer until his chin rested upon your belly button. 

Now fully looking up, you could see how his eyes lit up against the moonlight— wet and remorseful. 

Your hands gathered around his face, with brittle movements you swiped them against the tear stricken cheeks. He leaned in further, not leaving an inch to be spared between the two of you. 

A smile, so content and relaxed appeared onto the man. He held so much love in his orbs, you couldn’t help but smile back in return. 

“You're such an idiot.” Although the words sounded harsh, they were mulled over with honeydew eyes and soft spoken affection. 

Eddie let out a closed lip laugh, one that was deep, it  reverberated through his chest before a response came out.

“At least I'm your idiot.” 

Maybe you weren’t at some party or hanging out with friends. 

But at least you had your Eddie. And that’s all you could ever need.

----

----

Taglist below!

@itzkawaiix @nika-sophie05 @anukulee @littlefreckles4 @mylovelycrazyworld @ali-r3n @need-a-life-or-grass @undercoverlover420 (If i forgot anyone, please do not be afraid to let me know and I apologize in advance!)

[colinlegameboy]

Yammering About 9 Years of Shadows (Light Mechanical Spoilers)

The mechanics in this one are a good bit of fun. Since you're using a halberd, you're always at range from the enemy, even more so if you decide to use projectiles. I personally like being able to keep my distance from an enemy... When I'm at low health. Otherwise, I admittedly kinda just yeet myself at things, in pretty much any game. Only when I'm in the red do I actually try to stay on my toes.

And that's one thing about this game- It has a system where you can regain... Shield? Essentially a shield, but the energy is also consumed when using projectiles. Either way, you can regain that energy at any time- You just have to find an opening to do so. Obviously stupid easy when adventuring around the map, but it takes a certain amount of skill to find openings in boss fights.

However... That doesn't last the whole game. Late in the game, you actually lose the ability to do this. Honestly, this is a genius move on the devs' part- You can rely on that crutch for a good chunk of the game, but if you want to see the end, you have to do so with the training wheels off. For people who are a lot more versed in games like these, it won't matter. For people like me who only notice they're taking damage when they're near death (whoops), it's a nice way to have that crutch as an option, and also push me out of my comfort zone. By that point in the game, I and most people would have gotten the mechanics down pat, so it shouldn't matter, right? Again, genius move.

I'm never one to talk about the aesthetics of a game- I just... Don't care, most of the time? Still applies here, but I feel like it's an important enough aspect of the game that I should pay it lip service. Yeah, the aesthetic of the game is great- Beautiful colors, a neat theme of music. I uh... Admittedly played through most of the game with the sound off, instead listening to podcasts, so I can't comment on the music. ...Look, my brain can't focus on music and a podcast at the same time, even if it doesn't have lyrics.

Anyway, the game as a whole was fun. Unfortunately didn't get 100%, but I got damn close- I was missing one of the pink notes and went "eh screw it", in the end. Been doing that with a lot more games now and I've gotta say, it's been liberating. No more staying stuck on games, sifting through video walkthroughs. Y'know, unless I want to. Sometimes I want to.

[sweatnation92]

Crush Your Workouts and Unleash Your Inner Beast

Introduction: Hey there, fitness warriors! Ready to take your workouts to the next level and unleash your inner beast? Well, you're in for a wild ride because we're about to dive into the mind of Tony Gentilcore, the fitness guru known for his unique blend of knowledge, humor, and pure badassery. Get ready to crush your workouts, have a laugh or two, and unlock your full potential. Let's do this!

Step 1: Warm-up Like a Beast: Listen up, my fierce friends. Before you even think about touching a weight, it's time to prime that body for action. Tony Gentilcore style, we're not talking about some lame half-hearted stretches. We're talking dynamic movements that wake up your muscles, get your blood pumping, and prepare you to dominate your workout. Think of it as unleashing the beast within.

Step 2: Master the Big Lifts: Here's the deal, my fitness warriors: if you want to build strength and power, you gotta master the big lifts. Squats, deadlifts, bench presses, and overhead presses are your bread and butter. Embrace them, learn proper form, and watch your muscles grow and your strength soar. It's time to make those weights your b*tch!

Step 3: Lift Heavy, Lift Like a Boss: Enough with those puny weights, my friends. Tony Gentilcore doesn't mess around with feather-light dumbbells. It's time to step up and embrace the heavy sh*t. Lift with intensity, challenge yourself, and don't be afraid to grunt, sweat, and give it everything you've got. Lift like a boss, and watch your body transform into a powerhouse of strength.

Step 4: Embrace the Suck: Hey, guess what? Workouts aren't always rainbows and unicorns. Sometimes they suck. And that's okay! Tony Gentilcore knows that the real gains come from pushing through those tough moments, embracing the suck, and powering through. Push yourself past your comfort zone, and trust me, you'll come out the other side stronger than ever before.

Step 5: Add Some Sass to Your Training: Listen, my fitness fam, life is too short to be serious all the time. It's time to add some sass and humor to your training. Crack jokes, dance between sets, and have a damn good time. Tony Gentilcore believes that laughter and lifting go hand in hand, so don't be afraid to let loose and enjoy the process.

Step 6: Mix It Up and Keep Your Body Guessing: Don't let your workouts become a snooze fest, my friends. Tony Gentilcore loves mixing things up, keeping his body guessing, and avoiding the dreaded plateau. Incorporate different exercises, switch up your rep schemes, and throw in some unconventional moves to keep your muscles on their toes. Variety is the spice of gains!

Step 7: Fuel Your Inner Beast: Now, let's talk nutrition, my fellow beasts. Tony Gentilcore knows that a powerful beast needs the right fuel to roar. Fill your plate with nutrient-dense foods, focus on quality protein, healthy fats, and an abundance of colorful veggies. But don't forget to indulge in your favorite treats now and then because life's too short to deprive yourself completely.

Step 8: Recover Like a Champ: Recovery is just as important as your badass workouts, my friends. Treat your body like the temple it is. Get your beauty sleep, foam roll those sore muscles, and prioritize rest days. Recovery allows your body to rebuild, come back stronger, and unleash an even mightier beast within.

Step 9: Believe in Yourself and Embrace Your Uniqueness: Here's the thing, my fitness warriors: you are a one-of-a-kind badass. Embrace your uniqueness, believe in yourself, and let your inner beast shine. It doesn't matter if you're a beginner or a seasoned lifter. Tony Gentilcore believes that everyone has the potential to achieve greatness. So step into the gym with confidence, own your workouts, and let that beast roar!

Conclusion: There you have it, my friends! The Tony Gentilcore way to crush your workouts and unleash your inner beast. Get ready to warm up like a boss, lift heavy, embrace the suck, and add some sass to your training. Remember, this journey is about more than just physical gains. It's about having fun, believing in yourself, and unleashing the beast within. So go forth, my fitness warriors, and conquer those weights like the true beasts you are!

[mieletthe]

After dinner, there was the hot tub. After the hot tub, there was dancing.

Jester had been the one to suggest dancing, which did not surprise Essek. What did surprise him was Caleb, who readily offered her his hand and swept her into the middle of the room as Beau and Fjord pushed furniture against the walls to make a dance floor. Yasha fetched a macabre harp, and Jester summoned her duplicate to play at the tiny pink piano that materialized in the corner.

It was plain to Essek that the Nein were in especially high spirits tonight. They laughed loudly, they spoke candidly, most of them drank freely – Essek couldn't remember if he was on his third or fourth or maybe fifth glass of wine. He sipped at his glass now, watching them all cavort around the room to the freewheeling music.

It was easily the most unique dinner party Essek had ever attended.

As he watched them dance, his eyes were continuously drawn back to Caleb. While most of the Nein shimmied and swayed solo with little coordination and less inhibition, Caleb arced across the floor in elegant steps, first with Jester, then Veth, then Caduceus. He had abandoned his usual slouch and was standing tall, shoulders back and neck held high as he led his dance partners smoothly around the room. This was Caleb as Essek had never seen him before.

“Essek! You gotta get out there too!” Jester threw herself down onto the seat next to him.

“Oh, I'm afraid I'm not much of a dancer.”

“What kind of dances do they do in the Dynasty? Are they, like, super duper cool? You gotta show us!” Jester continued as if he hadn't said anything.

Essek blanched at the idea of demonstrating traditional Dynasty dances. All of the Nein's dances were being done standing up; there was no way he was going to get on the floor and start...writhing.

“I would need to drink quite a bit more wine for that to happen,” he replied.

“Essek.” Essek looked up to see Caleb, face flushed and smiling, extending a hand to him. “May I have this dance?”

“I-I don't know the steps. And I'm not a skilled dancer,” Essek stammered, clutching his drink.

Caduceus sat down on the other side of Jester. “I don't know the steps either, but I think I did pretty well out there. Caleb is a good partner. He really knows what he’s doing.”

“Yeah! Caleb is, like, so good, and he totally doesn't care when you step on his feet or whatever,” Jester chimed in.

Essek looked at them then back at the proffered hand.

“Just one dance. I promise it's easier than it looks.”

This evening had already been an exercise in stepping out of his comfort zone, and they were all tipsy after all… Gathering his meager courage, Essek downed the rest of his wine, handed the empty glass to Jester, and took Caleb's hand.

He flushed with embarrassment as Caleb pulled him into the middle of the room. Now that he was standing, he could more clearly feel the effects of the wine.

“Drop the levitation. You can't float for this.”

Essek blinked at Caleb’s assertive tone. Had Caleb ever commanded him like this before? He released the spell, now needing to tilt his head up to meet Caleb's eyes.

Caleb smiled, raised their joined hands, and wrapped his other arm around Essek to place a firm hand on his back. Essek let out a small, involuntary gasp as Caleb pulled them together.

“Put your other hand on my shoulder. Ja, like that. Now watch – you're going to match my steps, starting with your right foot.”

He looked down at their feet as Caleb began counting.

“Eins, zwei, drei, eins, zwei, drei, eins, zwei, drei, eins, zwei…”

Essek misstepped, landing on Caleb's toe.

“My apologies, I'm really not coordinated enough for this,” he said, lowering his hand from Caleb's shoulder.

“You're doing great. Let's continue.”

Essek highly doubted he was doing great, but he brought his hand back up and doubled his focus on his feet as Caleb began counting again. His steps were hesitant and lacked any semblance of finesse, but he managed not to trod on Caleb again.

“Now do it without looking at your feet. Look at me.”

Essek looked up at Caleb, momentarily struck by the blue of his eyes. “I'll step on you again,” he protested faintly.

“Maybe, maybe not. I'll live either way. Just pay attention to my body. That will give you cues on your steps.”

How could he pay attention to anything but Caleb's body, with them so close together? Essek thought, suddenly feeling light-headed.

Caleb adjusted his palm against Essek's back and began again. Essek could see what he meant: subtle pressure from Caleb's hands guided him through the steps. When Caleb stepped forward, the press of his weight prompted Essek to move backwards. When Caleb moved back, his firm hand brought Essek with him.

“Good! Now we will do it for real.”

“Wait—”

Caleb drew Essek across the floor, as Essek stumbled and tried to re-find his steps.

“Don't overthink it.” Caleb looked directly into his eyes and smiled. “We're just having fun.”

He really hadn't ever been so commanding before, had he? Essek took a deep breath and tried to let his feet move automatically, to let himself be pushed and pulled around the dance floor. It was easier than he expected: Caleb led with such confidence that Essek became malleable under his steadfast hand. Even if Essek's footwork was inelegant and occasionally stumbling, Caleb's assured motions smoothed over the missteps.

They whirled around the room, making wide circles around their dancing friends. Caleb's eyes remained locked on Essek's, and Essek found it impossible to look away. He found himself getting caught up in the turns and spins, smiling as Caleb guided him through with an easy press to his back.

The music came to a close, and the dance was over as quickly as it began. Caleb released the hand around Essek's back and dropped into a small bow, still holding the other.

“Oh! That was it?”

“We can keep dancing if you'd like,” Caleb offered, and Essek was surprised to find that he wanted to say yes.

“Perhaps. I think I need to sit for a bit first.”

Essek's heart was racing more than it should have been for the level of exertion. As a new song started up, he returned to his seat, where Jester handed back his wine glass.

“Here's your drink, Essek! I topped it off for you.”

Topped it off, indeed. The wine was nearly to the brim now. Essek took a deep sip, his eyes still on Caleb who was inviting Yasha to join him for the next dance. His head spun, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the wine, or dancing, or—

[oceanbaby888]

The Story of the Signs 👫🏿👭🏾👨🏿‍🤝‍👨🏾♈️♉️♊️

NOTE: WHILE I AM NOT A PROFESSIONAL ASTROLOGER I LIKE ASTROLOGY AND IT’S ASPECTS! PLEASE DO NOT STEAL OR REPOST MY WORK WITHOUT CREDIT!! THANK YOU!

-Hey y’all!

-So I was thinking of the 12 signs and how it evolves from Aries to Pisces, and I thought I do this cute little post! 😆. I call this “The Story of the Signs.”

Aries

“You know, I’m tired of always fighting and exerting energy for things I want. Sometimes I just want to take the simpler route.”

From here we create 👉 TAURUS

Taurus

“You know, the simple life is nice, but I need to get more social and start getting into things that interest me! Even if it’s not a part of my routine, just the enjoyment of it.”

From here we create 👉 GEMINI

Gemini

“You know, I get tired of socializing and not feeling like I have close connections. I want to use my nurturing energy too. I just want to be around the people closest to me like family and close friends. I don’t wanna party anymore I wanna stay at home.”

From here we create 👉 CANCER

Cancer

“You know I’m always hidden in my comfort zone, when am I gonna get out there? When am I gonna go out there and let people know I am that bitch? When am I gonna go out and be seen? I’m so used to catering to my home life and being the boss of that area, but who said I can’t be the boss in other areas of my life too????”

From here we create👉LEO

Leo

“You know I love being out there, but why am I seen just to be seen? I feel like bringing more depth to the table 🧐. More use of intellect, more discernment, more everything!! I need to be stricter about my image. I need to make sure everything is in place if I’m gonna keep this route!”

From here we create👉 VIRGO

Virgo

“You know all this organization and trying to put everything in place makes me tired. I like it, but I feel like I’m too harsh with it. I need to learn to be balanced and relaxed with my intellect, and also use my intellect as a good networking skill instead of just stepping on toes all the time. Plus, my viewpoint isn’t absolute, other’s have good opinions too.”

From here we create 👉 LIBRA

Libra

“You know hearing people out and trying to be neutral is cool until people start thinking they can play with me. 🧐 Who knew being a cool, chill person can attract such messy people?????? Like these folks are crazy mad because I refuse to take sides. Well how about this? I’m shutting down. I ain’t gonna hear it out anymore. I’m protecting myself and keeping me to myself. Y’all have fun being “social” out there.”

From here we create👉 SCORPIO

Scorpio

“You know I’m used to people not liking me for whatever reason, maybe because I don’t give myself away to others. Yet, it made me want to live on the outskirts to make sure no one would get to me. But you know what? Fuck it 🤪! I do what I want, when I want, how I want, and who gon have an issue? If you have an issue mind the business that pays you!!”

From here we create 👉 SAGITTARIUS

Sagittarius

“You know I’ve had a BALL!!! But honestly I feel like I have so much fun that I don’t have structure when I need it. And my optimism has been my detriment these past few years. I need to get serious, I need to get right. I need to stop playing around sometimes.”

From here we create 👉 CAPRICORN

Capricorn

“You know I have done it all. I’ve put so much hard work into everything I do. Yet, I feel like I need a change. Yet I’m scared to. I’m tired of just trying to achieve just for me. What about for the people around me? If I can get this done, why can’t they? Is it the system? Is it the rules? I’ve played by these rules and won, I think? But it’s confusing seeing others try the same thing but different results. What is this?”

From here we create 👉 AQUARIUS

Aquarius

“You know I’m here for the people, but I’m not really here for the people ya know? I kinda wish I could tap into the more emotional side of myself yet sometimes you gotta be careful because people are so entitled. Yet, I do realize that in life everything has a percentage of risk, and sometimes you gotta risk it. I’ve done that, and it’s helped me. But when it comes to emotions, that’s scary. Maybe it’s just a new avenue to try. It can go really good or really bad.”

From here we create 👉 PISCES

Pisces

“You know being the emotional support is nice, or was nice at first. Yet it’s soul sucking. People need to learn how to fight for themselves. I need to learn how to fight for myself more!! I’m so used to thinking that it’s okay and it’s alright when it was really I didn’t always speak up and set those hard boundaries. I’m tired of it. They’re gonna be mad, but they weren’t mad when I was tired of them sucking up my energy. They still did it anyway. So be like that and imma be like this!”

From here we create 👉 ARIES

And that y’all was the story of how the 12 signs came to be. Thank you for coming and enjoying this little story and I’ll see you in the next post!! New content on YouTube also coming soon!

-Claude

..

[razorblade180]

Actor AU 3

The previous one<-

Penny:*dancing on set*

Nora:Someone seems happy.

Penny:🎶First episode I don’t have to wear props! 🎶 This is so liberating!

Nora:You read the script right?

Penny:Just let me vibe!

xxxx

Neo:*hanging off ledge*

Cinder:.....Long live queen. *pushes her off*

Ruby:Yo! Let’s add a lion king character!

Director:No!

xxxx

Ironwood,Broadcasting:.....

Everyone:.....

Ironwood:*leans it closely* You have one hour...or I poison Gotham Harbor.

Yang:Pay up Weiss! I told you he’d say it!

Weiss:Damn it!

Ruby:*laughing hysterically.

xxxx

Adam:*sips tea* Now you’re probably wondering why I’m on set for V8 when I have not scene or relevance. The answer is simple.

Neo:*hits Yang of the edge*

Blake:Yaaaaang-

*faint laughing offset*

Blake.....*snickers* You asshole, I was in the zone!

Adam:I’m just adding to the tension!

Yang:*hanging from harness* You should’ve yelled “Lionized!!!!!”

Adam:Oh that would’ve been great!

Blake:You two are the worst!

xxxx

Right after Cinder stabs Penny

Jaune:Penny!!!! H-Hold on!

Penny:J-Jaune? I don’t...I don’t feel so g-good... hehe, this...*tearing up* this really hurts...

Jaune:*crying* Don’t speak! My semblance, I’ll...I

Penny:No...don’t. No time, but....there’s still something I need you t-to do. Cinder...can’t get the power and the relics. *reaches for blade*

Jaune:W-What?! No, I....I can’t-

Penny:It’s okay Jaune. *smiles* Everything is...gonna be okay.

Jaune:*raising bl-

Director:Cut!

Jaune:Huh?

Penny:Hmm? *sits up* Oh no, did I miss a line?

Director:*points to Cinder*

They turn to see Weiss comforting the the woman with a hug while trying not to laugh at the situation.

Penny:What happened!?

Weiss:She’s crying over the scene!

Penny:What!? *runs over*

Cinder:I am so sorry I ruined take! You were doing so well. Too well! Ugh, god damnit!

Penny:Awww you know I’m fine right? Come here! *hugs her*

Weiss:Cinder fall everyone, the biggest teddy bear around. *wipping eyes*

Jaune:You’re crying too!?

Weiss:I am the second biggest teddy bear around.

xxxx

Jaune:We have to go!!!

Winter:*points at Cinder*....Sleep with one eye open.

Director:Cut! Why!?

Cinder:Hahahaha!

Winter:I couldn’t help myself.

Director:Be angry!

Bloop!

Winter:*glares* The next time I see you I swear, I’ll have your head!

Director:Less angry!

Cinder:That one actually kinda scared me. Haha geez, Winter giving chills!

Bloop!

Winter:Can I curse?

Director:We’re already at the limit before we’d have change ratings.

Winter:Dang it! I just one F bomb!

Director:We’ll put it the gag reel.

Bloop!

Jaune:We need to go!

Winter: Tsk, *points sword* You are going to pay for everything you’ve done! So watch you fucking back...

Director:Happy?

Winter:*grinning* Yeah that felt great!

xxxxx

Bomb starts sliding slowly.

Qrow:*clenches Clover’s pin*

Bomb falls off plan set

.....

Vine and Elm:.....

Harriet:Well...boom! I guess!? For the love of- *face palms*

Qrow:....Uhhh I haha, I think hahaha- hahaha! Can we maybe tilt the plan a little less!? Oh boy! I guess someone should’ve grabbed that.

Harriet:You know what, can we keep this ending!?

Robyn: Rename the whole episode haha. “Adults watch bomb slowly fall”

Vine:Okay but I like how we’re all just waiting for it to stop, and then just tips right over! The moment it started moving I knew it was going way too fast!

Elm:Mission failed everyone. We’ll get em next time.

xxxxx

Interviewer:How do you think fans will react to this finale?

Penny:Well I can’t spoil anything for obvious reasons but I hope it resonates well. It’s fun having my character be around for a finale for once, and with so many other roles she doesn’t get interact with much. It’s been really fun.

Interviewer:Oh yeah? Who’s been best to work with?

Penny:Oooo that’s tough. My cousin, Nora, she’s been fun to interact with this volume. But uhhh I think I’ll give it to Jaune. We don’t have many scenes overall together but...it’s hard explain. I feel like between my character and his, there’s this kinda mutal headspace they have for their friends. If I had to pick a person I would say Jaune would have the ability to open up Penny in a way nobody else could.

Interviewing:Interesting, well I hope you both get more interactions and that this finale debuts well.

Penny:Thank you!

xxxxx

Winter:*dragging Ironwood off*

Emerald:....Wait, I know I do illusions, but how did the Ironwood not hear or feel the wind coming from an airship several feet away? I kicked up dirt and alerted Amber in volume 3.

Director:....Do we have time to rewri- no? Okay... just don’t think about it!

xxxxx

Nora:Someone cut the signal!

Watts: *playing Galaga* Hehehe all according to plan.

Neo:Change the tab! It’s- we see it in camera! Haha!

Watts:*strokes mustache* I know. That’s how genius I am. Cracking codes and high-scores! Muhahaha!

xxxx

Ruby:Fun fact, we have two Hound costumes. One where he’s mainly doglike and the other when he’s beating up people. But I you wonder who’s playing him under all that? *takes mask off*

Cardin:Sup.

Ruby:Forever a bully, even behind the set.

Cardin:Pfft am not.

Penny:You had a laugh tossing me!

Cardin:You don’t count, you’re family!

Penny:Ah!?

xxxxxx

Yang:*holding camera* Pssst!

Ren:*sipping coffee*???

Yang:Ready for our fight in the snow?

Ren:I can’t feel my toes! I’m gonna yell at you and then walk away.

Yang:I’ll mess up so we’ll stay here longer.

Ren:Yang! We can have a real fight in the snow right now!

Yang:Heheh, kidding. Mostly.

xxxxx

Ruby:Blake have you heard of Among Us?

Blake:Wh-what?

Ruby:Among Us. You gotta do tasks without an imposter killing you. I only bring it up because we’re rebooting the power. Someone always dies in electrical.

Blake:Ruby this is real life. Besides this way more Resident Evil, but with no- Tyrant!

Hound:*busts through window*

Ruby:Wny is it always electrical!!!?

xxxxx

Ironwood:*doing shirtless pull-ups*

Ozpin:He’s getting ready for his fight scenes. Trying to look winded but a little bulkier in the moment.

Winter:*watching Ironwood*

Ozpin:*snickering* Winter is trying to get into the mindset of having to a play a character who has to go against all that. The agony of fighting someone you looked at for so long.

Winter:You can call it like it is. I’m gawking a little.

Ozpin:She’s gawking a little.

xxxxx

Hazel:*grabs Salem*

Salem:*squeezing his biceps* Its like my entire torso. You eat a bear for breakfast?

Hazel:Oh my god.

Salem:You know this isn’t the worst way to go out. I had a good run. At least you hold me, unlike Ozma! Why didn’t you hold me like this!?

Hazel:You’re so ridiculous.

xxxxx

Set crew adjusting lighting in manor. All but one stays on.

Oscar and Penny:*waltzing underneath it*

Nora:...I like how on or off camera I personally lose the dating game while another redhead wins.

Ozpin:Which pair you talking about?

Nora:Huh?

Yang and Adam:*cracking jokes*

Nora:This is nonsense! Where’s Jaune!?

Weiss:Food run with Ruby.

Nora:Aaaaaggghhh!

[willow-salix]

Full Moon Guidance.

March 2022. If this resonates with you it will find its way to your dash.

Oh my darling, it's been a tough few years, hasn't it? Dreams have been put on hold, you've pretty much given up on everything that you had planned and now you're just expected to get on with it, to start all over again. You're expected to pick up exactly where you left off, but that is much easier said than done.

I know it's so very tempting to give up and stop trying all together. It still feels like such an effort to even bother stepping a toe out of the comfort zone that you have created for yourself.

It's scary isn't it? And the world is such a negative place right now that it's far too easy to let your mind take over and drown out your heart.

But this is your sign, this right here. This is reminding you that your dreams are just as important, just as valid, as anyone elses and you don't have to give them up!

It might feel like every step forward you take someone is shoving you backwards and knocking you off your path. But here's the thing, here's the tough talk. You gotta get up off your ass and keep walking because no one is gonna pick you up and carry you. Stop looking back, because sweetheart, you aren't going that way. The only way is forward.

You need to believe in yourself. I'm giving you permission to do that and so is spirit. You are allowed to be selfish! You are allowed to do things for yourself and not for others. That is not a crime!

Let me ask you this, and I want you to be honest, who is gonna do it for you if you don't? Who is gonna push you and help you to achieve your dreams if you give up? I have a feeling that the answer you have is no one.

But then, on the other hand, I know that you are the person that will go out of their way to help others. You are the one that will do all you can to make sure others succeed, and it's often at the expense of your own.

That stops right here right now!

Don't let the world and the negativity in it drag you down even further. Now is the time to pull on your big person pants and show the world that you have got this shit!

If you quit now, if you give up and stop trying, the only person you are hurting is yourself. And honestly, the one person you should truly lovely and support one thousand percent is you! No one is going to care more about you than you. Or at least that's how it should be.

Be your own cheerleader. Be your own best friend and give yourself a chance. Support yourself like you support others.

You deserve it too.

[dashielldeveron]

and i’ve gotta crow | takami keigo

hawks x pro-hero! reader. quirk unspecified.

summary: “You’re suffering from amnesia,” says Hawks to you, in your hospital bed.

No, you are not.

“We’re engaged to be married.”

No, you are not.

After an accident that was that bastard Hawks’s fault, you decide to play along with your diagnosis of amnesia, among other things, because how far can you make your former bully bend over backwards for you?

fluff/trickery??? completely avoidable angst, bc reader is a little shit. hawks is a scumbag bully at first. reader is honestly kind of violent. dealing with acne in a scene.

When the first things you saw after groggily blinking your eyes open were multiple IVs in the back of your hand, you flipped over and snuggled farther into your hospital bed to deal with it later, but against your will you were forced to lie flat on your back to stare into the hospital fluorescents.

When the nurse fiddling with your IVs came into focus, he said, “You need to lie on your back. You have deep gashes on your lower abdomen, and tossing about too much could open the stitches.”

That sounded like bullshit, but you were too out of it to care. “Yeah, okay,” you said through a croak, “Oh, fuck.” You wrestled a hand to your throat, massaging it. “Am I waking up from a coma? Don’t let anyone see me until I’ve done my eyebrows.”

The nurse laughed through his nose. “No, don’t worry. You’ve barely been—” He cut himself off and frowned. “The news should probably be broken to you when you have emotional support. I’ll be back soon.”

He left.

Emotional support? Wouldn’t that fucking gash on your stomach be—ooh, ouch, don’t move.

Where’s your phone? Where’s your goddamn phone; where’s any of your personal belongings? If they got crushed, you’re killing Hawks on sight.

Hawks, oh, my God. Where is he? He’s dead. If he still has the audacity to bully you professionally—fuck.

He’d cornered you on patrol earlier—whenever that was—and cut into you in that casually, negging-type way that wasn’t enough to report but enough to make you stay up late and freak out about being good enough. It hurt your chest whenever you thought about it.

But this was the first time he’d gotten seriously physical.

He’d alit on the top of the warehouse next to you, landing what would have been haphazardly for anyone else (the arch of his feet against the edge, his toes barely touching roof) and had crouched next to you, his scarlet wings completely blowing your cover as they stretched and shuddered.

“What’s a little girl like you doing in this part of town?” Hawks had propped his chin on both his fists. “Thought shoplifters were more your calibre.”

“Hawks, this is actually really important to me, so please, please leave,” you’d said, keeping your eyes on the group you could barely make out through the skylight. They’d already been partially concealed by crates, so they were hard to see.

“Someone else give you a tip for their location?” He’d tapped your opposite shoulder with the end of his wing, but you hadn’t even flinched.

“Bruh, you know I’ve been on this for weeks,” you’d said, shifting away from him, “I even shared intel at your last briefing.”

“Is that what you were talking about?” Hawks had scratched his chin. “I zoned out. Usually the little cases female heroes present aren’t in my circle, and I like to unwind when brain power isn’t needed.”

You’d planned to rip his wings out feather by feather while you’d gritted your teeth. “You can’t talk to me like that, Hawks.”

He’d laughed, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “C’mon, babygirl, have a slice of chill, won’t you? I thought you were one of the cool girls. Relax. I don’t mean anything by it.”

“Leave me alone, Hawks. You’re not gonna bully me into joining your agency. You’re not gonna bully me into quitting being a hero,” you’d said, inwardly screaming, “I’d tell you to go talk to someone who’d fall for your shit, but then, she’d have to suffer, too. So, fuck off into a sewer, jackass.”

“Oof,” Hawks had said, placing a hand over his heart and shaking his head, “You don’t have to be such a bitch, sweetheart. I’m only looking for my better half. Didn’t think it could be you, but I’d thought I’d give you a chance to prove me wrong. Don’t take yourself too seriously; just be along for the ride like the rest of us.”

“Huh,” you had said, and you’d stood and strode to the edge of the warehouse to your harness and rope, and you rappelled down the side of it as stealthily as you came up.

“I’ve been watching you all these years, sweetness, and I know you by now; I know how you really feel,” Hawks had said a bit too loudly while he flew downwards at your speed (braggart). “Strip away all of your busy work, your so-called hero trappings, and we’d mesh together just fine. We may be rough around the edges, but we clean up really nicely, don’t we?”

You’d unclipped your carabiner and stepped out of your harness, stashing it in your pack. “Fuck off.”

You’d moved towards the back entrance, but Hawks had slammed a hand against the concrete wall in front of you. You’d ducked under it and carried on, and he’d grabbed the back of your shirt.

“C’mon, if we didn’t know each other, and our eyes met from across the room at some hero gala, you’d be all over me, wouldn’t you?”

You had swiped his hand away. “I’d be putting a lid on my drink.”

His arms behind his back, Hawks had followed you through the door and behind the exposed pipes and closer to your targets. “Saw you coming onto Todoroki at the last one. You looked fine in his colours, but you would’ve looked better in mine.”

Don’t grace him with an answer; don’t grace him with an ans— “I wasn’t coming onto Shoto,” you’d said, pulling yourself up a couple of pipes for a better view—and you’d hit him when he flapped his wings to hover the few feet you’d ascended, because the noise might alert them.

“Yeah, you just simp for him, right? Then you didn’t step outside your comfortable ice queen act?” Hawks had gripped onto a pipe just underneath your ass. “You’re too much of a natural tease for that.”

How can you report him when he’s the head of his own agency? You guess the commission might listen, but what can they do besides slap his wrist? There’s really no one who can stop him, is there?

You hadn’t replied but instead crawled onto the iron catwalk. If you could position yourself about three-quarters of the way across, you’d be able to effectively activate your quirk and get this over with—wait, why would you think like that? You’d been waiting for this for ages.

A hand spreading across the small of your back had reminded you.

You’d flipped over with fire in your eyes and kicked him away as quietly as you could, but all he’d done was sit back on his knees to grin down at you, army-crawling your way through a dirty warehouse.

Would he take credit for your work again?

You’d shaken yourself. Eat my entire ass, Hawks. And with that, you’d continued inching towards your targets. When you’d gotten into position to watch them, Hawks had merely watched you.

You had scowled. “I’m gonna tear you a—”

“You had a hard childhood, didn’t you?”

A chill had unfurled up your spine, simple as that. Hawks now not only had the annoying air of an arrogant pick-up artist but also gave you an intense sense of danger. You’d moved away from him, regrettably away from your target, but Hawks had followed you, getting closer until his body heat had seeped into yours, a self-satisfied smirk plastered across his dumb face.

“I could take suuuuch good care of you, little girl,” he’d said under his breath, “if only you’d let me. No one else is crazy enough to call me out or want more than the bare minimum.” His wings had folded in on his back, making themselves as small as possible to get closer to you. “If you give in, tell me yes, say please, you wouldn’t have to let any worries cross your pretty little mind. All you have to do is let me in.”

“Yikes,” you had said, sucking in through your teeth, “God, you’re a creep.”

Hawks had slammed you down onto the catwalk, iron reverberating through the warehouse as it struck your head, and your targets had looked up by the time the catwalk hinges had loosened and had come crashing down in the midst of their meeting.

You’re really not supposed to shoot guns inside. Don’t they know that’ll ruin their ears? No matter, really. You had fought them anyway, amidst crates splintering open from whatever they were shooting at you—fuck, that was a big hole. What’s oozing out of that? Gross, don’t step in it.

One with a normal revolver—his arm had given a woody crack when you’d bent it backwards—God, that was nice. Good sounds. If you could sample them into a rap track, you would.

You’d been planning a collab with a popular rapper while you’d hurled yourself at another villain, sawdust flying—just to keep your mind busy, really, but fucking—fucking Hawks had bested whoever he’d half-assed to the ground and had shouted your way.

“C’mere, you little shit—”

He’d scooped you up while you’d been taking care of it by yourself, and he had pinned you down behind a stack of crates that reached the remains of the catwalk, straddling you but keeping most of his weight off, his wings outstretched yet still hidden from the cloud of sawdust rising with deep gurgling on the far side.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” he’d said over the chaos, spit flying, “You can’t handle this; you’re gonna get fucking killed. I can’t babysit you all the time.”

“Get fucked; I’m the number fourteen hero,” you’d said, deadly still, but twitching in fury, “I can handle anyth—”

“Aww, fourteen. And one day babygirl might reach the single digits.” Hawks had sneered in your face. “If she manages to fuck her way through them.”

Your jaw had dropped, and you pretended to cough on sawdust and kicked him off in the confusion. Hawks had grabbed a hold of your calf, grappling for your thigh, while you’d scrambled to climb over crates to the gurgling mess on the other side; you could handle it, and you would.

You’d slapped his hands away, wrestled out of his grasp again and again, and you’d launched yourself into the dust—

Yeah.

While the fluorescent lights flickered overhead, you picked at a hangnail. You hadn’t braced yourself for the explosion, so, you guessed you deserved whatever was wrong with you now. Big-ass gashes on your stomach. Probably broken ribs. Something felt off in your left leg, besides—oh, ho, what had the doctors thought when they’d seen Hawks’s scratches?

What an idiot.

When the door creaked open, the nurse returned with a mug of water for you, but—what? Who’s that bitch following him?

You blinked, twice. With his hands in his pockets and his nasty little wings tucked in behind him, Hawks meandered to your bedside, his gaze on your throat as you swallowed down water.

God, you’re too tired to deal with him. Let’s get this over with.

The nurse glanced over his clipboard. “I’ve already told your partner this, but I thought you would want him here.”

Maybe if you ignore Hawks, he’ll leave.

“You were very brave today,” said the nurse, “Your work as a hero is greatly appreciated. You’re on temporary leave to heal, though. Like I said, you’ve got three, major gashes on your stomach, and your leg’s broken—the fibula split, if you want to know. You’ll be on crutches for a while. You have four broken ribs, and—” The nurse bit his lip and softened his voice. “You hit your head pretty hard. Nothing’s broken, but you should have amnesia, with the trauma you’ve endured.”

Should have? They don’t know? You sure as hell don’t fucking have amnesia. It barely happens in real life, and it definitely hasn’t happened to you. You remembered every fucking infuriating thing Hawks did to ruin your mission, and if he doesn’t square up—

“I’m so sorry, baby,” said Hawks, grabbing your hand. He stroked the back of it with his thumb, and then he took his glove off to hold you skin-to-skin. “You remember who I am?”

You just stared at him.

“Your fiancé’s been a real presence in the waiting room,” said the nurse, “He hardly stopped pacing the entire time you were in surgery. He wouldn’t even talk to fans.”

Oh, my God.

Holy fucking shit.

“Oops, sorry,” said the nurse, covering his mouth, “I know you were keeping it a secret. Don’t blame him, please; he only told me to be able to see you immediately.”

Shutting your eyes, you took a deep, deep breath. You have been handed a golden opportunity on a fucking Hawks-shaped platter, holy fuck, and by God are you going to take advantage of it. Imagine how much you can fucking humiliate him, how far you can take it. How much you can make him pay for how he treated you, and now, if he says he’s your fiancé, then he’s gonna fucking worship you. You’re going to mould him into your little bitch, and he’s going to thank you for it. And you’ll get endless dirt on him just by seeing his place.

Don’t fuck this up.

Exhaling, you opened your eyes, blinking a bit. You curled your lips into your mouth, biting the lower one. “I remember you’re Hawks,” you said in a nervous voice, “and I remember, uh.”

“Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” Hawks squeezed your hand, his tone kind. “It’ll come back in time.”

You clutched Hawks’s hand while the nurse rattled off instructions and gave you your crutches, and Hawks squeezed your hand back, softly smiling at you.

When the nurse left, you turned to Hawks and said, “I’m so, so sorry, but I—I feel like there’s something big missing that I can’t remember.” You scratched your forehead with your free hand, dragging the IVs with you.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Hawks tilted his head, still gazing decidedly down at you.

“Oh, God,” you said, “Oh, fuck. I don’t know. Um.” Take it back. Take it way back. That way he’ll dig himself into a deeper hole. The more lies he has to create, the funnier it’ll be. “Let’s see, I, hm.” You already weren’t speaking like yourself, but you looked upward as you faked combing through memories. “I don’t know how things work chronologically, but the most recent memory I have of you is—it’s after a press conference, and I’ve never been in the building before,” you said slowly, “And I can’t find the bathroom, but some press keeps following me, and I—I faceplant in between your shoulder blades, right between your wings. You—” You lowered your voice, shrinking a little in the hospital bed, “You got rid of them so easily, with just a gesture, and you put your arm around me. You were—” You shook your head, staring at both of your hands. “—so warm.”

Was that too thick? That was too thick, wasn’t it?

His free hand shot to his mouth, and he bit his knuckle. “But sweetheart, that’s,” said Hawks, his eyes watering, “That’s only around the third time we met.”

You know.

“Shit,” you said, widening your eyes, “How long ago was that?”

“Three years.” Hawks squeezed your hand and kept the pressure longer than was necessary. “Three fucking years. You don’t remember anything past that?”

You pretended to be scared to look at him. “I’m sorry; I’m so sorry—”

“No, no, you don’t have to be,” said Hawks, and he leant towards you to lift your chin, rubbing his thumb against it, “It’s not your fault.”

You had to hand it to him: Hawks was a good actor.

But so were you.

***

Hawks disappeared for a while after that, but he manifested the day you were loosed from the hospital, more than giddy to carry all of your shit all the way to your flat. He was probably getting some sick pleasure from watching you hobble on your crutches.

“I can help you, if you lean on me,” said Hawks, giving you an easy grin, “I don’t want you to be in any more pain than you have to.”

“This is something I should do myself,” you said in what was hopefully a tough-it-out voice, “I’d like to be able to walk without depending on anyone.”

“I honestly think you ought to be in a wheelchair.” His wings bristled. “But what do I know? I could fly us to your place, if you like.”

“I don’t like. I’ve gotta concentrate on limping. Stop talking, Hawks.”

You got to your flat, and Hawks had guessed which key opened the door on the first try. Drat! He was already doing a good job of acting like he’d been here before, like he’s not surprised that the number fourteen hero lives in a pretty shitty apartment (you started living here as a student and got too damn comfortable for your own good—plus, you didn’t want your cat to endure the trauma of moving).

Hawks plopped your keys in the bowl by the door with a clatter, and he shut the front door behind you, flipping one of the locks.

He set your stuff neatly on the kitchen table—your purse, your tactical pack, your ropes—and lay your dry-cleaned hero suit over the back of a kitchen chair, and his hands were on you the next moment to guide you to your tacky, sunflower couch. Removing one crutch, he put your arm over his shoulder instead, one hand planted on your lower back above your bandages, and he eased you down onto the cushions.

Hawks then stepped over your legs to sit on your opposite side, and he brought your legs to rest in his lap, his hand gripping your non-casted leg. “Gotta keep it elevated, chickadee.”

You let yourself giggle. Time to get this shitshow started. “Thank you so much for helping me, Hawks; I know I’ve been a real hassle these past few days, and you shouldn’t have to deal with that sort of stress. You’re already under so much. I don’t understand how the commission would let you date anyone, let alone propose.”

“Oh, I know,” said Hawks, spreading himself out on the couch. He shifted himself to face you in addition to accommodate his wings—he was now positioned so that they’d drape over the arm of the couch instead of being squished against the back cushions. That bitch, he probably wasn’t used to couches that weren’t custom made to his special body requirements. Spoiled fuck.

“The commission was really pissed when they found out. Do you remember how, sweetness? Right, I’ll tell you,” said Hawks, running an ungloved hand through his hair before shaking it loose. “You remember up to the press conference with the faceplant. Short version is that you hated me for a good year before something clicked. You started acting awkward whenever I was around, avoiding me, and stuff. Sometimes getting red. I thought it was cute.”

You ducked your head. Flustered. He probably likes easily flustered women.

Wait. That’s not who you are. And he’d like you for who you are, if you’re engaged.

But at the same time, if you’re (gag) in love with him, wouldn’t you be flustered by some of the things he says?

Easy, baby. Take it as it comes. Pick your battles. Go with your gut.

And gut says make Hawks eat shit.

“You think I’m cute?”

“I know you’re cute.”

You’re going to stuff his own feathers down his throat.

“We got together at that dinner Endeavor’s agency sponsored. Do you remember that at all? That place with the purple lights. You’d gotten nervous from the crowd and had gone to take some of your anxiety meds. I caught you in the hall back from the bathroom and talked you down before going back out there.” He grinned sheepishly. “I’d like to say I’m the one who kissed you, but you took initiative before I had the guts.”

Funny. Hilarious, in fact. That was the night Hawks had solidified himself as the Biggest Dick in the World, because yeah, he’d caught you in the purple-lit hallway, but he’d caught you on the way to take your meds, not on the way back. You were talking yourself down from a panic attack and couldn’t argue him away, so he’d followed you into the bathroom, running his mouth and acting like it was an accident when the tip of his wing had knocked your two capsules down the sink.

He’d told you that if you’re a big girl, you’d be able to handle the rest of the night. Or you could leave at any time with him, and he’d make excuses that everyone would have to accept.

Honestly, you’d love to let his fake memory be true, because then, you’d be able to wear purple again without feeling queasy.

Cocking your head, you smiled. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do.”

Hawks let out a light laugh, craning his neck to rest his head on the back of the sofa. “That’s what you said that night, too. About how it felt out of character.”

“Was I good?”

Lifting his head, he raised an eyebrow at you: probably the first genuine emotion he’s shown you the whole time he’s been here. “Hm?”

“When I kissed you. Was it good,” you asked flatly.

“Oh,” Hawks said, his wings puffing out just barely, “Oh, sweetheart, you were amazing. Groundbreaking. Show-stopping.” His tongue flicked over his lower lip, and he shifted underneath your legs, leaning slightly towards you but holding eye contact before carrying on.

You shook your head. “I don’t have the energy to give you the makeout session you deserve,” you said, envisioning drowning him in the bathtub, “I’m exhausted. Forgive me.”

“Always,” said Hawks, “Want me to keep going?”

“You can hardly eat me out when we haven’t kissed yet.”

“I meant,” said Hawks, pausing to visibly swallow (was it real?), “about our relationship, but if you wanna eat—”

“Nah, keep going. So, I started the relationship? I must be crazy. Neither of us have fucking time to sleep, let alone be in a relationship.”

Hawks never shut up about how he was taking time out of his endlessly packed days to spend time with you, how time was precious to him, and if he’s spending time with you, why, then, you’d better pay up, bitch (always accompanied with his hands on his belt, subtly pointing his thumbs towards his cock).

Hawks shrugged with his wings instead of his shoulders. Interesting. Has he ever done that before? “The commission said that, but after I insisted we’d make time, they relented. Eventually,” said Hawks, jerking his head to the side, “Our quirks don’t exactly fit well, so we haven’t worked with each other professionally too often, and, of course, we’ve had to hide our relationship so that we can’t be a public weak spot to each other. Plus, we’re more marketable as eligible, young heroes.”

“Fuck the market,” you said, slumping into the pillows.

“There’s my girl,” said Hawks, grinning with his tongue caught between his teeth, “There’s her spark. I know, baby. I feel the same way, but being made into libidinous body pillows pays the bills, y’know?”

Nodding, you brought one of the couch pillows around for you to hug, and you smushed your chin into it. “Hawks,” you said, so quietly you almost couldn’t be heard over the A/C kicking on, “How long have we been engaged?”

“Four months,” he said, his grin unconsciously fading until he was essentially baring his teeth, “Since the twentieth.”

Taking a moment, you said, “I can’t remember anything at all.”

“That’s okay. It’ll come back.”

“No, I can’t—” You slid your hands through your hair, pulling at it, and you heaved a sigh. “Goddammit, Hawks. I wish I could—fuck. I’m missing something huge. I know I am.” Make him nervous. Make him lie awake at night. “I’m sorry, Hawks. It’s probably something really important, and I—”

“Shh, shh, shh, shh, it’s all right,” said Hawks, and he stood to lean over you, his hands rising to cup your face, and holy shit, his hands cover so much of your skin; is that legal? He’s got hands. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ve had a big day. Turn your brain off. I’ll take care of you.”

Red flag! Big, red flag! Creep! He’s a creep!

Your gaze fell to his jacket pockets. Does he carry date rape drugs on his person?

“Hawks, I don’t wanna inconvenience you any more than I have.”

“I’m your fiancé,” said Hawks, actually looking you straight in the eyes and not breaking, “I want to take care of you.”

“Sure, in the way the mob takes care of people.”

Hawks’s mouth opened slightly, and his eyes narrowed.

Cover it up. “I’m not sorry. I don’t trust your cooking. You’ll poison my spaghetti!” You made a dumb gesture, pinching your fingers together. “Have you seen The Godfather? There’s actually a pretty legit spaghetti recipe in it; it’s not too bad, but it’s kind of watery—”

Hawks brought your hand to his mouth to kiss your knuckles and let his lips linger. “Watch it with me?”

You shook your head. “I’m too tired. I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll join you.”

“No,” you said, “My bed’s not made with your wings in mind.” Fuck off to your own little sex next, Hawks. Get out of here. “If they got hurt, it’d be my fault. Go sleep in your own bed, all right?” Go home. Get mugged on the way.

Hawks sighed, blowing his hair out of his eyes. “If you insist. But you’ve gotta reach out to me for anything you have trouble with, yeah? Memories, opening jars, orgasms, you know.”

“I’m leaving,” you said, reaching for your crutches, “Ten minutes ago.”

***

“You didn’t tell me how you proposed.”

Hawks froze mid-bite of his ramen, but after a quick beat, he slurped the rest of the noodle up. “I was hoping you’d recall that on your own, baby. Get your own feelings about it, instead of me telling you how to feel.”

If you weren’t faking amnesia, you’d fucking break his nose for that. Bastard.

“I imagine once you tell me, the feelings will rush in,” you said, clicking your chopsticks twice for emphasis, “I want to remember everything, and if I don’t, well, I want to fall in love with you again.”

Hawks’s gaze glazed over for an infinitesimal moment. Score.

“It’ll sound goofy once I describe it.” With his wings cramped against the back of the booth, Hawks scratched the back of his neck—a classic move for pretending to be embarrassed. “I’m not exactly known for being romantic.”

Yeah, he’s known for fooling around with anyone who’s glittery, like a goddamn crow. If you’re paying attention.

“Aw, but Hawks, you’ve been nothing but so effortlessly romantic to me since I’ve been convalescing,” you said, rolling up the paper wrapper of your straw and soaking it in the ring your cup left on the table.

“Right, well. I flew us out to the countryside, to this overlook halfway up a mountain. You liked going rappelling there a lot. To practise for missions.” Hawks had some of your habits down, at least. Bet he gets the location wrong, though. “We watched the sunrise. We shared a thermos of tea. I asked you once the sun had risen, but you didn’t say yes right away,” said Hawks, “You jumped off the overlook without your gear, and I caught you. You were furious about it—you didn’t want me to see you overwhelmed. But you said yes.”

Ugh. That sounded about right. That sounded pretty realistic. Hawks was a fucking stalker.

“Fuck,” you said, burying your face in your hands, “That’s cute.” You stretched the skin of your cheeks before releasing, and you returned to your ramen. “Question: did we put the ring into storage, or something? I don’t have the little indent on my ring finger from wearing a ring too long, and I haven’t found anything at home.” Make him sweat. Make him stumble. Where’s the ring, Hawks?

With a flash of his eyebrows, Hawks maneuvered his straw to his mouth using only his lips, looking quite stupid, in your opinion. “Figured you’d ask that at some point. I’m so overjoyed to see you every time that I forget to bring it up. The ring’s been sent off to a high-level, government-backed, support company. I’ve pulled in a favour from the higher-ups. I wanted to turn your ring into something a little more personal and incorporate one of my feathers into it,” said Hawks, taking a moment to slurp his drink noisily, “Depending on how well it goes, I’d be able to help you if we’re separated and know where you are. At the very least—” Hawks ducked his head to give the illusion of staring up at you with wide eyes, his blond eyelashes light against his skin. “—I’d be able to feel your heartbeat. It would bring me great comfort.”

Great, so he’d have a GPS on you at all times, knowing whether or not you went somewhere he didn’t want you to. He’d be able to tell if you went somewhere your non-amnesia self would know about. Great. Phenomenal.

“Hawks, that’s very sweet,” you said, fiddling with the remnants of your straw wrapper, now fizzled out of its snake shape, “Wouldn’t the process hurt you, though? Since you can feel it.”

“Nothing more than a twinge, sweetheart,” said Hawks, holding up his hands, “And I’d bear any amount of pain for your sake.”

You fantasised about beating his head in with the back end of a rifle.

***

When you were told Hawks was waiting for you outside of the recording booth, you told the messenger that Hawks could wait until you were finished with five more takes. You could picture Hawks’s little pout at the news, his feathers bristling despite the closed space, and resigning himself to sit in one of those clangy, metal chairs out front, having to hunch forward so that he didn’t crush his wings.

The idol group adored the ingenuity of bone-crunching as percussion in a song, and along with that and some other combat foley, you were singing the bridge with the rapper of the group (the dance captain would sing your part for live shows). It’d be a good promo for the girl group and for you, and the song, “Spine,” was going to be released as a single as soon as it was polished.

Hawks perked up the moment you stepped through the secondary door to the booth, his eyes brightening and wings spreading to take up more space. “I didn’t think I’d catch you,” said Hawks, standing to take your hands (the cold leather gloves sucked the heat out of your hands), “I’ve got to fly, soon, but I wanted to tell you personally.”

“You’re not pregnant,” you said, fighting the urge to break his goggles/visor/hat thing.

His lopsided grin widened. “Not yet, baby. There’s gonna be a heroes’ gala held at the end of the month, and I wanted to let you know that I’m doing everything in my power to make it a positive experience for you. Here, I’ve got this woman’s phone number,” he said, fishing a slip of paper out of his jacket, “She’ll help accommodate the venue for your leg.”

Stupid fucking bastard man. He probably wanted to pick out your clothes himself, infantilise you and dress you up like a goddamn doll. Deny you your personhood. “I’ll be out of the cast by then.” You slid the paper into your back pocket.

“I know,” Hawks said in a way that was a fucking lie, “I just don’t want there to be any accidents. I can’t have my babygirl any more hurt than she is.” Hawks placed his cold, gloved hand against your cheek, and you, shutting your eyes, made yourself lean into it. “But contact her. She’ll make it the safest place it can be for you, even when I have to leave your side.”

God, galas were great. Big events for villains to ruin. You licked your lips thinking about using a new move you’ve learnt to take a villain down (involving clamping your legs around the villain’s neck to choke him as he crumpled to the floor—your combat coach had banned you from the move after you made her pass out). “Are we announcing our engagement, then? If we’re going together?”

“I’d love to,” said Hawks, “but only if you want to. The ring could be ready by then, if I ask them to rush it—”

“Let’s do it.” If you plunged the ring into icy water, would he start to shiver? Ooh, your ring’s going to act as a fucking bay leaf in your soups for a while.

“Oh,” said Hawks, sighing lightly with his eyes fluttering shut. He pressed his forehead to yours and rubbed his thumb over your cheek. “You have no idea how much that means to me, sweetheart. You are so dear to me, and I want everyone to know it. The best damn thing in my life. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, placing your hand on his face to push him away, “Don’t you have work to do, screw boy?”

***

“Did we have a date?” you asked from the edge of the bathtub.

Hawks dipped the razor in the water, washing off the hair and shaving cream. “We’ve gone on so many, darling; you’ll have to specify.”

“No, I meant for the wedding.” Let’s once again play: Can Hawks Cover His Own Ass?

Hawks dragged the razor down your freshly exfoliated, freshly-un-casted, freshly not-broken leg, starting at your knee. “Nope!”

“No explanation?”

“You wanna get married tomorrow? A six-month engagement is rather short, don’t you think?” His nose twitched. He’d said the scent of your shaving cream irritated his nose. Good.

“I don’t. Why didn’t we have a date for the wedding?” You eyed the actual and literal pile of your dead skin on the towel. Maybe you should make Hawks snort it.

“We were too busy working; you’d said you didn’t mind having a long engagement, so long as I was yours. Then, uh, you know. The accident,” Hawks said with a shrug—with his shoulders this time, because if he moved his wings while he was crouched in your bathtub, he’d soak them, and they were a bitch to dry, apparently. Suffer, you rat bastard.

“The commission isn’t involved in that decision?”

“I thought that was implied,” said Hawks, gripping your ankle to turn your calf to the side, “They don’t want it to be a huge spectacle, so even I don’t know how much of a wedding wedding they’d let us have.”

He’s too damn good at this. If he weren’t a pro-hero, he’d fit right along in a theatre troupe.

You’re going to wring his neck.

You caught him staring at the crotch of your underwear (bone-dry, you might add) while he shaved your thighs, and he spent more time rubbing lotion into your inner thighs than anywhere else. He tossed your dead skin before you could make him eat it, and he scooped you up against your protestations about your weight and capability, humming while he carried you to your bed.

The fucker tucked you in and rounded up your cat to place in your arms (your cat disagreed with him and promptly leapt off the bed).

“Let me stay with you,” said Hawks, kissing each of your fingertips. It’s an order.

Yet you shook your head.

***

“The doctors said you shouldn’t drink,” Hawks said under his breath, taking the champagne flute gently from your grasp.

“But I want to,” you said, sticking out your lower lip, “I’m wearing goddamn heels and a fucking dress. I’ve got on makeup, for Christ’s sake. I’ve done my time; let me drink.”

“Baby, you’ve got to stay safe,” he said, and he set the glass next to some 40s-level hero’s place at the long, white tablecloth. “There’s already press paying more attention to us than usual. You wanna make a fool of yourself?”

“Yes,” you said, lifting another champagne flute from a passing gala waiter, “Who gives a shit about the press.”

Hawks laughed too loudly to be natural before lowering his voice. “Baby, you are gonna be the death of me.”

“Promise?”

***

When “Spine” was released on a cool, spring morning to an excitable audience, you were lurking in alleyways by the docks, searching for a fight. When the music video dropped, you were smashing some guy’s face into a concrete wall. While more and more citizens recognised you and your talent, your work for the community, your connections, your popularity—with your rank steadily rising—you were rappelling down a port sewer to pummel a slime villain into dust.

You wiped his blood off on your pants, hands devoid of anything that could taint. You’d left the ring at home.

***

“You tricked me,” you said, scowling as Hawks pushed you forward, “This isn’t the rock climbing park.”

Once you deliberately smashed your face into the glass door and crossed your arms, Hawks held the door open for you. “Would you have dressed up so nicely for rock climbing?”

“A meta-game challenge,” you said, “to rock-climb in a long skirt.”

You glowered about the restaurant while you and Hawks stood in the lobby, his hand low on your back, suspiciously respectfully. You made no effort to hide your distaste: it was the place with the purple lights.

Over there at the absurdly long bar, Endeavor had drunk flat whisky without so much of a growl at anyone, despite it being his event. Hexagonal tables with lilac tablecloths dotted the floor—you’d hidden in one of the few booths, up against the exposed brick wall—but your hiding place had been ruined once a violet disco ball had emerged from the ceiling. Shiny, wooden floor that had reflected your post-panic attack face right back at you and let every shoe strike it with a clatter. No silence allowed.

The whole restaurant had lavender LED lights running around the walls, swathing the place in a distorted sort of purple haze, and any candles lit on the centre tables had indigo flames—you’d focused on how those might have been made in the process of coming down from your panic attack.

God. You’re going to throw up.

The hostess escorted you and Hawks to a farther back room, this one with booths separated by small, brick walls that didn’t reach the ceiling yet concealed the booths’ occupants from each other—unless you were passing directly in front of one.

Hawks made you sit in the booth first, trapping you in as he settled. He had to be on the edge, anyway, he told you, because of his wings. You’re going to rip them off and boil them in the soup.

The two of you ordered. You don’t remember what. You can only channel so much of your nerves into jostling your leg. This is not cool. This place is not cool. You need to get out.

“Hey, let me through,” you said, nudging Hawks, “Bathroom.”

Once there, you lightly slapped your cheeks a couple of times, trying to ground yourself through physical sensation. No use. Can’t they fucking use normal lights in this place?

You didn’t have your panic meds, because you’ve never needed them rock climbing. You can do it. You’re fine. You’re fine. Your tongue is too big for your mouth.

You took your time meandering back to the booth, coming to a halt at the end of the narrow hallway and ducking behind the corner.

Endeavor stood by your booth, his arms crossed over a flaming chest. You caught your breath at the sight of his orange fire, a comforting contrast to all the damn purple, but still—Endeavor. Talking to your (gag) fiancé.

Without the courage to interact with Endeavor, you listened at the corner for his departure.

“Nah, she can handle her bladder just fine. It’s her nerves,” Hawks was saying, hidden by the bricks, “She likes hiding. She doesn’t necessarily like being in the spotlight.”

“Yet she hasn’t completely withdrawn as Eraserhead has. You’ve picked a strange one to marry.”

From the angle Endeavor glared at him, Hawks must be slumping in his seat. “But that’s what so great about her. And it’s hard to process, y’know, like, she’s finally mine. You follow?”

“Regrettably,” said Endeavor, “Regardless, I offer my congratulations that your courtship finally worked out in your favour. You should have told me sooner.”

Courtship. That’s a funny way to pronounce bullying.

“Eh, I’ve gotta have some secrets, don’t I? Can’t betray my otherwise cool exterior.” Hawks laughed. “I can’t believe I’ve been allowed such happiness. The woman I’ve loved for years is gonna be waking up to me every day soon, y’know?”

Hawks has got to know you can hear him, otherwise he wouldn’t be saying those things. Endeavor must be in on Hawks’s ruse, since Endeavor is Hawks’s closest—actually, Endeavor isn’t the type to revel in romantic shit. Endeavor straight-up isn’t the type to revel. To the best of your knowledge, Endeavor doesn’t genuinely like Hawks as so much as tolerates him; when did they get so close? It must have taken a long time—

Time.

You could feel your IQ dropping as you actually considered: had you been in a legitimate coma? Had you (fuck) genuinely had amnesia?

No, no. You don’t live in Crazytown. Your eyebrows hadn’t been overgrown when you’d woken up in the hospital. You’d only been there a day.

Of course, Hawks is a vain piece of shit and does his own eyebrows, so he might have considered that yours were a piece of pride/insecurity for you and may have done them while you were—did Hawks do his own eyebrows? That spoiled fuck probably had someone else to do them for him. If they were naturally like that, you were going to throttle his ass.

You didn’t fucking have amnesia. Hawks is and always has been a stupid, clammy birdbrain. He’s always been cruel to you. He didn’t fucking like you.

He sure as hell wasn’t in fucking love with you.

Oh, my fuck, what if your memories of Hawks have been fabricated by a coma-addled mind and that—

“Hey, there,” said—said someone, some pale-ass, sleep-deprived freak who startled you out of your head, “Are you all right? You look—I mean, do you need some water? A chair?”

You blinked, yet he wouldn’t come into focus—you were taking in details about him, ones that didn’t fucking matter (chain on his wallet, three rings all on the left hand, a button-down missing the last button, a cloud of axe body spray), but he didn’t register as a human person. He couldn’t; you hadn’t grounded yourself yet. You yourself still had a frazzled, cartoon scribble buzzing inside of your chest, and until you vomited it up, a panic attack may yet still happen.

You can’t deal with anyone new right now.

A spark of recognition crossed the new guy’s face, and he, through a smirk, asked if you were your hero name.

Oh god oh fuck not now

“Sweetheart,” came Hawks’s melodious drawl (registering first his voice, then bodily warmth, then the wingtip covering your ass), “You were taking so long that I came to check on you.” He pulled you by the waist towards him, blocking the guy from seeing your face by pressing it into his chest. “Who’s this?”

Who cares. All you could focus on (sharp and overwhelming, nothing else but) was how fucking incredible Hawks smelled, and at this point, you’d use anything to bring yourself back down to earth. A small voice in the back of your head told you that freaking out to this degree in this particular situation was leaning towards pathetic, since basically nothing happened, besides being in an uncomfortable environment and being accosted by a fan at the wrong time, but you? You did not control the rate at which your brain panicked.

And really, no rhyme or reason played into why your grabby little hands itched for human contact once safe in the booth again, why Hawks’s scent lay on your tongue more heavily than your soup, why the overwhelming sensation of being so fucking spaced out of it threw its entire weight upon your shoulders—you couldn’t find yourself. You were lost.

And in this horrible, purple place, the only thing that’s familiar was Hawks.

When you scooted as closely as you could to him in the booth, keeping your glare towards your lap while you looped your arm under his to snuggle into it, Hawks cleared his throat to say, “What’s this?”

You scowled into his jacket, both hands gripping his forearm.

He set his chopsticks down. “How can I help, darling?”

Growling, you bonked your forehead against his shoulder, dragging your hands down to his.

“Hey,” said Hawks, and he guided your face towards his and stroked your cheek with his thumb, “Did that guy bother you too much before I got there?”

Turning your mouth towards the hand cupping your cheek, you kissed his palm, bit the leather, and kissed it again before burying yourself in his shoulder again.

He rested his hand on the crown of your head. “What’s the matter? Can you tell me?”

“Not sure I can put it into words,” you said, “I think I wanna go home.” You bit the fabric of his jacket and gnashed it between your teeth.

“I can handle that,” said Hawks, “Gimme a moment to get takeaway boxes, yeah? Then we’ll leave, and you’ll be safe. Don’t worry.”

Unfortunately, you were still clutching onto his arm by the time he unlocked his darkened penthouse (because you’re not gonna hold his hand. God), but you slapped his hand away from the light switches.

“Turning them on would be too much stimulation,” you said, “Please don’t.”

Hawks hummed against the top of your head, placing keys and both of your phones on the kitchen counter. “Bed or couch?”

“Window,” you said.

“Window?”

“I’m assuming you’ve got one.”

“I do,” said Hawks, guiding you through his dark apartment, probably past scarily expensive, posh shit. He led you to what was most likely his living room, with the cool, dim light of the night sky through a vast, single-frame, wall-to-floor window illuminating furniture custom built for his wings, but he eased you down onto the carpet, tugging your shirt upwards so that the window would be touching your bare skin on the small of your back.

Hawks yanked his boots off, late, instead of at the door, and he tossed them over his shoulder. He took yours off, too, and once he’d set them aside, he sat next to you against the window, a hand on your thigh.

“Better?”

“Probably,” you said, staring at the triangle of light beige carpet between your crossed legs.

“Need me to talk? You need to talk?”

“Not right now.”

Hawks was a dumbass. He’s such a fucking dumbass. But he’s a dumbass who’s here right now, and he’s interested (?) in you, interested in helping you. And good golly, you have to be touched. Hawks’s offering warmth, freely, potentially lovingly, and all you had to do was reach out to take it, even if you didn’t reciprocate whatever sentiment was motivating him yourself.

Do you really want to take what you have no feelings for?

Hawks lies a lot to Endeavor. To everyone. He might not have been lying earlier. What reason had he to lie?

Guess it didn’t matter, because you were lying.

But good God, you haven’t been kissed in a long time. Haven’t felt safe or loved. You could…you could indulge for a few hours in order to calm down. You could pretend.

The last ten months had proved that.

“Hey,” you said idly, reaching out to grab the inner fleece lining of his jacket to rub it between your fingers, “Hawks, I’m gonna—I’m gonna put my mouth on your mouth. Okay?”

Hawks’s wings ruffled and constricted themselves so that he could move closer to you, and his hand has migrated from your thigh to grip your hip—how could anyone’s hands encompass that much of you? Your fucking hands couldn’t, not in the way his does.

(Bird man big and safe.)

([No, fuck you, don’t think that.])

(BIRD MAN SAFE—)

Shoved is how you’d describe the first few seconds of the kiss, followed closely by wet and you’d think his teeth would be sharper. Your lips didn’t line up with his completely until he adjusted your chin with two of his fingers, guiding it open just barely, as well, so that his tongue could graze your teeth—it took you a moment of processing before parting them, with a final don’t think! shouted to your neocortex.

Birds have a higher body temperature than other animals, on average having a body temperature of 105 degrees Fahrenheit (40 degrees Celsius). The colour of their feathers, of course, affects how much light and heat they absorb, with the lighter coloured feathers—say, red—reflecting more, rejecting outside heat sources.

Yet Hawks gripped you like he’d fucking freeze if he weren’t clutching you, if he weren’t straddling your legs, one palm flat against the cool of the window by your head. The other snaked around you, his forearm lying almost vertically up your back to press down between your shoulder blades, keeping you as near to his chest (he probably didn’t realise it, but his fingers ran across the curve of your shoulder blades where his wings were on his own body.

For some reason, the thought crossed your mind that you weren’t enough for him, because you were too dissimilar.)

Don’t think!

When he massaged your tongue with his, applying pressure sporadically, you returned the action—have you ever seen a bird tongue up close? They’re fucking nasty little things, looking more like a grub than anything else. Thank God Hawks had a normal, human tongue that performed particularly delightful, normal things, like drag across the roof of your mouth and aid in sucking phenomenal hickeys onto your jawline, licking over where he’s bitten and kissed.

Stop thinking about bird anatomy. Hawks has no discernible bird traits except for his fucking wings. He’s not a fucking bird man. He’s just some dude with wings. And not all birds have functional wings; for example, the ostrich and the penguin do not have wings to be used in flight—

Oh, my fuck. Turn your brain off.

Your stomach lurched. That had been something Hawks had told you too often, back before your accident.

It’s what he wants.

Hawks fucking whimpered when you pulled the shorter hairs at the back of his neck, prying him away from your skin with great difficulty—he kept trying to touch you with his mouth and tongue in the process.

“Let me have more,” he said, panting, his breath heavy and just below your ear, “Please.” He pressed his lips to the spot in front of your ear in a weak kiss, having spent himself for the most part. “I’ve missed you so much, baby. I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me for so long.”

“I don’t—” You fake-stuttered, but it turned out you needed the time to put your thoughts into words. “I don’t think I’m back yet. I’m,” you said, taking as deep a breath as you could with Hawks smushed against your chest, “Something’s missing. Something big.” That’s right. Steer it back in his direction. Make the bird man sweat. “I don’t—something doesn’t feel right.”

It took a moment, but Hawks nodded fervently, shutting his eyes. “Of course. Yeah. Yeah, I get it, sweetheart. Can’t do anything when your heart’s not in it.”

Your heart’s not the problem. “Thank you for being so understanding, Hawks,” you said, untangling yourself from underneath him, “Would you just, uh, hold me for a while?”

His wings wrapped around the both of you on his enormous bed, still fluttering with each slow breath he took. Hawks almost looked genuine while he slept, and probably for the best—at least he was getting rest; at least his guard might be down.

You couldn’t sleep. Your mind was racing.

***

“Rank speculation is out,” you said, scrubbing the pumice stone over a patch of dry skin on Hawks’s back and scrolling through the twitter with your other hand, “Take a look.”

He opened the link you sent once he’d safely removed a dead feather that had been lodged in an odd spot in a wing. “Huh. Think I could truly take on Endeavor?”

“Well, he’s got that abusive-to-his-family thing, while you’re rocking the preparing-for-my-wedding look, and he can’t network non-aggressively to save his life.”

“Nor can you.” Hawks shot you a smirk over his shoulder.

“Zoom in on my speculated nine, baby,” you said, flicking away some dead skin with a satisfied/disgusted sneer, “And I didn’t have to sleep my way there.”

“Ah, ha, ha,” said Hawks, “Knew you could do it. Whoever’s told you that is gonna have to deal with my foot up their ass. You’re more than capable of getting there on your own.”

“Which I did. I have.” Wait. Hawks told you that. No, it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s a commonly said, misogynistic comment towards women heroes. Hawks isn’t special. “But having your foot up someone’s ass wouldn’t be good for PR, unless you wanted to advertise that you’re a kinky son of a bitch who’s cheating on his fiancée.”

“I would never,” said Hawks, and, contorting his arm, he grabbed your hand with the pumice stone to kiss the back of it, “But my PR is solid, regardless.”

“If the public knew how much time you had to spend preening these fucking wings, they’d probably appreciate you more. Or call you conceited.”

Hawks hummed. “It’s a necessary evil,” he said, returning to his wingtip to search for dead feathers. “Thank you for helping.”

“No problem. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t get to see how—Hawks, holy fuck. Do you feel that?” You ran a finger near the base of a wing.

“It’s your finger?”

“No, this,” you said, tapping the spot.

“No?”

“My God. It’s a dilated pore of a winer,” you said, already reaching for the tweezers, “Right at the base of your wing. It’s basically an enormous fucking blackhead. I’m popping it. Oh, my God. I’ve never seen one in real life.”

“You’re popping it?”

“You didn’t have a problem with my getting the ones where your costume sits.”

“No,” said Hawks, rolling back his shoulders, his wings spreading with them, “Gotcha. Get on with it.”

“Can I film it?”

“What? No,” said Hawks, “No one can see me preening, let alone dealing with acne.”

“There’s sure to be another hero out there with a wing quirk, right? I don’t know how you can’t feel it.”

“Yeah,” Hawks said slowly, “Since my feathers can feel—I suppose where the wings merge with my skin is pretty numb. I haven’t ever had to think about it.” He licked his lips. “Funny.”

He continued to scroll through his feed and tend to his feathers while you worked at his back. “Bad news: the tabloids got a hold of our grocery list from the last time we went to the shops. I must have dropped it at some point in the store.”

“Oh, so do they know what kind of ice cream we prefer? The horror.”

“No, but they’ve brought in some hack handwriting analyst. Talking about our annotations for each other on the list. Something about how you’re logical and I’m a romantic. The writer of the article is practically swooning.” Hawks pulled out a clot of feathers with his teeth and spat them aside. “With good reason, though. The trashy pictures they snapped of us are hot.”

“Describe them to me.”

“I can show you—”

“No,” you said, concentrating on your work, “I don’t want the image imprinted on my brain. Describe them in your own words.”

“All right,” said Hawks, crossing his legs and placing his phone on the coffee table in front of him, “To start, the flash is on.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah. We’ve got that distantly surprised look going on. It looks like we’re near the eggs and cheese. You’re not looking at the camera, but I believe it’s in the moment I caught it.” Hawks flicked away a feather and let it fall to the carpet. “My hand’s on your waist. The other’s on the cart. You’ve scrunched your face up in concentration; it’s really cute.”

“Aw, we should get it framed,” you said, wiping away the gunk with a tissue and wadding it up so that no one will ever have to see or touch it ever again.

“Never,” said Hawks, “The first picture of us I wanna get framed should be on our wedding day.”

“It’s coming along quickly,” you said, setting aside the tweezers, “Bit more quickly than I’d thought it would.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait,” said Hawks with a light laugh, and you ducked to rest your head against his shoulder, straining your neck to reach him over his wing.

Hawks clicked his non-nasty, non-bird tongue. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Sighing, you said, “Turn your head this way.”

He did you one better, since he anticipated your plan. He twisted around, keeping his legs crossed as he pulled you into his lap. His wings initially bristled but wrapped around you when his arms did, and Hawks kissed your cheek, once, twice, until he arrived at your mouth, where he barely grazed your lips, rather letting his hot breath spread over your face—and he grinned up at you with half-lidded eyes (he’d left off his eyeliner today, but the natural marks below his waterline kept his eyes sharp, anyway).

“Kiss me, you fucking idiot,” you said, overriding whatever he was about to do by kissing him yourself, hard and open-mouthed, almost violent in its fervent. Yet Hawks held you lightly, delicately, but still close enough to freeze.

You ran your cold, cold hands over his bare abdomen, pressing your thumb down with considerable force to trace his muscles (he grunted at that, and that’s it; that’s right—make him squirm; make him sweat; make him yours). His finger only toyed with the hem of his shirt that you were wearing, as if waiting for you, which didn’t line up with what you had garnered about Hawks at all, but c’mon, man, come on; didn’t you want this all those months ago? Almost a year, now? Years, if what he said to Endeavor is true? But when he flinched away with a shaky breath once your cold fingers circled his nipple, you knew this was where you were supposed to be: right here, in Hawks’s lap, completely destroying him with hardly anything at all. Nothing but light touches and a strategic flick of your tongue. Idiot man. He must really like you if this is doing it for him.

You slowed and opened your eyes at that thought, frowning, and you pulled away. With the back of his hand, Hawks wiped saliva off of both of your mouths, yours first.

He waited for you.

“If you can’t take all of me, then what’s the point?”

He tilted his head. “I’ll take whatever part of you you’re willing to share.”

“I’m missing something.”

“I know.”

“I want to find it before we get married.” You laid your palm flat on his chest, and he grinned at the cold.

“You can find it,” he said, “I know you can.”

“I don’t know what I’m blocking out,” you said, lying—or maybe you weren’t? Fuck it. “Whatever I’m repressing is really fucking with me.”

“Take your time,” said Hawks, running his tongue over his lower lip. “I’m here for—”

“Hawks,” you said, faking the light of realisation in your eyes, accompanied with a sharp inhale, “I can’t remember your name.”

Hawks’s mouth snapped shut.

“You told me once. I know you did,” you said, moving to cup his cheek after tapping the mark underneath his eye, “but the memory—there’s a blur where you spoke. I—” You cut yourself off, biting your lip. “That, that might be it. I don’t know. Everything else about the scene is in perfect detail. I remember what fucking socks I was wearing, for Christ’s sake. But you. What you said. Maybe it’s something so personal, so intimate, that I’ve repressed it. Maybe it was too much for me to handle.” You cupped his face with both hands now, forcing him to look at you. If you hadn’t been scrutinising him for some evidence of breaking character, you wouldn’t’ve seen the minute quivering of his upper lip. Hardly there, but it was there. “It’s a part of you that I want. Even if I couldn’t handle it before, I want to try now.”

Hawks averted his gaze, even though he couldn’t move his head. And bang, you’ve got him. Hawks’s name was still strictly secret, hidden by the commission, but if he’s genuinely in this dumbass situation for the long haul, if he’s truly in it for you, then he would have told you. Even if he wanted you to continue to call him Hawks, your own fiancé would have told you his damn name.

So, this is it. The way out.

Hawks was going to feel so stupid when he found out you’ve been faking all this time. Good. Let each feather burn.

“Keigo,” he said, staring into your eyes with a newfound determination, “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Oh, shit—you clapped a hand over your heart, your eyes widening. Maybe you could play this off as memory recovery instead of absolute shock? But you hadn’t any memories to recover, probably. Holy fuck.

Where do you go from here?

You tried to say his name but ended up simply mouthing it, and after clearing your throat and coughing a bit, you managed to say it aloud. “Keigo,” you said softly, reaching for his hand, “Keigo, I fucking love you.”

You’d only been kissing him for a few moments before his wings shuddered in a muscle spasm and flung you off to the side.

***

Only a commission higher-up witnessed your wedding. She stood silently to the side the entire ceremony in the courthouse and only shook Hawks’s hand afterwards.

You and your cat essentially moved into his penthouse and adjusted. Your mostly empty apartment stayed leased under your name.

Sometimes, you’d note that you turned your brain off and instantly be hit with a lightning strike of self-loathing—but you didn’t have to consciously decide to be affectionate with Hawks. Being with him came naturally and easily. Probably for the best, since if you had to think about it, you’d screw it up.

You stayed together. Supported each other. Sneaked out to see the other on patrol. Took care, listened to each other. Defended each other. Worked it out.

And now, you stared up at the ceiling fan whirling in your darkened bedroom, Keigo lying on his stomach next to you in the bed as he slept. Your cat catloafed between his wings and nestled into them, rising and falling with each breath he took. Hawks was perfect, always saving the day, working up a routine to mesh with your fighting style and quirk, always charming and easygoing with the people he rescued, indulging you in your ferocity, and Keigo, Keigo whispered sweet and dirty things into your ear when he spotted you in public, made you laugh, worked wonders with his cock, helped you clean up before he even thought of preening himself, held you, and made you feel held. He’s got it bad.

And maybe you do, too.

Hawks was going to feel so stupid when he found out.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Hayloft (p.2)

Pairing: Arvin Russell x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad brings home his new coworker, Arvin Russell, telling you that he’ll be living with the two of you for a while. While attempting to keep Arvin from seeing the disfunction of your relationship with your father, the two of you grow closer than you thought. (Inspired by “Hayloft” by Mother Mother, though that’ll really only be one chapter later on so I don’t know if it really counts…)

Warnings: Abuse, drunkenness, misogyny, reader’s mother is dead, decapitating a chicken, reader is kind of emotional in this chapter

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: My first slow(er) burn fic! Let me know what you think!

Part 1 

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Work had passed fairly quickly as it always did when you had the opening shift. It sure sucked having to arrive at five o’clock in the morning but at least you got off earlier and you knew that that way you could grab groceries before your father got home and could yell at you about an empty kitchen again. By two o’clock in the afternoon, you were home again, hopping out of your truck and grabbing as many bags as you could in one go. 

The loud sound of metal slamming against metal shook you and you flinched, looking between your door and the frame to see Arvin walking out towards you. It hadn’t occurred to you that his car was even in your driveway. After so many years of having busted broken down old cars sitting there that your dad had been swearing he’d fix for almost ten years, cars in the driveway seemed normal. “Let me give you a hand,” he offered as he got closer, lifting the canvas bags from your hands before you could object. 

“Oh!” You exclaimed as you felt the weight suddenly taken off your own arms, “Thank you.” You dove back into the truck to grab the last two bags before slamming it shut with your hips. The two of you began your stroll towards the front door, the dirt driveway kicking up around your feet. “You’re back early.” You noted, looking over at Arvin. 

He shrugged, “Yeah, uh, Wallace had me on the early shift today.” 

You fumbled with the bags as you tried to unlock the door, kicking it open with your toes when it finally gave in. You walked into your home and Arvin followed, closing the door behind him. “Been here long? I didn’t see you in the driveway.” 

“Not too long. I just didn’t want to let myself into your home without nobody there.” Arvin set the bags on the counter next to where you set yours. 

You began to unpack the bags and put the groceries in the respective places. Arvin watched off to the side, unsure of how your kitchen was organized so he was worried he’d do more than good if he stepped in. “My daddy got the late shift?” 

Arvin shook his head, noticing that his beat up old hat was still on his head despite being indoors and took it off immediately, his tousled brown curls parting messily down the middle. “No, we went in at the same time. He ‘n some buddies said they was goin’ to some bar in town.” 

He watched your shoulders fall a little and you sighed, “Figures…. You didn’t go?” 

Again, Arvin shook his head, “No. No offense to your daddy but I don’t like to drink the way I get the feelin’ he does.” 

You snorted, turning to him with a knowing chuckle, “Let’s just say that I’m sorry in advance for whatever he says or does when he gets home, if he gets home. Sheriff Pike might end up callin’ in the mornin’ tellin’ us to pick him up.” Though it was stated as a joke, Arvin could hear the tragic reality behind your words. 

Arvin then noticed the pack of beer bottles that you were pulling out of the bag. As if you could feel his eyes looking at you with worried curiosity, you glanced over at him, noticing the way his eyes flicked between you and the beer in your hands. You offered a sad shrug, “I know what you’re thinkin’ but trust me. Sometimes it’s better to have him drunk and possibly content than sober and angry there’s nothing to drink. Besides, the beer is better than the hard stuff with ‘im.” 

“‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to be makin’ faces. Your business is your business,” Arvin backpedalled, giving you an apologetic nod. 

You shook your head, “Don’t worry. I know how it looks. I’m sorry you gotta see all of it. I been tryin’ to keep to keep him calm but if you end up stayin’ a while, I’m sure you’ll get to see him at his worse times.” 

Arvin chewed his lip as he contemplated whether or not to bring up what had been going through his mind but he had to make sure you were alright. “I-I heard you ‘n your dad talkin’ last night… right after you left my room.” 

Your face fell as you realized what he was talking about, “You weren’t s’posed to hear that. I’m sorry.” Shit, this was what you were hoping to avoid. 

“Are you alright?” 

Gentle. Caring. His tone was something that had been long lost to you in this house and it took the words out of your mouth for a moment. It was embarrassing, the way your heart welled up with… well love wasn’t quite the right word but the warmth of being cared about. Not since after your mother had passed had you heard somebody actually care about how you felt. 

You just nodded and gave a forced smile that you could tell was easy to see through but it was the best you could muster. For someone who was able to take so much shit from their father and was able to look the man who would throw things at you and grab you by the hair dead in the eye with nothing but contempt, it was compassion that made you crumble. It had been so unexpected, especially from Arvin, the stranger living in your house. 

“Shit, ‘m sorry! I didn’t mean to - I didn’t mean to overstep. I only…” He stammered over his words and at first you were confused until you felt the single hot tear tracing its way down your cheek. 

You were quick to wipe it away, shocked at your own uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. You hadn’t realized until now that you had zoned out on the ground while Arvin’s words repeated in your head but now a flash of embarrassment ran through you. “No, no, no. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You sniffled once before giving a small laugh of disbelief. “It’s just… It’s been a long time since anybody asked that.” 

You straightened up and ran your hands through your hair, eyes closed as you thought of what else you needed to do. Thankfully, if your dad was at the bar, you had at least another four hours to just you and Arvin, all night if you were lucky, though you seldom were. That was when the feeling of dread set in. Your dad had requested chicken roast for dinner tonight and whether he came home early and only a few beers in or you had to drive him home hungover in the morning, the man would be furious if there weren’t at least reheated leftovers for him. You had to kill Patty and prep her for dinner. 

“You okay?” Arvin asked again, though this time it was in reference to the way a heavy look fell over your features. It wasn’t a profound deep question like it was earlier. 

Your head wavered from side to side and your lips twisted, “My daddy asked for chicken roast tonight. I gotta go out and fix Patty up.” You tried to put it lightly though it felt anything but. “I’ll be out in the coop. You’re more than welcome to clean up in the shower or do whatever you’d like ‘round the house. The radio is in the livin’ room if you wanna tune into somethin’.” 

You pushed yourself off the counter and walked to the door in your kitchen that led out to the backyard but Arvin made a few steps to follow, “Is it alright if I keep you company? It don’t feel right bein’ in your house without you or your daddy here.” 

You smiled at the thought of him staying with you and you nodded, continuing out the door, “Sure, c’mon.” 

The hen house wasn’t very far from the back door. From there, you could see the several acres of land that your father was wasting. Your grandparents had bought this land in the late 1910’s and had started up a little farm of their own to sell locally, though your father had abandoned the farming portion after they died. It was where your daddy had grown up and then where you had as well. God, how you missed your grandparents. Your grandmother’s soft words of love and kindness but sternness and willingness to swat your butt with a wooden spoon if you got an attitude (though she would yell at your father if he ever tried to discipline you - “Now you leave that poor baby alone!”). Your grandfather had looked like a rough and angry old man from years of hard work but he had the softest heart of anyone you’d ever met. How the two of them had raised your father was beyond you. 

When you approached the wired fence and jiggled the lock open, the chickens inside stood surprisingly still. They trusted you. You could see it in their little brown eyes. You were safe and warm and didn’t want to harm them. You came in for the unfertilized eggs they laid and left, oftentimes with some seed and a soft pat or two on the head. Patty, a fat white hen with black specks, walked comfortably around your feet, nuzzling her head against your leg. She was the nicest hen you’d ever had. She trusted you. 

God, you were about to cry again. You bent down to pick her up and you held her against your chest, trying to look her in the eye, though it was difficult when she kept jerking it in different directions. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” you murmured low. Usually it was your father that would slaughter the hens if he really wanted the meat that badly. You had never done it yourself but he’d made you watch every time so that you knew how if the time ever came. Each time it made you sick to your stomach. 

Already, you felt green. The unassuming hen that you had been friendly enough to for her not flip out when you held her was none the wiser that her life was about to end by your hand. You glanced over to the large wood round just ahead and the axe that was leaned up against it. 

Your face contorted as you realized how much you disliked the placement. The way your father would slaughter chickens right in front of their friends made your heart break. It was barbaric. 

You walked over to Arvin and held Patty out towards him, “Would you mind holdin’ onto her for a second?” 

Though visibly confused, he took the chicken from your hands, drawing back when her wings fluttered out at the contact with the new strange man. Arvin watched as you walked towards the large round and tried to push it with all your might. “What’re you doin’?” 

“I’m-” you grunted, feeling it slide slowly, inch by inch, “trying to move it where the other chickens can’t see.” You took another moment to use all your force against it before standing up straight and breathing heavily, “I know it sounds dumb cause they’re only chickens but it feels cruel to make ‘em watch, y’know?” You went back to pushing the round and Arvin approached behind you. 

From here he could see the blood stains in the wood. It looked as if the blood had been washed off but the wood had been stained crimson regardless. There was also a divot where an axe had clearly been driven down many times over the years, chipping away at the wood. 

Arvin’s heart actually warmed a little at your attempt to show mercy and your willingness to go out of your way to spare some chickens’ feelings. It wasn’t something he was sure he’d do himself but when he heard you say it, he realized you had a point. It was cruel to imprison a bunch of animals and then lead them out one by one to be slaughtered in front of everyone, each animal waiting their turn. “Here, take ‘er back. Let me.” Arvin stepped in, handing Patty back over to you and bending down to lift the round onto its side with much effort. The wood had to weigh at least a hundred pounds and had long since settled into the ground where it had been placed when you were a child.

Your eyes widened as you watched his biceps bulge, straining the material of his blue t-shirt. You’d never seen a man with muscles like that before and you found your eyes trailing along his arms, following every popping vein from the tops of his hands, up his forearms, and onto his biceps until they disappeared beneath his shirt. It was something you hadn’t expected to see in him. Arvin looked like a quiet, polite, hardworking young man but you never would have imagined the immaculate muscles he possessed. You found your mind wandering to what other surprises laid in store beneath all those layers he wo- 

You needed to calm yourself down. If only he could hear your thoughts, he surely would be furious and disgusted with you. You hadn’t had such impure thoughts since that one time you had been messing around with Jimmy Bates in the backseat of his old car back in your senior year of high school. The two of you didn’t even go all the way but you went far enough and the guilt ate you alive since the two of you were never officially together anyways. He was just the cute boy from high school that you had pined over years that had finally given you the chance right before he shipped off to join the war. 

“This alright?” Arvin asked, shaking you from your fantasy, and you snapped back into reality to realize he had rolled the wood round around the side of the coop behind the wooden wall, outside of the other chickens’ views. 

You nodded and walked over to him, “That’s perfect. Thank you so much for doin’ that. I know it’s sorta stupid.” 

Arvin shook his head, putting his hands on his hips, “If it means somethin’ to you, it ain’t stupid at all. Besides, now that you pointed it out, it was a little barbaric.” 

You smiled up at him, one which he returned. How was this boy so damn nice? Was this some cosmic way of the universe finally giving you something good in your life? You’d become so calloused to your father’s harsh words and barked commands that you had forgotten how nice it was to feel cared about and validated. And you barely knew him. 

“‘M glad you think so.” You looked down at Patty in your arms and any good feelings you’d had melted to sadness and fear. “You been a good girl, Patty. I know you struggled with layin’ eggs for a while but you were always a good girl. Never bit me once unlike some of them other hens.” You weren’t often very soft and vulnerable but you were about to take something’s life for the first time and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of that on your heart. If this were a life or death situation, you would feel better about it, but it wasn’t. The only reason Patty had to die was because your father would throw a fit if she didn’t. 

You carried her to the log and gave her a little kiss on the top of the head, “Please don’t hate me but I understand if you do. Say hi to my momma for me, will you? Tell her I love and miss her.” You set her down and got her in the position you always saw your dad put the other chickens in before he chopped their heads off. Arvin handed you the axe with uncertainty but watched on as you struggled to bring yourself to finish the deed. 

You held her down and you could tell by the way she was flailing that she was panicking now. Patty was well aware of what was happening. “I’m sorry!” You choked, tears welling up in your eyes as her panic began to turn into your own panic. How did people do this? Why was this so freaking difficult? 

Tossing the axe slightly in your hand, you readjusted the handle and just as you went to swing, Arvin piped up, “I can do it.” 

You looked over at him, the afternoon sun reflecting the tears in your eyes and making the color of your irises stand out in tragic beauty. “I-I- Would you really not mind?” You breathed out in relief. 

Arvin stepped forward and you handed the axe out to him, “I don’t mind.” You held onto Patty until Arvin could position her just right as well. He had no idea what he was doing - he’d never had to slaughter a chicken before. He had heard that all you had to do was cut their head off though and then he’d heard the rumors of them running around like crazy even after their head hit the ground. How hard could it be? 

Once he had the hen pinned down where he wanted her, he looked up to see you chewing on your thumb, brows knitted in discomfort. It wasn’t the first chicken you’d watched get slaughtered but it was far from something you enjoyed observing. Arvin signaled to you with a nod before raising the axe above his head and you shut your eyes tight, flinching at the sound of the old metal head thudding into the old wood. 

**

You had the carcass sitting in the sink while you pulled off the blood soaked feathers, depositing them into the trash bin by the handful. This part was easier for you, something you’d done many times in the past. “Thank you for doin’ that. I’m sorry I’m such a baby.” 

Arvin sat at the kitchen table behind you, “You ain’t a baby just cause you don’t like to kill things. I’d say it’s probably rather normal.” 

The time was inching closer to four o’clock now and the sun was beginning to hang ever so slightly lower in the sky, the precursor to sunset. It was warm outside and a cool spring breeze blew in through the open window above the sink. You snickered as you pulled another handful of feathers out, “Yeah? That mean you ain’t normal?” You looked over at him with a playful glint in your eye but your smile fell when you saw an uncomfortable look cross his face, almost like he’d seen a ghost. 

“I ain’t never said I liked killin’ either.” Arvin attempted to match your joking tone but it was pretty evident there was a weight behind his words. 

“Hey, I‘m sorry. I was only jokin’.” A pang of guilt washed over you but it was only that. A joke. You hadn’t imagined teasing him over something like killing a chicken would set him off, especially since he volunteered to do it for you, but apparently you were wrong. 

Arvin sniffed and scratched his nose, “I know.” After a moment of awkward silence, he stood, “Let me give you a hand. What do you need done?” 

You scanned his face once more to make sure he was really okay but you decided to drop it when you saw his insistent look. You shook your head, “I got it. It ain’t much after I get this all gutted and cleaned.” You picked up the mostly featherless carcass by the wings and plopped it back down into the sink. 

“Well ‘m sure there’s vegetables or somethin’ else that goes with it, right? Let me start cuttin’ those up.” His persistence was adorable, making your heart flutter in the most wonderful way. The idea of a man actually being helpful was unknown to you before Arvin. Your life had been filled with your dad’s drunken bossings since you were twelve years old. You couldn’t remember the last time a genuinely kind voice offered you anything more than a smile on the street, not that you took that for granted. Arvin was just different though. Noble and helpful and kind. 

“You really don’t have to-” 

“Yeah, you keep sayin’ that but I really do want to help. So what can I do to make things easier on you?” He took a few steps closer to you until you felt the beginning of what could have been sparks if he stepped any nearer, like when you hold two magnets a few inches apart and you can feel the energy between them, that hint of attraction, but it’s not quite close enough to pull them together. 

The blush in your cheeks at his simple gesture made you break the eye contact with a nervous laugh of retreat, “Okay, fine. If you’re gonna be so insistent,” you drew out with a teasing drawl, “you can cut up veggies. There’s potatoes over there and carrots and zucchini in the fridge.” 

Arvin’s lips turned up in a small smile when you finally resigned your stubborn ways and he went off to find the vegetables where you had directed him. 

Needless to say, when your father came home from the bar to find you and Arvin talking over a song by the Platters playing on the radio with Arvin cleaning up the dishes while you tossed together the vegetables and the seasoning, he was less than pleased. 

“What the hell is going on here?” His slurred speech made your eyes widen in fear. He was supposed to get home later like he always did. But then you found yourself chiding your irresponsibility. Why the hell would you take that chance? You knew better than to let Arvin help out and now you were gonna pay. 

Arvin sensed the way you tensed up beside him and watched as you spun around to face your father with haste, “Just finishin’ up dinner now. Should be ready by six so you got more than enough time to take a sho-” 

“Why the fuck is he doin’ the dishes?” You father was leaning against the wall, clearly relying on the structure for support. This wasn’t the time to test him, not with Arvin here. It was times like this when he’d start throwing stuff at you. 

Before you could say anything, Arvin piped up firmly but respectfully, “I offered, sir. It’s no problem at all.” 

Your dad pointed at Arvin, “A man ain’t got no place with his hands in a sink of dishes. You leave that shit to her and she’ll just grab you a beer.” He stumbled over his own feet before catching himself ungracefully. 

Arvin’s jaw set tightly and you gripped the countertop with white knuckles behind you. Times like this, you weren’t even sure what to say anymore. No amount of standing up for yourself got you anywhere with him. You never made any headway with your dad’s sexist views on gender roles. It was pointless. The only thing to do was try and work your way to supporting yourself so you could get the hell out of dodge and never look back. 

Arvin’s voice surprised you, “A man’s place is helpin’ out the women in his life when they need, not leavin’ ‘em to do all the housework themselves.” You nearly choked on your own tongue at his words. It was a bold statement for a man to make, especially to the head of the house that was being so gracious as to host him free of charge, but he didn’t back down. It appeared like the jab was lost on your drunken father but Arvin continued with a slightly less accusatory comment to diffuse the situation regardless, “I grew up helpin’ my grandma with all the house chores so I really don’t mind at all.” 

You watched the way your dad eyed Arvin and then you before scoffing and grumbling incoherently as he shuffled his way into the living room. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “I don’t want you gettin’ kicked out ‘cause of me. You didn’t have to say nothin’.” 

Arvin glared at where your father had disappeared and nodded, “Yeah, I did. You don’t deserve all the shit he gives you.” 

You suddenly found yourself avoiding his eyes and twisting your lips. He was right and you were well aware of that fact. The abuse your dad put you through was uncalled for at best. The fact that Arvin had actually taken the time to not only notice the same fact but acknowledge it and stand up for you was something you never thought you’d hear someone do. It made you uncomfortable. You’d been fighting this battle by yourself for so long that letting somebody even know it was being waged was enough to make you want to sink away. Even so, a part of you wanted to let Arvin keep standing up for you. It made you feel weak after having to stand up for yourself for so long but also validated. 

Your eyes flicked up to meet his for only a moment before turning back towards dinner that sat in a roasting pan on the stove, “Thank you.” 

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